I really do hope you all enjoy this! This fanfiction has officially reached 10,000 words and nineteen pages in Word! Anyway, this chapter starts kind of abruptly but ends well. I'm almost going to start getting into the meat of the story, which involves a prophecy. I feel like I'm in this for the long haul, and who knows, just maybe this will become a full length story and a headache to read.
I own nothing!
"Um, this is my first time doing this, so I guess I'll just take you around, and you can ask questions as we go." The way he says it, I know his decision is finite. Not bothering to pause, he takes off, heading along our bank of the river. Determined that he will not get away from me, I match his pace, walking briskly beside him. About nine yards from the Big House, the boy revolves in the complete opposite direction. I mimic the action, shading my eyes from the glare of the sun as I try to see what has him stopped in his tracks.
"See that?" He asks, pointing, but the land before us is empty of every except the blue farmhouse we just came from and the hill that marks the entrance into the camp, complete with Thalia's pine, a dragon and- what in the gods' names?- the Golden Fleece.
"No. " I mutter. They cannot have the Golden Fleece. The thing has been lost for centuries, but he looks at me like I have suddenly lost a hundred IQ points. Sunlight reflects off the kid's dark hair, hitting me in my eyes. I make a face that could be mean of number of things, including that I am stupid. Nico does not comment, just turns back around.
"That," he says, pointing again, "is Half-Blood Hill. You probably come over it on your way in, didn't you?" No, I did not, but most people do not have the privilege of being dropped off at camp by a god; so, I lie,
"Yes," while still pondering the implications of the Fleece and the dragon and wondering how to ask without calling suspicion to myself. Nico, the dear, takes care of my predicament for me, inquiring slyly,
"So what did you think of Peleus?"
That is sweet. They named the dragon. I know that my little guide is testing me somewhat, so I hesitate almost unnoticeably before responding,
"He was," my voice shakes as I insert a little fear for Nico's shake, "frightening." A very appropriate answer for a new demigod. I think Dad would be proud of my excellent lying skills. Nico seems to appreciate them, too, because his very slight laughter seems to be shaking his shoulders.
"Well, I hope he didn't scare you too badly." His half-smirk makes a return. "He's just supposed to protect the Camp from intruders." Well, that makes sense, but I have got to wonder why Thalia's tree is not doing the trick anymore and why the pine has the Fleece draped over a branch.
"Is that wholly thing," I almost snort from derision. As if any child of Greece does not know what the Golden Fleece is. Besides, the glittering wool is a dead give-away. "the Golden Fleece from the legends?" Grimacing, Nico glances at the ground, and I realize the position in which I have put him. He is now on the verge of giving me the They're-Not-Legends speech, wherein he will reveal that the gods walk among us (Not really. They prefer their thrones.) and all the ancient myths are real. Sadly, it is an awkward speech to give, and the boy's face says it all. Nico lets out a little puff of air then slowly rolls his head up, his chin jutting out last.
"Hope," he looks me dead in the eye, his young face serious and devoid of personal attachment or emotion, "they're not legends." His tone is dead and dry, "They're real. The gods are real. Heroes are real. The monsters are real. And we have to deal with all of them." Well, that was cheery. Nico looks at me like he expects me to be shocked at the idea. I fight back a small smile, even though it is no laughing matter. Most of us demigods feel the some sense of abandonment from the lack of contact by our godly parents both before and after we are dumped into the big pile of shit that is our lives. Nico and I are no exceptions.
So I just give an "Mm, hmm," and start walking, somewhat aimlessly, toward the volleyball courts. The boy is right at my elbow within a matter of a second. He studies my face closely, his eyebrows knitted together slightly.
"You," he looks at my face for confirmation, "you aren't surprised," he states. Only the gods know how close I am to laughing at this moment. No, I am not surprised. In fact, you could say that this is all old news. But I do not tell Nico this.
