Chapter Ten | ALEX GRIFFITH


NO AMOUNT OF IMMORTAL FEATHER DUSTING could repair Olympus. Kronos had sworn to tear it down brick by brick and as Alex strolled after the procession of the god of the Underworld, his son, and a ways behind, the angry daughter of Ares, he marveled at what Luke—Kronos— had achieved.

Everyone knew Hermes kids could pick pockets and locks. But for Alex, the greatest gift he had inherited from the god of thieves was stealth. To walk unnoticed amidst a crowd had aided him for years, whether sent forward as a scout by Luke in Capture the Flag or in service of Kronos.

When Hades arrived on Olympus with his son Nico at his right hand, Alex had hoped for some news of the battle. But all Ophelia could say was that Chiron had been wounded but was now stable, that Nico and Hades had summoned an army and saved the mortals, and that she needed to get back down there and look for something. She didn't say what it was and as Hades began making his way through the streets, Alex didn't push it.

Clarisse had the same idea. Still shivering from her fight with the Hyperborean, she had sheathed her sword and marched red-faced behind the god and Nico. Never one for subtlety, Alex steered clear of her.

Olympus lay in ruins. Along the main avenue, every statue had been split, often decapitated, by powerful swings of Kronos's terrible scythe. Trees lay uprooted in small courtyards. Torn tapestries tumbled about the streets as wind spirits began to clean up the rubble and ruins.

A beautiful lyre chord cut through the devastation. Settled on a fallen white column sat a young woman with honey brown hair crowned by a dark green laurel wreath. Tears flowed down her porcelain-white cheeks. With every strum of her black lyre, Alex felt pain settle in his chest. So agonizing became each breath that he stopped in his tracks.

Her blue eyes found his. She strummed another chord. Alex wanted to hide from her, but he couldn't. He knew who she was. Melpomene, one of Apollo's nine Muses. The Muse of Tragedy. He'd seen them in concert once.

From the ruins behind Melpomene, another woman stepped forward. Tan-skinned and with hair as black as night, she offered Alex a small smile before she, too, took up the song. Calliope. A rush of adrenaline cascaded through Alex from head to toe. He gripped his sheathed sword. The pain in his chest changed to a great lightness.

Strengthened by Calliope's spell, Alex turned away. Whatever words the Chief of the Muses had serenaded him with faded into his mind and he recalled only emotion as he continued on. But he had a job. He had a purpose.

Alex stopped looking at the carnage. He remembered why he'd left Kitty and Ophelia with the wounded. He had to find him. He had to know that Percy Jackson had fulfilled his prophecy and stopped Kronos.

He had to know Percy had avenged Luke. Alex remembered the last time he'd seen him. After the River Styx, his friend, his brother had never been the same. He'd been frantic, angry. With every demigod that entered that Maze and came out broken, or never returned, he'd begged Luke to stop.

He hadn't.

Alex shut his eyes for a moment, pausing beside a fifty-foot tall column at the start of a grand colonnade. The stone felt cool to the touch as he rested his head against it. He didn't want to remember the night they'd he and Ophelia had left the Princess Andromeda.

"Alex."

He opened his eyes. Sometimes Alex forgot how young Percy was. But covered in blood that probably didn't belong to him, sea green eyes threatening to close any minute from sheer exhaustion, he looked like a sixteen year old. He'd taken off his armor. His torn, stained orange Camp Half-Blood tee-shirt stood out amidst the Grecian architecture around them.

"Hey," Alex said. He kept his voice low. About a hundred feet down the enormous colonnade, gods and half-bloods mingled. "You're alive."

Percy grimaced. But he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." A silent moment passed between them as Percy ran a hand through his black hair. "Look, you should know… I don't…" He trailed off for a moment, not meeting his eyes. "Just. Luke died a hero."

Alex straightened up. He listened to Percy's description of the confrontation with Kronos. How Ethan had sacrificed himself. How Annabeth had risked her life. How, in the end… Luke was alive.

But now he was dead.

Alex couldn't speak. His mind raced. A cold dizziness clouded his thoughts as the room spun. He could feel the cool, ridged column against his fingers. A slight wind blew around him. But he couldn't think. He couldn't move.

He'd left him. He'd left Luke. He'd left him to struggle against Kronos alone. Abandoned. Alex had abandoned his brother to torment by the Titan king.

