Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PART I

Percy had always known he was different. Well, perhaps not always, since he was sure that as a baby he had been blissfully ignorant. But at the age of twelve, he might as well have “DIFFERENT” stamped on his forehead for the world to see. The list was practically endless, starting with his dyslexia and ADHD and ending with all the strange encounters he’s had, ranging from a snake in his preschool cot to hallucinating the sharks at the aquarium telling him to “pull the other lever!” But sitting right smack in the middle of the list was the sixth sense that was blaring as loud as ever as Mrs. Dodds turned into a crazy monster.

Somehow, Percy wasn’t surprised she was a monster, he thought perhaps a little too casually as he dodged her claws. All year long, he had been able to feel it, to feel her hate. Specifically, her hatred toward him.

So sue him, his sixth sense wasn’t as cool as seeing ghosts. Instead, he somehow always knew when someone hated him, even just a little bit. As far as he could tell, he couldn’t sense any other hate but what was directed at him. But what was radiating from Mrs. Dodds at this moment wasn’t a little, it was a lot, almost as much as-- 

Mr. Brunner suddenly appeared, throwing the sword he sometimes brought out in class with a “what ho, Percy!” 

Somehow, Percy grabbed the sword from the air and turned back to face Mrs. Dodds. It was light in his hand, but had a strange weight to it that he didn’t have the time to evaluate. She hissed at him, yelling almost nonsensically as she lunged toward him. With instinct he didn’t know he had, he slashed through her body, feeling the tear just before he would have been clawed in the face. She disappeared in a cloud of golden dust. Finally, her loud hatred had quieted, leaving Percy with the feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He turned around to ask Mr. Brunner what the heck was going on, but his Latin teacher was gone. Percy was alone in the museum, staring dumbly at the pen in his hand. 

Nancy Bobofit was still soaking wet from when he had definitely not pushed into the fountain, but she smiled meanly when she saw him return. 

"I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

“Who?” Had Nancy hit her head in the fountain?

“Our teacher, duh!” 

Oookay, Percy wouldn’t get anything useful out of her. 

Grover was nervously chewing his lip when Percy turned to him. 

“What happened to Mrs. Dodds?” 

Grover laughed nervously, almost sounding like the bleating of a goat. 

“Who?”

Grover wouldn’t look him in the eye, so Percy assumed he was messing with him. He looked around for Mrs. Dodds, and his eyes caught on Mr. Brunner, sitting under his red umbrella like he had never moved and thrown a sword at him. 

“Ah, Percy, thank you for returning my pen,” Mr. Brunner said distractedly as he glanced up from reading his book when Percy approached him. “Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

“Uh--you’re welcome?” Percy handed over the pen, feeling a strange kind of reluctance to let it go. “Sir, where’s Mrs. Dodds?”

He got a blank look in response. 

“Who?”

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

Mr. Brunner frowned at him with concern. 

“Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Well, that was more convincing than Grover, Percy thought in a daze as he returned to his seat. He might have been convinced that he was crazy, that he was hallucinating the whole thing, but the feeling of her hatred had smothered him all year. How could he have possibly made that all up? 

Sure, rely on your mystery sixth sense to confirm your sanity, Percy. Great job. 

But as the school year continued, and a Mrs. Kerr did in fact appear, he knew he was sane for one reason and one reason alone. 

Grover couldn’t lie at all. 

Every once in a while, Percy would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on Grover, and his friend would stammer through an unconvincing lie. Something had really happened with Mrs. Dodds. 

But even so, his mood seemed to spiral in line with the tumultuous weather that had been plaguing them for what seemed like months at this point. His grades sank from barely passing to failing as the storms and his dreams of Mrs. Dodds sinking her claws into him plagued his nights. Percy got into fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends and was sent out of class nearly every period. Finally, one day near the end of the year, he couldn’t handle his English teacher asking him for the millionth time why he was too lazy to study for spelling tests. Mr. Nicholls just stared at him with something like disgust in his face and hatred in his heart, and Percy couldn’t resist snapping and calling him an old sot. Whatever sot meant, it was the final straw, and he was pulled into the headmaster’s office and told he would not be welcome back next year. 

Whatever, Percy tried to tell himself, but his hands clenched into tight fists, digging his nails into his palm when the headmaster said he would send a letter to his mom. A wave of self-hatred crashed over him, like dousing him in cold water and bringing him back to earth, saying, “Hah! You’re the worst! Can’t even stay at a school for more than a year!” 

But still, he tried to put it out of his mind as he studied for the only test he cared about -- Mr. Brunner’s class. Mr. Brunner was the only teacher who believed in him, the least Percy could do was try. But when the words floated off the page, and he couldn’t tell the difference between Chiron and Charon or Polydictes and Polydeuces, he threw his book across the room. Why did it have to be so hard? 

