To 8Ball3- We do! But, counterpoint- not all children are nice. You should meet my siblings. I like that headcanon, Tyson's just gonna go around ripping his shirt off for everyone to read his pretty girlfriend's prophecies. I don't mind cats, personally, but there is this evil one that lives over the fence and I swear it's immortal.
To someone- These demigods know each other for the course of a few days and they're instantly banded together, solid little team. Sad, really, 'cos you never know who's gonna die D: And yes, the gods are horrible parents O.O
This wasn't the first time he had heard death, death, death chanted at him. It was the first time it had been spoken to him while he was poked repeatedly in his flabby, mortal body. "Can you be a bit more specific?" He asked. In actuality, he wanted to ask 'can you make all this go away and can you also please stop poking me?'
"Cross references." Ella said.
"Sorry?"
"Tarquin's tomb. The Burning Maze words. Frank told me: Apollo faces death in Tarquin's tomb unless the doorway to the soundless god is opened by Bellona's daughter."
"I know the prophecy. I sort of wish people would stop saying it. What exactly-?"
"Cross-referenced Tarquin and Bellona and soundless god with Tyson's index." Apollo turned to Frank, the only living creature in the room that made sense.
"Tyson has an index?"
"He wouldn't be much of a reference book without an index."
"On the back of my thigh!" Tyson called, still merrily kicking his feet. "Want to see?"
"No! Gods, no. So, you cross-referenced-"
"Yep, yep." Ella nodded. "No results for Bellona or the soundless god. Hmm." She tapped the sides of her head. "Need more words for those. But Tarquin's tomb, yep. Found a line." She scuttled to the tattoo chair, Aristophanes trotting close behind. He swatted at her wings, but she did not notice. Ella tapped Tyson's shoulder blade. "Here. A wildcat near the spinning lights," she read, "The tomb of Tarquin with horses bright. To open his door, two-fifty-four."
Mrow, Aristophanes said.
"No, Aristophanes." Ella shook her head, tone softening. "You are not a wildcat." Apollo waited for more prophecy. Most of the Sibylline Books read like The Joy of Cooking, with sacrificial recipes to placate the gods in the event of certain catastrophes. Plague of locusts eating through your crops? Try the Ceres souffle, with loaves of honey bread roasted over her altar for three days. Earthquake, destroying the city? When Neptune comes home tonight, surprise him with three black bulls basted in holy oil and burned in a fire pit with sprigs of rosemary!
"Frank, did that make any sense to you?" He asked. The praetor frowned.
"I thought you would understand it." Apollo didn't appreciate that people still expected him to understand any and all prophecies purely because he had once been the god of prophecies.
"Ella." He faced the harpy again. "Could those lines describe a location?"
"Yep, yep. Close by, probably. But only to go in. Look around. Find out the right things and leave. Not to kill Tarquinius Superbus. Nope. He's much too dead to kill. For that, hmm… need more words."
Frank picked at the mural-crown badge on his chest.
"Tarquinius Superbus. The last king of Rome. He was considered a myth, even back in Imperial Roman times. His tomb was never discovered. Why would he be…?" He gestured around vaguely.
"In our neck of the woods?" Apollo supplied. "Probably the same reason why Mount Olympus is over New York or Camp Jupiter is in the Bay Area."
"OK, that's fair." Frank nodded. "Still, if the tomb of a Roman king was near Camp Jupiter, why are we just learning about it now? Why the attack of the undead?" Apollo couldn't respond. He had nothing to respond with. As evil as he may have been, Tarquin had been a minor-league player compared to the emperors. He didn't understand why a semi-legendary, barbaric and apparently undead Roman king would have joined forces with the Triumvirate.
A distant memory tickled the base of his skull. It was not a coincidence Tarquin had made himself known once the reconstruction of the Sibylline Books was underway. He remembered his dream of the purple-eyed entity, the deep voice that possessed the eurynomos in the tunnel- you of all people should understand the fragile boundary between life and death.
The cut across his stomach ached, beginning to throb. Just once, just to spice things up a bit, Apollo wished they would find a tomb where the occupants were already dead and stayed dead.
"So, Ella." He said. "Are you saying we should find this tomb?"
"Yep. Go in the tomb. Tomb Raider for PC, PlayStation and Sega Saturn, nineteen-ninety-six. Tombs of Atuan, Ursula Le Guin, Atheneum Press, nineteen-seventy-one." Apollo hardly noticed the extra information this time, cottoning onto the harpy's speech pattern.
"We only go in to look around." He said. "And find out-"
"The right things, yep, yep."
"And then?"
"Come back alive. 'Stayin' Alive', the Bee Gees, second single, Saturday Night Fever motion-picture soundtrack, nineteen-seventy-seven."
"Right." Apollo said, nodding slowly. "And are you sure there's no more information in the Cyclops index that might actually be, uh, helpful?"
