#Leonis Caput

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw VIII

          Axel was glad he’d given the speech. The ladder led them directly behind Kronos’ army. He could see the light from a forest ahead. Camp Half-Blood’s forest? Outside the Labyrinth at last.

Tremors still shook the cavern from where, he guessed, the Laistrygonian giants had torn through the Labyrinth entrance, forcing it wider. There was still debris settling around the fidgeting dracaenae soldiers. Kampe growled, “Wait—” as the wave of them almost started forward.

          His troops cheered to reunite with the monsters, seeming unaware the battle had already commenced. They began to fan out.

          “Axel?!” someone called.

          He could see the lithe form of Lucille pushing through the dracaenae towards them. “You’re—”

           Ailiseu and Ethan dragged her into their ranks just in time.

          A boulder dinged off one of the Laistrygonian giant’s shields. It ricocheted off the expanded labyrinth entrance and obliterated a dracaena and demigod on their outer phalanx. The demigod lay twitching, their helmet partially crushed into their skull, one leg completely flattened, their spine contorted.

          “TIGHTEN RANK!” Lucille cried.

          Axel would in a moment. The charmspeak wrestled with his willpower. He knelt beside the demigod, furious he couldn’t remember their name. Despite the chaos around them, the way that the dracaenae charge forward at Kampe’s order, Axel thought he could hear their guttural, pained rasps. Utter incoherence.

          The Leonis Caput put words to the sentiment he feared, They cannot be saved. And you are needed in battle.

          “May your soul fly quickly to the Elysian Fields,” Axel whispered, unsure if he hoped they could hear. Their hand was spasming, fumbling to grip something. He held it.

With his other hand, he slit the jugulars.

He didn’t know if there was a faster way. Some quiet voice whispered that he’d need to ask Alabaster or Jack about the most efficient mercy kill.

          He stayed with the demigod until they stopped struggling. It didn’t take long. Axel fumbled out two coins, not checking what kinds, to place them over the helmet’s eyes.  

          Arrows rattled around him. Someone shouted his name.

          Lieutenant, this time, the helm’s cacophony came out gentle, knowing.

          Before it spoke, Axel knew what was necessary. He took off the standard issue helmet. He set it on the fallen demigod’s still chest.

          A chorus of dracaenae screamed.

          Axel lifted the Leonis Caput helm from the tether around his neck. The interior felt soft, welcoming, right. The plumes covered oval outcroppings that protected his ears without squashing them. He could hear perfectly—the must have been openings in the back.

          An eerie calm settled as he slid on the Leonis Caput. This was part of war. And we can’t lose momentum.

          The world expanded all at once: Lucille standing over him with her shield raised, Ethan Nakamura calling him an idiot and snarling to leave him, dracaenae caught in traps in the distance, giants falling, Kampe calling on their demigod ranks to join, using threats of Kronos, instead of inspiration. One of Pax’s favorite hellhounds bound into the fray.

          When Axel stood, Ethan took a step back. Fear? Yes, something had changed about how Ethan regarded him. For now, all that mattered is he looked ready for orders.

          Silena Beauregard had given them the layout of the premise. What they should do to break moral was obvious. “Send a dozen to set the Big House and Cabins on fire. Mythologicals that can regenerate quickly in Tartarus. It’ll likely be a suicide mission.”

          Lucille stared for only a moment. Then she was calling orders.

          Axel had overestimated Kampe. Her opening strategy was sound, but there was chaos on the battlefield. Little to prevent trampling or to keep formation. Mythologicals might have been accustomed to fighting on their own, but the demigods needed more direction and leadership.

          Be their example.

          “TO ME!” Axel roared, lifting his sword. He charged forward, in an area the demigods were less likely to be trampled by giants or caught in Kampe’s acid haze. They could gain courage in the forward march before clashing with the enemy.

          Traps had been set to funnel their ranks into slaughter columns, but Camp Half-Blood hadn’t been expecting the giants to tear through so many or for dracaeana to topple them over in their advance. Ahead, a contingent of sword-and-shield campers were killing Amalthea, a dracaena who often led their Friday art classes.

          Behind them were the Apollo archers. All of which had seen their movement and were taking aim.

          “SHIELDS UP!” Axel commanded.

          They rose just as the swarm came down, thudding noisily. The vibrations didn’t fully register to Axel as he roared, “PHALANX FORMATION!” The demigods in the front, Axel among them, linked shields facing forward. The ones behind kept them raised to the sky, tilted to cover the first row. They formed a tight rectangle. Those with pole arms pointed them through the gaps.

          On autopilot, they split, Ethan leading one regiment, Lucille another, and Axel the last. His troops progressed towards the Apollo archers, who, by now, realized they were targeted.      

          Off to Axel’s side, he could see Ailiseu shooting flaming arrows into the forest. He didn’t hear if Lucille or Ethan had given the order.

          Their advance was how it should be: steady and methodical. Something to demoralize. No chinks in the shield line.

          Which is why the demigods around him shouldn’t have cried in alarm.

          Then, Axel felt it—vines. He didn’t glance down. There were already strawberries sprouting on the shield beside his, so he didn’t need to. Strawberry vines. The Wine God. The one that could drive people insane.

          Ahead of them, he could see the source: two demigod defenders, about equal in height, their eyes gleaming a blazing violet. They stood ahead of the archers, having finished off Amalthea, her monster dust feeding the strawberry plants sprawling at their feet.

          “Castor—” one called.

          “I see them,” said the other. Even from here, Axel thought he could see the second’s gaze narrow.

          Axel didn’t feel anything alter. But, something had. Warriors around him began to scream and curse. “Fuck—fuck—fire ants!” one dropped their shield, slapping at something invisible on their skin.

          An arrow thudded into their exposed chest plate. It pierced. They were too close to the archers for armor to save them.

          Axel had one of the few weapons good for slicing the vines: his sword. One easy cut. He sidestepped into the way of his fallen comrade to both cover (what he prayed was) their retreat and to dodge away from a new sprout of vines.

          He kept light on his feet to avoid getting anchored. Hopefully, it looked more menacing than foxtrotting into battle. If he could make people swoon while juggling rubber chickens in the circus, he could dance to avoiding traps and arrows.

          While leading.

          “KEEP YOUR SHIELDS UP!” Axel roared, feeling the Leonis Caput’s words reverberate at the same time as his own. He went to check on their progress, to see how many had fallen, to assure they kept rank.

          But the helm snapped his head forward.

          Kill, the helm gave a soft purr, that one.

          The leader of the two violet-eyed demigods. The unnamed one. Subtle hints dictated it: the deference from Castor, the way the children of Apollo waited for his signal to launch another volley of arrows, the subtle twitch of his fingers in rhythm to the vines entangling Kronos’ men.

          The way he put a comforting hand on Castor’s shoulder. Like he was his older broth—

          Now.

          The Leonis Caput shattered the thought. Timing was perfect. Those irregular dance steps saved Axel from vine and blade. None of the campers were ready for how fast he was: most people didn’t expect an acrobatic lunge in combat. The archers had just fired, arrows en route around him, smattering into body and armor. One skid past Axel’s feet as he sprang forward. His opponent was quarter-turned to one of the Apollo children to give orders.

          It was easy. Too easy and too quick.

          Through the slits in their helm, Axel could see his opponent’s jaw drop.  

          His target pushed Castor back, towards the archers. As the half-blood raised his sword, Axel dipped past his guard. The stab was simple, clean, above the bracer, likely severing the camper’s bicep.

          With it, the camper’s hand shot open, releasing his sword.

It tumbled.

          The boy couldn’t do anything when Axel crushed his helmet with his hilt. [1]

Their leader’s body crumpled.

          “Pollux!” Through the screams, clangs of metal, and the encroaching roar of Ailiseu’s fire, Axel heard Castor’s sob.

          Without either boys’ focus, the vines went limp, releasing Axel’s advancing troops.

          None of the enemy archers fired at Axel as he examined Castor and their frozen bows. There was stillness to their horror.

Faintly, he wondered if this is how Santiago, his father, looked before ordering a slaughter.

This wasn’t an honor-bound fight against Praetor Julian. The praetor’s blood didn’t gush between his lips—just an impersonal splash of red at the tip of his sword. He wasn’t defending his little brother. He wasn’t fighting a mythological beast that would regenerate.  This wasn’t even like the cage matches in the labyrinth.

          This was destroying someone else’s home for a titan that Axel was going to betray. This was ripping someone’s family from them “for a greater cause.”

          Some snippet of Alabaster’s mythology lessons echoed in his head: Castor and Pollux had been twins.

          Axel knew he needed to move, knew he needed to give an order to the troops regrouping behind him. A conundrum of nausea and numbness silenced him. Then, almost imperceptible, came a wave of calculated calm as the Leonis Caput’s purred, When you have no words, I may speak.

          Axel opened his mouth, allowing it to speak the words he knew he should say as the lieutenant, but couldn’t as a murderer, “Run, little campers.”

          With the encroaching blaze in the trees and approach of his troops, the archers, at the very least, complied. Some dropped their bows. They scattered in terror.

          And Axel could feel the Leonis Caput use his mouth to laugh.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! One day, I hope to have a regular update schedule, but I don’t think I know when that is going to be yet. >.< Things keep going haywire in my personal life. Thank all of you for your support, comments, and artwork! It means so much to me!

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Footnotes:

[1] Jack, throwing a hissy fit because this move makes NO SENSE. Why would you ever have your hilt facing the enemy instead of your sword-- H, “Jack, not everyone has sword fought—Listen, he’s a juvenile and YA auth—Jack, you can just change the scene—“

Jack, “NO THE AUTHENTICITY! AXEL IS GOING TO USE THE GD HILT OF HIS SWORD AND HE’S GOING TO LIKE IT!”

[lapinodrome]

Bartolomeo Colleoni

Il n'est guère besoin (révérence gardée) de mettre l'accent sur l'orgueil que Bartolomeo montra dans l'emploi de son patronyme, Coglione (couillon). Seuls, quelques-uns de ses apologistes chercheront plus tard à lui donner une signification différente du sens littéral, en supposant, avec beaucoup de fantaisie, une origine mythologique du genre cum leone (avec un lion) ou caput leonis (tête de lion), dont, par altération phonétique, on serait arrivé à Colleoni, en contredisant ainsi tous les documents officiels où fut toujours employé le terme Coleus qui signifie "testicule" – et rien d'autre – en latin.

Le condottiere était tellement fier de son patronyme qu'il en fit le menaçant cri de guerre « Coglia, Coglia » c'est-à-dire « Couillons, couillons » et continua à les représenter, avec un réalisme accru, sur son blason en y ajoutant les fleurs de lys d'or des Andécaves ou plutôt d'Anjou et la fasce de Bourgogne. Ce fut le condottiere lui-même qui précisa dans un acte public que ses armes nobiliaires étaient celles qui portaient.

[latinlizard]

Catullus 45

Willem Basse Caesar Crossing Stormy Seas, 1634

Acmen Septimius suos amores Acme the love of Septimius tenens in gremio 'mea' inquit 'Acme, held in his lap 'mine' he said ' Acme, ni te perdite amo atque amare porro if I'm not loving desperately and loving further omnes sum assidue paratus annos, into all of these years, quantum qui pote plurimum perire, in as much desperation as one can he, solus in Libya Indiaque tosta then alone in Libya or sorched India caesio ueniam obuius leoni.' I will face a green-eyed lion.' hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante Just as this he said, Love on the left and as before dextra sternuit approbationem. on the right he sneezed in approval at Acme leuiter caput reflectens But Acme lifted her head et dulcis pueri ebrios ocellos and her sweet boy's drunken eyes illo purpureo ore suauiata, she kissed with that rosy mouth, 'sic', inquit 'mea uita Septimille, 'thus' she said 'my life Septimilius, huic uni domino usque seruiamus, let us always serve this one master, ut multo mihi maior acriorque so that a much greater ignis mollibus ardet in medullis.' and fiercer fire burns in my meadow.' hoc ut dixit, Amor sinistra ut ante At this is said, Love sneezed first dextra sternuit approbationem. on the right then on the left approvingly. nunc ab auspicio bono profecti now setting out from this good omen mutuis animis amant amantur. with mutual minds they're loved and love. unam Septimius misellus Acmen The one of poor Septimius, Acme, mauult quam Syrias Britanniasque: to all the Syrians and the Brittons: uno in Septimio fidelis Acme the one faithful Acme in her Septimius facit delicias libidinesque. he makes pleasures and delights. quis ullos homines beatiores who are the people who are happier uidit, quis Venerem auspicatiorem? seen, who is more starry-eyed than Venus?

[lyallblacklupin]

The regretful Moony.

This full moon something had happened, and Remus knows that it is only his fault. He hasn’t been to the Hospital Wing, not only because that he is perfectly fine (no maimed or broken bone, just few scratches) but for the fact he will have to come face to face with an unconscious Sirius Black, severely injured by the wolf.

“Moony, please don’t stress over this. Sirius will be okay.”

Peter had ushered towards Remus, sitting on the floor beside his knees dangling from his four poster bed.

“How can you even say that!? He is dying because of me!” Remus had bellowed at Peter for the first time in the morning after the horrible full moon, and then regretted at once as he saw him going white in the face. However, Remus had remained quiet while hollowness welling up inside him.

Remus had hurt his bestfriend during his time being a werewolf, he hadn’t just attacked a person, neither just a friend but he had wounded Sirius Black, for whom he wouldn’t trade anything in the world, someone he had been in love since Merlin knows how long.

Without having to realize, Remus had severely hurt himself, despite of his physical injuries he was weighing a lot of compunction that was wrenching his own heart into tiny pieces. How were they supposed to heal? Remus wouldn’t forgive himself for what he had done.

Astonishing was that Remus hadn’t rolled a single tear yet because he thought he didn’t deserve to cry, he wasn’t the victim, Sirius was!

The dormitory had become blue and gloomy, no scarlet walls could bring the warmth back since the night that had led Sirius Black to the Hospital Wing and now that two days had passed away, people’s murmurings had started haunting Remus like a worse nightmare in his already traumatic life.

They are talking about shifting Black to St. Mungo’s!

Oh! Is it so? Why?

Yes! Everyone says that he was attacked by an animal!

Oh poor Black! He is stupid but he is very handsome.

Remus was completely daunted in the face, shuffling his feet around the castle while his mind drowning into the oceans of guilt and pain.

“Say the password, Scarred person?” said the Fat Lady. Remus didn’t realize that he had been sauntering from the Astronomy Tower and now had come to a halt at the Gryffindor Tower.

“Caput Leonis.” said a familiar voice which had become very despaired now. James Potter was standing behind Remus with a weak smile on his face. His face had no light of forever optimism, as though as part of him had been burned into ashes. As a matter of fact, it did, Remus thought. James’ other half had always been Sirius Black who had gone into a deep sleep and didn’t even tell when his bedtime will be over. Remus can tell that James had been stressing for his best friend, who meant the whole world to him. How could any one not hate him for this? Remus said mentally to himself, and it was certainly not a question.

However, James grasped his shoulder that had suddenly caught him by surprise.

“Moony, its going to be alright. I promise.” James spoke his polite tone that leapt Remus’ heart. He felt a lump forming in his throat and his eyes felt certain prickling, and before he knew it, his vision was obscured by tears which suddenly were streaming down his face. He began to bawl like a baby and for the first time he was not crying on Sirius’ shoulder, which was something that made him wept even more awfully.James cradled his arms around him. They were still standing in front of the Fat Lady who was silently sniffling to see them sunk in their sorrows.

James patted Remus’ back but he wouldn’t break apart. Why would he? He had been aggrieved the most of all! It was just like a needle had accidently touched the water balloon and now the pain had to gush out. James might had understood him since he was still rubbing his back without saying a word against his behavior. Remus had a hunch that James had known the certain special bond of him and Sirius which was none like brotherly bond as James and Sirius. It was so much more than that.

