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The first time it happens Luke Castellan is twenty-two, though once it does happen it is no longer the first time.
-
Nico di Angelo doesn't like attending funerals. Son of Hades, and he doesn't like funerals. Huh, who would've thought.
But see, the thing about funerals is that most people don't like to talk about death during them. They talk about happy moments when people were alive, and how much they'll be missed as if they were only going on a really long holiday somewhere instead of dying. That is what makes Nico uncomfortable about funerals.
And that is also why Nico chooses to hang around far, far back from the crowd; because people don't like to be reminded of death during funerals, and you can't have a starker reminder than the son of Hades himself. Coincidentally, this is why Nico is able to see a young teenager loitering near the outskirts of the forest, watching Luke Castellan's body burn with a gaze that's already half-dead.
"I guess mom was right after all," the blond boy says to himself. Nico looks up to him but doesn't approach; he can still hear faint echoes of church bells ringing in his ears whenever he looks at the boy. He should be surprised, but, well, Kronos. If Nico said he wasn't expecting weird side-effects from Luke hosting Kronos's spirit, he'd be lying. As it is, jumping around in the timeline isn't so bad. Things could be worse.
The younger Luke watches his own funeral for several more minutes, gently leaning against a tree trunk. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks almost content. The leaves dance and cast shadows down onto his face, as if tracing out the scar that will someday mark him.
He disappears almost soon after, and it takes Nico a while longer to realize that he was leaning against Thalia's tree.
-
"Hi."
"Hello." Luke looks down at himself and wonders if he's ever been so small. Well, obviously he was, but it's still very unnerving to see himself like this. The young boy holds out a small plastic bag.
"Do you want cookies? Mom made too many and the princess only took one."
"...All right."
He sits on the floor and accepts a slightly burnt cookie from himself. He sees the tiny him ('Little Luke', a voice in his mind supplies; this is the voice that sounds suspiciously like Thalia) glancing at his sword in curiosity.
"Its name is Backbiter," he says. "Careful, it's sharp," he adds, when Little Luke reaches for it.
"Is that how you got hurt?" Little Luke asks. Luke blinks, and almost automatically his hand goes up to his scar. "I got hurt by scissors once, see?" Little Luke holds up his left hand, showing the bandage hastily wrapped around his thumb.
Yes, Luke remembers that day. Trying to make a Fathers Day card, hoping that maybe his dad would come back to them and mom would get better and they could be a family again. All he got out of that was a cut on his finger and his mom ignoring everything to make another stupid sandwich. "No, it's not from Backbiter," Luke says. "It was a dragon."
Little Luke's eyes round. "A real dragon? Really?"
"Yeah," Luke says. Somehow, talking about it doesn't hurt as much as he thinks it should have. "A really big, mean dragon. Just a little hint, kid, dragons don't want to be your friends. If you ever see a real dragon, run."
He's not so stupid as to think that this advice will save the kid. But, it's the best he can do.
"I'm not a kid," Little Luke says, scowling. "I'm big now. I'm eight."
"Sure you are," Luke says, glancing up to the ceiling. They're docking the ship soon, and the kid is likely going to vanish soon; he doesn't remember this visit too well, but they never last for more than a couple of minutes. "One more piece of advice," he says, because maybe he can spare Little Luke a bit of heartbreak. "He isn't coming back, and neither is she. Just move on, kid, and don't think about them anymore."
Little Luke looks down for a second. "Yes they will."
"No," he says, to a suddenly empty room. "They won't."
-
Luke is different from the other kids, he knows this. He can't read right and he can't sit still, and he likes to look through people's backpacks when they aren't looking, and he doesn't have a dad. And he can remember things that haven't happened yet.
His homeroom teacher calls it 'deja-vu', but that's a really weird word that he can't spell, so he just calls it remembering, because that's what it is.
He remembers a princess, and stories about dragons, and his mom with green eyes. Well, sometimes she has green eyes already, but he remembers when she says things that she'll tell him next week. Nobody gets it, and they tease him whenever he mentions it, so he doesn't anymore.
One day, he remembers seeing his father. But this isn't like the last time he remembers his father, when he is taller and angry and shouting. This time, he is also taller, but it's dark all around and his father is walking beside him.
"We're almost there," his father says. He holds out a stick with two snakes (george and martha) curled around it; the tip of the stick (caduceus) glows white to illuminate the area around them. Not that there's much to show; aside from murky darkness, there is nothing else around them.
"And then what?" he remembers asking.
His father has a sad look on his face, and he says nothing for a long time. They continue walking.
