ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
literature
PJatO - Chapter 12: Rhea
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
A blast of cold air greets us as we file into Chiron's office. The abrupt shift from the muggy summer night to the air conditioning in the Big House has goosebumps rising on my arms. Beside me, Keenan shivers and shoves her hands deeper into her pockets.
The rush of adrenaline brought on by the game of capture the flag has burned away, leaving me feeling gritty and thoroughly exhausted. When Chiron waves us into a pair of chairs, I take mine gratefully.
The mug he hands me immediately fills with chamomile tea, and the delicate floral scent is bracing. Keenan stares blankly at her own mug. Hesitantly, it fills with hot chocolate. When this produces no reaction, a few timid marshmallows bob to the surface, followed by a healthy curl of whipped cream.
With her head cast down, I can't see much of her expression, only the line of her cheek, really. The rest is a mat of dark, tangled curls. The shy copper I'd noted a few times before remains resolutely hidden beneath a film of dirt and sweat. Still, I see her expression shift slightly, and I sense a small curl of her lips, a sort of grudging smile at the mug's overt attempt to cheer her up.
And yet, the tension in the room remains palpable. Chiron settles down into his enchanted wheelchair, which makes the office a lot less crowded and somehow a lot quieter, too. Keenan hunches over her mug of chocolate, like she's waiting for a blow to fall across her shoulders.
Her behavior should surprise me. A claiming is usually such a happy thing, a moment of recognition by your godly parent or patron. It means you've done something right in their eyes, something that makes them proud to acknowledge you.
For all that, I can't ignore the ugly disquiet that sits heavily in the pit of my stomach. Her behavior should surprise me, but it doesn't. The fact is that I echo it. I think a part of me has suspected her heritage for a while, maybe from the moment we met. She's not so bold as most children of Zeus, but she still has a certain way about her, like she could be more if she cared to try.
But of all the gods, why did it have to be Zeus? Being a child of one of the Big Three is hard enough, but my patron Hera reserves a special animosity for the children of Zeus. Because if Zeus has been off gallivanting with some mortal woman, he's been unfaithful to his wife. And that's something Hera, the goddess of marriage and familial devotion, simply cannot stand.
In the simplest of terms, I'm essentially obligated to hate her on my patron's behalf. But that runs counter to what Chiron asked of me, which complicates matters, to say the least.
And, if I'm being perfectly honest—
Well, no. I push that thought away as quickly as it comes. You never really know when a god might be listening in.
I take a sip of tea just to give myself something to do as I quietly consider the real crux of tonight's events: the silver stag's blessing. It can't possibly be what I think it is.
Perhaps Chiron's dwelling on the same sorts of things as he smoothes the blanket over his illusory legs with steady hands. But when he speaks, his face betrays nothing more than studied concern.
"I would imagine you have questions," He addresses Keenan mildly, but his eyes are sharp and his words are weighted. He has questions, too.
Keenan glances up mutely. It's as if Chiron's words don't really get through to her, as if she's pulled a thin fabric around herself that separates her from the office and from Chiron and from me.
"My question," A bored voice intones. "Is why these campers are out of bed past curfew,"
A short, chubby man stands framed by the doorway. Dressed in a leopard print Hawaiian shirt and purple walking shorts, he's doesn't look all that special, kind of like a misplaced tourist. But it's his eyes that give him away—pale blue and bloodshot, they burn beneath a mop of inky black curls that hold a purple sheen in the warm light of the office.
"It would be such a shame if the harpies were to eat them," Mr. D continues with some relish. His eyes glint as he considers the prospect.
"Mr. D," Chiron says, wholly unruffled by our camp director's appearance. "I trust your business at Olympus went well? I'm afraid we've had a bit of an incident during the capture the flag game,"
"Oh? Has there been a casualty?"
"Ah, no," Chiron replies. "Keenan here has been claimed,"
"And?" Mr. D prompts, clearly losing interest. "Gods have children all the time, Chiron. You may have noticed that I have the unfortunate task of overseeing a camp full of them,"
"She has been claimed by Zeus—"
Mr. D snorts derisively.
"And Artemis,"
My heart sinks as Chiron confirms my half-drawn conclusions.
"Incest? My, my," Mr. D takes a swig of diet coke that he's conjured from thin air, smacks his lips, and drags the back of his hand across his mouth.
