It was one of those surprisingly warm April days, one of those days where you could trick yourself into thinking summer was already approaching and the weather only switches around to nipping winds and annoying rains by the beginning of the next week.

Not that the mild warmth made much of a difference to Kassandra since she was relatively warm throughout the winters, but still, the thought that her father might be messing around with the sun mobile today was enough to have her on unsteady feet right at the beginning.

Kassandra could almost convince herself that it was a treat for her, the sun and clear skies, as her track coach decided that they wouldn't be meeting in the school's gym for practice and would instead be moving to the nearest track field. it was a nice change, all things considered, as she ran mindlessly around the track -- keeping to the outer lanes as they worked on long jumps and the javelin throws (she could only laugh at that as she passed, observing the throws with a critical eye knowing that she could do better even if she absolutely hated the weapon after what happened at the solstice) (and she knew that Clarisse could do better than any of these people in her sleep, better than that obnoxious Kyle that thought height and slightly above average shoulder width was the missing link in having star athletic prowess).

Sighing, she continued onwards, rounding the bend with an easy exhale that was mostly for show. Kassandra was, after all, a demigod with the endurance and stamina to last much longer than a few warmup laps.

The sound of each footfall sounded with each step, despite the blaring of the latest piece that they were learning in orchestra. She bypassed a few of the team members, the small group of four teens moving in a pack as they decided not to take the warmup seriously.

A light flashes, a glare hitting her in the eye and she squints, refusing to let it slow her in the slightest.

And really, Kassandra cursed as she realized that she should have been paying more attention to her music as the song came to an end, but instead of repeating as it was meant to, it scratched, as if it was some type of record or tape skipping, the sound jumping and jumbled.

Instead of the opening of the flute and violin that she was expecting, she heard the unmistakable sound of the lyre, the stringed instrument playing something old, ancient, and likely never to be heard by the mortals that were around her.

As the daughter of the god of music, she wasn't stupid as to not recognize her father's favourite instrument -- in fact, she thought it was impossible to not be able to tell what the instrument was, that it had to be encoded into their DNA somehow -- and since she really wasn't stupid and knew that she definitely didn't have this song before, have never even heard it before this moment, was enough to know that Apollo was behind everything.

Skidding to a stop, Kassandra kicked the ground with a scowl and turned on her heel -- scanning the fence that lined the outside of the field, she sought out the figure of the only person that was leaning up against the chainlinks watching a bunch of high schoolers practice.

He was in a hoodie that he wore to only cover the top of his head, doing nothing to hide his identity in the slightest and leaving his golden blonde hair completely shown. He had on a pair of sunglasses -- those stupid dark-tint Ray bands that he apparently liked -- and was grinning at her brighter than he had any right to.

Apollo says something, beaming and looking directly at her.

Hastily pausing her music and ripping out her earbuds, she casts a cursory glance around her -- jaw clenching when she spots the way that everyone was looking at her.

"Kassandra!"

She jogs the short difference over, slowing to a stomp when she gets close enough to not look suspicious when she hissed at him, "What in the name of Tartarus do you think you're doing?"

"Coming to see my little, Kassie, of course," he grins easily, offering up a smile as if it was the simplest thing in the world -- and to him, it might have been.

"Are you, like, nuts?" she growls. "Do you want to cause problems for me? Do you want to make things difficult?"

"How could I possibly cause you any problems?"

Kassandra gives him the dryest look that she's capable of, unmoving against his expectant expression.

He doesn't falter so much as he plows ahead. "Right, well, get your stuff. I've got a few things that I'd like to speak to you about."

(For a moment, a very angry, very silent moment, she considers the outcome of if she would simply turn around and walk away from him, ignoring what he wants in a show of pettiness and reckless bravery.

She had only just agreed to speak with him four months ago, nearly five, and the fact that he had the audacity to show up here to speak with her rubbed her the wrong way. There were lingering feelings, persistent clinging of hatred and disrespect, of anger that rippled against her in bursts like sharp winds that whipped off a cliff edge.)

(And Kassandra couldn't help the bitterness that grew in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him being so expectant and present, the sight of him being actually here, before her, standing as if he hadn't a care in the world and that it was the most normal occurrence of the day -- as if she hadn't prayed and begged for this exact thing so many times over the years.)

(Yet, the fact that he was actually here, standing right before her looking so expectant and confident in her agreement had her frightfully curious as to what he could have ever possibly wanted with her, of what he would no doubt need from her since she doubted he would have appeared to her like this otherwise.)

(Kassandra had never been special enough for the gods to show themselves to her, especially not her father.)

Releasing a long-suffering sigh, she lets her shoulders drop ever so slightly as she turns up to face the sky, glaring at the sun in an action that was more than habit at this point. "Meet me at the entrance on the other side," she tells him. "I'm not walking back and forth and then hopping a fence in front of all these people."

She doesn't look, but the flash of light in the corner of her vision and the wave of heat against her back is enough to know that he complied.

(Kassandra wouldn't admit to her growing worry when he so easily complied to her demand without so much as a protest. This wasn't the behaviour of a god — not as she knew them to be, not when she knew they could not change and bend so easily.)

She grabbed her stuff as fast as she could, gathering them all together and stuffing them into her bag. She didn't say much to anyone else, just the coach to inform him that she would be leaving early.

Kassandra was past the bleachers and out of sight in a matter of minutes, easily spotting her father leant up against a parked car that she knew didn't belong to him (it was her coaches car, the cones and student work in the back seat was a dead give away).

