[ CHAPTER THREE - DO YOU SEE YOUR FAITHFUL ]

[ June, 2003 ]

Alistair is eleven the first time Diomedes sends him to Camp.,

Ali was a clever kid, and his fathers had made sure that he knew enough about the gods and how to fight with a sword that Alistair would be very well prepared for the summer to come. Diomedes had been reluctant, complaining about all the risks of being surrounded by other demigods and that Alistair might slip and talk too much about his heritage or Miss Agatha or any of their other secrets.

Atticus had laughed at his lover, and reminded Diomedes that their kid was a clever little shit, and when had he ever accidentally revealed something?

Atticus had helped Alistair pack, ensuring that his son had Diomedes' fancy imperial gold dagger that hid as a charm and a Scythian bow Atticus had made for him, as well as clothes for a week, several notebooks, and an unnecessarily large pile of Diomedes' stress-baked cookies. Atticus had left before his family had, citing needing to help some other demigods as the reason.

It left Diomedes, son of Mercury, having to drive his Greek demigod child to a camp full of other Greek demigods, while being Roman. Atticus could have driven him! He was the son of Eros! He was Greek!

But no. Instead, it was Diomedes, who grew up in Camp Jupiter, and who actively complained to his lover that both the Camps were hellholes for indoctrination that created psychotic little demigods who espoused nutty shit about how they had to serve the gods (and for what? They didn't even get recognized).

Holy hells, but he didn't want to take Alistair there.

But Diomedes had made the mistake of promising Alistair's divine father that he would take their child to Camp Half-Blood, and Diomedes was not enough of a fool to renege on a promise to a god. That did not mean he would even remotely pretend to like it, or that he would stop telling Alistair to be very careful in believing what they took as truth at Camp. It was a good thing Atticus agreed with him (and maybe, Diomedes realized absently, even more bothered by the militaristic camps than he was).

…

The girl who Alistair ran into on the way into camp was tall and imposing, wearing full armor (though it was the lighter kind that Atticus described) and with a celestial bronze xiphos sheathed at her waist. She'd seen Alistair come over the hill, and greeted him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, noticing the duffel slung over one of their shoulders and the bow and quiver Ali had strapped to a belt on their waist.

"Hi?" Alistair squeaks, "I'm Ali, uh, my dad dropped me off for the summer."

"Ali," her eyes narrowed, and she looked over him, assessing him silently before nodding to herself. "It's nice to meet you, Ali. I'm Jayla, daughter of Ares. Do you know who your godly parent is?"

Ali stammered. Yeah, he does, but he wasn't supposed to tell anyone until his father claimed him . Jayla took the stammering as denial, and smiled sympathetically, "Most campers don't," she said gently. "I didn't, but my father claimed me after my first Capture the Flag game. That was, oh, five years ago? I'm seventeen and the Ares Cabin Counselor now, so hopefully your parent will claim you soon enough."

Alistair nodded, following after her as she led him towards a big building several floors high. All of its sides were painted a nice sky blue with white trim, but most noticeable were the figures sitting out on the wrap-around deck. There were four people, an older man in a wheelchair, someone with the worst taste in Hawaiian shirts imaginable, and two satyrs, one girl and one boy, both who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Chiron!" Jayla called to the guy in the wheelchair, as they reached the steps up onto the deck "New camper. He's undetermined, and says his name is Ali."

Alistair couldn't help the uncomfortable twitch at the way the guy in the wheelchair focused on him, but he waited for acknowledgement from the maybe very-old-trainer-of-heroes at the table. The guy in the Hawaiian shirt had also looked up at the call, and was staring intently at Alistair.

"Welcome, Ali!" Chiron said warmly, "Thank you, Jayla. Would either of you like to join us for a round of Pinochle?"

"Pinochle?" Alistair asked in surprise, unclipping his bow to set it next to the seat of the satyr who had taken the invitation as an opportunity to vault over the deck railing and flee from the game, "My, uh, dad, liked to play, but there are only three of us at home and he always said three-handed wasn't any fun."

"He has good taste," the Hawaiian shirt guy grunted, turning back to the cards in his hand. Chiron laughed along with him, and gestured for Ali to take up the game.

"Tell me, Ali," Chiron said. "What do you know of the gods?"

