Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mid-spring felt unnaturally warm as Amelia Flores picked at the hole in her sheer black stockings, vaguely listening to the jabber of her school friends — some gossip about the old history teacher finally retiring, that would be too bad; Amelia quite liked his sympathetic portrayals of ancient events. The weather was almost unbearably hot for her stuffy catholic school uniform; she supposed her mother was pleased to have her favourite daughter home for another six months.

“Amie, got any summer plans?” Mella asked, the shade of the mighty pine tree shielding her face from the bright sunlight, “Is your dad sticking around?”

Amelia shook her head fondly, bless her old man for trying, but there was only so much time he could hold onto before he was hauled back to work, “Still summer camp for me,”

“Well, why don’t you stay with one of us for the summer?” Lilia suggested, nodding to the rest of the girls in their makeshift circle, “I know my parents won’t mind,”

“It’s fine,” Amelia reassured, “I have friends at that summer camp, y’know, it’s not like I’m miserable the entire time,”

It was safest for Amelia to be at that summer camp; it was safest if she never left, but there was nothing Amelia Flores hated more than being stuck in a tiny cabin with some of the loudest, irritatingly clingy children ever — even if they were considered her siblings.

You see, Amelia Flores was more than just the daughter of internationally renowned detective Jasper Flores who struggled to maintain grades due to her dyslexia and tried not to doze off during morning Mass because of her ADHD. Amelia Flores was also the bane of Sister Nora’s existence, which was quite tragic because Sister Nora was the nice one.

Perhaps her father had that quirky sense of humour that all his friends heralded about (the one that Amelia was a little too jaded to appreciate) because eighteen years ago, Jasper Flores had a whirlwind summer romance with this gorgeous (suspicious) woman with flaxen blonde hair who sold potted plants by the city park who just so happened to be the literal Greek Goddess of agriculture and… plants; Demeter herself.

Jasper Flores, knowing this, enrolled his daughter into a Roman Catholic boarding school because he was not going to abandon his Christian faith just because he happened to have a child with a Greek Goddess. Amelia knew how to respect stubbornness. She didn’t appreciate the conflicting teachings.

She felt like a fraud, not that anyone at the Academy of Saint Marcus was truly a devoted catholic, but it was another experience to read the Holy Bible and come across 1 Corinthians 3:6 — “ I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God made it grow ” and sit with the knowledge that you are that ‘God’ that makes plants grow.

Her life was a little funny like that.

“Are you kidding?” Mella nudged her, “It’s our last summer before college, we gotta live it up a little,”

‘Live it up a little’ in Mella’s dictionary meant going on that girl's trip to Greece and being too shy to do any of the regular ‘living it up’ things like underage drinking, flirting and staying up past midnight.

“We have the whole rest of our lives,” Amelia lied through her teeth, “Don’t worry, the summer’ll pass quicker than you think and then we can see each other at college,”

Lilia gripped Amelia’s arm at that statement, “Don’t threaten us like that,”

Amelia doesn’t bring herself to laugh like the rest of the girls. Yes, Amelia Flores was the daughter of a goddess and mortal — a demigoddess of divine abilities — you couldn’t possibly think her life would be easy, that she would be safe.

The fact that she’s made it to adulthood was a miracle enough. She heard that Chiron (yes, the legendary hero trainer himself) was tossing the idea of throwing a bit of a party. Amelia thought it would be embarrassingly excessive and tacky, however Luke, always determined to push her buttons, had stoked the flames of that fire.

Still, it was hard to stay away from that world, as dangerous as it was.

Summer meant Camp Half-Blood again. Summer meant shifts in the strawberry fields, talking and singing to the forest like a lunatic again. Summer meant teaching the little ones how to make the prettiest flower crowns. Summer meant dipping her feet in the cool water of the lake and watching the kids kayak. Summer meant getting teased by 12-year-olds over how she couldn’t fight to save her life. Summer meant getting dragged off by Luke during campfires.

Amelia Flores couldn’t wait for summer.

Jasper Flores was possibly the most overdramatic father in existence, and he just had to Amelia's father.

He had always said: the true crime was that he had such an adorable daughter and never enough time to spend with her. Amelia couldn’t really blame him; she knew he tried, but he was in very high demand, and the thrill of mystery solving had him shipped all over the globe, hoping one of those cases would scratch the itch in his brain.

No, Amelia perfectly understood that feeling, the prodding in her head to figure everything out, unravel everything, and revel in the solution. After all, she was her father’s daughter: the true crime would be if she was dumb . 

She liked solving little mysteries in her life — who ate the last of Marissa’s baked cookies, who snuck out of curfew last night, why was Sister Maggie excusing herself every nine minutes — and as audacious as it was, one of her hobbies was hanging around Luke’s cabin and trying to figure out who the unclaimed demigods belonged to.

(She was always uncannily right; Luke just learned to take her word for it.)

But back to her father, who was clinging to her uniformed frame and sobbing like someone had just died (they had, but that wasn’t why he was crying).

“Stay safe,” Philip, her dad’s partner in solving crime and also just… life in general, told her over her father’s shaking back, “If you need anything, make sure to send a letter, your father and I will try and write as much as we can,”

The three of them stood right outside the barrier, shaded by Thalia’s pine tree. Amelia was still dressed in her vert green Saint Marcus uniform. She was so tantilisingly close to her second home, the sweet scent of the strawberry fields wafted in the wind and she could see the Big House looming in the distance.

“Do you have to go?” Dad asked, choked as if he didn’t know the answer.

“Dad, do you remember when I was the one asking that question?” Amelia pried her father off, “Now stop before you embarrass me,”

“My daughter finds me embarrassing…”

“That’s because you’re being embarrassing, Jasp,” Philip groaned, “We have a flight to catch and we just drove to Long Island, get in the car before your daughter disowns you,”

She wouldn’t, by the way. She loved her dad too much to part from him forever.

“Go,” She told her father, “I’ll see you after summer,”

It was always so entertaining to see Philip forcibly drag her father into the car and drive down the hill and out of sight.

Beyond the barrier stood Luke, hands resting casually on his hips, almost like he was waiting for Amelia to hurry up and come in already. 

She rolled her eyes and trudged up the final bit of the hill, lugging her suitcase (oops, she had grabbed the one with the broken wheel) up over the tree's roots, not missing the healthy glow that gleamed as she passed. 

“Hey,” Amelia greeted, passing the barrier and into the safety of camp, “Long time no see,”

Luke Castellan, son of Hermes and the only other kid her age, looked just the same as last year. His curly brown hair, playful brown eyes, and dimpled smile - oh, but the scar had seemed to heal over the seasons, now just a faint memory of a tragic quest.

“In a rush to see me, Amie?” Luke’s lip twitched into a wide trickster grin much like that of his brothers, “Drove over right away by the looks of it,”

And he was right; she did rush over. Certainly evident by how she was still dressed in the white ironed oxford shirt and knee length (‘Catholic length’ as they called it) green pleated skirt, the matching blazer long since stuffed away from the heat, and black polished Mary Janes; Amelia Flores looked like a perfect catholic schoolgirl, her long dark hair all combed back and pinned with a black barrette.

“ Piss off ,” Amelia clicked her tongue, “Where’s Chiron, or Mr D, or any of the four people I need to see before I can pass out,”

“Oh uh, well, I’m right here,” Luke blinked innocently, “And you of all people know that Chiron and Mr D are busy playing cards,”

Without prompting, Luke took her luggage from her hands and walked towards the cabins. Amelia couldn’t help but laugh at his obedience — he had learnt many lessons every time he tried to mess with her.

Cabin 4, her cabin, her mess to deal with, was still intact when they arrived. Katie Gardener, her younger half-sister and definitely the most responsible of the bunch despite her young age of 13, stood outside watering and talking to the potted flowers on the porch.

“Katie held her own great,” Luke informed her as they approached the cabin, “She’s still young but I think whatever you told the kids really left a lasting impression because they were so well-behaved,”

“Good to know,” Amelia said, taking the suitcase back from him, “Thanks, Luke, I’m beat, I’ll see you at dinner,”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “Of course,”

But then he lingered by the front of the cabin, hands stuffed in his pockets like he had nicked something, gods, being friends with a Hermes kid was tiring, even if that kid was the ever-so responsible golden boy.

He cleared his throat, “Y’know, that uniform really brings out your eyes,”

“Thanks,” Amelia drawled, “I’m sure that’s what my dad had in mind when he was picking a school out,”

Possibly the most physical indication of her godly heritage was the unnatural green eyes that all of Demeter’s children had. Never mind how rare the eye colour was among mortals; it just looked out of place on a Filipino face. They weren’t the dull muddy green, no, they were the bright green of grass and fresh spring leaves. 

But Luke was right. Her green uniform did bring out the sheer glow of her blessed eyes.

Another Cabin 11 kid called for Luke from the distance, finally drawing him away from Amelia’s cabin.

“Hey Katie,” Amelia smiled, surprising the preoccupied teen, “Those daylilies look amazing,”

“Amie?” Katie gaped, “You’re back?”

“Well, it is summer break,” Amelia almost laughed.

And then her head whipped around to look at another potted flower by the stairs, a blooming bush of pretty pink peonies that Amelia had planted when she first arrived at camp. Gosh, that seemed like a century ago.

“I thought they were kidding,” Katie muttered.

“Hmm?”

“Liam said that you returned to camp whenever the peonies bloom,” Katie said, “And they fully bloomed this morning,”

Things like this had Amelia questioning just how godly she was. Was it a mere coincidence with the coming of summer, or was it because that peony bush was pumped with so much of her godly ability that it would bloom when it sensed her return? Amelia was very aware of how sentient and lively nature was; flowers could feel like pets sometimes.

“Just because Liam says something, you’ll believe it?”

“Well… maybe after this,” Katie said before snapping to realisation, “Oh, does this mean I don’t have to be cabin counselor anymore?”

“Unless you want to,”

“I don’t,” Katie said bluntly before opening the worn oak door and yelling into the large cabin, “GUYS, AMIE’S BACK,”

Amelia must’ve been one of the first summer campers back. Many of the bunks were still neatly made, some belongings scattered by the floors, not a single opened suitcase in sight.

Cabin 4 smelled like a flower shop, the carpet felt soft like a healthy grass field, and each of the bunks had plant-printed bedsheets. There were packets of seeds scattered around the windowsills, potted plants hanging from the canopy and muddy shoes by the front door. Each of her half-siblings stood at attention, and Amelia noticed how Liam panicked to hide a dirty shovel behind his back.

“Liam,” Amelia called calmly, “Is that a gardening tool inside the cabin?”

“No, ma’am,”

“Are you lying to me?”

“No, ma’am,”

“Do you think I’m blind?”

“Yes, ma’am,”

Times like this, Amelia wondered if the four months Liam spent in the Hermes cabin had rubbed off too much on him.

“Take the shovel to the shed,” Amelia said sternly, “ Now ,”

Liam grumbled, revealing the shovel and stomping out of the cabin, trailing dirt as he went. 

“Do that again and it’s no dessert for a week,” Amelia called after him.

Yes, they were children of growth, and yes, they adored spending time outdoors and growing, but as a cabin counselor, Amelia held the responsibility of making sure the cabin was clean and not a literal pigsty.

“Amie,” Miranda stood by her while she unpacked, throwing her bag of clothes onto her bottom bunk, “Annabeth thinks there’s another Demeter child,”

“Another one?” Amelia’s face almost dropped, “Summer camper or…”

“Term,” Miranda said softly, “She got here just after the New Year; Luke has been trying his best, but…”

Term campers were all tragedies. They were the campers who had lost their mortal family, who were only safe at camp — Luke and Annabeth, brilliant daughter of Athena, were term campers — Katie, Miranda, and Liam were all term campers as well. Liam had watched his father be killed by a monster right before his eyes. Amelia knew she was lucky to have her dad and knew that she had always been exceptionally lucky.

“I’ll go visit later,” Amelia reassured her. Miranda was incredibly compassionate for her young age, “Do you have a name?”

“May Guo,” Miranda tripped over the surname a little, “She’s only seven,”

Amelia’s eyebrows almost shot to her hairline in surprise. Seven was horribly young. Seven and a term camper was just…

She supposed she would be seeing Luke sooner than she thought.

Chapter Text

Luke was in the middle of breaking up a loud screaming match between two Ares kids (seriously, what the hell was Clarisse doing?) when Amie passed by him, heaving a full basket of shiny fresh strawberries with her younger siblings in tow like a line of ducks, the littlest being newly-claimed seven-year-old May.

"Need some help with those?" He asked, jogging up to the line of Demeter kids.

"Go for it," Amie conceded, dropping the surprisingly heavy basket into his open arms, picking a sizeable red strawberry off the top and popping it into her mouth, "Mmh, such a pity,"

Amie always said 'such a pity' before they made those massive batches of strawberry jam to sell. Luke agreed. It was a pity, but the Demeter and Dionysus kids grew those strawberries like crazy; if they didn't use them, the whole camp would be overgrown.

Or maybe it was just Amie. Luke remembered how small the strawberry field used to be when he first got to camp, but every summer since Amie had started coming, the fields had grown, more rows were built, and the borders were inched further and further to adjust to the entire strawberry farm they now had. 

Before Amie, there was the thought that the Demeter kids were rather useless — not that any demigod child could ever be useless — but all they did was grow the strawberries and potted plants gifted to different cabins. But then Luke had teased Amie one time too many, and an entire branch had grabbed him and grew him into a tree, keeping him stuck until Chiron coaxed her to let him go.

Even that took hours because Amie kept insisting that she didn't know how she did it (the little liar), and then they didn't talk for a whole week until Luke apologised. 

He opened his mouth expectantly as Amie picked another perfect strawberry from the pile, pulling the small tuft of green leaves off and sliding the sweet fruit into his mouth. It was so sweet and tart that Luke gave a hum of contentment and watched Amie beam at the literal fruit of her labour.

Behind her, Liam scrunched his face up, "Gross, can you flirt somewhere else,"

Amie kicked the younger cabin member, "Watch yourself,"

"Yeah dude," Luke almost snorted, "We don't want another archery moment,"

The blond boy flushed and ducked his head as Amie laughed at the memory. Gods, he loved making Amie laugh. The whole world reacted with Amie's laugh. She laughed; the flowers would bloom, the crops would grow, and the birds sang. That was some Disney Princess kinda impact.

"Hey Luke ," Chris hollered from across the field, throwing his hands up in comedic exasperation, "What gives?"

"Little busy right now," Luke yelled back at his friend ("brother", Amie had tried to convince him, but Chris was still unclaimed so Luke wasn't convinced), "Be there in a sec,"

"You're supposed to be teaching a class," Chris grumbled as he stalked over to them, "Hi Amie,"

Luke turned back, and the rest of the Demeter kids had gone off without them, leaving just Luke carrying the basket of strawberries and Amie with her soft smile. 

"Hi, Chris," She said before gripping the sleeve of Luke's undershirt, "You have a class?"

"Well," Luke found himself clumsily replying as Amie's bright green eyes — the kindest ones he had ever known — narrowed in disappointment, "Yeah, but I had some time and you looked like you were struggling,"

Amie never took nicely to being looked down on. She was just as prideful as the rest of them. She uncrossed her arms, and for a split second, Luke feared he would be stuck to the ground by the blades of grass underneath his foot. 

"I've been doing this since I was 15," Amie sighed, "Go and do your counselor duties, Luke, I mean it,"

Counselor duties were just Mr D's way of shoving all the work onto the older kids — the 'responsible' ones — not even every counselor had a duty. Well, there was Amie in charge of the strawberry fields and the woods, Lee Fletcher who covered both archery and the infirmary, Luke himself who taught the kids how to hold their own in combat, Annabeth (who was still too young) insisted on teaching the myths. But Annabeth was impatient, and after two attempts of classes, she was coaxed down from the position. Clarisse still ran around, causing more harm than good. But the forges were Charlie Beckendorf's turf, and Silena Beauregard was more than happy to spend time with the pegasi at the stables.

They played to their talents and interests; Luke had to agree that it was clever. That's how they got them to do their dirty work for them. If they had made Amie spend hours each day stoking a fire and making weaponry, she wouldn't be near as nagging about 'counselor' duties'. 

Speaking of counselor duties, he had cabin inspections with Lee tonight, great, just what he needed.

"Hey, don't worry," She called out, already four feet away from him, "I'll bring you a jar later," 

But Luke's feet stayed firmly in place even as Amie passed the forge and almost got run over by a group of running children. Even so, he took the long route to the Arena to watch Amie drop off her basket at the Big House.

"The jam isn't that good," Chris grumbled, dragging Luke off, "You have kids to teach,"

First Friday of the summer, the first campwide Capture the Flag.

Annabeth, master strategist that she was, laid out the plans during lunch. The cabins she had chosen for the week were huddled around the 11-year-old and her giant map of the woods. Where Annabeth went, Luke would always follow, the Athena and Hermes cabin had a four year long partnership but this week, Aphrodite and Apollo had been added into the mix. 

Her plan this week relied on a lot of manpower, so she picked and chose the cabins with the most members. 

But this meant that Amie was on the opposing team.

"You're blue this week," Chiron told them.

Luke peered at Amie standing with her hands lax on her hips, listening to whatever plan Clarisse decided. The children of Ares, Demeter, Hephestus and Dionysus all looked at Amie momentarily, piquing Luke's attention.

Would they be using Amie as the primary offence? That was a bold move, considering her ability with a sword was horrendous. 

After lunch, he was approached by Lee Fletcher, head counsoler of the Apollo cabin.

"I can't do inspections with you tonight," Lee told him with a wince when Luke's eyes dropped into a glare, "Sorry man,"

"You're making me do them myself?" Luke groaned, "C'mon, what ,"

"I'll rope Amie into it,"

Somehow, that just made him madder, "Amie does enough around here. She doesn't need to cover for you,"

Lee blinked at Luke's rage, "Amie owes me a billion favours, I thought you'd be happy about doin' inspections with her?"

He wasn't wrong. Luke would take doing inspections with Amie over any other head counselor. Well, maybe when Annabeth got older, it would be a different story, but right now, it was definitely Amelia Flores.

Plus, he was thinking of a time to ask if she wanted to watch the 4th of July fireworks together.

The rest of his afternoon is preoccupied with Annabeth's plan and getting ready. Luke liked getting to the armoury early, preparing himself before helping the other kids with their breastplates and weapons.

Coincidentally, Amie happened to be walking by from the woods. Her orange camp shirt was half concealed by the stained denim overalls, grass stains on the knees, streaks of dirt on the front, and the mud from last night's rain on her red converses. The summer heat made Amie pull her long hair into a drooping bun.

"Amie," He called, drawing her attention, "Excited to lose?"

She gave him an unbothered smile, "I should be asking you,"

"Oh," Luke blinked, a grin widening on his face, "Let's not be overconfident, Amie,"

"Careful now, Castellan," Amie reached the armoury, fashioning a thin twig like a sword pointed at his chest, "We'll see who's laughing tonight,"

"I look forward to it," He batted the twig away, "Good luck, you'll need it,"

Turns out, she had not been overconfident. Clarisse clearly had more brains now because the plan was simple: Luke was the problem; ergo, we should get rid of Luke. But they hadn't deemed him important, so they used Amie.

That must've been the part when everyone looked at Amie. She was on the offence, alright, but when Luke came across Amie alone with her sword and shield suspiciously missing, the alarm should've gone off.