He remembered Mr. Brunner’s serious expression. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. 

Percy took a deep breath and picked up the book. He would go and ask Mr. Brunner for help. 

But instead of help, he just overheard a confusing conversation between Mr. Brunner and Grover talking about Kindly Ones in the school, a summer solstice, Percy needing to mature more (which he resented!), and, oh yeah, keeping Percy alive until next fall. 

When Grover came back to their room that night, Percy had to force himself to meet his eyes, hoping that his face didn’t give away that he’d overheard them.

“You okay, Percy?” Grover asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Yeah, of course I am,” Percy said with a forced smile. “Just tired.”

But as he turned away, supposedly to go to sleep, he didn’t think that Grover believed him. 

The following day, after Percy had struggled through a three-hour Latin exam, Mr. Brunner stopped him at the front of the room. For a moment, Percy’s heart stopped thinking that Mr. Brunner knew about Percy eavesdropping, but instead, it was worse. 

"Percy," Mr. Brunner said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's ... it's for the best."

Percy’s face flushed as he heard kids in the class behind him start to snicker. A quiet voice, indistinct for now, started whispering in his ears. 

"Okay, sir,” Percy mumbled. 

"I mean ..." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

The voice got louder. 

“Right,” Percy said, trembling despite himself. His fists clenched. 

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say ... you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be — "

Useless, good-for-nothing, different, freak, child of a broken oath--

“That’s a lot, sir, for reminding me,” Percy said, interrupting before Mr. Brunner could say anything else.

“Percy--”

But Percy was already out the door and into the hallway. He practically ran back to his room, ignoring the teacher shouting at him to slow down, and collapsed onto his bed the moment he got there. 

He tucked his knees up to his chest and forced his hands to unclench so he could wrap his arms around his legs. But he didn’t realize until he had already smeared blood on his pants that he had broken the skin of his palm. 

Mom wouldn’t be happy. But even that thought was soon swept away with the force of his emotions. 

To make matters worse, Percy couldn’t pull himself together in time before Grover got back. His friend, his only friend, his best friend, let out a quiet “Percy” when he saw him, but his hands were gentle as he wrapped Percy’s hands with bandages from the first aid shelf.

“Percy, I don’t think Mr. Brunner meant it like that--”

But the thought of standing there listening to his teacher tell him that getting kicked out was for the best brought a new round of shame and self-loathing. Grover cut himself off as if he could tell that it wasn’t helping. Instead, he went to his bed and grabbed a box from underneath it, pulling out a crinkly bag of jelly beans. 

“I was saving these for the last day, but why don’t we share them?” Grover asked with a hopeful, pleading waver to his voice. “You can pick out all the blue ones…”

In the face of his friend’s earnest concern, Percy forcefully pushed his upset down, deep inside him, where he couldn’t feel it anymore. 

“Sure, G-Man. That sounds great,” Percy said with what was probably a weak smile, but Grover seemed to slump with relief regardless.

Percy would miss Grover next year, the only one from Yancy he was sad to leave behind. 

But despite how much he would miss Grover next year, that didn’t stop Percy from ditching him when he started muttering about funeral rites after Percy had seen the three old ladies knitting those giant socks. There was only so much Percy could take of hearing “Why is it always twelve?” and “Need blue flowers for the funeral,” before he just left Grover while he was in the bathroom. 

It was when he was around the block from his apartment that he first felt it again. That rancid, suffocating hatred that radiated from his apartment. Or more specifically, from that person in his apartment. His shoes scraped the sidewalk as he slowed, reluctantly inching forward toward the apartment. 

His mom was there, his mom was there, she was waiting--

The mantra played in his head even as he pulled out his key and unlocked the door, bracing himself for the smell. 

But there was no preparation in the world that could defend him against the pungent air that blasted him in the face, with a heaping helping side of loathing. 

ESPN blared from the TV, and beer cans and trash were strewn about the floor of the apartment. 

“Look who showed up.” 

And there he was -- Gabe. Otherwise, known as his stepfather. Percy wasn’t the least bit surprised to see him playing poker with his buddies. 

“You got any cash?” 

“No,” Percy bit out. 

Gabe looked up. His eyes were watery and bloodshot. When Percy met them, a familiar rush threatened to consume him, only this time it wasn’t directed at himself. 

Percy hated Gabe. 

“You took a taxi from the bus station," Gabe said. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at Percy with some sympathy, but Percy didn’t care. Eddie’s weak sympathy didn’t mean anything when he would just sit there anyway, as Gabe did what Gabe did best. 

Percy was proven right in the end, and he was forced to cough up his remaining cash. It’s not worth it, Percy tried to tell himself, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like his mom had taught him. The most that would happen was that he would have to hide his bruises from his mom and still give up his money. 