Stopping a few feet away from him, hands stuffed in her pocket and earbuds hanging over the tops of her ear playing soft music that had started up again. She regarded him warily, aiming for a warmer welcome than she had given him earlier.

(They had, sort of, made up -- or rather, Kassandra had tried to move on and was trying to be more open and accepting than she had been before the winter solstice, even if it was terribly difficult.)

"Dad, what are you doing here?" she asks, hoping she doesn't sound as disrespectful as she feels.

(Not that she cared just as much as she really should have, but still.)

He chuckles, a bit sheepish almost, and he rubs his hand over the back of his neck in a fashion that was all too boyish than it had any right to be. "You see, I have to ask you for a bit of a favour," he says, a small grin forming in a way that she had seen her siblings do when they were uncertain in how to ask for something.

(Charming, she realizes, he was going for charming and hopeful as a form to manipulate her into saying yes. Kassandra had done the same thing far too many times in order to have been blind to it.)

"What kind of favour?" she asks, biting back on her suspicion.

His eyes darken, a gleam of black and gold mixing into the blue that was not so much like a clear sky, but a blue that was like a dark cloud bleeding into purple before a storm. For a moment, she was reminded that he, her father, was the son of Zeus, the son of the King of Gods and lightning and thunder. She knew that Apollo had no claim to the bolts of light and rumbling heavens, but he was a god that contained the darkness of a storm within -- only the darkness spread with plagues and illness, with sickness that burned away crops and struck down the body from within, punishing.

"They have stolen from me -- my prized laurel wreath. They have taken it from my temple, have stolen my crown when I was not looking from beneath my very nose," he says darkly, hands clenching at his side, fingers moving as if they were wrapping around a weapon that wasn't there. Pure light glows around him, burning against her eyes, and she ducks her head, hissing at the brief pain -- bringing her hand up protectively to rest against her eyelids, muttering a soft hymn bitterly under her breath. Her eyes are soother instantly.

"I am not allowed to intervene directly, regretfully," he says, the tone the same as the one that she had always used when she had to refrain from invoking violence against others. "But you see, my laurel wreath is old and a sign of triumph and victory, a mark of time that has gone on to be blessed by Nike herself. It is a symbol that gives power to mortals. If it is found that I have lost my crown, the consequences will be severe."

Licking her lips, Kassandra swallows thickly, throat dry. "Your laurel wreath... where was it? Because your temple in Delphi is in ruins. Was it taken from Olympus?"

"I fear that it was, and while I stand as the god of prophecies, I cannot see the future."

Her jaw clenches, the muscle jumping as she considers. "A demigod in Olympus would have been noticed, especially if they were part of the Titan army, as I'm sure you suspect or you wouldn't be here. Are you sure it's actually stolen and not just lost?"

"Of course, I'm sure," he snaps, fists clenching around nothing once more. "I fear that this is the case."

"Gods, this is messed up," she mutters, running her fingers through her hair. "So you want me to... get it back?"

He grins then, a confident smile that takes her slightly off guard. "I had the thought to speak with the heroes I knew would be most likely to triumph. You and Lee would be a fearsome pair."

"Just me and Lee?"

"Yes, well, I figured that you would be the best judges of whoever else would be suited to such a quest."

Kassandra is quick to hold up a hand. "Not a quest. Don't call it a quest. It's a retrieval mission."

He rolls his eyes. "Retrieval mission, then. Whatever."

"I know a few people that would be a good fit. I've done quite a few scouting and retrieval missions and we're often paired together, but I can talk to Lee about it," she tells him, shrugging a shoulder as she weighs her two options. "You want to steal something back, there's only one cabin for the job. You're not opposed to Hermes' kids, are you?"

The first time that she thought that she was ever going to physically stand inside the illustrious, golden Carnegie Hall, she had thought that it would be due to her capabilities as a flutist. As it were, she still clung to that dream like a stubborn little girl that hoped the future wasn't about to go to shit and she would still have a chance to achieve those dreams and wasn't about to actually die.

The main entrance looked a bit more like one of those high-end apartment buildings as opposed to an entrance to a music center, but the building was still charming, still enough to make her chest burn as though her ribs were ready to close in, ready to crack inward and rip her apart. She was enchanted, starstruck, yet the entire experience was going to be entirely ruined by the fact that she was here to fight some demigods and steal back her father's laurel wreath because he had the audacity to lose it -- though she admits that it could be worse, he could have lost his golden bow. That would have been disastrous, for sure.

It was already dusk and she tried not to think of the fading light as a bad omen.

Lee stood at the shoulder, gazing up at the building with this slightly furrowed brows and the smallest of downward turns to his lips. He didn't look all that impressed (not that she would ever blame him though. After hearing Kassandra go on about it so many times, there was no doubt that he wasn't expecting something more to the music hall).

Resisting the temptation to shove her brother away from her,  she instead looked him over, glancing to his shoulder where his bow and quiver hung, easily spotting the set that she had used twice before on quests. It was strange to see it sitting there, to not feel the weight in her hand anymore, to be without that familiar weapon in hand that she had trusted to keep her and her friends safe.

Absently, she rubbed at the cuff on her wrist, twisting it around and around until the weight of it attached to her didn't make her heart echo in her ears.

"Are we just going to stand outside all night or are we going to go in at some point?" Connor complains, dropping his elbow in the dip of her shoulders and digging just a little.

Kassandra snaps away with a hiss, stomping on his toes. "Shove off. We're waiting on you two to figure out the best way in."

"Oh, let's just go in through the front door then," Travis says, shrugging.

Lee groans softly beside her, the sound itching in her ears. She had asked her brother to bring these two along, had vouched for them.

