There were times when Mara hated how calm camp seemed to be. It was always bright and healthy here – storms passed right over the valley, not a drop of rain touching the always green grass. It was almost as if they were stuck in a loop – the same day repeating over and over again. Apart from new campers appearing, or ones leaving for quests, nothing changed at camp. The same old training, the same old games.

Same old disdain from others.

It wasn't easy being a Forbidden kid – wasn't easy even before she knew who her godly father was – being the child of Hades was even more challenging. The god of the Underworld was not viewed as highly as others. He was dangerous, bad luck, a bad omen.

That made Mara, his daughter, dangerous, bad luck, a bad omen.

Even knowing who she was and where she came from, she was still an outcast. She's almost surprised she wasn't thrown out of camp when she first appeared. She supposed leaving the child of Hades to wander the known world would've been a bad look for camp Half-blood.

Chiron and Mr.D, the only two who seemed willing to approach Mara that day on the hill, had given Mara a place to stay. Hades didn't have a cabin in camp – she didn't know why, only that it wouldn't have been good if they did. Her 'cabin', if you could call it that, was dark – emanating what Hades was seen as – obsidian walls, skulls littered the walls. It was eerie at best.

She listened as cheers and shouts aroused from those upon the lava wall, she glanced over and saw the head of curls that belonged to one Ares girl. It brought an unbidden smile to her lips without her will, gazing as Clarisse grinned sharp at her brothers and sisters.

"Can you stop? Your heart eyes are making me sick."

Mara rolled her eyes, scoff on her lips. "Shut up."

"What do you even see in her? She's got the mindset of a boar."

"She doesn't try to make me venture to the brig to get her some old, crusty bourbon." Mara leant against her chair, sat at the table and legs kicked up in front of her. Her arms crossed over her chest, leather jacket groaning and stretching over lithe arms.

"Crusty!? – you young ones have no taste." Dionysus glared from his reclined position, diet coke empty on the table in front of him. Despite not having drunk – as he was forbidden to – he looked as if he were nursing a raging hangover, the glasses covering his eyes and sloppy shirt not helping him whatsoever. He went to drink from his can, scowling as he realised it was empty. Waving his hand, the air warped until a new diet coke appeared into existence, he popped it open and slurped obnoxiously.

Mara hummed a laugh, disinterested in the god. Her gaze drifted back to Clarisse's crowd, before skipping over to the new footsteps that hesitantly approached. The new kid they had dragged from the hill last night – who had spent the night in the infirmary, a diet of ambrosia and nectar. From what she could see, he had healed nicely, barely even a bruise to be seen.

The kid's blue eyes darted from her to where Mr.D reclined, relaxed and for once, quiet. The kid got closer, eyes locked on Mr.D.

"Excuse me?" The kid spoke, "I'm Percy Jackson, I'm new here."

Mara hid her amusement, biting the inside of her cheek, Mr.D taking a deep breath as he bellowed. "Peter Johnson is here!"

"'Kay." Percy drawled, locking eyes with Mara, confusion in his gaze. "That isn't ... really my name."

Mara hid a small smile, head ducked and shaggy dark hair falling into her face. Percy frowned, confused and a little insulted to be laughed at right now.

"I guess I'm looking for the office? Or whoever's in charge, so..."

Mara instantly recognised the hoof clomps that rushed up to them – her gaze darting to her old friend.

"Wait, wait. Wait, wait, wait." Grover panted, "Wait, Percy, um..." The satyr paused at the sight of Mara, the girl raising a brow at him. Grover shook his head, clearing his thoughts, gesturing to the god. "Mr. D, Camp Director. Mr. D, this is, uh, Percy Jacskon."

"Yeah, Grover." Mr. D scoffed. "I heard him the first time."

"Did you?"

"But did you?"

Mara and Percy shared a look, the daughter of Hades smirking slightly as Percy looked at her confused.

"Wait, so who are you–?"

"Okay." Grover pulled Percy to the side, speaking in hushed tones that Mara didn't care to hear. The cautious looks Grover kept throwing her told her enough. Mr.D glanced over as Mara stiffened in her chair, smirk replaced with a blank look.

The two turned back to the duo at the table, Percy hesitant before he spoke this time. "Excuse me, Your Highness?"

Mara sharply laughed under her breath, brows raised in quiet amusement and sharp grin pulled over teeth.

"Oh," Mr.D, groaned, brows tightly pulled together.

"I think my dad may be around here somewhere." Percy continued. "I don't know how to ask for him. I don't – I don't even know his name. But I think I should see him. I just... I think I really need that right now. Can you help me?"

Mara almost felt sorry for the kid, who clearly had no idea how this all worked. He was older than most campers were when they turned up to camp – he had lived most of his life outside of the valley and in the real world. She had no idea how he lived so long without being hunted down by her father's monster – the furies, the dreaded sisters who had been hunting Mara and the other's that night – until he had killed the minotaur the night before. He should have been dead long before if her father sent his best agents after him.

She glanced over as Mr.D sat straighter in his seat, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes that had her rolling her own.

"Actually..." The god said, "I think I can. Son."

Percy looked shocked – and Mara didn't blame him. She knew from looking at him, and the first few minutes of interaction, that Percy wasn't a Dionysus kid. He lacked the.... Chaos to them.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Peter." Mr.D grinned.

"It's Percy." Percy corrected, brows furrowed.

