Chapter Text
October 25, 2007
There was a storm approaching late at night.
One could feel the electricity building up in the air, hairs standing up and a metallic taste poisoning their tongues – that meant lightning was about to strike, and smoke everything in sight. Near the shores of a location hidden by the trees in Long Island, the entirety of Camp watched with tense shoulders and fearful eyes as the clouds got darker and darker, and the thunder louder with every rumble from the skies. In company, the waves on the great lake nearby kept assaulting the sand with violent crashes, pushing further from the shore and returning at full force, recoiling in a way that would make one think there was a tsunami in the making.
Chiron knew better. He knew, logically, the storm would never cross the protective barrier, no matter how angry the gods above appeared to be. Even so, when a camper got splashed way too closely by a rough wave, he decided it was time to end Capture the Flag and send everyone to the safety of their cabins – that was enough watching the fight of a pair of brothers for the moment. Rushing the last camper into their bed, a young girl from Demeter, he trotted his way up to the Big House.
On the porch sat a young man, beautiful like a statue of the old days – skin marble like, soft and perfect, eyes shining with power beyond comprehension. The reddish orbs focused on Chiron the second he came into proper view, the wine glass on his hand turning into a perfect bowl of freshly picked grapes, round and juicy. The air around him still smelled faintly of ozone, mixed with what one would find in beautiful fields full of fresh fruits and ecstasy. The aura around the man was thick, like if you stood one second too close you would become something primal, insane beyond salvation. The only reason the centaur could come near when the god was in that state was because, like him, he was also immortal.
“Mr. D,” he greeted, a polite bow followed by a deep exhale. “I take it that there's no good news to be shared.”
A manic laugh escaped those wine stained lips; rough and tired. He plopped a grape into his mouth, his form flickering to a more mature one, the physically older appearance still beautiful like a painting.
“Uncle P did it again. Father is positively furious.” was all he shared.
And truly, that was enough to understand the meaning of his words, and exactly what they implied. Chiron kicked the wood beneath his hoofs in slight frustration, crossing his arms and looking over to the horizon, where the waves seemed to be even angrier than before.
Thunder shook the earth. Lightning struck a far away tree. No agreement was reached, then.
He lowered his eyes to the lonely cabin sitting by the shore – the only one with a personal deck, decorated beautifully with glistening shells. The polished white marble looked as if it was shining against the faint light of the moon, pale and pristine. Inhabited for decades. Inside, a small bed appeared, with soft blue blankets and silk sheets, a shark plushie carefully placed on top of it. Precious, innocent and frail, like it could rip at the seams at any moment.
A perfect parallel, Chiron thought, for a baby just as fragile that entered the world on that same night, in the middle of a war of morals and trust, now condemned to pay for his fathers’ sins; forever running from the ire of the sky, always hiding from the claws of a scorned sea. A precious pearl being deposited on the arms of his loving mother, tears falling on his small face, a smile so bright and so full of love being the first thing directed to him.
He sent a small prayer for the protectors of youth, asking for kindness. For mercy, even. It always hurt him when he learned of the birth of a new hero, one destined to great deeds, and every single one of those victories accompanied by great pains. Dionysus, growing tired of watching the upcoming storm, got up in a flash and vanished the – now empty – bowl in his hands. Turning to Chiron, he signaled his head towards the inside of the big blue house, his form growing older one more time.
“Come, teacher of heroes. We must prepare for what's to come.”
____________________________________________
October 25, 2014
Minseo watched her son splashing around in a puddle. It was drizzling again, which seemed to be the new normal for the city, and Minho wore the cutest little raincoat with small frogs on it, and his boots were bright pink. His laughter filled the park along with the giggles of the other children he played with, and she couldn't help but smile.
She saw another mother calling her kid back, and one of the little girls complimenting Minho's boots bid her goodbyes and went running back to loving arms, leaving her boy playing with a blonde child, now both on their way for the slide. In her distraction, she barely felt when a man sat beside her on the bench, not even bothering to get under the umbrella. He stayed dry, anyway.
