A/N: And I'm back! This is one really long chapter, and I wrote it all in about a day, maybe two. I don't know where it came from, I really don't care. Might be the fact that I've been smoking more weed, might be the fact that I've stopped smoking cigarettes...I dunno. But whatever it is, you can thank that for this newest 'double-chapter'update. It's long as shit, one of my longest chapters ever. I probably should have cut it into two chapters, but I'm feeling a little guilty for making y'all wait for so long, so whatever.
In this chapter, Artemis goes to visit an old friend, Piper has a weird dream (not that kind, you pervs!), Percy sees the smallest amount of potential in Mark (like, seriously the smallest amount you can think of) right before he and Artemis have a little convo about whodunnit, we get a bit of insight into Mark's life (because in all the many fanfics I've read in which the author brings in a little douchebro for Percy, I have never seen anyone try to flesh out the douchebro as a character, other than as a pawn in the obviously grand plotlines they have *cough* I'mbeingsarcastic *cough*), and then he gets kidnapped by Chaos. It's really long. Trust me, get a bag of chips and a Big Gulp from 7-11 before you sit down to read this doozy.
Whatever. Read it if you want, or don't. I really don't care (this is bluster. I obviously care!)
Disclaimer: My dreams are all dead and buried. Sometimes I wish the sun would just explode. But when God comes and calls me to his Kingdom, I'll take all you sons of bitches when I go! I don't ooown a goddamn thing...
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Chapter 6: Tendrils of Memory and Tangents of Fate
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ARTEMIS
As one of the few virgin goddesses, I have made it a point to be able to defend my honor as a maiden. One of the few times I was unable to defend myself, I was forced to hold up the sky in the titan Atlas' place for several weeks.
Therefore, it is only natural that after this event, I forced myself into a much more rigorous training regimen. A new aspect of such training was learning a bit of the magical arts from the goddess of the occult, Hecate. Hecate and I share a rather unorthodox relationship. She and I, along with my predecessor, Selene, make up the cycle of the moon. I, as the maiden, represent the waxing moon. Selene, as the mother, represents the full moon. Hecate, as the child-nurse, represents the waning moon.
As a godling, I was unable to seek assistance from most of the elder goddesses in dealing with my ever-growing power. Hera despised me, as an illegitimate daughter of Zeus. Demeter had already lost her Persephone, and was usually inconsolable. Aphrodite would pester me about renouncing my vow of celibacy, which is quite impossible, as it was sworn to my father upon the River Styx, so I couldn't go back on my word even if I wanted to. Athena was a great help, but she, too, was distracted by other matters. Selene and Hecate were my main sources of comfort and wisdom.
Since Selene's Fading, whenever I have a problem that I cannot solve on my own (which is rather rare nowadays), I turn to the waning moon for guidance. Hecate also happens to be the daughter of my mother's sister, which only strengthens our bond.
Hecate does not live on Olympus, as many other deities do. Many of the rituals and potions she creates are a bit...questionable to the self-righteous morals of my father and the others, so she takes her residence in a cave resting high upon a formation known locally as the Devil's Tower. I myself hold a few doubts concerning Hecate's tendencies, but she is still a being that I have looked up to in the past, and still do, to a certain degree.
The Devil's Tower is located in the state of Wyoming, and it is a true marvel of nature. I do not understand the concepts of the humans who claim that they know how it came to be. Suffice it to say that it is a colossal finger of stone which juts up out of the already high landscape. It is the perfect place for Hecate to perform her work.
I transport myself just outside the mouth of Hecate's cave and send a small beacon of silvery light to announce my presence. Very soon, I hear the soft patter of bare feet smacking against stone, and presently, Hecate appears.
She is very lovely, and like me, she is a virgin deity. Her hair is dark and long, and her pale lavender eyes glint with powers beyond even my comprehension.
"Ah, Artemis, how wonderful to see you again," she calls when she sees who is outside her threshold.
"Hello, Hecate," I answer back, bowing slightly to show respect to my elder. Her cool palm against my cheek lifts me out of my hunched position.
"Dear me, I should think it unfitting for an Olympian to bow to little old me," she titters, gesturing me to follow her in.
"It is only natural for me to pay respect where it is due, cousin," I shoot back. It is an old, playful arguement that we have had many times before.
Her abode is anything but luxurious. Various shelves of stone have been carved out of the cavern's walls to make room for thousands of books, jars and containers of liquids, and objects suspended in more liquid. These, I know, are the ingredients which she coaxes her potions from. Even now, there is a bubbling cauldron of a pale amber liquid in the center of the largest cave.
After checking the brew with a nearby ladle, Hecate offers me a chair near the large table off to the side.
"Is there anything I should be worried about in there?" I ask with a half-smile.
