Whoop, more PJO. This first part kinda jumps around in tenses, only because in describing Hestia, I used present tense (since that's what you do man).

Trigger warning for mentions of child abuse.

I don't own Percy Jackon.

GENERAL POV

Out of all the cabins at Camp Half-Blood, only three had no demigod children that slept in them on a regular basis: Hera, Artemis, and Hestia, all maiden goddesses.

No one ever set foot in Hera's cabin, except for Rachel Elizabeth Dare when she needed to think in a cold, death like room. The inside of the Hera cabin was even more desolate than the Hades cabin, which seemed somewhat backwards to all of the campers.

The Artemis cabin was reserved for the Hunters of Artemis, of course, and ever since the war with Gaea they had taken to stopping by more often. They had suffered a lot of causalities in protecting Reyna, Nico, and the Amazons, and they swung by the camp at least once a month to see if there were any girls who wanted to join up. The inside of the Artemis cabin had stars on the ceiling, constellations almost as vivid as actual ones, and the typical bunk beds and restroom areas. It was calming, and the Hunters had taken a liking to it.

The Hestia cabin, though.

It was the smallest of all the cabins, the least impressive. It was a simple wooden house, small and unassuming, more like a shed than a cabin. It was set off to the side, nearly at the camps border, and many campers had protested that it should be closer to the rest of the camp.

When Percy had gotten criticized for putting it so far away, he had shrugged his shoulders and given them the words, "It was what Lady Hestia requested."

It might have been small and unassuming from the outside, but it was the most visited cabin for every camper, save for the cabins they actually lived in.

Hestia is the goddess of the hearth and the home. She is the kindest, gentlest god, the eldest Olympian. Many overlook her, shove her aside because of her quiet nature, and see her as just another goddess.

She is much more.

Hestia's cabin was a safe space for every demi-god. Every camper was welcome inside the cabin, whether for only a few minutes or to spend a night.

There were two singular beds in the room, on opposite sides from each other, and a fireplace was always lit in the middle of the room. The table in the center filled up with whatever food or drink the person wanted, and campers were welcome to sit on the hearth and pray to the goddess. The mantle above the fireplace was inscribed with the words The Last Olympian upon creation of the cabin, and though many campers had no clue what the words signified, Percy grinned every time he read them. Sitting on the mantle was a single ceramic jar which, while not the actual jar that he had been given, still made Percy shudder every time he looked at it.

Inside the cabin, campers couldn't shout or scream; it was physically impossible, though none of them would ever think to yell in that cabin anyway. Campers went to the cabin when they were homesick, scared, bullied, or just need a caring goddess to pray to.

More often than not, if she wasn't busy and the camper was in serious distress, Lady Hestia would appear at the foot of the hearth and offer comforting arms to cry into and a shoulder to lean on.

At first, most campers were wary about hugging a goddess. But once Percy had done it, none of the demi-gods hesitated. Hestia often took the form of a teenager, so hugging her was like hugging a close friend.

She never scolded the kids and teens, never yelled at them, never made them feel as if they were wrong. She was the most welcoming and caring of all the gods, to the extent where campers would go to her cabin just to give Hestia herself an offering.

Percy visited the hearth at least once a week, even if he had nothing bad going on. He would sit at the fire for hours or until another camper came in, whichever came first. When it came to the latter, often the camper would talk to Percy as well.

Hestia nearly always appeared for Percy, flattered that he had even thought to give her a cabin.

The question still remained for most campers though; why was the cabin so far from the others, so close to the camp boundaries?

Hestia is the goddess of the home and the hearth. She does not discriminate. If she senses a mortal in distress near camp lines, she makes her cabin alone visible and pushes back the camp boundaries just enough to let them into her cabin.

The mortal was always allowed to stay the night, always given food and water, and when a camper (usually Percy) found the mortal, who was often a teenager or young adult being harassed, bullied, or abused, they were walked either to the nearest shelter or friends house by a group of three (armed) demigods. They had yet to have a mortal able to see through the Mist end up in the cabin, or even an unclaimed demigod, so the campers tended to say that they lived in the Big House, which appeared, from afar, to resemble an old farm house. Not one mortal ever questioned it.

It happened more often than any of the campers had ever expected, and the fact that Hestia was so caring of the mortals when even their own parents tended to forget them made the demi-god's love her that much more.

All the campers loved their own godly parent, but Hestia was truly the favorite.

Morgan stumbled through the woods, her ankle throbbing from when she had tripped a few minutes ago and tears threatening at her eyes as she pushed aside branches.

"Morgan!" her father shouted, his voice faint as she pushed farther away. "Morgan, get your ass back here! I'm not done with you!"