"With all due respect, sir," I pipe up at last, unable to remain silent. "That can't be right, can it? I mean, Artemis would never forsake her vows…"
"Wouldn't she?" Mr. D smirks unpleasantly as he turns his attention to Keenan. His eyes latch hungrily onto the silvery crescent moon gleaming just below her throat. "Why, it certainly seems that Kevin—"
"Keenan," I try to correct him, but he keeps talking as though he hasn't heard me.
"—is the genuine article," His mouth twists cruelly. "Not even the gods themselves know what depravities they're capable of. And, of course, I'm the one who gets saddled with the results of these unnatural unions—"
"I think," Chiron breaks in before Mr. D can go much farther. "That perhaps it is too late to talk after all. We will continue this conversation after breakfast, but for now, it's high time Rhea and Keenan were in bed,"
I practically leap out of my chair, relieved at the dismissal. Keenan follows a beat behind me as I place my mug on Chiron's desk and push out into the sticky night air.
"Watch out for the harpies," Mr. D's voice floats out after us.
Much as it rankles me, I follow his advice, making a beeline for the glow of Hestia's fire. With the harpies prowling the grounds for campers out of bed past curfew, we won't be safe until we're within the circle of cabins. I'm still half armed from capture the flag, but I'm painfully low on ammunition. I glance back at Keenan, who trails me silently.
"Where's your sword?"
She looks startled to be addressed.
"I don't know," She says after an awkward pause.
"Never mind," I try not to be annoyed with her. "We'll find it tomorrow. Stay close,"
Luckily, the harpies don't make an appearance, and we pass into the warm glow of the ever-burning firepit without incident.
Keenan heads towards the Hermes cabins, but I catch her arm to stop her.
"You've been claimed, so you don't have to sleep in the Hermes cabin anymore," I explain. "The cleaning harpies will have moved your stuff to Zeus's cabin already,"
"But… But I don't want to sleep in there," Keenan protests, eyeing the dark hulk of the cabin in question with obvious trepidation. "I mean, I-I can understand if the Hermes kids don't want me anymore…"
"That's not it," I rush to reassure her, but, privately, I think she might be right. I don't think the Hermes kids are pleased that she zapped their head counselor. "It's just that once you're claimed, you sleep in your godly parent's cabin. It's tradition—you honor them, and they watch over you,"
"Could I sleep with you?"
I go very still at this.
"Um, no," I say carefully. "No, I don't think that's a good idea,"
"Oh," The hurt in her voice is painfully apparent. "Okay,"
"So… yeah," I say lamely, trying to ignore the guilt that ties my stomach into knots. "I'll see you in the morning,"
"Right," is the quiet answer. She turns away and heads into her new cabin without so much as a backwards glance. The dark mouth of the doorway swallows her, and I'm alone.
With a sigh, I slip into my own cabin, moving carefully so as not to wake the other campers.
It's been a long day and an even longer night, so I should be dead tired, but I can't sleep. I lie on my back, contemplating the ceiling and trying not to be ashamed of myself.
The truth is that I just can't get Mr. D's words out of my head. He's right—the gods do some pretty weird things. There are hundreds of stories of gods visiting and impregnating mortals in a variety of forms, sometimes human, sometimes animal, and at least a few times as shimmery mist or smoke.
But usually they appear human to us, so it's easy to forget that they aren't human and aren't governed by our same laws. They have absolutely no morals and only the most subjective concept of right and wrong.
I guess that's what gets me. I don't want to believe it, but there's a very good chance that Keenan really is Zeus and Artemis's daughter. The gods get together with their siblings all the time. Even Zeus and Hera are brother and sister, so is it really such a great leap to consider the possibility of relations between father and daughter?
Mostly, the whole sibling thing among the gods is easy to ignore, and really, I'm pretty opened-minded, but still, I've got my limits. I hate to admit it, but I'm disgusted by the idea, and I'm struggling not to be disgusted by Keenan herself, even though it's not her fault. It's just straight-up, Oedipus-style weird.
And if it's really true, what then?
Keenan wouldn't be a demigod.
She would be a full-blooded goddess.
And that's what keeps me up until the sky outside turns a dusky blue in the early hours of the morning.
The rush of adrenaline brought on by the game of capture the flag has burned away, leaving me feeling gritty and thoroughly exhausted. When Chiron waves us into a pair of chairs, I take mine gratefully.