What a horrible introduction that would have been, Alistair can't help but think, if I wasn't a Greek demigod. What gods? Old lady Agatha, who babysat me and lived in the apartment down the row, was a witch. She practiced voodoo. How am I supposed to know what gods Chiron was talking about?

"Which ones?" he asks plainly.

"The Greek ones, of course," Chiron says.

Alistair wanted to ask what iteration he meant, but the Hawaiian shirt guy had resumed looking at him intently, and Ali got the impression that asking about Mycenaean gods might not be the best move.

"I know a bit," Ali says instead. "My dad told me stories growing up, and Attie, my, uh, step-dad? Attie told me more of the history part."

Chiron hmmed thoughtfully, "and of Western Civilization?"

"Are you trying to ask me if I'm aware that the Greek gods are still around?" Alistair asked. He didn't want to spend a half hour beating around the bush and avoiding the actual question. "I know they are. Dad told me my other father was divine."

"Other father?" Chiron started in surprise before nodding, "Apologies, there aren't that many children here with two fathers, and the gods who do make children with other men are rather few." Chiron glanced at the Hawaiian shirt guy as he spoke.

"Do you know who your godly father is, child?" Chiron asked.

"Yeah," Ali said slowly, noticing the Hawaiian shirt guy twitch, "but I'm not supposed to say. Dad says being claimed and recognized by them is a big thing, and I haven't been claimed yet."

"Ah," Chiron said smartly. "Well, I don't think the Orientation Film will be needed for you. After this game, I can take you on a tour of Camp Half-Blood. Perhaps your father will claim you soon."

"Yeah," Ali said skeptically. It made the Hawaiian shirt guy narrow his eyes.

"I should introduce you, though. I am Chiron, and yes, I am that Chiron, ancient trainer of heroes. The wheelchair I am using allows me to hide my, ah, more equestrian form." Chiron gestured to the Hawaiian shirt guy, "this is Mr. D, he is the Camp Director." Mr. D the Camp Director's purple eyes gleam menacingly, and Alistair merely blinks back. "And this is Magnolia, a satyr."

"I prefer Maggie!" the satyr pipes up in the following silence, "What about you?"

"Uh," Ali begins eloquently, still staring at Mr. D, "I'm Alistair Valerius, Ali is okay with me" he says slowly.

"Oh, of course," Chiron says, "Welcome, Alistair."

He already said that, Alistair thinks as he stares into Mr. D's very purple eyes. They aren't a normal purple, and they look more like they are on fire and oh. Dionysus. Alistair looks away, focusing instead on the harmless satyr Maggie and ignoring Dionysus' satisfied grunt. Challenging the god of madness to a staring contest is not something on Alistair's bucket list.

…

The tour was boring, and unhelpful. Chiron introduced Ali to the twelve cabins and glossed over who they belonged to, explaining that only the Olympians had cabins because of what Ali interpreted as very bad reasoning. Alistair was also introduced to the Hermes cabin, where he would likely be staying all of their summers until he got too old for Camp. The Hermes campers — an amalgamation of children both claimed and unclaimed, Hermes and not — collectively seemed frustrated at Ali's lack of defined parent, but all of them warmly welcomed Alistair himself.

It was weird.

The counselor — Mary Anne Baker, 18-year-old daughter of Hermes — tells Ali that, as today is the first day of Summer Camp, there aren't any activities other than getting settled in and a big welcome dinner. She finds Ali a sleeping bag cramped between two bunks. (Alistair is told that Hermes children get priority on having an actual bunk, and after them it's by a mix of age and seniority at Camp. It makes sense, but Ali just wondered why they couldn't just… expand the cabin. Or use other cabins!)

The kids in the bunk on Ali's right are Javier, son of Hermes, 14, and Lily, daughter of Hekate, 12. To their left is Jacob, son of Hermes, 16, and Ezekiel, "Zeke," son of Khione, 16.

Javier had darker skin and hair and brown eyes. He's clever, Alistair learns during the four camper's cheerful introductions, he'd gotten the jack-of-all-trades deal from being the son of Hermes, and he had aspirations of acting on Broadway. He spoke Spanish as fluently as he did English and Greek, and wanted to learn French and Russian. He didn't take after a particular weapon, but he was fair with a spear and alright with a sword. He reminded Alistair uncannily of his own dad, down to the cheeky grin when he'd just done something he just knew was clever.