The girl shuddered and pushed her glasses up her nose, trying desperately not to make too much noise and alert her father to where she was. She glanced up as the trees began thinning and cursed under her breath as she saw empty road up ahead.

Of course, of course she would run out of forest. Her father, when drunk, could barely navigate the stairs, let alone the dark woods at four in the morning. But if he got out of the woods, it would be a straight shot to wherever she stood on the dirt road.

Morgan hesitated just inside the tree line, her sharp green eyes scanning the area for any signs of people.

Up ahead, very faint, she could see what looked like a small cabin with a candle flickering in the window and farther away was a farmhouse.

The girl glanced back and shivered, rubbing her bare arms and stepping from the confines of the trees and bushes, cuts littering her skin and covering her with streaks of blood.

He had started in on her while she was asleep, as was usual. The problem was not that he was abusing her (though that was a problem), but that in the summer time she slept in nothing but a sports bra and shorts and hadn't had time to put on anything else before fleeing from her house. She was amazed that she had managed to grab her glasses.

Morgan swallowed and stepped lightly up the hill towards the small cabin, doubting there would be anyone in it. Her deep mahogany skin glinted under the moonlight and she brushed back her curly brown sugar hair, streaked with a dark blonde color that had pissed her father off when he first saw it.

Her breathing slowed and the girl perked her ears up, listening carefully for any signs that her father had seen her and was speeding up. She could still hear his drunk warbling from inside the forest, so she kept trudging forward on bare, bleeding feet.

She lost control when she stumbled over a rock, scraping her already bruised feet on the sharp point, and she stifled a yell with her hand, biting down hard on her fist and struggling not to cry. God, she missed her mother. Missed her with all her heart. She had died in action not one month ago, and ever since her father had taken to drinking, and as of more recently, beating Morgan and blaming her for her mother's death.

The teenager, barely sixteen, dropped to her knees and gritted her teeth, checking her feet carefully and grimacing at the dirt, pebbles, twigs, and other things clinging to her bloody soles. "Shit," she mumbled, rubbing away the tears under her light brown lenses.

Bracing herself, Morgan continued crawling towards the cabin, whipping around and paling as her father finally stumbled out of the woods, laughing hysterically as his eyes landed on her. "Morgan! Come on sweeeeetieeee I won't hurt you!"

Morgan clenched her eyes shut and crawled faster, tracking his movement with her ears. When her fingers hit solid wood, she could barely believe it. But when she opened her eyes and saw the door in front of her she didn't even knock, just pushed herself into the cabin and slammed the door behind her.

The air seemed to ripple around her and for a second Morgan found that she couldn't breathe, but it passed so quickly that she wasn't sure she had felt anything at all.

She stumbled to one of the windows and watched her father try to approach, bracing herself for what would happen if he got in. However, only ten feet from the cabin door he stopped, as if he had hit a wall. Frowning, the man lifted his hands and began pounding at the air, shouting in anger.

Morgan shuddered and rubbed her bleeding arms again, glancing around the tiny room.

There were two beds in it, both made up with quilts depicting campfires and trees on them. A table in the center held a loaf of bread and a bottle of water, and a fire crackled against the far wall. A door opened up into a bathroom on the side and Morgan swallowed, going in there first.

"I'll just clean up and wait 'til he leaves and then I'll get out of here," she promised herself, turning on the tap and grabbing some soap, bracing herself for the stinging she knew was coming.

Tuning out her father's screams of anger, Morgan scrubbed at her cuts with a washcloth that was on a hook and then sat down on the closed toilet, lifting up one of her feet to clean it.

She grimaced as she looked down at the floor, realizing that she had left bleeding footprints on the floor boards. Vowing to clean it up as soon as she got her feet bandaged (there had to be a first aid kit somewhere), she began poking at her badly cut feet, tears streaming down her cheeks at the first touch.

Only seconds later, the door of the cabin banged open and Morgan slapped a hand over her mouth, falling off the toilet and hitting the ground with a hard jolt, nearly smacking her head off of the bath tub.

A guy about her age stepped into the bathroom with-was that a sword in his hand? The second he saw Morgan he immediately lowered the sword and it vanished, replaced by a pen instead, which he slipped into his pants pocket as if he did it every day.

He was tall, probably almost six foot, with wavy black hair and eyes nearly as green as Morgan's. He wore pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and it looked like he had shoved his feet into his sneakers quickly, based on how the tongues were bent.

His eyes did it for her. The menace they had held upon entering the room had vanished the second he spotted her, now filled with concern and slight embarrassment. He knelt and held out a hand. "You okay? Who was that guy out there?" he asked softly, his voice soft and deep.

