GG, Kronos, But I Have Foresight

After Mr. D's terrifying little speech, I was left to question everything I thought I'd known about myself for the rest of the night. I could barely pay attention to the (poorly made) orientation video, which I would've had trouble paying attention to anyway thanks to my ADD. What if Mr. D was right? What if by attempting to change the future, I really did make everything worse? But then, what was the point of me even being here in the first place if there wasn't some plot point that somebody wanted me to avoid or butterfly away? Why had some god or goddess went through all the effort of forcibly dragging me out of my world, switching my gender, and dropping me in Yancy, if I wasn't meant to do anything about all these lives which would be lost in the wars with the Titans and Gaea?

I barely even regarded Beckendorf with anything more than an aside nod when he handed me my schedule of events and led me to the Apollo cabin, which was apparently where I'd be staying. I would've thought that I'd be hunkered down with Hermes' kids, but apparently, during my orientation, Apollo had called in and personally accepted to host me. Something about the fact that I was "cute in a tomboy-ish sort of way" and had good taste in music.
I distracted myself from my internal conflict by mentally promising to punch the sun god in his freaking face for that comment.

I was set up in a bottom bunk on the southern-facing wall of the Apollo cabin. A young Will Solace was falling asleep in the cabin above mine; I found it a bit weird that they had boys and girls sleep together, but then again, it was normally half-brothers and -sisters sleeping here, so I supposed there wasn't much chance of anything suggestive happening. A smell similar to clean clothes that I couldn't quite place hung in the cabin, as well as the aroma of dried sage, which I recognized from tufts of the stuff I'd pulled from my grandfather's garden as a kid. The walls were barren of decoration except for a small amount of racks holding various weapons. Mainly swords. In the center of the cabin was a cot which I supposed had to be there for sick or injured demigods; the medical supplies around it were pretty good clues to this.

I was in Camp Half-Blood. I was in the Apollo cabin. I had befriended the Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood, met the Chiron, the Charles Beckendorf; hell, I'd met a freaking god, and all of this in the same day!

And I was miserable.

How else was I supposed to feel when I'd just been told that my attempts to make history better would only get me and others killed? I mean, Dionysus was no god of prophecy, but his words held a weight to them that just could not be ignored. What he'd said wasn't wrong, and that was what was eating me up the most. Many times in the book had Rick Riordan emphasized the invulnerability of prophecies. It was canon that trying to change prophecies spelled bad news, both in the original books and in Greek mythology. I thought about how deeply Dionysus cared for his two sons.

What if I saved Castor, only for Pollux to die in his place? Or what if both of them died of something else entirely because the Fates were angry that I'd interrupted their mysterious ways of planning people's lives?

What if I managed to avert the Titan War, only for something even bigger than Gaea to crop up because of that? I mean, hadn't Gaea started to wake up in the first place because Kronos was defeated? What if she woke up even faster than normal because he never got to rise to power in the first place?

What if one of the Seven died because they faced some kind of monster too early and were too weak to fight it?

It would all be my fault. Any casualties in the future that were non-canon? I'd be the cause of them, however indirectly.

Dionysus had shaken me up, and hard.

A yawn took over my mouth. Swallowing dryly, I rolled over on my bunk bed (it was nice to have a soft and comfortable mattress to sleep on again) and looked through the dark cabin at the sole clock which hung on the opposite wall from me. It was just past one o'clock in the morning now. I was losing my damn sleep because of this.

But still...

"What then, Evan Gamble? What then?"

Unconsciously, I raised my left hand to my mouth and started chewing on its fingernails. I had a bad nervous habit of that. And right now, I was very nervous indeed - I couldn't find a good answer to Dionysus's question. Damn it all. This shouldn't matter! I shouldn't be concerned with this! I shouldn't worry about what could happen, or what lives might be lost!

I sat up in my bed, eyes wide.

That was it! That was my answer!

