Freeing Death - Ambrxsia - Percy Jackson and the Olympians (2024)

Chapter 1: And So It Begins

Chapter Text

Percy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, trying to tamp down the annoyed ticking of his eyebrow. The auras of a hundred people— both adults and children— brushed over his senses in a dizzying overlap of smells, phantom feelings, sounds and tastes, only serving to exacerbate his irritation.

The Roman Senate meeting was going about as well as he had hoped— which was to say, he had been ready to strangle Octavian to death before the guy had even opened his mouth. The previous night's incident with Gwen was still as fresh as a recently bloomed rose on his mind, and it was only on Amphitrite-mevisi teachings and his own self control that he hadn't yet wrapped his claws around the swine's neck.

Ghuksal.

Presently, Frank dropped into his seat beside him, hand still clenched tight around his new medals. He looked like he couldn't believe he had received them, and that just made Percy want to strangle Octavian even more. Frank did deserve those medals, f*ck anybody who said otherwise. He had proven his leadership skills and intelligence with the battle plan in the War Games, and Percy said as much to him.

"You did great, you know that right?" He grinned at Frank. "Really. The whole plan was awesome, and foolproof. Ignore Octavian, he's an idiot."

The younger boy gave him a wobbly smile, opening his mouth to reply, but was cut off.

"Centurion Zhang," called Octavian. "Did you hear the question?"

Frank blinked. "Um…sorry. What?"

Octavian turned to the Senate and smirked, in a very obvious way of saying what did I tell you? "I was asking," he said, enunciating every word like he was talking to a three-year-old, "if you have a plan for the quest. Do you even know where you are going?"

Percy felt his blood boil, and he pulled his lips back in a snarl. He was about to speak, tell Octavian where he could shove his questions, when Hazel placed a hand on Frank's shoulder and rose to her feet. She levelled a poisonous glare at the augur, golden eyes flashing bright with warning. Percy pushed down the shiver that wracked his body at the haunting sight— her eyes were so familiar, had played a terrifying role in his so many of his nightmares over the years, had been the bane of his existence since he was twelve.

She had Kronos' eyes.

"Obviously, we are going to Alaska, the land beyond the Gods," she answered, using the same tone Octavian had used against Frank, except her voice was cold and steely. "Didn't you pay attention to Lord Mars last night, Octavian?"

She spat out the name like someone might say chewing gum stuck to my heel, and Octavian quailed under her stare. The senators squirmed in their seats, and a few of the ghosts wavered and vanished. Even Reyna's dogs whimpered and rolled over to expose their metal bellies.

Percy leaned back, a satisfied smile curling the corners of his lips even as the phantom chill settled into the cores of his bones. Hazel Levesque was terrifying when she wanted to be, and he wanted to believe that she was a good person. So far, she had done nothing to break that belief.

One of the senators finally gathered his wits and stood up, and he recognised the adult man as Anton, twenty-four year old third generation descendant of Bacchus.

"This is absurd," Anton cried, clutching a sugary caffeinated drink that smelled positively poisonous to Percy. "Alaska is cursed— it's called the land beyond the Gods for a reason. No demigod has come back alive since—"

"The Fifth Cohort lost your eagle," Percy interrupted, his low voice echoing through the Senate House. Everyone fell silent. He breathed out through his nose, trying his best to ignore the several gazes boring into him. He felt tens of auras flicker over his skin, ranging from earthy smells to the clash of weapons to the ghost feeling of plucking a berry. It would have been dizzying, had he not been used to the sensations Camp Half Blood and Atlantis.

"I know I'm new here," he said into the quiet, "But it's obvious. The Fifth Cohort lost the eagle, and we will bring it back. It's why Mars is sending us. This giant, he's Gaia's son, and I'm positive he's the one that slaughtered your forces all those decades ago."

Now comes the difficult part.

"Gaia is," Percy began, choosing his words carefully, "gathering her forces. Sending them south. In a few days, they will attack New Rome."

Octavian seemed to have gained back his stupidity, because he raised an eyebrow at him. "You seem to know a lot about our enemy, Perseus."

His tone was smooth and level when he spoke, and the implications of his statement had Percy bristling. Most insults, he would let slide; they didn't bother him, because usually anyone who insulted him did not know him well. Octavian didn't know him either, but to dare to call him a spy, a traitor—

He's baiting you.

Percy closed his eyes for a second at the voice that sounded an awful lot like Amphie-mevi, willing himself not to crush Octavian's pathetic trachea under his heel. When he spoke, he internally fist bumped Triton-dau that his voice came out level and unfazed. "We'll bring back your eagle, and unchain the God. Thanatos, wasn't it?"

He looked towards Reyna, trying to maintain the 'no memories' shtick. It was a pain, but none of them knew he had his memories back. Better be safe than sorry, especially in front of the absolute prick that was Octavian.

Reyna nodded. "We Romans call him Letus."

Octavian let out an exasperated sigh, and Percy barely stopped himself from throttling him. How someone could be so annoying, he had no idea, but that little sh*t managed to push every single one of Percy's buttons. He had to wrangle all of Triton-dausi and Amphie-mevisi lessons to the forefront of his mind so that he didn't commit manslaughter.

"How, exactly," the augur asked, skepticism dripping from every syllable, "are you gonna do that and be back before the Feast of Fortuna? It's four days away. Do you even know where to look, or who this son of Gaia is?"

Admittedly, Percy did not know. Before he could say anything, however, Hazel pinned Octavian with an unimpressed look, eyes darkening to a burnished gold shade. "Of course we do."

Percy had the feeling that she had narrowly held off of insulting the jusak, and bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from letting out a snort.

"And as for the giant, well," she pursed her lips. "It's Alkyoneus."

Percy watched the temperature of the room drop as every senator shivered. The presences of the demigods and descendants skittered nervously over his skin, leaving behind heavy feelings of disturbance and tension. He himself pressed his mouth into a straight line and turned to Reyna, who had gripped the edge of the podium tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Her eyes flashed deep red for a second, and she turned towards the young teen.

"Do you know that because you're a child of Pluto, Hazel?" she asked, voice perfectly even and neutral.

"Our father told us about him."

All heads turned towards the "Ambassador of Pluto", who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. It was clear from his tone that he did not want to be asked any questions, and Percy felt his lips twitch despite the seriousness of the situation. Nico had learnt well how to use his status as a Child of the Underworld to his advantage.

"The Giants," he continued, "are hard to kill. It takes deities and demigods working together to kill them."

Several senators gasped. Murmurs rose in volume, and a particularly loud one stated that it had never happened, and it was unheard of for the Gods to have worked with their mortal children.

Nico raked a threatening stare over everyone, and the senators promptly shut up, the sound of several jaws snapping closed echoing around the hall. "It's not unheard of," he bit out. "It's happened before. What's more worrisome is the fact that Alkyoneus can't be defeated in his homeland— where he was born."

Percy pushed himself into a straight posture, lips parting in realisation. "Hang on. So you're saying," he said, "is that Alkyoneus can't be killed in Alaska. Because he was reformed there."

Nico nodded tersely, still looking uncomfortable at being the subject of Percy's focus. "Yeah. Which means—"

"The nineteen-eighties expedition was a suicide mission," the older boy completed, and Nico pressed his lips into a straight line, the answer clear in his expression.

The room burst out in arguments and shouts. Everyone talked over each other, yelled and gripped at their hair, glared at Nico or Percy. Both boys simply sat back in their seats and crossed their arms over their chests, waiting for the chaos to die down. It didn't look like they would calm down anytime soon.

Their auras bounced off of each other, amplifying with every shout that echoed around the Senate chamber, and Percy bit down the urge to hiss at the overstimulation. His skin crackled and sparked, his tongue felt like he had eaten something particularly spicy, and his ears rang.

"SILENCE!"

Reyna's voice echoed louder than anyone else's, and the senators snapped their mouths shut and sat down in their seats. Percy sighed in relief when the sensations simmered down to a bearable level. The Praetor waited two seconds, then glared at the senators.

"Mars has issued a quest. I doubt he gave us an unconquerable one. These three demigods—" she gestured towards Percy, Frank and Hazel— "will leave for Alaska. They will free Thanatos, and if they bring our eagle back with them, all the better. We must support them, and ensure that they have a plan."

She turned to Percy, and by the look in her eyes, he could tell that she did not have much hope. Honestly, he didn't blame her, his own hope was down in the dumps. "You do have a plan, yes?"

He so desperately wanted to say no, that he didn't have a plan, that he had no idea what the f*ck he was doing. A glance at the faces in the room and the memory of Amphitrite-mevisi stern face when she had piled three humongous books on politics on his desk, however, told him that saying that would be... stupid. He pursed his lips.

"Let me understand something, first."

He turned to Nico. "Hades is the God of the Dead."

Nico nodded, and Percy plowed ahead. "And Thanatos is the personification of Death, right? He works for Hades. So how do the Doors of Death tie into all this?"

The son of Hades breathed in, a calculating twist to his mouth. "Thanatos guards the Doors. He makes sure no dead person leaves the underworld. But now he's locked up."

Frank raised his hand. "Yeah, uh, question: how do you chain literal Death?"

"It’s possible," Nico said, eyebrows furrowed. "The first time, a guy named Sisyphus tricked Death and tied him up. And another, Hercules wrestled him to the ground."

"And now," Percy picked up, "Alkyoneus has him. So if we free him, the dead would stay dead?"

Nico's expression twisted into something that made Percy's gut drop in dread. He let out a long sigh, raising a hand to rub his temple. He was too tired for this sh*t. "It's not as simple as that, is it?"

The younger boy winced at the resignation in Percy's tone, but have a slow nod. "No," he agreed, "it's not that simple."

Octavian snorted. "Why does that not surprise me?"

Percy clenched his fist, feeling his nailbeds ripple with the urge to let his claws burst out. Don't punch him, don't punch him, do not punch him—

"You mean the Doors of Death," Reyna said, ignoring Octavian. "They are mentioned in the Prophecy of Seven, which sent the first expedition to Alaska—"

One of the ghosts snorted, such derision painted on his translucent face that Percy was surprised he didn't burst. "We all know how that turned out! We Lares remember!"

The other ghosts groused in agreement, murmuring over each other.

Nico put a finger to his lips. Immediately, all the Lares went silent. Some gave the boy looks of dismay, like their lips had been glued together. Percy wished he had that power over certain living people.

Yes, he was thinking about Octavian, sue him. The dude was annoying as f*ck.

"The Doors of Death," Nico said, pulling Percy out of his fantasies of pummelling Octavian into the ground, "are a concept that even I don't completely understand. There are several other entrances to the Underworld— River Styx, Orpheus' door, and smaller routes that fall open from time to time. Thanatos' absence means these paths are easier to use."

Percy nodded and leaned forward. "So dead spirits might find their way back to life, right?"

Nico made a sound of agreement, snapping his fingers at him. "Yeah. Sometimes someone friendly might wander back, like Gwen last night—"

Hazel interrupted him. "But more often than not, it's the monsters that come up."

"Exactly," her brother conceded. "The Doors of Death, on the other hand, are Thanatos' personal gateway between Life and Death. Nobody knows where they are, and they keep changing places. But now, the God is down and Gaia's minions have forced the Door open—"

"Which means Gaia controls who can come back from the dead," Percy finished, raking a hand through his own wild hair, lip twitching at the disapproving looks he gets from the people with the regulation haircuts. "f*ck."

Nico grimaced. "Quite."

Frank scratched his head. "But Letus knows where the doors are, right? If we free him, he can retake control over them."

"I don’t think so," Nico said. "Not alone. He’s no match for Gaia. That would take a massive quest… an army of the best demigods."

"Foes bear arms to the Doors of Death," Reyna recited, voice lacking emotion. Percy met her eyes, and the utter terror she hid behind her gaze was palpable even from across the podium. Maybe not to anyone else, but he saw it— she wanted to keep Camp Jupiter safe, and this was a huge threat, something nobody was sure they could overcome. Percy wondered if she’d had nightmares about Gaia too, if she’d seen visions of what would happen when the camp was invaded by monsters that couldn’t be killed.

"If this announces the beginning of the ancient prophecy," she spoke louder, "We don’t have resources to send an army to these Doors of Death and protect the camp. I can’t imagine even sparing seven demigods—"

"Let's go by urgency," Percy interrupted, voice steadier and more confident than he felt. "We have to free Thanatos. Mars asked for Frank and me, and we have to take one other. Concentrate on that, and returning before Fortuna. We'll worry about everything else after this is dealt with."

"Yeah," Frank said, voice faint. "That's more than enough for one week, I think."

Percy mentally agreed.

"So you do have a plan, Perseus," Octavian said, eyebrow rising in an obvious show of scepticism.

Percy blinked at him once, twice. "No, I don't. I'm just going in blind, without any regard for anyone or anything." His face dropped into a deadpan look. "What do you think, ghuksal?"

Reyna managed to turn her snicker into a passable cough, but Nico and Hazel had no such reservations. Both of them snorted, followed by the other senators laughing quietly, and Percy's lip twitched up into a smirk for a second, which faded when he registered his own words. What he had said was true— he did not, in fact, have a plan.

Octavian doesn't need to know that, though, Triton-dausi voice whispered in his ear, sly and vicious.

Percy bit down a malefic smile of his own. He would figure out what exactly they were supposed to do for the quest soon enough. Right now, he needed to get this idiot to shut the f*ck up.

"Very well," Reyna said. "Nothing remains except for us to vote what support we can give the quest— transportation, money, magic, weapons."

"Praetor, if I may," Octavian said, and Percy grimaced, gripping his bead necklace.

"Oh, f*ck, here it comes," he muttered under his breath, "Triton-dau give me patience or I might just rip out his throat."

"The camp is in grave danger," Octavian continued, and the expression on his face made Percy want to claw his eyes out. "Two gods have warned us we will be attacked four days from now. We must not spread our resources too thin, especially by funding projects that have a slim chance of success."

Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

This bitch had to be stopped, fast. Percy stood up, brain working furiously, fingertips aching with the sheer willpower he used to keep his claws away. "There's a flaw in your logic, Octavius."

"My name—" Octavian began with a huff, but Percy cut him off. "Do I look like I care, paayu?"

That drew another round of snickering from everyone, and Octavian opened his mouth in indignation, ready to say something that was undoubtedly going to be stupid. Percy shot him a glare, putting a bit of both Triton's and Lupa's training into it. He smirked when the other boy clicked his jaw shut, lips pressing into a wary line.

"As I was saying, there's a flaw in Octavius' logic." Yes, he was doing it on purpose, and no, he was definitely not enjoying it why would you say that? Nico let out a loud snicker, and Percy barely stopped his own from leaving his mouth.

"And what would that be, Perseus?" Reyna asked. Her eyes gleamed with barely hidden mirth, but her voice was level. Percy had to give it to her: she was good.

"Well, obviously, if Mars thought this had a slim chance of success, he wouldn't have given the quest, and definitely not to just three kids. Second, we have three days. At the most. If we don't free Thanatos before that, we won't be able to handle the army headed our way, because the monsters will just respawn."

Reyna hummed in consideration, but Percy could see the victorious glint in her eyes. She was just as annoyed by Octavian as he was. He hid his smirk and continued speaking.

"Letting us go without resources will make our job way harder than it needs to be, and that would mean a higher chance of failure. If we fail, the army takes over camp, razes it to the ground."

The senators started murmuring among themselves, and Percy resisted the urge to look at Octavian's expression.

"So what do you propose, then?"

He met Reyna's question with an unwavering gaze and voice, vicious triumph gleaming in his eyes. "Give us three horses, nectar, and a little bit of money. We won't need anything else."

The senators' eyes moved back and forth between Percy and Reyna, watching the test of wills. The Praetor straightened in her chair, lips pressed together. To anyone else, it might look like she was serious, but Percy knew better. He had seen the satisfaction of getting to see Octavian get shut down.

"Alright," she said. “We’ll put it to a vote. Senators, the motion is as follows: The quest shall go to Alaska. The senate shall provide horses, nectar and five hundred dollars. All in favour?"

Most of the hands went up. Percy suppressed a grin of victory, and flicked a glance at Octavian. The boy was very clearly holding back a scream of frustration, and his fists were clenched tight enough that Percy could smell traces of blood.

Before Reyna could pass the motion, however, a woman stood up. She was in her late twenties, and had her black hair chopped into an undercut. Her eyes gleamed bright blue— daughter of Apollon.

"Praetor, if you would be so kind as to listen to me," she began, and Reyna nodded her assent. "I think it only logical that an adult be sent on the quest with Frank and Perseus. We can't very well keep them here, seeing as Lord Mars himself ordered that they be part of it, but there is no reason to let children go alone."

Percy breathed out through his nose. The argument was solid, and they could do with one of the actual, adult Legionnaires on the quest. He wasn't opposed to the idea.

No.

He blinked. No? What—

Hazel, a feeling more than a voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he recognised it as his own intuition making his gut twist. Hazel.

He pushed down the urge to groan. This was the worst time his intuition could have picked to go against his conscious mind.

"No," he called out loud, drawing the attention of everyone. "I agree that we are only trainees and not actual soldiers, but it is not necessary. Hazel, Frank and I will be enough. However, thank you for the offer, Apollonashani."

Reyna pinned him with a piercing gaze, but he simply gave her a beatific smile.

"Listen to him."

Nico. He was staring at Percy out of the corner of his eyes, arms crossed and a contemplative twist to his thin lips. He turned to Reyna.

"If Hazel is okay with going, and Perseus says that it won't be necessary for an adult to accompany them, then let them go," he said, looking the Praetor dead in the eyes. Reyna twisted her lips, then turned to Frank with a decisive nod.

"This is your quest, Centurion Zhang," she announced, "and ergo you will decide whether you want an adult or you want Hazel."

Frank didn't even take a second to think about it.

"Hazel, if she's alright with it," he said politely, turning a questioning gaze towards the mentioned girl. She gave him a grin, leaning forward in her chair with her hands clasped under her chin. Her gold eyes flashed, and Percy felt his hackles rise involuntarily before he pushed down the aggression.

Kronos is gone, Percy.

"Oh, I'm completely fine with it," she answered, and Frank grinned back.

A murmur passed through the Senate chamber, but Reyna rapped her knuckles on her desk.

"The motion is passed," she called out. "Centurion Frank Zhang, and Probatios Perseus Jackson and Hazel Levesque will go on a quest to Alaska."

She took a breath, then raised her voice. "Meeting adjourned. Everyone is excused. And, Octavian, if I may confer with you for a moment."

Percy was incredibly relieved to feel the sunlight rest on his skin. All those eyes on him had made him feel like the world was riding on his shoulders— something he was quite familiar with. He had not liked it then, and he did not like it now. Not to mention the grating of the auras on his senses that made him feel like every inch of his skin was being pricked with needles.

"That," came Frank's voice from his left, filled with utter, unholy glee and barely controlled laughter, "was beautiful."

Hazel let out a cackle from his other side, a noise so unlike her soft and petite appearance that it startled a laugh out of him. "Oh, Octavian had that coming. I hate his guts. Perseus, you do the work of the Gods."

"Well, now I won't say that it wasn't satisfying," Percy drawled, clasping his hands behind his head, allowing a smirk to slip through. His new friends let out matching snorts, and all three of them burst out laughing.

"His.. his face, oh Gods," Frank gasped out, and Hazel laughed louder.

A voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Annabeth's, whispered, bet it would have looked better if his nose was broken.

He snorted, and opened his mouth to say exactly that, but a flash of black caught his eye. He stopped laughing, thoughts whirring, and made a split second decision.

"Guys," he said, and the two of them looked at him. "You go on, I'll meet you for lunch."

Neither of them asked any questions, and Percy felt a wave of gratitude for them as he jogged to catch up to the mop of black hair that had just disappeared around a corner.

He needed to talk to Nico.

Chapter 2: Bids For Help

Chapter Text

Percy jogged to catch up with Nico, traditional sandals clacking rhythmically on the colourful mosaic pavement. Rome really did have beautiful roads, he thought absently, then focused his gaze back onto the head of shaggy black hair a few yards away. The sweet and tangy smell of pomegranates tickled his nose, and his fingertips tingled with the feel of digging them into damp, cold earth— Nico's aura was one of his favourites. He quickly covered the distance, and clapped his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Nawase, Nico-vau," he chirped. Nico felt skinny to the touch even under the leather jacket he wore, with sharp jutting bones and little flesh to his body.

Percy blocked the punch that came for his throat, then let out a bark of laughter, eyes gleaming at the predictability of the move. The first thing Annabeth— or any of the camp counselors and older demigods, really— taught the new campers was that the throat was the one place to punch.

"You've kept Annabeth's coaching in mind, I see," he drawled, a taunting smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Too bad it wouldn't work on me, Zombie Boy."

Nico's eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath. "You- you remember?"

The incredulity in both his voice and expression was so powerful that Percy had to actively stomp down the urge to cackle like a f*cking witch. He still didn't quite manage to keep in all of it. A little snigg*r trilled in his throat, and he reached out to ruffle Nico's hair, grinning at the answering indignant squawk.

"Come on, Death Breath, have some faith in me," he teased, moving in for another ruffle. Nico snorted, batting Percy's hand away.

"Shut up," he grumbled, thin lips twitching into a reluctant grin of his own.

Percy pulled him into a hug, and was pleasantly surprised when Nico returned it without hesitation. He was shorter than Percy by more than half a foot, and tucked his head neatly under his chin. The familiar smell of pomegranates and polished metal filled Percy's nose, and he buried his nose in Nico's hair, hearing faint whispers of the shadows that always followed the younger boy around.

A second later, both of them pulled apart, and Nico punched him in the shoulder. Percy yelped, and Nico moved to punch him again, but he dodged, an indignant huff slipping through his lips. "Ayi, the f*ck, bruh?"

Nico glared and folded his arms, lip jutting out in an expression that Percy was quite used to receiving from people; a mix of annoyed and worried. "What the f*ck has been up with you? You were gone for—"

"Six and a half months," Percy sighed, raking his fingers through his inky hair. "The Queen Goddess took me."

Nico stared at him for a second, then let out a string of curses in Ancient Greek and Italian that would have curdled someone's blood if they could understand what was being said.

Percy, being a New Yorker, simply snorted and nodded. "I had the same reaction."

"And why couldn't Grover—"

"I was asleep for four of those months."

Nico's jaw snapped shut with an audible click, and the sound of grinding teeth filled the air. "You know," he said, voice deceptively light and breezy, "I suddenly have the urge to rip something into pieces. Preferably with my bare hands."

Percy shrugged. "I've been fantasizing the same thing since I woke up from that f*cking coma, dude."

"And what exactly—"

"Perseus!"

Both of them jerked their heads around, and scowled as one at the sight of Octavian striding over to them. They exchanged eyerolls before turning back to the augur.

"The f*ck do you want now?" Percy demanded. Octavian smiled. "Already decided I'm your enemy, Perseus Jackson? That's a rash choice. I'm a loyal Roman."

The image of ex-Centurion Gwen impaled with a spear flashed across Percy's eyes, and he breathed in, holding back the snarl that threatened to pull at his lips. Instead, he levelled a calm look at the augur. "Don't insult the Romans by saying you're one of them, augur. You're about as Roman as the Pegasus is simply a normal horse. Which is to say, not Roman at all."

Octavian sucked in a sharp breath, as if he was about to say something, but stopped short at the warning look that Percy threw at him. He sniffed delicately.

"Oh dear, hardly the right behaviour becoming of the newest probatio. I only followed you because Reyna wants to have a talk with you before you leave for your quest." He didn't even bother to acknowledge Nico, simply turned on his heel and sauntered off.

The two boys glanced at each other, and Percy sighed. "Come on, little cousin, let's get this over with."

"Reyna has asked for you only—"

"Shut up and come with me."

"Okay."

They made their way back to the Principia in comfortable silence, both their feet silent on the pavement. Senators were still hanging around the building, but neither of them paid any mind to the stares and whispers, walking straight ahead without looking to the sides. The faint scents of different auras lingered in the air— crushed grapes, morning dew, crackling wood, and many more. Percy sniffed the air appreciatively, drawing a snicker from his younger companion.

"What do you think this is about?" Nico asked as they stepped into the hall where the senate meeting had taken place. It was empty; Reyna wasn't there yet.

"Gaia," Percy answered. "There's no other reason she would talk to me."

He still couldn't remember where he'd seen Reyna before, but figured it would come to him eventually. He wasn't very worried about it.

Dragging one of the Praetor's chairs over to the visitor's side, he plopped down. Nico did the same with a random chair from the senators section.

Not two seconds later, Reyna strode into the Principia, purple cloak billowing out behind her. She brought with her the faint sounds of clashing metal and the twang of a bowstring. Percy had the distinct feel of blood pooling in his mouth, and he swirled his tongue around, humming appreciatively at the metallic taste.

She was flanked by her automaton greyhounds, both of whom growled menacingly at the two boys, and yet they were still not scary enough to compare to the thunderous expression on their owner's face. It occured to Percy that maybe taking the Praetor's seat was not the proper thing to do, and he started to get up, but was waved away by Reyna.

"Stay seated," she ordered, and he dropped back down. "You leave after lunch. We have a lot to discuss."

She slammed her dagger on the table hard enough that the bowl of jelly-beans rattled. Aurum and Argentum took their places on her each side, and fixed a glare on Nico and Percy.

"What did I do wrong?" Percy asked, still poised to get off the seat. "If it's about the chair—"

"It's not you." Reyna scowled. "I absolutely hate the Senate meetings. When Octavian opens his godsdamnedf*cking mouth—"

Percy nodded, a scowl of his own twisting his features. "You're a warrior. Octavian's a talker. Put him in front of the senate, and suddenly he becomes the powerful one."

Reyna let out a loud breath through her nose. Her eyes flashed red with something akin to satisfaction, except this was more malicious, a little more bloodthirsty— it was the kind of look Percy respected on his allies. "You did a good job shutting him up."

Percy smiled something entirely too self satisfied, too sharp, too wide and with too many teeth. He leaned back in the chair. "I hate people like him. He's too power hungry, but not benevolent enough to be in any position where he has authority."

Reyna hummed.

Nico raised an eyebrow at Percy, then turned to her. "Octavian's gearing up to be elected as your co-Praetor, I hear. Assuming the camp survives long enough, that is."

"Which brings us to the subject of doomsday," Reyna said, "and how you—" she pointed at Percy— "might be able to help prevent it. But before I place the fate of Camp Jupiter in your hands, we need to get a few things straight."

But I'm not straight, Percy wanted to joke. He held it back. He saw Nico shoot him a glance, and both of them bit into the inside of their lips to stop the smirks.

She sat down and put a ring on the table— a band of silver etched with a repetitive patter of sword-and-torch on the outer side, like Reyna's tattoo. "Do you know what this is?"

Percy nodded. "The mark of your mother. The war goddess."

"Bellona," Nico provided helpfully, and Percy inclined his head towards him in acknowledgement. Reyna scrutinized Percy carefully. "You don't remember where you saw this ring before? You really don't remember me or my sister, Hylla?"

Percy shook his head. "La, I don't."

"It would've been four years ago."

"Just before you came to camp."

Reyna's back straightened, and she shot him a sharp look, fingers jerking to hover above the hilt of her dagger. "How did you—"

"You've got four stripes under your tattoo," he answered, waving a hand towards her forearm. "Four years."

Reyna looked down, hand pulling away from her blade. "Of course. It seems so long ago, now. I suppose you wouldn't recall me even if you had your memory. I was just a child— one attendant among so many at the spa. But you spoke with my sister, just before you and that other one, Annabeth, destroyed our home."

The sudden clarity had Percy snapping his fingers, wide green eyes focusing on Reyna. "I knew I recognised you from somewhere— You're from Kirke's Island? Holy sh*t, man, what the f*ck?"

Reyna stared at him. "You remember?"

Percy nodded. "My memories have been returning in pieces since I took a bath yesterday." That wasn't wrong, per se; he had drunk that insides-curdling cure right before he had jumped into the bath. "It's why I was talking to Nico. He's from my camp— Camp Half Blood."

She regarded him with an askance gaze, then pursed her lips and pulled a chair to air down. It suddenly struck Percy why it seemed like she hated him.

"I'm sorry for destroying your home," he announced in the silence, and her eyes snapped to his, expression blank but eyes baring her astonishment.

"I caused you and your sister harm, and for that I'm sorry," he continued, watching Reyna's eyebrow rise higher and higher at every word he spoke.

"Apologising?" She asked, "Not very Roman of you, Perseus Jackson."

Percy shrugged. "I think we've established that I'm not Roman, Praetor. I really am sorry for destroying your and your sister's home. If I could have escaped another way I would have done it."

Reyna kept a contemplative eye on him, and Percy shot her his trademark troublemaker grin. "Seeing as Aurum and Argentum aren't tearing me to pieces, they think I'm telling the truth."

Reyna flicked a glance at her automatons, finger running over the edge of her silver ring. "I believe you're sincere," she said. "But not everyone at camp does. Octavian thinks you're a spy. He thinks you were sent here by Gaia to find our weaknesses and distract us. He believes the old legends about the Greeks."

"Old legends?" Nico and Percy asked, and Reyna sighed. Her hand rested on the table halfway between her dagger and the jelly beans. Percy had the distinct feeling that if she made a sudden move, she would not be grabbing for the candy.

"Some believe Greek demigods still exist," she answered, "heroes who follow the older forms of the gods. There are legends of battles between Roman and Greek heroes in relatively modern times— the American Civil War, for example. I have no proof of this, and if our Lares know anything, they refuse to say. But Octavian believes the Greeks are still around, plotting our downfall, working with the forces of Terra. He thinks you are one of them."

Both Percy's and Nico's eyebrows had climbed higher and higher as Reyna's explanation had progressed, but her ending sentence was the last straw.

Percy stared at her for a second, then raised a hand.

Smack!

He facepalmed hard enough that the sound echoed throughout the auditorium, and he sensed more than saw the full body wince Nico gave, in the shift of his pomegranate scent.

"Ber, so many things wrong with that little speech," he said, pure, unadulterated exasperation colouring every tone of his voice, "but let's go step by step. One," he raised his finger, "Greek demigods definitely exist. Nico's Greek, I'm Greek."

A version of Greek, anyway, he added in his mind.

"Two," Nico picked up, indignation at the accusations bubbling in his voice, "we are not f*cking trying to plot the downfall of Rome. Literally no Greek demigod even knows you guys exist, apart from Percy and I. And honestly, the Greeks couldn't be bothered to try and take over Rome, we've had enough to do with war to last us seven lifetimes, thank you very much."

"Three," Percy concluded, "we're actively trying to destroy Gaia, so working with her is absolutely out of the f*cking question."

Nico turned to him, eyebrow raised.

Percy rolled his eyes. "My father visited. In a nutshell— the Gods are f*cked, Gaia is a bitch, and the world is in danger."

The younger boy snorted. "Nothing new, then."

"Of course not," Percy replied, words dripping with sarcasm. "And as usual, the solution to the clusterf*ck is to f*ck with one Perseus Jackson's life, because the Gods have no f*cking chill when it comes to me."

Both the boys stared at each other for a second, then sighed dejectedly.

"Your life f*cking sucks, dude," Nico muttered, and Percy huffed in agreement.

"What the f*ck." Reyna flicked her gaze between the two of them, expression stuck somewhere between disbelieving, shocked, offended and confused.

Percy and Nico snorted as one. "Don't worry about it," the shorter one told her. "We've known each other for years, it's an inside reference."

Reyna eyed them for a second, then sighed. "We're getting off topic. So the Greeks exist, they're definitely not planning to take over Rome, and Terra is rising."

Percy nodded.

"Yep," Nico said, popping the p. He pointed a pale, bony finger at the silver automaton. "Your hounds didn't attack, we're telling the truth."

"Be that as it may," Reyna turned to the older boy, "you are powerful and dangerous. Two Gods have taken interest in you, and Gods haven't been seen in Rome for a long time. No doubt you are here because something significant is coming."

She stared at him for a second, then shrugged. "Obviously, I could be wrong. Maybe the Gods sent you here to test my judgment. But I think.. I think you were sent here to make up for the loss of Jason."

Jason. Percy couldn't go more than fifteen minutes in this camp without hearing that name. He wondered exactly what role the boy played in this place.

Nico blinked. "Jason? Jason Grace?"

Reyna fixed him with a sharp glare that reminded Percy too much of a hungry wolf than he would like, eyes flashing a red ring around the irises. "Yes. You have met him?"

Nico shook his head. "No, but I Iris-Message Annabeth regularly. Jason is at Camp Half Blood, he helped save Juno a while ago. Apparently he doesn't have his memories either."

The anguished expression that settled on Reyna's features was so intense that both Percy and Nico looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Oh, Jason..."

The whisper was quiet enough that Nico didn't pick up on it, but Percy did. He pursed his lips at the obvious desperation in her strangled voice, a vicious pang of sympathy going through his chest.

