Son of the Queen: A Saiyan Among Gods

The sound of cicadas hummed through the warm summer air, mingling with the clatter of swords, the roar of the climbing wall, and the occasional laughter from the Apollo cabin. It was just another day at Camp Half-Blood—except it wasn't.

Not with him here.

Word had spread fast. The moment Hera claimed the strange warrior in orange—publicly—a ripple of curiosity and unease swept through the camp. Hera didn't claim. Not ever. And when she did? It wasn't a son. Not like this.

But Goku didn't notice the stares. He waved at everyone, bright-eyed, tail swishing behind him like an excited puppy's. "Nice place!"

The campers weren't sure what to make of him. Too old to be new. Too strong to be normal. And far too friendly to be a child of the most prideful goddess on Olympus.

The Hermes Cabin

They stuck him in the Hermes cabin at first—standard procedure for unclaimed demigods. Even though he was already claimed, the counselors whispered something about "figuring out where he fits first."

Goku didn't mind. He slept on the floor, offered his bed to a snoring satyr, and tried sharing food with the harpies.

The Hermes kids tried to haze him. Keyword: tried.

One tried stealing his sash while he napped. Goku didn't even wake up—he just reflexively flipped the guy across the cabin with his tail. Another tried pickpocketing him and ended up in a tree.

"Dude," said Travis Stoll, nursing a black eye. "He's, like, built different."

"No," Connor muttered, holding an ice pack to his jaw. "He's a problem."

Training Grounds

Chiron was the first to test his combat skills.

"Go easy," Chiron had warned the Ares kids before the sparring match. "He's still learning our ways."

They laughed.

Ten seconds later, Goku was standing over three of them, rubbing the back of his head. "Uh… sorry. I thought we were still warming up."

Clarisse stormed off, muttering something about cheats and magic freaks.

But it wasn't just strength that drew attention. It was the way he moved—like gravity didn't know what to do with him. Even swordplay instructors watched in quiet awe as he matched techniques by instinct, flowing between styles like water.

Luke Castellan observed from a distance, arms crossed.

"He doesn't know who he is," Luke said quietly to Annabeth. "But the way he fights… that's no demigod."

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. "No. That's something older."

Cabin Reactions

Apollo's children invited him to sing around the campfire. Goku accepted but sang off-key so cheerfully no one dared correct him. Will Solace chuckled. "He's got the spirit."

Athena's cabin ran assessments. Annabeth tried logic puzzles on him. He solved them by drawing outside the lines—literally. His solution to a labyrinth puzzle was to punch through the board.

"Impressive," Annabeth admitted, exasperated. "Completely incorrect… but impressive."

Hephaestus cabin adored him. He lifted a broken chariot frame with one hand, helped them forge in the lava pits, and treated every tool like it was sacred.

"You're weird," one of the Hephaestus kids said, handing him a wrench.

"I get that a lot," Goku beamed.

Aphrodite's cabin? They just stared.

"Is that… his hair?" asked one girl, tilting her head.

"It's kinda wild. But it works," another blushed.

Even Artemis's Hunters, in their rare visit, took notice. Zoe Nightshade frowned at the way Goku laughed with the dryads. "Too loud. Too friendly. Too…"

"Alive?" Thalia grinned.

Zoe didn't answer.

But no one knew what to make of him. He was Hera's son—but he didn't act like her. He was powerful—but didn't show off. He didn't fit any mold, any godly pattern.

And still… something about him felt inevitable.

The Offering

That night, under the stars, the campers gathered in the amphitheater for the traditional offering to the gods.

It was Goku's first.

He watched as each camper stepped forward, scraped food into the fire, and whispered a prayer. Some spoke to Athena. Others to Apollo. Some to no one at all.

When it was his turn, he stepped forward holding a bowl of rice, a few slices of meat, and a strange fruit from the woods he said "tasted like home."

Whispers rose. No one knew what he'd do.

Goku looked at the fire… then at the stars… then closed his eyes.

He spoke, not loudly, but clearly.

"To Hestia… for raising me. For being my real family."

He paused, then added softly,

"To Hera… I don't really understand why you made me. But I'll try to be someone you can be proud of."

Then, with a gentle smile, he added one more:

"And to anyone who's alone… may your fire never go out."

The fire flared gold and white, rising in a quiet, radiant column that left the campers silent.

Even the flames seemed to bow before it faded.

Chiron blinked. "That… That was not normal."

Annabeth stared. "He offered to three gods. And the fire accepted it."

"Campfire never lies," whispered Nico, who had crept up without warning. "The dead are whispering again."

Aftermath

As the campers returned to their cabins, many cast glances over their shoulders. Some respectful. Others confused. A few wary.

Goku sat on the hill outside the cabins, watching the stars, knees tucked up.

He wasn't sure what tomorrow would bring. He didn't know who he was supposed to be.

But the wind was calm. The stars felt warm.

And somewhere, far above, three goddesses watched him—one from the hearth, one from the throne, and one hidden in the moonlight—each holding a secret.

He smiled.

"I like it here."