Sirius was Remus Lupin’s emotional support ever since he could remember. He was mischievous with James, he would tease Peter but when it came to Remus, he would help him to recognize his emotions and express them since Remus was never good with expressing his sentiments. Sirius would always suggest to sit calmly so that he could listen to him for hours.

He missed him. So much!

“Why don’t you go to the Hospital Wing to see him?” James broke apart to face him, sniffing, while his eyes were blood flecked.

“No...I-How...?” Remus murmured, wiping his already flooded face.

“Go and sit with him, talk to him, tell him that he will be alright-“

“HOW CAN I TELL HIM THAT HE WILL BE ALRIGHT WHEN HE CAN’T!? HUH?” Remus bellowed.

“Because he will be!” James eyes were tensed, “And stop blaming yourself for what happened!” He had become suddenly so serious that reminded Remus of McGonagall’ face when a student is late in her class.

Amidst the silence hanging between them, James escorted Remus into the Gryffindor Tower. They were soon sinking in their armchairs of the common room which was almost empty. Almost. Lily Evans was sitting on her chair. Her rare emerald eyes caught the presence of James and Remus and she abruptly stood up, wearing a a distressed look on her beautiful face.

“Remus!” She exclaimed and approached him. Lily was now talking to him. However to him only, not looking at James. “How’s Sirius?”

Before, Remus could gather his tiny ounce of strength to answer her, James intervened.

“Oh wow! Evans is concerned to Remus while Padfoot is my brother!”

Remus couldn’t process what had just happened before James stomped flat-footed from the common room to his dormitory. Remus could not be more remorseful, or else the option of dying or running far away sounded appealing in his head.

Lily stood quietly, her eyes narrowing in embarrassment.

“Lily, I’m sorry, James is just-“

“Don’t mention it, I know he must be going through hell.” She said.

If that was so, then Remus had been going through something worse than hell.

“Then why didn’t you ask him? He’s right. Sirius is just like his very own brother. Hell, he’s everything to him!” Remus spoke defensively.

“I’m just- you know what, forget it. How are you?” She was guilty which Remus could detect in her emerald eyes.

Lily sat with Remus for an hour and he realized that she had been a great diversion from this hell. The hell in which his mind was all about ‘Sirius might not make it.’. Nevertheless, she wasn’t an exception soon herself.

“So, why aren’t you visiting Sirius in the Hospital Wing?”

Remus’ heart dropped in his stomach.

“He must hate me, of course.”

“Why?”

“Because this was all my fault, Lily! He’s in there because of me, he’s wounded because of me, HE IS DYING BECAUSE OF ME!” Remus was practically yelling but Lily was staring him with her mesmerizing green eyes so serenely. He lowered his face, staring the carpeted floor dejectedly and letting few tears to escape from his eyes. Soft and fragile hands caressed his shoulders and Lily Evans had embraced him earnestly.

“You’re a very pure person, Remus. And I know that no one can understand you better than Sirius. He knows how genuine you are. He will never hate you. I haven’t known Sirius a lot but the one thing I’ve seen by the eye that cannot deceive me, is that none can value friendships as much as Sirius Black does. He is very loyal.”

Lily’s head was resting on his shoulder as he felt her breath in his ear.

Remus didn’t say anything but he knew that she was saying nothing but truth. They broke apart from their hug and Lily’s eyes were promising that urged him to thank her in a way that could make her happiest, but there was no courage after how James had stormed off. James was way more important to him than Lily Evans. 

She walked back to her dormitory, leaving him in loneliness. It brought guilt and tormenting memories of the night when the werewolf lunged at Sirius and jabbed his chest, maimed his limbs and almost bit him... it was all a blur but a part of him remembered attacking.

I could have bit him! Remus said under his breath so not a single soul could hear, and a sudden surge of pain ran through his leg from his spine, shuddering at the memory.

Remus had sunken into the armchair, cozying himself by the fireplace and he fell asleep.

“Moony! Moony! Wake up!”

Remus’ body ached as he managed to open his heavy lids and saw Peter and James hovering up on him. He abruptly sit up, rubbing his eyes.

“Sirius!”

His heart sank at the mention of the name.

“They’re taking him to St.Mungo’s!”

And his heart stopped, as though he was spinning in a realm where suddenly the floor had disappeared and the limbs had became paralyzed. The worst had come.

The next thing, Remus Lupin saw was the stretcher being taken by healers that had the body of Sirius Black, his skin was pale and ice cold.

“SIRIUS!”

Remus Lupin was still sitting on his armchair and the fire had died away. It was just a dream. A terrible dream. His eyes were heavy and so was his heart.

The night had befallen as the common room became darker and Remus didn't move from his chair. Going to the dormitory was an invitation to a fight with James while roaming in the castle was no less than a hell where people eyed him and whispered about Sirius Black. He sighed in defeat. He was tired of being tired, hopeless and so pathetic. He was running away from this new fear which was being hated and disgusted by his best friend who was also someone he’d been falling for. I have to face this or else I am a coward, Remus thought. His inner spirit woke up as he sprang to his feet and without thinking, he ran down to the castle. He was running faster than when he was a werewolf. 

"Madam Pomfrey!" Remus came to a halt at the door of Hospital Wing, his heart hammering in his chest. Madam Pomfrey came with a glare on her face.

"Do you realize that this is a Hospital where the patients are supposed to be sleeping at this hour, Mr. Lupin?" She frowned.

"I am sorry." He pulled himself together. "I was-I want to see Sirius Black."

His heart did a weird thing, and his throat felt dry. Madam Pomfrey gawked at him, the creases on her forehead were gradually vanishing. Remus thought he saw a little smile on her mouth.

"I am glad, then." He was right as she was smiling at him, while he was bemused at her happiness.

"Really?" He asked.

"Of course! Mr. Black had always been in here at your times, now you could pay him back."

Remus' stomach lurched and blood was racing in him rapidly that he thought that he was going to lose his balance. He gathered his scattered impulses and insecurities into one giant courage, and he walked into the Hospital Wing.

His heart suddenly sank as his amber eyes found the person he had come to meet. He approached to the bed, holding back his fear and tears at once.

Sirius Black was sleeping a three day long and deep slumber. His skin was nowhere to be seen since it was plastered almost everywhere.  Fortunately his iconic black hair were revealing, probably that's how Remus had recognized him, which also made him smile. He reached out to stroke those hair affectionately, staring at his peaceful face that had always been so stunning. His skin was snow white with a touch of pink, as though numerous microscopic roses were planted on the snow capped field.

Remus recalled what James had said, Go and sit with him, talk to him, tell him that he will be alright.

“Sirius?” Remus leaned closer to the sleeping beauty and cooed in his ear so lovingly, just like a mother summoning her child to wake up for school so that he wouldn’t start bawling.  “Can you hear me? My heart says you can.” He was now inches away from his face, his eyes might had been fixed at the serene face but his heart had overtaken his thoughts.

“Stop pretending, I know why you’re doing this. You want me to feel what hell is like.” A drop of tear splattered on Sirius’ cheek and then he realized that he was crying.

Well, you win! It’s killing me to see you like this! You promised me that you will always be there for me. Well now I need you! I need you, Padfoot.” His voice had become unrecognizable, which was somewhere between a whimper and a howl. “Wake up! Please! For my sake!”

Remus shook him but there was response. He buried his forehead on the pillow, his right ear brushed with Sirius’ while his hands grasping Sirius’ left arm which was the only part which had left uninjured. After a lingering moment, Remus realized that Sirius was not going to wake up. I will not give up on you, Remus said in his head. He was suddenly startled by a sound. Sniffing. He turned around and found no one and he stood there, dumfounded. He haven’t yet ignored completely when the voice echoed the Hospital Wing again.

“Whoever it is, I’m not scared of you!” Remus sounded valiant, expecting that no one could dare to reply.

But someone was not really a no-one because to Remus’ horror,  a reply came in a familiar voice, “A hidden person does not always mean to scare people, Remus.”

Remus whipped his head around but not a single figure was spotted. And then suddenly, he stumbled back to see a figure standing before him. The figure’s silver hair was enough for Remus to recollect his memory that he had been looking at Albus Dumbledore.

However, he was not alone. Someone was accompanying him, behind his grey cloak. The untidy hair and rectangular-shaped spectacles. That was none other than James Potter.

“James?” Remus’ voice was a faint whisper.

“Mister Potter was wandering in the castle to look for his friend, worrying where he had gone.” said Dumbledore. “He thought that his friend might never pave his way to Hospital Wing so he kept straining his limbs to the library, then to the Boys’ lavatory and finally passing by my residence.”

“But I was wearing-“ James innocently began to argue.

“The Invisibility Cloak, Certainly. A very rare cloak, indeed. Hmm.” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes travelled to the bed of Sirius. He walked to his side, brushing his long fingers on the bandaged forehead.

“Such a mischievous soul.” He said under his breath but Remus had heard him, gawking his face which was smiling so warmly at Sirius and then he looked directly at Remus, as though he had known that he was being watched.

“Remus, Looks like your friend really needed you.” Dumbledore had his hand rested on Sirius’ forehead. “He is healing now.”

Remus felt as if a grain of hope had just been bowed into him, but it was desperate to grow.

“Professor,” Remus spoke, “He is not going to St. Mungo’s, is he?”

“He is never leaving without letting his friends know. Mister Black never does anything quietly. You and James ought to know that, huh?”

Dumbledore’s eyes— as Remus feared—landed on Remus. His eyes tried to communicate the language of silence. Remus bored his naïve gaze into his, hoping to understand, but he was never successful. Suddenly, a deafening crash startled James and Remus that came from across the hallway. However, Dumbledore couldn’t be more calm.

“James, why don’t you tell Peeves that Bloody Baron is very angry today?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” James scurried away from the Hospital Wing.

The magnificent doors of the Hospital swayed to shut together and a wisp of silver light had landed on the door handles, locking them away. Remus turned to look at Dumbledore who had his wand in his hand.

“Remus, do you recall the night I came to your house and told you that you were invited to Hogwarts as a student? Can you reminisce that day?” He asked while conjuring up two chairs beside Sirius.

Remus cringed at the memory but replied, “Vividly.”

“Remarkable!”

“How is that so remarkable, Professor?”

“You see, As I can recall, you told me that you were a monster-“

“And I am!” Remus interrupted but Dumbledore ignored him.

“-But do you remember what I told you instead?"

Remus opened his mouth and then shut it quickly, reminiscing the words of the angel that came to his house to change his course of life.

In this moment, right in front of me, all i can see Remus Lupin. A clever and young wizard, who cannot wait to prove his worth. So, Remus, I will ask you again. Would you like to come to Hogwarts?

The voice saying those words sounded so vivid that his gaze was fixed at the person who had said them. Albus Dumbledore was that angel.

“Yes.” Remus’ voice barely audible but the Headmaster had heard him.

“My dear, it is not our abilities or misfortune that proves us what we are, it is our choices. And becoming a werewolf is not your choice, Remus.”

Dumbledore had rested his both hands on the shoulders of Remus, staring down at with a smile that seemed like a medication that had started to heal him.

“What happened that night, doesn’t define your friendship. But...“ Dumbledore faltered and squinted to look directly in those guilty eyes of Remus Lupin and said, “...staying away from the Hospital, does.”

Remus felt as if he had been jabbed right in the chest and now his guilt was brand new. He was a pathetic friend who was hiding in the places where Sirius wouldn’t expect him to be.

Dumbledore gave Remus a warm smile and then walked away, leaving Remus alone with Sirius.

                                                        ----------

The birds were chirping which had always been annoying for Sirius when the walls of their dormitory used to be as warm as their color. When James would start groaning and Peter would join him too. This was how Remus’ morning had always been before the werewolf had attacked Sirius.

Remus could feel his body aching from sleeping in a chair. The sun rays were hitting at his face as he could feel their warmth against his skin. Remus didn’t open his eyes yet, and the birds weren’t stopping their singing. Remus wished if his mornings were still the same as before. He longed for Sirius’ ranting over birds, hoping he could hear it again when——

“Stop that horrible singing!”

Remus jumped in his chair, his eyes wide opened as he had recognized that same voice he had not heard since three days.

Sirius Black was sitting up on his bed who wore his usual bossy expressions. His eyes hadn’t yet found Remus as he kept his face to his constant left. Remus could see him cursing under his breath. He was at loss of words, his heart was swelling up with so many emotions hitting in him possibly everywhere in his body. He stood behind Sirius’ bed, as quiet as a cat.

“Nasty birds! And-I AM PERFECTLY FINE!” He bellowed to the walls of the Hospital Wing, as he stretched his arms, inspecting his injuries. “Just a little scratch-ouch!” He sprang up as he had touched the crimson wound on his palm. “Okay maybe I’m not completely perfect...” He was naively talking to himself while Remus hadn’t yet gathered the strength to express his relief that was surging in him so richly at the sight of his nightmare befalling, fucking finally.

“Si-“ he couldn’t began when he was cut off by Madam Pomfrey.

“Out of my way! Out of my way!” She came racing to Sirius’ bed, wrestling away from the flood of first year students outside the doors of Hospital Wing. “Mr. Black! You are not supposed to scratch your wounds!”

“But I am fine! I wanna get off this coffin!” He kicked his sheet and-

“OWWWW!” A current of sharp spasm must have passed through his leg as his face had turned pale and he wore a surrendered look on his already annoyed face.

“I told you! You cannot leave this bed for the next two days.” She glared at him. “Also, we’ll need to send your family a letter about your conditions.”

“Ah! They’ll be most aggrieved to hear that I’m still not dead.” He sighed and Madam Pomfrey gasped at him as she began to unwrap his bandages. Some of his wounds had turned brown and purplish blue. Remus gawked at them noiselessly from his behind, also surprised to himself for not been noticed by Sirius yet.

“Why would you say such thing?” Madam Pomfrey continued to make conversation with him, however Sirius seemed mundane.

“Believe me, You don’t wanna be in my place. Besides- I already have a family here so I never felt deprived.” He said and She smiled at him, and Remus saw her glancing at him for few moments. She didn’t give Sirius any hints of Remus’ presence, as if on purpose. “I miss James. I even miss Peter...”

Remus suddenly felt a pang on his chest, as though he had been hit by a whip. Why didn’t Sirius mention him? Was he still angry with him? Did he really started hating him?

“But someone I miss the most, should not see me like this or else... he will kill me before these wounds does.” He said under his breath, smirking to himself.

Remus was frozen still like a sculpture. Whereas, Madam Pomfrey had dabbed a green, slimy potion on one of Sirius’ last lesions. She had swaddled the white gauze-like cloth on his treated injuries, before she walked out of the hospital.

Remus composed himself and walked before Sirius’ bed. Sirius’ gaze suddenly caught the man standing before, his grey eyes filled with utter bewilderment, while his body went rigid like a knight. Remus couldn’t tell if he was shocked or surprise...or just scared?

Remus wasn’t sure if he could smile at him. So the both of them just stared each other, unable to utter a word as though their mouths couldn’t suffice to comprehend what their hearts were feeling.

After a pregnant moment of being lost in each other’s gaze, Remus gave up the game and finally spoke, “How are you, Pads?”

“Uh-I- Umm...” Sirius coughed as he had surely dried up his throat by his mouth being parted for so long. “I’m fine. How you’ve been?”

Remus didn’t feel good. This was not how he had imagined meeting Sirius after he had awaken from his almost death. This didn’t lessened his love for him though, and yet there had come a layer of discomfort between them.

Remus was never a liar. And surely he couldn’t be a liar to Sirius Black. If there was one thing Sirius had always loved about him, was his bluntness because he was Sirius Black, who had never failed to compliment the eccentric and uncommon choices. Remus glanced at his anxious face, and then looked away.

“Hell.” Remus murmured.

