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Camp Half-Blood Tales

Summary:

Side stories and alternate perspectives from An Undertow of Sand.

Chapter 1: Castor: A Long Night

Summary:

He felt like this was Percy's fault.

Chapter Text

TWO DAYS AFTER Percy left on his Quest, the planet fell into a black hole.

And Pops turned into the Silver Surfer.

Maybe he shouldn’t think of it like that? ‘Two days after Percy left’ makes it sound like this was Percy’s fault. That was impossible though. Percy was a demigod, just like him and while things could get weird around them, there was a limit, right? They were still just mortal kids. Launching the world off a cliff was definitely over that limit.

He still wouldn’t be surprised if it was Percy’s fault.

If you know, you know.

They still couldn’t figure out how he broke the Climbing Wall the second time, by the way. The enchanted rock climbing wall in Camp. Pops actually got off his ass to help put it together the first time he broke it.

Didn’t help.

Pops was an Olympian.

Castor, like most demigods, had a list. 

It was a very nice list. It made sure he still had his feet planted in the 21st century even as he polished shields and struggled through Doric Greek because Pops was old as hell and a slave driver. It was a list of what was normal and what was not and Percy Stele looked at his list and freaking ate it.

It had been a month since Castor found out Athena used to be King of the Gods of Olympus and his head was still spinning.

Everyone sat down for dinner in the Dining Pavilion of Camp Half-Blood like Not-Normal. It was still a little weird without Percy there. The first day, he had been a bit worried that without the son of Fate around, everything would snap back to the way things had been like a crusty rubber band. It hadn’t happened. 

Hestia stayed

Ares Cabin was still bullying her around and she was still too nice to stop them. Fred did leave, but not before chaperoning their super close Hunters vs Camper Capture the Flag game yesterday. It was 56 to 0, but almost! He even helped them back out of the infirmary, giving all the kids with healing powers tips while he was at it.

All the kids with healing powers, like Lou Ellen of Hecate and Lacy of Aphrodite.

Castor knew as soon as he and Pollux got to Camp and saw what it was actually like, that gods paying attention to their own kids was rare enough. 

But paying attention to the kids of others?

That never happens.

But it was.

Happening.

Hermes had shown up again today, for the second day in a row since Luke left with Percy. It was like he was interim Cabin Counselor, keeping a half-hearted eye on the Stoll twins (they weren't twins, but they were twins) and taking over Luke’s classes and refereeing the races. Castor saw him run with Butch, pushing him until he unlocked some kind of wind teleporting power to go faster.

Butch Walker wasn’t his.

No one said it out loud, because she didn’t Claim him, but Hermes still knew.

Iris, Messenger Goddess of the Rainbow Claimed her son after that race, just like Hermes Claimed Chris Rodriguez. It didn’t change anything. Iris didn’t have a Cabin so he was still in Cabin 11, but…

Ethan sat down at Table 12 and Pops still didn’t do nothing, so it looked like this weirdness was here to stay.

Bizarre.

“Think he’s okay?” Pollux asked as he sat down just like he had yesterday.

“He’s fine,” Castor replied, just like he had yesterday, but this time with a shrug. Percy had to be fine. Or else his burial shroud was going to make him so mad. “It can’t be too dangerous,” he reasoned. “The thief has to be mortal, remember? Gods can’t steal Symbols of Power.”

“But they can sponsor someone to steal it,” Pollux said quietly. “Monsters count too.”

“He’s better than both of us with a sword and freakishly strong sometimes. And he’s got Luke.”

Brandon of Athena and Chloe of Ares had Luke too, but it would be stupid to bring up that failed Quest right now. Besides, most monsters weren’t the Ladon.

“Yeah,” his twin brother murmured. “He’s got Luke.” Pollux smiled weakly. “And a pet rabbit.”

“Ssshhhh,” Castor hissed and theatrically glanced over at Table 8, Artemis. “Don’t let them hear that.”

He didn’t think Jamie was trying to be mean about it, but the Hunters were really sensitive about the rabbit thing. As in ‘break your arm and threaten to crush your balls’ sensitive.

Probably because they didn’t glow silver anymore.

Pollux’s smile grew for a second, then withered. He bit his lip. “Still…”

To both of their surprise, Pops leaned over and put a hand on Pollux’s shoulder.