It really didn't matter what could happen, or who might die, because as long as I made the necessary plans, I could change everything for the better and still avoid any unnecessary casualties. Would it be difficult? Oh, Hades yes. But then again, what quest was ever not difficult? What quest ever did not have zero chance in failing, or zero chance in succeeding?

As long as I focused on what would happen, what lives would be lost, I could create a better future for everyone. Uncertainties were just that - uncertain. And worrying about them could only result in what was happening right now; me losing sleep. If I just distanced myself from the problem altogether, ran away from it and never looked back, the same result would occur. If I wanted to be at all happy with myself or the world, I could only walk with a high head into the unknown, a plan at my side, friends in front of me, and canon behind me.
My confidence thus renewed, I smiled to myself at last, rested my head on my pillow, and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

~o~
"You look better than you did last night," Beckendorf observed at breakfast the following morning. I stood at the back of the line of Apollo's kids who were bringing their food to the sacrificial flames, my stomach growling from the absolutely scrumptious smells of Camp Half-Bloods homemade food. Fresh eggs and ham, fresh strawberries, fresh herbs and vegetables, basically every breakfast food that you could consider fresh, all of which one could choose from at will. It smelled amazing, especially to my hungry stomach. My stomach growled, and Beckendorf cracked a smirk. "Got over Mr. D's speech from last night?"

"Yep!" I said cheerfully. My eyes were a little bit heavy and I almost definitely had bags under them, but that was nothing new. I was no stranger to late nights spent staring blankly at the ceiling.

"That's good," Beckendorf said. "What will you be doing from here on out?"

"I'm gonna proceed as I'd planned before," I said, narrowing my eyes at the ceiling. "Much more carefully, though."

The person in front of me, Michael Yew, moved aside to go back to the Apollo table; he'd evidently tossed his sacrifice to Apollo into the flames already. I stepped up and considered my plate with a frown. What piece of food should I sacrifice? What god should I sacrifice it to? A particularly ripe strawberry, large and deliciously red, stood out to me, and I sighed. Well, I supposed I owed him a favor, even if I didn't particularly enjoyed his reasoning for it...

Thanks for harboring me, Apollo, I thought. I grabbed the strawberry and tossed it into the flames. An incredible scent I hadn't expected rose up; all kinds of summery smells, like the briny air of an early-July Floridan beach, warm coconut milk, newly picked lavender, a McDonald's hamburger, and tons of other things I couldn't identify all swirling together to create one unique, almost fulfilling smell. I was completely taken aback. Regardless, I sighed and gave a slight bow to the flames. You didn't have to take me in... you could've just left me to the Hermes guys, but you gave me shelter regardless. So... thanks.

As I made my way over to set my plate beside Michael and sit down, the sunlight slipping through the open walls of the dining pavilion seemed a tad warmer than it had been seconds earlier. My eyes felt a little bit less heavy than they had before my breakfast sacrifice.

"So, Eve." Across the table from me, Will Solace grinned and lifted out his hand. He looked like he couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen, and he was kind of ridiculously handsome, on the level of Old Spice advertisers. Like seriously, he reminded me of a kid Isaiah Mustafa, if Isaiah Mustafa was a blond surfer dude. If I'd been into guys, I might have gotten a crush on him. "You didn't have much of a chance to get to know any of us last night, so why don't we make up for it now?"

"U-Um..." Gingerly, I grasped his hand and shook it. Wow, that was a weak handshake on my part. And was his hand a little warm? Yeah, his hand was a little warm. Like the sunlight against the back of my neck. "H-Hi. My name's E... Eve." No it's not, it's Evan! Why did I so willingly say that!?

Will's grin widened. "Will Solace. Pleasure to meet you."

My cheeks warmed.

...Actually, scratch what I said earlier. I did have a crush on him.

Um... huh. This... this could get awkward.

Stop blushing, cheeks! I demanded to my face, slapping it furiously. He's gay! And - wait, does this make me bisexual? Or would I still be considered straight? I mean, I definitely like girls, but damn, that smile is just... GAH, I'M SO DAMN CONFUSED RIGHT NOW!