Luke Castellan was stuck to another tree.

He had lowered his guard when she smiled at him and spun that little story about Clarisse telling her to stay put. He even believed her when she started pointing him in a direction. He blinked, and that familiar sensation of being yanked by a sentient tree branch and basically absorbed into the trunk of an oak came about again for the first time in years.

"Amie," He yelled after her departing back, "Amie, what if I get attacked by a monster,"

"Then start trying to hack your way out," She answered innocently, giving him a smug wave goodbye, "Good luck, you'll need it,"

Clarisse's team won that night, and Annabeth wasn't thrilled with him. But then half of the camp stood watching him stuck four feet off the ground and in a tree while the other half went to go hunt down Amie. 

"Please tell me you went down with a fight," Annabeth pleaded.

Luke would've lied for his sister's peace of mind. Besides, it was obvious what the answer was by the time Amie was found and less-than-gently released him from his wooden prison. Annabeth gave the older girl a look over and then glared at him.

Because there wasn't a single scratch on Amie, not one at all, she had been completely detached from the action — she did her one part of subduing Luke and wandered around the woods, using the trees to tell her where enemies were.

"I tried hacking at it," He answered truthfully later, "But Amie's a lot stronger than she looks and enchanted wood grows too fast,"

And the last time he was stuck in a tree, he found that splinters hurt like a bitch.

"I guess I get to laugh tonight," Amie preened, helping dust the dirt and bark off his back, "So much for the greatest swordsman in 300 years, right,"

"You wouldn't stand a chance in an actual duel," He told her, a little butthurt but truthful because she would die within a second of a real sword fight. 

"Maybe not," Amie admitted, "But who needs swords when I can grow plants anywhere,"

"Middle of a desert," Luke challenged.

"Jumping cholla," Amie shot back. Luke didn't even know what that was, "Cacti, Desert Thorn-Apple, there's a bunch of poisonous plants that grow in the desert,"

"A major city,"

"Parks exist,"

"No parks nearby,"

"There's dirt underneath the concrete,"

"The arctic,"

"Why the hell would I be in the Arctic?" Amie asked, genuinely baffled, "But no… I suppose I can't grow anything in ice,"

Luke hummed in victory, "I guess you'll be avoiding the ice,"

He was sweating his ass off after a sword-fighting class when he passed by the strawberry fields and saw Amie.

It was a brutal summer day, not a cloud in the sky, and the hot sun was burning down on the campers. And Amelia Flores was sitting in the middle of the fields with — and he wasn't kidding, the sight of it actually caused him to drop his bottle — a gigantic, completely unfeasibly large, lotus leaf floating above her head like a parasol.

Oh. By. The. Gods.  

One thing Amie would always be was dedicated. By noon, the scorching sun was so unbearable that the rest of the Demeter kids and Dionysus' twin sons had decided to take the day off. But Amie was still in the fields, wearing her denim overalls and (now clean) red converses, reading a book out loud to the strawberry plants.

She was mental. There wasn't any other explanation. That girl was straight-up crazy .

He watched for a bit as many of the seedlings grew magically at the sound of her voice; the plants flowered for a few seconds before a plump red strawberry took its place. Amie made a bush of strawberries bloom within seconds.

Luke should probably go hit the showers, but he found himself loudly sitting next to Amie, almost squashing a strawberry as he sat.

"Gods, you reek ," Amie gagged, trying to shuffle away, "I thought we outgrew the disgusting teenage boy thing,"

Now, he was close enough to look at the scrunched disgust in her green eyes and how a light sheen of sweat coated her olive skin. Her hair was braided back today, and to his surprise, she was wearing a pair of shoddily handmade earrings.

He could say they were shoddily made because… he was the one that made them. Back in her second summer at Camp Half-Blood, after he accidentally slashed her in a combat class (before he taught it) and drew blood. He won, so he should've felt triumph, but at that moment, all he could do was drop his sword, panic, and fuss over her.

Hilariously, he had only cut her cheek. Still, he was convinced that he had permanently scarred the sixteen-year-old's pretty face even after he was reassured multiple times that it was such a shallow cut that it would heal completely with a nibble of ambrosia. 

Amie and her temper had the middle of July feeling like a nice breezy November, so Luke knew he royally messed up.

So he sat his ass down at arts and crafts for a couple of days and made her a pair of flower earrings out of clay, then spent hours trying to mix the right shade of green that matched her eyes and then tried his best to make them look good.

They didn't end up looking that good, but Amie laughed and wore them for the rest of the summer.

Honestly, Luke thought she had lost them, but no, they looked right at home, dangling from her ears.

"You still have them?" He asked, feeling slightly vulnerable, tucking a loose strand of dark hair over her ear.

Her hand shot up to the earring, fingers ghosting the metal hook at her ear lobe before she smiled, "Course I still have them, they match my eyes," She said, batting her eyes with a teasing laugh.

The vast field was completely empty; even the satyrs had taken to the shaded woods, and Luke belatedly realised this was the first time the two of them had been alone since…

Since New Year's. When she came down to Long Island to visit during her winter break, they had snuck away from the amphitheatre and shared a small kiss at midnight by the beach. It was freezing, and Amie was so warm and much like summer.

They hadn't talked about it since, but it was more than one kiss, which was promising. Stupidly, in that moment in the strawberry fields, Luke craned his neck and captured her lips with his, definitely surprising her by the sound of the muffled squeal. Before he could regret it and apologise, Amie kissed back, her hands dropping her book, curling his camp shirt into her grasp, and pulling him closer. 

He felt something tickle his fingers that were 

Gods , that went a lot better than he expected.

This kiss was a lot different to the one in winter. For starters, it was the middle of the day, so he could see Amie's flushed cheeks and pretty green eyes peering up at him. But also, the kiss itself was longer, their bodies closer, and Luke wanted more.

"What are we?" She asked, breathless.

"Whatever you want us to be,"

Amie tilted her head and raised her eyebrow in question, "I'm asking you,"

"I…" He didn't know how to say it, "I want to be yours,"

He looked away from Amie for the first time to notice that circle of bright flowers that had bloomed around them. Right next to his hand — that must've been what he felt earlier — was a whole pink tulip, the shade matching the blush on the daughter of Demeter's face.

He picked it, figuring Amie wouldn't mind too much since it was a bit of an accident, and offered it to her, "Will you let me?"

With a tinge of exasperation on her face, Amie groaned and dropped her head onto his shoulder, " Gods , that was the most pathetic confession ever,"

"Is that a no?"

"What do you think,"

"I'm asking you," Luke parroted her earlier words.

She raised her head with an embarrassed glare, "It's a yes,"

"Can I kiss you again?"

"I'm glad you asked," she said. Then she twisted her body to face him and kissed him.

That summer would be the best he'd ever had: hands down, no contest.

Chapter Text

After finishing a whole year, Amelia Flores could tell you whole-heartedly: college fucking sucked. Actually, her life after the end of summer fucking sucked.

Excuse her language, but it was like the gods had turned on her. Amelia had burned the last bite of her favourite cherry pie to her mother and got answered with: “Amelia, what?” so she wasted that last bite, and her mother was concerned about her.

It had been over half a year since she had heard from Luke. 

Things… had not gone over great between them. Sure, last summer was an actual dream after two years of dancing around each other, but Amelia had told him some news that he didn’t take so well.

Amelia Flores was no longer a camper. She had a lengthy debate with Chiron, but he had ultimately caved and let her. She was an adult, nineteen (almost twenty), a college student and a budding detective. They had made compromises; Amelia was always welcome at camp (she didn’t doubt it) and was to stay close just in case.

Hence why Amelia, born and raised in the shithole that was West Virginia, was attending NYU for college. 

Oh hey, guess who she saw in the city? Grover Underwood. They stared at each other, surprised, near the MET. The young satyr stood with a blond boy by a fountain while she was walking through Central Park (shamelessly helping the dying plants). So this was where his demigod assignment was. Must be a special kid if Chiron was there as well.

But even though she was only a 3-hour drive away from camp — a far cry closer than 10 hours — she had not heard from Luke since October. 

Luke disagreed with Amelia’s choice to leave camp. She had thought he was being selfish (and he was), and the summer had ended slightly sour.

They still Iris Messaged every week, Luke apologised, and the temperature had stabilised again. Amelia’s birthday had fallen on a Wednesday last year, but she had taken a day trip to camp to spend it with Luke.

Amelia’s birthday in September may have been the last good day of that year. They had baked a special strawberry cake, and the remaining Apollo kids had serenaded her with the birthday song, and Luke had dragged her away from the party — so much like how he did at campfires — and kissed her in a way that made her see stars.

She would’ve returned the favour for his birthday at the end of October, but they hadn’t foreseen ‘The Fight™️’. 

It was such a stupid fight as well. She couldn’t even remember what it had been about. But Luke never backed down from arguments; she loved that about him until it was targeted at her, and Amelia hated admitting defeat, so they had both exploded at each other.

Radio silence for two weeks or so before Amelia tried to Iris Message again before his birthday to apologise even though it really wasn’t her fault. But Luke Castellan had the utter nerve to take a hard look at her and cut the message from his end.

‘ Fine,’ she had thought, ‘If he wants to be petty,’

She hadn’t tried calling or visiting after that. What? She wasn’t above being petty. 

She knew that Chiron would take the campers to Olympus around December, and by then, the itching need to talk and see Luke had outweighed the pettiness. Lady Tyche was not on her side because Amelia was in the middle of her final exams while the campers were at the Empire State Building. 

‘ Winter break,’ She determined, ‘I’ll go visit then,’

But her dad had gotten injured on a case, and after giving Chiron a heads up, she quickly flew to Austria, where some wealthy lady had requested him to solve a cold case from the ’60s.

She could barely enjoy her break before the Summer Term began again, and Amelia wanted to rip her head off.

College with her ADHD and dyslexia was hell on earth. It didn’t help that her depression was affecting all the plant life around her, and her mother was still concerned about her.

She deserved a vacation. She really did. She had never wished for summer to come faster. 

Then, her dad and Philip stopped by New York City after another successful case (she read the headline in a newspaper she passed by). Amelia spent two hours crying into her dad’s shoulder about how much her life sucked, and he had proposed a fun father(s)-daughter bonding experience that was long overdue.

Detective Flores was invited to a fancy dinner in Greece by an old client (“Super rich,” Dad had winked) and was welcome to bring his family along.

“My clients all know of you,” He said, brushing the tangles out of Amelia’s sleek black hair with his fingers, “And I want you to visit your birthplace,”

She hadn’t been super sold on the idea until a week later when he happened to be hired for an intriguing mystery on a nearby island in Greece, and Amelia practically begged him to take her along.

And so Amelia would be summering on Greek islands like the pretentious rich kid she was.

Her mother’s temple on Naxos was where Amelia was handed to her father. Her dad had told her the story so many times. The goddess ruefully placed her baby daughter in her father’s arms and placed a kiss and blessing of protection. Right here, in the temple Amelia was visiting.

It was notably less crowded than the other hotspots around the island — Mt Zeus, for one — but the ruins of a once majestic temple still brought gasps of admiration. The white marble almost glittered in the sun, calling the daughter of its patron over.

Amelia tore herself away from the group of tourists, stepping over the short guardrail and making a beeline for the ruins before anyone could yell at her and was enveloped in her mother’s protection. The mortal world around her seemed to bleed away, and she looked around in awe.

The dirt and rocky grounds around the temple flourished into a forest of greenery, giant flopping ferns and trees bearing pomegranates and olives, Trumpet vines encircling the white marble pillars. In the distance was a field of swaying wheat.

Her worries washed away, and she slid down one of the pillars, enjoying the curling of a friendly vine stem around her wrist, holding her as she closed her eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

“Lady Persephone?”

Amelia’s eyes shot open. Persephone? Where? Shit. 

Her eyes darted around the temple’s vicinity, but the only figure was a wheat-haired nymph with her head bowed in respect.

“I’m not…” Her groggy voice trailed off as the nymph raised her head, “You don’t have to do that,”

The nymph’s brows furrowed, “You are not Lady Persephone,”

Amelia held her tongue from biting back a sarcastic ‘nah what gave it away’.

“Demigoddess,” The nymph realised, “You are far from home,”

“I’m on vacation,” Amelia said, “Don’t mind me, just uh, go about what you were doing before,”

The nymph walked away, still sending cautious glances in her direction, until she disappeared from view.

Come to think of it, how long had she spent in her mother’s sanctuary? There was no way to tell the time; Dad would be worried sick outside. What if time passed differently here? What if it had been days instead of hours?

She gently uncoiled the vine from her wrist and dusted the dirt and rubble from her sundress, smoothing it down habitually. She had worn it proudly; Philip had bought it for her just for this trip; it was a white sundress with little green flowers dotted all over.

“It was nice meeting you,” Amelia cooed to the orange flowers of the vine, making sure to give it a little boost of growth (nothing compared to her mother, but it was still something), “I’ll be back later,”

She turned to go down the stairs towards the border of Demeter’s protection, skirt swaying in the gentle breeze when the vine lurched towards her again, twisting around her finger like a clingy pet.

“Luke Castellan,” The vine whispered in her head and the daughter of Demeter stopped in her tracks.

And suddenly, all around her, the winds echoed her lover’s name from the foliage. The overwhelming overlap of the chanting leaves and the memories of Luke bombarded her mind before she caught a distressed call from a pomegranate tree.

“Luke Castellan,” The tree cried, branches shaking without wind, “He is a traitor,”

“What?” She voiced aloud.

“From the North Woods at Camp Half-Blood,” another tree drew her attention, “Kronos,”

“You’re just saying random words now,” Amelia groaned, “Yes, I should be visiting camp soon; yes, Kronos has been in my dreams; yes, I miss Luke; what are you trying to say?”

“Luke Castellan has pledged himself to Lord Kronos,” An olive tree rustled, “Traitor of the gods,”

“Excuse me,” Amelia recoiled, almost tripping over the skirt of her sundress.

She stumbled into a body. Not the nymph from before, but rather a woman with long curls of dark hair dressed in green and gold robes. Amelia looked up and met her same green eyes in the woman.

“Amelia,” She said softly.

“Mom,” Amelia choked in surprise.

The kind-eyed goddess of harvest cupped her face with her hands, and her green eyes scanned Amelia’s face as if trying to commit it to memory once again (her mother could be scatterbrained sometimes). 

And then something surreal happened. The goddess hugged her. Like fully enveloped her in her arms and pressed her face into her mother’s shoulder.

“You wouldn’t betray me, would you,” Demeter whispered into Amelia’s hair, and her blood ran cold.

That wasn’t a question, that was a threat; a warning. Her mother had never given her much attention. If Luke’s betrayal were true, the gods would be in complete disarray. Her mother was testing her loyalties. Testing if they still laid with her.

“You wouldn’t leave me,” Demeter said plainly, so sure of herself, and Amelia whimpered.

Amelia was as smart as she was Southern (unfortunately, very). Demeter loved Persephone and Amelia looked just like her. Amelia knew she was in her mother’s favour because of her appearance. She was her mother’s favourite not because she brought her honour or glory, or because she was a powerful fighter, or because of her devotion. Because she had exactly none of those qualities that others strived so hard to prove. Amelia could sit still and smile and still be Demeter’s favourite clone.

But she loved her mother, so she didn’t care. 

Demeter hesitated, releasing Amelia from her arms and told her solemnly:

“You need to come with me,”

Amelia Flores was on her knees before the twelve Olympians, completely and utterly on the verge of a panic attack.

She dared not raise her head even as Lord Zeus boomed, “This is the girl?”

Mr D — no, she supposed it was Lord Dionysus now — replied, “Yep, 100% certain,”

Amelia’s mind was blank. Had she done something? Was this about Luke? 

“Amelia,” Her mother called out, “Raise your head,”

It was a command that she shakily undertook. Her gaze flitted around the room at each of the Olympians and their gazes on her. Most had remained passive, but there was her mother’s mournful expression and Hermes with a heartbroken dullness, gaze fixed on the ground beside her rather than actually her.

She made brief eye contact with the King of the gods before she blinked and stared at his chin instead.

“Amelia Flores, daughter of Demeter,” He said, “Do you know why you are here?”

She fucking hated this. No, she didn’t.

“Is this about Luke,” Amelia asked, voice shaky as Lord Zeus’ grip on his master bolt tightened.

“Brother,” Demeter spoke, “She is innocent, she knows nothing,”

“We don’t know that,” Lord Poseidon said. Amelia noted that his shirt was in dire need of an iron, “I believe she had no involvement, but she may have valuable information,”

“Amie,” Hermes called her by her nickname, “You and Luke were close, surely you know something,”

She was stunned silly by how he had addressed her. She hadn’t been called Amie for a while. Not even her father called her that. It had been a nickname Luke had given her — her family called her Lia (her dads, her cousins, her lola). Amelia could hear it as clear as a bell ringing in her ear. Luke drawling the ‘e’ teasingly in the middle of a game of Capture the Flag with a sword raised at her when they were fifteen. His husky voice groaning it in the dark of night against her lips close to a year ago.   

“Amelia?”

Her mother’s voice jolted her from the memories, “Uh, yes, Luke and I were close, but no, I didn’t know anything,”

“Well how close could they have been if she didn’t even know anything,” Apollo complained.

“They were lovers,” Aphrodite blinked in realisation, “They are lovers,”

Oh well, that caused an uproar, to say the least.

“Is this true?” Demeter asked, distressed.

“Oh ho, this is rich,” Ares shifted on his throne, “Lovers, dangerous,”

Amelia wanted to leave so badly. Her knees were starting to hurt, and she was still so confused.

“Amelia,”

“Yes,” She burst, horribly overstimulated by the twelve voices talking over each other, “Yes, Luke and I are… romantically involved?”

“And you know nothing?”

“Nothing,” Amelia hurried to clear her name, “I haven’t spoken to him since October,”

“Ooh,” Aphrodite tilted her head in question, “That’s a long time to go without talking to a lover, why so?”

“I… We got into a fight then, and I’ve been busy since,”

“Oh, that’s a bit mean,” The goddess of love and beauty sighed, and Amelia could see Silena so vividly in her mannerisms, “You’re both so stubborn,”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m as stubborn as he is, but—”

“This is pointless,” Athena stood, “She knows nothing, but we cannot ignore that she is dangerous,”

Amelia was the furthest thing from dangerous. She couldn’t hold her own in battle; she was a massive crybaby, and her best friends were plants. 

“I can assure you, I am not a threat,” She insisted, tears already welling in her eyes (fuck).

“Maybe not,” Athena said coldly (this was Annabeth’s mother? Sweet little Annabeth, who clung onto Luke like he hung the stars in the sky for her??), “But you are compromised,”

“I agree,” Artemis gave her a look of pity, “He will come find you,”

“And what’s so bad about that,” Aphrodite crossed her arms.

“She is a daughter of one of the eldest gods,” Hephestus spoke for the first time, “While it’s certain she is not the demigod of the great prophecy—” Amelia contorted her face at the reminder of the prophecy that hung over her head until she passed her sixteenth birthday, “—She still possesses extraordinary prowess and, if applied, would be a daunting opponent,”

“If you are suggesting that my daughter would betray the pantheon—” 

Aphrodite cut in, pleased, “Love can sway any loyalty,” 

She wanted to lie, to swear that she didn’t love Luke, but who would believe that? Certainly not the goddess of love in the room with them. She loved Luke more than anyone had ever loved him. She was so stupidly, irrevocably, head-over-heels, screaming-and-crying-and-kissing-in-the-rain in love with him.

