Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy had nowhere to go.

He fell to one knee. He wanted to tell Annabeth to run, but he couldn’t speak. His throat was as dry as dead leaves. He wished there were water in Tartarus—some nice pool he could jump into to heal himself, or maybe a river he could control. He’d settle for a bottle of Evian.

“You will feed the eternal darkness,” Akhlys said gleefully.

The white-green poison kept pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake around him got wider and wider.

Lake, he thought. Streams. Water.

Percy croaked out a laugh. Poison was liquid. If it moved like water, it must be partially water.

He remembered some science lecture about the human body being mostly water. He remembered extracting water from Jason’s lungs back in Rome.… If he could control that, then why not other liquids?

It was a crazy idea. Poseidon was the god of the sea, not of every liquid everywhere.

Then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smoky corpses.

So why not try? He had nothing left to lose.

He glared at the poison flood encroaching from all sides. He concentrated so hard that something inside him cracked—as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach.

Warmth flowed through him. The poison tide stopped.

The fumes blew away from him—back toward the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets.

Akhlys shrieked. “What is this?”

“Poison,” Percy said. “That’s your specialty, right?”

He stood, his anger growing hotter in his gut. As the flood of venom rolled toward the goddess, the fumes began to make her cough. Her eyes watered even more.

Oh, good, Percy thought. More water.

Percy imagined her nose and throat filling with her own tears.

Akhlys gagged. “I—” The tide of venom reached her feet, sizzling like droplets on a hot iron. She wailed and stumbled back, in the direction of Annabeth, claws extended blindly, but Annabeth was too quick for her. The drakon-bone sword came flashing down from high above, severing Akhlys’ left hand entirely, leaving ichor dripping from the wound.

Akhlys roared in pain, a sound unlike anything Percy had ever heard before. And yet, it was music to his ears. He wanted to hear her scream. He wanted her to suffer. He wanted Misery to have a taste of her own medicine.

But Akhlys wasn’t done yet. With her good hand, she raked her claws across Annabeth’s torso, causing her to scream out in pain this time. Annabeth feebly struck out again, but this time Akhlys was easily able to dodge the blow. In turn, the misery goddess wrapped her remaining hand around Annabeth’s wrist in a vice-like grip, causing her to yelp once more and drop her sword.

Akhlys cackled in delight as she tightened her hold on Annabeth. “I will make you feel misery like no mortal has ever seen before!”.

Annabeth’s screams turned to whimpers, and Percy’s rage hardened, threatening to explode outwards. This miserable bitch dared hurt Annabeth, his Annabeth?

He focused again, and the poison flowed even faster towards Akhlys. He was idly aware of the fact that he was sending the toxic stream towards Annabeth too, but that was a risk he had to take. Akhlys was a far bigger threat at the moment than her poison was. He couldn’t leave Annabeth helpless and defenceless, even if that meant taking a chance.

As the smoky fumes pursued Akhlys, she was forced to back away hurriedly towards the cliff edge, and most importantly, away from Annabeth. He hurriedly directed the poison in the direction of the retreating Akhlys, following her stride for stride. Mercifully, Annabeth’s screams had ceased, and though she coughed and spluttered, Percy knew – or at least, he hoped – that she hadn’t inhaled enough of the toxic air to cause any lasting damage.

He turned his attention back to the evil, traitorous goddess in front of him. The dripping ichor from the stump on her left arm had created a golden trail along the ground, glowing amidst the murky blackness of their surroundings. And then, an idea struck him. Ichor, after all, was mostly water too. Why couldn’t he take control over that too?

He imagined himself latching on to the very ichor coursing through Akhlys’ veins, and slowly he felt it respond to him, bending to his will just like the poison had. He focused all his power on the wound Annabeth had inflicted, and pulled, feeling the ichor flow, slowly.

More, the voice in his head said. For every drop of Annabeth’s blood she had spilt, Akhlys deserved to lose a hundred. He watched as the ichor gushed out rapidly, in a beautiful torrent.

“Percy… how?” he heard, his brain dimly registering a voice that sounded terrified. Akhlys begged for mercy, but Percy wasn’t ready to give it to her. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to choke this goddess. He wanted to watch her slowly bleed to death. He wanted to see just how much misery Misery could take. Akhlys whimpered, her body having completely betrayed her, ichor now flowing like a golden river from her severed arm.

As Percy tightened his grip, Akhlys went paler and paler, until all that was left was a shriveled husk, whose begging was so weak Percy could barely make out each word.

This was what she deserved, Percy thought. A pathetic end for a pathetic traitor. Akhlys would die begging for a mercy that would never come.

Grimly, he lifted Riptide, ready to finish the job, but as he closed in on Akhlys, the misery goddess found one final burst of strength, born out of desperation. Instead of allowing Percy to finish her, she launched herself off the cliff, into the abyss below. Percy knew there was no hope of surviving the fall, not in her present state. She was dead.

Percy kicked the goddess’ severed hand over the cliff edge in disgust. He should have felt relief, or happiness, at having defeated Akhlys, but the only thing he could feel was disappointment. Akhlys had denied him the satisfaction of the final blow. She had chosen a coward’s ending, perhaps fitting for the traitor she was, but it had left Percy feeling hollow. She deserved far worse for daring to hurt Annabeth like she had, and Percy had had plenty more pain to inflict yet.

Annabeth! Percy had forgotten all about her in his rage. Where was she? What had Akhlys done to her? He looked around frantically. If she was badly hurt, he would find a way to make Misery pay, dead or not.

Only then did he see those familiar grey eyes staring at him, stunned, as though they had just seen a ghost. Only then did his brain register whom the terrified voice he had heard belonged to. Annabeth’s expression was impossible to read fully, but there was more than a hint of fear etched on her face.

Suddenly, Percy felt a nagging sense of guilt. He had been so focused on ensuring Akhlys suffered that he’d lost track of all else. Had he gone too far? Would Annabeth think he was insane? Was he insane? Hearing voices was hardly the sign of a stable mind, after all. 

Percy looked back at Annabeth. Her face glistened with tears, and her breathing was shallow and shaky, but she was alive, and that was the most important thing. Her face was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, even if the expression on it was one of worry.

And then it hit him. Her face was just as beautiful as ever. She no longer looked dead. Akhlys, the vindictive bitch that she was, must have taken away the Death Mist before she died, a final fuck you from beyond the grave. Had that pathetic creature, even as she lay dying, ruined their only hope of survival?

For a moment, Percy felt the rage bubble up within him again, but he forced himself to calm down. The contents of his stomach were threatening to expel themselves, and much as she deserved worse, Akhlys was beyond the point where she could suffer any further.

Just then, Annabeth said his name at last.

“Percy,” she said, her voice trembling.

Percy wondered what she would say next. Would he feel her disgust, or worse, would she be scared of him? Her voice was the most beautiful sound in the world, and yet all Percy could do was pray that it wouldn’t curse him, that he hadn’t gone too far in her eyes.

He braced himself, closing his eyes, expecting a rebuke. Instead he felt her arms wrapped around his neck, hugging him, her warmth a welcome antidote to his torment, as he returned the embrace.

“What just happened?” she asked eventually, as she pulled away from him. Her voice cracked as she did, and Percy knew that what she had seen had taken its toll.

Frankly, he didn’t know where to begin. Did he tell Annabeth about the realization that water wasn’t the only liquid he could control? Annabeth was very far from stupid, and he knew she had probably worked that out already. Did he tell her about the sense of rage he’d felt, the desire to hurt Akhlys and cause her to suffer?

In the end, though, there was one inescapable fact, and that seemed as good a place to start as any.

“I just killed Akhlys.”

“You did,” Annabeth replied shakily. “And you did it in a way I never would have believed possible. Poseidon’s domain is water, not poison. How did you…” Her voice trailed off.

Percy hesitated. There was a part of him that felt like Annabeth shouldn’t have to know what he had done, that it was unnatural and dark, that it would terrify her to know what he was capable of. But this was Annabeth, he reasoned, and if he couldn’t trust her, then there was nobody he could trust at all.

“It was like I had this voice inside me,” Percy began. “When she betrayed us, it felt like something suddenly snapped, and I had control of the poison, and I was the one hurting her and not the other way round.”

Percy’s voice wavered a little, as he contemplated how much to tell her, before he carried on. The only possible answer was to tell her everything. This was the girl he had jumped into hell for.

“It kept urging me on, telling me to hurt Akhlys, and I couldn’t stop listening to it. And then she hurt you, so I thought I might as well test out whether my powers extended to ichor, and, well… you saw what happened.”

Saying it all out loud made it sound a lot worse, Percy reflected.

“The strangest part is, I enjoyed it. Every scream of hers made me feel this sadistic rush that I’ve never had before. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to see her suffer. This place… I don’t know if I’m going insane, or schizophrenic, or whether it’s just the Pit, or…” he trailed off.

“Ten drachmae says you can’t even spell schizophrenic, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth replied, smirking a little.

“S-K-I-Z-,” he started, before he was cut off by Annabeth bursting out laughing. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t even come close to getting it right. He laughed along too, feeling a whole lot better after the whole ordeal. It was like the weight of the sky had been lifted from his shoulders once more.

This is why Annabeth was so perfect, Percy thought. She could make you laugh even in the depths of Tartarus. And she was such a genius that even though she had dyslexia, Percy still wouldn’t rule her out in a Spelling Bee. He was so, so glad she didn’t hate him.

After the laughter died down, Annabeth continued. “I can’t say I wasn’t terrified of you just then. You had this aura, this look in your eyes, as though you would stop at nothing. But… I know you, and I trust you. You’re not insane.”

She locked eyes with Percy, a silent vote of confidence, and Percy felt his heart lift like never before. She didn’t think he was a monster. She didn’t hate him. The euphoria he felt was threatening to send him floating straight out of Tartarus.

“Besides,” Annabeth added, “Akhlys deserved it.” She smiled, before grimacing in pain, even as she tried to hide it. 

Percy remembered the mark Akhlys’ claws had left on Annabeth, and he felt that rage bubbling again at the thought the miserable rat had hurt Annabeth. “What did she do to you?” he growled.

“It's nothing, Percy," Annabeth assured him, not making eye contact. “I’m alright.”

Unfortunately for Annabeth’s attempts to convince him, he’d known her long enough to know when she was lying. She just wasn’t that great at it, being the incredibly genuine person she normally was.

“I said what did she do to you?” he growled, and Annabeth flinched slightly. Percy realized he might have been a little bit too aggressive in his tone.

You have to keep control of your emotions, Percy, he scolded himself. That was something the people of Washington state knew all too well. With his powers, losing control meant people getting hurt, or worse.

Annabeth looked down at the ground before replying.

“When she touched me… I saw visions. Horrible ones. Losing everyone I loved, over and over again, and it all being my fault. There were some where…” She stopped herself.

“Where?”

“Never mind that,” Annabeth said abruptly. Percy knew she was still hiding what had really happened, but he didn’t feel like it was the right time to press her. They’d had enough stressful conversations for today.

“Can you have a look at the wound?” she asked instead. “There’s some Phlegethon water in the backpack, not to mention medical supplies from Damasen.”

Percy lifted her shirt, which had been ripped to shreds, to find a deep gash in her side, where Akhlys’ claws had pierced through Annabeth’s skin. He reached for the backpack, before a thought occurred to him. Maybe there was a better way? Blood was just another liquid, after all.

Only one way to find out, he thought. He closed his eyes, slowly reaching out and latching onto her blood, imagining the steady trickle from the wound slowly drying up. When he opened his eyes again, the wound was dry, only a scar left behind.

He looked over at Annabeth gleefully, but what he wasn’t anticipating was that she would shudder. “That was horrible, Percy. Feeling you take control of my blood like that… please don’t do that ever again.”

Percy hadn’t thought about that. He cursed himself for acting on impulse, rather than doing the obvious thing and just asking her.

“You won’t, will you?” Annabeth repeated.

Percy silently nodded, keen to move on. “Guess we’ll be sticking to bandages,” he quipped nervously, in an effort to lighten the mood.

Annabeth’s weak laugh in response was the most beautiful thing he had heard in weeks.

Percy helped her up, and they looked over the cliff edge, where they saw… nothing. Just dark black void, extending as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, Percy recalled what Akhlys had said, and once again his stomach was threatening to empty itself.

 “Akhlys… she said something about feeding us to the night,” he remembered. “What was that about?”

Unfortunately, Percy had a sinking feeling he knew the answer, and from the look on Annabeth’s face, she did too. But before either of them could say any more, the temperature dropped. The abyss before them seemed to exhale, a breath as cold as ice itself.

Percy grabbed Annabeth and backed away from the edge as a presence emerged from the void—a form so vast and shadowy, he felt like he understood the concept of dark for the first time.

“I imagine,” said the darkness, in a feminine voice as soft as coffin lining, “that she meant Night, with a capital N. After all, I am the only one.”

Chapter Text

Annabeth had never been scared of the dark.

But normally the dark wasn’t forty feet tall. It didn’t have black wings, a whip made out of stars, and a shadowy chariot pulled by vampire horses.

Nyx was almost too much to take in. Looming over the chasm, she was a churning figure of ash and smoke, as big as the Athena Parthenos statue, but very much alive. Her dress was void black, mixed with the colors of a space nebula, as if galaxies were being born in her bodice. Her face was hard to see except for the pinpoints of her eyes, which shone like quasars. When her wings beat, waves of darkness rolled over the cliffs, making Annabeth feel heavy and sleepy, her eyesight dim.

The goddess’s chariot was made of the same material as Nico di Angelo’s sword—Stygian iron—and pulled by two massive horses, all black except for their pointed silver fangs. The beasts’ legs floated in the abyss, turning from solid to smoke as they moved.

Frankly, she was starting to get really tired of Tartarus. Every time she faced something terrifying, and survived by the skin of her teeth, along came something new, twice as terrifying and ancient, to say Oh, you thought that was tough?

At least it couldn’t get much worse than the primordial fucking goddess of the Night, in terms of potential enemies. If they survived this encounter, the rest would be plain sailing.

Or, well, that was the mantra she was repeating to herself, but she couldn't help but feel like it was wishful thinking. Even disregarding how big the 'if' in that sentence was, without the Death Mist, they were back to square one. That meant they had very little chance of surviving even if they made it to the Doors of Death. In short, they were in deep shit right now.

The horses snarled and bared their fangs at Annabeth, as a rude reminder of her more immediate problems. The goddess lashed her whip—a thin streak of stars like diamond barbs—and the horses reared back.

“No, Shade,” the goddess said. “Down, Shadow. These little prizes are not for you.”

Annabeth wasn't paying much attention, however, because her eyes had drifted to the figures behind Nyx. There was a man, elderly and wizened, a skeletal figure with ashen skin and eyes that were nothing but sunken pits in his skull. That had to be Geras, god of old age.  A woman, tall and slender, in a black dress with blood-red lips and eyes that seemed to glow with a malevolent energy, that made Annabeth feel angry just looking at them. Eris. And another man, dressed all in black, bearing a scythe in his hands. Looking at him made her feel hopeless, as his eyes seemed to tell her to give up and accept her death. That could only be Moros, god of doom. 

There were other gods too, ones that Annabeth couldn't recognize but were no less terrifying for it, each one of them having their own powerful aura that made Annabeth's skin crawl. There were monsters too, hellhounds and arai and some bat-like humanoid creatures that she didn't recognize, all staring at her with the same hostility that told her they were itching to kill her.

She shook her head, trying to focus on the task ahead. She knew the primordial towering over them was the real danger right now. The rest of the small army in front of them could only be her children, and there was no way they would act without their mother willing it.

“Uh, so you won’t let them eat us?” Percy asked the goddess, eyeing the horses uncomfortably as they nickered. “They really want to eat us.”

Nyx’s quasar eyes burned. “I am yet to decide what to do with you. Perhaps I still will let them eat you, or perhaps I will spare you. At the very least, you can start by telling me why you are here.”

As she said it, Annabeth knew that Nyx was right, that she and she alone could decide their fate. This was a being so powerful and ancient that they had no chance of defeating her whatsoever. She was so old that Chronos was her brother - not the Titan, who was powerful enough, but the literal embodiment of time itself. If Nyx wanted them dead, she could just snap her fingers, and just like that, they'd go from Percy and Annabeth to a pair of corpses.

But she hadn't killed them yet. She was willing to at least hear them out. That was something. Now, she needed a story.

"Um, well..." she began, before realising she didn't know what to say at all. Telling Gaea's sister and Akhlys' mother the truth when their lives depended on her was far from an option.

“We’re on the Grand Tartarus Tour, of course," she blurted out. "You’re Night, I suppose. I mean, I can tell because you’re dark and everything, though the brochure didn’t say much about you.”

Even before the words came out of her mouth, they felt stupid. But now that she'd said it, they had to roll with it.

Percy licked his lips. “Uh-huh.” He was still watching the horses, his hand tight on his sword hilt, but he was smart enough to follow Annabeth’s lead. Now she just had to hope she wasn’t making things worse…though honestly, she didn’t see how things could be worse.

“The Grand Tartarus Tour?” Nyx asked. She sounded genuinely curious, and Annabeth’s heart raced. Had Nyx actually believed that?

“Yeah! Before we got separated from the group, we got to see the River Phlegethon, the Cocytus, the arai, even some random Titans and giants. You weren’t really mentioned, but I guess the guides didn’t think you’d be willing to allow tour groups,” Annabeth said. 

She was warming to her role with each word she spoke, growing in confidence. The idea had been a desperate, impulsive roll of the dice, but it seemed like there was a chance it might work.

“Yeah,” Percy said, warming up to the idea himself. “Tartarus is so in these days as a place to visit—like, exotic destinations, you know? The Underworld is overdone. Mount Olympus is a tourist trap. We’re just lucky we got separated from the group, I guess, since we got to meet you, and you weren’t even on the original itinerary.”

Percy was laying it on thick, but Nyx seemed more curious than angry. Perhaps even Primordials enjoyed having their egos stroked from time to time. 

“And what lies ahead on this tour?” Nyx asked them.

Annabeth still couldn’t believe she was buying this story. Keep talking, she told herself.

“Well, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” Annabeth replied. “It’s Doors of Death up next,  and then—”

“You wish to see the Doors of Death?” Nyx asked. “They lie at the very heart of Tartarus. Mortals such as you could never reach them, except through the halls of my palace—the Mansion of Night!”

She gestured behind her. The inky void parted just enough for Annabeth to look down. Floating in the abyss, maybe three hundred feet below, was a doorway of black marble, leading into some sort of large room.

“Unfortunately, your guides were right. I tend not to allow tourists in my home, so I’m afraid your tour will have to end here,” Nyx added. "It was good to make your acquaintances, but I would advise you not to visit Tartarus ever again. It's a bit dangerous for demigods like you." 

Understatement of the century, Annabeth thought.  Though a century probably wasn't that long a time for Nyx, was it? Given the age of the universe was at least thirteen billion years, and assuming Nyx was born somewhere near the start--

Shit. Bigger problems. 

Stupid ADHD.

Focus, Annabeth, she told herself, as Nyx's words sank in, a cruel blow. She was willing to let them go, and ordinarily that should have been great news. But the way to the Doors was through Nyx's domain, and if they didn't make it there then their survival meant very little. Was there a way somehow to get down there without permission?

As Annabeth looked back down at the gateway to the palace below, her heart pounded so strongly she felt it in her toes. That was the way forward—but Nyx wasn’t just going to let them down, and it was so far down, an impossible jump. If they missed, they would fall into the abyss and be scattered into nothingness—a final death with no do-over. Even if they could make the jump, she knew Nyx wouldn’t take kindly to them entering her home without permission, and there was no way she was going to let them just walk through - she had been very clear on her 'no visitors' policy.

And then it clicked. They needed a diversion. And Annabeth had an idea on how they could achieve it, one so utterly insane it made the tourism cover story seem rather benign.

“My lady, we’re a bit pressed for time, but perhaps we could get a picture with you? For our Instagram, you know. It'd really get the word of mouth going about how cool and terrifying you are,” Annabeth ventured. “Alongside one or two of your darkest, most terrifying children?"

"Only one or two?" Nyx asked. "You do not wish to include them all?"

"Well, don't take this the wrong way," Annabeth said, "but you have so many children that I worry that including too many of the lesser ones might..." She looked at Percy. "Ruin the vibe?"

Percy nodded. He didn't seem to have figured out Annabeth's plan yet, but he was clearly game to play along, and Annabeth loved him for it. The way he trusted her so blindly was a huge vote of confidence.

"Perhaps," she continued, "we should restrict the picture to just Lady Nyx and her darkest child of all, to ensure things don't get too, uh, crowded."

The seeds have been sown, she thought. Now, it was time to see what grew from them.

“I am the darkest,” Eris hissed angrily. “Wars and strife! I have caused all manner of death! I am no lesser child!”

“I am darker still!” snarled Geras. “I dim the eyes and addle the brain. Every mortal fears old age!”

"I am the darkest of all," Moros said softly. "I am the darkness that lives inside everyone, the doom that awaits all. It should be me who accompanies Mother in this picture."

“Yeah, yeah,” Annabeth said, trying to ignore her chattering teeth. “I’m not seeing enough dark. I mean, you’re the children of Night! Show me dark!”

The horde of arai wailed, flapping their leathery wings and stirring up clouds of blackness. Geras spread his withered hands and dimmed the entire abyss. Eris breathed a shadowy spray of buckshot across the void. Moros' eyes turned black, shadows gushing forth from his pupils.

“I am the darkest!” hissed one of the demons.

“No, I!”

“No! Behold my darkness!”

If a thousand giant octopuses had squirted ink at the same time, at the bottom of the deepest, most sunless ocean trench, it could not have been blacker. Finally, she had the diversion she was looking for.

She allowed herself a moment to savor the triumph. Eris would no doubt have been proud of the discord she had managed to generate, if she'd realised what was happening. But the plan was only half complete, so she couldn't spend too long patting herself on the back. That cloud of darkness wouldn't last forever.

Gripping Percy’s hand, she took one last deep breath to steel her nerves.

Let's go.

“Now, Percy!” she whispered urgently, as they leaped into the darkness, aiming for the doorway far, far below.

Chapter Text

Percy wasn’t sure this was a good idea at all.

Of course, he was pretty used to bad ideas. He’d had several in his time. This latest plan of Annabeth's, though, was right up there. Jumping into a pitch black pit with no clue how far down it went? He couldn't imagine how anyone could possibly think-

Okay, maybe when you said it like that, it was a tad hypocritical of him to criticize the plan. He might have done the exact same thing two weeks ago. (Time was weird in Tartarus,  but he felt like it had been almost a fortnight.)

Besides, as crazy as Annabeth's plan had been, Percy would have been hard pressed to come up with anything better. Even by their usual standards, convincing the goddess of the Night they were lost tourists was impressively ludicrous. He’d done his best to play along, trusting that if anyone could get them out of the literal and figurative hole they were in, it was Annabeth, and it seemed like it had worked. So far, anyway. 

As he fell, he just hoped Annabeth’s next great plan would have some stairs, or an elevator involved. Anything but falling, really.

A few moments later, Percy’s train of thought was interrupted by a dull thunk, followed by another one a split second later, and then a scream of pain. He turned to see the shadowy form of Annabeth next to him, on the ground, holding her foot with one hand. The other was still firmly wrapped around his own, clutching him so tightly he could barely feel his fingers.

“You alright?” Percy asked her nervously. The last thing they could afford was an injury, not here. They were too far from the Phlegethon for that.

"Ankle's flaring up a bit," Annabeth mumbled through her teeth. "Same one. Guess it never properly healed."

Percy released Annabeth's hand, stumbling to his feet inelegantly. His knee was definitely a little sore, having taken the vast majority of the force of the impact, but as he gingerly tested it, he found he could still move it in all directions, which was good. The most important thing was that he'd still be able to run, and he had a horrible feeling he would be needing to.

He looked forward towards the house in front of them, which seemed more foreboding than ever. The mansion was impossibly vast, an obsidian silhouette that seemed to swallow all light that fell upon it. Only an eerie glow around the windows allowed him to see the building at all, sickly green and utterly forbidding. The walls seemed to thrum with some kind of dark energy, like the heart of some enormous, horrifying creature, and the black door that guarded the building was so huge that Percy felt like an ant in comparison. Everything about the place felt beyond his comprehension, as though it existed in a different reality altogether.

This is no place for mortals, Percy thought. Even by Tartarus' standards, no place he had ever been had felt this off-limits. The message could not have been clearer if there were a giant sign outside saying precisely that.

Percy's gut wanted no part of this. It wanted him to run as far away from here as he could, and never look back. And yet again, he knew that his instincts was probably right, but he also knew they had no other option. If they wanted to make it to the Doors of Death, then they had to go through the house.

Percy wondered if he'd done something to offend Janus, given the number of 'choices' he'd had recently where it seemed like he was doomed no matter what he chose. 

He looked up at the black cloud of darkness Nyx’ children had produced, which was enveloping the cliffside, and realized it was already a bit thinner. He knew the darkness wouldn’t last forever, and that Annabeth's trick had only bought them a bit of time before Nyx and her children came looking for them. They needed to hurry.

“Can you run?” he asked Annabeth, who shook her head. Percy could now clearly see she was grimacing as she stood up, leaning on him to keep her balance, clearly in far more pain than she was trying to show. He knew there was no time to waste. He put his arm around her shoulders, supporting her as best he could, and took off through that black arch into the Mansion of Night.

Instantly, Percy felt a strange chill. This place was cold, in an unearthly, deeply unsettling kind of way. Voices whispered around him, saying things almost too faint to make out, but it sounded eerily like they were saying his name, Jackson, over and over again in some kind of creepy rhythm. The whole house seemed to have a strange presence, an aura that made him feel constantly surrounded and watched, as if the walls had eyes, watching his every move.

Suddenly, Percy’s hair stood on end. The walls did have eyes. There was a pair of them right in front of him, yellow and bloodshot, staring directly back at him - no, through him, as though looking deep into his soul. Percy's hand went to Riptide, but against his every instinct, he decided to keep the sword in his pocket. He got the feeling that the horrors in this place were beyond the limits of what he could possibly fight, and the last thing he wanted to do was make them angry. Every soldier of Rome must know when to fight and when to retreat, he heard Lupa say in his head. 

All the same, he didn't want to spend one second longer here than he had to. He had a horrible feeling he'd barely scratched the surface of the horrors this place had to offer. One foot in front of the other, he told himself, as he picked up the pace, tightening his grip on Annabeth's shoulder. You’ll be out the other side before you know it. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Annabeth whispered to him, her voice quivering. Percy obeyed, shutting his eyes. He knew she was right. He’d already seen far too much, and they had barely made it through the hallway. Even if he no longer had much ability to navigate the mansion, he’d much rather risk walking into a wall than being driven mad by whatever grotesque abominations lay ahead. This place was simply too much for human eyes.

They reached what seemed to be the end of the hallway, as Percy’s outstretched hand felt some sort of wall in front of him. It was oddly warm to the touch, rather soft and yielding too, and covered in a thick viscous substance which now coated Percy's fingers. As he pulled back his hand, he felt the wall shudder in response, responding to his touch, and a horrible realisation dawned on him. This wall was alive. 

Suddenly, he found himself anxious to pick up the pace again. But which way did they need to go?

He cocked his head to the left, listening for any clues. A few seconds later, he heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from further along in that direction, hauntingly real and not quite human. It sounded as though whatever creature had made the sound was being tortured to death, and Percy felt a shiver go down his spine, as he decided to turn right. He didn't have any desire to find out what was happening off in the other direction.

A few steps later, Percy's outstretched hand felt what seemed like a door handle, and he turned it, entering the next room. 

The first thing he noticed was the smell. This room smelt wonderful, like a fresh sea breeze mixed in with Annabeth's hair and his mother's cookies, a delightful and very stark contrast to the putrid stench of Tartarus which he had become so accustomed to. The air was fresh and cool, and Percy found himself inhaling it greedily. It had been so long since he had been able to breathe like this.

In the background, a piano played a gentle and melodious aria, soothing his nerves, which were near enough shot to pieces after the previous corridor. If he concentrated hard, he could hear the soft sounds of birds in the background, blissfully chirping away. The floor of the room was much softer under his shoes than the hard, unforgiving floor of the entrance hall had been, and Percy could barely hear his own footsteps now, even if he was still running.

A sense of tranquility washed over him slowly. Why was he still running, he wondered? This was a perfect place for them to take a break, even if only for a short while. He could already feel his eyelids getting heavier, urging him to take a quick nap before he carried on. Just five minutes can't hurt, he thought, yawning.

He stopped dead in the middle of the room, and Annabeth stumbled, not expecting him to slow down, causing her to cry out in pain. Her arms dug into Percy's neck as she scrambled to stay on her feet, and suddenly, Percy remembered why he was there, the trance broken.

He cursed himself for forgetting the golden rule of being a demigod: anything that seemed inviting was probably going to kill you, especially so in Tartarus. He had almost fallen straight into the trap. The room he was in no longer seemed anywhere near as enticing, its aura well and truly broken.

He picked up the pace again, shivering, and after a few seconds was glad to run into some sort of door again. He fumbled around a bit, trying to find the handle, before he eventually managed to open it.

The next room he entered instantly felt strange. The air was completely normal, neither the fetid thick air of Tartarus nor the perfumed, enticing air of the previous room. The ground felt completely flat and unremarkable, and once Percy had shut the door behind him, he could hear nothing at all. He dared not open his eyes, even now, but if he did, he suspected he would see a room that was entirely devoid of colour, a sterile, featureless box, the personification of the colour grey. He carried on walking until he hit a wall, feeling its cool, smooth texture under his palm, giving him absolutely nothing to navigate by, not a hint of irregularity.

This room felt lifeless, inhumanly monotonous, and Percy almost felt like an intruder, disturbing its eerie uniformity. He dared not speak, dared not make a sound. In fact, he could barely bring himself to keep breathing. This room was too abnormally perfect to allow him to intrude and disturb its balance, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would do to them as punishment for their invasion. But what he did know was that he didn't want to spend a second longer in this room. It was sure to drive him insane if he lingered.

Slowly, and carefully, he turned back on himself, taking delicate steps, as quiet and inoffensive as he could manage, until with great relief he found the handle to the door he had just entered by. He turned it, re-entering the previous room, feeling that sickly sweet scent once more, though it no longer held the same sway over him that it had before.

Finally, he could dare to breathe. He heard Annabeth exhale next to him, noting her relief, which was as clear as his. Somehow, though it had contained nothing whatsoever, no immediate threat to their lives, that room had been the most terrifying of all.

He walked slowly along the wall, dragging Annabeth with him, hoping to find another way out. He really, really didn't want to re-enter the sterile room again. It was to his immense relief when he felt a second door handle, which he turned, walking into the next room.

This room felt more like the previous corridor had been. The air was heavy, thick with an almost tangible scent of decay and something else, something almost metallic. The floor beneath him was cold and yielding, though occasionally Percy would step into a pool of some kind of liquid, warm and with an odd tang of iron about it. A low, rhythmic thumping pulsed through the ground and the walls around them, like a monstrous heartbeat. Every step they took was met with a squelch, a sound that made Percy feel sick to his stomach. With a sense of dread, Percy noted that there was only one thing the puddles could be, though the very thought made him want to throw up even more than he already did.

As he picked up the pace once more, eager to leave this room behind, the acrid air was doing Percy's lungs no favours, and he coughed, barely able to breathe without inhaling what smelt like a mix of day-old vomit and rotting flesh. He held his breath, not wanting to inhale any more of the noxious fumes than he already had. Annabeth's weight on him suddenly felt ten times harder to support, as his lungs screamed out for mercy, and Percy felt a sense of despair as he wondered how much further they had to go. With all the strength he had in reserve, he followed the throbbing sound coming from the walls, coughing and spluttering all the way, until he reached the other side, where he was glad to find an exit.

As they entered the next room, Percy gasped for breath, the stale air of Tartarus a welcome relief from the poisonous fumes of the previous room. Here, the ground felt rather soft to walk upon, with his feet almost sticking in the floor as he strode forward, forcing him to slow down. Just then, he heard a faint rushing sound. Water, he realized. Annabeth nudged him, clearly having heard it too. That must be the exit they were looking for.

Percy focused, sensing what seemed to be a river ahead, and suddenly the path ahead seemed clear. If they just turned right after they left this room, the river would be right there. Of course, none of the rivers in Tartarus were particularly good news, but they could cross that bridge when they came to it. He'd rather swim in the Phlegethon than spend a second more in this place. 

Just then, he felt Annabeth nudge his back. "Your feet, Percy!" she whispered urgently.

Percy realized he had briefly stopped in place, and his feet had slowly been sinking into the soft ground, which was now threatening to swallow his ankles. With a burst of adrenaline, he lifted Annabeth higher, keeping her off the ground, and wrenched his foot clear of the quagmire. His shoe had fallen victim to the quicksand, but thankfully, Annabeth had managed to warn him before it could claim any more of him than that. Once again, Percy wondered where he'd be without her.

He marched on through the room, each step a battle against the floor, which did not want to let him go, seemingly telling him to give up and accept his fate. But every time he put one foot in front of the other, Percy's resolve only hardened, as he felt the familiar tug in his gut get stronger. They were getting closer and closer to the river. In fact, they were almost out! Just a few more-- 

Without warning, Percy felt the temperature drop. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell the entire room had gotten darker. The faint rushing sound of water that had filled Percy with hope had gone, replaced by pindrop silence, so eerie and cold that Percy almost wanted the whispers back.

Every muscle in his body screamed 'Run', but Percy was rooted to the spot by pure fear, unable to move. He felt the shadows coalesce into a physical form, towering over him, and felt a presence which was ancient, terrifying, and depressingly familiar. His heart sank. He knew what was coming.

“A clever trick, my dear 'tourists',” Nyx’s voice said, almost musically. “But did you really think the Primordial Goddess of the Night could not see in the dark?”

Percy felt her hand touch his forehead, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

Annabeth woke up, which was strange, as she didn’t recall ever going to sleep. She guessed she was in some sort of bed, which was weird. Even stranger, she didn’t recall having any dreams, which for a demigod was very unusual. Memories of Nyx’s Mansion flooded back, and she shuddered, remembering her limp through the house where it felt like every room was trying to kill them.

Her ankle didn’t hurt any more, though, so maybe going to sleep had healed it? Or had that all been one very long nightmare? Annabeth was hesitant to open her eyes after the horrors of the Mansion of Night, but she could feel that there was light outside, and her demigod senses weren’t on high alert any more. Slowly, she got up, walking gingerly at first, but her ankle seemed absolutely fine. It had been completely healed in her sleep.

She looked around the room she was in. It seemed to be some sort of… hotel room? It was massive, and tastefully decorated, with Doric columns in the corners of the rooms and gorgeous wooden furniture scattered throughout, with the room neither feeling too empty or too cluttered. A grandfather clock sat in the corner, tick-tock-ing away rhythmically. Even her mother would have been proud of the design of this place, she thought.

Percy was lying next to her in the huge bed, drooling from his open mouth, and Annabeth smiled. Old habits die hard. She saw a pair of new orange Camp Half Blood T-shirts laid out on a dresser, along with some jeans. There was a dining table laid out with enough food to feed a small army as well, and Annabeth noted a stack of what seemed to be blue pancakes there as well.

Annabeth pieced together the puzzle in her head. Nyx had caught them, and they had ended up here. But this place seemed far from a punishment. Everything was perfect here, and there was surely no chance Nyx would be so kind to her captives, and even less chance this kind of wonderful place existed in Tartarus. She wondered whether it was an illusion of some sort, or a dream maybe, but she discounted that. Nyx didn’t need to play games with them. If she wanted them to suffer, they would. Which left one possibility…

‘Elysium,’ Annabeth breathed.

Her whole life had been quest after quest, saving the world again and again, with failure being unthinkable. But this time, she had failed. Nyx had killed them.

In one way, it was almost a relief to have that pressure of her shoulders, to be able to live forever in paradise, with no more quests or monsters. Plus, there were old friends here, ones she had lost in the Titan War, whom she'd finally be able to meet again.

But then she thought about what she had left behind. Piper, Jason, Frank, Hazel, Leo, Nico, Grover, Thalia… these were her friends, and her failure would probably mean every last one of them would die to the giants. You couldn't keep fighting off the monsters forever if they kept coming back. Camp was going to be destroyed, and with it everyone she knew. Suddenly, Annabeth wanted to cry.

She remembered how her father and stepmother had invited her to dinner to try to mend their relationship. Annabeth had said no, having been busy redesigning Olympus. Now, they were going to hear that she was dead in the blackest of hells, her body never found, and then quite probably die too as Gaea and the giants wreaked havoc on humanity. There would be no second chance to have that dinner.

Just then Percy woke up, and sat bolt upright, opening his eyes as he adjusted to seeing daylight for the first time in weeks. He looked confused as he looked around the room, and Annabeth could see the cogs whirring in his brain as he went through the same thought process she had. He looked over at Annabeth, seeing the tears on her face, and his expression darkened.

“We’re dead?” he asked softly.

Before Annabeth could respond, she felt a very familiar presence, as a booming voice came from all around them.

“No, Perseus,” Nyx chuckled. “You are simply enjoying my hospitality.”

They looked at each other, confused, and Annabeth’s mind whirred. Hospitality? After Nyx had caught them sneaking through her house? She wondered how to phrase her next question, but Percy beat her to it.

“So why haven’t you killed us?” Percy asked.

Direct and to the point, Annabeth thought. That wouldn't have been her approach, but that was Percy for you. He wasn't one to mince his words.

It occurred to her that Nyx’ ‘hospitality’ meant they were still in the Mansion of Night, but it felt different now, with that overpowering aura of fear and dread having faded. More importantly, they weren’t dead. That dinner with Dad might be back on after all.

“Would you prefer that I had?” Nyx’s voice carried no menace. In fact, she sounded almost… playful? Annabeth wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“You have an hour and a half to clean yourselves, get dressed, and eat. I will address you in my throne room after that.” Nyx’s presence faded away.

Annabeth glanced over at the grandfather clock in the corner, which had just struck nine. Ten thirty, then, was when Nyx wanted to meet them.

She looked over at Percy, who bore a worried look on his face. Annabeth knew instantly what was on his mind.

“‘If it seems too good to be true, it probably is’?” she quoted, and Percy nodded. Annabeth’s inner voice had been screaming the same thing, but there was one thing reassuring her.

“Nyx doesn’t need to set traps for us, Percy,” she said. “She could torture us beyond recognition without even trying. She’s the mother of almost all things dark and terrifying.”

It was a strange idea that the fact that Nyx was so completely out of their league in terms of power was actually reassuring, but it was true. Nyx had nothing to gain from dragging things out if she were going to kill them. 

Percy frowned. “So you’re saying…”

“Take a shower, get dressed, have some breakfast. If Nyx still does intend on killing us, we might as well die with full stomachs,” Annabeth said. Truth be told, she was so hungry after several days of eating scraps that there was significant danger that she might stuff herself to the point of bursting. That wouldn't be a death worthy of the poems.

Percy grinned, the look of concern melting from his face. “I would have killed for a shower at any point in this whole quest. Not going to turn it down now.”

Annabeth resisted the urge to remind him that he had killed, too many monsters to count along with one human-turned-giant spider in Arachne, and one goddess. The last thing Percy needed was a reminder of how terrible the past two weeks had been.

They took it in turns to shower, first Percy, then Annabeth, and dressed in the fresh, clean Camp clothes that Nyx had provided for them. Annabeth felt rejuvenated, and for the first time in a while Percy smelled like the familiar salty sea breeze she was used to, as opposed to the general stink of death that had followed them around Tartarus. He looked fresh and full of energy, too, a welcome contrast to the haggard look he'd had ever since they fell into this accursed place, let alone the pallid, sunken appearance Akhlys had given him just yesterday.

She sat down at the dining table with Percy opposite her, and loaded her plate with pancakes, waffles, and fruit. She saw Percy’s plate, with a stack of blue pancakes accompanied by a couple of slices of pizza, and frowned at him.

“Pizza for breakfast, Percy? Really?” she said in a mock stern voice. 

Percy pouted. “You sound like my mom. It’s been ages since I had real food, give me a break,” he grumbled, and Annabeth laughed. She picked up a grape and tossed it, and Percy caught it in his mouth, and tossed one back for her, which she missed. Percy poked her playfully in the side for missing, and Annabeth laughed, all her worries briefly forgotten. This was why she loved Percy so much.

Within minutes, both their plates were empty, and, unsurprisingly, both found themselves reaching for more. Fighting their ways through Tartarus had, among many things, burned quite a lot of calories, and they hadn't exactly had many opportunities to take them on. Percy definitely looked a lot skinnier than he had been, and Annabeth was sure she was too. Now that she actually had a chance to eat, she was going to take it with both hands.

Besides, the food was good. Damasen was a decent cook, but this beat drakon steaks all day long, let alone drinking acid fire. Maybe it was just that everything tasted a little sweeter when you were starving, but this was the best meal she'd ever had, and she'd feasted on Olympus before.

As they continued eating, Percy looked at Annabeth, a more serious expression on his face.

“How are we going to approach this? I mean, how much do you think she knows?” he asked.

The implication was clear, of course. Akhlys. Nyx's own daughter, whom Percy had just killed. But there was no way a being as powerful as Nyx could possibly not know by now, not after having had the whole night to find out. For some as yet unknown reason, she knew and yet she didn't care.

“She knows everything about us, Percy. She literally gave you blue pancakes for breakfast," Annabeth replied, her tone steadier than she felt. "I don’t think we can hide anything from her. We’ve already survived lying to her once, I don’t think twice would be a good idea.”

The clock in the corner now showed the time was quarter past ten. Annabeth wondered how time worked in Tartarus, and what time zone it was in. There wasn't a day and night cycle to go off like on Earth, though she supposed Day and Night themselves could be found down here, and Nyx's brother was Time himself, so they'd probably be able to work out some sort of consistent timekeeping convention to use between them. It was possible they-

She noticed Percy looking at her, and realized she had been holding a slice of toast, staring blankly into space, as she wondered about how to define Tartarus Standard Time. Cursing her ADHD, she remembered the more important problem at hand: a primordial goddess awaited them in fifteen minutes.

She went back to her slice of toast, eating a little faster now. They couldn't afford to be late. That would hardly be setting the right tone. And when you met a being powerful enough to give your nightmares nightmares, it was probably a good idea to make a good first impression. 

A few minutes later, Percy put down his knife and fork, his plate clean. Annabeth had already finished a couple of minutes earlier. That was good, she thought. Already, she felt much stronger for having eaten, not that any amount of food would help her if Nyx wanted them dead.

The food vanished, along with their plates, and Annabeth glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room, which was coming up to half past ten. She wondered how they were going to get to the throne room. Hopefully, they wouldn't have to find their own way. They'd spent enough time exploring the Mansion of Night for a hundred lifetimes.

Like clockwork, the answer to her question arrived that very second, a tall man dressed rather stylishly in a fine black suit. Annabeth couldn’t help but think she knew him from somewhere, but her memory was a bit fuzzy, and right now she was drawing a blank on his name.

“Morning, godlings,” he said, in a British accent, and Annabeth immediately realized where she knew him from. Suddenly, she was twelve again, playing fetch with a dog big enough to swallow her whole, listening to the man in front of her complain about not being paid well enough. She had been such a child back then... And somehow, she'd been entrusted with the responsibility of saving the world, along with the equally inexperienced boy next to her, who had clearly recognized the man as well 

“Charon?” Percy said, incredulously. He seemed just as surprised as Annabeth.

“Mr Jackson and Miss Chase. Pleasure to meet you again," Charon said smoothly, adjusting his bow tie. “Mum’s sent me to come and get you, and I’m on a tight schedule, so if you wouldn’t mind kindly following me?”

He glanced down at his wristwatch, which looked like a Rolex of some sort. Guess Hades did give him that pay raise after all, Annabeth thought. Good for him.

She couldn't think of many jobs she'd enjoy less than ferrying the souls of the dead across the River Styx.  In her head, it was second only to arachnology, being such an utterly thankless task. He deserved to be paid well for it, if nothing else.

Percy hurriedly put on the pair of new Nike sneakers Nyx had left him, as Annabeth waited anxiously. He was fumbling as he tied his laces, and Annabeth was getting more and more nervous with each passing second.

Charon walked out of the room, and gestured impatiently for them to follow. "Next ferry timetabled is at twenty to 11. Hades will dock my pay if I'm late, so you'd better hurry up," he grumbled.

Annabeth looked at Percy nervously, and he took her hand in his as they set off behind Charon, who strode around so briskly they almost had to jog to keep up. Charon walked down a maze of corridors, as they followed him turning left, then right, the mansion almost impossible to navigate. No longer, though, did it seem like the walls were baying for their blood, or like every room they passed through was trying to kill them. Now, this was just an enormous, extremely creepy but non-murderous house, as normal as normal could possibly get in Tartarus.

He stopped before a huge, ornate door, and Annabeth knew instinctively this was the throne room. She could feel Nyx's dark aura already, her very presence making Annabeth shiver slightly.

“Here we are, then,” Charon announced brusquely. “I’ll be off now." He looked at his watch again. "If I see you a third time, I expect you really will be dead, so for your sake, I hope I don’t see you soon.”

He disappeared in a flash, as abruptly as he had arrived.

Percy squeezed her hand, and Annabeth tightened her grip in return. Her heart thumped as her mind went over the possibilities. Nyx might still kill them, but it seemed like that was unlikely given the way she’d acted that morning. Did she want to use them to do something for her? If so, what? There couldn't be too many things that they could do as demigods but a primordial goddess with a small army of gods and monsters by her side couldn't. Perhaps Nyx didn't want Gaea to win, so she was helping them with their quest.

She sighed. All this thinking was pointless. There was only one way to find out. She pushed open the black door, and walked into the throne room, Percy by her side.

Chapter Text

Percy had seen some impressive throne rooms in his time. Hades’ was a bit dark and unwelcoming, but he couldn’t deny that it was beautiful in a slightly creepy way. His father’s palace was elegantly designed, with motifs of the sea all around. Olympus’ throne room had been majestic before its destruction, golden and regal.

Nyx’s throne room, though? That was ethereal.

The room felt endless, as though they were floating in space, stars glistening all around them. It was mostly dark, but there were moonbeams in every corner, giving the place a soft glow. Percy looked up at the ceiling, where stardust seemed to coalesce into shapes, and he saw the figure of a young woman up against a giant spider, and a young boy fighting what looked like the Minotaur.

The ceiling was showing him and Annabeth their memories, he realized. As he watched, he scene shifted to their fight against Kronos, then to stardust Annabeth judo-flipping stardust Percy, and then to them at Mount St Helens. He was momentarily mesmerized as he watched their first kiss re-enacted by their stardust selves. Simpler times, he thought, though even then pretty much every day had been a near-death experience. Some things never really changed.

He could have sat there watching the show all day, but eventually, Percy forced himself to look away. In front of him were two identical huge, obsidian thrones, forty feet tall and black as night, shimmering with flecks of silver and encrusted with jewels around the edges. One of them sat empty, but in the other sat Nyx, majestic and regal as ever, her aura dark and overpowering.

At the sight of her, Percy couldn't help but gulp. It was hard to pinpoint why he felt so nervous, in truth. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being in throne rooms. Hell, he was even used to the people in the thrones deciding his fate. But something about this just felt different. Annabeth had seemed confident Nyx didn’t want to kill them, but Percy was less sure. These things barely ever went the way you expected them to.

Annabeth bowed, and Percy followed suit. “My lady,” she said, her tone respectful. 

“Heroes,” Nyx replied, her voice booming. “I trust you had a good breakfast?”

“It was great, my lady," Percy replied, clearing his throat, which felt rather dry. He'd tried his best not to allow it to show, but the note of nervousness in his voice was obvious enough. "Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

Gods, this was difficult, Percy thought. Nyx’s presence was just a little too much up close, especially when she was so huge they barely made it up to her shins. He could feel his legs shaking a little, not that that was surprising given he was talking to someone who could erase every trace of his existence with a snap of her fingers.

Thankfully, the goddess of the Night noticed his discomfort. “You seem rather nervous, demigods," she said kindly. "Perhaps I can put you more at ease.”

She waved her hand, and her throne turned into a normal-sized armchair, and a sofa appeared behind them. She shrank down, until she looked like an ordinary human woman, and gestured for them to sit down on the sofa. Percy couldn’t help but feel like he was about to have the weirdest therapy session in history, but he sat down on the sofa, with Annabeth next to him, as Nyx took a seat herself in her throne-turned-armchair.

“Let us begin,” Nyx said. “I am sure you have many questions for me. I will answer them to the best of your capabilities to understand, though there are many things that I cannot tell you, and many more that you would be better off not knowing.” 

Percy opened his mouth to ask a question, then closed it again. He had no idea where to even begin. Akhlys, Tartarus, the Mansion, the Doors of Death… there was so much he wanted to know.

“My lady… what is this place?” Annabeth asked, her voice a little unsteady. “It felt like every room wanted to kill us in its own unique way, and...” She grimaced a little. "Well, it was terrifying."

She clearly didn’t want to start off with Akhlys, or why Nyx hadn’t killed them, and Percy didn’t blame her. He felt like to lead off with that would be tempting fate. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure Nyx was the mother of the Fates, if he remembered his mythology class correctly.

Nyx chuckled. “Starting with the easier questions, I see. Very well. This is the Mansion of Night, which contains many things put there by my children, most of which are far beyond your comprehension and all of which would terrify you beyond recognition. I have kept these horrors hidden from you for now, which is why you have not been driven to insanity.”

She was almost nonchalant in the way she said it, Percy thought, as though ancient terrors beyond the mortal mind were just an everyday thing. Then again, this was Nyx they were talking about, so it probably was an everyday thing for her.

"I fear that we have more important matters to discuss, however," Nyx said. "The nature of my Mansion, while no doubt interesting, is hardly relevant in comparison to other events of yesterday."

She looked at him expectantly, and Percy knew what she was getting at.

“Akhlys,” he said cautiously. He thought carefully about how to proceed, which words to use, before deciding to throw caution to the wind. There wasn’t a choice of words that would make anything better, not when the one he was talking to was a primordial goddess. “I killed her," he said bluntly. "I think you know, too. So why do you not seem angry about it?”

Nyx was clearly expecting the question. She leaned back in her chair. “Why should I be angry? Akhlys picked a fight with two easy targets, or so she thought,” she answered casually. “The fact she lost is no doubt of great embarrassment, but she will have the next few millennia to think about it as she reforms. It is near certain that she will, and almost as certain that she will not learn her lesson.”

Percy couldn’t help but think there was a slight condescending undertone to Nyx’s words, and he bristled a little at it. Akhlys was hardly the first immortal they’d taken on and beaten, and at this point they’d surely earned a bit of respect. But condescending wasn't too bad, he supposed. At least she wasn't feeling murderous.

"I would exercise caution, if I were you," Nyx warned. "Akhlys is not the type to forgive. She will remember what you both did, and she will come after you. And just because her body was destroyed, it does not mean that she cannot cause trouble. She is powerful enough that she does not require physical form."

Silence fell for a second, as Percy and Annabeth exchanged worried glances. If Akhlys was still around, and she could still hurt them...

“She mentioned she wanted to sacrifice us to you,” Annabeth probed. “What was that about?”

Nyx waved her hands dismissively. “I have no idea why she thought the death of two demigods would please me," she replied. "I have many children, but Akhlys has always been one of the more… difficult, for want of a better word. I had nothing to do with her betraying you, I assure you.”

Percy had always had a hard time trusting gods, but he found himself believing Nyx. After all, as Annabeth had pointed out, she had no reason to lie to them. She was an ancient being, so powerful she could destroy them with no more than a thought, and, weirdly, that was actually kind of reassuring. 

“How did I do it? I mean… how is it possible for a demigod to kill a god like that?” he asked eventually. He'd been chewing over that question for a while, wondering how to phrase it. That rage he'd felt when Akhlys struck Annabeth was unlike anything he'd ever felt before - strange, but also natural. And though he wasn't sure he wanted to revisit that moment, he also knew Nyx was his best chance of finding the answers he needed.

“Finally, you are asking the right questions.” Nyx's eyes were glowing red, as a timely reminder that despite appearances, she was much more than a therapist. “In that moment, you were able to harness much more of your father’s power than you ever had before," she explained. "You connected with domains of power you had never previously been attuned to. As to how you did so, it is not my place to tell you. You will find out some day, when the time is right.”

Her voice was firm, and Percy knew there was no point trying to persuade her to tell him. That question was going to eat him up inside, he knew, but he wasn't getting an answer just yet.

“Akhlys aside… we still lied to you, and trespassed in your house. Why haven't you punished us for it?” Annabeth asked. She'd clearly decided, like Percy had, that beating around the bush was pointless. Nyx was far too intelligent and powerful to be swayed by any attempts to sugarcoat the truth.

Nyx smirked. “I thought allowing you to stumble around in terror for as long as you did was more than sufficient punishment," she said. "To kill you just for lying would be rather disproportionate, don’t you think?”

Nyx had just been toying with them, Percy realised. She could have stopped them straight away, but she let them be scared shitless by her godsforsaken nightmare of a house just as a cruel joke. Percy wanted to be angry, but given she'd also given them the first proper night's sleep they'd had in ages, he could hardly be too ungrateful.

"Perhaps, in hindsight, I ought to have stepped in sooner," Nyx said gently. "Although I thought your audacity demanded taking down a peg, it was a little cruel of me to expose you to my house for so long, mortal as you are. Clearly, I overestimated your capabilities to withstand the Mansion, and underestimated how much fear and pain it would cause you. For that, I am sorry."

Yes, Percy thought wryly, you certainly did. Still, Nyx's apology meant something, at least. It was rare that someone as powerful as her would ever own up to a mistake, but also remarkably refreshing.

"What I can say is that I did shield you from the worst of it, however," she continued. "You were never in any true danger of death, nor did you so much as scratch the surface of the things you could have seen. I would certainly never have let you suffer irreversible harm."

"Forgive me, my lady," Annabeth said cautiously, "and please don't think I'm ungrateful that you protected us, but... well, why? Surely we're not really important enough for you to care?"

That earned a chuckle from Nyx. "My dear girl, you underestimate yourself," she said. "Two demigods as young as yourselves, alone in the Pit of all places, and alive? That alone was remarkable enough to pique my curiosity enough to want to meet you. And when I heard your character references, well..."

She made a beckoning gesture with her hand, and a woman appeared out of the shadows. Percy thought she looked familiar, a bit like a female version of Smelly Gabe, but also a bit like Nancy Bobofit, Matt Sloan, Arachne, Luke… No, not Luke. Kronos, he realized, fists clenched instinctively from anger. He knew who this was.

“You’re Nemesis,” Percy stated.

“Indeed, Perseus," Nemesis calmly replied, and Percy was very glad when her face shifted again. This time, she looked more like her son, Ethan Nakamura. Percy recalled that Hazel and Leo had encountered Nemesis, and he idly wondered whether they, too, had seen her in the form of those they hated most at first.

“So you were the one who convinced Nyx to spare us,” Annabeth said. “But why?”

“Mother hardly needed convincing, she never intended to kill you,” Nemesis replied. “She is kinder than most, and two children alone in the Pit were hardly likely to earn her wrath, even if trespassing in her house was something of a risky move. But I did convince her to help you. You see, I have been much more involved in your quest than you realize.” She leaned forward in her chair. “In fact, it was thanks to me that you fell into the Pit in the first place.”

Percy could hardly believe what he was hearing. Nemesis had meddled to send them to Tartarus?

“Why on earth would you do that?” Annabeth almost spat, her tone barely concealing her anger. Percy couldn't help but feel the same way. After everything he had done to make sure Nemesis and the minor gods were honoured, she repaid them by sending them to literal hell?

Nemesis’ expression was hard to read, though when she spoke again her tone was a little more sympathetic. “Someone had to close the Doors from the Tartarus side, or the world would be doomed," she said gently. "It was through no fault of your own, nor was it out of any grudge I bore you. I simply believed that you were the two who had the best chance of surviving such a brutal quest.”

She looked directly at Percy, making eye contact. “More so than the other five, you are capable of making the most difficult decisions, Perseus. Giving a knife to Kronos’ host, taking the weight of the sky, taking on the curse of Achilles… As for Annabeth, you have the wisdom to balance Perseus’ instincts, and the cunning to find a way to survive even the toughest of challenges. The two of you are the best hope the world has, as you have been before and will be again.”

Her logic made sense, Percy thought, but he was really tired of being a pawn in everyone else's games. He wanted to be 'Percy Jackson, normal seventeen year old' and not 'Percy Jackson, world's best hope' for once. As for difficult choices... well, it only took getting one wrong when the entire world depended on you, and he was pretty sure that the only reason he hadn't yet was sheer dumb luck. He wasn't sure Nemesis was right to trust them at all.

"The stakes are high, children," Nyx said. "I was not aware of what my sister was plotting, in truth. Had I been informed, I might have acted sooner. She will destroy all that is good in the world if she is not stopped in her tracks. Helping you is the least that I can do to prevent that."

Nemesis nodded. "The danger is real," she said grimly. "Gaea does not care one bit for balance. She has a vision of paradise in her mind, and she will stop at nothing to achieve it, even if she ends up bringing pain and suffering in untold amounts to the world. In her mind, all those who will die are simply necessary sacrifices to achieve her dream."

"She is a fool," Nyx said coldly. Once again, her eyes glowed blood-red, piercing through Percy as she looked at him. "In the ancient times, her husband was there to keep her in check, and things were better. There was balance. Earth and Sky complemented each other perfectly, each one bringing out the best in each other, much like my daughter Hemera and I do." She sighed. "But Gaea became ambitious. When Ouranos expressed his alarm at her naïve ideals and foolish plans to recast the world in her own image, she became enraged. She plotted with her sons to destroy his physical form, and ever since that day, there has been nobody to control her worst impulses. What she plans if she wakes is beyond dangerous. Her victory would mean the end of all that you know."

Percy could feel Nyx's suffocating aura once more, radiating out with incredible intensity as she became angrier. This time, though, rather than scaring him, it made his heart leap. If Nyx was on their side... Well, she was one of very few beings in the universe who could rival the earth goddess for sheer raw power. If she was willing to fight alongside them, that would be an incalculably huge boost to their chances.

Unfortunately, Nyx saw the expression on his face, and she clearly recognized it, too, because she immediately poured cold water on the idea.

“I cannot help you directly, demigods. We Protogenoi may not declare war upon each other. To break that rule would risk Mother’s wrath, and I do not intend on taking that risk.” Percy’s face fell again. “However, I do have something that belongs to you, daughter of Athena.” She waved her hand, and a bronze dagger appeared. Not just any bronze dagger - Annabeth’s knife, he realized, which had been lost when they fell into Tartarus.

“My knife,” Annabeth murmured, stunned. “How did you find it?”

Nyx laughed. “My canine children are in the habit of bringing their mother presents as they roam around. A few days ago, one of them brought me this.”

Dogs will be dogs, Percy thought, suddenly missing Mrs. O’Leary a little. He'd have to tell her he'd met her mother if he saw her again.

“Nemesis has told me of its history," Nyx added. "It is a truly worthy blade for a hero. I hope it continues to serve you well.”

Annabeth looked like she was about to cry, but she accepted the knife back gratefully, stowing it by her side. Percy had one burning question in the back of his mind, however.

“What next? I mean, our plan was to use the Death Mist to get through to the Doors, but that’s obviously not happening, so…” he trailed off.

“There is always another way,” Nyx said calmly. “I do not know how, but I know that you are resourceful enough to find it. At the very least, I will order my children to refrain from attacking you. You will no longer need to fear hellhounds, Keres, or Arai, not to mention the many other monsters of my creation you are yet to encounter."

She has a lot of children, Percy thought. He idly wondered what a Nyx family gathering looked like. Judging by the children of Nyx he'd met so far, he could only assume that Olympus looked rather tame in comparison. This particular family was completely batshit insane.

“I am older than Time himself, Perseus," Nyx said, a slight note of disapproval in her voice. "Is it so surprising that I have many children?”

Shit. Had he said that out loud? Judging by the way Annabeth was looking at him with a familiar look of disbelief, the one that said Even by your standards that was impressively stupid, he suspected the answer was yes, though thankfully, Nyx's expression was more amused than miffed.

“For what it is worth, Nemesis was not the only one of those children who spoke in your favour," she said. "Thanatos was very grateful that you rescued him, Elpis was full of praise for your courage, the Erinyes respected your determination. Even Charon mentioned something about you getting him a pay raise.” Frankly, Percy couldn't believe there were that many gods out there he hadn't pissed off yet, not that he was complaining. "The two of you are both so young, and yet you have clearly already managed to make a remarkable impression upon so many. That is very commendable." 

Nemesis piped up, having been quiet for so long Percy had almost forgotten she was there. “I am yet to properly thank you, Percy Jackson. You earned me recognition that I had not had for thousands of years. And your willingness to forgive my son and see that he was remembered as a hero was truly… noble.” She smiled sadly. “I hope you make it back, demigods. I believe in you.” With that, she disappeared.

Nyx stood up. “To get to the Doors, you must cross the Acheron into the Heart. Your friend 'Bob' awaits you there. I will lead you as far as the river, but from then on you must travel alone.” She paused for a second. “Be careful, demigods. There are many here who seek vengeance against you. Akhlys is one, but there are others, many of whom you have crossed paths with in the past, all of whom would dearly love to destroy you. There are many more, too, who seek the glory of being the ones to kill you, for your success in surviving all that you has earned you a certain degree of infamy. Word spreads fast here. If I may give one last piece of advice, however, it is that above all else, you must beware the Pit.” 

Tartarus had been brutal so far, but Percy had a bad feeling things would only get worse from here. He looked over at Annabeth, and the nervous look on her face told him she felt the same way. They followed Nyx through a series of dark corridors, until they came to a huge black door, and Percy could sense the malevolent presence of the River Acheron beyond.

“This is where we part ways, children. I wish you all the best.” Nyx had a sad smile on her face, as if she knew she was sending them to their doom. Percy turned to thank her for her help, but Nyx had already vanished into the shadows, leaving them behind at the end of the corridor.

Nervously, he took Annabeth’s hand, who squeezed it in her own, as they walked through the open door and back out into the stale, rotten air of Tartarus.

Chapter Text

Annabeth wasn’t sure what to make of their meeting with Nyx.

That wasn’t necessarily surprising, of course. The last day or so had been so stressful that she’d barely had a chance to digest the things she’d learned. Heck, three hours ago she’d thought she was dead. Nyx’s Mansion had hardly been the place for quiet reflection.

She looked around. The Acheron was about a hundred yards in front of them, and she knew that they’d have to find a way across eventually. For now, though, there didn’t seem to be any monsters around, so this felt like a good opportunity to review and summarize everything. Mentally, she went back over everything she now knew, trying to make sense of it.

• Nyx hadn’t killed them. That was an excellent result, though Annabeth had been pretty certain she wouldn’t.

• She had her knife back. Damasen’s drakon-bone sword made for a decent weapon, but she was so much more comfortable for the weapon that had been hers for almost a decade. Also a great result.

• No more worrying about hellhounds or arai, not to mention all kinds of unknown monsters. She was grateful to never have to deal with the curses again, given how close they had come to killing Percy. As for hellhounds, she loved Mrs. O’Leary, but she had always been acutely aware that the dog could easily swallow her whole in one gulp. This was a fantastic result.

• Nyx had let them wander around the Mansion of Night, traumatizing themselves, just to toy with them. Annabeth would never forget the things she felt and heard there, but on the scale of ways Nyx could have tortured them, she supposed it ranked pretty low. Mixed feelings, then.

• Nemesis had been responsible for their fall into Tartarus, simply because she thought they had the best chance of surviving long enough to close the Doors of Death. Annabeth wasn’t so sure they did, but she supposed they’d done OK at surviving thus far. All told, this one just made her angry.

• Nyx couldn’t offer them any direct assistance against Gaea. There was no way around the fact this was a terrible result. A primordial on their side would really have evened the odds.

• They had no idea how to survive the Doors without Death Mist, and Nyx hadn’t given them anything to go off. That was nothing short of disastrous, though Nyx had at least suggested it was possible. There is always another way, she had said.

• Nyx had said every monster out there was looking for them. That couldn’t be good, though Annabeth wasn’t sure it was particularly new.

• “Above all else, beware the Pit.” What did that mean? It wasn’t like they were likely to ever stop fearing the Pit. Annabeth would be having nightmares about it when she was seventy, if she ever got there. Still, whatever Nyx meant, it couldn’t be good.

Overall, Annabeth supposed it could have gone a lot worse. On a scale of one to ten, maybe a seven? They were certainly no worse off than before they had met Nyx, apart from the fact they would be having nightmares about the Mansion of Night forever. Still, nightmares were nothing new to her, and adding the Mansion of Night to her list of nightmare fuel would bring welcome variety if anything.

Annabeth went back over the list in her head. Actually, looking back on it, there was plenty she'd left out. The night’s sleep had done her so much good, she no longer had a broken ankle, and she had gotten to eat the most delicious meal she’d ever had. Seven and a half, she thought. Maybe even eight.

Percy cleared his throat pointedly. Annabeth had almost forgotten he was even there. “What’s on your mind, Wise Girl?” he asked. “Thinking about Nyx?”

“How did you know?” Annabeth asked.

Percy grinned. “You were doing the face that you only do when you’re in the middle of a train of thought.” He scrunched up his face exaggeratedly, contorting it until he looked completely ridiculous. Annabeth playfully punched his arm.

“Just going over everything,” she said. “Beware the Pit… I wonder what she meant by that. It’s not like we’ve not been terrified for the last two weeks.”

Percy looked around thoughtfully. “Yeah, I didn’t really get that. I wonder if the place itself is going to start trying to kill us.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact about the possibility, but Annabeth still shuddered as she considered it. That was the last thing they needed. The massive army of monsters that awaited was bad enough, without the very ground they walked on trying to end them.

Not wanting to dwell on that possibility, she forced herself to concentrate on the river in front of them. It was maybe sixty feet wide, certainly too wide to jump, and there was no bridge in sight. The water was a dark, oily shade of black, gushing forth ferociously, though it didn’t look too deep. If she listened closely, she could hear whispers from the water, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

“Any ideas on how to get across?” she asked Percy. She was hoping his water powers would come in handy somehow, otherwise she was stuck for ideas.

Percy shook his head. “I could try to part the river using my powers, but I get the feeling it’s too risky. The river’s too powerful, and I don’t think touching the water ends well for us.”

Annabeth had to agree. She didn’t know much about the Acheron, except that it was called the River of Pain, and it was inhabited by the souls of the eternally damned. If Tartarus had taught her anything, it was that the river almost certainly decerved that nickname.

Nyx’s voice echoed in her head again. There is always another way. Percy was looking at her, expecting her to come up with something. She was the daughter of Athena, she reminded herself. She’d solved every puzzle she’d ever faced. If anyone could find a way across, it was her. She took a couple of steps forwards, towards the river, to get a closer look. As she did, she could hear the faint whispers she had heard more clearly. “Killer,” they whispered. “Join us. Accept your fate.”

Suddenly, a cacophony of voices cried out, clearly in agonising pain. Annabeth’s head was flooded with images of all the monsters she’d killed over the years, as the screams echoed hauntingly in her ears.

“Murderer,” a voice spat. “You are responsible for thousands of deaths, Annabeth Chase.” She saw Medusa, Arachne, Kelli the empousa, and hundreds more she could barely remember, their faces etched with agony. Cyclopes, hellhounds, Arai, dracaenae, Laistrygonians… all surrounded her, hissing viciously at her. Their fingers were all pointed at her, as if to blame her. “You killed us,” they seemed to whisper. “Now you will suffer.”

“That wasn’t murder!” she protested. “I was defending myself!” They were monsters, and she was a demigod, she thought. If she hadn’t fought back, she would have been eaten long ago.

“If those murders were born of necessity, what of those who died needlessly to save you?” the voice said, cold and cruel.

The vision shifted, showing her Zoë Nightshade, who had been slain on Mount Tamalpais because she’d come to rescue Annabeth from the Titans. She saw Nico’s sister, Bianca di Angelo, dying in the collapse of the metal giant Talos, because she also had tried to save Annabeth. Michael Yew and Silena Beauregard… who had died in the Battle of Manhattan.

“You could have prevented it,” the voice told Annabeth, who realized the voice was the River Acheron itself, showing her visions of her guilt. The voice of the river chilled her to the bone. “You should have seen a better way.”

Annabeth was reminded yet again of what Nyx had said, about there always being another way. Had those deaths been her fault? Had there been a way to prevent them that she’d missed? Surely she couldn’t be to blame for that?

The river showed her the most painful vision of all: Luke Castellan, lying motionless on the floor of Olympus, having stabbed himself to stop the rise of Kronos. Annabeth remembered Luke’s blood on her dagger, the very dagger Nyx had just returned to her, after he’d died. He’d saved her life, and Percy’s, and probably the whole of Western Civilization, by sacrificing his.

“He was your brother!” the river wailed, its tone shriller now. “His blood is on your hands!”

Annabeth felt as though she had been stabbed, but she forced herself to think rationally. “It wasn’t my fault,” she thought. “None of it was.” This time, she knew she was right. Luke’s death had been a product of his own choices, and Annabeth couldn’t be held accountable for that, no matter how much the river tried to make her think otherwise. His fate had been sealed when he chose to join the Titans, and Annabeth couldn’t have prevented that.

Suddenly, the visions disappeared, just as soon as they had appeared. The rush of adrenaline that had kept Annabeth standing rapidly dissipated, as her knees went weak and her head felt faint. Percy rushed to her side to support her as she fell, dragging her away from the river as she blacked out.

When she came to, she found herself in Percy’s arms. He was looking down at her, concern in his eyes. “What happened?” he asked, and Annabeth looked up at him.

“We need to wade across,” she said confidently.

Percy looked at her as if she were an alien. “Are you out of your mind?” he almost shouted, before the disbelief on his face turned to panic. “Did the river do something to you? Did it mess with your brain somehow?”

Annabeth noted the irony in the fact it was her who had come up with the crazy, instinctive, utterly stupid idea, and Percy who was the voice of reason. After telling the primordial goddess of the Night they were tourists in Tartarus before jumping off a cliff, this was her second reckless idea in as many days. Clearly, Percy was starting to rub off on her.

She took a deep breath. “The Acheron is there to torture the guilty, Percy. It feeds you visions, tries to convince you that everything was your fault. If you feel guilty at any point, it’ll drag you down with the rest of the condemned souls.”

Percy frowned. “So you’re saying…”

“The only way to cross safely is to accept your judgement willingly, knowing that you weren’t to blame. You have to see the visions, understand what it’s showing you, and make sure you remember that you aren’t guilty.” Annabeth didn’t know how she knew, but she’d not felt so sure about anything in a long time. This was the way.

“I don’t like this, Annabeth. I’d rather try using my powers to try and keep us dry. If we can’t, we can always fall back on your plan,” Percy responded, chewing his lip nervously.

Annabeth shook her head. “We can’t do that. Only the guilty try to avoid their judgement. If you try to avoid it by using your powers, your soul will be condemned and you’ll be swept away by the current.” Her voice was confident, a stark contrast to Percy’s anxious tone.

Percy looked incredibly uncomfortable, fidgeting on the spot. Annabeth could tell he was torn between trusting his brain, which must have been screaming that this was a horrible idea, and trusting her instincts.

 “I really, really hate the idea of walking into the literal River of Pain. That said… I’ve been on enough quests with you to know that there’s nobody whose judgement I trust more than yours. If you say we walk in, we walk in.” Percy’s voice was pained, but firm, and Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for him in that moment. The level of blind faith Percy was willing to put in her was a real vote of confidence. She just hoped she wasn’t about to repay that trust by sending Percy to eternal damnation.

“On three?” she said, taking Percy’s hand in hers. Percy just nodded, his face looking as queasy as the time they’d flown from LA to New York. She couldn’t help but feel a bit sick herself, but it was too late to back down now.

“One, two, three,” she counted, and they stepped into the river.

This time, she saw Bob’s face, looking down at her, but where he usually had his typically innocent smile there was an expression of hatred. “You are using me,” Bob rumbled, his tone not its usual childlike one but rather more grating. “You would keep me from my memories for your own selfish gain. You would have me turn on my own mother.”

Annabeth knew he spoke the truth, but she forced herself to stay calm. Bob didn’t have to help them through Tartarus. He could have left, but he had chosen to stay, and saved their lives. “No,” Percy muttered quietly, his voice cracking. “We’re friends. That’s why you’ve been helping us.”

“Friends by choice or by your design?” Fake Bob said, his voice deep and accusatory.

By design, Annabeth thought. Percy had told Iapetus his name was Bob and they were friends, and that was how it had been. Still…

“Does it matter how we became friends? You could have left Percy to die to the Arai, but you came to our aid because we trust you and you trust us. Isn’t that what friendship is all about?” Annabeth’s voice was more confident than Percy’s had been. “Nyx said you’re waiting for us in the Heart of Tartarus. You don’t have to be helping us any more, but you still are, because you’re a true friend.”

Bob’s expression looked uncertain, and Annabeth’s heart leapt as she realized they were making progress. She carried on.

“You were once called Iapetus, Bob. They called you the Piercer. People feared you for your brutality and your viciousness. Do you really want to go back to that? Surely a fresh start, with new friends who really care about you, is better than preserving your old life as a murderous Titan?” Her tone was as persuasive as she could muster, as she poured every last ounce of emotion into her words.

Annabeth worried whether she’d said the right thing, but the river seemed satisfied that they’d passed that test, because Fake Bob disappeared into a cloud of dust. Percy sighed with relief, but Annabeth knew there was more to come. They were less than halfway across the river.

Suddenly, Annabeth’s vision fogged over again. Another vision, she thought, but this one felt different. She was back at Camp, but something wasn’t right. The ground was shaking, and there was smoke in the distance. She carried on wading slowly through the river, and the vision moved with her, as if she were walking around camp. She could hear fighting going on in the distance, and she saw that half the cabins were burning. She heard voices screaming in pain, and she tried as hard as she could to run, though the water held her back.

