───── 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 from going on a possibly fatal quest halfway around the country, Vincent was having a rotten day—
First, he had been dozing off at the Ares table in the morning ( Annabeth and Chiron swore he'd get his own table one day ). His half aunts and uncles (It pissed Clarisse off immensely when he called her Auntie ), were rowdy, as usual.
Seriously? How the fuck did any of them have enough energy to not only stay awake at the table at eight in the morning, but also brandishing weapons as they playfully threatened each other.
Vincent couldn't wait to get his own cabin. Ares kids were fine and all, but let's just say he would like to go to sleep without fearing for his life. On more than one occasion, he had been woken up with a sword to his face, someone trying to smother him with a pillow, or the all time classic— military drills.
Even now, his head drooped so much he would have fallen on his waffles. Thankfully, Ellis Wakefield was nice enough to splash him in the face with a spoonful of milk from his cereal.
Vincent was starting to miss Cabin eleven. At least when he was unclaimed, he didn't have to deal with the most uncivilized cabin.
Secondly, he almost got skewered thrice during training. He wasn't bad at sword fighting. After three years at camp, he was better than decent. In fact, he would consider himself one of the only people who could go toe to toe with someone from the Ares Cabin and survive.
Even if his Godly father wasn't the god of war, Vincent managed to hold his own when it came to fights.
There wasn't much to do at Camp for year round campers like Vincent. He had already scaled the lava wall a million times, trained against most of the campers, participated in Capture the Flag, made bracelets in arts and crafts, and even tried his hand at canoeing (he was terrible at it and the boat flipped him into the water)
Despite all that, Camp Halfblood never really got old.
No matter how long Vincent spent there, he doubted he would ever get bored. There was always something happening. Like for instance, now—
"You smell," Was the only greeting he got from Annabeth as she stalked inside the training arena.
Vincent was trying (and failing) to teach some of the younger campers how to sword fight. Granted, that most of them were preteens, but Vincent would have thought it was common sense not to try to stab your instructor during your first lesson.
Thankfully, they were all idiots and couldn't even stab him correctly. He managed to survive two whole hours until he saw a familiar flash of blonde hair and a girl walked in with a determined stride.
"No stabbing each other, Camp doesn't offer insurance!" He called out to the young demigods as Annabeth pulled him to the side. He didn't trust the little shits not to commit murder. He remembered what it was like to be thirteen, entering this world of magic and monsters. Also, pre teens are some of the most blood thirsty people out there.
He turned to Annabeth, "What's up? And don't say you came just to say 'you smell'. "
Her expression bothered him.
Annabeth was the type of popular girl that everyone knew. Nevermind the fact that she was one of the main heroes in the Battle of Manhattan and had personally fought against Luke/Kronos, she was also the architect of Olympus and one of the oldest campers (to still be alive lmao) who had been at camp for nearly eight or nine years if her beads were anything to go by.
Vincent compared her camp necklace to his own with only three beads. The last one brought back some memories he wanted to bury forever. It was a crudely done paintjob of the Empire State building, but only the ones who had fought in the actual battle knew how fucking terrifying it was.
"It's Hera."
"What?"
"I had a vision," Annabeth told him, "Hera gave me a vision."
"Ohkayyy?"
Vincent didn't know why she was telling him all this. The most he'd come to talking to her before this was when he killed a spider for her and in return Annabeth had full on body slammed a camper for making fun of him once.
She was the kind of person who knew everyone, and made an obvious effort to get to know people, to find out what they needed, to figure out a way to help people. She and her boyfriend (Camp Halfblood heartthrob) Percy Jackson, had done more for demigods in the past few years than anyone else.
Even now, Annabeth was working on designing and building a cabin for Vincent's Godly parent and had asked him for inputs. Until then he was forced to room with the Ares campers. But clearly, this wasn't about that.
"I need to get to the Grand Canyon."
"That's like halfway across the country," Vincent snorted, "What do you want me to do about it?"
He didn't like the look in her stormy eyes.
Despite being nearly the same age (even if Vincent was much taller), Annabeth had wise eyes. Duh, daughter of Athena and all that . But there was also something else... she had been through so much already. Her eyes looked like they should belong to an old woman who had lived a very stressful life, not a teenager.
But Vincent didn't blame her for being erratic these past few days.
Three days ago, Percy Jackson had gone missing.
