Archive of Our Own

I, Maylea Edwards, consider my papa to be one of the wisest people in this world, therefore, yes. He gives me lessons. One of them goeslike this: Plants are living beings, just like me, just like him, they feel, if you treat them badly, they can grow badly. If you say nice words to them and talk to them in a friendly way, they will grow beautiful and big. Fire hurts them, fire always hurts. Plant or human, I think that's where my phobia of fire comes from. 

I liked living in the countryside, not living in a colorful city and not having to see so many colors every day, it was a surprise to find out that I saw colors differently, red was orange and green was too difficult to differentiate. How do I know the differences in colors? I had glasses to see the colors well, but I didn't like them. Dad said it was okay, he could see one way even more unique the world. 

Ah, I wish he had meant my imagination... That I saw strange things that were not shown to the eyes of others, that made my few friends look at me with a frown and an arched eyebrow before getting up and walking away from my table, obviously, but not before criticizing that my way of dressing today sucked. That was one of the reasons I hated the big city. I didn't hate my stepmother, she didn't hate me, that was good. But still, I obviously preferred my older step brother. And yet, if there is something I don't want to know at all, it's because dad is this anxious about my eleventh birthday, he canceled every appointment and rejected all commitments, although it didn't seem like a good idea to me, refunding appointments with his patients was going to be the worst. But hey, it's my birthday and I'm his daughter. I deserve it, I guess.

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 I hated silence. I couldn't stand it, a silent room is one of my worst fears, even though it wasn't technically a room. It was a restaurant, full of people, where I was eagerly waiting for their food and my dad looked at me as if I were a five-year-old girl who had just climbed a tree and had refused to come down until she had been threatened not to eat ice cream. Very specific? Yes, but it has also happened many times. I wasn't sure what I had done, in the last test at school I did kinda well, it was an oral test of my favorite subject, yes. But I had gotten an eight, so it wasn't because of school. 

The first thing he said all night was when the food had arrived and I had put my fork in my mouth, but I had to close it with fork and all because of what he said. At least it was a fork and not a knife, the knife would have hurt.

— I want to talk to you about your mother. – My dad, Timothy Edwards, started; a great way to put it, eleven years without commenting anything about her, and then drops the bomb like it was nothing. –

— I swallowed, and ignoring my tongue hurting like never before, I asked, my voice trembling. —My mom? Like...uh... Niccola or...my mom? 

— Your mom. – He clarified, and I began to feel that the world was going round and round, as if the vegetables in my mouth were beginning to taste bad, almost like a poorly cooked meal or a poorly treated plant. –.

- Today? Why? You haven't talked about her since I was born and... Are you doing it now? – I asked, running out of breath, trying to sound threatening. –

— Maylea. 

— Papa.

Silence. The leaves of each plant hummed in some language that for some reason no one heard, I like it but today it felt like a nuisance that I would like to ignore with my hands in my ears and singing that I couldn't hear. But I needed to know about my mom, because she had left me. Because she had left us .

—Do you remember the myths? Greek mythology?

- Yeah. You read them to me all the time. – He frowned, while my eyebrow slowly arched.  – What does my mom have to do with that? Was she Greek? How did you meet her in Greece, huh, da? 

— Yes, your mom is Greek…But, not in the way you think, May. – I wanted to grimace, run and hide in my room with music ringing in my ears all night. I don't want to hear anything , but at the same time I want to hear it all. – 

— Your mom is a goddess of those myths. – Oh no, not that , my mom is definitely not a goddess. Because gods do not exist. They are myths, stories created by Greeks who wanted to find an explanation for everything. It’s not possible that my mother was one, a myth, a rumor, a story passed from mouth to mouth.   —

— No, — I contradicted, getting up from the chair. – You're lying to me, it's a joke, isn't it? My mom is a normal person, I just can't stand the idea of ​​having a daughter and - she left us - 

— Maylea .. – He started, I interrupted him, almost shouting. –

—No, dad! This is a damn joke, eleven years waiting to hear from me mom, and you come out with that? With a damn joke? 

— Maylea Makawi..

— No, stop it, I don't want to hear you nor your jokes right now! – I exclaimed, but as I paused to take a breath, he looked at me in a way that made something clear. It wasn't a joke, he was being serious. –

But still. I didn't want to believe it, I didn't like the idea of ​​accepting it, giving up was losing. And something I hate is losing, I collapsed in my chair, without looking at him. Dinner passed in an awkward silence that I hated more than usual. As I left the restaurant, amidst all the rain, I had to squint to make out something or someone that I was sure not many saw, I looked at him. The same anxious look as before.