When Minseo looked to her side, the same green eyes that looked up at her every morning were now staring at her, full of a love she knew would never cease. Poseidon smiled kindly, hands surprisingly nervous for a being so old and powerful. He turned his gaze to Minho, his smile turning into something so full of pride and care that it almost made Minseo fall for him all over again. Almost.
“You said you would never be able to talk to or see him personally.” Her voice came out bitter, even when she tried holding back. “Was that just another lie?”
“As you know, I don't exactly do well with rules. He's my son as well, Minseo.” Poseidon sighed and rubbed his hands on the khaki pants he was wearing. His shirt had several pine tree drawings, like he picked it from a bin of rejected Christmas themed clothing. For once, he wasn't wearing a fishing hat. On his neck there was a beautiful but simple necklace, a small trident charm hanging from it, shining against the cold sun of that rainy afternoon. “It's his birthday. For once, I allowed myself to try and give his gift to him in person.”
In his eyes, something akin to hope shone brightly. Minseo refused to feed it.
“No.” came the answer, immediate and harsh.
“Min-”
“No, Poseidon. I meant it when I said that if you couldn't be present, better to not exist for him at all. The disappointment hurts too much, and I refuse to let him down like this.” She got up, her colored umbrella shielding Minho from his view. “You may be a god, Poseidon, but he is just a child. One with hopes, wants, questions. Questions that I can't answer to keep him safe, because your world would rather see him dead!”
He knew she was right. That he, even as a god, had no right to demand anything from her when it came to their son. He knew the hurt she felt in her soul, the same one that's been festering ever since that day at the hospital, right before his brother found out about it all, when he had to break her heart the moment their child was placed in her waiting arms.
Resigned, Poseidon got up as well. Stepping sideways and giving the happy child in the frog themed raincoat playing in the water one last look, he smiled sadly. His hands came up to the trident necklace, unclasping it and planting it in Minseo's hands, along with a new letter, immaculate and magically shielded from the rain.
The god gave Minseo's hands one last squeeze, soft and daring at the same time, then shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and took two steps back.
“Give the necklace to Arion, please. It turns into any weapon he could think of, or possibly need. He must have it when you decide it's the right time to tell him about me. About himself.” Was all he said. Minho's laughter echoed through the park one more time, sliding down the slide right into another puddle. The water splashed clean, even with all the dirt around them.
“His name is Minho.” That was the only answer Minseo gave.
Poseidon just nodded hesitantly and vanished, taking the light rain with him.
____________________________________________
July 25, 2025
Minho knew he should have stayed home. Really, there's only so much terrible luck a guy can take on a bad day; the sudden storm was just the icing on the cake of his misery.
It started with the tires of his bicycle being slashed by a junkie in the middle of the night. Then, after getting home from his part time job as a cashier on a small convenience store bone tired and falling deep asleep on the couch after a five minutes shower, dinner sandwich in hand, he woke up late as hell for class because, like every other day for the last two weeks, his alarm didn't play when he was so sure he set it to the right time. He even double checked!
Being deprived of his bike meant he had to walk to school, and Minho really hated cardio. Then, in the middle of the way, he noticed a creepy dude following him. Dark coat, big hat and all, like he belonged on the cast of a 20's murder mystery. Which, sure, it could have been a weird coincidence, but he wasn't going to take any chances in New York. It took a good fifteen minutes to get the weird guy out of his trail, and by then he was officially really, really late for class. Again. His mom would definitely kill him this time – that was one too many absences from school, and for sure a “invite to not return for senior year, we're sorry, Mr. Lee”.
He could even imagine the tombstone already. A sad shade of grey, a small sea shell carved on it, written in gothic font: Here lies Minho Arion Lee, seventeen, dashingly handsome, gone too soon. Forever in our hearts.
He still tried to go to school, of course, he was a good son! Kind of. But that was when the rain started. Heavy, thick, and out of nowhere, getting him wet from head to toe and no umbrella on his backpack. His phone was still safe and functioning in his pocket, surprisingly, and he felt it vibrating with an urgent call; probably June checking in, worried if he was still alive. He did it every time it rained in the city, and Minho thinks it has to do with some strange fear the other boy had ever since he was a kid, and he wasn't one to judge. He thought it was kind of sweet, even if a bit weird.
