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“Nice hairstyle.”
“Screw you, Haddock.”
Alongside him, one of his half-siblings hid poorly her giggles upon seeing his nest of hair. Asher chose to ignore it in lieu of serving himself some cereals.
Before stepping out of his cabin, the Hofferson had had a foreboding that whatever happened to his hair involved the meddling of a certain Hephaestus’ daughter, and after taking a glimpse of her crooked grin, he was sure of it. The fact that the purple color and flamboyant, rigid hairstyle did not fade off also implied the participation of two annoying Hermes’ twins.
He was going to get back at them, that was for sure.
Naturally, the same girl he had insulted a few seconds ago sat next to him with practised ease and planted a quick peck at his cheek.
The blonde —now purple-haired— frowned, yet didn’t pull away. “I’m not forgiving you this easily.”
“We’ll see.” Smiled Hela.
This was new. They were new, even if the Thorston twins claimed they saw it coming from years ago. The spare kisses and badly concealed smirks whenever their hands brushed in a fleeting contact were new and exciting. Pitting against other cabins while leading their own was also fun, even more now that they made up the most powerful ones. It made Asher thank Aphrodite for playing her cards right and unfogging his hazy mind from the denial it stood upon.
“So, ready to crush the twins in Capture The Flag?” The brunette bumped their shoulders, picking at her food.
The Hofferson answered after swallowing. “I might just crush you before and then move to them.”
“Hey! I’m your ally.”
Instead of granting his girlfriend a reply, Asher gave her a dead-panned look. One that could be read as ‘and yet you made this’, if his hair was any reliable lead. For it, the Haddock snorted inevitably, covering her mouth while staring at the piece of art his hair embodied.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” she spoke, not ceasing her laughter. “Like, truly sorry.”
“You’re done.” Asher said, standing up.
Hela stopped her laughs for a moment, reaching her arm to pull him down. “Hey, you have to finish breakfast!”
“You need it more than me.”
“Oof.” Howled the girl, laughing out loud, though as he walked away from the tables the laughter faded.
He had things to do apart from fooling around. His siblings, for instance, had left their cabin looking like a warzone (the interior, obviously, the exterior was one) and he had to tidy everything up before the weekly inspection came. The Aphrodite’s kids still hadn’t forgiven him for that Capture The Flag where he had terrorized them for being traitors.
And, if that were not enough, he was on cleaning duty for getting embroiled in a Thorston’s prank.
Not even mentioning the situation going on with his hair. Before cleaning every corner of their cabin, Asher would give a last attempt to scrub the purple out of it in the shower, though it seemed the colour had come to stay for a couple of days minimum.
Which was true. After spending a good half an hour rinsing and soaping his hair up, the blonde— purple-haired boy gave up. The colour was still as vibrant and hurtful to the sight as it was when he just woke up. Opting to ignore it, he put a loose shirt on and joggers and rushed to put some order into the battlefield his siblings called cabin. While doing so, Asher ran through their schedule for today: arts and crafts with the Athena Cabin, strawberry picking with the Demeter’s kids and, in the afternoon, lounge around on the Canoe Lake along Hela’s— Hephaestus’ Cabin.
Arts and crafts was as eventful as it could be with Fishlegs talking his ear off throughout the whole time, not even managing to detach himself from the Ingerman as he tried to help his half-siblings. Strawberry picking went fairly well. The Demeter’s kids were always amicable and peaceful enough to stand, as opposed to Hermes’. Even if Asher had to make an extra effort to ignore the snickers behind his back, all caused by the flamboyant of his hair colour.
While on cleaning duty, the Thorston twins were as insufferable as ever, snickering non-stop at his hair colour. They deserved getting hosed down from head to toe, which was what they got.
At lunch, Asher put some order on his table and avoided Hela’s staring as much as possible in retaliation to getting his hair purple. He urged his half-siblings to eat as much as they could to gather energy for the evening’s activity —canoeing always left them exhausted— and posterior Capture the Flag.
Capture the Flag, where he had to inevitably work along with Hela to win the Thorston twins and Fishlegs. The blonde began to prepare himself. It was a mystery how he had forgotten about such an eventful game, one that he loved.