(When Kassandra was living in the Hermes cabin, sitting around cursing her godly parent to the edges of the world, she had been slipping in and out of places with the brothers and Chris all the time.

They were good at extractions, at little missions that they were sent on. They were quick and efficient and they always got the job done no matter how much destruction they might be leaving behind.

And since Chris was certified crazy and an actual traitor, she couldn't very well drag him along anywhere.)

(And she liked the brothers. They were the first people from camp that had become her friend. She had travelled with them with Oriana as their guide. They had spotted the tiny, dirty, broken child that she was and decided that telling her stupid knock-knock jokes was the right answer. )

(When Kassandra was scared of the dark and too nervous to poke Luke awake in the night, she would climb into one of their beds, pressing her back against theirs -- she would reach for Travis' hand and cling to it as if he was actually her big brother and not just one that she. hoped was.)

"The whole point of bringing you was so that we could sneak in. Going through the front door is something that any idiot can come up with," Kassandra bites.

"I'm just saying that I think it'll be easier to go in and take out whatever they have guarding the front door instead of trying o find an entrance to sneak in from," Travis says, squinting at the window of the doors that they were standing directly in front of.

To be fair, he had a bit of a point since she couldn't see nor hear anyone on the other side, directly in that entrance hallway. That didn't mean that it was a good idea.

"Right, I'm not just going to walk through the front door unprepared for whoever is in there," Lee says, finally turning back around to face the brothers. "Any other brilliant ideas?"

The brothers meet each other's eyes for a long moment. They slowly draw their attention to Kassandra. "Statue of Liberty?"

Blinking, she sighs. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Absolutely," Travis says. Connor adds, "It's such a short climb. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Statue of Liberty? Do I even want to know?" Lee asks.

The Stoll brothers say, "Probably not."

"Great," her brother drawls, "and what does this plan entail."

"Climbing up to the nearest entrance," Kassandra says, glaring at Connor at the sight of his quirked grin and opening mouth. "The mist shields a great deal and no one typically expects you to come from an upper window in the middle of a busy street."

"I still wonder what they saw scaling the side of the Statue of Liberty," Travis muses, sharing a grin with his brother. "And whatever you must have looked like when you fell."

"I didn't fall!" Connor protests. "Kass pushed me!"

She jumps. "I didn't push you! I shoved you and then you slipped. I caught you right after though, big baby."

"Children!" Lee snaps. "Can we just get going? I would like to be in bed at one point tonight."

The three roll their eyes but comply, easily moving together as they hoist themselves up. her brother lifts her up and she reaches down for Connor once she's secure. Together, they pull up the last two and begin to climb up to the ledge above them so that they were crouched before the windows.

The children of Hermes were the ones to unlock them so that they could slip in, lifting the glass just high enough for them to hear inside.

Kassandra slid forward, ear pressing close to the empty gap. Lee shifted behind her, drawing a bow and arrow over her shoulder.

At the sound of nothing, the small group eased into the building.

They didn't actually spend very much time in Carnegie Hall, thankfully. It was as if the fates didn't want to ruin her dreams, her image of this place by smearing the memory of it with violence.

No, instead Connor had found this entrance to an underground tunnel behind a bunch of curtains at center stage as they went through searching for any sign of people. It was pressed to the wall, a false door that pushed and slid out of their way as they finally pushed through.

It was dark, the tunnel lined with torches on either side that lined the path downwards.

Travis led the way down, steps silent in a way that only a son of Hermes could manage. Kassandra followed close behind, wrapping the sound around them as they slipped along. If only they could manipulate the shadows out of the way, they would have had the perfect infiltration team.

It was cooler the further they went down, like they were travelling into some dungeon or the like. It was nothing to explain where this place had even come from, but it existed far enough beneath the theatre that it couldn't be easily noticed.

"The hallway splits in two," Travis says, moving to the side slightly so that they could see. "Which way should we go?"

"Let's split up. I'll go with Connor and Kass with Travis," Lee suggests, already moving toward the right.

The brothers shift. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Connor asks

"This way we'll have the entire skillset of both with each partner."

"We can cover ground faster this way. We can meet up at the end," Travis reluctantly agrees, stepping carefully toward the left side.  "Looks like it's just me and you, Kass."

"Looks like it," she agrees, palming a knife from her hip. "Let's get going. We can meet up later. Remember, we're just looking for Apollo's laurel wreath and that's it. We're not aiming to stick around and fight anyone."

"And if we find anyone?" Connor asks, tone far too suggestive for their own good. 

"You know what to do," Lee says, rolling his shoulders back. "Let's go. I'll see you guys in a bit."

"See you in a bit," they parrot, carrying on down their respective routes.

Travis and Kassandra waste no time in racing down the corridor on silent feet, their backs pressed to the wall and kept safe only due to her ability to hear anyone sneaking up on them.

She doesn't cling as much as she might want to as they trail along through the darkness, and doesn't move to shield herself away from the movement of shadows. She knew that it wasn't so much a matter of pride, as much as it was the thought that this was one of the people that had shielded her from the dark before, that had protected her when she was young and afraid (and learning on of the common fears that children of Apollo present in their lives -- and oh, did Kassandra hit the jackpot with all of the Apollo kid fears) (snake, the dark, silence -- of my!).

The left side showed to be a mix of random turns and dead-end hallways -- some with cells that lined the walls and others just empty until a locked door appeared at the end.

Eventually, they slipped into a cavern with a high, domed ceiling carved from the rock. There were balconies around, like the one that they stood upon, and little bridges that passed over deep canyons toward the center pedestal that held the weight and scope of an entire replica of Carnegie Hall only it was... darker somehow, emptier as if the Muses themselves had cursed the place.