June was really a great friend, even if he came with his peculiarities. He was a friend that followed him from school to school without hesitation, and never complained when weird things kept happening around Minho. He always took everything with a smile on his lips, and understanding in his reactions. Like that one time he accidentally turned on the fire alarm, flooding the entire gymnasium and got expelled on the spot (in his defense, though, that school really needed some incentive for better structure, so Minho might’ve just done them a favor). Maybe he stuck around because, like Minho himself, he was an outcast. Being sick from a young age and having weak legs, he never really participated in sports, so he was always left out of playtime, and that was an injustice Minho couldn't stand for. So, with all the bravery of an eleven year old, he grabbed the boy's hand and pulled him to sit by his side – they've been inseparable ever since.
Picking up the call, he tried his best to dry off the screen before putting it to his ear, immediately hearing the panicked, yet hushed voice of his best friend on the other side.
“Min, dude, where are you? The teacher is throwing a fit again!” A sigh left Minho's lips. A wet hand ran through his even wetter hair.
“Hi, June. I'm alive and well, thanks for asking.” A huff sounded from the call. “You won't believe the morning I'm facing. First, some freak slashed my tires yesterday. Totally wrecked, like a dog attacked it or something. Then my alarm failed on me, again. I had to walk to school, then this weird guy started following me, wearing something a villain would pull up with, and I had to run around a bunch to lose him. Now I'm stuck inside a dingy store because it won't stop raining!”
June let a whimper escape, and Minho could hear the sound of a chair being harshly pushed away.
“Send me your location, I'll come to you.” There was something urgent on his voice, something that set Minho on edge. The worried tone didn't help much, either.
“What? No, it's okay. I'm fine, there's no need for you to skip school today. Don't worry. I'll just wait out the rain and go home, probably.”
“No!” The yell surprised Minho, who yelped and put the phone a bit farther from his ear. “Just, uh, please send me your location. It's important. I'll get there really fast, just wait a bit.” June said, slightly out of breath, probably already running out of school. The panic in his voice made Minho pause, accepting the odd behaviour for now and sending his location to his friend.
“There. I sent it. Is everything okay? You're lowkey scaring me here, Ju.”
“No, yeah, like, everything is fine. Totally. No worries, man. Just… just wait for me there, alright? I'm on my way.”
“O…” the line went dead. Minho stared at his phone, a frown now clear on his face. “...kay.”
Sighing, he put his phone back in his pocket and decided to browse the store. Might as well get a snack while waiting, his clothes finally getting more dry by the minute. He spent the next fifteen minutes trying to decide if he wanted a chocolate bar or a bag of chips, when the door to the store opened hastily and a dripping wet June walked in.
His dirty blonde hair was glued to his face, and he could notice a slight flush on his cheeks from all the running. His backpack was almost falling off, and his jacket was thrown carelessly on his shoulders; clearly a futile way to prevent the rain from hitting him too much. He scanned the aisles in a panicked manner, his chest physically relaxing when he spotted Minho waiting, confused and with two different snacks on his hands.
“Oh, thank the gods!” he heard June say while approaching. The blonde kept looking around, avoiding his friends' eyes, as if he expected to have someone jump them at any moment. “Let's go, Min. We should get to your house. Is your mom still getting ready for work?”
“You know she only leaves in like, two hours. Why do we have to get to my house? Are you really okay? You're looking around like we're about to be robbed.”
“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, I already told you. Let's just go. Please?” Those dark green eyes kept darting to every dark corner of the store, while his shaky hands grabbed Minho's ones and pushed him urgently towards the door. Outside, the rain seemed to get less aggressive, but there was still no signs of stopping. Putting jackets on top of their heads and running to escape getting ever more wet, they made their way back to Minho's run down apartment building. The wind seemed to have grown angry, picking up speed with every minute of the storm – cold and unforgiving, even if it was beginning to hit summer season.