"I see you've found the reason why we call Will the Wife-Stealer," Michael Yew quipped as he took a bite of succulent bacon. He swallowed, sighed happily and chuckled. "Although he's really the Husband-Stealer, too." He offered me a smile and handshake of his own. I accepted the handshake and returned the smile. "Michael Yew. Nice to meet you, Eve."

"Nice to meet you, too, Michael," I said.

"I'm really not that attractive," Will denied. "I don't get why you guys always say that about me."

"Will, you should've been born a child of Aphrodite," Michael deadpanned.

"I'm not that attractive!"

"YES, YOU ARE!" shouted someone from the Aphrodite table. "IT'S KIND OF UNFAIR!"

Michael shook his head bemusedly. "See? Even they agree."

"Eve?" Will turned to me with pleading eyes. Dammit, for a boy, he did the puppy dog eyes remarkably well. "Tell them I'm not that attractive, pleeeease?"

Dammit, don't put me on the spot like this, man! This is your own problem, not mine! I've got my own issues I need to sort out right now, like exactly what sexuality can define a man in a woman's body having his/her first man crush! I'm stressed enough as it is!

Of course, I couldn't exactly say any of the above without sounding like a doofus, so I settled on, "Hu-buhhh?" and maybe a little drool.

My forehead greeted the table hard as Michael chuckled and Will hung his head in despair.

"It's alright, man," a young man who sat next to Will soothed him, chuckling. He looked a bit like Will, but had more of a sharper face and a pointier chin. He was also significantly less handsome, although when compared with Will, that included just about every other man in the entire camp. His hair was parted to the side. "We get that Dad blessed you with the best of his genes. We get that you've been swamped with love letters and been forced into hundreds of awkward situations because of your good lucks and tasteful dressing. But it's over now. You won't be accosted by fangirls or fanboys anymore. It's fine."

"You guys don't understand!" Will insisted, shuddering, lost in some horrible memory. "All of those girls coming at me at once, screaming me for me to marry them... hundreds of them... Every day of elementary school, I opened my locker to an avalanche of letters. An avalanche, Lee! Of cards and letters! That shouldn't even be physically possible to fit that many in a locker! I don't even like girls!"

"His handsomeness is sometimes more of a curse than it is a blessing," Michael said to me, shaking his head in wonder. He blinked and pointed to the guy comforting Will. "Oh, that's our Head Counselor, Lee Fletcher, by the way."

Lee perked up at his name and waved at me. I waved back.

"Hey, Eve," Lee said suddenly, reaching into his jeans pocket and pulling out a piece of folded, slightly wrinkled paper. "I nearly forgot, but I have our schedule of events for our cabin here. Since you'll be hangin' with the cool kids - that's us, by the way," he added, to much booing from the Ares cabin, who appeared to have been eavesdropping the whole time. "You get to share a schedule with us. Don't worry if there's anything on it you think you might not be able to do - no one's perfect at everything just starting out."

Will perked up and grinned. "Yeah! And if there's anything you need help with, like archery or medical lessons, just ask us and we'll help out."

"Thanks, guys," I said sincerely. Lee slid the paper across the table, and I picked it up and examined it. Here's what my Tuesday schedule looked like:

