The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 29

The top of the lava rock wall at Camp Half-Blood wasn't exactly the ideal place to meet a god. 

It towered hundreds of feet above the ground, from where the strawberry fields seemed the size of a hand and the demigods like dots. Built like the edge of a cliff, the plateau was built more so as a place for one to grab with one's hand if one needed a quick anchor point in a moment of danger— less so as a place to hang out. 

Naturally, Percy used the plateau as the latter. The climb up was long, exhausting, and hot. The lava coursed up every second as though filling a pot with water. However, unlike the relatively-harmless liquid, Percy found himself scrambling up the wall in fear of the lava.

When the son of the sea finally reached the top, he lay there for a second, panting. I can never get used to this.

The afternoon breeze floated over Percy's sweat-drenched clothes. He quickly unbuckled his climber's helmet, which smelled like a dog had pooped in it, and chucked it over the ledge. I hope it breaks into a thousand pieces.

That wasn't the reason Percy was up there, however. Despite the lack of monsters, life in camp below was stressful—even more so that he had a group to supervise. Unfortunately, the said group was filled with immature hooligans who didn't give a crap about serenity. 

"That's not nice," a familiar voice scolded, as though reading his thoughts. It came from his right—but that didn't make sense. There was nothing except air around him.

The son of the sea craned his neck from his prone position—and found a handsome god floating a few inches from the plateau, a blinding smile on his face.

"Lord Apollo," Percy greeted. "I would bow, but . . . I can't." The lower portion of his legs were dangling precariously. One wrong move, and he'd be plummeting back toward the ground.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lord Apollo dismissed. "I think I've told you enough times not to be formal toward me."

Percy gave him a blank stare. "You almost killed me in a duel."

"I thought we were past that!" Apollo exclaimed, hurt. "Besides, it's not every day an Olympian drops by to talk."

I would rather be ignored, Percy wanted to snap back, but bit his tongue. Instead, he asked, "What business do you have with me?"

Apollo shrugged. "Well, I saw you lying here while I was driving the sun chariot, so I thought you must be lonely."

"No offense my lord, but think about this for a second," Percy said slowly. "All the demigods are at lunch right now, and instead of joining them, I decided to climb a tower on the other edge of camp—all by myself. What part of that makes you think I'm lonely?" But then a thought occurred to him. "Wait. You're not lonely, are you?"

"I see nothing gets past you," Apollo responded, grinning sheepishly.

"Why me?" Percy had to ask. "There's got to be hundreds of people lining up to look at you. Heck, I personally know that one of your children would love it if you visited her."

That was his best attempt at being polite. In contrast, what he was thinking was: Of course it's me. Out of everyone in the darn world, it had to be me. WHY CANT THE GODS GIVE ME A BREAK?!!

"Even so . . ." Apollo sighed, thankfully appearing not to have read Percy's thoughts. "I've been trying to uphold that promise you made us swear, but it's tiring. You don't know how much patience it takes to deal with everyone trying to kiss up to you . . ."

Isn't that the only thing gods like about their responsibilities? Percy wondered, watching the sun god with suspiciousness.

" . . . but you're different. From the first day you stepped foot onto Olympus, I could feel that the only reason you deferred to Father was that you knew your life had value. You had no fear. At first, I pinned it up to your youth." Apollo looked down, as if ashamed. "But maybe it's time for us immortals to change. Talking to you, Perseus, makes me feel like I'm discussing with an equal being that will critique me for any fault that you find—and would do it without hesitancy. Talking to you feels like I can finally open those gates of my mental walls to someone who will value me as who I am—and not because of my power."