"I just don't get it! That should be the one thing that she's really good at. Am I crazy? That feels like something that's not supposed to be allowed to happen."

He chuckles lightly as he leads the children toward The Big House. Nico had taken a kind of blasphemous offense to Thalia's inability to fly. He'd had to quickly drag them out of the bus as the boy had absolutely zero filter and while he had faith in The Daughter of Zeus' restraint, he'd rather avoid causing a scene.

"The Greek world is full of dramatic irony. We invented it, after all." He says, taking in the view of camp. He'd been here in his last life, but that had been in a period of total war. There was no palpable uneasiness in the air. There weren't patrols of demigods all around the perimeter. There weren't permanent scowls on every face. A time of peace. Or more accurately, a blissful unawareness of the rising forces of monsters and Titans who wanted all of their heads on pikes.

He leads them up the steps of the southern-style farmhouse, trying to give a reassuring smile as they come to a stop in front of Chiron and Dionysus. Various cards lay across the table as they bicker back and forth. He clears his throat as the two immortals turn to them, two very different looks in their eyes.

Chiron is a trainer of heroes who does not want to train heroes. He fully believes that, had the centaur had his way, Camp Half-Blood would be heavily fortified and in Alaska; free from the Gods' influence. More of a retirement community than a child soldier factory. And so a strange mix of joy and mourning wells in The Trainer of Heroes eyes as he looks at the children.

Dionysus' eyes hold none of Chiron's empathy or compassion, only a cold apathy. Dionysus is a God and there is nothing more he can say to describe how vile he finds most of them. Most would think that Dionysus is the prime example of the Gods' worst attributes. Most would blindly accept the over-the-top arrogance, the moans of boredom and dislike of Camp Half-Blood, the detachment toward all things mortal.

They would be forgetting that Dionysus was born mortal. They would be forgetting that no other demigod had ascended to godhood before Dionysus. They would like to point at nepotism as the cause for his throne on Olympus. And while it may have played a hand in his ascension, Dionysus almost surely would have been offered a throne no matter what- Son of Zeus or not.

Dionysus is not a warrior or a strategist. He is not a king or a tinkerer. He is a diplomat, who'd sewn his honeyed words through pantheons the council would never dare to entertain. Dionysus walked through city after city encapsulating mortals with religious fervor. Dionysus was worshiped before he was sixteen. Dionysus had dined with Horus and bedded Amaterasu before his father had ever looked his way. Dionysus is a god because he was on the cusp of something greater: a dominion. So he does not think twice about the ice in his violet eyes, because The God of Theatre plays his role well.

"I'll take it that you were successful, Perseus?" Chiron asks, a sad twinkle in his eyes. He's always thought that Sisyphus might get along with the centaur the way they're both burdened with impossible feats. Chiron's boulder is the lifespan of every demigod and it rolls back down the mountain daily.

He nods, placing his hands on the children's shoulder's. "Nico and Bianca D'Angelo." He says, his lips twitching upwards as the children straighten their spines at reflex. Chiron stands out of his wheelchair and he smiles fully as they cannot contain their gasps at the centaur's true form. "Children, this is Chiron, immortal trainer of heroes and Lord Dionysus, God of Wine, Madness and Theatre."

The honorific is purposefully said. Dionysus was an incredibly powerful ally and he had learned his secret centuries ago. More than any other Olympian, Dionysus was vain. His cold, oafish facade was necessary but awarded him no love on Olympus. Any bit of respect was enough to start forming cracks in his mask. He does not miss the way his eyes soften almost imperceptibly.

"You're a horse!" He hears Nico say excitedly.

Chiron chuckles. "A centaur, Mr. D'Angelo." A camper passes by the patio of The Big House. "Mr. Solace!" Chiron calls out to him. "May I please ask you to escort these fine, young demigods inside to watch the orientation video?"

He hears the camper groan as he climbs the small set of stairs. Solace. He searches his mind for any knowledge of a camper with that name; positive or negative. He comes up with nothing, knowing that he would at least remember if he was a defector to Kronos. He nods reluctantly as the children look up at him expectedly. Bianca squeezes his hand before following Solace, the sweet girl that she is.