“My love for my mother is stronger,” Amelia confessed, voice almost broken.

“It’s a different type of love, sweetheart,” Aphrodite warned, “You and your lover have the type of love that can bring us trouble,”

“This is madness,” Demeter fumed; the temperature rose unbearably, almost burning and melting Amelia still on her knees, “Let her go,”

“We can’t let her go ,” Zeus spluttered, less like a king and more like an indignant younger brother, “Deo, you found her in Naxos, she is a flight risk,”

“What is dangerous about her being in Naxos?” Demeter stood from her throne, “She was in my temple, she was under my protection ,”

“Sister, you can’t possibly believe that is enough ,” Hera chided.

“And what exactly are you insinuating?”

The rest of the gods watched the three gods argue back and forth. Amelia felt like she was going to die; either from the heatstroke she was getting, the bubbling panic in her gut or by Zeus snapping and killing her on the spot. 

“Keep her at camp,” Artemis suggested, almost throwing her hand up in vexation, “Is she not safest there?”

Amelia’s head shot up again and met Dionysus’ eyes. The youngest Olympian groaned, “I just got rid of her,”

‘You and me both, man,’ She thought, ‘Wait, can gods read minds?’

None of the gods paid her attention, so the answer was a tentative ‘no’.

“That is not a bad idea,” Zeus hummed in thought.

No, it was definitely a bad idea. She had only just gotten free from camp. She had so many fights with Luke over it, all of that to just end up back at camp like a prisoner… because of Luke? Oh, the irony. She would be back at camp, and he was gone. 

What about college? What about her friends? What about her dad and his wish to go on adventures together?  

“Oh, so we’re depriving my daughter of her freedom now?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Poseidon asked, probably not intending to sound sarcastic, but it sure as hell did come out that way.

Her mother didn’t have anything to say.

“So it’s settled,” Zeus turned to Dionysus — back to Mr D — and addressed his son, “You are to ensure she doesn’t leave the boundary under any circumstances,”

“Sure,” Mr D grunted, “What’s another insignificant duty to add to my punishment,”

He gave her a helpless but unbothered shrug that said ‘sorry kid, you tried,’ and snapped his fingers. The sensation of being teleported made her dizzy. Still, she found herself in a very familiar room with a shocked Chiron and three children — Annabeth, Grover (although he wasn’t exactly a child) and that blond demigod that she had seen Grover with at the MET four months ago.

“A-Amie?” Annabeth stammered, recoiling at the sight of her (still on her knees, by the way) on the floor.

Amelia Flores, almost twenty, cried her heart out in the middle of the Big House.

Chapter Text

The funny thing was that after being placed on house arrest, Amelia went from basically doing Chiron’s job to actually doing Chiron’s job. 

House arrest was essentially Camp Half-Blood’s hiring process. She had never thought she and Mr D would ever be ‘in the same boat’, but now, sitting opposite him with giant stacks of documents between them, she was beginning to re-evaluate her life choices.

“What are these?” Amelia asked, a stone dropping in the pit of her stomach as she gingerly picked up the closest one.

“Tax invoices,” Mr D grumbled, “Congrats kid, welcome to adulting,”

Amelia didn’t think adulting really meant being a business accountant for her former summer camp but hey, she was still 19, what could she say about it?

She always knew all those strawberries she grew had to go somewhere, and now she was looking at the invoices for the money her strawberries raked in. 

No wonder she was Chiron’s favourite; she was practically funding the place.

“What exactly do you want me to do with them,” she asked cautiously.

“Sign them off,” Mr D clapped his hands together and lounged in his cedar wood chair, “I don’t keep you around for nothin’, do I?”

“Am I getting paid for it?”

“Nope,”

“Oh,” Amelia sighed, “Yay…”

Ok, being back at camp with her shiny new position as ‘Camp Counselor’ (not to be confused with her former position as Head Counselor of Cabin 4) had its benefits. She didn’t have to wear the bright orange camp shirt anymore (“Helps us find you easier,” Chiron said), she stayed in an apartment at the Big House instead of Cabin 4, and (this was best of all) no fucking curfew.

The bad news about her new position… 

“You know what Luke was like for the younger campers,” Chiron told her solemnly, “We also know what you are like for them,”

“What are you trying to say,” Amelia narrowed her eyes at the mention of Luke.

“Percy and Annabeth said that Luke was looking to recruit —” Amelia physically groaned, knowing exactly where this was going.

“You want me to tell these kids that the gods still love them?” Amelia almost shot out of her seat, “You want me to be a therapist?”

That was exactly what they wanted her to do. 

“Ethan,” Amelia wanted to cry at how the boy was staring at her, “It’s been ten minutes, you have nothing to say?”

“I thought you would’ve gone with him,” Ethan Nakamura, an unclaimed demigod who had hero-worshipped Luke, said, “Weren’t you in love or something,”

She wasn’t cut out for this. Seriously. Almost every camper whom she had sat with had asked this. It was no longer rubbing salt into an open wound. It was metaphorically ripping it apart by the seams.

“You can love someone and still think what they do is wrong,” 

Ethan shrunk in on himself, “You think what he’s doing is wrong?”

Amelia hadn’t had enough time to think anything . From the literal second after she found out about what Luke had done, all that happened to her was a whirlwind of nonsense. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all.

“I think the way he’s going about it is wrong,”

“I think he’s got a point,” Ethan stubbornly crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes into a glare, “You wouldn’t get it, your mom loves you,”

Amelia opened her mouth to tell him what it really was like for her. She prayed so hard that she could let these kids know that she wasn’t special, that she was just as pathetic as the rest of them, that her mother was just as lousy. But she couldn’t, not with Olympus watching the camp so obsessively. 

In the distance, Chiron blew the conch shell, signalling lunch, but neither of the two demigods moved.

“You should head to lunch,” Amelia said softly, “I’d love to talk more, Ethan, but maybe we should talk when we aren’t all wound up,”  

“Amie, I didn’t mean—” Ethan backpedalled, eyes widening innocently, “No, I’m not saying that— I know Luke told me that— I mean—”

He winced when Luke’s name came out of his mouth. Amelia almost (just almost) laughed at how absurd it all was. Everyone tried to tiptoe around her like this; it was like his name was taboo now (it was). It wasn’t like hearing his name made her break down, they had taken her overwhelmed emotional bawling and came to the conclusion that it was about Luke — it wasn’t, it was about her loss of autonomy and being scared of the gods (also some catholic guilt).

“Go to lunch,” Amelia told him, “If you ever want another chat, my door is always open,”

Unconvinced, Ethan rose from the wooden chair and exited the office. As soon as she heard the boy’s footsteps fade out of earshot, her shoulders drooped, and her whole body teetered forward. 

Her head hit the maple wood desk with a dull thud as the laughter of the campers rang from the open window by her tiny office. 

Why was life so shitty? How was life so shitty? Why was this all happening to her? Just because she befriended that curly-haired boy from Cabin 11 when she was fifteen? Just because her heart raced seeing him smile? Just because she fell in love? That’s all it took to fuck up her life? A boy.  

This was an injustice — a severe injustice — how did her mother let this happen? Nay, how did Artemis let this happen? Shouldn’t she have been campaigning her innocence, it was all a man’s fault, why was she collateral damage?

But, if she could go back to when she first came to camp and if she was greeted by little Luke Castellan with his dimpled smile and flimsy handshake and teased throughout her two months unclaimed, she would’ve ended up in the same place.

He was still the boy who protected her — still the Luke who punched an Ares kid because they called her names behind her back.

“Don’t worry about not being able to fight,” Luke had told her once after another failed sword combat class, “I’ll be around to fight for you,”

She had cringed back then, but in later years, it came to warm her heart. Now, it made it sink. Because Luke wasn’t around to fight for her, he was on the other side of the battle. 

Was he the same Luke? Amelia didn’t think she could face him if he were.

Oh, there came the waterworks…

“Hi,” A young boy’s voice said from her door, making Amelia spring back up, “Uh, Chiron said to come talk to you?”

“Oh,” She was aware of the tears welling in her eyes, “Sweetheart, it’s lunchtime, why don’t you come back after you’ve eaten,”

“That’s ok,” He looked around her sparsely decorated office, “I already finished eating,”

It took her a while to recognise him (she was still learning the new campers). He was that blond kid from the MET, Grover’s demigod and the last time she had seen him was after the gods had issued her house arrest. Amelia had seen him around the place hanging about Annabeth (gods, she still had to talk to Annabeth today).

She heard his name was Percy Jackson; he was the son of Poseidon, and he had just completed a quest to return Zeus’s master bolt. All of this information took Amelia a good two days to process because how on earth did she miss so much while she was away?

“Can I come in?” He asked.

“Of course,” Amelia ‘subtly’ wiped the tears away and brushed her loose papers to the side of the desk, motioning to the empty sofa, “Have a seat over there. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be over in a second,”

Something told her that Chiron was using the kid as a messenger, and boy, oh boy, was this gonna be a long chat.

“You thirsty?” She asked him, opening the top drawer of her desk that had a tin of cookies she had baked two nights ago, “Allergic to anything?”

“Uh no, I’m good,” Percy fiddled with the hem of his camp shirt, “No allergies either,”

Amelia grabbed her coffee (long gone cold after the frosty exchange with Ethan) and the cookie tin and sat opposite Percy on her other sofa, placing the mug down on the coffee table.

“What did you wanna talk about?” She asked, anticipating the worst.

“Actually, I lied, Chiron didn’t tell me to come,” Percy said, making brief eye contact with her before looking back down at her coffee table, “I know I’m not suppose’ to talk to you until tomorrow but it’s just been bugging me, I—”

“Percy,” She said, tone even, “It’s alright, just get it all off your chest,”

He looked up from the table, scrutinising her with those sharp blue eyes that reminded her of the beaches in Greece, and then he said: “Annabeth told me that you were Luke’s girlfriend,”

Every. Damn. Kid. 

But then he kept going, “Chiron said you were a powerful demigod, Katie Gardner told me you used to be the Head Counselor of the Demeter Cabin, Grover told me stories about you and the strawberry fields,” Percy took a breath as Amelia’s heart unclenched, “What I’m trying to say is, I’ve heard a lot about you from everyone but we’ve never talked,”

His blue eyes — bluer than the Mediterranean Sea — shone with curiosity. Suddenly, Amelia knew exactly how he felt. He was a new camper; they had just missed each other by a summer. He was thrust into this mythical world and took to it like a fish to water. Maybe he had heard about her from the people close to her ( maybe from Luke ), but hearing about someone and talking to them was different.

Everything she knew about this brave young boy was hearsay. The trees in Greece told her he held his own in a duel against Luke. Chiron told her of the wild quest to retrieve the master bolt. Demeter had commended his heroism. 

“How’s your arm,” Amelia said, lifting her cold coffee to her lips, “Heard Luke got a clean slash on you,”

“It’s fine,” Percy said, rubbing his forearm, “I thought Luke would be a touchy subject for you,” 

“He is,” Amelia admitted, “But I don’t really mind,”

“Luke actually told me about you,” He said, and Amelia almost choked on the coffee, “Chris teased him about you a lot,”

“That’s surprising,” Amelia couldn’t help but admit, “We weren’t really on good terms, I know nothing,”

“Also, I feel like you being here was a little my fault,”

Amelia thought about the childish debate the gods had and shook her head, “Honey, I can assure you, it’s definitely not your fault,”

“I’m the one who told Chiron that Luke was thinking of recruiting demigods,” Percy exhaled like it was big news to Amelia, “He rushed to tell the gods, have you ever seen a centaur gallop out of camp? He even left his wheelchair, anyways, he told Annabeth and Grover to try and Iris Message you, but they wouldn’t connect,”

Chiron had told her this already, but listening to Percy ramble a summary of his perspective was mighty entertaining. But yes, they theorised that the Iris Messages couldn’t connect because she was in her mother’s sanctuary, which wasn’t exactly an open channel for the goddess of rainbows to come banging into. Ever since landing at Naxos, Amelia spent hours in that temple for no particular reason other than because it felt safe.

Chiron knew how close Luke and Amelia were. It wasn’t a massive surprise that he concluded that Amelia would be a strong contender on Luke’s recruitment list (just thinking about Luke going around to demigods like a door-to-door evangelist made her laugh herself to sleep one night). 

It took the gods a full week to find her. Except, Chiron was his super vague self and never specified why exactly Luke Castellan would be trying to recruit her, so they just thought he was trying to convince any powerful demigod, so it was definitely safe to say the entire pantheon was in disarray. Her mother hadn’t felt her presence until she decided to scour the Mediterranean and saw her in the temple.

That was probably a sign that Amelia should make more offerings to her mother.

“Again,” Amelia sighed, “It’s not your fault, this is mostly for my own wellbeing,”

“How?”

Good question, she had lied. She didn’t want to be here.

“The gods are all keeping their eyes on their children,” Amelia answered, not willing to mince words with the boy, “Everyone is scared of the titan lord and they’re not about to gamble manpower,”

“The titan lord?” Percy said, baffled, but Amelia could see the gears turning in his head, “You mean Kronos?”

She almost flatlined right there and then.

“Has anyone ever told you the power in names?” Amelia blinked, “Or are you just a really overconfident twelve-year-old,”

“Huh?” He seemed so very perplexed that it made her heart drop to her stomach.

“Just how much did they teach you before sending you on that quest?”

Long story short, she didn’t really like the answer to that question, and now she was also Percy’s teacher. 

(To summarise, Amelia Flores went from being just a college student to a camp counselor, business accountant, therapist, gardener and now teacher)

(Yes, they were still making her grow the strawberries in her spare time.)

For all his misgivings, Luke had done a terrific job of teaching Percy the basics of sword fighting and combat. Miraculous, because (and she did the math), he must’ve taught this all to him within two days… and Percy survived and also won a tussle against Ares, so gold star to Luke’s teaching.

What did that leave Amelia to teach him then?

Literally everything else.

Lucky for her, Percy’s amazing mother — one delightful Sally Jackson from what he’s told her — had given him a little of a headstart on his demigod heritage. The problem was that most of Percy’s knowledge of Greek Mythology stemmed from stories of his father and his namesake. 

And that’s how she found out that Percy’s first name was actually Perseus because nobody thought it was important to tell her.

“On Olympus—” Percy randomly brought up during one of their lessons, which gave Amelia PTSD, “—My dad and Z– my uncle spoke in ancient Greek,”

“Yeah, it’s normal for them,” Amelia shrugged, flipping through the Iliad, “You could speak it too if you wanted,”

“What do you mean?”

She shut the goliath of a book, “What exactly did Annabeth teach you during the quest?”

“Stuff about how the gods were,” Percy muttered, defensive on his friend’s behalf, “How they treated their children,”

Always so wise, that girl.

“Well,” Amelia told him, “The reason for your dyslexia is because you’re not meant to be reading English. Your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek, see?”

She pushed the Iliad towards him and flipped to a random page, “Things kinda make sense like this, huh?”

(Yes, she was using the original transcription of the Iliad; she could read ancient Greek, so why wouldn’t she?)

“I mean I kinda,” He fumbled over his words, “It’s not hard like it normally is,”

“But you still can’t read it,” Amelia said, “It just looks like a bunch of math symbols,”

“You can read this?”

Luke had taught her ancient Greek. Hermes was the god of languages amongst his broad domains, and Luke was always a quick learner of languages, a linguist if you would. He picked up French from the Aphrodite cabin, some Spanish from God knows where and some conversational Tagalog from her. So when Amelia was about to scream at the skies over learning ancient Greek, Luke had patiently taught her letter by letter, sound by sound. 

Come to think of it, that was probably around the time she stopped having that insane urge to bite his head off every time they saw each other. 

“It’s just like any other language,” Amelia reassured, “As long as you work, you’ll get it, and with a brain being keen on ancient Greek already, it’ll be easier than other languages,”

“You could teach me ancient Greek,”

*record scratch* Oh God, she just dug herself a deeper hole.

“Knowing ancient Greek isn’t like super necessary or anything,” Amelia backtracked, “Most demigods don’t know it,”

“I wanna know what they’re saying the next time,”

This kid was thinking about next time. Didn’t Chiron say he almost got blasted by Zeus on Olympus? He wanted more??

“Eavesdropping is not—” She cut herself off, “The chances of you having to meet the gods again are low, I assure you, you will not get another—”

“Will you teach me or not?”

Amelia caved (slightly), “Annabeth could teach you,”

“Annabeth would rip my head off,” Percy rolled his eyes, “She’s not exactly super patient,”

And he thought she was?

“I can teach you it,” She cautioned, “But it’s not going to be easy by any means, I’m only going to teach you if you’re sure you wanna learn it,”

“I am,”

“And when we both inevitably get headaches, you can’t say I didn’t tell you so,”

“Don’t worry,” Percy reassured, “I’m used to that,”

Not exactly promising…

Chapter Text

“I’m so bored,” 

It was the middle of fall, and the buzz of summer had mellowed into a bunch of lazy demigods slacking off and hanging about.

Amelia had never been around camp in the fall. She used to spend it in the West Virginian woods and then in Vermont at Saint Marcus. To her, fall meant decay — her mother’s sorrow in losing her beloved daughter to the Underworld for another six months — and it meant the new school year, ironically, new beginnings. 

Camp Half-Blood may be protected from the weather but not from Demeter’s seasons. 

“If you’re so bored—” Amelia hummed, walking across the grass fields while May trailed like a little duckling, “—How ’bout you help clean the stables?”

The now eight-year-old scrunched her nose in disgust, “No thanks, who wants to touch all that poop,”

Thoroughly amused, Amelia stopped walking and turned to her youngest half-sibling, “Mayflower, honey, you do know we use the pegasus manure as fertilizer, right?”

She didn’t and then refused to enter the vegetable garden for a whole week.

“I’m bored,” Liam grumbled, sitting on a kitchen benchtop with his legs swinging, “Can’t you loosen up and hang with us?”

“I’m busy,” Amelia told her brother with a clipped tone, scraping down the sides of the glass bowl, “Would it kill you to hang out with the other campers?”

“They’re kids,” Liam whined, and Amelia stopped mixing her cookie dough. 

That was rich coming from Liam. 

“You’re still a kid,” Amelia sucked her teeth.

“I’m fifteen,” He crossed his arms.

“Exactly,” The dough got harder to mix, “That’s still a kid,”

“Aren’t you kinda in charge around here?” Liam waved to the kitchen, but Amelia got that he was talking about the whole camp, “Can’t you issue a quest or something?”

“Only the gods can issue formal quests,” Amelia reminded him, “And don’t think your summer progress report was nothing. Why aren’t you working on your C in archery?”

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Liam scowled, “I know you wrote my one,”

She did, but that wasn’t the point.

“I was completely unbiased,” She assured him, “You are terrible at archery, and it’s embarrassing for the whole cabin. Fix it,”

“Hey, nothing brought more dishonour on our mother’s name than your three-year consistent D in sword fighting,” Liam’s green eyes bore into her, “Nothing,”

Amelia narrowed her eyes, “And yet, here I am, baking snickerdoodle cookies at my ripe old age of twenty,”

“Yeah,” Liam snorted, “Stuck at a summer camp with no life,”

“Hey,” She waved the wooden spoon at him, “I didn’t have a choice, those oh-so all-powerful gods are scared that I’m gonna run off with my psycho boyfriend to resurrect the titan lord,”

“Well, are you?”

