a/n: Thanks to Cardinal Snowflame to betaing! Also I changed my mind, there'll maybe be weekly updates, I'm having a lot of fun writing this! :)

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[ CHAPTER TWO - DO YOU SEE OUR SUFFERINGS? ]

[ March, 1999 ]

Atticus stuck around. The first time they met, when he'd saved the father and son, Diomedes had woken up on top of his bed, his shoes taken off, and a towel underneath him to keep the mud and blood stained in his shirt from getting all over the duvet. He'd been confused, and had barely picked up on the bandage around his foot as he stumbled out of bed to find Alistair.

He'd found his son asleep in Atticus' lap, a book propped up beside them, and the son of Eros himself snoring with his head hanging uncomfortably over the end of the couch. Alistair had his arms wrapped tightly around one of Atticus', and he looked to be drooling on the inside of the older demigod's arm. The son of Eros' other hand was resting lightly on the pommel of his sword, on the ground where it lay next to the couch.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Atticus had only panicked once about Alistair's parentage — something about Zagreus, ritual rites, murder, and cthonic underworld kings — but after Alistair had tripped head first over literally nothing, and only ever enjoyed decapitating dinosaur nuggets, some of the lingering fear of being murdered by a manic hunter god abated. Diomedes thought Zagreus would be ashamed. His terrifying image, demolished by a seven-year-old boy who really liked collecting flowers.

Diomedes knew Atticus went off and did things the gods would disapprove of — his uncertainty around Mede when he returned to their home late was proof enough of that — but Diomedes also knew well enough that Atticus was obsessive over keeping demigods safe. They'd run into young demigods on the streets so often that Mede wouldn't be surprised if Atticus was actively looking for them. So Diomedes trusted him, and let Atticus go in and out, dropping by for a weekend and vanishing for a month, always showing up with books for Diomedes and toys for Alistair.

Diomedes knew the instability was probably bad for Alistair. His son never reliably had two parents around, never reliably knew whether or not Atticus would come back grinning or with a wound so severe he was nearly bleeding out, but somehow Atticus was still good for him. Atticus was always ready to teach, and together they started showing Alistair history, mythology, strategy, and all the dirty tricks under the sun.

They were careful about it though, always balancing precariously between overworking the poor kid and encouraging him to learn at school and at home, and to make friends. Alistair was clever, though, and he took to lessons like a bird to air. Ali took best to quick fighting like Mede, who preferred double daggers and light armor, but loved languages like Atticus.

And then Atticus had the novel idea of teaching Alistair how to make live traps. Diomedes had genuinely no idea how the older demigod had thought it was a remotely good idea… but Atticus taught Alistair how to trap things.

And good gods, was Alistair good at it.

Atticus' method had been hauling the three of them out into the middle of nowhere, with very few supplies (though admittedly, he'd let Diomedes pack an 'in case of emergencies' food and supply stash), and showing Alistair how to make traps out of literally nothing. Diomedes had genuinely no idea how they did it. They'd vanish off into the forest, weaving together grass and weeds and whatever the fuck, and come back with rabbits and grouse and a whole deer (once).

Then Atticus would very patiently explain how to clean and skin and prepare the meat, and then they'd cook it over a campfire or turn it into jerky or smoke it or cook it however else. After the first couple of times, Diomedes decided that Atticus could manage just fine and skipped out on the trip, doing his own adventures with Alistair to places less likely to get him covered in bug bites and scrapes.

(Regardless of where they went, Alistair always seemed to get covered in dirt and scrapes. Diomedes genuinely had no idea how he did it… he just… was a disaster.)

So Diomedes hauled him to museums and parks and movies in the city, always on edge about all of the lurking monsters, and always prepared to protect Alistair. For the most part, the pair never ran into monsters on their own though. It was a very different story any time Atticus accompanied them, as the son of Eros seemed to attract monsters of all shapes and sizes. Which, fine, Atticus and Diomedes have been fighting monsters their entire lives, that was easy to handle. It was Atticus' other friends who were the real bothers, though, with their tendency to be everything except Greek or Roman demigods.

Atticus did his very best to keep them separate, which had half to do with Mede's reluctance to interact with non-Roman demigods, and half to do with the potential risk of Alistair mouthing off to his future companions and teachers at Camp Half-Blood about how it wasn't just Greek gods who stuck around. Of course, it wasn't like Alistair learning about non-Greco Roman pantheons would be that much of a revelation, given their next neighbor was a witch. (Miss Agatha was very old and very sweet, and her whole apartment smelled of sage and rosemary and other herbs, and she was Diomedes' go-to babysitter, since Alistair always came home with fresh-baked bread.)

But there was definitely a difference between Alistair meeting Miss Agatha and, say, Grigori Artyomov, son of Perun. One of them was a witch, and the other was the demigod son of the Kievan Rus version of Zeus. And sure, Diomedes had met Grigori before and he was very kind, and he loved children and he had the most magnificent beard Diomedes had ever seen… but still. It was the principle of the matter.

(Atticus liked to tell Diomedes to stop living in denial.)