"I've always had my suspicions." What an understatement. "The legends have to come from somewhere, don't they?" I really want to find out about the Golden Fleece, and maybe my guide too, so I try to harry the conversation along a little bit, asking Nico "So who's your godly parent?" He starts.
"Oh, I- what?" He stops, but his feet keep moving. And I honestly thought it would be that easy.
"Well, I assume that demigods are real, too, aren't they?" I explain. The boy recovers.
"Oh. Yeah. Um, it's Hades." No. Freaking. Way.
"You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding!" He cannot have seen! Some of my inner hysteria slips into my words. Nico looks at me like I am loosing it. The sad part is I am.
"No," he says to me flatly. As I calm myself, he speaks again, "I'd say it's okay, but it's not. As demigods, we're hunted down constantly, always fighting, never a moment's rest. When we do, it's here, training for the next time we go out and risk our lives. It's all part of what we are." He pauses in his bitterness, regarding me speculatively. "You look about fifteen, and the gods are supposed to claim their children by thirteen. You should be claimed tonight at dinner or the campfire."
Still regaining my composure, I manage to choke out, "Why," breath, "do the gods have to claim their children at thirteen?" It certainly is a new twist. Nico, in a reaction opposite to my lack of shock earlier, seems unbothered by my surprise now, waving a hand dismissively,
"It was part of the deal Percy Jackson made after saving Olympus from an attack by the Titans." He pauses to see if I am keeping up with all of this information. "The gods can't ignore their entirely children anymore, but, still, they're busy and sometimes one or two get claimed late." Jackson, I think, Percy Jackson. My guide stops my thinking, and introduces me to the volleyball courts, where a game is just starting. I look at Nico, who is not really showing much enthusiasm at the idea of the game. The boy is dark-skinned, but with his dark hair and eyes, I put his looks down to Italian lineage and not any particular interest is sports, despite his being muscled in the way of a swordsman. We walk right past the kiln for arts and crafts, another place where neither of us display any interest but the few kids in the place do. Through the doorway, I can see at least one child of Aphrodite highly engaged in creating a very intricate piece of jewelry. I resume my thought process as we continue our walk.
Jackson… Surely not that kid that killed the Minotaur. I remember how everyone was so shocked when he turned out to be a son of the Big Three. Then, he returned the Lightning Bolt to Olympus; now, he is the hero of it. I suppose, in five years, that the twelve year old has grown up, like everyone but me. Nico was right about my age, but I feel so much older than fifteen. Going through death, Hell, and back does a lot to make you mature, if not physically.
Shaking off thoughts of my previous demise ( and desperately not thinking of the one I am sure to face), I pick back up on my conversation with my guide.
"So," I stretch out the word for at least a full second, "Nico, son of Hades, been to the Underworld recently?" I desperately need to know, if he saw me, saw Luke and I, because I am afraid of how his seeing me there would color his opinion of me.
But, evidently, I am not allowed to know immediately, as we have arrived at the amphitheater. I am a little aggravated, but I do not really mind. I sit on a weathered stone bench, running my fingers across the loose rocks that have broken off the surface. I can barely hear Nico telling me about events that are held in the theater and about the campfires held after dinner here, too busy am I remembering the dancing flames and silly songs from when I lived. Grandmother Dearest is dressed for war but has forgotten her sword. Yes, that was always my favorite, but I cannot remember the rest. If I am lucky, we will sing Grandmother Dearest tonight.
We have climbed the hundreds of rough, gray steps down to the floor of the amphitheater and back up before Nico answers at last. "No, I haven't been in a couple months. It's not exactly a fun place, if you know what I mean." I do, but instead of saying that, I blurt out the question that is bothering me.
"Ever been to the Fields of Punishment?" He looks at me askance as I realize I been be a little too well informed on the geography of the Underworld for a mortal, but I return his glance unabashedly as though nothing is wrong with my question whatsoever.