Or maybe it wasn’t much of a mystery, given the colour of his hair.
While canoeing, the Hofferson had no option but to face his girlfriend. Not sooner had his cabin arrived at the lake than she was approaching him, hands on her hips and her hair beautifully gathered in a braid.
“Are you still ignoring me?”
Asher looked beyond her, seeing the canoes in the quay.
“Come on,” he called to his half-siblings and resumed walking.
“Hey!”
The blonde kept on with his game, because he knew it would rile Hela up. It would make her face gain some wrinkles and bring the most attitude out of her, which was always welcomed. Call it masochism, but the Hofferson enjoyed getting some harsh treatment —even if Hela couldn’t go five minutes without cracking a smile at him. Some spare and stern glances, huffs even, were the most he got from her.
Now out in the lake, Asher couldn’t escape his girlfriend, who had sat in the same canoe as him. A friendly naiad —water nymph— had also decided to hop on their boat, talking with both teenagers as they watched their siblings swim and race in the water. None wanted to recreate sea battle with their triremes, so a relaxed afternoon was ideal, especially when Capture The Flag was that very same afternoon later.
Putting her anger aside, Hela began to discuss with the Hofferson all the loose ends of their strategy. Thankfully, the naiad set at odds with the Thorston twins because of some prior prank, and wasn’t planning on snitching on them —quite the opposite, she began proposing stratagems and ploys to set the Hermes’ kids up. By the end of the activity, their plan was fully mastered.
Everything was going on a roll. He and Hela had parted ways to ambush and trap the enemy while saving a rear guard guarding their flag. Athena’s kids remained in high ground for visibility, led by Fishlegs.
Asher’s own half-siblings deployed, going their assigned ways as planned. He managed to trap as many enemies as possible, yet there was no sight for the Thorston twins. Suspicious.
Even so, it was fine. They did not need to capture Tuffnut and Ruffnut to win the game, just their flag. They could go without tracking down those agitators, even if it was better if they did. It would make it all easier for their team, divested from the real danger they brought.
Still, a chill ran down the blonde’s spine.
The Hofferson kept on, fighting and breaking his way through the enemy’s lines making the most out of being the son of the War God —Ares.
The enemy’s flag was finally on sight, guarded by a garrison conformed by young campers. Asher smirked to himself, they were a piece of cake waiting to be crushed by him. It almost looked like a tramp without any experienced camper to lead them. Careful and with haste, for them not to notice him, the boy gauged the approximate distance that separated him from the enemy. The blonde approached the hill, careful not to alert them, stealthy in every step he took. Once he was finally in their own sight range though not noticed yet, he lounged at the nearest enemy.
Asher was cocky enough to believe he could overthrow them and grab the flag —maybe not easily per se, but fast enough to not attract attention from the enemy’s allies. His mind replayed what he was about to do: fight every single one of them if they got in the way, take the flag and fleet through the forest until he reached his team’s territory. A difficult task only doted ones could perform.
The young campers did not stand a chance against Asher. Most of them had already sparred with him on camp’s activities and lost, and the others that did not dare to duel him on one-to-one feared him enough to drop his daggers immediately, submissively surrendering. The only experienced camper was a lanky Hera’s daughter, who had the brains but lacked muscle to put into practice what she had seen during sparring sessions. She put up a relatively good fight, yet eventually lost and gave the Hofferson free way to the flag.
As soon as his hand got a hold of the flagstaff, he set on running the way back, his ears hearing the shouting from the enemy alerting the disappearance of their flag. The hunt started, it seemed. They were coming for him, hunting him down until the flag returned to where it stood previously. Not that Asher was going to be handed in a silver plate. Over his dead body.
Adrenaline rushed through the blonde’s veins as he flashed through the forest, taking the shortest route to safer lands —his and Hela’s team’s territory. Several people tried following his steps and catching up, failing miserably. That, though trifling, boosted his ego just slightly.
After running until his legs cramped, the Hofferson reached his team’s land. At first no one was in sight to scream or shout victory, though when he turned around, campers appeared from bushes and their hideouts to celebrate after the initial weariness faded off. The usual loud cheers and laughter echoed through the thick of the forest, and Asher also got drunk on its joy.