"Oh, that?" Hecate laughs. "It's a pale ale that I'm developing for the Boston Beer Company. Would you care for a sip?" I shake my head politely, and she shrugs. "I've made several beers for them, and I get a vast share of the profits. Those mortals do enjoy their alcohol."
"Yes, and several gods as well," I mutter dryly, thinking of Dionysus and Perseus.
"Ah, nevermind such drivel," she demurs. "Tell me, Artemis. What brings you 'round to my neck of the woods?"
"Do you, perchance, have that lovely memory device of yours handy?" I answer her question with another question.
"Ah, yes, one of my children's creations," Hecate waves her hand, and a small, circular basin with a silvery substance partway between gas and liquid floats over to the table. "My dear Pernelle Flamel and her Penseives. Would you like me to extract the memory for you?"
"No, I am quite adept at it by now, thank you," I say, and put a finger to my temple. A shining strand of thought clings to my digit as I pull away, and drop it into the penseive. "I'd like for you to look closely at this memory and tell me what you think."
Hecate nods and dips her head into the bowl. I sit quietly and ponder aimless thoughts as I wait. Like what Perseus was playing at when he thanked me. He knew that I did not offer to investigate on his behalf, and yet he did it anyway, bold as brass. What is his game, I wonder?
Before I can contemplate further, Hecate resurfaces, looking troubled. "Poseidon is under some sort of supernatural control," she murmured, almost to herself. "If I'm not mistaken, the jagged pupils and the glassy eyes would...hmm."
She flashes quickly over to one of the many book-laden shelves, plucks a tome from the crowd of its brethren, and flashes back to the table, setting it down and poring over the text therein. "Ah," she says, looking up. "This is not good at all. It appears Poseidon has been under the influence of a Mindslave potion and Amortentia for long periods of time. If we were to inspect the Earth-Shaker's back, I have little doubt that he would have multiple blue-hued lesions down his spine, which is a major side-effect of said potions being used in tandem."
"Do you have any idea who might have subjected him to these substances?" I ask uneasily. "And are they really powerful enough to influence one of the Big Three?"
"If brewed by the right person, these potions could bring Tartarus itself under someone's power," Hecate intones gravely. "And at the moment, I do not have the slightest clue as to who would do such a thing."
We are silent for a moment, each processing what we've just learned. Then she looks up and gives me a small smile. "Rest assured, Artemis, I shall look into this for you, and we will bring whoever it is to justice."
I nod back to her, and thank her immensely, then take my leave, wondering who would even have the motive to undertake such a feat.
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PIPER
It's only been three weeks, but I already hate the Wilderness School that my father's stupid assistant found to stick me in. The girls are snooty, the boys are pricks, and I'm pretty sure some of the teachers are clinically insane.
The only reason (and I mean that literally) that I haven't run away or something is sitting at the park bench in a far corner of the schoolyard. Leo Valdez is short, maybe an inch taller than me...maybe. His wildly curly hair and witty, root beer-brown eyes, along with his small stature and usually mischievous grin, make him look more like a Mexican elf than anything else, but he's done what nobody else has ever done before in recent memory. He's become my friend.
As I walk up behind him, I notice that he's drumming his fingers on the tabletop distractedly. It takes me a moment to figure out that it has a pattern. Morse code. During a history project, when we were paired together, I noticed that he would do it every so often and asked him about it. It took some doing, but eventually, he was able to teach me enough that I could construct some shaky sentences of my own.
After standing behind him awhile and deciphering what he's tapping out, I frown. I miss you. What's that all about?
So, after forming a response in my head, I cross into his blind spot and tap it out on the table. Already? I hope it's funny enough for his standards, as he's quite the jester. His reaction isn't what I'm expecting.
He jumps, startled, and turns to me with a hopelessly hopeful expression that looks wildly out of place on his normally good-humored face. When he sees that it's me, his shoulders slump, but he recovers quickly and gives me a half-hearted smile.
"Hey, Pipes," he mutters, settling back into his previously slumped posture. I slide onto the bench next to him and give him my best anoyed look.
"Don't call me that," I say, and he shrugs indifferently, shooting me a grin. But when I continue staring at him, it falters. "So, what's with the 'I miss you' Morse code?"
He flushes in embarrassment and turns away. "Nothing," he answers a little gruffly. I frown, and then grab his chin and force him to look at me.
"Tell me," I all but command, and to my astonishment, he starts talking, albeit in a halting, bashful, and completely adorable way.
"It's the..." he pauses, and looks at me as though I'm going to laugh at him, yell at him, or both. "It's the anniversary of..." At this point, he actually flinches, as if somebody's going to hit him. "...of my, uh, my mom."
He trails off, and I instantly feel horrible about making him tell me something so personal. My face must be a combination of pity and horror, because when he sees it, his face hardens, and he turns back to study the grain of the wooden table.
In the little time I've known him, I've learned that he and I are remarkably similar, and I know that I'd hate it if anyone tried to be all sympathetic towards me if I told them that my mom had died. Of course he'd be tapping it out in Morse Code, the secret language he and his mom used.