"Once." I hold my breath. " I was on a mission with Percy and Thalia, and we saw Sisyphus, but, generally, I try to avoid the Fields of Punishment."
"Thalia?" Why, why couldn't anything be the same? Nico is looking at me again. I press my point, "As in the pine tree?" Now he is really looking at me. Gods. Apparently, I have lost the ability to shut up when I know more than I should.
"Yeah," the Italian breaks the word into two syllables, "But she's not a tree anymore." Well, duh. Even I know that at this point. "The tree was poisoned, so when Percy went on a quest to save a satyr, he brought back the fleece, which healed the tree and Thalia. So, no tree, no more."
By now, we are no more than ten feet away from the rock wall. Nico tries to stop our conversation to talk about the wonders of the rock wall, which was spewing lava halfway down its wall to the dismay of the demigod now desperately scrambling for his life, but I am having none of it. Making my voice low and dangerous, I growl,
"Who dared to poison Thalia's tree?" I round on Nico, whose dark eyes grow large at the sight of my advancing on him. "Who, Nico?"
The boy holds his ground. Even in my fury I have to respect his courage. He answers my question, holding his chin high, "A guy called Luke Castellan." Instead of tearing Nico to shreds like I probably look like I am about to do, I sprint into the shadow of the flowing rock wall as the demigod climbing falls eight feet onto his butt with a thud. There, I hit my knees and throw up everything all the bile in stomach to make up for the lack of food.
How could he? I came to Camp the year after Luke did. He told me the story of Thalia's death himself. I saw how it tore at him, the soul-rendering sadness he felt. How could he? How could he kill that last left of her? How? How! I saw it in his eyes! I saw that pain! How, by the gods, how!
How?
I feel hands hesitantly lifting my hair from around my face.
"Hope?" It is Nico. "Are you sick?" His voice is concerned yet very clear and matter-of-fact. "Do you need some ambrosia?"
I sit back and wipe my mouth. "No, thank you." I hold back a dark laugh. "I'm not sick, so I'd rather not chance burning to ashes." Taking my hair back, I stand on my own, ignoring the hand he has halfway held out for me.
"Alright," he says to me, "we can go to the mess hall next." I only nod and step delicately around the lava now pooling in a mushroom-like shape onto the grass. Nico and I pick our way around the southwestern face of the wall. I almost put my foot in molten lava taking a step back as we emerge from the shadow because sitting in the inlet behind the mess hall is a great bronze ship with a dragon head mast anchored by one heavy anchor on one side in the water and three woven metal ropes going to land on the other. I can see strain in the chain links going down to the anchor and in the fibers of the ropes, and I get the feeling that both are there to stop the ship from floating up and flying away.
On the deck and are the ground, a stream of people are going on and off board, bringing in large trunks of provisions. One zippy Latino kid is flitting around everywhere on deck, opening maintenance hatches and fiddling with them briefly, getting more grease on him in the process, before closing the hatches and disappearing below deck. As he goes down, a toned blonde guy and a serious blonde girl come up, discussing travel plans as well as defensive and aggressive tactics that could be used from the ship's deck. A beautiful-beyond-belief bronze-skinned brunette is going over a list and calling out to the half-bloods carrying boxes to makes sure that the right supplies are packed away properly. As I watch, a spiky-haired goth chick wearing a seemingly out-of-character silver circlet dashes up the plank and hails the blonde boy, saying something about just getting word from the Lady Artemis. The guy excuses himself from the other blonde and goes with the girl that looks oddly similar to him, despite the color difference between their blonde and black hair. Flabbergasted, I look at Nico.
"What is this?" He seems used to the scene before him, albeit somehow uneasy. A crease marks the space between his eyebrows.
"This," his hand indicates the ship in front of us, "is the Argo II." He flags down the blonde girl. "Hey, HEY! ANNABETH!" The blonde glances around quickly before she spies Nico and starts waving her hand in the air.