- Car. Now. – I made a face, wanting to argue, but Dad looked as if at the slightest attempt at an argument, he would explode. I would have liked to get my birthday present. –

— I got into the car. Without words, Dad pressed the accelerator while something or someone of color was too dark for my eyes to make it look clear.. – Dad? Where are we going? …House?

—It's complicated to explain. – I definitely didn't like that answer. –

So Dad kept going as we passed growing trees, and the silence grew along with them, much to my chagrin. Although I lay in the back seat of the car, turning the situation over in my head. Greek gods. Existing. Having relations with mere mortals. Greek gods still alive. my mom . My mom is a Greek goddess. I'm not normal, I never was. I am a weirdo from birth – In addition to color blindness, which is rare in women, for the love of God (s) – I'm getting off topic, my mom is a goddess. And then. Let us.  She gave birth and left my dad alone with a baby to take care of. After finishing psychology university. – It was his second career, botany had been his first. – 

BANG .

I got up from the back seat and saw through the front window someone, not something, it was a monster, it seems like something worthy of a Greek myth. Ironically, I peeked through the middle of the driver and passenger seat. My dad looked at me with a deeper frown and a more stressed face than when Lean, my stepbrother, and Yahir, his best friend, had broken two bathrooms at their school and had called him. No, I had nothing to do with it. I, in fact, was the victim in that situation. But until today, I haven't seen him more stressed than he was that day, and I'm pretty sure that if he was lying, he wouldn't be so stressed that he opened the door and almost kicked me out of his car.

I fell on the grass, feeling that it became softer as I fell, then, leaning on the car, I got up and saw the monster, I saw my dad, and I saw the monster again. Someone is missing here. I'm not going near the monster. But apparently, I had no power of choice because as soon as my dad got out of the car, and I went to his side, the monster jumped on top of me. And the grass we were on began to pull him back, when he managed to get him off of me, it began to choke him, vanishing in seconds.

That was…epic. But it's not like I want it to happen again. Aha.

— you need to explain all this, dad. – I insisted, he sighed, and grabbed me by the shoulders. –

—Your mother is a goddess. Do you remember what the children of gods and mortals were called in myths?

— Demigods. Or half-bloods . – I murmured, Dad nodded, releasing my shoulders. When I heard footsteps behind us. And I turned around, seeing a red-haired head, but a bright orange-haired one, – I think it's red, but, are you really going to trust me with the colors, buddy? – I looked down and met green eyes that were too light, I frowned. – Jeremiah? – Jeremiah Montés, one of the only people in the big city I could consider a friend. He seemed to have a problem with his legs, from what he had told me, a car accident a couple of years ago. –

— Maylea! Mr. Edwards! – He said, while looking for air. – You didn't wait for me at the restaurant... And you already brought her here?

— Understand me, Jeremiah.. –  Dad began, I looked between them, with a frown. –The monsters were looking for us. And I needed to tell her.

— You could have waited for me... - He said, while I looked down at the ground, Jeremiah instead of legs, like any ordinary human being, had goat legs. Hooves instead of feet. – But it doesn't matter. Have you already told her?

—The part about the Demigods? Or about you? 

- Both.

Hi, yes, I'm still here. Can you explain why my only friend has goat legs, why my dad says I'm a demigoddess and what the hell is happening? Can you please stop talking about me like I'm not here? They both looked at me. Jeremiah saw how he looked at his legs. 

—So, you didn't tell her about me. – No, I would like, I would love for you to explain to me what all this is, please. And preferably, tell me it's probably the best prank ever played. After I broke my older step brother's skateboard, I taped it up and followed him to where I used it, watching him fall when he put his foot on it. – Lea? 

—Uh? Could you explain to me, if it's not too much trouble , what happened to your legs? – I asked, Jeremiah smiled a little. –

- I am a satyr. Your protector satyr. – I'm going nuts. They're going to have to put me in a mental hospital. –

- What? 

— Yes, Maylea. My mission is to take you safely to Camp Half-Blood. – Jeremiah responded, speeding up, I think because my face was becoming more and more incredulous. – Demigods, like you, have a very striking smell to monsters, you see things that humans don't, and you have reached an age where monsters will begin to look for you more...