The mug he hands me immediately fills with chamomile tea, and the delicate floral scent is bracing. Keenan stares blankly at her own mug. Hesitantly, it fills with hot chocolate. When this produces no reaction, a few timid marshmallows bob to the surface, followed by a healthy curl of whipped cream.
With her head cast down, I can't see much of her expression, only the line of her cheek, really. The rest is a mat of dark, tangled curls. The shy copper I'd noted a few times before remains resolutely hidden beneath a film of dirt and sweat. Still, I see her expression shift slightly, and I sense a small curl of her lips, a sort of grudging smile at the mug's overt attempt to cheer her up.
And yet, the tension in the room remains palpable. Chiron settles down into his enchanted wheelchair, which makes the office a lot less crowded and somehow a lot quieter, too. Keenan hunches over her mug of chocolate, like she's waiting for a blow to fall across her shoulders.
Her behavior should surprise me. A claiming is usually such a happy thing, a moment of recognition by your godly parent or patron. It means you've done something right in their eyes, something that makes them proud to acknowledge you.
For all that, I can't ignore the ugly disquiet that sits heavily in the pit of my stomach. Her behavior should surprise me, but it doesn't. The fact is that I echo it. I think a part of me has suspected her heritage for a while, maybe from the moment we met. She's not so bold as most children of Zeus, but she still has a certain way about her, like she could be more if she cared to try.
But of all the gods, why did it have to be Zeus? Being a child of one of the Big Three is hard enough, but my patron Hera reserves a special animosity for the children of Zeus. Because if Zeus has been off gallivanting with some mortal woman, he's been unfaithful to his wife. And that's something Hera, the goddess of marriage and familial devotion, simply cannot stand.
In the simplest of terms, I'm essentially obligated to hate her on my patron's behalf. But that runs counter to what Chiron asked of me, which complicates matters, to say the least.
And, if I'm being perfectly honest—
Well, no. I push that thought away as quickly as it comes. You never really know when a god might be listening in.
I take a sip of tea just to give myself something to do as I quietly consider the real crux of tonight's events: the silver stag's blessing. It can't possibly be what I think it is.
Perhaps Chiron's dwelling on the same sorts of things as he smoothes the blanket over his illusory legs with steady hands. But when he speaks, his face betrays nothing more than studied concern.
"I would imagine you have questions," He addresses Keenan mildly, but his eyes are sharp and his words are weighted. He has questions, too.
Keenan glances up mutely. It's as if Chiron's words don't really get through to her, as if she's pulled a thin fabric around herself that separates her from the office and from Chiron and from me.
"My question," A bored voice intones. "Is why these campers are out of bed past curfew,"
A short, chubby man stands framed by the doorway. Dressed in a leopard print Hawaiian shirt and purple walking shorts, he's doesn't look all that special, kind of like a misplaced tourist. But it's his eyes that give him away—pale blue and bloodshot, they burn beneath a mop of inky black curls that hold a purple sheen in the warm light of the office.
"It would be such a shame if the harpies were to eat them," Mr. D continues with some relish. His eyes glint as he considers the prospect.
"Mr. D," Chiron says, wholly unruffled by our camp director's appearance. "I trust your business at Olympus went well? I'm afraid we've had a bit of an incident during the capture the flag game,"
"Oh? Has there been a casualty?"
"Ah, no," Chiron replies. "Keenan here has been claimed,"
"And?" Mr. D prompts, clearly losing interest. "Gods have children all the time, Chiron. You may have noticed that I have the unfortunate task of overseeing a camp full of them,"
"She has been claimed by Zeus—"
Mr. D snorts derisively.
"And Artemis,"
My heart sinks as Chiron confirms my half-drawn conclusions.
"Incest? My, my," Mr. D takes a swig of diet coke that he's conjured from thin air, smacks his lips, and drags the back of his hand across his mouth.
"With all due respect, sir," I pipe up at last, unable to remain silent. "That can't be right, can it? I mean, Artemis would never forsake her vows…"
"Wouldn't she?" Mr. D smirks unpleasantly as he turns his attention to Keenan. His eyes latch hungrily onto the silvery crescent moon gleaming just below her throat. "Why, it certainly seems that Kevin—"
"Keenan," I try to correct him, but he keeps talking as though he hasn't heard me.