Percy slammed the door to “his” bedroom, lips curling at the sight of Gabe’s stuff strewn everywhere. Nice to be reminded that he didn’t really have a room in his own home…Gabe spread his stench over every corner of this place. 

But in the quiet of the room, the memories of Mrs. Dodds’ talons and the sound of snipped thread crept back. Dread almost entirely washed away his rage at Gabe. He couldn’t help but think that something bad was going to happen, that something was coming for him. 

But then Percy heard his mom’s voice. 

“Percy?” 

The door cracked open, and all his fears faded to the back of his mind. 

“Mom!” 

Percy didn’t care that he was likely too old to be throwing himself at his mother. He was too relieved to see her. 

“Oh, Percy, I have missed you,” Sally breathed into his hair. 

When Percy eventually pulled back, he saw that she had a few more gray streaks in her hair, but she still looked as beautiful as ever to him. 

“You’ve grown since Christmas!” Sally was still dressed in her candy shop uniform, and she smelled like she had come straight from a chocolate factory. 

Way better than Smelly Gabe.

They sat on the bed as Sally asked him about all the details he had left out of his letters. Percy tried to put a good spin on his experience at Yancy, but while he had almost convinced himself, he wasn’t sure he had convinced his mom. 

“Hey Sally -- How about some bean dip, huh?” Gabe’s voice from the other room shattered his calm. 

Percy gritted his teeth and wondered once again why his mom was married to a jerk like Gabe and not some millionaire. 

Sally just smiled at Percy, ignoring Gabe. 

“I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach."

“Montauk?” Percy's heart skipped a beat. 

“We have three nights -- the same cabin,” Sally confirmed. 

“When?” Percy asked, excitement rising. 

Sally smiled. “As soon as I get changed.” 

“Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" Gabe’s grating voice interrupted. 

Percy seethed. He wanted to punch Gabe in his rotten teeth. 

Sally’s eyes met his. Behave, they seemed to say. Percy swallowed his emotions, forcing them away. 

It was strange, Percy thought as he watched his mom negotiate their vacation out of Gabe. Most of the stories describe hatred as some fiery burning thing, but Percy’s was never like that. Perhaps it did burn, but only in the way of icy cold water, churning inside of him in an endless loop. 

“Alright,” Gabe said finally. “But only if I get that seven-layer dip…and the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game.”

Sally turned expectant eyes on Percy. 

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot and make you sing soprano. Maybe if I punch your lights out for a change. Maybe if I kill you--

“I’m sorry,” Percy forced out. “I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe looked at him, his brain churning in his eyes as he tried to detect any sarcasm, but in the end, he was too stupid. 

"Yeah, whatever," he said eventually.

"Thank you, Percy," Sally said once Gabe was distracted with his poker game again. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

Percy grimaced. He couldn’t get anything past his mom. 

Still, they were going to Montauk. What could go wrong?

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy. Not one little scratch," rang in Percy’s ears as he dragged Grover out of the totaled Camaro. 

But he had no time for vindication. He felt it approach before he saw it. A lumbering mass of seething hatred. Lightning illuminated it, and all its ugly glory was exposed. 

“That’s--” Percy started to say. 

“Pasiphae's son," his mom interrupted. “We have to go. I wish I had known how badly they want to kill you.” 

“But that’s the Mino--”

“Don’t say his name,” Sally warned as they heaved Grover up the hill. “Names have power. Always remember that.” 

“See that pine tree up there?” Sally continued. “That's where you need to go.”

Percy glanced at his mom even as the Minotaur--as Pasiphae’s son--roared behind them. “You say that like you’re not coming with me.” 

Even in the dim light, Sally looked pained. 

“I can’t cross the barrier, but you can.” 

Alarm sparked through him, as if he had actually been struck by that earlier lightning strike. 

“I’m not leaving you!” 

“Percy, please! It’s not me he wants--”

“No! I refuse!”

Sally didn’t say anything more and continued to help him with Grover, but Percy could tell she was just humoring him. Percy clenched his jaw, baring his teeth. He was not leaving his mom.

He glanced back over his shoulder. The Minotaur was still sniffing the car as if they weren’t only fifty feet away from him.

“Why doesn’t he know where we are?”

“His sight and hearing are terrible,” Sally explained, though how she knew this, Percy didn’t know. “He goes by smell. He’ll find us soon.”

As if on cue, the Minotaur let out a roar. 

“Percy,” Sally said urgently. “When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way--directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

“How do you know all this?” 

“I have been worried about you being attacked for a while now,” his mom said. “But I’ve been selfish. I should have let you go, but I wanted to keep you near me.” 