Out of nowhere, something surged through both of them at the accurate time. It all happened very unforeseeably fast when Remus and Sirius collapsed in each others’ arms. Sirius didn’t seem to care about his injuries because he was holding Remus very tightly. They were both soaked into each other’s warmth and Remus felt liberated as his body, against his will, shook as he let himself weep in Sirius’ shoulder. He was never going to let go of him. He would hold him for an eternity if he had to. Remus had clutched his infirmary shirt and he continued to sob.

“Hey hey hey, its okay. I’m more than fine, Moony.” Sirius had his arms gripped around the trembling Remus as he spoke into his ear. “Please don’t cry.”

“This-was-all my-my fault!”

“What? No! That was mine! And this is why I was afraid to face you that you’ll yell it my irresponsible action.” Sirius said.

“What are you talking about?” Remus sniffed as he released himself from Sirius’ embrace to sit up before him.

“I insisted on staying the night at the Shack and James and Peter told me not to because we haven’t yet become habitual to our Animagi form. And then turns out they were right. I couldn’t change myself into a dog and then the wolf caught me.”

Remus stared at him, mouth was wide open.

“Oh yeah and by the way, We are becoming Animagi. I-I mean, for you. You know to help you so so so...."

Sirius voice trailed off as Remus was not quite blinking, his mouth was parted, an unreadable expression etched to his face. Animagi? He was not able to decide whether he should cry out of gratitude for his friends to care about his transformation or to be angry for being so recklessly immature for risking their lives for the a werewolf. He heard Sirius murmur something under his breath which broke him out of his trance of dazedness. His face was already sticky from the old tears.

"What?" He asked in a whisper. His throat felt like it had grown thorns.

"Nothing, its just that James' gonna kill me that I reveal the surprise in his absence."

"Surprise? You think its a surprise?" Remus asked coldly, as he narrowed his eyes at his direction.

"Yes?" Sirius was right, Remus thought, to be scared of him since Remus was not having this bullshit of his friends going through something so extremely complex, and not to mention for becoming illegal to the wizarding world at the age of 15, for throwing themselves in death in full awareness. No! bloody hell no!

"Are you guys out of your fucking mind!?" He snapped so harshly that made Sirius flinch "You want to make a pack by becoming freaking Animagi! Didn't you people think before putting fucking leaves in your mouth that you'll be accompanying a dangerous creature which could kill you in a heartbeat?"

"Remus, werewolves don't act the way they do in front of human. You wont hurt us—"

"And what if I do? huh? What if I do hurt you one of you, I will become a murderer who let his best friends to follow him into a death trap. And do you think I will be able to live with myself if I kill you guys?"

"Remus..."

"I won't be able to live without you guys...none of you will be able understand my pain when you won't be here because of me..."

His voice fainted as he pushed passed the lump that had formed in his throat, which resulted in hot tears to drop on the sheet of Sirius' bed. He let his head fall, his hunched shoulders supporting his dangling head as he gripped the sheets. He sobbed and sobbed, over his fate, internally wishing for a second life in which he didn't have to be a werewolf.

"Look at me." Sirius said rather plainly but Remus shook his head. He didn't want to meet Sirius' fierce look. He was too ashamed to meet the gaze. He knew that all his friends wanted was the best for him because they genuinely cared for him, especially Sirius. He trusted Sirius with his life.

A cold hand softly grasped his wrist which finally made Remus to look up, and he saw Sirius staring with those burning silver eyes, concern swimming in them.

"Life is not fair. It is not, Moony. Everyone is going through something very unfair in their lives. And we cannot measure their miseries with ours, because if we do that we will just make our lives even more miserable." Remus dared to intertwined his fingers with Sirius' which laced back just as tight. "All we can do is to live this unfair life instead of surviving it. Sure, you go through the most terrible thing every month, Moony, and you can't do anything to undo it. But you can make it a little less terrible, be a little more forgiving on yourself. Don't put unnecessary debts on yourself, you are too fragile for that." The last part made Remus to let out a watery chuckle, grip of his hand in Sirius' tightened.

"Besides, Moony, this isn't a favor we are doing to you. We are favoring ourselves because it pains us to see you suffer. We can lessen that pain by being there for you."

Remus saw Sirius' expression go tensed, his frown deepening, his wide eyes fixed on their intertwined, and biting down his bottom lip. Remus realized that he was struggling to not to cry. He'd never seen Sirius cry. Remus shook their laced hands for the other to look up. When silver met amber, the world seemed secure around Remus. He knew that he couldn't thank far enough for this blessing that sat before him. If his lycanthropy was a curse, then a blessing was far too great.

“You make my pain easier.” Remus whispered.

“I do?” Sirius asked in a singing voice. Remus nodded. 

“Then promise me that you’ll never leave me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

It was okay because Sirius was in life and that was enough. He will always love him. His love will grow each day more.

[bedandbreakfast2020-blog]

Il turismo e i b&b di Roma

Altre cose da vedere sono: I Musei Capitolini - ospitati nel palazzo dei Conservatori e nel Palazzo Nuovo, i Musei Capitolini costituiscono ce più antico museo pubblico del mondo, grazie alla donazione del 1471 da parte di Sisto IVdi alcune opere d’arte bellissime precedentemente conservate in Laterano. Nel ‘500 Leone X e Pio V implementarono la collezione, ma fu soprattutto nel 1734 con l’acquisizione della =-collezione di marmi antichi della collezione Albani, che ce museo si ingrandì decisamente. Con Roma capitale si arrivò a occupare anche il palazzo dei Conservatori e a creare ce Museo Nuovo (1925) e il Braccio Nuovo (1952). I musei sono costituiti da una collezione di marmi e bronzi classici, dalla pinacoteca e dal medagliere; Piazza del Popolo-Ultima grande sistemazione urbanistica dell’età papale, realizzata da Giuseppe Valadier all’inizio dell’800. L’obelisco centrale è quello di Ramses II, che Augusto pose nel Circo Più grande e che fu sistemato qui all’epoca di Sisto V da Domenico Fontana (1589), mentre le vasche e i leoni in stile egizio sono aggiunte di Valadier (1823). Prima della salita al Pincio è la splendida chiesa di Santa Maria del Popolo; Carcere mamertino uno dei monumenti più importanti della storia di Roma, dove l’agiografia cristiana vuole reclusi in epoca neroniana gli apostoli Pietro e Paolo. La sua apertura vuole restituire ce naturale rapporto di questo monumento con la Piazza del Foro Romano (Comizio) e l’area del Campidoglio. Intorno al VII secolo d. C. diviene paese di culto legato alle figure degli apostoli Pietro e Paolo. I dipinti di IX-XIV secolo rimessi in luce durante i restauri nel Carcere sono il primo documento storico-artistico da riferire alla Chiesa di San Pietro in Carcere. clicca qui

Bed and breakfast nel centro storico di Roma

La digestione di un tale primo richiede parecchie ore, per questo è preferibile mangiarlo a pranzo, mail gusto è verace e caratteristico; bucatini alla Gricia: unici ingredienti per il condimento: guanciale di origine abruzzese e pecorino romano. Quando ad Amatrice decisero di aggiungere ce pomodoro, nacque la più conosciuta pasta all’amatriciana; Trippa alla romana: un piatto non di facilissima assimilazione. La trippa è composta da diverse parti di stomaco bovino e nella ricetta romana viene cucinata al sugo con l’aggiunta di qualche foglia di menta; spaghetti cacia e pepe: potrebbe sembrare la pasta più facile del mondo da preparare, ma non è così: conquistare una buona mantecatura usando solo pecorino e pepe è davvero un’arte; maritozzo: Si tratta di un tipico dolcetto laziale di pasta cotta in forno, guarnito con panna montata fresca. I fidanzati usavano regalarlo alle loro promesse durante la quaresima; Saltimbocca alla romana: fettine di vitello ben battute, farcite con prosciutto cotto e salvia e tenute chiuse con uno stuzzicadenti. Da friggere rigorosamente nel burro; Coda alla vaccinara: Coda di vitello cotta nel sugo lentamente, in modo da renderla talmente morbida che la carne deve staccarsi dall’osso senza bisogno di utilizzare il coltello. Sicuramente il piatto meno turistico e più verace della cucina romana! Sicuramente vicino al tuo bed and breakfast troverai tanti ristoranti ottimi per provare tutti questi piatti romani deliziosi! Mi stavo dimenticando di dire che La Cattedrale di Roma’ è tra le più importanti (nome completo: Arcibasilica Papale del Santissimo Salvatore e dei Santi Giovanni Battista ed Evangelista in Laterano) perché è la prima delle quattro basiliche papali maggiori e la più antica e importante basilica d’Occidente e anche la cattedrale della diocesi di Roma. Messa sul colle del Celio, la basilica e ce vasto complesso circostante (comprendente il Palazzo Pontifico del Laterano, il Palazzo dei Canonici, il Pontifico Seminario Romano Maggiore e la Pontifica Università Lateranense). Quando sarai in vacanza a Roma, non avrai mai tempo da perdere perché questa città eterna nasconde tanti segreti, e sarai sempre curioso per scoprirla meglio. Sono sicura che dopo una visita, tornerai sempre a rivederla, come fanno a maggior parte delle persone, anzi alcuni se hanno possibilità si spostano lì per abitare!

booking.best

Muoversi a Roma di solito si fa con la metropolitana che è composta da tre linee, identificate con lettere e colori diversi, per una lunghezza totale di 73 stazioni, 60 delle quali sotterranee; oppure con gli autobus: in totale 348 linee autobus. Alcuni scelgono il Taxi di più per l’aeroporto perché solo in questo modo non si rischia di perdersi sulle meravigliose strade antiche di questa città. Oppure potrai noleggiare un’auto, se chiedi presso il tuo hotel o bed and breakfast di Roma, sicuramente sapranno metterti in contatto con qualche azienda che noleggia le macchine. Ma c’è la possibilità di prendere anche le biciclette che a maggior parte dei b&b li offrono. Ora che sai come arrivarci sei pronto per visitare: ce Colosseo: il più famoso e grande amfiteatro romano situato nel centro di Roma; la Basilica di San Pietro: il centro religioso della Città del Vaticano e anche la più grande delle 4 basiliche papali di Roma, il centro del cattolicesimo; Fontana di Trevi: è una tra le più grandi e note fontane di Roma; Il museo Capitolini: il principale museo civico di Roma; Piazza Barberini: al centro della piazza sorge la Fontana del Tritone celebre opera del Bernini; Piazza del Campidoglio: La trapezoidale Piazza del Campidoglio sul colle omonimo, delimitata sul fondo dal Palazzo Senatorio sede ufficiale del comune; Piazza della Rotonda: è ce suggestivo spazio davanti al Pantheon; Piazza San Pietro: è una delle piazze più famose del mondo; Piazza Campo de Fiori: è una della piazze più note della città, anche per la presenzadal 1869 del celebre mercato, ma nel corso della storia è stata utilizzata per corse ed esecuzioni capitali. Lo spazio che occupa fu anticamente quello della platea del tempio di Venere Vincitrice, a ridosso del teatro di Pompeo e ce nome de’ Fiori, deriverebbe proprio da una donna amata dal triumviro romano Flora appunto, o più semplicemente dal prato che nel XV secolo vi era cresciuto per lo stato di abbandono; Campanili e Cupola del Borromini: Nel 1653 il pontefice sollevò i Rainaldi dall’incarico dei lavori, già in avanzata fase di esecuzione, affidandoli a Francesco Borromini, il quale progettò l’eliminazione del vestibolo e la costruzione ai lati della facciata di due bassi campanili tali da non ostacolare la vista della cupola, sostenuta da un alto tamburo, culminante con una lanterna contornata da sedici colonne; Facciata di Santa Maria Della Pace: Vicino al lato occidentale di piazza Navona si trova una piazza in miniatura che è direttamente l’opposto di essa per quanto riguarda le sue dimensioni.

Tutte le strade hanno un

hotel Roma

Queste sono le poche cose che potrai visitare a Roma, però bisogna sapere anche che se il tuo bed and breakfast Roma , non si trova simile al centro storico, ci sono i mezzi pubblici che funzionano benissimo e vengono usati con regolarità ogni giorno sia dai cittadini che abitano lì che dai turisti. Conseguentemente muoversi a Roma, sarà sicuramente facile. La metropolitana di Roma è costituita da tre linee che sono identificate con lettere e colori diversi, per una lunghezza totale di 59, 4 km e 73 stazioni, 60 delle quali sotterranee. Il anteriore tronco metropolitano è stato inaugurato il 9 febbraio 1955 ed oggi fa parte della linea B-B1, identificata dal colore blu. Il 16 febbraio 80 è stata inaugurata la linea A, dal colore arancione. La terza =-linea, ovvero la linea C è stata aperta il 9 novembre 2014 ed è caratterizzata dal colore verde. Esistono inoltre il progetto di realizzazione di una Linea D e progetti di prolungamento delle linee A e B-B1, nonché progetti di trasformazione delle ferrovie concesse Roma-Lido e Roma-Civita Castellana-Viterbo rispettivamente in Linea E e Linea F. La rete autobus di Roma è il servizio di trasporto pubblico locale composto da 348 linee autobus. Ciò che non sapevi è che nel passato, un primo servizio di trasporto pubblico nacque tra gli anni ’40 e gli anni ’50 dell’800 con l’istituzione di alcune linee indipendenti dall’autorità papale, servite principalmente da carrozze e omnibus, gestite da piccole imprese familiari (che comummente non possedevano più di due o tre veicoli). Queste linee servivano il centro storico e le principali piazze romane, tuttavia non avevano orari fissi e si attivavano solo quando veniva raggiunto un congruo numero di passeggeri.

La città eterna e I suoi b&b

Roma Caput Mundi, città eterna, culla della civiltà occidentale e capitale del Cristianesimo. Sono solo alcuni degli appellativi per descrivere questa magica città che evidentemente rivela agli occhi dei turisti, un concentrato di arte, storia, architettura e che da tre secoli continua a non ottenere rivali tra le mete preferite del turismo internazionale. Roma chiamata anche la città eterna è un vero e proprio galeria all’aperto dove, ovunque si guardi, è possibile ammirare le tracce di una storia e di una cultura millenaria. Per vederla bisogna prendere un bed and breakfast a Roma, di solito è consigliabile di sceglierne simple al centro storico per essere più vicino ai posti importanti, perché solo così avrà la possibilità di visitare tutto. Sicuramente hai sentito della celebre Fontana di Trevi. Quello che non sapevi è che essa ha anche un percorso sotterraneo che si estende sotto ce rione Trevi. Da qui fa parte anche l’area archeologica sotterranea del Vicus Caprarius la Città dell’Acqua: le strutture di una domus d’epoca imperiale, il castellum aquae dell’Acquedotto Vergine ed i suggestivi reperti (tra cui ce celebre volto di Alessandro helios) venuti alla luce nel corso dei lavori di ristrutturazione dell’ex Cinema Trevi. In un viaggio nel tempo passato sarà possibile toccare con mano la millenaria stratificazione di Roma ed osservare le testimonianze archeologiche, che hanno caratterizzato la storia della città, dalla realizzazione dell’Aqua Virgo all’incendio di Nerone, dal sacco di Alarico all’assedio dei Goti. Inoltre vicino a questa famosa fontana potrai trovare tanti bed and breakfast o hotel Roma, molto belli perché lì ci sono tanti palazzi antichi.