"Nico di Angelo! When did you get back?" She hurries over to the railing. Nico cups his hands around his mouth to yell back.
"Two days ago!" She shakes her head, causing her curly ponytail to fly every which way.
"Come on board!" she yells, pointing to the plank, "Why have I not seen you yet?" Nico and I begin walking along the edge of the water.
"You've been busy!" Annabeth appears at the top of the gangplank as we reach the bottom.
"So I have!" She and Nico run to meet in the middle and give each other a friendly embrace. I follow a little awkwardly, feeling like an intruder. The two friends smile at each other before walking up the plank.
"So this is the Argo," says Nico to Annabeth.
"Yes, it is. Leo Valdez is our main mechanic. He's been working almost non-stop to make sure the ship is ready. We all have." She sounds run-down.
"Yeah." Nico puts a hand on the girl's shoulder. "It looks great." He takes his hand back. "When does she sail?" Here, about mid-way around the deck's fore, Annabeth rests a hand against her temple.
"Tomorrow." Apprehension takes on its own element in her weariness. The son of Hades turns the girl so she has no choice but to look him in the eye.
"It will be fine, Annabeth," he says firmly, "we will get him back." She meets his eyes before stepping away and looking down, shoulders slumped.
"Yeah. Yeah," she whispers, "I hope so." Out loud, she says, "I'll see you later, okay?" Nico nods, looking concerned, but waves his hand in farewell. One look from him to me and I know to go back to the ground. I do, and my guide meets me on the other side of the river flowing through camp. His shoulders mirror the way Annabeth's were, except his are a little stiffer, taller, not quite as defeated, and I know not to ask him about their conversation. He does not appear in the mood to do anything so I prompt him,
"Where to next?" He glances quickly at me before straightening himself up.
"Um," he seems to gather his thoughts together, "you'll get to see the mess hall at dinner, so you don't really need to see that now." He really is in a rush to get the tour over. I would agree. It has been extraordinarily long. "I'll just take you to see the cabins. You can see the forest during Capture-the-Flag or something and the armory before activities tomorrow. I'll have to ask Chiron about that," he mumbles the last part as a note to himself and moves on, "The arena and the stables you'll see during lessons, so I don't have to worry about that. So, yeah, just the cabins then." I wait patiently as he finishes his monologue, and abruptly, we are off, moving rapidly over grass. We pass up the mess hall, and before long, we arrive at the him and her mausoleums that mark the beginning of the cabin, and we halt.
"Quite a, uh, lot of cabins you have here," I pant, a little out of breathe from the running we were practically doing.
"Um, yeah." For a moment, Nico reminds me of a puzzle having its last piece put together with the rest; then it is over, and he regains his composure previous to boarding the Argo II. "They were part of the deal with Olympus, too. Minor gods have to be recognized on Olympus and at Camp, so we got a whole bunch of new cabins. Yeah," we start walking down the courtyard with Nico pointing our cabins as we go, "odd-numbered male-god cabins on your left, even-numbered female-god cabins on your right. Zeus's is Cabin One, and Hera's is the second." He pointed to each one. "Poseidon is the third, and fourth, over there, is Demeter's cabin, but you can only get in if you can get past the plants. And that-"
We have reached the middle of the courtyard, so I cut Nico off and walk over to the fire burning in the very center of the cabins. I can feel him following me but otherwise ignore his presence. Reaching the fire, I see a young brunette female sitting cross-legged with a little black-and-white tiled pithos jar, regarding me with eyes that glow as warmly as the flames in which she sits. I bow.
"Lady Hestia." She smiles.
"Pandora Dayton. I see you have returned home." I glance nervously at Nico, who seems to have frozen. "Oh, do not worry about him. He cannot hear us," she reassures me. This is why Hestia has always been my favorite goddess. I hope my father did not hear that.
"Thank you, Lady." Hestia gives me a critical once-over before asking,
"Is there something you seek, child?"