Morgan winced and looked away. "My dad," she finally mumbled.

The boy flinched and gave her a once over. Rather than his eyes hovering on her chest, like most teenage boys would do, his gaze landed on her feet and he grimaced. "Geez. Did you run out of the house in just your pajamas?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Morgan quipped softly, raising an eyebrow.

He lifted his eyes to meet hers and gave her a smile. "Well, you're tough. That's good. Can you walk?"

Morgan bit her lip and pushed herself up using the bathtub rim for support, very aware that the majority of her body was visible because of her sports bra. But when she turned around, the boy's eyes were still on her face and he still looked concerned. He held an arm out and she took it with minimal hesitation.

"I'm Percy, by the way," he said, leading her out into the main room and sitting her down on one of the beds. "I live over in that farmhouse, and this cabin belongs to my family, so you're allowed to be here."

"I'm Morgan," she said softly, allowing him to take her foot in his hands and examine it. "I live a couple miles away. Does your family run the strawberry farm here?"

Percy jumped and then nodded, glancing out the window before returning his eyes to her foot, looking as if he had seen injuries worse than her sole before. "Yeah. We do."

"Do you always use swords to harvest berries?" Morgan couldn't help but ask.

Percy dropped her foot so quickly that it hit the floor and Morgan bit back a yell. The teen immediately apologized and stood back, looking at her carefully. "What do you mean?" he finally asked her.

Morgan paused for a moment, wondering if she was right about what she had seen. One look at the panicked expression in his eyes and she knew. "You…when you first walked into the bathroom," she clarified, "you had a sword. But it turned into a pen and you put it in your pocket."

Percy snorted and waved a hand, not meeting her gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Morgan pursed her lips and opened her mouth to speak again, until the door swung open and a girl with frizzy red hair and freckles strolled in, her hands in her pockets and an impish smile on her face. "Give it up, Percy, she can see through the Mist. I woke up to a vision of you coming up here."

Percy glanced at Morgan and raised a slow eyebrow. "She…? Rachel, is she-?"

The girl, who Morgan assumed was Rachel, shook her head. "No. She's mortal. But she definitely needs help," the teen said, looking at Morgan with sympathy.

She stepped over to Morgan and glanced out the door, lowering her voice. "Your dad…he hasn't like….uh…"

Morgan flinched, knowing what the girl wanted to say, and shook her head. "No. Just hit me. Blamed me for my mom's death last month. The usual."

Rachel and Percy both grimaced. "I'm sorry about your mom, Morgan," Percy murmured, looking at the floor. "Do you uh…do you want to stay here, or come up to the farm house for the night?"

Rachel looked at him sharply and Percy held up a hand. "It's fine, I'll take whatever is thrown at me. But your dad is still outside," he said, looking Morgan in the eyes, "and I don't know when or if he'll leave. We might have to get you out a different way."

Morgan frowned. Something was nagging at her, something that Rachel had said…. "What do you mean, I'm mortal?" she asked, staring at the girl in confusion. "I mean yeah, I am, but you said it like you're not…"

The red head smiled thinly at the echo of the words she had said years ago. "Well, I am. Kinda. Doofus over here isn't," said Rachel bluntly, jutting a thumb at Percy, whose jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Rachel!" Percy tried to yell, but his voice seemed to be almost sucked out of him until it came out at a normal volume. He scowled at the ceiling. "Stupid no-yelling cabin," he grumbled.

"You designed it that way, Seaweed Brain," Rachel laughed.

Morgan just stared at Percy in confusion. Not mortal? What else could anyone be? Was there anything else, or was she being punked? Percy saw her look and winced. "See, Rachel? You confused the poor girl. I'm sorry, Morgan."

Morgan bit her lip. "I…it's okay. You guys aren't like, making fun of me are you? Because I get enough of that on a daily basis," she grumbled, looking down and adjusting her cold metal glasses frames.

"No!" Percy said quickly. She glanced up at him and he sighed in defeat. "Rachel's right, I'm not human. Well, not completely. But not now. We need to get all those cuts looked at. Rachel, can you go get Will and ask him to meet me at the Big House?"

Rachel nodded and left and Percy stepped over to Morgan. Seeing her wary look, he held up both hands. "I promise," he whispered, his gaze sincere, "I'll give you answers. I just want to get you cleaned up first."

Morgan chewed on her tongue and nodded slowly, allowing Percy to help her to her feet and out the door.