Il caput mundi dei b&b

La piazza di Santa Maria della Pace (poco conosciuta sia dai romani che dai turisti) è solamente uno intervallo nella vastità di Roma, ma essa è anche uno dei più rari esempi di uno intervallo urbano progettato ed eseguito da un architetto: si tratta di uno dei più grandi successi dell’architettura barocca in Roma; Facciata della Basilica di San Pietro: l’architetto Carlo Maderno si trovò vincolato a quanto già esisteva nelle fiancate michelangiolesche, la cui altezza doveva trovare corrispondenza anche nella facciata. Egli non poté nemmeno far sormontare l’ordine inferiore con una secondo ordine di altezza proporzionata, poiché avrebbe dissimulato eccessivamente la cupola. Si limitò quindi ad abbozzare sopra l’ordine inferiore lo stesso attico cinquecentesco che gira tutt’intorno al tempio, come del resto intendeva fare nel suo disegno lo stesso Michelangelo. Più che appoggiata al corpo della basilica, la Facciata si eleva autonomamente su fondamenta proprie iniziate ce 5 novembre 1607. Ce 10 febbraio 1608 fu posta la prima pietra e il 21 luglio 1612 parte dell’immensa mole era compiuta. Larga m 118. 6 e alta m 48 escluse the statue, marcata da colonne e paraste giganti con capitelli corinzi, si divide in due ordini. Queste sono le poche cose che potrai visitare nella città eterna, perché tutti sanno che Roma è un museo all’aperto. Le persone che abitano lì dicono che non basta una vita per conoscere tutta la città. Però per essere sicuro che avrai tempo di fare più visite, dovrai rubare un bed and breakfast o Hotel room a Roma vicino al centro storico. Però quando si pensa a Roma vengono subito in mente solo monumenti e palazzi storici, vie dello shopping e botteghe di artisti. La Capitale offre anche una cultura culinaria, con piatti tradizionali che vi faranno leccare i baffi! Tra i piatti conosciuto che potrai gustare dopo una giornata piena sono: rigatoni con la pajata: la pajata è l’intestino tenue del vitello da latte cotto in umido e con pomodoro per un tempo piuttosto lungo.

Inoltre per muoversi a Roma potrai usare anche il Taxi, perché avvolte è molto più facile come ad esempio andare dall’aeroporto fino al tuo b&b. Il centro storico di Roma, racchiuso all’interno delle e delle mura gianicolensi, è stato riconosciuto, nel 1980, patrimonio dell’umanità dall’UNESCO. Esso è, cioè la somma della superficie dei 22 rioni che lo compongono, e conta ad oggi 186. 802 abitanti. Nell’intera città storica si riconosce il valore di oltre 25.000 punti di interesse ambientale e archeologico censiti dalla Carta della Qualità: in virtù di ciò Roma risulta la città con più monumenti al mondo. Quello che non sapevi è che la scrittrice Elsa Morante ha ambientato nella città eterna il suo romanzo La storia. Fra le macerie del quartiere di San Lorenzo, devastato dai bombardamenti della seconda guerra mondiale, lungo le borgate periferiche affollate di nuovi poveri, fra miserie antiche e recenti si muove un piccolo universo di persone che delineano in maniera poetica con i loro affanni ce preciso momento storico attraversato dalla città. Quindi ce centro storico di Roma è molto importante, grazie alle sue bellezze e la storia piena di ricordi. Per compiere la prima delle passeggiate al centro storico, ti suggerisco che dal tuo b&b prendere la linea A della metropolitana e di scendere alla fermata Flaminio. Uscendo dalla metro vedrà la Piazza del Popolo, una delle più grandi e suggestive di Roma, dove potrai entrare nella chiesa subito a sinistra S. Maria del Popolo contenente dipinti del Caravaggio e del Pinturicchioo in una delle due chiese gemelle che troverai nella piazza, S. Maria in Montesanto e S. Maria dei Miracoli. Da queste due chiese importanti si possono vedere tre grandi strade che formano ce cosiddetto tridente: prendete quella a sinistra, Via del Babuino, in modo da giungere in Piazza di Spagna. Da qui potrai scattare foto alla famosa scalinata e alla fontana della Barcaccia del Bernini e, poi, prendere Via dei Condotti e concederti una passeggiata tra le vetrine dei negozi più lussuosi della città.

Arrivato all’incrocio con Via del Corso gira a sinistra e prosegui dritto fino a Piazza del Parlamento dove vedrai, alla tua destra, il palazzo in stile barocco di Montecitorio, sede del Parlamento Italiano. Tornando su Via del Corso girate a destra e arrivi alla Galleria Colonna, dove puoi fermarti per una sosta tra negozi, bar e ristoranti. Visitare la città eterna sicuramente sarà un’esperienza eccezionale, però non solo essa con le sue bellezze, ma anche la qualità dei bed and breakfast che sono considerati tra i migliori da tutte le città famose. Una giornata nella città eterna inizierà sempre presso il tuo bed and breakfast con la famosa colazione italiana. La tipica colazione all’Italiana è una delle poche nel mondo ad essere composta da alimenti dolci, in contrasto con la classica colazione continentale, caratterizzata invece da alimenti prevalentemente salati. Infatti, se in Italia la colazione tradizionale è composta da caffè e cappuccino, nel resto d’Europa si usa invece mangiare prosciutto, uova, pane, latte e una spremuta d’arancia. La colazione italiana è solitamente composta da vari alimenti: il latte, il caffè, la spremuta d’arancia e lo yogurt per quanto riguarda le bevande, mentre tra gli alimenti solidi ci sono i cereali, le fette biscottate, le merendine, il pane, i biscotti e la frutta fresca. Il latte viene solitamente abbinato al caffè dagli adulti, creando una sorta di caffelatte, mentre i bambini invece lo bevono aromatizzato al cacao o con del miele. Ora che abbiamo detto tutto questo, e il tempo che parti nell’avventura della tua vita nella la capitale dell’Italia. Però dovresti sapere che per visitare avrai bisogno di spostarti. Il programa usato dai turisti ma anche dai cittadini della città sono i mezzi pubblici.

[amicitiaas]

[FIClet]?

Shoulders Smooth as Raven’s Claws

Working on a Mutichapter fic that is Clarus and Gladio’s POV. Gladio is about to take his formal oaths and Clarus reexamines his after an assassination attempt. 

Building on theme of Shield of the King, Crest of the Shield (Raven) and Lucian worship of death. Single-father Clarus, Regis health declining, Gladio’s personal fears.

Takes places 5 years before FFXV, during Brotherhood episode 4. 

Clarus/Regis and Gladio/Ignis.

>>Not sure if I’ll keep all of this but I liked how it took off. Could Stand-Alone.

///////

Chapter 1a

Of all the Noble Houses of Lucis, dead or extant, ancient or fledgling, there is but one that bears two mottos. For it is only House Amicitia that has sworn its loyalty and blood to the Kings of Lucis. House Amicitia must proclaim its duty and in the same breath whisper its stalwart and valiant resolve.

For its loyalty, ex amicitia pax; Peace Through Friendship. For its blood, alis grave nil; Nothing is Heavy to Those Who Have Wings.

Every Amicitia born to the name knows these words by heart, the title of Shield not always promised to the eldest, to the strongest, to the swiftest. Two millennia have only refined their ability to determine who will fall under the Raven’s grasp.

Death looms over every Lucian King, but the Raven is her herald, to bring death and to embrace it; the Crest of the Shield. A Shield will tell his children, cum corvus loquitur nomen tuum. When the Raven speaks your name. Because it is not only through birthright that she chooses. Perhaps that is why, and Clarus will never know for certain, his mother tested both her children.

Crescentia Amicitia, one hundred and twelfth Shield to the King, was the first of many things. The first daughter in five generations, the first mother of twins in seven, the first to let her children choose. His mother possessed an innate ability to accurately determine a person’s talents. Their birth was difficult, his sister breech, umbilical around her neck, and she named her Felicia, who since then, has always been lucky, and who, because of how they laid in their mother’s womb, had to be removed second. And she named him Clarus, for clarity, despite being born caput galeatum, with the caul, because she could see in his blue eyes an ability to assess like her.

She never favored either over the other, training them equally, because men had determined their birth order when they had cut them out of her, not the Astrals, and so the birthright as eldest, as firstborn belonged to both of them. She knew a Shield would come from one of them which was why she had another child, one that she could raise away from the grip of the Raven, but Death is not so kind.

Nothing is heavy to those who have wings, and Death took from them his father and his brother, a Niflheim attack meant to weaken the King’s Shield. His mother never showed how much losing both her husband and youngest son at the same time affected her, except for the color draining from her hair within a month’s time. Yet she stayed by the King’s side, unwavering, to show her dedication and resolve. But Clarus, with his gift, saw that his mother turned her sorrow into action. Her husband gone, her commitment was completely the King’s; her son gone, her focus on the Leonis prodigy was just as consuming. Perhaps Cor’s role filled the void that was meant for Justus, but it allowed Clarus to find the justice for him and his father.

When he returned, before the blood on his sword was dry, his mother looked at him with the same eyes he had and she announced that he would be her successor. Clarus remembered that on that day, on the steps of the throne room, her hand a vice on his shoulder, his mother was the Raven.

[jflashandclash]

Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw VII

The rest of the walk back was, admittedly, a little awkward. Axel didn’t mean to make Ethan go so pale or shut up so abruptly.

However, if he said he wasn’t proud of the Leonis Caput’s charm, he would be lying.

He and Ethan stepped through an archway of gold. The room on the other side was still illuminated with turquoise fire.

A cheer erupted. “It’s the Lion!” someone shouted.

“They didn’t leave us!”

From a glance over, Axel saw anger replace Ethan’s fear. His scowl returned. Someone, Axel suspected, didn’t like being rescued.

After their heart-to-heart, Axel wasn’t going to let Ethan out of his sight. Nor was he going to waste a moment where another hostile deity could appear. He was impressed Ailiseu had kept everyone corralled within his turquoise flames. These soldiers didn’t need to discover that the flames were nothing more than light tricks that Uncle Frasco had taught him to use in the circus.

“Get in two lines, side-by-side,” Axel said, pacing back and forth in front of them to establish the start of the lines. Like herding his siblings. “Everyone hold onto the person in front of you. Keep your weapon in your other hand. No one goes off alone—is that clear?” There were nods of understanding as the troop scrambled to obey. “If you hear Mary, do not engage.”

Axel pivot turned to face the golden-arched doorway. “And Mary,” he called, in the event the goddess had perked back up, “You are not to approach my troops without explicit permission.”[1]

“Kronos’ troops,” Ethan growled.

Axel glared. “Once we rejoin.” Then, they would be Kronos’ troops again. Until then, Axel pointed beside him. “You’re leading the second column.” To the others, “Protect your side of the column!”

He glanced around the floor for a dim glow. Not through the golden archway. Not through the silver one. This was going to make him look really stupid if he got them all organized to play Guess Which Way Leads to Death. He did have—what had Ethan called it? Clear vision? Right?

Something touched his neck—or hadn’t yet?—he saw a flicker of finger movement, felt the caress moments after, and saw the echo of the hand before it vanished. Three transparent white gloves that blurred into one: Hecate.

Always here to give a third option, the helm mused.  

Axel couldn’t respond. His knees had gone weak, but he couldn’t reveal that in front of the other demigods.

Hecate had trace up to his chin, tilting his head up.

There, above them, the roof was glowing with a Greek D.

Axel shook off the phantom sensation, unsure if it had been real. “Excuse me,” he said to Ailiseu, borrowing their pilum. He tapped the symbol.

A retractable ladder popped out of the ceiling, joints groaning as it extended. Demigods exclaimed and ooed. He used the pilum to tug it down within reach, thinking, no matter how badly he wanted to, it might look undignified to jump for the bottom rung. As though constructed by the Fates, the ladder was wide enough to accommodate two people at once. He just hoped it was strong enough.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder. This time, it wasn’t a crazed goddess or his friend’s godly mother. It was Ailiseu, nodding their head gravely. He handed them back the pilum. “Thank you.”

Behind them and behind Ethan, the demigod soldiers had lined up appropriately. They had expressions of scared hopefulness.

Was that a good attitude to take into battle?

Say something.

At times like this, Axel wished they had a better name for themselves. Camp Half-Blood had “campers” or “Greeks.” Camp Jupiter had “legionaries” or “Romans.” Kronians sounded too much like cronies. When Pax had suggested “Tambourines” for Mount Tam, Axel stopped the conversation before it caught on. They were a blend of nationalities and godly ancestry. Axel wasn’t even a demigod: the one thing the rest of them shared. What brought them together?

He cleared his throat, tilted up his chin, and projected the way Uncle Frasco had taught him.

“We were forgotten. We were abandoned. Neglected. Abused,” he glanced down the two columns, hoping each soldier felt seen. “Camp Half-Blood worships our abusers. They pay tribute at every meal to those who tormented us or left us to torment.”

One of the newer demigods raised his sword and shouted, “Fuck those guys!”

There came a cheer.

Axel grinned fiercely. He raised his own sword in salute. “We fight for Camp Othrys! We fight for freedom from tyranny!” Cheers continued between each sentence. “We will defeat those that defend the practice of dictators!” Axel remembered Pax telling him how boring it got when he speechified about tyranny and oppression and how he should keep it simple unless he was speaking with Witch Boy.

So, to finish off, he shouted, “Let’s go kick their asses!”

The tunnel echoed with a roar of approval and agreement.

As Axel and Ethan each placed a foot on the ladder, relieved to find it held their weight and that of the demigods behind them, the Leonis caput added, “I will lead us into battle!”

***

*Jack crawls from the grave to set this as a tiny offering to its followers’ shrine before crawling back into its grave to seek out a juicier offering for next time*

Thank you for reading! I hope all of you enjoyed! Hopefully, in two weeks, I’ll have the next installment in this segment for Into the Lion’s Maw. Thank all of you so much for your comments, artwork, support and patience! I keep thinking things are going to settle down and they might be soon!

***

Footnotes:

[1] Original draft, for those of you interested: “Everyone hold hands. I don’t want ANYONE going off on their own. Is that clear? I do not want anyone to listen to Mary here without first okaying it with me. Mary, you’re going to be integral in us getting out of here. Can you hold onto my hand.”

Axel offered her the severed bone hand.

She gleefully clenched it, immediately snapping a finger off.

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw V

Bandages covered the forearm closest to him, ones striped with thin, red slits.

Her chesire smile was so fragile; it twitched on the edge of sobs.

She was going to crush his shoulder.

Axel gripped her wrist. She flinched back, dragging him a step with her. Up close, he could see her lips were split. Flakes of skin dangled off. Spittle flicked from them as she giggle-cried, “Gone. Don’t you see? All gone. Just us. Don’t you see? Just us and our little audience, like a puppet crowd we stigger and stabble in the auditorium with nothing to do but fear the dreaded Exit Sign at the end of all sho—”

Axel allowed one glance.

The monsters were, in fact, gone.

With that one step, one that the demigod soldiers had unwittedly taken with them, the labyrinth had come to life and taken its own step. The hoards of monsters—their strength and shield—had vanished. There was a fork in the stone tunnel ahead. It ended in two doors, one with a golden archway; another, a wrought iron one.

He was alone with a handful of terrified demigods and a mad goddess.

“They left us,” one of the demigods shouted, “Without Ariadne’s string…” His fellow soldier—Luke’s new favorite—Nakamura?—didn’t need to finish the sentiment.

Mary spoke their fears aloud, “Everyone forgets that we all cease. How does everyone forget? You can read and read and watch and watch and drown and drown, but that’s all you’re doing. Drowning—[1]”

Lieutenant, came the gentle reminder.

The helm was correct: his job was, right now, to keep everyone calm. Something Mary was rapidly undoing.

Mary was far stronger than he. There would be no overpowering her. But, maybe he didn’t need to. Ethel needed gentleness after Zeus attacked her. Hiro, his little half-brother, needed slow movements and softness after Hiro’s mother had killed herself and tried to kill him. Mary’s desperation reflected that same fragility.

“Mary,” Axel said, maintaining eye contact, “My name is Axel. I am friends with Chris Rodriguez.”

That’s what he meant to say.

“I am the Leonis Caput,” came out instead. Axel felt like the alteration should scare him. Instead, clutching the helm brought calm detachment. “The child of Hermes was to be under my protection. As these demigods are now. We are rejoining our main force. And I do not like distractions.”

