Chapter Text
A day.
Meg slept for a whole day.
It wasn’t her fault, not at all. How was she supposed to guess that teleport via dandelion was about as smooth as a death-trap roller coaster? Thankfully, she didn’t need to give any directions; the weed probably knew where she wanted to go and told whatever plant she popped out of that it should be expecting the approaching arrival of a 12-year-old girl.
As soon as she felt her two feet again, she collapsed, landing on surprisingly soft ground. From what she could tell before her eyelids fluttered shut, she was on the outskirts of a forest.
When she woke up, she found that she was covered in a moss-woven blanket, and all the ants and insects around her refrained from biting her or crawling up into her ear. Shakingly standing, she recalled what that Percy guy had said about his life: “Because Poseidon.” Meg thought that that could also serve as a summary of her entire existence. Yep, she could throw frozen peaches faster than Aroldis Chapman and his record-breaking 105.1 miles per hour pitch, command ancient, prophecy-speaking trees, teleport through plants, and have a forest treat her like she was a Disney princess.
Because Demeter.
At least the animals around didn’t start singing to her or whatever- that’s what usually happens, right? Disney Princesses were still a new topic to her. Growing up in the Tower meant growing up without typical childhood experiences such as Disney, so you can imagine her surprise when one night at Camp Half-Blood, Apollo started prating on about how the upcoming movie “Zootopia” was bound to be a “flop”, and that even though he wasn’t a god anymore, he could easily foretell that Disney was coming to its downfall. They were around a campfire with the other campers; some brushed him off, and others came to the defense of this ....” Disney”. And Meg, well, she had no idea what the heck they were talking about.
“What do you think, Meg?” Apollo had said, looking to her for backup.
She chomped a bite out of her marshmallow. “ What’s Disney?”
Two words- that’s all she said! Those two words caused total anarchy at the campfire.
Will Solace was the first to speak. “C'mon, Meg, you have to know Disney. Yknow, like the company that owns Star Wars?”
Next to him, Nico Di Angelo sighed, eating his own incredibly charred marshmallow. “Everything comes back to Star Wars.”
“Well it’s true- ”
“That’s beside the point,” Apollo interjected, attitude way too serious. “ Meg. Surely…I mean, Cinderella? Alice in Wonderland? Muppets Most Wanted?”
She shook her head to all of these, a frown on her face.
Apollo looked so offended, that Meg guessed that he’d explode if she said anything more. More of the campers seemed bewildered now, and bewilderment usually led to suspicion. After the fiasco that was her claiming, she did not need any more of that.
“My step-father is strict.” She said, giving a listless shrug. “ Really strict.”
Just like that, the mood lifted. Home life was a touchy subject for all of Camp Half-Blood, so Meg saying that her caretaker was strict enough for her to not even know Disney was far down on the list of crazy occurrences. Apollo, however, stayed caught up in her lack of knowledge.
“This can’t do,” he said, swelling up his chest. “As someone who was a close friend of Walter, I can not allow you to go on in the world like this any longer!”
That’s how she wound up with an hour-long presentation on the history of Disney, courtesy of Apollo.
The memory fresh in her mind, Meg brushed off her green frock, doing the mental math on where she was, and also, how she was going to get wherever she needed to go now. In the pockets of her dress, she had about 5 dollars and a paperclip. All she knew was that she’d have to avoid the main roads, assuming she was in Indianapolis. That wouldn’t be a hard task, since she had ample experience on the subject.
Her stomach rumbled, arguing that she needed food. It was right, of course. Meg shoved that basic need into a corner of her brain, trying to figure out what her next course of action was.
“Get your bearings,” she mumbled, still weary from her teleport-induced nap.
Turns out, she was in Indianapolis. After stumbling around for a bit, she made her way to another gas station, asking for the day’s newspaper. The cashier looked at her funny (She would only realize later that she had dirt all over her face and twigs among twigs in her hair), but he complied, handing her the bundled-up papers. She thanked him, opening up the roll when she was safely away from the gas station, aware she couldn’t stay in one place for too long. Some would call her paranoid, but she knew how fast Nero, and therefore Commodus, could track someone down.
She settled for an underpass, propping herself up against a dumpster before scanning the newspaper for the date. The rushing sounds of the cars overhead were almost as loud as the honks and yells of the angry drivers that passed by her. A few of them stared at her, probably thinking she was only another homeless kid seeking shelter. From time to time, she wondered how mortals went on with their lives, so obliviously happy and unaware, their perception warped and modified by the mist.
To her displeasure, she figured out just how long she’d been sleeping. Its purpose fulfilled, Meg was about to throw the newspaper away when something caught her eye: a headline about the Indianapolis Zoo. It read, “ Come see our new cuddly koalas!”, in bolded black ink. Meg remembered the whirlwind of visions she received from Mr. Dandelion, specifically, the one that depicted Apollo at the zoo.
That’s where she needed to go.
Shivering, Meg found that being dressed in nothing but a dress and some leggings did not fare well against 34-degree weather. Not that she could buy herself a coat or anything, but still. And how was she supposed to make her way to the zoo when she didn’t even know where it was? She was in Commodus’ city now. Any interactions she had with the locals could and would be brought to him. She was already risking a lot just by going to that gas station.
Tired, cold, and hungry, Meg sat down and leaned against the dumpster, not even fazed by the smell.
Apollo was somewhere in the city, already fulfilling half of the sonnet that he received at the Grove of Dodona. He would be looking for the next oracle, though Meg couldn’t see why his quest would lead him to the zoo of all places. It sounded like a side -quest if anything.
