The son of Poseidon arrived at Camp Half-Blood during Luke Castellan’s twenty-fourth summer. He rode bareback astride a magnificent black Pegasus. They landed on the lawn in front of the Big House. The Pegasus tucked her wings into her sides and tossed her head. The rider slid off her back and landed barefoot on the grass. He patted the mare’s neck and smiled. “Be nice,” he scolded her, though she seemed to be behaving. Then, he walked up to the Big House porch.
He looked about seventeen. If this were Ancient Greece, he would be a man and he certainly had the confident gait and muscle structure of one. However, this was modern America so he was considered a child still, which was accentuated by his bare feet and his messy, wind blown hair. He knelt before the card table they sat at, his black hair swinging forward to cover his eyes. It hung long enough to cover the nape of his neck and was the perfect sort of thickness for running one's hands through. “Lord Dionysus,” he said in a voice that held amusem*nt. Then he inclined his head to Chiron, and in a voice that only held respect, he said, “Chiron.” He ignored Luke.
Dionysus snorted, unimpressed as always with demigods. He didn’t care much for them, likely because he was stuck babysitting them for the next hundred years. “Too late, kid,” he said. “You’ve missed the war. If you want your fame and glory, you’ll have to be quicker about the next one.” Dionysus played his turn.
“There is always another war.” His lips quirked in a small, grim smile.
Chiron appraised the stranger, nostrils flaring as he took in the boy’s scent. He took his turn without removing his eyes from the kneeling youth.
Luke did the same, breathed in deep through his open mouth. He tasted the scent of the ocean and the mare. It didn’t have to mean anything. He smelled like the Pegasus mare because they spent a lot of time together. Perhaps he spent a lot of time on the coast. Some demigods had subtle scents that needed to be learned on an individual basis.
“Luke, it’s your turn, young man,” Dionysus said.
Luke took his turn and made a mistake. He wouldn’t be winning this round.
Finally, Chiron asked what everyone wanted to know, “Who are you, godling?”
“Percy…” he paused, swallowed, then added, “Poseidonides.”
Dionysus’ head snapped up.
Chiron lowered his cards.
Luke clutched his tighter, palms suddenly slick with sweat. He breathed in Percy's scent again and, yes, the ocean. His parentage would be obvious even if Luke was blind. He just didn’t want to believe it. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.
He was seventeen. How could he exist?
“That’s a bold claim to make, Peter,” Dionysus said, voice low and angry. The air permeated with the scent of sour grapes. “Are you sure that you don’t want to reintroduce yourself?”
A symbol appeared above his head, made of water and in the trident of Poseidon. “I don’t exactly have a birth certificate, but some things speak for themselves, don’t they?” Percy looked up. His eyes were the glowing green of sea glass. He looked at Luke for the first time. His rosy lips curved into a smug smile.
Luke’s heart beat in his chest like wings against the bars of a cage.
Dionysus looked annoyed but he didn’t argue anymore about Percy’s parentage. “Well welcome to Camp Half-Blood, son of Poseidon. Don’t expect any special treatment because of who your daddy is.”
Chiron said, “Luke, please show Percy to the stables and give him the official tour before dinner. By then, his Cabin will be ready.”
“Yes, Chiron,” Luke said and set the cards down. They were bent and damp with sweat. To Percy, Luke said, “Follow me.”
Percy rose and followed Luke. He paused by the Pegasus and ran a hand down her face. “I’m sure that their stables are adequate. Maybe you’ll even make a friend.” This was said with a teasing lilt to his voice.
The mare head butted Percy. She used enough force to knock him back a half a step. But then she fell into step behind him.
Percy laughed, unrestrained and carefree.
His laugh made Luke smile. “Can you understand her?”
Percy turned his smiling eyes on Luke. “Of course. My father made horses.” He looked at the mare and smiled wider.
Luke led Percy to the stables and found an open stall for the mare. It was ridiculous to think it, but he wanted this mare to be impressed with our accommodations. Luke laid out fresh hay and filled the water trough.
The mare did not look impressed by the stables. She snapped her teeth at a silver pegasus who stuck his nose out too far.
Luke’s suspicions of the mare’s impression were confirmed when Percy said, “Well I think they’re really nice.” He paused. “No, I have never had to room with anyone because father doesn’t have any other demigod children.” He closed the stall door and patted her nose. “Play nice, Blackjack.”
Blackjack tossed her head and pointedly turned her back on Percy.
Percy smiled fondly. He turned to Luke. His sea glass green eyes were magnetic, drawing Luke into their depths. They showed warm attraction.
Luke’s breath caught. He couldn’t help but feel himself responding, a strong wave of pleasure that tugged in his loins. Suddenly he was aware that he was staring and looked away, blushing. The heat of embarrassment and arousal made his face burn. “Let me give you a tour of the Camp.” Luke led the way out of the stables.
At least now Luke could blame his red face on the sun beating down on them.
Percy followed a half step behind him and then came up to Luke’s side. He matched his stride with Luke’s and seemed to be looking at Luke just as much as he looked at their surroundings. “So, you’re Luke. I’ve heard about you.”
Luke was surprised. “I can’t say the same.”
Percy nodded, unsurprised. “Father wanted to keep me out of the war.”
