I'm changing something big within this chapter. I don't like being that person that replaces characters with their own, but for this situation, I had to because otherwise the storyline I had for Claire wouldn't work out. I hope you understand this, and know that I thought long and hard about it before coming to this decision. I hope you guys enjoy it despite everything, thanks.
*
MAY CASTELLAN FREAKED POOR LITTLE CLAIRE OUT. They had been running from monsters, and Thalia got wounded, so Luke took them to a place near where they would be safe. Originally, he wouldn't allow them in. But then his father appeared—Hermes—and he had no choice but to bring them inside, because his mother stepped out and cried out a, "Luke! You're back!" and so here they were, sitting in the kitchen while Miss Castellan wrapped up Thalia's leg, muttering a hymn to herself while Claire and Annabeth were forced to eat burnt cookies with Kool-aid and peanut butter sandwiches. Luke was in the other room, having a near yelling match with his father, and Claire tried to ignore it.
She wanted to leave. She just wanted to go.
Annabeth and her decided to start a game with Miss Castellan's stuffed toys. Annabeth picked up Medusa, while Claire grabbed Cerberus, and the two seven-year-olds made the two monsters fight, completely clueless and innocent to what was going on.
"Why show yourself now?" Luke demanded. His shoulders tense as if he expected a fight. "All these years I've been calling to you, praying you'd show up, and nothing. You left me ... me with her." He pointed towards the kitchen like he couldn't bear to look at his mother, let alone say her name.
"Luke, do not dishonour her," Hermes warned. "Your mother did the best she could. As for me, I could not interfere with your path. The children of gods must find their own way."
"So it was for my own good. Growing up on the streets, fending for myself, fighting monsters."
"You're my son," Hermes said. "I knew you had the ability. When I was only a baby, I crawled from my cradle and set out for—"
"I'm not a god!" Luke seethed. "Just once, you could've said something. You could've helped when—" he took an unsteady breath, lowering his voice so no one in the kitchen could overhear them, "—when she was having one of her fits, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate. When I used to hide in the closet so she wouldn't' find me with those ... those glowing eyes. Did you even care that I was scared? Did you even know when I finally ran away?!"