“Obviously not,” Amelia laughed, “Please, I am incredibly aware of godly acts of wrath. I don’t exactly want to be smote by lightning, or turned into a herb, or a bird, or anything,”

But when she woke from strange dreams, staring at the ceiling of her little apartment in the Big House, those ungodly hours said something else. 

She began to let doubt creep into her mind.

How long had she known Luke? They had been as thick as thieves. She thought she knew him. Did she? Amelia wasn’t too sure anymore. But those four years couldn’t have been for nothing? Those four summers were everything to her.

She knew Luke was good. She also knew he was angry. Angry at the gods, at the quests they made their children risk their lives for, at his father.

He hadn’t been the same since his quest. It left more than physical scars on him. But Amelia hadn’t thought it was that bad; he was still the Luke who welcomed new campers in with a warm smile and a listening ear, still the competitive Luke who chose his little sister over anyone else, still the trickster who stole her things for fun. 

It was her fault for not digging further.

And what would happen if she did run away with Luke? Not considering how he hadn’t tried contacting her at all (would he even ask her?), hypothetically, if Luke was in Kronos’ favour — had the titan lord’s power — would she be safe from the gods? 

She could get her freedom.

But what would that make her? All that would be doing was proving everyone’s point. They were all waiting for her to pack up and run. Amelia had her pride; she couldn’t believe that people would reduce her to just ‘Luke’s girlfriend’ who didn’t have her own morals and ethics.

Amelia Flores was anything but stupid — she managed to get into an environmental science course at NYU with her shitty dyslexia and has officially solved a murder — she knew that Kronos was bad news for everyone.

The only thing driving Amelia in that direction — to the other side — was a stupid decision the gods had made. If she could, she would warn them. To tell them that their own selfish choices would be handing child soldiers to the enemy on a silver platter. If she weren’t under constant surveillance like some criminal, she wouldn’t even be considering it. But no, Amelia was a caged bird scratching for release.

Despite all this, she could remain level-headed. She could keep her wits with her. She was her mother’s daughter, and she was here to stay.

Not to be insane or anything, but she was actually considering saying “fuck the gods” and running out of camp.

After some serious consideration, she remembered that Zeus had explicitly requested that Mr D keep an eye on her, so Argus followed her literally everywhere like a little tail. If she left camp, she would immediately get caught, which would land Mr D in hot water, and she feared that he would take it personally.

It’s okay; she could cope with it. Even if it was extremely embarrassing, and everyone around her was definitely reassessing their image of her in their mind.

She made her bed, and it was time to go lie in it.

She should explain what all this was about.

After Luke had unceremoniously abandoned camp, there was no sword-fighting instructor to teach the campers how to survive in battle. Obviously, that was bad, and Chiron tried his best to divide his time between being the activities director and also the substitute sword fighting instructor. The problem was… Chiron was a fucking horse, and he wasn’t super great at using a sword. Of course, he had the theory down pat, but what made Luke such a great instructor was that he could demonstrate and spar.

Anyways, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate, Amelia was charged with finding a replacement instructor. 

She scoured through all the term campers and then some immortal heroes who might be chill enough to teach a bunch of children how to fight with a sword (maybe the actual Perseus had an empty calendar and was looking for a job, who knows, it wouldn’t kill her to ask, right?) but her ultimate choice had literally kicked her door open and requested the position.

So now Clarisse La Rue was Camp Half-Blood’s sword fighting instructor… you could imagine that didn’t blow over well.

There were complaints — multiple complaints — from almost every cabin (including Clarisse’s own), and even Chiron had expressed some concern. Amelia didn’t really see the issue. Clarisse was probably the best fighter in camp now, and while she favoured her spear, she was incredibly formidable with a blade.

Amelia had held this stance stubbornly to any camper who whined in front of her desk while she was busy filing invoices until Clarisse sat across her and told her flatly: “We’ve gotta do something about you,”

“Pardon?” Amelia blinked, trying to write up the weekly chore list, “You sound like Silena, yes I know I look like I haven’t showered in four days,”

“What? No,” Clarisse rolled her eyes, “About how bad you are at sword fighting, we gotta fix that,”

“Who’s we?” Amelia snorted, “I’ve already learned to accept I can’t fight to save my life, that’s why I don’t go on quests,”

“Yeah well, Luke makes you a prime target, and we all know it,” She crossed her arms, “You need to know how to defend yourself with a weapon,”

Have you ever lived in a really hot and dry place that got like no snow, and then you made friends with someone who lived in a whole winter wonderland, and they dragged you along to go skiing, and it’s super embarrassing because you don’t know how to ski, and so you’re on the kiddy slopes with the five-year-olds? Well, up until now, Amelia hadn’t had that experience (that was Mella’s life; she grew up in Florida and then went to Vermont for school).

It was truly another sort of humbling experience when you’re twenty years old and worse at handling a sword than a fucking eight-year-old . 

All those younger campers who may have once seen her as an older sister will now forever just remember the adult who lost a spar with her kid half-sister (and she was trying) .

Liam had been seated in the front row and laughed his head off when May had disarmed her. Well, at least it made the little girl squeal in joy and rush over to give Liam a high five.

“Maybe stick to snickerdoodles,” He hollered at Amelia as she grabbed her sword off the ground and pointedly ignored Clarisse’s disgusted, disbelieving stare.

“Oh, Luke wasn’t kidding when he said you sucked,”

Ouch, yeah, that man had no hope in her.

“I would say try your best, but no offence,” Amelia advised, “If Luke couldn’t teach me, there’s literally no way you can,”

“Please,” Clarisse scoffed, “I am way better than that so-called ‘golden boy’”

Note: if you ever want Clarisse to do anything, you should insinuate that someone else could do it better, and then she’ll do everything in her power to get the job done. Her pride can’t handle mentioning someone else being better than her.

That was the hole Amelia dug herself. Now, on top of all the camp counselor duties she had, Clarisse was cornering her during breaks to go to practice. To be perfectly honest, giving Clarisse the position was the best choice she ever made. While she was brash and hot-headed and kinda a bully (her dad was Ares, she could forgive it), her talent was undeniable and her teaching was less patient but also easier to understand than Luke’s. She had to admit that if Clarisse were just a little more patient, she would be a better sword-fighting instructor than Luke had ever been.

(Now imagine if she taught a class on spear fighting. Oh, that would be a genuine treat.)

“It seems I was mistaken about your choice to appoint Clarisse as an instructor,” Chiron brought up at dinner after the leaves had all turned red, “She has been doing an excellent job,”

Amelia hummed, ripping some of the fresh bread that Argus baked (he was really into sourdough these days) and dipping it into butternut pumpkin soup as she watched some young campers stand around the Ares table listening to Clarisse’s demonstration with her butter knife against Sherman Yang.

“She’s a good kid,” Amelia said, smiling when Clarisse’s butter knife disarmed Sherman’s, “It’s not her fault her father is a grade-A asshole,”

The sky rumbled a little. Oh, it seemed like Ares was watching them tonight.

A silence stretched, distant from the children seated at their cabin tables. Athena’s cabin was awfully quiet, well, it must be strange for them with Annabeth gone, that girl had been a constant and Hermes’ table was still rambunctious with the Stoll brothers as the new counselors. In that silence, Chiron cleared his throat, and Amelia turned to face him.

“At the winter solstice,” He said, “I will try to convince the gods to ease up on you,”

On his other side, Mr D snorted, “Yeah, good luck with that, not happening. That old man is stickin’ with it,”

“Thanks,” Amelia ignored the god, “I’d really appreciate that, Chiron,”

“Are we even gonna still have a winter solstice meeting?” Mr D asked no one in particular, “After that kid stole my father’s bolt last time,”

“I’m fine with holding down the fort,” Amelia said, “I could arrange a whole camp activity, as long as you give me permission to weld campers to trees if they act up,”

There was a concerned look from the centaur.

“Plus, Argus will be here,” 

“Perhaps we can table this discussion until the winter approaches,” Chiron raised a hand to soothe her, “For now, I must ask, what are your plans for this year’s Thesmophoria?”

“‘Scuse me?” Amelia choked on her soup, “I’m not— huh?”

“You are of age now,” Chiron reminded her, “Will you not be celebrating your mother’s festival?”

“My mother’s festival… for married women praying for fertility?” Amelia asked, confused, “I- I’m not married?”

“Oh, I assumed you would,”

“Should I be?” She asked, curious, “Is this some ancient thing that hasn’t translated to modern times that smoothly?”

Chiron hesitated, “No, it was more an assumption that you and Luke had consummated,”

The soup went down the wrong pipe, and she choked.

For the first time in a while, Amelia dreamt of Luke. 

Demigod dreams were always a joy. Regular nightmares could be brushed off as her mind playing tricks on her, but these sorts of vivid, almost lucid, dreams were more like visions or messages, and they terrified her.

A year or so ago, Kronos had been visiting her dreams — telling her of the gods’ incompetence and how he would bring back the golden age — and Amelia hated it so very much because how did this titan (all the way in Tartarus) know her insecurities and doubts, it clawed at her so much she just wanted to isolate that world entirely.

Hence, why she left camp.

And she thought it worked because the dreams stopped. No, it turned out the dreams stopped because Kronos had decided to try her boyfriend instead. 

Speaking of her boyfriend…

Amelia was in alone in a sea of blue forget-me-not flowers, they brushed against her bare leg as she wandered around. And there he stood, just as beautiful as she remembered. Except this wasn’t the Luke she remembered because his curls were clipped shorter, his eyes held a different weight, and in his hand was a massive 4-foot long sword that she assumed was Backbiter.

She recoiled at the sight of it. That sword cut open Percy’s arm. No… it was Luke who cut open Percy’s arm. A weapon is only a weapon in the hands of an enemy. Luke — her Luke — used that monster of a sword and landed a lethal slash on a twelve-year-old who was mid-apology. 

“Amie,” Dream Luke called her name from afar, and she almost melted, almost caved, “I missed you,”

The ground below her rumbled and split. A hand burst out in front of her from the dirt, but all she could do was stare at Luke.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked, “Where are you?”

She could hear the winds howling and the crashing of waves, but there wasn’t an ocean anywhere nearby, just rolling fields of blue flowers for as far as she could see — nothing but grass and flowers.

“Is that all you’re gonna say to me?” Luke’s tone was blood-boilingly condescending (it reminded Amelia of his bratty teenage years before he grew up), “After so long? Amie, you’re so cold,” 

“You’re stupid,” Amelia laughed, hysterical and so hard it shook her shoulders, “You’re so dumb, Luke, how did you let him convince you?”

“The gods are our enemies,” He told her.

“The gods are our parents,” She corrected him, “And yes, I admit they are terrible, but have you considered it's because they are ancient and have different perspectives of mortality?”

“Kronos will—”

“Kronos ate his children. You know that, and you still think he’s gonna help you,”

“The gods are scared of him,”

“There have got to be other ways,” Amelia whined, distressed, “Have you considered petitioning or something?”

“What’s done is done, baby,” He shrugged, “You can choose who to stand with. Me? Or your so-called ‘mother’ who sees you as a clone?”

Infuriated, Amelia used all her strength and stomped on the hand, crushing it back underground and stalking over to Luke. The forget-me-nots wilted, and angry violet aconites sprouted in its place.

She stood a respectable two inches shorter than him, so they were still eye-to-eye, and she grabbed him by the front of his unnecessarily expensive shirt (why was it so soft??). They were nose to nose when the most peculiar thing happened; blackberry brambles circled Luke’s body, encasing him and blooming ripe fruit. He hadn’t flinched, trying to raise an arm to touch her, and Amelia felt a stickiness on her fingers. She lifted them and saw the shock of blood-red blackberry juices coating both hands.

Luke stared at her, mournful, “You need to wake up, Amie,”

“Huh?” She stupidly replied, staring at the red stains on Luke’s white shirt.

“The gods are never on our side,”

“Are—” She laughed in disbelief, “Are you trying to recruit me right now?”

His brown eyes hardened, “Wake up,”

So she did.

Chapter Text

Luke passed through the portal Backbiter had carved out, his breathing staggered, and his mind racing a million miles an hour.

He had left camp in such haste… he had no clue where to go or what to do. No matter how long he had been planning for the moment, nothing could compare to the actual sensation of leaving; heart still pounding in his chest, dread settling deep in his bones.

Everything was quiet. No fireworks exploding in the night sky, abrupt absence of celestial bronze clashing, and certainly no one around to speak. 

And just to make his life worse; the moment all that adrenaline left his body, he was in unbearable pain. Backbiter wasn’t just some regular sword, Luke’s body wasn’t ‘strong enough’ for it like Kronos had laughed. He gritted his teeth and trudged away from the mountains he had transported to.

Silence seemed to envelop a lot of Luke’s life afterwards. He had landed someplace smack bang in the middle of West Virginia of all places. It really didn’t get better from there. Sure, it was still America and sure it was great finding polite people to help him around but it was just a massive cesspool of ‘Amie’.

Truly the last thing he wanted on his mind right now was his girlfriend back in New York— or wherever the hell she was since she didn’t even bother visiting camp over the summer. 

He wasn’t bitter about it. Actually, he had barely any time to mull over her. It felt like every moment after he stole Zeus’ master bolt was living with trepidation that he would get caught; that he was sneaky enough, and that people were seeing past him. In a sad depressing way, he was kinda glad Amie hadn’t come to see him. 

Luke was sure she would sense whatever mess he was up to. He could never keep his mind straight around her.

But don’t get him wrong, oh he missed her badly — crazy bad, actually — it had been close to a year now without hearing her voice or seeing her face or even reading her handwriting. On day 3 in West Virginia, he tossed up the idea of going back east to see her but he would be crazy to wander around New York City in search of her.

Surely they all knew now, that he didn’t expect Annabeth’s loyalty after what he had done. The gods knew, Amie probably knew by now. Her mother’s favoured daughter… powerful enough without even brushing the lid of her potential; Luke knew Kronos was thrashing for her power.

It made him just the slightest bit bitter. 

There was urgency in his messages. Bring her . Luke had no qualms with that, he knew Amie, he knew her better than anyone. She would understand, she had lost siblings and friends too — she knew how he felt about the gods and she still loved him, it was just a matter of seeing her again.

But if he thought parading right under the gods’ noses in Manhattan was fun, he would have to be insane.

None of that stopped him from wandering around Charleston wondering if Amie had ever been here. How close was he to where she grew up? She had never mentioned what county she was raised in.

'But in all honesty,’ He thought to himself as he sat bored and sprawled on a park bench with a soda he pilfered from a gas station, ‘This place is a dump,’

Luke always found it hard to believe Amie was as ‘southern’ as she was. Could he picture Amie growing up in this sad little excuse of a capital city? Kinda? It was reflected in her bluntness, her kindness and her love of nature but also he was more familiar with Vermont catholic school Amie.

He knew her dad was loaded so why on earth would he choose West Virginia to raise a kid? He didn’t get it.   

On day 5 of living aimlessly in Charleston, he stumbled upon the sight of a familiar SUV parked in the driveway of a relatively unassuming house. Oh, he knew that car. Exactly how many times had he seen Amie pull up to camp in that car? 

It felt twisted to admit, but that was the moment his head snapped back out of his depressed lazing. He got slapped with the realisation that he had been wandering around Amie’s hometown, this wasn’t some random place. Amelia had walked these streets for years and he had no clue. Suddenly everywhere seemed haunted. She had probably passed every corner and alley he had, her ghost was everywhere all of a sudden.

He needed to get out of that damn town. 

So he did the sane thing of hotwiring some random car in a church parking lot on Sunday morning (the whole town was Christian, heck, the fact that Amie went to a catholic school told him everything really) and jerkily teaching himself to drive on the empty highway out of Charleston.

Still, he couldn’t say he was going in blind. He at least had some practice under his belt. Last summer, Amie had convinced Chiron to let them take the strawberry truck out for practice. She had said it was sad that he didn’t have any real ‘adulting’ skills to which Luke had retorted that he basically filled the taxes at camp.

(Goddamn it, he was still thinking about her)

At least he could thank her for one thing. So he drove west for what felt like centuries in his stolen pick-up truck; picking pockets of unsuspecting idle people, making sure to switch number plates with a truck of the same make and model (that was another thing he learnt from Amie, she had mentioned it once, said that it helped evade detection) and fighting off the occasional monster or two.

He had his mental checklist: find Kronos’ body, contact Triumvirate Holdings about the sponsorship and start proper recruitment. 

It felt like those years he was on the run with Thalia and Annabeth again (oh god, Annabeth… what did she think of him now?); sleeping in his stolen pick-up plagued with nightmares and paranoia about being done in by cops. 

Maybe that’s what made that meeting with his tentative sponsors go so well. Just the sight of a sleep-deprived, almost 20-year-old, grouchy demigod welding a mammoth of a sword would make you hand over money, weapons and a cruise ship? Luke didn’t question the generosity of those shitty slimeball former Roman emperors (a bunch of self-important agents of chaos) and found himself captain of the Princess Andromeda cruise anchored in Miami. 

So maybe Luke was cursing those fuckers that whole 35-hour, cross-country drive down to Florida. Maybe they deserved it for telling him he had a deadline to get aboard. But they assured him it would be protected from Poseidon so what other choice did he have? Best to keep moving in his position; don’t stick around long enough to get stuck. 

What threw him off when he dumped the car in some random parking lot and finally reached Miami Pier was that… the cruise was packed with mortals. And then Luke cursed those damn fuckers again while strolling past the cruise staff as if invisible. 

It had been three weeks, the skies were angrier than ever and he spent the 4th of July driving through Texas. Luke Castellan thought to himself that all of this better have been worth it.

His dreams aboard the Princess Andromeda were exclusively either messages and orders from Kronos or speculative nightmares of Amie. 

Luke awoke floating in the middle of the Northern Atlantic Ocean after a particularly nasty ‘Amie dream’. Those dreams left him with his chest heaving, eyes erratic, a clawing need to see her, and a deep, heavy guilt that made his stomach lurch.

It was burnt into his retina. The vision of Amie’s clear green eyes widening, staring up at him heartbreakingly so, as he looks down at Backbiter lodged firmly through her abdomen. He could almost feel the warmth seep from her touch, almost loathe himself as she slid to the floor, almost crying as life left those eyes he adored. In his dreams, he kills her; it is always his fault for her death. And every morning he wakes up haunted by it.

“Why?” She implored in his dream, tears welling up as they so often would, “Do you hate me so?”

He could never.

But the sickening part of those nightmares was the sensation of being frozen. Unable to control his body, just him screaming at himself to stop or help or do literally anything. Cursed to watch in horror as she grew limp.

Luke didn’t have time to dwell on those dreams come sunrise, he was tense with anxiety for another reason.

Kronos had a plan and then he had a back-up plan. Luke wasn’t very surprised, the only thing the titan lord could do was exist and think. And it was all aligned with Luke’s self-interests as well. 

Luke was to return to Long Island and poison Thalia’s tree. 

He had thought it was crazy at first; how could he, in good conscience, knowingly poison Thalia? But it was all to create chaos at camp and keep them busy, Thalia would be ok. He had been reassured that they wouldn’t let what was left of Thalia die. She was still Zeus’ daughter.