"Keeping me near you? But--”

The Minotaur must have caught their scents fully as he started running up the hill at them. By this point, they were close to the pine tree, but the hill had gotten steeper, the foliage denser, and Grover hadn’t gotten any lighter. 

“We need to separate!” Sally hissed, pulling Grover away from him and shouldering all his weight. 

“But--!”

“Go, Percy!” 

Reluctantly, Percy sprinted in the opposite direction, turning his head to see the Minotaur bearing down on him, lowering his horns to charge. His eyes reflected the hatred roiling within. 

At the very last second, Percy jumped out of the way of the Minotaur’s charge, just as his mom had instructed. He caught a whiff of the smell of rotten beef as he passed right by him. 

Percy whirled around as the Minotaur roared in rage, but when it charged again, it wasn’t at Percy.

It was at his mom.

Sally had just set Grover down against a tree when it raced toward her. Immediately, she sprinted away from Grover and tried to jump to the side like Percy had. But it didn’t work. 

The Minotaur scooped her up in his hands as she struggled, kicking the air and clawing at his skin. 

“Mom!” Percy yelled, horrified. They were so close to the pine tree, the one his mom promised meant safety.

Sally managed one word. 

“Go.” 

Then, she dissolved into a shower of gold as the Minotaur squeezed a hand around her neck. 

“No!” 

His fear evaporated, and in its place was blinding rage. His mom…his mom was just gone. 

The Minotaur ignored Grover, turning back to face Percy’s direction, scuffing his hooves against the ground. The hate that Percy could sense directed at him, though almost as strong as Mrs. Dodds, oddly felt a lot less…personal, like he was simply part of a hated group. It was the same feeling he would get sometimes walking around the city. It had always freaked him out enough that he would always change routes to avoid whoever was giving off that feeling. But what group that would be, Percy didn’t know. What he did know was that Minotaur’s hate might not be personal, but Percy’s sure was. That thing killed his mom! 

Despite knowing it was a stupid idea, Percy pulled off his red jacket, waving it around like a flag. 

“Hey, ugly! Come and get me!” 

He had his back against the massive pine tree, hoping to jump to the side at the last minute so that the Minotaur rammed itself into the tree. 

It didn’t happen like that. 

This time, the Minotaur had wised up and had his arms outstretched on either side to catch Percy if he tried to jump to the side. 

Time slowed. 

It was like Percy could feel every individual rain drop hitting his skin. He buzzed with energy despite his previous exhaustion, and when the Minotaur charged, it felt natural to leap not sideways, but up, and springboard off the Minotaur’s ugly head. With a kind of grace he was not aware he had, he twisted in the air, landing on the back of the monster’s neck. 

He had no time to marvel at his feat as a second later, he nearly bit his tongue off when the Minotaur collided with the pine tree. It staggered back, moaning and shaking its head. Percy latched onto one of his horns so he wasn’t thrown off. 

Just then, Grover started to groan, and the Minotaur stopped trying to shake me off like a rodeo and turned his attention to Grover. Pure, blinding rage lanced through Percy. This thing had taken his mom from him-- He would not let Grover go the same way. 

Wishing that it was the Minotaur’s neck, Percy squeezed the horn as hard as he could and yanked backward. Snap! 

The Minotaur roared and flung Percy off his back. He landed hard on the ground, hitting his head against a rock. The world spun around him as he scrambled to his knees, but the only thing he could focus on was the Minotaur charging directly at him. Without thinking, Percy rolled to the side and came up on one knee, stabbing out as the Minotaur barreled past him. 

Soft flesh gave way under the sharp horn, just under the Minotaur's rib cage.

The monster straight from myth roared in agony and clawed at his side. But it was too late. The Minotaur crumbled before Percy’s eyes, into gold dust just like Mrs. Dodds. 

The rain had stopped, though thunder still rumbled in the distance. Percy staggered to his feet, head pounding. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground next to Grover, but he forced himself to pick up his friend and stagger past the pine tree and into the valley below. 

The last thing he remembered was collapsing onto a big wooden porch in front of Mr. Brunner of all people and a girl with curly blonde hair. 

“He’s the one. He must be!” 

“Quiet, Annabeth, he’s still conscious. He needs medical attention.” 

The world went dark.

When Percy awoke, it took him a depressing five seconds to remember the events of the night before, to remember that his mom was gone. Grover, appearing safe and unharmed, lifted his spirits slightly, but then, when he drank that strange drink that Grover called Nectar, the taste of his mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies made him want to simultaneously drink it forever and also curl up in a ball and die. 

He should’ve died instead.

“You saved my life,” Grover said, tearing Percy out of his spiral. The look on Grover’s face made Percy think that his friend could somehow read his mind. Maybe that was a power goat-boys had. “I brought you this.” 

