We all want things in life. It's a part of our nature.

I wanted to see my mom again.

I wanted this whole mess to be over, for Nico not to be trapped inside a dumb golden jar, for Polybotes to not march on Camp Jupiter, for Gaea and her disgusting bastard of a husband to rot in the Void for all eternity.

Most of all, I wanted Luke.

Now, there are things we all need as well: food, water, shelter, etc. One could go so far as to argue that we require Maslow's hierarchy of needs to fully feel safe and comfortable wherever we are.

But demigods don't get that option. They don't have that safety guaranteed to them like so many others do. We have Lamia and other monsters to thank for that.

Needs, needs, needs.

I have always put the needs of others before mine, even before I became a goddess. I have always done everything in my power to help people, no matter the risk to myself, and I will continue to do so. But now I have one need above all others…

Revenge.

The moment I woke up in the infirmary of Camp Half-Blood, I escaped.

I had no need to be confined to a bed that could be used for someone else, forced to stare at Will in the bed across from mine, watching the agonizingly slow and long healing process he'd have to endure.

Will was hooked up to so many machines and wrapped up in so many bandages that it looked like he was a burn victim in a coma. His siblings had placed him in the bed that got the most sunlight, something that he so direly needed after being held in near darkness for over six months. Wherever I could make out his skin through the bandages, I saw stitches and gauze and wiring, which would've made me sick to my stomach had I not been trained in this type of medicine years ago.

Thank the gods Naomi Solace wasn't around, or she would've burned this camp to the ground before promptly ripping Apollo's head off.

I had waited until all the medics had their back turned to me and vanished within my own shadow, appearing on the shores of the beach. I must've looked insane – a girl wrapped in enough bandages to look like a poorly made mummy in the middle of summer while wearing one of those dreadful hospital gowns standing on the beach, staring off into the horizon.

Trust me, I would've called social services on myself, too.

With a snap of my fingers, my appearance completely changed. Gone were my rags and sad hospital gown, my black leather jacket, my Camp Jupiter shirt, black jeans, and black combat boots hiding any unhealed wound. I pulled my hair into a single braid, tossing it over my shoulder like Reyna usually did.

That reminded me, I needed to head to Camp Jupiter in the coming days. If my internal clock was right, I had been in Tartarus for four days while only twelve hours passed in the mortal world.

How the hell did…he and Will survive for seven months in mortal time? If twelve hours seemed like an eternity, I dreaded to know what anything more than that would be. But I knew I would be doing this again a second time, so I pushed that thought out of my mind.

I continued staring out at the ocean. It didn't take long until I sensed someone's presence, setting their arm across my shoulders.

There was only a handful of people who could do that without my giving verbal permission, coupled with the fact that no one from either camp knew where I'd escaped to, it could've only been one person.

"Hi, Apollo," I greeted, my voice raspy from all the screaming and crying I'd recently done.

I leaned into his chest, the warmth radiating from him enveloping me like a blanket, hiding me away from the horrors of this world.

I must've made a mistake somewhere along the line, must've pissed off the Fates without hearing about it, because I don't understand why they killed him, why it was my hand that killed him.

"You shouldn't be out here," Apollo told me, playing with the tail of my braid. "You're hurt. You need to rest."

"You're right," I agreed. "I shouldn't be out here. I should be taking my grandmother's head off with my bare hands."

Apollo winced. "Skipped right into anger, did we?"

"Why deny something I already know?"

"Did he make it to Elysium?"

"I sure hope so, or Hades will answer to me."

Steam curled off my hands. Apollo forced me to take a deep breath, gently nudging my head so that it rested on his shoulder.

I knew what he was doing. Gods know I've helped him through moments like this countless times over the years, especially days where he really missed Hyacinthus. Though I'll admit, I never thought Apollo would have to use my grieving tactics on me.

"Andy, I know you're tired. I know you're angry. But please let me take care of you, if only for tonight."

I raised my eyebrows at that, but I knew he wasn't looking at my face. "What about Hermes? Shouldn't you be taking care of your brother?"

"Dionysus is there with him."

"Is that really the best idea?"

Apollo shrugged. "Unlike you, Hermes hasn't moved past denial. Dionysus is a pretty good listener whenever he isn't in a pissy mood." He exhaled deeply and continued, "And I'll always find time to take care of you. Olympus knows I owe you one."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, simply watching the waves crash against the shore, the smell of the sea soothing my raging soul.