Just as Asher raised victoriously the flag to his team, his smile quickly dropped when he saw the scenario beyond him. Among the laughter, the festiveness and the cackling, a particular image stood out for worse. Where a beaming and ecstatic Hela was supposed to be, having the Thorston twins tied up for good, instead stood a bleeding Hela, being aided by some Athena kids as blood poured from her left arm. The injury itself looked nasty, and the added limp that followed her walking only made his stomach drop. His hearing zoned out the cheers and constant chants from campers.
The flag, the thing that just seconds ago made the Hofferson’s heart swell with pride and cockiness, was immediately discarded on the floor like it meant nothing —because it did not mean a slight thing. Not in comparison to the injured brunette who struggled to land a step on the floor and winced at every touch the Apollo healers tried to land on her bleeding arm.
The blonde’s feet moved like a mind of its own, leading him automatically to where the Haddock was commanded to sit until further notice. Before even opening his mouth to speak, two of the Apollo kids ushered him away, not even letting him check properly on her. Fishlegs was soon at his arm, reminding him what his responsibilities as his Cabin’s counselour were, though it all sounded like crap to him. The blonde just wanted to be with his —recently established— girlfriend and make sure she was alright. What was so hard to understand about it?
Asher had no idea what had happened, nor what had caused Hela’s arm to be mauled to the point of bleeding a worrying amount of blood, and he wanted to know. Desperately. Was it his fault? Did some of his planning or proposals go wrong and led to the brunette getting injured? His ears rang in barely contained anxiety.
Fishlegs continued to talk his ear off, trying to cool down the situation, yet suspicion began to grow in the Hofferson’s gut. He licked at his lips nervously and carded a hand through his hair as the dots began to connect.
Hela was supposed to go after the Thorston twins. She followed their trail, having her machines back her up to corner them. Then, when Capture the Flag was won by him, suddenly the Haddock appeared mauled and visibly hurt and bleeding —something that was strictly prohibited according to Chiron— and there was no idea of the Throston twins’ whereabouts.
Two plus two is four. Five plus five is ten. The Thorston twins must have been the ones responsible. Logic.
The time went in a blur, and Asher was dragged to the campfire held after Capture The Flag. Apollo kids sang as usual accompanied by some Aphrodite and Hera children, while Dionysus’ kids snacked and slacked. Fishlegs assumed the role of not leaving the Ares’ son side very seriously, because he stuck like a limpet to him, never ceasing to ramble. The Hofferson’s eye twitched, without distinguishing whether from surfeit or anger. Or both.
His eyes scoured the bonfire in search of the Hermes’ twins, yet it was all for naught; they had vanished from camp since Capture The Flag, just like Chiron. Bile began to make the blonde’s hands tremble.
Logically, Asher knew it wasn’t that serious. He had seen first-hand far worse seizures, even experienced them. And, by how the Haddock arrived at camp at nine years old, she also had been inflicted worse. Hela would need some ambrosia and the best care of one of Apollo’s kids to get back on her feet in the blink of an eye, yet worry sat unrelenting in the pit of his stomach and grew by seconds.
As soon as Dionysus left the campfire to attend some business, the blonde sneaked out of it, hushing Fishlegs with a glare and not even bothering to dissimulate. The walk to the infirmary was short, even briefer at the pace he walked. The building’s door was not even locked, making it easy for Asher to enter and search for Hela.
Hela, who was in the right wing of the nursery, supported by a mountain of pillows and bored out of her mind without her sketchbook. Her eyes traced the ceiling over and over, not bothering to try to sleep. Upon watching him appear in her vision, the Haddock sat upright and made room for him on the pallet.
“Hi.” She spoke, offering him a small smile. Her arm, as Asher had seen before she was sent to the infirmary, was bandaged up and put into a sling until further notice. Overall, there weren’t any other visible or major wounds, only some scratches and nickels on her other arm and left cheek. He could swear she was paler than usual.
Her hair, as wild and untamable as ever, hugged and coiled around her ears. Asher felt a sudden, almost unstoppable need of tucking a loose strand behind her ear. Regrettably, he held back.