Unknowingly to them, following both boys dutifully, the creepy guy from earlier seemed to have found Minho again. He smelled the air, frowning at the scent of wet concrete, but still smiling with way too many teeth when he found exactly what he was looking for.
It was faint, sure, hidden by the horrid smell of wet goat hair coming from that other boy, and ozone filling the air around everything, but it was there – sea salt, in the middle of the concrete jungle, standing out like a sore thumb. He could feel himself drooling, his stomach rumbling in hunger. Throwing the stupid hat on his head aside, he followed the trail left by the boys, hands reaching itching to grab and rip.
His teeth ached. Ever since He sent him on this hunt he's been craving sea food, and by the gods – how he loved the demigod kind. He decided to let his prey have a head start, turning around and laughing manically. It was way more fun when he had to fight to eat.
____________________
The black haired boy watched as June limped up the stairs to his apartment. Still shaking, the boy had refused any help from Minho, claiming it would just be too slow, and they had to talk with his mom now. He sighed, giving up and just letting the boy go ahead, already fishing the keys from his bag.
Minho lived on the second floor of a small building that was, honestly, falling apart. The front door didn't close properly anymore, the stairs creaked under the smallest of weights, and every common area had two things in common: the dust, and the outdated wallpaper. The door to his apartment had to be shoved to open and to close, making so much noise that it irritated the neighbours, making them always throw a dirty look his way when they had the misfortune of running into each other. Not that Minho was particularly sad over the opinions of people as old as the building itself.
Inside, however, it was a small heaven that his mother gave everything to build. A safe and comfortable space, with a soft couch, a homely kitchen that always smelled of a new dish, pretty curtains and plants all around. When he entered, the windows were closed and he could hear his mom moving around in the kitchen. He spotted a bunch of cat toys scattered on the floor near the corridor, a sign that his baby Soonie was already out and about. Rounding the corner and throwing the keys on the table, he gave a small laugh when his mom jumped startled over the noise, almost dropping the toast in her hand.
“Shit, Minho, don't do that!” a beat, a frown, a bite to the toast. Minho could feel the scolding building itself in her mind. “Wait. Why aren't you at school right now, young man? Did you skip again?!”
June decided to save his friend, a small mercy. Jumping at the chance to talk to his mother, he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket nearby and started chewing nervously – another sign something was wrong, after all, June hated apples.
“Hi, Mrs. Lee, sorry to barge in, but uh… Remember that super serious thing we discussed, like, last week?” That made Minho frown. What had June discussed with his mom without him knowing? “Yeah, so, funny story. I think it's time.”
That made Minseo drop her toast immediately. The silence that came over the apartment was suddenly thick, almost oppressive.
“Are you sure?”
June looked down, his hands abusing the seams of his old rock band tee. Sighing sadly, he looked at Minho first, something the boy couldn't identify in his eyes, then turned back to the woman in front of them.
“It's getting more and more frequent. It happened again today. You already got five more years than most, any more and it'll be just pushing our luck.” When hearing what seemed to be a low blow, her dark eyes turned hard and cold, while still dripping with immediate fear. In seconds, she picked her spoiled toast, tying her hair up in a hurry, and sprinting down the corridor and into her room.
Minho felt lost. He heard Minseo hurrying Soonie back into the living room, followed by what he assumed was a suitcase being opened and thrown on the floor of his very own bedroom. Rushing over, he saw from the door his mom kneeling in front of his wardrobe, throwing in everything from pants to t-shirts and his favorite sweats. She threw in a few of Soonie's favorite snacks, along with his little blanket, and closed the case just as fast as she opened it.
“Hey, what is happening? Why are you putting my stuff in a case? Soonie's too!” Minho asked, scared, dread creeping up inside of his body and taking over. “Are you kicking us out? What is June talking about?”
The angry tone of his voice finally made his mom look him in the eyes – brown into sea green, fear into confusion – and whatever she saw in his face made her pause.