To her utter surprise, her father was still outside, and when he saw her his face filled with rage and he ran at her, shouting crude words that Morgan didn't dare repeat in polite company. She flinched against Percy's shoulder until her fatehr suddenly seemed to hit that invisible barrier again and stopped, hitting his fists on the air. Seeing Percy though, he stopped yelling.

"What….how come he can't-?"

"Magic barrier," Percy said with a completely straight face, helping Morgan down the hill. "Keeps mortals from getting in and seeing what's actually here."

As soon as he said those words, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Morgan's brain. The air shifted and suddenly, instead of just a strawberry field and a large farm house, there were over two dozen cabins littering the area, all of different colors, sizes, and shapes. In the center of what looked like a giant horseshoe was a fire pit, burning, and Morgan swore she saw a child tending to it.

Farther away was a huge pavilion that resembled the Parthenon, and a volleyball pit and climbing wall were visible in the distance. The waves pounded at the other side of the farm and Morgan's jaw fell. "How…what…who…?"

She looked up at Percy and just stared at him, noting how his eyes sparkled as he took in her reaction. "What…or who…are you?"

Percy rolled his eyes and led her through the area of cabins, nodding formally to the girl sitting at the fire pit. The girl nodded back and looked at Morgan, smiling tenderly before she simply vanished into thin air.

"We're called demi-gods," Percy said, startling Morgan from her astonishment at the girl. "Half human, half Greek god."

"W-what?" Morgan choked out, thinking that the boy was loony.

Percy snorted. "That's what I thought. The Greek gods still exist. Like, all of them. Well, except Pan, and probably some others, but that's not important right now. I mean, it was important at the time, and Grover is still really upset about it, but-"

"Percy," Morgan snapped, drawing him from his ramblings. "Do you…are you seriously expecting me to believe that?"

She pushed him away and stumbled back, staring at him in disgust. She leaned heavily on a tree and pressed a hand to her forehead, fighting back tears. "I thought that you actually were trying to help me. Who set this up?"

Percy looked like he'd been slapped. "Morgan, come on. Would I make that up?"

"I don't know," she snapped, her eyes filling with tears. "But it's something that everyone at my school would do, just to make me look stupid and feel worse about myself. I don't need that. I'm shit on enough."

She shook her head and turned away, barely able to take a step before she stumbled on her swollen feet. She would have hit the ground if Percy hadn't caught her, and he slowly lowered her to the grass, staring her in the eyes. "What if I can prove it to you?" he whispered sincerely.

"I don't see how you could," she muttered.

"Percy?" said a soft voice.

The teen turned to look at the blonde haired, light blue eyed boy behind him, who had a bag with a big red cross on it. Rachel stood at his side, both looking concerned. "Everything okay?" the red head asked quietly.

"Yeah," Percy murmured. Without warning, he scooped Morgan into his arms. "Will, bring the first aid kit down to the beach. She doesn't believe me."

Will began smiling and Morgan scowled, resigning herself to being carried. Percy set her carefully in the sand as they approached the water and Will knelt next to her feet, pulling out some salve, gauze, and tweezers. "I'm going to take care of your injuries while Percy proves it to you," he said cheerfully. "It might sting a little."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "No more than it already does," she muttered.

"Okay!" Percy said, clapping his hands together. "So, I'm Percy, son of Poseidon, and that's Will. His dad is Apollo, but that guys is currently on parole."

"Shut it, Jackson," Will snapped over his shoulder, picking pieces of grass and pebbles from Morgan's cuts.

Percy snickered and continued. "Rachel here is our Oracle, able to tell the future and whatever."

Seeing Morgan's look of disbelief, Percy held up his hands, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Wait, I'll prove it. As a son of Poseidon, I can move water, like this."

He raised his arms at his sides, letting the water behind him swirl up in two massive columns, glinting in the moonlight. Morgan frowned slightly, biting her lip as Will dug out a particularly painful piece of something from her foot, and brushed one of her chocolate curls behind her ear. "You could have used special effects," she mumbled, not quite believing herself.

Percy smiled gently. "Thought you might say that," he said, putting two fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly. "So I had a backup plan."

Morgan winced as Will dabbed rubbing alcohol on her cuts and then her jaw fell as a sleek, black horse with wings came circling around the water, landing lightly on the sand and flapping his wings as he slowed to a halt. He whinnied softly, butting his nose into Percy's hand, and the boy chuckled, rubbing his muzzle. "Morgan, this is Blackjack, one of our camps Pegasi. Believe me now?"

The Pegasus trotted over to her and leaned down, butting his nose against her cheek. Morgan surprised herself by laughing and bringing her hands up to stroke the animal, finally looking over and giving Percy a sheepish smile. "I do. I'm sorry."