"Were you two a couple?" Percy wished he could take back the question the second it left his lips, but it was too late. Reyna's eyes bored into his in an impressive imitation of Lupa's wolf stare. Percy simply stated back, dimly aware of Nico looking between the two of them as if they were playing a tennis rally.

Finally, Reyna breathed in slowly.

"He was like a younger brother to me."

Percy understood. He nodded, and Reyna continued. "Jason was only getting ready to be Praetor for a few months before he disappeared. Ever since then, Octavian has been pestering me to hold elections. I've resisted. I need a partner in power— but I'd prefer someone like Jason. A warrior, not a schemer."

She gave him a pointed look. Percy realized she was sending him a silent invitation. His throat went dry. "Oh. You mean—"

"You destroyed my home once," she said, intense gaze still pinned on him. He wasn't sure if he liked the way it was uncannily similar to Lupa. "Now you're here to save it. I don't hold grudges, Perseus. My sister hates you still, yes, but the Fates brought me here to Camp Jupiter, and I've done well for myself. Now I ask that you work with me. I intend to save this camp, or die trying."

Percy's foot started tapping a steady staccato on the floor. "Reyna, I'm honoured, really, I am. But I don't want to become a Praetor."

Reyna raised her eyebrow. "Turning down power? You really are no Roman, are you?"

Nico, who had been silent the whole time, snorted. "Percy is the Greekest of all demigods, Reyna."

She hummed. "I can see that. Even so, consider the offer, Perseus. I need a strong Praetor as my co-leader if we want any hope of saving my home. Go on your quest, and if you return successfully, the Praetorship is yours for the taking. If you return and still refuse, I'll work with Octavian. Saving this Camp is my ultimate goal, and things are worse than you realise."

Percy breathed out, exchanging a look with Nico. "We know exactly how bad things are," he said.

"Do you really?" Reyna asked. "I told Octavian to keep it from the senate, but he has seen a large army marching towards Camp with a giant at its helm—"

"It's not Alkyoneus, is it?" Percy asked rhetorically. The other two shook their heads.

"No," Nico replied. "Alkyoneus would be a fool to leave the place where he can't be killed. That means we have two giants to worry about."

"f*ck."

Reyna grimaced. "Lupa and her pack are trying to slow them down, but even they are no match for the forces. They're doing everything they can to slow the monsters down, but it won't work for long. The enemy will be here soon— by the Feast of Fortuna at the very latest."

If even Lupa couldn't hold them off...

Percy felt a chill run down his spine. Camp Jupiter did not stand a chance. Nico looked just as ashen faced as he felt, and he reached out to grab the younger's shoulder, grip firm.

"It's not hopeless," Reyna said, noting their expressions. "There might be a way."

She held out her silver ring, and suddenly it became clear to Percy what she was asking. "You want me to ask your sister for help."

She nodded, and Percy went on. "That same sister who would gut me like the fish I am without hesitation."

She nodded again. Percy blinked at her incredulously, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Reyna huffed. "Show her my ring, and she may not kill you."

"May," Percy repeated, incredulity reaching the limit. "May. Reyna, what the f*ck."

Nico stifled a snort. "I should not be finding it surprising how many people you've made enemies out of."

Percy shot him a dirty look. "Shut up."

"I can't speak for my sister," Reyna interrupted the brewing bickering before Nico could reply. "In fact, I haven't spoken to her in weeks."

Percy immediately cottoned on. "So you want me to check on her. And if she's fine, you want to ask for armed support."

Reyna nodded. "Yes."

Percy could see the desperation in her eyes. She was terrified, grasping for anything that could save her camp. No wonder she wanted Percy's help. She was the only praetor. The defense of the camp rested on her shoulders alone. He took the ring, untying his bead necklace and slinging the metal onto it.

"I'll find her. Where do I look? What kind of forces does she have?"

"Go to Seattle," Reyna said with a grim expression. "Hylla is the current Queen of the Amazons. You'll know the capital of her nation when you see it. If you don't, she'll find you."

Well, that didn't sound foreboding at all, Percy thought wryly. He turned to Nico. "We still need to talk."

Nico nodded tersely, and the two of them bid Reyna goodbye and stepped out of the Principia. They walked silently towards the gardens, Percy's hand in his pocket, fingering his pen.

The statues, carvings and plants would usually have caught his eye, but he was too wound up to care. They ducked below a vine and pushed away a few hanging creepers to reach a little clearing next to a statue of Bacchus.

"Well," Nico said brightly once he sat himself on the dais at the feet of the statue, "this is certainly a turn of events."

Percy scoffed and laid down on the grass, eyes up towards the sky. "My father visited last night, like I said. He told me both the Roman and Greek Gods have no control over their forms."

Nico grimaced above him.

"I haven't seen Pluto more than three times," he muttered, "but since I've rarely see Hades either in the last several months..." he let his voice trail away.

"How long have you known this camp exists, anyways?" Percy asked, and the younger boy twisted his lips.

"Since I found out Bianca had gone for resurrection," he answered blankly, and Percy's gut twisted like he had been stabbed. "Pluto ordered me not to reveal either camp's existence to each other, because they were kept separate for a reason."

They sat without saying for a few seconds, Percy humming under his breath quietly enough that Nico couldn't hear.

"I have to leave in a couple of hours, Nico-vau," he said finally. "I need you to do something for me."

"What do you need done?"

Percy smiled humourlessly at the immediate question. He and Nico would do anything for each other, and they both knew it. "Go east. Tell Tyson, Mama and Annabeth that you saw me, that I'm fine, but don't tell them where I am. And tell Mrs O'Leary that I'll call her soon. She needs to come. My father will already have told Amphie-mevi and Triton-dau."

Nico nodded. He didn't ask why Percy wasn't Iris-Messaging or calling them, and he was glad for that. "Keep Hazel safe for me."

Percy nodded back, the back of his head rubbing painfully against the soil under the grass. "That goes without saying. Although she's a force to be reckoned with herself."

The memory of her glaring at Octavian resurfaced, and both of them snickered.

"The look on his face," Nico wheezed, and they burst into loud, raucous laughter that echoed in the empty gardens, ringing among the marble statues. Once their stomachs and ribs began to hurt and tears slipped down their cheeks, their cackling slowed to little occasional giggles.

"Her eyes," Percy began, and his cousin stiffened. "They remind me of—"

"Kronos."

He stared at Nico. "Yeah."

"She's nothing like him," Nico said vehemently, his own eyes flashing the same golden colour before going back to their usual pitch black. "Forget Kronos. Remember that her eyes are like mine."

Percy huffed out a mirthless laugh. "It's not that easy, nehera."

A sigh met his answer. "Yeah, I know."

There was silence, for a while. Both of them gazed around, taking in the grapevines and strawberry runners of the Garden of Bacchus, and the cloudless blue sky.

"Vau," Percy said suddenly, sitting up when a thought struck him. "How much of the Underworld army can you spare?"

"You're asking for Camp Jupiter, no?" The younger asked, and he nodded. Nico sucked in a breath. "I'll hang around here after delivering your messages, raise the dead as needed. Maybe place a couple of hellhounds at each gate for lookout."

"Thank you, Nico."

"Don't mention it, Dau."

Chapter 3: Archaic Powers in New Eras

Chapter Text

Lunch was over and done with, including the Romans' unsubtle gossiping, a short speech wishing them luck from Reyna and a prediction from Octavian that announced grave omens and hard times, but the saving of Camp by an unexpected hero. Percy had rolled his eyes at that one hard enough to make him fear they would get stuck staring into his own brain. No doubt the stupid augur thought that he himself would be that hero.

Jusak.

Presently, the three of them were at the banks of the river Tiber, a little procession of curious Roman younglings bearing witness as Reyna gave them two horses.

Percy immediately strode towards the horses, smoothing a hand over the flank of the black one. The fur really was too soft; he wished he could run a brush over them, but he didn't have the time. Instead, he leaned forward to press his forehead against the horse's.

"So what's your name?"

Black Beauty, Lord, the horse answered, and Percy grinned at the memories that flashed through his mind of sitting with his mother as she read him, Annabeth and Grover the story, hot mugs of chocolate in their hands and a single large blanket thrown over all of their shoulders. It seemed so long ago, now.

"Black Beauty," he murmured, letting the words uncoil slowly from his tongue, and produced a few sugar cubes from his pocket. "Suits you. You're very beautiful."

Beauty neighed out a thanks before chomping down on the sweet goodness, and Percy turned to the brown stallion, rubbing his snout with a gentle hand and soft smile. "And you are?"

Toni, My Prince.

"Hey, Toni," he greeted with a rakish grin, "Pretty name you got there." He pulled out a few more sugar cubes, and Toni finished them off within seconds, letting out a satisfied snort once she was done. She nudged Percy in thanks, and he patted her shoulder.

"The Roman camp doesn't have more than two horses, currently," Reyna's voice came from behind him. "So you will have to deal with this as you would."

He hummed noncommittally, and turned around to beckon his two quest companions forward, fingers curling around Black Beauty's reins. Hazel and Frank walked over to Toni, but Percy shook his head and pulled Hazel towards him.

"Perseus, what—"

"You and Frank together are heavier than you and me together."

Frank shrugged. "Makes sense."

Hazel climbed into Black Beauty's saddle, and Frank followed suit with Toni. Percy adjusted his and Hazel's backpacks onto the hooks, then patted Beauty on the rump.

Reyna cleared her throat, and he looked at her. She had a solemn expression on her face, and her shoulders were pulled back in what seemed like authority, but Percy could see the tense lines in the muscles. She was worried. "Questers," she said, "may Lady Fortuna bless you with luck. Be well, and do your best. Return successful."

Percy gave her a single nod, setting his own shoulders, then swung himself up onto Beauty behind Hazel. "Thank you, Reyna."

"We'll see you in three days, Praetor Arellano-Ramirez," Frank said. Reyna dipped her chin in a single nod, then turned on her heel and strode off, purple cloak fluttering in the light breeze. The watching Roman children scrambled away and out of her path, disappearing within seconds.

Five seconds later, Black Beauty and Toni were moving through the tunnel entrance and out. They rode at a trot along the shoreline of San Francisco bay, and Percy took several glances across the glittering waters towards the fog covered city. Something in his chest twisted at the bittersweet memories— the quest for Artemis, Bianca's death, the dam jokes, meeting Rachel, finding Annabeth, losing Zoe.

He pushed them away, focusing on handling the reins. There was no time to dwell on the past, right now.

It took the little group slightly less than an hour to navigate the way to the Richmond San Rafael bridge, and they crossed over without incident within thirty minutes, pace steady at a trot.

Percy pulled everyone to a stop at a Redwood park a few miles from a local high school. He dismounted and patted Beauty on the flank, hearing the thuds of Hazel's and Frank's boots hitting the ground as they swung themselves off the horses' backs.

"Ayi, we're going to stay here for a few minutes, give the horses a bit of a rest," he announced, eyes focused on Mount Tam in the distance, to the south east. Anaklusmos felt heavy in his pocket despite being in pen form, and a dull ache emerged from the depths of his heart at the memory of Zoë Nightshade.

I can see the stars, milady.

"It's two thirty in the afternoon," Hazel said, and Percy mentally shook himself. He had a quest to complete, and getting hung up on the past would only hinder him.

That train of thought brought him back to the topic of Alkyoneus' lair. They did not have the time to search the entirety of Alaska. In four days' time, on the Feast of Fortuna, an army of monsters would march over Camp Jupiter. Reyna had said that Hylla and her Amazons were near Puget Sound in Seattle. If they were able to help, maybe Camp would stand a chance.

If only he had a way to get to Seattle as quickly as possible...

"Perseus!"

Percy blinked. Frank was waving a hand in front of his eyes. He jerked, then let out a sigh, raising his hands to rub his temples. "Sorry, Frank, kinda zoned out. What were you saying?"

"We could possibly cover thirty more miles, before we tire out Beauty and Toni for the day," Frank answered promptly, a frown marring his features. Percy mirrored the expression, folding his arms and biting down on his lower lip.

"That would take us too much time," he muttered, and Hazel hummed in agreement. Seattle was about five hundred and eighty nautical miles away, if his senses were correct, which they were. If they had any hope of reaching there within the next twenty four hours, they needed to go at twenty five nautical miles per hour without a break.

The stallion and mare would need at least three hours of sleep if they were to be at full strength, and Percy was not cruel; he was not going to make them trot for twenty four hours straight. They needed to find a faster way, now.

Bless them.

The whisper of the thought came out of the blue, from the deep recesses of Percy's mind. His head shot up, eyes wide, and his heart started hammering harshly against his ribs. Was it possible? Could he bless the horses? Did he have that power?

He knew the answer to those questions. He knew it in his gut, just like he had known the Ancient Names of the Gods, like he had known that he was neither Roman nor Greek.

"Hazel, Frank," he said, voice sounding like it wasn't his, like he was deep underwater and someone from the surface was speaking. "Step away from the horses for a second, will you? And plug your ears, make sure you can't hear me."

Percy moved as if he was in a trance, arms rising to place three fingers gently on each horse's snout. Their fur was damp with sweat, but he could feel that the horses were nowhere close to tired, only a little out of breath. He closed his eyes, and reached deep inside himself, to the well of power he knew he had.

It felt like the ocean, deep and endless, calm yet powerful and quick to turn from silent waves to deafening storms. It was cold, but it was a comforting presence and sparked in sea green lightning bolts behind his closed eyes, making him internally smile at the playfulness.

He dipped his hands into that ocean, and tugged.

His powers responded readily, the playfulness turning to seriousness within seconds. His fingers warmed where they were brushing over the horses' noses, burning from the inside out.

Percy started off with a gentle, soft hum deep in his throat, like the lapping of little waves against a sleepy beach. He let the intensity of the tune grow with a steady pace, from low tide to high tide, till it thrummed through his body and his surroundings like a heartbeat. His humming grew louder, more intense, and his maya sparked behind his eyes, the sea green changing to deep blue to teal to stormy bluish white.

Finally, he opened his mouth to sing.

The words that left his lips sounded heavy, clipped and precise, like they did not belong in the new world. They were too old to be heard by anyone of this age. The language wasn't Greek, nor was it Atlantean— it was older. Percy somehow knew the meaning of the hymn he was singing, but if he was asked, he wouldn't be able to put it into English, or any language that mortals understood.

Two gasps echoed in the periphery of his awareness but he paid them no attention, focusing on the maya glittering in his mind and letting the notes of the prayer linger in the air in little humming sounds till even that faded into silence. When he opened his eyes to eerie quiet, he was surprised and yet not at the same time.

Beauty and Toni had both grown wings, large and covered in feathers that matched the colours of their coats. The sight reminded him of Blackjack, and he forced the painful jab of the memory away to smile at the horses. Well, pegasi, now. This was not exactly what he had in mind— he had only thought of blessing the horses with extra speed and endurance— but it was definitely better than what he had originally intended, so he was not going to complain.

Thank you, M'Lord.

Yes, thank you, Little Prince.

Percy was going to say something, but a string of curses in Latin from behind made him turn around, letting his hands drop from where they were still placed on soft, warm fur.

Frank was staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips, hands twitching as if he was holding himself back from grabbing someone by the shoulders and shaking them. If Percy had to guess, that someone was most definitely Percy himself.

Hazel didn't look any better; the shock was crystal clear on her face, her lips pulled into a thin line and nostrils flared. Her shoulders were pulled up, and her fingers fidgeted aggressively with the hilt and scabbard of her spatha, gold eyes gleaming with wariness.

Percy smiled through the slight rise of his own hackles at the reminder of Kronos. The moment he did, he realised that it was too wide, too sharp, with too many teeth. His gums itched with the need to let his fangs burst out. He ached with the need to show that he was powerful, more than them, more than anyone at Camp— at both camps.

Frank and Hazel shared a glance and subtly took a step back, and something inside Percy sang with relish at the evident fear they were displaying. He knew he looked dangerous. He might not be a danger to them, specifically, but at the end of the day he was powerful, and Romans both feared and coveted power.

"How– how did you–"

"My father is the Lord of Horses," he asnwered blithely, cutting Frank's stammering off. "I get a few perks."

What he did not mention was that he was more God than human, that he was both too old and too young. He did not say that he was quite possibly the most powerful demigod in four thousand years. They did not need to know that beings such as Demigods did not even exist when the true form of his father had been worshipped.

"And," he continued, forcing himself to drop the too sharp smile into a playful grin even though he so badly wanted to let his fangs out, "I think you can start calling me Percy, don't you? Perseus sounds so.. so..."

"Terrifying?" Hazel supplied when he struggled to pull up an apt description. Percy let out a snort, feeling the itch in his gums recede slowly. She grinned, gold eyes flashing in a way that reminded him of Kronos. This time, however, he didn't feel a chill down his spine; this was Hazel, Nico's little sister. They had the same eyes. There was no need for him to be wary, he told himself.

"Alright then, Percy."

Frank stared at him for a few seconds with an unreadable expression painted on his face, then shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Percy it is, I suppose."

Percy smiled at them. "Shall we get moving?"

———————

Hazel screamed bloody murder in Percy's ear as they shot off into the sky, heart thundering wildly in her chest. The wind whistled around them, whipping her caramel curls into an even bigger mess than they already were, pushing them into her mouth and nose and eyes.

Hazel didn't care about that, though. The blood in her veins thrummed with elation, stomach in her throat with the speed at which they were flying. Behind her, Frank gave an answering scream, and she laughed out loud.

Lush greenery, hills, plains and cities whizzed past below them, and the horses let out snorts and neighs of pure enjoyment. The sun beat down on them from high above, heating up her skin and making sweat trickle down the back of her neck, but she did not care one bit.

"Percy, you miracle worker!" Hazel screamed in his ear as they swooped at breakneck speeds over trees and lands covered in grass. Her heart thundered in her chest, but her eyes glowed burnished gold in her adrenaline rush, and she let out another wild scream when Beauty did a loop-de-loop high above the redwoods.

Percy didn't seem to mind her screaming him to deafness. Instead, he let loose a piercing victory cry of his own. The sound echoed in the vast expanse of the afternoon sky, inhuman and horrifying, and Hazel felt a chill run down her spine. It was the sort of sound you expected from a monster, she thought— a long, winding screech from the back of the throat. It was not something you heard from a demigod.

Green hellfire blazed in his stare when he turned his head to face her, lips pulled back to bare his gums in an untamed, berserk grin. With his chin length hair whipping around his head with a single stark white strand in the ink black mess, and teeth glinting a bit too sharply to be human, he looked positively feral.

It suited him, Hazel decided through the sheer, unreasonable terror (is it really unreasonable, if he looks like he can rip out throats with his teeth, she thought) that shot into her veins at the sight of him. It was like he was born to be uncontrollable, to be terrifying.

The memory of Percy's singing as he turned the horses to pegasi, tongue clicking and twisting to make sounds she did not recognise, rose to the front of her mind. The song had been haunting; the humming had pressed into her ears till they had popped even though she had stuffed them with her fingers, and the hymn had made goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. It had made her feel like she was drowning, like she was being pulled in by a tide and could not do anything about it.

His power had crashed down on her like a tsunami, making her want to drop to her knees. If he had kept singing for even a second longer, Hazel knew that she would have done exactly that.

"Oh, Hazelnut," Percy crowed, eyes sparkling in the sunlight and lips pulled back in a wild grin, "you ain't seen nothing yet!"

Hazelnut.

The last person to call Hazel that had been Sammy, when they had met for the last time before she and her mother had left their lives in Louisiana and moved to Alaska.

Her thoughts turned to the six months she had spent there. She remembered striding through snow covered streets, going to endless hours of convent school, taking that little boat into Resurrection Bay in the dark of the night, visiting that cursed island—

Hazel realised her mistake too late. Her hands loosened from around Percy's waist, and she slipped off the back of the pegasus, head swimming with sudden fatigue. The last thing she heard before her vision went black was a frantic call of her name.

.

"Hazel!"

Percy spurred Black Beauty on, tilting downwards at a dangerous angle and racing after Hazel as she fell without a sound leaving her lips. His pulse beat a rapid staccato against his wrists, and his gut clenched at the realisation that she was unconscious. Terror bubbled in his stomach at the thought of Hazel hitting the ground, and he urged the Pegasus to go faster, faster, I promised Nico-vau I'd protect her, dammit.

He caught up to her in what felt like an eternity, wrapping his arms around her limp, petite form and pulling her close to himself till her face was pressed into his neck and her wild curls scratched his chin and nose.

He maneuvered around Hazel and pulled on the reins with one hand. Beauty reared up and stopped in mid-air, black wings beating slow and steady and holding them several hundred feet above ground.

Frank and Toni appeared beside him in a moment, the boy's hands clutching at his own reins tight enough that his knuckles had turned white. His face was pale, and his lips were trembling.

"What happened?" he called, voice shaky, and Percy shook his head without taking his eyes off of Hazel's unconscious form. He let out a slow breath, willing himself to calm down. Hazel was safe. She wasn't falling to her death anymore, because he had caught her. She was safe, she was right here next to him.

"I don't know." He pushed a curl away from her relaxed face. "One minute she was screaming in my ear and the other she just.. fell."

"Do you think it was a fear of heights?" Frank asked, and Percy shook her head, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"No, it wasn't."

They both stared at each other for a second, and Percy breathed out, arms tightening around Hazel. "Right," he said, "down to the ground. Beauty, Toni, move at a gentle slope, we don't wanna startle Hazel any more."

The pegasi complied. They circled down like eagles, aiming for the hills at one side of a ravine. Percy recognised the town nearby from aerial shots in travel magazines— they were somewhere north of Mendocino.

They landed with a loud clattering of hoofs on stones and packed soil in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Frank immediately swung his leg over Toni and jogged over to Percy, who handed Hazel over to dismount.

"Okay," Frank said, adjusting his grip on Hazel, "we'll set up camp here. I saw this little store some way ahead, we'll go there when Hazel wakes up."

Percy nodded his assent, already unhooking his and Hazel's backpacks from the saddle and pulling out a couple of apples for Beauty and Toni. They worked silently; Percy spread out the girl's bedroll and stuck her spatha to the saddle, and Frank laid her down before unhooking his own supplies.

"I'll take first watch. Get all the sleep you can," Percy said, and Frank hummed out an affirmative. The two of them settled into comfortable positions, and Percy watched as the other boy's eyes fell shut, and his breathing evened out.

Neither of them would move until after the sun had sunk below the horizon.

———————

Annabeth was staring at the ceiling. It was a beautiful piece of interior design, with stone shaped into wavy structures. Swirls of blue, green, purple and white with accents of gold and coral were painted on.

She was in Percy's cabin.

The Titan War had barely even ended, and yet Percy and Annabeth had gotten only a few months of peace before her best friend had been stolen away from her. Just a couple of precious months where they could pretend that everything was right and good in the world, that they were not child soldiers in an army of battle-hardened and grieving demigods. They had been allowed only a few months of peace.

And then Hera took him.

One day, he was sitting next to the bonfire in the pavilion, talking, laughing and eating with Grover and her. The next day, he was gone, everything except Anaklusmos left behind.

Annabeth wanted to kill Hera.

She wanted to wrap her hand around the Goddess' neck and demand that she give Percy back, or she would slit her throat, respected Goddess or not. She wanted to run out of Camp and book it to California in search of Percy, Khiron's orders be damned. She wanted—

"Annabeth."

She bolted upright, hand flicking towards her waist where her dagger sat in a scabbard, and then she saw who it was. She relaxed back against the pillows that still smelled of Percy, letting a small smile curl up her lips.

"Hey, Nico."

The boy was still short— a couple of inches shorter than her— but he stood straight, one hand on his waist near the hilt of his sword, the other pushing his choppy black hair away from his face. There was something in his dark eyes, and in the way that he nervously bit his lip, that made Annabeth's smile switch off like a lightbulb.

"What's wrong?"

She fired off the question in a sharp voice, swinging her legs off of the bed and standing up, hand slipping back towards her dagger's scabbard. Nico had not been to camp for a long time, not since Percy went missing all those months ago, and nobody really knew what he got up to when he was on his own except Annabeth. She knew he had been searching non stop for Percy, and running errands for both Khiron and the Underworld.

Him coming unannounced at midnight right in the middle of them building the warship...

Her gaze caught on the way Nico pursed his lips, as if he were thinking of the words he needed to say. A few seconds later, it seemed he had reached a decision. He locked eyes with her, the unnerving black emptiness of his boring into her own with such intensity that Annabeth held her breath.

"I met Percy today."

Chapter 4: Army Marching South

Chapter Text

Hazel bolted upright with a sharp intake of breath, hands clammy and sweat gathering in the divots of her collarbone. Terra's soft crooning echoed in her ears like a death knell, again and again, louder and louder till it was all she could hear. The island collapsed around her, crushed her ribs under several thousand tonnes of rock and made breathing impossible.

A scream gathered in her throat, but before she could let it out, a gentle hand clapped over her mouth and another wrapped around her shoulders.

"Shh, Hazel," a familiar whisper cut right through Terra's voice like a sword through silk. Percy, she remembered. "Don't make a sound, okay?"

She jerked her head in a nod, sucking in short and erratic breaths. Percy must have noticed, because he let go of her mouth, lifted her hand, and placed her fingers over his own pulse point at his throat. She felt the muscle ripple and shift under her fingers when he spoke. "Breathe with my heartbeat, Hazelnut. In, hold for five beats."

She followed the instruction shakily, and Percy gave a low sound of approval. "Good," he whispered, pulling her closer, "now let it out over eight beats."

She followed the steady thump of his blood against his warm skin, silently breathing in and out slowly to the rhythm of his heart and his reassuring murmurs, till she could finally focus on her surroundings again.

She was wrapped in her own bedroll, and was leaning heavily against Percy, who had his arms wrapped tight around her. The sky above them had faded to a pretty pastel purple, gradually changing to deep blue the higher her gaze rose. The sun had already set, only a little while ago by the looks of it, and the trees around their clearing were throwing shadows across their little camp. Their newly turned pegasi stood just a few feet away, and it struck Hazel that they were quieter than usual.. too quiet.

In the distance, she could hear several banging and sreeching sounds, but in her sleep addled and half panicked state, she could not be bothered to pay attention to them.

Frank was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Frank?" She asked in a hushed voice, feeling like if she spoke louder she would break a spell she didn't know the specifics of. As if on queue, the boy emerged from behind the bushes, a grim expression painted on his feline features. It struck Hazel that she hadn't even heard him coming; he moved surprisingly silently for someone who was several inches above six feet.

Frank looked at her, a small relieved smile curling his lips upwards, and he shot her a wink before turning to Percy with the sombre look plastered back on.

"They're close," he announced in a low voice, and Percy hissed out an impressively long list of obscenities in what sounded like a mix of ancient Greek and another language that she didn't recognise. It sounded very flowy, and have the perfect mix of light and heavy syllables that made it sound like he was singing a particularly offensive song.

"What's going on?" Hazel asked. Her subconscious chose that moment to focus on the sounds echoing in the ravine, and she realised that the banging and scraping were actually voices.

Voices that were growing louder by the second.

Percy's arms tightened around her, and he began explaining the situation in a furious whisper. "Remember how there was an army of monsters marching towards Camp?"

Hazel nodded, dread dropping like a rock to the bottom of her stomach. She had a feeling about where this was going, and she was definitely not going to like it.

"Yeah, well," Percy grimaced, "they're down in the ravine."

Hazel's fists clenched. She burrowed further into Percy's hug, focusing on the rustling of her bedroll to stop herself from letting out choice words that would have gotten her expelled from school back in her day.

"Well," she said, voice faux-cheerful, "this is certainly a sticky situation."

She winced when her voice cracked at the last word, and Percy simply pulled her closer, whispering something in that flowy language that made her think she was listening to rhythmic poetry. A second later, her skin tingled like she had sunk into a bath of cool water. Immediately, her heart rate calmed down, and she breathed out slowly.

"Thanks, Percy," she murmured, and felt a hum of acknowledgement vibrate through his chest.

"Think nothing of it," he replied, and she gave a wobbly smile before settling into a more comfortable position in his lap.

"Did you figure out who the giant is?"

Percy had asked the question to Frank, and Hazel looked up expectantly. To her disappointment, the boy shook his head, lips twisted into a rueful look.

Hazel felt a curse crawl up her throat, but pushed it down. Percy, on the other hand, had no such qualms about uttering vulgarities. He cursed furiously and creatively, slipping in and out of English, Greek, Latin, that flowy language and another language that sounded like Latin but different— Italian, she realised a second later. She had no idea Percy could speak Italian.

"Ayi re," he said several seconds later when he was done kicking up a violent storm of expletives and had sucked in a calming breath, "Hazel, can you stand?"

She nodded. The bedroll was a little too warm around her, and she could feel the sweat trickling down her back. She needed to move. "Yeah, sure. Let me go, I'll be on my feet."

Within minutes, the three of them were standing in a triangle, their bedrolls and bags packed and slung onto the pegasi. She focused on Percy as he murmured quietly, absently thinking how smooth and deep his voice was, like the waves fat out at sea.

"Anything else you can tell us, Frank?" he asked, and Hazel turned an expectant stare towards the boy.

Frank grimaced. "The army is f*cking huge, dude. They have the Earth born, the f*cking Gorgons, centaurs, cyclopes—"

"Hold up, what?" Hazel turned to Percy, who was giving Frank a look that said 'have you lost your mind'. "The f*ck you mean, there are kyklopes and kentaurs in that army?" he demanded, and she blinked when she saw Percy's eyes change colour; they went from a soft sea green to the colour of the sea during the calm before a storm— a deep blue with undertones of steel grey.

"That can't be right," he spluttered. "Kentaurs are good guys—"

Hazel sucked in a breath, and Frank gave a horrified, high pitched little squeak that sounded very odd coming from someone over six feet tall and built like a linebacker. "Good? Good?Hell no. Percy, centaurs are crazy, always getting blackout drunk and killing heroes left and right."

Hazel nodded at the boy. "Yeah, that's what they taught us at camp."

Percy opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking from her to Frank. He did that one more time, then pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "O-kay.. anything else we should know?"

"There's a convenience store nearby," Frank answered, "but it's on the other side of the ravine."

Hazel hummed in acknowledgement, and so did Percy. It suddenly struck her that his voice was absolutely beautiful, and she wanted to listen to it all day—

Percy stopped humming. Hazel blinked once, twice, as if she was coming out of a trance. She shook it away.

"We can't cross the ravine in any way," Frank was saying. Hazel nodded, and spoke. "Crossing on foot would be stupidity, crossing on the pegasi would get us seen if not killed—"

Right then, several screams of rage erupted from the direction of the army. The vibrations zipped through Hazel's body like an electric shock, and she exchanged wide eyed glances with the two boys.

"Right," Percy whispered, quieter than before, "Hazel, Frank, spread out five feet apart. Leave the pegasi here, we'll be back for them. Move towards the edge, but don't step out of the bushes, we don't want to be seen."

He waited for them to nod, and immediately twisted on his heel to slip through the trees with silent footsteps. Their little group stopped right on the safe side of the tree line, and Hazel finally saw exactly what had Frank and Percy so worried.

Down below them, an army was on the move. The field dropped into a shallow ravine, where a country road wound from north to south. On the opposite side of the road, grassy hills stretched to the horizon, empty of civilization except for one darkened convenience store at the top of the nearest rise.

The whole ravine was full of monsters— column after column of creatures from myth marching south, so many and so, so dangerously close.

Hazel had never liked Monster class; Pliny the Elder, according to her, was a misogynistic berk and nothing he wrote should have been taken seriously. She did believe in monsters, but some of the descriptions were just so outlandish and absurd that she'd had a hard time imagining those monsters into being.

And yet, those very monsters were now marching through the ravine in hundreds, if not thousands.

Hazel shuddered, gripping a branch of the tree she was leaning against. There was no way the Roman Legion could fight so many. If they were only a few hundred miles north of Camp Jupiter, their quest was already doomed. They could never make it to Alaska and back in time to wage war against such an army.

She turned towards Percy, who had a grim storm brewing in his currently steel blue eyes, and a desperate grip on his pen that had turned into a sword the last time she had seen him uncap it. He looked a little green around the gills, like he was going to be sick. Hazel grabbed his arm, ready to pull him away. "Come on. Let’s.."

Then she saw it.

Coming over the ridge, a thirty foot tall humanoid creature walked on scaly legs. Greenish blue armour that covered him from the waist up. His face was human, but his hair was wild and green, like a mop of seaweed. As he turned his head from side to side, snakes dropped from his dreadlocks. He carried with him a massive trident and a weighted net, just the sight of whom made Hazel's stomach clench. She had faced that type of fighter in gladiator training many times. It was the trickiest, most unpredictable combat style she had ever had the displeasure of being pitted against.