So, like the good friend that I am, I tug at his arm, pulling him up off the bench and lead him toward the cafeteria. He gives me a startled, confused look, and I say, "C'mon, Valdez. It's taco day. You can stuff your face with meat while I feel bad about it for you."
He gives me a calculating look, then smiles. A real, proper smile, too, not just some forced grin or an impish smirk. "You're on, Veggie Queen."
At this, I stop in my tracks. "Veggie Queen?" I ask blankly.
He considers it and shrugs. "You're right. Doesn't quite fit." Then he grins and grabs my hand. "Dont' worry, I'll work on it.
The scene fades, and time moves on...
I'm in gym class, with all the other girls, getting on with the warm-up stretches that the coach had us do while she went to go grab her attendance sheet, forgotten in her office. The boys are on the other side, getting ready to do laps with the quite obviously insane Coach Hedge.
It's actually the only time Leo and I are apart these days, other than...y'know, when we're in the dorms or sleeping and whatnot. We've got all the same classes, and whenever we've got free time, we spend it with each other.
As we finish the stretches, I spot Leo jogging over toward us casually, as though he weren't breaking every one of Coach Hedge's rules by coming over to where the girls are working.
"Hey, Pipes!" I give him the same stern look I always do when he calls me that, but there's no real anger behind it. I actually kinda like it, but don't tell anyone that. I'm pretty sure Leo just does it to try and get a rise out of me.
"What's up, Valdez?" I say, trying to sound upset, but failing comically. I walk over a few steps to meet him halfway so that he's not the only one to get in trouble if we get caught. I silently resist flipping the whispering girls behind me the finger, and feel proud of myself when I beat back that particular impulse.
"The sky," is his immediate answer, followed closely by, "Also clouds, satellites, Superman...I think I just heard Wonder Woman's Invisible Jet fly past, too."
"Ha-ha," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes and pushing his shoulder lightly.
"Seriously," he chuckles, allowing it to fade into a sort of neutral expression as he shoves his hands into his pockets. "We need to talk. It's...kind of important."
I notice the somber mood in his carriage quickly, and prepare to hear whatever it is he has to say.
"Uh, not now," he responds quickly, glancing behind me at the girls who are still muttering and gossiping about us. "Later. Uh, maybe tonight, on the roof? There's that star thing happening, right?"
I feel my eyebrows lift and my cheeks start to grow warm. I try not to look as nervous as the sudden storm of butterflies in my stomach would suggest. This is Leo Valdez we're talking about, right? He's not trying to ask me out or anything...is he?
"Yeah," I say eventually, "sure thing."
"Valdez!" Coach Hedge hollers loud enough for it to hurt my ears. "Don't make me get out there and fetch ya!"
Leo simply grins. "Cool," he begins to head over to the track, walking backwards so he can continue the ending conversation. "It's a date, then, Miss Native America." He gives me a sardonic salute and turns to run back toward the track.
A date, I think dazedly, not even reacting to the retarded nickname he used. Is that what it is?
The night's beautiful, with the twinkling stars shedding a bit of light on the darkened world while the moon, very nearly full, shines down and cast everything in a silvery glow. When I get to the roof, Leo's already there, staring off into the distance as the first of the meteorites begin to burn up into the atmosphere, creating dazzling streaks against the jet-colored backdrop.
"Nice night," I say to catch his attention. He turns and greets me with the same mischievous grin he wears when he's in a good mood. I walk forward, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. Tonight, I figured that I might let my hair loose from the two braids that I normally keep them in. No particular reason, not at all...
"Sure is," he answers, looking up at the shooting stars as he exhales deeply, balancing himself on the balls of his feet and swinging back and forth in place. "So..."
He seems to be stuck, so I help him along. "You wanted to tell me something?"
He nods, then looks down at his shoes. "Here's the thing. I-I'm not some sort of freak or anything." I give him a puzzled look as his fists clench and his face pulls into a wince. I can almost hear him shouting, Stupid, stupid! in his head. "I mean, that sounds worse than it really is. Then again...I dunno, it might be pretty bad, I-"
I almost smile at this nervous wreck who can't possibly be Leo. So I snap my fingers in front of his face. "Focus, Valdez."
"Right, sorry. I just-maybe I should just show you." Confused, I lean in as he rubs his hands together and breaths deeply. "Promise...promise not to freak out." Now I'm really curious. He looks down at his hands in apparent concentration.
After a moment, to my utter astonishment, a small flame springs to life in his cupped hands. I let out an unconscious gasp as I feel the heat radiating out from the small fire. I can tell that this is an intensely personal thing for Leo, and it's completely amazing.
"That's...incredible!"
"R-really?"