Meg tried to piece together a scenario in which she and Apollo met again. Would he be full of disdain, like her stepfather said? She knew it was a long shot to believe that they'd be able to skip away, all problems resolved. But the dandelion had made it clear to her that they still needed each other, and Apollo did plead with her at the Grove of Dodona, saying that she couldn’t leave.
“We’re bound, whether you like it or not.”
Groaning in frustration, Meg didn’t see why this had to be so hard. There was so much unsaid, thoughts she didn’t have the words for, arguments she couldn’t quite figure out.
It was noon now. Sooner or later, she’d have to find the directions to the zoo. She reminded herself that she was doing this for those poor animals she’d seen in her visions, to stop whatever plan those bad guys were brewing up.
“Not for Apollo,” she told herself, thinking that maybe it would stick if she said it aloud.
The wind whipped in her face as she weaved in and out of the alleyways of Indianapolis, fishing out perfectly fine- by her standards, anyway- leftovers from the depths of the trash cans she came across. She was chomping on a particularly good corn dog when she overheard an argument between two people, and she had no problem identifying them as a painfully obvious tourist couple. How did she come to such a quick conclusion? They looked absolutely ridiculous. Honestly, who would want to spend their vacation in Indianapolis ? On closer inspection, she discovered that they were just as weird as their clothes. Their heads were too big for their bodies, and their expressions were nearly mechanical.
“I’m telling you that we need to go to the zoo, thank you very much!” One said, her words set in a polite tone.
The man of the duo twiddled with his fingers. “You’re welcome. And I’m telling you that we shouldn’t. The Lieutenant is taking care of it. Apollo won’t make it out of there alive.”
Meg momentarily forgot about her corndog. Regular tourists couldn’t know that the god Apollo actually existed, much less that he was currently in Indianapolis and heading to a zoo of all places.
“Apollo will be there at dawn tomorrow,” continued the man. “The Cornhusker and his troops will capture him and bring him to the emperor. No need for us to be there.”
Definitely not regular tourists. Meg inched closer, making sure to stay out of their line of sight, an oddly easy task.
“But the girl’s out there too, you know,” the woman reprimanded. “She escaped her escorts. If you’ll excuse my saying so, I think it’d be foolish not to go and support the cause.”
Ah, so her escape had already made it to Commodus. Woo-hoo.
These tourists knew about Apollo. They knew where the zoo was, and a bunch of other information that would be beneficial for Meg to know. Noticing that they didn’t seem to be armed, the gears in Meg’s head began to turn. Her first thought was to slice and dice them, but as usual, her second one was more reasonable. She’d have to be sneaky and question them without giving away her identity as the girl they were ordered to capture.
It would be rash, however, to interrupt the conversation of the presumably deadly forces of emperor Commodus.
So of course, that’s exactly what she did.
She made it about two steps toward the two tourists before they turned to face her. Less of a turn, actually, and more of a waddle.
“Good morning!” the man said, his voice coming out in an echo as if he were in a diving helmet. “You look oddly familiar.”
The woman nodded in agreement. “Yes, indeed you do.”
Her companion nudged her. “You didn’t say good morning. That was rude.”
“Oh, my apologies! Good Morning.” She brought her focus back to Meg. “Who are you?”
Okay, these guys insist on being annoyingly polite. Meg could work with that.
“Uh, I’m…one of the cornhusker's troops.” she said, before adding: “Nice day we’re having.”
She was so good at this.
Obviously, she had no idea who this “Cornhusker” was, solely going off of the fact that his name resonated with her in the same way the curly-haired swordsman in her visions did.
The man- pinky, Meg decided to call him, since he was currently dressed in a neon pink button-up up- didn’t look skeptical, but he sure sounded like it.
“I’m sorry if I come across as impolite, but Commodus doesn’t usually take regular mortals for his low-level mercenaries.”
Meg tried to feign innocence. “Nope, don’t worry. I’m a close friend of the emperors. Yep. ”
She readied her fighting stance as discreetly as possible, just in case this went south. The woman- Meg dubbed her as frumpy, since she found comfort in wearing clothes that only a grandma would wear- tapped her chin.
“You look a great deal like the little girl we’re supposed to be looking out for. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”
Meg glanced at the pearl necklace on Frumpy’s neck. Time for a distraction.
“Your necklace is all jacked up,” She pointed out. “I can help you with it if you’d let me.”
Anyone with a brain could tell she was changing the subject. Frumpy brought a hand to the jewelry in question, gasping as if she had been shot.
“How undistinguished I am!” She crowed. “Thank you for telling me, dear. You may.”
Meg expected to be given a hard no, but she wasn’t about to stand around like an idiot. In one quick motion, her dual swords flashed into existence. Poor Frumpy couldn’t even get a word out before Meg had one of her blades pressed against her neck, the other sticking into Pinky's midsection.
“Tell me what you know about Apollo.”
Pinky squeaked. “You are the girl we’re supposed to be looking for!”
“Yep,” replied Meg, in her usual fashion. “Now spill what you know, and maybe I won’t have to send you to Tartarus.” Then, for the sake of her audience, “Please.”
Probably beside herself, Frumpy couldn’t help but blurt something out. It would be impolite, after all, to not answer the question.
“He’s going to the zoo tomorrow at dawn to free The Lady of Nets’ griffins, to get an inside scoop on how to get into the emperor's lair. The Oracle told Commodus so.”
Meg didn’t know what was up with Commodus being able to access the Oracle, but she did partially understand the first bit of Frumpy’s confession. Still, she needed to know more.
“And the directions?” she asked, realizing that she was running out of time before Frumpy and Pinky finally worked up the courage to fight back.
It was Pinky’s turn to answer. He pulled out a map, circling two street names in red marker, one being the location of the zoo and the other being where they were now. He gave her the exact address, which she committed to memory. She shoved the map into the pocket of her dress.