Annabeth had saved him.

He could have been saved.

He could have been saved.

Alex had walked away from him.

"Hey!"

A cool hand grabbed his arm. Alex gasped. When he'd stopped breathing, he couldn't tell. But Percy had one hand on his arm and used his other to wipe off his own tear.

"I'm sorry," Percy said.

Alex shook his head. He shrugged off Percy's hand. He didn't need to pity of a demigod who shouldn't even exist. Blazing anger filled his whole body as he looked past Percy and found the fluttering wings on the sandals of the Messenger of the Gods, Zeus's Herald. Alex's eyes narrowed.

Moments later, the Herald summoned gods and Half-Bloods alike to the throne room beyond the colonnade. Alex knew they probably didn't want him. He'd betrayed them. He'd turned his back on the gods. But he followed anyway, trailing unseen like a good little son of Hermes many yards behind.

The great hearth fire of Hestia roared at the center of the stadium-sized throne room. Standing just tucked in the shadow of a column, Alex watched the gods take their seats on their magnificent thrones. Even amidst ruin, they had splendor.

Alex had only met the gods from afar. Apollo practically glowed where he lounged on his throne, smile on his face despite the circumstances. Beside him, his somber sister Artemis, younger in appearance even than Percy or Annabeth who stood side by side. Mr. D had a bandage around his head but it didn't deepen his frown any more than usual. Last of all to sit was Poseidon, finally finished with his cyclops son Tyson and of course, Percy.

Zeus droned on about the heroics of the gods. Apollo interjected once with a ceremonial haiku, but a smack from Artemis had shut him up. Alex resisted rolling his eyes.

The demigod heroes stood together before the gods. Annabeth, Percy, Grover, Tyson, Thalia, Nico, and Clarisse shuffled their feet, occasionally trading whispers and giggles. Of course, Zeus was too enthralled with his own oration to notice.

He tried to fix his face. Alex tried to stop glaring into the firelight but as Zeus and Poseidon bickered about Typhon and saving the day, he couldn't help but hear the unclaimed children who used to cry themselves to sleep at night because they felt unloved, unwanted, unworthy. These gods had the audacity to banter as their kids—

Alex looked up. He felt a warmth like hot coals spread through his body. Beside the flames, he caught the eye of a hooded young girl in a brown cloak with fiery eyes. Hestia. At once, a wave of comfort, pity, and understanding washed over him. As the goddess offered a small smile, Alex relaxed. He could breathe again.

Thalia was honored first. If it hadn't been for Hestia's courage in his heart, he might've walked right out of the throne room. This was Thalia. Zeus's daughter. Another child who shouldn't have been born. A child whose death, or almost death, had driven Luke further into his anger. Someone Luke had loved, but someone who had given up on him.

Like Alex.

He glanced at the fire again. Hestia met his gaze. Another tiny smile from the goddess who looked no older than ten and he stopped shaking.

After Thalia, the gods honored Tyson. Then Grover, who became a lord of the Wild and promptly fainted in the middle of the Olympus throne room. Alex liked Grover. He'd do well on the Council of Cloven Elders.

Alex couldn't watch Annabeth's moment in the spotlight. He turned away into the shadows as Athena graced her with the gift of redesigning the architecture of Olympus. She would do well. But Alex couldn't look at her. His heart hurt too much already to look at the person who had saved his brother when he could not.

"Percy Jackson!"

All the godly bickering over statues and shrines ceased after Poseidon's proclamation. Alex turned back to them. He watched as Percy walked to the foot of his father's fishing chair godly throne and knelt without question.

"Rise my son," said Poseidon. As Percy did so, the god of the sea smiled. "A great hero must be rewarded. Is there anyone here who would dent that my son is deserving?"

Silence. Alex looked at Percy, all of sixteen, dressed in a tattered orange shirt as bright as a traffic cone, tiny amidst their immortal judges. He couldn't see Percy's face. But none of the gods objected, and as Alex looked at his torn clothing and exhausted posture, Alex couldn't disagree either. It pained him to say it, but Percy was the best of them. The Half-Blood who had no right to exist, who had born against all rules, had outshined all others.