So that was how he allowed himself to dock near Long Island and return to the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood for the first time in months. 

The last time he gathered up the nerve to even enter the state of New York was back in October. Summer had long since turned to fall, the green of the trees had burnt into fiery reds and yellows. Yet, Thalia’s mighty pine was a perfect summer evergreen; untouched by the changing of the seasons. 

But now it was March, the seasons had fluttered by faster than he could catch his breath; Luke had spent the whole winter in the middle of the ocean very far south where it felt more like eternal summer. When he made it onto land everything was flourishing again.

The crisp fresh grass crunched under his footsteps as he slowly trudged up Half-Blood Hill at lunchtime. He figured it was rather bold, visiting in the light of day, a dark jacket and mask to hide himself if needed and he stood just outside the barrier, something oddly familiar about the scene.

How many times had he watched Amie stand where he was now? He could picture it perfectly, Amie standing just outside the barrier with her father as he waited right by the entrance for her to come in. Three consecutive summers of watching her pull her luggage over the tree roots and briefly work her magic on Thalia’s tree.

He fiddled with the vial of elder python venom in his pocket and steeled himself. He couldn’t dawdle. Poison the tree and leave.

Any longer and he would get caught. Lunch or not, the kids always wandered around the camp, it was the number one source of his migraines all six years as head counsellor. 

‘Quick and easy,’ He convinced himself, carefully applying the poison around the roots, ‘Nothing keeping you here anymore,’

Or so he tried.

That didn’t stop him from taking the long route back to the cruise (which was supposedly stopped to allow the passengers to explore Montauk). Luke walked a couple of feet away from the barrier, following the invisible seam dividing the mythological from humanity. The lingering scent of strawberries tickled his nose, growing stronger as he slowly approached an oddly thriving bundle of bushes.

Strawberries in spring were not normal. Strawberry blooming was normal but not actual fruit. The camp tried to follow regular crop cycles so to see brilliant red fruit among the throb of bare strawberry bushes could really only mean one thing…

Luke’s mind got ahead of himself. The beating of his heart picked up pace as if certain it was her . Maybe his mind had played tricks on him last time in October because realistically, what were the chances it was Amie? 

The same Amie who fought him tooth and nail over camp — the girl who was dead set on normalcy — did she cave and come back? She should be at college. It couldn’t be her. But oh, how he wanted it to be her.

The strawberry fields were hers , it would be wrong for anyone to be so intimate with those fruits. No one could replace her — no other child of Demeter — he knew those were Amie’s berries.

(Or maybe he was going crazy and he just hoped they were Amie’s strawberries)

He got close enough to see a body lying between the rows of bushes. What if it wasn’t her? That would be unbelievably pathetic. He didn’t want to be proven wrong; didn’t want the confirmation that Amie didn’t care about him or their world.

Luke took a particularly long stride to bite the bullet and stopped right in his tracks.

And, just like the first time he saw her, his mind completely blanked.

Amelia Flores, as he lived and breathed, sprawled amid the ripe strawberry bushes on a faded blue cloth mat, her dark hair braided messily with baby daisies over her shoulder in a light green cardigan. Her eyes appeared shut and Luke watched the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest. 

She was napping. He couldn’t believe it. He was five feet away about to double over and die from seeing her and she was in blissful sleep completely unaware. 

Gods, he fucking hated how pathetic she made him feel sometimes. 

Completely captivated by the sight of her, he slowly backed up against a tree and slid to the ground, equal parts frustrated and relieved.

The tree gave a displeased rustle without wind. Luke knew he was in a shit load of trouble — so much for not getting caught — the moment Amie woke up she would know he was here.

That took his breath away for a moment. Did he want her to know he had been here? He wanted to haunt her just a fraction of how she haunted him. It was selfish of him, he knew, but it brought him savage satisfaction.

The leaves above his rustled again and Luke was struck with a sinking thought. What if it was trying to wake Amie up? And just as that thought hit him, Amie let out a little stubborn groan and shifted in her sleep.

‘Fuck,’ he thought, burying his head in his knees but not finding the strength to leave, ‘This damn tree needs to shut up before I turn into a lumberjack,’

He peered up when the movement stopped and saw the strangest thing. 

By Amie’s limp hand, a tiny sprout began slowly growing, reaching upwards with a flower bud before blooming into a perfect pink tulip.

Luke stared at the flower, baffled. He was no stranger to that particular flower because he had long since lost track of how many bloomed around her during their (regretfully short) summer of love. The Aphrodite cabin had loved them so much but Amie’s siblings swore off planting tulips this summer (they mentioned something about being traumatised(?), but Luke hadn’t asked).

As far as he was concerned, pink tulips were strictly reserved for him. 

Amie didn’t often wear her emotions on her face. Years of learning her intricacies had long since opened her expressions to him but these uncontrollable bursts couldn’t be ignored by the nature she shaped. 

She could make the weather turn frosty when she was upset; plants would comfort her by twisting around her fingers when she was nervous; when she was overjoyed, flowers would bloom by her.

So he knew exactly what it meant for a random flower to blossom from nothing.

‘Aww,’ He thought to himself, trying not to be so smug, ‘I knew she still loved me,’

He could picture her reaction so vividly as well — flushed cheeks, too-quick denial and forced nonchalance. Well… that would’ve been her response two summers ago, at least.

Still, it was electrifying to know he was still living in her mind.

(Did she think about him as much as he thought about her?)

Did little things remind her of him? When she saw a bonfire? Or the New Year's fireworks? Did she still have those earrings he made? Wait no now he was overthinking her, damn it .

It was… peaceful. A fresh spring breeze blew across the fields, rustling the grass at his hands, and a nice silence stretched around them. It kinda reminded him of the day he officially asked her out, just the two of them, a pink tulip and the strawberry bushes.

Luke felt temptation as the seconds passed. How would they know if he briefly popped in to see her up close? It would just be in and out; one proper look at his girlfriend before he set out to sea again.

“Amie!” He heard a voice holler from the distance; freshly deep by the sound of the hoarse voice crack, “Mr D wants you!”

Luke didn’t decide to stick around to see who it was. He swiftly pushed himself up and softly ambled down the hill, sparing one last glance at Thalia’s tree and the camp it protected, thoughts of Amie still swirling around his mind.

That night, as Luke lay staring at the ceiling, he wondered why she had returned. She had been so hell-bent on leaving the whole demigod thing behind, that literal tears had been shed (very unsurprising, Amie had rather leaky tear ducts) and they had both said some things they regretted.

He had been selfish. He hadn’t wanted her to go. 

But all of that seemed to be for nothing because she was right back at camp. What compelled her to return? Whatever excuse she had, he was pissed she hadn’t come earlier; when he was still there… when he could still see her smile at him.

Luke drifted off into a dreamless sleep for the first time in six months.

Chapter Text

When the weather warmed, Amelia took it as a sign that she had to be back up in Olympus. Strangely, she was never this bothered by it (maybe it was because this was her first springtime at camp?), but as soon as the temperature hit above the 60s, Amelia’s mood dropped like a rollercoaster.

Anyone who knew her would tell you that a grouchy Amelia was an Amelia nobody was keen to deal with.

Still, that never stopped Liam from cheekily messing with her as she went about her business. The Demeter cabin was in full swing, flowers on top of flowers on top of more flowers were flooding out the greenhouse; the grassy roof was blooming with (guess…) even more flowers, and Amelia felt so bad for the campers with hay fever.

They were inching closer to summer, and the campers were all growing restless from the ‘homeschooling’ of which Amelia had been recruited to teach science and biology. 

She had never stopped to consider how camp ran when it wasn’t a summer camp. She supposed it made sense that they would educate the children—Luke had always been on par with her academically without formal education (he was better at politics, strategy, and classics, but maybe that was because Amelia hated those subjects)—but she never thought she would be part of that education system.

But it was nice that other camp traditions were year-round: campfires after dinner, the occasional bout of sparring and capture the flag, and celebrations of annual ancient Greek festivals in honour of their parents.

“Amie, do you take orders?” Silena cornered her after the campfire, “I think my cabin could use some spring joy,”

Nothing against Silena (she’s always been such a sweet girl), but Amelia cringed at even the thought of ‘spring joy’ but sighed, “I’m a tad busy, ‘Lena, I think Katie might be able to though,”

“You know those pink tulips from two summers ago,” Silena blurted, rushing a little to catch up with Amelia as she left to herd campers back to the cabins, “We all loved them, I was hoping you could plant a few around the cabin,”

The request startled Amelia so badly that she whacked Travis Stoll behind the head, which Katie snickered at.

“Oww, what gives Amie!” Travis rubbed the back of his head, “Uncalled for,”

“Sorry, sorry,” Amelia soothed, gently rubbing the spot she had hit him, “Accident, forgive me, hon,”

“I can do tulips for you, Silena,” Katie piped up, “I mean I’d prefer not to because I got kinda sick of ’em but I’ll do it for a price,”

“Hey,” Amelia pinched her little sister’s ear, “No monetising your green thumb,”

“I’ll give you three days of dessert,” Silena negotiated sternly.

“Silena, what did I just say…” Amelia sighed, slinging an arm around both younger girls, “Alright, don’t worry, I’ll plant those tulips for you,”

“Thanks Amie,” Silena clasped her hands in excitement, “I owe you!”

‘What a coincidence,’ Amelia thought numbly, ‘Why have pink tulips entered my life again?’

“Are you sure you wanna do this,” Katie crossed her arms, “I was gonna ‘mess up’ and grow yellow ones,”

Amelia knocked her sister’s head slightly, “You’re asking to get yelled at,”

“Please,” Katie rolled her eyes, “It was audacious as hell asking you that! As if she of all people doesn’t know the history behind pink tulips,”

“But they’re pretty,” Amelia admitted, “And we should never let memories stain beautiful flowers,”

Although, if she was being honest, she didn’t think she could ever associate pink tulips with anything else. They would always remind her of those earnest brown eyes and calloused hands gently intertwined with hers… the bursts of indescribable giddiness that left those damn flowers blooming left and right around camp.

Lowkey kinda mortifyingly embarrassing how teenager it was, ugh.

‘You were 18,’ she reminded herself, ‘You were 18 and kissing Luke basically any time you wanted, cut yourself some slack,’

Katie almost seemed to sense that Amelia’s mind was beginning to spiral and huffed out a small, “Tulips aren’t that great anyways,”

The two daughters of Demeter shared a small look before Amelia grasped her sister by the shoulder and gently shoved her in the direction of their siblings, “Go on Head Counsellor, y’all need to make it back before curfew,”

Once everyone had more or less made it back inside their cabins (she caught a few stragglers sneaking the last servings of apple pie from the mess hall), Amelia dragged her tired ass back to the Big House, flopping onto a sofa with an oomph.

“Today was so long,” Amelia groaned into the pillow, “I hate these kids sometimes,”

She looked up to see Argus’ hundred eyes slightly judging her. Of course, he was still following her like an obedient dog. He knew she wasn’t working as diligently anymore (she may or may not have slacked off to bake herself cookies, so what). 

“Try 25 years of this,” Mr D grumbled, “I hate you kids all the time,”

It took every particle of self-control in her to keep herself from mouthing the god off.

Chiron was the last of the staff to return to the Big House, but as soon as Amelia heard the sound of hooves on timber flooring, she pushed herself up and turned to the door. As expected, Chiron trotted in exactly as she expected.

“How’s Marie?” Amelia asked, “Is she any better?”

The centaur nodded reassuringly, “She’s sleeping it off in the infirmary tonight, Lee will check up on her in the morning,”

The news took a ten-pound weight off her shoulders. 

“Who?” Mr D asked, uncaring but out of the loop.

“The young daughter of Hephaestus,” Chiron answered.

Mr D looked at him without a single clue who he was talking about; absolutely fucking typical.

“The kid who almost died because the catoblepas wandered through the barrier,” Amelia replied sharply.

“Yes, I’m still concerned about that,” Chiron said soberly, “I’m worried there may be something wrong with the protective barrier,”

“That is impossible,” Mr D guffawed, “My father’s barrier doesn’t go ‘wrong’ maybe there’s a blind spot,”

“You don’t think, in the past 7 years, some smarter monster would’ve found this ‘blind spot’?” Amelia asked dryly, “Congrats to the catoblepas, I guess, should we throw a medal down into Tartarus?”

After all, it hadn’t taken long to kill the bull monster. Truthfully, Amelia had always wondered how bad the catoblepas’ ‘toxic’ breath could be. She got her answer today. Every camper involved in subduing it had to be detoxed afterwards.

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” Chiron pondered, “Tomorrow I will visit Olympus with my concerns. Amelia, would you mind examining Thalia’s tree in the morning?”

The twenty-year-old shrugged, “I mean sure but what exactly could be wrong with it?”

Famous last words, Amelia Flores, next time keep your big mouth shut.

“If it’s not life-threatening, please do not ask me,” Amelia said coldly when she heard her office door swing open (not even a knock; what happened to manners?)

“Chiron told me to give you a report,” Clarisse said, standing by the door with her arms crossed. Her armour was skewed and blood-stained, leaving a nasty stench in the room.

Such was her reality these days. 

So it turned out that something was actually wrong with Thalia’s pine tree, and thus, the protective barrier guarding Camp Half-Blood from monsters. Amelia had yet to determine the exact reason for decaying what she had thought was a fake tree, but in the meantime, the campers had mobilised to defend the camp.

Things were gradually getting harder to manage, and the number of campers in and out of the infirmary grew alarmingly.

And on top of that, they were entirely self-sufficient, not a single shred of divine assistance. 

“I don’t need a report,” Amelia huffed, tossing another scrawled file off the table, “Who care about what monsters infiltrated, get Lee, I need the patient influx from yesterday,”

“Two packs of hellhounds, an empousa, some unidentified sea creature in the lake,” Clarisse rattled off, striding towards Amelia’s desk, “One girl from Cabin 11 claims she saw a lion in the distance, we haven’t followed that lead yet,”

Amelia closed her eyes, feeling that persisting migraine throb in the back of her head, “Great, good to know, get Lee for me,”

“When’s the last time you left the Big House,” Clarisse asked, in a demanding manner and not the curious one, “Half the campers can’t remember the last time you left the building; what are you even doing up here,”

Oh, she was doing loads of things. She was single-handedly maintaining the level of ambrosia and nectar to keep everyone alive, investigating ways to fix Thalia’s tree, keeping a record of each day’s injuries and monsters, and, perhaps most importantly, arguing with Luke every night in her dreams.

“Clarisse, I understand you’re probably losing it right now,” Amelia managed out calmly, “This is a stressful time for everyone but do not question what I’m doing for this camp because I swear to all that is holy, I will lose it so spectacularly , the gods are gonna talk about it for the next millennia,”

She needed an actual vacation after all this.

Amelia heard someone clear their throat, and her eyes shifted to the doorway where Liam stood. Her little brother gave her a half-smile and then addressed Clarisse, “Clarisse, they need you at the armoury… now,”

Clarisse looked between the two half-siblings, huffed and left the room with heavy footsteps, clearly displeased with how little she thought Amelia was doing.

“You should take a walk,” Liam told her, turning to follow Clarisse, “Get some fresh air,”

“And get mauled for my troubles,” Amelia snorted, raising from her seat to do exactly what Liam had suggested, “Sure thing,”

“It’s hard to defend you when you won’t tell us anything,” Liam reasoned.

But it was best that they didn’t know how little their parents cared for them. The more their displeasure with the gods grew, the more fodder it provided Luke’s rebellion. They were all too young and naive to know that the safest place to stand was with the victors.

And maybe she was being selfish about it. 

(Maybe she didn’t want the kids to choose him over her.)

Amelia gave her brother a pinch on the cheek as they exited into the warm spring air. Liam responded by lightly swatting her hand away and jogging to catch up with Clarisse’s frustrated stride.

The weather was far too lovely for the turmoil they were in. She mourned the fact that everyone was preoccupied with staying alive because it was picturesque for picnicking. Lilia always loved organising little picnics in the courtyard of St Marcus. Just a couple of girls with their lunches on a mat under the shade of a tree talking about nothing and hypotheticals.

Life had been nice back then. Back when Amelia’s only concern was avoiding the wrath of some Sisters and keeping her grades up to make it into college or stupid boys who always managed to keep her befuddled.

Anyway, Liam was right; she was dying for some fresh air and a nice stroll through the woods again. She felt like she was slowly atrophying in that musty office, like a rose drying out on the window sill.

Her mind always got ahead of itself — possibly the worst downside of being raised as she was — it took a lot to get her to stop thinking; even moments of calm were plagued with the most inane thoughts, her one moment of true reprieve in the past month and she was reminiscing about high school? But honestly, she did wonder about her mortality; did Mella and Lilia have any clue where she was? Did they care? Had they asked her father? If so, what excuse had he given them?

“Well I haven’t see you in a while,”

That startled Amelia so badly that the nearby greenery shot out defensively, maintaining distance from Amelia and whoever had spoken.

The dryad was unamused, and with a wave of her hand, the branches slowly returned to their natural state.

“Oh,” Amelia said very unimpressively, heart still jumping in her chest, “Hello, yeah I guess it has been a while,”

“I don’t appreciate the startling greeting,”

“Couldn’t help it,” She gave an apologetic breath of laughter, “Sorry,”

“They have missed you,”

“I missed them too,” Amelia admitted.

She was unconvinced, “I do not believe so,”

There was an air of displeasure that Amelia was very much so not accustomed to from the nymph. It was strange for nymphs of nature — her mother’s attendants — to be so standoffish with her. Sure, she knew she hadn’t visited in a while, but they wouldn’t be petty about that, right? 

She wasn’t interested in having that conversation today.

“Whatever you say,” Amelia shrugged, eager to escape the uncomfortable situation, “I’ll leave now, sorry for bothering,”

And then she turned on her heel to walk back towards camp, silently miffed about the disrespect.

“Miss Amelia,” The dryad called after her retreating back, “Are you going to pick that up?”

Amelia stared at the nymph like she’d gone crazy, but her gaze followed where the dryad was pointing—at a tiny bush furiously rustling like it was trying to self-combust.

Oh… she hadn’t noticed how quiet everything had felt. How did she not notice she couldn’t hear the plants? Had her mind been so bogged down with everything that she had neglected the chatty trees?

And then the most inane thought crossed her mind. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she considered that? 

The trees knew everything. They don’t exactly sleep. One of them – heck, probably all of them – knew what happened to Thalia, but Amelia hadn’t been able to hear. 

It hadn’t even been windy in the past week… Why hadn’t she wondered why everything kept rustling around her? Oh, she was properly dumb now.

“Hey there,” Amelia exhaled, plopping down to sit on the floor of the woods, “Sorry I didn’t hear you, what’s wrong,”

She tried to clear her mind and ease her worries so she could converse with the small shrub. She wasn’t going to get attacked by a monster, the camp wasn’t going to fall into disarray in the next half hour, and there was a fat chance in hell that she would get transported to Olympus. 

It took a little while, but clear as day, she could hear the rustling bush’s frantic tirade. 

“Sorry…” Amelia blinked, “I missed a lot of that, um, could you repeat that… slower?”

The rustle abruptly stopped, but two prickly branches surged out and sandwiched her left hand as though trying to comfort her. Okay…, it was slightly concerning, but it could be nothing.