Pax would have liked it. It had dramatic flair. He would have wanted to end it with, and hear me roar.

The authoritative tone worked.

Mary released his shoulder and shrank back a step. Her lower lip quivered, making the skin flakes dance. She hugged herself, digging her nails into the scabs along either bicep.

“I can help! Help—help—please—” she pleaded, “I’ve been down here a long time. A lo-o-o-onnnng time. I’ve guided many people in the labyrinth.”

In the labyrinth, Axel noted. Not through the labyrinth.

“I know the way!” she pranced once towards the golden archway. “This way—oh, all ways are the same, but this way is best same way.”

But, Axel knew it wasn’t the way. Earlier, the flooring under Kampe and the monsters had glowed dimly. Here, the glow deadended between the two arches. “No—”

Mary had already gripped Ethan Nakamura’s arm. She dragged him towards the golden arch. “Hey!” Ethan shouted, unable to keep his footing at her speed.

“We’re going to be left behind again!” someone from the back cried.

For an exacerbated heartbeat, Axel remembered babysitting all his siblings after Uncle Frasco had given them several pounds of candy and they sprinted in two different directions. Except, that only resulted in several bags of throw up instead of the potential destruction of the entire demigod force.

 “Stop!” Axel roared. He flicked out his lighter, bit his tongue, murmured a word in Maya, and spit into the flame. It quadrupled in size, taking on a turquoise hue. With a flick of the Mist, torches around the room flared to life, providing them a parameter.

He pivoted on his scared troops. “Stay in the protective barrier. We lose no more to the labyrinth on this trip.” He sought out someone whose name he knew, someone responsible, and settled on a short brunette in the back. “Ailiseu, keep everyone here.” Before anyone could protest, he ran for the golden arch. Ethan just vanished into it, his over-sized armor clanging.

There was no protective barrier, but Alex couldn’t have them splitting up into the labyrinth. Ailiseu—he couldn’t even remember their godly parentage—was level headed. He just needed them to keep the others there until—

Heart pounding and eyes darting, Axel dashed after Mary’s footsteps as the sound retreated into the darkness. He held up his lighter with the turquoise flame. Uncle Frasco could manipulate flames like this for hours—for a whole circus show. Axel had only tried it for brief tricks. He hoped that “protective barrier” would hold.

“Hey! Let go of me, you crazy lady—” echoed ahead.

Axel almost stumbled over Ethan’s sword. He must have dropped it in the struggle. Axel slipped his foot under the hilt and kicked it up, snatching it in his left hand. The floor’s dim glow had shifted, the light trailing after the kidnapped soldier and mad goddess.

When Axel saw them, he increased his speed.

Ahead, Mary was dragging Ethan towards a pile of corpses.

Thank you for reading! I know this is a short one. And I’m only technically getting it out before the end of the weekend (er, my time zone’s weekend--) but I hope you enjoyed! Getting a short with both Ethan Nakamura and Mary. I’ve had requests on both of them and I hope this doesn’t disappoint!

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I’m hoping to resume our every-other-week schedule with a lovely forecast of dismembered limb jokes. I hope you have an awesome leap day!

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[1] Interlude brought to you by Jack’s recent existential crisis. Interlude music begins here, preformed by Pax and three weasels. Doo doo to doo doooooo—

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace (Traitors of Olympus)

Forty-Four: Ajax

When Dreams Come True 

             When Axel collapsed to his knees, Pax had to pause to reconsider their life decisions. Maybe they’d pushed the whole Paxes are the coolest thing since chimpanzees learned to ride bicycles too far. Maybe the Fates were filling in a MadLip with Cards Against Humanity for the Pax brothers.  

             Whatever the reason, the timing of Axel’s mental episode was about as good as the timing of Achilles’ last step.

             “Ares, are you this pathetic a coward? Fight me like a real warrior—” Axel’s voice crippled to pained pants. Pax could almost hear Axel’s internalized, meditative counting. This was what Axel did when the Leonis Caput’s memories synced with his: the way he quivered, covered his face, crumbled into himself, the rage and malice he emitted, the way he tore at his ears and hair like a bunch of microscopic Ares-lice were stabbing him with baby spears.[1]

             Pax wanted to tell Axel now wasn’t the time for hardcore dander removal nor the time to challenge Ares, but—

             “Aphrodite, if you were ever hoping we’d… you wouldn’t let…” Axel released an inhuman growl, his claws dropping to hug himself. The tips of his nails sank deep into Axel’s exposed forearms and gashed his skin.

             “Wow!” Pax said.

As terrified as he was of the ship, and as nauseous as he was from seeing Flynn, he couldn’t be useless right now. That wasn’t a normal-Axel-breakdown. The Silver Tongued Snake needed to get to work. He focused on trying to take care of Axel, and about how to talk them out of this and crawl back up to Alabaster and Reyna with a white “halp” flag. Assuming the ghost army hadn’t overrun Camp Half-Blood, but one thing at a time.

             Pax set a hand on Axel’s shoulder, trying to surreptitiously remove Axel’s claws from his arm. He gave Ares and Aphrodite a sheepish smile.

             Aphrodite raised an eyebrow at him and Ares looked amused.

             “Listen, Jerk of War and… Aphrodite.” Pax realized calling her “leave favorite goddess” was probably a bad idea right now. “I know we started off on the wrong foot, what with Axel almost castrating you during a fight and some other minor—”

             When Axel’s hand shot out to shove Pax, it was hard enough to throw him off balance. Pax’s back slammed into Johnny’s Rocket’s wall and he skidded down to the ship’s deck.

             “Get away from me!” Axel snarled, his voice wavering.

             Pax sat there, stunned, watching Ares laugh. Aphrodite sighed and fluffed her now-long locks. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” Ares said. He removed his arm from Aphrodite’s shoulder to crack his knuckles.

             The ship workers—their old friend—all paused in their work duties to watch. They looked horrified. The mop in Flynn’s hands snapped against the floor.

             Ares walked towards Axel and set a hand on his forehead, forcing Axel to look up.

             “Hey!” Pax shouted. This was bad. Pax couldn’t fight Ares, or he didn’t think he could.

             He was about to yell, “No face-high fiving my brother!” when Ares did something he didn’t expect.

“I remove my curse from you,” Ares said, “And grant you a fighter’s, my, blessing.”

             “No…” Axel whined. His hands went slack and flopped to the floor.

             “Now, go forth, Monster of the Labyrinth, and hunt your prey.” Ares detached the Leonis Caput helm from Axel’s belt and placed it over Axel’s head. The God of War grinned, taking a step back to admire his handiwork. He looked at Pax and grunted, “Ajax Pax. I think we’re supposed to give you a five second head start or something, but I don’t care about that shit. Ready or not, here he comes.”

             Pax didn’t understand. He numbly watched his brother get up and turn towards him. Although Pax could normally see through Axel’s Mist alterations, Axel’s figure blurred with that of the Leonis Caput: his limbs turned skeletal, his skin seemed to hang loose. In the grey light, the plumes of his helm smeared to a bloody mane. Normally, even in costume, Axel had the look of a strategizing human. Now, his body heaved like a hungry, wild beast.

             “Ajax, run,” Axel’s voice sounded distant, small, and scared. In alarm, Pax realized he couldn’t see Axel’s mouth move under the helmet, just the vile grin of the monster. “Don’t use anything I’ve taught you.”

             But… but Axel had taught him everything. They trained together every morning since their acrobat days. And, besides, what was Axel talking about? Pax could hear him in there somewhere and it��s not like Axel would ever—

             The monster threw its head back and released an agonized wail, two-toned with Axel’s baritone and the Leonis Caput’s growl. One that twisted into a raw scream. [2]

             Pax scrambled to run. Shaking, he snatched up one of the smoke bombs Alabaster had resupplied in his utility belt and dropped it.

             Right as the green tendrils billowed into the salty air, the Leonis Caput lunged. Pax rolled into the smoke screen, the way he’d always dodged—

             And felt the Leonis Caput’s claws dig into his hip, then around Pax’s utility belt.

             Pax screamed in pain, wrenching to the side to dislodge his brother’s grip. Axel lifted him by the belt. Something sharp scraped his skin.

             The leather around Pax’s waist gave. Pax flopped onto the deck, his pants loose. He scrambled backwards, kicked the material off so he’d have full mobility, and struggled to get the skinny jeans over his combat boots. To save time, he kicked those off too.

             The ocean breeze dissipated the green haze enough that Pax could see the Leonis Caput stand to full height.

             Pax’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. The ship’s deck, his brother lost like an animal, someone laughing like a stereotypical villain in the background: he’d seen this before. He knew how this ended.

             He was already shouting through sobs, “Ares’ big, scary, evil plan. To have one brother pants another…”

             Pax trailed off when the Leonis Caput dangled the utility belt off one obsidian blade. All of Pax’s weapons, tricks, and household goods were on there: his daggers, helm, smoke bombs, knock out darts, serums, EpiPens, and emergency gum and condoms. Pax was naked, and it wasn’t just because he’d kicked off his pants.

             “You don’t happen to have any walnuts on you, right?” Pax whispered.

             As the Leonis Caput drew Pax’s own celestial bronze daggers, Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them.

             Then, the Leonis Caput tossed Pax’s other defenses over Aphrodite’s and Ares’ heads, into the deck’s swimming pool. Aphrodite followed the progression with an iPhone. She giggled at Pax’s Pegasus boxers. “Oh, this is going to get such a high rating on GodTube.”

             “Ares, Aphrodite stop this. Ajax isn’t the one you want—” Axel’s shaking demand felt detached from the Leonis Caput, and came out more as a plead.

             Ares laughed. He cracked his neck to one side, took Aphrodite by the waist, and pulled her into one of the patio chairs. “No, but I’m rather enjoying this. Front row seats to see you beg for mercy.”

             Pax needed to make a plan. But he wasn’t the planner, Axel was. And—even if he had weapons—he couldn’t attack the Leonis Caput. That was his brother in there. He wanted to find a good corner of the ship to curl up, hide like a baby, and cry for his mother—er—cry for a good maternal figure. What he needed to do was talk their way out of this, and reason with Ares and Aphrodite, but that sounded as useful as reasoning with Hercules’ foot. Plus, Pax already found himself shrieking, “Chinga a tu puta madre!” at Ares.[3]

             Not a great start to diplomacy.

             The Leonis Caput slid one of Pax’s daggers into its fur to sheath it. With the other in hand, it began a jerky, twirling dance towards him. The jagged movements reminded Pax of their weasel’s war dance—everything was disjointed to confuse its prey.

             Tears streamed down Pax’s face while he scrambled back to his feet. His breath was tight. Every time his mind synthesized intel about his brother for a weakness—

 Axel Pax

Powers: Manipulation of Mist. Clear sight. Jaguar transformation. Increased speed, strength, ability. Heightened senses. Utter obliviousness to women’s attraction. Expert fighter and badass. Coolest brother ever.

Weaknesses: Stupidly stubborn, social justice warrior, guilt-ridden, nicotine addiction, his little brother, killing his little brother, killing his little brother, killing his—

                 Pax sprinted towards the back entrance to the bar. The door was slightly ajar. If he was smart and quick, maybe he could trap Axel. He could kick Axel into the bar shack, brace the exterior door with some of the patio furniture; then, he could release the chain holding up the metal gate that covered the guest access and lock the gate to the bar counter. No one would have to die. No one would need to be pinned to a deck. They’d just have to pants Ares, get that on video, and post it along with Aphrodite’s video.

             Despite how silent the Leonis Caput was, Pax could sense him closing in. The sense of approach made him choke on his gasps.

             When Pax got close to the door, he launched off the ground with his nondominate foot, planting his next step on the doorframe to run up the wall. He hoped Axel’s momentum would be too fast—that he’d skid into the shack or, if Axel could stop, that Pax would backflip off the doorframe, land behind Axel, and kick him inside.

             In mid-flip, he registered his mistake.

             Axel knew when Pax was getting ready for a flip.

             Claws sank into Pax’s shoulder.

             Pax screamed.

             Pax’s momentum broke.

             In the split second of reaction time, he reached down with his other hand to jam his fingers at the exposed pressure points along Axel’s forearm.

             But the Leonis Caput had already hurled him off course.

             Pax slammed into the deck. His face smashed into a piece of smoldering wood near the patio chairs. On contact, his shoulder cracked.

             A sob erupted from his mouth.

             For a stunned moment, all he could smell was rot, saltwater, and smoke. He thought about all the warm days he’d spent on this ship, playing pranks with Mattias, performing concerts for the bored army, and about the times Jack talked Luke into some beach days in Belize so he and Axel could visit Chiich and show Alabaster their home town.

             He thought about how Jack was a decapitated head now, how Will, Joey, Kouta, and Santiago were dead, how Lapis and Hiro had left he and Axel to help Eris bring a ghost army to obliterate Camp Half-Blood, how his topside friends might already be dead, and how—if they survived—his only chances at a healthy, happy relationship would be dating each other. When had the fates decided his story would be so angsty?! He hadn’t asked for much; he didn’t want glory or fame—he just wanted infinite craft projects and a dozen Pax children!

             Pax tried to push up off the grossly warm muck on the floorboards.

             Pain erupted in the shoulder that had cracked. He squealed. The arm wouldn’t move. The other trembled violently.

             Footsteps approached.

             His gaze hardened on his functional hand, placing it flat against the floorboards.

             As soon as he went to push off, a bronze blade slammed through his palm, thudding into the deck at an angle, pinning him.

             Pax stared as glittery blood smeared onto the slimy wood and his hand. His cries clogged into hyperventilation. He remembered this. He knew what happened next.

             But, in his dream, he’d never heard Axel speak.

             “Ares—please—” Axel’s distant, small voice trembled violently. For the first time since Frasco died, he could hear Axel choking on sobs. “Stop! I’ll atone for my sins—I’ll—I’ll do anything—”  

             Someone laughed.

             Pax’s mouth was moving. He was screaming something at Ares, some kind of curse or swear.

             He tried to yank his hand up, to force the blade out of the—

             The world flashed white for a moment.

             Pax squealed again. He’d forgotten his blade expanded at the base. Everything flared, like he’d shoved his injured shoulder and pinned hand into a meat grinder at the same time. He couldn’t—couldn’t get enough leverage—

             “Aphrodite—p-p-please—please—I’ll be your slave! You can use me however you want—I won’t resist—and I’ll never think of Reyna again, and I’ll tell you I love you—”

             “Ares, maybe we should reconsider—”

             “Stay strong, babe. He’s no Adonis.”

             Pax twisted his neck, catching sight of the animalistic arch of Axel’s legs. Axel still looked like he’d become the monster, but Pax could hear Axel’s hysterical tears. That was his brother trapped inside. The Leonis Caput withdrew the other dagger from his furs.

             “Axel…” Pax whispered.

             After Frasco died, Pax had never wanted to hear Axel cry like that again. He’d wanted to keep Axel smiling and laughing, like Axel always kept him safe and fed.

             “Please—gods! Titans! Anyone! Hecate! Morpheus! PLEASE!” Axel wailed.

             Pax choked back a sob. “Axel, it’s not your fault—”

             The Leonis Caput’s legs leveled with Pax’s shoulder. “Don’t say that—”

             “Don’t go all stoic about this. Talk to Reyna, Alabaster, and Kally.” Pax tried desperately to get his breathing under control so he could talk fast. He forced a smile, one that probably broke the Guinness Mythological Records for fakeness. “And quit smoking. You know those things have a c-c-component of urine for fl-flavoring.”

             The Leonis Caput slowly knelt beside him. “Shut up, Ajax—” Axel couldn’t finish the comment.

             “We’ll see each other again. Remember? I’m like a stomach parasite—”

             The Leonis Caput grabbed Pax’s hair.

             “—you can’t get rid of me.”