I almost jump in my haste to reassure the goddess. "Oh, no, my Lady. I come only to pay homage." A knowing smile alights on her small lips.
"Very well, but let me say this." She holds up a finger to stop any protest from me. "Hope will always be there when you need it, and I believe you will find yourself worthier to have hope than you think yourself." One of her white hands strokes the pithos jar. I gape, shocked.
"That's not-" I stop myself, beseeching Hestia for help, "is it?" Her eyes glow with pleasure.
"The original." The goddess becomes serious. "Elpis still lives within, but it is your destiny to see whether or not she continues to do so." My jaw hangs open.
"My Lady! I cannot possibly- I mean, the last someone had that-"
"The last time someone had this" she pauses for emphasis, "he gave it to me, to be kept at the hearth. So protect the hearth." I bow my head submissively but say,
"Lady Hestia, I don't understand." She reaches a hand out to lift my chin up. It is warm; nonetheless, I do not refuse the meeting. The gods do not grant benign physical contact very much, so I am touched. She looks me in the eyes, and for a moment, I am overwhelmed by the power in them.
"When the time comes, you will. See you around." She winks, releasing me from her influence, and then disappears entirely. Beside me, Nico jerks back to consciousness and shakes his head.
"Whoa," he breathes, "head rush. Hey, Hope, what's going on?" he adds to me, under his breath.
"Oh, nothing," I stall, "so, uh, what's in Cabin Five?" Nico snaps out of it.
"Oh, uh, yeah that's the Ares cabin…" And so we continue until we reach Cabin Eleven. We stop outside the door, and I take in the familiar sight of my cabin. The wooden planks are still rough and unsanded, the brown paint peeling off in little flakes. Everything about the cabin says worn-out, from the threshold the caduceus above the door, but it is my home, where I have (or had, I think sadly) family.
"Welcome to Cabin Eleven: The Hermes Cabin," announces Nico, pushing open the door. He steps inside, and I come in eagerly right behind him. The inside is just as worn as the outside, but it is different from the way I remember it. It is more open, less- crowded. I do a quick count of the people in the room. Eight campers. It simply cannot be. Not a sleeping bag on the floor, not a strangler in sight, and four empty beds. Nico is talking to the campers, presumably introducing me, and I hear the familiar Hermes greeting.
"Regular or Undetermined?" I almost fail to stop happy tears from coming right then. I beat Nico to the punch, wanting so desperately to be a part of this ritual.
"Undetermined," I announce, although it kills me to say it. The campers look me over, and I realize that they cannot see the family resemblance what with the changes Hades made to my appearance. I think I want to cry tears of sadness now. The guy from the first bed on the left speaks.
"Well, that probably won't last very long." He smiles at me apologetically. "Housing new campers is basically honorary at this point as most gods claim their children by the second night, if not the first, but welcome anyway. Choose any bed you like, even though you probably won't be sleeping in it." He gets off his bed where he was sitting to shake my hand. "I'm Travis Stoll, Hermes Cabin Head Counselor." An identical figure gets up from the first bed on the right and announces itself, saying as it eyes the other boy,
"And I'm Conner Stoll, also the Hermes Cabin Head Counselor." All the other campers get up to shake my hand and bombard me with their names as well.
"Katelyn."
"Blake Joyner."
"Alexis Hicks."
"I'm Cody."
"Jennifer."
"Johnny." That little boy squeaks at me before scurrying back to his bed.
"Thank you," I tell all of them. I then look pointedly at one of the Stoll brothers. Whichever one it is says,
"Just pick a bed and settle in for however long." He smiles kindly. I scan the room perfunctorily before my sight seizes on my old bunk.
"Is that," I swallow, sure I sound breathless, "is that bunk taken?" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Conner gulp.
"No," he says, pausing briefly, "but I feel it's only fair to warn you that one of that bed's occupants disappeared mysteriously." Oh my gods. I remember the Stolls now. Oh, they were so cute when they were little! Always making trouble, like good Hermes campers. My heart swells with pride at seeing them grown up. It was their second year at Camp when I disappeared. It seems natural that they might remember me.