Lily was an archer. She'd taken immediate interest in Alistair's Scythian bow, but she preferred longbows herself. Lily has bright green eyes and dark brown hair, and she's deaf, but somehow with the magic she inherited from Hecate, she was generally aware of what went on around her. The four of them all signed when they spoke, though Javier had taken the job of translating ASL to words for Ali's benefit. Alistair had decided he'd learn sign language as fast as he could, so he could talk to Lily too.

Zeke was gigantic, all broad shoulders and certainly taller than six feet, with white-blond hair and brilliant blue eyes. It took him a while to find the words he wanted to use, but he seemed very sure of himself and his position in the world. He used the traditional Hoplite spear and shield, and Ali was fairly certain he'd get on with Atticus and Diomedes.

Jacob is rather short for 16, and he has slightly mismatched dark eyes and bright blond typical Hermes kid hair. He's fluent in Russian, as well as Aeolic and Modern Greek. He's a summer camper, but he's gone to Camp Half-Blood since he was eight, and the seven years he's spent there so far give him seniority over most other campers. Jacob's firmly Jewish, Alistair learns, though being in a camp full of Greek demigods made it hard to practice. The first (only) time someone had called him out on not worshipping the gods as gods, Javier had broken the kid's nose. (Besides, Dionysus didn't seem to care as long as he was polite.)

After the drawn-out introductions, the four demigods laughed and welcomed Alistair warmly, telling him to scribble his name onto all of his things so that he has proof of ownership when someone steals them. When. Not if. So Alistair scribbled his name onto all of his things in Sharpie, setting up his little sleeping area on the floor between bunks.

He'd only just got everything settled when the horn for dinner sounded. He quickly picked up his smaller bag with his notebooks and more personal things, and threw it up onto Zeke's bed. Ezekiel had offered to keep his stuff on his upper bunk, as people were less likely to steal from the massive son of Khione than they were from little unclaimed Alistair. (That was, Alistair thought mildly, just the polite way of saying that people were terrified of Ezekiel, and for no good reason, either!)

Ezekiel was ridiculously kind. He'd been the one to ask Alistair to sit with them at dinner, though judging by the other three demigod's reactions they'd figured it was a given. Alistair had too, but being asked felt terribly sweet. So the little group, Alistair pushed in the middle between Lily, who slung her left arm over his shoulder and kept signing with her right, and Javier who had, upon learning Alistair knew a teeny tiny bit of French from Atticus, been badgering Alistair to practice with him.

"Why not ask the children of Aphrodite?" Alistair asked the son of Hermes curiously. Javier's rapid-fire questions tapered off as he considered it.

"You know," Javier said drily, "I hadn't considered that. I'll ask… oh, I suppose Alex isn't here yet, I'll ask 'Lena."

"Who?" Alistair asked.

"Alexander Lancaster," Javier said, swooning theatrically, "love of my life. He's, oh he's so pretty. Like, I'd never date him, he's too… Alexander for that, but, gods. Gods." He repeated, before shaking his head as if to push away the thoughts. "Lena, on the other hand. What do I say about Selena? She's so kind. I'll be honest, Affie's kids are all pretty vain, but I'm not sure Selena has a cruel bone in her body. She's also ridiculously pretty."

"Affie?" Alistair echoed faintly.

"Anyways, thanks for the advice, Ali, I'm glad someone here has half a brain." Javier jokes, gently pushing Jacob at his other side. Jacob's eyes rolled, though he was smiling faintly at his brother's humor.

"So…" Alistair searched for a topic, "What's for dinner usually?"

"Don't expect grease," Ezekiel deadpanned.

"...Really?" Javier asked after a long pause. "Was that just a really shit pun? Wait, Alistair, how old are you?"

"Eleven?" Alistair sounded confused.

"Aw, hell. We aren't supposed to swear around you, then. Or Lily, but we never translate curses to sign to avoid that issue. 'Avoid cursing around anyone under the age of thirteen!'" At the end, Javier's voice lightened to an eerie mimicry of Mary Anne, down to the inflections Alistair had only just begun to notice.

"How'd you do that?"

"Mimicry is a trained skill, dear friend. I'd offer to teach you, except… Well, you're not a Hermes kid, and you probably don't have the propensity. Propeh… Predisposition?" Javier floundered for the right word.

"Propensity works," Jacob commented, "albeit somewhat poorly."