“Hi,” the Hofferson responded before sitting on her stretcher. He kept his face reserved and neutral, only the glint of his eyes showing the worry that creeped onto him for the past hour. “They really did a number on you.”
Hela huffed an attempt of a laugh, though it died down quickly. With it, her own demeanor seemed to deflate along the slope of her chest. As an attempt to play it cool, she shrugged her shoulders in the same, characteristic way she did.
“Prepare for trouble and make it double, or whatever it is.”
Now it was the blonde’s turn to huff at her usual quips. “Well, you clearly did not prepare for it.”
Mockingly, her lips protruded in a petty pout.
Laced with weariness and the fragile desire to keep things calm, silence flooded the nursery.
Without uttering a word, the blonde closed some distance between them, focused on the Haddock’s face. His brows were creased in a slight frown, eyes fixated on the high part of her cheek bone.
“You’ve got a nick right here.” Asher said, his thumb lingering softly around the area. His voice, usually unequivocal and firm, came out as a quiet, numbing whisper against Hela’s sensitive skin.
“They focused on my arm.” She let out, breathless and just as mind-numbing. Her emerald orbs didn’t shy away from staring at his lips, though the brunette was decent enough to not wet her own in reflex. The silence and growing tension could be cut with a knife had they wanted to.
The blonde didn’t reply. His hand went to the back of her neck in lieu of an unnecessary response, the touch reverently soft in comparison to the callous of his hands and the ire that creeped on him when he heard how badly the Thorston twins had left her. It didn’t matter that he knew a harsh punishment awaited them. With more delicacy than could have been needed, his fingers began to caress her hair in slow, soothing motions that did little to distract Hela from the plumpness of his lips.
The Haddock sighed, curling up to the touch. With half-lidded eyes, she noted how Asher got closer to accommodate himself in a better position, the warmth of his body dozing her into relaxing. Despite being Hephaestus’ daughter, Hela usually found herself lacking the warmth everyone associated with the forge and lava. Instead, true warmth came in the form of a competitive, stubborn and Ares son who was as thick as he could get; in his shoulder bumps, hands and arms, ones that held her when no one looked and engulfed her when the phantom pain became too much during the night.
Almost bashfully, she mimicked him, scooting closer. With a hint of nervousness and some initial awkwardness that hadn’t really faded ever since they started dating, the brunette wetted her lips. She searched blindly for his free hand amidst the dark, threading their fingers.
For a moment, Hela closed her eyes, basking in the way his calloused, rough fingers traced patterns on her scalp.
Slowly, as if checking to make sure Hela wanted it too, Asher got closer to her lips. Making it palpable that, if she did not want to, the Haddock could back away; though it wasn’t the case as she stood in place, waiting for him to seal their lips. Looking at his eyes would have been far too embarrassing to survive, yet looking elsewhere would have been even more pathetic.
For this time, the Haddock reciprocated the stare. Their lips met without a hurry, not being rushed nor having to be extra cautious in case any of their half-siblings or campers loitered around, as it was usually the case. They were beginning to get familiar with the sensations and acquiring practice slowly, and it felt good. Maybe there was slightly more saliva than it was supposed to and sometimes their teeth clashed, but it felt nice nevertheless. More than nice, great. I left a funny feeling in the back of Hela’s mind every time.
Once Asher parted his mouth just slightly in relaxation, the brunette took the chance to deepen the kiss, using her tongue to stroke his bottom lip. Allowing more access and struggling to find the perfect angle, the Hofferson merely tilted his head and let his instincts take the reins of it.
They may not be considered good kissers, but they were getting there.
After a bold, brazen fight for dominance, the kiss didn’t settle for a calmer, slower pace as it usually followed. The rivalry hadn’t disappeared, it just transmigrated to other aspects that could accommodate it; which was the case at the moment as Hela didn’t yield from the Hofferson’s bites and tongue. Instead of letting him take the utmost control and adapt to his own pace, the brunette climbed on top of him, careful to not hurt her replenishing arm, and attacked with renewed vigour.
Between parting to breath and diving back in the heat of her lips, the blonde’s hands grew antsy, in need to hold something to anchor himself. Luckily, the Haddock’s waist wasn't out of reach, and his hands immediately became latched onto it, pressing when the heat became close to unbearable.