My God. I know that birthday jokes are funny, but no, this joke is not funny at all, I don't like it. First, my mom is a Greek goddess, second, my only friend is a satyr, third, Camp Half-Blood? What is this? I don't want to be a party pooper. But please take me home, I want to enjoy my summer vacation.

—Mr. Edwards...? – Jeremiah began. – 

—Both of you get to the car quickly. – My dad interrupted, Jeremiah, always clumsy, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the car. Worst birthday ever, after the birthday that happened during the move from the country to New York. –

Bad news. I couldn't get into the car, someone threw me on my back to the ground, and I saw the monster that was attacking me, — I'm not sure what it was. —away from anything sharp. It's not the ideal way to protect myself. — I tried to hit him with my fist, or kick him, — Thank you, year of karate. – but it didn't work. My dad, who got out of the car with a kitchen knife, picked up the monster and tried to attack, he looked at me, and then he looked at Jeremiah.

- Go with her. - No, of course not. –

- What? No, dad. Jeremiah, don't listen to him. I won't move from here without him.

— Maylea.. – Jeremiah said, I shook my head. –

— No, I already told you, I'm not going to move from here. – I responded, with my hand made into a fist, seeing that something was forming on the floor. –

A knife made of grass. My God, I doubt it will help, but my teachers say it's 'worth the try', Dad had managed to get the thing away from us. I picked up the knife, and ran to my dad, ignoring Jeremiah's screams. I jumped on top of the thing, I tried to wrap my arm around its neck, and then, with the razor grass, it tried to stab it and in the attempt, the thing moved away from me, I heard distant screams that shouldn't be that far away, but the truth is, I don't care what Jeremiah or my dad want to tell me, something else is happening here and I want to act on it, I don't know if it's the year of karate and self-defense, or if a demon with good reflexes possessed me, I want I mean, if it's the demon, it's the demon that I like the most. Although I don't know many demons, anyway. I don't think I know any demons.

The knife seemed to sharpen, and I raised it as I felt the thing scratch me, even so. I don't care at all, a couple of scratches are not comparable to the thought of losing my dad because of me, because if everything they say about the gods is true, then the thing is looking for me. He's attacking me. Not dad, not Jeremiah. With the supposed edge of the much-loved razor-grass – Note the sarcasm, huh. – I crossed the thing's neck, the screams became more and more confusing, the burning in my cheek, my arm and my hand became more and more annoying. I turned to where I assumed my dad and Jeremiah were, more monsters were approaching them, but I know they were looking for me, it's obvious that they were looking for me. 

Everything is spinning again. Everything always goes in circles, one of the things, tried to attack dad, almost like second nature, I ran there and the protests did not become clearer despite being close, the beloved razor-grass apparently works and then...

— Maylea! – I listened as someone grabbed my shoulders and turned me to look at him. – Relax. Breathe. I don't need you to protect me. – He probably doesn't lie, but I desire that lies –

- But.. Dad… – I feel the razor-grass melting in my hands and I think I'm about to cry, while my dad's hand that went up to my cheek is turning red. –

- Seriously, my girl. I'll be fine. – It sounds like what he told me on my first day of elementary school. After being homeschooled for years, I didn't want to leave him alone for just five hours a week. –

— They are looking for me… — I tried. – You don’t have to protect me.

—That's not true. I  have to protect you, darling.

Part of me wants to cry because it sounds like when a parent sacrifices themselves for the protagonist in a Disney movie, a smaller part makes fun of her because first; I'm not in a Disney movie. Second, my dad is not sacrificing himself, or at least, I hope he is not, third, I am not the protagonist. The other one wants to get angry with my dad because I can protect myself. At least I can do something to survive and he doesn't need to protect me. The same part that was mocked before is being mocked again because I sound as childish as a Disney movie. Although, I repeat, this is not a Disney movie.

One of the things grabbed my dad's neck and I can swear I heard Jeremiah say something, I don't care, I looked at the ground, checking to see if the razor-grass had magically returned. Hey, I love you, come back, please, I need you. I thought. But when I looked up, the thing was choking my dad and then he disappeared. I tried to scream. But it didn't work. And I guess Jeremiah moved closer to me because before the twists took hold, I heard him call out to me. 