The vision carried on to a battlefield, and her stomach did a turn. There were bodies everywhere. She saw Greeks fighting Romans, and the Apollo cabin desperately trying to tend to the wounded, while Piper fought a Roman legionnaire, blood all over her face, and Hazel lay unmoving next to her. She took a closer look at the bodies, and saw Clarisse, dead. Travis, dead. Katie, covered in blood, a knife sticking out of her chest. Nico, dead. Jason, out cold, a medic desperately trying to revive him. Even Chiron was lying on the floor, his hind legs twisted at an unnatural angle. There were so many others, she realized. All her friends, everyone she cared about, all either dead or wounded. In the midst of it, there was a face, looming over her ominously. Gaea.

Gaea looked down at her, her face contorted into a creepy leer. “This will be your legacy, demigods. It shall be your blood that waters the ancient stones, your blood that spills that of so many others. You shall be responsible for my rise.”

No, Annabeth thought desperately. She couldn’t let that happen. She squeezed Percy’s hand tightly, and this time he was the one who replied defiantly. “We won’t let that happen,” he said, his voice firm. “We won’t be a part of your game.”

Gaea cackled. “Then give into the river. Accept your doom. If you do not, the blood of all those you love will be on your hands.” Gaea looked down at the two of them disdainfully. “You have a choice to make.”

Percy hesitated for a second, and Annabeth knew he was wondering the same thing as her: what if it was true? What if their survival meant Gaea’s rise was inevitable?

Gaea’s voice broke through her thoughts, an unwelcome but chilling interruption. “If you choose to go on, the gods will die, your friends will die, your families will die. Everything you know will be destroyed, and all because of your selfish choice. You could stop it all.” She sounded gleeful, almost relishing the pain her words were causing.

Annabeth could feel the river surging up around her, the current stronger than ever. The river was responding to their hesitation, she knew, sensing a shred of doubt to prey upon. But she had a bad feeling that this vision was all too real, that Gaea really would use their blood to fuel her rise, and that somehow she would cause a war between Greeks and Romans. If Annabeth, despite knowing that, chose to survive anyway, would it be her fault? Was she, by surviving today, condemning everyone she had ever known to a doom far worse than the Acheron? She felt despair start to kick in, but just as she felt herself weakening, she heard Nyx’s voice in her head, repeating that same phrase she had recalled so many times already.

“There is always another way,” Annabeth echoed quietly. A voice in her head reminded her why she had come to the Acheron in the first place.The giants had the Doors of Death, and if she couldn’t close them the world was just as doomed. So even if they did sacrifice themselves, what then? No, there was only one choice she could make here.

She spoke again, her voice getting stronger with every word. “If our survival means you must rise, then we’ll just have to destroy you when you do. We can’t let you kill everyone we love.” She wasn’t going to let Gaea have free rein to wreak havoc on all she held dear, she figured, even if Gaea was far more powerful than them. If they went down, they’d go down on their own terms. And if that choice meant that everyone she loved might die, then that was a risk they’d have to take.

Annabeth reached for her dagger, ready to fight Vision-Gaea, but before she could, the vision disappeared. She realized they were almost on the other side, and with one last mighty effort, she hauled herself up on to the bank, and Percy soon followed.

They both took deep breaths, in, then out, in, then out. Percy looked at Annabeth, a pleading look in his eyes, and Annabeth immediately understood what he was asking. Let’s not talk about this, his eyes were saying. Let’s move on. Annabeth had always thought talking about your problems was the first step towards solving them, but in this instance, she agreed with Percy. They didn’t need to revisit that vision, not now, not ever.

Annabeth sat down, well away from the side of the river, and Percy sat next to her. They sat in near complete silence, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Annabeth’s heart felt like a lead balloon, dragged down by the weight of what she had just seen.

Quietly, she sobbed, and sobbed, until it felt like the tears were on the verge of running out.

Chapter Text

Percy hated keeping secrets. Even more so when the person he was keeping secrets from was Annabeth. Usually, he trusted her far more than he trusted himself.

This time, though, there wasn’t a chance in Tartarus he was ever going to tell her what had happened in the Acheron. Or, more accurately, what had almost happened.

The truth was, he had been ready to give up. The sight of everyone he loved dying was far too much for him, and Gaea had told him his death could stop it… He’d not even stopped to consider whether it was true. Were it not for Annabeth, he’d be dead.

Athena’s voice echoed in his ears. To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world. In this case, the image of Camp burning to the ground had almost had him sacrificing himself, and in a roundabout way, the world. After all, if they didn’t make it to the Doors of Death…

Athena might be a stubborn bitch, Percy thought, but she had an annoying habit of being right. His flaw had almost proved fatal in the literal sense.

Though even the goddess of wisdom got things wrong from time to time. After all, hadn't she said she disapproved of Percy's relationship with Annabeth, multiple times in fact? She'd tried to drive them apart every time she'd had the chance, all because of her stupid grudge against Poseidon. Thankfully, Annabeth was smart enough to ignore her mother, because if she'd listened to that advice, she'd be dead, Percy would be dead, their friends and family would be dead... Even the gods would be dead, whether Athena would admit it or not. There was no way they'd have defeated Kronos if him and Annabeth hadn't been working together.

Fuck you, Athena, he thought defiantly. But thank you for your daughter.

Actually, looking back on it, did Athena even deserve much credit for that? She'd basically left the daughter in question to fend for herself on a near-suicidal solo quest, the whole reason they’d fallen into Tartarus in the first place. In fact, Annabeth had pretty much been fighting on her own since the age of seven, and all she had to show for it was a stupid cap - and Athena, in her infinite pride, had been callous enough to even take that away from her. Even by Olympian standards, she wouldn’t be winning any Parent of the Year awards any time soon. That Annabeth was the brilliant, strong young woman she was today was entirely down to her own achievements, not her mother's.

Speaking of Annabeth, she currently had her head on Percy’s shoulder. She had been crying for a few minutes, and Percy couldn’t blame her. That vision had felt so... real. Percy wanted to believe it wasn't true, that the river was just showing them what they feared most, but he couldn't help but feel that there was a hint of truth to it. And if Gaea really was going to use their blood to make it happen, and there was no way they could stop it short of dying, then what could they possibly do? Their choice was to make it of the Pit alive, potentially playing right into Gaea's hands, or to die here, leaving the Doors of Death open and guaranteeing the giants' victory.

Gods, this is tough, Percy thought. Nemesis had said he was the best person to make the difficult choices, but he really wished he could have lower stakes for once. For most kids his age, the toughest choices they had to make were what to watch on film nights, but he seemed to keep having to save the world over and over again. Even if he survived the Doors, after all, it wasn't like beating the giants afterwards was going to be a cakewalk.

Immediate problems, said a voice in Percy's head. He could worry about the fact everyone and everything was doomed later. They needed to find Bob and make their way to the Doors of Death.

He looked around at his surroundings. The hazy sky was tinged a sickly shade of crimson, casting a faint bloody glow over everything. Rocks and boulders littered the landscape, their jagged edges punctuating the otherwise relatively flat, barren expanses of wasteland. Most unnervingly, however, the ground beneath their feet seemed to pulsate with some sort of regular, unnatural rhythm, almost as though they were standing on a blood vessel that belonged to some unimaginably vast, malevolent creature.

A shiver ran down his spine. He didn't want to spend one second more in this part of Tartarus than absolutely necessary. Before they could get moving, though, he needed the brilliant girl crying into his shirt to compose herself.

“You alright?” he asked her.

Tactful as ever, the little voice chided him, but he really wasn’t sure how to approach this. It took a lot to break someone as strong as Annabeth, and he didn't think any amount of sugarcoating could make that vision much better.

“No,” came the honest reply. “But I’ll survive. We need to get moving, I guess.” 

Percy wanted to say no, that she could take as long as she needed to get over the things she’d seen, but truthfully he wasn’t sure any amount of time would be enough. Instead, he just nodded, and Annabeth slowly rose to her feet. Percy wiped away her tears with his hand and hugged her, and she managed a small smile, which was encouraging.

“You know what you did was completely brilliant, right?” Percy said, in an effort to cheer her up. “Figuring out the Acheron like you did, having the guts to withstand that… you’re a fucking genius.”

It seemed to work, as the smile on Annabeth’s face widened a bit.

“I try,” she said modestly, but Percy knew she was enjoying the praise. She had every right to, though. She'd earned it.

However, she clearly didn't want to dwell on the Acheron much longer, because she got straight to business after that. “Nyx said Bob would we waiting for us somewhere here," she said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with her hand. "Any signs? We need to find him before we can head for the Doors.” 

As it turned out, Bob didn’t need much finding. The moment Annabeth mentioned his name, a patch of glowing white hair appeared over the ridge, then that familiar grinning face with pure silver eyes.

“Friends!” The Titan lumbered toward them. The bristles of his broom had been burned off. His janitor’s uniform was slashed with new claw marks, but he looked delighted to see them.

“I found you!” Bob gathered them both in a rib-crushing hug, before frowning. “You don’t look dead! No Death Mist?”

“No Death Mist,” Percy confirmed, rubbing his chest slightly. Bob was much stronger than he realised. “We ran into a little snag on that one. I’ll tell you later.” It was a bit of a long story, to say the least, and one Percy didn't have the time or energy to tell right now. It wasn't important, anyway.

A question occurred to him. “How did you get here? Guessing you didn’t go through the Mansion of Night?”

“No, no.” Bob shook his head adamantly. “That place is scary. Another way—only good for Titans and such.” 

You can say that again, Percy thought to himself. 'That place is scary' wasn't even close to capturing the horrors of the Mansion, and they'd seen the watered-down version of the place. Had Nyx not been on their side, they'd have lasted seconds before they went mad. Whatever Bob had done to get here, Percy was glad he'd managed to avoid that place. He would be having nightmares about it fifty years from now, if by some miracle he survived that long.

On the other hand, judging from Bob’s appearance, the other way hadn’t been too easy either. Frankly, he looked like he’d spent a full cycle in a washing machine, and one that was apparently filled with sharp objects, judging by the dishevelled appearance of the Titan. Maybe that wasn't that surprising. Nyx had promised there was always another way, but she'd never said that way would be a good one, after all, and if Percy had learned anything over these last couple of weeks in Tartarus, it was that nothing was ever easy here. Still, Bob had made it through, and Percy was very glad he had.

“Let me guess,” Annabeth said. “You went sideways.”

Bob scratched his chin, evidently at a loss for words. “Hmm. No. More…diagonal.”

Percy laughed. Here they were, almost at the heart of Tartarus, facing what was by all accounts an impossibly huge army, with no way of getting past and with the knowledge that if they survived, they might just be playing into Gaea’s hands. Given all that, he would take any comfort he could get. He was ridiculously glad to have Bob the Titan with them again.

Bob beckoned for them to follow, and Percy did just that. Under his feet, the ground glistened a nauseating purple, pulsing with webs of veins. In the dim red light of the hazy clouds, the dried up tears on Annabeth’s face looked a little like blood streaks, which was rather ominous. Percy knew Tartarus was beyond the gods' realm, but he couldn't help but send out a silent prayer to anyone out there who was listening. It felt like they would need all the help they could get.

It was a couple hours later, as they crested a small hill, that Percy got a view of just how big their problems were. In the distance, maybe a mile or so away, was the most depressing view he had ever seen. Spread to the horizon was an army of monsters—flocks of winged harpies, tribes of lumbering Cyclopes, clusters of floating evil spirits, and everything in between. Thousands of baddies, maybe tens of thousands, all milling restlessly, pressing against one another, growling and fighting for space, and every single one of them undoubtedly baying for demigod blood.

Seeing the scale of the army in front of him really gave Percy a sense of how hopeless this whole thing was. How on earth were they ever going to get through that? They’d do well to last a minute before being torn to shreds; hell, even ten seconds would be an achievement, judging by how utterly they'd get swamped the second the monsters saw them. He didn’t even have the Curse of Achilles to even the odds, though with so many monsters to fight one of them was bound to get lucky and hit his weak spot anyway. They'd be lining up to take turns eating pieces of his flesh. It was going to be an all-you-can-eat demigod buffet, and he was on the menu.

A second thought hit Percy, one which made him feel sick to his stomach. If they couldn't seal the Doors of Death, the army in front of them would be unleashed on the world. The demigods of the two camps would have no chance whatsoever against an army like that. There was just no way to counter a numerical disadvantage that big, no matter how good their tactics were, or how well trained their fighters were. Both camps, all his friends, they'd be completely destroyed. 

Suddenly, the stakes, which had already been incredibly high, seemed even higher. He'd already known everyone and everything he cared about would be at risk if they failed, but seeing the army in person made him realize their failure would be the end of everything. If that many monsters got let loose on Manhattan... Well, carnage would be putting the scale of the devastation lightly.

He looked over at Bob, who was wearing a slightly worried look on his face. Clearly, he seemed to recognize the scale of the challenge, but he didn’t say anything. Percy wondered what his plan of action was, until—

“IAPETUS!”

Percy’s heart almost stopped. A Titan strode towards them, roughly the same height as Bob, with elaborate Stygian iron armor, a single diamond blazing in the center of his breastplate. His eyes were blue-white, like core samples from a glacier, and just as cold. His hair was the same color, cut military style. A battle helmet shaped like a bear’s head was tucked under his arm. From his belt hung a sword the size of a surfboard. Frantically, Percy and Annabeth scrambled behind a large boulder, hoping the Titan hadn’t seen them.

From his hiding spot, Percy studied the approaching Titan more closely. Despite his battle scars, the Titan’s face was handsome and strangely familiar. Percy was pretty sure he’d never seen the guy before, but his eyes and his smile reminded Percy of someone.…

The Titan stopped in front of Bob. He clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Iapetus! Don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own brother!”

Bob’s face was difficult to read, as he seemed to go through a hundred different expressions in a short of time. At first Percy thought he was confused, then it looked like he was in deep thought, then there was a flicker of... recognition, maybe? Percy just hoped Bob could convince his brother to leave them be, somehow.

Which brother was it, anyway? It definitely wasn't Kronos, or Hyperion for that matter, which was good. He never wanted to meet either of those two again. Iapetus was Bob, obviously, and he was pretty sure this guy wasn't Oceanus, so that left Koios and Krios. He couldn't remember much about either, but he did recall they'd both fought for Kronos in the Titan War, so Percy and Annabeth weren't exactly going to be making friends with him whichever brother he was.

“Koios!” Bob replied, grinning, answering Percy's question for him. “You look as ridiculous as ever, brother. Still wearing the teddy bear helmet, I see.”

Percy was pretty sure teddy bears didn’t exist during the age of the Titans, but that wasn't exactly his top priority right now. He had a really uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. All his instincts were telling him something was badly wrong, but he wasn't sure what Koios or Bob had said to provoke such a reaction.

He looked over at Annabeth, wondering if she felt the same way, and got an immediate answer. She, too, looked terrified, her face bearing a look of pure horror.

“He knew who he was,” she mouthed, and the horrible realization dawned on Percy slowly. If Bob recognized Koios, that meant he was getting his memories back, which meant…

“You always were a fashion victim,” Koios grumbled. '“Though you hardly look much better. A broom? A servant’s uniform? They have reduced you to a life of indentured servitude!" He spat, an expression of hatred contorting his face. "Truly, Hades must pay for these insults. Who was that demigod who took your memory? Bah! We must rip him to pieces, you and I, eh?”

Bob laughed. No, not Bob, Percy thought despairingly. This was Iapetus, the Titan of the West. Iapetus, brother of Kronos, whom they called the Piercer, a nickname no doubt well-merited. Iapetus, who he'd dipped in the Lethe and convinced was his friend Bob the janitor, who now had his memories back. Not only that, he’d walked them into a trap, with a Titan who had quite literally just announced his intention to rip him to pieces.

So things were going great, in other words.

Percy was reminded of the other vision the Acheron had showed them, the one he had barely thought about at all. Had that truly been what Bob thought, that they were just using him, taking advantage of his lack of memory? And if so, had this been his plan all along to get revenge? Had he simply played the long game, acted innocent and friendly to convince them to trust him?

“Quite right," Iapetus said, grinning rather ghoulishly. The warm, familiar smile that had been such a permanent and comforting feature on Bob's face suddenly seemed so much colder and more sinister. "I have made some progress on that count, too. Would you like to see?"

"Go on," Koios grunted.

Percy's heart was already in his shoes, and yet it still sank as Iapetus spoke. This was really bad. No, this was worse than really bad. He was going to die. They were going to fail. Gaea was going to win.

"Behind that rock," Iapetus said, gesturing towards their hiding place, "you will find two demigods, brother. The two who slew our brother, who won the war for the gods. The Saviours of Olympus. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase."

Koios seemed almost in disbelief, as Iapetus continued gleefully.

"I brought them here safely," Iapetus jeered. "Made them believe they could trust me. And they followed me willingly here, to the Doors of Death, like the weak fools that they are."

Percy wanted to run, or to fight, or to do something, but he found himself frozen to the spot. After all that they'd been through, being betrayed by Bob felt like the harshest blow of all.

“Their sacrifice will wake the Earth Mother once and for all!”

Chapter Text

Sally Jackson missed her son.

One day he’d been there, all happy, having finally defeated Kronos and saved the world, with his new girlfriend Annabeth with him. Sally had thought that was the end of it. Finally, he had fulfilled the great destiny that had been prophecied for him.Surely he was safe now, free to live a normal life at last?

That hope had been quickly dashed, of course.

Within a few weeks of that, he’d disappeared without a trace, with no message to let her know where he was. Annabeth had been the one to tell her he was missing, and that in itself had been a worrying sign. She knew Percy would never have left without telling her.

She’d prayed to Poseidon to let her know what had happened, to tell her their son was OK, and… nothing. Radio silence. That was when she feared the worst.

She remembered the nights Annabeth had showed up at her apartment unannounced, in tears each time. She’d tried her best to comfort the poor girl, reassure her Percy would be found alive and well, but each time she said it she had believed it less and less. The hope that had kept her going initially slowly turned to despair with every passing day.

She’d appealed to Hera, hoping she could tell her, that as the goddess of family she would understand a mother’s anguish. She’d prayed to Athena, hoping she would understand what her daughter was going through and show some sympathy. In the darkest days, she had even cried out to Hades, to tell her if her son was dead, to spare her the pain of hoping every day he would return only for that hope to be crushed. And still, she’d had no response.

She’d had some support through it all, at least. Her husband Paul had been her rock throughout, not to mention Grover, Tyson, Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo, and of course, Annabeth. They had rallied around each other, as Percy’s closest friends and family, keeping each other sane as they hoped against hope that somehow, Percy was alive.

Grover and his team of satyrs had led the search for Percy, but they had come up without even a single lead as to what had happened. Even Chiron had showed up once, assuring her no matter where Percy was he would find a way to survive, but those words had felt pretty hollow.

Each day, she’d hoped to hear the doorbell ring, for Percy to show up at last, but Percy never came. Slowly, Sally’s despair had turned into a deep depression. She could barely sleep at night, yet she could hardly seem to get out of bed. Cooking had often been her escape before, but every time she did, she heard Percy’s voice asking her to make it blue. Only the book she had been writing had provided some release, an opportunity to vanish into a different world and forget about the real one. Paul had tried to suggest therapy, but she’d refused. Unless the therapist could bring her son back, they would be no use to her.

Then, one morning, she had woken up early, or more accurately had never gone to sleep at all, and had checked the phone in their apartment to find a voicemail message from an unknown number. Usually, she’d have ignored it. She didn’t have much time to listen to scammers and telemarketers. 99% of the time, that was what an unknown message was, especially when you lived in New York City. These days, nobody she knew used the landline, so she barely even checked it.

She couldn’t explain how, but something had made her listen that one time, some sixth sense telling her this was important.

When she did, her heart had almost exploded with joy. Percy was alive. He had lost his memories, and been sent on a quest, but he was safe for now. Hearing his voice was sweeter than any sound in the universe, and she'd listened to the message again, and again, and again.

She remembered how she’d excitedly woken up Paul at six in the morning, how his grogginess had quickly turned to jubilation. They’d got the message to Annabeth as soon as they could, and Paul had called in sick at work and thrown a party instead. It was the happiest Sally had ever been. Percy would be back soon, she thought. She would be reunited with her baby boy at last. 

Of course, that didn’t quite pan out. Annabeth had Iris-messaged her one day, telling her about a new quest, that she was going to go and find Percy at some Roman camp near the west coast. She’d mentioned something about the giants rising, and how they needed to team up with some Roman demigods to stop them.

It had all sounded very ominous, but how could Sally possibly have dissuaded her? She knew Annabeth’s sense of duty as a hero would always win out.

Thus, reluctantly, she had wished Annabeth good luck and bid her farewell, not realizing that would be the last time she’d see her for ages. It had been months more since, with no word from either her son or the girl who was like her daughter, and Sally was starting to worry once more. She’d researched the old myths about the giants, and what she had read only made her more anxious. And still, every time she prayed to any of the gods, there was no answer.

So it was fair to say Sally was a little stressed out, especially today of all days. After all, it was the twelfth of July, Annabeth’s birthday. She was so mature and level-headed it was easy sometimes to forget she was just seventeen today, hardly old enough to have seen some of the things she had. The girl deserved to have one summer to enjoy herself without everything and everyone depending on her.

That evening, Sally sat on the couch next to Paul, TV droning on in the background, as she tried to write the next chapter of her book. She chewed her lip, trying to work her way around a particularly tough knot in the story, but thinking about Percy and Annabeth had hardly helped her concentration. She’d barely written a couple of lines when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” she said to Paul, who nodded, his attention mostly on the TV.

She opened the door to see a woman standing there. The first thing Sally noticed was that she was tall, maybe six feet or more, and she easily towered over Sally. She was dressed casually, in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, with her blonde hair neatly tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing sunglasses, but Sally could tell the woman was stunningly beautiful in an effortless way. Everything about her exuded confidence, in an almost intimidating manner.

“Can I help you?” Sally asked warily.

“Sally Jackson,” the woman replied. She took off her sunglasses, and Sally almost did a double take. The woman had stormy grey eyes, eyes she was more than familiar with, eyes which she’d wiped tears out of on multiple occasions. Annabeth’s eyes. There was only one person this could be.

“I would introduce myself, but I gather you have already recognized me,” Athena said, calmly, as though this was the most normal thing ever. “May I come in?”

Sally felt as though she was frozen to the spot. Olympians did not simply show up at your front door very often, and given the timing, with Percy and Annabeth off on a dangerous quest, she feared this couldn’t be good news. Nonetheless, she nodded, and Athena followed her into the living room.

“Paul, um, this is Athena. Athena, my husband, Paul.” Sally wasn’t exactly sure on what the godly protocol was, but introductions seemed like a safe enough place to start.

Athena shook Paul’s hand firmly. “A pleasure to meet you, Paul. And what is it that you do for a living?”

“Erm, I’m an English teacher,” Paul replied, hesitantly. He looked at Sally, mouthing “The Athena?”, and Sally gave him a small nod.

“A noble profession,” Athena replied. “I, myself, also enjoy teaching from time to time. It is the purest form of service.”

Paul clearly didn’t know how to respond to that, as he opened his mouth but no words came out. Sally cleared her throat.

“Paul, honey, could you give us a minute?”

Paul looked at Sally nervously, and Sally gave him her most confident look, as if to say “Everything’s going to be fine!” She didn’t believe it, and Paul didn’t seem to buy it either, but he made his way into the other room anyway, leaving Athena alone with Sally.

“May I offer you something to drink, my lady? Some tea, perhaps?” Sally asked, eyes still flicking around the room nervously. She was completely out of her depth, and it almost certainly showed.

“No need to trouble yourself,” Athena replied, waving her hand. Two cups of tea appeared on the table in front of them, steaming hot. Athena picked one up and took a sip, and gestured for Sally to do the same. 

“Delicious,” Sally breathed, as she drank it. This was the best cup of tea she’d ever tasted- no, the best drink of any kind she’d ever tasted.

Athena smiled, though there wasn’t much warmth behind it. “Tea was my gift to the Chinese emperor Shen Nung, several thousand years ago. I have had a long time to perfect the recipe.”

The realization that she was drinking tea with the drink’s inventor was a rude reminder to Sally that, as normal as she seemed, the woman sat across from her was a timeless, immortal goddess quite capable of turning her into a guinea pig at any point. Her throat suddenly felt quite dry, despite the tea.

“What brings you here, my lady?” Sally asked. She could hardly put it off much longer.

“Our children,” Athena replied, taking a sip of her tea. “I thought you deserved to know, and to hear it from me.”

“What’s up?” Sally asked. Clearly, her expression must have betrayed that she feared the worst, because Athena moved to reassure her.

“They are on a quest to find and close the Doors of Death. It is a difficult quest, even by the standards of their previous feats.”

So they’re alive, Sally thought. That should have been a relief to her, but she couldn’t help but notice Athena seemed a tad anxious. She wondered whether Athena was underplaying the quest by saying it was just 'difficult', or leaving some details out.

“What makes this quest so hard?” she asked.

Athena hesitated. “Do you really wish to know?” she replied, avoiding eye contact. There was something after all, clearly.

“Try me." Sally could hardly stop probing now.

Athena sighed. Finally, she looked Sally in the eye. “They are in Tartarus.”

Tartarus? The literal embodiment of hell, where the gods sent their enemies to rot? Tartarus, where every monster, Titan, giant, and gods-know-what else would be waiting for Percy and Annabeth? They were still children, Sally wanted to scream. They had no chance down there. It was all so unfair.

She almost wished she hadn’t pushed Athena to tell her, because she knew that she wouldn’t sleep until they came back. 

They might not come back, her brain reminded her unhelpfully, but she brushed that thought aside. She had to remain positive. Percy and Annabeth wouldn’t give up hope. They’d keep fighting no matter what. She couldn't let them down by giving up herself, regardless of how bleak things were.

“Can’t you get them out?” Sally asked, hope rekindled at the thought. Surely an Olympian goddess would be powerful enough to save them? Her eyes were almost pleading with Athena, begging her to say yes, but deep down she knew the answer to her own question. If she could, why hasn’t she done it already?

“It is beyond my ability to even see into the Pit, let alone conduct a rescue mission. Tartarus is too dangerous even for the gods.” Athena’s words were like a gut punch to Sally, even though she'd expected them. “If I went there, I might not return.”

She looked as though she wasn’t used to being this helpless, but Sally was in no mood for sympathy.

Too dangerous for the gods, she seethed bitterly in her head. How would two demigods – no, two children – fare, then? Annabeth and Percy weren’t even old enough to drink, but apparently they were old enough to go on a quest through hell and back. None of it made sense. Were the gods really so spineless as to send two kids on a suicide mission like that?

Coward, she thought, looking at Athena’s expressionless face. You and the rest of the gods. Still, she could hardly afford to rage at Athena, not while the goddess was her only source of information. She needed to ask as many questions as she could.

“If you can’t see them down there, how do you know they’re alive?”

Athena hesitated a bit before replying. “I heard your son’s voice a few hours ago. He did not realize he was praying to me, but I heard every word.”

She’s still hiding something, Sally thought. She’d seen enough poker games to spot a lie, what with her ex-husband’s gambling habit.

“What did he say?” she pressed.

Athena paused for a long while, and Sally wondered if she was simply going to ignore the question. Eventually, though, she did respond.

“He called me a terrible mother. He cursed me for trying to drive him and Annabeth apart. He blamed me for them falling into Tartarus, saying I sent Annabeth on a dangerous quest with no regard for her safety,” Athena’s voice sounded as though every word was an effort, her previously stoic demeanor having given way to anxiety. “He called me a stubborn bitch.”

 Sally recalled how angry Percy had been after Athena had tried to break his friendship with Annabeth, how he’d fumed for hours about meddling gods and how Athena wasn’t as smart as she thought she was. Clearly, his opinion hadn’t changed, but Sally couldn’t help but wonder…

“Was he wrong?” Sally asked. Her tone was accusatory and harsh, and she meant it that way. If Athena was responsible for her son being in Tartarus…

At that, Athena glowered, and Sally worried that she had gone too far, that she was about to be blasted into dust by the goddess sitting in front of her. Instead, after a few seconds, Athena slumped back on the couch, the anger that had appeared on her face replaced by a look of pure dejection.

“Every word he said was true,” Athena replied, her voice cracking. “My Greek and Roman forms were separated, and I was blinded by Minerva’s hatred of Rome… and as Minerva I expected my daughter to serve me at all costs.” Sally thought she spotted a tear on Athena’s cheek. “I sent her to rescue the Athena Parthenos from Arachne’s lair, knowing that every other who had tried had suffered a horrible fate.”

So poor Annabeth had been sent on a suicide mission, Sally thought, her anger growing. Also, it was interesting that Athena had mentioned her different forms acting differently, but Sally knew now was hardly the time to ask about it. There were much better and more important questions to ask.

“So Annabeth failed too, then?”

“Of course not. She is truly brilliant, as you no doubt know." Even though she looked deflated, there was still a hint of pride in Athena's voice. "But Arachne managed to drag Annabeth down to Tartarus with her anyway, all thanks to my hubris.”

“And Percy?” Sally asked. She was starting to realize that Athena had chosen to tell her in person out of guilt and remorse more than anything. Her previous anger subsided a little.

“He chose to fall with her, instead of saving himself at her expense.”

Of course he did, Sally thought. Although the thought of Percy in Tartarus was terrifying, in that moment, she couldn’t help but feel proud of her son. Selfless as ever.

She looked back at Athena, who had slumped even further in her seat, looking completely defeated. The wisdom goddess picked up her cup of tea again, but put it back down without drinking this time, tears now clearly flowing down her cheeks.

“Had I had my way when it came to Percy, Annabeth would not even have survived the fall,” Athena managed to choke out between sobs. “I was too clouded by my biases, too blinded by my rivalry with his father… I was a fool, in other words. At every turn, I placed my grudges over her happiness.”

Sally had felt out of her comfort zone talking to Athena before. Now, though, Athena didn’t seem like a goddess, just a grieving woman in desperate need of comforting.When you stripped the situation down to the facts, Athena was just a mother whose child was missing, a feeling Sally knew all too well. Not to mention the guilt that she was feeling, blaming herself for what had happened… she didn’t know how much it really had been the goddess’ fault, but she knew that Athena could not possibly be hurting any more than she was.

On reflection, Sally couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for being so harsh earlier. Yes, she had clearly made some mistakes, but even gods couldn’t be perfect. Plus, it sounded like there were some mitigating circumstances, what with the split personalities Athena had mentioned. She’d been too eager to apportion blame, and not given Athena a chance.

Sally’s mind flashed back to all the times Annabeth had sat in the same spot, crying just like her mother was now. They even looked so similar. Perhaps, Sally thought, she could be of help to the mother, just as she had been to the daughter months ago.

She moved next to Athena and put her arm around her, feeling the heat radiating from the goddess. Athena seemed a little surprised, but didn’t push her away. Clearly, even immortals needed a hug from time to time.

Athena wiped her eyes, putting her head in her hands. “She resents me, you know. I had thought naming her the Architect of Olympus would make her happy, but I neglected what, and whom, she really cared about.”

She sounded completely broken by this point, but Sally didn’t want to stop her talking. It was better to let it all out in one go sometimes.

“Father banned the gods from talking to mortals after the war, but when Percy was missing, and Annabeth was grieving, I wanted to comfort her so many times… and yet I obeyed my father, and the poor girl remained alone. Were it not for you, her spirit might have been completely destroyed by the ordeal.”

So that was why her prayers had gone unanswered, Sally mused. She hadn’t thought she could dislike Zeus more, but she knew nothing hurt a mother more than seeing their child in pain, especially when they were helpless to do anything about it. She felt another pang of sympathy for Athena. She’d been forced to choose between the wrath of her father and the happiness of her daughter, as impossible a choice as anyone could ever have.

“Percy and Annabeth won’t hate you for that forever, you know,” Sally said, in an effort to reassure the goddess. “They’re both the forgiving type.”

Even as Sally said it, it felt like a lame attempt to comfort her, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“Will they ever get the chance to forgive? They are in Tartarus,” Athena said bitterly. “They may resent me till they…” She trailed off, clearly not wanting to say ‘die’.

The reminder of just how much peril Annabeth and Percy were in was definitely an unwelcome one for Sally. Still…

“How long have they been in Tartarus?” she asked.

“Eleven days,” Athena replied, slightly caught off-guard by the question. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, they’ve survived this long, haven’t they?” Sally said, her tone upbeat. “They’re pretty used to surviving impossible situations. If anyone can make it out alive, they can.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how much she believed it, given what Athena had said earlier about even the gods fearing Tartarus. But now wasn’t the time for negativity, even if her son was in literal hell. Besides, she thought hopefully, Percy always came back, regardless of the situation. Why should this time be any different?

“You’ll get the chance to make things right with your daughter,” Sally continued, her voice more confident than she felt. “Believe in her, and Percy, and their ability to survive.”

She was talking as much to herself as Athena, trying to reassure herself that there was still a chance. Still, it seemed to be working on the goddess too, as Athena’s stormy grey eyes were now red, but she was no longer crying.

Athena nodded thoughtfully, sitting up a bit straighter. “You are right. Perhaps I underestimate Annabeth, and Percy too for that matter.” She definitely didn’t look as down-and-out as she had a couple of minutes ago, though it sounded like she was putting on a brave face just like Sally had. “They have proven time and time again that they should not be written off, regardless of the odds.”

“Exactly,” Sally replied. “Besides, Annabeth has her mother’s resourcefulness and cunning, and plenty of bravery to boot. We’ll be celebrating her eighteenth birthday before you know it.”

A little smile crept on to Athena’s face at the compliment, and Sally thought she spotted a hint of a blush too. “You are wiser than you know, Sally Jackson. I can see why Poseidon favoured you,” she said, and this time it was Sally’s turn to blush. “I can only pray that you are right.”

“Can goddesses pray?” Sally wondered in her head – at least, she thought it was in her head, but judging by the way Athena chuckled, she must have said it out loud.

“Why not?” Athena asked, smiling. “One never knows who might be listening.”

In those dark months with Percy missing, Sally had realized all you needed sometimes was a bit of hope, a reason to keep believing. Sally’s rational side told her Percy and Annabeth were doomed, but that little spark of belief was stubbornly resisting the idea, telling her to keep going. That idea clearly applied to immortals too, judging from how much less despondent Athena seemed now. Sally could feel the goddess' nervous energy had subsided a bit, and her aura was softer and warmer.

Eventually, the wisdom goddess stood up. “I cannot stay much longer. Annabeth recovering my statue from Rome has helped somewhat, but it still requires much strength to keep Minerva out.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Sally said, and she meant it. Athena had come of her own volition to her, a mortal, and finally told her where Percy and Annabeth were. The fact the answer could hardly be much worse didn’t mean she wasn’t grateful. “You didn’t have to come in person to tell me, but you did. I am truly honoured.”

Athena’s smile broadened. “I think we both know that it is I who owe you a debt of gratitude, one which I may never be able to repay." She paused, glancing down at the table. “Although maybe there is something I can do for you. You are an aspiring author, are you not?”

Sally nodded, wondering where Athena was going with this.

“Perhaps, if you were to send a copy to Olympus, I might be able to give you some advice?” Athena suggested. "I am the patron of the arts, after all. Not to mention, I do love a good book."

“That would be wonderful,” Sally replied, with a genuine smile on her face. Writing had been her sole comfort when Percy had gone missing, and given where she now knew he was, she expected to be spending plenty more time with her characters in the coming days and weeks. Having the goddess of wisdom helping her with the book would be a real help.

“Excellent,” Athena said. “I shall take my leave, then. If things change, whether for better or worse"- Sally grimaced at the thought of the 'or worse' scenario - "I will keep you informed.” She turned towards the door to leave, putting her sunglasses back on. 

“Goodbye, Athena,” Sally replied. “And take care of yourself,” she added, but Athena had already gone. There was a bright flash of light from outside her window, as the goddess assumed her true form to fly away, and Sally knew well enough not to look directly at it.

Paul rushed out of the bedroom, having also caught a glimpse of the bright flash, his expression looking rather worried.

“What happened? What did she want?" he asked, sounding just as concerned as he looked.

Sally sighed. "Where do I even begin?"

Chapter Text

Annabeth should have known things would go badly wrong at some point.

The way they had, though, was particularly painful.

She had loved Bob so much. He had been so warm and kind, a rare friendly presence within Tartarus, the least friendly place in the universe. For it to be him that betrayed them was a real gut-punch.

Though it hadn’t really been Bob, had it? All along, ‘Bob’ had just been Iapetus with his memories removed. With those memories back, Iapetus would obviously never have been on their side. They’d fought on opposite sides in the war, and Percy had been responsible for Iapetus’ dip in the Lethe. Really, Bob might as well have been a ticking time bomb all along, because the second he regained his memories they were always going to be screwed.

Not that they hadn’t been screwed anyway, to be honest. The size of that army, the sheer odds they had been up against anyway… it was pretty hopeless either way. If it hadn’t been the Titans that got them, it would have been one of the countless monsters that did the job. As it was, everything they’d seen in the Acheron was going to come true. Bob had already betrayed them, having realized they were taking advantage of his lost memory. Now they were going to be sacrificed to Gaea, to wake her up so her and her children could destroy the world.

In short, things looked reasonably bleak.

Right now, Annabeth was in some sort of makeshift cell, and Percy was in another cell a few metres away. They were keeping her captive for some reason; maybe they needed to prepare the sacrifices or something, or maybe they were just toying with them. Annabeth almost wished they’d get it over with.

That’s not the mentality to have, she chided herself. Even if she couldn’t escape, she would die anyway if the Titans had their way, so she might as well fight back. What was the worst that could happen?

Her soul could be stuck in Tartarus forever, Annabeth thought, answering her own question. Still, if she had a chance to save everyone and everything she loved, she had to try, even if eternity in hell was the punishment for failure. Besides, at least she’d have Percy for company. Two demigods, roaming Tartarus forever... If it wasn't her worst nightmare, it might actually sound quite romantic.

Annabeth looked around, assessing the situation. The Titans had walked just out of sight, whispering to each other, so for now they were unguarded, but she knew they’d be back soon enough.

She could see her things, dumped unceremoniously a few feet away from the cell – her bronze dagger, her Yankees cap, some leftover food Damasen had given them – but she had no way of reaching them. In any case, the cap had been useless for some time now, the food was hardly going to change anything, and one knife against two Titans wasn’t exactly great odds. Riptide lay in the pile as well, the Titans clearly able to prevent it from returning to Percy’s pocket somehow.

Koios and Iapetus returned just then, interrupting her train of thought. They both went straight to Percy’s cell, and Annabeth couldn’t help but be worried. Whatever they had in store for Percy could hardly be good. She didn’t want to watch, but she could hardly look away, so she listened nervously to the conversation.

“Demigod,” Koios rumbled. “Do you know how much trouble you have caused us in the past?”

“I try,” Percy quipped, smirking. Koios punched him in the chest, and he doubled over, wheezing.

Annabeth noticed that Percy was chained up, unlike her – clearly, the Titans didn’t think she was much of a threat compared to him. She couldn’t help but be slightly offended, even if she knew they were probably right. She had many gifts, but in a straight fight Percy was ten times better than her. He was struggling against the chains in an effort to fight back, but they were holding firm.

“Hyperion became a tree, because of you. Atlas is stuck under the sky, because of you. Iapetus here lost his memories, because of you. Kronos was slain, because of you.” Koios punctuated each sentence with a blow, leaving Percy wincing in pain. “One puny little demigod.” 

“You must be pretty weak if a demigod can take down all of you on his own,” Percy replied, defiantly.

This time, Koios kicked him right in the crotch, and Percy was left on the floor, grimacing. His eyes drifted up into space, the same vacant look he’d had when he had killed Akhlys, but nothing happened this time.

He must not have the strength to use his powers, Annabeth realized. There went one of their only hopes, up in smoke. She struggled with the bars on her cell, but they remained stubbornly immovable, trapping her and leaving her unable to help him.

“Leave him alone!” she screamed, in an effort to draw their attention. “Hit me! I was just as responsible for the fall of the Titans as Percy was.”

She couldn’t bear seeing Percy get brutally beaten like this. She should take some of that pain, spare Percy a blow or two. He didn't deserve to be turned into a human punching bag like that.

Iapetus looked over at her, an air of disdain on his face. “You are a woman. I would not harm you.”

As if the Titans weren’t bad enough, they were sexist too, Annabeth thought. She almost wanted to look away, spare herself the pain of seeing a helpless Percy get tortured, but she couldn’t. She needed to watch, no matter how much it hurt her.

Koios turned back to Percy, grinning. “Look at your little girlfriend, so noble and brave. She hates being so helpless, I notice." He hit Percy with a knee to the abdomen, leaving him winded. "It’s a shame my brothers are yet to reform. They would have loved to inflict a few blows themselves.”

This time, he punched Percy square in the face, and Percy’s cheekbone looked as though it was broken. Annabeth held back her screams this time. She suspected Koios was enjoying watching her anguish, and the last thing she wanted to do was to encourage the sadistic Titan. Maybe that was why they had left her unchained, so she could struggle uselessly for their entertainment.

“As it is, however, it falls to me to pass on their regards to you,” Koios said, his face bearing an insufferably smug look. "Perhaps that is not such a bad thing. It means all the more fun for us, does it not, Iapetus?"

As Iapetus grinned in response, Annabeth found herself struggling to keep her composure. The fact the Titan was repeatedly striking her boyfriend was bad enough, but being right there, and completely unable to help... Well, that was worse. It was so unfair, she wanted to scream, but again she held back, knowing she would hardly be helping things. In any case, Percy would never want her to give in to the Titans just to spare him a beating. He would rather die than see her give up like that.

So instead, she watched uselessly as Koios kicked Percy again, this time in the shin, and Percy fell to the ground once more, with a loud thud.

“Why don’t you just kill us?” the wounded Percy spat, bleeding from his cheek, which had turned an angry purple. “Save everyone a bit of time?”

Koios smirked. “Oh, we will. In Athens, on the altar of the Parthenon. That is where you will be sacrificed to Mother. Your blood shall wake her, and her rise will see us forever honoured. We will rule the world.”

“And what does Porphyrion have to say about that?” Annabeth asked.

“Clever, demigod. Trying to turn Titan against giant. But that will be Mother’s decision, and when she learns it was us who captured you, I expect we shall be heavily rewarded for it.”

That idea was always a desperate punt, Annabeth thought, but she was running out of other options. There was one thing she could try…

“So get on with it, then,” Annabeth said. “Why waste time here? Our friends will be arriving at the Doors soon, with the gods by their side. You won’t stand a chance.”

She was bluffing, hoping to goad the Titans into acting rashly, but Koios instead let out a hearty laugh.

“The gods? We know they have been rendered incapacitated by the split between Greece and Rome,” he grinned. “Your tricks won’t work on me, demigod.”

That idea was a risky gambit from the start, but Koios was clearly wise to it. She racked her brains, hoping for anything else she could possibly use, but she came up blank. They were probably just screwed.

“As for your friends, Clytius will arrive at the Doors in a few hours, and our army shall join him, just before they are due to get there. I imagine he will make light work of them. He will join us, and together we will march to Athens, and you shall be sacrificed.”

And somehow, though she had thought her heart couldn’t sink any further, it did. Her friends were walking into a trap. They had no chance at all against that army. Five demigods - well, six, now Nico was there, not that it made any difference - against a literal sea of monsters?

In short, they were definitely screwed, then.

As Annabeth searched for any possible crumb of comfort in this whole mess, Iapetus took over, having been silent for ages. And though on the one hand, Koios stepping back was a small mercy, on the other, she was almost glad he had stayed quiet, because hearing Bob’s gravelly voice after he had betrayed them made her blood boil.

 “Tell me, Percy, do you wish for this to stop?," the traitorous Titan asked. "Say the word, and you will be granted mercy.”

Percy let out a dry, humourless laugh at the thought, and Koios punched him again. He moaned in pain.

Sick bastards, Annabeth thought. You have him at your mercy, at least spare him his dignity. She knew Percy was too proud to ever beg them to stop, and she wished he would show a little bit more of a desire for self-preservation.

 “You could join us. Mother would spare you your lives in exchange for a few drops of her blood. When she wakes, you could ascend to immortality, serve under her as gods.” Bob – no, Iapetus – sounded earnest and sincere, and Annabeth wanted to laugh at his naïveté. There was no way Percy would ever join Gaea, under any circumstances.

Percy groaned, clearly battered and bruised, before weakly getting out the words “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Well,” Iapetus said, “We can always go down the route of sacrificing you at the Parthenon, but it would be a shame to lose your life when there is an alternative. You would be a huge asset to us.”

They were playing the classic good cop/bad cop routine, Annabeth thought. She knew Percy was smart enough to avoid falling for it, and indeed, he didn’t reply, instead spitting a mouthful of blood at Iapetus. 

Provoking them, on the other hand? That was less smart. She wished Percy would just be quiet, and avoid any further punishment. Defying them wasn't going to get them out. It was only going to make things worse.

Indeed, Koios kicked Percy again, right in the head, and this time, he didn’t get back up.

Her heart sank. 

"Pathetic," Koios sneered. "You let this weakling push you in the Lethe, Iapetus? This useless, good-for-nothing half-blood?"

Annabeth's fists clenched in fury. She knew Percy would recover, because Gaea needed him alive, but seeing him beaten to a pulp was still more difficult than anything. Not to mention that even if they somehow escaped now, Percy in this condition would barely be able to stand, let alone fight. And Koios' goading was hardly making things better. Even looking at his smug face made Annabeth burn with rage.

She was so sick of Tartarus. Every time things couldn’t get any worse, they did. 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to regain her composure. If they had any chance at all of escape, she needed to think rationally. Anger wasn't going to help anything, let alone despair.

Iapetus cleared his throat. “Koios, why don’t you go and check on the preparations for the invasion? I will stay and stand guard over these two.”

Koios nodded, before gruffly adding “See if you can get the girl to see some sense and join us willingly. The boy is clearly too stubborn.”

Iapetus wandered over to her cell, and Annabeth couldn’t help but hate him. He was still wearing the janitor’s uniform she was so used to, and he still looked exactly like the loveable bumbling friend she knew. Now, though, he was a Titan, huge and terrifying, no different than any of the monsters down there who wanted to kill them. She braced herself for some sort of diatribe about Gaea's inevitable victory and how they were going to die painfully unless they gave in.

Instead, Iapetus leaned over to her, his tone hushed and conspiratorial. “We don’t have much time, Annabeth. Koios will return in a matter of minutes.”

That caught her off guard a little. She’d expected some more bluster about joining Gaea or about the glory of the Titans, not… that. What on earth was he talking about?

“Not much time for what?”

“For us to come up with a plan,” Iapetus frowned. “What else could I mean?”

Annabeth could hardly believe what she was hearing. Was this a trap, or was Iapetus helping them out? “Iapetus,” she began, but he raised his hand.

“Not Iapetus. Bob. I may have my memories restored, but…” he trailed off.

“But what?”

“I was far happier as Bob. I had real friends, for once.” He looked as though he was about to cry. “Iapetus was an evil, bloodthirsty Titan, but Bob was my opportunity for a fresh start. Losing those memories was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He paused for a second, a tear rolling down this cheek. “Iapetus carries a burden of guilt, Annabeth. For the murder of his father, for never standing up to his brothers, for his actions during the wars. If I cannot lose the identity of Iapetus, if I must carry that burden, then as Bob I will have to put things right.”

Annabeth was incredibly confused and sceptical. Was this some clever ruse to trick her into trusting him? But he seemed so genuine, far too genuine for this to be a ploy. He would have to be an incredible actor.

“So why did you say you wanted to sacrifice us to Gaea earlier?”

The Titan – Iapetus or Bob, whatever he was called – chuckled, though he still looked rather sad. “When Koios saw me, I had to improvise."

"Improvise?"

"Two demigods would never have made it to the Doors of Death, not past that army. You would have been ripped to shreds, with or without me. Two sacrifices to the Earth Mother, on the other hand…”

Genius, Annabeth thought. She would never, ever in a million years have come up with that plan. It was risky, sure, but she already knew it was their best shot by far. No monster would ever risk incurring Gaea’s wrath by attacking her hostages. They would hide in plain sight, walking past the whole army en-route to the Doors.

And that could mean only one thing, Annabeth concluded. Bob was telling the truth, and he really hadn't betrayed them at all. If she weren’t trapped in her cell, she would have hugged him as tightly as she could. He really was an incredible actor, just not in the way she thought he was.

“And telling Percy to join Gaea?” she asked. While she knew Bob wasn't lying, she hadn't quite wrapped her head around every aspect of his plan. Besides, it was prudent to make absolutely sure he wasn't hiding anything.

“I was hoping that Koios would stop beating him, or that Percy would accept the offer of mercy,” Bob said, smiling sadly. “If Percy had agreed, he would have at least been spared any further punishment from Koios. As it is, it clearly did not work. At least I was able to spare you.”

No, it didn’t work, Annabeth thought, looking over at the battered Percy sadly. Still, she couldn’t be too harsh on Bob, even if he had the world's most awful family. Piper’s dad would have been proud of his acting performance in front of Koios. At least he had given them a chance.

Bob unlocked the cell doors, and Annabeth rushed over to Percy’s cell. He was unconscious, covered in bruises, and it definitely looked like his nose and cheekbone had been fractured, but there was nothing there they couldn’t heal. That was a small victory at least. She vowed silently to make sure Koios felt some small fraction of the pain she knew Percy had to be in.

As she examined his wounds, she recalled something else. Bob had said that he wouldn’t harm a woman... now, with the benefit of knowing he was helping them, she realized that that had been his way of keeping her from getting the same brutal treatment as Percy. He had been protecting her, even as he played the role of evil captor so convincingly that Annabeth could still scarcely believe he was on their side.

With that realization, Annabeth felt another rush of gratitude wash over her. It was hard to believe the Titan before her had been Iapetus, the cruel one whom they called the Piercer, let alone that he was the brother of someone so brutal as Koios. Clearly, even millennia-old immortals could change for the better. He had abandoned that past, and Annabeth would be forever glad of that.

And with the return of his memories, Bob had changed once more. Although he no longer had the childlike mannerisms which had been so endearing, Annabeth was still so glad to have her friend back. Tartarus was enough to make anyone cynical, and the thought that one of the only people on their side had turned on them had been so painful. Having him there to help meant there was still a chance, no matter how slim, that they might complete this quest.

“So what now? Can you heal him?” Annabeth asked, looking at Percy’s prone form. If it came down to a fight, he would be in no condition to help, clearly. Koios had beaten him within an inch of his life.

Bob shrugged. “His injuries are too severe for me to treat quickly. I can try to address some of them, but if Koios returns to find me healing him…” At the mention of his name, Percy stirred, and Annabeth felt another pang of pain at the sight. She wanted so badly to tell Bob to heal him, but she knew he was right. If Koios suspected Bob was on their side, they would be in deep shit.

Which meant, if they didn't have time to heal Percy before he'd be back...

“We have to deal with Koios first,” Annabeth said, thinking out loud. He’d said that Clytius would be arriving at the Doors in a few hours to collect them, so they’d presumably be remaining in these holding cells until then. That, at least, bought them some time, though she didn’t yet know how she’d make use of it.

Bob shook his head. “I am bound by an oath on the Styx never to attack a fellow Titan. You and Percy will have to find a way to defeat him, or else escape him.”

“That oath was sworn by Iapetus, though, I’m guessing?” Annabeth inquired, her tone persuasive. “If you choose to be Bob, the oaths sworn by your previous self surely won’t bind you?”

She felt sure she was right. If Bob had killed Koios before he had his memories back, there was no way he could have been accountable for an oath he never knew he had sworn. Why, then, should he be responsible for an oath he swore when he was a different person?

Bob considered it. “Maybe you are right, but if there is one thing Styx hates, it is loopholes. If she does not see it that way, I will be severely punished.”

He looked pained, and Annabeth knew it was too much to ask of him. That was a dead end, and a frustrating one. Now that he had his memories back, Bob was clearly more careful, and Annabeth couldn’t blame him. She wanted to escape as much as anyone, but she couldn’t risk letting him break an oath on the Styx.

She reviewed the options for dealing with Koios in her head. They could try giving him the slip, but if he found out before they reached the Doors, they’d be dead meat. There was no way they’d avoid detection, not with an entire army looking for them. That was the whole reason for this ruse in the first place.

Realistically, then, they were going to have to kill Koios, but if Bob couldn’t help, and Percy was severely injured… Annabeth had taken on some pretty powerful enemies, but a Titan on her own was probably a bridge too far. Unless, of course, she had some outside support.

Mother, she prayed. If you can hear me, now would be a good time for some help.

She hadn’t expected anything to happen, her relationship with Athena having been strained at best of late. All the same, there was no sign that her mother had even heard her, let alone a response, and she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t disappointed.

She remembered something Ella had said in her prophecy, and realized she had been right all along. Wisdom’s daughter walks alone. There would be no divine inspiration for her today.

Sadly, she picked up the cap that had been useless ever since she’d argued with Minerva. It had been one of the only gifts she’d ever had from her mother, and she’d treasured it for so long. For old times’ sake, she put it on again.

“Annabeth?” a surprised Bob asked. “Where did you go?”

Surely not. “You can’t see me?”

Bob shook his head. Annabeth picked up her dagger, which lay on the floor, and when she looked at the shiny surface, she saw no reflection staring back at her.

Thank you, Mom, she prayed. I knew you wouldn’t give up on me that easily.

Of course, she hadn't known at all. In fact, she'd fully thought Athena had given up on her, but her mother didn’t need to know that. Either way, having her cap back was like a reunion with an old friend. She had missed its powers so much. It was a rare comfort in a realm where comforts were all too hard to come by, just like her knife had been.

She took the cap back off, examining it in her hands. In the past, it hadn’t always worked on immortals, but the fact Bob couldn’t see her was promising. That meant she’d probably be able to use it on Koios. She wondered whether Athena had not only restored the cap’s powers, but made them more powerful.

If we get out of here alive, I owe you one, Mom, she thought. Athena had just given her a real shot.

Slowly, the cogs in her brain started to turn. Her best chance against Koios would be to catch him by surprise. She could try and hide somewhere, invisible, and ambush him, but if Koios saw from a distance that she was missing that would put him on guard. She was better off staying in the cell for now, and waiting for her moment to strike.

Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she put the dagger back down. It would be too easy for Koios to spot it if she had it in her cell, and if he saw she was armed that would pour cold water on her whole plan. On the other hand, Riptide’s pen form made it easy to hide…

She picked up the pen. Somehow, though she'd held it many times, she had never actually used it in a fight. It was weird when you considered the fact Percy had used her cap and her knife before, though she supposed that had something to do with the sword always returning to Percy’s pocket. Uncapping it, she felt its weight. It wasn’t an ideal weapon for her style of fighting, but she’d have to make do. She swung it a few times, trying to get used to its feel in her hand.

As she practiced with Riptide, she noticed Bob staring at the weapon, silently. She wondered what he was thinking. Atlas was Iapetus’ son, though, she remembered, so Zoë Nightshade, the blade’s original owner, was his granddaughter. Clearly, he must have known her well enough to recognize the sword.

Maybe she’d get the chance to ask him later, though, since now wasn’t the time. She put the cap back on Riptide, which returned to its pen form, and stowed it in her pocket.

“Lock me up, Bob,” she said, her voice cracking, and Bob obliged, tossing her the key, which she slipped into her pocket. Her heart raced. She didn’t know how long was left till Koios came back, but it could be any minute.

Just then, Percy groaned. He was clearly starting to come to, and that could be an issue. If he saw her fighting Koios, the last thing they needed was him trying to be a hero, in his condition. He’d get himself beaten up even worse, or gods forbid, killed. He had fought all kinds of monsters over the years and won, but in this state he’d struggle to fend off an excitable puppy.

Go back to sleep, she almost wanted to say. I’ve got this.

And she felt like she had this, too. She didn’t know if it was adrenaline, or just blind confidence, but she really believed she could take down Koios. She had a plan, after all, and her mother was on her side. Whether it would work, who knew, but she had a fighting chance, and that was more than she could have hoped for fifteen minutes ago. The realistic part of her brain told her she still had no chance against a full strength Titan, but she had hope at least.

There couldn’t be long left. Annabeth steeled herself for a fight. Whatever happened, she was going to make sure Koios suffered today.

A minute later, Koios wandered into view, whistling, hands in his pockets. Annabeth felt another surge of rage. She was shaking a little, from a mix of nerves and anticipation. She had never fought anyone as powerful as Koios before completely on her own. Today, she was going to find out what it was like.

It’s time, she said to herself.

I’m ready.

Bring it on.

Chapter Text

Three more hours.

The Argo II was around three more hours away from Epirus.

To say that Nico di Angelo was tense would be an understatement.

He paced the decks of the ship, nervously going over everything in his head. The Scepter of Diocletian was their trump card, which would wake an army of spirits to fight for them, or so he hoped. He hadn’t actually ever used it or seen it used, and the first time he was ever going to try would be in the middle of a battle. If he couldn’t get it to work, that could be fatal.

As for Hazel, she had an even more difficult test ahead. Pasiphaë awaited, and with her the magic of the Labyrinth. She would need to be at full strength to get through that to the Doors. Nico remembered the Labyrinth all too well, and he was pretty sure it was his second-least favourite place.

And after all that, who knew what else awaited? Giants, probably. Monsters, definitely. Percy and Annabeth? Well, maybe, but Nico didn’t want to get his hopes up too soon. They were in the only place he hated more than the Labyrinth, after all. 

And everyone else? He didn’t know what role each had to play just yet, but he was pretty certain they’d all be needed. He wasn’t sure anyone else on the ship understood just how hard a task this was. Nico had been through the House of Hades, seen the challenges that lay ahead. This was going to be more difficult than anything they had done so far.

The others certainly didn’t understand how hard the task of closing the other side of the Doors was. Only Nico knew what Percy and Annabeth were going through in Tartarus, and he hated even thinking about it. That place wasn’t one he’d ever want to visit again, and he'd been there for a fraction of the time they had. If that had nearly broken him, he wondered what effect it would have on them, whether they would ever be the same even if they returned.

One thing he did know for sure, though, is that Percy and Annabeth were still alive. He’d not sensed their souls going to Elysium, which meant they were still down there. He didn’t know how far they were from the Doors, or whether they would even make it there, but if anyone had a chance, it was those two. They had survived for two weeks in the Pit, against all the odds, after all.

All that combined to mean Nico had a lot on his plate right now. He was used to sleepless nights, but he had barely rested for a few hours in the whole of the last week. There was too much at stake to waste time sleeping, regardless of how tired he was. He couldn’t remember when he last ate, either.

Leo interrupted his train of thought. “What’s up, Death Breath? You look like you’re trying to figure out how best to kill someone.”

Leo was annoying at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t the best of times.

“I’m fine,” Nico snapped.

“Really? Or are you just saying that to get me to go away?” came the reply.

“I said I’m fine,” Nico growled. “Don’t push it.” He clearly hadn’t been subtle enough in his desire for Leo to leave him alone.

“I’m going nowhere,” Leo persisted. “Not till you tell me what’s on your mind. There’s clearly something.”

Nico couldn’t put up with this much longer. He grabbed Leo by the scruff of his neck, lifting him off the ground. “What’s on my mind,” he hissed, “is how to get this irritating, good for nothing son of Hephaestus to leave me alone. Can you help me with that?”

Leo gulped audibly in fear, and somewhere in the distance somebody gasped. He heard footsteps rushing over. Piper’s voice suddenly cut through.

“Let go of him, Nico,” she commanded, and Nico complied, his arm going slack and releasing Leo. The son of Hephaestus staggered away from him, looking terrified, before immediately scurrying below deck.

Instantly, Nico felt a sense of regret.

He was only trying to help me, he thought. And as usual, I push away anyone who cares.

The son of Hades wanted to run after Leo, to apologize for letting out all his frustration like that, but he was just likely to scare him off even more if he did. Without Piper’s charmspeak, he might actually have hurt the son of Hephaestus, just for being persistent and caring about him. He cursed himself for being the way he was.

Piper’s voice cut through his thoughts once more. “Why don’t you get some rest, Nico?” she said. “Take a nap. We’ve got a few hours still.”

He wanted to argue, but he could feel the magic in Piper’s voice working on him, making him feel sleepy already. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he probably needed some rest. Getting to a stage where he was assaulting anyone who asked him anything wasn’t exactly healthy.

Nico made his way to his bunk, feeling a general sense of disgust at his own behavior. Recently, sleep hadn't been easy to come by for him, but this time, it was like a switch had been flicked. He was fast asleep barely a minute later.

He felt himself falling, down, down, and still down, for what felt like an eternity. He hit the ground with a thud, but somehow it didn’t hurt at all. He scrambled to his feet, breathing in the acrid air that could only mean he was in Tartarus, again.

This, of course, was nothing new to Nico. On the rare occasions he did sleep, he nearly always found himself back here in his dreams. It was part of the reason why he'd been avoiding sleep in the first place. But something felt different this time, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

That was, until he heard a voice, all too familiar to him, say “Welcome back, Nico di Angelo.”

He looked up to see the towering, shadowy form of Nyx staring down at him. She was just as he pictured her in his every nightmare, forty feet tall, in a dress made of pure darkness, with eyes that pierced through him and a face that was both indistinct and utterly terrifying.

He watched as she shrunk down to a more human form in front of him, but his mind was elsewhere. More specifically, he was too busy being completely terrified. Nyx was a primordial goddess, way more powerful than anything Nico could possibly take on. She could easily erase him from existence, dream or not.

He tried desperately to wake up, but found he couldn’t. His bed was like a prison cell, and he was trapped in it.

“Settle down, child. I mean you no harm,” Nyx reassured him, her voice as ancient and powerful as ever. “I have some matters to discuss with you.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not he could trust her, but he supposed that if she was going to hurt him, there wasn’t much he could do about it. So he might as well speak his mind.

“Discuss? You gave me to the giants as a hostage,” Nico growled. “I almost died because of you.”

“And yet you did not,” Nyx replied simply.

Nico was about to retort that it had been no thanks to her, that Nemesis had been the one to give him the pomegranate seeds that saved his life, but he hesitated.

“Are you suggesting-”

“That my daughter knew what was going to happen? That I not only knew, but encouraged her to help you?” Nyx sounded amused. “I wonder, why would you think that?”

This made as much sense in Nico’s head as any of the gods’ plans, or in other words, no sense at all.

“Why on earth would you think giving me to the giants would help me?”

“How did you intend on escaping Tartarus?” Nyx asked him, her tone almost patronising, as though it were incredibly obvious. Slowly, it dawned on Nico.

“The Doors,” he muttered. “But-”

“They were controlled by the giants, so you could never have made it through safely,” Nyx said, finishing his thought for him. “Ephialtes and Otis were your only way out, though you did not know it at the time.”

“That… actually makes some sense,” Nico said slowly. “I’m guessing you couldn’t just teleport me out, then?”

“Oh, I could,” Nyx said. “I am more powerful than even you realise.”

And more full of yourself, Nico thought, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say it.

“But interference to that extent would have drawn unwanted attention,” Nyx continued, thankfully oblivious to Nico’s snarky internal monologue. “I deemed it prudent to act at a distance as much as I could.”

Nico supposed that was good enough, though he wished Nemesis had given him more than three of those seeds. He’d come pretty close to death, despite her help. He wondered idly who Nyx didn't want attention from, but it didn't seem hugely relevant.

One thing was still bugging him, though. Nyx was so ridiculously powerful, and he was just a demigod, hardly significant in the grand scheme of things, so…

“Why help me at all?” Nico asked.

Nyx shrugged, an oddly human gesture for someone so ancient and terrifying. “Perhaps it was because you are a fellow creature of the darkness, perhaps because as a mother I sympathized with a young child alone in the worst place possible. In any case, meeting your friends has convinced me I made the correct decision.”

“You met Percy and Annabeth?” Now this was getting interesting. If Nyx had been helping them, they might well make it to the Doors.

“I did. Nemesis told me about their quest, and my sister’s plans. Had I known at the time, perhaps I would have helped you more,” Nyx said, her eyes glowing rather unsettlingly. “I had assumed the giant twins were acting alone, and I thought the whole thing was rather insignificant. Gaea, on the other hand, is a rather more... difficult problem.”

“So you’re helping them?” Nico asked. “You’re on our side?”

Nyx grimaced. “I am helping them as much as I can, which is to say not much at all. For one Protogenos to act directly against another would attract the attention of my own mother. Unfortunately, my hands are mostly tied.”

Nico recalled the myths, that Nyx was born from Chaos itself, wondering if that was who Nyx meant when she said ‘mother’. He shuddered at the thought that there were beings powerful enough that even Nyx dared not defy them. 

“What did you want from me, then?” Nico asked.

“I needed to tell you that, if all goes well, your friends will be at the Doors in five hours’ time." Nyx's tone was businesslike. "If they make it, you will need to be there promptly to receive them, else they may be lost forever.”

“Lost forever.” Nico didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Nor did he like the ‘if’, but he didn’t really want to ask.

“Trapped between life and death, their souls in limbo for eternity. It is not a fate they deserve, or indeed one that anyone deserves.”

Once again, Nico found himself shuddering. “So what awaits us at the Necromanteion?”

The shadows swirled around Nyx’s face. “Clytius will reach there before you, alongside Pasiphaë and an army of monsters. That is not to mention the trials of the House itself, which are substantial. To call the Doors well-guarded would be an understatement.”

“I understand.”Just as Nico had suspected, they were up against it. They’d have to be on their A-game. And to beat Clytius, they’d need help from a god, which at the moment was seemingly hard to come by. Still, the warning would give them some chance to prepare, at least. "Thank you, my lady."

Nyx nodded in acknowledgement. "There is one more thing for us to discuss,” she said, “and that is shadow travel, as you call it.”

“Shadow travel?” Nyx being the goddess of the night, he supposed shadow travel was within her domain, but that was still an unexpected change of tack.

“Indeed. You will find yourself needing to travel much further than you have ever done before, and with a greater burden to carry as you do so. Ordinarily, such an effort would carry great danger of death for you,” Nyx said, her tone rather matter-of-fact. “When the time comes, however, you may pray to me. I will ensure that the shadows bend to your will.”

“I- thank you, my lady,” Nico said, wondering when that was going to come into play. He couldn’t come up with a reason he’d have to transport anything or anyone long distances off the top of his head.

“You are welcome,” Nyx replied, smiling in a rather motherly way. “Now sleep peacefully, child. No further dreams shall disturb you.”

She disappeared, and the next thing Nico knew, Hazel was shaking him awake.

“We’re here,” she said. “Epirus.”

Nico made his way back on deck, feeling so much better for the nap he had taken. He looked around, taking in the landscape. Last time, he had been bound and groggy, not able to appreciate the place. The hills were strewn with boulders and stunted cedars, all shimmering in the hazy air. The sun beat down as if trying to hammer the countryside into a Celestial bronze shield. A glittering green river lazily snaked its way down through the hills.

A beautiful place to die, Nico thought, before shoving that thought aside. Pessimism wasn’t going to help things.

He walked over to the helm, where Leo was steering, and directed him in the direction of the temple. The son of Hephaestus was being rather cold to him, replying to his instructions with one or two word responses, and Nico remembered what he had done earlier, with a pang of regret. As Leo moored the ship in front of the temple, Nico knew he had to make things right.

“Hey, Leo?” he called, and Leo turned to face him warily. “I’m sorry for earlier. I just got angry, and lost control, and…” He trailed off, noticing the grin on Leo’s face.

“Hey, it’s all good, Death Breath,” Leo said. “Turns out you just needed a bit of rest. Maybe some food, too?” He pulled out a Snickers chocolate bar from inside his tool belt. “You’re not you when you’re hungry, you know?”

Nico groaned, remembering why he found Leo irritating in the first place. He wondered how long Leo had had the chocolate bar tucked away, just waiting for an opportunity to pull that joke. Still, he was actually pretty hungry, so he accepted the chocolate nonetheless, scarfing it down quickly. 

“Come on,” Leo said, almost pleadingly. “You have to admit, that was a good one.”

Nico sighed. "I could turn you into a ghost and banish you forever, you know.”

“You would never,” Leo said, grinning even more broadly. “You’re just a big, creepy, terrifying teddy bear really.”

He offered Nico a fist-bump, and Nico rather reluctantly accepted. Leo was simultaneously very easy to get irritated with and very difficult to stay irritated with. He was so glad to be so easily forgiven for his tantrum earlier.

“No hard feelings?” Nico asked.

“None at all,” Leo replied. “Let’s close those fucking Doors.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes it was the waiting that got you.

Annabeth had got herself into battle mode a little too early, and now she found herself in her cell, biding her time as she waited for her opportunity to catch Koios off guard. Too early, and she’d lose the element of surprise that was critical if she were to have any chance at all. So she had to pick her moment perfectly, to get the jump on Koios as best she could. Ideally, she’d be able to at least injure him before he was ever able to fight back.

When he had arrived, Koios had walked straight over to Bob. She couldn’t make out what they were saying from where she was, their tones having been pretty hushed. Nonetheless, she knew Bob was carrying out his part in the plan, not allowing Koios to suspect any foul play. She needed to find her moment to carry out hers.

Percy had come to, sitting up groggily in his cell. He looked… well, there were no two ways about it. He looked like shit. His face was covered in bruises and blood, barely recognizable as Percy but for his sea-green eyes, though even those were swollen almost shut thanks to the rain of blows Koios had landed. It wasn’t a pretty sight at all. Annabeth could only imagine how much pain he was in, although the expression on his face was remarkably stoic and calm for now.

Just then, it occurred to Annabeth that she hadn’t been able to let Percy in on the plan at all yet. She was going to have to make sure he knew enough not to do something stupid and jeopardize it. He did have a bit of a reckless streak like that, and this plan couldn’t afford any false moves at all from either of them. It was risky enough as it was.

Silently, she raised one finger to her lips, as Koios’ back remained turned. Whether by accident or design, Bob had managed to make sure Koios faced away from them as they discussed whatever it was they were talking about. That made things a lot easier.

Percy seemed to understand the sentiment. He raised an eyebrow and put his hands palms out in a questioning gesture, as if to say ‘what’s going on?’

Annabeth held up the key to her cell. Percy’s eyes widened as much as they could given the swelling. He struggled against his chains, but they wouldn’t give. Annabeth motioned with her hand for him to calm down.

“How?” he mouthed.

Annabeth pointed at Bob, who was still deep in discussions with Koios, giving a thumbs up to try and indicate he was on their side. Just to emphasize the point, she mouthed the word “Friend” to Percy.

Percy’s facial expressions were pretty hard to make out through the injuries, but Annabeth was pretty sure the look was disbelief. That made sense, really, given he hadn’t heard the things Annabeth had. She’d have to fill him in on the details later.

Percy made a gesture as if to say “what’s the plan?”, waving his hands around exaggeratedly, as much as he could with the chains holding them together. If he didn’t look like he’d just gone 12 rounds in a ring with a Cyclops, it would actually have been quite the funny sight. He looked rather ridiculous.

She held up Riptide to Percy, miming a stabbing motion in the direction of Koios, and the look of disbelief only got stronger.

“Are you insane?” Percy mouthed, moving his lips slowly to make them easier to read.

Part of Annabeth wondered the same thing, but she shook her head. Briefly, she put on her cap, vanishing for a split second, before she removed it again and reappeared.

“How?” he mouthed, or at least that was what Annabeth assumed he was wondering. His swollen lips were hard to read.

Annabeth clasped her hands together in mock prayer, then pointed directly up. Percy seemed to understand, looking a bit surprised.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Koios turn back in her direction, and she hastily settled back into her cell, as though nothing was amiss. Thankfully, Koios didn’t seem to notice. He strolled over to Percy’s cell.

“Awake again, I see,” he sneered. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you any more than I have already. We need you alive, for now.”

Percy groaned. “Thanks a load,” he said sarcastically. “That makes me feel loads better.”

Keep him busy, Percy.

Quietly, Annabeth inserted the key in her hand into the lock to her cell, as Koios chuckled. As she had hoped, his laughter drowned out the faint jingling of the key, which meant she had managed to do so unnoticed.

“Oh, you’ll feel a lot worse soon,” he gloated. We’ll be heading through the Doors in a few hours’ time. And your friends will be there too. How nice, for you to have an audience as we march you to Athens.”

Percy struggled against his chains once more. Annabeth didn’t like seeing him so helpless, but knew she had to focus. She was so tempted to turn the key and charge, but she knew now wasn’t the moment. She needed to wait for Koios to drop his guard.

“We’ll kill them too, of course. Alcyoneus would love to hear of the death of the Pluto girl, and I’m sure Krios will be pleased to see the son of Jupiter dealt with properly,” Koios boasted arrogantly. “And you’ll have front row seats to the show! Isn't that exciting?”

Breathe in, breathe out.

Annabeth was itching to bring Koios back down to Earth, but again she knew she had to hold back. If she charged now, he’d have too much time to react. One mistake here, one impulsive and reckless decision, would cost her and Percy their lives.

“What’s wrong, sea spawn?” Koios asked. “Lost your tongue?”

“Go on, then,” Percy mumbled. “Back up the talk. Take us to the Doors. Get it over with.”

“Oh, we will,” Koios said smugly. He fumbled with the keys in his pocket as he tried to open Percy’s cell.

Now!

With her right hand, she turned the key and opened the cell door, and with her left hand, she donned the cap that was her only hope. She pushed the door open and charged at Koios, uncapping Riptide.

The Titan turned around, hearing the noise, but Annabeth was too quick for him. With one smooth strike, she slashed Riptide across his legs, leaving a deep gash.

Koios howled in pain as Annabeth backed off. He turned around, looking rather confused for a second until he saw Annabeth’s empty cell.

“Treacherous little half-blood,” he spat, ichor dripping from the wound as he unsheathed a truly enormous sword from his belt. “You’ll pay for that.”

Let's begin.

Koios swiped at where she had been a second ago, but Annabeth had already rolled out of the way.

“Hiding, are you? Too coward to face me openly?” Koios goaded her, aiming a series of blows that met nothing but thin air.

“Oh, beating Percy while he was chained up was real brave,” Annabeth shouted.

Koios turned towards her, and immediately she cursed herself for rising to the bait and giving away her position. He slashed down at her, and she was forced to parry with Riptide. Somehow, she kept hold of the sword, despite the sheer force of the blow jarring her wrist rather painfully.

“You can’t hide forever, you know,” Koios yelled. “Show yourself, and I promise you a quick death.”

Again, Koios swiped down at her, but this time she anticipated the strike and rolled away, before landing another blow of her own on Koios. The Titan staggered back, though this time she’d only managed to hit the chestplate of his armour.