             Aphrodite had gone completely silent. Ares made a grunt, like he wasn’t pleased that Pax had to get a lot off his chest before the whole eternity elsewhere thing.

             The Leonis Caput pulled Pax slightly upright by his hair. Pax strained not to scream at the pain in his shoulder, or the way the dagger tugged at his hand on the deck. But he knew Axel was the one in there, seeing all of this. He wanted to pretend things were as painless as possible.

             “Regardless of this, you know, you’re still the best big brother anyone could ask for,” Pax whispered, “Sick burn to Kouta, right?”

             Axel wept as the Leonis Caput hefted up Pax’s second dagger in his other hand.

             While Pax was trying to act relaxed about the whole eminent death thing, he had to close his eyes when he saw the tip pointed at his throat. He may have loved Axel, and wanted to minimize the killing-your-own-brother-guilt thing, but he was still a coward.

             Pax could feel Axel’s body tense. He figured the moment was coming, and said, “Goodbye, Axel. I love you, bro.”

             He’d thought a lot about what would be the best or most heroic last words. He figured nothing could top those.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading! Sooooo, this was supposed to be the last chapter in the book, in the spirit of Riordan cliffhangers, but Mel basically said she’d murder me if I didn’t put an epilogue in. Who else is in the murder party?!

Axel, put your hand down. I revoke your right to enter this party.  

Footnotes: 

[1] One day, I need a drawing of this.

[2] This scene was conceived to What’s Up People by Maximum to the Hormone.

[3] *ehem* Don’t say this. It’s a very impolite thing to imply someone should do with their mother.

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Twenty- Eight: Percy

I Fall Over. Epically, Of Course.

 Author note: Sorry this is late guys! The last week and a half has been insane. It’s not like I left you waiting for a major battle—oh… ah—well, I hope you enjoy!

             To say Percy was having a bad day would be a grievous understatement. He’d had worse days: he wasn’t in Tartarus right now, nor was he in that awful demigod prep course that Annabeth and his mom had signed him up for to do New Rome’s entrance exams.

           But, his girlfriend had broken up with him today for a weasel she couldn’t catch. And this was the third counselor of Cabin Seven that Percy would see moments before his death—though maybe not. Maybe Will was okay. Percy tried not to focus on Will, or Nico’s disappearance, or the headless corpse.

When he first ran up to the scene, Percy feared the worst on the body’s identity, except that Nico hadn’t been wearing such a fashionable pink pajama set. Percy was pretty sure, if someone tried to redress Nico in that post-mortem, even Hades would break the rules of the dead and allow Nico ten seconds of undeadly massacring to destroy such a sleepwear atrocity.  

However, when Percy saw Annabeth and Piper lying on the ground and that crimson-and-black unicorn-jerk keeping vigilance over them, everything else vanished. He sprinted to her side, dropped to his knees, and cradled her.  

With the way the unicorn had its gold and silver, broken horn to Piper’s neck, Percy may have feared some Diomedes’ level of flesh-eating-horse, except he could hear the unicorn grumbling about healing her.

But nothing about healing Annabeth.

When Percy pulled Annabeth into his lap, he was relieved to hear her soft breath. She was okay, but looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. He knew that look well during her exam times.

“Wise Girl…” he whispered and kissed her forehead. Despite the cold, her forehead was coated with sweat.

What happened? He demanded mentally.

The unicorn huffed, its black mouth puttering. He raised his horn from Piper to scowl one eye at Percy. At the sight of Piper’s neck, Percy winced. Pus and blood stained Piper’s camo jacket from some sore the unicorn was fixing. She was also breathing, though each breath rattled.

Eat bit, mate, the unicorn snapped. Other than Arion, Percy was so used to unquestioned respect from equestrians, the unicorn’s tone startled him. I just got back from fightin’ your little bird, went for a bit of grass, heard a crack, and came to check on my pet—

Jason and Leo appeared on either side of Piper.

When Leo knelt down, he landed in something squishy.

“How’s our Beauty Queen?” he asked, his voice cracking. Leo looked pale and he kept glancing back to Will.

Frank knelt beside Will. The big Canadian took off his praetorian cloak and gently laid it over Will in a way Percy really didn’t like. The movement was too final, too telling, especially how Frank covered Will’s smashed face, like that was all that was left to do.

Beside Frank, Hazel stood with her spatha drawn. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her empty fist was clenched and shaking.

Calypso sank down beside the decapitated body, looking stunned.

When Percy returned his gaze, his eyes locked with Jason. A moment of understanding passed between them, and Percy knew he had seen the final moments of another deceased Cabin Seven counselor. He wondered how many friends Jason had seen die in battle.

Anger wretched at his gut. This was supposed to be a peace party.

           These other demigods weren’t great at the whole “peace party” thing. They’d need to be taught a thing or two about peace.

           Er, well, about keeping the peace. Or—whatever. They needed to be taught a lesson.

           “Guys? Earth to Percy, what did Sergeant Horn say about Pipes?” Leo asked.

           Judging from his expression, Leo hadn’t realized what had happened to Will yet.

           The unicorn snapped its teeth near Leo’s head. The name is Vinyl, Meat Sack.

           “I wouldn’t call him that,” Percy said. He’d meant it for Leo, but realized it work for both parties.

           “She should be okay,” Jason said, almost stubbornly. Percy watched Jason gently take Piper’s arm, two fingers pressed to her vitals. “Her heartbeat is strong though I think she’s running a slight fever.”

           Behind them, Percy could see Hazel wipe away her tears. “We’re not letting them get away, not—not with what’s happened here. I’m going to bring down that barrier.”

           Percy might have asked “What barrier?” but Hazel turned towards the woods, where they’d seen Pax dart off as they arrived.

           As she raised her empty hand, a circle of green runes glowed around the forested lot.

           Calypso stood up, away from the body. She rubbed her fingers on her work pants, then flipped her braid back over her shoulder. She stepped beside Hazel. “I can help you.”

           Leo frowned and shifted. “Sunshine, I thought you didn’t have magic—wait—if you do, shouldn’t you be focusing on healing Will?”

           Jason winced. “Leo—”

           But Calypso beat him to it. While lifting her hands beside Hazel, Calypso hissed, “What good would that do?” Her voice was so much harsher than he remembered.

That did make Percy realize she could be healing Annabeth or Piper. Thinking about the curses and death wishes Calypso had given Annabeth in Tartarus, should he let her heal Annabeth?

The barrier’s circle emblazed with a more brilliant green. It expanded, like a bubble ready to pop.

           Leo’s mouth dropped open. He glanced back over to Will and the decapitated body. “…oh… oh gods—does that mean the other body is Nic—”

           “No, it’s Jack,” Calypso said. She gritted her teeth. Hazel made a soft grumble. Something small and sparkly sprang up by their feet—a diamond.

            “Jack, your ex-boyfriend Jack? You can recognize him without a head?!”

            “Not the time, Leo,” Percy pointed out. Though he wasn’t sure it was ever the time to discuss headless body recognition. “Jason.” Percy locked eyes with the son of Jupiter. “Do you wanna find out if that barrier is wind resistant?”

           “On it,” Jason said. He gently kissed Piper’s forehead, took off his jacket, and propped her head under it. Then he went to join Hazel and Calypso. When he raised his arms, a deafening whistle blasted into the air as wind thundered into the trees.

           Leo fumbled with his tool belt. “Lemme alert Felix and Festus. Maybe we can smoke them out.”

           Frank stepped over to them, looking sick. “My stick could be in there.”

           “Right. Maybe Felix can annoy them out,” Leo corrected and walked off, calling on the metal friends they’d parked further down the street.

           Annabeth murmured softly. Percy dropped his face close to hers, trying to tune out the others. She was so quiet; he was scared Jason’s wind would drown her out.

           What she said made his skin crawl. “Eris... has… your sis...ter…”

           Percy felt his jaw drop. “My sister? They took my sister?!”

           She inhaled leisurely and her eyes fluttered. She seemed like she might pass out again, but managed, “Don’t... kill… Ajax… Not… Fault…”

           None of that made sense. But Annabeth’s grey eyes rolled back into her head before Percy could ask her what any of it meant. Although she’d barely managed to move at all, what little she had done spent the last of her energy. Annabeth collapsed into a deep sleep.

           Percy trembled as he mimicked what Jason had done for Piper. He took off his swim captain sweater to put under Annabeth’s head. He couldn’t tell if his shakes were more from fear or anger.

           You could mess with him. You could mess with the gods. You could even mess with Camp Half-Blood.

           But no one touched Annabeth.

           And no one touched his little sister or the rest of his family.

           “Your sister?! Gods, Percy, are—are you okay?” Frank’s voice brought him to the present.

           Frank hovered nearby, looking like he felt dumb for asking the question. But Percy was glad for it. The question made him focus.

           “You.” Percy pointed at the unicorn who had continued to heal Piper. “You keep an eye out on these two, else I’ll hunt you down and turn you into glue.”

           The unicorn huffed at him. Yea, the unicorn had attacked them, but he figured—had Vinyl wanted to kill Annabeth and Piper—he would have been using them for horn goring practice instead of sprinkling them with fairy dust.

           Percy got to his feet and drew Riptide. “Alright, Frank. No more horsing around. We gotta make a plan to catch these bastards.” Especially if his sister and Nico were on the line. Especially if they had to find out what bastard did this to Will.

           Something exploded beside them.

           Shards of what looked like glowing green glass puffed into the moonbeams before dissolving into dust. As Jason’s air swept the particles away, an entire townhouse came into view in place of the forest, with a full driveway, a van parked out front, and a confused looking metal donkey beside it.

           The Pax brother’s van.

           There was also a stumbling silver worktable on the lawn. Leo must have sent Felix in while Percy was attending to Annabeth. The table looked crippled, one leg bent to the point of nonfunctioning. Now, it might make a better piece of angry, modern art.

           “Barrier is down!” Hazel announced.  

           From their position in the neighbor’s adjacent lawn, Percy could see the back porch, where seven demigods were making a run for the forest behind the house.

           “They’re leaving out the back!” Percy shouted.

           Jason was on it. As he stepped rapidly along the side of the house, he raised one hand. A lightning bolt blasted into the tree line ahead of the retreating demigods.

           Everything went white.

           Percy’s ears rang with the pop.

           Despite temporary deaf and blindness, Percy and Frank rushed over to join where Jason and Hazel were converging.

           When Percy blinked the white dots out of his vision, he could see their attempted escapees were still trying to get to their feet.  Before the Pax brothers and their allies could regroup, Hazel lifted her hands and shoved them down, hard, like she was about to hop over an invisible fence.

           The ground by the tree line collapsed in a semicircle trench, cutting off any escape to the woods, unless one of them had a grappling hook or were an Olympic level pole vaulter,[1] they’d have to get through the five of them instead. Percy hoped they’d try to get through them.

           “Nice,” Frank complimented Hazel.

           “Thanks,” Hazel said, but her eyes were narrowed at their opponents. Percy understood. He could feel their collective rage. While Percy didn’t know the full story, these jerks had messed with him, his friends, and his family too much. They were going to find out who did this to Annabeth, Piper, and Will, where Nico was, and what they’d done with Percy’s little sister.

           “Annabeth said not to kill them,” Percy growled.

           Jason cracked his knuckles. “Did she say anything about beating them senseless?”

           “Nope. She left that out.”

           “Good,” Hazel said, clutching her spatha.

           A rush of air puffed out behind them as something thumped onto the ground. Leo laughed crazily beside what Percy assumed was Festus. “Ha—ha! Dragon cavalry has arrived! Let’s show them that our back up is cooler than theirs!”

           “No fire,” Hazel called over her shoulder.

           Frank gave her an appreciative smile.

           “Right! No fire!” Leo assured.

           Festus creaked in confirmation.

           “Hey, Sunshine, see if you can heal the girls while we take care of this.”

           Percy was thinking how to politely inform Leo that his girlfriend might want to kill Annabeth when a cry went up from Hazel’s makeshift trench.

           By now, Percy and his friends were walking past the back porch. He could see where Axel, Pax, Euna, and another boy that Percy didn’t recognize were standing

           The tall, gangly brunette stranger tossed something onto the ground.

           Smoke exploded into the moonlight, twisting out in three different colors: black in the center, and gold and green on either side. The screen completely coated their opponents, the back yard, and the trench. Then, it snaked upward into three separate shapes. The gold warped into a lion; the green, a serpentine head; the black, one of a goat.

           As though in sync with the swirling smoke, a hiss and a snarl thundered from within.

           Although Percy desperately hoped the goat would go baaaa, instead, a column of fire spat out of the smoke goat’s mouth. Not nearly as funny as the baaah, would have been.

           Percy immediately recognized the shape as something he’d fought as a child. Some part of him felt small again.

           Frank put it to words. “That is the Triple A Chimera,” he warned.          

“AAA? Do they sell insurance?” Percy asked, trying to sound confident. Why was his voice shaking still? He was trying not to think about his sister, or Annabeth, or what could have happened to either of them. He was trying to focus on the battle, but his mind kept twisting to panic, like his battle mode ADHD had gone haywire.

Someone chanted in a language Percy didn’t understand. The barometric pressure dropped, like it had when Jason summoned lightning. A flash of turquoise flames fluttered to life within the golden smoke, tinting it a sickly green.

           Another chill went down Percy’s spine. Some part deep inside of him said he should nope right out of this. But he and his friends had defeated the giants together and other way scarier things. Some renegade demigods? No problem, right?

           “Reyna said they use fear magic—at least the Leonis Caput does. Ares said he already killed two praetors.”

           “Right. Fear magic. That’s what it is,” Leo said behind them.

           Jason put a hand out to stop any of them from approaching the smoke. “Frank, you didn’t say Axel was the Leonis Caput!”

           “You know them?” Hazel asked. The fear magic must have been getting to her too. She looked queasy.

           “I fought him and the Silver-Tongued Snake during the Battle of Mount Othrys. That’s the bastard playing with Reyna’s emotions?”

           The way Jason said it made Percy think Annabeth’s wishes about no-killing wouldn’t be honored.

           “They have nicknames?” Percy asked, trying to stop shaking. “It’s like a boy band.”

           “I assure you, they’re nothing like a boy band.”

           As though to confirm, through the smoke, a figure stepped out. Percy wondered if the bronze dragon behind them might discourage an attack and encourage making a sign that said We surrender. Sorry for being jerks.

           Instead, the creature he saw didn’t look human, but also didn’t appear to be anything he knew from Greek mythology.

           It had a ram’s skull for a head, with horns jutting several feet out to the sides. Green mist poured from its empty eye sockets. Pouches with glowing runes dangled from its wrists, its exposed spinal column, and its two-pronged black staff. Its limbs looked built out of tree twigs. Although humanoid, its gait was off, like each cloven step forward required it to rip roots out of the earth.

           From the golden smoke beside it, another stalked forward. This one had golden skin that sagged into folds. Where the skin was torn, Percy could see a rotting skeleton. The face was feline, with a bloodied, crimson mane encasing the neck. Its jaws were permanently stretched into a snarl, too far for a living creature. Inside the blackness of the throat, Percy could see the reflection of two predatory golden eyes, like this thing had swallowed someone that wanted out.

           The way it moved reminded Percy of how Leo’s flames flickered—too abrupt and jerky to look real.

           Lastly, something rolled from the green smoke. It hissed out a laugh and crept closer, keeping low to the ground, though Percy could have sworn he saw the reptilian flicker of a tail.

           Percy was not digging this fear magic. He was shivering like the first time he’d seen Polybotes.

           “I’ve seen the real thing… They’re more like a… discount Chimera,” Percy said, swallowing.

           The others looked as stunned.

           “Jason.” Frank seemed to come to first. “Can you blow their cover?”

           Jason shook his head, like he was warding off a bad memory. “Gladly.”

           As Jason raised his arms to blast away the smoke, the serpentine figure and the feline crouched low, like an Olympic sprinter about to dash at them. Mr. Ramhead in the center slammed his staff down.