"It's not PG-13, is it?" He hears Nico ask as they disappear inside and the innocence in his voice makes him want to barge inside with them. He'd never thought of himself as very protective but he'd also never thought himself as a father.

He was learning many things about himself this life.

Chiron sighs, the small glimpses of happiness snuffed out as he stares at the cabins. "The Hermes cabin is getting particularly full. I hope they'll have a comfortable place to stay." There's a tinge of anger in his voice, most certainly directed toward the Gods though the centaur's fervent loyalty would never allow himself to fully voice his frustrations.

"They'll be staying with me." He says, having thought about it on the way to camp. There was no way in hell that he'd be letting them stay with numerous children of minor gods and the unclaimed, the most likely candidates to join Kronos.

Chiron turns to look at him, surprise evident on his face. "Perseus, you know that cannot happen. No matter how unfair it might seem, the Hermes cabin is the best place for them. Gods know what your father would ever do if he found two unknown demigods inside what may as well be a temple."

"My father would not lift a finger. His vengeance, while decidedly violent and concerning, is very rarely directed toward an undeserving party." He retorts, understanding the centaur's misguided protection efforts. Chiron had a good heart. It was a shame the Gods who held his loyalty so rarely cared about the right thing to do.

Chiron's eyebrows almost jump off his face, even more surprised. "While I understand your… surprisingly eloquent argument, I cannot in all good conscience allow that to happen."

"I was not asking." He says, letting a little frustration leak out. "I was letting you know out of respect."

"Enough with the backtalk Perry." Dionysus says disinterestedly. He turns his gaze to The Wine God who's eyes widen. There's a rustle in the back of his mind, like a gust of wind blowing through. Dionysus smiles maniacally for a second, so fast that when he blinks he's back to his feigned passivity. "Then again, there's no rule against it. Just a guideline. I say let the boy do what he wants and reap the consequences later."

Chiron shakes his head. "As the council decrees." He says bitterly before stepping off the patio, trotting toward the arena. Nico and Bianca being alive in the morning would set his mood straight.

"Would you like to explain to me," Dionysus says slowly. "Why the seeds of madness are suddenly sewn through your mind so thoroughly that you should be foaming at the mouth right now?"

He frowns as he takes an empty seat at the table. This had never happened before. He'd usually met Dionysus at a point in time where any questions could easily be dismissed as a child being forced to survive in the wilderness for years. "Lord Dionysus," He begins carefully. "I've been told that you enjoy mysteries. Perhaps you'd like to treat this as such."

Dionysus frowns, leaning back in his chair. "And where on earth would you get such an idea?" The god asks, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.

"Mimir is quite talkative under the effects of mead." He responds. That had been an eventful trip to Boston. He still had no idea how he'd ended up so hungover and half-naked on the bow of a ship, halfway to England on what was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission.

The god bursts into giggles, the manic smile returning. "You're very well traveled for being only fourteen!" The severed head had not lied, he could see his violet eyes searching his own, trying to unravel his secrets.

"So were you." He says, enjoying the way the God's eyes bulged. Divulging information that he should not know was usually a very bad thing, but Dionysus was not a typical Olympian. He enjoyed the unknown, the uncertainty of it all. They were decidedly mortal feelings, something he suspected Dionysus missed.

Their conversation is cut short as the screen door slams open, Nico running toward him excitedly. "Dad! You never told me how cool all this is! You made everything sound awful!" The boy grips his arm, shaking it repeatedly. He hadn't thought that Dionysus' face could look any more ridiculous, but the way the God's jaw almost touches the floor at Nico's words makes him smile.

He stands as Bianca exits The Big House. He stands behind them. "Children." He says. "Please thank Lord Dionysus. He has graciously accepted to look out for you. If there ever comes a time where I cannot be found, he will help you." The exchange is clear: Make sure no harm comes to the children and he'll keep dropping hints.

The Wine God flaps his lips, words failing him. Bianca bows. "Thank you, Lord Dionysus." She says with a nervous smile.

Nico shares none of his sister's decorum, bounding toward the god and accosting one of his hands. "Thanks, Lord Dionysus! That's really cool of you!" He pumps the god's hand up and down repeatedly in his imitation of an adult.