So Zeus offered him godhood. Frozen in the shadow of the pillar, Alex waited to see what he would do. The gods assented, even Athena, as Percy stood in silence. They really didn't understand. They didn't get it. They thought all aspired to be in their immortals-only club. Alex gripped his sword handle. They thought any demigod would abandon the rest for a chance at everlasting life.

"No."

Percy's single word deafened the entire council of Olympus. Alex smirked.

"No?"

As Zeus looked down at Percy, the air seemed to electrify. Alex could feel the hair on his arms standing up and for a moment, he wished he had said goodbye to Percy in the hall.

"You are turning down our generous gift?"

Percy shuffled and then shrugged. "I'm honored and everything," he said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just… I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."

The room stayed silent. Alex grinned.

But Percy hadn't finished. He straightened up, regaining the assured posture that often made Alex forget he was sixteen years old.

"I do want a gift though."

Still in the shadows, Alex watched as Percy got the gods to swear an unbreakable oath on the River Styx. He seemed to forget that fear existed.

And he started with a sentence that left Alex in tears.

"From now on," Percy said, "I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods. All the children, of all the gods."

As Percy laid out the terms of their bounded oath on the River Styx, Alex felt every tear shed by the Rejects of Cabin 11 redeemed. Percy demanded no more unclaimed children. No one else would sleep in a cobweb-filled corner of the Hermes cabin on a sleeping bag if lucky, or with a single blanket on busy days.

Zeus tried to object. Apollo tried to object. But Percy wouldn't stop. Alex watched as he demanded cabins for the minor gods. He named Hecate and Tyche by name. Alex couldn't help but wonder if he did so in honor of Ophelia and Kitty.

Percy insisted they do away with the pact of the Big Three. Yet another useless rule the gods had designed just so they could break it.

"All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

Alex fell silent. He smiled as Percy took a step towards the gods. This was why he'd returned to Camp Half-Blood. Percy worked for everything Luke wanted, before Luke had lost his way.

"Is that all?" Zeus's contempt could be felt as much as heard. The air pressure grew thicker.

"Percy," said Poseidon, "you ask much. You presume much."

"I hold you to your oath. All of you."

The whole room fell silent, a few gods such as Apollo and Ares fidgeting on their thrones. But it was Athena who spoke up. "The boy is correct. We have been unwise to ignore our children."

Alex listened to her boil down the agony of unloved, unclaimed kids to a strategic weakness. Alex scoffed under his breath. But she supported Percy's demands. With a simple nod, she asked the council to accept his plan.

A brief pause passed before the Herald of Olympus, Messenger of the Gods, patron of travelers, and Alex's father, moved for a vote.

"All in favor?" Hermes said.

They agreed unanimously. Alex couldn't help his widening smile. Percy had done what Luke could not. Maybe he had not died in vain.

Side conversations among the gods broke out. Alex watched as Apollo whispered something to his sister, resulting in a poorly covered laugh from him and a roll of the eyes from Artemis. But Zeus's voice brought them back into focus.

"Alexander Griffith, son of Hermes."

He froze. Leaning half in the shadows of the column, he suddenly felt twelve pairs of immortal eyes on his bloody, beaten body. But the stirring words of Percy rang in his ears and his heart. He remembered Luke, remembered Cabin 11. With his head held high, Alex stepped forward.

He passed between Percy and Nico. Coming to stand about twenty feet from Zeus's throne, Alex looked up at the storm god.

He did not kneel.

"Alexander Griffith, for your part in the defense of Olympus, we pardon your betrayal," Zeus began. His words offered forgiveness, but his hard gaze said otherwise. "No other child of the gods returned to our service and brought others to our worship."

Alex felt his whole body tense. He stared up at Zeus, refusing to break eye contact. Percy may have demanded thy support their children but he didn't trust them. And he certainly didn't like them.

"Have you no words in your defense, boy?" Ares said.

The air shifted. Alex tightened his grip on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He turned to Ares. The god radiated heat, uncontrollable, dangerous. But Alex had stared down Kronos in the body of his dearest half-brother. No god of war could scare him.

"I didn't return to Camp Half-Blood for the Olympians," Alex said. He turned from Ares, letting his gaze linger on his father for just a moment, then faced down Zeus once again. "I did it for all the demigods who have lost their lives in this thankless war."

"All wars are thankless," Athena said.