I move my eyes from the flickering firelight to his face, shrouded in surprise and shadow, and give him my widest smile, unable to express how proud I am to have someone as special as he is in my life. "Leo, it's the most incredible thing I've ever seen. It's...beautiful."
"Just like you, Beauty Queen," he whispers quietly. I think it might've been meant only for himself, but I feel my eyes widen in surprise, and he flinches when he realizes that I heard him. "I mean...ummm-"
Before he can ruin this moment with his stupid Leo-ness, I lean forward and kiss him, effectively shutting him up. And so it is that I share my first kiss with a Mexican elf while the blazing stars fall from the sky.
As the scene fades into darkness, the last thing I'm aware of are how warm his lips are, and how much I actually like that nickname...
With a gasp, I shoot up into a sitting position, panting as though I've just run a mile from a chimaera. It takes me a moment to remember where the hell I am, and in that moment, Thalia rises from her bunk across from mine in the Artemis Cabin.
"Piper," she whispers groggily, half getting out of her bed. "You alright?"
I catch my breath and remove my hand from where it had been clutched above my heart. "Yeah," I breathe back. "Just a dream."
Thalia gives me a worried glance, but accepts my response. "Alright. Goodnight." She lays back down, and in a few seconds, her deep, rhythmic breathing signals her fall back into dreamland.
Sighing, I lay back down, too. My mind is racing, though, and it takes me a long time to get back to sleep. Was it just a dream? I quickly dismiss it, because it felt too real for it to be a simple dream. As I think more, I come to a startling conclusion. Were those my memories of Wilderness School before Hera screwed with my mind to make me think that I was in love with Jason? The star shower had been our first kiss, but maybe it hadn't been Jason who I'd shared it with.
Could it be that I've been in love with Leo Valdez the whole time? Gah, why the hell can't my love life be simple?
Oh...right. Daughter of Aphrodite.
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GENERAL 3RD PERSON
In a separate dimension above Manhattan, high up on the peak of Mount Olympus, Aphrodite squeals in delight. Off to the side, on a sofa of black satin, and apparently in gentle repose, is a beautiful, sleeping man with black wings folded against his back. A lovely, middle-aged woman with pale, silvery hair and eyes of pure white stands at her shoulder.
As she watches the bowl of water that shows her current favorite child, Aphrodite hears a dull, repetitive clunking noise that instantly alerts her to her husband's approach.
True to form, in a few moments, Aprhodite smiles when she hears Hephaestus' gravelly voice. "What are you doing, Aphrodite? Can't you just leave it alone?"
"Not likely," the silver-haired woman responds wryly.
"Oh, hush, Mnemosyne," Aphrodite chides softly. "Just imagine how wonderful they'll look together when all is said and done."
"Do you remember what happened to the last son of Hephaestus and daughter of Aphrodite you tried bringing together?" Hephaestus demands angrily. "Charlie was a good lad, and Silena wasn't too horrible, for one of your children. And they both diedbecause of your meddling!"
At once, Aphrodite spins to face her husband, eyes flashing dangerously. Mnemosyne steps back a few paces warily, and even the slumbering god, Morpheus, snorts and shifts uncomfortably in his sleep. The goddess of love is not someone that one should make an enemy of lightly.
But Hephaestus stands his ground as best he can, his chin thrusting out defiantly against his wife.
"You know that it wasn't because of me that Silena and Charles died," she mutters slowly and carefully, pain etched into her blindingly beautiful visage. "I wish that I could have done more for them in life. At least they are happy together on the Isle of the Blessed."
Hephaestus' shoulders slump sadly, and he sighs as he averts his eyes. "I know. I apologize." Then he turns to face Aphrodite once more. "But how can you be certain that the same thing won't happen to these two? Leo is a good kid. He reminds me so much of his mother...and Piper has a good head on her shoulders."
"All the more reason to bring them together," Aphrodite responds softly, placing a gentle hand on Hephaestus' broad shoulder. "Hera screwed with my plans initially, but with Morpheus' and Mnemosyne's help, I think we've gotten things back on track." Then she grins deviously, and Hephaestus' countenance becomes suspicious.
"What's with that look?" he grunts warily.
"Oh, nothing," Aphrodite responds lightly. "It's just that now that I've gotten my daughter's love life all set, I can set my sights on more...godly targets."
Hephaestus watches as she vanished in a sparkle of multicolored glitter, and makes sure to remember to warn Percy to watch his ass for a certain love goddess.
[WHEN SUDDENLY, A WILD PAGE BREAK APPEARS!]
Now, most people would think that running a camp full of children is stressful. Bitch, please. Try running a camp full of children who all have preternatural abilities, Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, and run around whacking each other with swords and spears all day for fun. Your argument is invalid.
To be honest, it's not as difficult as one may think, especially seeing as how I'm a god, and if I can't get 'em to behave like a nice person, I can go all fire and brimstone on their little asses. That can be kinda fun, really.