“He’s not like you two,” their father, Dionysus, said bluntly. “Take it from me.”

“Cause his Ma?” Castor asked after swallowing, even though he was pretty sure that was the answer.

Percy’s Ma was a Protogenoi. A primordial. One of the first order of deities that predated creation itself. Pops had knelt for Percy’s Claiming and no one else had been able to make a sound. No one corrected Percy’s manners. He punched a nymph and she tried to drown him in response and she was the one who got punished.

Like, what?

Sometimes the son of Fate was kind of pathetic, like he was just hiding behind his mother’s skirts (coils? scales?) and then sometimes it seemed like he could headbutt reality and reality was the one who’d walk away with a black eye.

He was cool about it though.

A good guy.

He made Castor feel selfish.

Pops was frowning into his Diet Coke. 

“Yes,” he said eventually. “No. Maybe.”

“Helpful,” Castor drawled.

Pollux shot him a warning look. Castor pulled a face back. Whatever else he was, Pops was Pops. Treating him differently just because they were at Camp now - sure maybe he’d still call the other gods Lord and Lady and whatever so he wasn’t smited, but Ethan had been eating on the floor because they didn’t treat their father like he was their father.

Castor had personally peed and shit and threw up all over Dionysus, so really, they had already hit rock bottom.

Pops sighed. “If he’s anything like I think he is, the boy’s a cockroach.”

Like he thinks he is?

He’s a demigod, though.

“Nuke him to be sure?” Castor quipped.

The smile his father gave him made his blood run cold. “And even then…”

When Pops turned to shoo a nymph away, Castor leaned towards his twin to whisper, “That was still a compliment, right?”

“The cockroach thing?” Pollux whispered back. “Definitely.”

They took a moment to digest this.

Weird!” They both declared.

“What is?” Clovis huffed as he sat in his new seat right next to them. He’d been evicted from his old one by Ethan who needed to be close enough to argue with Annabeth and Masayuki without anyone getting in the way. And Percy didn’t need the seat anymore right now.

“Percy,” Castor said. “I think Pops doesn’t hate him as much.”

Hypnos’ kid blinked his blue eyes owlishly before traveling to where Pops was arguing with a satyr. “...glowing recommendation.”

Pollux snort giggled into his apple juice.

Then the sky turned pitch black.

Everything went absolutely silent. Like when Percy had been Claimed by his Ma. Nothing made a sound. The crackle of the central brazier was missing, even as the flames leapt a good five feet into the air casting a pale, sickly yellow light on them all.

“What the fuck - “

Hermes’ sudden curse cracked through the air.

Pops stood up.

And turned into the Silver Surfer.

Kind of.

If the Silver Surfer was a super pretty beardless man made out of porcelain on top of the molten silver. His Hawaiian shirt was replaced by a white marble loincloth and a spinning silver halo over his porcelain curls. His blue eyes were electric, almost visibly sparking. There were seams of the molten silver along his neck and shoulders and joints, like the porcelain was armor on top of a quicksilver god. 

“What’s going on?” Castor tried to ask him, but not a sound came out of his mouth. He tried again. “Pops?”

Dionysus’ glowing blue eyes flicked over him dispassionately, then rose to the dark sky. There was a series of resonating notes, like someone was playing a pipe organ underwater, but he didn’t answer.

“Alright, everyone just - just calm down,” Hermes began, shakily rising from his seat. He sounded like Castor’s elementary school teacher when the Twin Towers were hit a few years ago. “We’ll figure this out - “

He was cut off by a blinding flash.

At first, Castor didn’t recognize the new god. 

His hair looked like it was spun from actual gold, standing out against his olive skin. Dark freckles dusted the bridge of his proud nose and high cheekbones. His eyes were a burning yellow color like miniature suns, mimicked by the radiant markings on his chiton like neon lights. Castor had never seen him before, but the golden bow in his hand gave him away.

“Split up!” Apollo barked and Castor almost couldn’t believe this drill sergeant was the same person that had awkwardly defended his crush on Hestia yesterday. Who refused to help him out and stayed seven years old through his begging.

This couldn’t be the same person.

They weren’t, Percy’s voice whispered in the back of his mind. Kinda, but not really? He’s just using a different Name.  

