Chapter Text
The cost of the war was the destruction of Camp, and the loss of 43 campers from both camps. They had yet to tally the loss of nature spirits as they were harder, but Marley knew the number would be up there.
The two camps worked hard to combine, building a portal big enough for Hannibal to go through using labyrinth tech and magic to get it to work. Ella, Rachel, and Nathan, the new augur, worked on the prophecies. The hardest part was the SPQR tattoo. It was decided that the Greeks would get it as well, and the lines would represent the time from when they first came to camp, though the Lares didn’t like that. Some of the Greeks found it unfair that it said SPQR and not something for them, so it was decided that the Q would have the Camp Half Blood pegasus in it. Another decision since the Greeks started having younger kids join camp was that they couldn’t get it till they turned ten, though they would get lines for the years they didn’t have it. The only reason behind that was that cabin counselors didn’t like the idea of branding little kids.
The final decisions were formal wear and rankings. For formal wear, the Roman attire was scrapped and replaced with a suit heavily inspired by some of the superhero suits and military outfits. They were plain black cargo pants, a light gray tight-fitting long-sleeved tee tucked in. The girl's hair was to be braided in no more than two braids, and there was a pair of reflective sunglasses and a leather jacket that came with it. It was also the new quest outfit since the Hecate cabin had heavily enchanted them with protective spells. Their only difference was the belt, which was black with either a purple or orange accent to show which camp you were from. The praetors wore a full-length purple cape over the uniform. Rankings were harder. The Romans had more of a system, but the Greeks were insistent that theirs was kept as well. In the end, it ended up merging the two. Praetors were the top level, of course, but now there were four of them, two Greeks two Romans. Reyna, Frank, Clarrisse, and Malcolm. For the Senators, they kept the number ten, but five have to be Greek now. Unfortunately, or luckily, it’s up to you, six of the previous Senators were casualties in the war, so there wasn’t too much of a problem with the transition. Cabin Leaders and Centurions are on the same level now. At war meetings, they are all there. The hardest part was assigning Greeks to cohorts. But it was decided that cohorts would have their centurions just choose in order of number, keeping it even, the letters of recommendation situation dying out. Training was done with both camp forms. And so the camps were merged.
Leo came back and somehow made Demigod-proof tech, borrowing some designs from the Amazons. Apollo came around bringing nothing but trouble.
Months passed. Seasons changed. And Marley mourned.
And then, in the cold month of January, a year after Apollo came, Rachel Dare comes flying into Marley Laine Reed’s cabin. She looks up from her book, unamused by her friend's antics of forgetting to knock, fully ready to tell her friend off when she sees Rachel's face.
“What’s up, Rach?” She asks, setting her book down. Bea would have to wait another day for her to finish her ancient Greek civilization homework, but oh well.
“I absolutely hate my parents!” She seethes plopping down on my bed.
Marley stood up to grab some coffee mugs out and make tea. “They suck. Tea?” She nods helplessly, and Marley passes her a cup. She takes a sip as Rachel explains.
“They are trying to set me up in an arranged marriage with a Wayne.” Marley chokes on her drink.
“A Wayne? But Grayson is like what, 26?” She says, even though she knew her brother's age.
“Uh, yeah, but they are setting me up with Tim, who's around our age,” Rachel explains.
“Tim? Dad adopted another kid?” She mutters without thinking.
Rachel gasps, so she definitely heard it. She stares at her, before pointing dramatically, “Marley Laine, is your full name Marlene Wayne?” She demands, a grin forming on her face. Marley winces.
“It was.” She whispers, “But that was a long time ago, back when this wasn’t a thing and I was some little girl who saw things others didn’t. Saw things people disregarded.” She hated Marlene Wayne with a passion. She hated that it made her scared, thinking back on those times. Made her sad. Distracted her. Angered her. Made her long for something that doesn’t exist anymore. It was why she stopped looking for things about them. She changed her name, just a little bit, so if she ever did go back, the transition was simple. But, it would be anything but simple, because there was so much unsaid, so much that can’t be said. Her life revolved around camp now, not Wayne Manor and the people who lived inside, the people who came and went.
“Who else knows?” Rachel gently asks, though her curiosity was hard to ignore, her eyes sharp with the want for knowledge.
Marley smiles thinly, “Just Conner, Travis, Drew, Lou, and Livvie.” She mutters. “Livvie collects all the news on them, said that one day I’ll want to know, and she’ll tell me. And she’ll tell me if anyone dies, but besides that, I have to ask.” She explains, trying to show that she didn’t just leave and not look back. “That being said, I’m ninety percent sure Annabeth knows, cause it’s Annabeth after all.”
Rachel snorts, “Yeah, she’s too smart for her own good.”
“So,” She mutters, “Tim?” She asks, feeling heat rise to her face, she had to know, though. Maybe she’d talk to Livvie.
“Tim.” Rachel repeats the name, sighing dramatically, “I’ll get Liv and we’ll go over your family with you k?” She darts out and returns with Marley’s older sister in tow, before running back out again.
