A/N: I do not own PJO

HESTIA

PERCY

The campfire burned low as he made his way up to sacrifice food for the gods, scraping the best part of his meal into the flames. Hestia still sat by the fire, giving him a small smile as she smoothed the hem of her brown dress, poking the flames with a stick. He marveled at how no one saw her, though she was in plain sight.

Dinner finished fast with no announcements by the gods, and no complaints from Dionysus. The sing-a-long was the same, but he cursed whoever had invented the song "Apollo had a little cow, little cow, little cow, Apollo had a little cow with fur as red as a rose."

Cows didn't even have fur…right?

When it ended, the flames that had previously been seven feet tall died until they were merely embers, glowing in the darkness. Campers stumbled towards their cabins, half blinded by the darkness, but he made his way towards the light. The last of the fire beckoned him forwards, warm and welcoming.

Hestia sat cross legged at the side, no longer poking the flames. They died slowly, but at the sight of him leapt quickly back into a simmer. The goddess smiled warmly, moving to make room, and he sat, somehow perfectly at ease with the immortal being next to him.

"How are things with you and Annabeth?" She asked, back to prodding the embers, turning them to create more fuel. "Have you proposed?" He fell backwards, barely managing to catch himself before he sprawled on his back. Automatically, his hand reached for the gray velvet box tucked in his back pocket.

"I was going to do it tonight but…the mood wasn't right," He admitted, patting the ring box absently. Hestia smiled sympathetically, prodding the flame one last time before setting down the stick and letting it burn away.

"No," the goddess of the Hearth mused. "The mood was dreary, as if someone was upset the entire time." She didn't sound curious, though, only as though she were stating the facts. Her eyes glowed, reflecting the fire, but radiating their own light.

"Don't you ever get lonely?" He was truly curious, as the goddess often sat unnoticed, but somehow she didn't seem to mind the solitude. In fact, Hestia had always seemed to enjoy it, a quiet moment to think and dwell in her own thoughts for a little wile before life went on.

But his time in Tartarus had taught him that solitude for more than a little while would quickly become suffocating.

Hestia smiled again, though it now looked forced. Her hand brushed a stray brown strand, the other stoking the flames as they withered and died. "No," She informed him, trying for a shrug. It turned out more like a wince, but he pretended not to notice, waiting for her to admit something.

Her fiery eyes flickered—some emotion passed them. He could've sworn it was loneliness, having seen it in Annabeth's so often when the nightmares chased and reared their ugly heads. She blinked, and it was gone, but that lingering feeling hovered in his mind longer than her gaze did.

"The hearth will always be appreciated," She said softly, smiling with the corners of her mouth. "Even if no one remembers." Her words failed to reflect in her eyes, though—they gave her away. He bit his tongue, afraid to say, but he had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what she was feeling.

He squeezed her shoulder awkwardly; even though he had known her for the longest of times, sitting with a goddess still felt strange and he could feel the tension rolling off both of them. Percy tried not to imagine what would happen should he provoke her, but it was hard imaging provoking this kindhearted goddess.

The fire roared in his ears, blasting his face with heat, and Hestia sheepishly lowered them, shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry," She apologized. "Wasn't paying attention."

"You are lonely," He deduced. She winced, like it was a physical blow instead of just a few words. "Being invisible hurts, doesn't it? Almost as much as being scorned, possibly more." She glanced at him from the corner of one fiery eye, still prodding the fire.

Nodding slowly, she set down the stick. "It's hard being goddess of Hearth and Home nowadays," She admitted. "People…they're so busy they forget about home, forget about the heart. Hermes gets all the attention now." She laughed bitterly, but It held no jealousy, only sadness.

"It's hard," She continued, "To see that when I leave the camp the first thing I see is a person staring at a…what are they called? EPhone?"

"IPhone." He corrected, referring to the latest electronic device.

"Right. And they don't look up—not when they cross the street, not when they talk to someone. It's shocking how much love a person can place in a phone, a simple electronic device." She sighed, shaking her head. The flames dimmed again, before building itself back up.

"They do that," Percy shrugged. "I guess it's part of today's society…and people nowadays. It's nice that demigods aren't able to use them, since they send off a flare. They can concentrate more on important things." He looked towards the cabins, where each of them faintly glowed with the magic of their patrons.

"Yes," Hestia nodded. "I suppose I'd like a home, a place where people are loved and respected. All the other gods have followers, different followers, perhaps not humans, but I have always been content with just me. But it would be nice to have that, I suppose."

He shifted, unable to stay still after sitting for almost half an hour. Someone yelled something from the Athena cabin, and he glanced over for a second before shifting his attention back to the goddess in front of him. "You know, most people don't see you because you blend in well, not because you're not wanted."

"I know," Hestia replied, though she still looked somewhat depressed. "I want to blend in. The other gods…they don't understand respect is earned. I don't want people bowing, just because I'm a goddess and they feel I'm going to blast them just because."

He couldn't argue—most of the gods really made him feel that way, as if one wrong word and he'd be blasted to tiny bits, blown to dust and scattered on the wind. But Hestia had this…aura around her, something that told him he wouldn't be killed anytime soon.

She glanced at the night sky, shimmering with stars. "So many heroes died during the war, and I couldn't do anything. The hearth is not meant for fighting…it's not my style, and I don't think I could handle it. Just…" She sighed helplessly, peering into the fire as if it held her fate.

"I know," Percy murmured. "But it gives up hope. You keep it safe, guard the strongest element of all. Isn't that important?" She frowned.

"There's always something else. There was once a hero, much like you. He was handsome, brave, smart…all the makings of a hero. And I dared to hope that maybe he would be the one to change the world. His name was Bellerophon…he tamed the original Pegasus."

"Wasn't he thrown off a horse or something?" Percy blurted, immediately wishing he could take it back and let her talk. She gave him a small smile, followed by a halfhearted glare for interrupting.

"Yes," She answered. "That was his flaw—pride. When I talked to him, I realized immediately it would be his downfall. I warned him, told him not to make foolish decisions based on foolish pride alone. But he forgot, or maybe he just didn't listen—he went and flew up to Olympus."

Percy nodded. "Wasn't that why Zeus blasted him out of the sky?"

"Not quite," She corrected. "Zeus sent a gladfly to sting Pegasus, who pitched Bellerophon out of the sky. He was a fool; a hero, but a foolish one."

"Heracles was worse." Percy immediately attached, remembering what the immortal had done to the deceased huntress Zoe Nightshade. Hestia laughed, the first laugh he had heard all night. The flame bubbled and rose in height, responding to her amusement.

"Yes, he was," Hestia admitted. "He was prideful, arrogant, and cruel—not very smart, and rash. And yet he was the only one turned immortal, the only one with a decent ending. Besides your namesake—Perseus, that is. Now that was a hero." She sounded wistful, as if heroes in the old days were somehow better than the ones now.

The goddess looked at him. "Do not take it personally," She added. "But back then, it was either about yourself or someone else, no in between. No one dared to do rash things—besides Heracles—and no one killed themselves out of shame or pity."

"Sounds a lot better than the world now," Percy joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it failed to work. Hestia sighed.

"It was. You, Percy Jackson, are an exception. I see in you the good qualities of a hero, with none of the bad. Do not let me down. The first time I hoped, it failed. Do not let it happen again."

"I wont," He vowed.

She smiled. "Good. The night is setting in; good night, and be careful—I heard the cleaning harpies are especially vicious."

He swore the flames were higher the next day.

A/N: Thanks for reading, and review! I will accept the challenge of Triton and Amphitrite...

~Johanna