“Luke Castellan,” the bush enunciated slowly, and a cold chill ran down Amelia’s spine, “He poisoned the fake pine tree,”

She flinched away from the branches. The bush didn’t take offence, slowly retracting back within the leaves, and continued, “Midday in March, he applied poison to the roots, the tree has been decaying since. We tried to warn you,”

“No, no, he wouldn’t,” Amelia felt the air get sucked out of her lungs, “Luke… he- he cared for Thalia so much, he would never…”

Would he? She had no reason to distrust the greenery and every reason to hate Luke. Amelia couldn’t afford to be stupid here; she had to finally accept that the Luke she knew was long gone.

The Luke she met had lashed at her for making a dig at Thalia. He wouldn’t have poisoned the remaining life essence of her. 

‘Get it together, Flores,’ Amelia shook herself from overthinking, pushing up from the ground and sending a little blessing in thanks.

The eavesdropping dryads gave her concerned glances as she slowly meandered toward the Big House. Amelia did her best to stomach the bubbling nausea as she thought to herself.

March… that was close to five months ago. Whatever poison Luke used was slow-acting, asymptomatic to begin with and very deadly. She didn’t have much experience with poison — well, untrue, she didn’t know any that would act on a tree — sure, there was more than a fair share of herbicides, but they wouldn’t take five months to act.

And if it was Luke, there was no way he was using some random herbicide. Plus, Amelia wasn’t sure if Thalia’s tree was even vulnerable to herbicides… she wasn’t exactly an actual tree after all. 

‘ AMELIA!’ She heard a desperate yell closely followed by an actual human crying out, “Amie, behind you!” 

Huh?

She didn’t remember what exactly happened next, only that a flash of bronze flew past her and then the most pungent reek that almost made her throw up. Amelia fell back in surprise as she watched an un-armoured curly-haired camper wrangle some nasty boar-like creature with a spear by the tusks.

Clarisse? 

It was a sight to be seen. Amelia had never seen combat for survival, so up close. Honestly, she felt a little bit useless just gaping at the scene and belatedly realised that when Clarisse shrieked when the monster’s blood landed on her bare arm.

Desperate to distance Clarisse from the creature, Amelia’s jumbled mind conjured anything, literally anything, to detain the 9 ft tall horror, and thankfully, she felt that familiar tug at her core and the tickle in her fingers as thick vines burst from the ground and wrapped around it. Thankfully, Clarisse wisely stumbled backwards, and Amelia willed the vine around the neck to tighten, cutting through the monster’s flesh smoothly before shirking back into the earth as though it had never existed to begin with. 

And in the aftermath of it all, Clarisse stood over the severed head, fresh blood coating her camp shirt and a semi-pained grimace fixed on her scratched face.

“Holy shit,” Amelia wheezed out, almost collapsing on her knees, “Clarisse, don’t move,”

The pungent scent of burning flesh (that she was unfortunately very familiar with) filled the air, the earth below gave an offended screech as the head of the creature rolled to a stop; its blood trickling towards a tree root.

‘OH ABSOLUTELY NOT,’ the tree shrieked, recoiling as much as it could, ‘AMELIA, DO SOMETHING,’

“The blood is stinging me,” Clarisse hissed out in pain, drawing back from Amelia’s arm, “I think it’s acidic,”

“Well that’s convenient,” Amelia responded, stripping off her shirt to sop up the fizzing monster blood on Clarisse’s skin, “Leave the head, let’s get you to Lee,”

“But–” Amelia looked up to see a conflicted knot between Clarisse’s brows, “It’s a spoil,”

“Honey, your flesh is currently being burnt,” She hissed, “Don’t even think about touching that head, I’ll collect it with Chiron afterward,”

‘AMELIA, DO NOT LEAVE LIKE THIS, MOVE IT AWAY, IT’S TOUCHING ME, IT’S TOUCHING ME!!!’

“Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Amelia grumbled, no longer enjoying the return of her plant communication.

“ME?” Clarisse gasped out in pain, clearly incredulous.

“Not you, sugar,” Amelia reassured, “That damn tree that doesn’t want blood on it,”

She narrowly avoided getting whacked by a branch at that comment. Nevertheless, she mopped up as much of the blood by growing a patch of grass and wrapped the severed head with a couple layers of fern leaves.

Getting Clarisse to the infirmary wasn’t as difficult as it used to be. Amelia remembered being fifteen and having to literally drag the then nine-year-old daughter of Ares to get patched up because she was bleeding all around camp and ‘toughing it out’.

“Oh gods,” Lee Fletcher blanched at the sight of Clarisse and Amelia stumbling in, “What happened,”

“A weird pig thing tried attacking me, it’s blood seems to be acidic,” Amelia gently unhooked Clarrise from her shoulders and onto a bed, “The head is still in the middle of the woods,”

“Right,” Lee droned as he rushed to get ambrosia, “Did you get hurt as well?”

“I remain unscathed,” Amelia sighed, “Shaken but unscathed,”

She tried not to think about how close of a call that had been. Tried not to imagine what would’ve happened if Clarisse had been just a second slower to respond or if she were half an inch to the left.

Amelia tried not to think at all.

“Your sister sends her regards,” 

“My sister?” Amelia asked, baffled, “What–? Oh, that sister,”

Which other sister of hers could Dionysus be referring to other than Persephone? Amelia had no doubts that the Queen of the Underworld was having a fantastic time up in Olympus with their mother. Actually, a small part of Amelia was grateful for the lack of attention. Her mother’s coddling had been rather suffocating lately.

But that was the only real parental connection she had since last summer. Her dad still sent letters as often as he could, but letters were practically nothing. Philip had sent a spring care package in March that included an adorable crocheted bunny rabbit with a sprout growing from his head—he lived on the headboard of her bed; she liked ranting to the bunny—but regardless, she hadn’t been able to see either of her fathers since she was in Greece.

(It hadn’t taken her dad long to realise she was missing, and it did not stop him from thinking the worst. Apparently, in an act of desperation, he burnt offerings to summon Demeter for help)

(Amelia found that hard to believe because Jasper Flores had spent the past 20 years ignoring her mother’s existence)

Was she jealous of Persephone, though? Uh, that was something much bigger to get into.

“Who the hell sends ‘regards’,” Amelia scoffed to no one in particular, “What’s her problem,”

Argus’ many eyes gave her a look that said: “Are you serious?”

“So is nothing going to be done with the barrier?” Amelia asked, pointedly ignoring the judgement from the giant.

There was a guilty silence deafening the air. It was incredibly unnerving to hear no answer from either god nor centaur (she didn’t expect anything from Argus… he didn’t really talk much), and Amelia was almost scared to ask what it was about.

“They’re not going to fix it?” Amelia blinked, disbelief flooding her tone, “He’s just going to watch Thalia die?”

“Amelia—”

“I don’t know, I find that a little hard to believe,” Amelia powered on.

“That’s because we’re not going to tell my father anything,” Mr D interjected, unconcerned with more than a little edge of threat, “You kids have been holding down the fort pretty good, nobody has to know that something’s wrong,”

Her green eyes darted from the scruffy god to the guilty centaur, mind running about a million miles an hour.

What?

So the past month and a half of hell had been for what? Nothing? She had been hoping for some godly intervention, only for a god to be the reason there was none. Was he for fucking real???

Perhaps her anger was palpable because Argus landed one of his oversized hands on her shoulder to placate her…

It didn’t work.

“We kids can’t keep this up forever,” Amelia gritted out, temper flaring, “Forgive me for thinking our parents would be of some assistance,”

“You say that every time and every time no one has died,” Mr D huffed as he summoned a can of diet cola and examined the sombre expressions on each of the staff members, “Oh what happened today for fucks sake,”

“I have it chronologised,” she gritted, “Castor almost got his arm bit off by a hellhound at 11:19 this morning, let’s talk about that,”

He at least cared for his own children. Amelia had to admit she had an agenda, and she was doing everything in her power to make sure this damn camp was safe for the kids again. She was wrung completely dry, she could barely sleep from anxiety, and the weather was starting to warm to summer again, which only meant more kids were coming.

“Dionysus,” Chiron sighed, “Perhaps, we must report this to Olympus… properly this time,”

“Fine,” Mr D threw his hands up in defeat before pointing to Amelia, “But you will be facing whatever consequences, got it?”

Did she mention something about keeping her big mouth shut? She must’ve forgotten.

Chapter Text

“Ok, hands up for no summer campers,”

Amelia stared at the nine cabin counsellors standing around the pool table, each one younger than the next, as one, two, three, four…, and five hands slowly raised. Travis and Connor Stoll kept their arms crossed, awfully quiet, as did Silena Beauregard and Lee Fletcher.

Five cabins in favour, three out (the Stolls only counted as one vote in the end.)

“Are you kidding?” Clarisse snapped at the four counsellors who weren’t in favour, “We don’t need more campers while we’re like this!”

“Camp is a place where they can be safe from monsters,” Lee reasoned.

“It’s not exactly the pinnacle of safety right now though, is it?” Charlie Beckendorf argued, still soft in tone, “We’re more likely to get attacked at camp then outside,”

“You two are being selfish about this,” Katie said, jabbing a finger toward the Stoll brothers.

“It’s not being selfish,” Travis pointed his finger at Katie in return, “At least we can keep an eye on them while they’re at camp, if we shun them it’s basically goading Luke into recruiting them,”

Amelia suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as the table fell silent. They not-so-subtly peaked in her direction, save for Katie, who knew it didn’t bother her. It had been basically a year now, and they still treated her like she was going to burst into tears at the sound of his name or something.

Silena glanced at the older Stoll and addressed Charlie, “We can help them here. We have weapons, armour, strength in numbers — a lot of them are really young and scared. We can’t leave them to defend for themselves,”

“Oh, stop trying to charm him,” Pollux groaned when he noticed Charlie’s resolve faltering, “Amie!”

What exactly was she supposed to do? She left this decision for them to make, and now they wanted her to overrule it with her own opinion.

Malcolm Pace, Annabeth’s younger brother and her second-in-command (temporary counsellor while Annabeth attended middle school), who hadn’t spoken for the past seven minutes after Connor had harshly rebutted the eleven-year-old’s valid point, chose this moment to continue that point, “Defensive strategy calls for less,”

“Yeah, what the kid said,” Clarisse nodded, “We lose whatever edge we have by having too many soldiers,”

“Too many untrained soldiers as well,” Katie crossed her arms and levelled Amelia with a look, “Way too much trouble to catch them up,”

“Alright,” Amelia straightened her back and pushed off the table, “Chiron will be in contact with the summer campers,”

“What!” “Amie, let’s talk about this—” “YOU’RE KIDDING!!” Silena, Lee and Connor erupted into dissatisfied cries.

Amelia flashed the four an unbothered grin, “Meeting adjourned,”

“There’s bias!” Travis called after Amelia’s swift exit, “She’s biased, I demand a redo,”

“Grow up Travis,” 

“As if she’s gonna side against Katie,” 

Hell, yeah, she was biased. But it had nothing to do with whatever stance Katie held. She didn’t want to worry about another hundred kids who would take a while to adjust to the new camp. How quickly could they even train them to fit new border patrol regimes? They were all ADHD kids, and she didn’t want them to learn the hard way.

Travis and Katie’s bickering continued long after Amelia told Chiron the conclusion of the counsellor meeting.

No summer campers.

It was for their own safety.

When Mr D had vowed that Amelia would suffer the consequences of letting Zeus know about the state of the camp, she didn’t think he really meant it. Sure, she knew there were going to be consequences, but she didn’t believe they would affect her so much.

She was woefully ignorant and laughably wrong.

In one fell swoop, both Chiron and Argus were fired. 

It left Amelia mentally reeling because the gods had to hate her to do this. They had to hold some grudge against her because how could they fire the only staff members she could tolerate? They left her with Mr D???

And worse yet, it was who they hired as the replacement. Tantalus? That guy who killed his son and served him as food to the gods? Who thought he was the best choice to be activities director of a summer camp chock full of children?

The only saving grace was her mother’s burning hatred of Tantalus and her fierce advocacy against having her daughter in such proximity to that subhuman lowlife. Not surprisingly, Demeter was the only one of the pantheon to have eaten a part of Tantalus’ unholy stew and just like her children, she could hold grudges for an eternity. 

But she hadn’t even mentioned the worst bit. Sure, it was bad enough they were assigning a prisoner of the Underworld as a staff member — something Amelia’s brother-in-law was also not pleased about — Persephone saw fit to warn Amelia in her dreams of an unfortunate factor no one thought to consider… or didn’t care about.

Once she got over the annoyance that she couldn’t even escape Persephone in her damn dreams, Amelia was left with the dreadful knowledge that Tantalus was, at his essence, a greedy, hungry man who mostly had no qualms ogling the queen of the Underworld whenever she passed.

“And since you resemble me so much,” Persephone had tactfully said, to which Amelia fought every morsel of her body not to roll her eyes, “I have fears you will be a particular target of his,”

She hated to admit it, but her older sister had been right.

The moment that piece of shit scumbag laid eyes on her in the foyer of the Big House before Chiron or Argus had been formally fired (which was a dick move as well, imagine finding out you got fired like that), he had leered so outrightly and made the grossest comment ever that Argus stepped to conceal Amelia from Tantalus’ dirty stare and glared him down with all hundred eyes. 

“She’s more beautiful than Lady Persephone,” Tantalus had licked his lips in a way that sent awful chills down Amelia’s spine, “Much more youthful… innocent,”

“Ew,” Amelia breathed out softly, “Absolutely not,”

That was probably the only time she didn’t appreciate being called better than Persephone in some aspect. Gods, she felt like throwing up when he said that. And that wasn’t close to the worst thing he’s said to her since.

“Not a good idea,” Mr D placed a hand on the scrawny mortal’s shoulder tightly, “I can’t stop whatever she does to you,”

There was a silent approval for retaliation that flew over Tantalus’ pea-sized brain. The affirmation that she was free to deal with him in whatever way she liked with no consequences. 

Or not, judging by the look on Mr D’s face, which seemed to say, “I still need an activities director,” meaning sending him back to the Underworld with a one-way ticket (aka: murder) was off the table. 

“He’s such a sleaze,” Miranda complained one night before curfew.

That made Amelia pause, “He’s been coming onto you? Mira, tell me what he’s said to you kids,”

“Not to us,” She rolled her eyes, “To you. It’s so creepy, he keeps staring at your butt,”

“Everyone thinks he’s gross,” Katie agreed, “Why does Chiron have to leave, it’s gonna be so much worse when he and Argus are gone. What if he tries like… doing something to you,”

“I kill him and mom will vouch for me,” Amelia answered coolly, “This is an Amie problem, not a Mira and Katie problem,”

“You’re our sister,”

“And I have enough sisters trying to help me with him,” 

“Is Persephone involved somehow,” Liam asked, shutting the door to the cabin as he entered, probably catching the tail-end of the three sisters’ conversation, “What is this, some family affair now?”

The elder children of Demeter quickly glanced over at the child in bed. 

May had fallen asleep already, tucked into bed nice and cosy. Still, she was nine years old and couldn’t grasp the implications behind the new activities director’s actions. All she knew was that she didn’t like the weird guy who kept coming into her big sister’s personal space bubble. As far as she was concerned, Amelia’s personal space bubble was exclusive to her siblings and also Luke, who wasn’t here.

(Darn the fact that Luke had been super present in the first two years of May’s time at camp; it really did feel like Amelia was trying to co-parent her baby sister with her estranged boyfriend.)

“Apparently, it’s her fault anyways” Amelia flopped onto her old bunk, the one she abandoned in exchange for a bedroom in the Big House, “Gods, I already have so much shit on my plate and now I have to worry about sexual harassment?”

“The next time I see him doing that again,” Liam, who stood just shy of 6 ft, threatened with a balled fist, “I’m fully beating his ass,”

Amelia snorted, “No, you’re not,”

“Someone needs to defend your honour. I’m sure your ex-boyfriend would do it if he were here,”

“If Luke were here, we wouldn’t be in this situation,”

“No, I’m saying hypothetically, if Luke caught wind of this, he’d storm into camp and beat the shit out of him,”

“He wouldn’t,” Amelia laughed bitterly, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“DO THAT PLANT THING AGAIN!”

“What?”

It was the day before summer vacation, and the Colchis Bulls decided it was a grand idea to signify the beginning of the new season by heating the place up — really setting everything on fire. 

Border Patrol had been quick to defend, but with only ten or so campers against two massive fire-breathing bulls, it had descended into madness. Amelia had been notified by a scout who had rushed back to try and recruit additional campers and thought it was best to try to help as well.

With her free hand, Clarisse made a wriggly motion to mimic the vines she had used to restrain the monster from the woods three weeks ago. If they weren’t in a life-threatening situation, Amelia would’ve laughed at the comedy of her actions.

Still, the message was sent, and Amelia sprouted half a dozen foot-thick vines around the bull. The vines swiftly wrapped around the metal animal and crushed it into the ground.

Liam looked at her with crazy eyes through the slits of the helmet, “YOU COULD’VE DONE THAT THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

“So could you?”

“Don’t start,” Liam sheathed his sword, “What species was that?” 

Before Amelia could answer, the restrained bull bellowed and spat out flames, setting the vines ablaze and creating more chaos.

“Nevermind, don’t do that,” Liam yelped, narrowly avoiding getting set on fire, “Shit, shit, shit!”

She had no time to scold him for his language because the other bull had noticed the improv bonfire and started charging over towards them.

Ok, so the vines were definitely not a good idea in a very flammable situation. The most help they provided was as a temporary restraint that lasted maybe half a minute before becoming a flare. 

Liam returned the charred vines to the earth, unsheathed his sword, and diverted the charging bull into a field of cactus he had grown. The spines latching onto the feet effectively stalled it from moving.

Not for very long, though, because once the bull got out, it continued its beeline towards Amelia.

‘ Oh ok,’ She thought, bracing for impact, ‘Not the worst way to die.’

Then her heart sank when she heard a familiar voice goad the bull: “Hey! Over here!”

It drew both the bull and Amelia’s attention as she caught sight of the small figure of a girl running for a couple feet before shoving a baseball cap on her head and vanishing into thin air.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

What was Annabeth doing here? Stupid, stubborn girl who loved camp more than anything, of course she was here.

Whatever organised chaos they had descended into actual chaos as Clarisse almost died, and a flash of blond hair yanked her away from being impaled by the other bull.

And Percy was also here. Fucking… fantastic.

Combat was never particularly a strong suit of hers, and it was really showing because it was just a complete mess. A tiny part of Amelia was desperate to just die at that moment so she never had to deal with this situation again.

She snapped back into reality when she saw Percy jump to dodge being flambéed and then face-planted into the ground. 

A temporary solution is still a solution.

Once again, those thick vines enveloped the bronze bull, who wasn’t entirely pleased to be tied up again. Before Amelia could work out a longer-term solution to prevent Percy from being pulverised, an oddly small cyclops burst through and started attacking the restrained bull.

No fucking way they had to deal with cyclopes now. 

…Fuck it, drop the vines and let them deal with each other—

“DON’T!” a visible Annabeth yelled from next to Percy, “HE’S WITH US,”

Honestly, she didn’t have time to question where Annabeth and Percy had picked up a cyclops, nor why Annabeth was even friendly with one to begin with (considering her history) because both bulls were swiftly handled in staggered succession.

