The Labyrinth // pjo

Chapter Seven // THIS GIRL IS ON FIRREEEEEEE

Hephaestus stared at my half-brother–his scowl never leaving, but a twinkle lighting up his eyes. Then he said, "I sense you have something to tell me, Cyclops."

Tyson's bright smile faded, "Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One."

Hephaestus bobbed his head, "Briares?"

"Yes. He-he was scared. He would not help us."

"And that bothered you."

"Yes!" Tyson's voice shook as I took his massive hand in mine. "Briares should be strong! He is older and greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away."

Hephaestus sighed tiredly. "There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed Ones. Back in the days of the First War. But people, monsters, even gods change, young Cyclops. You can't trust 'em. Look at my loving mother, Hera. You met her, didn't you? She'll smile to your face and talk about how important family is, eh? Didn't stop her from pitching me off Mount Olympus when she saw my ugly face."

I scowled at that–and even though I had never spoken to Hera, I just overall decided we would not be friends.

Which I am sure will cause problems later, but I don't care.

"But I thought Zeus did that to you," Percy said, his brows furrowing.

Hephaestus coughed, clearing his throat, and spat a glob of spit into something on his right before snapping his fingers, calling the falcon back and saying, "Mother likes telling that version of the story. Makes her seem more likable, doesn't it? Blaming it all on my dad. The truth is, my mother likes families, but she likes a certain kind of family. Perfect families. She took one look at me and...well, I don't fit the image, do I?" He gently pried a single feather from the falcon's back, and the whole thing fell apart. "Believe me, young Cyclops, you can't trust others. All you can trust is the work of your own hands."

I wasn't really sure what to think about this god.

He wasn't necessarily unlikeable, but his creations were.

The spiders at the waterpark all those summers ago and the Talos statue that had cost Bianca her life to bring down.

I pinched my lips into a frown as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Oh, this one doesn't like me," Hephaestus nodded at my brother–seeming amused. "No worries, I'm used to that. What would you ask of me, little demigod?"

"We told you," Percy grumbled. "We need to find Daedalus. There's this guy, Luke, and he's working for Kronos. He's trying to find a way to navigate the Labyrinth so he can invade our camp. If we don't get to Daedalus first—"

"And I told you, boy. Looking for Daedalus is a waste of time. He won't help you."

"Why not?"

Hephaestus shrugged, sparks flying off his body. "Some of us get thrown off mountainsides. Some of us...the way we learn not to trust people is more painful. Ask me for gold. Or a flaming sword. Or a magical steed. These I can grant you easily. But a way to Daedalus? That's an expensive favor."

"You know where he is, then," Annabeth pressed–lifting her brows.

"It isn't wise to go looking, girl."

"My mother says looking is the nature of wisdom."

Hephaestus turned his gaze to her, his eyes narrowing, "Who's your mother, then?"

"Athena."

"Figures." He sighed longingly. "Fine goddess, Athena. A shame she pledged never to marry. All right, half-blood. I can tell you what you want to know. But there is a price. I need a favor done."