"Who is he?" Frank moved closer to Percy from the other side, voice quivering. "That's not Alkyon—"

"Ruja Sa'mansa armour," Percy interrupted him, a faint and sickly tremor in his voice. He looked even worse than he had four seconds ago. "He's wearing Ruja Sa'mansa armour."

Hazel frowned. "What's that?"

"High Atlantean for Elder sea serpent," Percy replied, visibly trying to gather himself. Hazel raised her eyebrow. It made sense that he would know the language, she supposed, then focused back on his voice. "The thing with those serpents is that they either give you their scales for armour, or you have to kill them. If you get the scales willingly, it's an honour, but you are branded dishonourable for killing elder sea serpents."

Hazel pursed her lips. "And that thing has the armour—"

"That's not a thing. It's Polybotes," he said, still looking very shaken. "Brother to Alkyoneus and the Titan that opposes Poseidon."

A second later, a faint pressure started building on Hazel's skin, skittering along her exposed flesh like crabs. She realised with a jolt that it was Polybotes' aura— it was almost the same feeling she had gotten back in the Heart of the Earth like when she had almost raised Alkyoneus.

Back then, it had been as if she were standing near a powerful magnet, and all the iron in her blood was being drawn toward it. This time, it felt like scalding water surrounding her from all sides like a tidal wave and dragging her into the depths, burning through her flesh.

Percy grabbed her forearm, slender fingers having a surprisingly— or maybe not so surprisingly— strong grip. She stifled the yelp that shot up her throat when he yanked both her and Frank back into the woods, barely concealed franticness shining in his eyes.

Hazel blinked; his eyes were now the same colour as that of Polybotes' armour.

"Percy," Frank hissed, "what the f*ck do you think you're doing—"

"Shut up, Frank," came the curt order, and Frank did, teeth clicking audibly. "Polybotes will be able to sense me, we're both Sea creatures—"

"Sea creature?" Hazel interrupted, latching onto the fact that Percy was classifying himself as a creature, and not a demigod, or mortal, or human. Somehow, though, the idea didn't seem far fetched. Even as she questioned him, the shriek he had let out when they were high up in the sky echoed through the back of her mind. A shiver ran down her spine at the memory.

"Yeah," Percy answered tersely, slipping around trees as silently as any panther and making it look deceptively effortless. "Poseidon has fathered many monstrous children."

There was a certain edge to his voice that told Hazel it would not be wise to ask him any more questions on this topic, and it seemed like Frank had picked up on it too, if she was to go by the wary look he was throwing the son of Poseidon. They made their way towards the clearing where they had tied the pegasi, none of them speaking a word. In the background, the monstrous roars and giant feet thumping on soil played like an out-of-pitch song on loop, grating on Hazel's ears the longer it went on.

The three of them decided that they couldn't move until the army had passed. Quietly, they set up camp again and settled down, and Hazel pushed down all the questions she had for the physically eldest person of their questing group.

———————

Percy awoke suddenly.

His consciousness returned in the flap of a fin, but he didn't open his eyes. Instead, he focused on the reason why he had been jolted out of his sleep for no apparent reason.

The first thing that registered was the sizzle of something over his skin, something that felt like goosebumps, except he could feel it all over his body. It blanketed him with a slight warmth, like he was taking a sun bath, warring with the sickly feel that Percy recognised as Polybotes' aura.

Before he could notice anything else, however, deafening screams and yells rang out. Several voices shot through the air in outrage, and Percy shot up, pen in his hand and turning into a trident in a second. When his eyes opened, the sky was bright with a rainbow despite it being clear of clouds, and nighttime.

"Frank," he shot at the boy, who had an arrow nocked but was staring at Anaklusmos with wide eyes, "what's going on?"

"I have no idea," came the reply. The younger boy eyed his trident for a second more, then shrugged and turned back to peering into the trees, as if he could hope to see the ravine from here. "The rainbow shot up from where the convenience store like a second before you woke up."

So that was what had woken him up. Overpowering auras had a habit of being so potent on his skin that they made focusing on anything else a hard thing to accomplish. He bit his lower lip. Usually, only the presence of deities had that effect on him.

A rustle of leaves sounded overhead, and Hazel swung herself down from a branch and said, "you've been asleep for an hour. The army is more than halfway across the ravine, but the cyclopes are attacking that store."

Her eyes fell on the bronze trident in Percy's hand, and she blinked. "Percy, why do you have a tride—"

"STOP!"

They fell silent at the sound of Polybotes' voice. Percy unnecessarily raised a finger to his lips, and the other two rolled their eyes in lieu of saying 'obviously'. Percy did not deign to give them a reply, and if he did, it was drowned out by another barrage of shouts and yells.

Suddenly, the monsters went quiet. A moment later, Polybotes roared again.

"Goddess," he called in fury, "come out and surrender!"

Percy blinked, the dots connecting in his head like a domino effect. The sunny power. The rainbow above the store. Polybotes calling out for a goddess.

"Goddess Iris," he murmured to the rest. "The convenience store belongs to Iris."

"How do you figure that?" Hazel hissed back in a low voice, and Percy grinned in a way that he knew was aggravating. "Come on, Hazelnut, figure it out. You're smart enough."

He watched Hazel blink, and then the gleam of realisation took over her burnished gold eyes. "Oh, that makes sense," she said.

Frank and Percy snickered.

"I AM POLYBOTES! KNEEL BEFORE ME SO I MAY DESTROY YOU QUICKLY."

Percy exchanged a look with Hazel, then both of them snorted and covered their mouths. It did nothing to stop them from guffawing into their palms.

"Oh, Gods, weren't the giants supposed to be really smart?" Hazel asked between bouts of wheezing, voice barely muffled by her hand as she shook violently. Frank stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to stop his own giggling from joining the other two.

Percy let out a tiny cackle. "That was the worst intimidation tactic I've ever seen, oh dear Pontus, help," he sucked in a breath before slapping a hand over his mouth again, shoulders quivering with suppressed mirth.

"GRENADE!"

That shout shut all three of them up. They waited with bated breath for the explosion, exchanging panicked glances and silent conversation about what to to do, but then,

"A DING DONG? YOU DARE INSULT ME WITH A DING DONG!"

Percy near about broke a rib holding in his laughter. A quick look up told him Hazel and Frank were both facing the same dilemma, and that set him off even more which in turn set them off, and so the cycle continued.

For several minutes, all three of them wheezed and coughed and hacked, trying to stop their cackles from getting too loud lest they be caught. They leaned on each other, tears streaming down their faces, laughter turning near-hysterical till their stomachs ached and Percy actually had to curl up into a ball on the ground to stop his intestines from potentially cramping.

"MARCH! MARCH!" came the order a few seconds after they had collected themselves.

"We.. we should.. we should probably go check.. check the store out," Percy got out between heavy breaths and pained winces, a palm roughly massaging the stitch in his side. He was still on the ground, lying flat on his back, inky hair splayed out like a halo around his head. "If there's really Goddess Iris in there—"

"Yeah," Hazel got out, voice high and scratchy with her valiant— but miserable— attempts to get her breath back. "Yeah, yeah, let's go. Come on, Frank."

The rainbow shut off. Overhead, the night sky was dotted with glittering stars, and the dimly lit forest echoed with the chirping of crickets, rustling of leaves and the occasional flutter of what Percy knew to be bat wings— the dark didn't affect his eyesight. In fact, he could see just as well in the dark as he could during day.

Under the faint light of the just-risen half moon, the three of them scampered down to the road in the middle of the ravine with Percy leading the way. He had asked Beauty and Toni to stay in the clearing till they returned, and the pegasi had agreed, saying that they would catch up on their sleep now that the army was gone and they no longer needed to stay alert.

"Think we should keep moving through the dark after this?" Hazel asked as they trudged across the road and began the trek up the slope. "I mean, all of us are rested. Beauty and Toni slept for over two hours."

Frank hummed in consideration. "Yeah, you've got a point. What d'you think, Percy?"

Percy didn't answer, more focused on getting to the store without too much of an incident. The darkness didn't bother him like it bothered the other two, and he kept his gaze on the grass. He had seen the basilisks falling from Polybotes' hair, and he wasn't taking any chances.

"Percy?"

He looked up, and was immediately met by shocked gasps and two sets of wide eyes. He blinked confusedly even as Frank squeaked out a curse in.. was that French? "Yeah?"

"Percy," Hazel began, voice sounding as if she was holding back an urge to hyperventilate, "why on earth are your eyes doing that?"

Doing what– oh.

Percy snorted and laughed, shaking his head. His hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back, then turned back to navigating his way through the grass, motioning for the other two to follow. "Ah, don't worry about it," he said. "It's a child of the Sea God thing."

The itin question, was Percy's glow-in-the-dark eyes. The first time he (or anyone, for that matter) had noticed it was when Annabeth and him had been tossed into the Long Island Sound after the Titan War as some joke to get them together. The joke had failed spectacularly; neither Annabeth nor Percy were romantically attracted to each other. That was the only thing accurate description of their relationship— they didn't have romantic feelings for each other.

The outcome had been Percy's skin turning into bluish green scales all over, gills stretching out over his ribs and neck, and fangs and claws erupting.

Annabeth had screamed, Percy had panicked and so he had screamed as well, but his screaming had come out as an inhuman shriek and Annabeth had tried to stab him. Only her blade had skidded uselessly over his scales without any effect.

A series of unfortunate events and uncomfortable conversations later, Poseidon had told him that he had grown into his Atlantean heritage.

Being the son of the King of the Seas, Percy would now have impenetrable scales as armour even if he hadn't had the curse of Achilles, able to be summoned at will; along with gills for breathing underwater, fangs and claws sharper than a shark's. Poseidon had also said that it had been— not impossible— but unlikely that Percy would grow into his predatory form before, but the Curse of Achilles had kickstarted a process that usually began when a demigod child of the Sea reached adulthood.

Later, when Annabeth had snuck into his cabin to cuddle with him, she had told him that he had looked terrifying, with his sharp fangs, curved claws and bluish green scales on his cheekbones. But the most bone-chilling part had been his eyes. Glowing, brilliant green eyes.

Like waves, but more.. beautiful, she had said, running a gentle finger over his nose, eyebrows, cheekbones and lips, as if trying to memorise his appearance. Like all the colours of the ocean condensed together, and then been set on Greek fire.

"A child of the Sea God thing," Frank repeated behind him in a faint voice, and Percy blinked away the memories of lying next to Annabeth with his head knocking against hers and thumbs interlocked in a ferocious battle while he taught her how to speak High Atlantean and Grover refereed their match in the most extra way possible.

"Yep," he replied, popping the p. "It's completely normal—"

A sudden hissing noise erupted mere feet away, and Percy froze. He threw up a hand, and heard Frank and Hazel stop moving behind him. He narrowed his eyes, and promptly cursed when he caught sight of the offending creatures.

"Ber," he muttered, "you guys, there are three basilisks in the grass less than five yards away from us."

He heard another litany of French and Latin curses be hissed out from between Frank's gritted teeth, and nodded, lips twisted into a wry look. His gaze was still focused on the deadly little snakes, watching with trepidation as everything they touched burned and shrivelled to dust. "Any ideas on how to get to the door, Hazel? Frank?"

There was a momentary pause. Then, "A very stupid one."

———————

"Frank, you f*cking bitch."

Percy was clutching at his sides, chest heaving and air spasming through his lungs as he struggled to catch his breath. They were currently standing just outside the convenience store, all of them doubled over in various states of distress.

Frank let out a short, hysterical trill of laughter between his own heavy panting. "Hey," he breathed, and his breath whistled as he inhaled. "I did say it was a very stupid plan."

Percy heard Hazel snort at the same time he did. He breathed in deep, trying in vain to slow down his heart, to stop the blood roaring in his ears. Once he was calm, he rounded on the other boy with an expression that practically oozed sarcasm.

"Nice, creepy reptile," he said, deliberately raising his voice an octave higher to mock Frank. "Nice, creepy reptile. You couldn't think of anything else to call that little vesa'alko? Nice creepy rept— what the actual f*ck, man."

"That little what?" Hazel interjected, and Percy placed aside his irritation in favour of explaining the word to her.

"Vesa'alko. It's a slang word from the common dialect of Atlantean, roughly translates to 'without gills'. It's very offensive, don't use it unless you're willing to be challenged to a duel or something equally dangerous and stupid."

He turned back to Frank, and winced at the state his bow was in. The wood has been burned clean through, and now the two pieces hung from the ends of a single horse-hair bowstring. Right in front of their eyes, the broken weapon disintegrated into dust. Frank gave the ashes a despondent look.

"I hate giants, I hate quests, and I hate my life," Percy heard him mutter under his breath, low enough that if he'd had human senses he wouldn't have heard it. "Not necessarily in that order."

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and gently bumped shoulders with Frank. "Hey man," he grinned encouragingly, "it's okay. We'll get you an even better bow back at Camp."

"Yeah," Frank sighed and cast one last look of despair at the pile of dust. Then he stood up straighter, shoulders pulled back.

"Let's go in, we've got a Goddess to meet."

Chapter 5: Herald of The New Age

Chapter Text

The moment Percy stepped through the door, the lights came on. He hissed at the brightness and slammed a hand over his eyes, waiting for them to get accustomed to the sudden flare.

A few seconds of rapid blinking later, he raked a sharp stare over his surroundings. The wide aisles were lined with cans of nuts and dried fruit, baskets of apples, and clothing racks with tie-dyed shirts and gauzy Tinker Bell type dresses. The ceiling was covered in wind chimes. Along the walls, glass cases displayed crystal balls, geodes, macramé dream catchers, and a bunch of other strange sh*t.

Incense must have been burning somewhere. It smelled like a bouquet of flowers was on fire, and the pungent smell made Percy's nose scrunch.

Through it all, he registered two different sounds; a faint series of crackling and swishing, and a low, continuous whine. It was oddly similar to the sound the Avengers' quinjet made in the Marvel movies, but there was an undercurrent of.. something.

A sudden memory of him, Annabeth and Grover dragging Nico to the theatres to watch a rerun of Spiderman: No Way Home surfaced. Percy pushed it away.

They moved deeper into the shop, and Percy held in his flinch when the wooden floorboards creaked under their steps.

A girl popped up from behind the granola bins, right next to Frank. "Can I help you?"

Frank jerked away with a yelp, and promptly crashed into a fountain and a statue of Neptune. The statue fell, and its head rolled off, while the fountain sprayed a section of tie dyed stuff with a burst of water.

"Sorry, sorry," he exclaimed, and Percy stifled a laugh when he tried to shoot him an apologetic look at decapitating Neptune's head before realising that Neptune was not actually Percy's father.

Hazel's look of mortification only served to make Percy chuckle louder, but he clamped his teeth down on his lower lip.

Frank bent down to help clean up the mess, and nearly gored the new girl with the tip of his spear. Percy grabbed the scruff of her collar and dragged her away, the knuckles of his other hand pressing to his mouth to stop himself from laughing. He heard Hazel stifle her own giggling.

"Watch it, dude," he choked out, his snickering barely hidden. Frank shot him an annoyed look, and turned to the girl with an apology written all over his babyish features.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, voice meek.

Now that everything was quiet, Percy realised that the crackling and swishing sounds were of the girl's aura, feeling his heart pang when he remembered whom he had heard the same from.

Thalia.

By Pontus, he missed the Hunters.

He let go of the girl's scruff and gave her his troublemaker grin, firmly boxing up his memories of friendly but vicious swordfighting matches against the Hunters. She grinned back, eyes changing shades from sky blue to cloudy white and then to a soft grey.

"Sorry about him," Percy said, and the girl simply shook her head. "Nah, it's fine. Demigods are welcome. Take your time."

"Still," Frank said, "I really am sorry—"

"Oy, drop it, kid," she shot at him, eyes flashing with lightning. "I said you're fine."

Frank gave her a dubious look, then stared pointedly at the pool of water that was gathering around their ankles. She sighed, then snapped her fingers. The mess vanished, along with the statue and the fountain.

"There. You happy?"

Frank nodded slowly, the dubiousness still quite apparent on his face. Percy sighed and nudged him, raising an eyebrow and ticking up one corner of his lips in a teasing smirk.

"Relax, dude," he murmured, but before he could say anything else, a woman's voice called from the back of the store: "Fleecy? Don't scare the customers, now. Bring them here, will you?"

"Your name is Fleecy?" Hazel asked.

Fleecy giggled. "Well, in the language of the nebulae it’s actually—" She made a crackling and blowing sounds that reminded Percy of a cold breeze after the recession of a thunderstorm— "But you can call me Fleecy."

Percy nodded, a memory rising to the forefront of his mind about Amphitrite-mevi telling him about the different languages of the sky people. "Cloud nymph, right? Cool."

The cloud nymph beamed, eyes flashing bluish white, the colour of lightning. "Oh, I like you! Usually no one knows about cloud nymphs. Anyways, come to the back, boss wants to meet you. We'll get your friend fixed up."

Percy followed her with his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing his pen's cap. Frank and Hazel followed after a second, and Percy kept an ear out for their footsteps.

As soon as Fleecy's boss came into view, Percy knew he had been right about there being a goddess in the store.

Oh, the woman looked normal enough, for the most part, if not like a hippie Buddhism enthusiast. Her skin was a healthy olive shade and her lips were moisturized, but one look in her eyes and Percy felt the presence of something Other.

It was in the way her features were too symmetrical, like an idealized version of a human, too perfect. It was in the way her head was surrounded by a faint, almost-not-there halo as if she was standing with her back to the sun. Percy felt the swell of Tevaiki in the air, like the first beam of sunlight after heavy rainfall, and he realised the whining sound like the quinjet was from her aura.

Wairi, a voice whispered for his ears only. He smiled humourlessly.

"Goddess Iris," he greeted with a curt dip of his chin. Behind him, his two quest buddies echoed the words with a good evening attached, and the Goddess gave them a bright smile.

"Good evening, Perseus Jackson, Frank Zhang and Hazel Levesque."

Her voice was smooth, with clipped and precise syllables and a straightforward tone.

"Fleecy," Iris turned to the nebulae, "take Hazel and Percy and give them some fresh chai, will you?"

"What about Frank?" Hazel asked, and the Goddess turned towards the chubby-cheeked boy, a look in her eyes that told Percy she considered Frank to be very interesting. Something unpleasant settled in his lower belly, and he bit the inside of his lip. It was almost never good to be the object of a deity's curiosity.

"Oh, don't worry," Iris said after a pause. "Frank and I have something to talk about, child."

Percy caught Hazel giving him a worried look, and shot her a reassuring smile. He held out an arm with an exaggerated wink, and she snickered, slipping her hand around his elbow.

He grinned back, then the two of them turned to the cloud nymph, stamping down their worry for their friend. "Lead the way, Fleecy."

Frank would be fine, Percy told himself, and flicked one last glance of encouragement towards Frank, then turned around a shelf.

———————

Frank would have preferred to go with his friends, even if it meant he had to endure spicy and hot Indian chai that scalded his tongue, but Iris roped her arm through his and led him to a café table at a bay window. Frank set his spear on the floor, and sat across from Iris. Outside in the dark, he heard the basilisks restlessly patrolling the hillside, and the sizzle of flames as grass burned to a crisp.

"Frank, I know how you feel," Iris began, a smile that almost looked comforting, if not for the incessant sensation of other that surrounded her. "That half-burned stick in your pocket must be getting heavier every day, right?"

Frank's breathing stuttered to a halt. His hand went instinctively to his coat, pressed against the shape of that thrice-damned piece of wood. "How did you—"

"I know things," she replied with that unsettling smile still plastered on her beautiful face. "I was Juno's messenger for ages. I know why she gave you a reprieve."

"A reprieve?" Frank asked incredulously, fingers digging into the cloth of his coat till his fingertips chaffed and blistered. He did not see how the thing was a reprieve. His life depended on it, on a useless piece of firewood that had already been destroyed halfway through.

This was not a reprieve. It was a burden, and Iris was right. It did weigh him down.

"Juno saved you for a reason," the goddess said. "She wants you to serve her plan. If she hadn't appeared that day when you were a baby and warned your mother about the firewood, you would've died. You were born with too many gifts. That sort of power tends to burn out a mortal life."

"Too many gifts?" Frank fought to stop himself from yelling at a Goddess, feeling his ears getting warm with the effort of keeping his outrage to himself. "I don't have any gifts!"

"That's not true, Frank." Iris swiped her hand in front of her like she was cleaning a windshield. A miniature rainbow shimmered into existence. "Think about it."

Frank stared wide-eyed at the visions that flashed before him, watching with a loudly thumping heart as the colours of the rainbow swirled and blurred to form images of events he had long forgotten.

In those visions, he came face to face with a grizzly bear, heard his mother tell grand stories of his ancestors, felt the long fingers poking into his belly with every great great great that she uttered.

Frank wanted to cry. The memory of his mother's death was so very fresh, the ache was still so all-consuming, the reality so very painful. It hurt to see her again. He wanted to go back to that time. He wanted to be a little kid and curl up on her lap. Or maybe he wanted to give up, to throw the firewood into a blaze and watch as his lifeline burned out, then join his mother in the Underworld.

He just wanted her back.

In the rainbow, little Frank asked where their family was from. His mother smiled, tilting her head as if considering how to answer.

Li-Jien, she said at last. Our family is from many places, but our home was, is and always will be Li-Jien. You have a special gift, Frank. You can be anything.

The rainbow dissolved.

"I- I don't– I don't understand," he said after a minute of silence, voice coming out hoarse, chest tight with the overwhelming grief of losing the one person that had cared for him.

"Your mother already told you," Iris said, a challenging gleam in her brown eyes. "You can be anything."

Frank was sick and tired of hearing that phrase, the same thing said over and over and over again till it was the only thing that rang in his ears and haunted him in his sleep. It sounded like some stupid thing that would be written on a motivational poster, but the I dare you tone to Iris' voice made it impossible to think of it like that.

Frank pressed his hand against his pants pocket, where he kept his mother's sacrifice medal. The silver medallion was cold as ice.

"I can't be anything," Frank insisted. "I’ve got zero skills."

"What have you tried?" Iris asked. "You wanted to be an archer. You managed that pretty well. You've only scratched the surface."

Frank held in his urge to scoff. Iris continued speaking. "Your friends Percy and Hazel— they both are stretched between worlds: Greek and Roman, the past and the present. But you are stretched more than either of them. Your family is ancient, with the blood of Pylos from your mother, and Mars as your father. No wonder Juno wants you to be one of her seven heroes. She wants you to fight the giants and Gaia."

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.

Frank sucked in his lips, gripped his mother's medallion till the edge dug into his palm. The heralding lines of the prophecy rang through his head in Reyna's voice— foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.

You can be anything, his mother's voice followed. Frank clutched her medallion tighter, feeling his skin break, and the blood squelch against the metal.

He wanted to be brave.

He didn't want to be a son of the God of War.

He wanted to be someone his mother would be proud of.

He couldn't be anything.

"What if I don't want to fight the war?" he questioned, flinching when his voice came out with a desperate undertone to it.

The goddess smiled at him. Frank's skin crawled at the way she tried to appear so human, but she missed by a long shot. She may have taken a human form, but something in her eyes, in the tilt of her lips.. it showed that she was far from human.

"Then you do what you want, Frank. I can't tell you what you have to do. You decide that for yourself. Be what you want. Be anything, because you can."

He could leave the war behind. He could disappear, leave everyone else to take care of the camp while he returned home to his grandmother. He could do anything he wanted.

But would I leave my friends?

If there was one thing Frank understood, it was loyalty. He had seen Romans call themselves loyal, then turn around and stab their people in the back. He had seen the politics of the Senate, seen the distinction between the Cohorts. He had seen his mother die for her loyalty, seen Percy catch Hazel out of her freefall, seen Praetor Reyna give her blood, sweat and soul to the protection of Rome.

Frank understood loyalty very well.

"No," he replied at last. "I have to do this. I've been given a quest, and I'm completing it."

Iris nodded. "I expected as much. Your task.." she shook her head. "It's a difficult one, and you will need a little help."

Frank leaned forward. "You know where the giants are keeping Lord Letus?" he asked, anticipation bubbling under his skin.

Iris' gaze strayed towards the wind chimes that hung from the ceiling. "No," she admitted, "Alaska is the land beyond the Gods. I can't see anything there." Frank's heart dropped, but Iris smiled indulgingly.

"However, I know someone who can. The seer Phineas sees the past, the future and the present. He will know where Letus is."

Frank frowned. "Phineas? The idiot that Lord Jupiter cursed? The one where the harpies keep plaguing him?"

"That very one." Iris hesitated for a second, then continued, "The Argonauts, including you ancestor, drove away the harpies in exchange for Phineas' help."

"The prince of Pylos?"

"Yes," Iris nodded solemnly. "Your ancestor's gift is something you must discover on your own."

Frank pressed his lips into a straight line. He decided to change the topic. "Can you tell us where we can find Phineas?"

"You'll find him in Portland, Oregon," she answered without pause. "But you must promise me one thing— if he's still plagued by harpies, do not kill them, no matter what Phineas promises you. The harpies.. they're my sisters."

Frank blinked. Then he nodded. "If that is all," he began, but was cut off.

"There is another problem," Iris said, and he held back the urge to groan and slap his forehead, because why are there so many problems, Gods f*cking dammit.

"If you're set on leaving, you'll have to clear those basilisks off the hill."

Frank nodded again, and Iris kept speaking. "You won't be able to leave till they're gone. And you're the only one who can kill them. If your friends try..."

She trailed off into an ominous silence, and Frank felt a little chill slip down his spine. "But how?" he asked, "how can I kill them?"

She turned her gaze downwards, and he realised with a start that she was staring at the spear— his father's gift.

Frank rose, fingers curled tightly around the shaft of the weapon. His heart beat rhythmically in his chest, and took a deep breath to steady himself. "How do I use the spear?"

"You'll have to handle that on your own. I'll check on your friends. I hope Fleecy hasn't bored them very much."

The goddess stood. Her glasses flashed, and Frank saw his own reflection in the lenses. He looked serious and grim, like he had aged several decades in the last few months— nothing like the little boy he’d seen in those rainbow images.

"One last piece of advice, Frank Zhang of Li Jien," Iris said. "You're fated to die holding that piece of firewood, watching it burn. Perhaps, however, if you trusted someone enough to hold it for you…"

Frank's fingers curled tighter around the spear. "Are you offering?" he asked foolishly, knowing that even if she was, he would not give it to her, goddess or not.

Iris laughed, a sound that was meant to be gentle but grated on his ears like nails on a chalkboard. "No. I meant a demigod friend. Someone close to your heart."

Frank could not think of anyone, not right off the bat. Hazel came to mind, but she was thirteen— too young to have the burden of someone else's life on her shoulders. Percy had his own life threatening problems to deal with. He decided to push the idea to the back of his mind for now, and deal with it when he had a moment to breathe.

He picked up his father's spear, nodded once at the Goddess, and marched out to face the basilisks.

———————

Percy sensed Iris coming closer before he saw her turn into the aisle where he sat, Hazel on his right and Fleecy across from them, three cups of well made chai in front of them.

"Fleecy," she called, "take Hazel towards the crystal shelves. I have to talk to Perseus."

Percy squeezed Hazel's hand and winked, pulling a small smile from her. Go, he mouthed, and she shot Iris a glance before she slowly nodded once. He watched as she slipped out of her seat and accepted Fleecy's hand. He didn't look away till she was out of sight, and only then did he turn back to the Tevai.

"I understand," Iris began, sliding into Fleecy's former seat, "that my Lord the King of the Seas has given you a quest of your own."

Percy smiled, but there was no humour or joy in it. On the inside, however, he was quickly thinking of ways to make Iris remember. His father had given him a quest, but no way to go about completing it. "I was wondering if you'd seen that, Wairi."

Iris smiled, and he felt his hackles rise at the overwhelming feel of Otherto her essence. Gods usually had that feel, but Iris.. she was pushing out more power on purpose, he realised, possibly to keep away the monsters. "I see a great many things, Perseus. I did not, however, see the full extent of your father's visit to you. He shut everyone out after the little display of your inhumanity."

Percy stiffened. Poseidon had done all he could to prevent the Tevaia from knowing that he had manifested his predatory attributes.

"Don't worry," she said airily, in a voice that did nothing to lower Percy's guard, "nobody else saw it. I daresay that revealing that interesting bit of knowledge will bring Tartarus on my head, courtesy of your father, so I will keep your secret."

Percy was neither satisfied nor dissuaded from worrying. He did not trust the Tevaia as far as he could throw them, and even one Tevai knowing his nature was a danger to his life. He decided now was not the time to talk about that particular f*ck-up, and turned the conversation around.

"Wairi," he said, and was interrupted.

"Wa-i-ri," Tevai Iris enunciated, testing the name out on her tongue like one would an expensive wine. "You keep calling me that. My name is Iris, you know."

Percy rose from his seat, baring his teeth in a sharp smile when Iris did the same. Instinctively, he slipped into the Old Language, feeling the words swell in the air like a chant, an invocation. A tug pulled at his navel, a pressure began to grow at the point between his eyebrows, and he felt his eyes begin to glow as he spoke.

"Is it? Is Iris really your name, Wairi Potinija, Teo Uiri, Teo of the Halo of the Moon?"

The Tevai stilled, and Percy pushed on, still speaking in that same language, those same sounds and syllables that curled softly around his tongue and clicked sharply against the roof of his mouth. "You have forgotten yourself, Wairi. Bring back your memories. Remember the Olde Ways, and turn back to your purest form."

The Goddess stared at him, face blank and eyes becoming brighter and brighter till they were no longer brown, but glowing white.

"Do it," he commanded, voice harsh and echoing in his own head. The pressure between his eyebrows built and built, heavier and heavier till it felt like he had the weight of the world dropped onto a single point on his forehead. "Become Wairi once again. DO IT!"

Iris exploded. He flung his hands over his eyes, jerking away from the blinding rainbow lights that erupted from the growing being and swept through the entire building. The feeling of lying in the sun returned, only this time it burned and scratched at his skin, and Percy knew that if he hadn't kept the Curse of Achilles he would have had blisters forming on exposed skin.

Mere seconds later, the lights faded. The aura of the Goddess receded from his skin, and Percy lowered his arms.

The lights hadn't disappeared, he realised. Instead, they had coalesced and condensed into large, multicoloured wings from the Goddess' back. The seven colours of the rainbow swirled around, forming feathers for a few seconds before dissolving, and then forming feathers again.

Wairi was tall, taller than him by a whole foot, with the body of a runner. Her eyes had lost the division between the sclera the iris, and the pupils, and glowed with the same colours as her wings. Olive skin, flowing white blond hair and a straight nose adorned her face, and her body was draped in a shimmering pearlescent modification of a chlamys, with matching trousers underneath. In her right hand, she held a caduceus.

Percy felt her gaze lock onto him. He grinned wide, letting a little bit of the sharpness of his fangs show in his human teeth and his eyes glow for a second before going back to normal. He pressed his palms together and dipped his chin in a small bow. "Nawaire, Tevai Wairi."

"Hello, Perseus," she nodded back. "Son of Wanaka Posedawone, Slayer of Terrors, Champion of Olympus, Herald of the New Age. It is an honour to meet you."

Herald of the New Age. That was new.

Percy's distaste for pretentious titles immediately reared its head once again, and he twisted his lips into a disdainful grimace. "Don't say the titles, please and thank you," he said wryly.

Tevai Wairi laughed, making the hair on the back of his neck stand at the bell-like sound. "You may be the first hero I've met who hates titles, Perseus Jackson."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a shout of his name dragged his attention away from the Tevai.

———————

"Percy!"

Hazel barreled into the aisle where she had left Percy, her spatha raised. The blinding burst of light mere seconds ago had set her heart racing, and she had drawn her sword before she had blinked the spots from her sight. She stopped short when she saw the goddess standing beside the table.

Iris was different, now, from what she was a just a few minutes ago. She was taller, more ethereal. Hazel pinned the goddess with a long look, taking in the glowing iridescent wings and eyes, the golden caduceus, the shimmering clothes.

Her skin felt feverish— hot from the distinct sunny aura, and cold from the underlying currents of cool moonlight to the Goddess' power. She got the feeling that this was not Iris, and she knew that her intuition was correct.

What was it that Percy had called her? Wa-i-ri?

Yeah, that suits her more, Hazel thought. Wairi suits this goddess more than Iris does.

Her weapon arm fell to her side, and she stood straight, head co*cked to the side. Her eyes flicked from Percy, to the goddess, then back to Percy in silence. For a few seconds, there was complete silence.

"What." she said finally, voice flat with a hint of perplexity.

Percy snigg*red, and she caught the last dregs of the bright hellfire green glow in his eyes before they settled into a soft bluish green. "I'll explain on the way," he said. "For now, let's go see Frank."

"Okay," she said to Percy's suggestion of going to Frank, and then his words registered in her mind. "Wait, whereis Frank anyway?"

Percy turned to Ir— Wairi, Hazel corrected herself— and raised and eyebrow in silent question. Wairi shrugged.

