Hestia was happy. It had been years, eons, since her beloved sister Hera was happy. Seeing her fawn and coo over her adoptive son was everything she needed. Hera was a mother at heart, and having that part of her tapped into without fear of retribution, shame and abuse was... well, wonderful. Ares was too like his father, and that scared Hera. Hephaestus was ugly, something that could have cost Hera her power, life and title, and though it was not right to take it out on the poor young god there was a logic to it. She wondered, vaguely, if her sister had postpartum depression as so many mortal mothers had...
She knew that it was the abuses by Zeus that also played a part in hurting Hera, who drew strength from the marriage bond. Really with all things combined, it was no wonder Hera was how she was... but the boy was healing her. Having someone to love, guide, protect... it was good for Hera... and Hestia just hoped that it would continue to be that for her dear sister...
:::
The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. Rowan as Activities Director led Tyson into the pavilion.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. "Who invited that? " somebody at the Apollo table murmured.
Percy glared in their direction, as did Rowan, but they couldn't figure out who'd spoken.
From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter Johnson. My millennium is complete."
Percy gritted my teeth. "Percy Jackson … sir."
Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever." He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time. "Do try to cause less trouble than you have lately."
Percy frowned. "Trouble?"
Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table—the front page of today's New York Post, There was Percy's yearbook picture from Meriwether Prep, the school he mentioned going to when they were training. It basically said Something like: Thirteen-Year-Old Lunatic Torches Gymnasium.
"Yes, trouble."
Rowan sighed. "Mr. D, please be nice." The man glared at him, hatefully, but did not say a word. Too afraid of Hera's wrath likely. "Percy, go to your seat, take Tyson with you. Show him how to make a sacrifice and all that, okay?"
Percy nodded. "Thanks, come on Tyson."
After a lovely meal, in which Rowan made an offering to His mother, Hestia and Hades, he went back to his seat. As soon as everyone was done, he stood tall as he could ( which wasn't much) and said.
"Another fine meal! It is an honor to take up the mantle of Activities director. " There was some half hearted applause, mostly from his few friends. " There will be a few changes, mostly the creation of a border guard. It will be led by Clarisse and Lee Fletcher, the best warrior and archer in the camp. Be careful, set up a guard worthy of it's purpose of protecting the camp." He then gestured to Tyson. "Now we have Tyson here, a young and very kind Cyclops that oozes love. His aura tells me he is a wonderful person and he will be accepted into Camp. But where is he to stay. Hera's cabin will accept him, but so, but that is only if he is not claimed. If he is, then he will be sent to that cabin with his family. For he is family, a child of the gods, and that is that."
Suddenly everybody gasped as a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.
Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident
There was a moment of awed silence.
Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. Rowan sensed, in waves, how many felt rage at this marker of love and claiming... but that was for another day.
"Well, so be it. He will stay with is brother, Percy Jackson. If anyone treats him poorly they are to duel with me." That stiffled any arguments, he was one of the best fighters and everyone knew it. No one wanted to be beaten by him in the arena.
Chapter end, tell me what you think in the reviews.
This was a joy to write.
Love, your Ninja Overlord,
Mika.