She made a small, distressed sound at the back of her throat, whining at the way that this place gave her the creeps.

"This is messed up," Travis whispers, and he gestures down to the rows of seats below them. There was a mass of monsters, far too many that they could possibly even pray face on their own. "I don't see it anywhere."

Kassandra scans the area, pausing to check the stage the best that she could. "I don't see it either. Maybe the others are having better luck?"

"Hopefully," he mutters. "I didn't come all the way down here into this place for nothi-- is that Arthur?"

"What? Where?" Kassandra demands, leaning over the edge of the balcony to get a better look.

He yanks her back, gripping the back of her shirt to press them both against the stone of the balcony wall. His head hovered above hers, peering over her shoulder. "Will you shut up?"

Twisting, she glares up into blue eyes brown curls brushing against her forehead with how closely they're pressed together. "Get off, ass," she bites, shoving him away. "Where did you claim to see that idiot brother of mine?"

Travis scowls, but he points him out anyway. Following the path of his gesture, her stomach drops at the gleam of dirty blonde hair and the spark of unmistakable blue eyes. There was a bandage on his forehead and marks from dirt at the side of his neck -- fingerprints that smeared there, as if someone had wrapped a dirty hand around his throat.

He wore armour strapped to his chest and from here she could tell it was his chest from camp with the dents hastily hammered away only to be replaced by new ones. There was no colour on him, no signifying marks in the way that he stood, what he wore, or the weapons that he carried, that showed that he had ever been at camp — that he had ever belonged to Cabin 7.

"You don't think..." Travis trails off, not lessening the grip that he had on her shoulders.

"He..." Kassandra wants to believe that he wouldn't, that he couldn't have joined Luke's crusade, but she knew how tempting it could be when it felt like you had nothing left to hold you back, she knew how miserable Arthur must have felt because she had felt the same way for such a long time, "I have to speak to him."

"That's a terrible idea," Travis says. "You said it yourself — were only here to get Apollo's laurel, not to involve ourselves in whatever is happening here."

"What if it was Luke? Or, what if it had been Chris down there?" Kassandra bites back rather hastily. "What if you had the chance to change their mind before it was too late? What if I can bring him home?"

His grip on her shoulder tightens despite how lithe he might look. "Arthur isn't them, and now isn't the time. He already knows what he's done. He took the time to think about it and make his decision. You aren't going to change his mind."

"But if I could?" Kassandra stressed.

"You won't."

The pair freeze, muscles locking before they slowly relax. Her body lit with an electric fire, her body bursting with adrenaline at the sound of her brother's voice dripping with condensation.

"Did you forget that my hearing, while not as good as yours, of course, is perfectly capable of hearing such a short distance?"

(Her insides twist, guilt gnawing at her ribs because she hadn't even known that he could hear that well, had hardly paid him much attention and he was her older brother.)

"It's a good thing we won't have to yell, then, isn't it?" She remarks instead, avoiding answering his question entirely.

"I'm surprised. You were never one for talking."

"I'm not the kind of person to waste words," she shrugs, "but I'm gathering you have this big monologue planned for me since you're a villain now."

"Villain?" Arthur bursts. "Don't say it with such confidence. You're the one that's only pretending to stand for something that you believe in, Kass. You know just as much as I do that the gods don't deserve your protection, your loyalty."

Travis tenses at her side — Arthur's words loud enough for him to hear — but he doesn't speak.

"It's not the gods that I'm protecting."

"No, it's camp with all those campers who had been chosen before you. All those years that you sat in the Hermes cabin without any clue as to who your family was because no one cared."

"No! No, you're wrong," Kassandra says, the truth of them ringing out to her as she speaks. "People cared for me at camp, and they still do. Just as they care for you. Our dad might not be the best, but he still gave you a family."

"Family? Family?! None of you even realized that I was gone!" Arthur yells.

Kassandra bristled, knowing damn well that Lee and Michael took great care of keeping track of all of them. "Don't blame us when you decided by yourself to go home for the year! You are always welcome to stay at camp and it's not our fault that you leave."

"You're blaming me?!"

Kassandra bares her teeth. "I'm not letting you place the fault on someone else! No one told you to join these idiots. You made that decision by yourself."

Arthur moves forward, presence darkening as he takes center stage -- standing as though he was about to burst into his big villainous number, the one that was meant to sway you to his side out of some perverted sense of interest.

To her, he looked detached, deranged. He looked the part of a boy that was desperately grasping at straws.

(Her brother sort of looked like her, the one that she stuffed deep down and locked away, the her that would have lost it and turned against the gods had the odds been staked only slightly differently.)

(And together, the pair of them, Kassandra knew they looked like lost children desperate for acknowledgment and approval -- like children that wanted to prove their existence, their worth to the world so that they could be seen by something as mighty as the sun and not get burned, seen by something as might as the sun and not care for the day because they have already learned that it's the cool of night that will be the better companion.)

(Where Kassandra had caught a glimpse of what it was like to appreciate both, had painstakingly dragged herself to the metaphorical cliff that held the answers, Arthur had not been as lucky.)

(Though looking at him, she couldn't muster a hint of sympathy as her apathetic heartbeat coldly for him and raged in defence of her other siblings alone.)

(Kassandra had never claimed to be a good sister.)

"Do you think I had a choice? Do you think anyone decided on this? We did what we had to do for our own survival," Arthur says.

Travis scoffs beside her and she finds herself agreeing wholeheartedly. He was at least a little bit off-center, her brother.