Slowly, Annabeth was starting to work out a strategy. Koios’ ears were clearly giving him a rough sense of where she was, but he was struggling to pinpoint her, and Annabeth knew she could use that to her advantage. Maybe attracting his attention wasn’t the worst thing after all?

She started deliberately making more noise, stamping her feet heavily and dragging the Titan’s attention towards her, only to roll away at the last second and often land a blow of her own in return.

This is just another puzzle for me to solve.

She noticed that Koios tended to move his right leg forward ever so slightly immediately before he was about to strike, and that gave her a new advantage. With that in mind, she could delay dodging the attacks to the last second, allowing her to catch Koios off-balance when he counter-attacked and inflict more damage.

She carried on dancing around Koios’ every blow, as he seemed oblivious to her ploy. This was starting to work. She was managing to land a few decent strikes, and the speed of Koios' attacks was slowing down.

“Too weak, too slow,” she goaded him, as she rolled away from yet another strike and landed one more blow to Koios’ thigh.

That one’s for Percy.

He roared in pain again, and she knew she was winning this game of chess. He was covered in wounds now, none so deep as to truly injure him, but the combined effect was surely going to take its toll. She had never felt so fast, so strong, so wired and ready. Koios wasn’t going to be able to cope. It was only a matter of time now. 

“Enough fun and games,” Koios growled. He slammed his sword into the ground, and a wall of force erupted from all around him, blasting her backwards. The force of the shockwave was so intense that she was launched back ten metres, crumpling to the ground in a heap.

I forgot Titans could do that.

She groaned as she scrambled back to her feet. Everything ached, but there didn’t seem to be any broken bones, at least. Bruises seemed to be the extent of the damage, though she had plenty of them. Luckily, Koios hadn’t been able to disarm her either, as somehow she’d kept hold of Riptide.

Koios was advancing towards her now, grinning evilly, slowed by his injuries but still ready to land a finishing blow. She moved to her left, as quickly and silently as she could muster. This time, though, Koios followed her, as though suddenly he could see her.

Annabeth’s heart thumped. How was he doing this? She heard Percy shout something, but she hadn’t particularly been paying attention to him. Something to do with a cap?

Oh.

As Annabeth processed what Percy had said, she realized how much trouble she was in. Her cap lay a few metres away, knocked off by the force of the blast. Desperately, she ran towards it, only to be cut off by Koios, who wore a smug expression on his face.

“Too weak, too slow,” he said mockingly, taunting her with her own words. “Now you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”

And she was. Her plan was in tatters. Without the ability to hide with her cap, she was in a straight up swordfight with a literal Titan. She’d trained for years, sure, but no amount of sparring prepared you for this. She was quite considerably outmatched, given he was several feet taller than her and quite a lot more powerful.

Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.

In a last ditch attempt, she swung Riptide at Koios’ legs, but this time Koios easily deflected the strike, returning with a volley of blows. It was all she could do to raise Riptide to block, but Koios was far stronger than her, and the sheer power behind his swings was enough to knock Percy’s sword clean out of her hands this time. Koios kicked the sword away from her gleefully, as she frantically scurried away from him, weaponless.

Shit.

Now she was unarmed and unhidden, there was little more she could do. Running was hopeless; she’d never be able to escape Koios on foot, and even if she did she’d be leaving Percy at his mercy. Fighting, well, she’d tried, but she was out of ideas at this point. Koios was just too powerful for her.

She looked over at Percy, who had a mixture of resignation and anger on his face. His struggles with the bars on his cell were increasingly desperate, but they simply would not budge. She knew she’d failed not just herself, but also him. They would never escape after all. There would be no speedy retribution for Koios’ cruelty.

I’m sorry, Percy.

Annabeth sighed hopelessly as Koios closed in, grinning from ear to ear. She would much rather he killed her now than be returned to her cell, no doubt tortured, and then sacrificed to Gaea. The way Koios was walking towards her menacingly, sword raised, it seemed like she would get her wish. Of course, what she really wanted was neither, but that was hardly in her hands.

If you’re going to do it, make it quick.

She looked at Percy once more. If this was the end, she wanted his face to be the last thing she ever saw, the face that had been so brutally beaten, the eyes she knew and loved. Resignedly, she closed her own eyes, waiting for the final blow.

It never came.

Annabeth opened her eyes again. Koios had stopped, a look of pure surprise on his face.

That was when she noticed the spear sticking out of Koios’ back.

And standing not too far away was the thrower of the said spear, his face etched with an anger she had never seen before as he approached his brother.

“You will not hurt my friends,” Bob snapped, pulling the spear out only to drive it in once more. Koios, already weakened by the injuries Annabeth had inflicted, collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, a pool of ichor forming around his body.

“You?” Koios asked incredulously, breathing heavily.

“Me,” Bob agreed. “This is what you deserve, Koios. This is what your cruelty gets you.” He pushed his spear in even deeper, and Koios roared in agony.

“You useless, good-for-nothing traitor,” the gravely wounded Titan of the North spat at his brother, his voice weaker with each word as he despairingly gasped for breath. “You will suffer for this betrayal, Iapetus. You broke your oath of loyalty.”

The Titan who had once been Iapetus looked down at his brother’s prone form, one hand still on the spear that was sticking out of Koios’ torso. He pulled his weapon out again, twisting it as he did, and Koios moaned weakly, clearly on his last legs now.

“Iapetus is dead,” he snarled, more viciously than Annabeth had ever heard his voice. “I am Bob. And Bob will always defend those he cares about.”

His spear pierced Koios’ flesh for a third time, through the chest on this occasion, and when he withdrew it again, Koios had stopped moving altogether.

Rather shakily, Annabeth approached Bob. The Titan-turned-janitor was breathing heavily as he pulled his spear from Koios’ limp body, looking down at the fallen Titan with a mixture of hatred and disgust. He looked down at Annabeth, an expression of concern on his face, the care he showed for her a sudden and sharp contrast to the venom he had displayed towards Koios just a minute ago.

“Did he hurt you?” Bob asked.

Annabeth opened her mouth to reply, but no words would come out. Instead, she just shook her head, simply wrapping her arms around Bob. The Titan returned the hug, wrapping her so tight she could barely breathe, but somehow she didn’t mind. In Bob’s arms, she felt safe. 

Suddenly, she remembered Koios’ last words, and she no longer felt as good. She let go of Bob, looking rather concerned.

“Your oath,” Annabeth said quietly. “Of loyalty to the Titans. You broke it.”

She felt sick to her stomach. Breaking an oath on the Styx was… well, Annabeth had no idea what happened if you did, because she’d never dared to try. Zeus had, though, and she knew what had happened to Thalia on Half-Blood Hill, the pine tree that remained there an all-too-telling reminder of the wrath of Styx. What had Bob gotten himself into?

Bob shrugged. “That was Iapetus’ oath, as you said. Perhaps that will save me.” He didn’t look too concerned.

“You’re not worried Styx won’t see it that way?”

“If she does, and I must suffer, then I deserve it for all that I did as Iapetus.” Bob’s voice had a sense of grim resignation to it. “But I could not stand by and watch Koios hurt you. I should never have let him hurt Percy in the first place. Like I said, Bob defends those he cares about most.”

Once again, Annabeth realised that Bob was simply the best. It was amazing, really, that someone so pure had such a dark past. The Lethe had wiped away all those past evils, and what was left was the most caring, protective Titan friend she could ever hope for.

“Thank you, Bob,” she whispered. “For everything.”

Bob bowed his head, acknowledging her thanks. He looked a little emotional, but there was no hint of it in his voice when he spoke again. “Koios was telling me that they expect us at the Doors soon enough, and it will take us some time to get there. I will heal Percy’s injuries as best I can in the meantime, but we will need to get moving soon.”

Percy! She’d almost forgotten he was there. He was sitting in his cell a few metres away, looking as terrible as ever, but beaming broadly at her. 

She gestured to Bob, who tossed her the key, and she opened the cell, hands slightly shaking.  She hugged the son of Poseidon fiercely as she released him from his chains, although he winced slightly at the contact, and she let go of him.

That was stupid, she cursed herself. She should have known he was in fragile condition at best. Hugging him like that was never likely to be a good idea.

“How bad is it?” she asked him, her tone hushed.

“Few cracked ribs, broken cheekbone, plenty of cuts and scrapes, and my knee really hurts. Oh, and more bruises than you can count,” Percy rattled off.

“I can count pretty high, you know,” Annabeth quipped, and Percy laughed, before doubling over in pain again.

“Ribs?” she asked.

“Ribs,” Percy confirmed. “Laughing isn’t great for them. You’re no longer allowed to be funny.”

This time, it was Annabeth’s turn to laugh. “Well, one of us ought to be,” she jabbed, and Percy pouted, though with his swollen lips he looked ridiculous. Annabeth couldn’t help but laugh even harder at the sight. Eventually, Percy gave in, laughing along with her despite the pain, and she rolled around on the floor of the cell until tears were rolling down her face. It hadn’t been that funny, but she was laughing almost as much out of relief as anything else, thankful that they were finally free.

“On a different note,” Percy said once the laughter had died down, “you fighting against Koios was possibly the most badass thing I’ve ever seen. Not that I actually saw much of you, because you were invisible, but…”

Was he just trying to make her feel better? Annabeth didn't know what she had done to merit such praise. She had nearly got them both killed.

“I lost,” Annabeth replied bluntly. “He would have killed me but for Bob. I got lucky.”

Percy shook his head. “You got un-lucky with the cap falling off. Until then, it was pretty amazing stuff. He couldn’t so much as touch you,” he said earnestly, and Annabeth beamed. Percy was one of the greatest swordsmen she’d ever seen, so getting genuine praise from him was pretty special. “And the whole thing was pure genius tactics from you. Were you trying to bait him out by making noise?”

Annabeth nodded. “He had this little thing he did with his right leg, where-”

Just then, Bob cleared his throat pointedly, and Annabeth remembered that they had bigger priorities right now. Sheepishly, she trailed off, allowing Bob to enter the cell.

“You’ll have to tell me later, Wise Girl,” Percy said, grinning. “Right now, I’ve got an appointment with Doctor Bob.”

And although Annabeth knew this was the smallest of many huge victories they’d have to win to escape Tartarus, she found herself smiling. Doctor Bob might not have a white coat, but he definitely did have a heart of gold, she reflected. With him helping them out, and Percy’s injuries soon to be healed, they really did have a chance of escaping this mess in one piece.

Chapter Text

It had been a rollercoaster day so far, and yet Percy was pretty sure this was only the beginning.

To recap: they’d had breakfast and an audience with Nyx, survived the Acheron, and been betrayed by Bob. Then Koios had beaten him to a pulp, Bob had turned out to be on their side all along, Annabeth had taken on Koios, nearly been killed, only for Bob to save her life, Bob had healed them up, and now they were on their way to the Doors of Death.

Percy was going to need a really long lie-down after all this.

The plan, of course, was to walk past the entire army of monsters, pretending to be prisoners on their way to be sacrificed to Gaea. After that, they were somehow going to have to fight their way out of the House of Hades, but with the others of the Seven on their side they might just have a chance. Of course, they needed to focus on getting out of Tartarus first, because one misstep and the monsters would be lining up to tear them to shreds, so they had to make sure every last detail was right. They hardly had the luxury of being able to plan so far ahead in advance.

Bob was now wearing Koios’ armour and carrying his sword. They’d decided that disguising him as Koios was the safest bet. There were so many monsters at the Doors, after all... it would only take one having seen Bob helping them before for the game to be up. Koios and Iapetus were almost identical, besides, apart from the colour of their eyes, and Bob was wearing a helmet which made those more difficult to see. He'd have to avoid speaking as much as possible, though, because his voice was a fair bit deeper and huskier than Koios'.

As for Percy and Annabeth? They were chained up, or at least that was how it looked. In reality, Bob had weakened one link on each of their chains to the point of being about to snap, so that if it came down to a fight they’d be able to get free. Riptide was stashed safely in Percy’s pocket, while Annabeth’s cap was in hers. Her dagger was more difficult to hide, so Bob had that stowed on his belt, or rather Koios’ belt. Conveniently, Bob’s spear was collapsible, so that wouldn’t give them away either.

It all seemed like a pretty sound plan, but Percy was still pretty nervous. There were plenty of times sound plans didn’t work out, he thought, remembering Charles Beckendorf sadly. And with this one, the many thousands of ways things could go wrong were pretty obvious right from the get-go.

Nonetheless, there was nothing they could do now. They’d taken care of everything they could think of, and now they needed a bit of luck. Depending on how you looked at it, Percy had either been very unlucky (to be constantly at risk of death) or very lucky (to survive every time) recently. He hoped the second of those would continue, and the first wouldn't.

A couple of hours of walking later, and the monstrous army was back in sight. Percy gazed around, taking in all the enemies that surrounded them. A group of empousai tore into the carcass of a gryphon while other gryphons flew around them, squawking in outrage. A six-armed Earthborn and a Laistrygonian giant pummeled each other with rocks, though he wasn’t sure if they were fighting or just messing around. A dark wisp of smoke—Percy guessed it must be an eidolon—seeped into a Cyclops, made the monster hit himself in the face, then drifted off to possess another victim.

Being in this situation felt so alien to Percy. Every muscle in his body screamed that he needed to fight, take down as many of these monsters as he could. But that wasn’t the plan, he knew, and despite feeling very twitchy, he carried on walking, past the jeering crowds, who were shouting all kinds of things at him. Percy was pretty sure he would have had his mouth rinsed out with soap if he repeated some of the abuse he was getting. Still, he had to ignore it, so he did.

A few moments later, he heard Annabeth whisper “Percy, look,” and glanced in the direction in which she nodded her head. A stone’s throw away, a guy in a cowboy outfit was cracking a whip at some fire-breathing horses. The wrangler wore a Stetson hat on his greasy hair, an extra-large set of jeans, and a pair of black leather boots. From the side, he might have passed for human—until he turned, and Percy saw that his upper body was split into three different chests, each one dressed in a different-color Western shirt.

It was definitely Geryon, who had tried to kill Percy two years ago in Texas. And he seemed to notice them, too, because he poked a dracaena next to him and said something, and they both laughed.

“If it isn’t my old friends Mr. Jackson and Miss Chase,” Geryon called, pushing past a giant scorpion to get closer. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The idea of that guy riding out of the Doors of Death made Percy’s sides hurt all over again. His ribs throbbed where the arai had unleashed Geryon’s dying curse back in the forest. He wanted to march up to the three-bodied rancher, smack him in the face, and yell, Thanks a lot, Tex!

Annabeth nudged him, and he knew she was telling him not to respond, to just ignore Geryon’s taunts. And Percy, for all he was itching to kill the evil rancher again, bit his tongue and did just that, again. This plan was too important to spoil over little things like grudges.

“A little tied up, are we?” Geryon crowed. “What a shame. We have some unfinished business, you know, but I'm sure I could arrange for another massive pile of shit for you to clean up.”

Percy really wanted to punch him, break all three of his sets of ribs, but thankfully for him Bob came to his rescue before he did anything stupid, keeping them moving forwards. But for the first time, he was starting to realize just how many monsters had history with him.

He glanced around at the army by which he was surrounded. Was Medusa in there, or the Minotaur? Perhaps Joe Bob the Laistrygonian, or Dr. Thorn the manticore were waiting for him? And how many of the others had been part of Kronos’ army? The thought of walking past an entire battalion of monsters who wanted revenge on him, in chains and helpless, was hardly the most palatable to Percy.

But what could he do about it? He could break free, of course. He’d maybe be able to kill ten, twenty at a push. And then what? He would die, and that would be it for him, whereas the monsters he killed would reform soon enough. Really, every victory he thought he’d ever won, every monster he’d ever beaten, was just him buying some time. The monsters couldn’t lose this game, because they got to keep playing until they won.

So it wasn’t really a fair game, was it? All the rules were permanently stacked against him. One time he dropped his guard, one split-second hesitation, and that was it. Game over, Percy. You lose. It was like a never-ending loop, a circular tightrope above a pit filled with lava, but he had no way off it. He was forced to walk, otherwise he’d simply get pushed off. That was just the reality of being a demigod.

Percy recalled the Great Prophecy in his head, the one that had put a giant target on his back for so long. The Oracle had been right – him making it to sixteen really was against all odds, given how much he'd had to face so far, and he knew it wasn't likely to ever get much better. Even if he survived long enough, the monsters would just come after his children some day. It was all pretty pointless in the end.

Children.

Percy lingered on that for a second as he walked. Children. That was a weird thought. He wasn’t sure he’d ever make it to adulthood – frankly, he wasn’t sure he’d make it to tomorrow. Where had the idea of children come from?

He glanced over at Annabeth, covered in dirt and grime and blood, but still just as pretty as ever. They might only be sixteen – well, Annabeth might be seventeen by now, seeing as her birthday had been coming up – but they had survived so much, saved each other’s skins too many times to count. He owed it to her to keep fighting. He owed it to their future children.

Suddenly, Percy found himself grinning despite it all. Children. What a ridiculous and brilliant idea. Annabeth was looking at him strangely, but he didn’t care. This was Tartarus, the most soul-crushingly depressing place in the universe, and he had found a shred of hope to cling to, his Elpis inside Pandora's pithos. The thought of having a family some day was enough to keep him fighting for as long as it would take.

“Everything alright, Percy?” Annabeth whispered to him, stumbling slightly as she looked over.

“Tell you later,” he replied, taking in the view that was in front of him. “We’re here.”

The Doors of Death. Percy wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe some sort of huge archway, like the entrance to Nyx’s domain. Instead, framed in Stygian iron, the magical portal was a set of elevator doors—two panels of silver and black etched with art deco designs. Except for the fact that the colors were inverted, they looked exactly like…

“Olympus,” Annabeth murmured. “It’s the same.”

And indeed it was. Seeing them, Percy felt so homesick, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t just miss Mount Olympus. He missed everything he’d left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood, his mom and stepdad. Tyson, Grover, the rest of his friends at camp... The list went on and on. He didn’t trust himself to talk. The Doors of Death seemed like a personal insult, designed to remind him of everything he couldn’t have.

Children, he reminded himself. He would make it back some day, return to his family and maybe even start his own. He had to stay positive. 

He looked back at the Doors, noticing other details: the frost spreading from the base of the Doors, the purplish glow in the air around them, and the chains that held them fast. Cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge. They were tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground. And in front of the Doors stood a bored looking Titaness, holding a clipboard and megaphone.

“Group A-22,” she shouted into her megaphone, sounding just as unenthusiastic as she looked, as she scribbled on her clipboard. “Group A-22, you’re up.”

A dozen Cyclopes rushed forward, waving little red tickets and shouting excitedly. They shouldn’t have been able to fit inside those human-sized doors, but as the Cyclopes got close, their bodies distorted and shrank, the Doors of Death sucking them inside. The Titaness strolled over to press the button in front of the elevators, and the Doors slid closed.

Percy looked over at Bob, who wore a worried look on his face.

“Phoebe,” Bob murmured. “I did not know she was on guard. That will be a problem.”

Phoebe. Percy racked his brains for myths about her. She had been one of the more peaceful Titans, the Titaness of mystery and prophecy. She was the grandmother of Apollo and Artemis, and Hecate too, and he was pretty sure she’d given Apollo control of the Oracle of Delphi initially. She was married to…

Oh. She was married to Koios.

Fuck.

The plan was never going to go smoothly, was it?

Annabeth had figured out the bad news too.

“There’s no chance she doesn’t recognize you,” she said quietly to Bob. “Is she always guarding the doors? Can we wait till someone else is on guard?”

Bob shook his head. “The way Koios made it sound, your friends on the other side should be at the Doors very soon. We will have to cut those chains soon, else they will be overwhelmed easily.”

He sounded pretty despondent, Percy noted, which didn’t bode well.

“Are all these monsters going to the House of Hades, then?” The image of his questmates being attacked by wave after wave of monsters filtering out of the elevator was not a pleasant one.

Bob sighed resignedly. “Koios told me that as Gaea controls the Doors, she can control where the monsters go. Some may indeed end up at the Necromanteion, but Gaea is amassing her forces near Athens too, awaiting her rise.”

This was going from bad to worse, which was impressive considering how bad it had been to begin with.

“What do we do, then?” he asked, hoping for Bob or Annabeth to come up with something brilliant to get them out of this mess. But this time, there was to be no inspiration from either of them, no brilliant ruse from Annabeth to escape this hole. All they could do was...

“Hope for the best,” Bob said simply, grimacing, as he took them forwards, to the front of the queue.

Phoebe looked down at them over her clipboard, putting her megaphone down. She didn’t look surprised to see them at all. Koios must have told her to expect them.

“Husband,” she greeted him, sounding rather grumpy. “I see you’ve brought the demigods with you.”

Bob nodded, knowing that there was no way he would be able to imitate Koios’ voice well enough to fool her.

“Lost your tongue, have you?” Phoebe sneered, her voice dripping with resentment. “You were quite chirpy earlier when you made me stand here on guard duty. Do you know how boring this paperwork is? As usual, I get the dirty work, and you won’t even lift a finger.”

Percy was starting to get the feeling Koios and Phoebe might not have had the most harmonious of marriages. She still hadn’t recognized Bob yet, either. He wondered whether maybe, just maybe, they had a chance here.

Phoebe laughed ironically. “Still the silent treatment, Koios? Very well.”

She turned to Percy and Annabeth. “Demigods,” she said. “I am sorry you have had to suffer my husband. He is rather cruel at the best of times.”

You can say that again, Percy thought. Bob might have healed him, but just thinking about Koios made his ribs ache. Cruel was an understatement.

“You walk to your deaths,” Phoebe said, her tone rather sympathetic. “Koios and the giants will sacrifice your bodies to Mother to wake her. It is not the end you deserve, not after all you have endured, but there is no escape.”

She didn’t bear them any ill will, Percy realized. She clearly hated Koios. Perhaps, then, rather than an enemy, Phoebe could be an ally, just like Nyx had been. It was their only chance at this point.

Bob seemed to realize it too. “There is a chance for them to survive,” he hissed quietly. “Help us, sister. You were always the least cruel of us.”

“Iapetus?” Phoebe sounded dumbfounded. She opened her mouth as if to ask him a question, only to close it again.

“Once. But those days are behind me,” Bob said firmly. “I am Bob now. And Percy and Annabeth are my friends.”

“Bob,” Phoebe said, almost chewing the word. “Bob. Doesn’t quite fit the naming scheme, but I like it. I take it my husband is out of the way, then?”

Bob nodded. “You will be free of him for a few thousand years, at least,” he replied, and Phoebe smiled at that. She looked like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and Percy wondered idly how much first hand experience of Koios’ cruelty she’d had. Clearly, she hated him with a passion.

The Titaness looked down at Percy and Annabeth with an almost motherly look on her face. "Your plan was to sneak past everyone pretending to be prisoners?" she asked, sounding rather impressed. "Very clever. Who came up with that?"

Percy cleared his throat. "It was Bob, actually," he said, motioning towards the big Titan. "We needed to get past the whole army unseen to close the Doors, and this was his way of doing that."

“Clearly, the Lethe made you smarter as well, Bob," she chuckled, before turning to the demigods. "Let’s get you through those Doors, then,” she whispered, picking up her megaphone.

“VIP group going ahead,” she announced. “All other groups are delayed until further notice.”

The sound of thousands of monsters groaning at once was unlike anything Percy had ever heard. Boos and jeers rang out from the queue, but Phoebe ignored them.

“If you do make it out alive, do tell the twins that their grandmother misses them,” Phoebe said, looking rather sad. Percy recalled how the sun god was often called Phoebus Apollo, surmising that the title must come from Phoebe. Perhaps Phoebe had been closer to him and Artemis than he realized.

“You won’t come with us?” Annabeth asked. “We could use your help.”

“Somebody must press the button on the outside to send you up, just as somebody must press the button on the other side to release you,” Phoebe said, sighing wearily. “You will need Bob if you are to have any chance of fighting your way out on the other side, given how well the Doors are guarded. In any case, I have been here for millennia already. A few more will not hurt me.”

Percy was amazed. “You’d do that for us?” We’ve only just met, he wanted to add, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to talk Phoebe out of helping them.

“Not for you, demigod, though I sympathise with you a great deal,” Phoebe replied, her eyes rather fiery again. “For Koios. For the giants. And for Mother. They are crueller than you could ever imagine. If your escape means their downfall, then that is worth my staying in this stinking pit.”

Before Percy could respond, a high-pitched whine pierced his ears, like the sound of an incoming rocket. Percy just had time to think: Uh-oh. Then an explosion rocked the hillside. Dark shrapnel ripped through Phoebe, shredding her as easily as wood in a chipper. Although he felt the heat, it seemed Percy and Annabeth had been completely untouched.

STINKING PIT. A hollow voice rolled across the plains, shaking the warm fleshy ground.

Bob drew his weapon. Somehow the explosion hadn’t touched him, either. He swept his spear in front of him, trying to locate the source of the voice.

TITANS, said the voice disdainfully. LESSER BEINGS. IMPERFECT AND WEAK. A gust of wind blew Bob back twenty metres, where he lay on the floor, groaning in pain as he staggered back to his feet.

In front of the Doors of Death, the air darkened and solidified. The being who appeared was so massive, radiating such pure malevolence, that Percy wanted to crawl away and hide.

 Instead, he forced his eyes to trace the god’s form, starting with his black iron boots, each one as large as a coffin.

His legs were covered in dark greaves; his flesh all thick purple muscle, like the ground.

His armored skirt was made from thousands of blackened, twisted bones, woven together like chain links and clasped in place by a belt of interlocking monstrous arms.

On the surface of the warrior’s breastplate, murky faces appeared and submerged—giants, Cyclopes, gorgons, and drakons—all pressing against the armor as if trying to get out.

The warrior’s arms were bare—muscular, purple, and glistening—his hands as large as crane scoops.

Worst of all was his head: a helmet of twisted rock and metal with no particular shape—just jagged spikes and pulsing patches of magma. His entire face was a whirlpool—an inward spiral of darkness.

BEHOLD, IAPETUS. THE FATE OF A TRAITOR, the voice boomed. As Percy watched, the last particles of Titan essence from Phoebe were vacuumed into the Titan’s maw. He knew she was gone, that there would be no returning from that, even for an immortal. Bob was frozen in place, with a look of the purest fear on his face as he witnessed his sister’s fate.

Beware the Pit, Percy recalled, his heart sinking. Nyx’s warning, which had seemed so cryptic at the time, now made all too much sense. “Tartarus.”

The warrior made a sound like a mountain cracking in half: a roar or a laugh, Percy couldn’t be sure.

This form is only a small manifestation of my power, said the primordial. But it is enough to deal with you. I do not interfere lightly, little demigod. It is beneath me to deal with gnats such as yourself.

“Uh…” Percy’s legs threatened to collapse under him. “Don’t…you know…go to any trouble.”

You have proven surprisingly resilient, Tartarus said. You have come too far. I can no longer stand by and watch your progress.

Tartarus spread his arms. Throughout the valley, thousands of monsters wailed and roared, clashing their weapons and bellowing in triumph. The Doors of Death shuddered in their chains.

Be honored, little demigods, said the god of the pit. Even the Olympians were never worthy of my personal attention. But you will be destroyed by Tartarus himself!

Chapter Text

When we meet again, we will be enemies on the field of battle.

That had been what Reyna said to Annabeth, the last time she had seen her. 

The daughter of Athena was an interesting character, more so than perhaps anyone else she had ever met. The first time she’d seen her, Annabeth and Percy had managed to escape from Circe’s island, two demigods who were barely thirteen outwitting an immortal sorceress. She’d resented them for years for destroying the island, especially during their time with Blackbeard, but in hindsight she would never have been praetor of Rome without Annabeth.

Then the second time. Annabeth was much older than she had remembered, but she had the same blonde curls that Reyna had done up all those years ago. She had had a quiet ferocity to her, a rather intimidating aura that told Reyna she was a veteran of many battles and not to be messed with. Minerva was never a war goddess, but Annabeth was living proof that Athena was. 

That meeting had been cut short by the Greeks firing on New Rome. Octavian had bayed for blood, wanting her to immediately retaliate, but Reyna had been a little less convinced. Annabeth was clearly far too intelligent to do something so foolish, and Argentum and Aurum had believed her when she denied it. She was clearly the Greeks’ leader, and Reyna had wanted to trust her, despite all the voices telling her otherwise. Still, she had had no choice. Octavian had managed to sway the Senate in his favour. The spear had been thrown. War had been declared.

The Roman legion had caught up to the Greeks at Charleston. Roman law dictated that Reyna should have arrested Annabeth, had her tried for treason. That would have ended with the daughter of Athena’s head on a spike, one way or another. Roman law was unforgiving, especially when it came to Greeks.

But something had told Reyna to offer her the choice. She had let the daughter of Athena go, to follow the Mark of Athena to Rome. She had known that would mean war between the two camps, but Annabeth had said she could heal the feud between Greece and Rome somehow, by following her quest. 

Reyna thought it was a desperate punt, but she had gone through with it anyway. It was a massive risk to take. If Octavian had found out, Reyna might well have been tried by the Senate for treason herself. But even though she had spared the daughter of wisdom, she had still said those words to Annabeth, and wholeheartedly believed they were true. Bloodshed had seemed inevitable, no matter what happened from this point. 

And yet the Fates had seen fit to give her a twist. A parlay with the Greeks, a message from Annabeth, claiming to be in Tartarus, telling her they had the Athena Parthenos and Reyna had to be the one to return it. It was so crazy that Reyna had barely even blinked when the mortal girl on the Greek side had said she was the Oracle of Delphi.

Octavian had wanted to ignore it all, claiming it was a trick, the kind the Greeks were famous for. Ordinarily, Reyna would have agreed, but something about the whole thing had felt… genuine. Annabeth was clearly a master strategist, but she hadn’t struck Reyna as the type who was devious enough to lure Reyna to Greece just to delay the invasion. Besides, luring Reyna away wouldn’t delay anything. She’d ordered the legion not to attack, but with Octavian being the ranking officer in her absence, she knew that would, at best, buy her some time. 

Which meant two things:
1. Annabeth really was in Tartarus, and
2. She really had recovered the Athena Parthenos.

Reyna preferred not to think about the first of those. Tartarus was beyond any nightmare she could even contemplate. But the second? The Athena Parthenos? If Annabeth really had recovered it, and Reyna could return it, she could stave off the war that would otherwise result in the deaths of hundreds, if not more. So when Annabeth had urged her to travel to the ancient lands and return with the statue, it hadn’t been so difficult to make her mind up. She knew she risked everything she had by defying Roman law like that, but saving lives would always be more important. Besides, she was used to losing it all.

So here she was, out in Greece. If she said she hadn’t wondered what on earth she was thinking, she would be lying. She had that thought every ten to fifteen minutes. But from the moment she had made the choice, there had been no turning back. 

It had been a rather lonely journey too, with only an increasingly weak Scipio for company. Flying across the Atlantic was no easy feat for a pegasus, and they’d been attacked by countless monsters on the way. Poor Scipio was clearly in distress at this point, but she desperately willed him on, hoping that the demigods of the Seven might be able to help the stricken horse.

Reyna scanned the ground ahead of her. She knew she needed to make it to the House of Hades, and she had a rough idea of where that was, but navigation had been pretty tricky so far on this journey. They’d aimed too far north when crossing the Atlantic and ended up in Scotland, which was where Scipio had been attacked by those gryphons. Ever since then she’d been stopping off when she could – London, Zürich, Venice, Split – for supplies and directions, but also to give the poor pegasus some much needed rest. She’d been sorely tempted to take a detour south from Venice to Rome or spend more time at Diocletian’s Palace in Split, but she’d resisted it, knowing time was of the essence, and that Scipio might not make it much further anyway. Now, though, she was in Epirus, and she needed to find her way to the others.

Luckily, that ended up not being as difficult as she had worried. As it turned out, an enormous Greek trireme was remarkably easy to spot from a distance. Reyna guided a wheezing Scipio down towards the ship’s deck, where she landed and dismounted, as the pegasus’s knees gave way from the exertion, leaving him in a heap on the deck.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Jason, or Frank, or Hazel, or even any of the Greeks that greeted her. Instead, it was a faun – no, a satyr, Reyna reminded herself – looking rather grumpy and holding a baseball bat. Reyna had seen some strange sights, but this was absurd even for her.

“Who are you?” the satyr demanded. “I warn you, I’m armed.”

Reyna stifled a laugh. The idea of feeling threatened by a faun was ridiculous, but she didn’t want to cause any offence. “Reyna, praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, daughter of Bellona. And who might you be?”

“Gleeson Hedge, protector,” the faun said, scowling, baseball bat still raised. 

Reyna sighed. “Well, Gleeson–”

“Coach Hedge to you,” he interjected.

“Well, Coach Hedge, could you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the demigods of the crew?” Reyna asked, trying to sound as friendly as she could. 

“They’re all inside,” Coach Hedge said gruffly, pointing. For the first time, Reyna noticed the temple to her right, partially ruined but still magnificent and foreboding. That must be the House of Hades. “Left me behind for aerial support. Manning the ballistae, you know.” 

His eyes drifted over to Scipio, who was making a rather plaintive grunting sound, legs splayed across the deck. “What’s up with the horse?”

Roman fauns were at best useless, and at worst a nuisance, but Reyna recalled the satyr Grover whom she had met in New York, who had seemed rather competent. Perhaps Coach Hedge would be able to help Scipio. It was the best chance she had. It was the best chance he had.

“Attacked by gryphons a few days ago,” she said, her voice cracking a bit. “He’s pretty badly hurt. Can you help?”

Hedge frowned, lowering his bat. “I know a few simple healing spells. Let’s take a look.”

He wandered over to Scipio’s prone form, examining the pegasus’s wounds. As he placed a hand on Scipio’s torso, the horse bellowed in pain, weakly kicking out at the satyr, who dodged easily. Hedge muttered something in Greek, before turning to Reyna.

“How bad is it?” she asked, fearing the answer immensely. The shake of the satyr’s head confirmed that she was right to worry.

“It’s not good,” Hedge said, his tone markedly softer. “Poison’s taken hold.”

“Is there any antidote? A cure of any kind?” she asked, more out of hope than anything. 

She knew the answer long before the coach shook his head. “It’s spread through his whole body. He’ll live a few more days at best. All I can do is try to ease the pain.”

Reyna hated crying. There was nothing that made her feel weaker, and as Lupa would say, a Roman soldier could never afford to feel weak. But when a tear started rolling down her face, she did nothing to stop it, letting it drip down onto the deck. Then another, and another, before soon they formed a river, making its way down her face.

“He doesn’t deserve that kind of end,” she choked out between sobs. “He doesn’t deserve to wither away in agony.” 

She knew what she had to do, but that hardly made it easier. It was the same feeling she’d had when she killed her father, the mania, all those years ago. Sometimes the kindest option was also the most difficult, but no matter how much experience she had with difficult decisions, it wouldn’t make this any less painful.

“You can talk to him?” she asked, and Coach Hedge nodded, looking rather solemn. Reyna fumbled around for words in her head, trying to find ones to do justice to Scipio and his courage.

“Tell him he has been the bravest, most loyal companion I could ever ask for. Tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t save him, that I wish it was me and not him. Tell him…” Reyna was really struggling to get the words out, but she completed her sentence. “Tell him goodbye.”

She drew her dagger, walking over to the dying pegasus. Coach Hedge spoke to Scipio, whose moans of pain stopped suddenly as he took in Reyna’s words. He turned his neck to her, weakly raising his wing, embracing her with it.

“It’s alright,” she assured the horse. “I promise this won’t hurt.” She raised her dagger with one hand, placing the other over Scipio’s eyes. She didn’t want him to see it coming, but the horse whinnied, knowing what was about to happen anyway. 

“Vale, Scipio,” she whispered, as she drove the imperial gold dagger into his heart. The pegasus shuddered, before bursting into a cloud of dust. 

Reyna sobbed, and sobbed, until it felt like the tears had run out, and her eyes could take no more.  

Coach Hedge put his arm around her, a marked contrast from how belligerent he had been earlier. “He’ll reform, you know,” he said, his tone reassuring. “Monsters always do. He’s not gone forever.”

Reyna looked over to him, her eyes red. She felt as though the dagger had been plunged into her own heart. “How long will it take?”

Hedge shrugged. “Could be centuries, could be next week. Who knows? But hopefully, if the gods are on your side, you’ll be reunited some day.”

That made Reyna feel a lot better, though her stomach was still sick. After all they’d been through, the sheer lengths that she had pushed Scipio to, the strength she had shared with him, losing him was like losing a piece of her. Not to mention that Reyna couldn’t help but blame herself. After all, it was her decision to fly to the ancient lands that had caused this.

Still, she was here now. All she could do at this point was make sure Scipio’s death had not been in vain. And to that effect, she had a quest to complete. She gave herself a few deep breaths to compose herself, before turning to the satyr once more.

“The Athena Parthenos,” Reyna said, her voice slightly stronger. “Annabeth recovered it?”

Hedge frowned slightly. “She did. The statue’s below deck. Why do you ask?”

“May I see it?” Reyna asked.

Hedge hesitated. “You really ought to rest first, girl. You’ve clearly had a tough journey, and losing the horse like that…”

“I’m fine,” Reyna snapped. She was not, but more time to brood on Scipio was hardly going to help.“Are you going to show me or not?”

Hedge sighed. “Follow me,” he said, leading her down to the lower deck. 

Reyna’s first thought on seeing the Athena Parthenos was that it was enormous. Made of gold and ivory, the statue spanned probably a quarter of the whole deck. It radiated power, in a way that was simultaneously awe-inspiring and terrifyingly hostile to her. This was, above all, an incredibly Greek artifact, and Reyna could feel that she was not entirely welcome.

Her next thought was ‘how on earth can I possibly transport a statue that huge back to New York’, but as she pondered that question, the statue spoke.

“You came,” the statue said, making Reyna nearly jump out of her skin. She had not expected the statue to talk, but she knew the voice was the goddess herself, speaking to her.

“Lady Min-” Reyna began, but she stopped herself. This was not Minerva. There was nothing Roman about this statue. “Lady Athena. It is a privilege to meet you.”

“Spare me your platitudes, child of Rome,” the statue said, spitting out the name ‘Rome’ as though it were an insult. “I am simply speaking to you out of necessity. Do not mistake this for an honour.” 

The venom in Athena’s voice was clear to Reyna, and apparently also to Coach Hedge, who, upon sensing the rather uncomfortable dynamic, chose this moment to have a rather aggressive coughing fit. As Reyna looked over at him, he mumbled something about needing a glass of water, before promptly trotting away, leaving her alone with the goddess.

When Reyna looked back, a more human-sized version of Athena was standing in front of her, dressed in full battle armour just like her statue, arms folded across her chest. She looked at Reyna expectantly, as though waiting for her to say something.

Calm and collected, Reyna told herself. If walking on eggshells was the price she had to pay for Athena to not blast her into a million pieces, then so be it.

“You wish to tell me something, my lady?” Reyna said, her tone steady.

“There are many things I wish to do, girl,” Athena said bitterly. “Talking to you ranks rather low on that list. Were you not key to this quest, I might well have turned you into a slug already.”

Ouch. There was no doubting it. Athena hated her guts. Reyna had her suspicions as to why, but she decided to ask anyway. 

“Have I done something to cause offence, my lady?” she asked, as politely and inoffensively as she could. 

“You have,” Athena said bluntly. “Many things, in fact. You threatened to have my daughter executed, for one.”

That’s not fair, Reyna wanted to retort, but she bit her tongue. She needed to phrase things as diplomatically as possible. “At the time, I believed Annabeth’s death to be the lesser of the two evils, my lady. I assumed the choice was between that or full-blown war, and-”

“A war you declared,” Athena interrupted. “Was it not you who led the legion to the outskirts of Camp Half-Blood?”

Reyna could feel herself getting angrier. She knew she couldn’t afford to let it show, but inwardly she was seething. She was being handed the blame for all manner of things that weren’t her fault. “It was a Greek ship firing on New Rome which started the conflict, Lady Athena. The Senate saw it as an act of war, and voted to retaliate. I never wanted any such thing. In fact, I attempted to pacify my people at every turn.”

“Whether you wanted to or not, it makes no difference,” Athena said, her eyes glowing rather unsettlingly. “The war was still declared. Lives will still be lost.” 

Fuck this. “I flew across half the world to get here!” Reyna burst out. “I had to kill my best friend with my own hands just a few minutes ago. I nearly died about a hundred times over. I may never be welcome in New Rome again. All because Annabeth told me this statue of yours was the key to avoiding this war! How can you, the so-called goddess of wisdom, be so stupid as to accuse me of wanting bloodshed?”

Athena didn’t say anything for a while, and Reyna worried that she was indeed about to be blasted to bits. But if she was, then at least she’d said her piece. She wasn’t going to let Athena paint her as some vicious warmonger who was after Greek blood. I didn’t sacrifice Scipio’s life for this bullshit, she raged internally.

Reyna waited, and waited, expecting every breath to be her last. With each passing second, she was beginning to regret what she’d said more and more. If Athena blasted her to pieces now, everything she’d done in the last few days would be for nothing. She had had her outburst, but at what cost?

Instead, after a long pause, Athena spoke again, her tone a little less accusatory. “You are bold, girl. Many of the other gods would have destroyed you on the spot had you spoken to them like that.”

“Does that mean you won’t?” Reyna blurted out, before cursing herself. For all the times she’d told herself to keep her composure, she hadn’t lasted too long before turning into a blithering idiot. It was uncharacteristic of her, and she wondered whether Athena's aura was having an effect on her usually stoic demeanor. 

“I cannot deny that I am tempted,” Athena said coldly. “But I will give you the benefit of the doubt. You are clearly in an emotionally vulnerable state. Not to mention that, while your point could have been… better articulated, there is some merit to it. It is unfair of me to completely assign blame to you for all that has happened. I have been rather prejudiced in my treatment of you.”

Reyna breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, my lady.” 

“Besides,” Athena added, her glare softening, “it must be you who transports this statue to Camp Half-Blood, if the damage caused by its theft is to be fully healed. And so I cannot kill you yet, though I may reconsider if you insult my wisdom again.” 

“I will not, Lady Athena,” Reyna said quickly, eager to make amends for her indiscretion. “My words were ill-considered and offensive, said in anger without thought. For that, I apologise a thousand times over.” 

Athena nodded her head, acknowledging Reyna’s apology, and the praetor vowed to herself to be more cautious. Lives, both Greek and Roman, depended on her. She had to do better for the sake of them. She couldn’t afford to throw everything away in one momentary lapse.

Something that Athena said had piqued her interest, however. “If I may ask a question, my lady, why must it be me who returns the statue?”

Athena hesitated, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “Only a Roman can return the statue to the Greeks,” she said after a while. “It must be voluntary, a peace offering between the two sides, a gesture of goodwill from you to fix the damage done thousands of years ago.”

Something didn’t add up here, Reyna thought. “But why me? Why not Jason, or Frank, or Hazel? They are Romans too, and Jason is even of equal rank to me. Why couldn’t one of them return it?”

Athena’s eyes flickered as she looked around the engine room, the rage on her face having completely given way to a pensive gaze. “Because of your mother,” she finally answered.

“My mother?”

Athena sighed. “Has she never told you?"

The look of confusion on Reyna’s face was clearly obvious enough to answer Athena’s question.

“The Athena Parthenos depicts me in the form of a warrior, holding my aegis and spear,” the goddess said. “It represents my dominion over war and battle. Ares represented more of the brutality of war, whereas my domain was more over the strategic side, but both of us were nonetheless worshipped by the Greeks as war deities. Do you follow?”

Reyna nodded.

“The Romans largely adopted the religion of the Greeks, but they made some changes. Pertinently, they split my domains between two goddesses. Minerva gained my domains over wisdom and the arts, but not my domain over war and strategy, which went to Bellona.”

Reyna thought she was beginning to understand. “So you lost your domains to my mother?”

Athena shook her head. “Not exactly, child. Minerva and Bellona were two distinct goddesses within the Roman pantheon, representing two different aspects of the Greek goddess Athena. And although they identified Minerva with me, they did no such thing for Bellona. She became a separate deity in her own right, not identified with any Greek counterpart.”

Reyna realized she didn’t understand any of this after all. “I don’t follow, my lady.”

Athena looked directly into Reyna’s eyes, her glare piercing. “Bellona is – or was  – a piece of me, daughter of Rome. She is Minerva’s missing other half, who represents the part of my domains that were stolen from me when the Romans became the dominant force in the West. The Athena Parthenos is a symbol of what was taken from me by the Romans, and how Minerva was shorn of her status as a warrior goddess.”

Finally, it clicked in Reyna’s head. “So you hate my mother because she became a separate goddess in her own right, as opposed to staying part of you.”

Athena nodded. “Minerva resented the Romans for centuries. She answered prayers, yes, but she always felt incomplete, because of Bellona, her missing piece. That resentment perhaps also explains why I was so unduly harsh on you earlier. And that is why you, daughter of Bellona, must be the one to return the Athena Parthenos to the Greeks. Any Roman could use the statue as a tool to unify Greece and Rome, but only you can reunite Bellona and Minerva as one, made whole again.”

Reyna’s brain was abuzz with questions. Athena talking about Minerva in the third person was rather confusing, as though they were two separate entities – though Reyna supposed the implication behind Athena’s words was that they were, and that the Romans had separated what used to be Athena into two separate goddesses. But that in itself was confusing – surely Athena was much too powerful to be affected by what people believed about her? How could they just split her like that?

Athena must have seen how bewildered Reyna looked by the whole thing. “I do not expect you to understand everything you have just been told. The nature of gods, and how we are affected by people’s beliefs, is far beyond what any mortal could reasonably comprehend. But suffice it to say that while all Greek gods are somewhat different in their Roman forms, my case is rather unique, for I lost agency over half of my personality altogether. The Romans even retroactively invented tales about Bellona, calling her the daughter of Juno and occasionally identifying her with the Greek goddess Enyo, but you know now what the truth is.”

Reyna knew a lot more than at the start of the conversation, and she also knew a lot more about how little she knew. She needed to change the topic of conversation before her mind imploded. “How will I transport the statue across the Atlantic?” she asked.

“We can discuss that later," Athena said. "Now is not the time to get into details. You will find, however, that the son of Lord Hades will be a useful person to talk to in that regard."

“Nico di Angelo?”

“Indeed. You may find he has the answer to the transportation question.” Athena paused for a second. “But we digress. The real reason I needed to speak to you is to give you a warning. When you arrive at Camp Half-Blood, you will find enemies on all sides. Like the senators did to Caesar, they will line up to stab you, baying for your blood. But they are a distraction. You must remember your mission above all else, and ignore those who stand in your way.”

“So I should just let them kill me?” Reyna could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“Is a heroic death really something to fear?” Athena said. “Caesar achieved immortality by dying that day in the Senate. They will want you as a scapegoat for what will happen. Give into their wishes, and you will achieve the best outcome for all.”

“How can death be the best outcome for me?” Reyna asked bitterly. She couldn’t believe that after all this, she was being handed a death sentence. Even by the standards of the gods, this was cruel. 

“I did not say that you would die, child,” Athena said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, and Reyna exhaled audibly in relief. “Just that you should not fear that outcome. If all goes as I hope, you will be perfectly safe, though I cannot deny that there are risks.

Risks, Reyna mused. That was better than certain death, she supposed. She was used to risks. She’d taken an enormous one by even coming here. And if she were to be at the mercy of a risky plan, there were worse people to have made it than the goddess of plans and strategy.

“One last thing,” Reyna asked, knowing that the conversation had almost run its course. “If Bellona represents part of Athena, does that make me your daughter?” It might be a stupid question, but it had been bugging her for a while now, and she needed to know.

Athena laughed. “Not exactly, Reyna. The truth is a little more complicated, and I gather you have had quite enough complications for one day.” 

Reyna had never heard truer words in her life. She wasn’t going to forget today in a hurry.

“Perhaps I can put it like this, however,” Athena continued. “Complete this quest and reunify Minerva with Bellona, and you shall forever be a daughter to me.”

Gone was the hatred that had burned in Athena’s eyes a few minutes ago, replaced by a rather warmer – and perhaps even motherly – look. Reyna was reminded a bit of Annabeth again, her maybe-but-not-quite-half-sister. Athena’s eyes were identical to her daughter’s, grey and deep.

“I must go,” Athena said. “I am needed inside the temple. Well met, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano. May the gods guide you on your quest.”

Reyna turned away instinctively as Athena vanished in a flash of golden light, leaving the praetor of the legion with plenty of food for thought, and a massive headache. 

Chapter Text

Getting killed by Tartarus didn’t seem like much of an honour.

As Annabeth stared up at his dark whirlpool face, she decided she’d rather die in some less memorable way—maybe falling down the stairs, or going peacefully in her sleep at age eighty, after a nice quiet life with Percy. Yes, that sounded good.

It wasn’t the first time Annabeth had faced an enemy she couldn’t defeat by force. It wasn’t even the first time today, she thought, remembering how easily Koios would have beaten her without her cap and a little help from Bob. Normally, this would’ve been her cue to stall for time with some clever Athena-like chitchat, or come up with some ruse to divert their attention.

Except her voice wouldn’t work. She couldn’t even close her mouth. For all she knew, she was drooling as badly as Percy did when he slept.

She was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around her, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen silent. Annabeth and Percy should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act. They were just as scared of him as she was, clearly, not that it was much consolation to her.

The god of the pit flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased.

It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.

His voice sounded like a backward recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even Annabeth’s own fragile life force. She looked around and realized that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet’s tail—all pointing toward Tartarus.

Annabeth knew she should say something, but her instincts told her to hide, to avoid doing anything that would draw the god’s attention.

She and Percy had only survived this long because Tartarus was savoring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping them to pieces. If Tartarus wished, Annabeth had no doubt he could devour her existence with a single thought, just as he had poor Phoebe. Would there be any rebirth from that? Annabeth didn’t want to find out.

No, there was no hope of beating this particular enemy. This was so far from fair it was almost funny. And maybe that was the key…

Suddenly, Annabeth had an idea. With an almighty effort, she managed to open her mouth, despite every muscle in her body wanting to just give up and melt into the ground.

“This isn’t fair,” she said to Tartarus. Percy looked over at her, his face still paralyzed by fear but also with a bit of hope in his eyes. She knew he was depending on her to come up with a clever plan. She wasn't sure about clever, but she had something, at least.

Of course it is not, came the reply, accompanied by a laugh that was equal parts horrifying and surreal. Do the cockroaches complain about fairness when you humans squash them?

Annabeth shook her head. “What I mean is… it can’t be fun for you, surely? It’s a total mismatch. We don’t even have a chance. You devoured a Titan a few minutes ago, what could two demigods possibly do?”

Stand and await their demise, Tartarus boomed. You shall be reunited with the Titaness soon enough.

He was showing no signs of taking the bait so far. Annabeth had hoped Tartarus’ ego might be his only weakness, but thus far it hadn’t worked. She decided to give it one last desperate shot.

“For someone so immensely powerful, you’re a massive coward, Tartarus,” Annabeth said, her voice far more confident than she felt. She knew there was a decent chance these words would be her last. “I mean, to use the full extent of your primordial power on two exhausted demigods and a Titan… you must be worried. What is it that you fear?”

Tartarus growled with rage. He swiped his hand, and instantly half the army of monsters in front of them exploded, in an enormous shower of dust. The chaos unfolding all around them was unlike anything Annabeth had ever seen. Cyclopes, Laistrygonians, empousai, telkhines, all scrambling desperately away from Tartarus, as he took a step forward that made the entire world around them seem to shake. Still, she forced herself to look back at the horrifying void that was Tartarus’ face, where somehow, that sickening vortex of a mouth had contorted into a smile.

You think this is the full extent of my power? he snorted. As you humans would say, it is barely the tip of the iceberg. My true form is all around you.

Annabeth looked around as the meaning of Tartarus’ words sunk in. He wasn’t just the god of the Pit, she realized in horror. He was the Pit. The rivers were his blood, the ground his warty, disgusting, veiny skin, the stale, rotten air his breath. The heart of Tartarus really was the heart of Tartarus.

The implication was almost too sinister for her to process. This was a being to whom they were the literal equivalent of fleas, walking on his body. Annihilating hundreds of thousands of monsters had barely taken an effort from him. At best, they were a nuisance to Tartarus. It was a miracle he’d even noticed them.

She forced herself to speak, even though her intestines were currently doing their best impression of a snake, trying to wriggle their way out of her body.

“It might not be your full power,” Annabeth said, her whole body shaking. “I see that now. But don’t you think it’s still rather overkill for you to take such a powerful physical form to deal with two demigods? Surely there’s no sport in destroying us without at least giving us a chance?”

Tartarus paused, and Annabeth held her breath in a mix of disbelief and hope. Was he actually considering it?

I will admit that you are clever, girl, Tartarus said, a hint of admiration in his voice. If Annabeth wasn’t so utterly terrified, she might have felt a bit of pride at getting praise from a literal Primordial. Persuading me to take a less powerful form is not a bad plan at all. If you were more than a demigod, you might actually make a formidable foe. The vortex on his face curled again, into what could only be described as a smirk. But as it is, you are but a gnat, and one thousandth of my power is ten thousand times yours. So I shall grant your wish, since it will make no difference.

He shrunk down, till he was only slightly taller than Bob. He still looked ominous, wearing that breastplate with the tortured souls trapped within, but no longer had that same soul-sapping aura that he had had before. Annabeth couldn’t help but feel massively relieved to no longer feel her soul being slowly sucked away from her. As she scanned their surroundings, she realized the gap left by the fallen monsters was enormous, like a gigantic football field. No, an arena.

This form should be more than adequate to deal with you, Tartarus said, raising his sword high above their heads. Shall we begin?

Annabeth and Percy drew their weapons, but Bob put out an arm and held them back.

“Stay behind me,” he said, stonily. “I will deal with him.”

Deal with me? Tartarus said, his tone mocking. Did you not witness the fate of your sister, Iapetus?

“I am not Iapetus,” Bob growled. “And you will pay for what you did to Phoebe.”

Tartarus threw his head back, laughing. Really, Titan? If you are not Iapetus, who might you be?

“Something much more than Iapetus ever was,” came the reply, confident and defiant. “I am Bob.”

He charged at Tartarus, spear aloft, and the fight began.

The speed of the blows being traded was almost mesmerizing. Annabeth’s eyes could barely keep up. And yet, it seemed like Tartarus was just toying with Bob, enjoying the rhythm of the fight. Annabeth suspected that he could easily turn things up a notch and end Bob quickly, but so far he seemed content to just hold off Bob’s attacks.

I had forgotten how good fighting like this felt, Tartarus said, staring at Annabeth as he effortlessly deflected Iapetus’ attempted strike. Thank you, girl. It is much more fun this way.

Percy gripped her hand. “We need to go, Annabeth,” he said. “All Bob can do is buy us time. He won’t be able to last long.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened as she realised the implication behind his words, but before she could respond, Bob landed a blow on Tartarus’ chest, squeezing the point of his spear through a gap in that monstrous armour. Tartarus’ roar of pain was quite possibly the most spine-chilling sound she had ever heard, as a black gooey substance issued forth from the wound.

He was vulnerable, then, she thought hopefully. There was a chance Bob could beat him. That was what she would choose to believe, even if in her heart of hearts she knew that all Bob had likely achieved was to make Tartarus angry. Percy was probably right to think Bob was living on borrowed time.

Not bad, ‘Bob’, Tartarus said, nodding his head in acknowledgement, as the wound slowly closed itself. Perhaps it’s time to make things a little harder.

As Tartarus stepped forward and unleashed a volley of blows, Annabeth and Percy slowly backed away, hoping to creep towards the Doors without the Primordial noticing. The daughter of Athena took one last glance at Bob, whose face was strained with effort as he fought to contain Tartarus’ ferocious attacks. He looked back at her for a split-second, and barely had the time to form the word “Leave” before Tartarus landed a heavy blow to Bob’s head with his sword.

Bob crumpled to the ground, and did not get up.

In a hurry, demigods? Tartarus mocked. Don’t want to enjoy the show?

“You killed him,” Percy murmured, echoing Annabeth’s disbelief at the sight of Bob’s still body. “He’s gone.”

Bob would never get to tell the world who he was, Annabeth thought sadly. Everyone would forever tell the story of Iapetus the cruel Titan, and the only two people who knew the true Bob were almost certainly going to die with him. He wouldn’t get the chance to write a happier ending.

Tartarus laughed. Oh, he is not dead, boy. Annabeth felt a momentary uplift, only to have it crushed by his next words. A quick end like that would be much too easy. For a traitor like him, I have plenty of fun in store.

“Leave him be!” Annabeth screamed desperately, her heart sinking as she realized death might well have been the kinder option. Bob was the kindest, gentlest soul she’d ever met. She couldn’t think of a less deserving individual to suffer torture at the hands of this cruel Primordial, who was no doubt capable of inflicting a fate far worse than death on the poor Titan. “He did nothing wrong. He just wanted to help us. Don’t punish him for that more than you already have!”

Tartarus pondered the point. And what would you have me do with him?

“Just kill him,” Annabeth responded. “And kill us. You’ve already achieved your goal of stopping us. What do you have to gain from being sadistic about it?”

Tartarus paused, nodding his head appreciatively. I am impressed, girl. Not only did you prove your wisdom, but you have also shown yourself to be remarkably bold. Tartarus’ voice carried that same condescending admiration that she’d heard before, not that it made Annabeth feel much better. And your friend ‘Bob’ here was brave, too. For a Titan, he proved to be a surprisingly interesting challenge.

“So you’ll spare him the torture?” Annabeth asked, a hint of hope in her voice.

Oh, no. He will still have to suffer. Tartarus responded, with what looked like a grin across his monstrous face. He remains a Titan, after all. They are rather irritating creatures, the lesser children of Gaea, and deserve nothing more or less than a painful end.

“Do you prefer giants, then?” a voice called.

Annabeth looked to her left, from where the voice had come. The Maeonian drakon spread its frilled collar and hissed, its poison breath filling the battlefield with the smell of pine and ginger. It shifted its hundred-foot-long body, flicking its dappled green tail and wiping out a battalion of ogres.

Riding on its back was a very familiar looking red-skinned giant with flowers in his rust-colored braids, a jerkin of green leather, and a drakon-rib lance in his hand.

“Damasen!” Annabeth cried.

The giant inclined his head. “Annabeth Chase, I took your advice. I chose myself a new fate.”

Tartarus laughed. Welcome back, son. It has been a while, he hissed.

“It has,” Damasen replied, his face etched with a mix of hatred and determination. “I cannot say I missed you, though. You were a terrible father.”

And you, a disappointment of a son, Tartarus said, tutting. I suppose now that you’ve freed yourself of your curse, you think you can stand against me?

“That is my plan,” Damasen said. He glanced at Annabeth, with the same look that Bob had had before Tartarus had struck him, and Annabeth knew what it meant. Go. Now. “And I must confess, I have longed for this reunion for a while. It’s long overdue.”

Silently, Annabeth crept away, Percy’s hand in hers, as Damasen raised his lance and charged.

The fight was even more intense than the first. Annabeth could barely blink faster than the blows being traded. This time, it seemed like the fight was rather more evenly matched, and Damasen was holding his own, the drakon breathing tongues of toxic flame at Tartarus, who still seemed barely perturbed. Damasen was definitely coping better than Bob had, but it still didn’t look like he had much chance.

Percy looked at her. “We can’t watch, Annabeth. We have to go. He’ll win this fight, too.”

He looked pained as he said it, but Annabeth knew he was right. Damasen and Bob were as good as dead. They owed it to them to survive to make their sacrifice worth it, as hard as it was to leave them to suffer at the hands of Tartarus. If they didn’t escape, Bob and Damasen would have died for nothing. And with no guarantees Damasen would last much longer than Bob, their only remaining chance was to go for broke.

“Run?” she asked, and Percy nodded.

“Run,” he replied.

They sprinted at full tilt, bolting towards the enormous metal elevators of the Doors of Death. Annabeth hadn’t covered ground with such speed in her life. She knew every second was precious, and she didn’t know how many Damasen’s life would buy.

Upon seeing them run, Tartarus growled in anger. You think you’ll get away like that? he said, turning his malevolent, glowing eyes to the scattered remnants of the monster army, who looked generally terrified. Damasen took the opportunity to land a few blows on Tartarus, who brushed them off like they were nothing, even though he was bleeding from where the lance had made its mark. Effortlessly, he stamped his foot with such force that the entire world seemed to shake, sending Damasen and his drakon flying back.

Well? What are you waiting for? he asked the monstrous army, as he stood tall in the middle of the open field, his presence imposing and chilling. DESTROY THEM!

DESTROY THEM. Annabeth had never heard anything quite so terrifying. It felt like the temperature of her blood had just dropped several degrees. Her heart thumped so hard it seemed as though it would explode any minute. She thought it was impossible for her to go much faster than she was already moving, but somehow she found another gear. Within seconds, she had covered the ground between where she had been and the Doors. Thanks to Tartarus’ show of power, what remained of the monster army was still some distance away, though she knew that at best, they had a couple of minutes.

She raised her dagger, slicing through the chains on the left hand side of the Doors, which popped with a satisfying ding. Percy slashed with Riptide, freeing the other side, and Annabeth felt a grim sense of satisfaction. If they were to die here, at least they’d accomplished their half of the quest. At least they’d given their friends a chance.

“The Doors,” she asked urgently. “You know how to work them?”

“You have to press the button from the outside,” Percy said. “Phoebe told us, remember?”

Annabeth did vaguely recall the Titaness saying something of the sort, but with all that had happened in the interim, it was easy to- hang on, had Percy said…?

“Outside?” she half-screamed, half-whispered. The first of the monsters were closing in, maybe a minute and a half away now. “But that means…”

“…that only one of us can get out of here. I know,” Percy said, grimly finishing her sentence. How long had he known, Annabeth wondered? “I’ll stay and press the button. You need to go.”

No. No! Not like this!

“It should be me,” Annabeth said beseechingly. “You’ll be of much more use against Gaea. The others need you.”

Even as she said it, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Percy was too stubborn, too loyal, to ever let her sacrifice herself.

“We don’t have time to argue,” Percy said, shaking his head. Indeed, she could see the faces of the approaching enemies now, baying for blood, their blood. They were closing in with every second, ready to tear her and Percy to shreds.

She looked over to where Damasen had been fighting Tartarus a minute ago. To her dismay, she saw him on the ground, flat on his back, trying desperately to fend off his father in vain. The Maeonian drakon was nowhere in sight, and Annabeth guessed that Tartarus had killed it already. A drakon was hardly much of an enemy for a Primordial, even an ancient, enormous drakon like the Maeonian one.

As she watched, Tartarus knocked Damasen’s lance from his hands, and Annabeth felt a sickening sense of despair as she saw Damasen helpless and unarmed on the floor. She knew what was about to happen before it did, and though she could hardly bear to watch, she couldn’t bring herself to look away either. So instead, she stared in horror as Tartarus swung his sword downwards, in one horrifying, unstoppable arc.

As Damasen's head rolled away, it left a trail of ichor glowing gold and helpless in its wake, visible even from all the way over here.

She wanted to be sick, but she didn’t even have time for that. At most, they had a minute left before the first lines of the army reached them, as Tartarus’ booming laugh echoed in her ears. She knew that now that Damasen was out of the way, Tartarus was free to come after them too. Frankly, having seen what he had done to poor Phoebe and Damasen, she would much rather take her chances with the monsters than face off against the Primordial of the Pit, but it wasn’t like she had the luxury of choosing. She needed to talk Percy out of his suicide mission, and quickly.

“You can’t,” she pleaded, desperately hoping to talk Percy, stupid, noble Percy, out of doing what he was about to do. “You swore you’d never let me go. Not again. Not like-”

Percy silenced her with a kiss. They still had a little bit of time, she wanted to scream. They could still find another way, one that could get both of them out of this Pit together. Nyx had promised there was always another way.

But somehow, she knew it was hopeless. Akhlys, that miserable bitch, had shown her vision after vision, all ending with Percy leaving her. She’d denied it to herself for a long time, telling herself that Percy would never leave her, that he was too loyal to hurt her like that. Never would she have imagined that this was the way it would come true, with him leaving her to save her.

“It’s just for a short while. Nothing, not even Tartarus, will ever keep us apart for long again,” Percy promised, looking pained.

Annabeth desperately racked her brain for a way to convince him not to do this. She’d rather die alongside Percy than leave him to a fate worse than death just to save herself. But when she opened her mouth, all she could do was close it again, having run out of words to say.

“I’ll find a way out. This won’t be the last time we see each other,” Percy vowed, voice breaking. Annabeth could see a tear in his eye. “I swear it on the Styx.”

An oath to keep with a final breath.

That was the last thought on Annabeth’s mind, before she felt all the blood rush away from her head, and she collapsed in a heap, out cold.

Had she been awake, she would have heard Percy whisper “I’m sorry, Annabeth.” She would have felt his kiss on her forehead once more, and heard him murmur “I love you,” with more than a hint of fear in his voice.

She would have felt her prone form be loaded unceremoniously into the elevator, as Percy pushed the button with all the force he could muster. She would have felt herself zooming away as the monsters approached him, and he stood there, sword raised, ready to accept his fate.

If she had been able to speak, she would have been able to rebuke him once more for another broken promise. He had promised her he would never use his blood powers on her again, and yet he’d used them to betray her in the worst way possible, by knocking her out, and saving her life. That was classic Percy. He hated breaking promises, and yet he had just broken two without even hesitating, because his love for her outweighed all else. 

If she had had the chance, she might also have asked him about the third promise he had just made. Annabeth had no idea how he could possibly fulfil it. Even if - no, when, Annabeth told herself, holding on to hope - he escaped Tartarus and the monsters, was there even another way out?

And if her eyes had been open, she would have been able to see the boy she loved one last time, before he gave up possibly his only chance to return to the world for her.

She doubted she could possibly have had the strength to say goodbye, conscious or not.

As it was, when she woke up again, Annabeth had twelve minutes alone with the cheerful sounds of elevator muzak the only thing interrupting her sobs.

Chapter Text

Getting ambushed by an army hadn’t exactly been part of the plan, but Jason should have known this wouldn’t be easy.

What he hadn’t expected was for the floor to collapse.

Of course, even before that point, today had been a whirlwind. It had started with Nico nearly strangling Leo, after all. Jason hadn’t been there, but the way Piper had told it, it sounded like Nico had just snapped out of stress and anxiety. Jason couldn’t blame him. The son of Hades had had the toughest few weeks imaginable. So he’d pulled Leo aside afterwards, apologized on Nico’s behalf, and tried to explain as much as he could without saying anything about Croatia at all. Leo, to his credit, had taken it really well, which was good of him. The last thing they needed was rifts forming between the members of the crew, not before a potential life-or-death scenario like this one.

And then the House of Hades. To be honest, that name wasn’t really imposing enough to adequately sum up just how grim this place was. The Greek name, the Necromanteion, did a much better job of that. Already, they’d poisoned themselves, Frank had been hearing ghosts which neither Hazel nor Nico could, and Jason had felt creeped out beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Nothing about this had felt right at all, from minute one.

And now, Hazel and Leo had been cut off from the rest of them by the floor splitting in half. Jason could try and fly the rest of the group all across to them, but it was way too risky, what with the army of monsters that could easily knock them out of mid-air. They were isolated, stuck on the other side, and Jason and the others had no way of getting to them.

“Nico, the scepter!” Frank yelled, and Jason remembered the whole reason they’d gone to all that trouble in Croatia at all. If Nico could summon the ghosts of the dead legionnaires, he might be able to command them. That was their best – no, only – chance of beating the horde of monsters in front of them.

Nico raised Diocletian’s scepter, and the cavern air shimmered purple. Ghosts climbed from the fissure and seeped from the walls—an entire Roman legion in full battle gear. They began taking on physical form, like walking corpses, but they seemed confused.

“Legion, form ranks,” Jason yelled in Latin, but the undead just shuffled among the monsters. All that had done was cause momentary confusion, which was hardly likely to last. How could he get them to attack, he wondered?

A gryphon chose that moment to divebomb Jason, swooping down with its talons extended, ready to try and tear his face off. Jason sidestepped the attack easily, before swinging his sword at the gryphon, severing its wing and sending it plummeting into the chasm. One down, several thousand to go.

“Go on,” Jason yelled to Hazel and Leo. “Get to the Doors. Save Percy and Annabeth. We’ll take care of the army.”

He didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Somebody had to get to the Doors, and it wasn't going to be Jason.

Hazel’s eyes widened. “What? No!”

“You have to.” Frank added his voice to Jason’s. “It’s the only way. We can’t get across.”

“But—” Leo started, before suddenly barking “Hit the deck!”

Jason threw himself to the ground as a volley of rocks slammed overhead, where Jason's head had been a second ago. When he managed to get up, coughing and covered in dust, the entrance to the tunnel was gone. An entire section of wall had collapsed, leaving a slope of smoking rubble.

“Hazel…” Frank’s voice broke.

“They’ll be fine,” Jason called. “They can handle whatever’s ahead.”

He was trying to reassure himself as much as Frank, but it seemed to work, because Frank’s shoulders suddenly stiffened up from their slumped position, and his face contorted in fury. He turned, and charged at the army of monsters in front of them, and Jason followed.

The next few minutes were utter chaos. It was stab, rinse, repeat for Jason, as monster after monster seemed to show up. An Earthborn launched a boulder at his head, and he ducked, letting it fly harmlessly over his head and into a crowd of telkhines. Friendly fire is good, Jason thought, but he didn’t have much time to celebrate as a Laistrygonian barreled towards him, with a sword that was the size of his whole body. Jason rolled through the giant’s legs, stabbing upwards with his sword and puncturing his groin. The giant howled in pain, and collapsed backwards, crushing what looked like a group of goblins beneath him as he disintegrated into dust. And yet Jason still couldn’t relax, as some sort of hag threw a potion at him, which made him cough and splutter, sending up a cloud of smoke. He urged the wind to quickly disperse the fog, making his way through the maelstrom and decapitating the hag easily.

This is no good, Jason thought, as he stabbed a Cyclops in the back. He glanced around the battlefield over to the others, who were fighting just as hard but were in danger of being overwhelmed very quickly. The legionnaires they were hoping would be their saviours were doing nothing at all, despite Jason’s orders. They clawed their way out of the pit, then milled about aimlessly, chest-bumping each other for no apparent reason, pushing one another back into the chasm, shooting arrows into the air as if trying to kill flies, and occasionally, out of sheer luck, throwing a javelin, a sword, or an ally in the direction of the enemy.

“Legion, attack the monsters,” he ordered again, but it was no use. At most, he could get a couple of the zombie legionnaires to form up and attack, only for them to very quickly lose interest and go back to messing around. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? He was a praetor of Rome. These soldiers should, by all rights, obey him, but they clearly didn’t recognize his authority.

It's because you’re not Roman anymore, a voice told him.

Where had that come from, Jason wondered to himself as he fended off a Cyclops that had come lumbering towards him, and Nico finished it off with a quick flourish. Jason was a son of Jupiter. He’d been raised by Lupa since before he could speak in sentences, spent twelve years in the legion, risen to centurion and then praetor. How could he possibly be more Roman?

And yet… Camp Half-Blood had felt like a home just as much, if not more so than Camp Jupiter. There was something about the Greek camp that was less ‘well-oiled killing machine’, like the legion could be at times, and more genuinely fun. The Roman camp might have been named after his father, but it was the Greek camp where he’d truly felt like he was part of a family, more so than ever before.

And when Jason put it like that, he realised that little thought was spot on. He wasn’t Roman anymore, or at least he wasn’t just Roman anymore. Like it or not, part of him was Greek now, forever and always. That was what the legionnaires were picking up on, and that was why he couldn’t command them.

“Frank,” he yelled, calling over to the big Canadian, who had just vaporized some sort of giant lizard-like monster Jason had never even seen before. There was an arrow sticking out of his arm, but the wound didn’t seem too bad. “Can you try and command the legion? They might listen to you.”

Frank seemed hesitant. He opened his mouth as though to ask Jason something, but then closed it again and straightened up, as though he was ready for the challenge.

“Legion, form ranks,” Frank ordered in Latin. This time, a few dozen legionnaires bunched up in formation, charging at the enemy lines and killing several monsters. That’s better, Jason thought, but the rest of the legionnaires hadn’t got the memo, because they were still idling around rather uselessly.

“My rank,” Frank said to himself quietly. It took Jason a couple of seconds to process what he meant. He was just a centurion, only capable of commanding a single cohort. Only a praetor could command a whole legion. With a blinding rush of clarity, Jason knew what he needed to do.

“Frank Zhang!” he yelled, in the most formal, commanding voice he could muster. “I, Jason Grace, praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, give you my final order: I resign my post and give you emergency field promotion to praetor, with the full powers of that rank. Take command of this legion!”

Frank looked stunned, but only briefly. Suddenly, he seemed to stand even taller. The arrow in his arm seemed forgotten. As the new praetor surveyed the battlefield, Jason knew he’d done the right thing. Frank was a born commander, even if you’d never realise it from how soft-spoken and uncertain he could be otherwise.

“LEGION,” Frank boomed, his voice seemingly ten times louder. “Agmen formate!”

The sound of an entire zombie legion forming ranks in unison was enough to send shivers down Jason’s spine, as they drew their weapons and shields as one, forming a disciplined unit. Suddenly, the attacking waves of monsters seemed a little hesitant. They were still coming, Jason thought as he beheaded an empousa, but there was definite uncertainty in their ranks.

“Archers, eiaculare flammas!” Frank yelled. A group of a hundred or more archers launched a volley of fire arrows across the battlefield, annihilating an entire group of Earthborn in a wall of flames that even Leo would have been proud of.

“That’s more like it!” Nico whooped, smiling. Jason had rarely seen him look so thrilled. “Now let’s turn this tide!”

“Cuneum formate!” Frank yelled. “Advance with pila!”

It might have been Piper who could charmspeak, but Frank’s battlefield voice was so authoritative that Jason felt like he would jump into the chasm without even hesitating if Frank ordered him to. As it was, the legion advanced in lockstep, spears engaged, sending the monsters on the bridge into disarray. The few who had been brave enough to stand their ground paid the price by being vaporised.