Not Fred.

Phoebus Apollon.

Castor glanced at his father, who was still and quiet, staring up at the dark sky.

Not Pops.

Dionysus.

“Hephaestus, Apollo, Aphrodite, Dionysus Cabins will be protected,” Apollo said sharply. 

Protected?

Uh oh.

“Get to them.”

Hermes shakily raised a hand. “I can - “

“You can’t. ” Apollo shot him a sharp look, gold eyes flaring so brightly, Castor almost flinched. “We must be singular beings and you are needed elsewhere, Pylaios.

Castor knew that word.

Doorkeeper.

As Hermes’ head rocked back in surprise, there was a crack of thunder. But it was way quieter than Castor was used to from whenever Pops would rile up their grandfather. Weaker. Almost stuttering. It wasn’t a bark of anger anymore, but almost like a cry for help.

Hermes’ straightened. “Understood .”

Then he just disappeared. 

Popped out of existence like he had been as solid as a soap bubble.

“Hestia,” Apollo said, softer. “Protect Troy’s hearth.”

Troy?

Hestia, pale and worried, nodded. The flames of the central brazier winked out as the small goddess burst into sparks. An eerie howling noise rose up on a bitterly cold wind that blew in from the sea, like it had just been waiting for the fire to go out.

“Split up,” Apollo said again. “Now.”

Castor glanced at his father and grabbed his plate.

Just outside of the Pavilion where the hill started to slope down into the Camp, they were met with what had to be another goddess. Because she was the most beautiful woman Castor had ever seen in his life and he saw Hera once! She even looked like the Queen of the Gods a bit too, but Castor had no idea what about her gave him that impression. She didn’t look Greek at all, but he knew that didn’t mean much. But unlike Apollo, she didn’t wear a chiton. Instead, she had silken loose pants, barefoot and a multi layered wrapped shirt with a rich purple cloak attached to a ring on her right hand. Her long dark hair was in hundreds of looping braids with colorful ribbons and bells woven into them and golden bangles glinted on her wrists and ankles. She had Silena’s sky blue eyes that stood out against her dark skin. Castor followed her gaze up at the sky.

He dropped his eyes immediately, feeling his skin crawl.

There was nothing up there.

Just an emptiness that had swallowed the world whole.

And it still felt like something was looking back.

The foreign goddess glanced over them all. She didn’t look worried.

Just amused. 

Like the daylight died all the time. Like this was fun.

“Run along then, darlings,” the goddess said with a lazy smile as she waved them off. She turned her back to them as she looked at the sky again and there on her cloak was a crowned dove in flight. Out of the corner of his eye, Castor saw Aphrodite Cabin freeze in place, gaping.

The goddess tilted her head in their direction. “Look at you all, just - “ Her eyes lingered on Drew Tanaka for a second. “ - perfect. You will be safe enough in my Cabin,” she said with a soft laugh. “But it is going to be a long, long night.”

Seeing Cabin 12 didn’t make Castor feel any better.

Or safer.

In the daylight, Cabin 12, Dionysus had been an ordinary bunkhouse. Almost bland enough to pass for an army barracks if it weren’t for the grape vines Pops grew all over it.

Castor stopped dead. He barely felt Pollux run into him.

Cabin 12 was writhing.

Something touched his shoulder and Castor actually screamed.

The dark sky swallowed the sound.

It was Clovis.

He had a grim little smile on, blue eyes flickering back and forth between Castor and the way the slug-like walls of Cabin 12 were struggling against the grape vines. Ethan brushed past them both, boldly walking right up to the front door, but it was obvious from the way Annabeth was looking back at them in confusion that she didn’t see anything wrong.

Clovis shook him a little and tilted his head questioningly.

He’s still your Dad, Percy’s voice chimed in. Has he given you a reason not to trust him?

Castor breathed out.

Have I? Pops’ voice asked, sounding hurt.

Not yet.

At least the inside still looked kind of the same.

He didn’t know if his heart could take it if the eyes on the outside were looking in too.

He found his bed and sat on it. He put his leftover barbeque and spinach on his nightstand.

His hands were shaking.

He clenched them into fists and looked out his window.