“JACKSON!” Clarisse screamed, utterly infuriated, “You ruined everything! What the hell was that,”

“Not now,” Amelia blocked Clarisse’s path, “Get the wounded to Lee, debrief later,”

The infuriated teen almost had flames in her eyes. The ends of her curly hair were slightly singed, and she smelt like smoke. Amelia could practically see the words about to come out of her mouth. Percy’s actions proved her point in the counsellor’s meeting two weeks prior.

“We will talk about it later,” Amelia assured, nodding towards Liam, who had discarded his helmet and was trying to help Kaleb from Cabin 6 to his feet, “Go help your soldiers,”

Clarisse sent the boy another glare but trudged down the hill to help the wounded campers. Amelia spun to face the two thirteen-year-olds by the roots of Thalia’s rotting tree.

“Annabeth,” Amelia wheezed out, “Great timing, hon, flawless execution, glad you’re back.

“Amie,” Annabeth said, rising from her crouch and darting towards her.

The girl almost tackled her in a tight embrace. Percy looked very confused and still on the floor, staring at the defeated Colchis Bulls before Amelia reached out from Annabeth’s hug to ruffle his hair in greeting.

“Welcome back,” She fixed the tousled blond curls as Percy’s wide blue eyes darted from her to his cyclops companion and then back to the bulls.

“What’s going on?” Annabeth asked, pulling away, “How did they pass the barrier? Why did Chiron say not to come back?”

She was ever so sharp and needling with her queries.

“Thalia’s tree was poisoned,” Amelia answered, leading the two confused demigods (and… baby cyclops) deeper into camp territory, “You can imagine that hasn’t been great for the protective barrier.”

“Why tell us not to come back! I could’ve helped,”

“Beth,” Amelia sighed, “They held a vote, ok, majority rules. There’s always a risk with more campers, it wasn’t a decision made so easily,”

“Without me– us-” Annabeth corrected herself when Percy gave her an offended glance, “Without us, those monsters would’ve won,”

“I know you’re confident in your abilities, but we’ve dealt with more than just two fire-breathing bulls,” Amelia ushered the trio into the Big House, “Your fellow campers are just as capable of defending their home,”

She heard Chiron’s vinyl player crooning out some vintage music from upstairs. The Big House didn’t feel as comforting as before; Argus had departed a few days earlier, and now Chiron was packing to leave. 

Tantalus would be staying in Chiron’s room. That was only two doors down from hers.

“Oh yeah, probably the biggest change,” Amelia wasn’t so excited to tell Annabeth this either, “Chiron and Argus got fired,”

She looked at Amelia like she told a bad joke, “What?”

“You should go say goodbye,” Amelia turned her head at the sound of the door opening, “Uh, all three of you should do that… he’s just upstairs,”

She might as well have pushed the children up those stairs because Tantalus waltzed in, and the last thing she needed was for any of them to find out who had replaced Chiron without first seeing him.

“Really pleasant weather, isn’t it,” Tantalus licked his lips, eternally hungry, “I’ve heard you have some effect on it,”

“No, that’s my mom,” Amelia replied, civil smile fixed in place, “I think it’s about time for dinner, though,”

Sometimes, you have to appreciate the small wins in life, such as how Tantalus’ eyebrow twitched every time a meal was mentioned or how his lecherous stare was fixed on the food instead of her during mealtimes. 

Amelia had gained a newfound adoration of the three square meals a day; in fact, she thought it was a great idea to include smaller meals like morning and afternoon tea or even supper. Yes, the more food gatherings, the better.

“Dinnertime,” Tantalus exhaled, “Already?”

Buddy, she was ecstatic about it.

She escaped to the kitchen, where half a dozen nymphs were busy readying enough food to feed hundreds of hungry campers. They quickly noticed her and didn’t hesitate to pull her into the cacophony of stoves and dishes, ordering her to fulfil small finishing touches or continue stirring.

There was nothing she wasn’t used to. Even back in high school, they had the students help prepare meals—it was their way of teaching the girls how to be good housewives in the future or at least to feed themselves as adults—and during her tenure as a camp counsellor, she was no stranger to being used as a helping hand.

By the time she finished helping the nymphs and loading plates onto the trolley, she was already more than a little late for the gathering. That being said, she wasn’t really in a rush; it was just dinner, and she wasn’t keen on seeing Mr D or Tantalus so soon.

She slipped into the Mess Hall and noticed everyone had been seated except Percy and his cyclops friend from earlier. Mr D had already begun eating peeled grapes from a satyr, and Tantalus fixed his beady eyes on the young boy standing in the pavilion.

“I do expect you to refrain from causing my camp any problems,” Tantalus said.

‘His camp?’ Amelia thought as she sat to the right of Mr D.

She did not slave over this goddamn place for a year for some creep to wander in and claim it was his camp—over her dead, decaying, rotted corpse.

Amelia couldn’t help but snort, and both Percy and Tantalus’ attention was drawn to her, “Oh, sorry, I just found that funny,”

Tantalus did not turn his gaze away from her—something that everyone in the pavilion was growing increasingly aware of—and Amelia saw Percy’s eyebrows furrow in dissatisfaction, and Malcolm whispered something to Annabeth.

“I’m delighted to know you find me humorous.” He gave her a yellowed smile.

And there goes her appetite, fantastic…

“Hey!” She heard a shout from one of the tables, “Stop looking at my sister!”

There was a scuffle at her siblings’ table, which ended in Katie slapping Liam on the back of the head and forcing him to sit down. Miranda held her free hand on his mouth, and May sent Amelia an apologetic smile.

“Liam Haywood, words are to be had,” Tantalus chided, and Amelia rolled her eyes, “I’ll have to let you off with a warning,”

Thank the Lord that Tantalus kept his eyes fixed on her because Liam’s eyes had widened, and he flipped the man off while their sisters wrangled him into the seat.

“How generous,” Amelia answered on her brother’s behalf, “Can we start eating yet?”

She gave a nearby nymph a desperate look, and the campers were slowly served dinner. 

Percy and his cyclops friend—Tyson, she believed his name was—stayed unmoving in the centre of the mess hall. Percy’s eyes flickered between Tantalus and herself, and his sea-blue eyes implored hers.

She blinked in silent reply, ‘Talk later.’

“Sit down already,” Mr D belched, setting his goblet of diet cola on the table, “GO, that empty table is-”

She tuned the rest of dinner out, ignoring Mr D’s amused snickers when Tantalus failed to eat or drink anything served. Usually, she would join in the entertainment, but she wasn’t close to being in the mood.

The air was sombre, she was hyper-aware of the stick-thin man in the orange prisoner’s jumpsuit sitting down the table from her. Tantalus was pent-up, erratic and starved . She couldn’t help but be mindful of every twitch of his hand, every intrusive stare — she stopped wearing anything that drew attention to her cleavage — and she was not jumping for joy at the thought of sleeping two doors down from him at night.

“Miss Amelia,” a young dryad softly asked, dredging her attention back to reality. “Would you like more?”

“No,” she replied, dazed, “No, I’m fine, thank you,”

The dryad faltered momentarily before pressing a warm squeeze on her shoulder, “It’ll be alright,”

Would it?

Amelia tried to drag out her final camp counsellor tasks for as long as possible. It wasn’t like she was dying to go back to the Big House. She lingered at each cabin until they got sick of her (or she got sick of them), working backwards from the twins in Cabin 12 — she got stuck at Cabin 6 when Annabeth pulled her aside to have a lengthy conversation about possible ways to get Chiron back, then again at Cabin 4 when Liam tried to justify his actions at dinner, and then at Cabin 3 with Percy and his newly-claimed cyclops brother Tyson.

“Hello Tyson,” She stuck her hand out, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Amelia,”

But Tyson seemed to be a bit of a hugger, which caught her off guard because he was also quite tall and strong.

“Amelia,” He repeated, a big beaming smile on his face.

“You can just call me Amie,” She said, slightly unnerved by the single eye on his face — she hadn’t really encountered many cyclops in her life, “Everyone does,”

Percy hadn’t said a word since she entered the cabin, just those damn blue eyes scanning for silent clues as to what was going on. Amelia knew he didn’t like the changes camp had gone through; now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was all the more aware of Percy’s discomfort.

“What’s up with that Tantalus guy?” He said, crossing his arms, “He’s the one who chopped up his kid and tried to feed him to the gods, right? The one whose punishment in the Underworld was to never be able to reach food?”

It looked like someone had been reading up on their Greek Mythology over the school year. 

Amelia nodded, “Yep, that’s the guy,”

“Why is he being a grade-A creep to you?” Percy shivered, “Man, that whole dinner was so uncomfortable. Does he always look at you like that?”

“More or less,” Amelia shrugged, not keen to talk about it, “How’s your ancient Greek self-study coming along?”

“Fine, don’t change the subject,” he scowled, “Was Liam actually going to beat him up or something?”

“He keeps threatening to but Liam’s scared of authority figures so I'm not sold,” Amelia waved off, “How was your year?”

“Fine, what’s up with the barrier then? Is there no cure —aren’t you Demeter’s daughter? Can’t you just heal the tree?”

“Thalia isn’t an actual tree,” She sighed, “Didn’t Chiron explain this to you? I’ve tried using those tree methods on her, and it doesn’t work — not only is she not a tree, but the poison used was also Elder Python poison from the Underworld, that’s not some regular thing to fix.”

“So the barrier’s just gone? Can’t they put a new one up?”

“Sure they can,” Amelia let some bitterness seep into her voice, “If they cared about us, they would,”

Ooh, careful Amelia, you’re starting to sound a bit like Luke now.

Percy gave her a strange look, which had Amelia scrambling to correct herself, “No, no, I’m kidding. The situation is strange right now, and they want to get to the bottom of the poisoning first,”

“But it was Luke, right?” Percy stared at her, “It had to be Luke, he and Kro– the titan lord, they’re the type to do that; lower defences and everything,”

So… Amelia had never told anyone that she knew Luke did it. Yes, sue her, she had known from the trees, and while she had long since accepted that it was Luke’s doing, she wasn’t sure how much of a trusted source trees were.

Could you imagine using them as evidence? Yes, I know Luke did it because this pine tree told me so. She would actually get sent to a fucking psych ward.

“We don’t know,”

“Who else could it be?” He looked incredulous, “Seemed like an obvious answer,”

Well, yes, he wasn’t wrong there.

“Go to bed, Perce,” She sighed, “It’s been a long day for both of us. We have an entire summer to talk,”

Thankfully, he conceded, and Amelia was free to return to the Big House (fuck) . 

But her feet started taking her to the canoe lake instead. Any dying chatter from the sleepy campers faded the deeper she wandered towards the lake. She toed off her worn converses and socks and sat at the boardwalk’s edge.

The canoes had all been pulled back into the boathouse, and the water’s surface rippled when she dipped her feet into the cold water.

Amelia let out a sigh and sprawled on the cool wood. What if she just slept here tonight? Sure, it was the wilderness, but it wasn’t like it really rained at camp. Plus, she was surrounded by foliage. No way was she going to die in her sleep. (Even so, the thought of that wasn’t so bad.)

It was quiet, save for the soft whispers of the lake reeds carried with the wind. But they weren’t trying to disturb her; they were simply catching up with each other, relaying rumours and gossiping about the campers, the state of camp and… well… stories from Olympus.

“Lady Demeter is still cross with them allowing that thing here,”

Amelia’s lip quirked upwards in amusement.

“The nerve of that bastard,” Another agreed, “So outrightly lascivious to Miss Amelia,”

“Oh, someone is here,”

She heard a strange warp sound – as though something had been sucked closed – and then the soft crunch of grass growing louder with each passing footstep and then the sound of shoes on the boardwalk.

“Miss Amelia,” The reed called for her, “Be cautious!”

Through her eyelids, she could see the area alighted by a glowing lantern. She opened her eyes briefly at the unwelcome light and could just make out the outline of a masculine form with dark hair standing above her body; the light dipped to trace familiar brown eyes.

“Sleeping well, Amie?”

Chapter Text

Amelia kept her gaze on the man intruding on her quiet time and gave a light scoff she knew wouldn’t offend him, “I was, before you graced my presence,” and then fearing she had gone too far, she tacked on: “Lord Hermes,”

The messenger god didn’t take any offence and loudly sat by her lying form, and the action was so familiar Amelia almost saw Luke instead.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Hermes asked as Amelia stared at him, entirely flummoxed.

“No, sir,” She said softly, “But to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to offer you a quest,”

“Pardon?” she shot up, her feet rising from the cold water and hitting the boardwalk’s edge. “Ouch, what?”

Hermes was startled by her outburst as well, almost toppling over and into the lake, but he steadied himself. Amelia looked at him like he’d gone crazy — because there was no other rational excuse — her green eyes imploring the same brown eyes he had passed onto Luke.

“Are you serious,” Amelia said when Hermes didn’t clarify anything, “What…?”

“Please consider it,” He grasped onto Amelia’s wrist before she could think of leaving, “Please at least hear me out, Amie, I trust you will,”

It was so unnerving to hear him call her that nickname. No. It was just… wrong coming from that mouth. Where did he get the nerve to call her that?

“First of all,” She swallowed, “Don’t call me that,”

“Oh, I thought—”

“Second of all, I’m a member of staff here, I can’t just go on a quest and I sure as hell can’t be the best candidate,”

“You are,” Hermes clasped her hands between both of his earnestly, “It’s about my son,”

Oh, hell no. She would rather drown herself in the lake than have anything to do with Luke. 

“Big. No.” Amelia scowled, “I don’t want anything to do with Luke,”

“Please,” Hermes bowed his head, “I know what I’m asking of you is a huge favour — considering all he’s done — but I know, I’m certain , that if anyone can talk sense into him, it’s you. He loves you, Amelia, more than—”

“Stop,” Amelia interjected, wiggling her hands from the tight grip, “It’s not happening,”

“If you could just—”

Amelia pushed herself up onto her feet, shaking off the water and grabbing her shoes, ready to make a mad dash away from her ex’s dad.

“And besides,” She whirled around to tell him, “I’m supposed to stay within the boundary, that’s the order from above,”

And as she said that, the sky grumbled a little as if listening in on them.

“You’re allowed to leave,” Hermes fumbled to his feet, chasing behind her, “I- I give you permission to leave camp for this quest,”

Tempting as it was, she would rather not go on a kamikaze mission and get hand-delivered to her infuriating boyfriend (ex-boyfriend? boyfriend? Who knew anymore) by his father like a peace offering.

She didn’t even know what to say to him. She had already said everything to a weird dream version of him who tried recruiting her with the same old song-and-dance. It was annoying, and Amelia knew he’d try to pull the same thing out in person.

“No,” Amelia said, steeling herself, “Please don’t push this, ok?”

She didn’t care enough to mind her tone.

You know, she would’ve kept that level of stubborn resistance if it weren’t for the shit Tantalus pulled later that night.

Amelia almost killed him. Genuinely.

And fuck, she got into so much trouble for her actions. It turned out that Mr D didn’t like it when she held a blade to his (sorry excuse of an) activities director’s neck in the middle of the night. No, that hadn’t blown over well for her.

She had drawn blood. Truth be told, she hadn’t been confident that her knife would do any damage to Tantalus in the first place, but she purred with savage pleasure when she felt warm, sticky red blood trickle down her fingers gripping the celestial bronze blade. It was enough to scare something into Tantalus but not enough to stop him from leering.

But the campers never found out. They whispered and compared notes about what might have happened that night.

And Amelia kept her mouth shut about it. No matter how much Liam or Katie bugged her, how long Annabeth stared her down with those owl-like eyes or how often she got a half-baked ‘casual’ prod from Percy — she remained firm in her silence.

The only other person who knew was… Hermes.

“You could just leave,” He enticed her, fiddling with the leaf of one of her potted plants, “Amelia, accept the quest,”

Amelia stood at the doorway and scowled. 

That was starting to feel like harassment as well. Who invited him into her room? He had a new bad habit of popping in every day without warning to give her a new spiel on how she just ‘had to go find Luke’.

It felt like a dirty little secret — she couldn’t help thinking like that. A god sneaking into camp every day, basically begging her to run away…

“Don’t you get tired of this back and forth?” Amelia crossed her arms, “I know you guys don’t care much about our wishes but at this point I must be knocked it into your thick skull,”

“Amelia, I will not bluff you, I am desperate,” He held his hands to her in surrender, “I don’t want to lose my son,”

‘Too little, too late,’ She thought, staring at the earnest god.

“Then you can find someone else,” Amelia stepped into the room and shut the door, “I’m sure Annabeth would love to accept it, and, again, what power do you have to overrule the King’s command,”

If there was any audible resentment in how she spat out ‘King’, Hermes tactfully ignored it.

“It’s not just me,” Hermes said somberly, “Your mother has agreed, so has Aphrodite and Artemis — and those two rarely agree on anything, Persephone has been trying to convince my father,”

“My mother agreed to this?” Amelia laughed incredulously.

“She’s not happy,” Hermes admitted, “But she is willing to do whatever it takes to get you away from Tantalus,”

Amelia’s brows flattened in dissatisfaction. If her only way away from Tantalus was to go on a plea negotiation quest for Luke Castellan, something had surely gone wrong for her. Frankly, she was caught between a rock and a hard place — which was which she hadn’t determined yet — but her father had always taught her to find the 3rd option. 

She was struggling to find another option.

“Is that what you’re bribing me with,” Amelia asked, tentatively perhaps a little peeved at them (all of them, all of those omnipotent immortals who simply watch as she fights day to day to keep her innocence), “The bare minimum of care for my situation? How generous,”

“What else can we do?”

And the worst bit was that he sounded genuinely stumped. 

Oh.  

This was how Luke had felt. It was this voice and his words that swirled around Luke’s head while he recovered from his near-fatal quest. This was the foolish, selfish bastard of a father he had complained about. That mask of happy-go-lucky Amelia had always believed, was it really a mask?

Blind to resentment touching every morsel of man’s existence. Deaf to the struggles and agony of their devotion. Caught up in their perceived ‘powerlessness’ to aid and assist or, perhaps, simply uncaring of such insignificant lives and matters.

Morons. 

“Get out,” 

She could barely recognise her voice. It sounded so much more tired than she had ever allowed herself. There was a foreign weight in it, a forgotten youthful bite. When had she last let herself delve into childishness? She sounded petty, like an overgrown child.

She sounded ridiculous, and she was losing her mind.

Hermes balked, “Amelia—”

“Get. Out.”

“If you would just reconsider—”

“I’m tired,” She interjected curtly, “I don’t care about anything you have to say, get out of my room and leave me alone,”

The foolish god had just enough mind to silently realise Amelia wasn’t in the mood for entertaining his nonsense. Hermes gave her a sad look and bowed his head in a show of some respect, and Amelia shut her eyes as he vanished into thin air — hopefully returning to Olympus, far, far away from camp.

Amelia shakily stepped to the inviting bed—still unmade. She couldn’t remember the last time she made it; she had stopped caring. Her knees hit the edge, and she tumbled face-first into the mess of blankets. With the last drops of life left in her, she dragged her body onto the bed, turning to face the ceiling.

She was exhausted.

What she would kill for a good night’s sleep, something she hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing since Tantalus moved into the Big House. Amelia could never rest knowing that, the minute she let her guard down, there was a very real chance he would—

But she knew she absolutely could not be left alone with her thoughts. Her resentment festered with every passing moment unbridled by work or the campers (or even Tantalus), particularly at this moment, the most silent it had been in a week. The more that feeling grew, the more inclined she was to take up Luke’s offers. 

