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The sound of raucous giggles made Percy grin as he warmed the bottle.
He heard Tyson laugh with equal delight followed by the clink of gears and then a beautiful melody. He had been hard at work tinkering last night the moment Mrs. O’Leary deposited them on the roof of the apartment building.
The winter sun had almost reached its zenith, filtering in through the living room window, and Percy could almost imagine that Apollo was peeking in on Estelle, too.
He was fond of the baby, and Percy would take that as a good sign for now. Percy would tear Olympus down himself if that changed, but Estelle carried the blessing of three gods now, and she was as safe as any mortal relative of Percy’s could be.
“Watch this,” he heard Tyson say. There was a quiet brush of bronze and then Estelle cooed in delight.
Percy poked his head around the divide and saw Tyson holding a carousel of intricately sculpted hippocampi in one hand and a bronze star lamp in the other as the baby sat up and clapped.
She watched the constellations dance across the walls, and her smile was so wide that both dimples were visible on her squishy, little cheeks.
The winter holidays were fast approaching, and Percy was happy to be home in Manhattan after surviving his first semester at university. He had missed Estelle even more than he’d expected. He also missed his parents, of course. And, being a Manhattan boy through and through, he had missed the bodegas and hot dogs and the taste of real New York pizza. The stuff the served in New Rome was nearly offensive. New York style, his podex.
He hadn’t realized just how much he missed Tyson until his brother had found him in New Rome the other day and asked about Estelle.
Now, Percy took the bottle and watched his little brother and baby sister with an aching fondness blooming in his chest like a pack of Meg’s geraniums.
He had grown up as an only-child. For so long, it had just been him and Mom and the stench of Gabe. He had known boarding school dorms better than the storage room that doubled as his summer residence.
Now, he was back in a dorm, far from the city, not even in the same state anymore.
But now, he had more to come home to. He had more homes to return to.
Home was bigger than his mom now. Home was Paul and Estelle and Tyson. Home was Annabeth and Grover and Nico and Hazel and Frank.
“Having fun?” he asked, sauntering into the living room and scooping up his sister.
Estelle beamed at him and patted his cheek as he settled her on his hip. Then her eyes, bright and green like his lit up at the sight of the bottle. She grabbed for it, and Percy snickered. “I see how it is. Big brother is great, but the bottle is greater.” He kissed her nose and gave her the bottle. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
Tyson watched them with a wide smile. He set the carousel and the lamp down, his hands reaching into his pockets to pull out new scraps of bronze. He was working on another big, secret project—one that he wouldn’t share with Percy yet. “Our sister is perfect.”
“She is,” Percy agreed, watching Estelle suck down milk like it was a competition. She had a big appetite that Mom claimed she got from him.
Estelle was Percy’s sister, and therefore, Estelle was Tyson’s sister, too. No one would dare disabuse the young cyclops of that notion. A handful of legionnaires had found out just how fierce Percy’s wolf stare could be when the topic came up.
Settling cross-legged on the rug near Estelle’s play mat, Percy leaned against Tyson’s shoulder.
Tyson was getting so big. Every time Percy saw him, he seemed to be half a foot taller. He still had the baby fat on his cheeks, but he was growing up. Percy was 18 now. Tyson was 12.
Estelle was already nine months. Soon, she’d start walking and talking.
His heart swelled and ached behind the shield of his ribs.
“You’re both getting so big,” he complained.
One big, brown eye blinked down at him as a pair of increasingly-sleepy, green ones blinked up at him.
Percy had spent so much of his life with a prophecy hanging over his head and death waiting just around the corner. It seemed wonderful and terrifying to live in a world where he would now get to watch these two grow up.
“What do you mean, Brother?”
“It seems like just yesterday you were a baby cyclops, and now you’re General Tyson. Maybe tomorrow Stelly will be president.”
Tyson giggled, and Estelle reached for him, the mostly-empty bottle slipping from her mouth. Percy passed her over easily, letting her snuggle against Tyson’s chest.
“Stelly would be a good leader,” Tyson decided.
“You think?” Percy teased, ruffling the baby’s black and silver hair. “She’s got this whole family wrapped around her little finger. What if she is a corrupt leader?”
Tyson made an offended sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t be mean. Stelly is a good girl. She would not be like that.”
Percy snickered and held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Our sister is a little angel, right Stell?”
Estelle’s only reply was to drool on Tyson’s shirt, fast asleep.
Percy’s grin softened as he wiped away the drool. “You definitely take after me, kiddo. But your life will be a lot easier. I’ll make sure of that,” he promised.
Tyson shifted the sleeping girl to one arm so he could wrap the other around Percy. Sometimes, when Tyson looked right at him with that big, baby brown eye, Percy felt like his brother could see the horrors of Tartarus reflected in his soul. He felt like Tyson could see the duct tape holding his cracked edges together. There was never judgement, just a helpless pain, a deep sympathy. A desire to fix something that Percy could barely admit was broken.
He swallowed hard as Tyson squeezed him in a sideways hug. “We both will protect her.”
Percy took a shaky breath. “Yeah…” he croaked. “Thanks, big guy.”