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I opened my eyes, with an incredible headache, as if I had fallen to the floor and they had not gotten to pick me up in time, and the first thing I saw, like someone normal — which, after all this, it became clear to me that I am not. –, it wasn't a doctor, or my dad, or my stepmother. The first thing I saw. It was a girl with beautiful black hair, braids worthy of a five-star salon, and mesmerizing brown eyes. I wish she had said something like “You look good when you sleep” but the first thing I heard after coming back from the dead was:

—You talk strangely when you sleep. – Oh. Okay, I love it. Perfect welcome to heaven. – 

— And I wish I had responded with something like "Am I in heaven? Because you look like an angel" but instead of an incredible flirtation like the ones you see in romantic movies, the good ones, of course . I responded with a silly – ; What? What do you mean by talking strange? It wasn't whatever you think it is. 

- Don't know. You said strange words. – The girl worthy of a Disney princess answered me, with a tone full of sarcasm. I don't think I'm going to do a Disney marathon anymore. Did you see how many times I mentioned Disney? –

— Oh God. What a shame. – I said, covering my face with my hands. I heard the girl mutter something about how I was already awake, and when I looked up, she came in with Jeremiah at her side. –

— Lea! – Jeremiah called me, I sat on the bed while he entered the room. I saw my hand, I had a bandage going down my arm, and I started to feel the band-aid that was on my cheek. –

—Jeremiah? – I said, not seeing him, but watching how the nameless girl left the room. When I heard the door close, I fixed my gaze on him. –

- My God. I'm glad you're okay. Does your arm hurt? It shouldn't hurt, It’as only in a cast because Apollo's kids decided it’ll heal better with a cast.

—Children of Apollo? Plural ? Oh God, there are many of them. Maybe the girl from before be one of them? – Mhm, no, it doesn't hurt. In fact, can I take off the cast?   - Well. If I'm honest, it hurts a little bit a lot . –

— Tomorrow you can, and you should eat that. – He pointed to the cubes on the table next to me, they will be brownies, he mentioned once that he likes to bake. – 

- What's that? – I asked. – 

- Meal. – For the love of God. He approached me, and grabbed one of them. He rested it on my right hand and I raised my eyebrow. - What? Don't tell me you're left-handed. You're not going to take off the cast until tomorrow. 

I'm right-handed, I'm not that of a weirdo either, don't get me wrong, I just came back from the dead, and they are giving me food that they don't want to tell me is, in the myths, Persephone, by eating something from the underworld, is forced to stay six months a year with Hades. What if this is a trap? Forget it . Jeremiah put a piece in my mouth, it tastes like a tomato, potato and egg salad. Like the ones I did with dad before meeting my stepmother. Or maybe, they're still the same salads, but they tasted better before, I swear.

Somehow, the pain in my arm went away, I wonder why some brownies taste like salad. It's weird, very very weird. But Jeremiah smiled at me and moved the plate out of my reach. Then, after giving the set to someone else, he turned to me.

— Can I help you get up? – I nodded and then, when he helped me get up, he pointed to a light orange short-sleeved T-shirt, with a drawing of a stick, surrounding it, a circle with patterns… above. It said something about 'Capm Halb Blood’, right, damn dyslexia. – I'm going to leave the infirmary while you change your shirt, okay? Annabeth was going to do it, but you started talking in your sleep and she let you. 

— Ah. Okay, I guess Annabeth is the girl worthy of a Disney princess and...what? She was going to change my shirt? How?...Unless Annabeth is a lady from this place who is ninety-something years old. –Annabeth? 

—Annabeth, the girl who was before me. A daughter of Athena. – Well, then, she was not a daughter of Apollo. If I remember correctly, Athena is the goddess of wisdom...So, Annabeth must be pretty smart. –

— I nodded, and then I grabbed the shirt, I frowned when I felt something on my neck, I looked down, a black necklace. – Eh..Jeremiah..What?

— A necklace from the camp. Don't worry.

- Perfect.

Jeremiah walked out the door of the infirmary, I took off the shirt I was wearing and sighed as I put on the other one, I closed my eyes as the orange shirt settled and I stretched my arms above my head.

Leaving the infirmary, Jeremiah nodded and began to move forward. Wait a minute, in all my time here, I haven't seen my dad. The last time I saw him, he had disappeared while a thing had attacked him. Did he disappear? As..Forever? I looked at Jeremiah. Then, I touched his shoulder.