"He's killing the last basilisk as we speak."

Hazel felt the blood drain from her face and her spatha grow heavier in her hand. "Frank- basi- what?"

The goddess co*cked her head to one side. "Oh, he's done. The basilisks are dead. You're free to leave the store now."

Hazel was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Frank was battling three of the— what did Percy call them? Oh, yeah— vesa'alko. Alone. Ad what did Wairi mean, he was done?

Did Frank kill the three snakes on his own? Huh.

"You know what," she said, "I'm not going to bother processing that. Percy, let's go."

Percy let out another snigg*r, and Hazel glared at him.

"Farewell, Perseus Jackson," Wairi said, "I hope we meet again in less strenuous circ*mstances." She paused, then smiled. "And in the New Age."

Hazel blinked. New Age?

She wanted to mull over the phrase, but Wairi was speaking again, and she heard Frank's name, so she pushed the thought away.

"I told Frank Zhang that Phineas the Seer knows where Thanatos is being help prisoner," Wairi told Hazel and Percy. "Finish your quest, Perseus Terrorbane Jackson, Hazel Daughter of Pluto Levesque. Blessed be and Good Fortune, all three of you."

And then she vanished in a shower of rainbow sparkles.

Hazel turned to Percy, who was staring at the place where Wairi had stood a second ago, an unreadable expression on his handsome features.

"Let's go," he murmured a second later. "Frank has finished dealing with those pesky little snakes. We might as well get going."

Hazel was not going to argue with him, not when he had a gleam in his eyes that made the hair on her arms stand on end. She nodded, and the two of them fell into step with each other, heading towards the doors of the store.

Chapter 6: A Prophecy From The Past

Chapter Text

The moment Percy had received the rainbow purse from Fleecy, he had flung it at Hazel with a look of utter disgust, and she had laughed in his face before tying it around her waist.

You look good with it, he had said, and she had tried to flick his forehead. He had grabbed her wrist before she could and snickered.

Presently, he dragged her to the clearing where Fleecy had said Frank was, his footsteps silent under the moonlight. Hazel caused little rustles every now and then, flushing every time one sounded a bit too loud in the quiet night.

Sure enough, Frank stood in plain sight, Mars' gift in his hand and a peculiar expression on his features. As Percy moved closer, he felt the light zing of power— blood dripping off his nails, ash under his tongue, a flare of red in his vision, crushed bone fragments between his teeth.

"I sense death," Hazel murmured. "You really killed all three basilisks?"

Percy watched as Frank swallowed, staring down at the spear he was clutching like his life depended on it. A few seconds later, he muttered a sarcastic, "thanks a lot, dad" under his his breath. Percy co*cked an eyebrow. While he was all for using sarcasm against Mars, he did not know what brought it on from Frank.

What's that all about?

He pushed the thought away, and clapped Frank on the back, throwing him a wink and an encouraging grin. "Wairi told us you were battling the basilisks, and we near about blew a gasket. Then she goes, oh he's taken care of it, and we were like, what. Clearly she wasn't lying. Nice work, dude."

He saw Frank mouth the word Wa-i-ri, but decided he would explain later. For now, the other boy knew where they could find Phineas.

"Anyways," Hazel said, as if she had read his mind, "don't we have a certain evil seer to find?"

Frank nodded, standing up straighter. "He's in Portland, Oregon. Iris told me not to kill any of the harpies. Apparently they're her sisters?"

Both Hazel and Frank made faces, but Percy stayed unbothered. He had Pegasus as a brother, and that wasn't even the weirdest of them. He wasn't going to judge.

"Well, then," he said, then turned around and slipped two fingers into his mouth.

A sharp, piercing whistle sliced through the night like a lightning bolt, and Percy saw and heard his quest-mates jump and yelp from the corner of vision. His whistle echoed through the ravine like a gunshot for a few seconds, shrill and deafening.

When it faded away, Percy turned around, and promptly doubled over in cackles at the looks on his friends' faces. Hazel was glaring at him, hands clapped tightly over her ears, and Frank looked positively traumatised, the poor boy. Percy let out a last snigg*r before straightening to his full height.

"Never heard a New York cab whistle?" he asked, co*cking his hip to one side, a sh*t-eating grin on his face. It widened when the powerful flapping of two pairs of wings reached his ears. He supposed it was for the better he hadn't used the whistles Triton-dau taught him for whales and dolphins. Those would have made their ears bleed.

Frank blinked slowly and raised one hand to rub at his ear. Hazel lowered her hands from her head, glowering at him like she wanted to gut him. In the night, her eyes shone like stars against her dark skin. It would have been terrifying had Percy not been used to Annabeth.

"You'll make me go deaf one of these days," she huffed, and he chuckled. "Says you, after screaming my ears off up in the air."

Hazel turned red. Behind him, eight hooves clopped loudly on the ground. He stretched his lips into a wide grin. "Shall we?"

Percy held out a hand to Hazel, who turned her nose up at him and slipped her own into his like a maiden from those Victorian period dramas his mama watched to criticize the inaccuracies.

Both of them giggled, and he helped her get onto Beauty's back. Frank mounted Toni, and Percy swung himself up behind Hazel this time.

Just in case, he reasoned.

They rose off the ground. Percy handed the reins to Hazel and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her curls brushed his chin, but he leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling the wind drag harsh fingers through his own hair.

The cold air felt refreshing against his skin, like he had sunk into a pool, and the steady beat of Beauty's wings rocked his body in a soothing rhythm. Beside them, Frank kept pace on Toni, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"You wanted to ask me something, Hazel?" Percy drawled lazily, clasping his hands behind his head and bending backwards till he was parallel to the ground.

"Yeah," she said, lashing a hand out to grab him and pull him upright without even looking back. "What was the thing with Wairi and Iris?"

"Wairi?" Frank's voice floated over to them, "Who's that?"

"Iris, apparently," Hazel replied. When Frank looked at him, Percy nodded in confirmation.

"I have a quest from my father," he said, easy grin fading away at the thought. "Gaia needs to be defeated, and this is the best way to go about it."

Ma Ka.

The words floated through his head, and Percy held back his groan. Mother Earth. Of course she had a Mykenaean name.

"What way?" Hazel prodded.

Percy pulled himself back into the present. "Okay, so.. you know any Gods that existed before the Greeks?"

Hazel and Frank shook their heads. Percy inclined his head, and a stray lock of black hair flew into his face. He tucked it behind his ear. "Well, before the Greek Gods, there were the Mykenaean Gods. They've been forgotten. Even the Gods themselves forgot their Mayikasi roots."

"Mayi- what?"

"Mayikasi. It's a High Atlantean word that means "of Mykenae". Mykenae would be Mayika. And the language would be Mayikani." He watched the other two nod, then continued speaking. "Since Atlantis and Mayika were founded around the same time and in the same region, there were a lot of similarities between the two cultures."

Hazel hummed in understanding. Frank nodded slowly, gesturing for Percy to go on.

"The languages changed after a while, though. Dwarka—" when they gave him confused looks, he said— "Ancient Indian city, founded around nine thousand five hundred BC."

Frank whistled. "Didn't the last Ice Age end like, ten thousand BC? Pretty quick to have an entire city built."

Percy nodded emphatically. "I know, right? Dad has a lot of respect for the Gods in India." He shook himself. "Anyway, Dwarka sank into the Arabian Sea around 3000 BC, and when Atlantis sank around 1600 BC, the cities began trade and relations with each other, and while trade with other underwater cities also started up, the connection between Dwarka and Atlantis stayed the most prominent. Mayika turned to Ancient Greek for its language, but Atlantis turned to a blend of Mayikani and Pure Sanskrit. You still with me?"

He received affirmative nods.

"Okay good. Anyhow, my dad has now told me to make any Tevai I come across turn back to their Mayikasi rupoa." At their questioning looks, he elaborated, "Mykenaean forms."

"And what does Tey-va-yi mean?" Frank asked, stumbling on the word. Percy laughed quietly, running a hand through his hair. Hazel silently produced a hair tie from thin air and handed it to him.

"It's not Tey-va-yi, it's Tevai. Don't stretch the ee sound so much. That means Deity. Gender neutral. We don't really have gendered terms for that," he explained, reaching back to pile his hair into a messy little bun. A few strands fell into his face, and he brushed them back.

"So basically," Hazel announced, "you have to force the Gods back into their forgotten era without somehow getting yourself killed for insolence. Is that it?"

Percy snorted.

"The Gods won't kill me for insolence," he said confidently, "but yeah, that's the gist of it."

There was silence for a second.

"Fun."

Percy and Hazel burst out laughing, and Frank followed a second later with his own giggles. Their voices rang through the air, amplified by the silence of the night and the whipping wind.

"Fun," Hazel choked out between breathless wheezing. "Fun, he says— Frank, you sarcastic whelp."

After a few moments, their mirth died down, and they flew in silence for a long while. It was quiet, with the only sounds being the powerful beats of the pegasi's wings and the rustle of Hazel's bushy curls.

The slow rhythm, along with the cool moonlight on his hot skin, lulled Percy to sleep.

He dreamt of the battle against Atlas on Mount Tam. The weight of the sky crushed him, Annabeth's hair glittered as she fought beside Lady Artemis and Zoë. He watched in silence as the latter dissolved into stars, and Lady Artemis wept.

The dream changed.

It was the warship at Camp Half Blood, the riggings and armaments all in place, but something was wrong. A hatch in the deck was open, and smoke poured out in droves. A scrawny kid was cursing up an impressive storm in Spanish, English and Greek as he hammered away at the engine.

Beside him stood four people. A blond haired, blue eyed typical all-American boy, and a beautiful Cherokee girl with blue, red and yellow feathers braided into long dark hair. Her eyes kept changing colour as she stared worriedly at the scrawny kid. The third person was Nico, in his usual leather jacket and ripped jeans, hands in pockets and expression blank.

The last person, however, made Percy's heart lurch.

Annabeth, he tried to say, but his mouth refused to obey him. Her hair glittered with a million stars— a closer look told him that she had added rhinestones and glitter to it. Her eyes gleamed with what Percy recognised as a mix of fury, anxiety, impatience and the manic determination he had seen so many times before.

He wanted to wrap her in a hug, press his ring finger to the middle point of her forehead till she closed her eyes and took three deep and slow breaths. He wanted to tell her to stop trying to push away her feelings and instead walk herself through them one by one.

He couldn't.

"It's the solstice," the Cherokee girl said. "We're supposed to leave today."

"I know that!" The mechanic whacked the engine a few times. "Could be the fizzrockets. Maybe the samophlange. Maybe Gaia's f*cking with us again."

"How long?" Annabeth demanded, hands at her waist and back straighter than a pole. The kid winced. Percy didn't blame him— Annie was terrifying.

"Two, three days?"

Nico growled, eyebrows drawing together in a glare that had the scruffy one quailing. "They don't have that long, Leo."

So his name is Leo.

The dream changed again.

It was Tyson, with his club thrown over his shoulder and Mrs O'Leary on his heels. He was searching for him.

Before he could call out, the scene shifted to snowy mountains, so tall they broke the clouds. Gaia's sleeping face materialised in the shadows of the rocks.

Such a valuable pawn, she crooned. Fear not, Perseus Jackson. Come north! Your friends will die, but I will preserve you. I have great plans for you.

The Roman camp on the glacier, three times larger than camp Jupiter, made chills run down Percy's spine. He didn't know why, but he wasn't afraid. He felt.. excited?

He didn't question it. Instead, he raked his gaze over the Principia, taking in the robed figure shackled with ice chains. His vision swept past the figure, into the headquarters.

The giant was larger than Polybotes, with skin made of gold and sharp fangs of silver. Behind him, a large golden eagle— Camp Jupiter's eagle, Percy realised— stood tall.

We await you, Alkyoneus' voice boomed. While you fumble your way north, trying to find me, my armies will destroy your camps. You cannot win, little demigod.

Percy bolted upright in cold grey sunlight, a slight drizzle falling on his face.

A passing thought had the water sliding off of his skin, leaving him dry and awake. His heart thudded loudly, but he focused instead on the outraged expression on Frank's face.

"You can dry yourself? Just like that?" He snapped his fingers to emphasize, but the sound was hampered by rain-soaked skin. Frank glared at his fingers. Percy grinned and willed him and Hazel dry as well.

"And I thought I slept heavily," she teased, grin pulling at her lips. Percy automatically smiled back. "Welcome to Portland, sleeping beauty."

He blinked. Beauty and Toni had landed on the roof of an old warehouse a little ways from the extremely polluted river. Below, train tracks were laid down in a labyrinth. Down to his right, a town area spread out till the edge of the forests.

Heavy, dark grey clouds hung low overhead, and the rain was light enough that it seemed to be a permanent curtain of mist. Percy waved it away, and the rain twisted away from them, leaving them dry.

"You good?" Frank asked him. "Sleep okay?"

Percy twisted his lips into a grimace, then laid out his dream. He only told them about Alkyoneus, leaving out the rest of the dream.

At the mention of the camp up on the glacier, Hazel chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"So Alkyoneus is on a glacier," she said. "That doesn't narrow it down at all. Alaska has more than six hundred of those."

Percy nodded grimly. "If we can't find this seer dude to tell us which one, we're doomed." The three of them stared down at the buildings of drizzly downtown Portland.

"So now we gotta find an evil blind seer in the rain," Frank said sardonically.

"Yay."

———————

Turned out, it wasn't as hard as they thought. The shrill screaming and the weed whacker were both pretty obvious.

They had been walking down Glisan Street, Percy throwing longing looks at the restaurants and cafés lining the path, when they heard it.

"TAKE THAT, STUPID CHICKENS!" a raspy voice yelled, followed by the sound of the revving of a small engine and a lot of squawking and screeching.

Percy glanced at Hazel and Frank, a single eyebrow raised perfectly. "You think—"

"Probably," Frank agreed. Hazel hummed in agreement.

They ran toward the sounds. When they found the source, it was a big open parking lot with rows of food trucks facing the streets on all sides. Percy had seen food trucks before, but never so many in once place. It was a little dizzying.

He caught sight of one that promised Korean Brazilian fusion tacos, and immediately turned away, grimacing at just the thought. No, thank you.

Most of the other trucks, on the other hand... Percy sniffed the air appreciatively. The smell was positively divine, with so many kitchens at work simultaneously on several different types of cuisines. Percy's stomach rumbled. Most of the food carts were open for business, but there was hardly anyone around.

We could get anything we want.

Percy shook his thoughts away and focused. In the center of the lot, behind all the food trucks, an old man in a bathrobe and pink bunny slippers was wielding a weed whacker, screaming at a flock of harpies who were trying to steal food off a picnic table.

"Phineas," Frank said.

They strode across the street and squeezed between the Korean/Brazilian taco truck and a Chinese egg roll burrito vendor. Percy turned his nose up at the taco truck with a huff.

The dude in the bathrobe was mostly bald, wisps of straggly grey hair hanging over his scarred forehead. The ridiculous bathrobe was soiled with ketchup, and he staggered around in his pink bunny slippers, swinging his weed whacker at the six harpies that hovered over his picnic table.

He was clearly blind. His eyes were milky white, and usually he missed the harpies by a lot, but he was still doing a good job fending them off.

"Back, dirty chickens!" he roared, a wild look on his face.

Percy fumed at the sight of the harpies. They were supposed to be healthy, but their faces were sunk in and their feathers were moulting. His blood roared in his ears when Phineas hurt one of them on the wing with his weed whacker.

Another harpy circled higher than the rest. She looked younger and smaller, with bright red feathers.

She watched carefully for an opening, and when the man's back was turned, she made a mad dive for the table.

She grabbed a burrito in her clawed feet, but before she could escape, he swung his weed whacker and smacked her in the back, hard. The harpy yelped, dropped the burrito, and flew off.

Percy growled. "That's enough,"

The harpies took his words the wrong way; one glance at the three as they approached, and they promptly flew away to the treetops. The red one flew away and out of sight.

The man cackled in victory and killed the power on his weed whacker. He grinned vacantly at Percy, making his skin crawl with disgust. "Thank you. Your help is most appreciated."

Percy bit back his fury. He hadn't meant to help the old paayu, but they needed information from him.

He approached the old guy, keeping one eye on the weed whacker. "I'm Perseus Jackson. They're—"

"Demigods!" Phineas grinned. "I can always smell demigods."

Percy bit his bottom lip to stop himself from sticking his trident in the man's guts and being done with it. It hadn't even been a minute and he was ready to commit murder, his mother and Amphitrite-mevi would be so disappointed.

Phineas laughed. "I'm Phineas. And you— wait, don't tell me—"

He reached for Percy's face to poke him in the eyes. Percy grabbed his wrist in a bruising grip.

"Touch me, and lose a hand," he said coldly, giving one warning squeeze before he let go. Phineas glared in his general direction, cradling his arm to his chest.

"You're very rude, Son of Neptune."

Percy's lip curled in a snarl. "And I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, Phineas son of King Agenor of Tyre, grandson of Poseidon, but I don't like to lie."

He didn't bother correcting him on the father's name. Phineas turned to Hazel.

"Ooh, daughter of Pluto. And a son of Mars. But there's more to your story, Frank Zhang—"

"Ancient blood," Frank muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Descendant of the Prince of Pylos, blah, blah."

"Periclymenus, exactly," Phineas snapped his fingers. "He was a nice fellow."

"Who?" Frank gaped, jaw going slack.

Percy blinked, taking in the new information.

If Frank was to be believed, he was a descendant of Periclymenus. Add to that being a Son of Mars... Percy raised an eyebrow, but resolved to open that can of worms when they weren't trying to get the location of the God of Death.

Phineas grinned at Frank, both of them unaware of Percy's train of thought. "Don't worry. I know about your family. Your great-grandfather didn't really destroy the camp. Now, what an interesting group. Are you hungry?"

He waved a hand towards the picnic table. The harpies screeched and squawked, and Percy started forward with a raised fist. Hazel pulled him back and shot him a quelling look.

Don't, she mouthed at him, and he gave one last silent snarl before taking a deep breath.

"Look, I'm confused," Percy said, even though he really was not. What he was, was feeling murderous. "We need some information. We were told—"

"—that the harpies were keeping my food away from me," Phineas interjected, "and if you helped me, I'd help you."

Frank nodded. "Basically, yeah."

Phineas laughed. "Do I look like I'm missing any meals?" He patted his fat belly, making a loud slapping noise that made Percy bare his teeth.

"...no," Frank drawled out, looking angry himself.

"Things have changed," he said. "When I first got the gift of prophecy, eons ago, Jupiter cursed me. He sent the harpies to steal my food because I gave away too many secrets."

He turned to Hazel. "Such as, you're supposed to be dead. And you—" He turned to Frank. "Your life depends on a half burned stick."

Frank reeled back, looking like someone had run him over with a truck, and Hazel blinked like she'd been slapped. That alone made Percy's blood boil even hotter than it already was, and he pushed away the alarming statements.

He opened his mouth, but Hazel spoke first, gripping her sword like she was tempted to pommel-whip the old yabhati. "So you yapped, and the harpies plagued you. Why did they stop?"

"They didn't." He arched his eyebrow. "I had to make a deal with the Argonauts. They wanted information too. I told them to kill the harpies, and I'd help. They drove the harpies away, but Iris wouldn't let them kill them." He scoffed. "So this time, when my patron brought me back—"

"Your patron?" Frank asked, but Percy felt his stomach sink to his feet.

Phineas gave them a sly grin. "Gaia, of course. Who do you think opened the Doors of Death? The girl understands. Isn't Gaia your patron, too?"

Hazel growled, and the shiing of her sword being drawn followed. Before she could do anything, Percy gripped her forearm, and shook his head. She lowered her arm, glaring at Phineas.

"Terra," she spat, "is not my patron."

Phineas looked amused, and not at all concerned at the drawn sword. "Gaia is waking. She's already rewritten the rules of life and death. I'm alive again, and in exchange for my help I get my fondest wish. I can eat all I want, all day long, and the harpies watch and starve."

"You're cruel," Frank snarled.

"They're monsters," Phineas exclaimed, as if Percy wasn't a son of Poseidon. As if he himself didn't have a direct connection to the someone who had sired so many monsters. "Cruel? Those demons tormented me for years."

"But it was their duty," Percy said, trying to stop the scales rippling under his skin from showing. It would be unwise to rip out the Seer's throat before they got the information they needed. "Zeus ordered them to."

"I'm mad at Zeus, too," Phineas agreed. "Gaia will see that the gods are properly punished. Horrible job they've done, ruling the world. But for now, I'm enjoying Portland."

Hazel raised her sword and advanced with a vicious curl to her lips. Percy didn't try to stop her this time.

"Connard," she hissed venomously, "You belong in the Fields of Punishment, you foul, evil—"

"One dead person to another?" Phineas sneered, and Hazel froze. "I wouldn't talk a big game if I were you. If not for you, Alkyoneus wouldn’t be alive."

Hazel staggered, and Percy shot out an arm to steady her, turning his deluxe wolf stare on the ghuksal. It didn't do much, considering the old man was blind.

"Hazel?" Frank asked, right hand curled tight around the strap of his backpack. "What—"

Percy shook his head at Frank, and the boy fell silent, eyes still pinned on Hazel's pale face. He was tempted to kill the old man— to sink his fangs into his neck, rip out his jugular and spray hot blood everywhere.

"But let's get down to business," Phineas said, a sly smirk pulling at his mouth. "You want to know where Thanatos is being held. I can tell you, but you will have to do me a favour."

Percy gritted his teeth to keep in his fangs, desperately trying to push away his mad thirst to have Phineas' blood in his mouth. His fingernails ached with the urge to let out his claws, but he ignored it. "What's the deal?"

Phineas licked his lips greedily. "One harpy is quicker than the rest."

The red one, Percy thought.

"She’s wily, never roosts with the others. She gave me these," he pointed at the scars on his forehead, and Percy mentally gave the harpy a standing ovation.

"Capture that harpy," Phineas said. "Bring her to me. And I'll tell you the answer."

Percy looked at his friends. Both of them returned the glance with the obvious painted on their faces; like hell they were letting Phineas get his grubby hands on that harpy.

They needed a plan B.

"We'll need some of your food." Percy shouldered his way around the old man and snatched stuff off the picnic table. He strode out of the parking area before he could do something stupid like throw the food in Phineas' ugly face. Or worse, rake his claws across his face.

Or is that better?

Percy shook away the thought before he entertained it too much. Once across the street, he let the rain fall onto his face, slowly breathing in and out. He wrestled down his fangs and claws, pushed his scales deeper into his flesh.

Hazel growled, slamming the side of her fist into an empty food truck. The vehicle shook and rattled loudly, scaring a few birds off the tree that stood a few feet away.

"That- that-" she cut herself off, no doubt stopping herself from cursing once again. Percy saw her blinking back tears, and silently wrapped an arm around her to draw her into his side. Hazel sniffed and burrowed deeper into his hug.

Percy wasn't surprised that she had come back from the Underworld. He'd suspected for a while— the way she avoided talking about her past, the way Nico had been so secretive and cautious. Most noticeable of all, how he couldn't sense her aura.

It was like she was hidden from his sight, covered with a shroud of smoke. Except, he could see her, and hear her and smell her. The only thing wrong with her, was the way he couldn't sense her power. He couldn't feel the prickle of her presence over his skin, couldn't perceive the phantom smell of her affinities.

That didn't change how he saw her, though. She seemed alive, like a regular kid with a good heart who deserved to grow up and have a future. She was not a ghoul like Phineas. She was Nico's sister. She was his sister.

"He needs to die. Again," Percy said darkly. Frank and Hazel nodded.

"We'll get him," Frank promised. "He's nothing like you, Hazel. I don't give a sh*t about anything he says."

She shook her head. "You don’t know the whole story, Frank. I should have been sent to the Fields of Punishment. I- I'm just as bad—"

"No, you're not," Percy said sharply. He watched Frank ball his fists. He looked around like he was searching for anybody who might disagree with him— somebody he could hit for Hazel's sake.

Percy wasn’t sure what that f*cker had meant about Frank’s great grandfather destroying camp and the bit about a half-burned stick controlling his life, but it had clearly shaken Frank. He decided not to prod for answers. Frank would tell them in his own time.

"I have an idea," he said, eyes drifting towards the trees where the harpies were roosting.

———————

They found the harpy circling above a stretch of parkland that ran for several blocks between rows of old stone buildings. Paths stretched through the park under huge maple and elm trees, past sculptures and playgrounds and shady benches. The place reminded Percy of Central Park back at home. He pushed away the dull ache of homesickness.

"Come down," he called to her, displaying the Thai noodles and the burrito he had taken from Phineas. "We're not going to hurt you."

The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed on the elephant statue that Frank had been embarrassed by a few minutes ago.

She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her sunken cheeks. She jerked and twitched, her coffee brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at her plumage, her earlobes, her choppy red hair.

"Cheese," she muttered, looking sideways. "Aella doesn't like cheese."

Percy blinked. "Your name is Ella?"

"Ella. Aella. 'Harpy'. In English. In Latin. Aella doesn’t like cheese."

Quick as a bolt of lightning, she lunged forward and grabbed the cinnamon burrito, then flew away to roost on the elephant's head.

"Gods, she's fast," Hazel exclaimed, and Frank nodded, lips twitching. "Heavily caffeinated, too, I'm guessing."

Percy snorted.

Aella began to nibble on the burrito, but the other harpies swooped down like vultures, pummeling her with their wings. She curled into herself with a stuttered protest, trying to defend herself from the scratching and clawing.

"Stop," Percy yelled, hand dipping into his pocket for Anaklusmos, but before they could do anything, a harpy grabbed the burrito. The rest of them scattered.

Aella poked her head out from under her wings. She was still trembling, shoulders hunched. Percy could see the bleeding gash on her back where Phineas had hit her with the weed whacker, and the yearning to have the jusaksi throat between his fangs came back ten fold.

"S-small Aella," she stuttered angrily. "W-weak. No cinnamon for Aella."

Frank glared across the street, where the other harpies sat in a maple tree, tearing the burrito to shreds. "We'll get you something else," he promised.

Percy set down the Thai noodles.

"Aella," Hazel said, "we want to be your friends. We can get you more food, but—"

"Friends," the harpy said. "Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004." She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds.

"A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds. Sixteen. You're sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Ingredients: Bacon, Butter."

Percy froze.

"Aella," he said slowly, "Aella, could you repeat that?"

"Bacon," she replied. "Butter."

"No," Percy said, his fingers beginning to tremble. "No, before that. You recited a prophecy."

Frank whipped his head around to stare at Percy. "She recited a what?"

Percy pressed his lips together in a thin line, trying to force away the memories of ichor coloured eyes and a scar that ran down a cheek, of a sword made of two metals. Images flashed through his mind— Manhattan under a hypnotic seige, Selina losing the spark in her eyes, Clarisse dragging a drakon behind her. Percy's mother lifting a shotgun with a determined look in her eyes. Annabeth, face streaked with ash, dirt, blood and tears, staring at Luke's corpse lying at the foot of Poseidon's throne.

"The Great Prophecy," Percy said on autopilot. His voice sounded far away, as if he was listening from the bottom of a pool. "It was fulfilled less than a year ago."

Neither Hazel nor Frank asked any questions.

The next several moments were a blur to Percy, who was still trying to shove away the nightmarish echoes of his last birthday. He didn't notice Hazel and Frank talking, didn't notice when they asked him questions with worried looks on their faces. He didn't pay attention when she wrapped a hand around his wrist and dragged him across the road towards the large white building.

He only came back to himself when Hazel shoved him through a set of double doors into a library.

"Hazel, I—"

"It's okay, Percy," she murmured as they wound a path through the library; it reminded him so much of Annabeth that it made his heart clench. "I keep forgetting that you don't have your memories, and that must hurt—"

Guilt slammed into Percy with the force of a rampaging elephant. He had not yet told either of them that he had his memories back, and the sharp twist in his guts made him stutter to a half and close his eyes in an effort to try and wrestle his guilt away.

"Percy?"

He jerked violently, slamming into a bookshelf with a deafening crash that echoed off the stone walls. His friends stared at him, lips pursed and worry shining in their eyes. He sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm– I'm okay," he told them, internally cringing at how unconvincing his voice sounded to his own ears. "Let's just find Aella's nest."

Chapter 7: द्रष्टृमर्दन: Death of The Seer

Chapter Text

They found the harpy's nest on the roof of the library.

It was a makeshift cardboard shelter, with books piled high in every corner that wasn't Aella's sleeping area. Frank and Percy exchanged a glance, and the three of them moved forward slowly, not wanting to scare Aella.

"Aella," Percy said in a low voice, "Can we talk to you?"

Hazel slipped a hand into the rainbow purse and pulled out the beef jerky, and Aella shot forward to snatch it. She gave it a quick sniff, then tossed it away with an angry sniff.

"Not from the table," she muttered furiously.

Hazel slapped her forehead, and Percy winced in sympathy at the loud sound. "Right. sh*t, I forgot."

Percy gasped. "Hazelnut," he said in an outraged voice that could rival an insulted God's, "we do not curse in this household! Mind your manners, young lady."

Frank and Hazel snorted as one.

"Like you're one to talk, Perseus 'I swear worse than a sailor' Jackson," she grumbled good naturedly.

Percy snickered. "I mean, I am the son of the Sea God, y'know—"

Hazel slapped Percy's bicep, and he burst into cackles, which were echoed by the other two a second later.

Frank draped himself over Hazel when they quieted down, chin placed delicately atop her springy curls. She staggered a little, then tried to glare at him. Only, she couldn't turn around with his weight on top of her.

"Frank, get off, you're heavy!"

"And you're a demigod," he shot back, leaning on her even more, not even bothering to hide his sh*t eating grin. "You made a food truck shake with a single badly thrown punch, you can bear my weight."

Percy ignored their bickering and turned back to Aella the harpy, arms rising to pu his hair from his bun and tie it up again to have something to fidget with while thinking. "There must be some way..."

"Photosynthesis," Ella muttered. "Noun. Biology. The synthesis of complex organic materials. 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness—"

Percy jerked. He recognised the second line; sometime after the Titan War, he had taken to listening to audiobooks while punching the sh*t out of practice dummies. It had been a good time, and he had taken to old classics with a fervour, much to Annabeth's and his mother's suprise and happiness.

Sally had run off to Amphitrite first thing, and both of them had gushed over how Percy was finally getting interested in classic literature. Just literature in general, actually.

You just seem like the type to not love books at all, y'know, Annabeth had said to him. He had punched her in the shoulder, then ran away, maniacal laughter spilling from his lips as she chased him with her dagger held high.

Percy shook the memory away.

Aella had recited the beginning of one of his favourite classics— A Tale of Two Cities. He stared at the mound of books around her. They all looked old and mildewed. Some had prices written in marker on the covers, like the library had tried to get rid of them in a clearance sale.

She's quoting books, he realised.

Percy blinked, a sudden idea forming in his mind. He picked up a book at random— a tattered copy of A History of Horseracing. "Aella, do you remember the third paragraph on page sixty-two—"

"Secretariat," Ella answered before he could even stop talking, "favoured three to two- in the 1973 Kentucky Derby, finished at standing track record of 159 and two fifths."

Frank, who had come over and was looking at the book over his shoulder, whipped his head up, eyes wide. "Putain de merde," he swore, "that was word for word."

"That's amazing," Hazel said, still glaring daggers at Frank.

"She's a genius chicken," he agreed, lips twitching to hide the smug look. He wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Percy felt uneasy. He was starting to think that his idea about why Phineas wanted to capture Ella was true, and he did not like the implications.

She had recited the beginning of The Great Prophecy. If she had done that in front of Phineas...

"Aella," he said in a low, soothing voice, "we're going to find a way to break the curse."

"It's Impossible," she said. "Recorded in English by Perry Como, 1970."

"Nothing's impossible," Percy argued, knowing very well just how true that statement was. "I'm going to say his name, now. Don't run."

Aella stared at him for a second, then nodded.

"Okay, good," Percy said. "We're going to find a way to beat Phineas. And then crush him to dust, you hear?"

"Aella is quick," she replied. "Too quick for him. But he wants to chain Aella. He hurts Aella." She tried to reach the gash on her back.

"Frank," Percy said, trying desperately to stop himself from going over and ripping the damn seer to shreds, "you have first-aid supplies?"

Hazel didn't wait for the large boy to take his bag off, she grabbed him by the biceps and turned him around, pulling out the thermos of nectar they had been given. Aella allowed her close, and she smiled before she poured a few drops on the wound. It immediately started stitching itself together.

"Phineas is bad," Aella insisted. "And weed whackers. And cheese."

"Absolutely," Percy agreed, voice deceptively normal. Inside, he was itching with the need to bury his claws in Phineas' guts. "We won't let him hurt you again. We need to figure out how to trick him, though."

"Does Phineas have any weaknesses?" Hazel asked.