"Exactly." Dionysus continued, undeterred. "Now, before we get to know each other, there's something very important I want you to do for me, okay?"

"Oh, boy." Mara mumbled, leaning back in her chair. The furniture creaked as she dangerously hovered on two legs, swinging slightly.

Percy nodded to Dionysus' question, clearly eager to finally speak to the man he had never met. Mara wondered how he would face the disappointment ahead.

Mr.D grinned, bright and full, excitement in the movement of his hand as he pointed in the distance. "In the galley, there is a bottle of 1985 Chateau Haut-Brion. Will you go fetch that for me?"

Percy's eyes grew an angered tint, "Is that really all you have to say to me?"

Grover desperately tried to intervene. "Hey, um, Mr.D, even if Percy was –"

"Uh, uh, uh, bup!" Dionysus interrupted the satyr. "Grover, quiet, please. This is a nice moment, don't ruin it."

"It's really not." Mara dryly remarked, smirking at the dirty look received from the god.

"The galley is right down that path." Mr.D continued, ignoring the girl. "Grab that bottle and I'll talk to you about whatever you want. You know, uh..." The god searched for an answer. "You, uh... me, who cares?"

Percy glanced at the other two in the room, Grover exhaling quietly, whilst Mara swung on her chair, pushing back wild hair that refused to be tamed. The boy scoffed quietly, stepping as though to carry out the request, pulling to a stop at the second, larger, hoof steps that clicked against the floor.

Percy looked astonished staring at Chiron, gaze racking over his top half – decked in a nicely tailored suit jacket, sweatered vest, and starch white shirt – whilst his bottom half took the appearance of a horse, four legged and short, dark fur covering the entirety of him.

The centaur climbed to the doorway of the patio – weary and old gaze flitting from Mara, to Mr.D, to Grover, and finally back to Percy. Chiron clicked his tongue, deep and baritone voice calling.

"Percy."

"Mr. Brunner?" Percy questioned.

Grover once again was quick to jump in, "Uh, Mr. Brunner's real name is Chiron. Camp activities director, immortal trainer of heroes, he is–"

"Grover, thank you." Chiron spoke gently over the satyr. "I'll take it from here."

Grover bowed his head, stepping back from his excited perch over Percy's shoulder. Chiron turned back to Percy, sympathy in his tone.

"Oh, Percy, this must be a lot for you to process."

"Oh, no." The sass in Percy's voice was not lost on Mara, a small smirk worming its way to her lips again. "It's – It's fine. I mean, you're a horse, there's a random girl who keeps smirking at me, my father won't talk to me unless I get him a drink. Well, this all seems totally normal and reasonable."

Chiron's bushy brows raised at Percy's gesture to Mr.D, "Oh, no, no, no. No. Mr.D is not your father."

All eyes immediately turned to the god, who shrugged under the scrutiny. "I could be."

"Yes, but are you?" Chiron pressed.

Mr.D sighed, disappointment at another failure to acquire his desired alcohol plain on his face. "Why must you ruin everything?"

Mara laughed lightly, a sharp grin on her face once again.

Chiron eyed her quietly. He's been doing that a lot recently – since the winter solstice, the last time the demigods had the privilege to visit Olympus and their godly parents, – She didn't care to know the reason why.

Chiron groans softly as he turns back to Percy, clearly long since used to Dionysus' tricks , "Mr.D knows that Zeus has forbidden him from consuming alcohol. And that demigods are acle to do things for gods that gods are forbidden to do for themselves. Mr.D was taking advantage of that. Hmm?"

Percy turned to glare at Dionysus, the god only shrugging, a small grin on his lips.

Mara puffed air through her nose – a sound of amusement. "Don't take it to heart, kid. He's been trying it for years."

"And you are?" Percy turned to her, brow raised. Mara returned his look, arms crossed and leaning precariously on the back legs of her chair.

"This is Mara." Chiron's voice seemed wary, as though he was introducing Percy to a wild animal. It made Mara scoff quietly. "Percy.. Walk with me, and we'll start again. Hm? Mara, please, join us."

Mara rolled her eyes, stopped swinging on her chair, and swung her feet off the table in front of her, muttering under her breath. "Not that you give me much choice." She walked past Grover and Percy, calling over her shoulder. "C'mon, kid. It's time for your grand tour."

"Well, she seems excited." Percy commented.

"Just..." Grover warned him before he could fully step away, the satyr stopped from joining the trio by Chiron. "Be careful around Mara."

Percy's brows furrowed, "Why? Other than seeming to have an attitude problem, she's been alright."

"You'll know soon." Grover's face was grim, morose even. "Not many at camp are so brave as to step near her. That's all I'm saying."

Percy frowned deeper, confused at Grover's words. His gaze swept to where the girl walked, decked head to toe in dark clothes – a leather jacket over a duller version of the bright orange camp-halfblood shirt everyone seemed to be wearing, the colour almost a dark grey. Her cargo pants were charcoal, tucked into a pair of combat boots that looked heavy enough to crush his skull with one good kick. Swinging around her neck was a singular chain, and a beaded rope necklace. Her shaggy hair fell unkempt around her face, no matter how much she tried to sweep it back from her eyes. – He supposed he could see why most people would avoid her, she looked scary enough with her blank glare, and the sharp grin she brought out. But there was something else to Grover's words. Something hidden and sinister – as though Percy should be fearing for his life around this girl.