Campers didn't just magically vanish, especially not their most powerful hero. According to Ellis who heard from Valentina who heard from Drew who heard from Will who heard from... you get the idea— Basically, that night, Percy went to sleep as usual and the next morning he was gone without a trace.
Ever since then, Annabeth had kind of been losing her mind.
"I need to borrow the flying Chariot," Annabeth told him.
"Again... why are you asking me that? The chariot is shared between the Ares and the Apollo cabin. You know how mad Clarisse was last year and how they fought over it."
Annabeth winced and Vincent regretted bringing it up. Of course Annabeth knew about that. It was kind of hard to forget the fact that Clarisse's ego was so bruised she insisted on not participating in the battle (she even made Vincent stay). Unfortunately, Silena Beauregard had to dress up like Clarisse and lead the Ares Cabin + Vincent into battle where she died.
"I know, Vince but I need to check this lead out," Annabeth insisted. "Hera wouldn't lie— Actually, I'm not too sure about that. But I need to know. Even if it's a false lead, even if it's a wild goose chase."
Goose chase made him think about ducks which made him think of a person he hadn't thought of in a while. His ADHD brain bounced between topics.
"So you want me to steal the chariot from people who already hate me?"
"Ares campers don't hate you."
Vincent gave her a look. "Did I tell you about the time Clarisse woke me up with a dead rat dangling two inches from my face which was her parting gift before she left for college?"
"I need the chariot, Vincent." She sighed. She looked exhausted, bags under her bloodshot eyes, her hair sticking up in places, the permanent smile she seemed to have next to Percy, now wiped. "Please. If you can find a way to get me to the Grand Canyon, I'll take you along."
At that, Vincent perked up.
Camp Halfblood never got boring, but Vincent had been dying for a chance to leave. He was tired of waiting around for the Great Prophecy to unfold. If everyone didn't already hate him, after Rachel Elizabeth Dare— Camp's very own oracle— had told the next Great Prophecy, Vincent had gotten claimed and everyone started to stay away from him.
As bad as the Ares cabin was, they were the only ones who didn't treat him like a ticking timebomb. Technically, they loved ticking time bombs (Mark had thought it would be funny to get Vincent a bomb as his welcome gift when he first came to live with the Ares cabin).
"Annabeth, are you sure this was Hera in your vision?" Vincent tried, "Not that I'm calling you crazy or anything." He was definitely calling her crazy, "But you know, you haven't had a decent night of sleep since—"
Vincent didn't even say his name and still Annabeth flinched. He could see the fear and panic written plainly across her features. Sighing, he asked her, "Can I help? With your panic?"
"Please."
He didn't like using his relatively newly discovered powers without people's consent. So when Annabeth agreed, he tried to ease her mind. Fear and love aren't that far off actually. Maybe that's why Ares and Aphrodite have a thing going on.
Annabeth loved her boyfriend, to the point where she would definitely go crazy before she stopped looking for him.
Vincent, true to his words, helped her. He still wasn't sure how his powers worked exactly, but he knew they had something to do with fear— duh , with his dad being who he was. He could see Annabeth's expression soften as he worked. In seconds, she looked calmer.
She flashed him a grin, "Thanks, I needed that."
"No, what you need is a good night's sleep."
"I have to check this out," She insisted, "Please. She told me he'll be there, she told me I'll find the answers."
Vincent didn't like to think of himself as a pushover. But he really was. He would have said yes the moment Annabeth said please the first time.
"So let me get this straight, you expect me to steal/borrow the chariot by convincing both the Apollo cabin and the Ares cabin and then join you to go halfway across the country because the queen of Olympus— the goddess that kind of hates you with a burning passion— gave you a vision that you've told me nothing about."
"Pretty much," Annabeth shrugged, "Also, as for the vision part, she told me I have to search for the guy with the one shoe , whatever that means. Apparently he has the answers. And it's not bullshit, I swear. There's even a satyr going to the Grand Canyon today— Gleeson Hedge. He's retired, but it can't be a coincidence. Maybe he found some Halfbloods, maybe they know what's going on."
"Alright, alright," Vincent rubbed the back of his neck, "I'll see what I can do to help you. But you gotta take me with you. I cannot stand another hour with these hooligans."
He looked over to see the pre teens trying to lift heavy swords and banging weapons against each other.