She wondered what would win out. Her resentment, her love or her pride.

Amelia reached behind her, blindly feeling the drawer and pulling out a bottle of pills from it. It had barely been touched, tablets rattling against each other and their plastic confine. A gift from her father. Mailed over after Amelia wrote a letter lamenting her lack of sleep, purposefully omitting the reason for her ‘insomnia’. Her father’s care had been touching but Amelia was sure the use of sleeping pills would only increase her anxiety, it would leave her utterly defenceless.

But now, however, they may be of use. It would prevent her mind from wandering. Amelia levelled the situation; it was midday, and Tantalus had much more interesting things to be doing — trying to eat, bullying Percy, whatever was going on with the reinstated chariot races (shit, she was supposed to put a stop to those… oh well) — there was a low risk of him finding her in deep sleep.

(What if this was her 3rd option? Maybe if she took enough, she’d find her way out of that rock and hard place?)

Her self-control was better than she had anticipated, and she shook out a single tablet, swallowing it with the cold valerian root tea she had brewed in the early morning (when she couldn’t sleep) and settling back on the pillow, willing the drug to work faster.

Because clearly, all her lola’s herbal remedies weren’t doing jackshit.

Her dad must’ve gotten her the good shit because Amelia was soundly knocked out for the rest of the day. But really, the real miracle was that no one had sought her out. Although… there was a possibility that they just couldn’t reach her.

After all, every surface in the room, except her bed, was covered in sprawling vines of green, all originating from a single potted plant that lived on her windowsill. The botanical mass had boarded up the door.

It reminded her of the old fairytale of sleeping beauty. 

She gently swung her legs off the bed, watching mystified as the vines on the floor receded like waves, leaving space for her. She patted a nearby leaf in assurance and waited as the tendrils of flora ebbed away, quickly retracted back to the windowsill. The plant gave her a pleased twitter when she approached it, lightly stroking its leaves in thanks, generously adding a touch of Demeter’s magic. She heaved open the old window, letting the cool night’s air in.

It was dark out. Amelia caught a glimpse of the brilliant, warm campfire flickering. She imagined the ring of campers with marshmallows and s’mores, and her stomach grumbled for attention. No wonder she had slept through both lunch and dinner; Amelia hadn’t eaten in eleven hours.

She shrugged on her old cardigan, toed on her worn converses and slinked down the stairs, holding her breath in case Tantalus or Mr D was still in the building. The Big House was silent, and Amelia let the door creak open and exited into the summer night.

The noise from the distant campfire was reassuring. Amelia wandered over to the kitchens, her stride breaking at the dark silhouette of a large figure illuminated by the setting sun’s red glow.

Fantastic.

The shadow loomed towards her, picking pace, and she blanked on what to do. Should she scream? Run? Let the monster kill her? Attempt to fight it? Her heart raced, and her stomach lurched painfully. 

But the creature stopped before her and Amelia’s sleep-addled mind recognised it.

“Oh,” Amelia gasped out, hand over her beating heart, “Good evening, Tyson,”

The young cyclops was covered in soot and smelled smoky, like he’d spent hours stoking a fire. In his muscular arms were several skillfully crafted chariot parts, and he had a giant goofy grin on his face — certainly not whatever menacing monster Amelia worried about.

“Amie!” Tyson chirped in surprised joy, “You are alive!”

Amelia’s brows furrowed in confusion, and a polite, bewildered smile graced her face, “I guess I am?”

“Percy was scared you were dead,” 

“I was only sleeping,” Amelia assured the worried cyclops, “And I don’t think Percy thought I was actually dead,”

‘Although…’ she thought, fear and guilt bubbling in her empty stomach, ‘You did think about it,’

Desperate to distract herself, Amelia smiled and pointed at the metal pieces in Tyson’s arms, “Are you having fun in the forge?”

“Yes,” Tyson was excited to share his creations, “I made parts for Percy’s chariot,”

“That’s… great,” She was conflicted. She was happy for Tyson’s newfound passion for smithing, but that damn chariot race… she had been too depressed to handle the stupid men who thought it was a brilliant idea, and now, all the campers were too invested.

“Are you joining everyone?” Tyson was subdued with this question, his emotions spilling over his face — he didn’t want her to join the others.

“Oh, I’m just headed to the kitchen,” Amelia answered, “Just wanted to grab something to eat,”

Tyson glanced at the smoke from the campfire in the distance and nodded to himself, “I will go with you,”

“You don’t need to do that,”

He shook his head, “So the creep does not bother you,”

A genuine smile threatened to break. Figures that Tyson would pick up on Percy’s childish name for Tantalus (if not an accurate moniker), the two Posideon boys had differing levels of disdain for the aptly named ‘creep’.

“Thank you,” Amelia swallowed, grateful.

Recently, she had found that she wasn’t so eager to converse. Conversations had grown rarer with her — always her fault — her responses grew increasingly clipped and blunt, leaving little room for rebuttal. Amelia could tell it was slowly distancing the more unfamiliar campers. The sweet, caring older sister felt like a long-forgotten other life, her own siblings hesitating to talk. 

Even Tyson, while young and clumsy, stayed silent unless addressed by her. So as they walked towards the kitchen, Amelia’s fleeting steps on friendly grass and Tyson’s heavy trudges flattening the blade behind her, she was grateful for the silence. 

Tyson was amusing to her, utterly harmless and oftentimes none the wiser to the strength he had. Percy had been quite vocal about being associated with the cyclops as half brothers, both publicly to the campers who were relentless in their teasing and in the private confidence of Amelia during their ongoing lessons.

(Oh yes, she was still a teacher.)

But Amelia was charmed by his earnest attitude to the demigod world, endeared by the obvious care he showed Percy and his friends (which seemed to extend to Amelia). Even now, Amelia could hear the rustle of fabric as Tyson remained on guard — his one eye scanning around for that creep.

It reminded her of Argus. She wondered how his vacation was going… God, she needed a vacation .

Tyson hesitated once they reached their destination. Curiously, Amelia held the door open for him, invitingly.

“Aren’t you comin’?” She slipped into her accent accidentally, “I can whip you up something to eat?”

He shook his head, looking much like a defeated puppy, “I am not allowed,”

Amelia could almost imagine the kitchen nymphs scowling as Tyson fumbled around like a bull in a china shop and didn’t insist on it. Those nymphs were sticklers for their kitchen, it had taken years for Amelia to finally be let in and only on the condition that she make herself useful.

Speaking of those nymphs, two of the younger ones were still hanging around after the dinner service, fretting over a very familiar blond boy grumbling about washing dirty dishes.

At the sound of the door shutting, all three of them turned to Amelia, each startled to an extent.

“Evening,” Amelia greeted, ignoring Percy’s trailing gaze, “Do you happen to have any food left over?”

The dryads immediately darted by her side.

“Oh Miss Amelia,” Calla took her hands, pale green eyes flooded with concern, “You look sickly, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” She reassured the distressed dryad, “I mean, I’d be better if I had something to eat,”

“Here,” Myrtle handed her a plate of delectable food, and Amelia almost drooled, “Daphne thought you would be hungry,”

Amelia recalled the stern older dryad and sighed, grateful for the concern.

“Wise of her,”

“Are you really alright?” Calla’s eyes twinkled with pity, “You haven’t visited in days,”

“I’ve been preoccupied,” Amelia admitted, “I’m sorry, I know you could use the help,”

“We’d rather you rest,” Myrtle frowned, “Miss Amelia, if I may be blunt, you look like you’re on the verge of death,”

She was sure she did. The lack of sunshine and nutrition had left her sandy skin dull and sickly pale. The anxiety that robbed her of sleep graced her with dark circles, and she hadn’t brushed her tangled waves all day. By all means, she must’ve looked half-dead.

“It’ll be alright,” Calla’s eyes widened, her silvery hair falling into Amelia’s vision, her warm hand gently cupping the demigoddess’ face, “You— we must simply endure,”

Myrtle inhaled sharply, her voice falling, “Calla, don’t be ridiculous, why should she endure, we must find a way to—”

“We’re not murdering him,”

“I tried that, but it didn’t blow over that well,” Amelia murmured, mindful of Percy’s unsubtle eavesdropping (he wasn’t even pretending to do the dishes).

But Myrtle was right. Why must Amelia endure? She was the daughter of Demeter. The dryads and plants of this world treated her as their princess, why must she endure?

“Why, I will never understand, he has Olympus’ favour is aggravating,” Calla whinged, “We are folly to his whims, we can do nothing but endure — all of us — Miss Amelia, he will lose his interest, please, I plead you don’t act rashly again,”

Amelia’s face fell, “Presumptuous of you,”

Her mind wandered back to Hermes’ offer again. Was she being overly stubborn? It was certain that being around Tantalus was a living hell for her. Why was she fighting against seeing Luke so hard? Was she scared of Luke? Of giving in?

Who could blame her if she did?

Calla and Myrtle were eventually retrieved by another dryad, they shot each other nervous glances and then Calla threw her arms around Amelia in a warm embrace. Amelia stiffened, and Calla blubbered some more words of comfort and assurance before defeatedly bidding the daughter of Demeter a goodnight. Myrtle had been more tactful, promising Amelia that the dryads would continue praying for her to their mistress.

Amelia gave them both fake smiles.

Now left alone with Percy’s inquiring stare, Amelia silently ate the plate of food.

Well, it seemed the whole camp was worried for her. Everyone from the loyal dryads who served her mother to the cyclops she had met only a week prior. Particularly the son of Poseidon quietly watching her eat a lukewarm meal in the dimness of an empty kitchen. The thought of their concern should’ve touched her. But why… Why was it so sickening?

Because it was useless.

People could pity her all they wanted, but it wasn’t helping. They could all end their days in a warm bed and fall fast asleep; she was the one who stayed awake, racked with the fear of that man. Her situation was neither unique nor unavoidable or something to accept. They couldn’t all be powerless.

Hermes told her she had a rally of support on Olympus — surely they couldn’t be useless.  

The plate slipped from her grasp and shattered spectacularly on the floor, shards flying in all directions as Amelia stared at the wreckage.

And then out of nowhere, Amelia felt hot tears well up in her eyes, threatening to spill if she blinked. Was she crying? Why was she crying over a goddamn plate of all things? It was inconsequential, plates were easily replaceable so why on earth…

“Are you crying?”

“No,” Amelia sniffled, blinking back tears with an incredulous laugh, “No, I’m not,”

The blond boy shuffled closer, kicking the shards into a pile as Amelia fanned herself, desperately trying to keep from bursting into sobs. 

“It’s just a plate,” He muttered, barely above a whisper, “I’m sure it’s not going to be a big deal,”

‘Oh lord,’ She thought as Percy awkwardly patted her arm, ‘I need to stop bursting into tears around this boy,’

If this happened again, he would think she cried over everything.

“It’s not the plate,” Amelia reassured, “It’s just a lot of stress and the plate is like the cherry on top, I guess,”

Percy bent down to pick up the shattered pieces of the ceramic, but Amelia quickly yanked him up by the scruff of his orange camp shirt and pulled him away.

“Don’t bother,” she said forcefully, like hell, she was going to watch this kid cut his hand on a broken plate. “Seriously, didn’t they ever teach you to get an adult to pick up sharp things?”

Percy shrugged, “But my stepdad used to make me do it anyways so I guess it doesn’t matter,”

Okay, she wasn’t in the right state to start that conversation, so she was going to table it for later.

“It’s getting close to curfew,” Amelia noted the pile of dishes Percy still had to get through, “How about you leave the rest to me?”

“Are you sure?” Percy asked, but only out of manners, given how he could barely conceal his relief.

“I’m sure,” Amelia’s lip quivered into an amused smirk.

Percy let the bowl drop back into the soapy sink and all but tore the rubber dish gloves off his arms, making a poor attempt at pretending he was more than willing to let her finish the dishes. He patted his damp hands on his orange camp shirt and then on Amelia’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” His poker face wasn’t very good, “I could’ve done it,”

“Yes,” Amelia nodded, “I know you could’ve,”

“Hey,” Percy turned before exiting the kitchen. “Do you know what 30, 31, 75, 12 mean?”

Amelia stared at the thirteen-year-old in confusion, “Context?”

His hopeful baby blues drooped, and he muttered, “Don’t worry about it then,”

A couple of months back, maybe, she would’ve pulled Percy back and discussed it with him, but she couldn’t muster a wisp of that Amelia. 

So she watched the blond boy leave with nothing but vague concern.

Predictably, Hermes had not taken the hint and appeared before her again the next day, ambushing her in the middle of the woods.

He was notably less chatty. He had looked at Amelia’s puffy eyes from crying and swallowed, averting his eyes. She was a little relieved he wasn’t asking why she looked like she sobbed her heart out.

(Which she did… she cried washing the rest of the dishes, then cried on the pier, then cried in the middle of the strawberry fields in the dead of night.)

‘Would it kill you to hurry up?’ Amelia thought arms crossed, silently waiting for what Hermes had to say, ‘Let’s get this over with already,’

“What I’m about to offer is the best I can manage,” Hermes fixed his gaze on the floor beside her.

“This is not a negotiation,” Amelia was offended, to say the least, “You can’t buy me out,”

“You don’t even need to succeed,” Hermes dropped to his knees, clasping her hands and drawing them to his bowed forehead, “Please, I’m begging you,”

Amelia looked down at him, surreally detached from the moment. There was a god on his knees, a word away from prostrating himself at her feet, head bowed, hands clasped around hers as one would with a rosary, breathless with desperate hope. For her. Some insignificant mortal who would’ve done it if threatened with death. Hermes was asking a favour of her, he didn’t need to, he was in a position of much greater power that he could abuse to make her go but he chose to debase himself to her.

He was asking with reverence and it was disgusting.

“You’re shameless,” She hissed out, wrenching her hands out of his iron grasp.

Hermes didn’t resist her violent reaction, lowering his head and slowly rising to peer up at her. Amelia’s disgust grew when she finally took him in.

Bastard. Shameless was an understatement. 

The audacity he had to alter his appearance to resemble his son. Was he trying to use Luke’s face to convince her? Wearing her boyfriend’s brown doe eyes, attempting to extort her feelings?

When he realised that was no use, his expression minutely twitched yet he remained on his knees, still wearing that youthful boyish face but burst into rambunctious laughter — hysterics, Amelia would even admit — perhaps he had finally been broken?

“That’s how I’ll tell the difference,” Hermes’ laughed petered off and he wiped a tear of joy away, “Oh, ‘Sephone would never look at me with that insolent scowl,”

Speaking of her resemblance to her sister while wearing a sorry attempt of his son’s face was ludicrously hypocritical.

“You don’t have to be so disgusted by me,” He gave an easy smile; the underlying sadness was palpable, “I was a fool to think the same methods would work on you,”

“You’re a fool all the time,”

“I know,” A flash of offence crossed his brown eyes, “But one cannot be desperate without being a fool,”

Amelia was suffocated by Hermes’s bittersweet resentment, not really at her but rather at the situation. 

“What did you say earlier?” Amelia said, quickly before she could regret it, “About not needing to succeed,”

“Making contact is enough,” Hermes’ voice sounded duller than she had anticipated, “As long as you make him hear us out,”

“And my reward?”

“Unconditional freedom,” Realisation was slowly flooding into his senses, his eyes took on a more hopeful gleam, “Fully rescinded by my father. It’ll be as it was before Luke’s… actions,”

It was more than generous. 

She would be stupidly stubborn to let this chance slip away. She didn’t even need to convince him; just sit him down and talk common sense to him. And in exchange, they were going to let her leave for good. Why, it was practically robbery. 

And besides, how were they to know what she told him? Or if she even found him?

“I accept your quest,” Her voice was hauntingly soft, enough to maintain denial.

Hermes shot up from his knees, brown eyes sparkling with renewed affection, “I knew you’d come around!”

Amelia grimaced.

His caduceus materialised, along with a sheathed sword. It had a curved blade, just a little over a foot long, the golden hilt glittering from the sunlight peeking through the canopy of trees. 

Hermes handed the blade to her, eyes betraying his true age, “My harpe . To defend yourself, I hope you don’t have to use it against Luke but… if it comes to it…”

She didn’t know if she’d even have the heart. After all, she was lousy with a sword and Luke would never take a hit, even from her. Still, for Hermes to easily hand her his blade… spoke volumes for how grateful he was to her for this quest.

“Do I get a map as well,” Amelia asked, accepting the sword, “Don’t tell me you want me to hunt him down, I know I’m my father’s daughter but even he wouldn’t be able to track him with nothing,”

It would be fun, though. Realistically, he was landlocked — if he flew, Zeus would strike him down; if he sailed, Poseidon would sink him — so he was somewhere on the continent. Luke had too much pride to flee the country so his chances of staying in the States were high. If he was as smart as she thought, he would keep enough distance from the gods, meaning he was probably hiding out somewhere in the Midwest.

“I know where he is,” Hermes assured her, “I’ve organised some transportation,”

Hopefully, a plane, although she wouldn’t mind a good old-fashioned American road trip. 

Was she making a holiday out of this? Well, anything away from work was a holiday.

And once this quest was over, she would never have to go back to it. She could treat it like the worst gap year any twenty-year-old had ever had.

Honestly, she had been expecting too much.

How had she ended up in the middle of the ocean? 

Now, there was this funny little-known fact about Amelia that she tried avoiding: She couldn’t swim. She never learnt how; after all, there wasn’t exactly any water in West Virginia, and she was never the biggest fan of sand, so the beach wasn’t a popular destination.

Of course, how could Hermes know that?

IT WOULDN’T HAVE KILLED HIM TO ASK.

She was going to drown before even seeing Luke! The so-called transportation Hermes had arranged was a singular hippocampus, so yes, she shouldn’t have expected much, but this was a brand-new low.

That fucking bastard.

Her eyes were screwed shut and she was hanging on for dear life, mentally reciting a mantra of ‘don’t fall, please God, don’t let me fall.’

Naturally, she fell.

Her body felt like dead weight, the fabric of her clothing resisting her frantic attempts of surfacing. Her lungs burned as she inadvertently swallowed mouthfuls of salty water. Her eyes stung, her nose inhaled water, and her ears clogged, leaving a dull woozy echo in her brain. No one had ever taught her how to stay afloat and now she was going to die.

Like Hell.

Mustering all her strength, she managed to break the surface, taking in heaving breaths of air, arms flapping uselessly in the cold ocean water. She wouldn’t last long like this, but her stinging eyes saw the outline of a ship not too far away.

She hoped her splashing was enough to draw attention amid the vast ocean. 

‘God, if you actually exist.’ Amelia thought as she lost the strength to keep afloat, ‘Just…’

By some intervention (mortal, not holy), an arm wrapped around her abdomen and pulled her back to the surface. 

Oh my god, she actually almost fucking died.

There was some muted kerfuffle (well, it was muted for her because her ears were still blocked), and she and her saviour were taken aboard a large vacation cruise ship. 

‘Sir,’ She thought, deliriously as she hit solid floor and mostly caught her breath, ‘I owe you my goddamn life, it’s a little worthless but I’m sure my mother will appreciate you,’

“Easy there,” A familiar voice pacified, a large hand rubbing her back as she hacked and wheezed and hyperventilated and spewed lungfuls of seawater onto the cold deck, “You’re alright,”

No, she was like the furthest thing from being alright.