Luke’s throat grew tight at the mention of the war. The losses had been staggering for the demigods of Camp Half-Blood. It wasn’t just that their sanctuary was burned to the ground; over half of the attending kids had been slaughtered. Of everyone who died, there was one death in particular that still hurt like an open wound in his chest. That he was the only one who mourned her death, made it worse.
They came upon the forges and Luke gestured to the long, low building. From within, there were the usual sounds of fires crackling, water hissing, and metal striking metal. But there were also the low voices of the blacksmiths singing as they worked. “Fire is the heart of who we are / Making swords to destroy monsters / Gods bless these weapons / That they won’t fail in battle.”
Luke listened for a moment, appreciating the song and letting the familiar lyrics soothe some of his ache. “This is the forge. The children of Hephaestus make all of our weapons and armor.”
Percy didn’t even pretend to be interested in the forge as he studied Luke. He nodded again, slowly, as though he understood what had been going through Luke’s head. He gestured to the forge. “Singing to keep time while working seems to be a blacksmith trait. The cyclopsi in the undersea forges at my father’s palace always sang too.”
It was a tactful way to let the subject drop and Luke took it gratefully. Though there was no one at Camp to talk to about the loss of Annabeth, Luke wasn’t sure that this son of Poseidon would be the one he shared his bleeding heart with.
They continued walking down the dirt path to the combat arena. The path was well worn after generations of demigods stamped the dirt into hard packed earth. The combat arena was a crescent moon of marble pillars and soft dirt. Training dummies stood at one end of the arena but most of it was cleared for one-on-one sword fighting and wrestling.
The arena wasn’t empty this time of day. A small crowd gathered around two boys fighting. The boys were Nico di Angelo and Sherman Yang; sons of Hades and Ares respectively. If asked they would probably say they were wrestling but it clearly wasn’t wrestling. Nico kept shadow-traveling to dodge Sherman’s attacks, melting into the shadows at the last second only to appear underneath or behind him and deal out sharp blows that instantly bruised. When Sherman did manage to grab ahold of Nico, he threw his punches with all his strength and bone cracked.
Luke sighed. Some fighting was alright but not if they were going to be breaking bones and puncturing veins. “Just a moment, Percy,” Luke said. He walked past the group, giving Will Solace a look that asked ‘why aren’t you stopping them?’
Will was Nico’s boyfriend. He was a healer and a son of Apollo. Normally he was a stickler about keeping Nico in good health but now he just watched with his arms crossed over his chest. At Luke’s look, he bit his cheek and averted his eyes.
Catching Sherman would be easy enough but Nico was slippery like a fish. It took perfect timing and even then, he could accidentally drag you into the shadow roads. When he was close enough, Luke hooked a finger in the loop of Nico’s earring, making the boy freeze immediately lest it be ripped out. With Nico secured, Luke grabbed a fistful of Sherman’s hair and then he knocked their heads together. “What do you two think you’re doing? You know fighting isn’t allowed.”
“So I’ll lose my desert privileges,” Sherman grumbled. He tried to get a good swing in at Luke but didn’t quite have the reach. Sherman was small compared to his siblings and he was young besides.
Luke lifted his lips and snarled at the son of Ares, a deep resonating growl that came from his chest.
Sherman shrunk into himself.
“You’ll lose your desert privileges and I’ll use you in my demonstrations.” Luke didn’t have many ways to punish the misbehaving kids, but this was one thing that he could do to whip the kids into shape. No one walked away from a fight with Luke without minor wounds and a lot of humiliation. “I don’t have time to walk you two to the Big House so you’d better go yourselves. I’ll be talking to Chiron tonight and if you haven’t gone to see him, you’ll regret it.”
“Yes, Luke,” they said in unison.
Luke gave them both a good shake before dropping them in the dirt.
Nico disappeared immediately, reappearing a few feet away to snag Will before disappearing again. He and Will appeared outside the arena, side by side, talking as they walked through the grassy field between the arena and the Big House.
Sherman picked himself up and spit blood onto the dirt. He looked around the group of kids still gathered and jerked head at the girl with brown hair and green eyes.
Miranda Gardiner bounded toward him. She looked unhappy but she escorted Sherman out of the arena.
After that, the group broke up. There was nothing else exciting happening. A few of them glanced at Percy as they walked past him, but they didn’t stop to chat.
Luke rejoined Percy. “Sorry about that. Let’s keep going.” His plan was to make a circuit, walking to the footbridge they’d already crossed and walking along the shore until they reached the armory.
When they got to the lake, Percy took an interest in the water. He paused on the shore and then walked into the water. The shore here was muddy and full of cattails. “It’s so different up here,” Percy said.
Luke co*cked his head. Up here? He couldn’t mean what Luke thought that he meant. “When you said that your father wanted to keep you out of the war, what did you mean?”
Percy plucked a cattail and squeezed until the fluff came out. He looked delighted by this. He lifted his eyes to meet Luke’s and smiled. “It means that I’ve never left Poseidon’s undersea palace.”
Something whispering of blasphemy slithered between Luke’s organs and squeezed. “Oh,” he said very quietly. Luke felt the gravity of this statement like a physical thing but it was hard to focus on that when Percy was smiling at him like that. He walked into the lake beside Percy, ignoring the mud squeezing into his sandals, and took some cattail fluff. “If you’d like, I can help you acclimate.”
Percy’s smile grew brighter. “I’d like that, Luke.”