Alex just scoffed. He gestured backwards to where Percy and the others had been standing. But he didn't break eye contact with the visibly angered Zeus.

"For years I slept beside unwanted, unloved, unclaimed children. Sons and daughters of immortals too proud or forgetful to be a parent." Alex bit his lip, tasting blood as he tried and failed to slow down. "Every demigod who fought against you fought to find a family. Because you are no family to any of us."

"Careful, boy."

"No!"

Zeus stood from his throne, followed by several other Olympians. Ares leapt to his feet, as did Athena, Apollo, and Hermes. Electricity sparked up two of the columns nearest the exit of the room.

"Alex," Hermes said. "Put your sword down."

When he'd drawn his celestial bronze sword, Alex didn't know. But he held it aloft in his right hand, the metal glowing bright from both its natural state and the flames of Hestia's hearth. His father had moved closer, the wings in his shoes and helmet fluttering nervously.

Alex looked back at Zeus. He lowered the sword slightly, but shook his head. "I hold you to your oath. What are you going to do with the children who fought against you?"

"We swore no oath to spare them," Zeus said. "Only to pardon their gods."

Athena nodded. "It would be tactically unwise to allow an entire group of demigods who betrayed us to access our favors and training."

Alex felt the heat of the roaring hearth at his back, and an inferno of rage in his chest. How had Percy left out the Half-Bloods? He had spared the gods but not their children?

"I will strike you down, son of Hermes," Zeus said. "Once blast of the master bolt—"

Alex raised his sword. He took a deep breath. "I've been ready for the Fields of Punishment since the day I left Camp Half-Blood."

Zeus raised his hand. Alex looked into his sparking blue eyes. Dying by the hand of the king of the gods was a better death than he deserved. He would die a sacrifice. Maybe Percy would continue their work, try to save the Half-Bloods who had worked for Kronos. They deserved a chance, at least.

Ophelia Byrd had proven that.

Leah Kim had proven that.

A dazzling figure rushed in front of him. Fifteen feet high, wearing short white robes, a winged helmet, and shoes that fluttered like nervous birds, Hermes stepped between Alex and Zeus. In his right hand he held his caduceus staff, Martha and George twisting to look backward.

"Hey Alex," said George. "Got a rat for me?"

"Now's not the time, George!" Martha hissed.

Alex didn't respond. He tensed, his sword growing heavy in his hands. He had fought for days, with little sleep, and the presence of the gods seemed to deepen his grief.

"I have already lost one son today, father," Hermes said. He took a deep breath. "I will not lose another."

The room quieted down. The murmuring from gods and demigods alike became silent. Athena and Ares still stood out of their thrones, watching what would happen, the former assessing threats and the latter assessing how much he could smash Alex's head in he didn't doubt.

"We will discuss the fate of the traitors in the coming days," Zeus said. Tension still filled the room as thick as storm clouds, but he lowered his hands. "Alexander Griffith, you will return to Camp Half-Blood and await our decision."

Apollo spoke up, his voice even, oddly serious for a god so often full of exuberance. "Your fate is now tied to theirs."

At the words of the god of prophecy, Alex felt a weight fall on his chest. The warmth of the fire in the hearth lessened ever so slightly. Alex sheathed his sword. As metal brushed against leather, he took a deep breath.

Hermes turned around. Alex stared up at this god, his father, who he had met only once before. Flecks of grey peppered his dark hair, odd for such a youthful face. If he'd been human, he'd have blamed stress. Alex memorized every line, every white strand of hair of the god who had sent his son to battle a dragon for the sake of a golden apple. The god of travelers, of thieves, of heralds. His father. Hermes shrunk down until they both stood as equals.

Alex chewed on his lip. The murmurings had started again. He could hear Percy and Annabeth behind. Apollo watched with interest. The other gods just gossiped, Aphrodite and Ares smirking and stealing glances at Alex and back.

Looking past Hermes's shoulder, Alex spoke to Zeus. "I'll wait for your decision." He did not wait for a response. He did not kneel. With a final glare at Hermes and a quick nod to George and Martha, Alex turned on his heels.

The demigods parted for him. Alex stole one glance at Percy. He looked frustrated, and tired, and as Alex marched towards the door, he decided he didn't need to know if the anger was directed towards the gods, or Alex himself. He just needed a nap. And a ride to Camp Half-Blood.