𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒¹

𝐴 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡

‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

THE MOMENT PERCY MOVED in to his cabin, he was once again an outcast. Everyone steered clear of Percy besides Astoria, which he was immensely grateful for. She would sit with him at the dinner table, and join him for activities. She and Grover were the only ones that talked to him, although Grover was a little stiff.

Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with Percy after he'd beat the Ares kids in Capture the Flag. This resulted in him getting one-on-one with Luke much to Astoria's dismay. It hurt to say, but Luke was a really good swordsmen, better than what the books say. He was the only one that could push Percy to train harder, and their relationship development was essential to the plot.

Thankfully, no one avoided Astoria and accepting sparring invitations. Clarisse, especially, was a great help. The 12 year-old had learned so many fighting skills and maneuvers thanks to the 13 year-old Ares' kid. Whether it'd be a spear or her fists, Clarisse's aptitude for weaponry and close range was impressive. Astoria was lucky she shared a positive, maybe 'tolerable' as the blond put it, relationship with La Rue.

Annabeth still taught Percy and Astoria Greek, thank gods, but she was way too distracted. Every time Percy spoke, she would scowl. The moment Astoria opened her mouth, she would narrow her eyes beadily. After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest... Poseidon?... Dirty rotten... Got to make a plan..." It wouldn't be long before she finds out.

That night, Astoria had a fitful sleep. She tossed and turned, sweat trickling down her chin. She dreamt of a bright figure, good looking, but the sight of him made her want to dig in a ditch. Something about the person was familiar, as if she had seen them before.

"Who are you?" she called out.

No answer. Then she woke up.

When she walked downstairs, she found Mr. D. very... pissed. Percy's existence probably angered him. "Hello," she nodded.

"What, no 'good morning'?" Dionysus imitated a happy gesture. It was really ugly.

"No offense," Astoria started. Mr. D raised his eyebrows, "but it doesn't really look like a good morning for you."

"How observant," he mocked. The god walked out to the porch. "Let's play pinochle, Astilly."

"Yes, sir." She followed him out where Chiron was waiting for them. The three of them began their game, with Mr. D using his vines to play the fourth person. Although Astoria wasn't a pinochle genius, she understood the basics due to... unfatherly sources.

"Well, well," Mr. D suddenly spoke, "Our little celebrity." Astoria looked to her left and saw Grover standing next to Percy. She waved hi and bid. "Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father. A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus dismissed.

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. Astoria simply set down her card as if nothing was happening. It drove Percy ballistic to find her unbothered by everything, and predicting everything based off of feelings. If only he could be as uninvolved as she was.

"If I had my way," Dionysus started "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

Dionysus let out a lot of creative ideas of punishment Chiron reprimanded him for. For example, turning Percy into a dolphin and sending him to Poseidon. It would be a funny idea to be honest, but Astoria would much rather have Percy in his human form, alive and well.