"Poorly shmoorly, that's what I always say—"

"Is it? Is it really?"

"Fuck you, Jacob." Javier said mildly.

"'Language.'" Jacob mimicked poorly. "To answer your original question, Alistair, there's a lot of vegetables, and barbeque, and really tasty chicken… a weirdly large amount of chicken, honestly. There's also always fruit, except never grapes, because Mr. D isn't allowed to grow those. Bizarrely enough, there's not much Greek food. Or really any cultural food… there's rice sometimes."

"That… sounds a little repetitive." Alistair admitted.

"The pastries are delicious," Ezekiel commented. "Especially the ones with chocolate."

The four of them made the exact same expression of remembered enjoyment as they hummed in agreement. The sudden synchrony was enough to startle Alistair into laughing, and soon enough they were all near cackling as they trudged into the dining pavilion, ringed of tall ionic columns (Atticus would have been able to spot the exact architect's style — he was a terrible not-so-secret fan of architecture).

Alistair took a moment to stare in bewildered silence at the 12 long, orderly tables, draped in white cloth, each the exact same length, and four of them completely empty while the table the Hermes cabin was filing into was over overflowing, with some of the youngest campers sitting on older demigod's laps just to make space. The other tables — the not empty ones — were only half-full at most, with the second most campers sitting at the Athena and Aphrodite tables. (Alistair probably wouldn't have been able to tell any other cabins apart, but all of the children of Athena had eerie gray eyes, and the Aphrodite children… there was no way they weren't children of Aphrodite.)

"Why—" Alistair cut himself off at Jacob's slow head shake, quieting and filing into the line of people picking up food from their place at the table and walking to the giant brazier. The other cabins seemed much more relaxed about it, but Hermes cabin really had no other choice than to grab their food for offerings before they sat down. For a cabin of mischief (as Chiron had warned) they were awfully organized in the way they went to dinner and laid out their cabin. Necessity, Alistair realized unhappily.

The food was, as Jacob had warned, barbeque chicken, with a side of broccoli and other greens, and a roll of bread. It all looked like it tasted good, and sounded like typical summer camp fare, but if this was an every night kind of thing, Alistair was a little worried he'd get bored of it. Fast.

"Just pray to your godly parent and cut some food off," Jacob muttered into Alistair's ear. "You're unclaimed, so just… think 'father.' It'll get to him."

"Okay." Alistair agreed softly. Diomedes hadn't ever made offerings to the gods— not at dinner, at least. They tended to celebrate solstices and equinoxes (even if that was in the form of Easter or Christmas) and always gave Zagreus, Mercury, and Somnus (and Eros) offerings then, but it wasn't a daily thing.

"To father," Alistair said anyway, pushing a portion of his food off his plate, "and grandfather, great grandfather, and, uh, step-grandfather?"

"You've got a lot of people you're offering that to," Jacob commented quietly as they sat down. Alistair's cheeks burned and he did his best to avoid answering the question. He genuinely wasn't quite sure whether or not any answer he gave could be harmful — mentioning Eros, maybe not, but Mercury? Somnus? Diomedes had warned Alistair against just switching their names, as it wasn't just the names that were different, but the wild personality changes as well.

"Yeah," Alistair said instead of revealing much of anything, shoving a bread roll into his mouth a second later. It was the start of a long night, with dinner, a campfire where Alistair ate three times as many s'mores as he should have, and sing-alongs (Alistair was pretty sure there had been no sing-alongs at Camp Jupiter when his dad was there).

The fire that night was ten feet tall and brilliant gold, and the sheer joy and happiness in the air made something in Alistair buzz to life, like an almost-irritating bug, deep in his chest. (And no, Alistair was pretty sure it wasn't just an emotion he couldn't define— he could feel it, humming restlessly somewhere almost beyond his senses.)

And it didn't stop.

Even late that night, when the lights were out and Alistair was settled in all other ways, tucked into his bedroll on the floor, he was irritatingly awake, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes and rubbing uncomfortably at his chest, twisting and turning.

"Alistair?" Javier muttered quietly, tired of listening to him twist and turn, trying in vain to fall asleep.

"I can't sleep." Alistair whispered, embarrassed.

Javier groaned, and turned over in his almost-sleep, grabbing something from the shelf next to his bunk, chucking it at the person on the lower bunk opposite. The other camper woke, and hissed out a garbled complaint.