"FUCK!" one of the tiniest girls with her hair done in cute plaits cursed loudly.
"Girls shouldn't say bad words," one eleven year old son of Hermes who had just been claimed last night, frowned.
"SUCK MY DICK ASHER."
Annabeth and Vincent's eyebrows flew up in sync.
"I'll ask Connor Stoll to take over sword fighting," Annabeth told him. "And obviously I'd take you with me. This might have something to do with the Great Prophecy and..."
She didn't say it but Vincent knew what the unsaid words were.
This might have something to do with the Great Prophecy and..... you're in it .
"Pro tip for negotiating with the Apollo campers: Flirt." Annabeth said before she patted him on the back and walked away, leaving Vincent alone with the murderous preteens.
───── 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞. He flirted like his life depended on it. He was no child of Aphrodite, but he liked to think he did a great job.
"Hey, Will. You have nice socks."
"What?"
"I said you have nice socks."
"Um... okay?"
"Your uh... lips are nice too, I guess."
"Didn't know you were into guys," Will raised his eyebrows. Vincent shrugged and tried to act nonchalant.
"I'm into anyone as long as they're hot."
"Oh cool, most of Apollo's kids are pan too."
"Yes, so as I was saying— Is it hot in here or is that just you?"
"Apollo and Hephaestus kids actually have a naturally high body temperature." Will told him helpfully.
"Not what I meant," Vincent grumbled under his breath. This was going terribly. He was in the Infirmary, determined to try and convince Will to let him borrow the chariot. He had bribed the Ares Campers by promising them to take on their chores. But now he had to turn his non-existent charm on to convince the Apollo headcounsellor. Though at the moment he was preoccupied trying not to puke as he watched Will Solace casually stitch up some camper's wound.
"So, do you like Star Wars? 'Cause Yoda one for me."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Vincent wanted to dig his own grave and lie in it. Maybe he could ask the Son of Hades for help. Sometimes he randomly popped up.
Will, to his credit, actually laughed. The camper he was stitching up looked at him like he had lost his mind. Vincent flipped her off.
"Sorry, that was terrible, let me try again." Vincent cleared his throat, "I think I need a doctor because I scraped my knee falling for you."
"You don't need a doctor for that, idiot," Janice— daughter of Tyche glared at him, "You can use a band-aid."
"Butt out, Janice," Vincent turned back to Will. "I hope you know CPR because you're taking my breath away—"
"Of course I know CPR, what kind of a doctor do you think I am?" Will gave him an incredulous look, "And if you're experiencing shortage of breath, I could check you out."
"Yes!" Vincent cleared his throat, "I mean, Yes. Check me out."
"Medically," Will snorted.
"oh, no thank you in that case. Are you from Tennessee— wait no you're Texan, I remember that."
"What do you want, Vince?" Will finished treating Janice who gave Vincent a stink eye as she walked out of the infirmary. "You're terrible at flirting."
"Ouch." Vincent touched his chest, offended, "Rude. But also true. So, um... I hope the flattery worked, you really are hot— I mean, duh, son of the sun god. But like seriously do you work out? Is that a tattoo—?"
"Vince."
"Right, yes." Vincent watched Will clean up. Doctors weren't really his type, but this one was kind of cute, he had to admit. "I was hoping I could borrow the flying chariot."
"Why do you need it?"
"Annabeth had a vision from Hera. Long story." Vincent said, "I'll take care of it, I promise. We just need to go to Arizona and back. It's about Percy."
Will stopped cleaning his medical kit at the mention of Percy. Since the boy's disappearance, everyone's mood had been dampened. Percy had been the life of Camp Halfblood as far as Vincent could remember. Even if he mostly showed up in the summer, it wasn't unusual to see a horde of demigods trying to watch him discreetly as he did literally anything.
If there was anything that united the entire Camp, it was having a crush on Percy Jackson.
"It's about Percy?" Will asked, "And Hera?" He sighed, resting his hands against a table as he debated something with himself. Vincent crossed his fingers. Will gave in, "Fine, you can take it. You'll need to ask the Ares cabin—"
"Already did!" Vincent couldn't help bursting into a grin. "Thank you, thank you, you're the best, Will."
He ruffled the blond's hair as he kissed Will on the cheek. Victorious, he emerged from the infirmary.
Huh, flirting really did work.
Annabeth at the training arena:
Vincent trying to flirt: