Chapter 2: Camp Weirdness

Percy had made his choice.

After all the arguing, confusion, and one particularly heated debate about whether divine gold tridents should be a thing, he figured he might as well stay with the Apollo Cabin. They were fun, they liked him, and honestly, he spent more time with Apollo than he did with his own dad.

But the moment he stepped inside Cabin Seven, he realized he had made a terrible mistake.

Gold.

Gold everywhere.

The walls? Gold. The beds? Gold accents. The decorations? Sun motifs in—you guessed it—gold. Even the musical instruments strewn about had gold strings, gold inlays, and actual golden lyres.

Percy felt his fingers twitch. He needed a paintbrush, a roller, something! His entire being screamed to fix this. It was too bright, too shiny, and way too much like Apollo had gotten drunk on aesthetics again.

He could already picture it—some nice sea-green waves, deep blue patterns, maybe some shells or coral designs… something to balance out all the gold before he lost his mind.

But.

If he did that, Apollo would never forgive him.

Plus, what would the Apollo kids think? They loved their cabin. They thrived in the gold and sunlight. If Percy just waltzed in and started redecorating, it would be disrespectful.

With a heavy sigh, he backed out of the cabin.

Poseidon's cabin it is.

The Next Problem: The Tables

Dinner didn't go any smoother.

The second he stepped into the pavilion, he knew what was coming.

"So, uh," he said, standing awkwardly in the center of the room as campers filed to their assigned tables. "Where am I supposed to sit?"

Immediately, the argument restarted.

"Apollo table!"

"No, Poseidon table!"

"Apollo claimed him!"

"But Poseidon also claimed him!"

"He's got a gold trident, doesn't that mean something?"

Chiron, looking entirely too tired for this nonsense, raised a hand for silence. "Percy will be allowed to switch between both tables as he pleases." He glanced at Percy, who was still stuck standing in the middle. "Since he is the only Poseidon camper, he may sit with Apollo's children if he prefers."

That seemed to settle it, though there were still some grumbles. Percy, feeling like this was way too much trouble, decided to sit at the Poseidon table for now—just to keep things balanced.

He had barely gotten comfortable before the next problem hit him.

Burnt Offerings: What Even Are Those?

Percy had never been to Camp Half-Blood before. He didn't know the rituals, the customs, or the weird things demigods did on a daily basis.

So when everyone started tossing parts of their food into the fire, he froze.

"What… are we doing?" he asked the Apollo camper sitting closest to him.

"Burnt offerings," they explained, tossing a piece of bread into the flames. "You send food to the gods as a sign of respect."

Percy blinked. "Wait, so I have to give up part of my dinner?"

"That's kind of the point."

That sounded insane. Percy loved food. Why would he willingly part with it? But then, an even bigger question hit him.

"If I'm a part-time Sun God," he asked slowly, "do I have to make an offering to myself?"

Silence.

The Apollo kid next to him paused, mid-bite. Someone from the Demeter table snorted into their drink. A Hermes camper choked on their food.

Chiron sighed. "No, Percy, you do not have to make an offering to yourself."

"…Would that even work?"

"No," Chiron said, clearly regretting all his life choices that had led to this moment.

Percy, still not entirely convinced, hesitantly tossed a piece of food into the fire.

It smelled like seared steak and warm sunlight.

Weird.