Luckily, today was not one of the days Atticus' dubious friends showed up. No, today was a cyclops day. Cyclops days were fine days, given that Atticus and Diomedes both had a lot of experience fighting cyclopes. So they let the cyclopes herd them towards an alley, Alistair safely between the two older demigods.

When the (poorly) hidden cyclopes crept out from the back of the alley, Atticus was the one to face them, grinning widely and unfurling his wings from wherever they hid. He launched himself forward, pulling the gemstone on his necklace that released his celestial bronze longsword, and hacked at the cyclopes with the massive blade.

Behind him, Diomedes unsheathed his twin daggers with a gleeful expression and bolted forward, Mercury's now ever-present blessing letting him move much faster than any 'normal' demigod. It was with barely restrained glee that Alistair's parents cut down cyclopes, and it was with mild fear that Alistair watched.

"DAD?" Ali sounded alarmed, almost. "Dad?"

"Yeah, hon?" Diomedes sounded distracted, likely by the cyclopes he was preoccupied with fighting.

"Atticus just — he just threw his sword? — Dad, what?" Alistair backed towards his father. He had a sword, but Mede and Attie had both declared him far too young to do more than watch so far. Ali was fine with this, having been taught the lesson of waiting patiently far too long ago, though he held his sword ready.

"Did he hit — eurgh — what he—'' Mede's voice cut off as the cyclops' tire-iron slammed hard into his sword, though he deflected the strike with ease "—meant to?" The cyclops exploded in a shimmer of gold dust, and Mede moved quickly to intercept the other one.

"Yeah?" Alistair squeaked, "But, you can do that?'' His voice was shrill.

"If it works," Mede grunted, rushing forward to slice the final cyclops across the chest. It worked, and she blew away in gold dust. "If it works," Mede repeated, scanning the alleyway they'd been herded into, "then it works. He get his sword back?"

"No, he—'' Ali stammered, "materialized? A dagger?"

"Atticus," Mede called to his lover, "you're disturbing my child. Stop throwing your sword."

"But it worked!"

…

[ March, 2000 ]

"...you think babies come from storks?" Alistair sounded bewildered as he stared down the other child. It was recess, and Logan, the class bully, had been bragging about knowing something nobody else did. Alistair had asked him about it, and Logan had been rather imperious about the knowledge that he absolutely knew where babies came from, and it wasn't how Miss Juspeczyk had said during class when Jasmine had asked.

"Uh-huh," the bigger kid said, arms crossed as he glared at Alistair, "and whad d'you think, weirdo?"

Alistair blinked at the insult, forehead furrowing. Attie had sat him down and explained how it was kinda like how flowers germ-uh-nay-ted to him last year, and how usually women would end up carrying the little seed-baby, but he never said anything about storks. And Atticus always told Alistair the truth, or he'd say that Ali was a little too young to understand or that he didn't want to answer Ali's questions.

"Well, you usually need a man 'nd a woman," Ali began slowly, peering at Logan. He explained the whole process terribly carefully, making sure to say things just like Attie did so he didn't mess anything up and make Logan think it was storks of all things.

At the end of recess, Logan had complained to Miss Juspeczyk about lying to the class, and Ali had been sent home, suspended for the rest of the week. Mede and Attie had picked him up together, looking mighty upset with him, but when Ali had explained why he was in trouble, Mede had just sighed.

"Really, Atticus?" the son of Mercury asked his lover.

"What?" Atticus defended himself, "It's not like he wouldn't need to learn at some point, and who better to talk about sex than the son of Eros?"

"Uh," Ali said, "what's sex?"

Mede smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand as Atticus' cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Yeah, he'd kind of left that part out the first time.

…

[ February, 2002 ]

"Did you go to Camp?"

The question came from nowhere, and Atticus looked startled as he looked over at Alistair. Atticus was teaching the other two how to play different card games, which went well until they picked a fight and argued about who should have won the game. That happened quite a bit.

"Dad went to Camp Jupiter." Alistair said, "that's where he learned to fight. He said he was gonna take me to Camp Half-Blood. Did you go to Camp?"

"Ah, no." Atticus said, "when I was, er, young, there weren't well established camps about. Camps are rather new, at least relatively. My, hmm, I learned from a lone demigod. She taught me pretty much all I know, and I never really… interacted… with other demigods, until well after she passed."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"A bit," Atticus said unhelpfully, "but that's not the subject of the conversation. Mede!" he raised his voice. Diomedes was grabbing something from his room. "Your offspring wants to talk about the Camps."

"Offspring?" Mede echoed as he walked back into the room, grinning, "and yeah, It's probably well past the time we should have told you about the camps."

"As you well know," he addressed Alistair as he rejoined them on the carpeted floor. "I grew up in Camp Jupiter. My mother, Cecilia, grew up there as well. Her father was the son of Somnus — Hypnos, and when he was young he was found by one of the legion's, uh, scouting squads? They're the ones who go out looking for demigods to take in. My grandfather ended up staying and living in New Rome all his life, though I'm not sure who my mother's mother is. I was told my grandmother died in childbirth, and I haven't a clue whether or not she had any divine blood.