8:00 A.M. - BREAKFAST & CABIN INSPECTION
9:00 A.M. to 10:00 A.M. - ARCHERY PRACTICE (BOW AND ARROWS REQUIRED)
10:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. - MONSTER ASSAULT TECHNIQUE with ARES CABIN (LERNAEAN HYDRAS: WHAT TO DO IF YOU EAT AT THE WRONG FAST FOOD CHAIN)
11:00 A.M. to 1:00 P.M. - SWORD & SHIELD COMBAT with ANNABETH CHASE (FIRST HOUR LUNCH, SECOND HOUR ONE-ON-ONE COMBAT TRAINING, FULL COMBAT ARMOR REQUIRED)
1:00 P.M. to 2:00 P.M. - PEGASUS RIDING with ATHENA CABIN
2:00 P.M. to 4:00 P.M. - FREE CHOICE (CANOE RACES with NAIADS - FIRST PLACE PRIZE = 20 DRACHMA CREDIT AT CAMP STORE)
4:00 P.M. to 5:00 P.M. - CLIMBING WALL with SATYRS
5:00 P.M. to 6:00 P.M. - FOOT RACING with DRYADS
6:00 P.M. to 9:00 P.M. - FREE TIME, CABIN CLEAN-UP, DINNER
9:00 P.M. to 10:00 P.M. - LEAD BONFIRE SING-A-LONG
10:00 P.M. - PREPARE FOR BED (LIGHTS OUT BY 11:00 P.M.)
"Looks like we have a full day ahead of us," I declared.

Michael and Lee grinned. "Just wait until the climbing wall," they said in tandem, in a way that suggested I wouldn't like the climbing wall very much.

From then on, my life fell into a sort of abnormal normality. Did that sound weird to you? Yeah, well, try getting your canoe dunked by a sudden wave because of a side remark that the water looked a little scummy. Or try coming so close to getting crushed by crashing walls that your sleeve gets torn off as you hurriedly climb away. As days turned into weeks, I lost footraces to a tree, made a stone sculpture that was about a thousand times less beautiful than an eight-year-old's, and had the Aphrodite cabin mob me and forcibly put makeup on my face. The only reason that they left me alone at all was because Argus came over and instantly one over fifteen staring contests in the same moment.

I'd never known makeup could be magical before, but after it took me a full week to rub that stuff off me, I gained a new (horrified) respect for beauty products. A worthy enemy, to be sure.

...Was I saying that about makeup? Damn, my life was weird.

How good was I at archery?

"Not bad, not bad," Lee Fletcher hummed one day as he watched me land my fifth arrow in the final ring. "Your technique is pretty good, but your aim is off. Are you sure that you're aiming with your dominant eye?"

I shrugged, frowning at my missed marks. "I'm right-handed, so... yeah?"

"Hm... well, it's true that your dominant hand isn't always on the same side of your body as your dominant eye, so what if we try switching it up a bit? Here, try this left-handed bow."
"But I told you, I'm -"

Lee rolled his eyes. "It's more for eye dominance than anything." He held up the longbow and shook his hand a little. "Here, take it and just try."

"Alright," I said uncertainly. I reached into a quiver that hung on the fence directly in front of me, and notched an arrow onto my bowstring. I then placed one finger above and one finger below the arrow. I pulled back with my left hand, trembling somewhat from the force acting opposite me, and narrowed my eyes as I stared at the target. FWIP! I let go of the bowstring, and it sprang back to its original position, quivering to a stop like a bobblehead. As a result, the arrow was launched forward, whistling through the air before burying itself in the target.
My Head Counselor's eyes widened, and he slapped my back happily. "Look at that, Eve! You made the third ring! Nice!"

"That still sucks, though," I muttered, wilting. "It's barely a millimeter from the fourth section. I'm no good at archery."

"Hey, hey, don't beat up on yourself like that! All it takes is a little practice, and I bet you'll be hitting bulls-eyes in no time! Now, come on, show me that technique again. And this time, tilt your bow just a tad more to the right."

And learning Ancient Greek from Annabeth? Despite how admittedly good of a teacher she was, it was absolute hell. By the time I'd had my tenth class with her, my head was so confused with lettering and words that I couldn't tell what from which. As hard as it was for demigods to read English, I simply could not understand their alphabet. I'd been having a hard enough time trying to learn Portuguese for my Youth Exchange to Brazil back home, forget a lost language with an entirely different writing system!

In any case, weird, freaky, and as sometimes dangerous as my life grew to be, my first meeting with Luke Castellan took the foreboding cake.

