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Most of the time, the news came in a letter.
Simple, printed in clear black font in the standard card stock envelopes they sent out for everything.
They’d arrive in the mailbox and deliver the news. No body, no funeral, and few answers. But that was just what happened when you raised a demigod, right?
But the titan war was….different. So many dead, so many parents to answer to. And all because the gods, all because Hermes, had abandoned their children for generations. Had made the mistake of not doing enough, of not being there.
So it seemed only right that the news be delivered in person going forward, whenever possible, anyways.
It was a combined effort between gods and mortals alike. The saytrs did most of the heavy lifting, so to speak. There were so many of them and in so many places, too. It was easy for them to stop by a few houses, deliver their condolences, and be on their way.
Chiron tried to help when he could, but given how busy camp was, and therefore himself, his outings were fewer and further between. But he did his best, especially when it was a camper he was close to.
Thanatos made a few stops himself, though he rarely did more than leave flowers and a letter.
Percy was involved too, assuming the demigods lived within the confines of New York state. He felt he owed the families explanations, when he had lead the armies, and so many children, to their deaths.
But funnily enough, it was Nico Di Angelo who took it upon himself to tell as many families as he could. Shadow travel helped of course, but it was surprising to many. Despite being a son of Hades, few thought Di Angelo would ever bother to do something that benefited anyone but himself.
However, it was Hermes who most often showed up at the doorsteps belonging to the deceased. It made the most sense, god of messengers and all. Besides, Hermes was not unfamiliar with the Underworld. He was a psychopomp after all. It was he who guided Persephone to and from the depths of the land of the dead every spring and fall.
And it was his son who had killed so many.
The day started like any other. Thomas awoke at 7:30 on the dot. He brushed his teeth, showered, and made himself his usual breakfast of 2 fried eggs and a slice of toast.
He was just putting his dishes in the sink when the knock came. He jumped, not expecting company. Perhaps it was the neighbor of the mailman.
He pulled open the mahogany to reveal a tall and fit looking man on the other side. He was dressed in a black UPS uniform with a mail bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes were full of melancholy. In his arms, he cradled a bouquet of laurels.
“May I help you?”
The man turns his eyes downward, “I’m looking for a Mr. Beauregard?”
“This is he”
The man shifted, “Do you have a moment to talk?”
He frowned, “Not really. I’m expected at work in less than an hour”
“It’s about your daughter”
“You’re from Camp-HalfBlood?”
He nodded.
That got him to pause.
”Ah…I suppose I have a few minutes. Come in, I just made coffee”
The man followed him in as Thomas fluttered off to the kitchen, nervously. Who was this man? Surely he would have remembered if Selina had mentioned such a character.
He followed Mr. Beauregard into the kitchen, surveying his tiny abode. Awkwardly, he held out the laurels.
“These are for you”
He titled his head, confused, but expecting them, “Thank you?”
The man cleared his throat, “I’m afraid I come bearing bad news”
He poured the coffee, “Ah, let me guess. She wants to say at camp over the school year. It’s alright, I understand. She’s got so much going on, what with Beckendorf and all. But she could have just sent a let- ”
The look on the mailman’s face made him falter. He cleared his throat.
“Would you like to sit down?”
Worry and confusion stirred to life inside him, but he placed the cups of coffee down at his little breakfast nook and sat across from the man.
“Thank you” he said, stirring his coffee, but he did not drink it.
A pause.
“Your daughter…”
“Selina”
The man swallowed thickly, “I’m afraid Selina is no longer with us”
Everything came to a screeching halt. He must have misheard.
“E-excuse me?”
He straightened up, crossing his arms across the table and casting his eyes downward, “There was a battle. Quite a big one. Nearly 2 weeks ago now. The titan lord Kronos invaded Manhattan in attempt to seize Olympus. If not for the effort of Camp-Half Blood, well the world as we know it would have ended”
“And Selina?”
“I’m afraid she met a hero’s fate”
Approximately 100 people die in car accidents everyday. Only 30% of demigods make it out of adolescence. Both of these things Mr.Beauregard knew to be fact.
But like car accidents, you never expect it to happen to you. You never expect it to be your child that comes home in a casket. That’s not the sort of thing that is supposed to happen to good people. To honest people.
It’s a tragedy, but it’s never your tragedy. Because you wear your seat belt when you get in the car. Because you send your godling off to camp every summer so they’ll be safe.
But you can do everything right and still loose the lottery.
“It was a Drakon” he continued, “A nasty monster, even for someone like me. She was brave beyond measure”
“A-and…her body?” He rasped, too many emotions flooding him to name. Too overstrained overwhelmed for even tears.
“Her fellow campers burned her shroud, as is tradition”
Mr.Beauregard swallowed, “I can’t even bury her?”
Silence followed. It crept between the cracks and filled the hollow space sorrow was craving behind his ribcage.
Thomas thought of all the late nights he spent changing diapers and rocking his baby to sleep. As he did, a lullaby came to mind.
‘I love you forever,
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living,
My baby you’ll be’
The melody had come from a picture book but he adored it so much he sang it to his little girl nearly every night. It became a staple of Selina’s childhood.
The thought broke something in him, but not all at once. It was a small crack forming in a dam that was sure to burst if more pressure was applied.
Disbelief came next. He simply could not square the memory of his baby girl cradled in his arms with the idea he was being presented with by someone who, ultimately, was a stranger.
“Why should I believe you? Why are you telling me this and not Chiron?”
The man met his eyes, “Because I am the lord of messages”
“Hermes?”
The man nodded, “And, I wanted to be sure she made it home safely”
Hermes opened his messenger bag and slowly pulled out a smooth wooden box no bigger than the 4 chocolate sampler boxes sold at his work. The lid was engraved with doves, apples, and flowers in an intricate pattern.
Gingerly, the god set it between them on the table. At first, he didn’t get it. Was it a jewelry box, maybe? But he couldn’t recall Selina owning anything quite like it.
‘I wanted to be sure she made it home safely’
His heart seizes, hammering like a jack rabbit, “Is this…?”
He can’t even finish the question. The confirmation of what he already knows will only make it real and the idea alone sickens him. The mailman nods.
“Hand carved, courtesy of the Hephaestus cabin. Only the best.”
“She’d dead” he murmurs, his tongue feeling like lead as he speaks the words, “My little girl is dead”
Hermes says nothing, recognizing that he is not being asked a question but being told a statement.
Gently, he reaches out and brushes feather light fingers over the urn in the same manner he used to tuck Selina’s silky black locks behind her ear.
He couldn’t make himself speak. Thousands of questions flooded his brain but the only thing he could think about was the horrible horrible reality in front of him.
“I’m afraid I have to be on my way” Hermes said, “But…if you have more questions, Chiron is accepting calls. I’ll leave you the number”
He stood and slide a single slip of card stock paper across the table. Mr.Beauregard barely registered it. And then he was gone as quick as he’d arrive, vanishing like the breeze.
Silence followed. Carefully, Thomas lifted the box into his arms and ran his fingers over the engravings, as if trying to memorize them. His hands shook as he cradled the urn, all that remained of his child, and tried not the let the tears win.
The familiar melody of the lullaby haunted him and he found himself humming the familiar tune to the ashes.
“I love you forever, I’ll like you for always”
Tears started to bubble out of him, flowing down his cheeks as he sniffled helplessly.
“As long as I’m living….my baby you’ll be”