At the moment, I'm overseeing the newer campers' introduction to swordfighting. Normally, I wouldn't do something like this, but I have a gut feeling that things have a high chance of taking a turn for the worse.
As I watch the Ares cabin's current councelor, a girl named Jessica Martin, slowly go over the basics of swinging a sword, I can't help but let my gaze drift over to Mark. In the few days he's been here, he's caused a bit of a ruckus. And not the good kind, either.
It's just really hard to believe that he's my brother. We're simply too different. I'm pretty positive my mom didn't have a hand in raising him. I know for a fact that if she did have a major part in his upbringing, he wouldn't be such a...well, he's family, and I don't talk bad about family (but he's a douche with a capital 'bag,' if you get what I'm saying).
The other day, I heard him bragging about how he killed the Minotaur all on his own, and was the greatest fighter in the history of the world. I let it slide. I heard him boasting of how many of the hellhounds he'd dusted before the Cavalry and the Hunt came to 'rescue him.' Hand to God, he actually made air quotes when he said that we rescued him. I didn't do anything to him.
See, the thing is, he's kind of a loner. Nobody wants to hang out with him because of his...ah...unfortunate condition (i.e. being a gaping asshole). It seems that the more the kids in camp shun him, the more he tries to impress everyone with his fallacious attitude. I feel kinda bad for the little guy, and as his older brother, it's my job to help him out in any way I can.
I'm shaken from my thoughts when Jessica calls up two of the new campers to take place in a mock-spar. One is a daughter of Nike named Winona, while the other is a son of Hermes called Ross.
Winona opens with a horizontal slash, which Ross ducks under. But Winona was expecting some resistance, and spins around in a full revolution, her blunted sword aiming right for Ross' neck as he rises from his crouch. Now, despite the fact that the blade's edge isn't keen enough to break the skin, it's still heavy enough that if it hits, there will be a good chance that the weight behind the swing could snap his neck.
I take all of the expressions in at once. Both Winona and Ross wear identical masks of horror and fear. The other campers look on apprehensively, and Jessica's already drawing her own sword to try and help. It won't make a difference, though; she's too far away to be of any real use in this situation.
I'm about to jump in to run interference, but to my surprise, Mark darts in with his own practice sword, pushing Winona's upward and out of her hands, his face a study in concentration and worry. So the little fella actually has a heart after all. Hidden behind the copse of trees near the arena, I can't stop the grin that pulls my lips upward.
Then the idiot has to ruin it. "Watch where you're swinging, Winona!" he yells. "You could have broken Ross' neck! And Ross, you should have obviously parried the swing and riposted toward her leg! Am I surrounded by idiots?"
I palm my face. Well, at least there's some potential in him, and it's my job to bring that potential out in him.
I'm about to go out and surprise everyone when a discreet flash of silvery light blooms to my left, and I dart back, halfway drawing Aphros. Artemis' form solidifies, and I relax my grip on the longsword. Damn, I'm really starting to get paranoid.
Artemis takes in our surroundings, then raises an eyebrow. "Spying on twelve-year-olds, Perseus? I thought you were into older women?"
I grin, wink at her, and simply say, "I am." She flushes in embarrassment, and I decide to spare her any further. "So, how did the visit to Hecate's go?"
She schools her features and says, "Hecate believes that Poseidon is under the influence of two powerful potions. One, the Mindslave Draught, brings the drinker under almost complete control of whoever it is who gave it to them, while the other, Amortentia, is one of the most potent love potions in existence."
I hum thoughtfully as all sorts of different possibilities flash across my mind. "Does she have any idea who might have slipped him the potions?"
"Not at the moment, no," Artemis says, frowning. "Though I have several theories that could fit." Then she takes another look around the forest. "Could we continue this in the Big House?"
"Yeah, sure," I agree, and we flash over to said location, settling into one of the rooms in the back. "So, what are your hypotheses?"
"The first, and most obvious, suspect is Amphitrite," the Huntress says matter-of-factly; that was my first guess, too. "But Amphitrite can be discarded because she, like Hera, loathes any and all illegitimate children begotten by her husband."
I nod in acceptance, so she continues, "Then, and much less likely, is that somehow, Medusa respawned from Tartarus and managed to sneak Poseidon these potions as retribution. This, however, is unlikely, as I said, because you yourself destroyed her only a few decades ago, and a monster of Medusa's caliber would take much longer than that to reform."
"Okay, so those are two theories potentially disproven in just under a minute," I say. "What else do you have, Arty?"
I'm not expecting her to actually throw one of her arrows at me, and it hits me in the face before I can react. The arrowhead breaks open, and some sort of sticky, slimy goo seals my lips shut.
"I had Hephaestus create those specifically to silence you," she states dispassionately as she gives me a deadpan stare. "The sludge degrades when exposed to oxygen at a steady rate, and will wear off in perhaps two hours, but is otherwise imperturbable, even for a god. You will have to stay quiet for the time being."