"Hmm." Ella stared at Frank, trotting over to stand on her toes and sniff his face. "Firewood. Something. No. That's for later." Frank, dutifully, had not moved away when Ella had drawn closer, but he had frozen, like an animal caught in the headlights.
"Um, Ella?" He forced a smile. "We don't talk about the firewood, remember?"
Another reason Apollo wanted to adopt Frank- he too was in the I Hate Hera club. For some stupidly profound or profoundly stupid reason, you decide, Hera- Juno, whatever- had tied Frank's life force to a small piece of wood, which he carried around with him at all times. If the wood burned up, so did Frank.
Ella ruffled her feathers, providing Aristophanes with a multitude of new targets.
"Fire with… fire with something something bridge. Twice something something… hmmm, nope. That's later. Need more words. Tyson needs a tattoo."
"Yay!" Tyson wiggled his feet some more. "Can you also do a picture of Rainbow? He's my friend! He's a fish pony!"
"A rainbow is white light." Ella said. "Refracted through water droplets."
"Also a fish pony!" Tyson insisted.
"Hmmph." She said. Apollo blinked, glancing sidelong at Frank. He had the feeling they had just witnessed the closest the odd, endearing little couple had ever come to having an argument. "You two can go." Ella said dismissively. "Come back tomorrow. Maybe three days. 'Eight Days a Week', the Beatles. First UK release, nineteen-sixty-four. Not sure yet." Apollo started to protest- they had only four days before the luxury yachts arrived and Camp Jupiter suffered another onslaught of destruction.
Frank touched his arm, quelling the fight.
"We should go." He said gently. "Let her work. It's almost time for evening muster anyway."
Jason looked at his list. He did not doubt for a second that Louisa's bat-wielding mother could and would find him if she had to, so he sat and wrote out the list, as she had instructed. Reason dictated it- if Louisa dared not cross this woman, then he most certainly would not.
The list was rather short. Which, in turn, made it rather depressing.
He had always liked the colour green. Enjoyed watching the sunrise. He also liked flying, despite the many, many jabs of Blond Superman. He was grateful to have been chosen as the pontifex, a real honour, and he was proud of the work he had done thus far.
I want a pet. He wrote, tapping his pen at the end of the sentence. What pet though? Maybe a cat. Or something a bit more unusual, like a lizard or a spider or something. No, probably a cat, he thought, drawing a wobbly, terrible childish image of a cat's face. Romans loved cats. And if he got a spider, Annabeth might have something to say about it. And a lizard might have been too close to a snake in Louisa's eyes and she already wanted to mangle him.
Thinking of Annabeth and Louisa made him think of the Argo II and its crew. He added a few more things to his list.
Thalia, Piper, Percy, Annabeth, Leo, Louisa, Nico, Frank, Hazel, Reyna, Coach, Mellie, Chuck and Festus. Couldn't forget the dragon, he was the most unproblematic of them all.
Adding his friends' names had made the list considerably longer. He found himself tapping his pen again, trying to think. Beside each one, he wrote something about them:
Thalia- big sister, may kill me, wish I could have more time with her
Piper- a girlfriend who had been WAY out of my league. Miss her
Percy- Aquaman/ drowns his pancakes/ I would win in a fight
Annabeth- scary knife lady, but in a cool way
Leo- it's Leo, he's my bro
Louisa- bane of my existence
Nico- bane of my existence #2
Frank- certified teddy bear, wish I could turn into a dragon too
Hazel- adorable and terrifying at the same time- I am so glad I'm not Sciron
Reyna- made a deal with the devil and has magic powers over Lou. Also miss our chats, we used to talk a lot
Coach- genuinely miss the old goat- also has a bat. I should be scared of bats
Mellie- lovely lady, but mental for marrying Coach. Could not be any more different
Chuck- going to be like his dad
Festus- another reason why I wish I could turn into a dragon. He leaks oil and breaks down a lot, but this guy has got us through so much and he looks after Leo. Gods know Leo needs looking after
All of that filled out his list so much more. He read it over, a trickle of warmth circling in his chest. Jessica was right- he was alive. He had all of this to live for. And he could always add to this list. In fact, he would add to this list every single day. Today's note- I love my family.
Frank hustled Apollo back to camp as fast as his wounded gut would allow. Apollo wanted to question him about Ella's comments. The praetor suddenly did not seem so talkative; his hand repeatedly strayed to the side of his belt, where a cloth pouch hung tucked behind his scabbard. Apollo hadn't noticed it before, but quickly summarised that was where he stored his Juno-Cursed Life-Ending Souvenir™.
Evening muster was surrounded by tired, but contented chatter. Wind spirits whisked around, carting platters of food and pitchers of drink. Apollo's attention was immediately drawn to the centre of the pavilion. Louisa had come out and she did not seem better for her stint in 'quarantine'. She was not bothered in the slightest by the aurae. Everyone else was ducking to avoid being decapitated by dinner. She dollied about, singing to herself, with the spirits parting around her, rushing plates and pitchers over her head. Her hair was tied back in a braid, whipped over her shoulder back and forth as the spirits blustered around her.