"Blind. He's blind."

Frank rolled his eyes, but Hazel and Percy were more patient. "Right," she said. "Besides that?"

"Chance," Aella answered. "Games of chance. Two to one. Bad odds. Call or fold."

Percy's spirits rose. "You mean he's a gambler?"

The harpy nodded vigorously. "Phineas sees big things," she agreed. "Prophecies. Fates. God stuff. Not small stuff. Random. Exciting. And he is blind."

Frank snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "We have to make a gamble—"

"And if we win, we get to ask for information!" Hazel finished, voice high pitched with excitement. Then she blinked. "But what kind of gamble do we make?"

"Something simple, with high stakes," Percy answered. "Like two choices. One you live, one you die. And the prize has to be something Phineas wants." He paused. "I mean, besides Aella. That:s off the table."

Hazel and Frank bobbed their heads in agreement.

"Sight," Ella muttered. "Sight is good for blind men. Healing— nope, nope. Gaia won't do that for Phineas. Gaea keeps Phineas blind, dependent on Gaia."

Frank and Percy exchanged a glance. "Gorgon's blood," they said in unison.

"What?" Hazel asked, confusion on her features that still hadn't lost all the baby fat.

Percy shook his head and held out a hand to Frank, who brought out the two ceramic vials that Percy had returned to him.

"Aella's a genius," the larger boy said. "Unless we die, that is."

Percy snorted at the offhand way he said the last few words. "Don't worry about that," he said. "I've got a plan."

Hazel stared at the vials, then whipped her head towards Percy. "It had best be a good plan, Perseus I-don't-know-your-middle-name Jackson."

Percy grinned. "I don't have a middle name. And I can't promise you that, neheri. all my plans have ridiculously high levels of danger."

Frank snorted, then nodded. "So," he said, "you'll strike a gamble with Phineas—"

"No," Percy replied.

He could practically watch the gears in Frank's and Hazel's brains screech to a sudden stop.

"What?"

He nodded once, hand slipping into his pocket, the familiar smooth surface of his pen bringing comfort. In the pockets by his knees, the vials of Gorgon blood clinked quietly enough that only he heard the sound. "Hazel will strike the gamble."

Hazel spluttered, hands twitching as if to stop herself from grabbing Percy by the shoulders and shaking him. "Excusé moi—"

"Tha'a, please, hear me out."

Frank shook his head and crossed his arms, an incredulous expression painted on his babyish features. "Percy, if this goes right, you could get your memories back. The f*ck do you mean, Hazel will take the bet?"

Percy breathed in deep, then let it out, feeling the anxiety and guilt rise like bile in his stomach. Very few things scared him, but being left by the only two people who hadn't skirted around him with whispered insults since coming to Rome was currently very high on the list.

Here goes nothing.

"I have my memories back," he admitted quietly.

They stilled.

Percy's heart picked up speed, beating fast and hard against his ribs, and he focused on controlling his breathing just like his mother had taught him. The anxiety made his stomach churn more and more painfully as the silence dragged out, and he finally broke.

"Say something, vi fau hive," he murmured, not even bothering to hide the vulnerability or the nervousness that seeped into his voice.

Frank spoke first— a single word, nothing more. "How?"

Percy pressed his lips together. "Before I killed the Gorgons at the tunnel entrance," he said, "I killed them four times over the span of a day and a half, while making my way to the camp."

He heard Hazel suck in a breath, and knew she had put the pieces together. "You had more vials of Gorgon blood with you," she said, realisation prominent in her quiet tone.

Percy nodded, fingers clenching tight around Anaklusmos in his pocket. It wasn't giving him any comfort right now, and he wished desperately for this conversation to be over.

"Have," he said. At Hazel's raised eyebrow, he elaborated, "I have more vials with me. They're in my pockets." He bent down and patted the pockets, hearing the clink of ceramic against ceramic loud and clear.

"I didn't make the connection until I was in the Bath House," he explained, heart hoping against hope that neither of them were angry at him. "I remembered I had the vials while pulling off my pants. I'd already given back the vials Frank found, and I thought, why not."

Frank breathed in slowly, then nodded. "Well, I can't blame you for not telling us."

Percy blinked. "What?"

Frank shrugged. "I mean, you gave me a set of vials to keep, even though it was your kill. You had no obligation to give me, or even tell me about the rest of the vials. You didn't know me that well— still don't know me that well, to be honest. You didn't have to give that trust. Gods know I didn't trust you."

Percy felt his heart lift and shatter at the same time. He hadn't know that was possible, but it happened. He nodded slowly.

"You're right," he said. "I didn't trust you, then, either. But you know I trust you now, right? I trust you with my life." He glanced at Hazel. "Both of you."

Frank smiled, arms unfolding from over his chest. "Me too, Percy. I hope you know that."

Percy grinned, wide and genuine. He raised a hand, and Frank accepted the bro hug, both of them patting each other on the back.

Hazel, who had been silent the whole time, reached forward and pulled both of them into a tight hug.

"I can't be mad at you either," she told Percy softly. "I didn't tell you about me being a zombie, now did I? I would be a hypocrite."

Percy snorted, then smiled and dropped a kiss on top of her head. "Thank you, Hazel."

Hazel smiled back, and Percy's smile involuntarily grew wider. "What are siblings for, ma moitié?"

Frank, who had been silently hugging the two of them while they talked, nodded decisively. "Exactly. Forget friendship, we've elevated to family status now." Then he grinned wickedly. "Which means I get to heckle Hazel as much as I want."

Hazel elbowed him in the guts.

Frank staggered, a pained sound that was a mix of a laugh and a groan spilling from his mouth, and accidentally-on-purpose dragged the other two to the ground with him.

Percy and Hazel let out yells of alarm, and the next few minutes were spent in furious scuffling and hitting as they tried to untangle themselves from the mess of long and short limbs.

"So," Hazel breathed out a few seconds later, when they were lying flat on their backs with Aella hunched over a book in the deepest corner of her nest. "Why do you want me in particular to do this?"

Percy, lying with his legs thrown over Frank's stomach, looked over at her. His chest heaved with deep, ragged breaths. "I mean, think about it. You came back from death."

Hazel hummed.

"And I'm guessing that weird blackout thing you did was caused because of that."

Hazel blinked. "Huh. That's smart."

Percy snorted at the familiar words. "Don't be too surprised, Nutella. Anyways, i thought that the right vial could—"

"—stop the blackouts," Hazel finished for him, eyes growing wide. "Percy, you genius!'

Then she gave him a bemused look. "Also, Nutella? Percy, what?"

Percy shrugged, which was a bit difficult to do when he was lying on his back up on the concrete roof of a library. "I like Nutella," he answered simply, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

Frank snorted, and Hazel gave them a fondly exasperated look. "Alright, alright. Come on, get up, you great lumps. Let's do this."

———————

Phineas was exactly where they had left him, feet still covered in the horrible, fugly slippers. Percy had nothing against pink, really he didn't, but everything Phineas was currently angering him to madness.

Hazel slammed her palms onto Phineas' table, nearly toppling him off with the shake of seismic proportions the rickety thing gave. "Alright, mastigia, here's the deal—"

"You're back," Phineas glared at her as he righted himself. Then his blank gaze travelled towards Aella behind them, and he grinned. "Ah, you've brought me my harpy! I can hear the flapping of her wings-"

"She's here," Percy said curtly, feeling the thirst for blood scratch the back of his throat. He really, really wanted to rip into the f*cker— his fangs were so close to showing themselves that he was surprised he wasn't already talking in screeches and shrieks. "But she's not yours."

Phineas sucked the grease off his fingers. His milky eyes seemed fixed on a point just above Percy's head. "I see— well, actually, I'm blind, so I don't see. Have you come to kill me, then? If so, good luck completing your quest."

The three of them gave identical snorts of derision.

"I've come to gamble," Hazel said. Percy and Frank stepped back; this was Hazel's fight. Thirteen years old or not, she was scarily capable, she would be fine.

The old f*cker's mouth twitched. He put down his shish kebab and leaned forward, an intrigued gleam in his blank eyes. "A gamble, you say? Interesting. Information in exchange for the harpy? Winner take all?"

"No," Hazel said. "The harpy isn't part of the deal."

Phineas laughed. "Really? Perhaps you don't understand her value."

Percy's blood boiled, but he stopped himself from talking. He knew that this was not his fight.

"She's a person," Hazel bit out through gritted teeth. "She isn't for sale."

"Oh, please. You're from the Roman camp. Rome was built on slavery, little girl Don't get all high and mighty on me—"

Hazel slammed a fist onto the table, this time actually making Phineas topple off his chair. "I WAS A BLACK GIRL IN NEW ORLEANS IN THE 1930S," she roared, making Percy's ears ring with the volume. "I UNDERSTAND SLAVERY BETTER THAN MOST!"

She pulled back and closed her eyes, sucking in a few breaths. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, but steely. "The harpy is not on the table. End of debate."

"She isn't even human," Phineas said with a snort as he placed himself back in his chair. "She's a monster—"

Aella squawked, but Percy didn't pay attention to the sound. No, he was more focused on the blood roaring in his ears, on keeping down the claws and scales that rippled just below the surface of his skin with the ache to burst out.

"Don't say that as if you yourself aren't a direct descendant of someone who is famous for fathering so many Monsters, Phineas of Thrace," he murmured quietly.

Phineas stiffened, and Percy noted with satisfaction the shiver of fear that wracked his body. Frank placed a hand on his shoulder, and Percy let out a breath. He nodded at Hazel, and brought out the ceramic vials to hand them to her.

"I have a different wager," she said to Phineas. "We have two flasks of Gorgon blood. One gives you a painful death. The other heals any ailment you may have. They're spitting images of one another— even we don't know which is which."

She paused, and Percy suppressed his grin at the dramatic behaviour. "If you choose the right one, it could cure your blindness."

Phineas reached out to grab them, but Hazel pulled her hands back. "Not so fast, you co*ckroach," she hissed. "You have to agree to the terms, first."

"Terms," Phineas murmured vacantly, breaths shallow. Percy could see him practically salivating at the temptation, and his lip curled in derision.

"Prophecy and sight.. I'd be unstoppable. I could own this city. I'd build my palace here, surrounded by food trucks. I could capture that damned harpy myself!"

A villainous laugh was hard to pull off when one was wearing pink bunny slippers, but Phineas gave it his best shot. Percy was very pointedly not looking at Frank, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. "Very well, daughter of Pluto. What are your terms?"

"You get to pick one vial," she answered, voice steady. "No uncorking and no sniffing before you decide."

"That's not fair—"

"Shut it, bucket head," she snapped. "I don't have your sense of smell, and the vials are exactly alike. None of us know which is the right one. I'll swear on the Styx if I have to."

Phineas stroked his beard, and Percy sucked in his lips. He thought Phineas was trying too hard to look evil; so much so that he looked idiotic. "So I choose which vial to drink. You have to drink the other one. We swear to drink at the same time."

"Yes," Hazel nodded.

"The loser dies, obviously," Phineas continued speaking. "That kind of poison would probably keep even me from coming back to life for a long time, at least. My essence would be scattered and degraded. So I'm risking quite a lot."

"But if you choose the right one, you get everything," Hazel goaded. "If I die my friends will swear to leave you in peace and not take revenge. You'd have your sight back."

She grinned slyly. "I heard even Terra won't give you back your vision," she crooned softly, gently, as if she was coaxing a scared kitten out from under a couch. "How does it feel, Phineas? To have your patron deny you the one thing you want most?"

The old man's expression soured. Percy took a moment to just lean back and marvel at Hazel's excellent job of striking all of Phineas' nerves. As much as Gaia had given the seer, he resented being, quite literally, kept in the dark.

"If I lose," the old man said, "I'll be dead, unable to give you information. How does that help you?"

Percy breathed easy that he and the others had already talked through the plan. This had been the major problem, and Frank had provided the brilliant idea.

"You write down the location of Alkyoneus' lair ahead of time," Hazel replied quickly. "Keep it to yourself, but swear on the River Styx that it's specific and accurate. You also have to swear that if you lose and die, the harpies will be released from their curse."

"Those are high stakes, indeed," Phineas grumbled. "You face death, Hazel Daughter of Pluto. Again. Would it not be simpler just to hand over the harpy?"

"Not an option," Percy snapped.

Phineas smiled slowly. "So you do understand her worth. Once I have my sight, I'll capture her myself, you know. Whoever controls that harpy.. well, I was a king once. This gamble could make me a king again."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Hazel told him coldly. "Do we have a deal?"

Phineas tapped his nose. "I can't foresee the outcome. Annoying how that works. A completely unexpected gamble.. it makes the future cloudy-"

"Stop rambling," she interrupted. "Or are you trying to postpone your end?"

Phineas barked out an ugly laugh. "You have a fiery spirit, girlie—"

His breathing stuttered. He stood up, back straight and head held high, closing his eyes. The air he sucked in whistled sickeningly in his throat.

Phineas turned towards Percy, and when he opened his eyes, they were glowing a bright, eerie silver.

"The Depths forge a new power

Who bears the brunt of the Earth's rage.

As the last hour grows closer,

The fall of the world order brings a New Age."

Percy felt his blood drain from his face. He snapped out a hand to grip Frank's elbow, feeling a chill cover his body.

"What?" He whispered, even as he silently committed the lines of what was clearly a prophecy to memory. The New Age.. he hoped that meant he would succeed on the impossible quest Posedawone gave him.

Phineas blinked, and his eyes went back to the dull grey shade that was proof of his blindness. He looked around, and when he saw Percy's pale face, he laughed. "Scared for your little friend, Perseus?"

Hazel stared at him, then opened her mouth, but Percy caught her eyes and gave an almost unnoticeable shake of his head. She snapped her mouth shut.

"Just get on with it, vesa'alko," he murmured, letting go of Frank's elbow. A hand shaped bruise was forming there, already showing off shades of purple between the red outlines. Percy shot him an apologetic look, which he waved off.

"Do we have a deal?" Hazel asked again, eyes still flicking towards Percy from the corner of her eyes.

Phineas grinned. "I swear on the River Styx to abide by the terms, just as you have stated them. Perseus Jackson and Frank Zhang, if I win, do you swear to leave me in peace, and not seek revenge?"

Frank's hands were clenched so tight Percy thought he might break his gold spear, but he managed to grumble in sync with Percy, "We do so swear on the River Styx, that we will leave you in peace if you win the gamble."

"Swear," Aella muttered from behind them. "Swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon."

The old seer laughed. "Well, in that case, find me something to write with. Let's get started."

Frank pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen that he had borrowed from the library front desk. Phineas quickly scribbled something on the napkin and put it in the pocket of his bathrobe.

"I swear on the River Styx that this is the true location of Alkyoneus’ lair." He gave Hazel a wide grin. "Not that you’ll live long enough to read it."

Percy drew his trident and swept all the food off the picnic table. Phineas sat on one side, and Hazel on the other.

Percy gazed at the hills in the distance. He imagined the shadowy face of a sleeping woman. He sent his thoughts into the ground beneath him and hoped the goddess was listening.

Gaia, I swear on the River Styx that if Hazel dies, I die. Hazel dies, and I will jump ship and slit my own throat. You say I'm a valuable pawn— prove it. How valuable am I?

Phineas held out his hands. "Let me feel the vials."

Percy passed him the vials, deliberately controlling his breathing so it stayed slow and even.

The old seer compared their weight. He ran his fingers along the ceramic surfaces, around the raised carvings and bright paint. Then he set them both on the table and rested one hand lightly on each.

Percy sensed the swell in power a second before it happened; a tremor passed through the ground, a mild earthquake just strong enough to make his teeth click together. He clenched his fist around his pen.

The vial on the left seemed to shake slightly more than the one on the right.

Phineas gave Hazel a wide smile. "You were a fool, Daughter of Pluto."

He picked it up, and pushed the other towards Hazel, who reached out with a steady hand to lift it. "Now," Phineas breathed, a manic undertone to his voice, "we drink."

Percy pressed his lips together as they both uncorked their vials and drank.

Immediately, Hazel let out a pained scream and doubled over, wrapping her arms around her middle.

Frank started forward with a cry of alarm, but Percy flung out a hand to stop him. "No, stop," he yelled, hope suddenly swelling in his chest.

Phineas sat up straight, smile even wider, eyes blinking in anticipation for a clear vision that Percy hoped with fervour would never be granted to him.

"Percy," Frank growled, trying his hardest to get out of the grip the older boy had on his shoulders, "let me go!"

"No, Frank," he snapped. "Tha'a—"

Hazel straightened up with a loud gasping breath, eyes glowing bright gold. Simultaneously, Phineas hunched over with a piercing wail.

"You can't," he howled. "Gaia, you- you—" He staggered to his feet and stumbled away from the table, clutching his stomach. "I'm too valuable!"

Percy grinned, knowing his teeth were a little too sharp. "Not too valuable, clearly," he said slyly, eliciting another howl of pain and rage from the old seer.

Steam came out of Phineas' mouth. A sickly yellow vapour rose from his ears, his beard, his cloudy eyes. "Unfair," he screamed hoarsely. “You tricked me!"

He tried to claw the piece of paper out of his robe pocket, but his hands crumbled, his fingers turning to sand.

"I did not trick you," Hazel said, voice strong and steady. Percy hid his grin; Hazel was right, she hadn't tricked Phineas.

He, however, had no such qualms.

After all, he had never taken an oath to abide by the terms. He had simply taken one that made sure he would not harm Phineas, after the gamble was complete. If he won. Which he didn't, because Percy made sure of it.

There might, of course, have been a few ways other than threatening Gaia with his own death, but Percy had never claimed to not be dramatic. What he had claimed was that he was the best and the coolest kind of dramatic.

(Annabeth might have scoffed at him, but they both knew she agreed.)

"You made your choice freely," he told Phineas, not even bothering to conceal his satisfied smile. And if it was a little too sharp around the edges, well... Percy let his grin grow. "And now we hold you to your oath."

The blind man yowled in agony, slowly disintegrating until there was nothing left but an old, ketchup stained bathrobe and a hideous pair of bunny slippers.

"Huh," Frank said after a few seconds of silence. He had finally stopped fighting against Percy's grip.

Percy let go of his shoulder and lifted his sleeve to check for a bruise. Sure enough, there was a blue and purple patch over his shoulder, looking painful. Percy winced apologetically at yet another instance of his strength that he needed to get under control. Frank waved it off, and both of them stepped closer on either side of Hazel, wrapping their arms around her petite figure.

"You know, Percy," she said in a light tone, staring at what used to be Phineas. She had her her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, almost as if she was trying not to laugh. "When you said that we were going to crush Phineas to dust, I did not quite think you meant it literally."

Percy burst out laughing.

Hazel and Frank followed suit, and all three of them sank to their knees, hysterical laughter bubbling up from the depths of their stomachs. They clutched at each other, both the boys trying not to think about just how close they had come to losing her.

"Those," Frank said between gasps of laughter, "are the most.. disgusting spoils of war ever."

Percy let out a louder, even more hysterical giggle, tucking Hazel under his arm. All three of them stumbled to the side and fell over each other, laughing till tears ran down their cheeks. Percy and Frank couldn't stop touching Hazel— a brush of a hand over her hair, an arm over her shoulder and other soft touches— as if they needed the proof, more than the pile of dust, that she was alive.

She's not dead, Percy thought with a relieved breath, relishing in the reassurance of those three words. She's not dead, and her blackouts will be gone. Hazel is alive.

All of a sudden, a woman's voice echoed in his mind. A gamble, Perseus Jackson.

It was a husky whisper, filled with the obvious tones sleep, and just a hint of grudging admiration. Percy felt his lip twitch, and his laughter slowed. The other two didn't notice, still giggling between themselves. Percy was thankful for that.

You forced me to choose, and you are more important to my plans than the seer. But do not press your luck. When your death comes, I promise it will be much more painful than Gorgon blood.

Percy untangled himself from the awkward hug-slash-puppy-pile, his mind going back to the prophecy Phineas had just given.

A new power.

The last hour.

The fall of the world order.

He sucked in a breath and pushed the thought away— not now, Percy, think about it later— and crouched over the dead Seer's bathrobe to pull the scribbled note out of the pocket. He handed it to Hazel, who held it so that all three of them could see it.

It had only two words on it, and Percy sucked in a breath. Such high stakes, such danger to Hazel's life, just for two measly words. He shook of the rising emotion and focused on the paper. His dyslexia made it a bit difficult to read, and he frowned, but he finally figured it out a second later.

HUBBARD GLACIER.

"I know where that is," Hazel said. "It's pretty famous. But we've got a long, long way to go."

Percy grinned sharply. "A good thing that we have Beauty and Toni, then, isn't it?"

The two of them grinned back, just as sharp as him. Hazel's eyes glowed like molten gold, and Percy saw a flash of red in Frank's— the first prominent indication he had seen of Frank's Godly inheritance. He felt his own eyes begin to glimmer.

The quest was finally going somewhere.

Chapter 8: Hunting For Barn Owls

Chapter Text

Hazel couldn't stop thinking.

She couldn't keep Phineas out of her mind— his taunts, his sneers, his prophecy (because that was a prophecy and all three of them knew it) and his last screams as he disintegrated into millions of tiny particles. All of it echoed around her brain like a fire alarm.

That pile of dust could have been her. If things hadn't turned out the way they did, it might have have been Hazel who would have crumbled away, screaming and crying in pure agony. The thought wracked shivers down her spine all the way to her fingers, but she clenched her teeth, trying in vain to not let them grow obvious.

Most of all, however, one sentence stuck to her like a leech that refused to let go.

If not for you, Alkyoneus wouldn't be alive.

They bounced off the walls of her skull from the inside, and Hazel wanted to press her palms to her ears and scream, because they were true. It was her fault that Alkyoneus was breathing again, her fault that Gaia was awakening, her fault that Thanatos was chained down and the Doors of Death were lost to the Gods.

No matter what Percy and Frank said, no matter how many times they said that she was nothing like Phineas, she couldn't deny that Phineas was right. She was like him— in fact, she was worse than him, because what she had done was not as paltry as simply tormenting a few harpies.

She had awoken a giant.

As they sped towards Seattle through the winds, high above the rain clouds, she tried to forget. Instead, she focused on listening to Aella ramble out word to word lines from Charles Dickens and other random books.

Taking Aella with them had not really been the plan. Aella just sort of flew alongside them, like the matter had been decided.

Hazel had to admit— the harpy was a fast flier. She easily kept pace with the pegasi, even with a ton of books packed into a bag and slung over her bony shoulders.

"Friends," she had muttered. "Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004. Friends melt Phineas and give Aella jerky. Aella will go with her friends."

The minute Phineas had disintegrated, Aella had launched at the beef jerky Hazel had given her, and then when the three of them had returned to the warehouse where Beauty and Toni were waiting, the harpy had come with them.

Now, she chattered away from beside Toni and Frank, quoting things that brought such a confused look on Frank's face that it made Hazel smile.

She herself was sitting on Beauty in front of Percy, the reins held loosely in her hands and Percy's arms wrapped tightly around her.

She remembered how Percy had not hesitated to wrap her in a hug, even if she was a child of Pluto. She though of how he had sharply told her that she was not as bad as Phineas with complete conviction in his voice, as if he actually did believe what he was saying. He had been so quick to say that Phineas needed to die, all because he said a few hurtful words to her.

Both Percy and Frank had been ready to rip Phineas to shreds for her.

A few days ago, if anyone had asked her who the most powerful demigod in the world was, she would have said Nico di Angelo, Son of Hades. She hadn't grown up with Nico, hadn't even known him very long. But she knew Nico was more dangerous than Reyna, Octavian, or even Jason.

A few days ago, she would have called Nico the most powerful demigod without hesitation.

Then she had met Percy.

Her first look at him had been him striding towards the tunnel with an ugly old woman in his arms, both of them covered in dirt and grime, and gold dust in Percy's case. Percy, even exhausted, had walked with an easy grace and fluidity that made you want to stop in your tracks and stare at him for a good few seconds.

Hazel could not have called that walking, though— walking was too mild a word to describe the way Percy moved.

No, Percy prowled.

He prowled like a tiger who was sure in its kill, who knew that it would sink its claws into its prey without difficulty. Hazel had felt the power he had from all the way across the highway. It had felt like a tide dragging her into the depths of the oceans, and she had thought he was a God in disguise, testing her.

He had certainly looked like one, with his wild, pitch black hair that reached his chin, tanned skin and ocean eyes that glowed a brilliant, hellish green, so completely and unabashedly un-Roman that it made her breath catch.

She had ordered Frank not to open fire. Then Percy had controlled the Little Tiber as easily as breathing, had destroyed the gorgons without so much as lifting a finger. He had turned a pen into a bronze sword, and then into a trident. He had stirred up the whole camp with talk about the Graecus.

The son of the Sea God.

Her fingers tightened around the reins.

"Percy," she whispered, hating how her voice came out weak, terrified. Drenched in a desperate need for an honest answer. "Percy, did you mean it? Did you mean what you said?"

She did not need to elaborate; they both knew she was talking about how the boys had told her she was a good person no matter what. She had not believed it— had not believed them— a few hours ago. She hadn't even considered believing them, but now, she was aching to.

Percy pulled her back into his chest and leaned his head down. A second later, she felt dry lips press a kiss to the crown of her head.

"Of course we did."

There was not a second of hesitation; he sounded strong, sure, and utterly convinced of it. Hazel felt her throat constrict, and her vision blurred; a second later, she realised that it was because of tears. To their left, the late afternoon sun splashed violent oranges and reds, and soft pinks and yellows over the sky.

Hazel sniffed.

Percy simply gave her another forehead kiss.

"You don't have to talk if you don't have to," he told her, voice low and soothing. It was deep, with a slight melodious lilt to it that worked to calm Hazel down. "But I'm here to listen if you do."

That sentence broke the dam. The story came tumbling out— she told Percy how her mother had summoned Pluto, had fallen in love with him. She explained her mother's wish for all the riches in the earth, and how that had turned into Hazel's curse. She described her life in New Orleans— everything, including Sammy.

She told him about the Voice, how Gaia had slowly taken over her mother's thoughts. She told him that they had moved to Alaska, that she had helped raise Alkyoneus. She told him how she had died, sinking the island into Resurrection Bay.

The story of the judges, of her argument for her mother, slipped out in a flood. She told him how she spent what felt like an eternity in the Fields of Asphodel, just sitting there without doing anything. She told him about Nico coming for another sister of his, but not finding her.

(If she had been facing Percy, she would have seen an anguished look on his face at the mention of Nico's other sister.)

She was dimly aware that Frank and Aella had stopped talking to each other and were listening in, and she didn't mind it, but she ignored them and spoke to Percy. By the time she was done, little hitching sobs were also leaving her lips, and Percy had taken to just dropping kiss after kiss all over her forehead, temples and hair.

"Oh, Hazelnut," he whispered, sounding like he was holding back either a lot of tears or an angry scream. Hazel couldn't tell which one. Maybe it was both. "This was absolutely not your fault. None of it was your fault, you hear?"

"But—"

"No, vame," he said softly, face pressed into her hair. Hazel leaned back into him, burrowing into his warmth. That was one thing she had noticed about him— he always ran ridiculously warm. Il was like sitting next to an honest to the Gods furnace. "You sacrificed your life and then gave up a one way ticket to Elysium for your mom. You're anything but a bad person, Hazel. You're brave. Extremely. Don't doubt it."

"It wasn't bravery," she sniffed. "I let my mother die. I cooperated with Gaia too long. I almost let her win."

"It's not your fault, Hazel," he insisted. Then he paused, as if he was carefully considering his next words. A few seconds later, his voice came out right next to her ear, quiet and filled with so much despair it made her want to press a kiss to his forehead for a change.

"I knew Bianca," he said. "She joined the Immortal Hunt, and within a few days I went on a quest with her and a couple of others."

He sucked in a deep breath. To Hazel, it sounded like he was trying not to cry. She took her hands off the reins and pressed her fingers into Percy's forearms where they were placed around her waist, offering silent comfort.

"She.. she was crushed under an automaton," he admitted in a strangled whisper.

Hazel sucked in a breath.

"Oh, Percy—"

"For the longest time," he plowed on, "I blamed myself for her death. I thought Nico blamed me too, and he did. But we talked it out. We sat and talked for hours and hours, and finally established that her death was no one's fault but the automaton's."

Hazel was silent.

"So you see, Hazel-vame," he murmured, "it's never our fault when it comes to the circ*mstances that were forced to deal with. Don't blame yourself. And it may not have seemed brave to you back then— you must have been so scared—"

She was. She had been terrified out of her wits.

"—but in the end you chose the best possible way to stop her, even though it ended with you and your mother's death. To me, that is extremely, extremely selfless. You're a Hero, neheri."

Percy took a deep breath, and Hazel understood that he was done talking. She mulled over his words for a second, then nodded slowly.

"Bien. I'll try not to blame myself. I'll try not to think that I'm a bad person."

"Promise me?"

She sniffed. "Promise."

She could feel Percy grin widely from where his face was pressed deep into the bushy mass of her curls.

"And look on the bright side," he chirped a second later, finally leaning away from her and running tickling fingers over her sides. She squeaked and slapped his forearm, and he laughed. "Your blackouts are gone."

Hazel blinked once, twice.

Then, she smiled.

———————

They reached Seattle late at night on 21st June, and Percy quickly lead the way towards a motel in the better part of town when Frank nearly fell off his pegasus in a sleepy daze. He left the other two outside with the pegasi and Aella, and walked into the motel with an easy loping gait.

He gave the college student at the reception desk what he hoped was a charming smile.

"Is there a room free for the night, please? One adult, two children." he asked them, doing his best to look as amiable as possible. Hazel looked her age, and Frank had his ID that stated he was fifteen. Percy himself wasn't eighteen yet— still a year and a month to go— but he looked it, and that would have to be good enough.

The person— Percy flicked a gaze to their nametag, and came up with Mx Blaise through his dyslexia— gave him a dubious look, raking their deep brown eyes over him in a clearly judgemental gaze.

"You got the money, dude?"

Percy raised a single eyebrow, giving Blaise a look, one that said they weren't going to be able to pull one over him. "What's the amount?"

They gave him a wide, utterly fake smile, and turned towards the computer. "For one adult and two kids— a room with two beds, plus a mattress. A hundred and sixty."

Percy just raised his other eyebrow.

They rolled their eyes, then tapped away at the keyboard, lowering their gaze petulantly. "A hundred ten and seventy five."

He let a satisfied smile show, then dug into his pockets for a hundred dollar bill. He glanced around, and his smile grew when he realised that the reception was empty except for them. "Make it a hundred and we have a deal, Blaise."

"Are you kidding me, dude—"

He began softly humming a tune under his breath, an old song by Billie Eilish he had once heard an Apollo kid sing, that had gotten him hooked on her music— Ocean Eyes. He was completely unashamed to admit that he had been hooked specifically because of the name of the song.

Blaise stopped talking, and raised a blank, wide eyed gaze to fix on his eyes. He knew they were glowing faintly: they always did when he sang or played a musical instrument.

"Just make it a hundred," he coaxed, lowering the pitch of his voice till it was smooth and deep, pushing down his pleased grin when he saw them shiver and lean forward ever so slowly. "I'll be really grateful if you do. Please, for me?"

They nodded dazedly, blank stare still focused on Percy's ever changing eyes.

"Of course," they said, voice vacant and floaty, like they were in a trance. "Anything for you, anything you ask."

Percy kept humming, a soft smile of encouragement playing on his lips even as his gut twisted at having to do this to a powerless human. "Thank you. And I've already shown you all the necessary documents, haven't I?"

"Of course, yes," they replied, still in that blank tone, and pulled out a key. "You have. Here, room 108."

He took the key and turned away, putting down hundred bucks on the countertop. He walked out with a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips, and waved a hand at Frank and Hazel to come in.

A second later, he noticed that Aella was nowhere to be seen. He blinked.

"Where's Aella?"

"She said something about shields, pointy swords and disliking Amazon and flew off to find libraries," Frank replied, blinking blearily. "I couldn't make heads or tails of a single word, except 'ouch'. So we left her to it."

Percy stared at him, then turned to Hazel with the same look. She just shrugged at him, thumbs tucked into the straps of her backpack. He sighed, shook his head, then gestured for them to follow him.

They settled into the room in no time, and Percy made sure he set up the mattress closest to the door; he didn't want to take any chances in case a Terror attacked them in the middle of the night.

Hazel took it upon herself to sneak Beauty and Toni into the room— how exactly she did it, Percy didn't have a single clue, but his respect for her was growing with every second he spent around her.

He thought she was a damn miracle, honest to the Gods.

They turned the lights off within fifteen minutes of tumbling through the door into the room, and Percy stared out the window at the lone tower that rose up high over the Seattle skyline. It glittered with the light of what seemed like a thousand LEDs against the dark night. If he focused, he could hear the quiet, steady beats of five hearts in the room; two human, two of the pegasi, and his own.