I can't particularly pout without the use of my mouth, so I settle for giving her a reproachful glare, which she actually chuckles at. She's literally laughing at my misfortune!
"The following theories are even more farfetched," she says, as if she didn't just glue my mouth closed. "One, is that one of your past enemies have hatched a diabolical plan for revenge. The most likely suspect is Circe, as you were the cause of the destruction of her spa. I was actually quite displeased when I arrived at her island only to find it in ruins, you know," she adds with a disapproving frown. "I quite liked the hot rock massages there."
I gesticulate wildly that it wasn't my fault in the least, and that Circe had turned me into a freakin' hamster, but without sound, I'm basically just flailing around like an idiot.
"Then there is the troubling disappearance of the Giant Ephialtes during the final battle. It could be that Gaea, in order to preserve her last offspring, turned him into some small animal and allowed him to escape our notice until now. Perhaps this is his way of beginning his plans to overthrow us."
At this point, Artemis is basically just postulating aloud while I, her captive audience, am forced to listen to the ramblings, so I just sulk in my seat while she keeps up her monologue.
"But for what purpose?" she mutters introspectively. "What is the endgame of this strategy?"
And to that question, I couldn't answer, even if I did have full use of my mouth.
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MARCUS
"Get outta here, you jerk-wad!" one of the Ares kids shouts at me, and the others take up the challenge.
"Yeah, nobody wants you around, douching up the place! Get lost!"
I consider showing them how much of a jerk I can really be, but if they're too blinded by their own incompetence to see how great I am, then that's just too bad. Stalking off toward the sea, I leave the sword arena.
I can't believe that I just saved that loser Hermes boy, and nobody thanks me. No one has the common courtesy to apologize for acting like assholes to me for the last few days. My father told me that this is the place all demigods fit in. Apparently all generalizations are false. Including this one.
As I hit the beach, I flop down onto the sand and tug off my shoes and socks. The sea always makes me feel better, no matter how foul of a mood I'm in. As I walk into the surf, my mind goes blank as it's enveloped by a sense of supreme calm.
Sometimes I wish that I had never been born, or that my parents were normal humans. My life has been difficult enough as it is, never having known my mother, and having a father who shows up sporadically at best. I lived the majority of my life in foster homes, moving here and there because of the odd monster attack. My father would come to me periodically, give me a gift of some sort, and we would talk for a bit before he left once more. He told me that I would be the greatest there ever was, more powerful than Zeus himself. He always had a strange, distant look in his eyes, though, but I chalked it up to just another godly thing.
And now, here I am, shunned by the rest of the camp and hated by all.
Except for that 'brother' of mine. He is very troubling. I've always had a knack for knowing what other people think about me; it's one of the reasons I feel as though I am a little bit better than them, always judging me and scorning me. Bah, who are they to do so when they themselves are just as bad as they make me out to be!
But from Perseus (I refuse to acknowledge his repeated attempts at getting me to call him by that stupid nickname. He's a god for Christ's sake! At least have some dignity) all I can sense from him is a sort of conflicting mixture of disappointment and pride. He's obviously too hopped up on the marijuana to understand the situation. And he can't die because he's immortal, so he won't overdose on the vile plant. Honestly, what the Olympian Council was thinking when they deified him...
As I lay half in the surf, a resonant voice calls out to me. "Marcus Jackson," it says, and I turn around, finding a graceful being unlike any other I've seen before in my life. "What would I tell you if I said I could give you infinite power, power to crush all your enemies and swat your brother like an annoying insect?"
My immediate answer is, "I'd say, 'come again?' and then I'd laugh because I said 'come.'"
The figure facepalms and mutters, "Like brother like...brother, I suppose. Come with me, and I will grant you such power."
My pulse quickens as I take this incredible being's hand, and with a flash of heat and light, we're gone.
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PERCY
"Hey, Perce," Grover greets me. He's truly grown into his title as the Lord of the Wild since it was given to him. His face, wreathed in a full, curly beard, has become more noble, and he's grown taller than the average satyr, so that he's almost six and a half feet tall. His cloak, made of woven leaves, draped across his broad shoulders, and his circlet of laurels sits proudly on his dark hair. He's still a really big dork who eats tin cans when nervous, though, and I'm glad that he hasn't changed very much.
He looks around at the general chaos around camp, then back at me curiously. "What's going on?"
"You know my little brother, Mark?" I ask, and he nods. "Yeah, he went missing."
Grover rolls his eyes to accompany his bleating chuckle. "Seriously? He reminds me of you, causing all and sundry chaos as soon as you get to camp."
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, wise guy," I grouse. "So do you wanna help look for him, or what?"
"Sure, I guess," he says, still chortling heartily, and we start heading out to search for the little idiot. Hopefully, he just fell asleep in a tree or something and I'm overreacting. But when you factor in all the shennanigans I've been a part of, as well as my family's luck, well...it's better to be safe than sorry, as the saying goes.
