When Marinette arrived at camp at just six-years-old dressed in pink with pigtails in her hair and was shoved into Hermes cabin until she was claimed; most of the other campers hedged their bets on who her godly parent was. She was a sweet girl with a cheerful deposition that could easily brighten anyone’s day. She also favored sketching and most artistic endeavors so half the campers thought Apollo was her father.
However, Marinette had an almost unnatural beauty to her that was clear from even her young age; with silky blue-ish black hair and large blue eyes that seemed to twinkle. There was a sheer adorableness to her that caused even the toughest of campers to coo. This caused some of the campers to assume Aphrodite was her mother.
A few bet on Demeter as Marinette loved to bake. Some of Athena as how well organized and tactile the girl could be.
Unfortunately, it would take a few years before anyone would get confirmation. And for bets to be paid out.
As Marinette got older, she easily became the most well-liked camper; mostly because of the sweetest and kindest girl at camp. She was always there to help a friend in need, always there for someone to talk to. Hephaestus cabin liked how creative she was with her designs and always liked to offer an artistic flair to their own. While she didn’t rush towards battle as some campers did, it was clear Marinette still knew what to do with a sword. She was also creative and detailed when it came to planning attacks and defense which got her approval of the Athena cabin.
Ares Cabin liked that she didn’t back down. Ever. The first time Dionysus got her name wrong was legendary; it was also the last time.
“You, mary-Anne!” The god of wine called. They were in the lunch hall “Announce to the rugrats, capture the flag is about to begin.”
“Marinette,” The seven-year-old corrected politely with a smile on her face. “Marlene,” Dionysus waved her off.
Marinette just stared at the chubby god, her face emotionless. The hall seemed to grow a bit colder. Silence slowly took hold the campers as they watched a seven-year-old in a blue
polka-dotted sundress and pink ribbons in her hair stare down a god with unfeeling eyes as she assessed her opponent as if looking for a weakness.
For the first time in a long time, Dionysus felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck as a small hint of fear started to turn in his stomach. And, to make matters worse, as if sensing this, his fear, a small smile appeared on the girl’s lovely face.
“My name is Marinette,” Was all she said and turned around as skipped away.
Dionysus nodded slowly, despite the girl not even looking. He swallowed a bit more of his coke and with a pop, he was gone, vanished. No one would see him at camp for two weeks. When he came back, from then on out, whenever he ran into the little girl again, he calls her some variation of “You girl,” “Girly” or even a “Lassie” once. It was clear that while the god was too proud to call her or anyone of the campers by their actual names, he would never mess up hers again.
That day would forever remain in the hearts of the campers forever. When Marinette was eleven, she found out who her godly parent was.
She had been walking with Annabeth to the training yard, near the entrance of the camp, when they heard roars and a scream. Annabeth turned pale but a determined look appeared in her eyes. Marinette patted the blonde’s shoulder comfortingly. Though they were the same age, the blonde had arrived at camp a year after Marinette, and not under the best of circumstances. Grover,
Luka, Thalia, and Annabeth had been being chased by the most dangerous monsters from the underworld. Thalia hadn’t made it. It had been four years since.