They stop.
"I know it won't be enough," his father says. "But I am so sorry. For everything. And I loved you, Luke, I always will."
The taller him is quiet, and finally looks to his father. "Then don't let me happen again."
His father looks pained. "I won't."
And slowly, gently, a river emerges into view. There is a man resting in a wooden boat with his hat pulled over his eyes, an oar resting across his lap.
"I swore on the River Styx," his father says. "And it will not happen again." His father hands him a golden coin (drachma), and then takes a step back. "I can't go any further. From here, it's your journey."
He looks to the coin in his hand. "Yeah, I suppose so." He swallows, looking up to his father, who has turned his back already.
"I- I'm sorry too. I love you, dad."
And everything fades away into gold.
-
This ceiling is familiar. Now he's lying on his back on a soft rug, almost exactly the same rug that he had in his room when he was still home; there's the smell of fresh cookies wafting in from downstairs. He turns his head to the left. That is definitely his bed, yes he is in his old room. He turns his head to the right.
There is a young boy huddled in the corner, eyes wide and unable to scream.
"Oh," he says, memories springing into his mind like watching bubbles pop in reverse. "Now I remember."
And then he dies.
-
"Hi."
Thalia blinks and looks down, and she almost falls over herself in shock. It's definitely him, but it can't be but it is and gods, he is tiny- She chokes on her own words for a while, when she realizes that he's staring at her with blue eyes, exactly like his but they're so much brighter and less painful, and they are so, so blue...
"...Hi," she eventually manages.
"I have cookies," she says. "My mom made too many. Do you want one?"
"Okay," she says, body working on autopilot. She doesn't even realize that she agrees until she sees Luke- Little Luke holding one out to her. She hesitates, and then takes it. He then quickly sits down on the grass, looking out to the view over the valley; the rest of the Hunters are relaxing at their camp, and Thalia just wanted a bit of quiet to herself. She sits down next to him.
"Are you a princess?" Little Luke asks out of the blue. She raises her eyebrows in surprise, mid-chew in her cookie. "You have a crown. It's really pretty."
"Nah," Thalia says. "I'm not a princess. I just wear this because it looks cool."
Little Luke tilts his head. "You look pretty. Are you sure you're not a princess?"
"Thank you." Despite herself, Thalia can feel a soft smile on her lips. "Well, my dad's king of the gods, but I'm not a princess. Definitely not. Just your regular old lady in a crown, me."
They sit there eating their cookies in silence; when Thalia finishes one, Little Luke gives her another.
"If your dad's a king but you're not a princess, did you run away?" he asks. There's a sudden shift in the tone to his voice that Thalia doesn't like. "Is it hard to run away?"
"How old are you?" Thalia asks, deflecting the question because, well, she doesn't really like to talk about it either.
"Eight," Little Luke answers.
"Oh." Thalia tries to remember how old Luke was when he ran away, but it's hard. Her memories are fuzzy and cloudy, as if they were hidden by mist. Two centuries is a long time to keep track of. Was he around this age? Maybe. Definitely older when they met for the first time, but he had to have been on his own for at least a few years.
"Are you okay, Miss?"
"Huh?" Thalia looks back to him, blinking a few times. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about someone. I haven't seen him in a long time."
"I haven't seen my dad in a long time."
Thalia winces. Not a good topic. "Well, don't worry, Little Luke. I'm sure you'll see him soon." Shit, that was definitely not the right thing to say. Damn it, she thinks to herself. Don't give him false hope, you idiot!
Little Luke looks up at her as if she's a miracle. "Really?" The hopeful grin on her face almost makes Thalia hate herself.
"Yeah," she says, forcing herself to smile too. "I'm sure."
-
He is twenty-two and dying, and besides the throbbing pain in his side, he feels a swirling sensation in his chest, right where his heart should be, and there is something golden and glowing behind his eyelids and...
-
Thalia is in one of her morbid moods again, and once she's sure that Annabeth is asleep she asks, "When do you think you'll die?"
Luke reaches his memories back, to that one day when he was six and he saw his own bleeding corpse in his bedroom. It was only there for a few minutes, but something like that really embeds itself into one's mind. "Twenty, maybe," he hazards, because that looks about right.
Thalia scowls and smacks him on the shoulder. "Geez. When Grover said half-bloods have short lives, he didn't mean twenty, idiot." She glares at him. "We're going to live until we're old and wrinkly and smelly and nobody's going to die at twenty, got it?"
Luke smiles and it stretches his face oddly. "Sure," he says. "If you say so, princess."