The search goes on for another few minutes before a dryad appears before me in a swirl of leaves and bows to Grover and I. "My lords, I have news," she says, and after a nod from me, she continues in a rush, "One of the oaks by the beach spotted young Marcus heading into the waves, then an unknown being of immense power appeared, spoke briefly with your brother, and then vanished with him."
"Did he put up a fight?" I ask hesitantly.
"No, there was no struggle of any kind. The dryad believes that your brother left with the being willingly, and was not taken by force."
I sigh. "Well, shit. Thank you very much for the information." The dryad nods and disappears on the breeze. "First I find out my dad's been enthralled by a few potions, and now my friggin' brother gets taken by some 'being of immense power.' Do you think the Fates are after me for some reason?"
Grover shrugs unhelpfully. "Maybe you're just the universe's spitoon." I give him a weird look, so he elaborates. "Yeah, what if the universe simply likes to spit on you for the fact that you exist?"
"Gee, that makes me feel a lot better," I grumble. "You think you and Chiron can hold the fort here for a bit? I need to call an emergency meeting of the Olympian Council, and you know how they are about emergency meetings."
Grover grimaces; as the Lord of the Wild and Pan's successor, he is something of an honorary Olympian and so he knows all the ins and outs of the council just as well as I do. He nods, and claps me on the back. "Good luck, Percy."
"Thanks, G-man." And with that, I flash myself to Zeus' palace on Olympus.
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STILL PERCY
Fuck those gods!
I help them take down Titans, Giants, and who the hell else knows what, and when I ask them to help me look for my little brother, they snub their noses at me and say that it's beneath them? What the hell do they have to do that requires so much of their time and attention? I mean, I get my stupid godly duties out of the way while I'm stoned. They can't be so strapped for time that they can't take a few minutes to look around for a demigod, can they?
I teleport down to a deserted piece of tundra in the middle of Antarctica and just let loose. The entire continent shudders, and glaciers as old as the gods themselves crumble to pieces under the sheer power of my fury. The sheer energy output from my body melts the ice beneath me, and with a thought, I float above the slurry-filled half-circle created by the aura of godly might surrounding me. Soon, I can feel deep tremors shake the ice and the ground beneath it, but I don't care. Maybe those stupid gods need some global warming to get them off their asses.
Just as I'm about to send a bolt of pure tectonic energy spiralling down into the earth, I feel a small hand on my shoulder. I whirl around, preparing myself to disintegrate whoever is foolish enough to bother me, but I stop short when my eyes meet the silvery irises of none other than Artemis, one of the few beings I'd ever stop myself from annihiliating.
Instead, I grind out, "What?" through gritted teeth. She remains impressively stoic when faced with my anger, and removes her hand, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I would highly recommend that you refrain from shaking Antarctica to smithereens," she says neutrally, though there's a bit of dryness to her tone. "I doubt your father would appreciate several hundred thousand tons of ice simply falling into his domain in so many seconds."
"Fuck him," I snap. "And the rest of those bastards. Can't even bother with a lost little kid, can they?"
Artemis sighs and closes her eyes, using one of her hands to rub the bridge of her nose. "I came here to help you, Perseus, but if you continue to insult my father and brother, I will be forced to retaliate."
I think about mouthing off again, but she's actually considering helping me, so I decide to bite the bullet. "I'm sorry. It's just..." I let out a gusty sigh. "He's my brother, y'know?"
"Yes, I do know," Artemis says, snapping her fingers and conjuring us a nice little igloo, complete with cushy chairs and a bonfire in the center. The smoke trails out of a wide hole at the top, and she watches some of the dark tendrils waft gently upward before speaking. "From my Hunters, I have gathered that Marcus Jackson is an obnoxious, self-centered, entirely unenjoyable person. This is almost exactly how I would describe Apollo to a stranger."
I open my mouth, but she silences me with a threatening wave of one of her sticky arrows and I shut my trap real quick. "I understand the strain of having an imcompetent, big-headed younger brother, Perseus. I also know that being an elder sibling is a responsibility, and that no matter how much of a complete dunderhead your younger sibling is, they are still yours and you must protect them no matter what. This instinct must have faded from the elder gods, as their youngest sibling has become the most powerful being in existence and so needs no protection. But this instinct remains strong in me, and so I will help you."
"Not all of the elder gods have forsaken their instinct, Niece," a thin, child-like voice drifts toward us like a mote of smoke from the fire. Artemis and I look around the fire and find Hestia waving at us with a cheerful smile adorning her face and making her burning eyes sparkle merrily.
"Lady Hestia," we both say, bowing deeply. Hestia is one of the few gods that I have absolute respect for. She's just so much more...mature than the others.