Now was the chance to strike, and strike hard, Jason thought. They had the enemy retreating and panicking. This was where they could turn things decisively.

Frank clearly thought the same. “Jason,” he called, “can you fly a few legionnaires across the pit? The enemy’s left flank is weak—see? Take it!”

Jason smiled. “With pleasure.”

Jason focused on channeling the winds, and three dead Romans rose into the air and flew across the chasm. Then three more joined them. Finally Jason flew himself across and his miniature death squad began cutting through some very surprised-looking telkhines, spreading fear through the enemy’s ranks. They were a mess.

 “Nico,” Frank said, “keep trying to raise the dead. We need more numbers.”

“On it.” Nico lifted the scepter of Diocletian, which glowed even darker purple. More ghostly Romans seeped from the walls to join the fight.

Across the chasm, empousai shouted commands in a language Jason didn’t know, but the gist was obvious. They were trying to shore up their allies and keep them charging across the bridge. Frank must have been perfectly in sync with Jason’s thinking, because he spotted it too.

“Piper!” Frank yelled. Jason marvelled at how his voice seemed to carry across the whole battlefield. “Counter those empousai! We need some chaos.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” She started catcalling at the female demons: “Your makeup is smeared! Your friend called you ugly! That one is making a face behind your back!” Soon the vampire ladies were too busy fighting one another to shout any commands.

Jason felt a swell of pride, looking over at his girlfriend wreaking havoc on the enemy lines, then at Frank, the natural leader taking to military command like a duck to water. They were going to mop up the rest of this army with ease, the way things were going.

Or so he thought, until a minute or so later, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an arrow fly out of nowhere and hit Piper in the neck.

Jason had never quite understood what people meant when they said the world seemed to move in slow-motion, until now. Time and Jason’s heart both seemed to stop for a second that felt like an hour. He had temporarily lost sight of Piper amidst the chaos, and for a second he wanted to believe he’d seen it wrong. The arrow must have just narrowly missed, he told himself. He hadn’t seen it right. Piper was fine.

But when he saw her again, she was on the floor, on her back, in a pool of blood, not moving.

There weren’t any monsters in sight nearby to finish her off, at least, which was a relief, and Jason thought he saw her chest still rising and falling, but he couldn’t be sure from here. But even if she was still alive, she desperately needed treatment.

Jason was about to launch himself up into the air, in the direction of the stricken Piper, when he heard Frank’s voice.

“Jason, stay where you are,” Frank ordered, before turning to a group of zombies and barking some orders that Jason was too furious to pay much attention to.

Jason could barely believe what he was hearing, as he viciously destroyed an Earthborn. Frank wanted him to stay put when his girlfriend was bleeding out on the floor? Roman soldiers didn’t defy orders, but he was incredibly tempted to ignore Frank and fly over anyway. 

That was until he saw what Frank had done.

He had sent the group of legionnaires to encircle Piper, protecting her lifeless form. As he watched, the legionnaires, too, were struck by another volley of arrows, falling to the ground one by one, but importantly shielding Piper from being hit.

Frank had just saved his life, Jason realized. The monsters had left Piper’s wounded body unguarded on purpose. They had been expecting one of the others to go over to her and drop their guard, and had Jason taken the bait, they were hoping to kill two of them for the price of one. It was a genius tactic, and if Frank hadn’t had the presence of mind to realize it was a trap...

Jason shuddered, as he realized how close he’d come to dying right there and then. These monsters were more formidable foes than they seemed. He idly wondered where they’d learned that idea, before remembering the much more immediate problem.

Piper was still lying there helplessly, and Jason knew he couldn’t get to her, not without walking into the ambush. There were no legionnaires to act as a barrier this time, so all it would take was one stray arrow and she'd be finished.

So take out the archers, Jason told himself. If he could deal with them, the path would be clear for him to approach.

But then he realized with a sinking feeling that the empousai whom Piper had been fighting had regrouped and were advancing across the second bridge. By the time he got to the archers, even if he managed to take them all out, the empousai would get to her to finish her off. She, and he, could do nothing about it.

But someone else could.

With a rush of wind, a blur moved past Jason, so fast he could barely see it. A woman appeared in front of Piper, dressed in full battle armour except for a helmet, armed with a spear and shield. She was tall, taller than any ordinary human, and her hair was a brownish-blonde, flowing freely down past her shoulders.

She stood in front of Piper, as if awaiting an attack. The empousai backed off, as if the very presence of this woman was unnerving them.As Jason watched, the woman – no, goddess, because clearly this was one – placed her shield over Piper’s body, and the shield grew until Piper was fully protected. From where he was standing, Jason couldn’t quite make out the design of the shield, but he was pretty sure that were he closer, he would have seen the head of Medusa adorning it.

He was almost certain he knew who this was. Phidias was, clearly, an unbelievably good sculptor.

The enemy archers obliged at the sight of somebody approaching Piper, as they had done before, by firing another round of arrows, which rained down from the sky. A few off them bounced harmlessly off the aegis, but one of them hit the goddess on her chest. Athena – of course, who else could it possibly be? – laughed at that, seeming more amused than anything else. In fact, she seemed delighted. Jason realized that the monsters had attacked her first, which meant the goddess of wisdom was now free to retaliate.

“Demigods,” she called. “Look away now!”

Jason didn’t need telling twice, knowing as he did how dangerous the power of the gods could be. He averted his eyes as a blinding flash of light filled the chamber.

When he looked again, the monsters’ ranks had been devastated. At least half, if not more, of the enemies had been completely incinerated by Athena’s godly powers. A gigantic cloud of dust had filled the chamber, and Jason watched as the essences of thousands of monsters slowly settled to the ground. 

“Legion,” Frank called, his voice louder than ever. “Follow Lady Athena’s lead! Finish them!”

The legionnaires cheered and whooped, as they advanced on the shell-shocked remnants of the monster army. Jason didn’t even bother joining the fray himself, knowing the zombies would make light work of the rest of the monsters, who were both heavily outnumbered and completely terrified after the demonstration of power from Athena. Athena stood at a distance, arms crossed across her chest as she surveyed the scene, watching on as the zombies finished off the scattered and disorganized enemies. She could probably have finished them off herself, but she knew there was no need, just like Jason knew there was no need for him to join the fight. 

Instead, Jason flew straight over to Piper. He could see the blood had seeped under the aegis, in a huge, crimson pool, and he knew things were bad. There must be half a gallon of blood here, he thought. The arrow must have struck her carotid artery, he realised, and though Jason had done some basic field medicine training in the legion, he knew that healing this wound was beyond any possible first aid.

When Jason lifted the shield, he saw how pale Piper's face was. He went to her wrist, and he felt his heart jump in hope as he found a pulse, but it was a weak one at best. He wasn’t sure how much longer she’d hold out without treatment, especially knowing how much blood she'd lost. Jason didn't want to think it, but it was a miracle she had even survived this long.

“Ambrosia!” he shouted despairingly, hoping one of the other would come to his help. He didn’t know if they’d even be able to feed her the ambrosia in this state, or if her wounds were even possible to heal with or without ambrosia, but he had to try. Only magic would be able to save Piper now. “Does anybody have any? She’s really weak!”

Later, he’d remember that Piper herself tended to carry ambrosia, and had he looked at the small pouch on her waist, he would have found it. But for now, all Jason could feel was desperation. All he could think was that Piper had to be OK, that they could still save her. Somehow. Some way. 

Nico ran over to help, but Athena put her arm across his chest, stopping him. The goddess walked over casually towards Piper’s prone form, and pulled the arrow out of her neck rather forcefully. Jason wanted to scream at her to be more gentle, but he knew how sensitive the gods could be sometimes, so he bit his tongue.

Instead, Jason watched on nervously as Athena placed her hand on Piper’s neck, and the wound instantly closed itself, the blood that had gushed forth previously thankfully being stemmed. The daughter of Aphrodite still looked extremely pale, but at least she was no longer losing blood. 

“Usually one asks permission before touching a god’s symbol of power, Jason Grace,” Athena said, in a stern voice, looking at him. Jason had been so absorbed he’d forgotten he was still holding the aegis in his left hand. He released it quickly.

“Sorry,” he muttered, before realizing that Athena was smirking, which was a relief. She clearly wasn’t too annoyed at him, and more importantly she didn't seem too concerned about Piper.

Athena picked her shield back up. “How is… I mean, will she be…?” Jason started, before trailing off.

“She has lost a lot of blood,” Athena said grimly. “Enough to kill an ordinary human, but she is strong, even by the standards of demigods. She will need a few days of complete rest and regular treatment with ambrosia and nectar, but she should recover without permanent damage.”

Percy had told him the story of how him and Annabeth had both carried the sky on their shoulders. Jason now knew how they must have felt when that weight was lifted off them. He felt almost giddy. Piper was going to live.

“Will you not thank me, Jason?” Athena asked. Her tone was more teasing than accusatory, but Jason still didn’t want to do anything that might offend her. Gods made terrible enemies, and this one was seemingly on their side. He intended to keep it that way. Besides, she'd just saved Piper's life, so thanking her was the least he could do.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, bowing. “For saving Piper, and for your help in defeating this army.”

As he watched, the zombie legionnaires were closing in on the last remaining group of ogres, who were retreating desperately. The legion backed the monsters up to the edge of the abyss, and the ogres jumped into the gaping chasm, one by one, rather than dying at the hands of the soldiers. The battle was well and truly over.

“The army is indeed defeated,” Athena agreed. “But our work here is far from done. Your friends lie ahead, at the Doors.”

She turned to Frank, who had at some point made his way to Jason, along with Nico. Jason had clearly been too focused on Piper to notice them.

“You commanded well, son of Mars," Athena said. "It seems you have a natural aptitude for tactics.”

Frank shuffled nervously, but his face was glowing, as the concerned look he had been wearing turned into a smile. “Thank you, ma’am,” he replied.

Jason couldn't be happier for the big guy. Not only had he proved himself as a commander big time, but now he'd earned praise for his strategic thinking from the goddess of strategic thinking. He was a worthy praetor of Rome.

“Your army, however,” Athena continued, “is no longer required. You may release them.”

Oh. Right. Jason had forgotten about the zombie legion, who had taken to doing various victory dances and occasionally shoving each other into the void. Now that the monster army was out of the way, they weren’t needed.

Frank faced his troops. “Legion!”

The zombie soldiers snapped to attention.

“You fought well,” Frank told them. “Now you may rest. Dismissed.”

They crumbled into piles of bones, armor, shields, and weapons. Then even those disintegrated, until no trace of the army remained.

Athena turned to Nico. “You can harness the darkness to escape from here?” she asked, and Nico nodded.

“Take her back to your ship," she said, gesturing towards Piper, who was still unconscious but was now breathing a bit more regularly. "The satyr Hedge is there, along with the daughter of Bellona. They should be able to assist her.”

“At once, my lady.” Nico gently lifted Piper in his arms, before disappearing into the shadows. Jason knew he wouldn’t make it back in time to help, so it would have to be just him and Frank to advance. The House of Hades was far too magically powerful for shadow-travelling back in to be a good idea.

Athena turned back to him. “You are wondering why I saved her,” she said. Jason would admit he had briefly wondered that, but he’d since been distracted by Athena’s mention of the daughter of Bellona. Had Reyna made it to Greece!?

Nonetheless, he nodded.

“I asked a favour of Aphrodite recently,” Athena replied simply. “This was my way of repaying it.”

Jason wondered what Athena had asked for, but he didn’t dare to ask.

“Besides,” Athena added, her tone sombre, “though Aphrodite and I may not have always been on the best of terms, I know the pain of losing one’s favourite daughter, and I would not wish it on anyone.”

Jason felt a pang of pain as he remembered why they were here in the first place. Percy and Annabeth had been through Tartarus to get to the Doors of Death. They just had to uphold their side of the quest, the markedly easier one.

“Then let’s get your daughter back,” Jason said firmly, his voice as bullish as he could muster. “How do we get through to the tunnel?”

Athena laughed. “You have inherited Father’s confidence, it seems, Jason.”

Right. Jason had almost forgotten Athena was technically his half-sister. His immortal, unimaginably powerful, millennia-old half-sister. Arguably, that made Annabeth his half-niece, and for that matter Leo and Frank his half-nephews, but Jason was going to lean on the fact gods didn’t have DNA to avoid that issue, because the alternative was wayyy too weird.

“I can get through myself, but I would not be able to take you,” Athena stated, providing a welcome distraction from that particular disturbing train of thought. “To get you through, I could blast the rocks that block the tunnel, but it is risky. The entire temple is on the verge of caving in, and blasting through might well be the final straw in its collapse.”

“Do we have much choice?” Jason asked. He supposed they could always stay where they were and hope Athena, Hazel and Leo could free the Doors and save Percy and Annabeth, but he had a feeling the others would need every last bit of help they could get. Risky might be their best option.

Frank coughed. He’d been quiet for so long Jason had almost forgotten he was still there.

“It won’t be fun,” he said, “but there’s another way we could try.”

Risky might be better than nothing, but not fun was better than risky in Jason's head. As long as they could get through to the Doors, whatever it was Frank wanted them to do couldn't be so bad. He nodded in assent.

“Then I shall see you on the other side,” Athena said. “Good luck, heroes.”

In a flash of light, she disappeared, as Frank explained the plan to an incredulous Jason.

Chapter Text

To paraphrase the words of Forrest Gump’s mother, today had been like a box of chocolates.

Earlier, he’d managed to piss Nico di Angelo off to the point where the scary kid nearly strangled him. People had always found him annoying, of course, and Nico had apologized later, but Leo couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Clearly, he needed to read the room a bit better.

On the other hand, he’d given Zhang the fireproof pouch. He was really quite proud of that, and also very glad to have finally earned the big guy’s trust. It was pretty understandable that he’d be so wary around Leo and his fire powers, but Leo had found a way to keep him safe, and that had clearly meant a lot to Frank. It was nice getting that kind of thing right for once.

Then the House of Hades. It had all been going pretty well, actually. Apart from the fact that he’d had to poison himself, there hadn’t been any major challenges. Until they ran into an army of monsters and the roof caved in.

Of course Leo should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

He just hoped Nico could get that scepter working. Otherwise, him, Frank, Jason and Piper against a literal army? The odds weren’t exactly in their favour.

Not that the odds were particularly in his favour, either. All he had was Hazel, who was obviously extremely powerful, but two demigods against whatever the hell they were about to face next? He wished the others were here.

Clearly, Hazel did too, as she was currently swearing and crying at a pile of rocks. Leo stared at her, wide-eyed, as she punched the boulders that separated them from the others. He knew how she felt, leaving Frank behind like that. It was the same feeling he’d felt when he left Ogygia. Hell, it was probably the same way Hazel had felt when she left his bisabuelo behind to move to Alaska.

Hazel had clearly noticed him staring. “Sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Hey, you know…” Leo shrugged. “I’ve attacked a few rocks in my day.”

You dork, he told himself. Hazel doesn’t need your dumb jokes, she needs comforting.

“Listen,” he added, before deciding to ignore that last thought entirely. Dumb jokes were who he was. He wasn’t about to change that. “Frank Zhang has moves. He’s probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces.”

Hazel smiled, and Leo smiled in response.

“Leo, I’m sorry,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. For what?”

“For…” She flailed her arms around in the air. “Everything. For thinking you were Sammy, for leading you on. I mean, I didn’t mean to, but if I did—”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. He could tell by the way she was rambling that something was bugging her. “Machines are designed to work.”

“Uh, what?”

“I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don’t know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or capital-G God, or whatever. But it chugs along the way it’s supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly…things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting.”

“Leo Valdez,” Hazel marveled, “you’re a philosopher.”

“Nah,” he said, trying to hide his pride. “I’m just a mechanic. But I figure my bisabuelo Sammy knew what was what. He let you go, Hazel. My job is to tell you that it’s okay. You and Frank—you’re good together. We’re all going to get through this. I hope you guys get a chance to be happy. Besides, Zhang couldn’t tie his shoes without your help.”

“That’s mean,” Hazel chided, but she laughed anyway. Leo was used to saying the wrong thing, but he got the impression that he had got this one absolutely spot on. Things happened for a reason. And though in another universe Hazel might well have lived and died long before Leo was ever born, the way this one had turned out, with her as a friend, wasn’t too bad at all.

“What happened to you when you were on your own?” she asked. “Who did you meet?”

Leo’s eye twitched. This wasn’t the time. “Long story. I’ll tell you sometime, but I’m still waiting to see how it shakes out.”

“The universe is a machine,” Hazel said, “so it’ll be fine.”

“Hopefully.”

“As long as it’s not one of your machines,” Hazel added. “Because your machines never do what they’re supposed to.”

Leo made a face as though he was hurt beyond belief. “Ha-ha,” he said, deadpan. “Now which way, Miss Underground?”

Hazel looked around, before pointing at the leftmost tunnel. “That way,” she said. “It feels the most dangerous.”

Great. More danger. Reluctantly, Leo followed her into the tunnel.

When the corridor opened up again, Hazel’s promise of danger was more than fulfilled. They seemed to have teleported into some sort of chamber. The obsidian walls were carved with scenes of death: plague victims, corpses on the battlefield, torture chambers with skeletons hanging in iron cages—all of it embellished with precious gems that somehow made the scenes even more ghastly.

The domed roof was a waffle pattern of recessed square panels, but here each panel was a stela—a grave marker with Ancient Greek inscriptions. And in the middle of the room was a set of freestanding elevator doors, their panels etched in silver and iron. Rows of chains ran down either side, bolting the frame to large hooks in the floor. Clearly, those had to be the Doors of Death. Leo wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he had hoped things would be slightly less… creepy?

“Welcome,” said a voice, and Leo shivered. He knew that voice. This was Evil Sorceress Lady, who’d almost killed Leo in his dreams. There weren’t many people he wanted to meet less. “I’ve looked forward to this.”

Everything in Leo’s body was screaming “Run”, but that wasn’t an option. Percy and Annabeth would be coming up through those Doors soon, and they couldn’t just leave them there. He looked around, trying to find the sorceress, but she was nowhere in sight.

“Where are you?” Hazel screamed from next to him.

Evil Sorceress Lady tutted. “Disappointing, Hazel Levesque. And here, I thought Hecate had chosen you for your skill.”

Leo wasn’t going to let her talk down Hazel like that. “Stop hiding like a coward and come out and fight, lady. Then you’ll see how much skill we’ve got.”

He wasn't expecting her to oblige, but the sorceress did indeed appear. She wore an elegant sleeveless dress of woven gold, her dark hair piled into a cone, encircled with diamonds and emeralds, just as in the dream. And the look on her face was just as withering as the first time, as though Leo was barely worth her attention.

“Silence, fool.” Her voice was soft, but full of venom. “I have no use for demigod boys—always so full of themselves, so brash and destructive.”

“Hey, lady,” Leo protested. He wasn’t going to let some random sorceress insult him like this. “I don’t destroy things much. I’m a son of Hephaestus.”

“A tinkerer,” snapped the sorceress. “Even worse. I knew Daedalus. His inventions brought me nothing but trouble.”

Leo blinked. “Daedalus…like, the Daedalus?” Who was this woman? “Well, then, you should know all about us tinkerers. We’re more into fixing, building, occasionally sticking wads of oilcloth in the mouths of rude ladies—”

“Leo.” Hazel put her arm across his chest. “Let me handle Pasiphaë, okay?”

“Listen to your friend,” Pasiphaë said. “Be a good boy and let the women talk.”

Pasiphaë. Leo was pretty sure he knew this myth. She was the sorceress who’d created the Labyrinth, the mother of the Minotaur and wife of Minos. Poseidon had cursed her to fall in love with a bull, though Leo couldn't quite recall what she'd done to offend the sea god. Clearly, Hazel had been expecting to see Pasiphaë, and Leo wondered how she'd known, but he knew he didn’t have time to ask.

“Your friend doesn’t say much,” Hazel noted. Leo followed her eyes, to the giant Clytius, who was standing there, dark and silent, with smoke billowing around his feet. He’d been so fixated on the sorceress he’d barely noticed him.

He shuddered again. Pasiphaë was one thing, but Clytius too? Two demigods against a giant and an immortal sorceress was terrible odds. And Leo could fight, sure, but he wasn’t exactly Jason or Percy with their ridiculous sword-fighting skills, or Frank who could just turn into a dragon or something. All he had was his fire.

“He prefers to let me do the talking,” Pasiphaë sniffed. “Though he has requested the pleasure of dealing with you, Leo Valdez. He doesn’t like fire, you see.” She looked rather smug. “I imagine he will enjoy extinguishing yours.”

Leo wasn’t about to let himself get extinguished, no matter how bad the odds were. His palm glowed red-hot, on the verge of bursting out in flames.

“Tick-tock, demigods,” Pasiphaë said, with a smirk. “The Doors are active. If my calculations are correct, Koios will be bringing your friends to the surface in seven minutes’ time.”

Koios? Leo was pretty sure that was a Titan, a brother of Kronos.

So Percy and Annabeth were being held captive, then.

And to make matters worse, Pasiphaë and Clytius were about to be joined by a Titan, another impossible enemy for two demigods to take on.

If life was a box of chocolates, right now Leo felt like a dog.

He looked over at Hazel, who seemed even more nervous than he felt, and he squeezed her hand again, in a lame effort to reassure her.

“Don’t worry too much, children,” Pasiphaë sneered. “Koios has rather the reputation for cruelty, but you’ll have been dealt with long before he has the chance.”

Suddenly, Hazel was engulfed in a cloud of smoke, and she and Pasiphaë disappeared. Leo hardly had the time to wonder where they’d gone, though, because Clytius was bearing down on him, sword raised. He barely even had the chance to think “Oh, shit”.

In the nick of time, Leo rolled out of the way, drawing his hammer from his belt. He was completely terrified, but at this point it was a rare day when he wasn’t. His other hand lit up, burning hotter and brighter than it ever had before. If Percy and Annabeth’s lives depended on him finding a way to beat Clytius, then he wasn’t going to let them down.

“Go on then, big guy,” he said. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Chapter Text

One second, Hazel had been in a cavern, staring down the Doors of Death. The next, she was staring down a wall of dirt.

“Welcome, Hazel Levesque,” Pasiphaë’s voice crooned at her from somewhere above.

“Where am I?” Hazel wondered out loud. She put her hand out gingerly, touching the mossy wall in front of her. It was solid, but Hazel couldn’t help but feel that something was off about this all. She felt so off-balance she could barely stand, much less think straight. She tried to extend her senses, to see through the Mist and find the Doors again, but all she felt were tunnels splitting off in a dozen directions, going everywhere except forward.

“Can you not guess?” Pasiphaë sounded rather disappointed, as though Hazel had just failed some sort of test. “They told me you were a great sorceress in the making, that you could equal Circe or Medea for skill some day.”

Hazel looked to her left, where a corridor stretched out. Torches guttered in iron sconces. The air smelled of mildew, as in an old tomb. She was clearly still underground. She took a few steps along the corridor, before spotting a junction ahead, where another corridor met it. This place was like a maze...

The pieces slowly fell into place in her head, as she realized where she was.

“The Labyrinth,” Hazel said. “This is the Labyrinth.”

Pasiphaë clapped mockingly. “Excellent, my dear. Yes, indeed. You are in my Labyrinth. And as it stands, you have six more minutes to escape it, if you want to see your friends again.”

Hazel racked her brains for something, anything she could use against the sorceress. What did she know about the Labyrinth? Daedalus had created it, but judging from the way she was talking about it, Pasiphaë must have had a big role to play in it. Actually, Nico had told her a story from one of his quests, hadn't he?

“The Labyrinth was destroyed,” Hazel said assertively. “It was tied to Daedalus’ life force. Nico was there, and Percy and Annabeth too.”

“True,” Pasiphaë responded, her voice echoing around the corridors. “The physical Labyrinth was indeed destroyed. But its soul, the magic I wove into its passages millennia ago? That remained intact. And you, of all people, should know that while the soul remains, the rest can easily be brought back to life.”

Where was the voice coming from, Hazel wondered? She turned left along another corridor, only to find her path blocked by a seemingly bottomless pit. But something didn’t feel right about the whole thing. How could Pasiphaë have transported her into the Labyrinth like that? And if she was really in a maze, then why did it feel like Pasiphaë was right there, somewhere close?

As she pondered, she heard a chittering noise as Gale the polecat jumped up onto her, curling up around her neck.

Suddenly, it clicked in Hazel’s head. Gale being there meant Hecate was sending her a message. This Labyrinth, as real as it seemed, was made out of layers and layers of Mist. It was a very good illusion, but Hazel was still in the cavern, and the Doors were still somewhere close. All she needed to do was dispel the illusion…

Hazel took a deep breath, before deciding to try something. Slowly, she focused on the Mist around her, trying to channel it into a bridge across the hole in front of her. She wasn’t expecting it to work first try, but the bridge materialized out of nowhere, allowing Hazel to step across to the other side.

Progress, she told herself hopefully. It might only be a couple of planks of wood, but she’d managed to drive a wedge into the fabric of Pasiphaë’s Labyrinth.

Though Pasiphaë didn’t seem too impressed. “Is that all, Hazel? Remember, your friends will be arriving in five minutes’ time. If you want to see them one last time, you’d better get a move on.”

“I wouldn’t be so eager to see Percy if I were you,” Hazel responded. She wasn’t sure where this was coming from, but she felt a surge of defiance. “I heard he killed your son. Twice. Bet he’d love to send the mother the same way.”

Pasiphaë growled, and the Mist around Hazel flickered. Suddenly, just for a second, she caught a glimpse of the Doors again, and she saw Leo, still alive, desperately dodging an attack from Clytius. It was gone almost straight away, but Hazel knew she’d managed to break through the illusion, even if it was only for an instant.

That’s the key, Hazel thought. She could hear Lupa in her head. When facing an enemy more powerful than yourself, you must be resourceful. She had next to no chance against Pasiphaë when it came to sorcery. Pasiphaë had thousands of years of experience behind her, and though Hazel had managed to manipulate the illusion a bit, to fully break it using magic was beyond her capabilities.

On the other hand, if Hazel could play on Pasiphaë herself… she didn’t know if it would work, but it seemed like a plan.

Hazel found her voice again.

“I have a question for you, Pasiphaë. Was the bull better or worse in bed than Minos?” she asked.

In her day, she’d have had to rinse her mouth out with soap if she spoke like that, but she knew that taunting Pasiphaë might be the best way to break her focus. And it worked, because Pasiphaë roared.

“Impudent little nuisance!"

The temperature inside the Labyrinth suddenly seemed to increase rapidly. With a jolt, Hazel realized a wall of fire was bearing down on her, from all directions. She imagined a trapdoor opening up in the floor, and jumped down through it in the nick of time before the fire reached her, down into another tunnel.

“I had intended to spare you, you know,” Pasiphaë said, her voice venomous. “Gaea needs two demigods, and you and the son of Hephaestus were to be our insurance plan if Koios had failed to deliver… but as it is, Koios will be here in four minutes, and I am not feeling particularly merciful any more.”

Pasiphaë’s voice now seemed much easier to locate, and Hazel could tell that the illusion was weaker, that Pasiphaë’s anger was getting in the way and disrupting her concentration. She took a hesitant step forward towards the sorceress, only to set off a spike trap, which came very close to impaling her. Her plan had worked so far, but she needed to keep moving and keep talking.

“It’s always sons of Neptune with you, isn’t it?” she ventured. “First Theseus, then Percy… you must really hate them.”

“You have no idea,” Pasiphaë spat. Hazel focused the Mist, channeling it to replace the metal in the spikes in front of her with foam, while Pasiphaë was distracted. “When the giants win in Athens, I will personally make sure to destroy Poseidon myself.”

Hazel ran along to the end of her corridor, in the direction of Pasiphaë. The spikes in the floor activated, but they bounced harmlessly off Hazel’s boots, being soft and not at all dangerous. The tunnel split into two here, and Hazel knew she needed to make Pasiphaë talk again in order to find her way.

“It was him who cursed you in the first place, wasn’t it?” Hazel said. “Or did you just always enjoy the company of farm animals?”

The illusion flickered again as Pasiphaë vowed once more to inflict a painful death on Hazel, but Hazel wasn’t really listening. This time, she could more clearly see what was happening with Clytius. Leo was fighting him, his hands aflame, and he seemed to be… glowing? She couldn’t tell if that was real or just a trick of the light caused by his fire, but before she could work out which was true, she was back in the Labyrinth once more.

But Hazel now knew that the right fork was the one that would take her closer to Pasiphaë, so she ran down that tunnel. A cloud of thick poisonous smoke filled the corridor, but Hazel had no time to stop, so she just ran straight through, willing the smoke to disperse. Her eyes stung a little, but when she looked behind her, the smoke had vanished.

Pasiphaë’s grip on the Mist was definitely weakening as she got angrier. The toxic smoke hadn't quite carried the same sense of danger as the wall of fire she'd conjured before, and Hazel was starting to feel confident.

“Why should you care for the gods at all, Hazel Levesque?” Pasiphaë hissed. “Poseidon chose to punish me for the actions of my husband, when I had done nothing wrong. The gods did not save you, when you were about to die for your mother. Why do you want to stop their downfall?”

Hazel hesitated, which was the wrong move, as a giant serpent came out of nowhere, nearly taking her head off. With an enormous effort, Hazel managed to seal off the snake by summoning a wall, but she could feel that the tunnels around her seemed more real, more solid, all of a sudden. She could feel the tide turning; Pasiphaë was regaining her control over the Mist, and Hazel was losing it. She knew she needed to reassert herself in this war of words.

“The gods aren’t perfect,” Hazel said. “I know that. But if you think I’d rather Gaea win, after everything that happened, then you’re badly mistaken.”

Even as she said it, it felt lame. 

“Still you deny their apathy,” Pasiphaë said. “The gods care not a jot for you. Do you see them rushing to your aid, even knowing that your death is imminent?”

Hazel had been looking at the walls, searching for an exit from the maze. But when she looked back in front of her, suddenly a knife was flying across the corridor, straight at her chest. She didn’t have time to dodge it, and she desperately tried to manipulate the Mist to deflect the blow, but she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough.

Hazel was expecting the worst, but just in time, before the knife sank into her flesh, Gale jumped down off her shoulder, into the path of the blade. She watched in amazement as the polecat lay on the ground, bleeding, but leaving her mercifully unscathed.

Pasiphaë had been wrong about the gods, Hazel realized. One of them had just saved her life. There was only one person who could have made Gale jump down like that.

“Enough!” Pasiphaë screamed in frustration. The Labyrinth disappeared, and with a jolt, Hazel found herself back in the chamber, where Leo was still battling away against Clytius. He was definitely glowing, and Hazel wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but at least he was still alive.

“So much for your Labyrinth,” Hazel said. She wasn’t sure why she was still goading Pasiphaë. Perhaps she was just enjoying the rare feeling of getting under someone’s skin. All her life – both lives, actually – she’d been used to being the one on the receiving end, so it was nice to have the shoe on the other foot for a change.

“Labyrinth or no Labyrinth, it makes no difference,” Pasiphaë rasped, her voice no longer as soft and melodious as before. “I will deal with you quickly, before Koios arrives.”

Hazel laughed. “Still underestimating me, Pasiphaë?”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Pasiphaë snapped. “You’ve only survived this far through sheer luck. You’re all alone, and weak. You won’t last long.”

“I’m not alone,” Hazel said quietly. She could feel Hecate’s power behind the scenes, strengthening her grasp on the Mist even as Pasiphaë’s weakened. “You are.”

Pasiphaë sent a blast of pure energy towards her, but Hazel was more ready this time, and she willed the Mist around her to form a shield. The blast ricocheted off the shield with a deep humming noise, leaving her unscathed.

Hazel concentrated on the ground under the temple. She could feel that it was incredibly rich in gold and jewels, and it was already weak from centuries of disrepair. Gradually, she started to will the riches under the earth to move away from Pasiphaë’s feet, causing the ground under her to crumble ever so slightly. The sorceress didn’t seem to notice.

Pasiphaë launched another tongue of flames at her, but Hazel dodged it easily. As the sorceress was getting increasingly frustrated and flustered, her magic was becoming easier to counter. The daughter of Pluto heard a huge boom from the background, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw something green, but she didn't really have time to look. Hopefully Leo had been the one causing the explosion rather than the one exploding. Right now, though, Pasiphaë was on the ropes, and Hazel was awaiting her moment to finish the job.

“You must really hate demigods,” Hazel said, trying to mimic Pasiphaë’s cruel smile. “We always get the better of you, don’t we, Pasiphaë?”

She continued chipping away, weakening the earth under Pasiphaë quietly by moving the metals beneath it. In her rage, Pasiphaë still hadn’t noticed, but Hazel could see a big crack had formed in the floor, right under the sorceress’ feet.

“You have got the better of no-one!” Pasiphaë shrieked. “I will destroy you! No demigod can stand before me!”

“You can’t stand at all,” Hazel said. “Look.”

She pointed to Pasiphaë’s feet. As the sorceress looked down, Hazel forced the precious metals under the temple to explode upwards, opening up a huge pit underneath Pasiphaë. The sorceress could do nothing about it, as she fell ten feet into the gaping hole Hazel had created, screaming all the way helplessly. Hazel willed the tons of dirt and precious metals she had displaced to fall back on top of Pasiphaë, crushing her under their weight, and sealing the sorceress under the temple that had become her tomb.

“Well done, Hazel Levesque,” a voice said from behind her. Hazel turned to see Hecate, standing tall, dressed all in black, glowing as the Mist swirled around her. Gale was back on the goddess’ shoulder, no longer with a knife sticking out of her chest. “It has been many millennia since I last fought alongside a demigod, but you have proven yourself worthy.”

The idea that Hazel had to ‘prove herself worthy’ rankled a bit, but Hecate had saved her life, so she was hardly going to complain about it now.

“Shall we?” Hecate said.

Hazel nodded, as together, they joined Leo in the fray against Clytius.

Chapter Text

For a fleeting moment, when he’d drawn his hammer, Leo had had a vision where he somehow defeated the giant with ease. He pictured Clytius, barbecued to death, and himself standing there saying something like “If you play with fire you’re going to get burned”. (Of course, had he had a bit more time, he might have been able to work out something slightly less cliché and more awesome to say, but that was what he had come up with in the two seconds he’d spent thinking about it.)

Naturally, those ideas went out of the window as soon as Clytius attacked for the first time.

For someone twice his size, Clytius was insanely quick. Leo was having to duck and weave like a boxer, up on the ropes, except there wasn’t a timer that could save him, no bell at the end of the round to give him the breather he was desperate for.

Though there was the ticking timer that was the elevator in front of them, from which Percy and Annabeth would be appearing in seven - maybe six, now – minutes, along with a Titan who apparently had a reputation for being cruel. Leo had no idea how he was going to handle that, but he had no idea how he was going to survive the next thirty seconds either, so he couldn’t afford to get distracted.

He found himself practically fighting on autopilot. It was dodge, roll and dodge again, as he desperately squirmed away from the giant. For once, his lack of height was coming in handy, making him a much smaller target for his towering opponent. Clytius was barely even using his sword, instead often choosing to aim punches or kicks at Leo, not that it made things much easier for the son of Hephaestus. Even if Clytius was surprisingly predictable, anticipating what he would do and stopping it were two remarkably different things. Somehow, he was managing it so far, though Clytius hadn’t shown any signs of tiring. 

Leo looked down at his hammer, which felt pitifully undersized in his hands. He’d barely had a chance to use it so far, and he’d tried shooting a few fireballs at Clytius, but so far all he’d managed was to slow him down a little. Although he was grateful for the respite, playing for time wasn’t really much good, not when reinforcements were coming for Clytius in a few minutes. He needed, somehow, to kill the giant. Not that saying it made it any more straightforward.

He prayed to the gods in his head, all of them at once, hoping one of them would hear it. Right now, Leo would take help from the goddess of toilet paper if he could get it.

The giant charged at him again, and Leo ducked out of the way at the last second, watching as Clytius stumbled over a loose tile on the floor, crashing to the ground with a thud. Leo raised his hammer, thinking now was his chance, but Clytius was back on his feet within barely a second, forcing the son of Hephaestus back on the defensive.

“Clumsy, aren’t you?” Leo mocked, as he retreated away from the giant, who was breathing slightly heavily after the fall but unfortunately didn’t look to be injured.

Clytius made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl, before raising his hands. The domed ceiling shook, and the giant’s voice echoed through the room, magnified a hundred times.

You will not be able to escape forever, Leo Valdez, the giant said, his voice deep and menacing. It sounded as if he were speaking through a chorus of the dead, using all the unfortunate souls who’d been buried behind the dome’s stelae.

Leo sent a fireball at him, which hit the giant, only for him to laugh, a sound which was especially eerie given it seemed to come from all around it.

They told you I didn’t like fire, did they? Clytius chuckled, standing still as if to mock Leo, inviting him to try again. They were right, but your flames are far too weak to bother me.

Leo fired another one right at Clytius’ face, but the giant swatted it away like it were nothing but an annoying bug.

Hold on. Help is coming, a feminine voice said in Leo’s head.

Leo had no idea who it was, but ‘help’ sounded pretty promising right now, as Clytius nearly knocked him over with a strike from his sword which Leo just about managed to dodge.

For the first time, though, Leo realised that Clytius had swung with the flat of his sword rather than the edge. And he had generally avoided using his sword up to this point too…

“You’re not trying to kill me,” Leo realized. “You need me for something.”

Don’t flatter yourself, the giant sneered. You are nothing but insurance. Once your friends reach the surface, Gaea will have no more use for you. Your flame has burned down to its final embers.

“So I’m useful to Gaea?” Leo retorted. The voice had told him to stall for time, the exact opposite of what Leo had thought he needed to do before, but somehow, he trusted the mystery woman’s judgment over his own. That meant that the more time Leo could spend talking, the better. “How sweet. Bet you don’t know how that feels.”

Hardly, Clytius laughed, ignoring the jibe. I was always Mother’s favourite. Besides, I will be the one who makes the sacrifice that wakes her, though you will not live to see it.

“Bring it on, Mama’s boy,” Leo said. “We’ll see who lives and who doesn’t.”

You are doing well, Leo Valdez, the voice in his head said, as Leo raised his hammer just in time to block a swipe from Clytius.

“How’s that help of yours coming along?” Leo muttered to himself. He had no idea how he’d survived this long without getting killed.

The voice laughed. I am on my way. Your friends require my aid as well.

Leo felt a surge of hope. This mystery woman, who had to be a goddess, was helping the others too? That had to mean they were doing OK.

“Give me something,” he responded under his breath. “Anything you can.”

You already have my blessing, child, the voice said. Can you not feel it? At every stage, you have been one step ahead.

Leo puzzled over that thought, as Clytius swung at him, and he ducked easily. He had found Clytius pretty easy to predict up to this point. In fact, he’d basically been able to anticipate the giant’s every move, which was surely the only reason he had lasted this long. Was that a blessing from this goddess?

Clytius growled. Slippery, aren’t you? He was clearly starting to get a touch frustrated by Leo’s ability to avoid his attacks, and he wasn’t moving with anywhere near the same speed.

And yet, Leo knew the second he got close enough to try and attack Clytius himself, the giant would knock him out with ease. He was stuck in this waiting game for now, until his mystery ally showed up.

He heard a noise from behind him, and he turned for a second to see Hazel and Pasiphaë back in the chamber again. That had to be good news. Hazel must have escaped from whatever magical trap Pasiphaë had put her in, then. Judging by the way Pasiphaë was screaming, she didn’t seem too happy about it, either, though Leo wasn't really paying much heed to the words they were saying. Frankly, Leo had enough on his own plate. Still, if Hazel could deal with the sorceress, that would at least resolve one problem.

Leo looked down at his hands again, and realized he was glowing. That was weird, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with the goddess talking in his head, or more accurately her blessings. He had an idea as to who she might be, but he couldn’t be sure yet, and besides it wasn’t that important for now.

Free the Doors, the goddess in question said.

Right. The Doors. One of the main reasons they were here in the first place. Leo had been so focused on trying to survive he hadn’t thought about them in a while.

“If I free them now, what happens to Percy and Annabeth inside?” Leo wondered in his head.

The Doors will not disappear while in use, the voice said.

“You’re sure?” Leo asked, as Clytius aimed a tired swing at his head, and he ducked it for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his friends in limbo.

Of course I am sure. Do you think I would risk the life of my daughter? the goddess asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

Finally, Leo had the confirmation to back up his hunch as to who she was, as Athena repeated her instruction. Free the Doors.

Unfortunately, Clytius was standing between Leo and the black chains that were tying the Doors down, an enormous, dark, fairly terrifying barrier. He needed to find a way to solve that problem first. Clytius wasn’t exactly going to stand around and make things easy for him.

Leo felt his brain whirring, as Athena’s blessing kicked in, letting him visualize all the possible ways things could play out. Charging straight for the Doors was out of the question. He could try distracting the giant, but the time it would take to destroy both sets of chains would be too long, and Clytius was bound to catch him. There was no real way he could work his way up closer to them without the giant noticing, so that left only one possibility: he’d have to destroy them from where he was.

Suddenly, it all clicked in his brain. He knew what he needed to do.

Leo reached into his belt as Clytius aimed another swing at him. He ducked, gently rolling two small metal balls towards the Doors as he moved out of the way, and watched in satisfaction as they nestled either side of the elevator doors. That should be close enough. 

Thankfully, Clytius hadn’t noticed, as he charged at Leo with all the grace of a rampaging bison, and Leo saw the attack coming from a mile away, dodging it with ease. Was this what it was like to be Annabeth, seeing your opponent’s every move as if in slow motion? Clytius had barely laid a glove on him thus far, and it was clearly starting to irk him.

“Hey, Clytius?” Leo shouted. “You know those Doors behind you? The ones you’re meant to be protecting?”

Clytius stopped still. What about them? he asked, a slight note of worry in his voice, which resonated around the chamber.

“You haven’t done a very good job,” Leo yelled.

He raised his hand, sending a huge fireball towards one of the metal spheres he’d rolled to the Doors just before. Clytius watched in bewilderment as the flames sailed past him, apparently satisfied that Leo had missed.

That satisfaction was very short-lived, however.

With a flash of green light, the first of the two bombs ignited, detonating in a huge explosion, destroying the chains on the left hand side and setting off the second bomb, in a beautiful sequence – a chain reaction, perhaps - while, mercifully, leaving the Doors themselves relatively unscathed. The Greek fire burned, and the Doors were free.

Clytius roared, and charged at Leo, who dodged him easily.

I will make sure your death is painful, boy, he intoned, but his voice no longer seemed quite as menacing.

“It’s always the same with you giants, isn’t it?” Leo taunted. “It’s very dull. I mean, can’t you come up with something more interesting to say?”

Clytius swung again, no longer using the flat of his sword but the blade, but Leo deflected the blow harmlessly with his hammer.

“Besides,” Leo added, “I’ve been promised a painful death hundreds of times, and not once has anyone delivered. I’m feeling a little short-changed.”

Behind him, Leo heard a massive crashing sound. He turned his neck just a tad, to see an enormous pit in the ground filling itself in, and Pasiphaë nowhere in sight. Hazel, clearly, had won her fight.

Leo felt a surge of emotions – pride in Hazel, for overcoming an immortal sorceress with such ease, and hope, knowing she could join him in the fight against Clytius. Two against one was much better odds, and he had Athena helping him already.

“It’s over, Clytius,” he said. “You’ve lost.”

Do not count your chickens just yet, Clytius said, though his tone betrayed his desperation. Koios will be here in barely a couple of minutes. You are but two demigods, against a giant and a Titan.

“Two demigods and a goddess, actually,” a voice said. Not the voice of the goddess who had been speaking to him, however. No, this voice was slightly higher-pitched, more silky and ethereal.

The giant stumbled back, almost falling into the Doors. “Hecate,” he said, his voice now coming from his own mouth rather than from all around them.

“Hello, old friend,” Hecate said. “It has been some time.”

A silvery thread seemed to appear out of nowhere, and began winding itself around Clytius’ leg, but just when it looked like Clytius was about to be brought down by it, he cut himself free with his sword.

“Last time, you had Heracles and Dionysus by your side, the most powerful demigods in the world, destined to become gods, and I was alone,” Clytius said bitterly, swinging his sword at Hecate, who vanished, reappearing behind Clytius. “These two are hardly of the same calibre, and Koios will be here very soon.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Hecate said. “Hazel Levesque is far more capable than you realise. That much, she has proven already.”

She fired a blast of white-hot flames at Clytius, far hotter than anything Leo could ever conjure up, which hit Clytius’ chest, melting part of his armour, though the giant himself seemed fine. Clytius countered with a swipe of his sword, connecting with Hecate and sending her flying back.

“One weak goddess, two weak demigods,” Clytius said, his lip curling. “I must admit, defeating you is an unexpected but very welcome bonus, Hecate.”

Hecate bounced back to her feet, and fired a rain of metal projectiles at Clytius, who effortlessly brushed them aside, before slashing his sword across Hecate’s face, leaving golden ichor dripping from the wound. The goddess staggered back, but thankfully the wound didn’t seem that bad.

“You forget,” he snarled. “I was born to counter you. Your little magic tricks don’t work on me.”

Clytius raised his sword, only to howl in pain as Leo, sensing the opportunity while Hecate had his attention, brought his hammer down on the giant’s foot with as much force as he could muster. The giant stumbled, but stayed on his feet, forcing Hazel to hastily retreat as he lurched towards her inelegantly. Hecate fired another burst of green fire at the off-balance Clytius, but the giant somehow managed to deflect the fireball towards Leo, who emerged from the flames dazzled by the light but otherwise unharmed.

“One minute,” Clytius said roughly. “Say any last words you have now, before it is too late.”

He aimed a swift kick at Hazel, who wasn’t expecting it. Leo felt his heart sink as he saw her go flying backwards, into the stone wall of the chamber, before falling to the ground with a dull thud. She looked like she was out cold, and there was blood on her temple from where she had struck a rock.

Leo’s instincts were screaming at him to go and help Hazel, but he knew that Clytius was the bigger problem. She would live for now, but if they couldn’t kill the giant, they were all going to die anyway.

Hecate furiously fired another tongue of flames at Clytius, having seen her protégé go down. This time she managed to connect, singing the giant’s face, who grimaced in pain. Clytius aimed another strike at her with his sword, but she nimbly sidestepped this time, even though her face was now covered in ichor. The wound was clearly weakening her, though.

Leo looked around, hoping Athena was about to show up. She’d promised help, and with Hecate struggling, they really needed it. But there was no wisdom goddess in sight, and Clytius was back on the front foot. He aimed another strike at Hecate, who sprawled inelegantly out of the way.

Leo heard a soft ding from the elevator doors behind Clytius. The giant turned, a smug grin on his face.

“Too late,” he said. “The prisoners are here.”

He pressed the button to open the Doors, and Leo braced himself for the Titan who was about to walk out, to see Percy and Annabeth again for the first time in two weeks. Would they be injured? Had the Titan tortured them? Would they be able to fight, perhaps?

His heart raced as he readied himself, and the Doors opened to reveal the last thing Leo was expecting: Annabeth, all on her own.

On the one hand, that was excellent news. No Titans meant they had a much better chance of surviving this fight, given Clytius was now all alone. But Leo wasn’t celebrating just yet. He had a very bad feeling he knew exactly what Percy’s absence meant.

A furious-looking Clytius picked up the daughter of Athena by the scruff of the neck. “Where is Koios?” he growled.

“Dead,” Annabeth spat, with more hatred in her voice than Leo had ever heard before.

“And the boy?” Clytius asked, shaking Annabeth, tightening his grip on her neck. Leo’s muscles tensed on seeing the rough treatment the daughter of Athena was getting, but he couldn't deny he wanted to hear the answer to the question too.

But before Annabeth could respond, the giant jumped up as though he had been shocked, dropping the daughter of Athena to the ground unceremoniously.

“You will not touch my daughter!” the same voice he had been hearing in his head roared.

Leo turned to see Athena in her full glory, a smaller but otherwise near perfect flesh-and-blood replica of the statue he’d seen so many times, dressed in full battle armour and seeming to crackle with thunder. He could feel the goddess’ divine aura from here, burning hot with her anger, terrible and glorious at the same time.

The rest of the fight was such a brutal beating that Leo might well have felt sorry for Clytius, were it not for the fact that he hated his guts. The combined power of Athena and Hecate was simply far too much for the giant to withstand, and it was barely even a contest. Clytius was swinging his sword desperately, but Athena was much too fast for him, and she was poking him full of holes with her spear, leaving ichor dripping from a dozen wounds. Leo would like to have said he was contributing too, but in truth he was mostly just enjoying the show, as Hecate launched a blast of pure energy which knocked Clytius clean off his feet, leaving the giant spread-eagled on the floor of the chamber.

“Would you do the honours, Leo Valdez?” Hecate asked. She extended an unlit torch to him, and Leo lit it up with a small burst of flames.

Hecate herself lit a second torch with her magic, and advanced on the prone Clytius. She thrust the torches like daggers at Clytius’s head. The giant’s hair went up faster than dry tinder, spreading down his head and across his body until his whole body burned with flames so hot even Leo found himself taking a step back.

Clytius fell without a sound, face-first in the rubble of Hades’s altar. His body crumbled to ashes.

After that, the chamber fell into a sudden, awkward silence. Leo felt like he had never had more questions, and yet he didn’t really know how to ask them. He noted with a huge sense of relief that Hazel was stirring in the corner of the room, and Hecate had made her way over to the daughter of Pluto, probably to provide some treatment. Athena was just standing there in the middle of the floor, staring at her daughter with an expression on her face that Leo couldn’t quite read. 

Finally, the silence was broken by Jason and Frank bursting into the chamber through a tunnel, swords drawn, faces red and bloodied, covered in dirt. Leo briefly wondered where Nico and Piper were, but he assumed they were fine, because there was no way Jason and Frank would have gone on if not.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jason said. “Have we missed the fun?”

Read the room, Jason, Leo wanted to scream. Instead, he watched the cogs whir in Jason and Frank’s heads as they pieced together the scene in front of them. Their facial expressions painted the whole picture. First surprise, upon seeing Athena and Hecate, then delight, as they saw Annabeth, back and alive, and then a mix of horror and fear as it dawned on them why, maybe, everyone else looked so sombre despite the victory.

Leo knew exactly what they were wondering. The same question had been on his lips for a while now, but he dreaded the answer too much to want to ask it.

“Annabeth?” Jason asked, before hesitating a little. “Where’s, uh…”

He trailed off, but Frank finished the question for him. “Where’s Percy?”

The tears that rolled gently down the daughter of Athena’s face said more than a thousand words ever could.

Chapter Text

Annabeth sat up in bed.

Her stomach was growling, but she didn’t want to eat.

Her eyes were on the verge of closing, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to fall asleep.

She was covered in muck and grime and monster dust, but she didn’t want to take a shower.

The friends she had missed so much these last two weeks awaited her, and yet she couldn’t find the strength to leave her cabin.

Part of her hoped it was all one long nightmare, that she would eventually drift off, and wake up back at Camp, with Percy safe and sound. Or maybe she would wake up a normal, mortal teenager, faced with the pressures of exams and high school drama rather than monsters and Primordials and the world depending on her.

But no. This was her life. A life that she still had because Percy had most likely given his own to save it.

It was all so incredibly cruel.

Annabeth had barely spoken a word since she’d arrived back in the world of the living. After the defeat of the giant Clytius, she had pretty much made her way straight back onto the ship and into her cabin. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, even though everyone had wanted to talk to her. Even Reyna was here somehow, and yet Annabeth couldn’t find it in her to care. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry, which was what she had been doing on and off for the last couple of hours.

She was going to need a new pillow. This one was soaked through.

As Annabeth revisited the Doors of Death for the thousandth time, watched Damasen and Phoebe and Bob sacrifice themselves to save her, pleaded with Percy not to be the hero that he always had been, she heard a knock on her door.

She ignored it, in the hopes it would go away. It was midnight, after all. Instead, the knock came again, louder and stronger.

“Annabeth? It’s me, Piper,” came the voice from outside. “Alright to come in?”

Annabeth wanted to say no, but she didn’t have the energy to form the words, so she just remained silent. Unfortunately, the daughter of Aphrodite took her lack of refusal as a yes. She opened the door to the cabin, coming in and sitting down at Annabeth’s desk.

No words were exchanged for a while, as Annabeth stared at Piper blankly. This should have been a happy moment, reunited with her friend at last after escaping from, well, where she had. Instead…

Eventually, Piper broke the silence. “You hungry?”

Annabeth shook her head, but her stomach chose that moment to betray her by letting out a loud grumble.

Piper took out a square of ambrosia from her pouch. “Eat this,” she offered. “You’ll feel better.”

Reluctantly, Annabeth forced her mouth open, and put the ambrosia in. Normally, ambrosia tasted like the popcorn she often shared with her dad, but this time the taste was of Sally Jackson’s blue cookies, which reminded her of Sally, and in turn Percy. Suddenly, despite feeling physically energized, Annabeth felt like the wind had been sucked out of her, again.

The room was quiet once more, until Piper spoke again. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. “Not really,” she said, after a long pause.

“He’s alive, you know,” Piper said. “Nico checked. His soul isn’t in the Underworld.”

“That doesn’t have to mean he’s alive,” Annabeth replied grimly, knowing that Tartarus could easily have devoured Percy’s soul like he had Phoebe’s. The thought of it made her want to gag.

Piper looked like she wanted to ask what Annabeth meant, but thankfully, she seemed to think better of it.

“You have to believe,” she said instead, fidgeting restlessly. “He’s the strongest of us all. I know he’ll be fine. He’ll be back soon.”

Annabeth felt a brief surge of hope, that somehow everything was going to be alright, only for it to very quickly turn to rage. Was Piper charmspeaking her?

“Oh, you know, do you?” she retorted angrily.

Piper’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean-”

“That everything is perfect? That Percy’s living the dream life down there? He’s just on vacation, is he? Back in a week? Shall I ask him to send photos?”

“Annabeth-” Piper tried to cut in, but Annabeth wasn’t done yet.

“You don’t know what it’s like, do you? You haven’t seen that place, the way it slowly eats away at you, the feeling of knowing the air and the ground and everything in between is trying to kill you. You have no idea what Percy’s going through, if he’s even still alive, which I doubt given he had an entire army bearing down on him the last time I saw him.” Annabeth’s voice reached a crescendo. “This isn’t something you can just charmspeak away, Piper. This is real. He’s real, and he wants Percy dead. And he tends to get what he wants. So don’t come at me with your flowery fake optimism bullshit. And don’t you fucking dare use your powers on me like that ever again.”

Piper was silent for a while, and Annabeth realised she might have gone a little too far. The daughter of Aphrodite may have badly miscalculated by trying to charmspeak her, but she had been trying to make Annabeth feel better. And quite frankly, losing another friend would be far too much for Annabeth to take at this point.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, but this time it was Piper’s turn to shake her head.

“Don’t be,” she replied sincerely. “You were completely right. I shouldn’t have used charmspeak on you. It was a horrible and thoughtless thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

Annabeth inclined her head in acknowledgement of Piper’s apology. The cabin was quiet again, somewhat awkwardly so, until the daughter of Aphrodite spoke up at last.

“I’m not going to pretend I know much about Tartarus,” she started, and Annabeth shivered slightly at the mention of the T-word.

“Don’t say the name?” Piper asked.

“Don’t say the name,” Annabeth confirmed. “Call it the Pit, or Hell, or anything else. Just, please…”

Piper nodded. “OK. So Percy’s in the Pit. And someone is trying to kill him?”

“Gaea’s husband. The Primordial of the Pit.” Annabeth responded shortly. “He tried to kill both of us. Percy stayed behind so that I could escape.”

Piper’s mouth dropped open in a perfect circle. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t really know what to say,” Piper said.

“There isn’t really much you can say,” Annabeth responded.

“No,” Piper said. She stared rather uncomfortably at her own shoes. It was rather a while before she spoke again. “Your mom wanted to speak to you, by the way.”

“She’s still here?” That was a surprise to Annabeth. After the fight with Clytius, she hadn’t expected Athena to stick around.

“Still here,” Piper confirmed. “She’s been discussing something with Frank for a while. I think he’s getting some sort of crash course on battle strategy.”

A small hint of a smile crept onto Annabeth’s face. “Good for Frank.”

“Yeah,” Piper said, chewing her lip. “I owe you one, you know. She’d never have been there but for you, and without her I’d be dead.”

“Dead?”

“Apparently that’s what should happen when you lose more than half a gallon of blood,” Piper replied drily. “I’m meant to be on two full days of bed rest. If Coach Hedge finds out I snuck out, he’s likely to finish the job.”

Annabeth laughed despite herself. To say she was feeling happy would be a lie, but she wasn’t feeling quite as depressed about it all. The pain was down from a ten to, maybe, nine point eight.

“Shall I tell her you’re ready?" Piper asked. "She asked about you maybe an hour ago. I told her you probably still needed space."

“Thanks,” Annabeth replied. Piper was a good friend, and a caring one. She had definitely been too harsh on her earlier. “I can’t say I particularly want to see her, but I don’t think waiting is going to change that. Might as well get it out of the way.”

Piper nodded. “I get that. I’ll tell her.”

She walked towards the door, before turning towards Annabeth one last time. “I’m always here if you want to talk,” she offered. “Just, uh, you know, come find me. I can’t promise I’ll have any answers, but I can listen, at least.”

Annabeth nodded hollowly, acknowledging the offer, as Piper walked out of her cabin, leaving her to mentally ready herself for a visit from mother dearest.

She didn’t have to wait long. Within a couple of minutes, Athena materialized in front of her in the cabin. She was no longer in her full battle armour, but dressed casually instead, in a grey T-shirt that matched her eyes, along with a pair of jeans and sneakers. She sat down at Annabeth’s desk, where Piper had been before.

“Daughter,” Athena said.

“Mother,” Annabeth replied tonelessly, with all the enthusiasm of a waitress coming to the end of her shift. “What can I do for you?”

Athena looked taken aback by the cold greeting. “Nothing, my dear. I am here for you,” she responded.

“For me?”

“I thought, perhaps…” Athena started, before trailing off. She didn’t seem particularly comfortable, but given how their last meeting had gone, Annabeth was in no mood to give her an easy time.

“That I might want you to comfort me?” Annabeth finished.

Athena nodded.

“What gave you that impression?” Annabeth said drily.

“Have I done something to offend you, Annabeth?” Athena asked, though the look on her face suggested she already knew the answer.

“Well, the last time you saw me, you said I had failed you, and that I was ‘no true daughter of yours’. That was before you sent me on a quest that ended up with me and my boyfriend falling into the Pit – a boyfriend you’ve always hated, by the way, so I guess you’re pretty happy he’s stuck down there – and took away the one gift you’ve ever given me for several months. So in summary, no, Mother, you’ve done nothing to offend me,” Annabeth replied sarcastically. She was running a little short of patience right now, and though another time she might have worried about speaking to a goddess like that, right now she really couldn’t give a shit if Athena blasted her.

No blast came, however. Instead, Athena sighed, sitting back in her chair. “I cannot say I had not feared this kind of reaction.”

“Then why are you here?” Annabeth snapped. “Go find another child of yours to do your dirty work for you. Or have they all died chasing your stupid Mark?”

“I am here,” Athena said, ignoring Annabeth’s jibe, “because of two people you know very well. They, too, told me that I had failed you as a mother, that I had seen you as a pawn rather than a daughter, and that I owed it to you to make it up.”

She walked over to Annabeth and sat down on her bed, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. Annabeth, though she was still simmering with rage, didn’t resist.

“As Minerva, I have not always been fully in control of my actions, blinded by hatred of the Romans, as I am sure you inferred,” Athena continued. “I will forever bear the guilt for those children of mine I sent to their deaths, knowing that but for my hubris, they might have survived. As for the way I spoke to you, with spite instead of pride… I can only apologize, and hope you are willing to forgive me.”

“Who are the two people you mentioned?” Annabeth asked, not responding to Athena’s apology for the moment.

“One is a remarkably wise mortal woman, who gave me hope that I could restore my relationship with you, even if she also showed me the extent to which I had damaged it,” Athena responded.

“And the other?” Annabeth asked. She had her ideas as to whom Athena was talking about, even if the description she’d given was rather cryptic.

“Her son. The boyfriend you accused me of hating,” Athena said, a small, sad smile on her lips. “He cursed me whilst you were in the Pit, and though his words were full of anger, there was more than a hint of truth to them.”

Annabeth could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Demigods rarely got this kind of attention from the gods, let alone a full-blown apology for being a bad parent. Not to mention the idea of Athena talking to Sally Jackson, which was even wilder. It all seemed rather surreal. She could feel a lump building in her throat, but the tears were holding back, for now.

“For what it is worth… I never hated Percy. I simply saw him as erratic, someone who could very easily be a huge problem if not kept under close watch,” Athena continued. “And yes, I did attempt to make him stay away from you. I thought I was acting in your best interests, but I should have had more faith in your judgement.”

“So you no longer disapprove?” Annabeth asked hopefully.

“A man so selfless as to jump into the worst place in the universe for my daughter, and you think I would still disapprove?” Athena asked rhetorically, smiling. “I am not so dogmatic, so blinded by my feud with the boy’s father, as to ignore Percy’s heroism, even if he is unpredictable. If you love him, then I will not stand in your way.”

Annabeth’s heart leaped, only to fall back down into the pit in which it had been before, as she remembered why she had been so depressed in the first place.

“But he’s down there,” she replied dully. What did it matter if Athena approved or not, if Percy was never going to hear it?

“He is,” came the reply.

“And he’s probably going to die, if he hasn’t already.”

Athena looked contemplatively round the cabin before she responded. “Many millennia ago, there was once a great hero whom I favored. His bravery was remarkable, just like Percy’s, and he was a superb leader. He also had a similar talent for getting into difficult situations, just as your boyfriend does, and was similarly resourceful in getting out each time.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure where this was going yet. “Okay…” she responded.

“He had a family, yet for twenty years he did not see his wife,” Athena continued. “His quest had taken him to Troy, and his journey home had been rather dangerous. Many times, I helped him to survive in perilous situations, and still year after year passed and he seemed no closer to home.”

“You’re telling me the story of Odysseus,” Annabeth replied tersely. “What’s your point?”

“Everyone told Penelope Odysseus was dead. Remarry, they said, he will not return. The suitors circled like a pack of vultures,” Athena said. “But for twenty years, she resisted, never giving up belief that her husband might come back. And just as she was losing hope at last, there came Odysseus, back to Ithaca, reunited with his Penelope.”

“What are you trying to get at here?” Annabeth asked, though she was fairly sure she knew.

“Percy Jackson is alive-”

“His soul’s not in the Underworld, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Yes, it does,” Athena said, raising her voice slightly. “May I finish?”

“Sorry,” Annabeth muttered. “Go on.”

“I know what it is that you fear, but for a mortal soul to be trapped or damaged by any deity, Primordial or otherwise, would be a huge violation of the Ancient Laws. So huge that even the Lord of the Pit himself would not dare to do it. There are powers even he fears.” Athena said. “Souls are protected heavily, especially those of mortals. Any attempt to destroy one would be punished severely.”

Her head was swimming from the sudden dose of information, but Annabeth knew what the important takeaway was. If Athena was right – and she often was – then Percy had a chance. He might still be getting tortured for all she knew, and he was still stuck in the Pit, but she had something to cling on to now.

“As I was saying,” Athena resumed, “Percy Jackson is alive. His journey may well make Odysseus’ look comparatively straightforward, but he will still do everything he can to make it. As Penelope held on to hope, I am asking you, daughter, to do the same. Have faith, and keep fighting on the surface just as he will keep fighting beneath it to return to you.”

“I…” Annabeth started, but that lump in her throat had forced itself upwards, and finally the tears that had been threatening to come for the last few minutes started to drip down onto her cheeks. She buried her face on her mother’s shoulder, and Athena put her arm around her, wrapping her tightly in her warm embrace, as she silently sobbed into the goddess’ T-shirt.

“He can’t die,” Annabeth whispered, between sobs. “He can’t. He won’t. He’ll find a way. He always does.”

“That’s the spirit,” Athena said, as she gently stroked Annabeth’s blonde hair. “Hold on to that, and keep going. The world needs you, Annabeth.”

She didn’t want to let go, but eventually Annabeth detached herself from Athena’s embrace, wiping her eyes with a tissue. She felt like she could breathe again, at last. There was hope, and that was maybe all she needed.

“There is one more thing,” Athena said. “Your birthday passed yesterday. Given the circumstances, I presumed you would not be… overly keen on celebrating, but I do have a present for you.”

She pulled out a notebook and handed it to Annabeth. It had her name on it, written in beautifully neat golden letters, but when she opened it up, she found it completely blank, just like any other notebook.

“Think of something that you wish to design, Annabeth. Anything at all,” Athena said.

Annabeth visualised the throne room at Olympus, as she had imagined it redesigned. To her surprise, a drawing appeared in the notebook, of the throne room exactly as she had pictured it in her head, resplendent in all its glory. As she looked closer, she could see little markings on the image, with measurements of distances and angles. It seemed to get increasingly more detailed the closer she looked. She pictured a new tapestry on the wall, and watched as it appeared in the drawing, just as she had imagined it.

“Thank you,” Annabeth breathed.

Athena smiled. “Given I withdrew your cap’s powers for so long, I thought it was only right that I did something to compensate.”

“You have,” Annabeth said, smiling through the tears. This was going to make redesigning Olympus so much easier. It was an architect’s dream come true. “This is amazing.”

After a moment or two, Athena stood up.

“You may not see me again for a while,” she said. “We gods are heavily weakened by the schism between Greece and Rome. There are certain places where I am stronger – Manhattan, say, or Athens – but the daughter of Bellona must take my statue back to New York to avert war with the legion, and that will make it much harder for me to come here. Know that I am always watching, however, and that I am prouder of you than you can imagine.”

Annabeth felt the tears welling up again. Athena had always been distant and cold in the past, very much goddess first and parent second. This sudden change was so overwhelming that it almost made her dizzy, in a good way.

“When does Reyna leave?” she asked quietly.

Athena looked surprised. “She is sleeping for now, but she will leave with the son of Hades and the satyr Hedge come morning. Do you wish for me to wake her?”

Annabeth shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put her request without sounding ridiculous.

“Would you stay here?” she half-whispered. “Just for the night, I mean,” she quickly added. “I know you can’t stay long without the statue, but while it’s here…”

To Annabeth’s immense relief, Athena sat back down on her bed.

“Rest assured, I will not leave you until I have to,” the goddess said, smiling at her daughter. She flicked her hand, and the cabin went dark. “Now sleep, child. You have earned some rest.”

Had anyone entered the room a few minutes later, they would have seen Annabeth fast asleep, with her head in her mother’s lap.

Chapter Text

Percy was used to making tough choices.

The one he’d just made was not one of them.

He’d known from the moment they’d bolted for the Doors that only one of them was getting out. And of course it had to be Annabeth, his brilliant, beautiful, perfect girlfriend. He would die a million times over for her without even hesitating.

But he had this feeling, deep down, that he wasn’t going to die today.

He couldn’t explain it. The army closing in on him would certainly beg to differ.

But there was just this little nagging thought that said he could survive, and it had made him promise Annabeth he’d come back to her.

Was that clever? Maybe not.

But right now, all Percy could do was stand there, ready. The odds were hopeless, but what was at stake - the hope of seeing Annabeth again - was too precious not to fight for.

So he prepared himself for the endless torrent of monsters, hoping to take down as many as he could, survive as long as possible.

And then they disappeared.

“You just destroyed the rest of the army,” Percy said, stunned, as he looked up at Tartarus’ monstrosity of a ‘face’.

Frankly, he would have much rather faced the monsters, but that choice had been taken out of his hands. 

Tartarus glared down at him.

“They were no longer of use,” he spat. “Your little stunt with the Doors was rather successful in that regard.”

He was clearly even angrier now, which was exactly what Percy needed, clearly. Tartarus hadn't been terrifying enough before.

“So what now?” he asked. “You kill me?”

“Well, eventually,” Tartarus said, a horrible smile curling across his void of a mouth. “But I must admit I find you intriguing enough to want to understand you better first.”

Great. As reward for all the things he’d done in his life, Percy was going to get a nice, slow, painful, torturous death, aged sixteen, all alone, in the literal bowels of hell.

Nice one, Fates. Very cool.

“You can put that sword away, by the way,” Tartarus said, still smiling evilly. “You won’t be needing it.”

Percy stood firm, sword still in hand, bravely staring into the black eyes of the Primordial. He hoped his legs weren’t shaking too much, otherwise it might ruin the whole defiant look he was going for.

“Have it your way,” Tartarus shrugged. “There are several questions I wish to ask you. You are under no obligation to answer honestly, or at all, but I can spare you some pain if you do.”

Percy stated silently back at Tartarus. A Q&A session with an evil Primordial hadn’t exactly ever been on his bucket list. Though the way things were looking, he wasn’t going to be ticking much off his actual bucket list ever again.

“Why did you jump down into my domain?” Tartarus asked, his expression now genuinely curious.

“For Annabeth,” Percy said, without even hesitating. “I promised her we’d never be apart again.”

“And yet you broke that promise,” Tartarus noted.

“Her life comes first,” Percy replied firmly. “There was no other way. I’d break any promise if it meant she survived.”

“Even at the cost of your own life?”

“If that’s what it'd take,” Percy said, wondering why Tartarus cared.

“Interesting,” Tartarus said, studying him intently. Percy shivered a bit. “And Akhlys, the misery goddess. How is it that you were able to defeat her?”

“I don’t know,” Percy said honestly. “I’ve thought about it a few times. It was like a part of me just snapped, started telling me to hurt her, and I just... could.”

“Hmm,” Tartarus said, not seeming too convinced by that response. “And my sister? How did you escape her domain?”

“Escape?” Percy repeated blankly.

“Nyx surely would not have let you go so easily after you slew her daughter,” Tartarus said, eyeing him creepily. “I saw you jump into her domain, running away from her children. I assumed that was the end of your little escapade, and yet you emerged a few hours later, unscathed. Tell me, how did you manage it?”

He doesn’t know, Percy realized. Tartarus couldn’t see what had happened in Nyx’s Mansion. He had no idea how he could leverage that to his advantage, though, and he doubted he’d be able to hide it from Tartarus anyway.

“Well,” he said instead, cheekily, “I walked out of the door, as Nyx said goodbye and wished me good luck.”

“What do you mean?” Tartarus asked, narrowing his eyes.

“She helped us,” Percy said, enjoying Tartarus’ confusion. “She doesn’t care one bit for Gaea and her plans to take over the world. She wants balance, not destruction, unlike you.”

The whole ground rumbled, and Percy was thrown to the floor, as Tartarus seethed.

“That traitorous, conniving little…!” he raged, seemingly running out of words, apoplectic with fury. “How dare she?”

He stood up, and the air around him seemed to darken, as if reflecting his mood.

"NYX!" he bellowed.

“Brother dear,” came a voice from behind him. “You called?”

Percy scrambled to his feet, and turned around to see Nyx there, in all her glory, enormous and dark and terrifying, and yet the most beautiful thing he had seen today. He had no chance against Tartarus, but she did. Maybe if the two of them fought each other, Percy could use the chaos to escape.

“You back-stabbing little rat,” Tartarus snarled.

Nyx smiled innocently. “Have I done something to offend you, brother?”

“Do not play dumb with me,” Tartarus warned. “You have conspired against Gaea and our children by helping the demigods on their quest.”

“I hardly did a thing!” Nyx said, still smiling. “I simply allowed them to live, gave them food and hospitality. Besides, they are but demigods. Surely you cannot fear them.”

“These demigods,” Tartarus said, viciously spitting the word as though it were a slur, “have freed the Doors of Death. They have set us back immensely. I find it hard to believe they could have done so without you.”

“They’re quite talented, you know,” Nyx said, winking at Percy, who felt rather overwhelmed by what he was witnessing.

“Talented?”

“My help was minimal. They would have been fine without me,” Nyx said, eyes twinkling. “You give me too much credit, and them too little.”

“Enough of this charade,” Tartarus said, grimly drawing his enormous sword. “You will pay for this treason, Nyx.”

Suddenly, the smile was wiped from Nyx’s face, to be replaced by an expression Percy knew all too well. It was the same one he’d had when he’d first seen Tartarus. She was terrified.

“Brother, please,” she replied, her tone suddenly a lot higher and more desperate. “You know the Laws. You know you cannot do this.”

“Can’t I?” he growled. “Perhaps I’ll have to deal with those infernal children of yours, then. You have far too many, anyway.”

Nyx’s face hardened. “You dare not.”

“And what if I do?” Tartarus challenged. “Going to fight me? But you cannot break those Laws yourself, can you?”

“I will do what I must,” Nyx said quietly.

“You know the consequences,” Tartarus said teasingly. “You know you risk oblivion.”

“If that is my price, then I will pay it,” Nyx said, resignedly. “Let the Laws be broken. My children are worth more than I, after all.”

She drew her own weapon, an elegant blade of Stygian iron, black as night. Percy wondered if this was his chance to slip away unnoticed, but before he could make his move, a voice echoed across the Pit.

“Stop,” it said.

And Percy stopped. Tartarus stopped. Nyx stopped. In fact, time itself had stopped.

A figure walked into view. A normal looking woman, dressed all in white, and yet Percy knew instantly that this was far more than that. To freeze two Primordials like she had… He knew he was in the presence of a higher power, someone to whom he was pretty much irrelevant, barely worth even noticing.

Until, that is, she said his name.

“Percy Jackson.”

The boy of that name found himself unfrozen, and hastily bowed. Whoever this was, he did not want to make her angry. He noticed that Nyx and Tartarus were still stuck in their poses, though.

The woman smiled as he bowed, approaching him. She really did look remarkably normal. From a distance, Percy might have mistaken her for his mother.

He realized with a start that his mouth was open, and hastily closed it, hoping this mystery woman hadn’t noticed him staring at her dopily.

“Do not worry,” the woman said. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Who… who are you?” Percy stuttered out, with an effort. “My lady?” he quickly added, wanting to avoid offence.

“I am the universe and I am its creator,” she said, simply. “I am time and space and I am all that fills them. I am you, and I am them –” she gestured at Nyx and Tartarus “– and I am the ground that you all stand on and the air that you all breathe. You know my name as Chaos, though I have countless others, and yet none.”

Holy shit.