"If this is the road that you think will lead to your survival, then you're about to be quite shocked when I knock your teeth out and place an arrow in your side," she claims, fist-clenching tightly over air, aching to feel the weight of a bow in her palm.

Not yet, she told herself. She wasn't about to fight him just yet.

Because she just knew that Lee wouldn't be thrilled about it, that he would give her that pitying stare that wasn't disappointment but was too understanding and made her skin crawl so badly she couldn't bear to live within her own body, that made it feel like she might pry apart her chest cavity to release the pressure that would build in her chest.

"Little warrior Kassandra. You always thought you were so much better than us."

Sneering, she shouts, "Ass! You always have to act the martyr. I might be self-centred in my own world, but I have never once thought that the world revolved around me. You, Arthur, just go around acting like no one can ever be as sad as you, as if no one can ever have it as bad as you!"

His face burns red, eyes burning electric blue. "Don't talk like you know anything about me, sister. You've never taken the time to get to know me."

Rolling her eyes skyward, she rests a hand on her hip, cocking it to the side. "Yes, brother, I wonder why I never wanted to put up with your BS."

"Bitch," he bites, drawing his blade from his side -- a fine sword forged in celestial bronze with vines that wrapped around the handle. It looked like it would be better fitted for the hands of a child of Dionysus or Demeter than one of Apollo. Absently, she wondered if he had stolen it, then realized that if anyone was stealing personal weapons, then it would be that douche, Luke. "Come down here and fight me already."

"That's nuts," Travis muttered. "Pry about the wreath instead."

Bending forward, she rests her elbow on the edge and drops her chin to the palm of her hand leaving her back completely exposed.

A taunting position that showed she wasn't truly taking him seriously, that she doubted that he could truly do anything to her.

(It wasn't like she would ever let him sneak up behind her anyway.)

Considering her words carefully, she says, "I'll fight you right after you hand over Apollo's laurel."

(For a moment, Kassandra allows herself to recognize that her plan sounded so Percy that she's surprised that he even gets anything accomplished.) 

There's a drawn moment as he stares at her, face unwavering, and she has to keep herself from snapping at him. He was easy to read when she shared the same expression.

It only takes a moment for him to burst into laughter, gut-busting as he bends at the waist and bubbles over like one of the Stoll brothers when they manage to catch all the Athena kids at once. He looked unhinged, deranged and mad -- like a maenad had pressed a kiss to his cheek and invited him to dance.

She turned her cheek, finding discomfort in the near hysteria that he displayed.

"Apollo's laurel? Apollo's laurel?! You allowed him to manipulate you into coming here, seeking me out, to do his dirty work like a good little soldier?" he demanded, hissing between clenched teeth that had the muscles in his jaw tensing, veins in his neck bulging. "You're just like one of them, now. Just like one of those sheep that are going to die for a God that doesn't give a damn about you."

She bites back her retort, unable to lie to him when she knew that he was right, that she was allowing herself to be used just because he showed her a bit of affection.

(Kassandra had never deluded herself into thinking that the gods would ever care, at least not any more than they would ever be capable of -- because what was love to an immortal other than fleeting obsession? They could love their children in the only way that they knew how the only way that their immortal parents were able to love them -- and her father at four days old was out fighting Python as if that was a normal thing.)

"This isn't the way to get them to notice," she says as gently as she could, tone as soft as possible. "Hurting everyone else isn't going to make anything any better."

"It's the only way to make them change," he cries. "It's our turn to shape the world. It's our turn to make things better!"

She turns away, biting on the inside of her cheek. There was that itching sense of foreboding that began to creep up the back of her neck that just told her that it was going to be no use fighting with him. Arthur wasn't going to change his mind no matter what she said to him here.

Well, Kassandra thought, I'll just have to drag him out kicking and screaming to drive it through his dumb head. For Lee and Michael.

(And to suck it to Luke, a bitter part of her hissed.)

"We have to get down there," she whispered to Travis. "How many do you think we can deal with up here before we're forced down to face them?"

"What weapons do you have?"

"Depends on how quickly my arrows return to me."

Travis's brows raise as he looks at her. "What?"

Lifting her wrist, she shows him the cuff on her wrist. She takes great pleasure in the way his eyes widen as she calls forth her weapon -- the weight on her back brings a flash of excitement striking through her, the feeling of her bow in hand bringing forth a wave of confidence.

(After she had gotten her gift from her father, she had practiced more than she would ever dare to admit. She had been so eager, so giddy to test it out. She had never expected that this would be the place that she was going to be using it for the first time -- against her brother.)

"When in Hades did you get that?" he demands in slight awe.

"Solstice from Apollo," she says, quite pleased with herself as she draws back an arrow and casually takes aim.

"Pick 'em off and we can make our way down when they've thinned in numbers," he instructs as if she hadn't already planned to do so.

Gaze narrowed, Kassandra begins to let loose, striking down the monsters as quickly as she could, feeling the rise of an Apollo child in her gut as she knocks them down one by one -- uncaring of who her arrows preyed upon as she cleared the stage, moving as quickly as her arrows returned to her.

She only slowed when they did, when they began to stick a little longer.

They scaled the railing of the balcony with little decorum, lowering themselves quickly and dropping to the thin walkway that awaited beneath. Pulling the dagger from the sheath at her waistband, the cuff flashed away and she was onto the nearest traitor with a snarl.

Wasting no time, she only did so much to ensure they wouldn't be getting back up any time soon as she reached for her brother. He was at the back, letting the few others that he had with him do his dirty work as he kept out of range.