"Fine," I said.

"Hmm?"

"I said I'll go with you. But," I began, cutting off Apollo's cheer before he could begin, "only for tonight. You can fuss over my wounds all you want, but I'm leaving in the morning after breakfast."

"Anything you want," Apollo agreed. He nodded so intensely I thought he'd give himself whiplash. He was such an excited puppy that I almost felt bad about leaving in the morning, but I still had other stuff to take care of, so Apollo could enjoy this little victory for now. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Apollo took my hand, and we vanished in a sharp burst of light.

I woke up breathing hard, sweat dripping down my face as I threw off my sheets, swinging my feet off the side of my bed. The cold marble floor sent shivers up my spine as I ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time to empty my stomach of its contents.

I promptly flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth once I finished, moving to wash my face afterward.

I'd had countless of nightmares before, but never one that felt so real. Though he wouldn't ever rise again, I could hear my father's cruel laugh as I remembered my nightmare. I could hear his taunts and jeers, screaming, "Murderer!" as my sword came down on Luke's neck.

There wouldn't be any more sleep for me tonight, so I stumbled out of my room, rubbing at my eyes. Luckily, I knew Apollo's palace like the back of my hand, so I headed for his music room.

From the hallway, I could hear the music spilling from the room, soft light illuminating the otherwise dark space. Apollo strummed his guitar, his fingers dancing over the strings, his voice soft as he sang to himself. I stood by the edge of the door, listening to his song.

"And I don't want the world to see me," he continued, the music swelling as he carried on with the chorus. "'Cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken. I just want you to know who I am."

Most days, I really liked this song, "Iris." It's like a love/rock ballad that I could always jam to or simply have on as background noise while I did other stuff.

The lyrics hit harder today than usual.

"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming. Or the moment of truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies. Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive."

Bleeding doesn't really mean you're alive though, does it?

Blood comes pouring out of a dead body even after the heart has stopped, the brain has shut down, the lungs have exhaled their last breath. I have seen people bleed, craving for feeling, for a sense of attachment to this world and find nothing but long-lasting suffering and anguish. I have performed a handful of autopsies, drained the thick sludge of stagnant blood from people who have passed on.

Even now, I could look at my hands, prod the torn flesh opened with my fingernails, the ichor following the creases of my knuckles until it dripped to the floor, two little golden puddles by my side.

Blood is life, sure, but it doesn't mean you're alive.

I must've stood outside the door for too long, because Apollo stopped mid-song, the melody ceasing instantly. He looked up from his guitar, pick balanced between his fingers.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, sheepishly scratching at the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to be loud."

"No, you're fine," I said while walking in, trailing my fingers along the piano keys. "Couldn't sleep, you know?"

Apollo brandished his guitar, the silent, "Duh," hanging in the air. He picked up from where he left off, and I sat at the piano, closing my eyes, allowing muscle memory to guide my fingers.

"And I don't want the world to see me. 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken. I just want you to know who I am."

We played through the rest of the song, Apollo's voice floating high and clear over our instruments. We got to the final chord, and that's when the waterworks truly began.

It hurt to breathe, to think, to exist. Apollo wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest, running his long, nimble fingers through my messy hair. He murmured an Ancient Greek lullaby in my ear, rocking me back and forth like a newborn baby.

I clung to him desperately, the sound of Luke's dying breath ringing in my ears, the sight of his blood on my hands burned into my eyelids. There was no one to blame but myself. I had done this.

I killed my boyfriend.

I don't remember falling asleep, but when I opened my eyes, I saw Apollo's sleeping face. His eyebrows furrowed together with worry; his lips pulled down into a slight frown. One of his hands remained in my hair while the other rested on the small of my back, pulling me closer to him.

Looking at him like this was like a dagger through the heart.

He'd been willing to drop everything for me, and here I was, uncontrollably sobbing. Gods knew Zeus would be pissed when he found out Apollo shirked his sun god duties again, but I'm sure the chariot can survive one day without its driver – that's what the autopilot button was for.

No, I knew better than to wallow in self-pity. There were things to be done, wars to be won. The Fates were probably laughing right now, Luke's snipped lifeline somewhere among the cut strings of every other person. And though I couldn't lash out against them, I knew where I needed to direct my anger: Gaea.