"I-It's the least I could do?" The god says, uncharacteristically flustered. These children really did have an unsettling level of persuasion.

"Quite." He says, gently pulling Nico away. He doesn't bat an eye when the boy jumps, hands latching around his neck as he climbs up onto his shoulders. He takes Bianca's hand, leading her down the steps. He turns and smiles at the God. "I enjoyed our conversation, Eleutherios." He says before turning towards the cabins.

Dionysus screams in confusion.

"Any drink?" Bianca asks suspiciously.

"Any drink." He confirms, sipping his wine. It was a habit he'd picked up that he couldn't kick if he tried. It was a rare luxury and having it so readily available was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

"How?" She asks, poking a finger at the glass.

"Magic." He says with a smile. It was amusing how readily she had accepted the Greek world but had seemingly drawn the line at magic cups.

"Pepsi!" Nico says to his glass, fizzy liquid filling it to the brim.

"But how?" Bianca asks, unimpressed. "And where does it come from?" She had not looked at him once, eyes narrowed and fixated at the glass as if it was a bomb.

"Magic." He says once again.

"Root Beer!"

Bianca groans, folding her arms onto the table and dropping her chin to her forearms. "I don't trust it." She says finally.

"You trusted the food." He points out. They had been famished as he'd expected and had each cleaned several full plates of food.

"Lemonade!"

"Oh Gods." Bianca whispers, her face suddenly going white. "Why did I eat that? Where does it come from? Who makes it? What did I put in my mouth?!"

"Brisket." He says. "And not enough vegetables. You will eat more." Half God or not, they still needed to take care of their nutrition. He needed to do the same apparently, if his lanky body was any indication. "You as well, Nico."

"Cream Soda!"

He shakes his head as he stands, taking his glass with him and makes his way back over to the food. He fills several plates with brisket, brussel sprouts, rice, and everything else available. He stops at the bonfire and checks his surroundings for a moment. "For Dionysus." he whispers before discreetly dumping the rest of his wine in the fire.

The god yelps, shooting up from his table. His entire body shudders as the entire pavilion stares at him in shock, never before having seen such a display from the aloof camp director. His eyes scan around the tables before dialing in on him. He winks before settling back down beside the children.

"What was that?" Bianca asks as he pushes one of the plates toward her, setting the other down in front of Nico who started eating as soon as the plate touched the table.

"Nothing." He says. "Eat."

Bianca's eyes narrow, nudging the food around with her fork. "No."

His eyes narrow in response, meeting her gaze. "Did you want a father or not?" He says teasingly.

"Maybe I changed my mind." She says, spearing a brussel sprout and eyeing it with disgust.

"Too late." He says, unperturbed by her attitude. "Now eat your vegetables, daughter." It's the first time he's ever spoken it outloud and he's unable to keep his voice from wavering a fraction as it leaves his mouth. Still, it sounds so right and he wills the moisture away from his eyes before it can threaten him.

Bianca's mouth was drawn into a small 'o' shape before a wide smile appeared. "Okay, dad." She whispers, biting into the vegetable. She doesn't enjoy it, but she does it for him.

She was so vibrant, so unflinchingly blunt and dry with her humor but also so incredibly sweet and empathetic. It's easy to forget she's only twelve with how she acts, and that thought fills him with both pride and sorrow. Her childhood had been snatched before it had even begun, parental instincts drilled into her by necessity. He hoped she would see someday that she didn't have to be so strong, that she could be the little girl that she really was.

"Shirley Temple!"

"This is your cabin?" Bianca asks as she tiptoes around the messy floor. Clearly he hadn't been big on cleanliness in the past, there was even an opened bag of potato chips lying haphazardly on his bed.

He hadn't been inside Poseidon's Cabin in centuries. There had never been an opportunity or a reason to after he'd started avoiding Camp Half-Blood altogether. Still, there is a certain sense of comfort that being inside its walls brang. A fountain bubbles in one of the far corners of the wall, something he was sure was not there the last time he'd been here. Even stranger, there were now two beds laying next to the one he was sure was his.

"Our." He corrects, balling together the lumps of clothing on the floor and throwing them in the hamper. "It's as much yours as it is mine." More strange words that he'd never even dreamed of saying.