"My mother, though. Hm. She grew up in New Rome and in the legion, but she was determined to leave, so she went off to an outside college. Her second or third year there, she met my father, Mercury. Nine months later, I was born. Mother didn't think she could raise a demigod child on her own outside of somewhere safe, so she went back to New Rome and a lot of her education fell through.

"You, ah, you don't leave the legion. Certainly not before your service is up. My mother did. While she was allowed back, and I was welcomed as a child of Mercury, she wasn't looked upon favorably. The practice of killing 'deserters' and 'traitors' has thankfully fallen out of use, but my mother lost a lot of the opportunities she might have had otherwise. I was treated mostly fairly, especially as Mercury recognized me when I was very young, but people still nattered on about me being the son of Cecilia the deserter."

"But she was going to school?" Alistair sounded confused as he asked the question.

"You'd think that would be acceptable," Diomedes agreed, "but she left Rome without permission, and then returned expecting to be treated the same."

"Oh." Alistair sounded confused, his brow furrowed in thought as he looked off at a wall.

"Let me tell you, kid," Diomedes continued, leaning back on his palms, "it was hell growing up in New Rome. I got out of military service for a bit — babies can't hold spears, after all — but I started getting training when I was young. I was ten, probably?" he sounded unsure, "It's a bit hard to remember. Everything was always very busy, I remember that. Education was very… hm, it was very strictly regulated, kind of. Everyone was expected to learn the same things, and there was a lot of focus on math, and engineering, and for the most part reading, writing, and the arts were ignored."

"Kids who showed talent in those areas were allowed to and even helped in their pursuit of it, but it wasn't really… advertised, I guess?" Diomedes said, "I did theater for a while, a lot of the Apollo kids were praised for art they made, and it was never discouraged, but it's very different from how I've begun to appreciate reading and art and all that."

"Will I get to do art stuff at Camp Half-Blood?" Alistair asked. He sounded concerned, and Diomedes couldn't help but wincing. Maybe he should have sugar-coated it more. Ali was clever, and he'd probably picked up on Diomedes' utter disgust towards Camp Jupiter.

"Yes," Atticus said reassuringly, "Camp Half-Blood focuses a lot on having fun activities on top of the demigod training. It really is only a summer camp, though, with exceptions for those who need a home year round, and summer camps are designed to be fun, at least in comparison with Camp Jupiter, and it's not nearly as regimented and militaristic."

"That's a good thing, right?" Ali asked.

"Depends on what you value," Atticus replied easily, "I prefer it, but I grew up alone and was raised in a very unregimented way. I like a little disorder in my life. Keeps me on my toes," he joked, "Mede, on the other hand, likes things structured, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Alistair's laugh is hesitant and almost genuine. "Do you think I'll like it?"

"Camp Half-Blood?" Diomedes sounded startled, "Ali, there's no way you wouldn't. Hell, I'd almost predict you taking over and causing enough chaos to change things for the better!"

…

[ November, 2002 ]

"Why do I have to learn archery?" Ali complained. He had a composite bow in one hand and arrows secured in a quiver at his waist. Atticus had driven him to an indoor archery range and supplied Ali with one of the bows he had used to teach younger kids. The bow is in an almost Scythian style, curved and reminding Ali a little too much of the bows the little baby Cupids would carry around. He sure wasn't going to mention that to Atticus though, the son of Eros was rather snippy when it came to misrepresentation of his father.

"It's a useful skill," Atticus replied, "and it's not like you have any other ranged weapon."

"Dad's teaching me to use a pilum, though," Ali complained, "doesn't that count?"

Ali pulled an arrow from the quiver, knocking it on the right side of the bow. He didn't draw it yet, taking a moment to watch Atticus as he drew his own bow slowly in example.

"No, raven, a pilum you can't even bring to Camp Half-Blood doesn't count. Besides, you'd have to learn archery there anyways. It's better I teach you than Chiron or — gods forbid — a child of Apollo." he didn't sound strained from the shot, despite using his preferred heavy longbow. Ali knew those were a pain to draw and that they'd exhaust the archer quickly. The arrow had gone through much of the target, and Ali knew it would be difficult for anyone but Atticus to pull it out.

"Rivalry, much? What's the deal with you and the children of Apollo anyways?" Ali asked, mimicking Attie's movement with much less finesse. The arrow missed.

"Eros is a better shot," Atticus said with a disdainful sniff, "but don't tell anyone I said that. I'm glad we're inside, actually, that might have been something that would have given me a sunburn."

"Just a sunburn?" Ali laughed, thinking it a joke. Atticus and Mede always seemed to be overly blasé in the way they spoke about the gods, despite warning Ali from saying anything even remotely insulting himself.

"Likely," Atticus adjusted Ali's stance, helping him in the next draw, "Apollo and I know each other better than we probably should. He's shown up once or twice on my… hunts"

"Hunts, sure…" Alistair mocked, drawing out the 'sure.' He wasn't quite old enough to catch the euphemism, but he did get that Atticus was hiding something.

"Yes, hunts. Now fix your stance. We've got archery to learn."

…