It happened in my second week of camp, after another failed hour of swordplay. I collapsed on the ground outside the armory, panting and so sweaty that I was more soaked than a naiad at any given time of the day. Gasping for breath, I wiped my forehead and simply wished for my body to cool down faster. The rest of the Apollo cabin were still cleaning themselves up, drying off after an intense round of fighting.

"Hey, there, Professor Trelawny," someone's smooth and masculine voice greeted my ears from my right. It was a nickname many of the campers had started calling me because of Mr. D pretty much telling everyone about my secret on the first night. Only a few campers, like ones who hadn't come to camp yet or who were at the back of the bunch, like the Hermes cabin, hadn't heard. "So, is what they say about you true? You can really see into the future?"

"Back to the Future got zip right," I stated, tilting my head to the owner of the voice.
The speaker was a young man who looked ruggedly handsome, with a squarish jaw and a vertical scar on his right cheek. Over his orange Camp Half-Blood shirt was his bead necklace, which boasted an impressive five beads. A satchel hung over his right shoulder.

"Too bad," the boy said. "It was a good movie. I'm Luke Castellan, by the way."

My back immediately stiffened and my face paled. L-Luke!? This boy was the future vessel of Kronos, the Titan of Time!? The hero destined to die in the Great Prophecy!? He didn't look like a final series villain at all. He looked like your average high schooler, if more on the noticeably trouble-maker side of things. Crap - well, anyway, I had to keep up appearances. Nervously, I held out my hand for him to shake.

He didn't.

"Um... heheh..." I rubbed the back of my head nervously, wincing at how heavy my long hair was with my sweat. "Well, I don't really know the future. More like, uh, glimpses. I... dreamed some stuff, and then found myself here, and some of it turned out to be true."

Luke raised his eyebrow, not buying it for a sec. "You're a bad liar, you know that right?"

Percy's words back at Yancy echoed in my head. I hung my head. Damn it, I needed to work on that. "I'm telling you, that's what happened."

"Mm-hmm," the Big Bad of the first Percy Jackson series hummed. "Well, how much do you know? Is there anything bad that happens? I'm a head counselor; you can trust me. I'll tell Chiron, and we can call a war council to figure out what to do about it. I'll bet if there is, that it's been stressing you out trying to come up with someway to avoid it; we can help with that."

Red alert! Red alert! Bad idea! "No, no, no, I really only know a handful of details," I chuckled awkwardly, my grin twitching. "Nothing big that needs dealt with right away!"

"Right away? Does that mean there will be something later?"

"Ahahaha..." I sweatdropped and mentally gritted my teeth. Dammit, Luke, you pick up on way too much for your own good! "Um, oh, sorry, I just remembered that I needed to get the Hephaestus cabin to make me a weapon! Ha, yeah, I... I'll go do that!" I scrambled to my feet and darted away. "See you around, um, Luke!" I turned to wave nervously at him.

Luke stood up, too. His eyes were narrowed, but he had a semi-pleasant smile on his face. "Just remember that if you need any help with anything future-related, I'm always here for you!" he shouted to me with cupped hands. "Anything!"

My jog increased to a run.

Nope nope nope nope. I was not falling for that trap.

I'd made it to the forge when I happened to run into Beckendorf - literally run into him. We collided with enough force that I fell on top of him and then rolled painfully away.

"Owowowowow..." I grumbled, rubbing my now-sore cheek. "What are your muscles made of, iron?" I asked as the African American helped me to my feet.

He smirked. "Yes. What is your sweat made out of, oceans?" he asked, motioning to his shirt. Even though my hair had only briefly touched his Camp Half-Blood shirt, it had already gained one heavy, damp line down the center.

"Yes," I said in his exact tone of voice. I turned around and stared worriedly back at the armory, but the only people there were my other cabin-mates, all staggering out, many of them bruised up. Clarisse, who had been our goal for the cabin challenge today, fought hard.

Beckendorf followed my gaze. "What are you doing over here so early anyway? Slacking off again? I was just coming over to make sure you all got to the forge just fine, but I didn't expect you to be done this early."