He let out a silent breath.

Ever since Hazel had drank that cure, he could sense her aura growing and growing, like being dead and coming back to life had taken her power away from her. Before, he couldn't tell how much power she had— it had felt muted, buried. Then she had chugged the Gorgon blood, and he had felt the steady rise in the brush of damp earth against his fingers, the smell of polished silver and gold coming from her hair. She was powerful.

And she didn't even know it.

Frank, on the other hand, did not have a prominent aura. Percy could sense it, of course— he had grown accustomed to his ability, had been trained to notice even the slightest of details— but it was weak. A faint fire burning under his skin, like he was all hot and bothered after a gruelling training session, but not as tired. And there was something else, something so faint that even Percy couldn't tell exactlywhat it was.

Percy huffed out another breath and reached up to pull his hair out of its messy bun, then flopped onto his back. He decided to drop that train of thought.

Beauty and Toni were sitting down on the ground on either side of his mattress, having told him they had already slept and would keep watch while the three of them slept.

Both Frank and Hazel were too tired to notice it in themselves, but Percy saw the unconscious tensing of their shoulders, the way their fingers twitched as if itching to grab a weapon, the way Hazel's lips were curled into a sour sort of look.

He supposed he wasn't surprised that Aella had flown off before everything inevitably blew up in their faces.

Everyone was on edge, and he had a sinking feeling it was because this was the town of the Amazon women. Absently, he lifted a hand to twist Reyna's ring around his finger, feeling all the ridges and chips the little piece of jewellery had suffered over the years.

The Praetor was counting on him, and he did so hate disappointing people.

Tomorrow morning, he told himself, we storm the tower and win the treasure from the dragon. Except the treasure is the Amazons agreeing to side with the Romans against Polybotes, and the dragon is the Amazons themselves.

He paused. More specifically, the Queen of the Amazons. Who wants to kill me. Fantastic.

Percy snorted.

His last thought before he sunk into unconsciousness was that it was kind of nice to not have to pretend to be bad at singing for once.

———————

Early the next morning, Percy told the pegasi to go and stay somewhere north of the city, checked out of the motel, and took his two quest mates out exploring. They walked around the city blocks for hours, and Percy explained to them why they were taking a tour around Seattle when they could be moving north towards Alaska.

At the end of the explanation, Hazel looked like she was ready to laugh herself to death at Percy's expense. Again.

Frank looked like he was ready to faint.

"So let me get this straight," he said weakly, "Reyna has a sister. Said sister is the Queen of the Amazons. She also wants to run you through with a sword. And you're, what— gonna try and talk her into helping us instead?"

Percy sighed, shooting Hazel an annoyed look when she stifled a snort into her fist. "I gave Reyna my word. Trust me, I'm not too big on this either, but this might be a big help against the monster army."

The unnecessary reminder of the monsters moving towards their city brought a sour twist to Hazel's and Frank's lips, and the conversation petered off to less grave topics.

Percy dragged them into a little cafe for a bite around nine AM, and they chomped down on blueberry muffins while talking about anything and everything in between. He taught them a few Greek prayers and Atlantean words, and they pestered him with questions about Atlantis and the Greek Camp. They agreed on letting him call them by honourifics for younger sister and brother, and asked him what they would call him.

It was just a little past noon, when they were growing closer to a plaza downtown in the business sector of the city, that Percy felt the hair on his arms stand on end. His head shot up to rake over the buildings, and he noticed Hazel and Frank shooting him strange looks.

He just strode forward, towards the pull just behind his navel, dragging them along with him. A few meters closer, and he felt them tense up. Their gazes followed his, immediately locking onto an office building to the left— a tall modern structure with glass walls and metal beams. The glass doors were inscribed with large letters, and Percy took a moment to figure it out.

AMAZON.

The three of them exchanged significant glances. Percy raised his hands to his head and piled his hair into a messy bun, and then they stepped forward.

Percy's mind latched onto a sudden thought, and he stopped in his tracks, throwing out his arm to make the other two stop as well.

Duasoi.

Why hadn't he thought of this before? Stupid. He should have asked Reyna to call a falconer back at Rome, should have suggested sending a prior warning of their little questing group's arrival.

A faint growl of annoyance rumbled in his chest, and he dragged a hand down his face, brain working furiously to come up with a solution.

"What is it, Percy-dau?" Hazel asked, her hand creeping towards her spatha and her eyes sharp, scanning their surroundings.

Percy ignored the spike of happiness at the honourific. He sucked in a deep breath, turned around, and pulled both her and Frank into a narrow alley. It was thankfully empty, and he leaned against the wall, as casual as could be. He was a teenager hanging out with his siblings, that was all. There was no reason for anyone to think anything other than the obvious.

Frank and Hazel caught on to what he was doing, and settled into faux comfortable postures of their own, his arm slung over her tiny shoulders.

"If we enter the Amazon territory without sending a message or something that we are coming," Percy explained in a low voice, "they might take us to be hostile."

Frank frowned, back straightening to take a little of his weight off of Hazel. "But we're not—"

Percy shook his head, hand slipping into his pocket to brush over the cap of his pen. "I know that. We know that. But the Amazons don't. We are essentially gonna trespass on their territory. They might— nah, they will attack us."

He watched as Hazel and Frank exchanged worried glances, then turned back to him. "So then what do we do?"

Percy hummed in consideration, but immediately stopped when he saw Hazel and Frank sway a little on their feet, eyes gaining a bit of a far away look in them. He huffed out a breath and lifted his hands up to release his bun, then tied it again. Gods, how he wished he had a few pearls to twist his hair into the proper number of taveafor his victories.

If only there was a way to get a message to the Amazons, if only he had a bird to tie a note to—

Wait.

"Hazel-vame," he said slowly, a half baked plan gaining a life in his frazzled thoughts, "I might have an idea. It's only slightly crazy."

His two quest buddies exchanged another look, this time an exasperated one that seemed to say 'this dude and his crazy sh*t'. Percy stifled his grin, and Hazel waved a hand at him to continue.

"Let's hear it, then."

Percy nodded, deliberately slumping back against the wall even more instead of straightening his back. "You know how I can talk to horses because they're my father's animal and stuff?"

She gave him a long look out of the corner of her eye, as if trying to glean from his mind what this slightly crazy idea of his was. "Mhm. Where is this going?"

"Well," Percy shrugged. "What if you can talk to barn owls?"

Hazel blinked. Once. Twice.

She sucked in a breath and turned an 'is he actually serious' sort of look towards Frank. Both of them gave Percy a weirded out look.

"What the f*ck?"

"No, no no hear me out," Percy said, an impish grin pulling at his lips even as he flapped his hands wildly. "My best friend back at home can talk to any kind of owl because she's a daughter of Athena. And barn owls are the sacred bird of Pluto so—"

"So I could, potentially, talk to them," Hazel said slowly. To Percy's delight, she seemed to be catching on to his idea. He nodded.

"Yeah!"

"And you want me to, what— talk an owl into sending a message for us?" Hazel's rhetorical question had Frank blinking. Then he shrugged, like it wasn't the weirdest thing he had heard. Which, to be fair, with all the sh*t that had happened and the impending clusterf*ck hanging over their heads like a sword... it really wasn't.

Percy nodded emphatically. "Yes."

The other two turned to stare at each other, having a silent conversation that Percy could easily figure out.

Frank's lip twitched. This might work.

Hazel lifted an eyebrow. Yeah, but is it worth it?

The boy shrugged in reply. I mean, we do need to talk to the Amazons.

She blinked at him, once, then sighed through her nose. Yeah, okay, true. Fine, I'll do it.

She turned to Percy and raised an expectant eyebrow, co*cking a hip. "If I'm gonna talk to an owl," she said, tone just daring him to argue with her, "you two idiots are going to be the ones bringing it to me."

Frank pulled away from her, an offended look on his face. "But it wasn't my idea—"

Hazel turned a look on him, and he snapped his jaw shut, teeth clicking audibly. "Okay, okay fine," he groused, raising his hands in surrender. "I get it, no need to think murder, damn."

Percy snickered, and Frank shot him him a betrayed stare. "Et tu, brute? Wow, can really see who your favourite sibling is."

Hazel and Percy cackled, throwing their arms around each other, and turned wide sh*t eating grins towards the middle child. "Yep," he said proudly. "Hazel-vame is an angel."

Frank grumbled something under his breath about being 'betrayed by my own family' and 'the audacity'. The other two cackled louder, and he gave them a dirty look.

"Don't look so smug," he told Percy. "This is your idea, and you're gonna be doing most of the donkey work."

Percy simply shrugged, the grin still firmly in place. "Don't have a problem with that, vau."

Frank huffed. "Let's get this over with."

———————

Nico threw one last glance at Korha, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, before turning away from her. Korha was a huge three headed hellhound, almost thrice Nico's height, with sleek black fur and otherworldly red eyes. She was one of the two hellhounds Hades had gifted him after the Battle of Manhattan.

Reyna had granted him permission to place both his Hounds at each Gate of the Camp, for two reasons.

One– obviously it was to guard the doors. If the armies showed up earlier than expected, the dogs would try to slow them down enough that Camp Jupiter would have time to get ready. Two– if one Gate was attacked, the dog at the other Gate would come to Nico and let him know.

Nico had barely taken a step away from Korha when he pulled the shadows towards him, letting them wrap their tendrils around him before dragging him into darkness and pulling him away from Camp Jupiter.

A second later, he appeared in a dark workshop in Camp Half Blood. Immediately, his ears began to ring— Annabeth was yelling. Loudly. By the sound of it, she was shouting at Leo, and had been going strong for quite a while.

Nico didn't pay attention to any of the working Apollo or Hephaestus kids who were exchanging wary looks, he booked it towards the sound of her voice, throwing the door open to Leo's private workshop. The sight almost made him want to turn tail and run.

Annabeth had her palms pressed to the top of the desk, and was looming over a cowering Leo who was in his chair and trying to make himself as small as possible. Her hair was flying everywhere, her veil barely keeping it in check, and she was nearly vibrating with how angry she was. Nico immediately knew she hadn't slept— despite him telling her to before he left for Camp Jupiter.

"—AND HOW IS IT THAT—"

Nico strode forward and pressed a hand to the back of Annabeth's neck, the way he had seen Percy do so many times, in an effort to calm her down. She stopped yelling and turned to him, intense grey eyes blazing with fury.

"Bettie," he murmured, gently pulling her away from the table and from the mechanic, "quiet down."

She glared at him. "Do not tell me to quiet down, Nico Maria di Angelo—"

Nico held in his wince at the full name; Annabeth wasn't mad, she was incandescent. This wasn't good. He kept massaging the back of her neck, and nodded. "Fine, but at least tell me why you're yelling."

Annabeth threw a venomous glare at Leo, who shrank back even more, hands gripping a fidget cube of his own making that was even now continuously clicking and whirring.

"Leo," she spat, "just told me that the Argo II won't be ready until the day after the battle at Camp Jupiter."

Nico whipped around to face Leo, dark eyes narrowed in a glare of his own. "What?" He hissed, and the poor boy shrugged weakly, fingers flipping a switch and pressing a button on the cube.

"Gaia is f*cking with the ship," he replied miserably. "And now the engine is a damn mess and I can't fix it fast enough."

Nico's first instinct was to blow up at Leo, but he held himself back, breathing in, then out. "Right," he said finally, furiously wrestling down the urge to let out a string of curse words.

"Right." He turned to Annabeth. "Come on, we're going."

She glared at him. "No."

"Bettie," he said, thinking fast, "come on, I need to tell you something. It's important." She raised an eyebrow, and Nico shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, it's.. well it's not good news, army of monsters and all that, but it's not bad, either. Come on."

He grabbed her wrist and dragged her out, ignoring her protests. "Come on, Annabeth," he said impatiently. "Stop yelling at him and start paying attention to me."

He pulled her all the way to the rows of cabins, resolutely not reacting to her death stares. Now the question was, what important news was he going to tell her? She already knew about him going to talk with Reyna. There was nothing—

Wait.

Yes, he could work with that. How stupid of him to forget. Oh, well. He remembered now.

He let go of her wrist only when they were inside the cabin It was empty and silent, and the sound of the door clicking shut echoed like a cannon blast. She closed her eyes and breathed, and Nico recognised the rhythm as something Percy had taught them, two weeks after the Battle of Manhattan.

The seaspawn himself had learnt the technique from the tutors Poseidon had given him under the ocean. It had baffled almost all the demigods that Percy was allowed to go down to the Undersea Palace twice a week for tutoring, since he needed "to get his powers in check". Nico suspected the tutoring was just a cover for something else, but Percy hadn't said anything before he went missing. Well, not to him, anyway. He was pretty sure Annabeth knew.

"What do you want, Death Boy?" she asked, voice suddenly tired. She raised a hand to her veil, starting to pull the grey silk cloth off her hair. Nico internally fist pumped. The nickname meant she wasn't too angry anymore, and that was a score if there ever was one.

"I talked to Sally, a few days ago, as you know," he said. She nodded slowly as she unwound the cloth from around her head, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "Well, I told her how Percy-dau didn't want to be found until the 24th."

Annabeth let go of her veil and slapped a hand to her forehead. "Idiot," she told him, without any real heat to her voice. "Sally definitely did not take that well."

Nico cringed at the memory. Sally had been ready to go after her "stupid, self sacrificing idiot" of a son herself. That urge had only been worsened when Nico had told her he had no idea where exactly Percy was, because he was on a quest.

"No," he said finally, "no, she didn't."

Annabeth sighed and finally pulled the veil off. The soft grey silk shimmered in the dim light of the cabin, and she set it to the side to collect her hair into a bun. "I want to see him, Nico. And Khiron hasn't even let me get out of Camp. I'm f*cking frustrated!"

Kiiron had set up magickal boundaries around Camp. They were esoteric in nature, extremely complex and powerful spellwork— if anyone (read: Annabeth) tried to leave Camp with the intention of searching for Percy, they would simply not be allowed within a dozen feet of the borders.

Nico breathed in slowly, leaning his forehead against her shoulder. "Percy-dau gave me a plan," he said in a low voice, "when he told me to tell you he was okay. I was hoping it wouldn't have been necessary."

"What?"

Annabeth's head shot up, and she pulled away to stare at Nico. Her grey eyes shone wildly, blonde curls frizzing with how fidgety she had been since he had turned up two days ago. She huffed and gave up on tying it up in a bun, then turned towards him.

"What plan?" she demanded, and he pressed his lips into a straight line.

"I'm going to shadow travel two of you with me."

She blinked, and opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly let out a yawn. Her eyes drooped, and her jaw cracked. Nico immediately grasped the opportunity. "You're tired," he said hurriedly. "Go to bed, Bettie, you've been awake for more than thirty hours."

"But—"

"Bettie, please," he begged, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down onto her bunk. "Sleep. If not for yourself, then sleep because you need your strength when you're going to help in the battle. Percy-dau would be upset you stayed up."

Annabeth shot him the stink eye for using the (extremely effective) Percy card. "Fine," she grumbled. "I'll sleep."

Nico breathed out in relief.

"If you answer my question."

He raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

"Why are you taking only two of us?" She inquired, leaning back into her pillows and throwing her feet on Nico's lap. "I mean, we both know you're powerful enough to drag all four of us."

Nico absently reached down to untie her shoelaces. "Dau asked me to summon an army of the dead, in case he didn't come back with allies."

Annabeth stared at him. For a second, then two, then five. Nico was starting to wonder what she was thinking, when she moved.

Slowly, she raised a hand. And then the resounding smack that echoed around the cabin made Nico wince. She and Percy had the exact same way of facepalming, he realised vaguely.

She let out an impressively long string of curses in a mix of Greek, English and Atlantean, the extremely condensed version of which was "f*cking idiot".

"I'm going to sleep," she muttered.

Nico bit his lower lip, then lifted her legs off his lap. "Yeah. I'll wake you up in eight hours?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "Good night, Bettie."

"You will sleep too, Nico," she warned him through bleary eyelids. "I will know if you don't."

He laughed softly, making his way to the door of the cabin and stepping out. "Ναι, καμάρι μου."

Chapter 9: Meeting The Amazon Queen

Chapter Text

It took an absurdly long time to find an owl that was willing to go near the Amazon territory.

Every owl they came across woke up as soon as Percy was within twenty feet of them, and every owl refused to speak if Percy was standing close. Frank ended up doing all the "donkey work" as he put it.

He wasn't surprised— owls had crazy senses and instincts, especially the talking ones, and they had most probably realised that he was dangerous. That didn't stop him from being annoyed, however; the owls went into a frenzy whenever he took even a step closer.

It took Frank falling off of exactly sixteen branches, Percy hissing like a cat when he toppled into a potted cactus and several close calls with the homicidal puffballs trying to pluck out Frank's eyes before they finally found a barn owl who didn't mind getting close to Percy— well, closer than the other owls.

Turned out, Hazel could actually talk to a barn owl. The ensuing conversation between them was very disorienting to the boys— it felt like Hazel was having a very one-sided talk. Percy supposed that was how other people felt when he spoke to horses and other sea creatures.

A very confusing talk, Percy hunting down fancy paper from a dollar store and Frank writing a message later, the three of them collapsed onto a park bench and watched Syrvie The Barn Owl fly away with the scroll in his claws, Reyna's ring tied to it with string.

Percy was not going to be the one to tell Hazel that the name was weird— she was glaring at a random spot on the grass as if willing it to spontaneous combustion, and he was quite fond of having his soul in his body instead of out, thank you very much. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a sense of self preservation.

It just didn't rear its head as many times as his family and friends would have liked it to.

"I don't know whether to hit you because your idea worked," Hazel said suddenly, "or kiss you because your idea worked."

"Can I pick?"

She hit him.

Percy shut up after that, not even daring to laugh in the face of her irritation. Mentally, he was trying to figure out ways to stop Annabeth and Hazel from meeting. Those two would be terrifying together— as if they weren't more than enough terrifying all on their own already.

"Man," Frank said from beside him, dragging him out of his thoughts, "this quest just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

Hazel and Percy snorted. "Ya think, buddy?"

"No, seriously," the Mars kid protested weakly. "How do you always come up with such batsh*t insane ideas, and how the f*ck do they always work?"

Percy just shrugged.

Frank let out a frustrated groan, throwing an arm over his eyes to stop the afternoon sun.

It was hotter than the bloody Sahara, and all of them were sweating buckets. Percy took one look at Hazel's loose mass of curls sticking to the back of her neck with sweat, and promptly manhandled her into a comfortable position so he could pile the hair into a poofy high bun.

"So now what?" Frank asked after a few minutes of quiet.

Percy breathed in deep. "Well, now we wait. The Queen of the Amazons will— hopefully— send an answer that says the Amazon tribe is ready to talk about an alliance. And then, we'll book it to that freaky office building that gives me weird ass vibes."

Hazel hummed, letting her head fall on Frank's shoulder. Percy let out an amused huff when she threw her legs over his lap. "Well," she said, "let's have some food while we wait. We haven't eaten in hours."

Both the boys let out sounds of agreement, but none of them made a move to get up.

"I can talk to a barn owl," Hazel murmured, almost sleepily, her head still on Frank's shoulder. She sighed and closed her eyes. "What. Is my life."

Percy and Frank let out twin snigg*rs, and Hazel didn't even bother glaring at them. "Shut up," she said, eyes still closed, "and drag my rucksack here. There's food in there."

They munched on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and Percy downed two sips of unicorn draught from his thermos. He wasn't hurt, but he had gotten into the habit around Lupa— mostly because he would return to the Wolf House half asleep, courtesy of the curse of Achilles, and they didn't have ambrosia.

"I didn't take you to know fancy ass official language, Percy-dau," Frank commented between bites of his sandwich. He was talking about the letter in Syrvie's claws. Percy had dictated it for Frank to write.

It helped that Frank was only ADHD and not dyslexic— none of the Roman demigods were dyslexic, much to Percy's chagrin. The Latin and English alphabets were pretty much the same, so they didn't have much of a problem. The Greek demigods had severe dyslexia, though, and Percy was probably the worst case ever.

He snorted.

"Spend enough time around my uptight brother and you'll know pretentious sh*t too," he replied.

Frank blinked, confused. "Brother?"

Percy nodded. "Triton-dau. He's the son of Poseidon and Amphitrite-mevi, and the Crown Prince of Atlantis." He rolled his eyes, a slightly fond smile playing on his lips. "And an asshole."

The two Romans choked on their food, and Percy silently handed them their watter bottles. The two of them downed a few sips while flinging incredulous looks at Percy.

"You really don't have any respect for the Gods, do you?" Hazel asked.

Percy simply grinned. "For a couple of Gods, I don't, no. But the rest of them aren't so bad, especially most of the Sea deities. Triton-dau and Amphitrite-mevi—"

"Mevi?"

Percy shrugged at Frank. "Amphitrite hated me at first, but then we started getting along. She told me to stop calling her Da'merai so I called her Amphitrite. Slowly, that turned to Amphie-mevi. Mevi is.. sort of an honourific for a woman who cares for you like your mother would, but isn't actually your biological mother."

He paused, biting down his laughter at the utterly gobsmacked looks on their faces. "We used to have weekly dinners— the whole family, with Mama and Paul."

Hazel looked at Frank, and both of them let out tired sighs. Percy bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from laughing. Seemed like they were already getting used to his particular brand of mayhem.

"What's Da'merai?" Frank asked.

"It kinda roughly translates to High Queen in Atlantean," Percy explained. "Anyways, Triton-dau and Amphie-mevi took it upon themselves to teach me Royal etiquette and other stuff a few times a week after the Titan War. It was annoying as f*ck, I tell you, but I did it because Mevi is awesome, and I got to annoy Dau."

Hazel and Frank exchanged wide eyed looks. "Wait so you're actually the Prince of Atlantis? I thought you were f*cking with me when you asked me to write that on the letter."

Percy snorted. "A prince, don't forget Triton-dau. He'll come at me with a knife, whether or not Yoti allows him to hunt me down."

"Should we be using royal honourifics for you, Your Highness?" Hazel asked, and Percy's eyes widened.

"Absolutely not!" he yelped. "It's bad enough that no one in the Sea will call me by name, I'm not having family use formal f*ckery!"

Then he caught the look on her face. Percy scowled. "Ha ha, so very funny."

Hazel giggled. "I thought so."

He elbowed her. Lightly. He didn't want to bruise her accidentally.

Percy's mind slipped back to the letter, mulling over the words he had recited. He had kept it short and to the point, and he wondered if that would be enough.

Hylla Daughter of Bellona Ramirez Arellano, Chief of the Amazon Warrior Tribe,

Greetings. I, Perseus Son of Poseidon Jackson, Prince of Atlantis, Terrorbane, Saviour of Olympus, request a meeting at your earliest convenience on this day itself to discuss a matter of utmost urgency. Accompanying me are Hazel Daughter of Pluto Levesque and Frank Son of Mars Zhang.

Your sister Reyna Daughter of Bellona Ramirez Arellano, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, has sent us as envoys of the aforementioned Legion. We eagerly await your falcon.

May the winds and tides be in your favour.

The Amazons in the prime of Mykenae— according to the legends of Atlantis before it had sunk— had been fierce and brave, and nowhere near as man hating as the media portrayed them in recent years.

That didn't change the fact that they would definitely take offense to strangers intruding upon their territory without prior warning, and Percy had lamented the lack of a suitable gift to offer as a symbol of peace. The most he could do was send Reyna's ring along with the letter, and he hoped vehemently that it would work in their favour.

For now, they would wait.

If an answering letter did not come by eight at night, they would leave for Alaska.

They didn't have to wait long.

A peregrine falcon landed in front of Percy not five minutes after he and the others had finished their lunch. She was a beautiful, terrifying bird, with a bamboo tube tied around her neck with string. It was coloured with deep, almost brown red paint, with steel grey designs around both ends.

Percy slipped the tube off from around her neck, and the falcon immediately flew away.

He pulled the wooden lid off, and a scroll of papyrus slid into his lap. Hazel and Frank crowded around his shoulders, and he gestured for Hazel to read it out loud.

"Perseus Son of Poseidon Jackson, Prince of Atlantis, Terrorbane, Saviour of Olympus," she read in a clear voice, then snorted. "You have way too many titles."

Percy gave her a light punch to the shoulder, careful to keep his strength under control, and decided not to ever let her know the entire list of said titles. She giggled, and continued reading.

"Greetings. Hylla Daughter of Bellona Ramirez Arellano, Queen of the Amazon Warrior Tribe, Bearer of the Hippolyte Belt, invites you to the Territory of the Tribe for talk of alliance. May your journey be swift and lack obstacles."

Percy, Frank and Hazel exchanged glances, lips twitching with identical smiles.

"Looks like we're going to Amazon," Frank said.

———————

The pegasi had come and collected their rucksacks at Percy's word, then flown off to the northernmost point of Seattle to wait for them.

Percy stood in front of the doors of the Amazon office building, his companions on either side and the bamboo tube in his hand with the scroll safely inside. Waiting for them were seven women, dressed in ceremonial armour with Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold weapons. He idly wondered if they knew what Divine Steel was.

He could sense the Mist that wrapped itself around them to hide them from those with the Clouded Sight— it brushed over his skin in way of greeting. For some reason, he felt it gravitate towards Hazel and wrap her, almost as if... the Mist liked her.

"Prince Perseus Son of Poseidon Jackson, Hazel Daughter of Pluto Levesque and Frank Son of Mars Zhang," the woman at the front addressed, pressing a fist to her heart and bowing at the waist. She looked about five years older than Percy, and considerably shorter. Her long, auburn hair was pinned back in three intricate braids.

"I am First Lieutenant Kinzie," she said as the soldiers behind her bowed their own heads. "Chief Hylla offers her regrets that she cannot be present to greet you herself, but there are matters she must attend to."

Percy was not ashamed to admit that he was kind of glad he didn't have to talk to Hylla right off the bat. Mostly because he had not yet figured out what the f*ck he was supposed to say to her.

"Nawase, Lieutenant," he greeted back, handing the bamboo tube to Frank and pressing his palms together in the proper gesture as Atlantean culture dictated. While he was here on behalf of Rome, he was first and foremost a Prince of Atlantis, so he would use Atlantean formalities. "Queen Hylla has nothing to regret, we did arrive at very short notice."

Kinzie's lips twitched, but Percy couldn't figure out what it meant. "Come, we will escort you to the throne room. The ceremony to honour the Gods will begin shortly."

The women surrounded the three of them in a diamond formation, and Lieutenant Kinzie pushed the doors open to lead them in.

The lobby was like an empty fish tank— glass walls, a glossy black floor, a few plants, and pretty much nothing else. Against the back wall, a black stone staircase led up and down. Beside that, a set of carved double doors were practically drowning in Mist— Percy immediately understood that was where they were going.

The place was.. Percy couldn't place his finger on it, but it made chills travel down his spine, and his nose twitched when goosebumps marched across his skin.

His scales were itching to come out.

The whole thing reminded Percy of his and Annabeth's brief but chaotic stint in Kirke's Island. Ironic, he thought, considering that was where they had first met Reyna and her older sister.

Sure enough, they were marched towards the Mist covered doors. Lieutenant Kinzie pressed her right palm against the wood where a handle should have been. A second later, the handprint glowed light blue, and the doors swung open to reveal an elevator, completely dark with the buttons glowing an eerie shade of dried blood. Percy exchanged glances with Frank and Hazel.

Not creepy at all, their faces said. He bit back a grin.

They all piled inside, and the doors swung shut, leaving them standing in pitch black surroundings that only he could see in.

Percy was honestly surprised none of the Amazon warriors reacted to his eyes— there was no way they weren't glowing their usual freaky hellish green.

He saw Kinzie's hand move towards the panel, heard the click of a button, and felt the Mist permeate the air around them. His stomach lurched when the elevator dropped, and he reached out a hand to grab Hazel's, focusing his senses to hear the heartbeats in the room.

Ten including his, as he expected.

Hazel's and Frank's hearts were going a mile a minute, and he could feel her agitation in the way her fingers gripped his tight enough that he would have been bruised if he didn't have the Achilles Curse. He gave a gentle, comforting squeeze back. He would give her a smile, but he didn't think she could see in the dark like he could.

He had no way of knowing though— she was a child of Pluto. Nico could see well in the dark, but he inherited more of the death aspects of his father while Hazel inherited the riches and wealth aspect. It was a bit hard to tell how their abilities overlapped.

Frank was biting his lip, hard enough that Percy knew he was in danger of breaking skin. He was going to do something about it, but the Mist vanished, and the elevator came to a stop.

The doors swung outwards, and Percy gave Hazel's hand one last squeeze before letting go. They shared a look, and Percy shot Frank a playful wink, ignoring his own anxious urge to fidget.

Show time.

They walked into a hallway, and Percy raised an eyebrow at the interior design. The walls and floor were carved out of stone, and deep purple drapes hung from the pillars, interspaced with burning torches.

At the end of the hall where it split into two corridors on either side, stood another set of double doors with intricate designs carved from high quality wood and each a foot thick. They were wide open, and Percy could make out enough to understand that it was a throne room.

There were a lot of women milling around inside, and the low hum of chatter grew louder with every step they took. More than that, however, Percy's ears focused on the sounds of an argument. Specifically, he was focused on the woman who sat on a throne made of black metal embedded with rubies, mounted on a dais inlaid with white marble. She was watching the heated argument that several Amazons were having at the foot of the dais.

He recognised her, now that he had his memories back.

Hylla was in her early twenties, lithe and lean in a way that reminded him of a panther, especially with the black leather jumpsuit and black boots she was wearing. She had no crown, but around her waist was a strange belt fashioned out of interlocking gold links, like the pattern of a labyrinth. It reminded Percy of Daedalus' labyrinth, and he pushed the thought away.

The similarities between her and Reyna were startling— the same black hair pulled back in an intricate braid, the same dark eyes and straight nose. Hylla was harbouring the same hard expression Reyna had in front of the Roman Senate, like she was trying to decide which of the Amazons before her most deserved death.

Percy could hear snippets of the argument as they grew closer, and his right eyebrow rose higher and higher he kept listening.

Otrera deserves—

How dare you, Queen Hylla is—

Don't deny it—

You've gone off your rocker—

Otrera is the first Queen—

She died literal millennia ago, you stupid f*ck—

Kenzie took one look at them, and her lip curled in an expression of strong derision that had Percy and Frank exchanging glances. "Otrera's agents, spreading their lies and rumours," she muttered under her breath, low enough that only Percy caught it.

Otrera? Percy's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Amphitrite had taught him about Otrere— First Chief of the Amazon Warrior Tribe and mortal wife of Ares. She was a master of politics, Mevi had said, and quite the intimidating warrior. Ares had been distraught when her soul had left for Aides.

Usually, when his stepmother said someone was a master of politics, she meant they were power hungry. While Percy knew that want for power wasn't always a bad thing, the fact that Otrere was here right after Gaia had seized control of the Thanatosian Doors...

Percy resolutely pushed away the sinking feeling in his stomach. He would like to deal with, at the most, one world ending problem at a time, please and thank you very much.

The second Hylla caught sight of their little group, she straightened up,

"Enough," she snapped out, and the arguing Amazons fell silent right away. Hylla shot the women a glare, and they moved away from the throne.

Percy and the others followed Kinzie to the foot of the dais, while Hylla made her way down the stairs to meet them on the ground. She moved silently and gracefully, head held high and eyes gleaming with an unnerving red tint to the dark irises.

The way she walked— a subtle sway to her hips and shoulders pulled back— told Percy she was dangerous, and she was aware of it. Her aura brushed under his skin, filling his nose with the smell of a battlefield and making an irresistible thirst explode in the back of his throat. A second later, he identified the feeling with the way he had wanted to rip Phineas' jugular out.

Daughter of Bellona, indeed. Her aura was almost the same as Frank's, except there was a bit more madness to her. Frank had a collected feel to his presence, but Hylla? She made Percy's vision go red. He wanted to tear something to shreds, wanted to sink his claws into flesh and let blood flow between his fangs.

His lips twitched; he needed to be careful around her.

She came to a stop right in front of him, and Percy was not at all surprised that she was just as tall as he was. Her dark eyes raked piercingly over him, then slid over to Frank. When she turned to Hazel, her look softened a little. Finally, she turned back to him.

"Well met, Prince Perseus Son of Poseidon Jackson, Hazel Daughter of Pluto Levesque and Frank Son of Mars Zhang," she greeted, pressing her right fist to her heart and keeping her chin high. "I am Chief Hylla. Welcome to the Court of the Amazons."

Her voice was perfectly polite and level, but Percy was no fool. She couldn't hide the anger that swam around the edges of her presence— the red tint to her eyes was more than just for show.

He smiled back, aware that it looked more like he was baring his teeth in preparation for a battle than offering an olive branch, and pressed his palms together.