Percy was, just slightly, out of his depth here.

“You’re… but, I mean, I’m… what? Why?” he sputtered. His heart rate had never been higher, and he was definitely hyperventilating. He was speaking to the Creator. The Creator. Chaos. Him, a demigod, speaking to a being whose power was literally limitless.

“Calm down,” Chaos said, and instantly Percy relaxed. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he felt a wave of awe replace the fear he had felt. He didn’t know for sure, but he was almost certain no mortal had ever laid eyes on Chaos before, at least not in this form.

“You wish to know why I intervened,” Chaos said. It wasn’t a question, but Percy nodded anyway.

“The best way for you to understand,” Chaos said, “is to think of the universe as a story.”

“A story?”

“An epic tale, told across all of time and all of space. Many chapters have already been written, and many more are still to come, until eventually, the story must come to a close. Do you follow?”

Percy nodded again, though he didn’t completely understand.

“This story,” Chaos continued, “is more intricate than you can imagine, a web of endless threads and characters, some more significant than others, but all playing some role within the narrative of this Universe. There are some parts of the story which are planned out in advance. Those are what you would call fate, or destiny. But otherwise, I allow the characters in my story autonomy, to make their own choices and write their own plotlines.”

Percy’s head was spinning from information overload, but he had never been so eager to listen to anyone in his entire life.

“Of course, there must be rules for the characters,” Chaos said. “Those are what you call the laws of nature. There are deities of various kinds, who are tasked with the upkeep of these laws, and have laws themselves that they must follow. And then there are the Protogenoi, the representation of these laws and nature themselves. They represent things you would call concepts – the Earth, night, darkness, love – and they too have the ability to write their own part in the story.”

Percy glanced over at Nyx and Tartarus, still frozen in time, as he tried to digest the meaning of Chaos’ words. It was all a bit too much.

“And so you see,” Chaos said, “that I cannot allow the embodiments of nature itself to war amongst themselves. It would be far too disruptive, send shockwaves throughout the fabric of the story. Can you imagine how it would impact the world you know if Light were to do battle with Fear, or the Sea were to fight with the Sky itself? War among the Protogenoi is simply incompatible with the story I wish to tell, and that is why I must intervene to prevent it.”

Percy stared dumbly at Chaos, still trying to process what she was saying. His mind flashed back to something Chiron had told him, the very first time he’d come to camp. After all these years, he was finally getting into the metaphysical after all.

“I do not intervene lightly,” Chaos added. “For the most part, I allow the story to tell itself, within the framework I have created. It is only a threat to that framework itself that demands my attention, as the custodian of this book.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Percy asked. He was so insignificant on the scale that Chaos operated on that it was a miracle she'd even noticed him.

“It is preferable for you to know and understand than for you to be driven mad wondering,” Chaos replied. “That was the alternative, and I did not feel it was a desirable one. After all, your role in the tale of this world is more important than you know, Percy Jackson.”

No pressure, then.

“What now?” Percy asked, slightly nervous once more.

“I will remind Tartarus and Nyx of their obligations,” Chaos said. “Neither will interfere with each other any further, nor with Gaea. I cannot risk this conflict flaring up once more.”

“So you’re just going to let Gaea do whatever she wants?” Percy said hopelessly. “She’s just going to win?”

“I did not say that,” Chaos said, smiling again, as if she knew something Percy didn’t. Which, in fairness, she did. She knew everything he didn’t. But he knew she wouldn’t tell him any more than she had, so there was no point asking her to elaborate.

“And… I’m just free to go?”

“Indeed,” Chaos said. “Tartarus will no longer seek to kill you, nor will Nyx seek to help you. Either would risk the anger of the other, and I would prefer to avoid having to deal with a recurrence of this… situation. Your journey through the Pit shall be without interference from the Protogenoi from this point onwards, for better or worse.”

“Is there another way out?” Percy asked. “What with the Doors being closed?”

“That is not a question for me,” Chaos said. “You may find that your Titan friend knows the answer.”

Percy glanced in the direction of Bob a few hundred metres away, still unmoving on the floor.

Tartarus hadn’t actually killed him, he recalled. He’d been planning to torture him to death, but with Chaos’ intervention, Percy guessed Bob was off the hook. And that was the best news he’d heard in weeks.

“I do believe that my daughter told you something when she addressed you in her Mansion, however,” Chaos added. “Take heed of those words. You will find them a useful motto.”

Chaos disappeared, as did the frozen Primordials, leaving Percy alone with the still unconscious Bob, as he reflected on the words Nyx had told him, and that Chaos had just referred to:

There is always another way.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Bob was in worse shape than he had seemed, because it took another fifteen minutes at least for him to wake up, and when he did, he looked like he’d been hit by a train.

“Percy,” he groaned, slowly getting to his feet. “You are alive.”

“Not sure how, but yes,” Percy replied, hugging the surprised Titan. “And I’m glad to see you’re alive, too. You were out for a while.”

Bob shook his head, as if trying to clear the after-effects of the head injury he’d suffered. “I remember… I thought he was sure to kill you. How did you escape? And where is Annabeth?”

Percy sighed. “That,” he said, “is a very long story.”

And he recounted their desperate dash for the Doors, how Damasen had arrived just at the right moment to buy them time. He recalled how Damasen had been shown no mercy by his own father, sharing a grimace of pain with Bob as he revisited the giant’s death, trying to avoid the image of his head rolling away.

When he came to the moment where he had made sure Annabeth would escape at his own expense, Bob’s eyes widened so much he thought they might pop.

“You stayed here voluntarily?” he asked incredulously.

“It was her or me,” Percy said. “And it had to be her.”

Bob shook his head, this time more in disbelief. “You are a brave man, Percy Jackson,” he said.

“I guess?” Percy responded. “I didn’t really think of it that way. I just sort of saw it as a choice between both of us dying or one of us living.”

“You are fascinating,” Bob said. “But please, continue.”

And so a slightly nonplussed Percy did just that. He told Bob about Tartarus’s fury, how the Primordial of the Pit and Nyx had come perilously close to blows, and how Chaos herself had intervened to stop it. That brought more amazement from Bob, as Percy told him how Chaos had described the book of the universe, but despite the look on Bob’s face, he ploughed on.

“And so,” he finished, “we need to find a way out of Tartarus. And Chaos said that you might be the one to ask.”

Bob scratched his head. “She thought I would know?”

That wasn’t the response Percy was hoping for. “Don’t you?” he asked.

“There are other ways, yes,” Bob said. “Monsters and such will naturally gravitate towards the surface as they reform down here, but that is not an option for you, of course.”

“Nope,” Percy said. “How did the Titans escape during the last war? You can’t have had access to the Doors, surely?”

“Kronos,” Bob said simply. “With his power helping us, it was easy. We were able to simply fly out with his assistance. As for how my brother escaped himself, I believe you witnessed the process first-hand.”

Percy shuddered, remembering the sarcophagus, and how each demigod pledged to the cause would contribute a piece of Kronos. “I guess he was harnessing the power of the demigods somehow?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Bob nodded. “Even then, it would have been difficult. He had to smuggle himself out of the Pit, piece by piece. But I do not think Annabeth would be happy to see your body slowly reassembling itself, even if you could perform the same ritual.”

Percy laughed. “No, I don’t think she would. As much as she does love Lego, I think she prefers her boyfriends pre-built.”

“Exactly,” Bob said. “It is difficult to come up with a method of escape suitable for mortals. The Doors are the only way it has ever been done before, to my knowledge.”

That wasn’t really what Percy wanted to hear either. What had Chaos expected Bob to know?

“How do you plan on getting out?” Percy asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you jumped down here because I said your name,” Percy said. “Surely you must have some plan to get back out?”

Bob shook his head yet again. “This is what I am used to now,” he replied. “I spent aeons imprisoned here. It has become my home.”

“And you’re just fine with that?” Percy asked. “It’s an awful place, even if it is what you’re used to.”

“It is the worst place in the universe,” Bob said. “But the choice was between being alone in the Underworld or having and helping my friends in the Pit. I chose friends.”

Yet again, Percy found himself wondering how Bob could possibly be the same person as Iapetus. It was amazing how much one dip in the Lethe had changed things.

“Do you ever miss the real world?” Percy asked. “What with all the time you’ve spent here, and in the Underworld…”

“More than you can imagine,” Bob said wistfully.

“What’s the thing you miss most?”

“Above all, I miss the stars,” Bob responded. “I loved looking up and seeing the sky at night, counting the constellations. I hear there is a new one, whom I would very much have liked to have seen again, but it seems I will not get the chance.”

Percy frowned, before it dawned on him. “You mean Zoë?”

“She was my favourite grand-daughter,” Bob confirmed. “During the Golden Age, she used to come to me when she was upset with her father and her sisters, which was very often.”

Percy looked down at the pen in his hand, which suddenly felt a little heavier, as he remembered its first owner.

“Unfortunately, Atlas inherited his cruelty from his father,” Bob said sadly. “My legacy in this world will be the people I hurt in that age. The burden of my past is not something even the Lethe could erase.”

The Lethe. Suddenly, Percy had an idea.

“The rivers,” Percy said. “They all flow into the Underworld, don’t they?”

“They do,” Bob said. “Are you thinking-”

“Of following them as a way out of here?” Percy completed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m thinking, actually. I think I can get back from the Underworld somehow, if I can just find my way out of the Pit.”

Bob looked uncertain. “It is possible,” he admitted. “But it is so dangerous. These rivers are not something you will be able to subjugate easily, even if you are a son of Poseidon.”

“But it’s better than anything we have so far,” Percy said. “If I’m going to die, I might as well die trying.”

Bob nodded. “It deserves consideration. But you will have to submit yourself to the power of the rivers. There are waterfalls at the edge of the Pit, where the Underworld lies above, and you would have to climb these using your control over the water, all the while as the rivers do their best to keep you here. The cliffs are sheer, impossible to climb.”

“Which river’s the best option, then?” Percy asked, ignoring Bob’s trepidation for a moment.

Bob considered it for a moment. “The Phlegethon would burn you to a crisp were you to try and use it to get out. It will not heal you if you try to defy its will by escaping. The Acheron-”

“No thank you,” Percy interrupted, remembering the visions he’d seen in that river. He might survive in that river, but his sanity wouldn’t.

Bob nodded again. “Similarly, I think we can rule out the Lethe, for obvious reasons.”

“Cocytus or Styx, then,” Percy said. He’d swum in both already, actually, come to think of it. One had been the most painful thing he’d ever experienced, and the other had made him want to just give up and die. He wasn’t sure which was worse.

“I do not think the Cocytus would be a wise choice,” Bob said.

“Why not?”

“Akhlys,” he replied. “Stepping into the River of Lament and Misery while she desires vengeance on you would be far too risky.”

“I thought she was still reforming?”

“Have there been any times recently when you have felt a crushing sense of hopelessness, as though nothing could ever get better?” Bob asked, studying Percy intently.

Percy thought back to how he’d felt ready to give up in the Acheron, the despair he’d felt when Koios was pummeling him, how only the prospect of a future with Annabeth had kept him going when they’d neared the Doors. He thought about how defeated he’d felt when Tartarus had confronted him, how he hadn’t really cared whether he lived or died. He’d thought it was just the general hopelessness of Tartarus, and maybe some of it was, but…

“Akhlys’ body is almost certainly still reforming, yes,” Bob continued. “But she is a powerful goddess, and she has the ability to cause you a lot of problems even without physical form. The Cocytus would drown you in your own misery, if she had her way.”

There was only one possibility, then.

“It’s the Styx, then,” Percy said, resignedly, though he hated the idea. “I haven’t asked my mom for her blessings, though. Isn’t that going to cause problems?”

Bob looked surprised. “You seem familiar with the ritual of Achilles.”

“I’ve done it before,” Percy said, realising that Bob’s dip in the Lethe had preceded his own dip in the Styx. “The Curse of Achilles was the only way for me to beat Kronos, because Luke had it too. But it got washed away when I made it to New Rome.”

“Then you will not need your mother’s blessings,” Bob said. “The Curse of Achilles is not something that can be removed. If you took it on back then, you bear it for life. Only the gift of invulnerability will have been washed away.”

“I’m confused. What’s the curse, if not the invulnerability?” Percy asked.

“I do not know,” Bob said. “All I know is that it is more than you realise. It is a very powerful ritual, and Styx is a very powerful goddess.”

“But if I already have the curse…” Percy said. Mentally, he filled in the words ‘what’s the worst that could happen’, but tempting the Fates like that couldn’t possibly be the good idea.

“I suppose you cannot gain it again,” Bob said.

“No,” Percy said. He'd never imagined finding out he had an unknown curse would ever be good news, but that was how things had turned out. “So it has to be the Styx, then.”

Bob sighed. “In that case, we have a long journey ahead of us. You should rest a little before we set off. I will stand guard, perhaps collect some Phlegethon water and whatever food I can find for the journey.”

“You’re the best, Bob,” Percy said, yawning a little. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You would have found a way with or without me,” Bob said, smiling. “Because you are a true hero. But I will do everything I can to help you, because heroes like you do not belong in a place like this.”

Neither do you, he wanted to tell Bob, but before he could, he found himself fast asleep.

Chapter Text

Pyrrhus would have been proud.

Today should have been a happy day for Frank. Yesterday, he’d finally taken command, been named praetor of the legion. It was an honour bigger than he had ever dreamed of. He’d even managed to earn praise from a goddess in the process, not to mention the lesson on battlefield tactics she’d given him afterwards. If you’d asked him before yesterday, he’d have given almost anything for those opportunities.

Almost anything.

Losing Percy was a real body blow. As far as they knew, he was still alive at least, but the way Piper had made it sound, the situation he was in was pretty hopeless. Frank was trying to ignore his brain, which was telling him there was only one conclusion, but, well…

And if that wasn’t enough, it sounded like they were losing Annabeth too.

It wasn’t that surprising. Frank had never known two people to be quite so in sync with each other as Percy and Annabeth. It only made sense that one without the other was a shell of herself, even if hearing the details on how bad things were had made Frank wince.

Tartarus, clearly, was a place where even if you came back, you might not always come back.

Annabeth had been in Tartarus for two weeks, and Frank had barely known her for one before that, and yet…

At first, he’d thought she was terrifying. She had this aura of confidence, this sense that the world was simply too easy for her. She’d literally walked into Camp Jupiter and tossed their praetor to the ground like a sack of potatoes. If she’d announced one day that she was taking over the planet, Frank would barely have blinked.

But that wasn’t quite Annabeth, was it? She had proved to be helpful, kind, trustworthy. For some reason, it had been her he’d felt most comfortable asking for help with the Chinese handcuffs, even though he’d known her barely a day or two at that point. It had been her who had told Leo to knock it off, when the pranks had started to veer from funny towards mean. He’d taught her the rules of chess to kill the time as they travelled, and watched in admiration as within days, she’d become far too good for him. Quite quickly, any fear he’d had of her had evaporated, replaced by a sense of genuine friendship.

And so hearing the state of things hurt. More than the arrow wound on his arm, which was still throbbing a bit, even though ambrosia had healed most of the damage.

No, this pain was different. You could feel it in the air, which was crackling with ozone as a fierce storm whipped around the ship. It had been raging since the middle of the night, and only seemed to get worse and worse by the minute, to the point where even standing up on deck for more than a second was difficult. And it seemed practically endless, with black clouds surrounding the ship in all directions, and no end to the torrential rain.

And you could see it from the mood on the ship, too. Piper’s account of her meeting with Annabeth had been interrupted more than a few times by an errant sob. Hazel had just hugged him the whole way, not saying a word. Leo had barely said a word himself, let alone told the jokes that Frank had become so accustomed to. Late last night, Athena herself had spoken to her daughter, but though they’d hoped she might be able to help things, it was now well past midday, and there was still no sign of Annabeth.

The bell rang for lunch, and Frank sighed. He wasn’t that hungry, but he made his way to the mess hall anyway, expecting a recurrence of the rather deflated mood that had been the theme of breakfast.

What he wasn’t expecting to see was Annabeth, already at the table, awaiting him, with a plate full of food in front of her. She looked surprisingly… well? Or, at least, she wasn’t the wreck that Piper had conditioned him to expect.

“Morning, Frank,” she said brightly. “Or afternoon, I guess.”

Frank had no idea what to say next, but he was saved by Piper and Leo entering the room, followed closely by Jason and then Hazel. He could tell by the looks on their faces that they were just as surprised to see her as he was.

“How… how are you doing, Annabeth?” Piper asked hesitantly.

“Not too bad,” she said. “Yourself?”

“Um… I’m OK, I guess,” Piper replied, caught off-guard. “You weren’t at breakfast. We thought…”

She trailed off, perhaps realizing that sentence was best left incomplete.

“I overslept,” Annabeth said simply. “Yesterday was a bit of a long day. Guess I missed Reyna, though, huh?”

“She left just before dawn,” Jason said. “Her, and Nico, and Coach Hedge. She asked about you, but I didn’t want to wake you up, and everyone else was asleep anyway.”

Annabeth nodded, spearing some peas with her fork. “That’s a shame. So where are we headed now?”

“Delphi,” Frank replied. “That’s where your mom told us to go. Something about needing to free the Oracle.”

Leo nodded. “It’s slow going, though. Way too stormy to fly, and this is about as fast as I dare go with the seas like this, especially without…”

He faltered, but Frank knew what he had been about to say next. Without Percy.

“Poseidon is angry,” Hazel said quietly. “You can feel it.”

Frank noticed Annabeth flinch slightly, and she sighed, clearly keen to move on. “Delphi, then. Do we know what to expect there? What kind of enemy we’re facing?”

They all looked at each other, as if expecting someone to know something. Frank noticed Hazel was here now, though he hadn’t noticed her arriving.

“I guess not,” Annabeth eventually said, answering her own question. “But it sounds like the giants have control of the power of the Oracle? Has anyone tried getting in touch with Rachel to check that?”

“That’s a good idea,” Piper said. “We haven’t, have we?”

Nobody answered, confirming that they had not.

“I’ll IM her,” Annabeth volunteered. “Been meaning to catch up with her anyway. It’s been a while.”

“Sounds good,” Piper said. “You know her best, anyway.”

“Also, if there’s a giant there, it’s probably going to be Thoon or Orion,” Annabeth continued. “They seem like the most likely ones. Thoon was born to oppose the Fates, and Orion’s the anti-Apollo, so Delphi is pretty significant for both of them. We should prepare, find out as much about them as we can.”

Yet again, nobody said anything. Leo had a rather quizzical look on his face, and Annabeth must have noticed him staring at her.

“What?” she demanded, arms folded across her chest, the food in front of her temporarily forgotten.

“Nothing!” Leo replied hastily. “It’s just…”

“It’s good to have you back, Annabeth,” Hazel finished. “We’ve missed you.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth replied, smiling, though Frank couldn’t help but think it seemed a tad forced. “Me too.”

Annabeth shoveled down the rest of her food in record time, before promptly excusing herself. Frank supposed that she hadn’t exactly had an à la carte menu to choose from down there, so she must have been really hungry. Compared to whatever she must have been eating, actual food must have felt like a real treat.

Still, there was something… off. He’d seen the look on her face when Leo had mentioned the absence of Percy. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see, but she was definitely hurting. Not that surprising, perhaps, but a little concerning.

So after he’d finished his lunch, he went searching for Annabeth. As it turned out, he had to look pretty much everywhere – all the cabins, the sickbay, even the stables - before finally finding her in the gym, where she was brutally massacring a training dummy.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat to get her attention.

Annabeth glanced over her shoulder at him, covered in sweat.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Everything alright?” Frank asked, before kicking himself mentally. Of course everything wasn’t ‘alright’. She had just come back from Tartarus, and her boyfriend hadn't.

“Not really,” Annabeth said bluntly. “Spar with me?”

Frank nodded, picking up a training sword. Annabeth came at him immediately with her practice dagger, and he dodged her blow, backing away, only for her to attack again with even more vigour. She was like a demon. Frank had never faced someone who fought with such intensity, such energy. It was all he could do to just desperately parry the attacks with his sword, let alone land a blow of his own, and it was only a matter of time before Annabeth had her dagger to his throat.

“Dead,” she said, grinning as she lowered the dagger. “Go again?”

“Give me a few minutes,” Frank replied, panting as he sat down. “That was incredible.”

Annabeth shrugged, sitting down next to him.

"Well,” she said dully, no longer smiling, "I guess I’ve had plenty of practice of late."

Frank looked over at the daughter of Athena with an expression of concern. “You want to talk about it?”

Annabeth sighed. “Maybe some day I’ll tell that story.” She looked down, not meeting Frank’s eyes. “Right now, it’s a bit too raw, I think. That place…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

“What did Athena have to say about it?” Frank asked.

“She told me to keep believing,” Annabeth replied. “She said Penelope never gave up on Odysseus, and I shouldn’t give up on Percy, that he’s resilient enough to find a way.”

“Do you believe that?”

Annabeth sniffed. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I want to. I want to more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. When she said it, I think part of me just latched onto that little shred of hope she was offering me, and I felt so much better. But then I see him again, and I just… How can anyone beat that, Frank? A demigod against a Primordial?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to beat him in a fight,” Frank offered. “Maybe there’s some way to avoid that.”

“Maybe,” Annabeth said, looking on the verge of tears, a far cry from the confident façade she’d projected at lunch. “But I can’t know. I just have to hope. Again. Because apparently it’s too much to ask for us to just get a bit of time together.” Her face bore a bitter expression. “We’ve been dating eleven months, you know. Eleven months. And he’s been missing for more than half of it.”

“He came back last time, though,” Frank noted.

“He did,” Annabeth agreed. “But I don’t know how much you can compare the situations. Last time it turned out he was in California, not… where he is now.”

That was a very difficult point to refute, so Frank decided to change tack.

“You seemed better at lunch,” he ventured cautiously. “At least compared to what Piper told us earlier. Was that real, or just you putting a brave face on it?”

Annabeth laughed, but there was no humour in her eyes. In fact, Frank was pretty sure he could see tears in them. One had made its way out, and was slowly trickling down her cheek.

“There was one bit of it that was real,” she said eventually.

Frank raised an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

“I really did oversleep this morning.”

Whatever Frank had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth replied haltingly. “Even with mom there for half the night, the dreams were…” She shuddered. “Every time it felt like I was about to go to sleep, I saw his face, or I felt myself falling into the Pit again, or… well, you get the drift. I probably woke up seven or eight times. If not more.”

“That’s awful,” Frank said.

“It is,” Annabeth affirmed. “But I don’t think it’ll change any time soon. So all I can do is focus on the job at hand. He – Tartarus –” she shivered again “–if he’s going to control my nights, the least I can do is take control of my days. That’s why I didn’t want to let it show earlier. I can’t let him win like that.”

“No, you can’t,” Frank said slowly. “At the same time… I don’t know if pretending you’re OK when you’re not is the way, Annabeth. We all know how hard this is for you. We’re only feeling a fraction of what you are, and it’s bad enough for us, so…”

He took a second to search for the right way to put things.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t feel like you have to feel strong all the time, or like you have any kind of obligation to act as though things are fine,” Frank continued. “Because although you’re a massive part of our quest, you’re also our friend. So don’t… don’t feel like you need to push through your feelings, or that being down is like losing. Take your time if you need it, or anyone else’s time for that matter. Every single person on this crew cares about you, and nobody likes seeing you hurt like this. You’re family to us, and we’ll do whatever we can for you, but we need you to take care of yourself too.”

Annabeth was definitely crying now. She hid her face in her hands, and Frank put an arm around her.

“You’re an inspiration to us all, Annabeth,” Frank added. “You’ve been fighting wars since years before I even knew I was a demigod. You’ve literally just survived a place that’s beyond everyone’s worst nightmares. Hell, you just beat me in a practice fight so effortlessly it was almost embarrassing. You’ve been so strong for so long. Feeling weak now after everything you’ve been through won’t take that away.”

Annabeth’s eyes glistened with tears, as she looked up at Frank. He waited for her to say something, but instead she just wrapped both her arms around his neck, embracing him in a tight hug, resting her face on his shoulder as she sobbed.

“I saw Percy in the dreams,” she whispered hoarsely, as she wept. “Over and over again. Staying in the Pit. Dying. For me. And the voices kept reminding me it was my fault he was there in the first place, that he jumped in to save me, and telling me his blood was on my hands.”

Frank allowed her to just cry for a bit before he responded. In his experience, it was better to get it all out in one go.

“It may sound stupid, I know, but dreams are, well, just dreams, Annabeth,” Frank said, eventually. “Of course, I can’t guarantee it won’t come true. Nobody can. But the least you can do for yourself is avoid blaming yourself for something that hasn’t even happened.”

Unhelpfully, Frank’s brain kept adding the word ‘yet’ on the end of that sentence, but he ignored it. Annabeth needed belief, not pessimism.

“Take the day off, Annabeth,” Frank said. “We can manage fine without you in Delphi.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I want to fight,” she choked out. “I want to make them pay. They’re going to learn what happens when you get in between me and Percy.”

“They will,” Frank said. “but not today. Right now, you’re in no state to fight at all. The last thing we need is for you to get yourself killed because you’re not thinking straight.”

Annabeth wiped her face. The tears weren’t flowing any more, but her eyes were puffy and red. She took a few deep breaths, then filled up a glass of water, and drank it slowly, composing herself.

When she spoke again a couple of minutes later, her question caught him off-guard. “Is that an order?” she said thickly.

“Order?”

“Well, I hear you’re the one who’s in command now,” Annabeth said. “Praetor.”

Frank opened his mouth, but Annabeth anticipated the question before he even asked it.

“I overheard Jason telling Reyna last night,” she said. “Congratulations, by the way. I can’t think of anyone I’d be more willing to follow into battle.”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe Percy,” Annabeth clarified, her lips curling up into a little smirk. “But that’s different, and you know it is.”

“I know what you meant,” Frank said, smiling a little, both at the compliment and the fact Annabeth seemed less gloomy. “And thank you. It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I didn’t even think I’d ever make centurion, let alone this.”

“You’re a natural, Frank. You’ll be a fantastic praetor. The legion is in good hands.”

“I hope so,” Frank said. “To answer your question, if it helps, then yes, it’s an order. You’re to take care of yourself, not push yourself into things too fast. We need you to feel better far more than we need you for the quest.”

“Affirmative,” Annabeth said, saluting. She still looked pretty terrible, but her mood seemed to have suddenly lightened. “One day only, though. After that it’s back to normal. And I will still speak to Rachel. I think it’d be good for me anyway.”

“I suppose one day is better than nothing,” Frank said. “Though I’d strongly advise you to decide tomorrow morning whether or not to participate in the quest based on how you’re feeling. We can’t risk you rushing back.”

“No, sir,” Annabeth said. “But I think I can manage. I have the best support system anyone could ever ask for, after all.”

She smiled fondly at Frank, who took a second to realize what she meant, blushing modestly in response.

“Game of chess?” he offered. “We’re still several hours away, at this rate, if not more. We’re barely crawling along.”

Annabeth’s smile widened. “You’re on,” she said. “I’ll give you knight odds. And, Frank? Thank you so much. You’re the best giant koi fish the world’s ever seen.”

“I didn’t do much,” Frank said.

“You did,” Annabeth said. “You came looking for me. You reminded me I don’t have to do this alone.”

“Just promise me that if and when things get bad again you’ll talk to one of us,” Frank responded. “Anyone. Doesn’t have to be me. As long as you’re not bottling it up and pretending you’re fine.”

“I will,” Annabeth replied, and Frank believed her. “You can count on it. Now, for that game?”

Frank sighed. Knight odds were nowhere near going to be enough to beat Annabeth, what with her gift for learning that had meant she’d so rapidly become so good at chess. But he followed her out of the gym anyway, and into his cabin. One could argue, in any case, that getting her to play in the first place meant he’d already won.

Chapter Text

Reyna had always been a bit more night owl than early bird.

The 5am start for this quest, therefore, wasn’t exactly ideal. But she was used to operating without much rest. When you spent as much time on a pirate ship as she had, you learned that sleep was a luxury you didn’t always get.

Bleary-eyed, she quickly filled up a backpack with the essentials – clothes, weapons, first aid kit. She’d started packing late the previous night, but she had ended up falling asleep before she could finish. It had been a pretty long day, after all. As she inelegantly stuffed a pouch filled with toiletries into the front pocket of her backpack, she heard a knock at her door. When she opened it, she found Nico di Angelo standing there.

“Ready to go?” he asked her, looking no worse for wear than he ever did. Reyna wondered whether he was just chronically sleep-deprived.

“Almost,” Reyna said, as she contemplated whether or not to bring a towel, but decided against it. She didn’t want to carry one ounce of weight more than she needed to, and a towel was probably not indispensable. “I could use a hot drink, though. Something to wake me up properly.”

“There’s coffee in the kitchens,” Nico said. “I’ll show you.”

He motioned her in the direction of the kitchens, but before Reyna could follow him down the corridor, she heard the sound of a door opening. She turned her head back, to see Jason standing there.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“I’m a light sleeper,” he replied. “And, well, my cabin is next to Annabeth’s.”

Reyna hesitated. “Is she…”

Jason shook his head. “Things sounded pretty awful. Piper was telling me last night.”

“How bad?”

“Bad enough. And judging by the way she just screamed, sleep isn’t much of an escape, either.”

Reyna sighed. “I can’t even begin to imagine how things must have been down there.”

“No,” Jason said. “I can’t think of anything we’ve ever done that even comes close.”

“I could tell you what it’s like,” Nico said quietly, from the end of the corridor. Both of them turned to look at the son of Hades, who had been quiet for so long Reyna had forgotten he was there.

“You’ve been to Tartarus?” Reyna asked, surprised.

Nico nodded. “There isn’t any way of sugarcoating it,” he said hesitantly. “It’s the worst place in the universe.” His face was etched with pain at the very thought. “It’s designed to amplify all your fears, and crush all your hopes. I spent a fraction of the time down there that she did, and it nearly broke me completely. For her…”

Reyna grimaced. “I suppose we shouldn’t wake her, then. It would have been nice to say hello to her under ordinary circumstances, I suppose, but it’s not the right time.”

“No,” Jason said. “But Percy’s still alive, I guess. There’s still hope. That’s the only thing she has to hold on to, but it’s a big thing.”

“Yeah. I mean… no offence to either of you, but Percy’s the most powerful demigod I’ve ever seen. If anyone could do it…” Nico trailed off.

“On a different note,” Jason said, clearly eager to change the subject matter to something less depressing. “There’s something I forgot to tell you yesterday. I resigned as praetor last night.”

“You resigned?”

“The legion of the dead needed a Roman officer to command them,” Jason said. “And I realized, well, I’m not really Roman any more. Or at least not just Roman.” He looked her in the eye. “So I gave up the praetorship, gave Frank an emergency field promotion.”

“Praetor Frank Zhang,” Reyna mused, sounding it out loud. “I like it. I believe we could work well together.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “You should have seen him in command yesterday. It was really something. He was… I’ve never seen him so confident, Reyna. It was like he came into his own once he had that added responsibility of leadership.”

Nico cleared his throat. “As much as I also thought Frank was incredible yesterday, we probably can’t keep chatting forever. The darker it is when we leave, the better.”

“I’ll go back to bed, then,” Jason said, as he headed back into his cabin. “Travel safe. Oh, and if any of you get the chance to punch Octavian in the face, make sure you do.”

“I will,” Reyna replied. “Give the giants hell from me. And give Frank my congratulations.”

After Jason’s cabin door had closed, Reyna turned to Nico. “Have you seen Coach Hedge?”

Nico shrugged. “He’ll show up. There’s no way he’d be late.” He set off down the corridor. “Let’s get you your coffee first, then we can go look for him.”

As it happened, Coach Hedge was a lot easier to find than expected. When they walked into the mess hall, they found him sat at the table, plate stacked high with food – pancakes, fruit, hash browns, even garlic bread, for some reason.

“Morning, cupcakes,” he said. “Ready to go?”

Reyna stared at him, as she filled her cup with coffee. “How can you possibly be that hungry this early in the morning?”

“Gotta make sure you’re well fueled,” Coach Hedge said, munching on a banana. “I always say, nutrition is ninety percent of performance.”

“Surely you can’t even finish that much food in the next few minutes?” Reyna asked. “We need to get moving pretty soon.”

“Yes, he can,” Nico said. “Have you ever seen a satyr eat? Just be thankful he’s not eating the plates as well.”

Reyna looked back at Hedge, and saw his plate was a lot emptier than the last time she’d looked, confirming Nico’s point. She shook her head in a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

“Let’s go over things one more time,” Reyna said, taking a sip from her mug. “From here, Nico shadow travels us to that English port-”

“Southampton,” Nico said.

“Southampton,” Reyna agreed. “And Athena has arranged a shipping container for us aboard a cargo liner that leaves that afternoon. We load the statue on board, and then we just stay on the ship?”

Nico nodded. “The captain’s a legacy of Mercury, and an ex-legionnaire,” he said. “He’s agreed to let us on board.”

“What about customs? And visas?” The last thing they could afford was to be held up by mortals and their regulations, and Reyna was pretty sure gigantic golden statues came with some export restrictions.

“All sorted,” Coach Hedge said through a full mouth, waving around a sheaf of papers. Reyna noted the almost empty plate in front of him, and couldn’t help but be slightly impressed and disgusted at the same time.

“And then we sail all the way to New York,” Reyna asked. “How long will that take? A week?”

“More like four or five days,” Nico said. “It’s a fast ship, and I hear the wind gods have agreed to assist us. But- and I hadn’t thought of this before- we’re probably better off just shadow travelling the rest of the way once we make it around halfway. Two days or so should be plenty of time for me to recover, and it’d save us a lot of time.”

Reyna frowned. “If that’s possible, why can’t we just shadow travel directly to New York?”

“I’ve never tried going that far with others,” Nico said. “Nyx offered me her protection, but I still think it’s way too risky. If I miss our destination, or I accidentally leave the statue behind…”

Then we’ll be too late, Reyna finished in her head.

“Better to go at least part of the way by ship, then,” she said. “Reduce the distance we need to shadow travel.”

“Exactly,” Nico said. “Any questions?”

Reyna looked at Hedge, who looked back at her, with neither saying a word.

“Then let’s get going.”

___

Reyna didn’t know she suffered from motion sickness.

Well, she hadn’t, before. Not until she’d shadow travelled for the first time.

Her insides had just been turned into a milkshake. Her face felt like it was about to melt into jelly. She was so dizzy that she could barely tell the difference between left and right. To be honest, all directions just felt like down to her.

Once she’d eventually managed to recover her balance, she stood up shakily, taking a look around her very dark surroundings. There was one very obvious thing that stood out, and Coach Hedge had spotted it too.

“This isn’t a shipping port,” Coach Hedge said, looking rather queasy. Reyna wondered how he was feeling about his decision to have an enormous breakfast now. “This is just some random field.”

“Thank you, Coach, I hadn’t noticed,” Nico said sarcastically, taking a seat on Athena’s leg.

It was a mostly cloudy night, wherever they were, and judging from the smell of the air and the dampness of the grass, it had recently been raining. Not that Reyna was complaining - after the ferocious storm that had been battering the Argo II all night, any weather was an improvement.

“How’d you pull that one off, di Angelo?” Coach Hedge asked.

“Clearly, I missed,” Nico said, irritated. “In my defence, shadow travelling is hard enough alone, let alone with two companions and an enormous statue. I guess Nyx’s blessings didn’t extend to navigation.”

“Do we know where this field is?” Reyna asked. “Or how we get to Southampton from here?”

Coach Hedge frowned. “I think there’s some sheep over that way,” he said, pointing into the distance.

Reyna squinted, but she couldn’t make out anything. It was almost pitch black, what with it being a new moon tonight, with only the faint glow of the Athena Parthenos providing them with any light at all. The Coach clearly had sharper eyes than her.

“Yeah, definitely sheep,” Hedge said. “I’ll go and ask them.”

He trotted over towards the sheep that Reyna assumed were indeed there, leaving her alone with Nico di Angelo. She hopped up and sat next to him, just below Athena’s knee.

“Any ideas on the transportation front?” she asked. “Guessing shadow travelling isn’t an option?”

“Well, it is,” Nico said. “But there is a mild to moderate risk that I’d spontaneously combust if I tried.”

Reyna laughed. “So no, then.”

“No,” Nico said, yawning. “I might know another way, though. Just depends how far away from Southampton we are.”

“What’s the other way?” Reyna asked. She wasn’t sure she necessarily liked the sound of that.

“It’ll be easier to show you,” he said, his eyelids drooping. “Just… let me get a quick five minute nap first.”

Within seconds, he’d fallen asleep on Reyna’s shoulder.

She chuckled to herself internally, remembering how, once, the sight of Nico di Angelo had made her nervous. The ambassador of Pluto hadn’t exactly exuded friendliness, and he’d had a presence that was just as powerful as Jason’s, but somehow a bit darker, a little bit more rough around the edges. And yet, here he was, doing an excellent impression of a puppy, dozing off with his head next to hers. It was hard not to laugh out loud, but she didn’t want to wake him up.

A few minutes later, the Coach returned. “Did you find the sheep?” she asked him.

Coach nodded. “Grumpy bastards, I tell you. They really didn’t like me waking them up. On the plus side, I’ve learned a hell of a lot of British slang.”

Once again, Reyna found herself stifling a laugh, as Nico stirred next to her. “So where are we?”

“We’re in some place called Kent, apparently,” Coach Hedge said, as Nico woke up, stretching his arms. “They have no idea which way Southampton is, but they did say that if we head that way-” he pointed over his shoulder “-we’ll make it to a road.”

Reyna frowned. “How on earth are we going to get the statue there? It weighs several tons!”

“I think I have a solution to that one too,” Nico said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Let’s make our way towards that road, Reyna. Coach, you stay behind and guard the statue, just for a couple minutes. We’ll get you afterwards.”

Reyna wondered what the son of Hades had up his sleeves, but she followed him in the direction Hedge had pointed nonetheless. It was a pretty short walk, as it turned out, and eventually she saw the light of a car in the distance, as it sped past. As she walked towards where that car had been, she could see the road in question.

“So,” Reyna said. “Your plan.”

Nico nodded. “I’m on it.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. Reyna wondered what he was doing, until a flat-bed truck appeared by the side of the road in front of him, easily big enough to transport the Athena Parthenos.

She stared, bug-eyed, at the enormous vehicle that Nico had seemingly materialized out of nowhere. She wondered whether she was hallucinating thanks to her lack of sleep, a sense that only grew stronger when she saw a zombie in a suit get down from the cab.

“Reyna, meet Jules-Albert,” Nico said, smirking. “Jules-Albert, this is Reyna.”

Jules-Albert, as the zombie was apparently known, extended a hand that was mostly bone to her. Reyna hesitated, but Nico gave her a look, and she reluctantly put out her own hand, shaking it. The zombie grinned, showing off his teeth, as Reyna tried not to think about the texture of his rotten flesh. Unfortunately – or perhaps fortunately, depending on how you looked at it – that handshake had been far too unpleasant to be a hallucination.

“Do you want to explain?” Reyna asked, turning back to Nico, arms folded across her chest.

“Jules-Albert’s my driver,” Nico said. “Dad gave him to me for my twelfth birthday. He had this idea that I should, you know, try to act like a modern teenager. Make friends. Get to know the twenty-first century. He vaguely understood that mortal parents drive their kids around a lot. He couldn’t do that. So his solution was a zombie.”

“And the truck?”

“Is Jules-Albert’s car,” Nico said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It can transform.”

Reyna stared at him as though he’d just come from outer space. He might as well have done, what with how little sense any of what he’d said had made to her.

“Jules-Albert, can you gather up a few of the boys and send them over that way?” Nico said, pointing. “Got some cargo to collect. Enormous statue, about forty feet long. You can’t miss it.”

Jules-Albert nodded, and behind him a group of about fifty skeletons appeared out of the ground, and made a beeline for the Athena Parthenos. Reyna wondered if this situation could possibly get any stranger.

“Oh, and there’s a satyr there, too,” Nico said. “You might want to let him know I sent you to get him, otherwise he’ll probably attack. He’s pretty dangerous with a baseball bat.”

It was at that point that he noticed Reyna was still staring at him.

“What?” he demanded, deadpan. “Never seen a zombie chauffeur and a team of skeletons load a gigantic statue onto a truck before?”

“Believe it or not, I hadn’t,” Reyna said, blinking. “I… you have some pretty incredible abilities, Nico.”

“I try,” Nico said, grinning impishly. “They come with some pretty incredible drawbacks, though.”

“Like what?”

“Most prominently? The constant tiredness. I’m probably going to pass out once we get going,” Nico said, yawning yet again. “If you wake me up for any reason, I will demonstrate more of my powers. The really nasty ones.”

Reyna laughed. She was beginning to rather like Nico di Angelo, even if he had just threatened to turn her into a zombie.

“Noted,” she said. “You’ve earned some rest, anyway. I won’t wake you unless I absolutely have to.”

“No,” Nico replied. “The truck has GPS, as well, and we can configure the cab so that there’s four seats, so as far as I can see, we’re sorted. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to need me.”

“Excellent,” Reyna said, as the skeletons loaded the Athena Parthenos onto the bed of the truck, fastening her down securely with Coach Hedge watching on approvingly. “Southampton, here we come.”

___

Nico wasn’t the only one who ended up taking a nap in the truck, as it turned out. Reyna didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she woke up, she could see that it was definitely starting to get light outside.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked Coach Hedge in a low voice, not wanting to wake Nico.

Hedge frowned. “An hour and a half, maybe two? I wasn’t really keeping track.”

She looked out of the window, spotting a road sign. The GPS wanted them to exit the highway they were on, the M20, onto the M26 in a couple of miles’ time, which would get them to Southampton in an hour and fifty-eight minutes. On the other hand, the sign suggested that if they carried on along the M20, they’d eventually end up in London, and that gave Reyna an idea.

“Coach,” she asked, “what time does our ship leave?”

“Half past three,” Hedge said. “Why?”

“And what time is it now?”

“We’re just coming up to a quarter past five in the morning,” he replied.

“So we have just over ten hours to spare right now,” Reyna calculated. “How long would it take to get to London from here?”

“Doesn’t look too far on the maps,” Coach said. “An hour and a half, tops.”

Reyna smiled. She’d stopped off near London on her way to Greece, but it had been a very quick supply run, in and out before she knew it. This time, she had a few hours in hand. She’d actually be able to spend some time there.

“What do you think,” Reyna proposed, “about a quick detour, then? Nico and I could get some breakfast, and we’d even have time to explore a bit, if you’d be keen?”

Hedge smiled. “Always up for a bit of sightseeing, guv’nor,” he said, in a truly terrible impression of a British accent. “And I could go for some breakfast, too. Let’s do it.”

Reyna stared at him. “You cannot seriously want more food already.”

Hedge shrugged. “Hey, like I said, nutrition-”

“-is ninety percent of performance,” Reyna said resignedly. “I know.”

___

Reyna dozed off again in pretty short order after that, sleeping peacefully until she was woken up again by a tap on her shoulder from Coach Hedge, in front of her.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said, grinning. “We’re almost there.”

Reyna groaned as she opened her eyes, which took a few minutes to adjust to the light outside. It was now bright and sunny, with barely a cloud in sight, and they were definitely no longer in the middle of nowhere. They were driving slowly down a road that was thronged with shops, though none of them seemed to be open – perhaps not surprising, given it was still very early in the morning.

“We’ll have to park the truck soon, I think,” Hedge said. “It’s a bit too big for a city centre.”

Reyna nodded. She looked over to the younger boy on her right, still rather adorably snoring away. For someone who clearly had so much trauma lurking in his past, he looked remarkably peaceful in his sleep. She almost didn’t want to wake him, but they couldn’t exactly leave him alone in this truck.

“Good morning,” she whispered in Nico’s ear.

The effect was immediate, as though a bomb had gone off. Instantly, Nico snapped awake, flailing his arms wildly, and catching Reyna square in the face, leaving her nose bleeding.

“Sorry!” Nico exclaimed, as he realized what he’d done. “Are you OK?”

Reyna groaned, feeling her face. Her nose didn’t seem broken, but it was covered in blood from where Nico’s hand had caught her.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” she said, grimacing. “Could you pass a tissue over? They’re in the front of my bag.”

Nico nodded, rummaging until he found a pack of tissues. He handed it to Reyna, who wiped her face. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, looking rather upset. “I just sometimes have instinctive reactions like that, I guess. I don’t do well with being startled, as you can probably tell.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Reyna said, pressing down on her nose. She didn’t want to make him feel more guilty than he already did for something that was completely accidental. “Anyway, it’s my fault after all. You did warn me not to wake you.”

“I think I threatened to do a fair bit worse than just smacking you in the face,” Nico said, cracking a guilty smile. “Luckily for you, though, I’m a little too tired for that right now, so it’ll have to wait.”

Reyna laughed. “Well, we’re in London, and we were planning to head into the city and get some breakfast, but if you’re too tired...”

“Absolutely not!” Nico said. “I didn’t realise you had such a good reason for waking me up. Of course I want breakfast, I’m absolutely starving.” He grinned. “You’re off the hook, Reyna.”

“Thank you,” Reyna said, smiling herself. Part of her was still wondering what could possibly have caused Nico to have that kind of reaction to surprises, but now didn’t really feel like the right time to broach the subject. “I knew you weren’t as terrifying as you wanted me to believe.”

This time, it was Nico’s turn to laugh, though when he spoke again his tone was a bit more serious. “Jokes aside, I am really sorry about your nose. What with Leo yesterday and you today…” He paused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, the last thing I want to do is make a pattern out of hurting people I care about. Accidental or not.”

“Come on, Nico,” Reyna said, firmly. “This is the third time you’ve apologized for the same thing, which wasn’t even that big an issue in the first place. Learn to accept when you’re forgiven and move on. There’s no need to overthink it.”

Nico nodded, though he still seemed almost reluctant to believe her.

“However… if I’m not mistaken, I believe you implied that you cared about me just then,” Reyna said, eyes twinkling. “I am honoured to be included on such an exclusive list.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Nico muttered, even as the corners of his mouth turned up, betraying his amusement. “You’re only there because I felt bad about hitting you in the face. I’d turn you into a skeleton without even hesitating.”

“Adorable,” Coach Hedge snorted from in front of them. “Are you two all good, then?”

They both nodded.

“Good,” he said, as the truck pulled into a parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

Chapter Text

Athena had seen countless humans come and go over the years. In her experience, it was best not to develop any kind of attachment to them. They were so fragile, and she was… not. The only way such a relationship could ever end was in her watching the human die, while she lived on, immortal as she was. She had learned that lesson the hard way, over the course of centuries.

Of course, when it came to her children, she had always cared for all of them, wanted to see them do well, loved them dearly. But for the most part, she preferred staying away, keeping her distance. Better that they saw her as a distant, aloof goddess than as a mother figure. It was never going to be possible for her to have the level of involvement in their lives that they desired, and forming a bond with them only meant additional pain for her when it shattered.

Every so often, though, one slipped through the cracks, a child of hers who was so special that Athena found herself drawn to them, even if she knew it couldn’t last, even if she knew there was no happy ending. And in that list, of course, was Annabeth.

She’d tried to correct for it, tried to maintain the distance that she usually would. And to some extent, she had managed it, making sure Annabeth survived her flight from home without ever directly revealing herself. She’d watched on as her daughter grew from a little girl into a true warrior, on par with any of the legendary heroes of old, and still she’d mostly stayed away.

But somewhere along the road, between Minerva’s wrath and Athena’s pride, that correction had turned into an overcorrection. She’d actively pushed Annabeth away, nearly got her killed, alienated her and questioned her choices at every stretch. It had taken Sally Jackson to make her recognize it, even if Athena was the goddess of wisdom.

And so these last few hours had been some of the most difficult ones Athena could remember. First, she had had to see Annabeth grieving, feel her lash out, her words ringing harsh but true. She had been forced to comfort her daughter, offer her hope which might well turn out to be false, because her despair would otherwise consume her. She had watched on full of guilt that night, as Annabeth woke up again and again and again, haunted by the memories of the last two weeks, memories which Athena bore more than a little blame for. 

And if that wasn’t enough, she had then had to tell a mother that her son was still trapped in the worst place possible, and that there was no longer an obvious way out.

To her credit, Sally Jackson had taken it remarkably well. Athena had felt it was better not to wait much longer before telling her, so she’d visited Sally first thing in the morning, while she was still half-asleep. Perhaps that had been a mistake, in hindsight. Instead of resting peacefully, Sally had had to listen to her explain that her son was not dead, that he still had a chance of escape, but that nobody knew if or how it was possible. Of course, Athena had her own theories, but she had no way of conveying those to Percy Jackson, and she didn’t feel it would be helpful to idly speculate in front of the boy’s mother.

But Sally was no fool. Athena knew she had recognised the hopelessness of it all, knew that she was aware that any chances of her son’s survival were slim at best. And yet she’d stoically sat there through it all, even as every detail made the picture seem worse. Remarkably, despite all the pain she must have been feeling, when she’d finished, Sally’s first thought had been concern for Annabeth, more than anything else. 

Athena was beginning to understand what Poseidon had seen in her all those years ago. 

She was beginning to understand the blessing of mortality, too. The capabilities humans had to feel emotions as they could was a direct result of their fragility. Sally Jackson had a life defined within a finite set of parameters, with ups and downs and twists and turns and beginnings and endings. When she made an error of judgement, it would not have lasting consequences for the whole world; her sphere of influence was largely limited to the select group of people whom she cared about and who cared about her.

And somehow, despite knowing the thought was irrational, Athena found herself feeling a little jealous. Today had been painful, yes, but on the scale of millennia, all she had felt would be easily forgotten, would not remain with her forever. She would never understand pain in the same way as Sally could, just as she would never feel joy in the same way Sally could, for eternity had dulled her emotions. 

That jealousy was the lingering thought in her mind as she walked down from the apartment block where Sally lived, in the direction of the Empire State Building. Of course, she could simply have appeared instantly on Olympus, as she had hundreds of thousands of times before. Maybe, for once, she wanted to feel like a mortal; maybe she just wanted to enjoy the sounds of birds chirping and the pleasant breeze in the early morning. Either way, she wanted to walk, so she did.

It wasn’t too long before she found herself in the lobby, where a rather bored looking security guard was filling out a crossword puzzle. She cleared her throat.

“Six hundredth floor, please,” she said in a businesslike voice.

“No such thing,” the guard responded banally, barely even looking up from his crossword. Athena spotted his name badge, which said Mark on it. 

“I do not appreciate your tone, Mark,” she said coldly. “I know where I intend to go. Must I repeat myself?”

The guard looked up, properly this time, and Athena saw the look of recognition flash across his face as he went pale.

“My lady, I’m… what I mean to say is… didn’t know it was… well, you,” he stammered out. “What… how… why?”

“None of that is any of your concern,” Athena said, piercing through Mark with a glare. “May I enter?”

“Of course, ma’am,” he said nervously, handing her a key card. “I guess you, uh, already know how to work the elevator?”

“Yes, thank you,” Athena said brusquely, noting the look of pure fear on Mark’s face with a little amusement. Part of her was quite enjoying seeing him squirm like this. It made for rather entertaining viewing.

Of course, much as she was a little bit tempted to turn him into a rat, she wouldn’t be acting on that impulse. It would be rather too cruel a punishment for the crime, and Athena was not a cruel goddess at heart. Instead, she moved to put poor Mark at ease.

“You may return to your crossword,” she said. “I will return this card to you once it is no longer required.”

“T-thank you, ma’am,” he stuttered, but Athena was no longer within earshot, having already walked over to the elevators.

Six hundred floors of rather irritating music later, she found herself at the gates of Olympus. The place had changed so many times over the years, what with new gods adding their own touches, and now with its near complete destruction. She noted with satisfaction that a crew of Cyclopes were well underway rebuilding the western section. The works had been in progress for months, but things looked like they were finally starting to take shape, and Athena couldn’t help but admire Annabeth’s architectural vision. 

But that was not why she was here, so she made her way over to the (still heavily damaged) throne room, which sat empty. That wasn’t necessarily a surprise – it was rare that the gods were here without a reason – but there was one god in particular whom she needed to speak to, even if the prospect was rather unpalatable.

“Lord Poseidon,” she called. 

No answer came, but she knew she’d been heard. Poseidon was simply ignoring her, understandably so. 

“Lord Poseidon,” she tried again. “I have urgent matters to discuss with you.”

This time, the sea god did appear, dressed in a fisherman’s garb, his beard white and his wrinkled face wearing a fierce scowl. He looked significantly worse for wear, and Athena knew why, what with recent events. She wondered idly whether she, too, had looked so out-of-sorts when she’d visited Sally Jackson. 

“Urgent, is it?” he spat, and Athena flinched a little. This conversation was always going to be a difficult one given their history, but she had hoped things would start off a little less… hostile.

“It is indeed, Lord Poseidon-”

“Neptune,” he interjected. “In this form.”

“Lord Neptune, then,” Athena said. 

She wasn’t sure whether she preferred speaking to the sea god in his Roman form or not. On the one hand, he was slightly less unpredictable as Neptune, but he was also rather more difficult to read. Quite frankly, she’d rather speak to neither, but she didn’t have that choice available to her. “I think you know the matter at hand.”

“Oh, I know,” Neptune said, grimacing. “I know it all too well.”

Athena sighed. “Your son is…”

“Brave? Kind? Selfless? Trapped, alone, and likely to die, because of you and your machinations?” Neptune said, each word tinged with hatred. “Do you wish to tell me something I don’t know already, Athena?”

Athena winced. She’d already taken plenty of blame for her role in Percy and Annabeth’s descent into Tartarus, but it felt unfair that Neptune was pinning this entirely on her. 

“You know I did not intend for this to happen, any of it,” she said defensively, feeling rather lame as she did. “It was simply an accident, one that I could not possibly have foreseen."

Neptune’s frown seemed to deepen. “And I suppose that it’s another happy accident that your daughter was the one that escaped, while my son is still stuck down there?”

“What are you insinuating?” 

“I am not insinuating anything,” Neptune said. “I am simply making a statement of fact. My son remained in the Pit, while your daughter escaped at his expense. The finest hero Olympus has ever seen decided to sacrifice himself for the worthless daughter of a worthless goddess. Another victory for you over me. You must be pleased.”

Athena felt her rage bubble up to the surface at the sheer audacity of it all. How dare he? Part of her wanted to unleash her anger on Neptune, to revive the feud that had divided them for centuries. What he was saying was beyond offensive.

And yet, Athena found herself taking a deep breath before she responded. As inflammatory as Neptune’s accusations were, Olympus could not afford for those old wounds to be reopened, not with war looming. For the sake of the gods, Athena would have to let it slide.

“Insult me all you like,” she said instead, quietly but firmly. “Perhaps I deserve it. But you will never speak of Annabeth like that again. She has done nothing to warrant your spite or your anger, other than be my daughter, and she is not worthless.”

“Rich words coming from you,” Neptune sneered. “Have you ever expressed anything but hatred for Percy? I suppose that had nothing to do with the fact that he’s my son, did it?”

“I did what I did, and there is nothing I can do to change that,” Athena said grimly. “But my errors are not Annabeth’s, and I will not stand by and allow you to insult her, let alone punish her for the crime of simply surviving. Leave her be.”

Neptune looked taken aback at first, but a grin quickly appeared on his face. 

“The great Athena, admitting to her mistakes?” he jeered. “I had never thought I would see the day.”

“Gloat away, if that is what pleases you,” Athena said firmly. “But I will not leave here today without your word that you will not seek to hurt my daughter under any circumstances. She has no chance against your wrath.”

That seemed to surprise Neptune, whose brow furrowed. “You think I am cruel enough that I would take my anger at you out on a grieving child?” he said. 

“There is a storm surrounding all of Greece, stronger than has ever been seen before in the region,” Athena said sternly. “Annabeth is aboard the Argo II, which is currently taking fierce punishment, at the very heart of the storm. You mean to tell me that this is not your doing?”

Neptune scratched his chin. “It might be,” he admitted eventually. “I was furious when I heard the news. I may have lost control a little, let my rage at the whole situation unconsciously manifest itself in the form of that storm. I have no desire to stall the demigods on their quest, I assure you.” He looked pensive. “I’ll make sure it clears. And as for your daughter…” 

“What of her?”

“She has nothing to fear from me,” Neptune said softly, his anger having seemingly dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Even in his Roman form, the changeability of the seas remained his hallmark. “Percy would never forgive me if I hurt her. In any case, I think she’s suffered enough already.”

“She has,” Athena lamented. “She is broken, the poor child. At her age, to have gone through so much…”

“Her and Percy have that in common,” Neptune said, seeming more calm, and yet with a certain sense of resignation in his voice. “I regret that I called her worthless earlier. That was ill-spoken and unwarranted, and said out of anger at you rather than out of any true grudge I bear the girl. I cannot deny having had my reservations about her relationship with Percy, but he is happier with her, and that is all that matters.”

Another reminder. This time, of the fact that she had put her feud with Poseidon above Annabeth’s happiness, while he seemingly had been willing to ignore it for Percy. Athena’s mistakes really were getting plenty of scrutiny of late. 

“How is Sally coping?”

That caught Athena off-guard. “You know that I visited her?”

“She prayed to me after you left,” Neptune said. “I was surprised to see you, of all people, being the one to break the news to her. I had intended to do it myself.”

Athena sighed. “I owed it to her,” she said reluctantly. “She had helped me previously, to understand how badly I had mistreated Annabeth. It would not have been right for me not to inform her of what has transpired, even if it was a difficult thing to do.”

“This does not sound like the Athena I know,” Neptune said, raising an eyebrow. “Empathy and introspection?”

“Perhaps you are not speaking to the Athena you know,” the goddess in question retorted. “Perhaps things have changed.”

Neptune seemed to consider that thought, but he didn’t say anything in response.

“To answer your original question, Sally Jackson is doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” Athena said eventually. “I believe she was hurting far more than she let on, however. She is remarkably strong for a mortal, but it is impossible to expect her to carry on as if nothing has happened.”

“No,” Neptune mused, thoughtfully. “I will pay her a visit tomorrow, if I can. I think it is best to give her space today.”

Athena nodded. That made sense. A second divine visitor in the same day would not be of any help to Sally Jackson at all, not while she was still processing the news.

“What was it that you wanted to discuss, in the first place?” Neptune asked after a few seconds. “Or have we already covered it all?”

“We have covered much of it, yes,” Athena said, lowering her voice a little. What she was about to say next could not be overheard. “But there is one more thing. Olympus must reconnect with its children.”

Unsurprisingly, that was met by a sigh by Neptune. “Your father-”

“-is stubborn. I know, believe me,” Athena said. “I am also aware that I am not the only one who believes this isolation to be folly, given how many others have already defied his order. But there is only so far we can go towards preparing for the coming war in this fractured manner. We will not win alone, and nor will the demigods.”

“And what would you have me do about it?”

“You are the only one of the Olympians whom he might listen to on this matter. If you were to add your word to ours, we might be able to sway him, to persuade him that the direction he has taken is the wrong one. He respects your judgement more than every other member of the council combined, even if he does not always show it.”

“And if I can’t convince him?”

“Then we will have to confront him at the next council meeting. If we can present a united front, he may well back down.”

“Or he may see it as treason,” Neptune countered. “He’s never been one to take kindly to plotting behind his back. And where does that lead? Civil war amongst the gods, again?”

“I do not deny that there are risks,” Athena said. “But the status quo risks far worse. The oblivion of the gods, for instance. The death of Western civilization. Gaea and the giants are far too formidable an enemy for us to take on in this piecemeal state.”

“It’s not like you’ve been following the order anyway,” Neptune pointed out. “What prevents you from just carrying on that way?”

“There are three reasons,” Athena said. “Firstly, we cannot constantly keep looking over our shoulders, watching for him and his wrath. Once the war has truly started, our focus must be on the enemy and the enemy alone. We cannot afford any disunity within our ranks.”

Neptune’s face was etched with worry as he listened, but he seemed to be taking Athena’s words on board. 

“Secondly, if he does seek to punish all those who have disobeyed him, it may well result in the civil war you fear after all, given more than half the council have contacted their children in some shape or form. And Father is not known for being the forgiving type. Such an outcome is far likelier than you may think.”

From the expression on Neptune’s face, she was clearly making headway. “And the third reason?”

“We need him,” Athena said simply. “Without his power, this war will be an enormously uphill struggle. We need him to understand the danger, to be ready to take command of the combined forces of the gods and our children when the time comes. Otherwise, I fear we may be doomed.”

Neptune pondered the idea for a moment.

“You make a strong case,” he said eventually. “Very well, I’ll speak to him. I can’t promise he’ll listen, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a try.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Athena said, trying to hide her satisfaction, before she remembered something. “Oh, and one more thing?”

“You said that last time,” Neptune grumbled, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Go on, then.”

“Reyna Ramirez-Arellano is transporting my statue from Greece to Camp Half-Blood. I believe the return of the statue is the key to unifying our Greek and Roman forms at last, so it is critical that her party makes it safely. Her journey will take her and her companions to sea very soon. All I ask is that you grant them safe passage.”

“An easy enough request,” Neptune said. “Consider it done. I look forward to the day when I can have a conversation like this without needing to spend half my energy keeping Poseidon out.”

“Thank you, Lord Neptune,” Athena said. “I will continue to pray for your son’s safe return. If I may help him in any way, rest assured I will.”

Neptune looked quizzical. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Thousands of years of hatred and fighting between us, and suddenly you act like it’s all water under the bridge? What’s brought this about?”

“Do not mistake my civility for affection of any kind,” Athena said, coolly. “I am simply extending a simple olive branch in the interests of our children and of Olympus.” 

“An olive branch?” From the expression on Neptune’s face, it was clear that the irony had not been lost on him. 

“It may not be palatable, but if the gods are as fractured and disjointed as we have been recently, Gaea will tear us apart. So yes, I am offering you the olive branch,” Athena said. “That does not mean that I forgive or forget all that you have done against me, nor does it come with any expectation that you will forgive any perceived- ” Neptune snorted “-transgressions on my part. But we share goals at the moment, and therefore it makes sense that we should set aside our differences and co-operate.”

“You really have changed,” Neptune said, sounding rather incredulous. “The old Athena would never have let something so trivial as common sense get in the way of her pride.”

Athena sighed. Just like Neptune to take the opportunity to disguise a jibe as a compliment.

“But the early signs are that this new Athena is at least a little less intolerable than the old,” Neptune said, smiling. “So consider that olive branch accepted. For now, anyway.” 

He left in a flash, leaving Athena alone in the throne room once more. She stood there for a moment or two, contemplating everything that had just happened. 

Eventually, though, she made her way towards the elevators once more. She had a key card to return.

Chapter Text

Thalia had received hundreds of Iris Messages over the years, but somehow, they never failed to startle her.

She wasn’t sure why the rainbow goddess had decided to do things the way she had. Having somebody just virtually pop up out of the blue like that was a recipe for endless jump scares. Not to mention the unpredictable timing, which had plenty of potential for mishap in of itself. Thalia had heard some horror stories about demigods receiving Iris messages while in… compromising situations. At least her Hunt vows made that less likely.

“Earth to Thalia,” Grover called, and she jumped again. She’d been so distracted that for a second she’d stopped paying any attention to what he was saying.

“You weren’t listening to a word of that, were you?” the satyr asked, looking slightly miffed. Behind him was Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the Oracle of Delphi, looking rather morose as she sat on the couch in the Big House. Whatever Thalia had missed, it must have been rather serious.

“I caught most of it,” Thalia said, defensively. “You were saying you had news about Percy and Annabeth?”

“Right,” Grover said, though he looked rather glum. “Well, the good news is that Annabeth made it out yesterday. She’s alive and mostly uninjured, even if the whole ordeal sounds like it’s really done a number on her.”

“What do you mean, out?” Thalia asked, rather confused and more than a little worried. She had no idea what Grover meant, but it sounded like Annabeth had been in real trouble.

“Out,” Grover said nervously, clearing up absolutely nothing. “You know, from where her and Percy were. Down there.”

The puzzled look on Thalia’s face gave away how little sense Grover was making to her.

“She doesn’t know, Grover,” Rachel said, putting a hand on the satyr’s shoulder. She took a deep breath before she continued. “Two weeks ago, Annabeth was on a quest to rescue the Athena Parthenos statue from Arachne in Rome. She succeeded, but a gaping hole opened up in the ground, and Arachne managed to drag her down too. And Percy, well, he could have saved himself, but he chose to fall with her instead.”

“Fall where?” Thalia asked, feeling rather astonished. How could all this have happened without her finding out?

Both of them hesitated, but it was Rachel, eventually, who ripped off the Band-Aid. “Tartarus,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “They fell into Tartarus.”

For a second, Thalia thought it was a prank, but Grover and Rachel’s faces showed no signs of this being a joke.

“You mean to say…” she whispered, trailing off before she could finish the sentence. “Why didn’t anybody tell me?”

Grover shrugged sadly. “I’m really sorry, Thalia. It’s my fault.” He looked down at his cloven feet. “I just… I assumed news would make its way to you, and, well… things haven’t exactly been easy over here recently, which I’ll get to in a bit. But that’s no excuse. You deserved to know.”

“Never mind about me,” Thalia said, shaking her head. “Annabeth and Percy fell into Tartarus. Tartarus. Oh, gods…”

Grover nodded. “When we were in the Underworld, all those years ago, I nearly got dragged in there, but it was Annabeth and Percy who kept me from being pulled in. But the things I heard and saw in that brief moment… I still have nightmares sometimes. For them to actually be there…” he shuddered.

“But you said they escaped, right?” Thalia said, trying to sound cheerful. “So why do I get the feeling that’s not all there is to this?”

“I said that Annabeth escaped,” Grover said grimly.

“Oh, gods,” she found herself saying again, dumbfounded, as she realized the implication behind Grover’s words. “Oh, gods.”

She turned away from Grover and Rachel for a second, not wanting them to see her face. She probably looked like she was about to be sick. She certainly felt like it.

“He’s still alive,” Grover said, hopefully. “We know that much. His soul isn’t in the Underworld, apparently, and I’m pretty sure our empathy link means that if he died, I would too.”

“Still alive,” Thalia repeated dumbly.

“He is,” Grover said. “And you know our Percy. If anyone can make it out, he can. But with the Doors of Death closed…”

“He hasn’t got an exit.” Thalia completed. She felt numb.

“I think he still has a role to play in the Prophecy of Seven,” Rachel said. “I can’t say for sure. My visions haven’t been anywhere near as clear or as frequent recently. But I don’t think he’s done just yet.”

Thalia wondered whether that was the Oracle predicting, or Rachel manifesting. Either way, she wanted to believe it.

“That wasn’t actually the main reason why I called you,” Grover said. “But I didn’t realize you didn’t know. I… I can message you back later, if you prefer. I know it’s a lot.”

Thalia shook her head. “Get it all out of the way,” she said. “Whatever it is, it’ll be easier to deal with it all in one go. Besides, I could use something else to think about.”

“It’s the Romans,” Grover said, sounding rather anxious again. “Their praetor, Reyna, she met with us just over a week ago. Rachel had a message from Annabeth in Tartarus, telling her that the only way to heal the gods was for Reyna to return the Athena Parthenos voluntarily to the Greeks.”

“Reyna? As in, Reyna Ramirez-Arellano?” Thalia asked.

Grover frowned. “You know her?”

“No, but I know her sister.”

“Right,” Grover said, slightly nonplussed. “Well, anyway, Reyna agreed to do it, and she flew all the way across the ocean to Greece on a pegasus. Apparently she was the voice of reason in the Roman camp, though, and the word is that the other guy who was with her, Octavian, has taken charge in her absence.”

“And this Octavian guy is bad news,” Thalia said. It wasn’t really a question. She’d heard enough about him, little scraps here and there that told her Octavian was a power-hungry and ruthless individual.

“I’ll let you decide for yourself,” Rachel said. “He’s sent us an ultimatum. I have it here.”

She picked up a piece of paper from the table in front of her, and started reading.

“Graeci,

Three weeks ago, your ship fired upon the city of New Rome, an unprovoked act of hostility which demanded retribution. Now, the Twelfth Legion Fulminata has advanced to your doorstep. We outnumber you several times over, and we are considerably better equipped for war. Should the path ahead lead to battle between us, there can only and will only be one result.

The actions of your representatives that day have left deep scars. Many of my people demand an answer in kind to the attack on our city. But the blood of the gods is a sacred thing, and I am loath to spill one drop more of it than necessary. I would much prefer a peaceful outcome, even if the rest of the legion does not necessarily share my view.

That is why I am giving you a choice. You may surrender to Rome without bloodshed. We shall take control of your camp and establish it as a secondary location for training for the legion. Those of you who remain at Camp Half-Blood will be allowed to form a new military unit under the command of a centurion. In due course, we will allow those who distinguish themselves to become eligible for Roman citizenship, and hence for full membership of the legion.

In return for this mercy, we expect your full co-operation in arresting and bringing to justice the traitors of the Argo II, who have brought such dishonour upon you. Any attempt by any of you to assist the so-called Seven will be met with severe punishment. We must ensure that justice is served.

The alternative, should you not accept these terms, is simple enough. It is the complete oblivion of Camp Half-Blood. We will raze every cabin of yours to the ground. No graecus shall be spared, man or woman, young or old, healthy or infirm. The oceans shall run red with Greek blood.

You have one week to respond. I trust that you will make the correct choice. Do not disappoint me.

Signed,

Lucius Claudius Octavianus

Praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata

Pontifex Maximus

Augur of Rome.”

“There’s a bunch of other titles there too, but you get the idea,” Rachel finished. "Thoughts?"

“Wow,” Thalia breathed, stunned by what she had just heard. “Wow."

"Yeah," Rachel said. "That was most people's reaction."

"He’s certainly got a flair for the dramatic, hasn’t he?” Thalia remarked, after a brief pause to digest. That letter had sounded like something out of a fantasy novel.

“Maybe, but there’s a lot of truth in there too,” Grover said, looking rather worried. “He’s right about them outnumbering us massively, and he’s right that if it comes down to a straight fight, it’ll be a massacre.”

Thalia frowned. “You can’t seriously be considering surrender under those terms, though, surely? What does Chiron think of it all?”

“Not at the moment,” Grover replied. “Chiron is a bit torn up, to be honest. Nobody here likes the idea of agreeing to help the Romans arrest our friends, especially since they’d probably have them executed. But we really, really need something to change in the next week, because if not...”

“So what if Reyna returns before then?”

“That’s what we’re pinning our hopes on,” Grover said. “Nico’s with her, and I’ve asked Gleeson to keep me posted on their progress too. But things are already pretty bad here. The Romans have encircled Camp completely, and nobody is being allowed in or out. They’ve got archers deployed near every entrance, ready to fire at anyone who tries to enter. And they’ve been cutting down trees to build siege weapons, too. The dryads who live near the Roman war camp are distraught.”

“Get Aspen and Ash on the case,” Thalia said. “They’re the oldest ones around, so they’ll have the most contacts among the other nature spirits and the animals. We need to round up everyone that we can, stop them cutting down the forest.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Grover replied, surprised. “I’d only spoken to a couple of the younger ones so far, but you’re right, Aspen and Ash would be the better ones to ask. But how do you know those two?”

“Do you remember what I was before I became a Hunter, Grover?” Thalia asked, her tone sarcastic. “Before the Golden Fleece?”

“Right,” Grover said slowly. “But I thought you didn’t remember much about that.”

“It’s been slowly coming back to me, actually. I remember more with each passing day,” Thalia said. “The dryads were always really nice to me, even if I wasn’t really one of them. Including this one juniper bush, come to think of it, who I seem to remember spent a lot of time telling me about this satyr she had a crush on.”

Grover blushed, but Rachel, who had been silent for a while, cleared her throat. “Yes, yes, we all love Grover’s girlfriend,” she said impatiently. “But the reason we wanted to get in touch with you is because we were hoping you might be able to help us.”

“How so?”

"Grover?" Rachel prompted.

“Well, the Hunters are the closest thing we have to a neutral third party at the moment, what with the gods pretty much out of commission,” the satyr said nervously. “If anyone’s able to broker a real truce between us and the Romans, it might be you. Camp Half-Blood can’t afford to fight them, especially not with Rachel's visions pointing to Gaea’s rise being imminent, but there’s no way anyone here would ever sign over our best heroes to the Romans like that. We need a deal we can actually take.”

Thalia nodded. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“So you’ll do it?” Grover asked hopefully.

“Of course I will,” Thalia said. “I’ll make my way to New York as soon as I can. You two stay safe till I get there." She paused. "And make sure the rest of Camp is on a war footing. We can’t afford for them to be caught off guard in a week’s time if I don’t manage to stop this attack.”

“We will,” Rachel said, as Thalia dissolved the connection, and pondered how exactly she was going to go about this.

___

“My lady,” Thalia began, “I have a… difficult situation, and I need your advice.”

Thalia wasn’t completely convinced telling Artemis about this was a good idea. Asking the Huntress for help was something she would have ordinarily done without hesitating. But these were far from ordinary times. Since the split between Greece and Rome, Artemis had been far colder, more distant, less willing to listen than she had been before.

She wasn’t sure if it was Diana’s personality seeping through into Artemis. The Roman version of the goddess she served certainly seemed the more hostile and ruthless of the two, but that wasn’t necessarily the right description of Artemis right now. She hadn’t exactly become mean or cruel, just a lot less… warm?

Either way, it wasn’t just her who’d noticed it. More than a few of the Hunters had come to her in the last two or three weeks, expressing concern about Artemis’ shift towards the extreme. Publicly, she’d played it cool, reassured the others that their patron was fine, but privately, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t share their concerns.

But that was immaterial now. She’d made her decision. All she could do now was hope the goddess would be able to give her usual sage advice.

“What is it, Thalia?” Artemis asked.

Thalia sighed, before explaining what she’d heard from Grover and Rachel. She told Artemis about Octavian’s takeover, how the Romans had given the Greeks one week to surrender. She told her how the Romans had been cutting down trees, how the dryads were being forced out, as Artemis listened on. When it came to Rachel’s proposal that she act as an intermediary, though, Artemis’ reaction was unequivocal, and precisely what she had feared.

“Absolutely not,” she said.

Thalia stared at her. “What do you mean, absolutely not?”

“You will not go anywhere near Octavian and the Romans,” Artemis said. “It is far too dangerous. I cannot afford for you to take unnecessary risks.”