— Jere? I want to ask you a question… – He nudged me and I looked ahead, a boy with black hair and curlers. I frowned, reminding me of my older stepbrother, but then he gave a toothless smile. She seems more trustworthy than him, at least. –

—So…Maylea Edwards? – I nodded, he looked at me with eyes that didn't look at all like my stepbrother's. They showed kindness. – I am Luke Castellan, son of Hermes.

After talking for a while, Jeremiah said that he should go somewhere else with his satyr friends. God, how strange it is to hear that, I don't think I'll ever get used to this. Luke asked me if I had any idea who my mother might be. I shook my head and then he told me that he is captain of his cabin, Hermes'. 

—Isn't that like… a lot of responsibility ? – I asked . One year at school I had been the class representative. Since that year, I have been begging my dad to homeschool me again. –

—Sometimes it seems so, but it's not even that much. – I guess he created it. Luke opened the door, and a girl probably my age asked if I was claimed or to be determined, I looked at the floor as if it was going to tell me the answer, Luke answered for me. –

— To be determined.

Ideal .

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I was staying in Hermes' cabin for at least four weeks, no one answered me things about my father and every time I closed my eyes, I see him disappear while each dream changes words, in one he apologizes, I don't know why. In another, he told me how much he loved me. In the last one, he told me that I had grown up a lot and was no longer his five-year-old girl who climbed trees out of boredom. 

For the love of the Gods, a dagger in my chin pulls me out of my head. And he heard a voice that has become very familiar in the last week. Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. 

- What's the matter? You’re lost in your head. -- Asked. Almost worried. Or completely worried? I have no idea. It had been a while since Luke had gone on a mission. He hadn't returned yet, I heard from him, Chiron told Annabeth, not long before I arrived, a year ago, tops. That someone would come and then she would have an important mission with whoever came, she watches the new children from that moment on; Why doesn’t she give up on me? That's what I asked myself! It has already been weeks, please. –

—Eh, no, nothing. – I smiled with my lips and raised my sword from the ground, – I guess Luke taught you well. You’re soooo good with the sword, or the dagger, or whatever.

— Luke is the best swordsman. – She responded, while attacking me. –

— For me, you are the best. – Counterattack, tightening the grip with the sword. –

—Maylea...? – She asked, looking down at the sword, I looked at her too. –

It was getting almost like razor grass, I frowned, I saw Annabeth smile almost the same smile that she makes when she crushes me  in chess, she shrugged and the fight continued, until one of my counterattacks, the grass from my sword wrapped around Annabeth's arm, she frowned, and as she cut the grass with her dagger, we clashed swords/daggers and she threw mine to the ground.

- You’ve humiliated me, again . – I snorted, Annabeth raised her eyebrow and then attacked my side. – Oi! I'm unarmed, it's not fair.

— Are you sure you're unarmed? – I nodded, something in my hand as I moved it began to grow. I frowned, Razor Grass is back! Wait. Razor Grass is back. –

Annabeth had dodged the attack, I don't like not being able to attack, really. But it's also fun to try, even so, I narrowed my eyes when I saw that she had disappeared from my sight, I turned around and we clashed swords.

The grass began to surround my arm. Annabeth's sword touched the ground. Flowers began to grow in the grass around my arm. I kept looking at the arm with the flowers, I feel like this is really weird. It's as if the flowers have been protecting me since I left the restaurant. I frowned at the thought. Until I felt Annabeth's hands touch my shoulders and also a little burning in my cheeks, Hey, the girl is pretty, you can't blame me. I looked up.

The symbol of Demeter. Goddess of agriculture, harvest, fertility and the seasons. For the Gods, That explains so many things about my life that I really don't want to delve into that. 

—Oh. – I said, instead. – Oh.  

— Oh? Just ‘Oh’?   –Annabeth asked, I smiled. –

Shortly after. The captain of my cabin guided me there. Seriously, it looked prettier than when I first arrived, it has more sunflowers than before, seriously. I lay down on my bed, it's much more comfortable than sleeping in a sleeping bag. There are still secret conversations between the plants. But they are much more fun to listen to, more comfortable knowing that everyone here is listening to them.

I wonder where my dad is, if he’s fine, I wish I had protected him. In order to, I don't know, repay him for all the favors he has done me since I was conscious, so-so.