Chapter Text
"The gods aren't so different from the mortals, Nakamura. They have their flaws and . . . stuff. Basta! Just give them—us—a second chance before you go full 'avenger of the helpless' over us," Roma stuttered, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. He immediately looked anywhere but at the guy in front of him.
Absolute silence.
Roma dared to look up.
Then, Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis—this infuriating guy Roma was just fighting—stared at him awkwardly before his mouth twitched upwards.
"For a son of Apollo, God of Poetry, Cruz, you aren't really . . . well-spoken with your words," he said, clearly fighting a laugh threatening to bubble from his lips.
"Oh, for the gods' sake, Ethan! Could you please be serious right now? I'm not exactly in the right mindset—fighting a war with mythological beings, eldritch horrors and all—to wax poetic on why you should join our side! Besides," he mumbled, "I'm more of an archery guy myself."
Ethan couldn't hold it in any longer. His body shook with laughter, as if his body couldn't do anything but just submit to his mirth. He clamped a hand over his mouth, a futile gesture. It was clear in that dark eye of his that he was greatly amused by Roma's making a fool of himself.
"You, Roma, are the dorkiest, most stupidly funny demigod I have ever met." Ethan managed to choke out. 'Welp, so much for his I'm Batman vibes.' Roma thought distantly.
Roma had to admit though, that it brought him this . . . stupid sense of joy, making Ethan Nakamura laugh like he once did before.
Something tingled in his stomach. Probably indigestion. He mentally shook his head. Yeah, it was definitely indigestion.
Although Roma was traumatized, battered, and in desperate need of rest, he couldn't stop a small smile from creeping onto his own peeling lips.
"Ironic, isn't it? A son of Apollo, the freaking sun god, telling a son of Nemesis, goddess of revenge, to be more serious," Roma quipped, hoping to draw more helpless chuckles from the one-eyed boy. "Oh, come on now, Nakamura. I couldn't have been that funny." He raised an eyebrow at the now giggling demigod.
"My bad, Cruz. Just . . . Just been a long time since I met someone like you." Ethan replied, the most stupid grin Roma could ever have imagined was plastered on his stupid head.
"And what is that even supposed to mean?!" Roma let out an indignant squawk. In that moment, it was easy to probably mistake as two old buddies talking trash. Like how they were before- His eyes dropped to the ground. How stupid of him to think that Ethan would-
'Nope. Bad Romanus. Think positive. Try to convince him with your divine given charm.' Roma mentally hyped himself up. He looked up from the ground again, meeting Ethan's eye with a bunch of apprehension and doubt coiled behind his gaze. Uncertainty lingered in Roma's posture.
Would Ethan leave him behind again?
(That was clear enough.)
Ethan's eye bore into his own. Just like the first day they met at Camp. Except it was two eyes that greeted him before.
{"Hey, unclaimed huh? Same old situation here. My name's Ethan Nakamura. What's yours?" Ethan held out his open hand.
Roma, comforted by a familiarity about this stranger, shook it. "Romanus Cruz."
Ethan grinned at him. Void-black eyes sparkling with something like delight. Innocent joy.
"Since we have the same problems, let's be friends?" Ethan offered, gripping Roma's hand tighter.
Roma smiled back at the enemy and shook his head earnestly. "Sure! You seem cool. I hope we'll be best friend forever!"
Ethan laughed - the same laugh he did now and ruffled Roma's hair. "I'm sure we'll be best buds forever."
A naive hope.}
Roma flinched away from the sudden shock of the flashback. He got those sometimes. Usually, warnings. He didn't know why that would be of any importance right now.
. . .
What he wouldn't give to rewind time and live as an unclaimed child with Ethan Nakamura. As foolish, naive children, without a single care in this unfair world.
"A man can only be so wise until he becomes unhappy for, he knows that man is doomed.
Blessed are the unknowing, for they live with peace no wise man can ever relish."
A FEW HOURS BEFORE THE SLAUGHTER.
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"-Michael, take Apollo's cabin to the Williamsburg Bridge," is all Romanus Cruz heard as Percy Jackson fearlessly commanded the campers of Camp Half-Blood to defend Manhattan.
He grinned with anticipation, barely contained adrenaline coursing through his body.
Finally.
It was time that he could be useful. Contribute more of his abilities other than being "one of the lucky survivors". He hated being lumped together with the rest of the Apollo Cabin as if he were just part of the hive. The cliche. Sunshine-y people with no real personality except to shoot and heal? Right this way! It bothered him to no end.