"Owen, make him sleep," Javier demanded.

"I'll make you both sleep." Owen grumbled, irritated, "Forever."

With an exaggerated wiggle of his fingers that Alistair only faintly picked out in the dark, Owen ordered them to sleep. Alistair had only a moment to be reminded of the way his dad used to sing him to sleep before he was out cold.

…

"Could you do that?" was Alistair's first bewildering question upon waking, whatever it was settling sometime in the night. Javier stared down at him with bleary eyes from where he sat on the bed. "Could — Owen — do that?"

"What." Javier rasped in a sleep-addled voice, barely aware of the world around him.

"Make someone sleep forever."

"Owen," Javier near-whigned into his pillow, raising his voice slightly, "Owen." The target of his question did nothing to acknowledge him but flip his pillow to cover his head and ears. "Could you make someone sleep forever?"

"Fuck off." was the muffled answer he got in reply.

"Owen!" Mary Anne scolded from four rows of slowly waking demigods over. ("Fuck off!" the youngest camper parroted quietly, giggling.)

"Sorry, fearless leader," Javier apologized, standing to help Lily down from the bunk above him. "I asked him a question. I should know better by now, I know. Don't bother the son of Hypnos before he's got his beauty sleep!"

With a rather garbled noise, Owen pushed himself up out of bed and glowered at Javier, who suddenly tripped spectacularly to slam his forehead into the bottom of the top bunk. Alistair scrambled onto his feet, pressing a hand against Javier's back to keep him from falling.

"Gods fucking sakes!" Javier swore, before blanching and looking down the rows of bunks.

"Javier Gomez!" Mary Anne scolded, "What did I say about swearing?"

"Not to do it!" Javier squeaked.

From the lower bunk on the other side of Alistair's little floor nest, Jacob laughed, quiet and fond, and the rest of Hermes' cabin woke up. They were about as collectively energetic in the morning as Atticus tended to be, each dragging themselves out of bed with irritated complaints each time lights were turned on. Some grabbed towels and toiletries and stumbled off to shower and others just picked themselves out clothes for today. Everyone picked out the orange camp shirt Alistair had noticed the day before.

"Camp shirts today, kid," Mary Anne said warmly as she climbed over towards Alistair, tossing him a few bright orange shirts. "Here ya go. We're probably going to be getting a few more bodies in here by the end of the day. Demigods tend to show up the first few days of this week… though exceptions apply. Ethan showed up a couple of months ago, but he's going to be here year-round, so it's not quite the same. Anyways, we try to make a 'united presence' when demigods first show up."

"Yeah, that way we can start fights in a couple weeks and not scare people off." someone commented.

"Courtney," Mary Anne scolded halfheartedly, then raised her voice to shout a good morning call, which made the few demigods struggling to wake groan in near-unison. It took a long few minutes before everyone was awake and on their feet, stumbling towards the dining pavilion for breakfast. Mary Anne took a moment to tell everyone their cabin's schedule for today (mentioning also that she was staying behind in case more demigods showed up, and could they pretty please listen to Nina and Yousif?)

The gaggle of Hermes kids and campers wandered their way to breakfast (scones! Blueberry and raspberry and chocolate and lemon!) before they were due to go to the archery range. Supposedly, there were usually older Apollo kids or Chiron at the archery range, but since today was one of the very first days, and the cabins were mostly just touring, it was just the Hermes cabin alone at the archery range. Yousif was the one to step in front, standing in the middle of the archery range and looking very serious (and desperately ignoring the giggling children at the front of the group).

"By wonderful fate, our first activity is archery!" Yousif began somewhat dramatically. His voice didn't have quite the same authority Mary Anne's did, nor did it carry quite as well as Nina's, but with a little scolding the Hermes cabin was quiet and waiting for him to continue. "I know a lot of us have gone over this before, and those of you who stayed year-round are going to be bored out of your minds today, but it's important to go over How Not To Die At Camp Half-Blood. And yes, that has the capitalized letters you heard."

There was quiet laughter, and Yousif grinned. "So, archery range rules. Number one, whether you're shooting or not, do not walk in the space between the targets and the lines, unless everyone shooting has stopped and is retrieving arrows. And yes, Travis, I'm well aware that's where I'm standing right now." Yousif said seriously, "Number two, listen to your instructors. We aren't going to be doing much actual archery today, not without actual instructors — and yes I'm aware that some of you are great archers, but you know, Chiron has rules. Blegh."