Grover placed a shoebox on the table next to him and opened it, revealing the piece of the Minotaur’s horn that Percy had ripped off. 

“Some monsters leave behind something, like spoils of war, as a symbol of their defeat,” Grover explained. 

“More like my victory,” Percy said bitingly, though it was not directed at Grover. Something pinged in his brain as he said the phrase. He had the strangest feeling of foreboding. 

“Right,” Grover said, averting his eyes to look down at his twisting hands. “I--I’m really sorry, Percy. I should’ve been more help.”

“What do you mean?” Percy said, tearing his eyes away from the minotaur’s horn. “You were the one who warned us. It’s not your fault our car was struck by lightning. We might as well blame the weather along with the Minotaur.”

Grover let out a nervous bleat. 

“You really shouldn’t be saying their names so casually.”

“Names have power,” Percy murmured, remembering what his mom had said. 

“Exactly.” Grover nodded. “And as for the lightning…Well, I think you should come with me.”

“Is this the part where I finally get an explanation?” Percy asked, getting up from his chair gingerly.

Grover bit his lip. “It was dangerous for you to know too much too soon.”

“So that’s why you pretended Mrs. Dodds didn’t exist! I almost thought I was going crazy!” Percy said as they walked around the porch, rounding the corner near a table with three people sitting around it. 

“Oh, if only,” the pudgy man in the leopard print shirt said with a sigh. “Some madness would really liven things up around here.” 

“Mr. D,” came a familiar, chiding voice. 

“Mr. Brunner!” Percy said, almost excited to see his old teacher despite how they had left things off.

Mr. Brunner smiled conspiratorially. “Not quite.” 

The blonde-haired girl who Percy vaguely remembered feeding him popcorn-flavored pudding looked him up and down, like he was a bug under her shoe. 

“This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy,” Mr. Brunner said, turning to the blonde girl. “

Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

“Sure, Chiron,” Annabeth said to Not-Mr. Brunner then turned back to Percy. She eyed the Minotaur’s horn in his hands, and he thought she would make a comment about that, but instead, "You drool when you sleep."

Then she went running off the porch, blonde hair flying behind her. 

Okay, rude.

“Sit down, Percy, Grover,” Apparently-Chiron said, gesturing at two seats at the table. “We have four to play pinochle now!” 

Grover sat down closest to Chiron, leaving Percy to sit next to this Mr. D person. He was reluctant to sit down next to someone who had so clearly been hitting the happy juice, but the lack of noxious hatred kept Percy from associating him with Gabe too much. 

Mr. D heaved a great sigh. “Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp half-blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

“Uhm, thanks,” was all Percy said. Mr. D might not have been happy to see him, but he didn’t hate him (yet), which was all Percy could ask for sometimes. He turned to Chiron. “Mr. Brunner-- I mean, Chiron, what is going on?”

“We’ll get to that in a moment, Percy.” Chiron proceeded to deal out cards.

Percy bit down the wave of frustration that threatened to spill over. Could no one give him a straight answer?

“Perry, you do know how to play pinochle, don’t you?” Mr. D said. The only reason Percy thought he was addressing him was because Mr. D was looking straight at him. 

“It’s Percy,” he said, clutching his cards with no idea of what to do with them. “And I’m afraid not.”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Mr. D said, ignoring Percy’s first statement. 

“Sir,” Percy said through a clenched jaw. He tried to move on from the irritation rising within him. “Does Mr. D stand for anything?”

Mr. D looked at him with burning purple eyes. “Names have power. You shouldn’t be using them lightly.” 

Okay, that was the third cryptic warning he’d gotten about names. Perhaps Percy should take it seriously, despite no one giving him any kind of clear answer. 

“Percy,” Chiron interjected. “Did your mother tell you nothing?”

Percy frowned and looked down, or else he might have burst into tears. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

“Typical,” Mr. D snorted. “That’s how you get killed.”

“We’ll have to start from scratch then,” Chiron said.

What followed was the most indirect, confusing explanation that somehow boiled down to “The Greek gods are real. Sucks to suck.” 

“And to think, I’m stuck playing babysitter at this miserable camp with boys like you,” Mr. D said, waving his hand. To Percy’s amazement, the can of Diet Coke turned into a goblet of wine before his eyes. 

Thunder rumbled. 

“Mr. D, your restrictions,” Chiron said. 

“Dear me. Old habits! Sorry!” Mr. D cried out, though Percy, as a self-proclaimed expert in sarcasm, could tell he wasn’t sorry at all. But then realization dawned on him as he remembered Chiron’s class.

“Holy shit,” Percy blurted out, despite being in front of his former teacher. “You’re…You’re--!” 

Mr. D…Dionysus…smirked as he took a loud slurp from his Diet Coke. “So you can learn something after all.”