“Unnecessary?” Thalia half-shouted. “You heard what I said, right? About ‘the ocean running red with Greek blood’? How can preventing that possibly be unnecessary?”

“It is not your fight, Thalia,” Artemis said calmly. “The Hunters have no involvement in this civil war, and it must stay that way. I cannot have my lieutenant leaving my side to take part in a hare-brained scheme such as this.”

This was not what Thalia had wanted at all. She’d been hoping to get some advice on how to approach the peace talks. Instead, she was being told to avoid them altogether. She couldn't say it was a complete shock, but it was a kick in the teeth nonetheless.

“You don’t understand,” Thalia said furiously. “Those are my friends at Camp, people I’ve known for years, some of them long before I even joined the Hunt. In Grover and Annabeth's case, I’ve known them more than half my life. And you think I can just stand here and watch on as they die, one by one?”

“You underestimate the danger you face in doing this,” Artemis responded sharply. “And you overestimate how much difference your presence will make. I have seen many Octavians come and go over the years. The one thing they all have in common is that they do whatever they desire, regardless of what it means for the people around them. You cannot change him, and he will not take well to any attempt either. There are many, many ways this can go badly wrong, and far too few in which it can go right.”

“Then do something yourself!” Thalia said, her tone increasingly desperate. “Believe me, I’ve never once underestimated the power of Camp Half-Blood. There’s some serious fighters in there. But by all accounts, the Romans have them massively outnumbered. If they attack, it won’t be a fight, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“You know I cannot,” Artemis said resignedly. “You know that any involvement in this war would tear me apart. Already, with each passing day, it becomes more and more difficult to resist Diana. In any case, Father would not take well to the idea of me intervening so openly in the matters of mortals, especially when he has expressly forbidden it.”

“But you won’t let me go.”

“You asked for my advice,” Artemis said stonily. “I have given it.”

“So what if I were to just ignore that advice, and do it anyway? You’d be OK with that?”

“Of course not,” Artemis snapped. “Do not test my patience, Thalia. I may respect your opinion, give you the freedom to lead the Hunters day-to-day, but you would do well to remember that you are my lieutenant and not the other way around. I will not tolerate any insubordination from you. You will stay here, and that is an order.”

Thalia’s face burned red. “I see,” she said slowly. “I was far too slow to recognize it. You’ve changed, Artemis.”

Artemis looked surprised, but she didn’t say anything.

“I thought you trusted me,” Thalia said quietly. “I thought you wouldn’t be the type to keep secrets from me, but that’s not true, is it? All this time, you knew Percy and Annabeth were in Tartarus, didn’t you? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to protect you!” Artemis said defensively. “I did not know how well you would take the news that two of your closest friends were lost in the Pit. I hoped to spare you the grief.”

Thalia laughed mirthlessly. “That’s a cop-out, and you know it. What did you think, that I would never find out? All you did was make it more painful when I did. And I suppose watching everyone I love die in front of my eyes won't cause any pain at all, will it?”

She looked up at the night sky. Appropriately enough, it was a new moon tonight.

“I used to think you were one of the good ones, that you weren’t like the other gods, that you didn’t just view humans as disposable,” Thalia continued. “I joined you because I believed that you cared. Now I see how it is.”

“I do care,” Artemis responded, her face flickering in the light of the campfire. “I care more than you know, Thalia. I am not forbidding you from going on this mission out of malice, or because the thought of war delights me. I simply do not want to risk losing another friend, not after…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, but Thalia knew the name that would have filled that gap. Zoë.

“So you’d rather push me away?” Thalia said angrily. “You’d prefer to lose a friend that way? Because that’s the direction you’re heading. And if Zoë were here, that’s exactly what she’d tell you.”

“Thalia, please. I cannot stomach the thought of you putting your safety in the hands of someone as unstable as Octavian for what is, at best, a desperate gamble,” Artemis said pleadingly, her voice an octave higher than before. “You know nothing good is likely to come of this. Do not do this to me.”

“If you think that’s going to stop me trying, then you’re badly mistaken,” Thalia said, clenching her jaw. “I’m sorry, but if you truly believe I’d think twice about risking my own life for the chance to save the people I care about, then you’ve never properly understood me. There’s a pine tree on Half-Blood Hill that stands as living proof of that.”

She took a deep breath. She had a decision to make, and once she made it, there would be no going back. She knew what she had to do, but somehow, actually doing it was almost impossible.

“I find myself back there in my dreams all the time. On top of Half-Blood Hill, surrounded by monsters, fighting a losing battle alongside my friends. And every time, even though I know how it’ll end, I do all the same things. Every single one of those dreams ends with me turning into that tree, because, to me, some things are more important than staying alive. Some risks are worth taking.”

Thalia stood up, before giving the shell-shocked Artemis a withering glare. She wished the goddess would say something, tell her she’d changed her mind, even beg her to stop again, but she just seemed lost for words.

“I’m going to do this,” she said. “So if you’re forbidding your lieutenant from going to Camp Half-Blood, then I only have one option left.”

She removed the tiara from her head, placing it down before the stunned Artemis.

“It has been the honour of my life to serve as your lieutenant, my lady,” she said, her voice cracking. “I wish you all the best for your future hunts.”

She walked away, trying her hardest to ignore the stinging in her eyes.

___

“Halt,” the Roman soldier commanded in a shaky voice. “Who goes there?”

“Thalia, Lieutenant of Artemis,” she said. As of yesterday, that wasn’t true any more, but the Romans didn’t need to know that. “I am here to speak to your leaders. I believe Octavian received my message?”

“He didn’t mention anything,” the soldier said, rather nervously. “As far as I know, we aren’t expecting anyone.”

Thalia studied him. Judging from his boyish looks, he couldn’t be much older than twelve or thirteen, which was far too young to be fighting in a war, really. Admittedly, she’d seen and done quite a lot by the time she was his age, but she was pretty sure she was a special case.

“Why don’t you send someone to check?” Thalia suggested gently. “I can wait.”

The Roman hesitated, before turning to his partner on guard duty and explaining the situation. The other kid nodded, before scampering off into the Roman encampment.

“Sorry about this,” the boy apologised, awkwardly adjusting the straps on his helmet. “In the meantime, could you leave any weapons you have here, please?”

Thalia nodded, as she handed her things over to him. “Careful with the spear, kid,” she said, smiling at the nervous guard. “It’s pretty sharp.”

The boy smiled back, but Thalia could tell he was still pretty anxious, judging from the uncertain expression he was wearing. The poor kid clearly felt out of his depth, and Thalia couldn’t blame him one bit. There was absolutely no way he could possibly have been involved in the Titan War, at least not to any significant degree.

No, this kid was was as green as his eyes, and Thalia couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. As much as she knew the Greeks were the side with the numerical disadvantage, the thought of this literal child up against a battle-hardened veteran like Clarisse, say, was… well, he wouldn’t last two minutes, frankly. So much blood would be unnecessarily spilt on both sides if she didn’t succeed today.

The other soldier, who couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older, returned a couple of minutes later. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “Come with me, please.”

He ushered her towards the middle of the camp, but as Thalia glanced around, her eyes were drawn to the vast sea of tents around her, which seemed to stretch on and on as far as the eye could see and still further. Grover had been right. The Romans had to outnumber the Greeks at least ten to one, if not more. It really would be a total mismatch if this came to a battle, even if half the Romans were as inexperienced as the guard she’d just met.

Eventually, though, she arrived at the biggest tent of all, right in the centre of the camp. Outside it stood a rather scrawny looking man, maybe in his early twenties, dressed in a senatorial toga lined with royal purple, a white cloth mantle over his head and a purple cape draped over his shoulders. He was flanked by two guards in armour, both enormous brutes of men that towered over him, and yet he didn’t seem fazed at all.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but this was a mild surprise. The man in front of her certainly didn’t look like a conventional leader. And yet Thalia was under no illusions over who was in charge here. There was this air about him, a smug, superior attitude that said that everyone else was nothing but dirt to him.

Thalia found herself disliking him already.

“Welcome, Lady Thalia,” Octavian – for who else could it be? – said, extending a hand. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Do come in.”

Thalia paused for a second. There was part of her that didn’t really want to shake hands with the man in front of her, the man who was threatening to kill so many of the people she loved. But emotions wouldn’t work here. This was a negotiation, and she needed to be diplomatic.

“Good to meet you too, Octavian,” she replied, shaking the proffered hand as she entered the tent, even though she felt a little dirty for it. “Though I prefer just Thalia. I’m not a goddess or anything like that, you see.”

“Very well, Thalia it is,” the Roman replied, looking rather pompous. “How may I help you?”

Thalia hesitated, as she looked at the huge hulking guards next to Octavian, wearing scowls on their faces as they listened, swords in hand.

“May we discuss in private?” she asked eventually. “I’d prefer to speak with you and you alone.”

Octavian looked surprised. “They’re only here for my protection,” he replied. “They won’t bother you.”

Thalia was not known for her patience, and the little she had was already starting to wear thin. She had no intention whatsoever of involving those two thugs into these discussions, even if Octavian felt threatened enough by her to want ‘protection’.

“Believe me,” Thalia said, looking Octavian directly in the eye, with as much disdain as she could muster, “if I wanted you dead, this tent would be a smoking crater, and you and your guards would be a pile of ashes. So I’ll ask you again. May we speak in private?”

Octavian’s expression was unreadable, but after a few seconds, he turned to the two men next to him in turn. “Go on, Marcus, Adrian. Leave us here.”

The one on the left – Adrian, presumably, given Octavian had turned to him second – seemed reluctant. “But, praetor-” he began, but Octavian cut him off.

“I gave you an order, Adrian,” he replied sternly. “I expect it to be obeyed. You will wait outside until my business with Thalia is complete.”

Reluctantly, the two guards turned and exited the tent, leaving Thalia alone with Octavian.

“Now we’re alone,” Octavian said. “Say your piece.”

“There’s not really much to say that would be news to you,” Thalia said. “You know as well as I do that this war that you’re leading us towards would be a catastrophe. I’m here to try and prevent things from getting there by negotiating a truce.”

“I trust you’ve read the letter I sent to Camp Half-Blood, Thalia?” Octavian inquired. “I laid out the path towards peace in no uncertain terms in it. Camp Half-Blood has to surrender and co-operate in the arrest of the traitors who fired upon our city.”

Thalia scoffed. “So you can have them executed? Because we both know that’s not going to happen.”

“I cannot say what will happen to the culprits of the attack. That will be for the Senate to decide, when the trial is held. But yes, the death penalty is one option available in that regard,” Octavian said. “Rome demands justice, and justice will be served.”

“Rome demands?” Thalia asked sceptically. “Or you demand?”

“Rome does,” he answered, rather smugly. “I merely act upon the wishes of my people, as any leader should. Vox populi, vox dei, as they say.”

“Isn’t this war precisely how you became the leader in the first place?” Thalia asked. Her anger was burning again, but once again she forced herself to calm down. “You were just the augur a few weeks ago, weren’t you?”

Octavian shrugged. “The legion has spoken,” he said. “The Senate declared Jason Grace and Percy Jackson to be exiled for their role in the attack, stripping them of all their titles and ranks. I was chosen to replace them as praetor by a full and fair vote, and appointed as pontifex maximus. What more do you want me to say?”

“Nothing more,” Thalia said, trying to hide her growing hatred of the rat-faced usurper in front of her. “You’ve well and truly answered that question. But you have to understand how the Greeks see this. Percy and Annabeth are heroes at Camp Half-Blood. They’ve saved every single person in that camp multiple times over. Most people there would rather die than voluntarily give them over to you, let alone any of the others.”

“If they would really rather die, then they will get their wish,” Octavian said coldly. “I’ll repeat once more: Rome demands justice. After the assault on New Rome, the legion is baying for blood. If they don’t get to punish those responsible, then Camp Half-Blood will suffer the consequences, as horrible as they are. It might not seem the most palatable of options, but it is the only way to calm the masses.”

“I wonder why they’re baying for blood,” Thalia said sarcastically. Octavian’s holier-than-thou, ‘will of the people’ act was really starting to grate, and staying diplomatic was becoming a real struggle. “Couldn’t possibly have had anything to do with you whipping them up into a frenzy, could it?”

“Romans are not stupid, Thalia,” Octavian said, staring her down. “The public were capable enough of seeing what happened that day and drawing their own conclusions. They chose to throw the spear. They chose vengeance. From then on, this was inevitable. You keep directing your anger at me, when all I am is a spoke in the wheel of Rome.”

“So you’re not willing to negotiate.”

“On this point, no,” Octavian replied. “There is some room to negotiate on other aspects of the Greek surrender, but if we can’t agree on this, it’s pointless to go much further, even if I would prefer not to see so many lives lost needlessly.”

He looked rather pained, an expression so fake it made Thalia’s blood boil.

“You still have a choice, Octavian,” Thalia said, almost begging him, even though every word that came out of her mouth felt increasingly futile. “Let bygones be bygones. The Greeks will issue an apology for their role in the incident in New Rome, and they can help to repair any damage that was caused as a gesture of goodwill. You don’t have to force them to make a choice between their own lives and those of their heroes. Be the bigger person.”

Octavian shook his head. “The time for goodwill has passed, Thalia. Like I said, the spear has been thrown. The Rubicon has been crossed. Rome is at war now, and the only outcome that is acceptable is a total victory for the legion. Anything else would be seen as failure, and rightly so. We have to send a message.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Thalia said, despairingly. “Don’t act like the blood of everyone who dies won’t be on your hands, Octavian. Don’t deflect it onto the people of New Rome, or blame it on Camp Half-Blood for not accepting a deal you knew they never could. If you choose to go ahead and do this, it’ll be you whom the gods punish for it. Stop lying to yourself and face up to reality.”

For the first time, Octavian looked genuinely angry. “You’ve got some nerve talking to me about lying, Thalia Grace,” he spat, as if her last name were a slur. “Oh yes, I know far more about you than you think. The supposedly neutral mediator coming in to negotiate, when her very brother is among the traitors she is trying to protect, not to mention two of her closest friends?” He looked positively murderous. “The only reason I entertained this meeting was out of respect for the goddess you serve. Had her name not been there to protect you, your head would be on a spike right now, conniving graecus scum that you are. So think very carefully before you accuse me of anything.”

“I do accuse you,” Thalia said, her brilliant blue eyes glowing brighter than ever, as she stood tall, her skin crackling with energy. “I accuse you of being a warmonger and a murderer, a coward and a tyrant. You wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Jason, or for that matter Percy or Annabeth. Without any of them, the Titans would have killed us all, Greeks and Romans alike. And you want to have them executed for a so-called ‘attack’ which wasn’t their fault at all, in which nobody was killed and barely anything was damaged, only because it serves your own interests? Does loyalty mean nothing to you?”

“Does it mean anything to you, Thalia?” Octavian retorted. “As I understand it, your best friend turned out to be the traitor who hosted the Titan Kronos himself, didn’t he? And you came perilously close to joining him on multiple occasions, didn’t you? And when it came to the Great Prophecy, you chose immortality rather than accept your fate, leaving Percy Jackson to suffer the consequences in your place, didn’t you? So who are you to tell me about cowardice, Thalia? Who are you to tell me about loyalty?”

Finally, Thalia snapped.

“How dare you?” she screamed, as she threw herself at Octavian, striking him square in the face, knocking him to the ground. The rational part of her brain had been screaming at her to calm things down, but Thalia had long since given up listening to it. It was time to be irrational.

“How fucking dare you speak to me like that, you murderous, slimy, soulless piece of shit? You have no idea what you’re talking about, you- you-”

She couldn’t come up with a word strong enough to describe what she thought of Octavian, so instead she just punched the prone Roman again, this time hearing the sweet sound of his nose shattering under her fist, and the even sweeter sound of the scumbag howling with pain again. She had never met anyone who deserved it more.

At that point, the two guards who had been standing outside rushed in, presumably because of all the screaming and commotion. Thalia couldn’t remember their names, and frankly she couldn’t give a shit right now. All she knew was that they were threatening to get in her way.

“Back off,” she warned fiercely, as the smell of ozone filled the air, and thunder rumbled in the distance. She was in no mood to deal with these two idiots, and if they tried to mess with her, they’d pay the price for it. “Take one step closer to me, and I’ll kill you all.”

One of them seemed to hesitate, but just as he was reaching for his sword, Octavian raised his hand, stumbling to his feet.

“Do as she says, Marcus,” he said calmly, even as blood dripped profusely from his nose, which had been bent unnaturally out of shape. “She is spoken for by a goddess. Besides, she is much too powerful for you to handle.”

“So I should just let her walk away scot-free?” Marcus said angrily, hand still firmly on the hilt of his sword. “After she came in as a peace envoy only to assault you?”

“Yes,” Octavian replied simply, wiping the blood away with his cape. “You must, and you will. Drawing the anger of Artemis in the midst of this war would be the most catastrophic mistake imaginable. So you’ll let it slide, regardless of how that makes you feel.”

He turned to Thalia, meeting her piercing glare with one of his own. “Kill me if you want, huntress. I suspect you already know that nothing will change if you do. As I said, the great wheel of Rome is turning once more, and removing one spoke will not prevent it from crushing all those who stand in its path. All that’ll happen if you kill me is that you’ll miss seeing Camp Half-Blood burn to the ground.”

“And if I decide to spare you?”

“Then you’re free to go, Thalia Grace,” he said, with a rather cold, calculating look in his eyes. Thalia couldn’t help but shiver a little. She knew that look far better than she should. It was the expression of a psychopath. “But make no mistake about it, you’ve made Rome your enemy with your actions here today. And if I ever set eyes on you again, then I won’t hesitate to have you killed, Lieutenant of Artemis or not.”

“Have me killed,” Thalia repeated, her voice full of venom. “How perfectly on brand. Hiding behind others to do your dirty work for you. You’ll regret what you’re doing, Octavian. The Fields of Punishment await, and sooner than you'd think.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Octavian said, smirking despite the blood trickling down his face from his crooked nose. “I have powerful patrons of my own, you know.”

In response, Thalia just stared him down with all the contempt she could muster, and eventually, it was Octavian who blinked first.

“I think we’re done here,” he said, his voice far calmer than it had any right to be. “Adrian, would you escort the Lieutenant out of our camp?”

The guard put a hand on her wrist, but Thalia swatted it away furiously.

“I’ll find my own way out, thank you,” she said, her voice trembling with rage. “But we’re very far from done, Octavian. I'm not someone you want to have as an enemy, but I’ll make sure you don’t win if it’s the last thing I do.”

Octavian’s response was simply to chuckle, an answer that sent Thalia’s blood pressure soaring through the roof. She knew she could send the Roman down to the Fields of Punishment right here and now, and she couldn’t deny being sorely tempted. Octavian was quite possibly the most despicable creature she had ever met, even in a world filled with monsters.

But she also knew that, as evil as he was, he had been right. Killing him wouldn’t stop the war, not with the strength of support he clearly had from his legion, but it would stop her from helping the Greeks. She needed to swallow her pride and live to fight another day, and that meant resisting the urge to act on that impulse.

So she turned to leave the tent, and as she did, she heard Octavian’s voice for what she dearly hoped was the last time.

“Seven days, Thalia,” he called after her. “The deal still stands. If you had any sense, you would accept it.”

Thalia was still itching to turn back, but reason won out in the end, as she forced herself to keep walking before she killed anyone. She strode purposefully towards the gate that marked the boundary of the camp, still seething all the way, knowing that the Romans were all staring at her and yet finding it rather hard to care.

When she reached the gate, she collected her weapons with barely a word, but as she turned to leave, her eyes made contact with those of the boy soldier who had taken them from her earlier. And as she looked into his green eyes, innocent eyes filled with a mixture of awe and fear, the eyes of a child, there was one nagging, guilty little thought she couldn’t escape.

Did I just hand you a death sentence?

Chapter Text

There were no two ways about it. London was amazing.

They’d arrived into a car park on the outskirts of the city, before heading into the nearby Underground station. Reyna had watched with amusement as Coach Hedge had fumbled around on the ticket machine, steadfastly refusing any attempts to help by her or Nico. He really did have a tendency to be a stubborn old goat, as Reyna was learning rather quickly.

In any case, they’d eventually ended up at a café in the ancient City of London, and Reyna could barely breathe out of excitement. Every street and every building seemed almost to whisper to her, as though trying to tell her their story. Perhaps Agricola had led his troops down this very road, now home to a mixture of dizzyingly tall office buildings and restaurants. Or perhaps the pub opposite her had once been a tavern, where the future Emperor Vespasian had celebrated a great victory with his men. She could feel the weight of two millennia of history pressing down upon her, as overwhelming as it was awe-inspiring.

And if you fail, a nasty, intrusive thought said in her head, Gaea will destroy it all.

Reyna, though, was willing to ignore that thought for now. They’d left behind their precious cargo in the truck, but she wasn’t worried in the slightest. Athena’s presence radiating from the statue was so utterly overwhelming that nobody would ever dare touch it without the goddess’s permission, let alone try to steal it. The skeletons Nico had summoned earlier to carry the statue now stood guard over it as well, although they were largely redundant in comparison to Athena’s power.

“We should go to the British Museum,” Nico said, glancing down at a guidebook he’d picked up from a shop on the way. “I want to see the Parthenon Marbles.”

“The Parthenon Marbles?” she asked, sipping from her mug. She tried not to drink too much caffeine as a rule of thumb, but today she felt like she’d earned a second coffee.

“A collection of sculptures that were stolen from the Parthenon two hundred years ago,” Nico explained. “The Greeks – the modern ones, I mean – have been trying to get them back for ages, but they’re still here, even though they probably shouldn’t be. But given that they are, I want to see them.”

“Getting empires to return their stolen loot is easier said than done, I suppose,” Reyna observed, taking a bite from her toast. The irony was not lost on her.

“The British Empire was infamous for it, too,” Hedge said, as he examined Nico’s guidebook. “Did you know it was the largest empire in history? They used to say it was so big that the sun never set on it. At various points, they’ve had territory on every single continent, even Antarctica. That’s a lot of different places for them to steal stuff from.”

Nico frowned. “I wouldn’t have had you down as a history buff, Coach.”

“Well, now you know,” Hedge replied, setting down his fork. Reyna was only mildly surprised at how quickly he’d eaten his second breakfast. “I’m keen on the museum if you kids are. Always wanted to see the Rosetta Stone.”

“I think you’ll enjoy it too, Reyna,” Nico said, passing her the guide. “Look what their special exhibition’s called.” He pointed at a line on the page.

“Legion: life in the Roman Army,” Reyna read off, incredulously. “Wow.”

“Great timing, isn’t it?” Nico said, grinning. “Almost as though it’s all a set up to lure us there. Maybe the giants’ real goal is just to teach demigods about ancient history.”

“Don’t joke about things like that,” Reyna groaned. “Let’s just get going before the Fates smite you for your hubris.”

__

Another short hop on the Tube later, they had arrived at a station called Tottenham Court Road, which was the closest one to the museum – albeit not pronounced at all like it was spelt, for some reason. She had no idea how that name could possibly be ‘Totnum’, but that was how the PA announcer had said it on the train. Apparently the English were just fond of making their language even more complicated than it already was.

After a short walk, they found themselves at the museum, and Reyna found that the photos didn’t quite do the building justice. The museum was magnificent, designed in the classical Greek style, with towering columns and a roof decorated with intricate sculptures that she couldn’t quite make out the detailing on. Even as a Roman, she could appreciate the architecture was beautiful.

Unfortunately, there was a rather big problem, one that Coach Hedge put rather succinctly, as he turned to them.

“It’s closed,” the satyr said. “Doesn’t open till 10. We’re an hour and a half early.”

Nico frowned. “I thought one of you had checked the opening times.” He looked at Hedge, then at Reyna, who fought the urge to remind him that he had been the one who bought the guidebook.

“Clearly not,” she said instead, sighing. “But if we have to wait, that won't give us very long to see the museum. It's about a three hour drive to Southampton.”

Nico fumbled around in his bag for the guidebook once more, but before he could find it, they were interrupted by a voice from behind them.

“Everything alright?”

Reyna turned her head to look at the woman who had just addressed them. She was tall, maybe a couple inches taller than her, with mousy auburn hair and olive skin, dressed elegantly in an understated way. She held a clipboard in one hand, but Reyna couldn’t help but feel rather on edge. There was an aura of power around her, one that clearly indicated that this was no mortal woman.

“Who are you?” Nico asked bluntly, one hand on the handle of his sword. Clearly, he was on guard too.

The woman smiled. “I think one of you might recognize me.” She nodded her head over at Coach Hedge, who looked rather awestruck.

“You’re Clio,” he said reverently, bowing his head. “I’m Gleeson Hedge, my lady. I… it’s such an honour to meet you. I loved your series on the Mongol Empire.”

Reyna followed the Coach’s lead, bowing to the rather amused looking woman. “I was always rather proud of that one,” she said, turning back towards the demigods. “Yes, indeed, I’m Clio, Muse of History, and occasional documentarian for Hephaestus TV, as Gleeson here clearly knows. And your names are?”

“Reyna, my lady. Daughter of Bellona,” she replied. “And this is Nico, son of Hades.”

“A pleasure,” Clio said warmly. “So what brings two demigods and a satyr here? An interest in history, I hope?”

Reyna hesitated. “Well, we were actually hoping to visit the museum, my lady. But...”

“It doesn’t open for a while yet?” Clio guessed.

She nodded. “And we’re on a bit of a tight schedule. We probably need to leave London by noon, latest.”

“No matter,” Clio said. “Come with me. We’ll go now, so that you don’t get late.”

“You can do that?” Nico asked.

“Of course I can,” Clio said assertively. “Have you never wondered where the word ‘museum’ originates?”

Reyna looked at Nico, whose face suggested that he, too, had never made the connection between Muses and museums before.

“Just as other gods have temples, I have this,” Clio said. “The mortals simply run it on my behalf. They won't stop you from entering, not if you're with me.”

Reyna glanced over at Coach Hedge, who now looked as though he might pass out any second from pure excitement. She wasn’t going to be the one to deny him what was clearly something he'd dreamed of.

“Thank you so much, my lady,” she said. “It’s very kind of you to do this for us.”

Clio just smiled. “Shall we?”

___

It was all going swimmingly until it wasn’t.

They’d been round the special exhibit already, which was nothing short of mind-blowing. It was, however, a little unnerving. Reyna could sense the power exuding from some of the artifacts in front of her, items that were so clearly magical that she could barely believe they were on display to mortals. (Clio did assure her there were safeguards in place, but Reyna couldn’t help but feel less than convinced.)

Reading the descriptions of life as a soldier in the Roman army was the best part, though, even if it felt rather strange. After all, each one of those legionnaires would have been commanded by a praetor, an office that Reyna now held herself. It was surreal to think that, had she lived two thousand years ago, she might well have commanded some of the men whose items lay in this museum now, relics of the glory days of Rome. These were the soldiers whose blood, sweat and tears had built the greatest empire the world had ever seen, a legacy that would last forever.

And, frankly, the burden of that legacy felt decidedly heavy upon her shoulders.

Well, technically, had Reyna lived two thousand years ago, she would never have served in the legion in the first place. It was only late in the twentieth century that women had been accepted as legionnaires at all, a decision that had been rather controversial in certain quarters of New Rome. Even today, she still heard the occasional whispers from some to that effect. They looked at her, called her praetor, but there was a certain lack of recognition in their words, a tacit suggestion of illegitimacy that Jason had never had to overcome. She was only the third woman to ever hold the post; before that, the legion had only had one praetor, always a man.

If anything, that only served to make the burden feel heavier. Since she’d become praetor, Reyna had felt like she was fighting a constant battle, not just to prove her own worth, but the worth of all women to the legion. Bellona being her mother had certainly been helpful, giving her a little bit more initial credibility, as had the successes the legion had enjoyed during the Titan war, but while she had won over most in the legion itself, the influential families of New Rome seemed less convinced.

But those thoughts had faded to the back of her mind by the time they exited the exhibition. Ultimately, she was here to enjoy a trip through history, not to dwell on New Roman politics, an exhausting topic at the best of times.

One person who clearly wasn’t having any trouble enjoying himself, however, was Coach Hedge. It seemed as though his entire childhood had been spent watching documentaries on wars and empires, most of them presented by Clio. His current kid-in-a-candy-shop expression of pure glee was a testament to that fact, infectious enough to bring a smile to anyone’s face.

As for the Muse herself? Getting a guided tour from her was… well, exactly as one might expect. She was a walking, talking repository of knowledge, and a brilliant guide too, knowing exactly when to let them explore and read for themselves and when to go into more depth. Curiously, she hadn’t seemed too keen on the Egypt department, muttering something about external forces ruining her exhibits, though Reyna had known better than to ask.

But finally, they had arrived here, in the section of the museum dedicated to Ancient Greece. And it was then, just as they approached the Parthenon Marbles, that Reyna heard a whispered voice pierce the calm of the museum.

“Hello, Reyna.”

She turned around, but there was nobody there.

At first, she wondered whether she’d misheard. The museum was no longer empty, having opened just over an hour ago. Perhaps she’d just picked up a snippet of someone else’s conversation.

But Clio had clearly sensed something was up, too, having stopped abruptly. “Who’s there?” she demanded. “Show yourself!”

At that, a woman shimmered into view, strikingly beautiful, with long dark hair braided with streaks of gold, and a dress that seemed to glow with magical illusions all around. Her eyes were deep green, and remarkably familiar. They would be, considering she had known this woman for years.

“Circe,” she said uncertainly. “What are you doing here?”

“Reyna!” Circe replied, in a rather motherly tone. “How have you been, dear?”

Reyna glanced over at Nico and Hedge, who seemed rather blissfully unaware of the sorceress’s presence. In fact, their eyes had glazed over completely, and they were blankly staring at a headless statue of Zeus.

“Oh, they can’t hear us,” Circe said casually. “I thought I’d talk to you alone, without any… distractions.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Reyna said, preparing herself mentally for a fight. Circe being here was far from good news. “What do you want?”

“Rather direct, I see,” Circe said, looking rather mischievous. “Not going to say hello to your old friend first?”

“When you spend several months with pirates, you learn to get to the point,” Reyna said drily. “Besides, I’m not stupid enough to think that you being here of all places is a coincidence.”

Circe laughed. “You’ve become cynical, Reyna. Though, admittedly, you’re right on this occasion. I’m here to give you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“Come back,” Circe said, her voice dripping with charm. Had Reyna not known her so long, she might well have fallen victim to her wiles right there. “Come back and join me once more. You don't have to sacrifice your life for the gods’ pointless errands. My island could be your home again, safe from the chaos of the outside world.”

“Tempting,” Reyna said sarcastically. She knew the look in Circe’s eyes, and her patience was wearing thin. “Unfortunately, I have a new life now, and I’m not leaving it behind. I’m praetor of Rome now, and I’m on a quest.”

Circe pursed her lips. “Would it make your decision any different if I told you that all of you will die otherwise?”

Reyna hesitated, but it was Clio who spoke up. “You will not threaten them,” she growled, her eyes glowing with energy. “They are under my protection. You overstep even by being here, Circe.”

“Oh, it’s not a threat, dear Muse,” Circe said lightly. “It’s an ultimatum. Reyna will abandon this quest she is on, or I will kill her and her friends.”

“You’re working for Gaea and the giants, then,” Reyna said, grimly. “I hoped you would be better than that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Circe hissed, her eyes glinting. “You remember who was responsible for the pirates breaking free that day. It was their fault that the island was destroyed, and their fault that you and Hylla were taken captive!” Now, she looked positively unhinged, her hair smouldering. “Medea lies dead again… that was thanks to Jason Grace and his friends. Pasiphaë is in Tartarus because of Hazel Levesque. Everything I know, my family, my home, has been taken from me by the so-called Seven!” She spat the word as though it were an insult. “You wanted to know what I want, Reyna? I want revenge. And answering Gaea’s bidding simply offers me a means to that end.”

“Enough.” Clio’s voice was as cold as ice. “You will leave. Now. You know the Ancient Laws as well as I. This is my place of power, and you are not welcome.”

“Alright, alright, keep your hair on,” Circe said, playfully. “But it’s a shame you won’t come back, Reyna. I’d have preferred to spare your life if I could.”

She disappeared in a flash, just as Nico and Coach Hedge snapped awake.

“What happened?” Nico asked. “Did we pass out or something?”

Reyna opened her mouth to answer, but then she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

“That statue didn’t have a head before, did it?” Coach Hedge asked anxiously.

And then all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, she was on the floor, Nico’s weight pinning her down, as her head slammed into the ground with a thud. Dazed, she watched a marble spear fly over her supine body, where her head had been just a second ago. She scrambled to her feet, as the statue of Zeus advanced on her, thunderbolt in hand, only for Coach Hedge to knock its head off with his baseball bat. The again-headless king of the gods staggered back, and Coach Hedge landed another blow to the torso, reducing it to a pile of rubble.

“Help us!” she screamed at Clio, who was standing there, watching with an expression of horror and disbelief. “Do something!”

“I can’t!” Clio screamed, as another projectile came Reyna’s way, forcing her to duck. “They’re out of my control. Whatever enchantment Circe put on them, I can’t break it!”

A stone centaur galloped towards her, but this time she was ready. She dodged the first attack, then twisted, landing a blow with her sword to its rump, destroying its back legs. The now two-legged centaur tried to turn back towards her, but Reyna stabbed it with her dagger, causing it to crumble.

“So destroy them!” Nico yelled, as he battled a stone Artemis fiercely, dodging each strike deftly, even as Athena advanced on him, spear in hand. “There’s too many of them! We can’t defeat them all!”

“It’s too dangerous!” Clio replied urgently, catching a stone hand that one of the statues must have thrown in Reyna’s direction. “The only way is for me to blast them all, but that puts you right in the firing line. You need to get out of here!”

“What about the mortals?!” Reyna asked, turning to face a statue of Apollo – thankfully weaponless, but hardly much less dangerous.

“They don’t want them!” Clio responded, using her powers to deflect an arrow that had been headed straight for Coach Hedge. “They’re only after you!”

Reyna dodged a wild kick from Apollo, answering it with a blow from her sword. Clio was right. The mortals were watching the carnage unfold from a distance, well back from the fighting. She had no idea what the Mist had them seeing, but they weren’t in immediate danger.

“Can you shadow travel us out of here?” she yelled to Nico.

“No way!” Nico called back. “It’s not dark enough, and it’s way too soon after the last one!”

“Then let's turn the lights out!” she barked, turning to Clio for a second.

Rookie mistake.

Apollo punched her, right in the gut, and down she went, sprawling, even as Clio obeyed the order, and the entire Museum went dark. She could just faintly make out Apollo’s outline coming towards her once more, and she rolled away desperately, scrambling to avoid the statue.

“Try now!” she ordered Nico, wheezing, as she hurried to her feet, backing away from Apollo again, who seemed dead-set on finishing what he’d started. In the background, she heard a sound that could only be Coach Hedge’s bat connecting with another statue. “I’ll lend you my strength!”

“But-”

“Just do it!” she bellowed. She poured everything she had, the last of her reserves into the son of Hades. She could see Apollo advancing on her, even as her body went slack, as she gave up any chance she had of defending herself in the hope that Nico could help her escape. She felt the cold stone of his marble hands wrap around her neck, gasped for breath as he choked the life from her, and still she did not resist, giving every last bit of her strength to her companion.

And then she felt a rush of wind, and she was enveloped by darkness all around, swallowing her whole as her eyes gently shut. When they opened again, she was in the truck once more, and all she could see around were rolling fields and open road.

Chapter Text

Hazel wasn’t normally the antsy type, but the waiting was starting to become too much to bear.

A night, a day, and most of another night had passed, and they still hadn’t reached Delphi. The reason, of course, was the ferocious storm that had wreaked havoc on the Argo II for most of yesterday. Leo’s weather radar had suggested the wind speeds were equivalent to a Category Three hurricane, and it had certainly felt like it.

Hazel was no stranger to hurricanes, having grown up in New Orleans; they’d been hit by a Category Two one when she was five, which had wrecked quite a few buildings in the city. But this one had surprised everyone. It had appeared completely out of the blue the previous night, not picked up by the ship’s weather radar until it was right upon them. It had raged non-stop for hours, pummeling the ship, until suddenly, that evening, it had completely dissipated just as fast as it had arrived, leaving clear skies behind. That was weird enough in itself, not to mention that Greece wasn’t exactly the kind of place you’d ordinarily expect to see a hurricane.

This storm hadn’t been ordinary in any way, though; it was clearly magical in nature, and Hazel knew what, or rather whom, was responsible. It could be no coincidence that the storm had started just after the god of sea storms found out that his son had not returned from Tartarus, no coincidence that his anger had been directed towards the ship which Percy should have been on but wasn’t. She wondered what had finally calmed Neptune, though she had no possible way of knowing.

In any case, it had been just over eight hours since the storm had stopped now, eight hours in which they had barely moved an inch. Leo had inspected the ship after the winds had finally calmed, and hadn’t liked what he had seen one bit. The hull had been badly damaged, the ballistae were completely destroyed, the sail had been torn to shreds, half the oars were broken, and the top deck was strewn with debris. And that was just the damage that they could see. Hazel had no idea how to diagnose a ship’s engine, but judging from how Leo had been toiling away for the last hour, it had not been unscathed either.

Unfortunately, the extent of the devastation had meant not going any further at all that night, for fear of sinking. Poor Leo had stayed up for hours now repairing the essential parts of the Argo II, with each of them taking it in turns to help him. It had been slow progress, but now that they’d got to Hazel’s turn, the hull was looking much better, and Leo seemed rather more upbeat than he had when they had assessed the damage initially. She hoped they might even be able to get moving soon.

Leo hadn’t been the only one who hadn’t slept, actually. Annabeth had been there throughout as well. There was no need to ask why, of course. The engine room was an infinitely kinder place to spend a night than Tartarus.

“I think we’re all done,” Leo said, half an hour later, yawning as he tightened a bolt with his wrench. “Or at least, I think the ship’s seaworthy again. We’ll need to get some supplies to repair the engine properly so we can fly, and the weapons systems are still offline, but this should be good enough to get underway.”

“Well done, Valdez,” Annabeth replied, mock saluting. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

“With me or for me?” Leo said, smirking at Hazel, who stifled a laugh.

“Don’t push it,” Annabeth said sternly, even as her eyes twinkled.

She hadn’t seemed completely herself in the hour or so that Hazel had been here, but it was good to see Annabeth laughing and joking like this. She’d missed the daughter of Athena so, so much, the girl who could be both the fierce warrior who giants and monsters alike feared and the reassuring arm around your shoulder when you needed someone to lean on. Hazel had only known her less than a month, and Percy not much longer, yet it had felt like she had lost two siblings when they fell into the Pit.

“The real question,” Leo said, a grin on his face, “is, is it still dark outside? Hazel?”

“It was still pitch black ten minutes ago, so it must be, yes,” she replied, surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“Yeah, baby!” Leo whooped, doing some sort of victory dance that made him look truly ridiculous, arms and legs flying everywhere. “I knew it! Never doubt Leo Valdez, the Repair King!”

Hazel gave Annabeth a quizzical look.

“Piper bet him five drachmae that he couldn’t get the repairs done by dawn,” came the explanation, as Leo carried on celebrating. “Well, that explains why he’s so happy, anyway. As for the dancing, I can only assume he’s been learning moves from Per-”

She froze mid-sentence, as if time had been stopped. The look on her face was so despairing and haunted that she had never seen its like before. If that was how Annabeth reacted just to Percy’s name, she couldn’t imagine the true depths of her feelings.

“It was a pretty clever motivational tactic from Piper, really,” Annabeth said quietly, as if nothing had happened. “As you probably know, if there’s one thing that gets Leo going, it’s a bet. And Piper convinces him to take enough completely unwinnable ones with her that she can afford to give him five of his own drachmae back.”

Hazel forced a laugh, even if the haunting image of Annabeth’s face filled with grief was still fresh in her mind. The joking and laughing was clearly just a façade, and Hazel knew Annabeth was very far from well. Still, she wasn’t sure bringing it up now would help.

“Genius,” she said instead. “So what now? We’ll get to Delphi by morning, I guess?”

“Probably,” Annabeth said tiredly. “Leo?”

“Yeah?” Leo replied, having finally stopped dancing.

“How long to Delphi? An hour? Two?”

“Closer to three, probably,” Leo said, yawning. “I don’t really want to go anywhere close to full power just yet, given most of these repairs are temporary fixes at best, and we definitely can’t fly in this state. But we’ve got fifty-five nautical miles to go, and I think we’ll be able to sustain somewhere between fifteen and twenty knots at sea, so we should hopefully be there just around breakfast time.”

Annabeth nodded. “You should get some sleep, Leo,” she said. “I can take the helm for now.”

“Absolutely not!” Leo exclaimed. “With all due respect, Annabeth, you’ve just returned from… well, you know where, and you’ve been up all night. There’s no way I’m letting you take the controls alone.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Hazel got there first. “It’s fine, Leo,” she said, as Annabeth looked at her gratefully. “I’ll stay up with her. She won’t be on her own.”

Truth be told, Hazel agreed with Leo one hundred percent. Annabeth shouldn’t be left alone at all, not given the circumstances. But she would much rather Annabeth stayed up and talked with her than went back into her cabin and tried to tough it out alone.

“Well…” Leo started, as though he was trying to come up with a reason to object. He didn’t find one.

“I suppose that works,” he conceded instead, stretching his arms above his head wearily. “In that case, I won’t say no to getting some rest. We’ve got a pretty early start, after all.”

“Sleep it off fully, Leo,” Hazel said. “Jason, Frank and I should be more than enough of us to tackle whatever awaits us in Delphi. You’ve done your bit for today.”

“But-” Leo started, only to be cut off.

“No buts,” Hazel said firmly. “You’re not going to be of much use to us if you’re sleep-deprived, Leo. Just rest up. Anyway, if you do wake up, Annabeth'll be here, and Piper’s still on medical leave too, so it’s not like you’ll be all alone.”

“Could be worse company, I suppose,” Leo said, winking at Annabeth. “Well, I guess I’ll see you once you’re back, Hazel. Good night. Try not to crash into any icebergs.”

“We won’t,” Annabeth promised. “Night, Leo.”

___

Just over two and a half hours later, land was within sight at last. It was a glorious, sunny morning, with a gentle breeze carrying the ship slowly in the direction of the shore. The soothing sound of the little waves as they lapped against the ship and the occasional cry of a seagull were the only things Hazel could hear, interspersed with the occasional sounds of the engines of other boats. She found herself basking in the warmth of the sun as Annabeth expertly steered them towards the small town that they could see on the horizon.

In short, then, it was a calm, peaceful start to the day, a stark contrast to the tempest that had besieged them for so long, and Hazel, for what felt like the first time in weeks, felt relaxed at last. So, too, did her stomach, because for once, she didn’t feel seasick in the slightest.

“We’ll need to drop anchor here, I think,” Annabeth said, her golden curls glowing in the morning light. “There’s a tiny little harbour, but it isn’t big enough for our ship, and the water gets pretty shallow pretty fast.”

Hazel nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I guess,” she responded. “Frank and Jason should be able to get me to land between them.”

It had been a rather pleasant couple of hours, to be honest. At Annabeth’s request, she’d done her best to avoid some of the more painful topics, although they hadn’t always been successful. But for the most part, it had been a lovely catch-up with a friend who had been gone for two weeks that felt like a lifetime. They’d chatted about New Rome and Camp Half-Blood, how both of them had finally found a place where they belonged at last. That had led them on to Hazel’s childhood in New Orleans, and Annabeth’s escapades with Thalia and Luke, which were quite amazing to hear about (though not that surprising - of course Annabeth had been a formidable seven year old). They’d just talked, and talked, with only the occasional pause to change course, and by the end of it, it felt like Annabeth had never been away, despite the occasional uncomfortable reminders that she had.

“Sounds like a plan,” Annabeth replied. “What are you thinking? Frank turns into a dragon and flies you across?”

“Something like that,” Hazel agreed. “Having a shapeshifter for a boyfriend has its plusses, I suppose.”

“Having Frank Zhang as a boyfriend has its plusses, too,” Annabeth replied, smiling. “Never let him go, Hazel. He’s pretty special.”

“I heard,” Hazel said, returning the smile. “He’s always been good at that kind of thing. It’s one of the reasons I love him so much. He’s just so… genuine.”

Annabeth nodded. “He’ll have to fly you up to the Temple of Apollo anyway. It’s about six or seven miles from the shore, and another two miles to shore from here, as the crow flies. Or as the Frank flies, I guess.”

Hazel chuckled in response. “Yeah. I wonder what we’re going to find up there. All we know is that the giants have done something that messes with the power of the Oracle somehow. Otherwise, we’re sort of going into this blind.”

“I have no idea,” Annabeth said, yawning. “But I guess you’re going to find out pretty soon. Good luck, Hazel. Let me know how it goes.”

___

The most immediate problem, as it turned out, was not giants, or monsters, or anything of that sort. It was tourists, because the place was absolutely teeming with them.

They’d landed a few hundred metres away from the entrance to the archaeological site, after making the short flight from the coast. That was mostly for the tourists’ benefit, actually; even with the Mist on their side, she knew the sight of a human riding a dragon and another human flying next to them had potential to cause a bit of alarm, so she’d suggested that they keep things as non-magical as possible. As a result, she was currently standing with Jason in a frustratingly long queue to buy tickets, while Frank turned into a bird and scouted out the site from above.

Eventually, they made their way into the site at last, and Frank landed next to them, returning to human form seamlessly - and discreetly, judging by the way nobody seemed to notice the pigeon that had mysteriously turned into a person.

“So?” Jason asked Frank. “Find anything?”

“Nothing at all,” Frank replied. “Just tourists. Everywhere. But none of them seemed like monsters or anything like that. Basically, there was nothing to suggest that the giants have been here at all.”

Hmm. Hazel wished Athena had given them better instructions on what to look for, because things were currently about as clear as mud.

“Maybe we should join that tour group over there?” Jason suggested. “We might get some info we can use.”

“Not a bad idea,” Hazel agreed. “Can’t hurt to know more about the site.”

They walked over to the guide, a tall, rather pretty olive-skinned woman with brown, curly hair, who was pointing and gesticulating towards the ruins behind them. As they wandered into earshot, Hazel listened in.

“-was built around 2500 years ago, and destroyed by order of the Roman emperor Theodosius nine hundred years later,” she heard.

The guide’s voice was both melodious and soothing, one of the prettiest sounds Hazel had ever heard. Even if what she was saying sounded rather rehearsed and the guide herself seemed a tad disinterested, Hazel found herself hanging on every word.

“The site was sacred long before that, however. At first, it was dedicated to the Primordial goddess of the Earth, Gaea, who originally gave the power of the Oracle to a spring at -”

“You heard that, right?” Jason exclaimed. “She’s the one who created the Oracle!”

“Shhh,” Hazel scolded. “She’s still talking.” She focused her attention on the woman again.

“-daughter Phoebe, the Titaness, lived in the Temple of Gaea, and was the first to harness that power to predict the future. Eventually, an earthquake destroyed the temple, and a succession of temples to other gods were built on top of it, until Apollo made the site his own. After that-”

“So there’s a Temple of Gaea buried somewhere in this area,” Frank said. “That has to be what we’re looking for.”

Hazel gave him a dirty look. “Maybe, if you two would stop talking over her, she might tell us where to look.”

“Sorry,” Frank said, looking rather adorably red-faced. Hazel squeezed his shoulder affectionately as she listened to the tour guide again.

“-Pythia, also known as the Oracle of Delphi. Any questions?”

Hazel raised her hand.

“Sorry if you’ve already mentioned this and I missed it,” she started apologetically, “but is the Temple of Gaea directly underneath these ruins? Or was it somewhere else?”

“That’s an excellent question!” the guide said, her face lighting up. “But I’m afraid I missed your name?”

“Hazel,” she said.

“Well, Hazel,” she replied, looking at her with what seemed oddly like recognition, “why don’t I come over so we can discuss that in more detail?” She smiled. “Rest of the group, we will meet back here in fifteen minutes to continue the tour.”

Jason looked at her nervously. “That guide’s definitely not mortal,” he said, fidgeting uncomfortably. “The way she looked at you, and the way she spoke about all the myths like she knew they were true…”

Hazel didn’t need to be told. She already had one hand on her spatha.

“What do you think, Jason?” Frank asked quietly, as the guide walked over towards them. “Monster, goddess, something else? Demigod, even?”

“Goddess,” the guide said, smiling at them warmly, having made her way over. “Though I’m quite flattered that you would mistake me for one of you. I’m Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry.”

Frank blushed, as Hazel stifled a giggle at her poor boyfriend’s embarrassment. He obviously hadn’t meant for that to be overheard.

“It’s an honour, my lady,” Jason said quickly, bowing, as Hazel and Frank followed suit. “I’m Jason, son of Jupiter, and this is Frank, son of Mars, and Hazel, daughter of Pluto.”

“Lovely to meet you all, though I’d rather avoid being called ‘my lady’ if I can,” Calliope replied, grinning away. “Makes me feel old, you see, and I don’t have quite so much of an over-inflated sense of importance as that anyway. So it’ll be just Calliope, if you don’t mind.”

Hazel laughed. She decided she rather liked Calliope, even if they’d only just met.

“To answer your question, Hazel,” the Muse said, “the Temple of Gaea does lie directly below your feet, yes. Though I’d be very careful about going anywhere near it. I’ve been seeing signs that it’s not as abandoned as you might think.”

Jackpot. There was the confirmation. Whatever the giants had done, it had to be connected to the Temple.

“What kind of signs?” Frank asked.

Calliope frowned. “I’ve just heard things coming from underneath Apollo’s temple, little disturbances that made me think something’s up. And with the giants being on the rise, I wouldn’t take any chances. These are dangerous times."

“But you’re still here,” Hazel noted. “If the giants really do have control of Gaea’s temple, shouldn’t that worry you?”

“I’m hardly important enough for them to care,” Calliope said. “I’m just a poet, not a warrior. They’re after bigger prizes than me.”

“Still,” Hazel persisted, “is that really a chance worth taking?”

“For this mountain, yes,” Calliope said firmly, in a tone that made it clear that there would be no changing her mind. “It’s where we Muses were born, and it’ll always be special to us, even if we spend a lot of our time in America now. I don’t want to leave it behind.”

Hazel nodded. “Fair enough.” She couldn’t help but think the Muse was remarkably normal for a goddess. “How do we get in to the Temple below, then?”

“There’s an entrance somewhere here, hidden by the Mist,” Calliope said. “Though that’s more your area of expertise than mine, I think. But are you really sure you want to go in? If the giants really are there, that could be a very dangerous thing to do.”

“Everything we’ve done in the last couple of months has been dangerous, my l- Calliope,” Jason said, catching himself. “We’re pretty used to it by now.”

Calliope laughed. “I can’t argue too much with that, I suppose,” she said. “But I will insist on coming with you, then. I won’t be that much use in a fight, but it’ll be better than you kids being on your own.”

Hazel wanted to say they were fine, that they didn’t need the help, but she knew it wasn’t true, so instead she nodded. If they ran into any giants, having a goddess on their side would be invaluable.

“What about your tour group?” Frank asked.

“Oh, them? Easily handled,” Calliope said, turning to the tourists scattered around the temple.

“Change of plans, group,” she announced. Somehow, she’d barely raised her voice, and yet Hazel knew it would carry to everyone’s ears, as powerful as it was. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to continue your tour today. You can join the next group, who should be coming through in about ten minutes’ time.”

She looked at Hazel, shrugging. “I was never really all that fond of the guided tours anyway, truth be told, but Clio insisted that the rest of us Muses ought to spend some time teaching mortals about history. That’s why the script for the tour is so dull, too. She doesn’t have much of a sense of flair.”

Once again, Hazel found herself liking the Muse, who seemed far more down-to-earth than any immortal she’d ever met before.

“Let’s get a move on, then,” Frank said. “Any ideas as to where we need to look?”

Hazel glanced around the ruins. At first sight, there was nothing untoward that she could see, none of the hallmarks of magic or the Mist that she’d slowly become accustomed to. She could definitely sense that there were tunnels of some sort running underneath them, but she couldn’t spot an entrance anywhere.

“Should we split up and search?” Jason asked. “We might be able to cover more ground that way.”

“Actually, I don’t think we need to,” Frank said, squinting as he pointed to the ground. “Look.”

Hazel followed his finger, and there she saw it. The Greek letter ∆, glowing faintly in blue, embossed into the limestone floor of the temple.

“That’s Daedalus’ symbol,” she said, as her mind instantly recalled the maze that had so nearly killed her two days ago. “But wasn’t his Labyrinth destroyed?”

“I guess not fully,” Jason said, shrugging. “Or maybe the giants have managed to revive this one passageway. Who knows?”

Hazel shook her head. “I’ve been in the Labyrinth before, or at least Pasiphaë’s second version of it. If this is anything like that…” She shuddered, wondering if the sorceress had been the one to breathe life into this particular passageway. “This isn’t going to be fun.”

“But you’re used to things that aren’t fun, I bet,” Calliope said, smiling wryly at Jason as she said it. “So lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Every muscle in Hazel’s body was screaming that there was something wrong.

Not because the Labyrinth was trying to kill them, like it had the previous time. If that had been the case, Hazel could have dealt with it. She was used to life-or-death situations by now.

No, what made Hazel uneasy was quite the opposite. The Labyrinth wasn’t trying to kill them, or at least not trying very hard. Sure, there had been the odd spike trap here and there, and they’d bumped into one or two monsters, but at no point had they ever really been in danger. The tunnel they were in had just been winding its way forward slowly, deeper and deeper below the ground. There had been none of the trademark branching and splitting that might otherwise have had them lost.

In summary, it had all been a bit too easy so far. Worryingly so, in Hazel’s mind. Nothing was ever this easy when you were a demigod.

“I wonder how much further we have to go,” Frank said. “It feels like we’re just steadily descending lower and lower under the ground without any signs we’re close.”

“The Temple must be pretty deeply buried, right?” Jason replied, sounding uncertain. “If it’s been gone for several thousand years, that’s a lot of layers of dirt that would have built up over time.”

“True,” Hazel said, her face etched with worry lines. “It’s just… the deeper we go, the further we’re going into Gaea’s domain, and we’re almost a hundred metres below the surface already. I can’t say I love that idea.”

“I can always get you out if push comes to shove,” Calliope said reassuringly. “I’m a goddess, remember? You children can keep on going for now.”

They encountered a sole dracaena, who hissed at them, only for Jason to promptly dispatch her with barely a second’s hesitation.

“It’s not just that,” Hazel said uncomfortably. “I guess my point is… it’s a bit weird how lightly guarded this temple is. If the giants were messing with the Oracle here somehow, shouldn’t it be a bit better protected?”

Nobody had any answer to that, and yet they kept going anyway, though Hazel could tell that everyone was a bit more on edge than they were showing. Later, Hazel would reflect on that moment, wonder what would have happened if she’d been more vocal, urged them to turn back, but she did no such thing. Instead, she just carried on walking.

All of a sudden, the tunnel opened up into a room, perhaps the most beautiful room Hazel had ever seen. A strange light seemed to dance around the chamber, illuminating the frescoes that decorated the roof above them, painted vibrant shades of green and blue and red, depicting trees and flowers, forests and fields, all completely unspoiled by humanity. The warm, stale air of the Labyrinth had given way to a fresh breeze that seemed to come from nowhere, cool and thick with the scent of damp earth and something indescribably sweet, which Hazel inhaled greedily as she squeezed through the narrow opening and into the room. The walls pulsed with a soft, emerald light, like veins of liquid jade throbbing beneath the surface of the rock, very much alive. The centrepiece was an enormous, elegant cone-shaped rock, seemingly made out of marble and embossed with beautiful golden patterns, ten feet tall and casting a strange shadow upon the walls.

This was no ordinary temple. It was far more than that, a living, breathing monument to the Earth, and Hazel was just as mesmerized as she was terrified. She could feel the magical energy radiating from the place, far more powerful than any place she’d ever been before.

“Whoa,” Jason said, whistling appreciatively as he crawled through the narrow entrance. “What is this place? It’s like we’ve stumbled into some kind of underground nature sanctuary.”

“Has to be Gaea’s temple,” Frank said, frowning. “It definitely isn't abandoned, though. Look at the floor. There’s not a speck of dust anywhere.”

“It is not abandoned, indeed,” came a deep, booming voice from somewhere to their right. Hazel whirled around in the direction of the voice, and as she did, she heard a crashing sound from behind her. When she glanced back, with a feeling of dread, she saw that the entrance they had come through had disappeared. In its place was a solid wall of rock, pulsating with the same green light as the rest of the cavern. There was no sign there had ever been a tunnel there.

“Welcome, demigods,” the giant said, stepping into view. “Welcome to the Temple of the Earth Mother.”

___

Hazel Levesque was so stupid.

She’d seen every sign. She’d known what they meant, deep down. The giants had wanted them to make it to the temple. And inexplicably, she’d chosen to ignore her instincts and carry on. She hadn’t pressed her concerns to her questmates, hadn’t been firm and decisive in telling them they needed to stop.

And now, they were in a temple dedicated to their greatest enemy, and the only escape route had just slammed shut.

Hazel just hoped that somehow they’d avoid paying the price for her naïveté, because if they died here today, it would be entirely her fault.

“Enceladus,” Jason muttered, barely audible. “But how? And why?”

Enceladus laughed. “Expecting Thoon, were you? Or Orion, maybe? I suppose the daughter of Athena had it all planned out, did she?”

Hazel glanced over at Calliope, whose face was practically frozen in pure fear. Her lack of confidence didn’t exactly bode well.

“She’s as beautifully predictable as her mother, clearly,” Enceladus continued gleefully. “The key with Athena is to make her think she is figuring things out for herself, you see. All that was needed was to meddle with your little mortal Oracle’s dreams a touch, along with a couple of rumours here and there, and the odd sighting of activity here by your Muse friend and her sisters. The rest, well… she practically hand-delivered you to me thereafter.”

“Seems to me that all we need to do is kill you and get out of here, and your plan’s in pieces,” Frank said defiantly. “I hear Jason has experience with that, by the way.”

“Is it, Frank Zhang?” Enceladus asked, ignoring the taunt. “Let us ignore the difficulties attached with fighting me in my mother's temple, of all places, and suppose that you do indeed manage to win. Do you see any possible means of escape from here?”

He let that question linger for a second, as Hazel glanced around, not sensing any potential alternative exits. The tunnel they'd come through was well and truly gone.

“The only entrance was designed by Pasiphaë to collapse once you entered the temple, and you will not be able to create another unless Mother desires it,” Enceladus said. “Her power reigns supreme here, far above that of any god – or Muse, for that matter. There will be no help from Olympus for you, not here.”

“So what you’re trying to suggest is that we’re completely at your mercy,” Calliope said, a note of despair in her voice. “You’re the only one who can let us out of here?”

“Precisely,” Enceladus grinned. “Listen to your friend with the pretty voice, demigods. Fighting is pointless. Lay down your weapons and come quietly.”

Come quietly?

“You don’t want to kill us,” Hazel realised. She recalled what they had long theorized, about how Gaea might well need their blood to wake, judging by how she’d tried to make Percy and Jason kill each other, and how Chrysaor had been paid to capture two of them. Now, it seemed like they had the confirmation. “You need us alive.”

Hazel had never seen a more smug expression on anyone’s face than the one Enceladus bore.

“Very good, Hazel Levesque,” he said, smirking away. “That, as I suspect you already know, is because you have a big role to play going forward. But, perhaps, it is time to fill in the details.”

He pointed at that majestic conical stone that stood tall in the centre of the temple’s floor.

“The Omphalos bears the answers to every question you may have,” Enceladus said. “Approach it, and read.”

They stepped closer to the enormous piece of rock, and for the first time, Hazel realised that the golden patterns she had seen before weren’t just a part of the design. They were letters, Greek letters to be precise.

“Jason?” she asked. “Any idea what this says?”

Jason squinted at the lettering. “It looks like a prophecy of some sort.” He recited slowly as he deciphered the Greek text:

“When the giants have once more awoken,

When Olympus stands apart and broken,

Upon the lands most holy in days of old,

The fallen’s-”

“The fallen’s flesh shall turn pale and cold.

And the blood of the children, warm and red,

Shall wake the Earth Mother from her bed,” Enceladus finished impatiently.

Evidently, he was annoyed by Jason’s slow reading, but Hazel was more focused on her heart, which was slowly sinking out of her chest past her stomach and towards her shoes. A prophecy. Why did it have to be a prophecy?

“That is the Prophecy of the Omphalos, named for the stone on which it is inscribed, the rock that marks the heart of the world itself,” Enceladus said, after giving them a few seconds to let them digest what they had just heard. “It is the oldest prophecy of all, spoken directly to the Titaness Phoebe in this very temple, and it describes an ancient ritual. The legend says that two demigods, one male and one female, are required to perform the sacrifice. Their blood shall water the holiest of all ground, and with that offering, Mother will rise again.”

Hazel shivered.

“So you lured us here because you want to use our blood to wake Gaea,” Frank said, not sounding surprised in the slightest. “You want us as your sacrifices.”

“Indeed,” Enceladus said, rather insufferably. “Though I must admit, things have turned out better than I could have imagined. Plans rarely work quite this smoothly.”

“So then we kill you or we die trying,” Jason said, raising his sword. “We won’t let you have our blood either way.”

“Admirable,” Enceladus sneered. “Of course, the prophecy does not specify exactly where the sacrifice must take place. An obvious candidate is the Acropolis of Athens, but it may well be the case that your blood being spilt here is enough. After all, this too is sacred land, home to Mother’s own temple, not to mention Apollo, the Pythia, and your friend and her sisters.” He nodded at Calliope. “It may only take one little scratch, one glancing blow, and the end of the gods could be upon us. Is that a risk you wish to take?”

“He’s bluffing,” Calliope said instantly. “If he thought killing you here would work, he’d already have tried. Don’t listen to him.”

“I cannot deny that your deaths here would not be my first choice,” Enceladus admitted. “But no good strategist would ever be without a back-up plan. And it just so happens that there are demigods both male and female aboard a ship not too far from here, a ship which my scouts tell me is almost defenseless, lightly guarded, and not particularly mobile. It is funny how things work out sometimes, is it not?”

Hazel looked at Jason and Frank, seeing the horror on her face reflected in theirs. She balled her fists in rage. At every juncture, it seemed like Enceladus was ten steps ahead of them.

“What have you done to them?” she demanded.

“Oh, nothing much yet,” Enceladus said, smirking. “Merely sent a nice large welcome party to greet them. It would be very remiss for me not to personally congratulate my old friend Athena's daughter on her successful journey through Father’s territory, don’t you think?”

Hazel wanted to cry. She had never felt so utterly helpless, so bereft of ideas and hope, not since the times she’d been in that other underground cavern all those years ago. The hole they were in, both metaphorical and physical, seemed only to get deeper and deeper, and Hazel felt as though it would swallow them whole.

“As I see it, demigods, you have a choice,” Enceladus said, with that voice that was so irritatingly superior. “You can choose to fight me here, but there are many pitfalls. Just one drop of your blood may wake Mother once and for all. Even if you defeat me without her waking, you will starve, trapped, while my fleet captures your friends and ensures your sacrifice goes in vain. In this scenario, all of your deaths are assured, whether you win or lose the fight.”

Hazel looked at Frank nervously, who was chewing his lip, then at Jason, who was staring at Enceladus with a look that was half anger, half disbelief. With a jolt, Hazel realised how if this was hard for her, it must be twice as bad for him. After all, his girlfriend was likely relaxing on the Argo II this very moment, blissfully unaware of the grave danger she was in.

“Or,” Enceladus said, looking directly at Hazel, “you can surrender to me here. Mother is nothing if not merciful, and your lives are more valuable than you know. As long as you co-operate, not a drop of your blood shall be spilled, save for the minimum amount that is required for the sacrifice. I swear that upon the River Styx. And your Muse companion, she will be allowed to walk free. We giants enjoy poetry and theatre just as much as the gods do.”

His stare was unwavering, and frustratingly confident. He knew he had them trapped, and he was reveling in it.

“Which will it be, demigods?” Enceladus asked. “Loyalty to an Olympus which would sacrifice all of your lives without even flinching? The pointless, meaningless deaths of you and all your friends? Or mercy?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Calliope said desperately. “The giants are cruel, and he’s known for his tricks. You’re better off dying than going with him.”

But Hazel found herself hesitating.

“If we came with you, would you call off the attack on our friends?” she asked.

“Of course,” Enceladus said, smiling. “I need only say the word.”

“And you’ll swear to that?” Hazel said, ignoring the stunned look on Frank’s face as he turned to look at her.

“Hear my words,” the giant said. “As soon you surrender, I will send the message that they must not be harmed. That I swear, on the Styx.”

“What are you doing?” Jason hissed at her. Again, Hazel chose to ignore him for now, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the giant in front of her.

“May we have a moment to discuss in private, please?” she asked. “Without you attacking or eavesdropping?”

“Naturally,” Enceladus replied, smiling at her. “I trust you will use the time wisely.”

He retired into a corner of the temple, leaving Hazel alone with Frank, Calliope, Jason, and plenty of explaining to do.

“What the hell was that all about, Hazel?” Jason whispered furiously. “You can’t seriously be thinking of making a deal with him?”

“It’s the only way, Jason,” Hazel said, feeling a bit ill as she did. “I can feel it. He’s manipulative and cunning, but he’s not lying about any of the important stuff.”

“How can you know, Hazel?” Frank asked her nervously. “What if he’s lying? What if we could just kill him and find another way to escape?”

“He’s just not,” Hazel insisted. “I can tell. He’s way too smug for the whole thing to be a bluff, and if there’s one thing we ought to have learned from today, it’s to trust our damn instincts. Right now, mine are screaming that he’s telling the truth. If we try to fight him here, we all die here.”

“So what?” Jason said angrily, raising his arms. “If Gaea rises and the gods are defeated, everyone dies. If our lives are the price we have to pay to prevent that, then so be it. We’ve known the risks for ages, and even if you wouldn’t, I’d happily die for the cause.”

Even if you wouldn’t?

“Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about dying to stop Gaea,” Hazel said quietly. Immediately, Jason’s face fell, as the realisation of what he’d said washed over him. He started to mumble an apology, but Hazel held up her hand. They didn’t have time for this.

“She told me then, you know. Told me I was just delaying things, that my life was just buying time,” Hazel said, recalling the day she would never forget. “And don’t get me wrong, if you put me back there a thousand times I'd make the same choice every single time. But she was right, wasn’t she? It didn’t even take a hundred years. Alcyoneus rose again, and she will too.”

“But we can’t just give up, Hazel,” Frank said gently. “The odds can be as impossible as they want, but we still have to try. We can’t let her rise.”

Hazel shook her head. “You can’t fight fate, Frank,” she said calmly. “Calliope knows that better than anyone. In every myth where anyone has ever tried, it’s ended badly. Prophecies are too powerful for us to interfere with like that.”

She glanced over at the Muse, who seemed lost for words, but raised no argument.

“The first half of that prophecy has already come true, so the second half will as well,” Hazel continued grimly. “Whether it’s us, or Leo, or Piper, or Annabeth, or Percy, or even our friends back home, that ritual is going to take place at some point, and Gaea is going to rise. There’s nothing we can do about that.”

“So we just let her win?” Jason responded, even more indignantly than before. “After all this? After all the times we’ve nearly died? After Annabeth went through Tartarus, and Percy stayed there?”

“I didn’t say anything about letting her win,” Hazel said. “To storm or fire the world must fall, remember?”

Jason looked puzzled, and then the realisation seemed to dawn on him, as he recalled Piper's interpretation of that line of the prophecy. “You mean…?”

“I think I get it. The idea is that we have to defeat Gaea,” Frank finished. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? Your point is that if we sacrifice ourselves here, we’re just delaying the inevitable. The only way to stop her once and for all is to beat her once she does rise.”

“Exactly,” Hazel confirmed. “And for that, we have to make sure we stay alive at all costs, because we’re the Seven chosen to defeat her." She looked directly at the two of them. "Believe me, it feels strange to me too. Lupa gave me the same lessons as you, about how a soldier must live and die for their cause. But we can’t afford to be heroic and stupid, and this isn’t the time to go out in a blaze of glory. We live, and we fight, and hopefully, we win. It’s our best shot.”

After a brief silence, it was Jason who nodded first, albeit reluctantly.

“I hate your plan,” he admitted, with a deep breath. “Unfortunately, I think you’ve convinced me that I should hate the alternatives even more. I’m in.”

“Frank?” Hazel asked.

“I’m always with you, and you know that,” Frank said softly. “I trust your judgement. Like you said, if we’d listened to it from the start, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Hazel squeezed his hand affectionately, blushing a little. He always knew the right thing to say.

“Calliope?” she prompted.

“It isn’t my decision to make, dear,” Calliope said in turn. “He promised he would let me walk free. What I would say, though, is that it seems Enceladus is a bit over-confident. He knows I’ll be able to get word to the gods, and yet he doesn’t care one bit. Even letting us confer like this… why risk it unless you felt you couldn’t lose? In my experience, you always get an opportunity to use that to your advantage, one way or another. Don’t stop fighting.”

Hazel nodded, taking a deep breath. “So we’re all on board with this plan, then?”

Nobody dissented, though there were no signs of any enthusiasm either.

“Enceladus,” she called, her voice far more confident than she felt. “We’ve made our decision.”

“At last!” Enceladus said, with an air of impatience as he re-entered the chamber. “So which will it be? Death? Or mercy?”

Hazel looked at Jason, then Frank, for one last confirmation. Last chance to change your mind, she thought. But there would be no turning back, not this time.

She dropped her sword.

“Excellent,” Enceladus said gleefully, as the others followed suit. “I knew you would make the correct decision. You will not regret it.”

Hazel felt sick to her stomach, as Enceladus retrieved a set of Stygian iron shackles from a corner of the temple. The stare Jason was giving him was so utterly murderous Hazel felt as though Enceladus might melt under it if it were any more intense. Nonetheless, the son of Jupiter didn’t resist as Enceladus slipped the heavy chains around his wrists, even if he clearly wanted to.

“Call off the attack on the ship,” Frank said defiantly. “You swore you would. We’ve agreed to your deal.”

Enceladus laughed, fastening Hazel’s own handcuffs, rendering her well and truly helpless. Hazel flexed her arms a little, testing the shackles, but she knew Stygian iron was far too powerful for her to escape. The metal was strong enough to bind the gods.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” the giant said. “All in good time, my friend.”

“Now,” Jason said firmly. “You swore an oath, remember? That you’d do it as soon as we surrendered?”

“Very well,” Enceladus grumbled, pulling something from his belt with one hand, as he attached the chains to Frank’s wrists with the other.

“Enceladus speaking,” he spoke into the device, which looked suspiciously like a walkie-talkie, but for the fact it was made out of solid Imperial gold. “The plan has been successful. The demigods have surrendered. Capture the ones on the ship, but do not harm them.”

What?!

“That wasn’t our deal!” Jason shouted furiously, struggling against the chains that bound him, as he spoke the words that were on Hazel’s mind. “You swore to stop the attack altogether!”

“I swore that they would not be harmed,” Enceladus corrected, smirking. “You see, having all six of you gives me three shots at the sacrifice, just in case something goes wrong on our journey. It’s always prudent to have an insurance policy.”

Hazel wanted to let loose on Enceladus with every insult she could possibly think of, but before she could, she was interrupted by the person on the other end saying something over the device. Whatever it was, Enceladus didn’t seem to like it, judging from the way his face turned red, then purple, as though he were about to choke. He stood there for a few seconds, apparently stunned by whatever he’d heard.

Eventually, Enceladus shouted back, three words that filled Hazel with more hope than anything that had happened all day.

“They did WHAT!?”

Chapter Text

A long walk along a river sounded like something Percy should have loved.

Unless the river was the Styx, the walk was through Tartarus, and ‘long’ meant walking for hours and hours, non-stop, with no end in sight.

If it had felt like the entire Pit was out to kill him before, that sense had only been amplified ever since the Doors of Death. The air was more fetid and stagnant than ever, hanging thick with the smell of death and rot. The ground seemed to pulsate faster and more viciously, with the occasional angry plume of red smoke when Percy stepped on the wrong part of Tartarus’ skin. The jagged obsidian cliffs to Percy’s left seemed higher and more foreboding, too, and the low, ominous hum that had been so pervasive before had given way to a silence so eerie that it made Percy shiver. He could hear every step of his and Bob’s, every little cough and even every heavy breath, the Titan being the lone bastion of familiarity in what was otherwise a land more hostile than ever.

Part of the reason for that silence, however, was that the monster attacks that had been a dime a dozen before had become rather infrequent. Almost non-existent, in fact. Whereas before, it had been pretty difficult to walk five minutes through Tartarus without encountering a monster, now the whole place seemed deserted. Even when he saw the odd group of them and readied himself for a fight, they tended to keep their distance anyway, or, if they approached, it was cautious at best. Generally, all Percy needed to do was uncap Riptide, or even just give them the wolf stare he’d become so used to, and they would scurry away hurriedly.

Naturally, after the first couple of times it happened, he’d asked Bob why. What had changed to make it so that monsters were treating him like he had some sort of nasty disease? And the explanation had been so simple, and yet so remarkable.

“They are scared of you,” Bob said.

At first, Percy hadn’t been sure he bought that argument. If they were scared of anyone, surely it was the Titan alongside him who was the bigger threat? But Bob had just shaken his head.

“News travels fast in Tartarus,” he said. “Everyone already knows the tale of Akhlys’ death, and I imagine you had quite the reputation even before then, having survived as long as you did. Now, you have returned alive, while Phoebe, Damasen, and Koios have vanished, and somehow, the Doors are closed. They fear you more than ever.”

“Damasen and Phoebe were on our side,” he protested. “That doesn’t make any sense. Surely everyone knows I had nothing to do with their deaths?”

 “The Lord of the Pit annihilated all those who had made the journey to the Doors. There are no remaining witnesses to what happened there, at least until the first few members of the army reform,” Bob said. “Not to mention the disappearance of the army itself, which adds another layer of notoriety. You walked into a veritable ocean of monsters all alone, and yet somehow you walked back out unscathed, with your enemies all dead. If you were a monster hearing that story, what would you think of Percy Jackson?”