She kicked a young girl to the side (she couldn't be more than Kayla's age) and lunge toward him -- ducking back out of the way instantly as he reacted with a swipe of his sword. She bared her teeth, gritting them as she dodged out of his range, dancing around him until he slipped. 

"You're getting soft, Kassie."

"No, you're getting slow," she snarls, jumping forward and landing a hit with the handle of the dagger against his jaw. Arthur stumbles and she follows the motion, striking out with the edge of his dagger against his inner forearm.

Hissing, he moves to kick her, sending her shifting back as she rounds the tip of his sword.

"You're going to regret this, Arthur. Just give it up now and leave with me," she tells him, appealing as she attempts to slip into his space once more. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"You're going to get yourself killed taking on more than you can handle!" he shouts, swinging his sword with a fancy bit of footwork that has her shifting onto the defense to keep herself from getting skewered.

The thing was, he wasn't as good as Luke, and he certainly wasn't as good as Oriana had been, but he was still good -- he was still a demigod son of Apollo that was fierce with a sword and dangerous on the worst of days. Her brother was skilled, that was for sure, and as it was clearly his weapon of choice, it showed in every movement no matter how much she provoked or how angry she made him.

(But he wasn't as good as she was used to facing.)

She moves him, dancing around the platform stage until she could trick him into following, pushing and shoving until her back was to the edge and Kassandra was sliding on the floor under his guard until she was stood behind him. 

"It's enough,  Arthur. It's time to go home!"

"I won't have a home until we've reclaimed Olympus!" he screams, whipping around to face her.

Kassandra kicks out and knocks against the flat of his blade. Forcing it downward, she snaps out at his wrist, cutting the delicate skin until he drops the handle. "Stop this! Let me take you back to camp, to our siblings!"

"Our siblings? Camp? I'm not going back there until we've been freed or the gods."

"Freed of the Gods? You're making room for something much worse than the gods, Arthur," she stressed. "Lee's here. He's been so worried. We can get you out of here. We can keep you safe from Luke."

"Safe from Luke? I don't need protecting, Kassie, and I don't need it from you, especially," he bites, throwing a fist at her. "You forgave him because he gave you something pretty! You forgave them because they accepted you as a hero!"

Anger burns through her chest, ripping through her. "Forgave them? Forgave them!? I've learned to move on because I was turning into Luke! I was turning into something that scared me, the kind of person that wouldn't hesitate to tear through the people they cared about to reach their goal!"

Kassandra throws one punch then another, swinging at him deftly as she pushes forward, aiming him back toward the edge once more (at the edge, he couldn't run, he couldn't move much, he would be reliant on her not ending him here).

"Stop trying to save people, Kassandra," Arthur says blithely. "It never works out for you in the end."

He grabs her hand as it pulls away from his temple, yanking her forward off balance and the balls of her feet -- ripping her out of space and over a small space to the side. Stumbling, Kassandra trips in time with a flash of green magic shooting past her as she falls backward over the edge -- the green exploding the rock face behind her head.

Gasping, Kassandra lets out a soft scream, arms reaching up over her head as she begins to fall into the endless darkness that stretched beneath.

She left it like a flutter in her stomach, the sensation of dropping as she met Arthur's wide, panicked blue eyes as a pillar began to descend with an explosion of Greek fire.

Her arm tugs, yanking as it's grabbed in a bruising grip. Her shoulder protests, screaming in pain, but Kassandra wraps her fingers tightly around the arm that held her.

Travis grunts, swinging them gently from the rope that he held until she could manage to wrap her legs around it and grip the rope with her other hand in time for a burst from a blast to send them swinging toward the rocks hard enough to bruise their ribs.

"Dammit," she gasped, clinging tightly to the rope. "What the Hades was that?"

"Something Beckendorf's been working on," Travis grunts, still bent as he clings to her hand. "You good to hold on alone?"

Clenching her legs, she tells him, yes, her arm coming down hard to hang at her side. "Shit!" she hissed, breathing heavily. Smoke fills her lungs, curling around her and she coughs harshly -- painfully as her torso alights with screaming nerves. The fire burnt a dark green, nearly black towards the heart of the flames, the color getting lighter the further out that it went, almost glowing.

She can feel herself pale at the height of the fire, at the sheer size and heat of them as they threatened to burn the rope beneath her fingers.

Throughout it all, she couldn't catch a glimpse of her brother in the destruction that they had left behind.

"We have to go," she mutters to Travis. "We have to get out of here before we die of smoke inhalation."

"We didn't find what we came for," he mentions as he begins to climb.

Kassandra grunts as she begins to hoist herself up. "Tough. There's no way that we're finding it here now," she grumbles. "Let's hope Lee and Connor had more luck. I really don't look forward to having to explain this to Apollo."

He doesn't slow as he says, "I'm sorry for--"

"Let's just go, Travis. We can deal with what happened when we know we aren't going to die."

They had made it down a few corridors when they finally ran into Lee and Connor with the son of Hermes leading him along by the grip on his sleeve.

Kassandra had nearly bowled over her brother as they collided -- quite literally -- groaning in pain as he grabbed her arms to steady her in place.

In his hand, pricking against her skin, was a golden wreathed laurel crown. It was warm to the touch like pure sunshine in the heat of summer, it brought memories of camp days and archery lessons flooding back to her -- days spent playing capture the flag or flipping canoes or dominating on the volleyball court.

She pulled away just as quickly.

"You found it!" Travis exclaims in relieved awe.

"What happened to you two?" Connor asks, moving to get into his brother's space.

"We ran into Arthur," Kassandra mutters, words tumbling free as she faces Lee. "He sided with Luke."