"Beckendorf!" I gasped in a falsely hurt voice. "I only hid from the nine-mile dryad run one time, and that was because it was nine freaking miles!"

"Watch the language," he warned. "Chiron and Mr. D don't like it when we swear. The small children could get their innocent ears marred."

I had to stare at that. "How innocent can pint-sized monster slaying warriors be?"

Beckendorf raised his eyebrow. "You try saying no to Whitley's puppy dog eyes."

"He's eight, and a son of Aphrodite," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "That's just an unfair example."

"Touche. So, your reasoning for leaving your lesson this early?"

I hesitated. It was probably best not to let as many people know about the future as possible - if I said too much with the gods possibly listening in, everything might be all screwed up. Someone might get smote, and then a newer, less human Luke Castellan might end up as Kronos's meatsuit.

"Nothing, just looking for you," I said quickly. "I lost earlier than everyone else and wanted some time to cool down. So, um, heheh, speaking of my weapon, you ever heard of RWBY?"

Beckendorf blinked. "What do rubies have to do with a weapon? ...You don't want one in the hilt of a sword or something, do you?"

"What!? No! I'm not that vain! RWBY - R, W, B, Y! It's an anime..." I trailed off. Oh, wait, how would Beckendorf know what I was talking about? The first episode of Roosterteeth's amazing series wouldn't come out for another eight years. All concerns about Luke Castellan forgotten, I froze in horror. I won't get to listen to "Caffeine" for another eight years!? NOOOOOOOOOO!

"A-ni-me?" my best friend sounded out carefully, tilting his head in confusion. "What's that, some kind of weird Japanese food?"

"What? No!" I stared at him. "...I have much to teach you, my good friend."

"Hey guys!" It was Michael Yew, jogging up to us with the rest of the Apollo cabin. "Just in time! We were wondering where you'd run off to, Eve. Were you guys talking about what kind of weapon you'd like, Eve?"

I jolted. "Oh, right, I nearly forgot! Geez, I'm such a scatterbrain..." I turned back to the African American demigod, who just looked amused with all of this. We started walking towards the forge, and I coughed into my fist. "Ahem. As I was saying before I started to go off on a different course, I'm kinda bad with a sword, so I'd really appreciate not having to use one. But there's this one character in RWBY who has these really cool nunchucks..."

~o~
:: ELSEWHERE, THAT NIGHT ::
The pit was dark and cold, a stale air drifting through the area. Shadows crept along the rocky floor like black ghosts flitting through the sky. A virus of evil permeated the atmosphere, tinging everything it touched with a vague sense of despair and death.

"Did you talk to the girl, my servant?" rasped an ancient voice, one warped by pain and dismemberment. "Did you find out anything from the one who caused the tear in space-time?"

"Yes, Master," Luke Castellan replied, invisible in the darkness but kneeling. "She refused to say very much, but I did glean that she indeed knows the future. She seemed frightened of me the moment she learned my name, so I can only assume she knows who I am and that I work for you. However, since no authorities from Olympus have come to bring me to their clouded sense of justice, I believe that she has not let anyone know exactly what she knows. Only that she does indeed know the future."

"I see," Kronos, master of time and currently Titan In a Thousand Pieces replied thoughtfully. "Still, the fact that she is here in the first place... the gods would not even entertain sending someone back in time unless they were in danger and they knew it. This means that our plan, to some extent, will work. Even so, we must be more careful. We must raise the stakes. If they brought someone who knows what's coming into play, we must make what's coming unforeseeable. Is Echidna's son reformed yet?"

"Yes, Master. I received word in a dream from Hyperion before coming here that the ripples in the universe's magic, caused by Eve, have had an unforeseen effect of increasing the recovery rate of monsters in Tartarus. Because of this, it is now ready."

"Good. Send it to Yancy Academy - the gods must have had a reason for putting her there, and that reason must be a strong demigod, since that fly-covered centaur to be teaching there."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

"Muahaha! Rise, Phaea! Rise, and destroy the gods' plan!"

Notes