"Nawaire, Hylla Merai, Daughter of Bellona," he greeted back, just as politely , "thank you for allowing us to enter your territory."

Beside him, Hazel and Frank pressed their own fists to their hearts and bowed at their waists. "It is an honour to meet you, Queen Hylla," they chorused, then pulled themselves back to their full height.

The woman nodded at them, then waved a hand towards the throne room. Immediately, Percy heard the distinct sounds of everyone falling into their respective positions at the Court. No doubt, according to Ancient Customs, there would be a ceremony in honour of the Gods to ensure their symposium of treaty would be peaceful.

Percy was about to say something, but another group of Amazons entered the room, led by a towering woman with braided silver hair and dresses in fine silk robes. The other Amazons parted like the Red Sea for her, and Percy didn't need any more clues to figure out who this was, but the way Hylla stared daggers at the woman proved his theory.

Former Queen Otrere, Founding Mother of the Nation of the Amazon Warriors.

She was definitely not a demigod; Percy couldn't sense any Tevaiki in her aura. However, even to her distinguished human presence, there were faint traces of a particular smell that Percy was very familiar with— the smell of metal soaked in blood.

"Daughter of Bellona," she greeted blandly, sparing only a glance at Percy and his two companions.

"Bride of Ares," Hylla nodded back, tone icy enough to freeze over the Sahara. Percy felt the undercurrent of bloodlust in her aura rise, and quickly bit down the urge to let out his fangs. He was trained by the best warriors of the ocean, and then Lupa, he was not losing control.

"Who are these people, Hylla?" Otrere asked, and Hylla's eye twitched at the lack of her deserved title. Percy himself held back a frown; Hylla was Queen, and she was to be called by her rightful title whether or not she had jurisdiction over Otrere.

"This," she waved a hand towards Percy, "Otrera, is Perseus Son of Poseidon Jackson, Prince of Atlantis and Saviour of Olympus. He is accompanied by Hazel Daughter of Pluto Levesque, and Frank Son of Mars Zhang."

Otrere's eyebrow climbed up her forehead with every word spoken. "Roman Legionnaires in our Court? I never thought I would see the day." She laughed quietly.

A few Amazons, mainly the ones that had entered the Court with her, laughed with her, and Hylla and Percy's group bristled.

"Terrorbane," Otrere called, a smile playing on her lips that made Percy want to kick her teeth in. Perhaps being around Hylla was pushing his aggression a few notches higher. "I have heard a great many things about you. Well met."

She walked closer, and Percy delighted in seeing that neither Kinzie's nor any of her soldiers moved out of Otrere's way.

"You have, have you?" he asked casually once she came to a stop in front of him. Her eyes were the same shade of silver as her hair, he noted. "I hope they were all interesting, if not good. Nawase, Otrere."

He did not deign give her the privilege of an Atlantean honourific. She let out another quiet laugh, this time one of amusem*nt, and pressed a kiss to his cheek— a purely Greek gesture. Percy wanted to raise an eyebrow, but didn't. Otrere had acknowledged him as a person of greater standing than hers.

He supposed it was accurate; she was no longer queen and it was not her descendant on the throne of the Amazons, and while he was not in line to be ruler of Atlantis, he was still a Prince.

"They were all extremely interesting, πρῖγκιψ," she said, an amiable smile playing on her lips. "It makes me wonder what you, a Greek to the core, are doing with the Twelfth Legion Fulminata."

Percy smiled back, just as amiable as she was, even though his skin itched when he was called Greek. He felt the scratching in his throat worsen, and the corners of his vision blurred and turned dark— Frank and Hazel were getting even more annoyed. He turned his focus away from their auras.

"The White Armed One is playing with Fate, of course," he answered, trying to seem as genial as possible. It wouldn't fool anyone present, but he needed to look as far from dangerous as possible.

He would have insulted Hera, but he had given his word to both his mother and to Amphie that he would try to tone down his disdain for the Goddess, and he was sticking to that promise.

Mostly.

Otrere's small smile turned into a full blown rakish grin. "Ah, yes," she said, silver eyes twinkling. "The Cow-Eyed Queen certainly does love to toy with mortal lives, doesn't she?"

If Percy's interest hadn't been piqued before, it was now. Was there bad blood between the two?

"That she does," he agreed slowly, not quite sure where this conversation was going.

"I suspect her games are to do with that little uprising you face?" Otrere asked, and Percy's lips tugged into a smirk. How arrogant, to call an impending war and the possible annihilation of an entire Camp full of kids a 'little uprising'.

He felt vicious satisfaction course through his veins when, with the most blasé grin he could manage, he replied, "Of course they are. You would know all about it, naturally."

Faintly, he heard his friends' heartbeats pick up at his blatant wording. Otrere's lips twitched, but her smile stayed in place and her heart didn't stray from its rhythm. She was about to say something, but a courtier stepped forward, dressed in full armour, and bowed with her fist on her heart.

"The preparations for the ceremonies are complete, Chief Hylla," she said. Hylla dismissed her, and she stepped back out of sight. Percy caught the sound of her footsteps as she made her way out of the large double doors. Hylla turned around and clapped her hands once.

"Your Highness," she said to Percy, "the rituals are to begin within a short while. Shall we?"

Percy smiled and nodded. He caught Frank and Hazel exchange a look and turn to him, but he blinked once. Both of them blinked back twice, then turned to follow Hylla.

As they walked out, the Queen leading the way for Percy and his friends, the courtiers and soldiers fell in line behind them. Right outside the throne room, Hylla twisted on her heel and took them down the left hallway.

Percy's eyes lingered on the deep red drapes and flaming torches for only a second before he focused back on Hylla. Even though his eyes were on her, all his other senses were keeping tabs on Otrere; his ears were focused on her heartbeat, and his nose on her faint smell of blood-drenched metal.

He didn't trust her as far as he could throw her.

If Otrere was anything like Amphie-mevi had described her to be, Percy knew he needed to stay on guard. He only had a vague idea of her motives, and not knowing another person's motives was always the main ingredient for disaster.

It seemed like the corridor twisted and turned forever, leading deeper underground than Percy had originally thought it would. The hallways were all the same, with several sets of double doors smaller than the ones for the throne room leading off to Gods knew where.

They went lower and lower, climbing down several staircases one after the other till all Percy could sense was the weight of several hundred thousand pounds of earth right above them, and faintly hear the heartbeats of everyone surrounding him. Which was a lot, there were exactly one hundred and two people excluding him in the procession.

The Earth.

It would be so easy to just.. reach out and pull, to make it tremble and shake to his will. The vibrations from everyone's footsteps were right there, faint and weak, but Percy could sense them. He could feel the way they rippled through the stone and packed soil, feel it in his gut how simple it would be to wrap his power around those tiny tremors and amplify them to a full blown earthquake.

"We have arrived."

Percy blinked, pulled out of his thoughts by Hylla's statement. He looked up, and realised that he had spaced out— they were already standing in front of an entrance to another room.

There were no doors, just a large opening cut out of stone and reinforced with earth and metal. The pillars of the arch were carved with depictions of Amazons in battles, and gemstones embedded in the stone gleamed like little constellations.

Percy felt the smell of metal polish tickle his sense of smell, and he turned to look at Hazel. Sure enough, her eyes had a slight glow to them, and her hands twitched as if barely holding back from reaching out and dragging all the gems towards herself.

He could feel it too— the amount of precious stones that were buried in the walls and floors around them, surrounded by earth, was astounding. They felt like little voids to him, like when something had no water to be sensed, except they did have water. These gems were not the earth, but surrounded by it, and Percy could pinpoint the location of each one by both feeling the earth and the water in them. No doubt Hazel, with her influence over those precious stones, could feel their presence.

As if on queue, a cluster of rubies rose out of the earth like a dolphin rose out of water. He watched as they flew up into Hazel's hand with a barely-there flick of her finger.

Hylla turned around, a small smile on her lips. Percy once again noticed just how alike Reyna she was; the same cupid's bow, and the same murderous edge to all their expressions.

"The Worship of Artemis Astrateia," she announced, "begins now. Everyone, you know what you must do. Prince Perseus, Hazel, Frank, follow me."

The doorway opened into a gigantic circular cavern, with a high ceiling held up by huge pillars that displayed beautiful carved tapestries. Flaming torches were mounted on the wall, giving the whole place a soft yellow glow. There were several doors leading out of the place, all placed at equal distance from each other. The door the procession had come through was clearly the grandest of all the entrances.

The cavern was packed, with hundreds of women milling around carrying large plates of offerings— flowers, fruits, meat, flasks of wine and water and honey, twigs and branches of sacred trees. In the centre, a huge circular platform rose about six feet up from the floor, surrounded by stairs and showing off an impressive altar.

Percy caught Frank's wide eyes, and grinned. He supposed the Romans didn't teach demigods about the Worship of Artemis Astrateia, because both him and Hazel were staring at the towering wooden statue of Artemis on the altar. The statue had no hard edges or smooth surfaces— it looked like a tree had grown into the image of Artemis rather than been cut down and carved out. Percy wouldn't put it past a child of Demeter or a wood nymph to have done that.

"This," Hylla said, arm spreading wide to cover the entirety of the cavern, "is the Temple of Artemis Astrateia, the aspect of the Goddess that stopped the advance of the Amazons at Pyrrhicus. The original temple has deteriorated over time, but the traditions have been kept alive through the centuries by the Amazons."

As they walked closer to the altar, the courtiers behind them dispersed, leaving only Kinzie and her guard to stay with them. Otrere tagged along, and Percy saw Hylla twitch just a little while she continued speaking.

"The statue was grown out of a willow tree, a hundred and fifty years ago by Queen Padma, Daughter of Demeter," she said, confirming Percy's theory, and they stopped right at the foot of the steps leading up to the altar. "The tree died, but the statue remained intact by the Blessing of The One With the Silver Halo."

Percy saw Hazel and Frank exchange awed looks. Behind them, a group of women walked out of one of the doors, carrying a collection of huge drums to a podium mere feet away. There were a few kitharai, auloiand other string instruments as well.

Percy smiled.

Worship dances were always beautiful to watch, and it hadn't taken him long to grow a fondness for them, after the Titan War.

A woman, dressed in a traditional Greek chiton, walked up to them and pressed her fist to her heart. She bowed, then handed Hylla a pile of folded shimmery silver cloth— no doubt garments for the ceremony.

The woman walked away, and Hylla turned around to hand the garments to Percy, Hazel and Frank.

"Kinzie will lead you to the changing rooms," she said. "I would be happy to host you today, and request you bear witness to our honouring of the Goddess."

Percy nodded at her with a smile, this one much less sharp compared to the first one he had given her, and accepted the cloth.

"We would be honoured, Hylla Merai," he said, meaning every word. He did respect Artemis, and Amphitrite had sung veritable songs about the sheer magnificence of the Amazon Tribes religious practices.

This would be interesting.

Chapter 10: The Worship of Artemis Astrateia

Chapter Text

Hazel took the impossibly soft garments from Hylla with a bow and a heartfelt thank you. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that she was about to witness a grand ritual that the Romans knew next to nothing about.

The Worship of Artemis Astrateia.

Bon sang, she was actually going to attend it. And as a guest of honour, no less.

"I take it you know the ins and outs of a formal ritual, Your Highness?" Hylla asked Percy, and he grinned back.

"Of course, Hylla Merai," he answered smoothly. "My friends know the general proceedings and the specific prayers, but I will fill them in about the rest of it, if need be."

Hazel had wondered, back in the cafe that morning while they searched for the Amazons, why Percy had been drilling prayers to the Greek Gods into their skulls. He had simply given her a shake of the head and said, "I have a feeling. Just trust me on this one."

Guess her questions were answered. She wondered if Percy had some sort of prophetic powers. A lot of oracular powers were connected to the oceans, right?

Hazel and her boys followed Kinzie off to one of the doors, and the Lieutenant pointed them through three different doors. The room was fairly large, for a sort of bathroom; there was a rack piled with towels, and a large stone basin full of water. On the edge of the basin, a fire burned in a large ceramic bowl, and a small pile of cypress branches was placed next to it.

Hazel immediately set down the ceremonial garments on the towel rack. She stripped off her clothes, tied her hair up, and picked up a handful of the twigs. The heat of the fire licked over the skin of her hands as she set the twigs on fire, and she moved to hold the burning cypress over the water

"Xerniptosai," she whispered as the ash started drifting down into the basin, just as Percy had told her when they had been at the cafe. "May the Gods bless this water."

She lowered the burning sticks into the water and swirled it around, then let go.

Once the wood settled at the bottom, she stepped into the basin, immersing herself up to the neck. The water was very warm, but not scalding, and she made quick work of scrubbing her skin down with her hands. Within minutes, she was rising out of the khernips and grabbing a towel from the rack to pat herself down.

She decided on a fresh, amaranth flower oil, and applied four drops— two behind her ears and two on her wrists— then reached for the given attire. The cloth spilled over her arms in the likeness of water, so fluid and light that she wondered if it had been woven out of the waves itself.

When she pulled everything apart, there was a khiton and a silk sash, and a himatyan.

The khiton was a simple design, with only the hem showing off gold thread in dainty swirls and swooshes. The sash was heavy, and two inches thick, and Hazel could sense the threads of pure gold woven into the cloth. The himatyan was the most elaborate piece, a deep shade of burgundy with elaborate woven designs of flowers and leaves all over, glinting with pure gold.

Hazel was in love.

She donned the outfit within minutes, swishing the floor-length khiton around her ankles for a cute minute, thinking of how different it looked with the sash, and left her shoes with the rest of her clothes. When she stepped out, Percy was waiting.

He smiled at her from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, then jerked his head towards Frank's cubicle. The door was still closed, so she walked over to stand next to him.

He looked absolutely ethereal in his traditional Greek clothing, which were in similar shades to Hazel's others, except his khiton was thigh length, showing off toned legs, and the himatyan was a deep bluish green along with the gold interlacing. The designs were incredibly elaborate, depicting waves like a sea. His hair fell to just below his chin, properly combed with the grey streak pulled into a braid and proudly on display. All the sharp angles of his face stood out under the light of the flickering torch, and his currently sea green eyes glowed slightly like they always did.

He looked handsome, she thought, a bit too much. If he hadn't been three years older and practically a brother, she knew she would have been mooning over him.

"That's called jari, in most parts of India," he said suddenly, pointing to the sash around her waist. Hazel wondered for a second why he was telling her that, then realised she had been unconsciously tracing the seamless gold thread weaving with her fingers.

She smiled. "That's a pretty name."

Percy nodded, with a small smile of his own. "It is, isn't it? My mother had a friend from India, and she told us that threads of precious metals are woven into sarees to make them more valuable. I remember being obsessed with this one blue saree that she owned, when I was a kid."

Frank chose that moment to step out. His outfit was also the thigh-length khiton and himatyan, except his was blood red and white thread woven to form patterns akin to large splatters of blood. He looked very put together— a complete lie, Hazel knew. Frank was just as chaotic as her and Percy.

"Oh, wow," Frank said, wide eyes focused on the two of them. "You two look awesome."

Hazel grinned. "You don't look too bad yourself, mon chou."

Percy suddenly turned his head towards the door to the cavern, as if he had heard something, then pushed himself off the wall. "Get a move on, you guys," he said, "Kinzie's coming."

Just then, a couple of quiet footsteps sounded before Lieutenant Kinzie stepped into view around the doorway. Hazel saw that she had changed out of her armour as well, except her entire outfit was just silvery white, without any colourful embellishments. There were subtle designs, but the interwoven thread was of almost the same colour as the cloth, and the designs could only be seen when the light hit it just right, making Hazel marvel at the care it must have taken to make the cloth. Her bright auburn hair was now in a single braid, trailing down to the back of her thighs.

"Your Highness," she bowed to Percy, and wow Hazel still couldn't believe that Percy was a literal Prince, she was so going to tease him afterwards. "Daughter of Pluto, Son of Mars. The Queen requests you to join her at the altar."

Hazel nodded, and Percy smiled at Kinzie. "Of course, Lieutenant. Lead the way."

They followed her out of the changing rooms, bare feet on cool stone, and Hazel stared wide eyed at the temple cavern. It had seemingly transformed in the ten minutes it took for her to be ready— a fire was already blazing in the brazier in front of the altar, and three priestesses stood around it, arranging everything to their liking.

Bowls of fruit lined the altar, from strawberries to grapes, watermelons to oranges, red currants and blueberries and bananas. Plates carried towering piled of bread, from naan to bread rolls to focaccia to pumpernickel and so many more.

Torches were placed at equal intervals in a circle around the room, already burning bright and hot with fires. Incense sticks were already lit, and the addicting scent of sandalwood and lemon permeated the air, which was steadily growing warmer.

Almost everyone had changed from ceremonial armour to silvery white khitons and peploses and himatyans. The light of the fires bounced off the clothes, making them shimmer and ripple.

Musical instruments were being tuned, and the sounds of several hundred people talking and working rose high into the air, making Hazel's body thrum. The gemstones in the walls were but a mild presence in the back of her mind— so many things were going on all at once that Hazel couldn't decide what to focus on. Her body thrummed with excitement, and she turned to Percy.

"This is..." she murmured dazedly, breathing in the smell of sandalwood and lemon, "this is unbelievable. I never thought I would know much about the Amazon religious practices, much less attend one of the most important ceremonies."

Percy nodded. "I know, right? But what confuses me is that this ceremony was supposed to be yesterday. Why are they holding it today?"

Hazel furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yesterday?" Frank questioned, his own nose scrunched in confusion. "Why– oh, right. The summer solstice was yesterday."

Percy nodded at him. "Yeah. I wonder why they didn't—"

"Otrera made her first appearance yesterday."

Hazel's heart leaped into her throat, and she whipped around to come face to face with Hylla. The Queen was dressed in the khiton and himatyan, with elaborate designs of chariots and swords worked from gold, deep red and ash grey thread. There was no crown on her head, but the Belt of Hippolyta was wrapped around her waist instead of a sash. Her lips were pulled into a straight line, and she stared at Percy with intense eyes, and Hazel's blood chilled at the red ring around her dark irises.

Even when Hylla was calm, she looked like the personification of war madness. Hazel had thought Reyna was scary, with her piercing black eyes, but the Queen of the Amazons was thrice as terrifying. She would not want to face Hylla in battle.

"The worship," Hylla said, drawing Hazel out of her thoughts, "was supposed to happen yesterday. But Otrera showed up, and challenged me to a duel to the death for the Throne of the Nation. She attacked me in the middle of prayer."

Hazel and Frank sucked in sharp breaths. To interrupt a prayer was the highest degree of disrespect, both to the Gods and to the person offering devotion. Beside her, Percy stood up straighter, and his eyes began to glow, the unnerving green spreading over his pupils and making the black disappear.

"Both of you are alive," he noted, voice low, and Hazel winced. Percy was not happy.

Hylla nodded tersely. "I defeated her yesterday. And then she stood back up and challenged me again."

Hazel's hand went to her waist, but her touch met thin air. Her sword was in the rucksack, and the rucksack had been handed over to the pegasi to take care of.

"She's definitely working with Gaia, then," Percy mused, and Hylla tensed. Her hand went to her waist, but her sword was also absent.

"What do you know about the Earth Mother?" she hissed, a red sheen sliding over her eyes, making Hazel suppress a violent shiver despite the heat of the altar fire warming her skin. Bellona was widely feared for her madness in battle, and doubtlessly Hylla was too.

"She has the Thanatosian Doors," Percy answered immediately. "None of her soldiers are dying, but the demigods are. The Gods assigned the three of us the quest to free Thanatos."

Hazel was surprised at the amount of information he readily handed over. Percy had said to both her and Frank to let him do most of the talking. Both of them had readily agreed.

Hylla let out a slow, long breath, then raised a hand to her neck, and plucked a thin gold chain up to show the ring Percy had tied to their message- Reyna's ring.

"Reyna is asking for help."

It was a statement, not a question. All three of them nodded.

"The giant Polybotes is marching towards Camp Jupiter, and will be on them in two days time at the most," Hazel said. She glanced at Percy, and he smiled at her in encouragement. She turned back to Hylla. "Reyna needs your help— we need your help. There aren't enough forces in our army."

Hylla stared at her, eyes swirling with blood red and black. Her fingers tightened around the ring in her hand, and she sucked in a deep breath.

"Otrera will die again, tonight," she said, something in the tone of her voice telling Hazel that it wasn't as good a thing as it sounded, and her next statement proved it. "And then she will get back up to challenge me once again. I do not have the resources to help you, right now; not when I have to protect my people."

Percy turned to Hazel, then Frank. He raised a hand to drag it through his hair, messing the grey braid a little, the look in his eyes telling her that he was thinking hard. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his eyes zeroed in on someone over the Queen's shoulders, and he pressed his lips back together.

"My Queen," came the voice of the same courtier that had stepped up back in the throne room, "the priestesses wait for you."

Hylla nodded at her, then turned to Percy. "We will talk, afterwards. For now, enjoy the ritual."

Percy nodded, and three women came forward to hand Hazel and the boys a brass plate each. There were several amaranth flowers, plucked while in full bloom and proudly displaying their bright colours of purple and red, with a couple of piles of grain right next to them. Hazel recognised it as barley.

Hylla turned around and placed her foot on the first step of the dais. A sudden boom echoed through the cavern temple, and Hazel felt the vibrations travel through the earth to her bare feet and up her body. She turned to the podium of musical instruments, where ten women stood with daouli hanging from their shoulders, holding a stick high in the air. Her blood stirred in her veins.

The ceremony had begun.

Boom.

The rhythm started out slow, with a single beat of ten daouli every two seconds, in time with Hylla's footsteps. Hazel picked up a little handful of grain in unison with the rest of the worshippers, and threw it towards the altar. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Percy standing up straighter, face smoothing out into a blank expression carved out of alabaster, adjusting his grip on the plate of offerings.

Boom.

Once Hylla was three steps up, Percy started forward, stride long, his footfalls in time with each beat, shoulders pulled back and head held high. Grains showered down upon him, alighting on his hair and getting stuck in the folds of his himatyan. He looked every bit the Prince he was, Hazel thought, the only thing missing was a golden laurel wreath.

Boom.

Frank moved ahead, and Hazel fell in with him, both of them three steps behind Percy. The stone was warm under her feet as she climbed, vibrating with every hit the women landed on the skin of the daouli. Dimly, she was aware of the rest of the worshippers forming two circles around the altar while throwing grain, but her focus was not on them.

Instead, she revelled in the touch of the altar fires, feeling the warmth grow and caress the apples of her cheeks the higher she climbed. Her powers buzzed under her skin, and pressure began to build between her eyebrows. The smell of sandalwood filled her senses and she tasted the ghost of something sweet on her tongue that she could not place.

By the time she was at the altar, Hazel had sunk completely into her senses. A sudden calm had overtaken her mind, and she moved to stand to Percy's left in front of the ritual fire while Frank moved to Hylla's right. She felt the flames in the brazier lick over her skin, warming but not burning; heard the telltale low hum of the beginning of prayer.

The priestesses, dressed in pure, silvery white, stepped forward, each of them holding a khernibeionas. Hazel heard them murmur xerniptosai, as if she was speaking from the bottom of a well, as if her soul was displaced from her body.

Around her, the hum of the assembly rose in volume. A fainter, faster drumbeat began, accompanying the daouli, and Hazel faintly recognised the sound as that of the tympanoi. The kitharai joined in a second later, followed by the high notes from several auloi. The rustling of cloth joined in, and Hazel knew the worshippers were moving in a circle. The war dance was beginning.

The three priestesses stepped forward, dipping her fingers into the khernips. As one, they sprinkled the altar with it, murmuring xerniptosai and a prayer once again. This time, the rest of the assembled people spoke with them, and the voices echoed around the temple in tandem, making Hazel sink deeper into the ritual.

A clear, low note joined the instruments. Someone was singing. Their voice was smooth, like velvet over cool skin, and the melody was so haunting that Hazel's skin erupted in goosebumps. Something in her chest, in her heart of hearts, began to hum along to the song. The words began slowly, spilling into the air. For some reason, Hazel understood what the Ancient Greek meant.

We call upon the Gods,
The Deathless Ones, most glorious,
Khthonic, Okeanic, Ouranic,
Protogenoi, Titanic and Olympian.
Attend this rite and bear witness.

Hazel watched as Hylla and the priestesses stepped forward, and picked up a bowl of wine each from the altar. The blush red liquid swirled around in the stone in an imitation of blood mixed with water, and they raised it high above her head.

"To Gentle Hestia," everyone in attendance murmured, in tandem with the haunting melody that echoed around the cavern temple. She joined in, the Ancient Greek spilling from her lips as easily as French or English or Latin would have.

"The Eternal Hearth, The First and Last, the Keeper of the Sacred Flame, Goddess revered above all others, we give you our first prayers and offerings."

The wine poured out of four bowls, straight into the brazier. The fire turned pinkish red, and a sweet smell joined the sandalwood floating in the air. Hazel sucked in a deep breath, then lifted an amaranth from the plate and threw it. It landed in the brazier, along with Percy's and Frank's flowers. Several flowers landed around them from behind, and a collective stamp of feet sounded like a clap of thunder through the music.

"Blessed Hestia, Bringer of Comfort, of Peace, of Belonging, of a Place of Love and Family, we honour you."

The voices of hundreds echoed through the cavern, and Hazel's being thrummed with the volume.

"Provider of Serenity, of the strength to hold against all ill, we pray to you. Help us make our home a refuge. We entreat you to enter our home, to protect and nurture our hearth, and to bring us prosperity. We request you to bless us with laughter and harmony. We praise you, and we praise your might."

Her vision was tunnelling. All she could focus on was the flames, burning her from the inside out. She stared up at the Statue of Artemis, breathing slow and measured, almost as if she was asleep. The plate in her hands felt like a phantom weight.

"To Zeus and Hera, The Great and Good King and Queen of the Heavens, The Hospitable Ones. To you, Protectors of Home and Marriage, we give our heartfelt gratitude. Thank you, Kind Ones, for blessing us with happy lives and happy homes. Thank you for giving us good families and good children."

She picked up a flower and a few grains, and threw them just as the priestesses and Hylla poured the rest of the wine into the sacred fire. Grain and amaranth bracts rained down on her from behind, and the sound of footsteps increased in tandem with the beat of the daouli. Out of the corners of her vision, she noticed flaring silvery white cloth— the people in the circles were spinning, too fast to follow.

"To the Great Goddess Artemis, Light Footed Huntress, Daughter of the Good King and of Nurturing Leto. One with gold arrows never blunt, one whose aim stays forever true, we offer our devotion."

Hazel thought the Statue was moving, in tandem with the dull thuds of the feet of the dancing Amazons on the floor. The flames in the brazier danced higher and higher in front of her, colouring her vision red and orange, throwing shadows over the image of Artemis, giving it an ethereal look. The beat of the drums pounded through her, growing faster, and the singing of the assembled grew louder, as did the rhythmic footsteps of the dancers.

"Graceful One who revels in the art of dance and music, Protector of Children and Young Women, Luminous Artemis, Kind One to whom mothers turn in their travail. Ruthless Artemis, Warrior of the Woods, Maiden of The Wilderness, Dark Eyed Mistress of Animals, we honour you."

The voices were shouting, now. The hymn was deafening, loud enough to disturb the air. The stamping of the two circles of dancers was forceful enough to make the ground tremble— the minute vibrations would barely be felt by anyone other than her and Perxy. Hazel's heart thundered in her chest in unison with the fast footfalls of the Amazons. and she watched as the four women poured the rest of the wine into the brazier. It burned higher and hotter, turning her skin to molten lava.

A young girl, sparkling in his ceremonial garments, led an ox forward by its leash. It was young, Hazel would hazard a guess of around five months old. Despite the deafening cacophony, the animal was quiet and calm. A woman stepped forward with a ceramic jar full of some sort of lustral water inside, and poured it over the altar. Hazel watched as rivulets ran down the stone and spilled onto the platform.

The ox child was stopped in front of the altar, with red powder dragged in three lines across its forehead. Another woman stepped forward with a jug of water, and tipped it above the animal's head.

"O Great Gods, Divine Beings," she murmured as the water spilled, "bless this gentle creature that we have placed before you. Accept our offering that we lay in front of you."

The ox's head bowed, and a cheer rose up from the watching crowd. Hazel felt her own soul start to soar— the offering would be auspicious.

Hylla stepped forward, and the girl who had brought the ox hurried forward with a sword dripping water drops— she had cleansed it. The Queen lifted it from her hands with a smile, then turned towards the animal. She gently guided the ox's head back, and placed the blade at its neck, voice ringing out through the sounds of the ceremony like a knife through butter.

"Artemis Astrateia, who halts the progress of armies, the One who guards Life and Death, the One who Hunts Deer, Bear Goddess," she said, Ancient Greek spilling seamlessly from her lips, "We thank you. We offer you this young spirited ox, in gratitude for your guidance and your blessing. Accept this offering, O Lady, let us honour you as we ought."

The blade slid clean and smooth across its neck to give it a swift death, and Hazel felt a shiver run tickling, cold, soothing fingers up her spine as the ox's soul left its mortal vessel. A priestess stepped forward with a jug, holding it to the cut as another held the now dead animal in place. Hazel knew the blood would be collected and sprinkled over the altar.

Behind her, the people began to sing— a prayer to Artemis— as the blood flow slowly relented, and the third priestess took the carcass to the side. Three Amazons waited there, and they set about butchering the flesh as the volume of the song rose.

"Artemis of the Moonlit Halo, we pray to you. We entreat you to grant us understanding of your chaste passion, provide us with courage and strength. We give you our faith, our love, and our offerings, in an expression of gratitude for your support in birth, battle and death. Honoured are we to be under your divine protection, Goddess. May we honour you for many years to come."

Hazel's ears were ringing. Music and hymn echoed in harmony around her mind, seeped into her soul and rippled through her body.

The priestess with the jug of blood stepped towards the altar, and poured the liquid over it. The crimson looked deep red against the sandstone, streams spiralling towards the ground. She then turned towards the brazier, and with a murmured prayer, lifted the jug up high and let a waterfall of red slip into the flames.

Hazel watched, mesmerised, as the fire rose higher and higher, its pinkish red colour bursting into bright, potent red. Another priestess picked a few of the finest pieces of bread and fruit from the bowls and plates on the altar and tossed them into the fire, and it lapped up the sustenance with hungry fingers. Hylla threw her own selection of fruits and bread, prayer on her lips and a red glow to her eyes.

"Glory be to the Theoi, the Deathless. Protect and guide our nation, our family and our loved ones in all endeavours. We offer our devotion to you, and our gratitude."

She, Percy and Frank bent down to place the rest of their amaranths at the feet of the Statue, and she barely registered the feel of her skin burning with the proximity of the sacred flames.

The three of them stepped back, away from the fire, and handed off their empty plates to the priestesses. Loud, deafening cheers broke out, mixed with war cries the music, making her ears ring with the cacophony. People began to move forward with their own offerings in their hands, climbing the steps to get to the fire in front of the altar. Grains and flowers were thrown into the air in droves, covering everyone with red and purple amaranths and getting barley stuck in their hair.

The first few women to reach the altar overturned large bowls of fruits and grain with a shouted hail to Artemis, making the flames reach even higher.

Hazel blinked, suddenly feeling like she was back in her body after having her soul leave it. The pressure between her eyes had lifted; she hadn't even realised it was there. Everything was suddenly too clear and too vivid, and she felt herself sway with the force of her awareness returning. Her power simmered right under the surface of her skin, feeling as if the prayer had given her strength a boost. She wanted to let her magick flow out, let it consume her and everyone around her.

"You good?" Percy asked in a low voice, eyes burning intensely but a smile of his own pulling his features out of the expression of marble it had been earlier. There were grains of barley and bright amaranth bracts settled gently all over his hair and clothes, and when she looked down, she was also covered in the same. She hadn't even noticed that the people had been throwing grain during the ritual. Hazel's smile widened, and she nodded.

"Yeah," she murmured back, throat scratchy and voice hoarse, but skin and soul humming in contentment.

———————

Frank sat on what Percy called a kline, picking pieces of ox meat from the plate set on a stool to his right. It was cooked to perfection, melting in his mouth to burst into a divine combination of spices and seasonings. The beat of the drums thrummed through his veins, and he watched the Amazons dance around the platform for the altar.

Loud music, laughter, singing and the clash of metal echoed around the cavern temple, and the air was charged with the aftermath of the worship. It skittered along his skin every few seconds, buried underneath to burn a path to his core and made him feverish with the onslaught of the magick of prayer. He felt like he was close to bursting with how energised he was.

Frank indulged in the euphoria, humming along to the singing of the woman on the podium.

To his right there was an unoccupied kline, and beyond that Percy reclined on his own seat, one hand brushing through Hazel's hair while the other periodically tore naan into pieces before wrapping it around meat and feeding Hazel and himself alternately. She had seemed faint after the prayer, and Frank had worried, but Percy had shot him a reassuring look and shaken his head, so he had let it be.