Jennifer is laughing. "Don't scare her away!" She looked at me. "Don't worry. They told me that story when I came here." She smiles prettily by way of apology for her cabin leaders.
"Oh, I won't, I promise." If I disappear again, it will not be anything new to me. I walk in a daze over to the second bed on the right. I lie face down and bury my face in a pillow, shedding my first and only tear of the day. The thin mattress with the springs barely poking through feels so comfortable after a day of unexpected changes, but I can feel everyone's eyes on me so I wipe away my tear and turn over to face the ceiling. Conner looks at me from the next bunk over.
He pierces me with his most serious stare. "I'm not kidding you know. No one ever heard from her again. I don't want to scare you, but you look just about her age, too." I examine his face. It still has that bright and cheery quality to it, but that aspect is offset by the serious expression he wears now. The Conner I remember was not capable of such severity. My swollen heart deflates with the sound of a punctured balloon.
Travis calls out across the room, "Stop bothering her, Conner." Conner opens his mouth to retaliate, but Travis simply speaks across him, addressing me, "Do you need anything? Sleeping bag, toiletries? I can, ah, arrange their acquisition if you do." I laugh out loud.
"No, thanks." I wipe the tears of mirth from under my eyes. "I can take care of it myself." The entire cabin looks at me in astonishment. Blake Joyner breaks the silence by yelling,
"More power to 'ya! Gee, I hope she becomes a regular." Now everybody is laughing. Our giggles have subsided by the time the dinner bell rings across the valley five minutes later. I have not realized how late it really is, but, though my window, the sun is far past its apex and edging out of the third quarter of sky and into the fourth.
Little Johnny is the first to line up in his place: next to last, so I take my place behind him while everyone else gets in order of seniority, which of course, the Stoll brothers end up fighting over who will lead, arguing,
"I was born first!"
"I crossed into Camp first!"
And so on. Eventually, though, they settle down and lead the nine of us together. We march up to the mess pavilion, meeting our cabins on the way. Nico, the amazing one man cabin, wanders about by himself, while Annabeth leads a line of about seven demigod siblings. I cannot recognize anybody else, so I just pay attention to myself and to the smell of food (food! (I sound like a satyr.) ) until we actually reach the pavilion and I lose my temper because there is a huge jagged scar reaching horizontally across the otherwise smooth marble floor.
I reach my breaking point. This is it. How many things in this camp have to change. It- is –TOO - MUCH! I wish so much that I could just be invisible for a few moments so I could break down in privacy. I send up a little prayer for a blessing to any listening gods because I cannot take this anymore. As soon as I do, I get my wish. The world outside of me seems to become hazy and unfocused. I alone am completely clear to my eyes, and somehow I know it is because the rest of camp cannot see me, not the other way around. I watch in real time as the grainy figures of my cabin mates realize that I am gone and send up the alert to Chiron at the high table. I know everyone will be looking for me soon, so I have my moment, and then wonder how to get out of this state. I hear a voice say,
"I can help you with that."
"Hades!" I spit. The Lord of the Dead stands in front of me and smiles. He reaches out a hand and takes something from my head.
"I'll just be taking this back now," he holds his Helm of Invisibility carefully in both hands. The grainy picture regains its clarity as I hear him say, "I do hope you enjoy my little surprise." By the time everything is clear again, all the campers are down on their knees facing me. Surprised, I need a few seconds before I realize I have an aura. My aura is not an ethereal glow; instead, I seem to be emanating shadows. Looking up, I see a sight I never wanted to see: Hades's Helm and two crossed key glowing black. I hear Chiron say,
"Hail, Hope Lethe, Daughter of Hades, Lord of Death."
All gods damn Hades.
Hope you liked it! Lots of love, PenNameless1994.
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