Slowly, I disentangled myself from Apollo and headed for the kitchen. Though I figured out what I'd be doing today, I wasn't going to go back on my word and bail before breakfast.

In a very Jackson-esque move, I made blue pancakes, my hands stained blue from the food coloring. I'd almost finished cleaning the kitchen when Apollo stumbled in, arms stretched overhead as he yawned, nearly slamming his hip into the corner of the island.

For the sun god, Apollo wasn't a morning person, something I learned ages ago.

I slid him his mug of coffee with two shots of nectar – his preferred way of drinking coffee – knowing that it wouldn't be worth the energy to say anything to him before he'd had his first taste of caffeine for the day. Hey, it takes some energy to be as peppy as Apollo tries to be.

He mumbled a thanks, head resting against a propped up hand, carefully bringing the mug to his lips.

Moments like these humanized him so much, in my opinion. It didn't match up with the Apollo I'd read about in my books, but then again, I rarely saw the way he interacted around other people. He could be a complete narcissist around others, and I would be none the wiser.

"You're staring," Apollo said, setting the mug down. "Is there something on my face?"

"Some lines from the couch," I said, masking my line of thoughts. "Your neck can't be feeling all that great."

In response, he cracked his neck, the sound of joints popping filling the air. The sound of people cracking their knuckles doesn't bother me, but no joints should sound so loudly.

"Ow," he deadpanned.

"Indeed." I laughed softly to myself, taking a bite of my pancakes. But the savory, warm feeling didn't last long, the pancakes settling like wet cement in my stomach at the prospect of what we needed to discuss. "Apollo."

"Hmm?"

"We need to talk."

"Oh, that's never a good sign." He took another sip of his coffee. "All right, hit me with your best shot."

"Something bad is coming, something that only you can take care of."

"Tread carefully," Lachesis whispered in my mind.

"You lost all rights to control me when you killed Luke."

"Girl, you know not of what will happen if-"

"Can it, Clotho! I don't care!"

"Andromeda, wait, don't-"

I didn't let Atropos finish, shoving those old bats out of my mind. They would have to sew my lips shut themselves if they didn't want this conversation to continue.

"What do you mean?" Apollo asked, eyes alert, sitting rigidly in his seat.

"This war with Mother Earth and her husband won't end with them," I began. "They're bad, but what follows them is worse. These people…all they do is destroy. They tear apart families, raise armies waiting for the day they can get their hands on you. And their masters…They want you dead, Apollo." I suppressed a shudder.

Apollo laughed nervously. "You're scaring me, Andy. What are you talking about?"

"Not what – who." I took a deep breath. But when I went to speak, nothing save for a slight gasp left my mouth.

I scowled, knowing exactly who the cause of my sudden muteness was. While I sent a string of curse words in every conceivable language to the Fates, I signed the signal for snake by forming my hand into a bent V shape and slithering my hand forward a few inches in the same way a snake moves on the ground.

Apollo paled considerably, but he about passed out when I fingerspelled, "Python." He got out of his chair, aggressively pacing the length of the kitchen.

"That…that can't be true," he stammered, pulling at his hair. "That vile serpent is still in Tar, err, down there."

"You can say Tartarus," I signed, waiting for the moment the Fates would inhibit my movement as well. "I know you mean the place, not the jackass."

"He can't be back."

"He's going to take Delphi and soon," I warned. "He's going to-"

I didn't get the chance to finish the warning, my hands falling limp against my sides. Cue another angry string of swears directed at three unbearable ladies.

"What a colorful vocabulary you have," Atropos remarked, her sisters laughing in my mind.

"If I stop talking about this, will you give me my voice and body back?"

"Swear it on the Styx?"

"I swear on the River Styx to end this conversation for now."

"God damn," I swore, shaking my head as the Fates truly exited my mind. "Look, I just swore on the Styx to not continue this topic any further, so I can't tell you anything else about what's coming. But there's another matter we have to discuss."

"Something more important than Python taking over my Oracle?" Apollo screeched, on the verge of hysteria. Whatever calmness he'd exuded last night and earlier this morning had vanished in a heartbeat. "Things can't possibly get worse!"

"I'm fading."

Apollo fell deathly silent.

He stopped pacing. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the nearest thing, his coffee mug, and chucked it at the wall, an inhumane screech filling the air. The mug shattered, sending a hailstorm of falling glass to the ground, a dark brown puddle pooling on the floor while the rest of the coffee transformed into the newest abstract art piece in Apollo's home.