“Okay,” she began, fully intent on killing them despite her assurance that she wouldn’t if they complied. “Now-”
“Now, dear,” interrupted Frumpy, “We kill you.”
The woman stomped on Meg's foot, and oh , that hurt. She let out a couple of curses that Apollo would reprimand her for, stumbling back. One of her swords managed to connect with Frumpy's head in what should’ve been an easy (yet accidental) decapitation. Instead, gold collided with metal , and Frumpy's head fell to the floor. Meg honestly thought she had decapitated the poorly dressed woman until Frumpy ripped off her dress, revealing an ugly-looking face right where her breast area should’ve been.
“I saw you,” Meg said, clutching her foot. “In my vision.”
These were indeed the monsters that she witnessed surrounding Apollo. Like most mythical creatures, she had no idea what they were called.
Her teachers would be disappointed, truly.
Pinky simply took off his head and ripped his shirt off- seriously, what was up with these guys- shaking his actual head in disappointment. Seeing as his face was on his chest, his whole body turned side to side.
“Nero wants her alive,” he said to Frumpy, his lopsided smile contorting into a frown. “We’ll only get to capture her, I’m afraid.”
The mention of her stepfather made Meg’s ragged breath stop in its tracks. Not only was Commodus aware of her escape, Nero was too.
Waving the thought away, her curiosity got the better of her. “So you guys gave me the information and the address to the Zoo, instead of just attacking plain and front?”
Frumpy stood wide-eyed, expression drowned in disbelief. “Of course. It’d be rude not to since you asked us.”
She said it as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Meg didn’t have it in her to argue with her, considering she was harboring a crushed foot and was up against two monsters.
“Come quietly, please, “ Pinky said, a newly acquired brick in his hand.
In response, Meg yelled out and charged. She’d fought greater numbers of opponents with bigger injuries, and she was not about to be taken out by chest people.
Except these guys had some built-in armor system. Her first strike against Frumpy's chest (face?) did no good, and she just barely dodged the woman's counterattack. Gods, was she that out of practice?
Pinky threw his brick with the strength of a Cyclops. Meg would know, Nero sometimes brought them in from the streets of New York to test the capabilities of his godly powers.
After she had successfully not gotten her head lopped off by a brick, she held her swords up in a defensive manner, her foot a painful, bruised, lump.
“Please let us capture you!” Frumpy begged. “That way we can go on to assist in Apollo’s execution!”
Wrong choice of words. The possibility of Apollo dying strangely infuriated Meg, fueling her to, in a desperate burst of energy, throw one of her swords straight between Frumpy's eyes. The monster collapsed, grasping her pearls as she withered into ash.
Faced with a decision, Pinky decided on what he saw as the safer option: turning and fleeing. Only he couldn’t turn as fast as he hoped, demonstrating to Meg that though these guys were extremely strong, they were also extremely dumb.
Meg threw her second sword into his back with as much force as she could, watching Pinky join Frumpy as a pile of dust, floating away in the wind.
“Tourists,” Meg groaned, an effective summary of that entire interaction.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, she limped over to retrieve her swords, willing them back into rings. The map seemed heavy in her pocket, which was stupid, since it was a map. Whatever the case, she had her directions to the Zoo. Apollo would be there at dawn tomorrow, and so would she.
But as of now, she wanted to sleep. Her foot wasn’t broken or sprained- she knew what that felt like- but she wouldn’t be walking on it anytime in the next few hours. All she could do was hope that it’d be okay by the next day. She hobbled as far as she could, sadly choosing another alley over a park, fearful that being in a place too open would get her apprehended. The sun was out, rejuvenating her like she was one of the plants she loved. Another quirk of hers as the daughter of Demeter, maybe.
By the time it got dark, Meg had made herself a little hut using the nearby foliage, as minimal as it was. There was no one around to see, but Meg snickered at the thought of what her green shelter would look like to a regular mortal. Nothing about her situation was really funny, and her laugh wasn’t composed of true amusement, but instead fueled by irony and hollowness. She couldn’t think of the last time she had actually laughed or smiled.
You do know , she thought. You just don’t want to say it.
Her first night in Indianapolis was restless and bitter, the moon- in all its gleaming glory- serving as the only thing to watch over her. She would have preferred the sun, but it was nowhere in sight.
She woke to a squirrel scratching at her impenetrable fortress of alley weeds. Its beady eyes were quick to notice her waking up, and its body was even quicker to scamper away, frightened at this potential threat. Such an exciting way to start what would possibly be, at worst, one of the most terrible days of her life. At best, she wasn’t sure.
Her internal clock was the thing that saved her from oversleeping. When she was back at the Tower, it was expected of her to wake up at first light, to get the fastest possible start. There were times when she just wished she could rest , like any other kid her age. But she was not them, even if she used to have a chance at being so. No, that opportunity had faded years ago.
There was no point in reminiscing about what could have been.
What could be , She thought. What if-
She stood up, shaking off what was sure to be a useless idea. Any time the word “if” made its way into the question, Meg dropped out.
Dawn welcomed her with more cold and more wind. Gods, she couldn’t imagine living here. First, she trekked back to where the skirmish with Pinky and Frumpy occurred, since that’s where her starting point was on the map. Careful to hold onto it lest it be taken in the wind, Meg studied the map like it was her lifeline. She wanted to try and take the journey slow, but her feet wouldn’t let her. Not many cars were out, nor many people. Good. More of an advantage to her and Apollo, who was surely on his way to the zoo too.