"Don't mind me, just tending the fire," she says, waving off our bows. "But you would do well to remember that I am the eldest child of Rhea and Kronos. My younger sisters and brothers are some of the most rambunctious creatures I have ever known, so I can sympathize with you on the woes of the young ones."
"Forgive me, Lady Hestia," Artemis murmurs, "but why are you here?"
"Was I interrupting something, perhaps?" Hestia asks innocently, and laughs heartily when Artemis blushes crimson. "I came to offer a bit of assistance, since I know that you aren't going to get any from the rest of the Council."
She reaches into the long sleeve of her robe and withdraws a small compass. Holding it out for me, she continues. "This is a little project I worked on with my nephew, Hephaestus. If you place a drop of ichor onto the center of the needle, it will point in the direction of anyone who shares the same blood as you, meaning one with the same father and mother. Don't worry about whether or not you and your brother have the same blood; your apotheosis has not affected your DNA at all. When you are within a two-mile radius of the person, it will glow slightly. I would go with you myself and help, but someone needs to tend the hearth, and I find myself somewhat reluctant to hand off my duties to someone like Hera or Zeus."
I accept the device gratefully and say, "You don't know how grateful I am, Hestia. Thank you so much."
"Do not worry too much about it, Percy," she replies with a stunning smile. "I'm sure that you'll find a way to make it up to me someday." And in a flash of flame that melts the igloo completely, Hestia vanishes.
A/N: Aaaand, it's gone. So, there you have it. And now for a riddiculously long author's note for a riddiculously long chapter. You don't have to read it, these are just my thoughts about the chapter, so you can just say oh, fuck this twat, who does he think he is, acting like I want to hear about what he thinks.
But anyway, I think it's pretty fun to try and think up how the gods would interact with one another, don't you? I always imagined that Hecate and Artemis would get along fairly well...at least, for goddesses, anyway. And yes, I've lifted yet more ideas from J.K. Rowling. She's got a few good ones left, I think. Didn't care too much for the whole Horcrux thing, but who am I to argue with one of the richest women in the world, right? Me, who has...quite literally five pennies to his name.
The dream sequence with Piper is based largely upon a Leo/Piper fanfiction called Morse Code, which is the story that brought me on board that particular ship. Trust me, I've got a whole armada of useless ships in my fanfiction military, and Leo/Piper is by far not the weirdest (Kiba/Sakura, anyone?). Regardless, you should check it out, it's very good.
But thanks to Aphrodite's meddling, Piper's gotten the majority of her memories from Wilderness School back, and we'll see how she copes with them next chapter. I have a lot of good ideas concerning how the two of them will get together and Artemis' reaction to the whole thing.
As the eldest brother to nine siblings, I sometimes spy on my little sisters and brothers, just to see what they're up to, and Percy is definitely a spying older brother. He can't help it, it's just in his nature. And in the past few decades, Artemis has discovered how much of a windbag Percy is with his little witty one-liners, so she has Hephaestus make her something that'll shut him the fuck up for a bit. It'll become the stick in her 'stick and carrot' training for Percy later on.
So...tell me how I did with Mark's POV. I'm honestly in two minds about it. One part of me thinks I did a pretty good job with it, and is pleased with the result. The other is saying that it's a little too much like Percy's regardless of his douchebaggish mannerisms and personality. I need feedback on this especially, please. My grandpa taught me that no matter how much of an asshole someone is, that asshole has a reason for acting like an asshole. It might just be that they like being an asshole, but it might also be that they've had a pretty bad life, and that being an asshole is the only way they know how to cope with a life that's been an asshole to them. Huh. I've typed asshole seven times in the last couple of sentences...not sure how to feel about that.
Anyway, that's why I decided to insert that little nugget into the story, to begin adding muscle to the skeleton of Mark's character. And I think it would be fun to play around, not just with Marcus, who will become a god (official title, God of Sobriety, Ocean Currents, and Islands) as an antagonist, as well as Chaos, but also keep Percy on his toes with a rival in love. Guess who? I'll give a double cyber high-five to anyone who guesses it. One hint: It is a Primordial deity, according to classical Greek mythology.
Regarding Percy's little temper tantrum: Seriously, an angry god can cause some serious shit, people. And it might be a little OOC for PJ&O!Percy, but he's still got some anger issues to deal with, and he needs a healthy outlet for that anger, even if it is almost breaking Antarctica. Swear to God, I had half a mind to do a scene where he performs angry interpretive dance, like in Footloose (holy shit, who laughed their asses off when they saw that scene for the first time? I wonder what was going through Kevin Bacon's mind at the time...I'm so filled with rage, I think I'm gonna burst into interpetive dance!).
So yeah, anyway, whatever. If you managed to read this whole author's note, then I commend you, because I can't say that I'd do the same thing.
As always, I beg your reviews! Pleeeeeaaaseeee? Can Fulmedal Wetbak haz reviewz?