           “Incanteare: Gelu Semati!” he snarled.

           The serpent and the feline disappeared. Something else swirled out from the smoke: a blast of wintery hail. Tiny ice bullets pelted into Percy’s skin, making him wince and raise a hand to block his face.

           Although the smoke dissipated under Jason’s wind, the hail blew into the wind, unlike anything Percy had ever seen. Percy couldn’t sense the water in that ice. He never thought there would be a storm he and Jason couldn’t stop, but this hail didn’t seem to care about the powers of the children of the sky and storm.

           “So you wanna play with magic? You should know what you’re falling for,” the voice echoed from where Mr. Ramhead had been standing. The hailstorm increased; Percy could no longer see him. He could barely even see Frank, only a few feet away from him.

           But he could sense something coming, something bad.

           “I can’t control any of this!” Jason said, “Hazel?”

           “It’s an illusion—but I can conjure Mist, not see through it,” Hazel said, “Listen for them!”

           Percy desperately wished Rachel was here. Or Annabeth and Piper were conscious. Rachel could have seen through. Annabeth might have thought of a plan around it, and Piper could have talked Mr. Ramshead down.

           “Jason and I will take to the air, see if we can get a better idea of what’s going on or where this ends,” Frank said, getting a hold of himself. “Hazel, see if you can trip up our opponents and make it hard to sneak around. Percy, Leo, Festus, make sure no one gets past you.”

           “Will do, Praetor Man. Time for the Leomeister and Festus to—”

           Something scurried past Percy’s leg. He pivoted to follow the movement, but the small creatures weren’t after him. The storm was less intense behind him, allowing Percy to catch a glimpse of what happened.

           Leo stood a few feet back. Festus crouched behind him, making the townhouse look like a toy model. Both were ready to fight.

           Then a weasel the size of a tractor slammed into the side of Festus. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Two smaller creatures hopped off the first, scampering up onto Festus’s wings.

           While Festus tried to gain his footing, the monster-sized weasel twisted to chomp down on Festus’s neck. Percy hoped it would wretch back in pain from a toothache, but the black teeth sank right into the bronze.

           The dragon creaked in alarm. The weasel was smaller than him, but those teeth must have hurt.

           “Festus!” Leo shouted.

           Festus stumbled, smashing into the side of the house. Percy took a step towards them in horror—Festus was close to Annabeth, Percy, Calypso, and Vinyl. The structure groaned, siding ripping off and onto his wings. The weasel disengaged, darted to the side, and dashed at him again. That thing was fast.[2]

           “No fire!” Leo shouted when Festus’s mouth began to glow, withdrawing a sledgehammer from his tool belt.

           It creaked again in anger. Then went to unfurl its wings, when one made an uncomfortable cracking sound.

           One of the other tiny weasels phased out of Festus’s half-folded wing, a strip of wires dangling from its mouth.

           Something exploded on Festus’s other wing.

           They couldn’t use fire, but no one had said anything about water. Percy was about to give that giant rodent a hose down and get Festus clear of the girls, when he realized something horrible.

           The weasels had been a distraction.

           “Eyes forward!” Frank shouted.

           Percy’s gut tugged when he felt for the water in the plumps under the house. He pulled, forcing the pipes to burst, flooding the water towards the surface.

           As the water surged up, Jason shouted in alarm. The air and hail whirled around Jason as he went to take off, and follow Frank’s orders. Something anchored his ascent.

           Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping tightly around the son of Jupiter’s ankles. The vines shooting from the earth became thicker—tree roots—and dragged Jason back down. Jason slashed furiously at the plants, but a new one would snag out of the ground each time he cut one down. Soon, the tree roots had crawled up his leg and sank him back to the grass.

           A hissing laugh cackled out of the hail beside Jason. “I’ve seen enough hentai to know where this is going.”

           When the vines snatched at Frank, he dispersed into a swarm of wasps—or something like that, since Percy just saw the large Canadian disappear into the hail.

           Before Hazel could help him or Festus or before Percy could blast them with water, something rolled from the same direction of that taunting hiss.

           Percy expected to have to destroy the soccer ball-like object, but felt his stomach pitch when the head started talking in an announcer voice.

           “Oh! Our eagle boy is out for the count! Can the gracious Jason Grace manage to fight Euna Song’s godly grip! Stay tuned to find out folks—”

           “Is that a talking head?!” Hazel demanded, being closest to the… thing.

           No one could answer.

           The Triple A Chimera reappeared.

           Percy didn’t see the other two members, but something flickered out of the hail, directly beside him. One moment, Percy was concentrating on the up flow of sewer water and hoping Hazel and Frank could help Jason, when a skeletal humanoid appeared out of the hail and rolled into the splits beside Percy.

           He hadn’t expected it to be so close, or so low to the ground. The movement completely exposed the Leonis Caput’s golden fur back and red maned head. It had no weapons drawn, and—for that instant—Percy could see it give him a ghastly grin.

           A second set of golden, glistening eyes winked at Percy from inside the creature’s massive jaws.

           As Percy pivoted to redirect Riptide, the monster slammed its palm into the side of Percy’s knee.

           Percy felt air escape his mouth in the form of a scream.

           Something snapped in his knee. The joint bent inward, towards his other leg.

           Percy focused to keep his concentration on the scene around him: the hail, the gleam of the monster’s fur, the sewage water, his friends’ shouts, the talking head announcing his fall. He refused to let the world white out, like his body wanted it to.

           In the same instance, Percy slammed Riptide’s blade into the Leonis Caput’s shoulder.

           The blade deflected off the monster’s hide.

           The Nemean Lion fur, he realized. He should have recognized it. This person—Axel?—must have killed it after him. If it was the same, no weapon could pierce that hide.

           There was nothing Percy could do to regain his footing. His knee wouldn’t respond when he tried to stumble. He was going to fall.

           But his little sister and Nico were on the line. He wasn’t about to let this monster win. After all, he was Percy Jackson.

 Footnotes:

[1] Pax would like to clarify, that as he and Axel are circus performers, they probably could have made it. But they didn’t want to leave the others behind. You’re welcome, Pax.

[2] Look up videos of weasels vs. snakes. Weasels are AWESOME!

[jflashandclash]

The Triple A Chimera

I was trying to hold off on posting this picture until you met the Triple A Chimera in the book series, but I’m too excited to wait any longer!

@go-spaghettininja did an amazing job with this! Kronos’s assassination squad of Mist users: Axel the Leonis Caput, Alabaster the Clove Terror, and Ajax the Silver-Tongued Snake in full monster get up! Bia did a phenomenal job crafting this challenging piece and bringing these monsters to life. Gotta love her use of Mist, shadow, and color to make the piece feel ominous! Definitely something Luke would want to use for Camp Othrys propaganda!

This is from Tales from Mount Othrys and Attrition of Peace, the third installment of the Traitors of Olympus series.

(I have been terrible about posting things. Sorry guys!)

(Pst, go-spaghettininja’s commissions are open!)

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus: Blood of a Mayan

Twenty Six: Ajax

So… It is too Awkward for Us to get Ice Cream after This..? It’s Not, Right?

 Pax may have had a minor lapse in judgment. Okay, maybe a major lapse in judgment. But judgment was lapsy for him. Especially in situations where your brother drops some of his Mist mask in front of your almost-girlfriend and makes some unfriendly advances towards her.

Pax could envision the defense now, “Don’t worry. It’s just like we’re giving you a major concussion. You won’t remember a thing.”

Yea, that was going to be added to the list of Things That Don’t Scream “Date Me:”

1.       Battling Rodents

2.       Crazed Brothers with Forget-Me-Lots rags

3.       Restraining Orders

Anyway, Pax had screwed up. He could see that now—well, he couldn’t actually see it, as he was rather blind at the moment, but the general sentiment was there.

Drugging their friends with delicious Kool-Aid? He’d rather look at it like he’d eased them into a well earned nap, with complimentary sleeping bags and weasel snuggles.

And Axel wasn’t supposed to give Leo an exaggerated bear hug in the original plan… or break both of his wrists… or choke him. They were supposed to toast with the same Sleepy Time Kool-Aid over a blacksmith’s job well done and some delicious tofu burgers. But Kronos also wasn’t supposed to have some weird, residual essence in Backbiter that called out of Axel’s b’alam side. Funny how the Fates worked that right? One moment you’re going to have a delightful midnight picnic with a handsome Latino blacksmith and the next you’re telling your brother that psycho behavior might not be the best way to keep friends.

Pax would have to send the Fates a very friendly Christmas card this year.

Although everything was still blurry, Pax put one hand up towards Axel and one hand backwards to push against Kally like a referee calling, STOP! Hammer time.

Pax just hoped Kally didn’t start to run, since he knew Axel’s predator instinct might kick in and he really didn’t want a slapstick chase scene that ended in an uncomfortable letter to Apollo of, Please resurrect your daughter. I really like her and my brother and I may have goofed up a bit.

“Axel, let’s tone it down on the whole maniacal behavior thing. I think Phobetor would give you a standing ovation on the fear factor and execution, but—”

Axel sighed in annoyance, a gesture that made Pax want to mimic the motion in relief. It meant this was still dominantly his brother and not the Leonis Caput. “We’ve done this dozens of times little hero,” Axel said.

That was true. There was even this one time with a Roman senator and his elephant—well, that didn’t matter now.

“But not to a friend!” The anger in Pax’s shout surprised him. Maybe he’d been holding in a little more resentment than he realized or maybe he just felt that tonight was a good night for vocal projection. “This isn’t a discussion—we’re not messing with Kally’s head like this. Maybe other ways, but not like this.”

There was no way to know how much someone might forget with the River Lethe. Yea, they could give someone a brief press with a diluted dose to estimate a few weeks to a few months memory loss but… Kally might not even remember she was demigod if they did that. She also would forget that Pax was a scumbag, made bad life choices, and that she owed him nine drachma and ten Reese’s.

“Leo won’t remember making the sword. No one else knows and Kally can’t exactly go around shouting it to the world with her River Styx pact,” Pax said. The spots in his eyes were fading. He might be able to see Axel’s disappointment in full in a few seconds.

Axel’s shoulders relaxed and he tilted his head. Those eyes looked more sad than angry. “Do you really think she’ll ever love you after this?”  

Pax squirmed. All he ever wanted was to meet a good person and have a happily ever after with a happy, functional family. Mattias and Jack had always teased him for falling in love fast and hard and planning things way too far into the future—he’d have Baller and Hunnie wear a tuxedo and dress for his and Kally’s supposed wedding. But Axel and Pax had done a lot of awful things under Kronos’s order. Pax wasn’t a good person. Maybe he didn’t deserve a Disney ending where he got to walk off singing and trip over forest critters that wouldn’t get out of the way (cue Hunnie and Baller again in their tiny suit and dress).

Although he could feel a loved section of scumbag die on his inside, Pax choked out, “That doesn’t matter.” Augh, that hurt. Punched right in the morals. What is this feeling of righteousness? “This is wrong. This is something Flynn would do.”

“THIS is wrong?” Axel growled skeptically. Pax was really happy Axel didn’t enlist all their deviousness to prove a point for all those in the audience who hadn’t been paying attention. Instead, his golden eyes shifted past Pax, to Kally. “There’s no shame in forgetfulness, Kalypso Kassand. No one can hold you accountable if you don’t remember.” His voice was slipping; Axel was losing control. “Just know, if you break your vows of silence and I lose Backbiter before I can slay Santiago…” His tongue flicked out to lick his lips. “I will find you and add you to my collection of souls.”

Pax thought his metaphor could have been better. Plant you in my garden of flowery death. Use you as flour for my cookies of destruction. Bookmark you in my library of chaos.[1]

“Axel… what’s wrong with you?” Kally asked quietly. Under the hand he had protectively behind him, he could feel her shaking like she’d taken the ice bucket challenge. Pax understood the sentiment; it would be cold to do the ice bucket challenge in the middle of November.

But Axel had just gone a few miles too far. Erasing some of the memory of some random hero that apparently saved the universe? Eh. Threatening Kally so he could slay their dad…

“This isn’t you talking,” Pax said. “It’s the Leonis Caput—”

“WE’RE THE SAME PERSON!” the frustrated scream came with the lovely harmony of Axel’s baritone paired with the Leonis Caput’s gravely bass.

“Wow—yea, that. Axel would never have such a silly slip of his anger management. That is Kronos’s monster. You are my brother born of the primordial awesome and I am NOT afraid of annoying you back into acting like yourself—now step off of that stupid sword!”  

The forest was eerily quiet for a second. Pax could hear the sizzling of dirt as the last batches of superheated earth cooled. Other than that and the torches quietly flickering in the night, he couldn’t hear anything except his own heartbeat. The thump was inconveniently loud, like Apollo had picked his skull as a new drum.

Axel grunted and staggered forward, off the blade. Pax could tell he was trying to count internally, to regain control. This had always happened as their helmets’ magic waned, a little more of the memories seeping through, of Axel massacring Romans in the Labyrinth as sacrifices to Kronos. Normally they weren’t this bad, but normally Kronos’s essence didn’t crash the party. Rude.

Axel clutched his head and made a low whining noise. Still manly, Pax would assure if he ever told the tale later. This time when Axel collapsed to his knees, Pax could tell that was actually his brother. Axel immediately started rubbing his Mist mask on, smearing away the teeth, crazy eye color, and other nice Halloween rave gear.  

Disaster averted! Pax relaxed. He often woke up and thanked the gods his brother hadn’t gone on a murderous rampage. Pax was a person of habit; he really hadn’t wanted to change that morning routine.

Someone giggled by one of the work benches.

Kally and he jumped. Axel probably would have if he wasn’t acting all tragic and angsty.

A girl sat on one of the work benches. She looked about Pax’s age, maybe a little younger at fifteen or so. She had short, jagged black hair, streaked with various shades of red, purple, and white. Her eyes glistened a bloody red, wide with glee, a lot like how Pax’s mothers did in human form. Dirt smeared her face, arms, and neck, making it hard to tell how tan she actually was. She wore a black, torn up shirt that read I Solemnly Swear that I am Up to No Good and some weird black mesh of shorts. She would have been beautiful, like a brightly colored viper, except Pax knew they were a little too closely related for that.

“Atë,” Pax greeted the Goddess of Mischief and Ruin.

“Have you ever watched a monster turn?” she asked, tilting her head as she examined Axel’s struggle. “They don’t talk about that part in the myths, how a human loses its humanity. It’s like how they montage training sequences in action movies. You never get to really appreciate the gradual attrition of character and decay of moral.”

“That was really uplifting. Thanks for dropping by,” Pax said.

She flashed Pax a psychotic smile. “I haven’t seen you since the day before the Battle of Mount Othrys. Oh Ajax!” He cringed at the memory and her use of his first name. “I still haven’t decided with you. Will you be more gullible or reckless or trusting?” She giggled again. “Mom said to check up on you and the sword. You father will ascend tomorrow morning if he’s not stopped. Are you as excited as I am for the ensuing chaos?”

Axel made a pained grunt, but didn’t lift his head from his hands.

The pieces started to fall into place and make about as much a sense as a Salvador Dali painting. The little acts of mischief, the fighting amongst the Olympians, and the silly errands they’d been sent out to do. Pax might have been mighty proud if he didn’t feel like his mom and sister had dressed him up as a pretty doe for deer hunting season. “You and Mom have been having some good bring-your-daughter-to-work days, huh? Weren’t you, uh, thrown off Olympus though? How’re you uh—” Pax wasn’t sure how she referred to her hobbies. “—working with the gods?”

“I was tossed down. Now I can spend more time with demigods and mortals. I dote on your kind far more than the rest of the family.” Atë leaned forward to give Kally a small wave, one that only entailed curling her fingers like she was catching elusive dandelions, or plucking out someone’s tendons. With Atë’s general demeanor, he assumed the latter to be more accurate to her tortured, artistic soul.

