MAIN TITLE: The Keeper of Fate
WARNINGS: See first chapter for warnings.
NOTES: Thanks to KittyKat, bookluver100 and PurpleandBlackPandas for reviewing this chapter!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own PJO. Rick Riordan does.
Chapter Two: A God Hands Me the Fate of the World
"APOLLO? You had Grover wake me up at 5:30 A.M. because of APOLLO?" The words seem to explode out of me, even as some part of me realizes that shouting in front of a god isn't exactly a bright idea.
In case you haven't figured it out yet, the teenager I saw standing beside Chiron is none other than the god of the sun (and medicine, poetry, and archery, among other things). I've never met him before in my life, but he's showing off and exuding a golden glow, so it isn't hard to guess. Not to mention the fact that his sleeveless black T-shirt is emblazoned with the words, 'Apollo is Awesome,' which is a bit of a give away, if you know what I mean.
Anyways, I'm not making a very good impression. That's all right, though. I mean his twin sister Artemis, goddess of the moon, already hates me so my life couldn't really get much worse in terms of deities who want to reduce me to a puddle of slime.
With this in mind I go back to screeching at Chiron. "I cannot BELIEVE I was woken up at such an ungodly hour for some pretty boy with an ego the size of Mount Olympus–"
"Desdemona," the centaur interrupts me, his eyes darting nervously between the sun god and me while his tail flicks from side to side. I freeze as I realize that he used my full name. I never let anyone use my full name. I'm about to chew him out, but Chiron is still trying to convey to me the danger that I'm in. "Consider who and what you are referring to."
Somehow Chiron's words get through to me. I should stop right now. I should apologize for shouting, for being rude and disrespectful and eighteen minutes late, but somehow the thought of asking for forgiveness makes me even angrier.
"I know who I'm referring to, thanks. I have eyes. I can see."
"Can you?" and it's not Chiron who's speaking now.
Apollo's voice washes over me like salt water, causing all the wounds I never knew I had to sting. A chill runs down my spine as his eyes, now the colour of ice, bore into mine. The blood drains from my face as I realize they weren't that shade of blue earlier. I've never felt fear like this. This being standing before me is a god. All-knowing. All-powerful. I want to turn around, to fling open the door and run and run and never stop.
But the god of prophecy isn't done talking yet. "Can you see beyond what's in front of you? Can you see the inescapable future laid out for you, the unbreakable chains that bind you to your fate? You forget, little girl, that I know much better than you do where the path you are walking on leads."
The last of his words fade, and then it's like a switch has been flipped. His eyes brighten and his smile–so cold just a few seconds ago–grows playful and almost flirtatious. He relaxes his stance; his previously motionless arms swing back and forth at his side. He has proven what he set out to prove.
The terror inside me evaporates, but I am still wary of provoking the black-clad teen. I shift my gaze to the old horse man, who looks positively stunned that I haven't been vaporized. After a moment or two he regains his composure.
"Right. Well, it seems that you no longer have need of my presence. I will leave you to talk in private." Chiron's hooves make clicking sounds against the floor as he canters over to the door. As if to prove that he does indeed care for me despite my slightly obnoxious conduct, he gives me a stern look that seems to say, 'Behave.'
Feeling mildly touched by his concern, I give him a weak smile which I hope states, 'Oh, believe me, I will.'
I walk along Fireworks Beach, barefoot, just enjoying the light breeze that caresses my face and the grains of sand between my toes. The lack of rambunctious laughter and enthusiastic shouts is the only evidence that the day is winding down. As summer progresses, the sunset comes later and later. At the beginning of July it peaks and starts to come earlier than the preceding days, but still later than usual. It's long past dinner, but the sky is just barely starting its transformation from a deep blue to a mixture of purple and pink with the last of the sun's golden light seeping through.
You know, normally I can't stand the water. I've feared it ever since I was a young child. It can be so chaotic; waves raging, crashing into the beach and then being ripped backwards by the tide. Always changing, churning, as if fighting some inner demon. But the sea is so calm today, and that's why I find myself walking along its shore. I need some small bit of serenity to help me stifle the panic that has been steadily growing since Apollo left.
It could be worse, of course. He could've made me go up to the attic and visit the Oracle. Oh gods, that would have been terrifying. My stomach drops as I realize I've been admitting to being afraid of more things (specifically really hot Greek gods, H20 and shriveled up mummies) today than I have in my entire life. Usually I've got too much pride to fess up and say I'm scared, but after everything that's happened today I feel sort of humbled. Still, I know that this increase in humility is only temporary. I'm sure I'll go back to being a self-absorbed witch–that's what Mr. D calls me on the off chance that he feels like acknowledging I exist–soon.