I’d be scared, Percy realised. Bob was spot on. Though the thought of being some sort of bogeyman to all monsters was an interesting one to say the least. He wondered whether years from now, monster moms would be telling their kids that Percy Jackson would come for them if they didn’t behave.

“I could get used to this,” Percy said, smirking slightly. “No monster attacks… do you think we could start some more rumours, maybe?”

“Of what kind?” Bob said, frowning.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Percy replied. “I was just thinking it would be cool if the monsters were a bit more scared of all demigods, not just me. Have you heard how Annabeth enjoys killing Laistrygonians with her bare hands and eating their brains?”

Bob laughed. “I had not heard this, but I can certainly believe it. Annabeth is fierce, after all. And I suppose Nico di Angelo is in the habit of catching harpies, then plucking their wings off and watching them struggle?”

“Nah, Nico doesn’t need one,” Percy said, grinning. “He’s scary enough as is. To be quite honest, I’d only be moderately surprised if that one turned out to be true.”

Bob chuckled again, and for a minute, Percy joined him. Laughs were a rare luxury in Tartarus, so you had to enjoy the chance while it lasted.

Eventually, Bob was the one to speak again, sounding rather more serious.

“Your new-found infamy does buy us a bit of time, but unfortunately, it will not last,” he said. “Within the next few days, the members of the army that were killed will start to reform. They will want vengeance, and they will come looking for you.”

“I didn’t even kill them,” Percy grumbled. “Why am I the target?”

“You closed the Doors,” Bob reminded him softly. “You denied them their chance to flood into the world all at once. And besides, they can hardly seek revenge on the Pit himself. You are the next best thing.”

“Great. So we’ve got to get to the edge of this place soon, then,” Percy said. “How far is that?”

Bob shrugged. “It is difficult to say. Could be hours, could be days. Measuring distance is far from easy in the Pit. We are making good progress, however.”

It had been more than a day of ‘making good progress’ now, though, and Percy was definitely suffering. The stale, poisonous air was really starting to get worse the further he walked, sapping away at his lungs, which felt like they were filling with tiny little shards of glass. That meant he was constantly having to swig away at his bottle of Phlegethon water, but replacing the acrid taste of the air with the burning taste of spicy gasoline wasn’t exactly doing wonders for him, even if it was keeping him alive. Every step was starting to hurt, he was pretty sure his feet were covered in blisters, he'd hardly slept at all, and still, the landscape in front of him was just as barren as it had been an hour ago, or two, or three. At least they knew they were going the right way, what with the River Styx alongside them, not that that was much comfort.

In short, then, this journey was taking its toll, both physically and mentally. It would all be worth it if there was a way out at the end of it, but that was an enormous if.

“I’m starting to miss the monsters,” Percy groaned, stretching out his calf, which seemed to be cramping up, as he limped on. “At least they’d be a bit of a distraction.”

“Stay strong, Percy,” Bob replied, as he had many times already. He’d probably make an excellent motivational speaker. “Don’t let the Pit erode your will to continue. Remember what, and whom, you are fighting for.”

Percy didn’t need the reminder. Annabeth’s voice had been in his head the entire time, encouraging him to carry on, telling him she missed him. Were it not for her, he’d never even have made it this far.

“I’m not giving up,” he said, his face contorted with effort as he dragged his increasingly useless legs along. “I have an oath to keep, and I don’t intend to break it. I just wish there was some way to tell we’re actually getting closer. I don’t know how much more of this my legs can take without any rest.”

Bob hesitated. “I have something that might help you. I had been saving it for later, but it seems now may well be the time to use it.”

He rummaged around in a pouch around his waist, as Percy wondered where he was going with this.

“Here we go,” Bob announced, pulling out a small bottle full of a clear liquid, and handing it to Percy. “Use it sparingly. This is all we have.”

Percy took the bottle hesitantly, then unscrewed the top and sniffed it. It smelled of nothing at all. Surely this wasn’t…

“Actual water?” Percy asked, stunned, and Bob nodded.

Percy could hardly believe his eyes. He’d not seen the stuff since Nyx’s Mansion, and before that not since before the fall, so the feeling of a drink that didn’t make your throat burn felt almost alien. He took a tiny sip, then another, feeling the water instantly refresh him the minute it hit his tongue.

It took serious self-control for him to not down the entire bottle in one go, but he sipped away slowly, drinking about half before he eventually forced it away from his mouth and put the cap back on.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever tasted anything better.

“Thank you so much,” he whispered to Bob, as he handed the bottle back to him. “Where the hell did you find that down here?”

“You would not believe me if I answered honestly,” Bob replied cryptically.

“No point teasing me,” Percy replied. “Spit it out.”

Bob sighed. “I got it from Koios.”

“Koios?”

“Yes, indeed. I believe his intention was to use it to torture you, knowing that you would be desperate. It would have been a carrot for him to dangle, only for him to be withdrawn cruelly at the last second.”

Percy shivered. "So you’ve just been holding on to it since then? Where did he get the water to begin with, anyway?”

“I have indeed,” Bob confirmed. “I could have used it to heal you after he was dead, but there was nothing about your wounds that I could not fix myself, so I thought to save it for a better moment. As to where he got it… who knows? Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Percy replied, wondering whether it had come from another shrine like the one to Hermes. Bob was right, though, it wasn’t really important. “Gods, that felt good. Thanks again, Bob.”

A few more hours later, and Percy was still feeling pretty decent. He was restricting himself to miniscule sips of the water every half hour or so, but it was definitely keeping him going. He was beginning to dream of the sun again, as crazy as it seemed. It definitely felt like they were getting close to the edge of Tartarus, though Percy couldn’t explain how he knew. Maybe he didn’t, and he was just thinking optimistically.

Suddenly, Bob stopped.

“Wait one second,” he told Percy, his voice carrying a note of urgency and what sounded worryingly like fear. “I think I heard something.”

Percy stopped dead in his tracks. Nothing that scared Bob could possibly be good news. He looked in the direction that Bob was gazing. There was a shadow on the horizon, growing larger and larger, and the silence that had been so previously inescapable had been interrupted by what sounded strangely like the flapping of wings.

“She…” Bob murmured, drawing his spear. “Stay behind me, Percy. I will handle this.”

“Will you, Titan?” a voice hissed, as the shadow came into view.

Snakes for hair, just like the gorgons. A body that was half-human, half-reptile, with enormous wings that were black as the darkest of nights. The enormous tail of a scorpion, dripping with green venom, sizzling where the angry droplets hit the ground. A gigantic sword in each hand, bigger than Percy himself, glowing with an aura so dark and malevolent that Percy felt like he couldn’t take one step closer or it would swallow him.

Yes, Percy recognised this particular enemy, unfortunately. It was one he’d hoped never to see again.

“Kampê,” Bob growled. “What do you want from us?”

“You sound less than pleased to see me, Iapetus,” Kampê leered. “Worried, are you? Like your brother Kronos was? That was why he did not allow me to return, was it not?”

“You were unpredictable and dangerous,” Bob responded, unfazed. “Summoning you the first time was a mistake. Even Kronos was able to see that.”

“What a shame,” Kampê returned. “Though it seems you’ve had a change of allegiances.”

She looked down at Percy, who tried his best to look defiant, even if inwardly he was shaking a bit. “And this is the slayer of Kronos, vanquisher of Polybotes, bane of Akhlys. Much has changed since I last locked swords with you, Percy Jackson.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Percy said, surprising himself at his own confidence. “Delighted to meet you too, Kampê. Though I must say, I liked you better when you were under an enormous pile of rocks.”

“The pleasure is all mine, son of Poseidon,” Kampê said, showing off her fanged teeth and forked tongue. “Unfortunately for you, however, I am no friend of yours. You may have escaped from Father, but you will not escape from me today.”

“He was forbidden to intervene!” Bob said angrily. “How could he send you to do his dirty work?”

“He did not,” Kampê replied simply. “I came here of my own accord. I am the jailer of the Pit, responsible for ensuring prisoners remain where they ought to be, and that means that there can be no escape for you, demigod. The fact that both Mother and Father would also prefer to see you dead is just a happy coincidence.”

“Oh dear,” Percy said, deadpan, as he uncapped Riptide. “You know, I couldn’t help but notice… there was one title you missed out when you were listing my accomplishments earlier.”

“And what is that?” Kampê replied, still grinning, as the snakes in her hair hissed as one.

“Killer of Kampê.”

Unfortunately, Kampê wasn’t exactly in the mood to make that easy for him. She swiped at both him and Bob with one sword each, forcing both of them to dodge. Bob returned, jabbing with his spear right at her heart, only for it to bounce harmlessly off her scales. Kampê swung around, lashing out with her scorpion tail at Percy, who desperately rolled out of its way. He swung Riptide in a huge arc at that tail, the celestial bronze blade flashing through the dim red haze around them, but again it just bounced off the chitinous shell.

Kampê was just as formidable as Percy remembered. He was struggling to keep up, and so was Bob. Even though they had the numerical advantage, she was pretty comfortably keeping them both at arm’s length, whereas they were barely able to withstand her own attacks. Like last time, she seemed barely fazed by the thought of fighting both of them at the same time, her swords seemingly moving independently, a blur so fast Percy could barely keep up.

We need a change of tack, Percy thought. In a straight fight, Kampê was far too powerful. He backed away a touch, hoping that Bob could keep her occupied at least for a little bit, and concentrated, reaching out with his powers. He could feel Kampê’s blood, and if he could just find a way to bend it to his will-

The connection snapped.

“I heard about your little trick with Misery,” Kampê sneered. She lashed out with a whip from her tail, so fast that Percy had no time to react to the sheer force of the blow, as he went flying ten feet back. “Did you honestly think I would allow you to use it on me?”

Percy wheezed as he felt pain all over his body, his breath having been knocked from his lungs by the impact with the hard ground. Something had definitely done some damage to his chest, probably one of those jagged rocks that littered the surface of the Pit, judging by how his shirt felt much warmer and wetter than before. On the other hand, he was pretty sure he had avoided any broken bones, and somehow Kampê’s stinger hadn’t punctured his flesh either. Thankfully, Bob had managed to keep Kampê from finishing him off while he was down.

Scrambling to his feet, Percy uncapped the water bottle that had been such a blessing so far, and poured the remainder of its contents down his shirt, feeling it instantly soothe the pain as the bleeding from the burning gash on chest slowed. He focused his energy on the wound, willing the blood flow to slow even further, and felt the wound respond, until the once pouring blood had reduced to barely a trickle. He had been saving that water for when he needed it most, and now was clearly that time. The wound still burned, but at least he was no longer losing blood so quickly.

Battered and bruised, Percy slowly made his way back towards Kampê, whose reptilian, dead eyes were trained firmly on his Titan companion. He watched on as the monster swung her tail in a huge arc, catching Bob’s leg just above the ankle. The Titan winced in pain, but jammed his spear into the tail, managing to squeeze it through a gap in the shell and leaving a bright green trail oozing out of the wound.

Kampê’s howl almost made Percy’s blood curdle, a haunting, eerie sound so loud and high-pitched that he found his ears ringing.

“You will pay for that, Titan,” Kampê said viciously. “I will make sure of that.”

Percy tried pulling on the ooze from the wounded tail, knowing that he might have a chance to attack while Kampê’s focus was on Bob. This time, however, he couldn’t feel the blood of the reptilian woman at all when he tried to connect with it. She was clearly prepared after his first attempt, unfortunately.

“Mother’s rise is inevitable, Iapetus,” she spat, as she let loose with a ferocious volley of blows, forcing Bob onto the back foot as he dodged and parried. “I shall be the one to deliver her the blood of Percy Jackson, and you will be left to suffer endlessly for your treason.”

“There is no treason,” Bob snarled in response, as Kampê sliced at him with her scimitar, but was unable to pierce through the breastplate he had taken from Koios. “There is only right and wrong, good and evil, us and you. Percy Jackson will escape this Pit, whether you like it or not.”

Percy, meanwhile, was circling Kampê hesitantly, looking for a chance to strike. Bob had her attention for now, but he didn’t really know how to take advantage of that. As soon as he got close, Kampê could poison him with her tail, or turn and cut him in half with that enormous sword, or knock him flying again. It was just too risky to try and take her on directly like that.

The odds were stacked against them like this, he realised. Kampê could kill him pretty much instantly, whereas it would take him several good strikes to kill her, even if he could somehow survive long enough to cause any damage. Lupa’s voice echoed in his head. Always look for a way to turn the situation into one where you have the edge. But how?

Percy pondered that thought, as Kampê turned her attention to him briefly, and he was forced to roll away from her twin scimitars as they sliced through the thick air in front of him. Bob took the opportunity to stab at her wing, and managed to puncture it, leaving more green blood dripping. Despite the growl of pain from Kampê, however, Percy knew the wound wouldn’t cause her any real problems.

“You are already finished, Iapetus,” Kampê hissed. “My venom has taken hold. There is nothing you can do. The pain will consume your body, leave you practically just an immortal husk. You will wish you could die.”

“Iapetus is already dead,” Bob returned, dodging another blow. “I am Bob, and Bob cannot die. He already lives forever in the hearts of those he cares about.”

“How sweet,” Kampê jeered, as another jab from Bob bounced off her scales again. “But neither of you will survive to tell your tale, ‘Bob’. You will be forgotten, consigned to the scrapheap of history where you belong.”

And then, it hit Percy. There was something here that he could use, one advantage in their surroundings which Kampê might not see coming. He circled back round towards Bob, who was desperately parrying another volley of strikes from Kampê with his spear. With the tiniest gesture, he indicated to Bob which way to push the enormous monstrosity. He had no idea whether Bob had even seen him, but all he could do was hope he’d understood.

Slowly, he focused on the river behind them, the current roaring as the water rushed forth. He channeled all his energy into controlling the waters, and felt the familiar feeling of the water recognizing his presence, but when he tried to manipulate it, he found it was too strong for him to control. The Styx simply had its own will, and Percy couldn’t break through its resistance, no matter how hard he tried.

He sighed in frustration. There went that plan. Bob was doing his part, slowly manoeuvring the fight closer to the banks of the river, but if Percy had thought he could use the water to his advantage, he’d turned out to be mistaken. The Styx was much too powerful for him to tame.

He wondered what Annabeth would do in this situation. Kampê could only be beaten by outsmarting her. On raw power, maybe Bob could match her, but he was nowhere near his full strength right now, and though he was holding her off for now, he was clearly tiring. Not to mention the poison from the wound he’d suffered, which was surely going to take its toll eventually.

But then, it all clicked into place in his head.

The Styx can’t be tamed, he realized. The river wouldn’t obey his authority, because it already had its own; an ancient, powerful goddess, one who was clearly unwilling to give up control to him. That was, unless he could convince her to, and luckily he was pretty sure he had a way to do just that.

Lady Styx, he prayed. I need your help. I need your river.

To his surprise, he heard a reply in his head immediately. And why should I help you?

Here goes nothing, Percy thought, as he prepared to play his trump card.

Because I have an oath to keep, he replied nervously, jumping to avoid Kampê’s scorpion tail as it swung around towards him once more. I swore on your river that I would see Annabeth again. And if I die here, that oath will be broken.

Styx, assuming it really was her, made a disapproving noise, one that was a kick in the teeth for Percy. You swore an oath that you knew you might not be able to keep. Should that be my concern?

Maybe not, Percy responded. He wasn’t ready to give up just yet. But would you really rather see the oath be broken when there’s a way for me to keep it? I get the feeling there’s nothing you like less than broken oaths.

Styx didn’t respond immediately, and Percy waited with bated breath, watching Bob continue to desperately fend off Kampê, who still wasn’t far away from the riverbank.

Nothing is without its price, Percy Jackson. Styx responded. If I help you, then you will owe me. That is a dangerous state of affairs for you.

I can do whatever you want me to, Percy said.

You need to understand, Styx warned. I am not somebody whom you can renege on a deal with. There is one thing I like less than a broken oath, and that is a person who would break one.

Percy really didn’t like the sound of that, but times were desperate. Bob was definitely slowing down now, whether from exertion or the poison or a bit of both, and Kampê was raining down blow after blow up on him. He was dodging and blocking for now, but the way things were going there was only one way things could end.

Fine. I’ll do what I have to do. Just get us out of here alive.

Very well, Styx responded.

Percy reached out again, this time finding the water much more willing to respond. Kampê was still fighting with her back to the river, even as a tiring Bob struggled to withstand her attacks. Percy motioned the Titan towards the river, as he slowly willed the water to shape itself into a coil of rope, and Bob, finding one last huge burst of strength, managed to force Kampê right to within a couple of feet of the Styx’s bank.

This is the chance, Percy thought. He willed the coil to wrap itself around Kampê, a noose around her scaly neck, tightening it as he gained in confidence. The monster struggled viciously, but she could do nothing about it, as the furious water of the Styx burned through her flesh in every place where it touched her, scales and all.

With all the power he could muster, Percy pulled on the rope, and Kampê found herself inexorably dragged towards the river.

“What is this?” she shrieked, as she hacked at the water aimlessly, only for it to sizzle through even her swords.

“This is your end,” Percy said, tightening his grip on the noose that was pulling her closer and closer to the river, even as she dug her heels into the ground. “Goodbye, Kampê. You won’t be missed.”

“You cannot defeat me,” she snarled, flapping her wings in desperation, but finding herself unable to escape the grasp of the mighty river. “You cannot defeat Mother! She will rise, and she will -”

Her speech was cut short, as with one final, enormous pull, Percy dragged her into the River Styx, and her whole body disintegrated. When he looked down at the river, no trace of the monstrous warden remained.

And once again, Tartarus was almost completely silent, but for the heavy breathing of a Titan and a demigod.

Chapter Text

Thalia had made some horrible mistakes in her life, but today easily blew them all out of the water.

She was so stupid. She was so fucking stupid. Artemis had warned her to stay out of this, that there was no negotiating with the Octavians of the world, and her going there could only make things worse. And what had Thalia done? She had ignored her, gone to negotiate with Octavian… and promptly made things worse. Not that Artemis would be around to say ‘I told you so”, of course, because she’d gone and burned that bridge too in the process. The goddess of the Hunt wasn’t exactly likely to take kindly to that kind of defiance, especially from her own lieutenant.

So, then. Camp Half-Blood was doomed. She had abandoned her vows as a Huntress. Gaea was probably going to rise. She was on Long Island, completely on her own, with barely any money or food, and no place to stay - almost nothing, in short, except the clothes on her back, a thoroughly bruised ego, and a strong desire for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. And to add insult to injury, she hadn’t even told Grover yet…

She groaned. Immediate priorities. Right now, she needed to find somewhere to go. Somehow, in all her haste, she hadn’t once stopped to consider what would happen after her meeting with Octavian. Usually, when in the area, she stayed at Camp Half-Blood, but that obviously wasn’t an option any more. Manhattan was too far for Olympus to be an option, and even if she could get there, it wasn’t really the sort of place one could simply show up uninvited. And sleeping rough was certain to get her eaten, too. She was too much of a monster magnet, and there was no Luke or Artemis to watch her back this time. She was all on her own.

And gods, was it lonely here, in her world of self-loathing and regret and–

“Is it true that you punched him in the face?” a voice asked.

Thalia turned around, but where she might have expected to see somebody standing, she saw nothing but empty air. Until, that is, her eyes flicked downwards, and she saw a beautiful golden bird – a small eagle, its metallic body seeming to sparkle and glimmer. As she watched, it hopped into the air, flying up towards her and landing on her shoulder, much to her surprise.

“Um,” Thalia began, slightly nonplussed. “Sorry, but-”

“Who am I?” the bird interjected, and Thalia nodded. “I’m the Legion’s eagle, of course. You know, the one who’s usually mounted on a staff? Occasionally blasts our enemies with lightning?” It didn’t wait for Thalia to respond. “So, is it true? Did you really break Octavian’s nose, like everyone is saying?”

“What’s it to you?” Thalia snapped defiantly. “If you’re here to call me stupid and reckless, then save the sermon. I already know. And if you want to blast me with lightning, well, you’re welcome to try, but you’ll find it quite difficult. Otherwise, I’d prefer you leave me alone, if you don’t mind.”

The bird squawked, in what might almost have been a laugh. “And what if I want to help you?”

Thalia blinked. “What?”

“What if I want to help you?” it repeated. “Would you still prefer that I fly away?”

Thalia glanced down at her shoulder suspiciously. “And why on earth would you want to do that? Aren’t you meant to protect the legion?”

“I am,” the eagle confirmed. “But sometimes, the biggest threats come from within.” It let that hang for a second. “Octavian is no leader, Thalia. There are three individuals I recognize as praetors of the Twelfth, three people who I believe to be genuine servants of the legion worthy of wearing that title. He is not one of them. If he has his way, it would mean the destruction of far more than just the legion. And as such, I feel duty-bound to offer my help to anyone who seeks to stop him, graecus or otherwise.”

“And you think I can?” Thalia said bitterly. “The kind of person who goes as a peace envoy and leaves with blood on her hands?”

“Yes,” the eagle said simply. “Because I have heard enough about you to know that you are a true child of your father, Thalia. And no child of the King ought to ever doubt themselves. You are capable of doing anything you set your mind to.”

“Easy to say,” she muttered. “Harder to prove.” She looked at the bird. “The truth is, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Artemis warned me that I’d be out of my depth here. She told me this wasn’t my problem to solve. But I thought different, and now everyone’s going to pay the price.”

The eagle extended a small wing, patting her on the back. “In many ways, that makes you all the more worthy,” it said. “You left behind your patron to put your own life at risk, all for the chance to make a difference. And perhaps what followed was not politically wise, yes. But if it was not already clear, then from that alone it became evident that you have an ironclad sense of honour and duty, just like so many of your other siblings over the years.” It looked up at her, a warm expression in its eyes. “Above all else, Jupiter represents justice, Thalia. And I see that desire for justice in you, that willingness to do what is right regardless of the personal cost. You are the type of person who, in the face of a horde of enemies, would sacrifice her own life without so much as a thought if it were the right thing to do. That is what makes you so powerful.”

“I…” Thalia began, before finding she didn’t know what to say. “You know about that? How?”

The eagle bowed its head in a nod. “I heard,” it said. “I was lost in Alaska for some time, but the local birds were kind enough to bring me news when they received it, from time to time. By all accounts, Lord Jupiter was devastated like never before. They say he did not speak to another soul for an entire year, so great was his grief.” It looked back up at Thalia. “I was a gift from him, you know. His divine symbol, blessed with power over lightning, to protect the legion and uphold his will. And now, seeing his daughter before me, given a second lease of life, one of the only hopes of preventing my own legion from self-destructing… the signs could not be clearer, Thalia. I was meant to help you. And help you I shall, if you will have me.”

Thalia took the eagle in her palm, feeling a lump in her throat. “What would I even do?” she whispered. “I mean, I don’t even know where I’m staying the night, let alone how to stop the war.”

“There is still time,” the eagle said. “But first things first. The moment Octavian finds me missing from atop the staff, he will suspect you of taking me, so you cannot stay nearby for too long. Is there somewhere nearby you could go? Even temporarily, for an hour or two, just until they are far enough away?”

Thalia thought for a second. “On foot, the best I can do is get to Montauk,” she said slowly. “But that’d take a while, and even if I do, I don’t see what…” She trailed off, as an idea struck her, something Percy had mentioned to her a long time ago. A cabin by the beach... “Hang on a minute. Romans use eagles to send messages, right? Would you be able to contact someone for me?”

“Certainly,” the eagle replied. “What do you have in mind?”

___

“Thank you so much again for this, Ms. Jackson,” Thalia said wearily, stretching her legs as they exited the car. “Like I said, I’m really sorry to bother you now of all times. I just… I didn’t know who else I could turn to, and...”

“It’s no trouble at all, dear,” she said, cutting her off with a forced smile. “You’re always welcome to stay with me. I’ve told you that before.” She sighed heavily, as she opened the door. “Come on in, Thalia. Have a seat. I’ll get you some water. And call me Sally, please. Ms. Jackson makes me feel old.”

Thalia groaned, slumping down on the couch with the golden eagle beside her, now just a normal statue once more. “Thanks,” she said, deflated, as she accepted the glass, taking a sip. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how come you’re actually here? And where’s Paul?”

“Back home,” Sally answered, sitting down next to her. “He wanted to take the day off work and come with me, but I convinced him not to. He’s been wonderful throughout this all, but I just…”

She looked down, fingers tightening on her own glass.

“This is where I’ve always come whenever I’ve needed to get away,” she said quietly. “Raising a child of Poseidon wasn’t easy, as you can imagine, and my first husband was… well, he was a piece of shit, if you’ll excuse the language. Every time things felt like they were getting to be a bit too much, I’d take Percy and drive down here for a couple of days. His dad being so close meant I didn’t have to worry about his safety. And he loved it.” She sighed. “Truthfully, so did I. The sea breeze, the view of the ocean, taking walks on the beach… all of it has never failed to make me feel better. It’s my favourite place in the whole world. But I don’t know whether it’s going to help this time.”

Thalia was silent for a few seconds after she had finished. “If it makes you feel better, miracles do happen,” she said eventually. “Especially when Percy’s involved. I mean, look at me. I spent six years as a tree. I never thought I’d ever walk or talk again, at least not to anyone that wasn’t a dryad. And then he came along, and he found a way, and here I am. If anyone can escape from there, it’s him.”

Sally smiled weakly. “I appreciate that,” she said. “And yes, I’m never giving up. A mother never can.” She stood up, reaching for the landline phone. “I’m going to order takeout, I think,” she said. “I don’t feel like cooking. You’re alright with pizza, aren’t you?”

“More than alright,” Thalia said, feeling her stomach grumble at the mention. She hadn’t eaten a bite all day. “Thank you so much, Ms. Ja-Sally. You’re an absolute lifesaver.” She hesitated. “Have you spoken to Annabeth at all? Do you know how she’s holding up?”

“She’s a fighter,” Sally said heavily, putting the phone back down. “I spoke to her earlier today. She… wasn’t in great shape, as you can imagine. But I think she’s doing her best to stay positive. And she had a visit from her mom, which helped, I think?”

“From Athena?” Thalia repeated. “Really? After everything?”

Sally nodded. “She seems to really be trying to mend things,” she said. “It was her who first told me about Percy and Annabeth being in Tartarus, you know. Then again yesterday, she came to tell me what had happened. I was so surprised. Even if you’d told me a goddess was going to show up, I never would have guessed it would be her.”

“I can imagine,” Thalia murmured. “Last I heard from Annabeth, her mom basically said she was dead to her. I wonder what changed.”

“I don’t know,” Sally said. “The gods work in mysterious ways, as they say. But either way, I’m glad for it. The poor girl has suffered enough this last year. Gods know she deserves a win.” She sat back down. “Have you heard from her lately?”

Thalia shook her head. “Not since she came back,” she said. “And not enough in general, to be honest.” She sighed. “In my head, she’s still that same fiery little seven-year-old genius with the blonde curls and the adorable smile, running around with me and Luke, trying to stay alive. It’s so weird to think that was ten whole years ago now. I mean, she’s actually older than me now, can you believe it?”

Sally laughed. “That is a strange thought,” she agreed. “But you’ll have to get used to it, Thalia. One of the side-effects of being eternally fifteen years old is that everyone you’ll ever know will be older than you some day, odd as it is.”

Thalia grimaced. Of course Sally didn’t know. How could she? “Well," she said, "about that…”

___

The story took some time to tell, but for once in her life, Thalia found herself really opening up. She told Sally about the call from Grover, about the message from Octavian that had made her so angry. She told her about the warning from Artemis, and how she’d ignored it, abandoning the Hunt, and her immortality, in the process. And though she really, really didn’t want to, she told her about the meeting. About how Octavian seemed to want to destroy the Camp, how he had no real desire for any sort of peace. And about that moment, too. The punch that might have killed a hundred Greeks. The stupidest thing she’d ever done.

But Sally Jackson, much to Thalia’s surprise, didn’t say a word the whole time. She just… listened. Listened as it all came pouring out in in one endless torrent of bad decisions and despair, as Thalia recounted it all. And when it was done, she simply stood up, her expression unreadable.

“Take a walk with me, Thalia,” she said, as she walked towards the back door. “Come on. Put your shoes on. Let’s get a bit of fresh air.”

Thalia hesitated, but curiosity eventually got the better of her. “Where are we going?” she asked, as she followed her out of the door, onto the beach behind them. The sun was low in the sky now, a faint hint of orange from the horizon illuminating the golden sand.

“There’s a lovely spot not too far from here,” Sally said. “Percy's dad used to take me there all the time, when we were dating. We should be able to catch the sunset if we hurry.”

“Um,” Thalia asked uncertainly. “If this is Lord Poseidon’s spot, won’t he be offended? What with me being Zeus’s daughter…”

Sally shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “Not if you’re with me.”

They walked up the beach almost in silence, towards the cliffs in the distance, climbing up a set of stairs. As they ascended, Thalia could see the sun slowly disappearing lower and lower, bathing the whole beach in a beautiful warm glow. Eventually, they reached the top, where Sally ushered her towards a bench, sitting down next to her.

“Isn’t the view brilliant?” Sally said. “I must have been here a hundred times, and yet it feels special every time. For my money, there aren’t many better places in the entire world.”

“The view's certainly gorgeous,” Thalia agreed, though she stayed well away from the cliff's edge. She'd been working on her fear of heights lately, but seeing any kind of drop still gave her the jitters. “Was this where you and Percy’s dad first met, then?”

Sally nodded. “And it’s also where Paul proposed, believe it or not,” she said. “I think that was Percy’s suggestion, actually. Paul asked him for advice on how to do it, bless his heart.” She smiled wistfully, gazing out into the distance. “It was wonderful. We sat here, watching the sunset, and just as the last rays of sun were fading, he knelt on the ground, and pulled out a ring. And then we went for a twilight swim to crown it all off. The whole thing couldn’t have been more perfect.”

“That’s beautiful,” she said, and she meant it. “It must have been such a happy day for you.”

“The very happiest I can remember,” Sally agreed. “Except the day Percy was born, maybe.” She sighed. “You’re wondering why I brought you here, aren’t you?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it's lovely, and I'm enjoying this, but…”

“No buts needed,” Sally said. “That’s all I wanted.” She put an arm around her. “I don’t know anything about quests or wars, Thalia. That’s not what I can help you with. But I can tell when somebody is in desperate need of a little cheering up, or when someone needs a little distraction to take their mind away from things.” She looked Thalia in the eyes, her face turning serious. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like, any of it. How difficult it must have been for you under the circumstances. But dwelling on things that you can’t change is pointless, and even heroes like you need a little downtime. I just wanted to give you a chance to forget it all for a bit.”

Thalia exhaled heavily. "I wish I could just forget like that," she said. "But all I can think about is the war, and Octavian, and the giants, and-"

Sally cut her off. "None of them are here," she reminded her. "Just relax, Thalia. You've spent your entire life running and fighting. Take a break tonight. You've earned that much."

Thalia leaned back in her seat on the bench, opening her eyes just a fraction. The sky was a beautiful reddish-orange now, the sun almost at the horizon now. "I don't know how," she said, feeling a lump form in her throat. "How can you just forget like that? I mean, I might have just made the biggest mistake of my life, and then topped it off by an even bigger one. How do I just let that go?"

"It's never easy," Sally said gently. "But I just try to concentrate on small details. The colour of the sea. The birds in the sky. The salty smell of the sea air. Focus on capturing the moment, as if you had to describe it to someone else. And just live in it."

Thalia leaned back on the bench, closing her eyes briefly as she felt the gentle rays of the sun warming her skin. The world was almost silent, except the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore and the occasional caw from a seagull or two, a rather soothing mix for the exhausted demigod. And as she lay there, basking in the breeze, she felt herself relaxing instinctively into Sally's arm. This felt nice, she thought. She could allow herself to stay here for a bit...

"There you go," Sally whispered. "That's it. Sleep for a bit, if you want. Everything else can wait till tomorrow. Tonight belongs to you."

Thalia still didn't open her eyes, feeling the rhythm of her breathing slowly steadying, the fresh, cool sea air filling her lungs with every breath. "I can see why you love this place," she murmured. "I wish I could just stay here forever. It's so calm and quiet."

"Sometimes I wish that too," Sally answered, gently pulling Thalia closer before pausing. "You know, it's just occurred to me... if I'm not mistaken, today's a very special day, isn't it? For you personally?"

Thalia opened her eyes lazily, still leaning on the older woman's shoulder. "What do you mean?"

“Ah, well,” Sally said, a sly smile playing on her lips, “you’ll have to correct me if I’m wrong, but you joined the Hunt the day before your sixteenth birthday, right?” Thalia nodded. “And yesterday was the day you left… which means it was also the day you gave up your immortality and started ageing again. See where I’m going with this?”

Thalia laughed, sitting back upright. “You know, that never occurred to me in the slightest,” she said. “But my birthday’s not till December. How does that work, then? Do I have to wait till then to actually turn sixteen, or am I sixteen already?”

“Who knows?” Sally said, smiling. “Honestly, I think you’re something of a special case when it comes to ageing, Thalia. I mean, between your time as a tree and your time as a Hunter, the whole timeline’s a bit of a mess.” She chuckled. “But what I would say is that, after all you’ve been through, I think you’ve earned the right to choose. And if you want to have two different birthdays, I don’t think anyone would, or should, begrudge you that.”

A familiar caw came from behind her, and when she turned, she saw the golden eagle there once more, flapping its wings as it flew back up onto her shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” it said. “Very few children of the King ever live to the age of maturity, what with all the dangers you face. There have only been a handful at best in the last five hundred years. So for you to have defied the odds and survived everything you have, well, I think that warrants a celebration indeed. Lord Jupiter would certainly agree, if he were here."

“Absolutely,” Sally said, beaming at Thalia. “Happy birthday, dear. Here’s to many more years of you being the wonderful, brave, heroic young woman that you are.” She looked down at the eagle. “Tell you what... I think Thalia here deserves a little treat, but I don't think any of the bakeries in town are open this late. Is there a way you could pick up a cake from somewhere, if I give you some cash?”

“Certainly,” the bird said, puffing out its small chest as Sally handed it a fifty-dollar bill, which it placed in its beak. "Leave it to me. I'll be back before you know it.”

As it flew off, Thalia felt a strange flutter in her own chest, a feeling that she couldn’t quite place. Tomorrow she would have to leave, she knew. And she had a few ideas as to where she might go, and to whom she might turn. She wasn’t ready to give up on her mission, and Camp, just yet.

But as she watched the last vestiges of sunlight disappear beneath the horizon, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride, regardless of everything that had happened in the last few days.

Because the eagle was right. Her making it to sixteen alive was a hell of an achievement. And seeing as she had no idea whether she’d live to see seventeen…

Well, she might as well take the chance to celebrate while she could, right? 

Chapter Text

Piper could see the scene unfolding before her eyes. The arrow sailed through the air, fired by a monstrous archer, making a slight whistling noise as it travelled towards the unsuspecting girl who was its target. She shouted a warning to the demigod, but she knew it would go unheard. For the girl was Piper herself, and the arrow was destined to find its mark.

The arrow sunk into Dream Piper’s neck, just as it had two nights ago, and she felt the same sharp, white-hot pain erupt in her neck, a searing agony that eclipsed everything. The world tilted, spinning as her vision went blurry, and Dream Piper clawed helplessly at her neck, desperately trying to breathe, to recover from the wound.

But it was no use, as Dream Piper was about to find out. She couldn’t pull the arrow out. It was lodged far too deep for that, and her fingers were already slick with her own blood. She could see Jason in the distance, seemingly moving in slow-motion. She recalled the thoughts that had filled her head as the blood loss had become too much, and she had been on the verge of passing out. I’m sorry, she’d wanted to say, to Jason and Frank and Nico and everyone else. I’ve left you a man down.

And then everything went black.

The scene shifted. She was back aboard the Argo II, in her room. Dream Piper was lying in her bed, her clothes stained with blood all over. There was no longer an arrow sticking out of her neck, but she was still incredibly pale. And a woman, tall and powerful, radiating an aura of pure energy, was standing over her body.

“Wake up, girl,” the woman whispered in her ear. “Your friends need you.”

“Who are you?” Dream Piper asked groggily, opening her eyes.

“You already know the answer,” the woman – the goddess, Athena, as Dream Piper would shortly figure out – said. “Not that it is important. You have had a close shave, and it took considerable effort to save your life. Now, it is time you used that second chance.”

“But why save me?” Dream Piper wondered out loud. “I’m hardly that important.”

“You are,” Athena said. “More than you realise. All seven of you are leaders in different ways, and you are the one with the ability to keep your team united even in the face of grief. You will ensure that everyone has the strength to keep fighting, even as your collective resolve is tested.”

“So I’m the crew’s shrink.”

“An unnecessarily reductive way to put it, but not entirely incorrect,” Athena said drily. “Do not underestimate your value, Piper. I would not have intervened to spare you if I did not believe you had something to offer.”

“Is that true? You’d have just let me die, except you didn’t because I’m important?”

“Perhaps not,” Athena admitted, eyes twinkling. “After all, my daughter rather seems to like you, and I fear I am not in her best books at the moment. Letting you die in front of me might not have helped.”

Piper heard herself laugh. At least I did remember to thank Annabeth for that, the real Piper thought ruefully. Even if the rest of that conversation could have gone better.

“Take care of her, will you?” Athena said, turning away. “She will not survive this alone.”

She disappeared, just as the real Piper’s eyes slowly dragged themselves open.

Two nights in a row, she noted. Demigod nightmares really, really sucked. At least this time she hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and sobbing. That was something. She hadn’t managed to get to her conversation with Athena last night before it all became too much, either, so this was definite progress.

She looked out of the porthole, seeing that the darkness had given way to a beautiful, clear day. Dragging herself out of bed, she headed to the bathroom drowsily to brush her teeth. As she glanced at the clock, she saw that it was coming up to half past nine in the morning. That was a shame. The others would surely have left for Delphi by now. Having stayed up late working on the ship’s hull, she’d clearly ended up oversleeping.

She made her way up onto deck rather slowly. Sudden sharp movements still had a tendency to make her feel a bit dizzy, and she still felt a little woozy every so often, though for that to be the limit of her problems two days on was pretty remarkable, so she wasn’t complaining. As the warm, dazzling rays of the sun bathed her skin, she spotted Annabeth, lounging in a deck chair with her back to Piper.

“Morning, Annabeth,” she said brightly.

Annabeth didn’t respond, which was strange. As Piper got closer, though, she realized there was a simple enough explanation. The daughter of Athena had fallen asleep in her chair.

“Don’t do it,” she muttered in her sleep, squirming a little. “It should be me. Please. You need to go.”

Immediately, Piper knew where Annabeth was, where the world of dreams had taken her, and suddenly, her own nightmares seemed rather tame in comparison. To be trapped in the Pit every night was far beyond anything Piper had ever had to deal with. It was a testament to Annabeth’s remarkable strength of character that she was still sane at all.

“Please,” Annabeth pleaded. “Don’t do this to me, Percy. Not like this. You promised.”

Piper hesitated. Should she wake her up, she wondered?

Before she could decide, though, the choice was made for her. That very moment, Annabeth screamed, shaking uncontrollably as her eyes snapped open.

Piper walked towards her, putting an arm on her shoulder gently, so as to not startle her.

“It’s OK, Annabeth,” she reassured the older girl, who seemed to slowly be realizing what had happened. “It was just a dream.”

She tilted Annabeth’s chin, making sure she could see her face. “You’re not back there,” she said assertively, a hint of charmspeak creeping into her voice inadvertently. “Nobody’s leaving you anywhere. You’re here, on the Argo II, with me. It’ll all be alright.”

“Will it?” Annabeth whispered, forlorn, her body curled up defensively. “I keep putting on a brave face, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take. All I can ever see in my dreams is that place, and Percy leaving me, over and over. It’s only been two days, but it feels like two years.”

“Yes, it will,” Piper said firmly. “It always does, if you can just pull through the next few days.”

“You’re just saying that,” Annabeth said, sniffing. “You don’t mean it.”

“No,” Piper said. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson about trying to force things. This is just how these situations work.”

She hesitated, before pulling up a deck chair next to Annabeth’s.

“When I was younger, my grandpa was diagnosed with lung cancer,” she began. “Dad’s movie career hadn’t really started yet, so we couldn’t afford the medical bills. Instead, we just watched him slip away, month after month. He was fighting hard, but his body wasn’t willing to co-operate. And he knew it, too, knew he was slowly fading, but he stayed the same kind old soul to the last. When it all ended, I cried for days.”

“I’m so sorry, Piper,” Annabeth said softly. “That must have been horrible.”

Piper nodded. “It was. For a few weeks, I barely even wanted to wake up. I didn’t want to come to terms with it at all, didn’t want to accept he was gone. But Dad told me something then which I’ll never forget.”

She took a deep breath.

“He told me grief is like sailing a little boat, out on the open sea,” she said. “When you experience the pain the first time, it's like this hurricane that comes out of nowhere, hits you out of the blue. And it’s so tough to deal with. You’re used to calm seas, so you’ve never been here before, never faced this kind of battle, and you find yourself losing. The sea throws you around like you’re a toy, and you just end up kind of bouncing around, praying it’ll stop. But if you fight hard enough, eventually the storm will blow over. Your boat may well be wrecked by the time it does, but the most important thing is to still be afloat.”

She recalled the storm that had battered them for almost a full day, the very personification of the analogy.

“Once it blows over, you can pick up the pieces,” Piper continued. “As long as you didn’t let it sink you, whatever damage it did can be mended. And you’ll have calm waters again for a while, and it’ll feel like the worst is over. You’ll go back to sailing as you did before. But then, at some point, there’ll be another storm, another reminder of the pain, and again you find yourself thrown around like before, and again you stick it out. But this time, you’re a little bit more used to it, have a better idea of how to deal with the rocky seas. So although this storm damages your boat too, this time it’s not as bad as it was the first time. It’s a bit easier to repair your boat and carry on again. The calm seas last a bit longer afterwards, maybe, too.”

Annabeth was well and truly in tears now. For that matter, Piper had a few of them rolling down her own cheeks.

“And so it goes on, and on, and on,” she finished. “Each time, the storm doesn’t last as long, doesn’t do quite as much damage, maybe takes a bit less time to fix, and each time, the calm seas last for a while longer until the next storm blows in. And if you can just keep your boat sailing away, eventually you get to the stage where the storms don’t bother you anywhere near as much as before, when you just sigh and get on with it every time the wind picks up. And that’s when you know you’re no longer in danger of sinking. That’s when you know, in other words, that you’re past the worst of it.”

For a second, the only sound Piper could hear was the distant chirping of gulls and the gentle lapping of the waves. Then Annabeth got up shakily from her chair, hugging Piper fiercely as she buried her head over Piper’s shoulder.

“That was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard,” Annabeth choked out. “Thank you so much, Piper.”

Piper shrugged, wrapping her arms around her friend. “It’s not really me you should be thanking,” she replied. “Like I said, that came from Dad. I’m just passing it on.”

“Is that… did that analogy get passed down by the Cherokee?”

Piper frowned. “Truth be told, I have no idea. Oklahoma’s landlocked, after all, as are most other bits of Cherokee territory. I’m not sure how they’d have known so much about sea storms.” Annabeth laughed shakily. “Anyway, the point is, you need to hang in there. Once you get through this first storm, it all gets easier.”

Annabeth seemed at a loss for words, but she nodded.

“Besides,” Piper added, “This particular case is a bit different. Percy’s still fighting, and he’s a bit of an expert on sailing, after all, so you might just find this storm disappears all of a sudden. I wouldn’t give up hope just yet.”

Annabeth wiped her face as she detached from Piper. “Oh, I’m not going to,” she said firmly. “Not now, not ever. Last time I did, he showed up to his own funeral. I think he’s earned a bit of belief from me.”

Piper laughed. “He showed up to his own funeral? Bet that caused a stir.”

“You have no idea,” Annabeth said, smiling through the tears. “I was so mad, too. Two weeks he was gone, and he didn’t seem keen to tell me where he’d been, either. Just rocked up like nothing had happened, as if blowing up a mountain and vanishing into thin air was a perfectly normal thing to do.”

“Did you ever find out?” Piper asked. “Where he was, I mean?”

Annabeth hesitated, but before she could answer, Leo sauntered onto deck, whistling, hands in his pockets.

“Morning, cupcakes,” he said, in a decent impression of Coach Hedge. “And a lovely one it is, too. You owe me five drachmae, Piper, by the way.”

Piper chuckled. “You got it done before dawn, then, I guess?”

“With time to spare,” Leo said, grinning as he walked towards them, only for the smile to fade as he saw the dried up tears on Annabeth’s face.

“Everything alright?” he asked gently.

“Kind of,” Annabeth responded tiredly. “Not really. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Leo nodded, as though that reply had somehow made sense to him. “Anything I can do?”

“I’m OK for now,” Annabeth said. “Just going to keep sailing and see where the sea takes me.” She squeezed Piper’s hand warmly.

“Fair enough,” Leo said, not pressing the point. “I’ve got some additional repairs to do today, if you want to lend a hand? It’ll keep you occupied, and you’re always a pretty good assistant when it comes to these things.”

“Sure,” Annabeth said immediately. Piper could tell she was eager for a distraction, and she didn’t blame her. “What’s first on the list?”

“First on the list,” Leo said firmly, “is you taking a minute to wash your face and drink some water. We can start after that.”

Annabeth didn’t argue. “Fair enough. Back in two ticks, then.”

She disappeared below deck, leaving Leo alone with Piper.

“She isn’t actually OK, is she?” he asked quietly.

“She had another nightmare,” Piper said softly. “Back there again, reliving the moment. Woke up screaming. But I think she’s a bit better now. We had a long chat just before you arrived.”

Leo nodded. “Truth be told, I was a bit worried about her. It’s why I let her stay up all night with me on the repairs, even though I probably should have told her to go to sleep.” He swallowed. “I always found keeping busy was the best thing when… when Mom died. The less time you get to wallow in it, the better.”

“I agree,” Piper said. “Everyone has different ways of handling things, but I think Annabeth is a bit more like you. She’s better off with her mind occupied.”

Leo chuckled unhappily. “You know, I can’t help but think… we’re a properly fucked up group, aren’t we?”

Piper smiled wryly. “You're not wrong,” she said. "You, Jason, and Frank all lost your mothers young. Hazel literally died, and as for Annabeth and Percy, well..." She didn't need to finish the sentence. "I'm probably the only one who's had a relatively normal life so far."

Leo narrowed his eyes at her. “You got sent to fucking Wilderness, Pipes. Nobody who’s ever been within ten miles of that place has had a normal life, let alone the kid whose dad got kidnapped by giants and who wiped his memories because he was too traumatized.”

“Touché,” Piper acknowledged, wincing a little bit at the blunt reminder. “I suppose you’re right. Pretty fucked up little existence we have, isn’t it?”

Before Leo could reply, Annabeth arrived back on deck, a worried look on her face.

“Have you seen how calm the sea is?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” Leo said, frowning. “The storm blew over a while ago, and it’s not that windy today. Much better sailing conditions.”

Annabeth shook her head. “No, not like that. Just look out in the distance.”

Piper made her way over to the side of the ship, where she saw what Annabeth meant. Nothing seemed to have changed near their ship, but the further out she looked in that direction, the stiller the water got, until there was barely a wave in sight any more, despite the breeze. Out there, the sea was almost like a sheet of deep blue tinted glass, beautiful in an eerie sort of way.

“That’s not natural,” Piper said. “Something’s messing with it.”

“Not something. Someone,” Leo said, squinting through a pair of binoculars. “Look.”

Piper took the binoculars from him, and looked out to the sea, where she saw an ominous sight. A fleet of ships, at least ten of them if not more, was approaching them alarmingly quickly, full of monsters. And aboard the largest of them, she saw two figures that scared her even more. One, a giant, towered over the entire crew, blue-skinned and wearing a breastplate all in green, his hair filled with snakes. The other was an all too familiar figure, standing next to him at the helm, armored in gold, and wearing a mask. Piper couldn’t quite make out the detailing, but she knew that if she could, she would see the face of a gorgon.

“Chrysaor must have calmed the seas to try and sneak up on us,” Annabeth said, after looking through the binoculars herself. “So that we wouldn’t notice the waves his ships generated until he was too close.”

“We need to get out of here,” Piper said, turning to Leo in alarm. “There’s so many of them.”

“We can't,” Leo said, sounding rather despondent. “We’ll never be able to outrun them. Our engine’s in tatters. I was going to fix it properly today, but…”

“We’ll have to try and somehow hold them off, then,” Piper said, grimacing. Chrysaor had been a formidable enemy on his own last time, let alone with a giant and a small navy with him. “How long do we have until they’re onto us?”

“Those binoculars are pretty powerful, but they won’t be further than two miles away, tops,” Leo responded, his voice carrying a note of worry. “I reckon that gives us four or five minutes at best. Not long enough to get out of sight, for sure.”

“The ballistae,” Annabeth said in shock. “We haven’t repaired them yet either. They’re still out of commission.”

“Fuck,” Leo said, head in hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is bad.”

“Any ideas on what we can do?” Piper asked desperately, scratching her head as she searched for inspiration. “Because I’m all out.”

Annabeth’s face was completely expressionless for a few seconds, as both Leo and Piper looked to her, hoping she’d have the answer. And like she had so many times before, she delivered.

“There’s only one way out,” she said eventually. “We need to abandon ship.”

“And do what?” Piper asked anxiously. “It’s not like we can just vanish into thin air. We’re hardly a more difficult target for them if we’re floating in the water helplessly.”

“We won’t be floating,” Annabeth said quietly.

Not floating?

It took a second before the implication became clear in her head, but once it did, her eyes widened as she stared at Annabeth. “You can’t mean-”

“Gaea needs our blood to wake,” Annabeth said grimly, confirming what Piper had understood already. “So being captured is the worst possible outcome for us. If she gets us, the giants sacrifice us, she rises, and we’re too dead to stop her. Whatever else happens, we can’t allow that. That scenario means the end of the world.”

“And so you’re saying we drown ourselves?” Leo asked. “We die so that Gaea can’t use us?”

“If that’s what happens, then so be it,” Annabeth said, remarkably composed. It had barely been a few minutes since she had woken up screaming and sobbing, and yet she seemed entirely in control once again. “But I have a feeling Lord Poseidon’s listening to us. He’s the only chance we have of making it out of this alive. So we can take our chances, sink to the bottom of the sea and pray he saves us, or we can sit here like the sitting ducks that we are.”

Leo sighed, a sigh of acceptance more than anything. He clearly didn’t like it, and nor did Piper, but they both knew Annabeth was right. She usually was.

“I have some celestial bronze in my workshop,” he said, heading towards the stairs. “If we strap a few pieces round our ankles, we’re sure to sink.”

Piper stared out at the sea, which was remarkably beautiful today, deep blue and glistening with the reflection of the sun. She was about to entrust it with her life.

“You know, it’s weird being at sea without Percy being here,” Annabeth said thoughtfully. “I think it might be the first time ever, actually. I was always a little scared of the ocean before him. Makes this whole situation pretty funny, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Piper asked, distracted. All she could think of right now was the nymphaeum in Rome, the sensation of the water pressing against her chest, suffocating her. She recalled her panic as she’d desperately fought to get to the surface with the last of her strength, even as she had forced herself to keep the water flowing, knowing that she had no other choice despite her lungs begging her to stop. Frankly, if she had to rank all the possible ways to die, drowning would be pretty much right at the bottom, maybe just above being burned alive.

“Well, he’s been gone two days, and that’s all it takes for me to attempt to drown myself,” Annabeth said, as Leo returned, dragging a trolley loaded with celestial bronze scraps up the stairs. “Clearly, I need expert supervision at all times. Leave me alone and I’ll find a way to do something stupid, whether it’s falling into Tartarus or jumping into the sea with weights round my legs.”

Piper stared at her. “You have a morbid sense of humour, Annabeth.”

“Oh, come on, Piper,” Annabeth said, grinning. “Don’t get me wrong, he’d be devastated if I drowned, but I think he’d appreciate the irony. Usually, it’s him who has the reckless and stupid ideas.”

Despite herself, Piper smiled a little. “I think he’d be too busy trying to start a war against his dad to find it funny.”

“You’re probably right,” Annabeth said, smiling impishly as she tied the weights round her legs, pulling on the rope to make sure it was secure. “Hey, Lord Poseidon, you hear that? You let me die today, and your favourite son will hate you forever. Wouldn’t want that, would you?” she shouted, in the direction of the water.

The sea offered no response, remaining as calm as ever.

“You’re crazy,” Piper said, shaking her head at Annabeth as she tried not to laugh, unsuccessfully. Leo handed her some more of the weights, and she set about securing them to her ankles. “Forget crazy, actually. You’re absolutely, one hundred percent, clinically insane.”

“Maybe so,” Annabeth replied, her grin even broader. “But if we do die here, at least we can say we died laughing.”

“I’d prefer not to die at all, ideally,” Leo said. He wasn’t laughing, instead shifting uncomfortably as he attached the weights to his own feet. Piper recalled how he’d been at the bottom of the sea just a couple of weeks ago. Somehow, she doubted they’d be coming back with brownies this time. “But I guess I don’t have much of a say in that, so…”

“No,” Piper said, noticing the black dots in the distance that indicated the fleet was within range of the naked eye. “We need to get a move on. They’re already getting close.”

She looked at Annabeth, then at Leo, silently wishing one of them would raise a last minute objection, come up with a better plan, but no ideas emerged. Instead, reluctantly, she took Leo’s hand in her left, and Annabeth’s in her right.

“On three?” Annabeth said, and both of them nodded.

“One.”

Lord Poseidon, help us, Piper said in her head. She had no way of knowing the sea god was listening, but she had to try.

“Two.”

Please. For Percy’s sake. For Annabeth’s sake. They’ve suffered enough.

“Three!”

She took a deep breath.

Then she launched herself from the side of the ship, plunging into the cold, deep waters of the sea, and everything went black.

Chapter Text

When Annabeth woke up, lying in bed in a beautiful room, she felt a rush of triumph.

Of course, the last time she’d woken up in an unfamiliar place, she’d thought she had died. This room wasn’t too different from Nyx’s Mansion either, large and spacious, decorated tastefully with furniture dotted around the room, making the room feel a bit less empty without feeling cluttered either. So if Annabeth had mistaken that room for Elysium, what had stopped her thinking the same this time?

Well, maybe it was the style of the décor, with notes of green and blue, cool colours that reminded Annabeth of the ocean. Perhaps it was the fact that she felt rather achy all over, and her head was throbbing, something which shouldn’t have been possible in a land without suffering.

Or, maybe, it was the fact that she was within an air bubble surrounded by water, and there was a red-haired mermaid looking down at her, with an expression that was somewhere between disgust and hatred.

“You’re awake,” the mermaid said, her tone lacking any warmth. “It’s about time.”

Annabeth groaned, as she got to her feet. She had had the strangest dream... “How long was I out? And where are the others?”

“About three hours,” came the reply, still rather cold and terse. “Your friends are fine. They were up long before you. You’ll see them soon enough.”

“And I guess this is Poseidon’s palace?” Annabeth asked. “Percy described it pretty well, I guess.”

The mermaid just nodded curtly, and Annabeth sighed. It was pretty clear the mermaid didn’t like her, and the reason was just as obvious. This wasn’t a place where Athena or her children were welcome.

“I didn’t get your name,” she said, extending a hand in an effort to break the ice. “I’m Annabeth. Architect of Olympus.”

Daughter of Athena wasn’t a good way to introduce oneself, not here, she thought. Even if the mermaid clearly already knew who her mother was, drawing attention to it was hardly going to help.

“I know who you are,” the mermaid said, pointedly ignoring her extended hand. “I’m Ariel.”

Annabeth blinked. “Like the –”

“Yes, like the damn film,” Ariel interrupted impatiently, as though she were very used to being asked the same question. “Gods, I hate you mortals so much. You have one relationship with a guy hundreds of years ago, and they make sure that’s the only thing you ever hear about for the rest of time,” she bemoaned. “Not to mention they absolutely butchered every single one of the important details. I mean, does it look like I’d have trouble with something as simple as legs?”

She transformed into human form, then back again in an instant, in order to prove the point. All the while, Annabeth was trying her best not to laugh at how surreal it all was. One second she was being pursued by a fleet of ships sent by the giants, the next she was listening to the Little Mermaid rant about her unflattering on-screen appearance.

“It’s not funny, girl,” Ariel said sternly, spotting Annabeth’s vain attempts to stifle the giggle. That only caused Annabeth to laugh harder, earning her a ferocious glare from the angry mermaid. “They killed off Grandpa for some reason, which was bad enough, but then they made me a daughter of Athena, for crying out loud. Of all the people they could have chosen…”

“I hear daughters of Athena aren’t as bad as you think,” Annabeth said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. But unfortunately, the quip fell on unwilling ears, because Ariel’s face remained just as stony and hostile as before.

“You have no idea,” she spat venomously, and Annabeth felt the smile vanish from her face. Suddenly, the general unwelcome feeling she had felt from the beginning had given way to outright hostility. “Were it up to me, I’d have never let you into this palace. I’d never even have rescued you at all. Her children don’t belong in the sea.”

“But it’s not up to you, is it?” Annabeth snapped defiantly. She’d made every attempt to connect with Ariel, and been rebuffed at every turn. Now, she was starting to get a little fed up. “So why don’t you stop acting like my existence is a crime, and take me to someone whose opinion actually matters?”

Ariel glowered, and for a second Annabeth wondered if she’d gone a bit too far. But eventually, the mermaid spoke again, bitterly. “Unfortunately, you’re right. Grandpa does want you alive. Why, I don’t know, but…” she shook her head. “Just follow me. The sooner you’re out of my sight, the better.”

She set off, effortlessly swimming away far too fast for Annabeth to keep up, just to rub in that the daughter of Athena was an outsider once more. It was all Annabeth could do to keep sight of the distant dot that Ariel had become, but eventually, she managed to catch up with the unimpressed mermaid, puffing and wheezing from the exertion.

“You’re in need of swimming lessons,” Ariel said coldly. “Your form is poor.”

“Thanks,” Annabeth said sarcastically. She was itching to deliver a witty retort, but frankly, her muscles were too sore for her to think of one anyway. Besides, she didn’t really want to spend more time speaking to Ariel than she absolutely had to.

As the mermaid swam away, Annabeth stared at the walls of the room she had just entered, a pale shade of green, adorned with frescoes depicting various sea creatures – a clownfish, a shark, a giant squid, all seeming to dance across the wall, as though they were swimming. The columns were white, made with abalone and adorned with coral and pearls, giving the whole room a rather elegant feel to it, and the floor was made of sandstone, emitting a soft, bluish glow that lit up the room. The domed roof was tiled with red and pink, which didn’t really seem to fit in with the whole aesthetic, though. If she’d been designing the place, she’d have stuck to the cool colour palette, or perhaps she’d have made the roof transparent, allowed a bit more natural light in.

Anyway, that wasn’t her decision. That belonged to the god sitting in the throne at the centre of the room, looking rather older and greyer than he had the last time she’d seen him but still recognisably the Lord of the Seas.

“Annabeth Chase,” Poseidon said, his voice booming as he rose from his seat. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, my lord,” she replied, bowing as gracefully as she could manage given her achy legs. “Your palace is beautiful.”

“You have only seen the eastern wing so far,” Poseidon said, grimacing. “The rest of the palace… well, there isn’t much left of it. Oceanus did some serious damage. Even this room was repaired hastily after the war, with whatever materials were available.”

Annabeth didn’t know what to say to that, so she just stayed silent.

“I trust Ariel didn’t give you too much of a hard time?” Poseidon inquired.

“No, my lord,” she replied. “Well, she didn’t exactly seem pleased to see me, but I didn’t mind it too much.”

Poseidon nodded. “Your mother is not popular here, though the wound runs especially deep for Ariel. I realized once I had sent her that it was a mistake.”

“Why specifically for her?” Annabeth asked.

Poseidon winced. “Do you not know the story? Why your mother chooses to bear the epithet Pallas?”

She scanned her brain for what she knew. Pallas had been a nymph, and Athena had accidentally killed her while sparring, possibly? But what did that have to do with Ariel?

“I see that you do not, or at least that you are missing the details,” Poseidon observed. He sighed. “When Athena first emerged from my brother’s head, she had plenty of raw potential, of course. It was up to somebody to nurture that, ensure that the young goddess received the appropriate training and education so as to maximize her abilities. Her father, naturally, was far too busy to do it himself, but my son Triton had a young daughter, Pallas, who was in need of training herself. So he offered, and Zeus accepted.”

Her mind was swimming already. Pallas was Poseidon’s granddaughter? So that made Ariel Pallas’s sister… Suddenly, things were starting to make a little more sense.

“Triton took the girls to a lake that was sacred to him, in modern day Africa. There, he taught them about the history of the gods, to fight using spears and swords, the art of military tactics, and so on – all the things you have been taught at your Camp, in other words. He would often bring them here, as well, and over the years everyone in this city got to know Athena. She was well-liked, too. Very few had a bad word to say about her.”

Annabeth was hanging on his every word. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Athena, a guest of the sea?

“Pallas and Athena were inseparable, like peas in a pod,” Poseidon added. “They spent every waking moment together, became the best of friends. Triton, as the years passed, came to see Athena as a daughter too, caring for her as though she were his own. Everything was going as perfectly as one could have hoped for.”

“And then?”

“You know what happened,” Poseidon said, an expression of grief on his face. “One day, Athena showed up here, in tears, carrying the lifeless body of Pallas in her arms. She told us it had been an accident, that she had been distracted whilst sparring, but Triton was furious. He told Athena to leave and never come back.”

He took a deep breath.

“Athena begged him for forgiveness, but Triton didn’t even want to see her face, so great was his pain. She even came to me, in the hope I would convince my son to change his mind, but I told her she was better off leaving him behind altogether. I could see that my son would always see her as the source of his grief, and I did not think it wise for her to stay with us, not when everyone would forever associate her with the tragedy that had befallen us.”

What a horrible day that must have been, she thought, feeling a pang of sympathy for her mother. In one stroke, she’d lost her best friend, her foster father, and her second home.

“So she did leave, bitter and still grieving, feeling that I was pushing her away, even though I was truly acting in her best interests,” Poseidon finished sadly. “Since that day, she has always harboured a grudge against the sea, and the wound has festered rather than healing. Both of us have, perhaps, acted in ways that were… that have served to inflame things, at various times. For that, we must both take equal shares of blame, and certainly any sympathy I had for Athena after that has gradually evaporated over the years. But Atlantis has certainly never forgiven her for Pallas, and so you see why Ariel reacted to your presence the way she did. After all, in her eyes, you are the daughter of the one who killed her sister and broke her father’s heart.”

Annabeth was almost too stunned to respond. No wonder Athena and Poseidon were rivals, she thought. One cruel, gut-wrenching twist of fate had destroyed everything that they had before.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said eventually. “I had no idea.”

Poseidon sighed. “I am not surprised you did not know,” he said. “Although she honours Pallas by bearing her name, I can imagine that your mother is not fond of recalling what happened. It is a memory all of us would like to forget, even if the chip on her shoulder suggests that she cannot.”

“But then, if there’s so much bad blood towards my mother here…” she started, before hesitating. She wasn’t quite sure how to phrase this.

“Why did I bring you here at all?” Poseidon guessed, and Annabeth nodded.

“There are many reasons,” Poseidon said, deadpan. “One of them, I believe you shouted rather bluntly at me a minute or so before you jumped in.”

Ah. She had forgotten about that. Shouting at the gods was always a bad idea, but when your life was in their hands…

“I must admit, I found it amusing,” Poseidon said, teasingly, and Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “Such unpredictability and recklessness is not at all usual of children of Athena, in general. On the other hand, those traits are rather common among my children, so perhaps your mother is not entirely wrong in accusing Percy of being a bad influence.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure any more blood could possibly be in her cheeks right now. At least Poseidon was willing to see the funny side of it.

“In any case, while the tone of your comment was perhaps a touch… direct, the content was not wrong,” the sea god said. “You are the girl for whom Percy chose to jump into Tartarus, and even more pertinently the girl for whom he chose to remain there. That kind of bond is far more powerful than you can imagine, and I would not wish to be the one who tries to break it. So if my son has chosen you in that way, then it stands to reason that the sea must accept you as its daughter. And Ariel, or anyone else for that matter, will have to get used to the fact that you are family.”

Family?

“We’re not married,” she blurted out, feeling even more embarrassed. Hearing Poseidon talk about her like that felt so strange, as though her and Percy had been together forever. It did feel like that sometimes, but in reality it hadn’t even been a year yet.

Poseidon laughed. “You have journeyed through the worst place in the world together, fought foes even we gods fear. Both of you would give up your lives for the other in a heartbeat. What can mortal vows mean in comparison with that, my dear?”

Once again, Annabeth found she had nothing to say.

“There are other reasons, of course,” Poseidon said. “Athena has long made the mistake of measuring Percy’s worth by the identity of his father, and I will freely admit that I have been guilty of the same mistake in the past in relation to you. But you are a hero in your own right, child. You have led the defense of Olympus in one war already, and I suspect you will do so again very soon. The gods owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, and that alone made you worthy of saving, regardless of anything else.”

“I don’t think Mother thinks that about Percy any more,” Annabeth said, trying to hide her smile. Praise from the gods was always nice, but coming from Percy’s dad, it meant a little more. “That’s what she told me, anyway.”

Poseidon nodded. “She expressed regret to me, too,” he said. “Your ordeal in the Pit has changed her. She did not seem as prideful, as stubborn as she often has before. I was rather pleasantly surprised to see it.”

“You spoke to her?” Annabeth asked, surprised. That was something Athena and Poseidon famously didn’t do without good reason.

“I did,” Poseidon said. “Just yesterday, in fact, and at length. Many things were discussed, most of which are not for your ears. I even spoke of you in terms that were far from kind, and far from accurate as well. But your mother did ask me to end the storm that damaged your ship so badly, and in doing so, she made me realize it was unfair of me to direct my anger at you in the first place. I cannot imagine this to be a course of events that you would have chosen voluntarily.”

“No,” Annabeth said, grimacing a little.

“Unfortunately, I fear that fit of anger has proved costly,” Poseidon continued. “Your friends have been picking through the wreckage to see what can be salvaged, but the hull is certainly beyond repair. The Argo II has sailed her final voyage.”

Poor Leo, Annabeth thought. He’d put his heart and soul into building that ship. Seeing it in ruins couldn’t possibly be easy for him. For that matter, after all they’d been through, all the crazy and fun moments they’d shared aboard that ship, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a little sad herself. It wasn’t quite Camp Half-Blood, but the Argo II had felt a little bit like home.

“She was a fine ship,” Poseidon said, his tone laced with anger. “And she deserves vengeance.” His trident appeared in his hand, and he stood taller, more imposing than before. “Polybotes thinks he can intrude on my territory with impunity, knowing that I cannot defeat him without the help of a demigod. He is an arrogant fool, and he will not see us coming, for he would never believe that I would work with a daughter of Athena. We can catch him off-guard if we attack swiftly.”

The look in Poseidon’s eyes now was one of pure, untamed power. She’d seen the same dark energy in Percy’s eyes when he’d fought Akhlys, and yet it was ten times as terrifying on the face of his father, a reminder that the one she was talking to was an unimaginably powerful being, who could raise the seas and level cities.

“Shall we?”

Chapter Text

The throne room of Olympus was far from the impressive sight it had been.

Being the most important of all rooms in the palace, Annabeth had, understandably, wanted to take her time redesigning the place, and with all that had happened in between, she had hardly had the chance to work on it. As a result, only the bare minimum repair work had been done thus far, restoring the room to a state that was functional if unspectacular. The U-shape in which they had sat previously had been extended haphazardly to incorporate Hades and Hestia, as well as some basic temporary seating for the minor gods who had been granted observer status on the Council.

The biggest change, though, were the thrones themselves. Where once they had seemed ornate and majestic, fitting for the gods’ own seats of power, now they had been replaced with rather simpler chairs, still rather elegant but nowhere near the standards of what had been destroyed.

Perhaps that was fitting in itself, though. There was an inescapable sense that Olympus was in decline, that external threats to their rule were more serious than they had ever been before and that the gods were no longer positioned to counter them. Even more so than that, there was a sense of dread hanging around the place, and the dire tidings Athena was set to bring today were hardly going to help. She had scarcely stopped thinking about Annabeth ever since she had tried, and failed, to contact her, and her mind rather unhelpfully kept drifting to all the horrible possibilities. Surely, surely the Fates were not so cruel as to take her daughter from her now, after all that had happened between them?

It was that sense of dread and decline, in a way, that had led Athena to call the emergency meeting that meant each and every one of those seats sat occupied today. She couldn’t help but feel that, while the throne room had seen better days, it had not seen many more important than this. War was coming, and as it stood they were not ready to respond.

“Shall we begin?” her father said. “Why have you summoned us here, daughter?”

Athena took a deep breath. “I called this meeting,” she began, “because there are developments in the situation with the giants that I believe the council ought to hear.”

She glanced round the council, seeing the expectant faces of the other gods waiting for her to elaborate.

“There are several signs that the giants may be planning something major very soon, and that Athens is the centre of their attention,” she said. “I have sensed the presence of small groups of monsters in the city, far more frequently than ever before, and particularly in the vicinity of the Acropolis. My suspicion is that they are scouts, sent by Porphyrion to scope the site in preparation for a potential assault.”

“Well, did you do anything about them?” Dionysus asked.

“The first time, nothing,” Athena answered. “To intervene would have tipped them off that we were aware of their presence, so I simply allowed them to continue their scouting. Thereafter, I enlisted Hecate’s assistance to cloud the important sites in the Mist.” She nodded at the goddess of magic. “With any luck, their subsequent trips will not have yielded any substantial results.”

“You mentioned other signs, though,” Demeter noted. “I cannot imagine you have called us here just because of a few groups of monsters, surely?”

“No,” Athena responded, grimly. “There is more grave news. Apollo informed me a few days ago that Rachel Dare, his Oracle, has not been receiving prophetic dreams recently. I believe this may be part of their preparations, to ensure that when they strike, we do not anticipate it.”

“They’ve messed with the Oracle?” a surprised Hermes asked, and Apollo nodded in response.

“The giants have been seen in and around my temple in Delphi,” he responded, his tone rather morose in comparison to his usual jovial self. “I suspect they’ve maybe found some way to interfere with the original source of the visions. If they have, it’s a big loss.”

“Do you have any good news, Athena?” Aphrodite asked, staring her down. “Or is it all doom and gloom?”

Athena sighed. “I am afraid that good news is currently hard to come by,” she said, her tone sombre. She was approaching the revelation she’d dreaded most. “Two days ago, I advised the demigods of the Argo II to proceed to Delphi, to investigate the situation of the Oracle. They arrived this morning, and - ”

“Hang on a minute,” Hephaestus interjected. “They were only in Epirus, right? What took them two whole days to get to Delphi from there?”

Athena glanced over at Poseidon, whose face was a mask of innocence.

“Circumstances outside of their control,” she said eventually. “Either way, that is far from the point. They arrived more than five hours ago now, and yet I have not been able to establish contact with any of them since, and I cannot locate their ship.” She stared down at the ornate tiles on the floor, admiring the pattern. “I fear for them.”

Athena had rarely heard a collective intake of breath so sharp, let alone seen a meeting devolve into chaos so rapidly. All she could make out through the hubbub were snippets – Aphrodite wailing Piper’s name, Ares vowing to destroy the giants himself, Hermes, full of disbelief, asking how such a thing was possible. And then –

“Enough!” Hades shouted, standing up, and instantly the room fell silent. When the Lord of the Dead spoke, people tended to listen. “Calm down, everyone. They’re not dead. None of them are. I would know.”

Poseidon nodded. “I may be able to shed some light on the situation,” he said, calmly. “Six hours ago, I sensed a fleet of ships set sail from near Delphi, in the direction of the Argo II. They were led by Polybotes, and I knew I had no chance of defeating him without a demigod by my side, so I allowed them to pass.” He scratched his beard, fidgeting restlessly. “The force was simply far too big for the demigods left aboard to fight off, with or without my assistance. But I managed to alert them without the giants realizing, by calming the sea to a standstill when Chrysaor attempted to steady it, and they chose to jump with weights tied around their ankles, abandoning ship to avoid capture. They were brought to Atlantis shortly afterwards, alive and well.”

Athena could barely believe what the sea god was saying. Surely only one of the six demigods who had been aboard the ship could have come up with an idea that outlandish and inspired?

“Which of them were on the ship?” Artemis asked gravely, and Athena found herself leaning forwards.

“Leo Valdez,” Poseidon said. “Piper McLean. And Annabeth Chase. What has happened of the others, I cannot say, but the ship was destroyed.”

For a second, Athena felt as though she were Atlas, and the weight of the sky had been lifted from her shoulders. Annabeth was alive. Her daughter, her genius, brilliant, daughter had found a way out of a situation in which any lesser human might simply have given up. And she had saved her friends, too.

But then, a troubling thought struck her. An entire fleet of ships was no small feat of organisation. To attack with such a force would have required planning, and Poseidon had said the fleet had already been near Delphi, a remarkable coincidence had they not known the Seven were coming… and the other three demigods had gone missing, precisely in the area that the giants had been spotted…

And suddenly, the devastating realization hit Athena with its full force, as she realized, filled with horror, what she had done.

“It was a trap,” she half-whispered. “It was a trap.”

“What do you mean, a trap?” Tyche asked.

“The giants knew they were coming,” Athena explained. “They expected this, expected that I would send the demigods to Delphi to investigate. The ambush by the fleet was part of their plan.” She felt rather sick. “And the other three…”

“Must have been taken by the giants,” Apollo finished gravely, as a hush descended on the throne room. “I think you’re right, Athena. Calliope was there this morning, but I haven’t been able to get hold of her since. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“Taken,” Zeus growled. “My son, taken. By Porphyrion. You have a lot to answer for, daughter.” He stood up from his throne, seeming to crackle with electricity, as the Master Bolt appeared in his hand, and Athena faltered. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had seen her father this angry, and it had never been directed at her before.

“Husband-” Hera started, but she was cut off by a raised hand from Zeus.

“You will let me speak,” he snarled viciously. “I have never been more disappointed in you, Athena. I thought you were better and wiser than this. You have defied my counsel wantonly and openly. You were ordered not to interfere, as was everyone else on this Council. I have watched each of you ignore me, time and time again. At any stage, I could have punished you for it, and yet I did not. Now, I see what my mercy has earned me.”