Percy held his hands out, a twinkle in his eyes. "It's okay. Not the first time I've had to prove it," he stated, looking pointedly at Rachel.

"Still," Morgan murmured, glancing at Will as he finished tending to her feet and wrapped them both up tightly in gauze. "I'm sorry."

She shivered as the breeze picked up and blew cold ocean water in a mist across her face. Realizing that she was still only wearing a sports bra and shorts, Percy pulled off his shirt and tossed it over to her, revealing the tank top he wore underneath. "Thanks," Morgan said softly, shrugging the shirt on.

"Okay," Will said, snapping up his first aid kit. "You should live. You staying in Hestia's cabin tonight?"

"What?" Morgan asked in confusion.

"The cabin we found you in," Percy clarified, helping her to her feet. Without warning, he lifted her up and sat her on top of Blackjack, who whinnied quietly. "It's Hestia's cabin. She's a maiden goddess, so she doesn't have kids, but her cabin is close to the camp border so that mortals can get in if they need to."

"That's nice of her," Morgan whispered as Blackjack started walking back across the beach, Percy, Rachel, and Will moving alongside the Pegasus.

"Yeah. She's the girl who was tending to the fire you saw," the son of Poseidon informed her.

Morgan nearly fell off the winged horse. "Huh?"

Rachel chuckled. "She hangs around camp a lot. She's pretty much everyone's favorite goddess. But don't tell the other goddesses."

The trio chuckled and Morgan just stared at them in disbelief. They bade Will goodnight when they reached an unbelievably shiny and gold cabin, lit by soft torches clamped to the walls. Rachel walked off towards a cave, and as confused as Morgan was that the girl slept in a cave, she kept her mouth shut.

Percy pulled her off of Blackjack when they reached Hestia's cabin and helped her inside, easing her onto one of the beds. "I uh…I'll come get my shirt in the morning," he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

Morgan shrugged it off without another thought, tossing it at him. Seeing the blush on his face, she waved a hand. "Shut up. It's a bra, Percy. Not like I'm naked."

Percy stammered for a moment. "I uh…um…right, sorry, I just…uh…"

Morgan raised a slow eyebrow, pulling back the quilt on one of the beds and slipping under it. "What?"

Seeing the look on his face, she nearly guffawed. "Shut up. I'm not flirting, I have a girlfriend."

Percy went dead silent and his face turned bright red in embarrassment. "Oh. Sorry. I mean uh, not sorry that you have a girlfriend, cause that's great, but-"

"Shut up, Percy," Morgan said with a role of her eyes, sinking down under the covers. "How am I getting home tomorrow? Or not home but…"

She frowned, her eyes squinting as she tried to think of somewhere to go. As her face fell, Percy's features returned to their normal color and he knelt by the side of the bed. "My mom would be willing to take you in for a while if you need. Where does your girlfriend live?"

"In Indiana," Morgan admitted. "We met online. She'd take me in, but I don't want to just….I don't know."

Percy laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling. "In the morning, me, my girlfriend Annabeth, and my friend Piper will take you over to your house to get some clothes and stuff, and then my mom and my step dad Paul will let you stay at my house for a while. They do it all the time for demi-gods on the run or mortals who end up in here. K?"

Morgan hesitated but nodded, tears stinging more than her feet. "Thanks, Percy."

Percy smiled and stood up, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. "No problem. You need anything in the night, don't hesitate to come get me. Cabin with all the sea stuff, ya know?"

She grinned and nodded, watching as he left the room. Morgan sank down under the covers and relaxed, finally letting herself cry. In pain, in anger, in embarrassment and frustration. She pulled the pillow into her arms and sobbed heavily into it, realizing just what she had found out that night, just who had pulled her to safety.

"Don't cry honey," said a soft, gentle voice.

Morgan glanced up in surprise, sniffing, to see the young girl from earlier standing by the table and pouring two cups of hot chocolate. She looked up at Morgan, her eyes flickering with literal flames, though they were soft and warm.

"Hestia?" Morgan guessed, brushing away her tears and pushing her glasses back up her nose.

The goddess smiled brightly and moved over to the fireplace, sitting down and setting the mugs of cocoa on the floor. She beckoned towards the ground in front of the fire, her voice soothing and gentle.

"Come over here, Morgan, and I will listen to anything you have to say. Come sit at my hearth."

I came up with this in the middle of my religion class (oh the irony) and spent the rest of the time writing head canons for Hestia, most of which I identified in here. She is such an underappreciated goddess, and I love her.

Here's hoping you all got the reference to Pandora's box in the beginning.

Reviews would be lovely.