When the kiss became slow, sensual and leisured; the intensity dwindling yet not quite disappearing, just morphing into depth and quiet reverence, Asher felt Hela drag her hips above him slowly, to the rhythm of their fighting tongues. It was a shy motion, barely enough to be considered an incentive for ulterior motives, yet it sparked the alarm inside the Hofferson’s head.
He was already having a hard time holding back the need to buck his hips, he didn’t need the brunette to spur it on even further.
The blonde broke the kiss, earning a disapproving huff from the girl. Swallowing, he noted how his cheeks reddened.
“Why’d you stop?”
Embarrassment found its way to make itself shown on how his voice struggled to come out, raspy. Asher coughed and harrumphed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I, uh, just… I didn’t want to get too excited.”
The Hofferson immediately cringed at his own words, pursing his lips tight enough to hurt. The blush on his cheeks only deepened in response. As witty and sharp-tongued as the brunette was, she didn’t seem to understand. Hela frowned and tilted her head as she tried to grasp what he had meant.
It only took an awkward, silent minute for the engines of the Haddock’s brain to work and function, widening her eyes as the truth struck her.
“Oh.” Hela said, dumbly. Then, she repeated it intently as it fully dawned upon her. “Oh.”
Now both of them sported red cheeks, and the boy’s hand’s position punctuated the whole ordeal. “Shut up.”
“No, uh, it’s, um, it’s okay. Totally normal.” The brunette spoke, awkward and without knowing what to really do. “Cool. Uh, totally natural!”
“Hiccs, shut up.” Asher whined, throwing his head backwards.
They hadn’t talked about what to do or what to forgo. They had only begun to kiss on the cheeks and quick pecks three days after that particular Capture The Flag, and things slowly escalated from there, but at no point did they sit down to talk about what was good and what was out of limits.
This was the further they had gotten, perhaps too out of hand.
“We don’t have to do anything.” He mumbled, too ashamed to look her in the eye. “It’s too early for it either way.”
“...alright.” Breathed Hela, her eyes coyly searching for something on his face. She was as shy as the blonde was at the moment, yet kept her head up. “Do you want to keep, um, kissing? We can stop if you want.”
For a moment, the Hofferson shut his eyes and pondered seriously about it. He was not a pre-teenager that didn’t know how to control himself nor strange to lust; even if he was indeed unfamiliar with the whole dating thing. His fingers remained to fidget with the brunette’s t-shirt hem as he gulped.
“...sure.”
Slowly, like she was trying to pet a stray cat, the Haddock shortened the distance that separated both of them and sent a last glance at her boyfriend, looking for approval or encouragement. When she was met with a —secretely cute— frown, the brunette couldn’t help but laugh before sealing their lips once again, silencing her giggles in a slow motion of tongues and hushed sighs.
Asher counterattacked with more drive than previously, possibly bugged by her amusement in regard to his shame. He clashed their mouths with renewed strength and held her waist in a tighter, pressing hold; forcing Hela to keep up with the pace and tilt her head.
It seemed that the blonde was bolder when he didn’t have eyes to witness what he was doing.
The Hofferson’s hold, though iron, felt grounding, steady and poignantly restful. It only encouraged Hela to disinhibit herself from any ounce of embarrassment and let loose surrounded by the anonymity the night’s darkness carried.
She gripped his hair tighter with her uninjured hand in retaliation after a harsh bite to her lip, drowning the pant that followed after.
“For being so obsessed with my hair you didn’t hesitate to make it purple.” Asher said when the kiss broke, out of breath.
“Who said I’m obsessed with it?” Hela shot back, biting back a laugh and equally breathless. “I’m just trying to make you bald by pulling at it.”
Asher shut her up with another kiss, a smile skin-deep on his face.
“So, Ashy, where were you tonight? Didn’t see you at your cabin.” Started Tuffnut, snaking an arm through his shoulders and pulling him closer.
“Why would you go to my cabin in the first place?” Retorted Asher without sparing his friend a glance.
“Evasive, I see.”
The Hofferson shook off his friend’s arm as he grumbled. “I’m still mad at you.”
“It was an accident!”
“I’ll pick up a sword and fight you, let’s see what an accident really is.”