He was the son of Apollo, the freaking god of light -the sun. It was in his blood to be noticed. It was finally his time to shine.
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No one alive should ever underestimate a demigod - no matter who their godly parent is.
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Children of Demeter? You can laugh at them all you want until you find poison ivy in your sheets.
Or have your breakfast cereal turn into a whole cornfield. Or have a tomato plant growing up your—You get the point.
Roma couldn't really understand how they got their soft, gentle stereotypes from because he was pretty sure Demeter from the myths wasn't all that nice. And those kids sometimes (while planting vegetables by the way) spouted the most creative insults Roma had ever heard that he began to wonder if perhaps Demeter also had a poetic aspect.
---
Aphrodite's kids? Holy Hera, they were vicious.
Sure, they acted all self-centered and diva-coded but give one of them a sword and you'd be surprised at how fast they could take you down.
It's all part of the act, Roma supposed.
The Aphrodite Cabin was also the news (read as: gossip) center of CHB and the cabin tended to pair up with the Hermes Cabin for pranks more times than anyone will actually know. They deserved more credit than what they were given. They knew how to use their reputation as harmless 'Barbies' to fullest.
Just because their mother is the love and beauty goddess and doesn't have much affiliation with weapons does not mean that they couldn't use their bodies.
(Because gods above could those kids deliver devastating, soul crushing roundhouse kicks.)
---
The Hermes Cabin? The Prankster Cabin. The Cabin of the Unclaimed.
Roma had spent some time there before his dad claimed him. Oh, sure, they were all laughy and smiley at you while you talked, and you'd think they were harmless until you noticed way too late that they've stolen your literal shirt off your back.
And, oh boy, could some of those speedsters outrun Usain Bolt.
---
Then we have the Apollo cabin.
For many other campers, there was not much to say about them other than they were: nice, good at archery, healing and casting curses on their enemies to have them speaking in the language of the poets unwillingly, for a very, very, very long time.
But other than that, they were simply . . . how to put this into words? Ah.
They were simply background characters in the way of the main heroes' act of valor. Back-ups, sure. But being a back-up is the maximum effort they can do. Archers? In the big main battlefield?
"Ha! You'd have better luck with a sleep-walking army of Ares kids." Was what Mr. D had said when Roma had asked about battle strategies and suggested his own.
Look, Mr. D was a god, sure. And Roma probably didn't know the godly drama or reason for as to why Mr. D underestimates Apollo's cabin so much - but still!
Micheal Yew was their kuya - their cabin counselor. He was an all-rounder, good at healing, archery and the arts.
Kayla Knowles - one of their best archers. She may be young, but she knows how to track and target and target for sure.
Austin Lake? That little man knew his way around a jazz saxophone.
Will Solace? He was a prodigy at healing the moment he stepped at camp.
And all of the other Apollo kids were mostly like that. Roma was one of those other Apollo kids. But, then again, he wasn't. Micheal Yew was an all-rounder on his dad's domains. All except prophecy.
Unfortunately for Roma, he inherited that horrid domain . . . by (somewhat) foretelling the future in his dreams. Or as he'd like to call them instead - nightmares! Wonderful, really. It's just that he had this - uh - little philosophy he picked up from . . . somewhere.
"Blessed are the unknowing, for they live with peace no wise man can ever relish.
A bit odd for a philosophy. But as Roma once liked to simplify it -
"Just go with the damn flow, bro."
Anyways. Back on track - his cabin was plenty amazing and useful! Much more useful that those Ares brutes who thought they would make an impact when in truth all they gave to CHB were extra unnecessary shrouds of young children. Just because of a petty fight, that - for the record - the Apollo cabin tried to end well.
Roma absolutely hated how undervalued his cabin was. They played a big role in ensuring wounded demigods survive, they attacked the opposing army to drive them back and all they get was a -
"Oh, the Apollo Cabin? They're chill, I guess. Good healers."
UGH! It made Roma want to scream - but not in the supersonic sense. (Of which some Apollo kids could also do, by the way.)
This war . . . Well. It might be embarrassing and wrong that he wanted to use this war as a way to prove that the Apollo Cabin was just as important as the Athena or the Ares Cabin (if those cowards were actually here to help, that is.) was to CHB.
---
Those were some of his scrambled thoughts while running along with the rest of his half - siblings towards Williamsburg Bridge.