Wait, when had she started associating herself with Apollo? To think in those terms was dangerous, even if no one was around to prod into her mind and see. His success- as much as she didn’t want to admit it- mattered to her. As his master (she chose not to use the word friend ), she wouldn't let him fail with this much skin in the game.
But only because the world would probably end if she didn't!
Did this mean she was looking out for him, and hadn’t he done the same, before her untimely betrayal? Having someone's back while they had yours…Meg had never known that before.
She pressed her arms into her sides to conserve any warmth, walking down each street with her head down. No signs of any monsters yet, but that was sure to change. People were beginning to stir in the shops she passed, opening their doors for staff to come in and clean up before the rush of customers overswept them. Birds swooped in, shrieking their little heads off as they sat upon telephone wires and road signs. It was sure to be a gloomy day, and that was not just a testament to the weather.
Along the way to the zoo, Meg picked up litter and put it where it belonged, in the trash, before shooting death glares at those she caught red-handed. Let them squirm. Did anyone care about the environment in this day and age?
She had no one to talk to, which made her long for someone, anyone, by her side. Moreover, she wanted a hot bath. In an attempt to soothe her last-minute nerves, she imagined herself at Camp Half-Blood, the last place she really felt at home.
Mimicking the people around her, Meg crossed a bridge to get to her destination. Below her, a stream of frankly sluggish water sat unmoving, wedged between cement. She didn’t know what she had expected when she saw the words “White River” on her map, but this was not it. A river should be among nature, not cement!
Wow. Maybe this is what people meant when they said “You sound just like your mother.” Demeter had never spoken a lick to her, and she didn’t need to. Meg could easily imagine an agricultural goddess being disgusted by what humans had done to their planet. What did her mom even sound like? Was her voice high-pitched and squeaky, like the swine she presided over, or echoing and sweet, like the flowers she spread around the world?
Engrossed, Meg almost ran into the picket fence that surrounded the Indianapolis Zoo. After all this, she’d reached her destination.
The zoo wasn’t a pleasant thing to look at. Honestly? It looked like nothing important in the history of ever had occurred here. Meg knew in a few hours, or even in a few minutes, that would no longer be true. She reminded herself of what she was doing and why she was doing it, despite not needing any further motivation than her gut. Some people only participated in battles they knew they could win, or bets they believed they could get monetary value out of.
Now was not the time to distract herself, however. Her first obstacle was getting inside. Not much of a challenge at all, really; she just willed the plants weaving in and out of the fence to create a platform, then asked them to lift her over the fence. She thanked them once she was safely on the side of the zoo without so much as a dirt stain on her dress. That made her feel proud, and she was oblivious to the fact that her frock was already dirtied beyond comparison.
The inside of the zoo was not much better than the outside; it was even more drab. She walked around, staying close to the fence while also keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary. As she moved closer inside, she began to spot a few Germani sprinkled around the premises, looking as lost as she was. They muttered to each other in Gallic, and Meg didn’t have the luxury of being close enough to hear them.
Out of nowhere, a monkey in its cage started bellowing and beating at its chest, interested in this newcomer who he thought had come to see him. Meg jumped back, previously unaware of the monkey’s presence. This, unfortunately, caught the attention of the Germani, and Meg had just enough time to throw herself into a nearby shrub, sullying her appearance by the second.
There was no sign that they had left after a few minutes, and Meg was just about to take her chances when the sound of a walkie-talkie stopped her. The voice on the other end was urgent, demanding that everyone slowly but surely make their way to…a train station. Whoever it was had to be a figure of authority; the Germani silently obeyed, clomping over to their now-established rendezvous point.
No longer under the pressure of being captured, Meg retreated from her leafy hideout and rushed over to a plaque in the middle of the zoo, tracing her finger along the map that was there to find out where this train station was. When she secured her location, she ran as fast as she could. Only when she was closer did she begin to creep, slipping past Germani like she practiced for in combat training. Well, not for Germani specifically, just enemy forces. And as of now, they were her enemy.
The Train Station was honestly quite nice, that she couldn’t deny. A bright green train currently inhabited the tracks, waiting for someone to ride it. Meg couldn’t see much of it, though, since she was approaching from the back. Overhead, there was an ivy-covered canopy that provided shade for the station platform, when the weather called for it. At the moment, it provided a good hiding spot.
Meg did the only natural thing. She climbed the canopy, wiggled under the ivy, and waited for trouble to arrive.
And arrive it did. The curly-haired boy from her dreams, wearing a loud red bandana, climbed up the steps to the station platform and stood confidently, as if he knew whatever battle he was about to face was already won. He had to be the CornHusker. How did Meg know this? Well…he was wearing a shirt that said Corn Husker. She could see him more clearly now, at least until he turned his back on her. His face was a breeding ground for scars, and his smiling expression wasn’t suited for them either.
Her hands became clammy. The boy was waiting for Apollo and his companion, surely. Where could they be, and what were they up to?
She finally spotted them running up to the station, shoulders tensed once they realized who was waiting for them. They didn’t turn back, but she could see the caution in their steps as the auburn-haired girl led the way.
And there, in all his wimpy teenage glory, was Lester Papadopolous. She hadn’t referred to him in that way in the time they were apart, but now, upon seeing him, she just couldn’t make the connection that this boy had once been the mighty god Apollo.
He looked better than he did when she left him at the Grove of Dodona. In his hands was a package of gods knows what, and he had his quiver carefully slung over his back. His friend stood by his side, sizing up the Cornhusker, eyes concentrated on his sword.