“Min, no, gods! I would never kick you out!” she reached for his hands, grabbing them with strength he never knew Minseo could have, as if she was scared Minho was going to vanish in the blink of an eye. “I'll explain everything in a bit, just… grab anything you might miss, alright? Trust me, my sweet pearl. Please.”
With that, she left his room and went into her own, leaving Minho to finish on his own the best he could. Opening the dresser, she pulled a bunch of letters from inside. Grabbing every last one, sixteen in total, she made her way to the couch and sat down, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. June sat on the beanbag on the end of the couch, leaving a spot for the green eyed boy to sit by his mother. When Minho sat down, he could feel her gathering courage to tell him something.
Grabbing his hand again, she passed him the letters. He turned them around, noticing everything – from the old looking but expensive paper to the greek words painted in deep blue ink, everything spotless. Even if he was sure he never studied the language in his life, Minho knew exactly what every letter said and who they were addressed to.
To my sweet pearl, Arion.
By taking how apprehensively his mother was looking at him and the worried crease in her brows, he could immediately tell that those letters were from his father. The one who he knew nothing about, who his mother refused to say even the name of. Every time he asked questions about him, he was met with a defeated look from Minseo, a dismissal that hurt deeply, and was left with even more questions. All he knew was that he was powerful – incredibly rich too, given the rare gifts he got occasionally on his birthdays, but his mom never talked about him.
He knew he had the same eyes. He knew he was the result of a love affair, something forbidden, a breach of trust from his dad and his wife. He knew his mom was young and lovestruck, and didn't think of the consequences of loving a married man until she saw the positive on that pregnancy test. Even when he knew father tried reaching out in subtle ways, his mom made it a point of keeping them apart.
“His family is complicated,” she would say, “and if they knew about you, they would hurt you just for being his son.”
So Minho never asked many questions, even if curiosity ate away his soul constantly. Part of him wanted to resent his mother for keeping him in the dark about someone so important in his life, but then he remembers every sacrifice she made to raise him, to protect him, and any spark of anger dies instantly.
“We met at a beach, you know?” Minseo spoke hesitantly, like her son could run away scared at any minute. “He helped me rescue a little girl, when I worked as a lifeguard. He was charismatic and handsome, paid me a drink, and I was young and in love immediately.”
She got up again, grabbing a book from the shelf in the living room. Minseo put the book in Minho's hands, and he immediately recognized it. It was a book of old Greek myths she would always read to him before bed – from the Minotaur to the tale of Achilles, of gods that ruled the world and monsters that seeked to destroy it. Minho absolutely loved it, until one day his mom shoved the book in that same shelf and never once read it again.
“He told me his name was Poseidon. I thought it was funny to give the name of a Greek god to your child, but he never laughed. Instead, he told me of his siblings, of his wife, of his own father.” She opened the book in a page about the titan of time, turning it to Minho once again. “I refused to believe for the majority of the time we spent together. Thought it was just a joke, a bit he did for entertainment.
But, then, he took me underwater. I thought great, I'm a lifeguard and I'm about to get murdered by a pretty guy drowning me. But when we were submerged, we were breathing. Talking, swimming around and watching the sea creatures go about their day. It was magical, Minho, a moment I will never forget.”
Her voice got dreamy at the end, surely taking her on a trip down memory lane.
Minho, however, just felt even more confused. His father? A god? Right. If he wanted to escape from child support, he could have just vanished like any other guy, but instead he came up with this whole theater and somehow made a fool out of everyone. He had to give it to the guy; it was one hell of a story. Too bad it was too unbelievable – the Greek gods existing, laughable, really. Minseo seemed to snap back to herself, giving a tight smile that betrayed how uncomfortable she truly felt.
“Then you came along, and I remembered every myth I ever heard about, and how in every single one involving demigods there was never truly a happy ending. I refused to let that be you, and I told your father that. I promised myself that I would never let him or his world touch you for as long as I could.” The determined look in her eyes served as proof that she succeeded, at least for a while. “He picked the name Arion, actually. Something about a strong name from a strong willed son of his. But I wanted to give you something from my culture too, and didn't back down until I won the battle.”