It was just like Apollo said. Cabin 10, Aphrodite was surrounded in a barrier of glowing gold symbols, like lettering scrolling around the super dollhouse. Cabin 9, Hephaestus looked like it was on fire, throwing sparks up into the air and belching flames from the forge’s chimney. The sun god’s Cabin 7 had always been a little tacky made out of solid gold, but now it burned like the gold was molten and threw literal rays of sunlight against the darkness. In comparison, his twin Artemis’ silver Cabin looked dead.

The soft moonlight had been gone ever since the goddess got rabbited, but from this distance the silver walls looked pitted and tarnished, or rusted. Like the void of the sky was eating away at it. Hermes’ run down building looked hollow and condemned. The windows on Athena’s Cabin were just as dark as the sky, making his skin crawl the longer he stared. The gaudy Hellenic Cabins of the King and Queen of Olympus were dull and washed out. Poseidon’s longhouse looked like it was rotting right before his eyes. The odd one out was Demeter.

Cabin 4 seemed just like it always did, but when he really looked -

Yeah, Percy’s voice said as Caster gagged, tearing away from his window with a wailing ringing in his ears. Let’s not do that again.

But what did I do? Castor asked himself.

Looked, Percy’s voice answered ruefully. We’re noticing things we’re not supposed to. Not everything, but enough.

Enough to what?

I dunno, the voice in his head said and that made his blood run cold. Percy basically knew everything. The Mist hides shit for a reason.

Pops?

His father’s voice grumbled. Might be my fucking fault. Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly.

Pollux? Castor checked on his brother. He had his knees drawn up to his chest on his bed across the room, trying not to rock. Is he noticing anything?

Nah, Percy’s voice brushed off. He’s the grape and wine guy. 

Despite himself, Castor smiled. That’s true.

You , though.

Hearing voices and having conversations with yourself usually meant your mental health wasn’t exactly stellar, but as long as you weren’t delusional, a few extra perspectives helped more than they hurt.

Castor, demigod of Dionysus, the Greek god of Ritual Madness would know.

“Testing?” Castor heard faintly and he snapped his head around. Annabeth sighed in relief. “You heard me?”

“Yeah,” Pollux croaked. “I can hear you.”

That haunting howling was still drifting on the wind right outside the wriggling walls of Cabin 12.

There were some kids from Cabin 11 and 4 and 6 with them, like Chris and Monique and Katie had her little sister Billie on her lap. The others he didn’t know all that well because they were younger, but watching them hesitantly pick out a bed to sit on with all of Cabin 12s unused space made something in his chest tighten. 

Clovis was watching the door, looking a bit ill, like he was expecting something bad to happen. Ethan was looking outside too, with his face plastered right up against the glass.

“What - I mean how - “ Annabeth licked her lips. “That sound is getting to me,” she admitted.

No kidding.

Castor’s goosebumps had goosebumps.

“I keep losing track of what I’m thinking, like it's in my head. ” 

Huh.

Maybe he had too much in his head to tell.

“It's Hellhounds,” Ethan said absently. 

Annabeth shot a look at his back. “And how do you know that? I’ve never heard them sound like that before.”

Castor figured Annabeth would know. She’d been out there at seven years old with Luke and Thalia, trying to get to Camp. She really didn’t like Cyclops. Or spiders. But hellhounds were definitely up there.

Castor thought they were the worst kind of monsters to run into. Everything else had their weaknesses and places they couldn’t get into, but Hellhounds just needed a deep enough shadow. And once the sun went down…

“You wouldn’t,” Ethan scoffed. “It’s a happy sound, I think.”

“You think?” Castor asked.

A happy Hellhound sounded like a Hellhound that was chowing down on a demigod.

Ethan turned to look at them for a second, then back out the window. “I had one when I was little. Kind of.”

He had a Hellhound?

Like a pet?

“Kind of?” Annabeth drawled. “How do you kind of have a man-eating monster?”

“It hung around my father’s place a lot. Always the same one. When - “ his breath hitched. “I left, I think it helped me. It howled like this, but not as long and not with so many.”

Annabeth’s mouth opened, but then she closed it. Her gray eyes narrowed in the dim cabin lighting as she studied Ethan’s thin frame against the window. Then her eyes turned to Clovis, who shrugged.

“I don’t think we should go outside,” Hypnos’ son said blandly.