"Well, that went better than expected," I said, sarcasm oozing from my voice.

I moved to reverse time on the now ruined wall, but before I could so much as lift a finger, Apollo said, "If you're even thinking of using your powers right now, I will personally take you to Hephaestus to chain you to a bed."

"We had a deal," I reminded him. "I'm leaving the moment I'm done eating."

"Oh, and I'm supposed to accept this?" Apollo yelled, hands up in exasperation, his face turning the shade of his sacred cows. "What the hell, Andromeda?!"

I stiffened at the sound of my full name. The last time Apollo called me Andromeda instead of Andy or anything other of the myriad of nicknames he had for me…let's just say that things didn't end well.

"I've been dealing with this for the past few months. I was fine for a bit, but then…" I trailed off, hearing Nico's screams echo in my mind.

Apollo gave a mirthless laugh. "I can't believe you of all people would be so careless."

"What does that mean?" I retorted, slamming my hand down on the table. "Sorry that I'm not as perfect as you gods think I am! I never asked to be a goddess! This burden was forced on me!"

"That's not the point!"

"I should've known better than to come back to Olympus," I said, shaking my head at my own foolishness. "Things won't ever change, will they? You still see me as that teenager you were forced to train only to use her as a messenger girl. No more than that."

"You swore an oath, and now you're going to break it because of some dumb fight?"

"My oath is to not betray the gods and to protect Olympus if need be, not obey your every whim." I stood up, getting as close to Apollo as I dared, rage coursing through my veins. "Now, I'm going to go uphold my end of the oath by helping my friends. Maybe you should look into that tip I told you about."

"Andy," Apollo exhaled softly, grabbing my wrist, trying to keep me here. His eyes kept flickering between my eyes and my lips like he didn't know what to pay attention to more.

Luckily for him, he didn't need to make a decision as I yanked my hand free, vanishing among the shadows before he could stop me.

See, things never end well when Apollo uses my full name.

I arrived in the Underworld feeling like my nerves were on fire.

I guess I deserved that after ditching Apollo so abruptly, but for God's sake, he needs to stop babying me. I'm a grown woman, perfectly capable to take care of myself and not having Mr. Sunshine breathing down my neck, criticizing my every move.

That's Zeus's job, actually.

As for my other brother, Hades didn't even blink an eye at the sight of my spasming, twitching, and slightly translucent body.

He handed off a stack of papers to a nearby shade and turned his full attention toward me. "Fading, are we?"

"A tad."

"Come with me," he said, stepping down from his throne, shrinking down to his mortal height of six-foot-three.

We ended up in the kitchens – arguably the homiest place in the entire palace. It wasn't anything dark and gloomy as most people expected when they heard "Hades' kitchen." Top of the line appliances filled the capacious area, the countertops bright white quartz, which matched the large island used in prep work. Dark brown cabinetry lined the walls, tying the place together.

A handful of ghosts ambled about the room, busying themselves with preparation for tonight's meal. I'm assuming Hades had someone important to meet with as he rarely, if ever, ate. And after my last interaction with Apollo, well, food was the last thing on my mind.

"Sit here," Hades ordered, gesturing to a wooden chair resting beside the entrance to the walk-in refrigerator.

I took a seat, clenching my teeth as I forced my spasming muscles to still, ignoring the pitying glances of some of the ghosts. Hades walked into the fridge and returned with a crate of fresh fruit, probably picked from Persephone's garden.

"Yashita, Ritvika," he said, beckoning two of the ghosts. The two ghostly women approached and bowed, heads tucked against their chests awaiting orders. "You both know what to do."

I stayed perfectly still, watching as they tossed the fruit into one of the many ovens, their teeth chattering in a language that I didn't understand. The fire changed colors, burning a brilliant purple, the flames rising and falling with the cadence of their words.

This strange ritual continued for another five minutes until the fruit fully vanished, burnt into ashes. The two women then opened the oven, morphing the black smoke escaping from the open door into a…oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Hades held an outstretched palm, allowing for the silver skull charm to fall into his grasp. "Thank you, ladies. You may resume your kitchen duties." My brother raised his eyebrows at me, and I wordlessly lifted up my left hand, exposing my bracelet full of charms. With a snap of his fingers, I had a new charm in my collection.