"—is the genuine article," His mouth twists cruelly. "Not even the gods themselves know what depravities they're capable of. And, of course, I'm the one who gets saddled with the results of these unnatural unions—"
"I think," Chiron breaks in before Mr. D can go much farther. "That perhaps it is too late to talk after all. We will continue this conversation after breakfast, but for now, it's high time Rhea and Keenan were in bed,"
I practically leap out of my chair, relieved at the dismissal. Keenan follows a beat behind me as I place my mug on Chiron's desk and push out into the sticky night air.
"Watch out for the harpies," Mr. D's voice floats out after us.
Much as it rankles me, I follow his advice, making a beeline for the glow of Hestia's fire. With the harpies prowling the grounds for campers out of bed past curfew, we won't be safe until we're within the circle of cabins. I'm still half armed from capture the flag, but I'm painfully low on ammunition. I glance back at Keenan, who trails me silently.
"Where's your sword?"
She looks startled to be addressed.
"I don't know," She says after an awkward pause.
"Never mind," I try not to be annoyed with her. "We'll find it tomorrow. Stay close,"
Luckily, the harpies don't make an appearance, and we pass into the warm glow of the ever-burning firepit without incident.
Keenan heads towards the Hermes cabins, but I catch her arm to stop her.
"You've been claimed, so you don't have to sleep in the Hermes cabin anymore," I explain. "The cleaning harpies will have moved your stuff to Zeus's cabin already,"
"But… But I don't want to sleep in there," Keenan protests, eyeing the dark hulk of the cabin in question with obvious trepidation. "I mean, I-I can understand if the Hermes kids don't want me anymore…"
"That's not it," I rush to reassure her, but, privately, I think she might be right. I don't think the Hermes kids are pleased that she zapped their head counselor. "It's just that once you're claimed, you sleep in your godly parent's cabin. It's tradition—you honor them, and they watch over you,"
"Could I sleep with you?"
I go very still at this.
"Um, no," I say carefully. "No, I don't think that's a good idea,"
"Oh," The hurt in her voice is painfully apparent. "Okay,"
"So… yeah," I say lamely, trying to ignore the guilt that ties my stomach into knots. "I'll see you in the morning,"
"Right," is the quiet answer. She turns away and heads into her new cabin without so much as a backwards glance. The dark mouth of the doorway swallows her, and I'm alone.
With a sigh, I slip into my own cabin, moving carefully so as not to wake the other campers.
It's been a long day and an even longer night, so I should be dead tired, but I can't sleep. I lie on my back, contemplating the ceiling and trying not to be ashamed of myself.
The truth is that I just can't get Mr. D's words out of my head. He's right—the gods do some pretty weird things. There are hundreds of stories of gods visiting and impregnating mortals in a variety of forms, sometimes human, sometimes animal, and at least a few times as shimmery mist or smoke.
But usually they appear human to us, so it's easy to forget that they aren't human and aren't governed by our same laws. They have absolutely no morals and only the most subjective concept of right and wrong.
I guess that's what gets me. I don't want to believe it, but there's a very good chance that Keenan really is Zeus and Artemis's daughter. The gods get together with their siblings all the time. Even Zeus and Hera are brother and sister, so is it really such a great leap to consider the possibility of relations between father and daughter?
Mostly, the whole sibling thing among the gods is easy to ignore, and really, I'm pretty opened-minded, but still, I've got my limits. I hate to admit it, but I'm disgusted by the idea, and I'm struggling not to be disgusted by Keenan herself, even though it's not her fault. It's just straight-up, Oedipus-style weird.
And if it's really true, what then?
Keenan wouldn't be a demigod.
She would be a full-blooded goddess.
And that's what keeps me up until the sky outside turns a dusky blue in the early hours of the morning.
In which many ramifications are considered, and I give nothing away.
Either Artemis has an overpowering daddy complex, or there's something missing from the equation...
The universe of Percy Jackson does not belong to me. Instead, it belongs to Greece, Rome, and Rick Riordan.
Comments and criticism are always appreciated.
First: [link]
Previous: [link]
Next: [link]
Either Artemis has an overpowering daddy complex, or there's something missing from the equation...
The universe of Percy Jackson does not belong to me. Instead, it belongs to Greece, Rome, and Rick Riordan.
Comments and criticism are always appreciated.
First: [link]
Previous: [link]
Next: [link]
© 2012 - 2024 partial-quatrefoil
Comments47
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Now, this is most strange. The plot unfolds!