"Lou?" Frank called. The spirits paused and made way for him too, hurrying back to their work in his wake. He caught her by the shoulder.
"No!" Louisa cried. The next thing they knew, Frank had been yanked over her shoulder, landing heavily on his back. She gripped his arm, twisted from the manoeuvre, about to stomp on his head. The entire muster went still. "Frank." She froze.
"Hi." Frank wheezed, blinking confusedly.
"Lou, no! Let him go." Hazel appeared, pulling on her cousin's arm until she let Frank go. "Why don't we get you some food?" She suggested with a gentle smile.
"Mm. No." Louisa shook her head. Her gaze landed on Apollo and she blew a raspberry, squishing her cheeks between her fists. "Don't like you!" She called. She swatted at the air, as if batting multiple flies, and the wind spirits swirled back into their work. Hazel touched her arm again. Louisa's head snapped round and Hazel withdrew, smiling uneasily. "Bah." Louisa said, wrinkling her nose. "Where's Reyna? I like Reyna. I want Reyna." Hazel moved around her, helping Frank to his feet and brushing him down. Louisa studied her palms distractedly, humming to herself once more. She flexed her fingers two, three, four times and looked back up. "Where's Reyna?"
"I'm here, Lou." Reyna's voice came from behind Apollo, damn near to startling him out of his skin. Reyna was dressed in praetor regalia, neat and pristine as always. Shadows ringed her eyes, but she seemed consistently alert, watching her girlfriend with muted amusement. Her hair was set in an identical braid to Louisa's, although much tidier and less wind-spirit-disturbed.
"Rey-Rey!" Louisa exclaimed delightedly, throwing her hands up in celebration. "I've been lookin' for you!"
"And I've been looking for you." Reyna smiled, weary. "You were supposed to wait for me at the house."
"No." Louisa shook her head, drumming her fingers on her face and then covering her ears. "Loud there." Reyna's expression softened. She swept past Apollo with hardly a second glance, holding her hands out as she neared Louisa. Louisa took her hands without question, hopping from foot to foot softly. "Loud here."
"Is that why you're standing in the middle of the aurae?"
"No. Yes. Maybe." Louisa tipped her head to one side, suddenly top heavy, gaze sweeping round until she found Frank again. "Ah. Sorry, Frank. Love you."
"Love you too, Lou."
"I like Frank." Louisa declared. "He's my… great-great-great-great… great-great nephew. I don't know how many greats." She shrugged. "He's my bro."
"I know." Reyna assured. She tugged on Louisa's hands and led her away, sitting at the head table and piling her with food. Louisa brightened as the food mounted, cackling and rubbing her hands together. Apollo had seen Meg inhale food countless times before- it now seemed she had some competition.
"Frank?" He moved forward, reaching for the praetor concernedly. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah." Frank nodded. "I'm fine, thank you." He smiled. A little bruised, maybe, but otherwise unhurt. He must have noticed Apollo's attention drifting warily to Louisa, who was now wolfing down cheeseburgers like no tomorrow. "Hey," Frank squeezed his shoulder, "it's OK. Reyna said she can get like this. It's basically her brain trying to catch up."
"Does… does she know what she did?" Frank studied Apollo's face for a moment. He clearly wasn't asking about the over-the-shoulder trip.
"Um. Yes. Reyna has spoken to her about it, although I've not been told everything." Frank shrugged a shoulder. "We just have to keep an eye on her, you know? And not sneak up on her either." He smiled sheepishly. "She's in good hands." He assured when Apollo was everything but. "There's no need to…" He hesitated, risking a glance at Hazel. She frowned, sensing secrets. Frank elected to point upwards instead. Apollo nodded, message received.
"Zhang!" A cheeseburger splattered on the back of his head. Louisa snorted, tipping to one side in her seat as she dissolved into giggles. Reyna heaved a sigh, her head in her hands.
"Mmph." Frank touched the back of his head, fingers spattered with melting cheese and bits of onion. "Excuse me a second." He bowed his head to Hazel, nodded at Apollo, and then went to throw the cheeseburger back at his however-many-greats aunt.
"No!" Louisa protested, standing on the arms of her chair. She tapped herself on the chest. "Only I can throw them! No! Rey, help!"
"You had this coming!"
"Um, should we do something?" Apollo asked the centurion at his side.
"No. She just likes to throw things." As if on cue, Louisa stole and tossed an entire plate of veggie wraps at the two praetors, scarpering over the back of her chair and legging it into the night. Hazel sighed. "She's fine." She smiled tightly. "Now," she pointed up, "what was that about?"
"Uh…" Apollo said brilliantly. Hazel fumed. "Can I get food first?" He asked, voice an octave or two higher than normal. "If you're going to kill me, I'd like to die on a full stomach."