"Yousif." Nina scolded after a muffled snicker.

"Hey, you're going to be cabin counselor next year, but I'm not so I can say — hey!" he cut off as Nina chucked something at him. "Back to rules, then! Rule number three, don't mess around. I'm serious about this. Here, on the archery range, we train with actual arrows. If you're messing around, and you point a bow at someone,and something happens there's a good chance that you could seriously hurt someone else or yourself. This goes for learning how to use a sword, or a spear, or whatever else. It's not a joke — I know it's really fun. I love swordplay. I love archery. I think sword fights are awesome, and they honest to gods feel like reenacting a movie fight sequence. It's great. I get it. Don't mess around. If you're gonna play around with it, grab some of the wooden weapons from the armory, they're weighted right and while it'll hurt like hell to get hit with one, you won't dismember someone by accident. Does everyone understand this?"

There's murmured agreement, and Yousif glared at someone on Alistair's left. Alistair took a wild guess that someone had gotten hurt badly last summer or over the year. Yousif started to continue his spiel on rules before pausing and sighing. "I lost track of where I was," he admitted ruefully to the warm laughter of his siblings and cabin, and he grinned. "Anyways, I feel like those three rules mostly cover everything. Pay attention to your surroundings so you don't get shot accidentally, listen to your instructors especially when they tell you to stop or get down, and don't mess around. Capiche? Caposh."

"That's not a thing," someone muttered, but everyone nodded again in agreement.

"Okay, now I get to be the fun counselor," Nina said, stepping forward. "For those of you who have done archery before — actually, no. For those of you who aren't brand new campers, go ahead and grab bows and arrows from the shed and practice and have fun, alright?" The campers in question moved quickly, racing to the shed to grab the better bows and arrows and running back to their targets. From what little Alistair could see, the target color corresponded with the color of the arrows, and there were three targets in each color of varying distances.

"Those of you who are brand new, sorry but none of us are quite able to start teaching you. Some of you might have prior experience with archery, but I'm not going to trust your word on it. Sorry." Nina didn't sound particularly sincere. "Tomorrow we have actual archery training sessions scheduled though, so it won't be forever until you can shoot. For today, though, just sit around, climb a tree, don't get hurt. We aren't here super long, so hopefully y'all don't get too bored."

Sure enough, the Hermes cabin only hung around the archery range for an hour or so, in which time Alistair climbed a tree, nearly fell out of it (in his defence, there was a nest of terrifying birds up at the top), got taught how to do handstands and cartwheels from another unclaimed first year, tripped on nothing and nearly gave himself a black eye, and got taught several repetitive camp songs. It was one of his better mornings.

"Alright, kiddies!" Nina called at the end of the hour, directing everyone to return their archery supplies and gather around her. "Next thing on the list—" Nina checked her paper copy of the Hermes cabin agenda, "—canoeing!"

"Oh," Alistair couldn't help but startle, sending a slightly panicked glance towards Javier, "That's what they forgot to teach me. I never learned how to swim."

"Really?" Javier asked, surprised, "From the day so far I kinda figured your dads introduced you to, well, everything."

"I mean yeah, sort of," Alistair admitted, "but it's impossible to learn everything! Besides, Attie is pretty much half-bird, I'm not sure he even can swim, and dad's… I don't know. I don't have any good reasoning for that."

"Well, that's alright then." Javier said cheerfully, "No one canoes before they learn to swim, though. Safety first! That's our motto," he said teasingly, "We can ask Jacques. He's the son of the goddess of sailors… and also some other kind of strange things. Jacques is a really good swimmer, though, and he's been teaching everyone who didn't already know how to swim how to swim. Not to mention," Javier continued, "He's a good — driver? Pilot? He's good at, uh, steermanship, or boating, or whatever, I don't know the word— oh! Captainship!"

"He's good with boats." Lily clarified, signing with a grin.

…

[ July, 2003 ]

"Hey, uh," Alistair finally asked a few weeks into camp, "Why's the Hermes cabin so cramped?"