“I know that!” Ethan snapped, turning on them.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

What’d I say? Percy came back as Castor stared at Ethan’s pupils, shrinking and expanding like gasping mouths as drops of pearl swam in his irises. Noticing things.

Castor closed his eyes as the son of Nemesis swallowed his temper.

Lately, Ethan and Clovis had started to look different. A bit off. Less normal.

Like Percy.

He couldn’t remember when that had started.

“I know that,” Ethan repeated, softer.

“But you want to,” Clovis and his eight eyed shadow said calmly. “It’s okay. We are grandchildren of the Night. The dark is in our blood. We’re just not monsters.”

“Yeah,” Ethan looked up at them through his black bangs. He didn’t look convinced. “Not monsters.”

He tore himself away from the window and threw himself on an unclaimed bunk, burying his head in the pillow.

“But what is going on?” Annabeth murmured. “What exactly is happening? Why now? Why - why are only four cabins out of twelve safe?” She started to pace. “Safe from what?”

Castor poked the voices in his head.

Oh, puddin’, Ma answered. Ya sure you wanna know?

Good point.

Not really .

“Castor?” Pollux asked timidly. “What happened to Pops?”

He shrugged uncomfortably.

“I don’t know.”

And that was the worst part.

“Maybe that’s what he looks like, when he ain’t pretending?” Pollux offered weakly.

“He didn’t say anything,” Castor bit out. “He didn’t even - “ he stopped when Pollux shrunk back into himself and gave him an apologetic look. “He was different.”

“The sun god looked and acted different too,” his brother murmured.

When things got back to normal, Pops was going to have to do some explaining, for sure.

If things got back to normal.

“A long night…” Annabeth murmured. “Do you think…it has something to do with the Night? Your grandmother? Clovis, do you think we could ask your father?”

Ethan perked up a little. 

“He probably knows,” Clovis allowed after a moment. “But I’m not sure it’s - “

“We’ll be sleeping anyway,” Annabeth pointed out. “We can either have useless dreams or nightmares and not know anything until someone decides to tell us.” She frowned darkly. Annabeth did not take Olympus’ lies well. He knew she had asked Hypnos to show her Athena’s doomed inauguration and Annabeth took everything personally. “And they won’t, or….”

“We can find out for ourselves,” Castor finished for her.

“What are you guys talking about?” A new voice entered the conversation and they all turned to see a suspicious looking Chris Rodriguez squinting at them.

“The god of Sleep,” Pollux said softly. “We can ask him what’s happening.”

“Just like that, huh?” Chris sneered and Castor winced.

Hermes may have Claimed him today, but Chris had years of not knowing who his godly parent was. He had been living in Hermes Cabin as one of the Unclaimed, as a child of Hermes. Castor didn’t know what that felt like, but he imagined it stung.

Bad.

“He always makes time for me,” Clovis said defensively. “Him or my brothers.”

“Lucky you .”

“Chris,” Katie said warningly from her spot near the back of the Cabin. “What would Luke say if he were here?”

“He’s not here, is he? Because father volunteered him.” Some emotion flashed over Chris’ face. It wasn’t a pretty one, turning the sharp features he shared with Luke even sharper. “He’d say we’re mushrooms, kept in the dark and fed shit -

“This is not helping,” Annabeth said sharply. “We’ll tell you what we know once we find out what’s going on. Just...finish eating and act normal,” she dismissed Chris, who clenched his fists and took a step towards her.

Ethan snarled.

“Whatever,” Chris backed off, trying not to look as spooked as Castor felt. Llueve sobre mojado. Do what you want.”

“We will,” Annabeth told him primly, because she always had to have the last word. 

“Do you think Sleep knows why Pops looks like that?” Pollux asked, trying to avoid a fight.

He does, Percy’s voice chimed in.

“Probably,” Clovis admitted. “Father is old and your sire is the youngest Olympian. Sleep has witnessed a lot.”

“I bet Balance knows more,” Ethan said bitterly. “But we won’t get anything out of her.”

“We should come up with a list of the questions we want to ask,” Annabeth said. “About tonight. Just so we don’t overstay our welcome.”

“Good idea,” Castor said.

None of it was a good idea.

Because Sleep wasn't there.

The Night was.