Lee grimaces, features spasming with remorse and betrayal, and Kassandra can't help the guilt that wells up in her chest, biting through her heart and gnawing on her aching ribs.

"We fought," she continues.

"I set a fire," Travis admits.

Her brother holds up a hand, placing it heavy on her shoulder. "Let's just get out of here. We can deal with it when we aren't in danger."

"But Lee..."

"Not now, Kass."

Biting her lip, Kassandra nods, following close behind as her gaze trails to the glowing golding laurel crown that was clenched in her brother's hand, the way his fingers wrap around the intricate leaves that were made of the purest metal that forged some of the gods strongest weapons.

(Apollo was no different to any other god to that extent as his weapons and skillset were exemplary without any begrudging respect on her part. It was common knowledge that while he may not have acted like a terribly mature individual, that he was still a god by all rights.)

(The children of Apollo were not weak. They never had been. They were some of the strongest and most numerous half-bloods simply due to  the nature of their father -- even if they were outshined at times by some of the other demigod children that simply outclassed the others.

The people like Orianna and Percy, Annabeth and Luke.

The people that made it easy to seem insignificant, yet somehow encourage you to grow.)

(Arthur never got that memo. He had fallen the other way, to the other side, and allowed the pressure and distinct inequalities to rule his life and transform his existence.)

(Kassandra could not help but think that she could have prevented all this. She had done unthinkable things before, but she could only sway under the guilt of being involved in the loss of her brother.)

(She has been so determined to take him home, to be a good sister — to protect him from the path of evil...

And now he was just gone.)

They backtrack into the theatre. Carnegie Hall appeared just as pristine and wonderful as it had when they left, but now it was like the life was sucked from the room — drained of bright colors and any hopes that she ever had of returning.

How could she hope to come here now?

(Really, Kassandra wasn't surprised that her father ruined another thing for her.)

She watched Lee quietly, aching to simply blurt out the words that would surely make him hate her, make their relationship crumble, and leave her without the family that she had fought to claim through steel and blood -- Kassandra wasn't foolish enough to believe that this wasn't, in some part, her fault.

Lee took a moment to breathe in the fresh air, his cheeks dusted a light pink from their run. He didn't appear to be entirely mussed, as though the pair of them hadn't run into any trouble at all.

"What were you saying about Arthur?" he asks, finally turning to look at her.

And her tongue gross heavy, the words twisting in the base of her throat, working in her stomach until she feels a sick wave beginning to wash over her -- because there was no way that she would ever be able to say anything other than the complete, honest truth.

"He... there was an explosion -- greek fire -- and there was so much destruction. The place was falling apart and the pieces were everywhere and there was so much smoke. When I fell and Travis caught me, I couldn't see him there at all."

"You couldn't see him there?" he repeats, voice low.

"He wasn't there. The falling debris and the fire... there's no way that he could have survived."

"It was an accident," Travis adds. "Kass was fighting at the edge of this endless pit and there were more monsters coming. I used one of the bombs that Charles still had in the works. I didn't think it would be such a terrible reaction."

Lee raised his arms up, huffing out a breath through his nose, and turned around so that his back was to them. His shoulders drew up high, the bow slung across his back dug into his forearm as he linked his fingers behind his head. His grip on the laurel wreath was fierce, knuckles white.

"Great. So you're telling me you killed my brother but it was an accident?"

"Lee--"

"No, Kassandra, I'm so fed up with all of your shit! How do these things always happen when you're around? Why do you somehow always make everything worse?" Lee shouts, spinning around quickly to face her, golden wreath pointed in her face with a dealy still grip.

There's a ringing in her ears as she feels her cheeks grow warm. She takes a step to the side, out of his range. "I make things worse? I make things worse?! I tried to bring him home for you and he tried to kill me!"

"Thanks. That totally makes up for killing my brother."

"I didn't kill him!"

He tosses the golden wreath at her head and Kassandra catches it instinctively. "Just go. Go home and pretend to be a regular mortal girl for the rest of the year until you decide to show your face again."

Travis shifts on his feet. "Lee, come on, man..."

"No. Leave it," she bites. Her brother turns, marching off away from her as she clenched her jaw to keep her bottom lip from wobbling pitifully. "I'll see you guys soon."

Connor slides up to her side, hovering just over her shoulder. "Will you be okay getting that back on your own? We can come with you," he offers.

"I've got it. I don't live that far from Manhattan," Kassandra tells them. "I'll drop it off on my way home."

"It's late and you're hurt," Travis points out.

Rolling her eyes, she shoots him a dull look. "I'm quite aware of that. I assure you both, I can handle this on my own. Can't tell a lie, remember?"

"Yes, Kass, we know, but I'm not certain that it's actually a good idea for you to be alone right now."

"It's fine, please, it's just-" she swallows thickly, choking slightly on her words- "I think I need to be by myself for a bit. I can handle myself just fine."

"But Kassie--"

She wasn't sure how she was actually going to get them to leave her alone. Because she wanted more than anything to be alone right now. Because she wanted space to breathe, wanted the room to move. Wanted to be able to think on her own, with nothing to distract her from what has happened.

Arthur was dead. She watched him die. She could do nothing to prevent it from happening. And now it seemed as if Lee hated her.

And Kassandra really didn't know what to do now. How was she supposed to get out of this situation? How could she fix this?

(When Kassandra had pulled herself up from the grief of losing Oriana, from losing Ariel, and Luke and Chris, her brother had been there for her -- all of her siblings had been there, willing to support her with whatever she needed, to support her initial reaction that came in waves of rage, of wrath scorching over her like the sun rising in her chest and scorching her from within.