Giddy to begin, the Cornhusker started up a conversation. His voice was teasing, daunting. This was his show, and he knew it. His laughs were like nails on a chalkboard, and Meg was happy whenever Apollo or the girl got a word in. Compared to Apollo, the latter was much more angry. Her name was revealed, by Apollo, to be Calypso. Meg let her jaw go wide a little. The Calypso? Contrary to popular belief, Meg did know some people in the world of Mythology. Nero had made her read the Odyssey so many goddamn times in an attempt to “broaden her vocabulary” that she nearly wanted to tear the book in half. Calypso, from what she remembered, mooned over Odysseus for several years before she was forced to set him free by Hermes, on the order of Zeus.
The conversation between Apollo, Calypso, and the Cornhusker was reaching a breaking point. A lot of blah that Meg had no idea about. Communications. Gloating. Germani swarming the area. That last part caught her attention, and she was suddenly reminded that she was there for a reason, not just to dawdle and play in the ivy.
For a second, she lost her balance, and the canopy shook. Lying still, she prayed that no one had seen it. Though, maybe she could use the ivy to her advantage. Apollo and Calypso were trying to get on the train. If she could subdue the Cornhusker somehow, she’d be helping them out a lot. Also, she’d get to indirectly kick some bad guy's butt.
The Cornhusker was threatening to hurt some kid named Leo Valdez. His name connected with the scrawny boy Meg had seen in her visions. Was Calypso, a goddess, really dating this guy? She’d find out later, hopefully.
Calypso vowed that no harm would come to Leo just as Meg discovered that the canopy was close to collapse. Surely a little help from the Ivy would do it, right?
Apollo noticed right away, warning Calypso to get back. Their knowledge was not shared by the Cornhusker, who didn’t notice what was going on until it was too late. Determined, Meg grew vine after vine, turning the foliage thicker and darker. The rafters shook under the weight, and in a great harumph, the entire thing collapsed, pinning the Cornhusker to the floor. Apollo and Calypso barely got out of the way in time, and to Meg’s displeasure, Apollo wasted the precious seconds she had bought him by gaping at the wreckage like a trout. He would notice her if she stuck around too long, so she quietly crawled out of her overgrown creation and ducked behind a trashcan that was big enough to hide her.
“She must be here,” Apollo said wistfully.
Ah, so he was aware of her being a runaway. Terrific. What else did he know? Meg was aware that he had his own visions from time to time, and she did not fancy the idea of him having a first-class seat to her life at the Tower.
The Cornhusker, though muffled under the canopy, screamed for backup. He wasn’t dead, which meant that Apollo had to get a move on. He and Calypso rushed to the green train, their argument over which thing did what carrying over to Meg’s hiding spot. Well, when did the gods ever really get along?
A half dozen Germanai appeared from all corners of the zoo, in hot pursuit of the train as it slowly moved forward. Then, out of nowhere, it shot up the tracks, leaving the Germanai running to keep up. From his spot at the station, the Cornhusker eventually unearthed himself, throwing ivy and bits of debris off his person. He was furious, and Meg had to hold back a snicker. He looked stoo-pid .
Stupid Head! That’s what she’d call him. He didn’t deserve a badass name like “The CornHusker” anyway.
“They’re headed for the griffins!” he yelled at the backup that was attending to him. “When you catch up, detain them, and leave them to me. This is more than personal now. I’d like to rough them up a bit before bringing them to the Emperor.”
Nope, Meg thought. In your dreams.
The next thing she knew, she was following Stupid-Head and his men, looking for any opportunity to hinder them and their pursuit. They had no idea she was tailing them, either. What a stealthy genius she was. Her opportunity to cause trouble came quicker than she expected, too. Still keeping her distance, she worked up her way to a grand assault. At first, it was just asking the weeds to subtly crawl into the main path, tripping a few Germanai here and there. When that didn’t do much, Meg waited for Stupid-Head to enter an area with more fauna. Luckily, his path to the griffins took him straight into a panda enclosure, which was filled with bamboo.
It shocked her, slightly, to find out how easy it was for bamboo to swallow someone whole. She didn’t even do much, honest! Ever since Camp Half-Blood, Meg had been discovering new instincts within her body, all perfectly in tune when it came to using her powers. Lately, these things were becoming stronger, ready to leap into action after not having been activated for years. Her siblings at the Demeter Cabin were confused by this when Meg talked to them about it.
“Those muscles,” Billie Ny, head counselor, had said, drawing an imaginary circle to reference Meg's body, “are what would keep a Demi-god alive. I can’t imagine that they would start up now, not unless someone was deliberately forcing you not to use them. But that would have to start at a very young age, maybe five? Six?”
Unnerved, Meg had walked out of that conversation remembering how Nero never wanted her using her powers unless he was there, stopping her from doing anything he considered “worrying.” Which was most things that didn’t have a clear purpose. For example, he’d ask her to coax the imprisoned dryads, remarking on her way with trees. Everything she learned, from her swords to her powers, was thanks to him. She was lucky to have him to guide her.
That’s what she had thought, anyway, until Camp Half-Blood.
Could it be possible that he…stunted her growth somehow, when he claimed he was doing the exact opposite?
The possibility made her want to vomit, which in turn rapidly accelerated what she was doing with the bamboo. All of Stupid-head's bodyguards were quickly snapped up, screaming out in their stalky cages.
Mystified, Meg looked to her fingers, flexing them, the strong urge to just let loose running through her veins. That had been coming up a lot lately, as she became more and more familiar with her abilities.
Meg didn’t know how she felt about being power ful. Well, yes she did. She faltered at the thought, for she associated the word a little too closely with a certain… someone that she feared becoming like. Recently, most of the nightmares she woke up screaming about had that outcome played out in front of her like a scary movie. Except it wasn’t silly or fictional; it was entirely plausible. Sometimes she even thought it probable , especially when she looked at her older siblings.
Anyway.