Minho let out a breathy laugh, still trying to process the craziness he was hearing about. June, being abnormally quiet until now, let a small chuckle escape himself. Green eyes turned to the blonde boy, remembering that this conversation is not just about his father.
“Let's say all this is true, it still doesn't answer my question of what you both discussed without me.”
“There's a camp for kids like you.” June started with some hesitation, getting up from the beanbag and sitting on Minho's other side. Soonie came out of hiding at that moment, sprawling himself in Minho's lap, with no care for letters or books. The boy smiled, playing with the soft orange fur to calm himself. “Demigods. Children of the gods with humans. I'm one of the people tasked with helping these kids get there safe and alive. I came to your mom to ask her to take you there. You’re a child of one the sons of the Crooked One, you're meant to be strong, and your smell attracts all sorts of beings the older you get. Demigod children give off this certain scent, one that makes them appetizing, making them targets to be hunted and hurt.”
“Targets? Hunted? You're talking as if I'm in imminent danger. If my dad's truly a god, won't he protect me?”
“No, Min. If the gods are real, then so are the monsters. They die and come back, forever angry and with insatiable hunger for half-bloods. Your dad, as powerful as he is, is forbidden from interfering directly, forbidden from even talking to you in person. That's why he only ever sent you letters and small gifts.” His mom explained, her hand also running through Soonie's fur.
Minho stayed silent for a moment. He needed to think about everything.
He scanned the letters from his father, every single one of them dated to a birthday ever since he was born, the writing spilling wishes of a good year and words spelling declarations of love and how he wished they could see each other at least once, and hug any pains away. On the envelope for his 7th birthday there was a necklace, one with a small but detailed trident charm hanging in it, shining a shade of bronze he had no idea could ever exist – or that he could ever touch it. In the letter itself, his dad explained how the charm could turn into any weapon (but mainly a lookalike of the charm itself), and the name of it was Thalassa. The embodiment of the sea. When he put it on, he could feel something warm wash over him, the faint sound of waves hitting him, as if he was holding a conch right to his ear – as if the ocean was about to spill every secret and tale.
“If… If I go to this camp,” Minho started quietly, fingers playing with the small trident on his neck, “will you be safe, too?”
His mom smiled softly, hands coming up to cradle her son's beautiful face gently. With her thumb, she dried the discreet tears that escaped those sweet green eyes, her own threatening to spill.
“Yes, my baby. I will be safe, and knowing that you're safe as well is enough for me.”
“Okay. Okay, I'll go.”
Hugging her tightly, Minho whispered promises of visits and calls, demanding the same from her if possible. He still didn't fully believe the story, but he knew deep down that his mother would never come up with that elaborate lie just to get rid of him – he trusted her blindly, so if she said this mysterious camp was the place for him, he would go there and hope for the best.
“Take Soonie, okay? You know he would never accept being left behind. And June will answer any question you might have on the way to Long Island.” She grabbed his suitcase from this bedroom, pausing to hug him one more time before letting him grab it. Soonie jumped into June's arms, immediately comfortable, and when he reached the door, she threw car keys on his free hand. “And take the car. I have a feeling you're going to need it. You have permission to drive as fast as you can.”
The worry in her voice wasn't exactly comforting, but Minho nodded without saying anything else. It was only once they were in the parking lot under their building, putting everything inside their car, that the supposed demigod let himself take a shaky and deep breath.
He just had his world tipped upside down, and didn't even have the time to properly process everything – he had to keep moving, because apparently, there were people out there getting ready to kill him. That's a calm thought to be having on a random friday in july. He forced himself to gather his nerves and sat in the car, petting Soonie and shooting a small smile to June.
Taking the deepest breath he could possibly have, he grabbed the steering wheel.
“So. To Long Island, then?” He asked, swallowing every last drop of apprehension that he could feel on his lips.
His friend just nodded, smiling sadly, hugging Soonie closer to his chest. Minho turned on the car and left the garage.
The rain had finally stopped. He decided to take that as a good sign, for once.