Which is stupid, because now I've got worse things to worry about than being woken up at unreasonable hours and what Cheryl Brookes, daughter of Aphrodite, will do when she realizes I put deer urine in her shampoo bottle. Not that I'm scared of her, or anything. I'm a better fighter than she is. Most people are.
But that's the thing, you see? Sure, I can kick the butt of one Justin Bieber-obsessed wimp, but so can almost everybody else. So why the heck did Apollo choose me for his little experiment? Yes, I can hold my own in a fight against average monsters, but I'll never be able to wield a sword the way the children of Athena do. I'll never be as strong as the Ares campers or as accurate with a bow and arrow as the Apollo kids. The only advantage I have is that I'm fast. When I'm not sleep deprived or being purposely unpleasant, I can run even faster than most of the tree nymphs.
In fact, I do almost everything at an accelerated pace. Walking, eating, talking (although only when I'm ranting), breathing… Pretty much everything except learning. And reading, which technically falls under the category of learning. Basically I'm really slow when it comes to any type of academics. I've been at camp all of June and the first week of July, and even after two hours with Annabeth everyday trying to learn ancient Greek I'm still not even remotely close to being able to speak, read, and understand it properly. I get a pounding headache every time I so much as glance at the letters. And on top of all that, it's extremely degrading to have a ten year old teaching you a language which she apparently mastered in less than a month. If it weren't for the fact that she's the daughter of the goddess of wisdom, I swear I would die of shame.
Anyways, back to the original point, the truth is that while I know I belong with my brothers and my friends in terms of companionship, when it comes to fighting ability I don't really fit in anywhere. So what it really all boils down to is that I've got to be the absolute worst person to save the world, even if you don't include my sanity–or lack thereof–issues.
Yeah, you heard me right. Back when we were talking in the Big House, Apollo asked me to (sort of) save the world. He didn't send me to the Oracle to get a prophecy, because the whole point of his request is that he wants me to defy a prophecy. And not just any prophecy. No, it has to be the super dangerous Great Prophecy that predicts that a child of the Big Three might end up destroying all of civilization. The prophecy doesn't mention me at all, so why did Apollo come to me about this? More to the point, he's the god of foresight so why the heck does he even want someone to go against the future that his precious Oracle predicted?
That's actually the first thing I asked him when he told me what he required. And you know what his answer was?
"I don't really think you can change anything. You're just a kid, you know? Kinda pretty, sure, but not nearly as awesome as us immortal gods. Specifically me. I mean, I'm on an entirely different level than you. But you're the only choice I have, and there are definitely people who will lose their lives if the future plays out the way it's supposed to."
That right there should be enough to clue anyone in on the fact that he's incredibly vain. But he didn't stop there, and if you can believe it, he sounded even more arrogant as he went on.
"Even if we win, there's no guarantee that all of the gods will survive. Can you imagine a world without me? There would be nothing left worth living for. Don't look at me like that. I'm not conceited; I'm thinking of others. Do you know how devastated people would be if I was gone? I mean, I'm just so important; Artemis would be lost without me and it would be tragic for her hunters. A lot of them don't know what their missing until they meet me. Just think, without me they might stay celibate forever! And my children; my poor, beloved children. They would be so desolate. They depend on me to brighten their lives with my magnificence. Oh, and they might also die if you don't change the future. Seriously, stop looking at me like that. Just because I place my safety above their own doesn't mean I don't care about them. I was only thinking of their happiness."
And yes, he did actually say all of that. For the next few minutes he babbled on about this and that, and then thankfully his speech wound down. He left me with these oh-so inspiring (note the sarcasm) parting words:
"So yeah, I don't think you can do it, but I might as well let you try. Not to mention, I always did like a challenge. Try not to mess up so badly that you destroy the planet. See ya–wait! I can't believe I almost forgot:
I ask for your help,
But you're not as cool as me
So you'll probably fail.
To think I almost deprived you of my spectacular haikus. Anyways, hope my epic poetry brightened your day. 'Til we meet again."
He left before I could tell him that his last line had too many syllables.
I sigh and kick a small pebble into the water, though I instantly regret it. The resulting ripples remind me that my actions now have serious consequences. What if, in my quest to change things, I only make things worse?
But what if I don't act? What if I let things happen the way they should? Surely nothing too terrible will happen.
Apollo's words echo in my head. "There are definitely people who will lose their lives if the future plays out the way it's supposed to."