"Right." Bianca says, staring at the Minotaur horn nailed to the wall. "Ours."

"It's really quiet here." Nico says, kicking his feet on top of one of the beds. "Shouldn't we be able to hear everything outside?"

He smiles at the boy. "You should. Why do you think that isn't the case?" Nico was a precocious, rambunctious child that could easily be mistaken for naive. That wasn't so, quite the opposite in fact. Nico had been through the same events as Bianca, only somehow he'd retained his sense of wonder and trust in the world around him. He saw the world as what it could be, chose to interact with it in a way that would seem foolish. Nico had seen horrible things and could recognize them, he just chose not to let it taint the rest of humanity for him.

Nico furrows his eyebrows. "The walls aren't thick enough." He mumbles. "And I can hear everything in here so nothing's blocking the sound…" He trails off, eyes squinting. "Magic?" He looks up at him.

He smiles. "Are you asking or telling?" He had no idea why parenting was coming so easily to him and it was slightly worrying.

"Telling." Nico says confidently. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

He nods, his smile growing wider. "Magic." He affirms.

Nico whoops in victory as Bianca groans. "Not everything can be magic!" She cries, throwing her hands in the air.

"Not everything." He agrees. "Just most things." He laughs as his words only seem to infuriate her more. He kicks his shoes off as he sits on his bed, picking the bag of chips up and tossing it in the trash can. "Can I assume that you are both exhausted?" He asks. It's more directed to Bianca, as Nico has already placed himself under the covers, eyelids half closed. He wouldn't be surprised if the boy could sleep through a hurricane.

Bianca yawns, stretching her hands to the sky as she nods. "Yeah. I think I'll call it a night." She says drowsily, laying down. "'Night, dad."

He smiles to himself, the same way he does every time they call him that. It brings him an uncomfortable amount of joy that he's not used to. "Goodnight children."

He turns off the light.

"Dad?"

His eyes snap open as sits ramrod straight, uncapping Anaklusmos in a fluid motion.

Bianca flinches back, tears in her eyes.

"I- I" He stammers, the sword falling to the ground. "I'm so sorry." He gasps, ashamedly.

"It's okay." Bianca croaks as she wipes her eyes. "Just scared me for a second."

Something violently hateful wells inside of him, directly only toward himself. He scared her. He scared the little girl he was supposed to protect, who'd given him all her trust and put her life in his hands. He scared his…

He scared his daughter.

On instinct, his hands moving on his own with no clear thought, he reaches out to Bianca. He pulls her onto his bed, drawing her into his chest. "I'm sorry, little one." He whispers as he brushes her long, dark hair. "I'm so sorry."

"S'okay." She mumbles behind her tears. "And I'm not little."

He smiles sadly. She was so strong. Too much for her own good. "Child, I very much doubt there will ever come a time where you won't be a little girl in my eyes."

She shakes her head into his chest. "What about when I have kids?" She asks with a watery laugh.

The thought makes his face go white. "Even then. And that will not happen for a long time." A very long time. He'd make damn sure of that.

She laughs again. "Maybe." Her tone turns fearful again. "Dad, I… I see things. Things that don't make sense. I- I don't know what to do." She says. "I think I might be going crazy."

His heart breaks all over again at the sheer pain in her voice. Something was truly terrifying her, something that was making her question her own sanity. It infuriated him. "What, little one? What do you see?" He asks desperately, hoping to lay her fears to rest, to offer her any peace he could.

"People who aren't there." She whispers. "Some look normal and some just look… awful. Blood and missing arms and-" Her voice cracks. "And missing heads." She breaks down once more, fisting his shirt as she tries to calm herself. "I can ignore it most of the time, but some of them talk. And they know I can see them and they just don't shut up."

His chest grows tighter and tighter as she pours her heart out to him. Ghosts. Why did it have to be ghosts? There was nothing he could do to stop them, spirits didn't obey him like they would her. But that would take training, training he could not offer her. His face twisted into a snarl as hopelessness crept upon him.

"Bianca." He says softly. "You're not crazy. These spirits, they can't harm you. The opposite in fact. Your father-"

"I don't want to know." She cuts him off sharply, the anger in her voice throwing him off-kilter.