The music reminded him of the war drums he had sometimes seen on films about Ancient and Medieval China with his mother and Gram— fast paced, loud, exhilarating. Made to instill valour in allies and fear in enemies. He wanted to get up

The women moved fast, bare feet pounding hard on the stone floor in time to the beat, hips swaying in harmony to the tune of the flute song. Frank felt dizzy just looking at them spinning and revolving around the dais. Their swords were held high, and deafening war cries rang in his ears every few seconds, followed by the laughter of those who hadn't joined the circle in favour of eating.

Wine and honey flowed like ambrosia would on Olympus, and fruits, meat and other foods were piled in high towers on several long, curved buffet tables that were placed along the circular wall. People milled around, piling their plates with food and drink, conversation on their lips and contentment on their faces.

This is surreal, Frank thought.

He had never imagined he would have been invited to a celebration like this, and yet here he was, dressed in ceremonial garb and the guest of honour in the Worship of Artemis Astrateia.

Gods, he couldn't believe it.

He couldn't believe his life.

It was a cosmic joke, honestly. A cosmic joke whose punchline Frank was not eager to find out. A piece of firewood was his lifeline, his father was a motherf*cking God of War— the chief God of War, in fact— his mother had died barely six months ago, and he was quite possibly right behind her on his way to the Underworld as well.

Suffice it to say, he did not want to know the punchline.

"Frank-vau."

He pushed away his thoughts and the energy bubbling under his skin, and turned to Percy with a questioning look. The boy really did look too much like a prince, he thought, then grinned at the sudden lightbulb that lit up in the back of his mind.

"Yes, Your Highness?" he asked, knowing his grin looked sh*t eating. Percy glared, and Frank slowly inched away at the intensity, raising his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay, I won't. sh*t man, stop glaring."

Hazel giggled, still looking a bit tired, and Frank smiled at her before turning back to Percy, quirking an eyebrow.

"What is it—"

"Prince Perseus."

Frank held in the urge to groan, and turned to the person who had come to a stop in front of them. Promptly, his lip curled into a faint snarl, and the simmering after effects of prayer rose in a wave of distrust inside him.

Otrera.

Beside him, Percy sat up straight, his movements so deliberate and slow that Frank wondered if he was playing a game. The look in the older boy's glowing sea eyes sent a ghost of a chill down his spine; it was the look of a predator toying with its prey.

"Otrere," he drawled in a low tone, turning his head when the woman moved to place a kiss on his cheek. Frank almost felt sympathetic; Percy was definitely toying with her. Key word being almost. "A fierce little falcon told me you interrupted prayer yesterday."

Otrera smiled beatifically, but before she could say anything, Hylla had appeared out of nowhere. Her himatyan was discarded, and her khiton gleamed like the sun in the firelight. She clenched the hilt of her golden sword in her left hand. Frank didn't even blink at the red gleam to her eyes; he knew the look somehow, from somewhere, like he was intimately acquainted with it. That look was comfort, for him.

(His mother's eyes flashed angrily at the man who had hit his child, glare so powerful he thought for a second that her eyes were red. He blinked, and it was gone.)

"Otrera," Hylla said, voice low and dangerous. Frank saw Percy's lips curl into a terrifying sort of smile out of the corner of his eyes, and he did not need any more clues to know that Percy was planning something.

"Hylla," the woman back from the grasp of Death greeted back with an obvious lack of title, an eyebrow twitching up in a malicious look. "I thought your dance was not yet finished."

Hylla gave her a cold look, which Frank didn't think was possible with the burning red glare she was sporting.

"Wahida waits for you to provide you with armour for our duel," she said to Otrera. "Leave us."

Otrera smiled, condescending and leering, before spreading her arms and giving a mocking bow to both Hylla and Percy.

"As you wish," she purred in a low voice, a wicked smile curling her lips up, and melted into the crowd. All four of them glared in the direction she had disappeared for a few seconds, then Hylla turned around and fixed her stare on Percy.

"We need to talk," she said. "It is five in the evening. The ceremony ends in one hour. Nobody will trouble us if we go to my study. So if you wouldn't mind following me—"

She didn't bother finishing the sentence, instead simply turned around and walked away. Frank shared a look with the other two, and they rose to their feet, leaving behind their half finished plates of food.

They wound a path through the crowds, bare feet silent on the warm floor. Frank stayed as far away from the flaming torches as possible; he was already sweating way too much, and he did not want to be drenched. Beside him, Hazel and Percy kept pace as they followed Hylla to a door exactly opposite from the main entrance.

The door closed behind them, and the sudden drop in volume made Frank blink. He had not known the party had been so loud, having lost track of the noise level sometime in the middle of the first prayer.

He exchanged a brief look with Hazel, and they followed Hylla and Percy down the torch-lit hallway, taking only a few turns here and there before they were being led through another door.

The room was huge. A deep red tapestry hung from the far wall, and bright red fires burned in the torches and the fireplace. A large desk crafted out of ebony sprawled in front of a very comfortable looking black leather swivel chair, and a soft ash grey couch set with deep merlot hued cushions embroidered with golden thread were set across from the desk. A few paintings and photos hung on the wall adjacent to the door, arranged in an artful collage. A couple of them were pictures of Reyna and Hylla with their arms around each other's shoulders, both of them looking years younger with happy smiles on their faces.

Frank breathed in deep, a small grin pulling at his lips at the familiar smell of sandalwood and burning cedar that filled the office. It was amusing that both he and Hylla had the same preferences in perfume and colour schemes, considering that both of them were children of war deities.

Hylla draped herself over the leather chair and put her ankle on her knee in a regal pose befitting a Warrior Queen. She gestured towards the sofa for them to take a seat.

"So," Percy said once all of them were comfortable, with Hazel snugly sat between the boys, "to sum up, Otrere is working for the Earth Mother, she's here to take your throne from you, and an army is marching towards Camp Jupiter while Thanatos or Letus is held captive and his Doors are under Her control."

The situation sounded so very bleak when he put it like that, and it seemed like Hylla was thinking the same thing, if Frank was to go by the calculating gleam in her eyes and wry twist to her honey-moistened lips.

"You said you were on a quest to free Letus, did you not?" she said suddenly, and Percy leaned back in his seat, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"Yes. We will leave for Alaska in less than three hours, whether you agree to help us or not. Thanatos must be freed before the Feast of Fortuna, or the Roman Camp will be razed to the ground."

Hylla let out a long sigh, and suddenly she looked exhausted to her marrow. Frank knew it was not easy running a kingdom while fighting duels to the death every day, and now with them bringing news of her little sister being caught it a war, it must have been crushing her that she did not have many feasible options.

Being a King was a power boost on the board, but it was limiting. A Queen, on the other hand, could move to any square she wanted, in any way she wanted to move.

Right now, their group of questers was the Queen piece, and both Hylla and Reyna were Kings. Both of them were depending on the freeing of death. Hylla benefited a little indirectly, but it still would have a large impact on her reign.

Frank never wanted to be the King on the board.

"Otrere will not die until Death is freed," she stated, and Percy hummed noncommittally, his lips twisted into a thoughtful expression. The other three immediately caught onto the look, and Hylla sat up straight.

"What are you thinking, Destroyer?"

The twist to Percy's lips was one of displeasure, now. His eyes sparked hellish green for a second before going to a stormy bluish green with grey tints.

"Do not call me by that title, Hylla Merai," he said, in a tone so calm that made the hair on the back of Frank's neck stand on end. Beside him, he felt Hazel shift uneasily, and he wanted to do the same.

Hylla raised an eyebrow in silent challenge, and leaned her elbows on the desk, delicately placing her chin on the back of her steepled fingers. "Why shouldn't I?" she questioned. "You destroyed my last home, did you not? The title— your name— seems fitting. A perfect description, I think."

Something in the air changed. Frank felt himself straighten out of principle, wary eyes flickering over to Percy. His eyes were glowing again, eerie and piercing in the muted red light of the torches, and while he was relaxed and loose, his face was blank. That, more than anything else made Frank want to move, to get up and make as much space between him and Percy as possible.

"I am sorry," Percy said, "that you had to lose your home because of Annabeth and I. If we had known of another way to escape, we would have chosen it. I will not apologise for putting my life as the first order of importance, though."

Hylla stared back, her own eyes now glowing fully bloodthirsty red, not a trace of black in them. The colour was bleeding into her scleras, like how Percy's eyes did, sometimes.

"You speak the truth," she murmured, and Percy nodded. She sighed and blinked, and her eyes were back to her usual red ringed black.

"Well, in any case," she breathed, leaning back, "you looked like you had an idea."

Percy tilted his head to the side, and gave her a lazy smirk. It made him look every inch a troublemaker, and Frank was suddenly glad he was not attracted to boys in any way, shape or form.

"Where does your opinion stand," Percy drawled, eyes gaining a mad sort of gleam. Frank's nerves sparked at the expression, something hungry for blood rearing its head in his own core, and it suddenly struck him what Percy was trying to imply. He sat up straight, his lips beginning to twitch up in a smile.

The smile became an insane grin when Percy continued, "—on dipping your sword in poison?"

Chapter 11: Unexpected (And Unwanted, in Percy's Expert Opinion) Help

Chapter Text

Triton pressed two fingers to the shankhakodun— a charmed shell that announced his presence to the people inside, sort of like a human bell but didn't make any sound. An opaque gold layer of maya covered the entrance to the cave system, and he focused his hearing on the low hum that came from it. It sounded like sand falling in an hourglass.

He checked the blocks he had placed on his power for this image of himself, satisfied when he found them perfectly in place. His graavbandha and payinja— armbands and tail ornaments— were in his royal chambers, and the only jewellery he wore was a simple silver chain with a protection shell charm strung on it, and a plain ring molded from bronze. His scales and hair were dull orange, and his eyes were yellow— in this disguise, he had a little magic, but not much.

Other parts of his consciousness were undisguised. He simultaneously ran drills in the royal training arena, sped towards the city of Baiae in the Mediterranean Sea with a message for Neptune and Salacia, and discussed vyuta with the Sadh Atlantisi.

The golden barrier flickered and turned translucent, revealing a familiar mermaid with chin length red hair decorated with white shells and green tinged skin. She had no lips but her fangs were hidden behind a closed mouth, and her eyes glittered like rubies as they took in his presence, humanoid legs swaying gently. He twisted his wrist close to his chest and folded two of his fingers into a dudakmudra— a general greeting used by the commons people in Atlantis.

"Nawik, Uikja-same," he said, careful not to show his teeth. She twisted her own wrist, having recognised his disguise as a frequent visitor.

"Nawik, Naeh-sayo," she greeted back, using the alias he had chosen for himself the first time he came here. None of the servants here had any idea who he really was, and Uikja was no different. "Setuki-dhru is waiting for you."

Setuki was the youngest member of the Wuikyiv family at only two years older than Persefe, and a gifted Dhrushmi, someone who could see events that were currently going on. Xey were a good friend to his mortal brother, and had helped tremendously in teaching Sefe the ways of the oceans.

"Suwekun, Uikja-same," Triton thanked her, nodding once. "If you would show me to xem—"

Uikja did not wait for him to complete his sentence, she simply turned around and swam deeper into the caves. Triton passed the barrier and followed her, darting through well decorated halls and curtains of red and green kelp. Small pearl lamps,Maukidiwe, that fit in the palm of a human hand were placed along the walls at equal intervals, giving off soft bluish white light that indicated it was late afternoon and bounced off the mother of pearl sheen the walls were covered in. The place was mostly empty, and it wasn't long before Uikja was coming to a stop in front of a familiar archway covered with a curtain of shell strings.

"You can go straight in, Naeh-sayo."

She swam away, kicking her feet lazily, and he parted the shell strings to enter. A familiar shiver of maya passed over him.

The room was gigantic and dimly lit, with a single roundMaukidiwa the size of a human car gleaming high above his head. The walls lacked the mother of pearl finish that the rest of the caves had, instead lined with nooks and niches that were filled to the brim with rolls of blank kelp parchment, bottles of ink, books, shell boxes, glass containers and other objects. There were other entrances to the room, ranging in size from a foot wide to easily fitting a blue whale.

Right under the Maukidiwa, two seating khurlia carved out of sea stone were placed across from each other, one large enough to accomodate any creature that came. The other one was relatively small— around fifteen feet long— and occupied.

Setuki Wuikyivsi sat on the smaller khurlia, sleek black shark tail flicking lazily and smooth, scale-less black skin gleaming like it had been oiled. A single, thin silver graavbandh decorated each arm, and xer eyes were pitch black, almost like black holes. Xey were so dark that xey would not have been visible if not for xer hair.

It was the brightest pearly white that Triton had seen on a mortal sea dweller in decades, floating out in a halo around xer head. Under the sea, the brighter the colour of scales or hair or eyes, the more powerful the person was. Setuki'smaya was connected to xer hair, and the pearly white strands almost glowed in the dim light.

"Nawase, Setuki-dhru," he greeted, allowing his disguise to fall away, twisting his right wrist and folding three fingers in a more formal greeting than the one he used with Uikja. "Fau koha isom?"

It felt good to let his Tevaiki back out, and his body rippled from a dull orange single tail to glowing deep green double tails, the payinja coming out of thin air to wrap around the base of his fins. He felt his armbands snap into place around his biceps, and the shell necklace disappeared. The dark water was illuminated with the familiar dim green light of his bioluminescence— his aavidiwuka had appeared in response to the darkness.

Setuki pressed xer palms together and dipped xer head in a shallow bow, making xer hair flick through the water like sea silk of the highest quality. "Nawaire, Triton Da'yorem. Viuha kalo, what about you?"

"I am well, thank you for asking," he replied as he settled into the khurlia across from her, throwing his tails over each other and leaning his side against the armrest. "I would stay and talk, but I have little time. May we get to the important matters?"

The young mermix inclined xer head. "But of course, Da'yorem. I would ask you what you have come for, but I already know."

Triton chuffed, amused. "Ayi, then we can begin, ve?"

Setuki chirped out xer own laugh, careful not to show xer fangs, and flicked two clawed fingers towards the left wall. A strip of white sea silk cloth floated into xer hands, and xey wrapped it around xer eyes.

Triton, used to the process, leaned back and watched. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the young adult's hair began to shine, throwing bright white light all over the large cavern. He felt his skin spark with the freezing, cottony feel of xer maya, felt it build and build till it was going to burst—

Setuki pulled off the blindfold.

"Persefe Va'yorem is in the city of what the humans call Seattle," xey fired off, eyes glowing stark white in contrast to the earlier pitch black. "He is currently in the throne room of Rivakya Amazosi, being greeted by Hylla Merai. The worship of Artemis Astrateia is set to begin in less than half an hour."

Triton was about to rise from the khurlia, but Setuki wasn't done talking.

"He has just thrown a blatant— albeit accurate— charge of wrongdoing towards Otrere, who has risen from the dead and is trying to take over the Rivakya."

Duasoi.

Triton shot up, his aavidiwuka flashing bright green and illuminating the water around him.

"That is enough," he snapped out, already halfway to the shell string curtain with his disguise back in place. Locking his Tevaiki down made something in his core snap like an elastic band, and he bared his teeth in a sharp hiss at the ache. "Thank you for your services, Setuki-dhru."

The moment he was beyond the curtain, he flashed out of the cave system and appeared on the surface, fifty miles away from Camp Half Blood.

Out of sight and earshot of anyone that mattered, he let out a long lace of absolutely appalling curse words that would have Amphitrite stuffing bitter kelp into his mouth if she heard it. The waves responded to his anger, lapping against the beach with increasing ferocity the longer he hissed out expletives.

A particularly violent wave crashed against the sand, and he took a deep breath, placing his emotions into the little box in the back of his mind and shoving it away. They would be dealt with later, in a healthy way, when he was alone or with his Metito.

It had been barely a day since his father had returned to Atlantis, having successfully stopped his forced merging with Neptune.

Poseidon hadn't come alone.

With him was an Olde One, a power that had been forgotten. One that reeked of Poseidon's essence, but was so different that the connection would barely be made by someone who wasn't immediate family.

Poseidon had glowing sea green eyes that sparked and pulsed in time with the tides of the Sea. His nose, cheekbones, jaw, all seemed to be carved out of the finest marble possible. Poseidon's power hummed under the skin like the steady pull and push of a tide that knew it was dangerous, but controlled.

The Tevai beside him, however...

His power sang with the crash of violent waves against cliffs, of the sound of seismic shifts and earthquakes, of the haunting whispers of dead souls in a way that made shivers run down Triton's spine. His eyes glowed the exact shade of burning sulphur— stark blue with flecks of white around the pupil. His features seemed fluid, ever changing, like they had been molded out of the sea waves themselves.

People called Poseidon temperamental, but none of them knew just how much control Triton's father had over himself and his powers. But this God.. he burned like ferality behind Triton's eyes, like he knew exactly how mercurial he was and wielded that to his advantage, used his explosive temper to his benefit.

The God had pressed three fingers to Triton's sick mother's forehead, murmuring a prayer in an Old Tongue that made pressure build between his eyebrows, and pushing a wave of hisTevaikiinto her two warring essences. Immediately, Salacia had stopped trying to merge with Amphitrite. The younger Goddess had stepped away, a separate deity of her own as she should have been, had given Amphitrite a single nod and vanished.

Posedawone came with news of Persefe, saying that he was at the new Roman city. He told them that the mortal child had been with the young Goddess Lupa for the last two and a half months, passing her tests to enter Camp Jupiter.

He said that Sefe was on two quests. One to free Thanatos, who was imprisoned by Alkyoneus, and the other to bring the Mykenaean Gods back— Posedawone was the first to return, and Wairi the second.

Triton had barely stopped himself— or Amphitrite, for that matter— from ripping someone to shreds.

Had Sefe not done enough for the Gods? Had eteh maukit not spearheaded a war for all his childhood? Did he not deserve to rest, after four years of constant battles? Persefe was owed his peace and yet Hera, the foolish foolish being, in her desperation, had taken him from his own father's cabin.

Triton wanted to tear Hera apart for daring to touch a Child of the Seas, for daring to touch his brother.

Now, because of the Me'Tevarai, Persefe was on a quest for the Gods. A quest that Mars had no f*cking right to issue towards someone who deserved to rest. And that same quest had placed his little brother in the path of a conniving, power hungry woman who was not afraid to kill for her goals.

There may have been a time when he respected Otrere for her politics and ambitious nature, but Persefe was family. If Triton had his way, and he usually did, anyone who stood to harm his family would be met with a swift and painful end.

He pursed his lips, mentally going through several possible ways that he could send help.

None of his messengers could do anything on land. Rhodos, Kymopoleia and Benthesikyme were all Goddesses, and could not directly assist heroes on quests. Khrysaor... the less said about the wayward brother of his the better. Herophile, in the face of the imminent rise of Gaia, was needed at her seat of power more than ever.

Triton bit down a furious hiss, clenching his fists. There were no other choices, no one else she could send—

Wait.

His lips pulled up into a smile too sharp, too wide, showing off too many fangs.

There was one being he could send, who would be able to help on land without facing the consequences of the laws Khaos had decreed.

He opened his mouth.

"AREION."

———————

"Where does your opinion stand on dipping your sword in poison?"

Percy's skin still tingled with the after effects of prayer, but he wrestled the overflowing influence back into his body. He had no time to focus on the power boost the ritual had given him, or for the way his aura was flaring— too big for his human body. He needed to change, needed to let his claws rake across Otrere's throat, needed to taste blood on his tongue.

He ignored the need, for now. There were more important and time sensitive things to do. Letting his base instincts take over during a diplomatic conversation was not the move to make.

Hylla frowned. "She cannot die, even when her heart itself is run through with a sword. I have no idea if poison will work on her."

Oh the other side of Hazel, Frank let out a chuckle, low and tinged with madness, so unlike his usual soft laughter that Percy looked at him to make sure he was alright, both biological and metaphysical senses reaching out.

Frank's eyes were glowing. The dark brown irises were gone, leaving bright fiery red coals in their place. His smile was sharp, back straight, and in that moment he looked exactly like what Percy had expected a Son of Mars would look.

The usual faint heat under his skin that was Frank's aura was so much stronger compared to other times that Percy began to sweat. His fingers tingled with the itch of letting his claws out and raking them across someone's face, and his eyes tingled with the phantom scents of burning flesh and blood. The something in his aura that Percy had not been able to identify yet grew bolder. It reminded him of riding a horse without a saddle, hair and mane whipping through the wind and hooves thundering on the grounds of open fields.

"How about Gorgon blood?" Frank asked, white teeth glinting in the red light of the fires burning all around them, throwing shadows over his Oriental cheekbones.

Percy had, at one point, wondered whether Frank even possessed the bloodlust that almost all children of Warlike deities showed. Frank had the sense of strategy, the sharpness in battle, the quick thinking needed to win a duel. He was too calm though, too collected, and did not seem to have enough taste for violence for a son of a War God. He had thought Frank was simply different from other kids. Just as capable, of course, but different.

He had clearly been wrong.

The boy had almost made a complete one-eighty in personality. His aura crackled around him in a fiery haze, and Percy heard the phantom sounds of a battlefield echoing in his brain— screams, yells, clashing metal, pounding feet and chariots being dragged across a ground littered with dead bodies. He heard hooves clattering on concrete, the roar of a bear, the whistle of wind through bird feathers, the buzz of bees.

It made him wonder whether the Romans did ritual prayers at all, because this was too large an amplification in power after just one ritual. There was a reason there were so many major dates for worship, after all— demigods didn't just provide Gods with respect, they got increased skill in return, and their prayers answered if they were within reason.

In her seat, Hylla bolted into a ramrod straight posture, her own eyes gaining the deep red sheen that began to bleed over into the whites of her eyes.

"That would work perfectly," she breathed, lips twisting into an insane smile that looked exactly like Frank's. The ghost noise of battle grew stronger in Percy's ears, Frank and Hylla's combined presence bouncing off of each other, making the urge to tear something apart with his bare hands grow to impossible heights.

Beside him, Hazel leaned back in her seat, hand twining through Percy's and squeezing tightly. Percy blinked, pulling himself back from letting the urge to rip into flesh take over him. If he focused, he could hear her heart going sixty miles a minute.

He squeezed her hand back, and she relaxed a little.

"Percy?" Frank questioned, holding a hand out to him, eyes still burning like red hot coals.

Percy gave the two war demigods a beatific smile, and slipped his free hand into a little pocket he had folded out of the khiton, to keep Anaklusmos and one vial of poison. The rest of the ceramic containers were back in his rucksack, at the northernmost point of Seattle with his pegasus.

Frank took it in a delicate grip, large fingers gentle in their handling as he lifted the ceramic vial up to make the red light of the torches shine off the patterns painted on it. The detailing was bright against the white surface, gleaming like molten gold.

"Percy's spoils of battle," Frank told Hylla, who rose to her full height and glided over to take the vial from him.

She ran slender fingertips over the golden paint, the battle-thirsty smile still firmly in place. With her glowing bloody eyes and the red light throwing shadows over her tanned features, she looked like a lieutenant of Hades to Percy— one of the particularly terrifying ones.

Abruptly, she twisted on her heel and went back to her chair, dropping into it with all the grace of a panther.

"I refuse to believe," she said to Percy as she slid open a drawer and placed the vial in, "that you are willing to help me without asking for something in return. There are few things more valuable that Gorgon blood, whether poisonous or healing, and you cannot be ready to give it up so easily to help a cause that is not your own."

Percy let an amused grin curl his lips upwards. He wouldn't have believed it either, if he had been in her place, and she was right. He would help, but in return, he was going to ask for a favour. The favour of an alliance between the Romans and Amazons— and the Greeks, when they were brought into the picture.

"We want an alliance," he told her as much. "Camp Jupiter needs assistance against the army of monsters, and the Greek camp Half Blood will join the treaty as soon as their delegation arrives at Rome."

Reyna had only told him to ask for help in the battle, but Percy was nothing if not an opportunist. Gaia was rising, and they— the Greeks, the Romans, and the Amazons— needed to form a fleet, not be separate warships. As for the Greek envoys, he knew that Annabeth would find a way to get to the Roman camp even if she had to go as far as to wrangle a wish from a God for it, no matter the consequences.

Hylla's eyebrow had almost disappeared into her hairline with how high she had raised it.

"You do realise," she drawled, "that a treaty between the Greeks and the Amazon Nation hasn't been established in the last four hundred years? The Romans— we have never allied with them." A soft huff left her lips. "You want all three communities in one treaty of alliance? You have high goals, Prince Perseus."

She shook her head. "Some might even say unattainable goals."

Percy gave her a smile he had learnt over the Titan War and perfected under the tutelage of his Mevi, sharp and arrogant and a bit of the sharpness of his fangs bleeding into his human teeth. Under the sea, the showing of your teeth— shuldanta— was seen as a sign of agression, and Percy had gotten the difference hammered into him by Amphitrite. Delegations from Atlantis did smile at the surface dwellers, however, seeing as it was a polite gesture on land.

"Well, you see, Hylla Merai," he answered blithely, teeth still bared and still a little too sharp to be human, "I have a track record of managing to do the impossible, and I intend to see this three-way treaty through if it's the last thing I do."

The young woman stared at him, the red of her pupils having bled over the entirety of her scleras. A second later, a vicious smile of her own pulled at her lips.

"Very well, Prince Perseus," she said. "You have my word: as soon as First Queen Otrere is killed, a third of the Amazons will march South to assist the Romans against the army of monsters. I myself will lead the assault, and will stay at New Rome for the finalising of the alliance."

Percy pressed three fingers to his lips and turned his wrist to point them towards Hylla, palm faced downwards— the formal gesture for gratitude.

"Vi krutase," he replied, pulling back the sharpness he had let bleed into his teeth to give Hylla a genuine smile. "That is most appreciated."

"Now," she began, leaning back in her chair and tipping her head back to look at them through half shut eyelids. She looked exhausted this way, with red light throwing shadows across her sharp features. "How is Reyna? I haven't talked to her in weeks."

Percy opened his mouth to reply.

Boom.

The ground shook violently. All three of them shot to their feet, hands reaching for weapons that weren't there. Percy hissed out an expletive when he realised he was the only one with a weapon— his quest-mates had stashed theirs in their rucksacks.

He watched as Hylla pulled open a secret drawer and tossed Hazel a long knife, and Frank a dagger.

Boom.

Percy focused his hearing and let his metaphysical senses spread out, sending subtle waves of magic through the earth. Somewhere to his seven o'clock, he could feel the stomping of the ritual dancers as it slowed down, the Amazons no doubt wondering what was making the ground shake. He could feel the vibrations that travelled through the packed earth walls when the guards that patrolled the hallways all began marching in the same direction.

The thing that worried him most, however, was the frantic thuds of armoured feet around where he knew the Mist elevator was. And—

Are those f*cking hoof stomps?

"Come," Hylla snapped out, and Percy yanked off his himatyan, throwing it at the sofa alongside Frank's and Hazel's. She pulled open the office door, and another loud boom sent tremors through Percy's senses. The festival music couldn't be heard anymore, but he could hear the shouts and yells as metal clashed and swords were drawn. The Amazons were passing around weapons and armour, by the sounds of it.

They stalked out, and Percy let the power boost from the ritual slip through his iron hold, sending some of it into his senses to give himself a little advantage. Immediately, he noticed it— something in the air felt... Other.

He felt his scales begin to ripple right underneath the surface, felt the bases of his fingernails itch even as they turned around a corner. He felt a slight shift in his bone structure, but clamped down on it before it became physically noticeable.

Boom.

They broke out into a sprint, bare feet not making a single sound on the cool earth paths. The torches on the walls threw their shadows over the hallways, and Percy could hear more clashes, more shouts. Hooves clattered on packed mud, and a second later, a deafening neigh echoed throughout the entire underground colony.

PERSEUS JACKSON.

Percy blinked even as another boom shook the ground under his feet.

It was a horse, then. Said horse was asking for him, specifically, by name. He let out a string of curse words in several languages, picking up his speed till he was running at inhuman speeds. Shouts of his name rang out from behind him, but he didn't turn back, skidding around the corner.

His heart pounded in his chest in tandem to the boom boom that vibrated through the packed earth and travelled through his body, but his breath didn't stutter. He turned corners at full speed, pushing off the walls with his legs and arms to keep his momentum. The elevator was not far, now, and he could hear the sounds of a dwindling battle. We're the Amazons winning?

PERSEUS JACKSON.

Pontus, dude, Percy thought with an annoyed huff, gimme a hot minute to get there.

The last of the clashes of metal died out, and a moment later, he felt something slam into the earthen wall right around the corner in the back of his mayavi senses. A body.

Someone had been thrown then.

The door to the throne room was right on front of him. He planted his toes on the ground and twisted, throwing a hand out to press it against the wall, and curved around the corner at a breakneck speed.

Abruptly, he skidded to a stop.

The hallway was littered with unconscious bodies, half covered in metal armour plates, weapons and round shields gripped loosely in limp hands. The Mist elevator was at the opposite end, the doors thrown wide open and golden fog curling and twisting in the air close to the ground, sparking against Percy's senses.

The most attention grabbing thing, however, was the Horse.

He was gigantic— ridiculously tall even for a horse, glossy black mane hanging off one side of his neck and midnight fur brushed to perfect sleekness. His dark eyes gleamed with a familiar look, and Percy's blood sang in his veins the moment their gazes met. The feeling pulled him forward, pulled him towards the magnificent creature.

Towards his brother.

He ignored the bodies around him, ignored the armour pieces and fallen swords and splayed limbs. Instead, he stepped forward slowly, picking his way through the obstacles, a wide grin pulling his lips upwards.

"You know," he drawled, picking up a metal staff from the ground and lazily twirling it around with one hand as he moved closer, "if you wanted to talk to me that badly, Dau, you could have wreaked a little less havoc."

Areion let out a neigh of a laugh, harrumphing and tossing his mane.

Where's the fun in that? The horse shot back, an obvious smirk in his gruff voice. Destruction is in our blood, little brother. After all, both of us are the bastard children of Posedawone.

Percy froze.

Areion gave him a knowing look (he was a horse, how the f*ck was he doing that) and scuffed his front hoof on the ground, scraping off a bit of soil. Percy could hear muffled footsteps growing louder; the Queen and his two companions were getting closer. He needed to get this conversation over with, now.

How'd you know—

I was born in Mykenae, child, Areion interrupted. I remember things even the oldest of God's have forgotten.

Percy eyed him up and down, letting his hip co*ck to the side just so. If Areion knew, if he remembered, there was a chance...

"Did Yotito send—"

No. Triton-vau did.

He stared at the Horse, shoulders going slack and jaw twitching in outrage. The footsteps were just two turns away, now. He sucked in a sharp breath, then raised a hand to his face.

Smack!

The worst thing about the Curse of Achilles, he thought with an irritated scowl after dragging his hand off his face, was that he couldn't even feel the effects of a perfectly good face palm.

"Triton, you asshole," he muttered under his breath, drawing a snort of horse-laughter from Areion.

You'd think my youngest brother would be happy to see me, he whinnied, amused and very much not trying to hide it. Percy huffed and stuck out his tongue at him, crossing his arms petulantly. The three sets of footsteps were only a few meters away from the last turn.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you," he answered, scowling childishly, "but I'm not glad that Dau thinks I need help on a quest."

So you don't need help?

"Lahi! It's my quest!" Percy was not whining, shut up. "I can handle it."

Too bad, kid, you're stuck with me.

Percy let a little bit of his fangs show and bared them in an aggravated hiss, then hung his head. Areion harrumphed out a laugh, and he threw him an annoyed glare that did not really have any heat. Mentally, he cussed out Triton and his overprotective nature.

The dude had no chill whatsoever. Talk about helicopter parent.

"Ayi re, fine," he groaned, lifting his head and fixing his gaze on a point on the ceiling in an effort to pray to any God that wasn't Greek, "you can accompany us—"

"Percy!"

He heard three sets of bare feet skid around the corner, and he breathed in, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Frank's voice. He threw Areion one last annoyed look before turning around to face his friends and the Queen.

A wide grin abruptly pulled his lips up at the sight.

Hylla, Frank and Hazel were staring at the mass of bodies that littered the hallway and the giant Horse that stood in the middle of the carnage. All of them looked varying degrees of stunned, ranging from the Queen's blood red eyes and blank expression, to Frank's burning coal gaze and dropped jaw, to Hazel's comically blinking gold eyes and a twitching muscle in the cheek. Something gleamed in her metallic eyes, something that reminded Percy of the look he had seen when he looked in the mirror for the first time after drinking that Gorgon blood.

Recognition?

"Hey, guys!" Percy chirped, choosing to ignore that look and clasping his hands behind his back, and bounced on the balls of his feet like an excited child. Their speechless stares settled on him, and his grin widened. "Meet my brother, Areion."

Frank choked on his own spit.