His eyes blazed with fury, as he stared down each of the members of the council, many of whom looked rather uncomfortable. Aphrodite seemed to be staring at the ground, as though it might swallow her up; Hephaestus had slumped back into his chair, seeming to shrink back. Even Ares looked rather less belligerent than usual.

“I had warned you,” Zeus continued. “Warned you, that the Fates would not take kindly to immortal meddling in mortal matters. See now, how they have chosen to punish us. The giants have their sacrifices. Gaea will wake. My son will be killed, and the age of Olympus will end. All because none of you had the respect and humility to listen to your king.”

Athena had never felt so completely at a loss for words. She could hardly think of a word to say in her own defence, but, surprisingly, it was a different voice that spoke up.

“Enough, brother,” Hades spoke, commandingly. He stood up, facing down Zeus directly. “Enough. The fact things are what they are doesn’t justify what you did. Don’t act like you’re some sort of genius now.”

“You dare-”

“Yes, I dare,” the Lord of the Underworld said, simply. “I dare to call your order exactly what it was. It was paranoid and short-sighted at best, and downright stupid at worst. We’re facing enemies whom we can’t beat without the help of the demigods, and your ‘solution’ was to cut off contact with them?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Everyone who ignored you was well within their rights to do so. You’d have us sleepwalking to defeat if you had your way.”

“I agree,” Poseidon said solemnly, standing up as well. “Our children are our greatest asset in this coming war. Recall the prophecy, the one that tells that they must be the ones to answer the call. Who would we be if we abandoned them to the will of Porphyrion rather than guiding their hands?” His voice was not raised, and yet it seemed to echo around the room, such was the power the sea god was radiating. “We must cease this folly of avoiding official contact with the demigods, and prepare for war jointly with them. It is the only way we may have any hope.”

Her father seemed almost lost for words, as he stared down both his brothers, united in their defiance.

“I will stand with Hades and Poseidon, too,” Hestia said quietly, as she, too, joined her brothers in standing, facing down Zeus. “We are a family, and the demigods are part of that, as Percy Jackson and his friends reminded us all so beautifully one year ago. And when things get tough, families band together. Leaving the children of Olympus to fight Grandmother alone would be the opposite of all we stand for, or at least what we ought to stand for.”

“Families band together, you say,” Zeus spat, seeming to turn purpler and purpler with each word. “What, then, am I to make of this, this… treason? I expected this from my brothers. They have always conspired against me at every turn. But you, Hestia?”

“There is no treason!” Hera cried furiously, before Hestia could respond. “There is only a war, one that needs winning, and one that apparently seems to be the least of your concerns, husband. What would you rather we do? Just sit here twiddling our thumbs while Porphyrion wakes the Earth Mother, as you did when he kidnapped me?” Her voice was as cold as ice, as she stood up as well. “Understand. Disloyalty is not something that anyone could ever accuse me of. So if you do not see the error of your ways when even I, your wife, must stand against you, then you are a lost cause.”

“A lost cause,” Zeus repeated sarcastically. “What next? I suppose you, too, wish to jump on this bandwagon, Demeter? No doubt you, like all our siblings, also desire to destabilize me?”

 “I agree with them, yes,” Demeter said. “But you aren’t listening, brother. Nobody on this council wants to destabilize your leadership. That is an honour you have earned many times over. But it comes with duties, too, duties that you seem to have entirely forgotten. Maybe you’re right. Maybe those who interfered have accelerated this war. But what has happened can’t be changed, and yet it seems to me that Athena has done more in the last week to prepare for this war than you have all year.” She looked over at Athena, who, despite her shock at what was unfolding in front of her, allowed herself a small smile. Demeter had always been kind to her. “Why, then, instead of trying to solve any of our problems, do you seem hell-bent on blaming her?” she questioned, standing up herself to face down her brother. “Why is this what we’re discussing right now, when we should be working out battle plans?”

Athena had never seen anything like it. All five of the oldest children of Kronos and Rhea now stood united as one against the sixth, facing him down, their faces cold and stony. The heat radiating from the floor of the throne room was so intense Athena felt as though she might melt, and indeed, cracks had started to appear in the tiles, where each of those elder gods stood. The rest of the gods were merely bystanders, and yet nobody came to Zeus’s support, even as he looked at them, desperate for somebody to back him.

“You would have me gone,” Zeus said, sounding rather hollow. “Whatever words you say, your actions demonstrate that clearly. You no longer desire for me to lead this Council.”

Hades shrugged. “I want competent leadership,” he said. “If that’s something you’re willing to provide, then by all means, let’s get back to business. But if you’re too focused on massaging your own ego to actually pay attention to what ‘s important, then by all means, feel free to leave. The grown-ups in this room can carry on talking while you throw your toys out of the pram.”

And in response, her father did the last thing she was expecting.

He disappeared.

The entire council seemed to fall into a stunned silence. What had they done? Had they just lost their commander in the middle of a war unlike any other? Who would lead the army of the gods now?

Those questions resonated silently around the entire room, in furtive looks and glances, looks of worry and disbelief. Eventually, the silence was broken by Hades once more, though he looked and sounded rather more downbeat.

“Shall we continue?”

___

“Let us end this meeting there,” Athena said. “I will keep the council appraised of all developments as and when they occur. We must stay vigilant if we are to win this war.”

“I agree,” Poseidon said. “I propose that the council should meet again at the same time tomorrow. The situation is likely to evolve rapidly, particularly with the planned counter-offensive.”

There was a general murmur of agreement, as the council members slowly started to rise from their seats, disappearing into thin air with the usual flashes of golden light. Athena turned to do the same, but, unexpectedly, she was interrupted by a voice.

“Athena,” Poseidon called. “A word, please?”

He walked over to her, as the rest of the gods filtered out of the throne room. Once the place was empty but for the two of them, he spoke again.

“Your father has proved to be as stubborn as we feared,” he said, sounding morose. “I had hoped to raise the issue under better circumstances. Now, it seems we will not get the chance.”

“No,” Athena said, shaking her head. What more was there to say that Poseidon did not know already, she thought to herself? He knew how catastrophic her father’s decision to abandon them could end up being. He knew how much weaker they were without him.

“We must not allow this to affect morale, however,” Poseidon said. “I believe he will return, once his temper has cooled. He is not so pig-headed as to simply abandon Olympus like that.”

“We need him now,” Athena said, worriedly. “The longer we are without him, the worse our chances are.”

“For now, that is not in our hands,” the sea god replied. “Which brings me to the next order of business. I am afraid it must be you who takes command of the forces of Olympus in his absence.”

Athena wondered if she’d heard Poseidon correctly. Him, of all the gods, suggesting that she lead them? After all that had happened between them?

“Do not get me wrong,” Poseidon admitted, his expression grim. “I would prefer that it were not you, given our history. But I believe it is the most prudent choice. Your father will not take kindly to any one of his siblings taking over given what has happened today, and like it or not, we will need to convince him to return. We cannot afford to give further credibility to the idea that this was a plot to oust him. And of those who remain, you are the only feasible leader, it seems. No other member of the council has been quite so involved in the planning thus far, and you are by far the best-equipped for command.”

Everything Poseidon said made sense, in theory. She had already taken an active role in the war effort, after all, not to mention her involvement with the Seven and with the quest to transport her statue. And yet…

“I am surprised, my lord,” Athena said eventually. “Surprised that you would want me to lead, given all that you accused me of yesterday. Surprised that you believe your son would ever accept my leadership. What has changed?”

Poseidon sighed heavily. “I believe you have,” he said. “To stand before the council and admit to your mistake, knowing you would incur your father’s wrath, that displayed a humility I have not seen from you in millennia. While it will certainly take far more than that for me to forget all that you have done, the idea of you being chair is no longer quite as unpalatable as it was once. As for Triton…” he winced. “He will be less than happy, I imagine. But his loyalty to me, to Olympus, will always outweigh any grudges he bears. The sea will stand behind you, if reluctantly.”

“I…” Athena couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. She was the goddess of battle and strategy, yes, but commanding Olympus was a whole different challenge. The responsibility for whether the gods survived or were destroyed would fall squarely on her shoulders.

“If that is what the council desires, then it would be an honour to take temporary command,” she said finally. “I will serve to the best of my ability.”

“Excellent,” Poseidon said. “I shall take my leave, then. I will consult with the rest of the council about this matter once I get a chance, but for now, Polybotes demands my full and undivided attention.”

Athena nodded. “Please keep Annabeth safe,” she said sincerely. “I cannot bear the thought of losing her, not after all that has happened.”

“I will,” Poseidon said, smiling a little. “But I doubt she will need it. From what I have seen, your daughter is a remarkably capable young woman.”

He disappeared in a flash of golden light, leaving Athena alone in the throne room for the second time in two days.

Chapter Text

In her dreams, Reyna was in New Rome once more, standing in front of a small red building that had meant so many different things to her, at different times.

The first time she’d been here had been her very first day at Camp Jupiter, after all the endless months of running. She’d come here, prayed to her mother to thank her for leading her here. That day had felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders, a chance to make a place home at last. But when she’d prayed, there had been no response.

Every year, without fail, she came here, on the 5th of October, another day she could never forget for entirely different reasons. Who else could she confide that secret in, after all? If the legion knew she was a murderer, she would have been exiled long ago. So she came here, prayed to the only one other than Hylla who might be able to listen. But each time, there had been no response.

She had been here after she had become praetor, raised up on a shield after defending Camp Jupiter against the forces of the Titans. Once again, she’d prayed to her mother for help. She was just fourteen at the time, with no experience in fighting wars, let alone in command. In other words, she was hopelessly out of her depth. But once again, when she’d hoped for a helpful word in her ear, there had been no response.

And the most recent time? That had been just a few weeks ago, when she had been charged with throwing the spear that would signify the declaration of war. Reyna had wanted so desperately to hear her mother’s voice in her head, telling her to stop. The legion had been out for blood, but she had had this uneasy feeling, one that said she was about to make a colossal mistake at a critical time. But when she’d turned to Bellona for guidance, there had been no response.

But this time, things were different, dream or not, because there was a woman standing on the steps of the temple. Had she not known better, Reyna might well have mistaken her for Hylla, such was the likeness between the two; not just in appearance, but in mannerisms, too, in the air of confidence with which they held themselves. Tall and resplendent in full Roman combat armour, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, Bellona was the very image of power.

“Reyna,” she said gently, as she approached her daughter. “Walk with me.”

“Mother,” Reyna said, bowing respectfully to the goddess, as she followed her down the hill. “I am honoured. You have never shown yourself to me before.”

“I have often wanted to, believe me,” Bellona said, smiling sadly. “The day you became praetor was the hardest of all. It took every ounce of resolve I had not to congratulate you on your achievement that day, having seen how far you had come. But we gods must be careful in how we interact with mortals like you, and that applies to none more so than myself. Otherwise… well, you have seen the consequences for yourself.”

“You’re talking about Father.”

Bellona nodded. “He was… I have not met many like him,” she admitted. “I am not easily drawn to mortals, as you know. Hylla was my first demigod child in centuries. But he was a brilliant mind, so brave and unselfish, and with an ironclad sense of duty. It is a deep regret of mine that you never knew the true Julian, that paranoia consumed him the way it did. He had always dreamed of being a father.”

“I saw some of that,” Reyna recalled. “When I was really young, I remember he went through phases. Some days, he was so kind and loving. Others…”

She winced. Some of her earliest memories were of Hylla being beaten by their father for attempting to escape her room, as she watched on in fear, too young to truly understand what was happening. Over time, those episodes had become more and more frequent, and the punishments had no longer been restricted to just Hylla either, though she had still suffered the worst of it. By the time she was seven or eight, the good days had been a thing of the past, and the ghosts had started to appear, a physical manifestation of the anxiety that had consumed their father.

“I am sorry,” Bellona said sincerely. “No child ought to experience what you did. The truth was, the second time I returned to him, I let my guard down, allowed myself to see him as an equal. That was a fatal mistake. I inadvertently showed him visions of the future, of your great destiny, forgetting that he was but mortal and his mind was not built to handle such things. I realized what I had done immediately, but the damage was done. He was already on an irreversible path to mania.”

Reyna swallowed hard. For years, she’d longed for the chance to hear her mother discuss what had happened to her father, but now… these were painful memories, legacies of a past she’d buried deep inside herself, and she wasn’t sure she could handle them resurfacing. The scars, both physical and mental, still marked her, as much as she wanted to let them go.

“If I may ask, my lady,” Reyna said hesitantly, “what has changed, then? Why have you chosen to visit me now, if it is so dangerous?”

Bellona sighed. “Out of compulsion,” she answered heavily. “I came to give you a warning, Reyna. One that, in a strange way, relates heavily to the topic of Julian. You see, every year, I hear you ask the same question of me, and thus far I have avoided responding. But now, it is time for it to finally be answered.”

She looked Reyna directly in the eye, and the praetor found her heart was suddenly beating rather fast, even in the dream. She hoped it wouldn’t wake her up.

“The idea of duty is the lifeblood of Rome, Reyna,” Bellona said. “More specifically, the idea of duty above all else. All members of the legion have that notion instilled in them from a young age, but very few understand its meaning. Most will never be in a situation where choosing to do one’s duty is difficult, after all. But you have been in one such situation already before. You understand what the meaning of sacrifice is.”

“You’re saying-”

“-that in doing what you did, you demonstrated a sense of duty of the highest order,” Bellona said, finishing Reyna’s sentence for her. “You knew that what you did would haunt you forever, but you still acted decisively. That is commendable.”

“I acted out of pure anger,” Reyna said, shaking her head. “There was no concept of duty about it, and I didn’t think about the consequences. I just wanted it to stop.”

“Wasn’t there?” Bellona asked. “What of your sister, who lay there unconscious before the mania? Did you not fulfil your obligation to protect her, as any good sibling should?” She put a hand on Reyna’s shoulder. “You knew the path you were on led inevitably to her death, whether that day or further down the line. Your actions saved her life, and quite probably your own. Certainly in the future, if not immediately.”

“But at the expense of Father’s,” Reyna said bitterly, fighting back the urge to cry. “Ultimately, what I did was patricide.”

“No, Reyna,” Bellona replied. “Your father’s blood is on my hands, and mine alone. The thing that remained was a pale shadow of Julian, and killing it was an act of mercy. In that sense, you fulfilled your duty to him as well, freeing him from the miserable, wretched form that had become his prison.” She looked down at Reyna, her aura rather softer than it had been. “He watches you from Elysium, you know. I ensured that he achieved that much, as justice for what I did to him. And he is eternally proud of his daughter, who took on such a heavy burden in order to grant him release.”

Reyna was fighting a rather tough battle to hold back the tears, but hold them back she did. She didn’t want her mother to see her crying the very first time they ever met. Although she certainly felt weak, it wouldn’t be very Roman of her to let it show.

“You mentioned a warning,” she managed, shakily.

“I did,” Bellona affirmed. “In the coming weeks, you will find that doing your duty becomes harder than ever before, even compared to that decision that was thrust upon you. I am here to remind you to keep sight of your objective, and to tell you that if that goal requires you to do things you find unpalatable, to swallow your misgivings and do them anyway. That is the warning I came to give you.”

“What do you mean, unpalatable?” Reyna asked nervously. “What must I do that is so difficult?”

“You will understand, in time,” Bellona replied. “But for now, I fear I have told you all that the Fates will allow. I will only add this: peace requires sacrifice, just as war does. There is no golden route to a perfect ending. Do not be afraid to make decisions that may seem bad in isolation if they serve the overarching purpose. Restoring order and peace to Rome must be your sole priority.”

Reyna knew she would get no more out of Bellona than that. That was the nature of the gods, forever cryptic and hard to interpret correctly. “I understand,” she replied. “I will keep that in mind.”

“You must,” Bellona said. “That is all I have to tell you, and indeed all we have time for, since you will wake very soon. Do you have any questions for me?”

Reyna hesitated. “I have one, my lady,” she said. “Though it does not relate to your advice, per se. I spoke to Athena, and…” She paused, wondering how to frame the question.

“She told you of my origins?” Bellona surmised, and Reyna nodded. “Minerva and I were united as one, once. That much is true. Whether that will ever be the case again… she certainly desires it, of course. But I do not know if I do, nor if it is even possible. The past few thousand years have seen our identities diverge rather drastically, and the wisdom of holding on to a past so far removed is… debatable, let us say. But those are matters largely beyond your understanding, child.” She smiled down at Reyna, who understood that she was not being rebuked for asking. “Is there anything else you wish to ask me, before I leave you?”

Reyna thought about it for a second. She’d spent years rehearsing how her first meeting with her mother would go, made a list of thousands of questions she wanted to ask. And yet, when the time came, she found she had nothing more to say.

“Excellent,” Bellona said, taking her silence for an answer. “Then I shall take my leave. Wake now, my dear. You have much work to do ahead.”

Gradually, the image of New Rome dissolved, as Reyna’s eyes slowly crept open.

___

“Whoa, easy there,” Coach Hedge said, putting a hand on her arm as Reyna tried to sit up. “You took a few pretty hefty whacks back there, kid. How are you feeling?”

As her eyes adjusted to the light, Reyna saw that she was in some sort of… room? At least, there was certainly a roof over her head, and she was lying in a bed, neither of which she remembered being the case. She didn’t particularly remember taking any heavy blows, either, though her head felt as though it might split and her body ached all over, evidence that the Coach was probably right.

“Like I’ve been hit by a train,” Reyna groaned, very slowly and deliberately lifting her head ever so slightly. Even that small action was incredibly painful. “Where are we?”

“Aboard the Aquila, en route to New York,” Nico answered. “We’re about four hours out of Southampton.” He hesitated. “How much do you remember?”

Reyna racked her brains. She remembered being in London, at the museum. Circe had shown up to try and convince her to abandon the quest, and then…? She vaguely remembered a fight, maybe?

“Not much,” she said in reply, having to force the words out. Her throat felt rather tight. “Everything is quite… hazy. I suppose Circe did something to me, then?”

“Difficulty remembering details isn’t uncommon after blunt-force head trauma,” a voice said. Reyna tilted her head to the right, where she saw a vision of a rather concerned-looking blond-haired boy whom she had never seen before, one of the Iris messages she’d become familiar with of late. “Hi, Reyna. I’m Will Solace, son of Apollo and a healer. Coach Hedge called me for some medical advice. As for what happened, that’s probably something Nico knows better than me.”

He winked knowingly at the son of Hades, who scowled. “I slammed your head into the ground,” he said. “A little harder than intended, apparently. We think that might have resulted in a skull fracture, and possibly a delayed concussion too. You’ve not been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes since we left the Museum.”

“You slammed my head into the ground?” Reyna said, blinking.

Will laughed. “I did Nico a bit of a disservice there,” he said. “According to the Coach, you’d have been hit in the head by a marble spear otherwise, and my medical expertise suggests that that probably wouldn’t have been a good thing. You’re pretty lucky he was there.”

Hedge nodded. “Kid’s a hero,” he said. “And so are you. Took some serious guts to give up your strength like that, while that statue was strangling you. We owe you big time.”

“We almost lost you, Reyna,” Nico said. “I could feel your life force fading. Another few seconds, and you’d have been choked to death by Apollo’s statue. You may not remember it, but you saved us all.”

Reyna coughed. “I suppose that puts us even, then,” she replied. Memories were slowly trickling back into her mind, blurry pictures of total carnage in the museum. She must have been running on pure adrenaline, to be able to fight despite the injury.

“Well,” Will said, “depends on your definition of even. You managed to save Nico without cracking his skull, after all.” Reyna glanced at the son of Hades, who was clearly trying not to laugh, despite the sullen expression on his face. “Any blurry vision? Headaches? Dizziness?”

“Not at the moment,” Reyna said. “I think I’m actually starting to remember what happened, but I just feel completely exhausted, and everything hurts. Even getting out of this bed would be difficult.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” Will replied reassuringly. “It sounds like what you did used up a lot of energy, which is probably why you’re feeling drained now. It would also explain why you can’t stay awake for very long.” Reyna nodded slightly, keeping her neck as still as possible. “All in all, I reckon you’ll be fine. The fact you’re awake and conscious is a good sign, and you don’t seem to be experiencing any major concussion symptoms just yet. That means there’s probably no bleeding on the brain, so regular doses of ambrosia and nectar should do the trick in terms of healing any potential fracture. As for your throat, there’s definitely some bad bruising and inflammation, but as long as you’re not having breathing difficulties, the ambrosia and nectar should take care of that too. In the meantime, I’d advise taking painkillers as and when needed, and making sure you’re getting as much sleep as possible.” He looked at Nico and Hedge. “Make sure she isn’t unsupervised when she’s out of bed. There’s always some risk of her becoming disoriented or passing out, given the circumstances.”

“Will do,” Nico cracked, and the son of Apollo groaned. He must have heard that joke a thousand times, if not more, judging from the reaction. “How’s the situation at Camp?”

“Tense,” Will replied. “Really tense. Apparently Thalia went to try and negotiate with the Romans earlier, but they weren’t exactly willing to listen. Rumour has it she punched their leader in the face.”

“If that was Octavian, it was well deserved,” Reyna growled. “When I return…”

“It definitely hasn’t helped things, though,” Will said anxiously. “We’re preparing for a fight, but the numbers disadvantage is enormous. I don’t think anyone is under any illusions about how bad things are. If you don’t make it here in time, we’re probably dead.”

Reyna sighed. Between Circe, and the giants, and Gaea, it felt like there were enemies everywhere, as far as the eye could see. And yet it was the one she’d inadvertently created that might be the most dangerous of all.

“I am sorry,” she said. “It was my decision to bring the legion to your Camp. I should have foreseen that this would happen, knowing Octavian and his ambitions. He has always wanted power, regardless of the cost.” She tilted her neck towards the Iris-message despite the pain, getting a better view of Will’s face. “I imagine you probably hate me.”

“Me? No,” Will replied. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a patient. It’s not my place to judge.”

“And the rest of the Greek camp?” Reyna asked. “I cannot imagine I am popular, given the danger you face.”

“You’re not exactly flavour of the month right now, no,” Will confirmed. “But I wouldn’t dwell on it, Reyna. People’s opinions can change very quickly, and we all know you’re basically our only hope. If you manage to save us all, I’m not sure anyone will remember what happened before that.”

She inclined her head in a slight nod. That made sense. “Thank you, Will,” she said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Any time,” Will replied. “I’ll give you a call this time tomorrow, just to follow up. In the meantime, take it easy.”

“We’ll make sure she does,” Nico promised. “You should tell your dad to keep his statues under control, too. Can’t have them going round strangling people.”

Will laughed. “I’ll let him know,” he replied, blue eyes twinkling. “Oh, and Coach? Just thought I’d let you know that Mellie’s probably due any day now. She’s definitely a bit nervous, but she’s in good hands. A few of the nymphs who have experience with childbirth are on hand to help out, just in case, too. We’ll make sure your baby is delivered safely, one way or another.”

“Make sure of it,” the satyr replied, looking rather uneasy. Reyna hadn’t known he had a pregnant wife at Camp Half-Blood, but suddenly, she had a newfound respect for the Coach. To leave all that behind for the sake of their quest… if anything typified the sense of duty and sacrifice Bellona had been so keen to emphasize, it was him. The satyr was remarkably selfless. “I can’t be there, so you guys are all I have. Don’t leave anything to chance.”

“We won’t,” the son of Apollo replied. “Don’t worry about it. The second she goes into labour, we’ll know.”

“That’s good. Also, I don’t know if you can, but it’d be good if you could get your aunt involved,” Hedge said, fidgeting restlessly. “Please. I want her to be as safe as possible.”

“I have been praying to Lady Artemis, actually,” Will said. “Just waiting to hear back from her, or from Dad. In the meantime, rest assured. Your wife is being taken care of. Everyone here is fully focused on keeping her and your baby safe.”

“Thanks, kid,” Coach Hedge replied. “Keep me updated, though. If she goes into labour, I need to know.”

“Absolutely,” Will assured him. “Good luck, guys. We’re all keeping our fingers crossed that you’ll pull through.”

He waved his hand, and the connection dissolved.

Chapter Text

The edge of Tartarus was nothing like the rest, and yet it might just be the scariest part of all.

For one, over the last few hours, the hazy skies of Tartarus had slowly been replaced by total darkness. Were it not for Bob’s powers, Percy wouldn’t have been able to see his own feet, but even the Titan, glowing bright as a star, seemed unable to truly pierce the gloom. His light had managed to illuminate an area of a few feet around them, but beyond that, the shadows were all-consuming, leaving Bob as the sole tiny beacon of light in a vast, endless sea of black.

For another, the uncomfortably warm, heavy, fetid air that Percy had gotten so used to had given way to air that was clean and cool. So cool, in fact, that Percy found himself shivering. The stench of blood and poison no longer filled Percy’s lungs every time he took a breath, which was a welcome relief, though he had become so accustomed to it that it almost felt alien not to cough and splutter every so often. As for the ambience, the Pit had seemed quiet before, but now he could barely hear his own footsteps, so oppressive was the silence. Any sound seemed to fade almost instantly, swallowed up by the void around them.

No, there was no sign of life here whatsoever. In fact, there was no sign that there had ever been life here. The whole area was desolate and unspoiled, and Percy felt a little like an intruder, unwelcome in the eerie tranquility of it all. It was like a lost corner of the universe, a cold vacuum where all the laws of time and space seemed to not apply. Frankly, it made the Mansion of Night seem positively friendly in comparison.

“I sense the cliff,” Bob said, and Percy exhaled. Never had four words been quite so much of a relief to him. “We are very close to our journey’s end.”

Once again, the son of Poseidon found himself thanking his lucky stars for Bob, whose company was probably single-handedly responsible for him still being sane. The Titan hadn’t been quite himself since the fight against Kampê, however. Every step seemed to take a little more effort; every breath he took seemed a little more strained. It was obvious he was feeling the after-effects of the injury he’d suffered, no matter how much he gritted his teeth and soldiered on. But soldier on he had, and they’d been walking for hours more since Kampê, watching the landscape become increasingly bleak and dark, with no idea how much further they had to travel until now.

And then Percy saw the cliff for himself.

Well, “saw” wasn’t quite the right word to use. It was so dark here that Percy hadn’t seen much of anything for a while. But there was an immense, dark shadow blotting out Bob’s light almost completely, a shadow that could only belong to the cliff in question. Indeed, Percy was able to confirm that a few seconds later when Bob got close enough to illuminate the sheer rock face, and he heard the rushing water for the first time.

They were here at last.

After what felt like days of walking, a journey so brutal and soul-sapping Percy had felt as though it was sure to kill him, they had finally reached the true edge of the Pit. Over that cliff, where the River Styx flowed down into the waterfall before them, was the way out of this accursed place. The way back to the Sun and the stars and the sea and cities and green grass and blue skies and white snow and birds and fish and people and all that was beautiful. The way back to Annabeth.

Percy wanted to cry.

In fact, as he walked over shakily to Bob’s side, he realized there was a tear rolling down his cheek. Then two, then three, until he found himself well and truly sobbing.

“We made it,” he whispered.

“We did,” Bob replied. “But-”

“We made it,” Percy repeated, laughing incredulously as he buried his face in his hands. “We made it, Bob. This is the way out. We’re here.”

“Congratulations, Percy Jackson,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned around abruptly. Standing there, on the shore of the river, was a woman, dressed in purple and black and seeming to glow with an unearthly light that bathed her entire surroundings. Her dress seemed to be shrouded in mist, smoke clinging to her form, and her eyes were black as obsidian, piercing through him as though he weren’t there.

As for her voice, it was all too familiar to Percy, unfortunately. For the last few hours, it had been echoing around his head, telling him about the debt he owed her, and Percy had been dreading the thought of her coming to collect on it.

Seeing Styx here was far from a surprise to Percy, given he was about to jump into her river, of course. Nonetheless, the sight of the goddess came with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was entirely at her mercy, and he knew it.

“Lady Styx,” he said, nervously, bowing as respectfully as he could given how stiff his knees were. “What brings you here?”

“You, Percy Jackson,” Styx said simply. “I have long wanted to meet you. You intrigue me in every way. After all, even your very existence is the product of a broken oath.”

“There’s not really much I can do about that,” Percy mumbled. “Wasn’t my fault.”

Styx chuckled in response. “It was not,” she replied. “And I will not hold it against you. Your father, on the other hand, received a rather painful reminder about consequences as a result of his transgression, one that haunts him to this day.”

Percy wondered what the punishment had been, but he didn’t dare ask.

“The circumstances of your birth are not all that makes you remarkable, however,” Styx continued. “After all, no other mortal has been the subject of two Great Prophecies, slain gods and giants and Titans alike, survived the Pit for so long. You were handed a great and terrible destiny by the Fates, and at every step you have embraced it. That is extraordinary.”

“Uh, thanks?” Percy said. He didn’t really know where Styx was going with this, but every word was making him increasingly anxious.

“What you are about to do is beyond dangerous,” Styx added, ignoring him. “The Curse of Achilles is so magically powerful that most mortals would collapse under its weight. Indeed, hundreds have tried, only for their souls to be consumed by the river. For someone who already bears it to attempt to take it on again… that is unheard of, and for good reason.”

“But it’s possible?” Percy asked hopefully. “There’s a way out?”

“There is,” Styx confirmed. “You will need to use your command over the water to climb the waterfall in front of you, out of the Pit and into the Underworld. This time, I will not stand in your way when it comes to control over the river. The trial of the Curse is difficult enough as it is, and you will be tested to your limits. But if you survive, then at the top of the cliff, you will find your escape.”

“What exactly is the Curse?” Percy enquired, curiously. “I mean, I’m not invulnerable any more, but I guess there’s more to it than that?”

“Much more,” Styx said, her eyes gleaming as though Percy were a test subject in some experiment of hers. “Invulnerability is part of it, yes. But the true gift, and curse, lies in how you survive the river in the first place.”

“A mortal anchor.”

“Indeed. You must form a bond with someone or something, a bond held together by emotion of such power that it can overcome the river and keep you mortal, but the side-effects of such a connection can be extreme and unexpected,” Styx explained. “Take the case of Achilles. For him, it was the power of his mother’s love that sustained him, to which he was forever bound thereafter. When he died, it broke Thetis. She has never been the same, nor will she be. She could not die, of course, but the Curse she gave her son permanently destroyed a part of her when it shattered.”

“What about Luke?” Percy asked.

“He was driven by his hatred and resentment towards the gods, a force so strong it made him able to survive the pull of the river,” Styx said. “He chose to bind himself to the Crooked One, who convinced him it was the only way to achieve the change he so desperately desired. Had he not done so, his body would not have been able to withstand Lord Kronos, and he would have burned to ashes. But as you know, the Fates had long since cut that particular string. That choice of host was doomed to fail from the very beginning, though Kronos did not know it. And indeed, the moment Luke lost faith in the Titan King, the connection weakened enough to allow him to destroy them both.”

Percy glanced over at Bob, who seemed in disbelief. His own mind was swimming too, for that matter, particularly as he was starting to have a pretty good idea of what Styx’s answer to his next question was going to be.

“And me?” he asked nonetheless, biting his lip nervously.

“To that, you already know the answer,” Styx replied. “You know whose love gave you the will to resist the river. You know with whom you formed a permanent connection that day. You know which life string is tied to yours forever and always.”

Annabeth.

Without warning, Percy fell to the ground, clutching his head, which felt as though it were about to split. And suddenly she was there in front of him again, her blonde hair tucked away in her Yankees cap, wearing her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. “Hold on, Seaweed Brain,” she said, as she offered him her hand. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

And then she was behind him, screaming in pain as she stepped in front of the poisoned knife that would have killed him. As it lodged itself in her flesh and blood poured down her shirt, Percy recalled what she’d said afterwards, when he’d asked why she did it. “I just had this feeling you were in danger.” Had it been more than a feeling? Deep down, had she known all along?

But he, too, had felt the same connection, hadn’t he? He was back in the throne room of Olympus this time, listening as Zeus offered him a chance at immortality. The opportunity to leave all the perils of life as a demigod behind was an honour he had no right to want to reject after everything he’d been through. One look at her, though, and he’d instantly known he had to refuse, that there was no way he could ever leave her behind. She meant more than that.

“The power of the Curse is such that it transcends all else,” Styx added, her voice breaking through the sequence of visions. “When you chose her as your mortal anchor, and she accepted, you became two halves of a whole. It is a connection so powerful that it cannot be broken against your will.”

Still the memories continued, as the puzzle pieces slowly fell into place in Percy’s mind. He was waking up at the Wolf House again, with no recollection of anything but a single name. Annabeth. Percy hadn’t had the faintest clue who she was, but every time he thought of her name, he’d felt an unexplainable rush of warmth, an urge to find her. Was that his soul longing for its counterpart, telling him what his brain couldn’t?

Then he was in Rome again, hanging on to that ledge in vain, knowing Annabeth’s weight was sure to drag them both down into the Pit. She’d urged him to let go, to save himself, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He recalled how, instead, he’d repeated her own promise back to her. “You’re not getting away from me,” he’d said, and he’d meant it, too, with every ounce of feeling in his body. They might live, or they might die, but they would do so by each other’s side. They had to.

“Without that bond, you would never have survived this journey,” Styx continued. “Mortal souls are not capable of withstanding the horrors of the Pit for as long as you have. You would have lasted two or three days, at best, before your mind collapsed under the weight of all you had seen. But the connection between you and the daughter of Athena gave you both the strength to endure, allowed you both to access reserves of power that you barely knew you had.”

The flood of visions continued. He saw Akhlys rake her claws across Annabeth’s torso once more, felt that same surge of anger that had felt so alien and yet so right. He heard the little voice again, telling him to punish the cruel, traitorous goddess for daring to wound Annabeth. And in the heat of that moment, Percy had found power he had never known before, just as Styx had said. Akhlys had hurt the one he cared about more than anything else in the universe, and she had paid the price.

And finally, he saw himself back at the Doors once more, as they stood alone and hopelessly outnumbered by the ocean of monsters before them. He’d had plenty of time to dwell on that moment on the long walk through Tartarus, and the one thing that had puzzled him was why he hadn’t been more scared. By any metric, he had been in incredible danger, and yet he’d felt confident enough to swear an oath to Annabeth that he’d see her again. Where had that belief come from?

But now he knew. He was meant to be with Annabeth, and Annabeth with him, and nothing could ever keep them apart for long. After all, what could stand between him and the girl for whom he’d walk through hell and back?

“You understand now,” Styx said, as the visions ended, and Percy found himself back on the bank of the river, staring back at the goddess. “It was important that you saw, that you realized the nature of the bond. It will be critical if you are to survive the climb.”

“The connection,” Percy said, hesitantly. He stumbled over the words in his head, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “What… I mean, how does it work? What does it mean for our life strings to be tied together?”

“It means your fates depend upon one another,” Styx replied. “The two of you will always feel drawn to each other, naturally gravitate towards the other. When one is without the other, both will feel incomplete, just as you do now. When one is in danger, the other will react instinctively to protect them, knowing that the safety of one depends on the safety of both. Each of you derives strength from the other, but the longer you are apart the weaker you shall become. In short, you are separated in body and mind, but united in soul.”

“And the connection can’t be broken.”

“Not if you do not wish it,” Styx affirmed. “Only I have the power to release you from your bond and free you from the Curse while you are alive, and even then I cannot do so against your will. Otherwise, the connection will last as long as the force of love that sustains it, or as long as you both live.”

“And that’s… well, I guess, what happens now?” Percy asked. “I mean, if I already have this bond with Annabeth, how does it work? What happens if I choose her as my anchor again?”

“I do not know,” Styx said. “As I said, what you are about to attempt is entirely without precedent. I think it is safe to assume that, should you survive, your connection with the daughter of Athena will be stronger than ever before, but how that will manifest even I do not know. The magic of souls is far beyond my understanding, let alone yours. I am merely the guardian of the Curse.”

Percy nodded. “Uncharted territory, then.” The thought of that no longer scared him quite as much as it might have a month ago. In that time, he’d done quite a few things that no mortal had ever done before, after all.

“Indeed,” Styx said gravely. “But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Before we can get to that stage, you have a debt you must repay.”

Percy swallowed thickly. He had been hoping somehow that Styx had forgotten, or else that she had decided to let him off, even if it was wishful thinking. “And what do you want from me?” he asked nervously.

Chapter Text

“And what do you want from me?” Percy asked nervously.

“Your co-operation,” Styx said. “And that of your companion. I require that you both accept the judgement I am about to pronounce, without any attempt to resist.”

Judgement?

“You must understand,” Styx said, as her hollow, jet-black eyes turned to the Titan stood next to him, “that I take no joy in this task that I have been given. Nor am I here to arbitrate on right and wrong, for it is not my place to do so. But I am the keeper of oaths, and when one is broken I must punish the offender, regardless of what I personally believe.”

A broken oath? Percy looked over at Bob in disbelief, wondering what Styx could possibly mean by that. None of what the goddess was saying made any sense.

“I cannot say I had not expected this,” Bob murmured quietly, speaking for the first time in what seemed like forever. His face seemed calm on the surface. That had to be a good sign, Percy thought hopefully. “Rest assured, my lady, I will accept my judgement.”

“What on earth is going on?” Percy demanded. “What oath’s been broken?”

Bob sighed. “Before the Second War, Kronos made us swear a vow of loyalty,” he explained. “I swore that I would never raise my weapon against my brothers, just as the others did. But when Annabeth was at the mercy of Koios, unarmed and helpless…”

Percy felt the blood drain from his face, as he recalled what had happened. “No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Bob answered. “Part of me had hoped that my dip in the Lethe would release me from the burden of Iapetus’ oaths, that I would be free to live as Bob without that painful legacy. But I knew, deep down, that my reckoning would come some day. And Annabeth did, too.”

“She knew?”

Bob nodded. “And she feared for me, as well. She worried that Lady Styx would punish me severely, and it seems she was right. But I do not regret it. She is alive, and that alone was enough to make it worthwhile.”

He looked up at Styx, whose expression was a little softer. “What is my sentence, my lady?”

As Percy looked at Styx himself, he knew suddenly what she was going to say, and his heart dropped like a stone.

“Death,” came the simple reply.

For a second, that one word hung in the air, hovering like a dark, pallid cloud over them all. And then-

“No!” Percy burst out. “No!”

“Percy-” Bob started, but Percy cut him off.

“You can’t do this!” Percy pleaded. “Please. It’s not fair. He’s not Iapetus anymore. That oath didn’t belong to him.”

Styx’s lip curled. “He knew of the oath, and he broke it anyway. I have no choice in the matter.”

“But he doesn’t deserve to die!” Percy cried desperately. “He saved Annabeth’s life. He’s a hero, even if he broke a stupid oath. You can’t punish him for that!”

“I must,” Styx said, her tone rather pitying. “There can be no exceptions. As I said, my duty is not to be some arbiter of morals. It is to punish oathbreakers, regardless of circumstance.”

“Percy-” Bob tried again, putting his arm on his shoulder, but Percy pushed him aside.

“I’ll fight you,” he said suddenly, pulling Riptide from his pocket. “We’ll fight you. I’ve killed goddesses before. You don’t scare me. If you think I’m just going to take this lying down, you’ve got another thing coming.”

His voice grew more confident with every word. Not only was he stronger now than ever before, but he had a Titan on his side now, even if he was badly injured. They would surely have at least a fighting chance, and that was better than nothing.

“Percy!” Bob yelled, and finally the son of Poseidon faltered. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Bob shout like that before. “There will be no fighting here. I will accept my punishment as it is given.”

Percy stared at the Titan in disbelief. “But, Bob-“ he started, but this time it was Bob’s turn to hold up a hand.

“Listen to me, Percy,” Bob said softly. “Death is one of the kindest sentences that Styx could have pronounced. In sentencing me to die, she has granted me the mercy of release. There are much worse things in this universe than that.”

“But you’ll reform, won’t you?” Percy asked hopefully. “It won’t be permanent?”

He looked up at Bob, but it was Styx who answered. “His essence will be destroyed, the remnants of his soul scattered in the river,” she said, her voice gentle and yet bitingly cruel. “I cannot see how there will be much possibility of reformation, at least in the near term. It is likelier that he will simply fade.”

“No,” Percy said, stunned, as he turned to Bob again, who didn’t look surprised in the slightest. “You can’t do that. Not like this. Not after everything!” He felt a tear form in his eye. “Please!”

“There is no choice,” Bob replied calmly. “As I said, it is time for the unhappy tale of Iapetus to end, Percy. He deserves no more than to be consigned to the history books, and slowly be forgotten by all. That is what his cruelty has earned him.”

“And Bob?” Percy choked out. “What about him? He doesn’t deserve to be forgotten. He’s good, and kind, and… and...”

Sea green met silver, as Percy looked Bob directly in the eye. He scrabbled around in his head for what words to say, searching for anything that could possibly convince Bob to change his mind, but he knew it was probably pointless. The Titan’s decision had already been made.

“My lady, would you allow us a few minutes?” Bob asked gently.

Styx nodded, and Percy followed Bob as he walked away from the river bank. Eventually, he sat down gingerly, gesturing for the son of Poseidon to sit next to him, which he did.

“Percy,” Bob said warmly, ruffling his hair. Once again, his light was the sole source of illumination in the sea of darkness. “You are so, so brave. I was aeons old before you were born, but in all that time, I have never met another like you. You shine with the power of good, of heroism, in everything you do. And before I met you and Annabeth, I cannot say I had ever truly known friendship. Do not think it does not hurt me to leave you behind like this, knowing that you will have taken up your spot on the Isles of the Blest long before I may reform, if I even get the chance.”

“Then why?” Percy whispered, feeling a lump in his throat. “Why let yourself die like this? There has to be another way.”

There is always another way, he heard Nyx say in his head, though the words felt a little empty. In fact, there was a different line ringing in his ears as well, one that filled him with a sinking feeling. An oath to keep with a final breath. Percy didn’t want to admit it, but in the context of his promise to Styx, that line was starting to make all too much sense, and he hated it.

“Fighting fate is never wise, Percy,” Bob said. “We could seek to escape from here, of course. Quite possibly between us we could overpower Lady Styx, too, though it is not a given in my current condition. But even if we did, what then?” He let the question hang for a second. “You will never escape the Pit if you attempt it. You know that the Fates would not allow it. Is that what you want? To never return to the girl for whom your soul yearns?”

Percy stared at the floor in silence. He knew Bob was right, even if it hurt more than anything to accept it.

“My death will be a gift,” Bob said. “Already, my body fails me. Look.” He unlaced his boot, revealing an angry weal where Kampê’s tail had struck him. The skin had turned a sickly shade of green, made even more eerie by the fact the Titan was still glowing. A black, viscous fluid oozed from the wound, sizzling where it touched the ground. “Kampê’s poison consumes more of me with every passing minute. Eventually, I will be forced to amputate my own lower leg, or else endure the constant pain forevermore. What Lady Styx offers me is a quick, painless end in comparison.”

Percy sighed. “And you’re sure this is the only way?”

Bob nodded. “But although I did not know it before, I think it is also what I want most,” he said sincerely. “I am tired, Percy. Tired of living with the memories of what I did, whom I fought for. Fighting for you and Annabeth has given my existence value again, but once you climb that cliff, what more is left for me to do? You know as well as I do that I will never return to the world above. So must I roam this Pit forever, waiting for another who may need my help some day?” He looked pained. “Seeing you escape this dreadful place has been my sole purpose these past few weeks. And now that you are here, I can die happy.”

Percy recalled a different conversation he’d had. The universe is a story. Each character had the freedom to make their own choices, write their own plots. And Bob was choosing to write his own happy ending, or at least as happy an ending as he could given the circumstances. His narrative was complete, and he deserved for it to end on a high note. Who was Percy to deny him that, after all Bob had done for him?

After a long pause, Percy finally found the strength to choke out the hardest words he’d ever had to say.

“I understand,” he replied, his voice hesitant at first, but growing stronger with every word. “I understand. If this is really what you want, then I won’t stand in your way. You deserve that much.” He wiped the tears from his face. “I wouldn’t be alive without you. That goes without saying. But more than that, you’re…”

He paused for a second, searching for the words to do the Titan justice.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, Iapetus is already dead,” he said eventually. “He died the second he got dipped in the Lethe. Because Bob’s different. He’s better. In every way. He’s the kind of person who can give you the strength to keep going when you feel like giving up. He’s the best company anyone could ever ask for, in the loneliest, most depressing place in the world. And…”

He looked up at Bob’s face, before wrapping his arms around the Titan for what he knew was the last time, feeling the warmth radiating from the Titan’s skin.

“I’ll miss you, Bob,” he said simply, voice cracking as the tears flowed down his face. “I’ll miss you so, so much.”

Silence fell on the Pit once more, as Titan and demigod embraced, neither of them saying a word. A minute passed, and then two, and still Percy clung on to Bob for dear life, knowing that this was the final time, that he would never hug the Titan again.

But he knew he couldn’t hold on forever, and eventually, he reluctantly let go of the Titan, his eyes red from crying. The tears were flowing as endlessly as the river beside them.

“I will miss you too, Percy,” Bob said softly. “More than you can imagine. I wish we had had more time together.” He looked down at the ground pensively. “In two weeks, you have taught me more than I had learned in the previous ten millennia. You are a better person than even you know, filled with spirit and selflessness in the extreme. And I am sorry to leave you behind.”

He walked back towards the banks of the Styx, and Percy followed him in silence. The goddess was standing there expectantly, though her expression was rather more sympathetic than it had been before.

“You’re not,” Percy said suddenly, and Bob turned around to face him once more. “Not leaving me behind, I mean. You said it yourself, when we were fighting Kampê. Bob can’t die, because…”

“He lives forever,” Bob completed, smiling broadly. “In here.” He tapped Percy’s ribs, directly above his heart. “And he will stay there, so long as you want him to.”

“As long as you pay the rent,” Percy said, grinning through the tears, and Bob chuckled. That felt right. The Titan deserved to go out with a smile, having brought so much laughter and hope to this godsforsaken place.

After a few seconds, Bob spoke again.

“It is time,” he said. There was a note of reluctance in his voice, but also an air of finality. “I have one last request of you, Percy. A small one.”

“Name it,” Percy said immediately.

“Say hello to the stars from me,” Bob said wistfully. “I have missed them so much, and it seems I will never have the chance to see them again. But if my legacy is that you live a long, happy life under their light, then that small sacrifice will be well and truly worthwhile.”

“I will,” Percy promised, fighting back that resurgent lump in his throat that was making it so hard to breathe. That request felt so apt coming from Bob, himself a lone spark of light in the ocean of darkness, both literally and figuratively. “But you’ll reform soon, Bob. I don’t care what Styx says, I know it. And I’ll make sure the gods let you out of here if it’s the last thing I do. We’ll stay up all night, just you, me, and Annabeth, watching the stars.”

Bob smiled. “I would like that,” he replied, stepping up to the very edge of the river. “I will hold onto that thought. Perhaps, if the Fates are kind, I will take you up on the offer.”

He turned around one last time, his silver eyes glistening with a tear or two themselves, raising his hand in a salute. “Goodbye, Percy.”

“Goodbye, Bob,” Percy whispered, as Bob stepped into the rushing torrent of water, and his body disintegrated. “Goodbye.”

Chapter Text

The universe wasn’t fair.

Percy knew that already, of course. He’d assumed it was true from a very young age. How else could you explain someone as good and kind-hearted as his mother being stuck with the abusive, good-for-nothing lay-about sack of shit that was Gabe Ugliano for as long as she had been? But when she’d used Medusa’s power to free herself a few years ago, he’d allowed himself to buy into that delusional idea of divine justice again. Maybe, he’d thought, just maybe, the universe had its own way of sorting these things out in the end.

Then, just over two years ago, that impossibly naïve vision had started to slowly fall to pieces right in front of his eyes. He’d watched as Bianca di Angelo, just twelve years old at the time, had been taken from them. Her crime? Picking up a toy figurine for her brother, the same brother whose outburst of anger and grief had been so utterly haunting, a child left traumatized at the age of just ten. That was fair, right?

At least Zoë had had thousands of years before her time came, not that she deserved the hand the Fates had dealt her any more than Bianca. Heracles had used her and discarded her without even thinking about her, and been rewarded with godhood while she lost all she had. She'd rebuilt her life, only to lose it at the hand of the cruel father she'd left behind. Where was the justice there?

If that idea had been unravelling then, it had been well and truly ripped to shreds ever since. The list of the dead was enough to do that for anyone. Lee Fletcher, killed in the Battle of the Labyrinth. Beckendorf, whose sacrifice had been so brave, even if ultimately all it had bought was time. Silena, whose charge at the drakon that killed her might have been the bravest thing he’d ever seen. Michael Yew, whose death had been a direct result of Percy’s own actions, even if there had been no other choice. He could go on, and on.

Both of the last two summers had ended with mass funerals, a sobering reminder of the toll that each battle had taken. The rows of shrouds had been a grim sight, the mood rather hollow despite the victory. For many of them, he had had no idea what their names were, so long was the list; for others, nobody knew who they were, their bodies having been so brutally mutilated that you simply couldn’t decipher their identity. But what he did know was that they had been brave people, heroes one and all. None of them had deserved to die as young as they had, not that what anyone deserved mattered in the grand scheme of things; because like he said, the universe wasn’t fair.

But this last few days had been brutal even by those standards. Phoebe, who had been willing to stay behind in the Pit for the sake of two demigods she had never met before, destroyed by Tartarus in horrifyingly brutal fashion. Damasen, who fought a battle he knew he was going to lose, only to buy them precious time. Both had been tragically, impossibly brave, willing to give up all they had just for him and Annabeth.

And how had that bravery been rewarded? If they ever did reform – which, by the way, certainly didn’t seem like a given after what had happened – it would be here in this Pit, again. They’d remain trapped here forever, eternally tormented with no possibility of escape. Was that fair? Was it fair that they were even here in the first place, for that matter, being as good and decent as they were? Why was it that they had to suffer the consequences of the actions of their siblings?

Then there was Bob.

Summarizing everything Percy felt right now would be impossible. But if there was one thought that crystallized it, it was this: Iapetus, the cruel, bloodthirsty Titan, had lived for tens of thousands of years. Bob had barely been given one.

And that stung.

It really did.

The questions were endless. How could it be right that after all the good he had done to atone for Iapetus’s crimes, Bob never got to see those stars he’d missed so much? If the universe was a story, then was the point of the characters being bound by a script, destined to be killed off with no thought for how they’d developed? Why was it that Bob had worked so hard for his redemption, only for it to not come with any reward?

In short, how could any of this be fair?

All these thoughts, and more, flooded through Percy’s mind as he sat by the riverside, quietly sobbing like a baby. No other loss had ever hit him quite so hard. And as he stared at the river in front of him, in which Bob had dissolved just a few minutes ago, he heard the voice of its goddess break through the brutal silence.

“I am sorry, child,” Styx said, her voice far too calm given what had happened. “I know this must be difficult. But you will need to clear the grief from your mind if you are to survive the climb. I sense Akhlys’ influence all over you, threatening to drag you down into despair. If you allow it to, it will consume you.”

Clear the grief?

“Easy for you to say,” Percy snapped. “You used me. You stopped me from controlling the river just so you could manipulate him into accepting his punishment. You knew he wouldn’t let me break my promise to you.”

“Did it make a difference?” Styx asked rhetorically. “I do not believe he ever had any intention of ever fighting back, regardless of the promise you made. Besides, had you not made that deal, both of you would have fallen to Kampê anyway. At least this way, one of you could live.”

“That’s bullshit,” Percy retorted furiously. “If you hadn’t stopped me from using your river in the first place, we could have beaten Kampê without me needing to make that promise. You waited until we were helpless just to force my hand.”

“I do not deny it,” Styx replied simply. “But I needed leverage. Should one of the gods break an oath, they would never dare to resist punishment, for if they did they would have to contend not only with me, but with the combined might of their peers. But this is a place without gods and laws. Here, I am alone, with nobody else to help enforce oaths save myself.”

“And you were scared that Bob might resist.”

“Is that a surprise?” Styx replied. “I lived during the Titan Age, Percy. I saw my uncle's full power first-hand, saw how he earned the name Piercer. If he chose not to accept his punishment, there would have been very little I could do, even without considering that he was accompanied by the one who slew Misery herself. And I could not afford to let his broken oath slide, regardless of whether I sympathised with him or not. I did not know that he would accept his judgement so readily.”

“Why, though?” Percy asked despairingly. “Why couldn’t you let it slide? You knew he broke his oath for the right reasons. You knew he wasn’t Iapetus anymore. Why punish him so harshly?”

“I did not,” Styx replied. “What he said was true. There were far worse punishments than death I could have handed down. In his case, as he said, it may even have been a mercy.” She looked down at the ground, clearly unwilling to meet Percy’s eyes. “As to why I had no choice in what I did, the answer is simple. I must punish all those who break oaths, regardless of circumstance, because the moment I permit one to be broken unpunished, I send a message to all would-be oathbreakers that they may get away with it. It would undermine the credibility of a promise if one might be able to renege on it and face no consequences. And that, I cannot allow. A world where one cannot trust a solemn oath is not a world that you, or I, or anyone, should desire.”

Percy sighed. He knew Styx had a point, as gutting as it felt to admit it. He also knew she was right about there being things worse than death, though the knowledge that Bob hadn’t suffered as much as he could have hardly made him feel any less hollow.

“What now?” he asked, deciding to move on. Dwelling on Styx’s motivations wasn’t going to bring Bob back. “How do I get out of here?”

“Your experience in the river will be similar to last time,” Styx said. “I cannot tell you what you will see, but the most important thing is to keep sight of your anchor. You must not allow yourself to be distracted, else the river will consume your soul. But if you keep your focus, you will be able to command the water to push you upwards.”

“And after that? I mean, if I make it up the cliff, what next?”

“The river will be your guide,” Styx answered. “Follow its course through the Underworld, and you shall end up where you wish to be.” She finally looked up at Percy’s face. “I wish you all the best, Percy Jackson. And I am truly sorry for what I did, even if I had no viable alternative. You have suffered far more than any mortal ever should, and I am sorry to have contributed to that.” There was a sad smile on her lips, one that implicitly said that she knew there was plenty more suffering to come. “I hope you make it back to the world above.”

She disappeared, and Percy took a deep breath. Once again, the pitch-black expanse in front of him was deathly quiet, except for the sound of rushing water in front of him. He’d been in that water once before, and it was the most painful experience of his life. Now, he was about to do it again.

He said a silent prayer to the gods. All the gods. He was going to need any help he could get.

Then he pictured that same lifeline, a cord tied to the small of his back, tying him to the mortal world. And he jumped in.

___

The pain, as it turned out, was worse than he remembered.

Percy felt as though he was being ripped to shreds, pulled in all directions by the relentless torrent of water from above, which burned his skin as it did its best to tear his soul from his body. Dots appeared on his vision as his eyes blurred, unable to focus through the torture his body was being subjected to. His muscles, like last time, were completely useless, his limbs just helpless appendages which he couldn’t move at all. He was entirely at the mercy of the river, and he could slowly feel himself melting away. And still, he forced himself to climb, willed the water to push him upwards, battling on through the agony, until a voice spoke in his head.

This is what your Titan friend felt, as well, he heard the voice say, a voice he remembered all too well. He, too, experienced the agony of having his soul shattered into pieces by this river. Now, it is your turn.

No, Percy thought, gritting his teeth. You’re dead. I killed you. Go away.

Akhlys laughed. You destroyed my body, she replied. Nothing more than that. All I had to do was find another to inhabit.

Another body...? Suddenly, he felt a sharp burst of pain, all over his own body. It was all he could do not to scream.

Misery is far too powerful for some weakling like you to truly destroy it, the cruel goddess laughed. It lives within us all. Even you, Percy Jackson.

He could see Akhlys now, her form ghostly and transparent but no less terrifying for it. There would be no fighting her this time. He just had to do his best to ignore her and carry on climbing, as difficult as it was.

It is time for my revenge, Akhlys said. I have had to wait a while. There were many occasions on which I could have inflicted more hurt upon you, and yet I held back. I wanted you to feel the hope that you might escape, just so that I could crush it. And now, I will feast on the pain of your failure.

I won’t die, Percy thought. He could feel his grasp on the river slipping, and he realized he was no longer going upwards. If he couldn’t wrest back control, he knew he would fall down the waterfall, and his soul would disintegrate. I won’t. Not after everything I’ve given up to get this far.

What you have given up? Akhlys asked, her form starting to solidify. What of those who sacrificed themselves along the way? You have caused a great many souls to suffer pain beyond compare. It is only right that you experience that misery yourself.

They chose to, Percy muttered, feeling himself slipping back down the waterfall even faster. They knew what they were getting into, and they willingly sacrificed themselves. It wasn’t my fault.

You have no idea of the agony they felt, Akhlys said. But I will ensure you understand. The destruction of a soul is the worst thing in the world. No other experience can compare.

The pain intensified, and Percy gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to scream. He knew that was what Akhlys wanted, and he couldn't let her win, no matter what.

Your death will bring so much pain to so many, Akhlys gloated. The girl will never even know what happened to you, for you shall never make it to the afterlife. Her tears will be delicious.

The girl.

Annabeth.

His lifeline.

And then he saw her.

She was standing there, at the top of the cliff, smiling down at him, her blonde hair neatly tied back. He shouldn’t have been able to see her at all, not with how dark things were and how far she was, but the smile on her face was clear as day. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You really do have a talent for getting into trouble, don’t you?” she shouted down at him, and Percy grinned. Suddenly, he felt his grip on the water strengthen again, and slowly, his slide seemed to slow.

Every day, she will wake up wondering if it will be the day you return, and every time it will end in despair, Akhlys said, though her voice seemed a little more distant than before. Her misery will be just as wonderful as yours.

“Oh, shut up, you old hag,” Annabeth said, and Percy laughed. He could feel his soul settling back into place, the pull he’d felt from the water no longer threatening to tear it to shreds. “Here, Percy. Take this.”

She tossed a rope down towards him. Percy couldn’t see it come down, but he felt it. It had attached itself firmly to the small of his back, secure and strong.

How? Akhlys screeched. This cannot be! You cannot escape!

"He can, and he will," Annabeth responded curtly. Percy no longer felt as though he were falling. "Ignore her, Percy. Nothing's going to get between us ever again. Not her, and not Tartarus."

You will suffer for this, girl, Akhlys warned. Misery beyond compare. A torture so intense that even Lord Tartarus cannot imagine it. Much pain awaits you ahead.

Annabeth feigned a yawn. "She's quite boring and predictable, isn't she?" she quipped, and Percy laughed again. "You won't be able to touch either of us, Misery. Not while we have each other. Try, and we'll just kill you again." 

You cannot hope to defeat me! Akhlys shrieked. I am Misery! I will –

But Percy didn’t find out what she had planned, because her voice was now so weak it was drowned out by the sound of the rushing water. Finally, he dared to look down, then up. The top was still nowhere in sight, but, crucially, neither was the bottom. As for the pain which had been so intense a minute ago, it was now just a dull ache, easily overcome. He was back in control, and he knew it.

“Come on, Percy,” Annabeth said encouragingly. “Just start climbing. I’ve got you.”

Percy felt a tug on his lifeline, as Annabeth grabbed hold of it, slowly starting to pull him up. Akhlys was a distant memory now. All he could hear was Annabeth’s voice, urging him on.

“Keep going,” he heard, as he found a second wind, attacking the cliff with renewed vigour. “Don’t worry. I’m not letting go.”

And Percy did just that. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours, and still he kept climbing. He had no idea how far it was, but he knew Annabeth had hold of the cord to which he was anchored, and she wouldn’t let it slip. With each passing moment, the pain was fading, and he felt himself getting stronger. Every word Annabeth said spurred him on, giving him another burst of energy, as he made progress up the cliff at a rate of knots.

“Almost there, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth said encouragingly. “I can see you now. You’re near the top.”

Percy looked up, and saw that indeed the top of the cliff was now within sight. There was no sign of Annabeth up there, at least not with his real eyes, but in his mind he could see her coming closer and closer, as she pulled him up by the cord attached to his back.

“One last push,” Annabeth coaxed. “You’re so close. Don’t stop now.”

And Percy didn’t.

That was, until he collapsed from exhaustion on the edge of the river, free from the grasp of the Pit at last.

Chapter Text

Percy was pretty sure that in the course of human history, nobody else had ever been on an emotional rollercoaster quite as intense as the one he’d been riding for the last few hours.

He was pretty sure, too, that nobody else had ever felt the same sense of pure relief at making it to the Underworld, of all places. Nothing that was to come could be harder than what he had already faced. It just wasn’t possible. This half of the journey simply had to be the easy half.

First things first, he thought, groaning as he sat up on the shore. His muscles ached all over, and he found himself feeling distinctly tired, but there was no room for a break, not now. He had to keep going.

He took Riptide out of his pocket, uncapping it as he did. Gently, he pressed the blade of the sword to his own skin, then more firmly, but he still couldn’t draw blood. That was good. The blessing of invulnerability had its downsides, as he knew well enough, but if he were to have to fight Gaea, he'd much rather have iron skin than not.

He stood up, dusting the black sand off himself. He knew where he needed to go. Styx’s guidance had been pretty clear. Follow the river. And he was pretty used to doing that at this point, to be honest.

So he set off, but not before turning back one last time, looking out over the cliff he had just climbed. All he could see was darkness, but in his head, he imagined the Lord of the Pit down there, in that monstrous, horrifying form, furious that, somehow, not one, but two mere demigods had escaped his clutches. And despite all he’d given up to get here, despite all the pain and grief and trauma, he allowed himself to feel one more emotion that hadn’t been part of the rollercoaster as yet.

Triumph.

___

Surprisingly, the journey through the Underworld really was as easy as he’d hoped.

Well, there was walking involved. Lots of it. Again. And unfortunately, whatever the rules of his newly regained invulnerability were, blisters seemed to be exempt from the protection. Each step hurt even more than the last, but he dared not take off his shoes to nurse them, for fear that his feet were so swollen that he might not be able to get them back on. He just had to soldier on, and hope his toes wouldn’t fall off, as they seemed to be threatening to.

It wasn’t just sore feet, either. Sore back, arms, neck, head… you name it, and it hurt like hell. Also, he really, really needed to get some sleep at some point, based on the way he couldn’t seem to stop yawning.

There was one important distinction from Tartarus, however– the lack of enemies. Every time he heard a faint whisper or a rustle from behind him, he’d whip around, expecting that this was the fight he’d been waiting for – but no. Occasionally, he heard the wail of a condemned soul from the river next to him, and the whispers of the lost souls of Asphodel were a constant backing track, but otherwise, the only sounds were the gentle ebbing and flowing of the water, and the occasional excited yap.

Oh, of course. Percy had a new companion, a rather small hellhound who’d approached him earlier, sniffing him a little before sitting up in a manner that clearly indicated he wanted a belly rub. (Small, that is, by hellhound standards – he was still almost as big as Percy, even if he couldn’t quite rival Mrs O’Leary for sheer size). Percy had been only too happy to oblige, and the puppy had followed him around thereafter, providing some very welcome and very cute company. Apparently, he’d been wrong in assuming Mrs. O’Leary was the only friendly hellhound.

A few hours had passed since then, in which time Percy had made steady progress. He’d briefly considered harnessing the powers of his new friend Achilles – the name had just felt right, based on where they’d met – to try to shadow travel, but sense had prevailed in the end, and he’d concluded that it would be far too risky. So, instead, he plodded on, groaning with every step and falling victim to the occasional vigorous lick across the face, but otherwise enjoying a relatively peaceful walk across the Fields of Asphodel.

Several more hours later, he saw a sight that made him shudder. A chasm. A very familiar chasm. Black as night, and so vast that if you stood on one side, you would only just about be able to see the other. It almost reminded him of a black hole, that would swallow any person - or satyr, as he remembered all too well - that was unfortunate or stupid enough to get too close.

He wasn’t going to make that mistake, however. Not in a million years. Even the thought of returning there was enough to make him feel a little sick, and judging from the way Achilles was whimpering, he didn’t like it either. The malevolent energy radiating from the Pit below was enough to make his hair stand on end.

In another sense, though, Percy was actually glad to see that particular entrance to Tartarus. Sure, the memories it brought up were painful ones, but if he remembered correctly, that chasm was only a few miles or so from the entrance to the Underworld. It had only taken an hour or so to get here, the first time. That meant he had to be close.

Indeed, not too soon after that, he was there, watching the lines of the dead snaking their way through the gates. He could see Charon’s ferry, moored up beyond the queues, barely a few hundred meters away. That was his way out. It was so close he could almost touch it.

Only there was a problem. A rather large, fluffy, half-transparent, very familiar three-headed problem. One that had been put there to stop anyone escaping the Underworld.

And, unfortunately, he was all out of red rubber balls.

“Down, boy?” Percy tried hopefully, only to be answered by a growl so fierce it made his hair stand on end.

The message seemed pretty clear: I’m going to eat you. Unlike last time, Cerberus really didn’t seem in the mood for playing around.

He wondered how his invulnerability translated to monstrous dogs’ digestive juices, a hand subconsciously drifting to Riptide. He probably had a decent chance of defeating the enormous dog, though that option came with drawbacks he’d prefer to avoid. His relationship with his uncle was mixed at best already, and killing his pet dog wasn’t exactly likely to help. He really didn't need to add any more entries to the list of gods who wanted him dead.

Thankfully, before he could make that mistake, Achilles stepped in front of him, barking furiously at his much larger father, who seemed rather taken aback.

I like this one, he seemed to say. He gave me a belly rub. You’re not allowed to eat him.

At least, that was what he hoped Achilles was telling Cerberus. Unlike last time, there was no Grover here to translate, so for all he knew, the pup could easily be saying Look at what I brought you for dinner, Dad!

That didn’t seem likely, though, because the murderous, hungry look on Cerberus’s faces had been replaced by an expression of surprise. He cocked his middle head, responding with a growl that was far less fierce than the first one, as if to say Are you sure, son?

Achilles responded with another flurry of yaps, before excitedly giving him another lick. As the demigod wiped the drool off his face, Cerberus slowly approached him, sniffing the air around him. His brain was screaming at him to draw his sword, but he ignored it, trusting his instincts instead. He got the feeling the three-headed dog was more curious than angry now, and he didn’t want to change that.

And then came the vindication.

Cerberus gently extended a paw, patting him on the head approvingly. All of a sudden, he seemed to be... genuinely happy to see Percy? The younger pup nuzzled his father excitedly, as both tails wagged in perfect harmony, a pair of black blurs that Percy could barely keep track of. And then, to his even greater astonishment, the three-headed guardian of the gates stepped aside, clearing the way for Percy and Achilles to pass through.

As Cerberus sat up, whining expectantly, Percy made a mental note to take Hades to task for not treating him better. No wonder the three-headed dog was so bloodthirsty, if all the company he ever got down here was the occasional lost soul. He'd tried telling the Lord of the Underworld before, but perhaps he could tell Nico or Hazel when he next saw them. Nobody deserved that lonely of an existence.

…Wow.

He’d just said the word ‘when’ in his head.

For so long, he’d refused to let himself fall into that trap. Focus on the goal, he’d kept telling himself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Hope was important, but it had to come with a healthy dose of realism, otherwise he wouldn’t get anywhere.

But now, as he approached the desk behind which Charon stood, dressed in his trademark tailored Italian suit and with a set of elegant shades covering his eyes, he allowed himself just a moment to dream. This was the final hurdle. He was going to see the world again.

“Percy Jackson,” Charon greeted him. “We seem to be seeing rather a lot of each other these days.”

“I know,” Percy replied, grinning. “It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it? You must barely ever meet anyone who’s alive, let alone the same person three times.”

“No,” Charon said simply, and Percy's smile faded. Charon didn't seem in a mood for exchanging pleasantries. “I assume you’ll be wanting a ride back across the river, then?”

Percy nodded. “Is that… I mean, can you take me?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know about that,” Charon replied, showing off his teeth in a ghoulish grin. “Usually, it’s a one way trip. But, as I always say, there’s a price for everything.”

Percy sighed. In hindsight, he should have expected that from the ferryman, unscrupulous as he was.

“What do you want?” he asked apprehensively. “I don’t have a bag full of drachmae to give you this time round, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Oh, I’m not after cash,” Charon said, smirking. “No, I want a favour from you.”

“Go on,” Percy said, resignedly.

As a demigod, he was more than used to immortals asking him to do ridiculous things for them. What Charon said next, however, caught him completely off guard.

“I want you to put in a good word for me with Mum,” he said.

Percy blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Charon said. “She’s got a very high opinion of you, godling. All we’ve been hearing about for the last couple of days is the hero who faced down her brother and survived. I don’t know how you did it -”

“Pure dumb luck,” Percy muttered.

“- and I don’t really care,” Charon continued, ignoring him. “What I’m getting at is, it’s difficult to stand out when you have so many siblings. A word from you would go a long way.”

“So you want… what, exactly?” Percy said, frowning. “For me to say you’ve been incredibly helpful, and that I wouldn’t have made it without you?”

“Something like that,” Charon agreed. “Her own mother forbade her from interfering directly, you know, and she was quite annoyed about it. She didn’t explicitly tell us to, but I reckon if she knew I’d managed to help you, I’d earn some serious brownie points. Your four-legged friend seems to have had the same idea, too.”

“Achilles?” Percy glanced back at the dog, whose tail was still wagging at a hundred miles an hour. This whole thing was becoming increasingly surreal.

“If that’s what you’ve named him, then yes,” Charon replied sardonically. “I didn’t see how things played out, but my guess would be that little Achilles here told his dad that you’re the demigod Mum likes, and you’re off the menu. Otherwise, you’d be dog food. Cerberus isn’t one to let anything escape from the Underworld without good reason.”

“Wow,” Percy said, in disbelief. “Why would she be so keen to help me, anyway? What have I done to earn that?”

Charon shrugged. “I have no idea,” he answered. “If I had to take a guess, I’d say there’s a bit of sibling rivalry involved. Mum and Uncle T famously don’t get along, and you escaping the Pit is a bit of a bloody nose for him.” He glanced at his watch, before looking back at Percy. “To be clear, that’s just speculation. For all I know, she might just have taken a liking to you when you met, and decided you deserved her help. She works in mysterious ways like that, and I don’t question them.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Percy said, nodding. “And that’s really all you want from me?”

Charon pursed his lips. “Would you prefer I made you do something else?” He looked down at his watch once more. “I haven’t got all day, so if you’re coming, I suggest we get a move on. The dead won’t transport themselves, you know.”

Percy nodded. “Thanks so much, Charon. I’ll be sure to pray to Nyx, tell her how much you’ve helped.” He looked back at his hellhound companion, still patiently waiting by the bank of the Styx. “I assume Achilles can’t come with me?”

Charon sighed. “Unfortunately not, godling. Hades would have my head if he found out I’d used my ferry to release a creature of the Underworld, even one as adorable as this one. He’ll have to stay here.” He walked over to Achilles, ruffling his fur. “Don’t worry about it. Between me and his dad, we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”

As he said it, it occurred to Percy that Charon was technically Achilles’ half-brother. He wasn’t sure many family trees could rival his own for sheer weirdness, but Nyx’s children certainly were right up there. At least Achilles was cuter than the arai, and a lot friendlier too.

He turned to the dog, stroking his jet-black fur himself. It had only been a few hours, but he’d become oddly attached to the hellhound pup. Perhaps it was just that he missed Mrs. O’Leary, or perhaps it was how utterly alone he’d have been without him. Either way, leaving him behind felt surprisingly hard, and the dog’s plaintive whines as Percy tried to say goodbye weren’t helping.

But say goodbye he did.

And as Charon ferried him back across the Styx, the world seemed to blur into one foggy, euphoric picture.

The shattered hopes and dreams of the dead that had given him such an uneasy feeling last time? They didn’t matter.

The ferryman’s sunken, dead appearance, as those designer sunglasses faded away, revealing the inhuman face below? Irrelevant.

The bitter cold, brought on by the eerie mist that seemed to cling to the boat as they progressed up the river? He barely noticed.

No, there was only one thought on his mind, only one thing that mattered right now.

He was going home.

__

The elevator doors opened, and a demigod stumbled out.

He glanced around the lobby, seeing the waiting souls of the dead whisper, surprised to see one who was alive enter their midst. He was no less surprised, for that matter. At many times in the last few weeks, he had expected to be sitting amongst their ranks, but, somehow, through some strange mix of luck and destiny, he had avoided that fate.

He thanked the ferryman one last time, before setting off uncertainly, walking through the long hallway. His legs seemed to get heavier with every step, but the sight of the doors on the far side was more than enough to keep him going. After all he had faced, sore legs were hardly going to stop him.

He took a deep breath, before pushing open the doors, stepping out on to the pavement before him. Immediately, he was struck by a wonderfully familiar and yet rather alien set of sights. City lights, cars whizzing past, other people… these were things the demigod had never known it was even possible to miss, being as mundane as they were. And yet, as he saw them again, he realized he had missed them more than anything.

Well… not quite anything. There was only one person, currently on the other side of the world, who could ever lay claim to that title. And the demigod would make it back to her, one way or another. He had not come all this way to be denied.

But that journey could wait for just a minute. For as much as he longed to be reunited with the one he loved, he had something else he needed to do before that.

He looked up at the sky, in hope more than expectation. If he squinted, he could just barely make out a couple of stars, against the hazy backdrop of the city of Los Angeles. That wouldn’t do. His friend deserved a better tribute than that. He couldn’t settle for this polluted, imperfect version.

And then it happened. Just as he was about to look away in disappointment, it happened. As if by magic, the dim glow of the city seemed to give way to pure darkness, until the full set of constellations were visible, shimmering in all their glory. The city lights were swallowed up by the night sky, with only the twinkling starlight able to penetrate the inky gloom.

Ordinarily, such a thing might well have been terrifying for the demigod, of course. But he’d become rather used to strange occurrences of late, and just as used to the dark. So it did not faze him, particularly since he had a strong idea as to who was responsible. He would have to add it to his list of things to thank her for.

But for now, Percy Jackson had a promise to keep. And as his eyes traced out the form of the Huntress, shining as she danced across the sky, he imagined the subject of that promise next to him, looking proudly up at his granddaughter.

“Bob says hello,” he said.

The stars had never seemed more beautiful.