The change was instantaneous. Within milliseconds, my body fully solidified, newfound strength surging into my limbs. This is what it felt to be godly, unencumbered by basic necessities such as sleep or sustenance.

It felt so very wrong.

"This bought you some time," Hades explained, gesturing for me to follow him once more. "You have until the autumnal equinox, at best, so I suggest you swallow your pride and tell your friends about this predicament before it's too late."

"I can still control time, you know," I mumbled to myself, ignoring the very dramatic sigh from my brother. "Thank you, nonetheless. It sucks not being able to see your own hands."

"I can imagine that it wasn't a pleasant sensation. However, there are other things we must discuss before you go aid the Romans."

I scowled, unquenchable anger pooling in the pit of my stomach. I could see the incoming army in my mind's eye, so many monsters who wanted nothing but death and carnage, all dutifully following orders to bring Mother Earth back to life.

They will all burn for that decision.

"Please refrain from burning your room again, I just had it redecorated."

"My room?" I asked, snapping out of my thoughts. I hadn't realized that we'd entered the North Wing, the section of the palace Hades had set aside for me. "Why are we going to my room?"

"There are people waiting to see you," Hades said, the slightest trace of amusement in his voice. "While I would love to see your reaction, sister dear, I think this is a matter you should settle alone. I expect you and our guests in the dining hall at eight for dinner."

Guests?

With that, Hades continued on his merry little way, eventually fading into the rest of the shadows that encased the palace.

I stood in front of my door, heart hammering as my hand closed around the handle. I couldn't allow myself to get my hopes up – all that would do is destroy what little strength I had left.

I summoned all the courage I required and entered my room, releasing a disappointed sigh when I didn't see anything.

Everything was still in its proper place from the last time I visited. My bed still hadn't been fully made, the comforter half-heartedly pulled into place. A handful of clothes lay draped over the back of the chair in front of my desk, where a pile of unfinished paperwork remained undisturbed. The enchanted zinnias Persephone had given me glowed under the light of the torches hanging from the wall, the firelight illuminating the pink, orange, and yellow crystal centers like miniature disco balls.

I walked over to the corkboard I had on my wall, my fingers hovering over the myriad of polaroids I'd tacked up over the years. I saw pictures of Cleo's smiling face, waving around sparklers in the air whilst sitting atop James' shoulders, the son of Hephaestus shooting the younger daughter of Apollo a content smile.

I had pictures of Percy and me in various parts of New York, but my favorite was the one I had of him sleeping in my lap while my fingers ran through his hair, my own sleeping face staring back at me as I looked at this picture. We'd been watching Finding Nemo for the umpteenth time, and Sally hadn't hesitated to take this picture of us.

There was even a handful of pictures of me with my college friends – the six of us ice skating in front of the golden Prometheus statue (it was better looking than the actual Titan) in the Rockefeller Center, Pete stretched across Joe and Patrick's laps while Leah tried to pull him onto the ground with her, and the boys on their skates while Leah and I watched in admiration.

Though all of my friends were on here in some form or another, I couldn't bear to look at the pictures I had with Luke. The Stoll brothers had somehow gotten a picture of our first kiss, giving the both of us copies afterward as a peace offering for crashing the otherwise private moment.

There was another picture of Luke and me, our hands entwined as we walked along the moonlight beach, my free hand pointed up toward the starlit sky. I could see the faintest traces of a smile on Luke's lips, his baby blue eyes focused entirely on me while my head remained tilted upward, focused on the constellations.

If this was Hades' idea of a joke, I was going to enlist the Stoll brothers and some fauns from Camp Jupiter to help me prank his ass from here to kingdom come. Toying with my emotions wasn't funny, not when it came to stuff like this.

I grit my teeth, steam rolling off my hands as I prepared to find my brother, only to be cut off by the sound of, "Woah, there, don't blow a gasket. Wouldn't want Lord Hades to get mad after doing you a favor, now would we?"

My blood ran cold. I turned away from my corkboard, and there they were, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed without a care in the world. One of them even had the audacity to smirk, his feet kicking impatiently like a bored toddler in the middle of class.

I only managed one intelligible thought, my voice catching in my throat. "Pete?"

A very happy birthday to our beloved Percy Jackson (even if it is almost over, whoops)!

Hope everyone enjoyed something blue in honor of the demigod that started it all! Thanks for reading!