Lily's arm fell from its place around Ali's shoulders. Ezekiel had been signing their conversation, and he'd faltered halfway through Alistair's question. All four of them tensed, suddenly uncomfortable. Another Hermes cabin camper — Alistair recognized him as one of the people who taught the sword fighting lessons, although Alistair himself had been learning mainly from Jayla, the daughter of Ares that welcomed him to camp — turned from where he was walking in front of them to face the quintet, walking backwards to keep pace, and looked seriously at Alistair.

"He doesn't care," the guy said seriously, "We're overlooked, and no one cares there's not enough room for 15 people, let alone 40 or however many we have."

"Luke," Javier began, frustration coating his words, "Luke you don't know that. There are rules—"

"And rules matter more than we do?" Luke scoffed, "Look, welcome to Camp, kid, I'm glad you're here — we all are. Demigods belong here, and you'll be safe and get training. Just… remember the Hermes cabin, if you end up getting claimed by an Olympian."

He turned, walking quickly ahead of them, joining another group of campers. The group of four Alistair had just met were quiet for a long moment, trailing along after the people all heading towards dinner, before Javier very cautiously patted Alistair on the back.

"I know you've probably seen him around, but I don't know if you've heard anything else about him… that's Luke Castellan, he's been here two years, now." Javier said carefully, "He has to stay here year-round. I don't really what happened, but he showed up with a little Athena kid — Annabeth — and, ah, a daughter of Zeus, who… shit, Jacob?"

"She died, and got turned into a tree." Jacob said bluntly. "It's what gives this camp protection against monsters."

"Right, well, I maybe would have said that gentlier. More gently? I wouldn't have been so blunt," Javier blabbed. "He's been itching for a quest. Chiron doesn't send people on quests that often, there's too high a likelihood of them never coming back, but for some reason Luke really wants a solo quest. I don't get it, really. He's only had one actual summer at camp, though he's a year-rounder. That's as long as I've been here, actually.

"But like, Jacob's been at camp for eight years — not year round! But he's been coming every summer for eight years, still hasn't gone on a quest. Yousif, he's 17, has been coming for, oh, five summers? No quest. Nina had a quest just this last year, sometime in fall, it was this small thing, Dad lost something or other and requested her — she's a year-rounder, and this is her fifth year. Hell, Mary Anne's only been on like one quest, her third year in. This is her sixth, and last. I guess she tagged along with Nina on her quest, too, though."

Javier did something weird with his hands, waving them around as if it would explain what he meant. It looked like it confused Lily. "I dunno, Ali." he said finally, "It's just, like. I don't know."

"Are you saying that he doesn't… deserve to go on a quest?" Alistair asked hesitantly.

"No, no, no." Javier backtracked. "Luke is pretty much the best swordsman there is at camp. The guy's wicked, and he's got a lot of clever ideas and he's bizarrely good with the babies — Annabeth's nine, and so are a few others, and they just sort of cling to him. It's adorable. It's just… I don't get why he's complaining. We can't all go on quests — there's not even that much to do, other than kill monsters and train, like what's he gonna do, steal from the Hesperides?"

…

"Oh. Shit." Javier said softly, covering his mouth with his hand. They were at breakfast, and Chiron had requested everyone to be present so he could make an announcement. Apparently Hermes had shown up, offered a quest to Luke, and left. It was the same thing Hermes had done when Nina and Mary Anne were assigned quests, but judging by the pinched expression on Luke's face as he stood next to Chiron, he hadn't taken it as showing respect like the girls had.

"Is this a good thing?" Alistair asked cautiously. He still hadn't quite figured out what the campers considered good and bad — Diomedes and Atticus hadn't ever talked about getting assigned quests (by gods, at least).

"No." Lily signed.

"He's stealing an apple from the Hesperides," Jacob said grimly, "He's gonna see it as rehashing old quests."

"So, what?" Alistair asked.

"We wait, and we hope he doesn't die." Jacob said.

"Hold on, is he going alone? I thought quests were trios?"

"Usually, but not necessarily. Luke… is very determined to go alone." Jacob explained. Javier had his lands laced together behind his head, and he was staring blindly at the table below him. Across from the group of five, the other Hermes campers didn't look any better. One had her chin resting on her palms, grimacing in what looked like agony. Another was covering their ears with their hands and looking for all the world like he wished he'd forget everything that just happened.

"Gods, we're so fucked." someone whispered.

The campfire was dim and black that night.