"What?"

"I don't want to know a single thing about him." She spits with vitriol. "I don't want to hear his name. I'm not stupid, I know who he is." She lifts her face from his chest and stares at him, her dark eyes smoldering through the darkness. "The orientation video made it obvious. Ghosts?" She laughs spitefully. "Ghosts are dead."

"Your… dislike." He chooses his words carefully so as to not upset her even more. "I don't understand, the spirits can be-"

"It's not about the damn ghosts." She cuts him off again, growling. "Like I said, I can ignore them and even when I can't I can push through it. The worst part is when I close my eyes." Her anger slowly drains out of her as tears start welling in her eyes once more. "I see old cars but they don't feel old to me. I hear old music that sounds like I'd just heard it on the radio. I see shops and emporiums that aren't there anymore." The tears escape. "I see my mother and she's not dressed like the women I see today, how I'm dressed!" Her shoulders shake as she sobs freely. "Something went wrong and now everything's wrong. And it's HIS FAULT!." She screams before collapsing back into his chest.

He cradles her, squeezing her tightly. What she was describing, It shouldn't be possible. But she wasn't lying, no, not his Bianca. Her pain was much too real and much too violent. "Daddy." She croaks through her sobs, breaking him from his thoughts with how vulnerable that word was. 'Dad' was different. This was something else, something fearful and crying for help. "Promise me. Promise me you'll never leave us. I can't- I can't do this - we can't do this without you. I'm so scared and I don't- I don't know what to do."

Instinct takes over once more as he lifts her head, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I promise, sweet girl." He murmurs into her skin. "I promise I will never leave you." He's made many promises in his lives and left so many unfulfilled.

This would not be one of them.

And he knows, he knows that this has to be the one. This life must succeed. Because if it doesn't? If he fails again? Fails them?

He'd throw himself into Tartarus for the rest of eternity to atone.

His words seem to calm her, if only a little. "Can I-" She asks in a small voice. "Can I stay here? Just for tonight?" There's a lilt of unconfidence in her voice, as if she was scared that he would deny her. As if he ever could with the power she held over him, the little girl who he would slaughter entire pantheons for.

"Tonight." He says. "And for the rest of your life if you wish."

"Thanks." She whispers as she moves into a more comfortable position, using his chest as a pillow. "I know it's silly but-"

"It is not silly." He growls, more forcefully than he had intended but the idea that she was just supposed to persevere through something like this enraged him like nothing else. "You are a little girl. My little girl. And you deserve to be happy and safe, no matter what."

She's silent for a moment and he starts to worry that he's said something terribly wrong. He'd overstepped, been too possessive. He knew he shouldn't have said that-

"I love you."

His mind comes to a screeching halt as reality is torn asunder. Love? She loved him? What had he ever done to deserve her love? When was the last time anyone had ever loved him? He puts all his thoughts on pause for a moment. "I… love you too, child." And gods help him he does. That might be the most terrifying revelation of all of this and he wonders how he ever let this happen. How he could have let two wonderful, pure souls so close to him when he deserved none of their kindness.

Such was his life now.

"Glad we're on the same page." Bianca's dry tone brings him back to the present. "Could you sing to me?" She asks quietly. "Mom used to when I was little."

The vulnerability of her request makes it so he couldn't say no, even though he wants to tell her that he doesn't think he's ever sung to anyone. Not even in his first life.

"...Yes." He racks his brain for a moment. "I… believe I can recall a song."

"I hope so." She says teasingly, though her voice is heavier with exhaustion. "You're only fourteen, remember?"

"Of course." He says with a small smile. How did it go again? A piano plays phantom chords in his mind. Something like…

"When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me. Speaking words of wisdom, "Let it be. ""

He feels as though he might be completely tone deaf, but Bianca doesn't seem to mind. He sings softly to her.

"And when the broken-hearted people, living in the world, agree. There will be an answer, Let it be."

"I like this." Bianca murmurs, half-asleep. "Who's it by?"

"The Beatles." He says.

"Huh." Bianca hums. "Never heard of 'em."

The thought strikes him as odd, but he continues. For her.

"And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, Let it be."

Bianca snores softly.