In an infuriating display of how resilient he was, the Big Bad Cornhusker got away, so Meg would still have to follow him. He was more skeptical now, intentionally avoiding any plants he came across, looking behind his shoulder every once in a while.
Then, a big CRASH rang out through the zoo. In the distance, Meg could see what looked like a circular arena, except it had a big gaping hole on its left side. Stupid-head chuckled, leisurely changing route to take the long way to the commotion. Was there ever a person more sure of himself?
Meg watched the dust settle in the arena, revealing a bright green train, broken and lodged sideways in the dirt. Out of all the people Meg knew, Apollo was the only one who would be able to crash a kiddie train. It was a no-brainer: that’s where he was.
She had to get there before Stupid-Head. Now that she didn’t have to follow him, she was free to scout out a different route than his. Her pace was moderate, but her heart was just about to burst through her chest.
The Arena had no Germani surrounding it. With a heaving sigh, Meg brought herself to a halt. Peering up at the top of the amphitheater, she could just barely see a canopy of netting. Why would an outdoor arena need netting? Her mind went back to the animals she’d seen in her visions, and the mention of the griffins made by Stupid-Head. This was where the tortured, enraged, and starved animals resided. If the arena was designed to keep things out, then how would she get in ?
She scaled the wall.
Climbing was not her forte, but she grit her teeth and dug her foot into any wedges she could find. Her swords acted as props to pull herself up with, and eventually, she reached the roof. There wasn’t much space in the netting- 2 inches was her guesstimate- but it was nothing her swords couldn’t handle.
Staying low to the net, Meg peeked into the interior of the arena. It was circled in cages, all of which were inhabited by presumably magical creatures. They jerked their heads every which way, eyes crazed and wild.
She’d chosen to drop in at a rather intriguing time. Apollo and Calypso were trying to sing their way through convincing two griffins out of their cages. Apollo kept looking around, studying his eyes on any overgrown weed, as if Meg may pop out of one and yell boo !
Was he…hoping she’d be here?
For the first time that morning, her heart clenched. Stupid Lester, going out of his way to care for her. He should hate her, and after what she had done, who wouldn’t?
Sympathy was a scary thing. Growing up, Meg hadn’t had much of it. She thought that was normal . But then Lester came along and usurped her life, giving her choices she hadn’t known possible. Most of all, he was the first person in a long time that Meg felt the annoying need to protect. Their fates were intertwined, at the end of the day. With protection came comfort, and with comfort came friendship , a foreign word in her mouth.
She tried to focus on Lester and Calypso’s duet. The song of choice was one she’d never heard, about two lovers who couldn’t be together. Apollo’s face was tight with sorrow, as if this song held a special place in his heart. Maybe it did. His list of lost lovers went on forever.
Most, if not all, of Meg’s attention, however, was on the griffins. They were golden, magnificent (Meg liked that word) creatures, clearly close to each other in relationship if not in distance. As Apollo sang, he pulled out tater tots from his mystery bag and pressed them into the mouths of the male griffin, nervous yet resilient in keeping his harmony with Calypso.
Huh. Griffins…liked tater tots.
The other griffin swayed forward after some nudging from her partner. Her belly was swollen, which could only mean that she was pregnant. There was danger in approaching an expecting mother, especially an animal mother.
Much to Apollo's (and Meg’s) relief, the griffin did not bite his arm or his head off. Calypso fed her more tater tots, successfully relaxing both griffins. Now, Meg assumed, they had to get them out of the arena.
An idea popped into her head: why not cut out a hole in the roof so that Apollo and Calypso could fly away? Okay, perhaps it was reckless, but if she got to work immediately-
That’s when Stupid-head walked through the threshold, annoyingly alive.
“Well done,” he said, voice dirty and gravely. “You’ve found a perfect place to die.”
Meg felt her nose scrunch up. He probably practiced that line on his way to the arena.
Both Calypso and Apollo stepped in front of the griffins, who growled at the arrival of the man perhaps responsible for their torture and pain. Meg held back a grunt herself. This would be more than difficult, getting rid of him while also staying out of Apollo’s sight.
She had decided somewhere along her journey that helping Apollo was fine so long as he didn’t see her. Yes, she would protect him, but she would not come into his life again. It’d be better that way; she couldn’t hurt him if he never saw her. In truth? She was scared. Scared to find some peace, because, in the end, it was always snatched away from her. If she went through that, she didn’t want anyone else to because of her.
Stupid-head (name now revealed to be Lityseres) seemed keen on a typical villain monologue, remarking on his title as “The Reaper of Men.” Were these names just handed to him, or did he come up with them to make him feel special?
Speaking of special, once again Meg experienced that indescribable feeling toward him like they were linked somehow. A similar comparison was lodged deep in her mind, and she dug to get it out. She was so caught up in this endeavor that she almost missed Stupid-Head saying how much of a pleasure killing Apollo would be. He regarded Calypso next, teasing her with temporary mercy until he could kill her in front of Leo Valdez. Apparently, he was supposed to take Apollo alive too, but that had gone out the window after he was assaulted first by the collapsing roof, and then the bamboo.
“No,” she whispered, the word escaping her mouth before she could stop it.
She had done that. She thought she was helping, but all she had done was bring about Apollo’s death. Stupid-Head wasn’t playing around, and by the way Apollo shrank back from him, Meg could tell that he was skilled with a blade. The griffins weren’t going to help Apollo. Calypso couldn’t, for whatever reason. And oh, it’d be humorous to think that any of the gods in Olympus would. No, without any interference, Apollo’s noggin would be rolling on the ground in seconds. This was what Demeter had prophesied, and now it was coming to pass.