My siblings, who brought me to the forges and made me a part of their family the second I stepped through the door; the Stoll brothers, who were the only ones who made me feel welcome during my brief stay in the Hermes cabin; Clarisse, who is actually a lot more understanding than she seems and who beats up the people who make fun of me for looking so different from the other Hephaestus kids. The list goes on, and as I picture their faces the knowledge that one of them might die makes me want to throw up. How can I look the other campers in the eye knowing that I'm not doing my very best to save them from their fates? Well that's an easy one. I can't.
So I will do my very best, then. But how do I do that? And what if my best isn't good enough?
"Dess?"
The voice takes me by surprise and I whirl around in shock. I relax as my eyes fall on Zeth, my least favourite brother. He's very reserved, very quiet, and it takes a lot–like a hamburger eating contest, for instance–to coax him out of his shell. But I want you to understand something. When I say he's my least favourite brother, I just mean that because he's so shy, I don't connect with him as much as I do with Beckendorf, Gareth, and Jake. But that doesn't mean that I don't love him. Because I do. I love all my siblings, even though I've only known them for a little more than a month.
Zeth's brown eyes bore into mine and I know he can tell something's wrong. But he just looks at me for a moment and then holds out his hand. I take it and he pulls me back toward the cabins, or maybe we're going to go steal some carrots from Katie Gardner's private stash because I skipped dinner.
It doesn't really matter where we're going, though. Because looking at my half-brother, I know that I'll do whatever it takes to protect him and all the other campers. And it won't be as difficult as I've been thinking it will be. Maybe I'm only an average archer, maybe I'm rude most of the time and impatient. But that doesn't matter. Because looking at my half-brother, I know that whatever else I may be, I'm not alone.
It's almost curfew when I return to cabin nine. Zeth did indeed take me on a quest to raid Katie Gardner's hidden horde of the orange vegetables that we call carrots. Gardner calls them her babies. She doesn't eat them, you see. Instead she takes care of them like they're human children. Which I guess makes Zeth and me cannibals. Whatever. We only ate the ones she hasn't named. Those are the ones she's not extremely attached to. She's still mildly fond of them, though, so she might be pissed if she finds out. Oh well. I was hungry; how can I deny myself sustenance?
After all of this took place Zeth decided to head back to our cabin to give me the alone time I apparently desperately craved. Personally I think he just wanted to shut himself up in his underground lair and plot the demise of the Myrmekes, who are giant ants that adore shiny metals. One of them stole Zeth's pocket blowtorch. Yeah, you heard me right. Dad gives one to all of his children when he claims them. Normal kids get pocket knives. We get pocket blowtorches. Go figure. Though I think Hephaestus might trash that tradition considering the, uh, incident. Which involved lots of wild flames and Cheryl's hair catching fire. Which had nothing to do with me. Clearly.
So anyways, I'm back at the cabin now. I open the door and, ignoring the smoke and turning gears, slip through. None of my siblings look up as I quietly shut the door behind me, but it's a surprise to see the boys here at all. Especially Zeth.
Apparently I was wrong to assume that he was holed up in his underground room–we all have one, in fact there's a whole network of tunnels underneath our cabin–because here he is, lying on his bed, struggling through the Iliad. What a nerd. I know that sounds mean, it's just that–well, honestly, we're dyslexic. We have the perfect excuse to get out of reading the books teachers assign, but Zeth reads them all anyways. And he's not even reading the Iliad because Chiron told him to. It's for fun. Whatever, I guess it doesn't really matter. We all have our quirks, and Hephaestus knows that mine are even weirder than most.
In contrast to Zeth's heavy reading material, Jake is flipping through a comic book. Such a dedicated student. Jake's the youngest out of all of us, only eleven years old, but he's my favourite. I'm closer to him than I am to the others, so I can usually tell what he's thinking or feeling. And right now he's not paying attention to a single page of his Archie comic book. Actually, now that I think about it, Zeth doesn't look like he's focusing that much on Homer. Beckendorf and even Gareth don't look too absorbed in the blueprints they're scanning.
I make my way over to the bed labeled 3A, which doesn't have as many cool features as Gareth's does. I plop down onto the soft mattress–did you think we slept on metal?–and sneak a glance at my siblings. They're all looking at me now, thinking I won't notice. I catch Gareth's eye and he immediately looks away, as do the rest of them. I smile, though I know they can't see it. They're up here because I've been acting strange today and they're worried about me.
It's nice, after all these years, to finally have a family that loves me.
Author's Note: Apollo's a god and I think that if anyone challenged his authority and was really obnoxious about it he would get pissed off, hence the OOCness.
Reviews are appreciated.