“I’m so glad you want to know about them now,” Livvie says softly. Livvie was five years older than her, at the ripe old age of twenty-one. Her older sister was one of those people who you always wanted to have at your back. She was fierce, but soft, bold, but gentle. Then again, they were their mothers' children, which automatically made them full of contradictions. Livvie was the kind of person who wore heart-shaped dollar-store red sunglasses unironically. Her favorite color was red; in fact, there wasn’t an item in her closet that wasn’t red, white, black, navy, or an occasional pink or purple. Today, she was wearing a flouncy whistle dress that flared out right at her chest. She had a red cropped leather jacket over it, red normal sunglasses propped on her head, an assortment of gold necklaces, black fingerless gloves, and red heart earrings, along with studs in the rest of her piercings (she had like nine.) Her red crossbody purse was probably stuffed to the brim with red candy, too. She could remember Livvie and Percy getting into a heated argument over whether cherry or blue raspberry was better. Marley, on the other hand, had a softer style, in what Livvie claimed was a grunge mixed with Americana. It was really the Americana her sister rocked, mixed with random earthy-toned outfit pieces she had as well, so a wide variety from day to day. She didn't actually like claiming an aesthetic; it messed with her ability to dress coquettishly on one day and vintage dark academia the next.
“Hey, Liv,” Marley says with a smile. She grins back and heads to her part of the cabin to pull out a box from under her bed.
“Hey, I stole a bulletin board from cabin six so you can have it all laid out in front of you,” Rachel explains, pulling a giant bulletin board behind her. “Bea just finished solving that cold case she found and sent it in unanimously, so it was available.” She further explains after we both stare at her.
“Ok, so first off, when did you leave?” Rachel asks as Livvie carefully pulls out the papers, magazine, and newspaper clippings.
“A few days after Jason’s funeral.” She says quietly, wincing as she thinks of her older brother.
"That's a lot to unpack." Livvie purses her lips in thought.
“Ok, so let’s start with Tim,” Rachel says, as Livvie pulls out a paper and pins it up, though she didn’t miss the exchanged looks.
Two hours later, her head was swimming. Jason was alive. Tim, Cass, Duke, Damian, it was a lot. She had a brother on her dad’s side! It was shocking.
“Livvie.” She whispers, eyes still on the board covered in a plethora of papers.
“What’s up, kiddo?” She asks carefully.
She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that this is a good thing. “I think I want to go back.” She whispers. “It’s been so long.” She says louder, more confidently.
She looks at me carefully, which was expected. I had considered going back last year after the first war, but ultimately decided not to. She didn’t tell them why she left in the first place; she didn’t like thinking about it anyway, but Liv had a terrible experience with her parents, so she kind of assumed. Marley knew she should tell her sister why, but it was hard to talk about, and either way, Livvie wouldn’t like them, she knew that. So instead she kept it to herself.
“Are you sure?” Livvie asks gently, “Because if you are, I’ll drive you out to Gotham and let you stay there, we’ll put your music career on hold for a few months, and you can see how it goes. But if there’s any doubt, then maybe we can set up a meeting with them first at a neutral place with a few of us there for moral support,” she suggests.
“I’ll call Alfred to see if my room’s still open,” Marley replies, choosing her words carefully. “Then maybe I could go around dinner time tomorrow and you could drop me off, but stay in the area, and if dinner goes badly, you could get me,” She suggests to her older sister. Livvie stays silent, probably searching for flaws in the idea in her mind. She didn't need her older sister's permission, but wanted the blessing. Finally, Livvie slowly nods.
“If you’re sure.” She mutters
She nods, pulling out her phone, carefully typing in the number that had been seared into her mind back when she was younger. With a deep breath, she clicked the call button and pressed it to her ear. “Hope they haven’t changed their number,” She mutters to Rachel and Livvie, knowing full well they wouldn't.
“You’ve reached Wayne Manor. This is Alfred. How can I help you?” The familiar voice of her pseudo-grandfather crackles slightly over the line. Marley smiles widely and feels her eyes burn with tears. Livvie puts an arm around her encouragingly.
“Heya, Alfie,” She whispers, hearing his breath hitch in shock.
“Miss Marlene?” He demands, voice weaker than the moment before.
She lets out a watery laugh, “Yeah, it’s me. I want to come home. Is my room still available?” She mumbles.
“It will always be open for you, Miss Marlene.” He says in a scolding tone. She laughs again, relief flooding her system.
“Thanks, Alfred, if you don’t mind terribly, I can be there about five thirty tomorrow? You still eat dinner around then, correct?” She asked politely, wisely ignoring Rachel, who was mimicking her. Old habits die hard, and Alfred had drilled manners into her when she was younger.
“Yes, we do, Miss. Do you need a ride from wherever you’ve been?” He asks.
She winces, imagining her father and his crusade coming to camp to pick her up; it'd be. Disaster, “No, Alfred, I’ve got a ride. I’ll see you then.” Marley hangs up and smiles at her lovely friend, who starts copying her in a high voice.
“If you don’t mind terribly.” She mimics, putting on a high posh voice, “Jeez, Marls, you sound like my mother and all her snobby friends.
Marley rolls her eyes, throwing a pillow at Rachel, “You can’t tell me for one second you weren’t media trained just like I was.” She argues.
Rachel shrugs. “Yeah, but I pointedly ignored all of that.”
“Media Trained?” Livvie asks incredulously, “Jeez, Kid, you were seven, I would’ve left too.” She says, looking at us like we are crazy.
Marley laughs with Rachel, ignoring the pang she felt at those words. It wasn't like she wanted to leave, “Oh, Livvie, there is not a thing in this world as crazy as the inner workings of the rich.” Rachel says, while Marley nods along seriously. She shakes her head at us before lugging out one of her suitcases, which is obviously red.
“Come on Lulu,” Her older sister says cheerfully says ignoring her groans as Rachel wisely leaves, “You’ve got to pack.”