Her mind tried to do the calculations. How would Apollo react? Could she take Stupid-head in a fight? Was the distance between her and the ground even jumpable ?
The last thing she thought before Stupid-Head charged at Apollo was screw it.
Flashing into existence, her blades sliced at the netting, giving her a big enough hole to jump through. Stupid-Head was fast, but thankfully, at that moment, Meg was faster. She landed between him and Apollo, stopping his blade cold in the crook of her swords. From somewhere behind her, Apollo whimpered.
Despite not having a good night’s sleep in weeks , Meg pushed Stupid-Head stumbling back, a pissed-off kind of scowl on her face. She placed her hands on her hips, waiting for him to say something, and very deliberately ignoring Apollo.
Stupid-Head glared at her. “I wonder if threatening this idiot god would smoke you out of hiding. You’ve signed your death warrant.”
Why the hell wasn’t Apollo getting out of there already? Meg jutted her head toward the roof, trying to signal that they needed to leave.
Uncrossing her blades, she stuck her tongue out at the idea of signing her death warrant.
“Nope,” she said, popping the p.
He reminded her of Marcus in the way he responded: hissing out in annoyance. He accused her of snatching up his men with the bamboo, and well, Meg didn’t feel like lying. Something was gratifying in seeing his face redden at her calling him stupid. Which he was.
In the silence that followed, Apollo still didn’t get the hint that he needed to go. If he needed a little push, fine. Nero wanted her to use her position as the one who controlled Apollo to kill him, but now she was using it to get him to escape. Ironic, right?
Taking a breath, she looked back to Apollo, making eye contact with him for the first time in weeks. She wanted to say so much to him, but instead:
“Get out of here.”
Apollo sometimes complained about how it felt for one of her commands to sink into him, but what he didn’t know was that it also affected her . She felt the words surge through her body, thrumming in her ears. That's how she knew what counted as a command and what didn’t.
Apollo pleaded with her, and gods, couldn’t he just leave? At this display of affection, Stupid-Head laughed.
“Demeter is my mother, too.” He said, verbally hitting her square in the chest. “Her children make the best swordsmen. We understand the need to reap. It’s just the flipside of sowing, isn’t it, little sister? Let’s see what you know about reaping lives!”
More than you know , she thought, just as he lunged at her.
Her mind went to a different space as they danced with their blades, a deadly tango Meg knew inside and out.
Demeter was his mother; that explained the connection she felt. He called her little sister, a terrible homage to Marcus. He grouped her in with him under the presence of their mother, implying, what, that they were the same?
“I’m nothing like you,” she muttered, only speaking aloud to assure herself. The words went unnoticed by everyone, drowned out by the sounds of swords clashing.
Finally, Apollo had let her command fully overcome him. He hastily conversed with Calypso on how they were going to get out of the arena with two griffins in tow.
Everything was going fine until Meg’s foot began to give out.
Just yesterday, it had been smashed near breaking. When she’d woken up this morning, she was so caught up with the zoo that she’d pushed through the lingering pain. There was barely any left, but now, as she was fighting against the “Reaper of Men”, her foot decided: “Yep! No better time than this!”
Sweat beaded at her brow. Stupid-head took notice of this, a manic smile on his face.
“Getting tired?” He hacked out, still hindered by his getting almost crushed at the train station.
Meg, taking up the defensive, blocked a particularly nasty attack that would’ve gone straight through her lower abdomen.
“Speak for yourself!” she shot back, grimacing. “What, are you that big of a dummy that you let a “little girl” snatch up all your lackeys and leave you hobbling?”
He sneered. “You taunt, but you’re losing the fight in you by the minute. And I am not a dummy!”
Even he couldn’t resist her “naturally charming” presence. He had a point though, loathe as she was to admit it. Usually, she was one for the offensive, but noooo , Stupid-Head just had to be decent at a sword. His eyes glanced at Apollo, who stood there, defenseless, trying to figuratively smooth the feathers of the two griffins in front of him. They bounded around, screeching and flapping their wings.
Meg realized what Stupid-Head had in mind just in time, stopping his strike at Apollo’s arm while simultaneously sweeping at his feet with her spare sword. Said god let out a little squeak and moved out of the way, looking at Meg and the admittedly shoddy position she was in. He reached out an arm, then pulled back at the last second as Meg’s opponent raised his voice so that everyone could hear, vowing that Apollo’s escape would only bring more suffering.
Apollo took a quick moment to be disturbed by this. He knocked an arrow without a clear target in mind. The most obvious answer would be Stupid-Head, but Meg knew Apollo; she could spot the small ticks in his movements and face that could give away so much, too much. His target was not, in fact, Stupid-Head.
“Meg,” he screamed, voice booming against the circular arena, “come on! ”
What was Apollo’s deal? Did he actually want her to be by his side, to the point where he was deliberately not choosing to escape until she was with him?
“I’d never forgive myself,” he admitted, earnest and trembling, “if I let you go. Not again. If you want to help me, do it by coming with me!”
No, no. She didn’t believe she deserved to be with anyone, to have a safe space to create fire out of the long-forgotten ashes of whoever she was when not weighed down by guilt. And just who was that person? Guilt was all but her middle name.
“I told you to leave!” she said, still relentlessly fighting. “You’re a bad slave.”
Apollo did not disagree, giving Stupid-Head the chance to jeer at him. In response, Apollo commanded his griffin (when the heck had he gotten on top of one of them?) to fly up into the sky, the other griffin- with Calypso on board- following suit. Together, they circled the arena, safely out of the way of any attack made by either Meg or Lityseres. Yes, she called him by his actual name, because seeing as he was driving her into a corner, he earned that tiniest sliver of respect.