When Percy just stared at him, gaping, the purple fire Percy had glimpsed in his eyes raged brighter. Visions of murderous grape vines, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as they turned into dolphins swam before his eyes. He started to feel dizzy, feeling like a fizzy drink had been injected straight into his brain. 

Then it stopped. 

“Mind your manners, Perseus Jackson,” Mr. D said as he stood up, apparently giving up on the game. “Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

“Y-yes sir!” Grover stammered as he stood up to follow the freakin Greek god, shaking slightly. 

Percy stared after his friend, worried, but not daring to follow. 

“Will Grover be alright?” Percy asked Chiron. 

Chiron nodded, though he still seemed a bit troubled. “Mr. D isn’t really mad. He just hates his job. He's been...grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

“And he can’t go back because…?”

“There was this, ah, off-limits nymph,” Chiron said. “Let’s just leave it at that.” 

Chiron then rambled on about the “Flame of the West” and Western Civilization to explain why the Greek gods were here in America all of a sudden. Then, when he was done, he stood up, and up, and up until he towered over Percy, half-horse, half-man. A centaur. Right, Chiron was apparently that Chiron. 

“You still haven’t told me what that has to do with me?” Percy asked as he stood up to follow Chiron from the porch. 

“Why everything, my dear boy.” 

God…gods…Percy should have just watched the orientation film. 

They walked through the picturesque camp sprawling out before him like a dream after a bad nightmare. As they passed by other campers, they stared at him, at the Minotaur horn, and back at him again, then started whispering. 

“That’s him.”

“Can’t believe he killed--”

Percy resisted the urge to run away from all the stares. He knew the drill. This was just like a new school. He could not afford to show weakness. Still, he couldn’t quite meet their stares head-on. He looked back at the house they had just come from. Something shifted in the window of the uppermost attic window. 

“Chiron, what's in the attic? Is someone there?” Percy asked.

“Not a single living thing,” Chiron said solemnly. 

Percy sighed. He should’ve known better at this point than to ask Chiron and expect answers. As predicted, Chiron continued on explaining nothing as they walked through the camp, pointing out all the usual summer camp activities like sword fighting and pegasus riding. When it came to discussing Grover, Percy got a little bit more information, but not enough. Just what had happened the last time Grover brought someone to camp? 

But his thoughts about Grover were pushed out of his mind as they reached the large space bordered by the most unique summer camp cabins he had ever seen. As they made their way around the field with Chiron pointing out different cabins’ gods like they were mascots, they passed by a large brazier in the middle. There was a girl sitting there stoking the fire. She looked up, her eyes a gentle blaze that Percy could see even from this distance. 

He waved. 

The girl smiled and waved back. But Percy glanced away for a second, and when he looked back, she was gone. 

“And this is Cabin Three--”

Percy stopped right in front of the door. The smell of a sea breeze wafted by his face. The outside was made of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, like it had been brought straight from the sea floor.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Percy paused, his hand just above the door handle. He hadn’t even realized he’d moved. 

Chiron looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Come along now.” 

“Ah, Annabeth,” Chiron said as they made their way to the last cabin on the left, Cabin Eleven. “I believe you can take it from here.” 

Annabeth shut the book she was reading, the title something in literal Greek instead of the metaphorical Greek that Percy’s dyslexia normally made words. 

Cabin Eleven was the most normal-looking of them all, though something Percy vaguely remembered being called a caduceus hung above the doorway. Inside, it was packed with kids and a bunch of bunkbeds and sleeping bags like some kind of evacuation center. 

“Well?” Annabeth prompted. “Go on.” 

Percy clutched the Minotaur's horn as he met the stares of everyone inside. He was the new kid. He had to prove himself.

So of course, he tripped over the doorway. 

There were some snickers, but no one said anything. Annabeth followed with a judgmental cloud hanging over her head as she pointedly did not trip walking inside. 

"Percy Jackson, meet Cabin Eleven."

“Regular or undetermined,” one of the campers asked.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth said. There was a chorus of groans at that. Percy was really feeling welcome. The slight twinge of hatred that appeared briefly didn’t help. But at least Percy could tell it wasn’t personal. They just hated undetermined people (whatever that meant), and Percy happened to be undetermined.

An older teen with sandy blond hair and a scar under one eye stepped forward with a warm smile. 

“Now, don’t be like that. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."

“This is Luke,” Annabeth introduced with more warmth than Percy had received. "He's your counselor for now."

“For now?” Percy asked. 

“You’re undetermined. We don’t know where to put you until you’re claimed by a god,” Luke explained patiently. “Our patron, Hermes, takes in all travelers, which is why you were put here.

“If you’re claimed,” someone muttered, but Percy barely paid that remark any mind. 