But she had stood there, taken his words of anger, the ones that rang false and true all at once, and she could only hear his voice ringing in her ears even though her brother had just died.)

(And the guilt for not caring all too much, for not being immensely sad, was going to eat her alive.)

(Oh, how Kassandra wished that Apollo had never approached her.)

(Oh, how she wished she had been better, stronger when she faced him.)

"How are you even going to get there? Your shoulder's dislocated and you've more than likely bruised your ribs," Travis states. "And what are you going to do with the laurel wreath? Gonna plop it on your head and hop on the subway?"

Scowling at him, she digs around in her pockets until she pulls free one drachma -- unable to fight the victorious grin that spread upon her lips. "Call a cab. I'll be there in seconds at such a small distance. From there, I'll just call my parents to come get me," she says, smile turning bitter. "You should go catch up to Lee. He'll need you more than I do right now."

"I doubt Lee wants anyone near him at all, right about now," Connor mutters.

"You both know what it's like, losing siblings. Arthur joined Luke before... He probably never thought he would have to face a sibling like that."

"But Kassie--"

"No, guys, no. He has a point. He had a point and I'm not going to let him feel like the bad guy right now because you guys decided to stick here with me."

"You aren't the bad guy, either."

"I'm not exactly the good guy," Kassandra murmurs. "Listen, can you please- Lee just lost his brother. Lee is the eldest, or at least he always acts that way. He's the big brother that looks after us, and he just lost Arthur."

Travis' mouth pinches, eyes flickering darkly for a moment. "You lost your brother, too."

Chest squeezing, Kassandra looks to the drachma in her palm, rolling it deftly between her fingers. "I didn't... not really. I've never been the best sister or the best friend. Lee needs his friends more than I do right now."

"That's bullsh-"

"Guys! Guys, please, Lee needs you and he really doesn't want to see me right now."

"You would know how to help him better than we ever could," Connor says, speaking as if he was trying to convince both of us.

Sighing, Kassandra clenches her fingers around the drachma, turning away from their pity-filled, genuine expressions. They wanted her to come back, wanted her to go to camp and see her brother, be with her siblings -- stay with them.

But she couldn't, wouldn't go back to camp now. Lee was right. She was better off at home thinking about camp yet hardly reaching out to them.

She called the cab, stepping away from the brothers as they made to protest. "Go back to camp. I'll see you soon. I- thank you for coming with me, Travis, Connor."

Sliding into the seat, she couldn't bring herself to look back at the brothers as she snapped for the Grey sisters to drop her at Olympus. Resting her head back, jaw clenched, Kassandra willed the burn away from her eyes.

Olympus was exactly as she remembered it and Kassandra figured that it always would be, because the gods were eternal, never changing creatures, that were constant and unimaginative in their beliefs, in their views.

They were the beings that were always stagnant, their time forever stuck to the past as they focused on glory days that would never return. Looking over it all, there was that nagging sense of wonder at the thought that they could fit into the modern world at all.

(It all made Luke's point all so clear, all so obvious. How could the gods have a place where they didn't truly belong? Where they didn't try to belong?)

(What was the point of fearing a god that you didn't believe in? That couldn't ever, truly, compare?)

Kass felt small in comparison as she walked along the street of Olympus, guiding herself toward Apollo's temple because she doubted that he would want her to show up in the thrown room waving around the fact that he had lost his crown.

Shouting, bawling, and screaming because everything had gone to shit over this stupid fucking thing.

And Arthur, her brother Arthur, was dead because of her and she couldn't even focus on that thought without wanting to toss herself from the top of the Empire State building. How was she supposed to face her siblings again when they would know what she had done? How was she supposed to face her father when she had killed his son?

Minor gods and demigods watched her path along, following her every step as she kept her head held high and the golden laurel wreath tight in her hand -- holding it with the grip of someone who would rather die than let someone take it from her hand.

The other side she held her arm in a makeshift sling, careful of the ribs that she messed up that night. She knew, in some part of her, that she should have called Percy to join her, get the boy with infinite luck to stand by her on such a small mission that wasn't actually a mission but a favour to her father.

Details of Olympus filter in waves, so much being passed over, looked over as she finally makes it to his temple. Kassandra doesn't bother to take in the place knowing that it was probably a replica of one of his from the past.

It would have been a sight to treasure had she cared.

But Kassandra really couldn't care.

The lyre could be heard as soon as she steps over the threshold, eyes jerking away from the burning brightness that was the sun in the dead center of the ceiling instead of an intricate mural.

Her hand flies up, the glinting of the wreath blinding as she uses her hand to prevent eye damage.

Following the sound of music, Kassandra is lead straight to her father. The god lounging amongst a nest of cushions, packed onto a chaise bed, a cantharus perched on his knee as he plays. 

The muses graced the room. They didn't pay her much mind as she entered. Only Ariel's mother paused in her relaxation to nod in the young demi-god's direction. 

Kassandra weighs the laurel in her hand, twisting it as she brushed a finger over the intricately carved details. A childish part of her wanted to place it onto her head, but years of dealing with immortals and hearing their tales as fact had taught her how terrible an idea that was despite it belonging to her father. 

(Apollo seemed the type to despise sharing, even with his children.)

The gold glints at her hauntingly, a flash of her reflection blinking up at her. The dead look in her eyes, apathetic and dry, tempts the darkness living in her heart a little closer to the surface. 

Hands clenching, Kassandra moves to greet her father. 

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unedited

written: 2022-10-12 

posted: 2022-10-12