Her foot ultimately was her downfall. It gave out, ever so slightly, causing Meg to barely parry against Lityseres and his neverending onslaught of strikes. Doing the one thing no one should ever do while on the defensive, Meg gave her opponent an opening, and he took it. His next strike cut across her thigh. Blood pooled at the wound, dying her tights a gross shade of orange. She yelled out, unable to bite down on her cheek to keep herself silent. Stupid-Head (he was back to that nickname now, since he decided to slice her) only smiled, again calling her little sister.
“I am not your little sister,” she wheezed, breathless with her new wound.
Stupid-head narrowed his eyes, holding off what could easily be a killing blow. He wasn’t smiling now, his face taut with…hesitance? Oh, give her a break. If he wanted to start being sympathetic, he could’ve chosen to do so before he hurt her.
The two of them stood in a perilous session of eye contact, and Meg dared not to move. More commotion erupted from behind her, and the next thing she knew, she was being dive-bombed by griffins. In the corner of her eye, she saw Apollo’s arrow finally hit its mark, a control box marked everything . Technically, it said OMNIA, but her Latin tended to mix in with English. She took a small second to sarcastically thank her language instructors who spent every day making sure she’d stay fluent in Latin for the rest of her life.
Stupid-Head, shocked and dazed, stepped back. Obviously, he was not expecting to have a bunch of griffins plummeting at his head, and his attention faltered long enough for Apollo’s griffin chariot to come and scoop her up.
Her heart soared along with her soul as she experienced a few beats of light-headeness, due to the way she was so rudely grabbed from her spot on the ground. For the record, she was not the best at heights.
Stupid-Head gawked up at her like a chicken staring at its egg. He was then run over by a bunch of ostriches, who seemed all but eager to get a crack at cracking his noggin. Meg could’ve sworn she saw a burst of fire come from somewhere down below. She may have giggled, in a “hah-hah, you’re being trampled” kind of way. However, her predicament came rushing back to her soon enough. She was in the paws of a griffin. The Arena still very much had its roof on, which didn’t give Apollo and Calypso- and her, she guessed- a chance at escape.
“Meg!” Apollo’s voice broke through all the madness. He stretched out his arm, and this time, nothing held him back from her taking it. But, it took two to tango. She was now the one who had to decide, and her restraints were not physical or situational, but rather emotional.
It’s your choice .
She caught his hand.
Relief all over his face, he managed to pull her from the griffin's claws and instead onto its back. She sat in front of him, face-to-face with the netting she had previously broken through to save Apollo’s life. Her human-sized hole was still there, yet obviously not big enough for two full-scale griffins to fly through. A fountain of possibilities sputtered to life in her mind, none of them good. They wouldn’t make it. They’d bounce against the netting and crash onto the floor, right back into the clutches of Emperor Commodus. Apollo would be captured and killed, and she would go right back to Nero. She found the former outcome more distressing, somehow.
Bracing herself, Meg screwed her eyes shut.
That’s when she heard Calypso scream in rage. For a moment, Meg thought it was because she decided to voice her frustration on their impending defeat. Then she opened her eyes.
They were flying up, up, and up even further, abandoning the arena with its now broken roof. Flurries of snow now clung to her green dress, clustering together in some areas like sheep's wool. Calypso was listed sideways, clearly passed out. Whatever she had done, it was responsible for their escape.
Meg gulped back the mouse-sized lump in her throat, realizing she was free from the shackles of imminent danger. Her leg dully throbbed with pain, and her foot was a whole different story. Wind billowed through her hair, taking out all of the twigs and leaves. Reddened with a shade of cherry, her cheeks stung from both the cold and the blender mix of emotions she was experiencing.
Right. Apollo was behind her.
Don’t cry, she thought. Don’t cry.
She steadied herself, fingers digging into the griffin's coat. Heart half full of anger, she whipped around to face him, scowling.
“You were supposed to go!”
Stupid Apollo. Stupid him and his insisting that she come, that she mattered to him, that-
Her words died in her mouth, replaced by a stifled sob.
He looked at her the same way her Dad did- or had.
Her dad, the one person she would have died for (more than once had she been haunted by the thought that it should’ve been her sprawled outside the library). You were supposed to have multiple people in your life you felt that way about, and ever since he died she had none . Maybe it was time to hope that there was still a chance for her. She wanted to hope. She was afraid to hope.
Despite her harsh response, Apollo seemed happy that they were finally reunited. So much concern, all for her. Give it to someone else , she used to think. Don’t waste it on me.
Apollo didn’t think it was a waste, though. A part of her wanted to share that sentiment someday too. Another part wanted to run away from him, rip herself from his arms, and relieve him of the sorrow she brought to everyone.
That feeling was shoved aside as she hugged him, ferociously clinging onto his torso as if she’d drop dead if she didn’t. His reaction only made her sob even more: he flat out started bawling , returning her hug with matched strength, if not more.
“You’re safe,” he muttered into her hair, though he would have no recollection of it later. “You’re safe, I promise. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
A babble of incoherent thoughts, but Meg didn’t mind. What a pair of dorks they made, huh?
Her anger was almost completely replaced by exhaustion, tears running down her face like she was her own White River. She made up her mind then and there. She’d protect him- not just from the shadows- because despite his…clear flaws, he was worth it. Something told her he felt the same way.
Face pressed against his shirt, she let out emotions that were a build-up of a month's worth of strife, feelings she was too scared to release at the Tower, and even on the run.
With his dramatic heaves and sobs, the worn-out red hoodie that he refused to part with, and his faint smell of sunflowers and lemons- yellow , always yellow- Meg was quite happy to be, once again, overwhelmed by Lester Papadopoulos.