“Finally!” Percy exclaimed. “Some answers! Chiron made me skip the orientation film and wouldn’t give me any straight answers!” 

Annabeth scoffed, like the answers were right in front of him all along, but Luke’s smile just grew even more sympathetic. 

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, and I’ll explain everything to you,” Luke said, stepping forward. “You can put your stuff down over there.”

Percy looked around, spotting the campers eyeing him like they were just waiting for the opportunity to steal his stuff. 

“God of travelers…Isn’t he also the god of thieves?” Percy asked, meeting the mischievous eyes of a camper around his age with curly light brown hair and an impish smile. The smile widened. 

Luke chuckled. “You’ll do just fine. Let’s go then.”

They strolled over to the dock of a nearby lake and sat down. 

“So,” Luke said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll explain everything like you know nothing.” 

The explanation Percy so direly wanted came next from the lips of someone sensible and direct. But that explanation…

“My dad’s a god?!” 

Luke’s smile tightened. “Sure is. Though it’s worth pointing out, gods can have kids with anyone, not just the opposite gender.” 

“I just can’t believe I’m a demigod,” Percy said, shaking his head even as something clicked into place inside of him, like this all made sense. Yeah, he was so ignoring that. “Wouldn’t being part god mean I don’t have freakin’ ADHD and dyslexia?”

Luke huffed a laugh, even as Annabeth made a small, impatient noise.

“Well, funny story actually…”

They talked well into the afternoon. Well, Percy should say he and Luke talked while Annabeth stared at Percy’s face like she was searching for something specific. Every once in a while, she would chime in with a more detailed explanation when she thought whatever Luke said was too bare-bones, but to be honest, half the time it just overwhelmed Percy. 

Eventually, Luke looked at his watch. 

“Well, I’d love to stay and talk more, but I have to lead a sword training session. Annabeth, maybe you can give him a better tour than Chiron.” 

He got up and left with one last smile for Percy, leaving him alone with Annabeth, who still stared at him with those piercing gray eyes.

He stared back, determined not to lose this impromptu staring contest. He was winning (really he was!) when he was startled by the splashing of water next to him. He jerked, snapping his eyes to the side. There, peaking up just above the water, was a beautiful woman with long hair floating along the surface. 

She was also blue. 

She giggled as he gaped and wiggled her fingers at him, then splashed back beneath the surface. 

Percy must have looked rather pathetic as Annabeth let out a sigh. “I can’t believe I thought you were the one.”

“What? What one?” 

Annabeth didn’t answer him as she got to her feet. 

“Well? Come on then. I’ll show you around.” 

Percy mumbled something indistinct under his breath, but no matter that Annabeth couldn’t have heard it, she still snapped her head toward him with a glare. 

For the sake of his continued health, Percy decided to follow Annabeth without any more complaints. 

But as they were exiting the area that held the cabins, four big, mean-looking kids from the ugly red cabin sauntered over to them. 

“Look! It’s a newbie!” the one in front called out. She was the biggest and the meanest-looking of them all, with a sneer on her face as she looked him over. 

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," Clarisse said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

''Erre es korakas!" Annabeth spat, which Percy somehow understood as “Go to the crows!” which felt like it was a worse curse than it sounded. 

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse snarled, then turned back to Percy. “Who’s the runt?” 

Annabeth opened her mouth, but Percy got there first.

“Percy Jackson,” he said, glaring up at her with his best intimidating look. Judging by her face, she didn’t find it very intimidating. Ugh. “What’s it to you?”

Clarisse gnashed her teeth together into a mean smile, but Annabeth just sighed. “Meet Clarisse, daughter of Ares.” 

"We’ve got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy. I think you’re well past due."

“It’s Percy.”

“Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

“Clarisse,” Annabeth warned, sounding pained. 

“Stay out of it!”

“You--”

Percy interrupted her. “It’s okay, Annabeth.”

Percy knew the deal. He had to prove himself on his own. At least Annabeth tried to defend him a little bit.

He met Clarisse’s narrowed eyes. He might not win, but he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Apparently, putting up a fight meant Percy had somehow become one with the plumbing. Who was the god of plumbing again? Apparently, that was his dad. 

Luke laughed at dinner later when he told him that, but his eyes were serious, like he was actually mentally running through a tally of plumbing gods. 

But he hadn’t come up with an answer by the time Percy had to sacrifice part of his meal to the gods, so he couldn’t send a message to his mystery father. Instead, he just dropped in a piece of meat with a quick thought, thanking Hermes for letting him stay in his cabin. It’s what his mom would have wanted him to do. He was about to leave the brazier when he spotted a bunch of grapes on his plate. Impulsively, he plucked a few of them off and tossed them into the fire. 

Thanks for not making me insane. Or turning me into a dolphin. 

When he looked up, Mr. D was staring at him with a smirk. 

“It’s never too late,” he mouthed. Ugh, what a jerk. Percy regretted the sacrifice already. 

The following day was both better and worse. Better in that he wasn’t quite drowning in ignorance anymore, but worse because it was another day that his mom wasn’t there. He woke up in his sleeping bag, groggy from tossing and turning all night in discomfort, and yet his mom’s loss weighed so heavily on him that he didn’t want to get up.

Luke nudged him out of bed, bringing him along to all the camp activities that the Hermes Cabin went to.

It soon became clear that no one really knew what to make of him. He sucked at archery, he wasn’t as fast as the Hermes kids, he wasn’t as strong as the Ares Cabin…the only thing he was good at was canoeing. After that lesson, he had to amend his previous thought. Maybe someone knew what to make of him. For one brief moment, Luke had appeared calculating as he looked at Percy after he absolutely dominated the canoe race. But it had disappeared just as quickly, so maybe Percy was wrong.

Overall, Camp Half Blood was shaping up to be better than his normal new kid experience, the Ares Cabin being the main exception. But even they barely hated him, their loathing so small it barely pinged on Percy’s radar. Still, no matter how much better this place was in comparison, Percy still found himself slipping away from the Hermes Cabin when they were set loose from activities before dinner. Without knowing exactly why, he found himself approaching the large brazier where the girl from before was sitting. 

“Hi,” Percy said. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

When he met the girl’s eyes, they sent a rush of warmth through him, heating him up from his head to his toes. It reminded him of his mother’s hugs. Tears pricked at his eyes. 

The girl’s eyes softened.

“Please, sit,” the girl said softly. 

Percy tried to discreetly wipe his eyes as he sat down, but he was sure the girl still saw him. 

“I’m Percy,” he introduced himself. “Thanks for letting me share your fire.”

“I am Hestia,” she said, her voice evoking the feeling of warming his palms over embers in a fireplace. “And everyone is welcome at my hearth.”

Hestia…oh crap, was this another god?

Hestia must have seen the panic on his face. She smiled reassuringly. 

“No need to look so alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Percy stammered out. “My…my lady?”

Her smile turned amused. “Somehow, politeness doesn’t suit you. Just Hestia is fine.” 

“Nice to meet you, Hestia,” Percy said. 

Her smile grew as charmed by something. 

“Tell me, Percy, what brings you here to my hearth? Not many people notice me these days.” 

Percy opened his mouth to deflect, to say something like “the Stoll brothers were annoying me!” But he couldn’t force the lies out under Hestia’s gaze. He looked into the fire.

“I miss my mom,” he admitted. 

Hestia didn’t respond, at least not verbally. Instead, the fire shifted. Percy gasped. There, in the flames, was his mom. His mom baking him cookies, his mom soothing his tears, his mom hugging him, telling Percy she loved him. 

Tears fell from his eyes, the cool droplets landing on his knees. 

“The ones we love never truly leave us. Take these memories into your heart and never let them go.”

His mom’s scent enveloped him like she was standing right behind him, wrapping him in her arms. It hurt. Percy squeezed his eyes shut. It hurt, but at the same time, he never wanted this feeling to end. 

If only he could get to the underworld--

The scent, along with the images, faded, and yet he followed Hestia’s words. He didn’t need the images in the flames because he had grabbed them tight inside of him. 

“Rest easy, Percy,” Hestia said. “And remember, you are always welcome at my hearth.” 

“Thank you, Hestia,” Percy said. 

When he left the hearth to go to dinner, the warmth trailed after him well into the night. He made sure to sacrifice his best piece of meat to Hestia. 

Yes…camp wouldn’t be so bad. 

Percy had spoken too soon. First, he had been sent away from all the fun to guard a stupid creek during Capture the Flag. Next, he had felt a persistent feeling of hatred stalking him. As uneasy as it made him, he tried not to get too alarmed. Chiron had said that it was normal for the forest to have monsters in it. There were definitely people close enough to help if he needed it. 

However, the growl in the woods pretty much made him lose his nerve. He would’ve likely run away, no matter how much teasing that would get him, except that Clarisse and four other Ares kids decided to ambush him. Somehow, he’d gotten out of that with only a few scratches, but in his distraction, he had forgotten to pay attention to what was most important. 

He sure remembered now as he lay on the ground, bleeding from deep scratches in his chest from a hellhound. Note to self, never ignore that feeling again. 

Then Percy was dragged into the water, and instantly he began to feel better. His wounds closed up, and energy coursed through him. He stood up, but as he did so, he noticed that everyone was gaping at something above his head. He looked up. A glowing green trident. 

"It is determined," Chiron said. "Poseidon. Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

“Oh, this is really not good,” Annabeth muttered. 

Well, that about summed it up.