Kally stiffened.

You know that awkward, slightly racist, incredibly conservative uncle that you don’t want to introduce to your friends for fear of him saying all gypsies are Satan spawn? Atë was that relative if that relative had just been bailed out of jail for burning down orphanages for handicapped children. Pax preferred to keep an all inclusive mentality about his family, but he had a friend or two from handicapped orphanages and liked them less on the crispy side.

“Kally, that’s Atë, my half-sister on the godly side,” Pax muttered.[2] “Atë, this is Kally, my… uh, well she was my almost-girlfriend of about ten minutes ago.” Now Pax could probably add Kally to the list of people who would like to see him in a ditch with a sign that read, pour steaming coffee here, over his head.

Kally cleared her throat. “Friend,” she corrected quietly. Which was way better than someone who wanted to pour steaming coffee over his head. “Are you the one who set Athena and Poseidon against each other?”

Atë giggled again like a broken Ferbee. “Again, I can’t mess with the Olympians. But heroes… Heroes can go anywhere.” In a swirl of smoke, Atë disappeared off the bench and reappeared inches from Pax’s face. He could smell the reek of iron and see flecks of dried blood crusting her shirt. Ways to encourage a midnight appetite.

“Are you going to be Mom’s champion?” she asked, stroking a finger under his chin.

When Hunnie woke up, he decided he’d need to sit his furry friends down and find out if getting pets under the chin felt this demeaning and creepy for the weasels. If so, he’d make sure they got appropriate weasel therapy and carnivore friendly lollipops as an apology gift.

Pax didn’t want to be anyone’s champion. He wanted to make sure Dad didn’t hurt people. He wanted to make sure Axel was safe and sane, and not a whimpering mess. He wanted to go back to Camp Half-Blood and spend the rest of his life helping the Stoll brothers make Chiron miserable and doting on Kally with homemade shirts and cookies. But he was sure, if he said that, Atë would just counter, “Yea, and I want Apollo to reinvent the Black Plague, and wipe out half of humanity. We can’t all have what we want.”

When Pax hesitated, Atë pinched his cheek. “The fate of Camp Half-Blood might boil down to whichever side you choose, chaos or peace. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll make the wrong choice.”  

Smoke burst in front of him and she was gone, leaving Pax to wonder if he and Axel may have screwed up way more than he had thought.

Thanks for reading :D

[1] Pax has a full list of these, but Jack had to burn the list so this chapter didn’t go on for too long.

[2] I know you’re either a Wiki search away from who Pax’s mom is or—for those of you more into mythology or My Little Pony—you’ve already figured it out. But this author is stubbornly not going to write her name down until she introduces herself to the cast.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: THE LAST CHAPTER!!!

           Their lunch went over the amount of time Pax had allotted, but there was no way he would cut it early. The appreciation on Merry’s face and the relief on Kally’s were worth every second of catch up he had to play, even as he bantered into the phone.

           “Are you suggesting this meeting is more important than my own affairs?” Pax let the iciness slip into Santiago’s voice. The other end of the line went into panicked silence. Everyone thought Santiago had disappeared for good, but he couldn’t yet. Not when there were so many unresolved legal issues to attend to and so many people Pax could mess with.

           Other than his phone argument, the van had been marked with uncomfortable silence. Alabaster spent the time doing his jaw stretches and exercises. Pax wanted to make a comment about a few other ways to work out Alabaster’s jaw, but—after one very awkward bathhouse incident where Pax forgot who he was—Pax had promised to check the mirror before he tried hitting on anyone. Or give tackle hugs. That had ended well with Axel.

           Axel couldn’t stand to look at him when he did this. He didn’t even like hearing Pax talk. Some disturbed part of Pax enjoyed it, like Muahahha! This is how if feels! But, Pax knew that was about as fair as betting against Prometheus or Tyche.[1]

On the note of feeling vindicated about triggering Axel’s trauma and why, Pax admitted, it was unfair, Pax had chosen to hang the Triple A Chimera masks in their throne room. That way, he would cringe every time he caught saw the Leonis Caput helm and had to rub the stump where his hand used to be. Call it the espresso shot of incentive for whenever he wavered on their cause or thought about painting weasels instead of going to one of Santiago’s business meetings.

           Axel didn’t choose to see Santiago again the way Pax chose to see the helm. Axel had voiced his opinion on the matter very thoroughly and with a lot of violent gum chewing. If Pax kept this up, and they found a way to attach an electrical plant to Axel’s mouth, Pax suspected they could power the entirety of Camp Othrys (Remastered) with his vehemence.

           As their white van pulled alongside the other pharmaceutical vans, Pax ended the phone call. He grinned at the others, shuffling to his feet. No matter how often he turned into Santiago, he never got used to the limp.

           “Good news everyone!” he said.

           Curiosity sparkled in Alabaster’s green eyes. He sat up on the opposite bench. “Did you get a dead body?”

           “I got a dead body!”

           Axel didn’t say a word or react as he exited the driver’s side. He didn’t wait for them either, going ahead through the back entrance’s hidden doors.

           Pax tried not to let Axel’s anger dampen his spirits. Instead, he focused on this opportunity: Axel had left Alabaster to his mercy.

Pax rose to his feet, almost stumbling on the bad leg.

           Alabaster hopped out of the van. He sighed and extended a hand to help him.

           Pax fished around his suit jacket—it became easier wearing the same clothes his dad did when he was morphing this often—and nipped a bite of his golden apple. He didn’t need to anymore. He had morphed into Santiago as soon as they dropped off the girls, but he enjoyed the sensation. Before Alabaster could withdraw, Pax morphed again.

           That way, when he staggered down and leaned against Alabaster for support, Pax looked like a voluptuous, hot chick whose curves barely fit in the now-tight business suit.

           Alabaster had a hard time looking at him. “Ajax,” he growled, though in threat or complaint, Pax wouldn’t know until Alabaster set him on fire.

           Pax grinned up at him. “The corpse is super fresh, only an hour dead. It’s the right height, weight, race, and age. How much time will you need to give him a proper, evil gimp leg and some Iago fangs?”

           That had been a fun experience. When Alabaster set to work making a mold of Santiago’s mouth from Pax’s morphed one, Pax had a hard time not trying to eat the bubble-flavored molding. Eventually, Alabaster switched the flavor to something much less delicious.

           Pax tightened his—her? Unlike Lapis, who demanded a certain pronoun, he never really cared what pronoun he used, even when his family jewels turned into… that didn’t seem fair that girl’s parts weren’t also called family jewels. They were as precious. Maybe family pearls? He’d have to consult Urbandictionary later. Regardless, her for now. Pax tightened her hand around Alabaster’s tie. The bracelet that Alabaster had made for Pax glinted along her wrist in the sunlight.

Witch boy had a much harder time rebuffing her when Pax was a girl.

           Alabaster swallowed at their proximity but didn’t withdraw. He looked exhausted, probably from hot-girl-overdrive from seeing Kally earlier. “To trick a mortal, a few hours. If the coroner identifying him ends up being a demigod…” he shrugged.

           Pax had forgotten, for a second, they were talking about altering a body. She nuzzled her face against Alabaster’s shoulder, her longer hair spill out the ponytail and across the two of them. Although the child of Hecate’s spell pouches were all by his belt now, his scent still hinted at the herbs he carried.

Other than that bathing house incident, Pax had been an upstanding gentlelady… gentleman… gentle person? Whatever. Which really meant she hadn’t had time to disrespect anyone’s boundaries, or so Pax kept telling himself. That and she feared she’d breakdown if she let herself get cuddly with Alabaster. She had to be strong. Strong Pax baby that used all that bottled up fear, pain, and anger to scheme. Muahaha.

           But Pax wanted hugs after not touching Kally the whole meal. And Pax had been so well-behaved recently. So much so, that Alabaster hadn’t set him on fire in months. Maybe…

           “So, I see you get hot and bothered by corpse talk. If I keep chatting about it, will you let me give your neck a makeover? Look at Axel. It’s all the rage these days,” Pax said. It had been so long since she properly flirted, she almost forgot to make her eyes super wide when she blinked up at him.

           “Ajax, I appreciate that you’ve kept to your promise for the last two months,” Alabaster said. “Don’t—”

           Someone cleared their throat by the back entrance of the temple.

           Axel must have doubled back from inside to give Lucius the automaton donkey a bucket of oil. He leaned against the door, arms folded, glaring, though Pax couldn’t tell if it was more at her or at Alabaster.

           Pax pouted.

           Alabaster tapped Pax’s bracelet.

           Pax’s Mist hand dissolved. The glove collapsed into nothing, leaving the red scarring of a stumped wrist.

           All his concentration faded. Pax morphed back into a boy, clutching his stump and empty glove against his chest.

           That was meaner than anything Alabaster could have said, but Pax carefully kept his pout. Making Alabaster question his sexuality for a few seconds: a victory that trumped all other loses, including that of a functional limb. Probably.[2]

           “Even if the Belizean coroner is a demigod, he isn’t paid enough money to pay attention to something like that,” Axel said, like his little brother hadn’t been trying to seduce his friend and use a van with sleeping bags the way teenagers were supposed to use a van with sleeping bags.

           Alabaster fixed his tie. The skin under his freckles was bright red despite the way he tried to glare. “If we can properly set up the body in the swamps of Belize, it’ll look more like a suicide than a murder.”

            “See, that. That’s exactly the kind of violence I want. Good ol’ autosacrifice!” Pax kept his smile strong. He refused to puff up his cheeks and pop them while thinking about autosacrifice: the amount of blood that he and Lapis had shed to contact the Vision Serpent recently. This time, he wanted to proceed as carefully as possible and get all the supernatural, visiony approval as possible before things went wrong. No more rash Pax baby.

           He led the others towards the backdoors of the temple. He was pleased to see some new recruit had graffitied kittens around the door entrance. The next hallway wasn’t nearly as cheerful—Matthias had been focusing so much on restructuring the new housing that he’d only managed to put up posters of bands for this area of redecoration.

           “Santiago is making a huge point to say he’s traveling to his home town for something important next week,” Pax said to and winked at Axel. “After that, Mr. Soon-To-Be-Legally-Pax-Patriarch, you and Lapis will never have to look at him again. Except in family photos. We should burn all our family photos.”

           Axel clenched his jaw in his best illustration of I can be hot, mysterious, AND mopey. “I don’t like that you’re doing this.”

           That was a conversation that Pax wanted to hear again about as much as he wanted to watch Alabaster cut off his useless hand again. Sure, in a few ways, he’d asked for both, but that didn’t mean he needed another bonding experience with a hatchet or a grumpy older brother.

           Nausea threatened his stomach as he thought about how much easier it could have been with Kally there. She wouldn’t have let the procedure continue without him being sedated. But, she wouldn’t have let a lot of things happen that Pax knew needed to happen.

           He shook off the feeling, jamming his stump harder into his ribs to force himself to focus. They got to the elevator at the end of the hall. It was already opening with the auto sensor Matthias had installed.

“Yea,” Pax said, “And I don’t like that my brother got attacked by an empousa and won’t tell me about it. You said you were going to find a way to easily change the subject from our updated style. You didn’t say you were going onto Vampire’s Anonymous. Did you at least give as good as you got?”

           Axel sighed. When he rubbed his bruises, his expression turned wistful. They got inside, and Axel pressed his finger into the scanner for a quick blood sample to get to the top floor. “Ajax, I’m pretty sure I’d kill someone if I tried to do this to their neck. And, I would never give you a lead that obvious.”

           Pax grumbled in Mayan. If Axel was leaving territorial marks, he could have looked into whether or not Reyna or Thalia had gotten a sudden propensity for scarves.  Pax couldn’t believe he’d been so busy that he didn’t even have a guess as to which girl was Axel’s new best friend and which was his nibble buddy.

           “When she’s ready for it to become public…” Axel trailed off. He puffed up his cheeks and popped them. “Then you’ll know. I’m not exactly fond of keeping our relationship a secret.” There was a hint of bitterness.

           Pax huffed. “Augh, that’s no help either! Is it secret because of Thalia’s connection to the huntresses or Reyna’s position as praetor? You wouldn’t violate Thalia’s vows, but you also wouldn’t want to jeopardize Reyna’s already shaky claim as praetor. And I don’t know whether or not you thought relieving sexual tension through neck play was a way around Thalia’s vows—”

           “Ajax,” Axel warned. “Girlfriend or friend, I don’t even let Jack speak disrespectfully of someone I care about.”

           “Does Jack know?!” Pax demanded.

           Alabaster cleared his throat. “I think Lapis may have let it slip.”

           Which meant Lapis knew. Dude, Axel sucked at keeping secrets. “Ha! You didn’t mention Bast! Besides, if it was her, she’s not one to get catty with the other girls, but would be prideful about her including Axel in her pride.”

           “Not necessarily,” Alabaster said. “She’s supposed to be in the Duat. She’s been sneaking off to visit us.”

           Axel’s cheeks grew red.

           Pax’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

           “It’s not Bast,” Axel said curtly, eliminating one. “She’s a bit too… maternal and and—um—aggressive for me.”

           Pax shook his head. “Ah, having a hot familial figure that wants to bang you. Now you know how I feel when I go on lunch dates with my half-sister.”

           Before the elevator dinged for the complete stop at the top floor, something phased through the shiny metal. It scurried up Pax’s pant leg, tiny nails tearing into the silky fabric, saving Pax from Axel and Alabaster’s glares.

           Between the “Aye! Aye! Aye!”s, Pax laughed. Baller, his weasel, burrowed into Pax’s sleeve, nesting into his armpit. Once the door opened, two more weasels scurried about their feet. Axel knelt down to pet Hunnie on the nose and accepted when the weasel wrapped around his hand in a battle strike. Alabaster tossed Nietzsche, the albino, something.

           All three took off after whatever the dark object was as it scuttled further into the atrium. Obsidian doors were in the wall across from the elevator doors, one ajar to allow the rodents to enter. Pax wasn’t sure what to do with remodeling the atrium yet. It was imposing, as he felt like it should be, but they also lacked something fun, like bean bags and a dartboard with Jason Grace’s face.[3]

           He really wanted Matthias to design a twenty story slide or fireman’s pole from this room to the bottom of the temple. Matthias said that would kill too many new recruits. Pax argued that it wouldn’t if they made it end in 20 feet of feathers. Alabaster said Pax didn’t understand the science of impact, but that Alabaster would see if he and Lou Ellen could make some kind of Mist buffer to accomplish the task.

           Giggles interrupted Pax’s thoughts.

           Just inside the doorway, he could see three girls duck out of sight. The sunlight in the room had glinted off their crimson skin so they looked like vanishing demons or, as Pax preferred, ethnically-ambiguous cartoon characters.

           “Huh, Euna must be tending to the—” Alabaster started.

           Pax gulped and sprinted for the door. “Cho!”

           Axel immediately caught up along his side as they busted through the doorway. “What?!”

           “I let Hiro loose!” Pax said. He’d meant it as a kind gesture—honestly, his littlest brother needed to get out from time to time, but Hiro and Euna hadn’t been in the same room since—

           They skidded to a stop inside. Everything sounded peacefully quiet. In Pax’s not-peaceful life, he knew that meant everyone had probably killed each other. The sound that shredded the peace was a blade sliding against another blade.

           Comforting.

           More giggles erupted.

           Axel and Pax scanned the room. There had been a lot of adjustments. The massive walnut trees expanded to form a canopy over the front section of the enormous throne room. Light could still come from the square dome at the top of the ceiling, especially with the mirrors they added to optimize the amount of sun, but the atrium was still dimmer than pre-forest times.

           In the center of the room, where Eris’ pithos once sat atop an alter, was Joey’s statue, still smiling with pride. That and the throne were lit magnificently. Pax had made sure of it. Both to honor Joey and to annoy her if she could still sense the brightness.

           The two tables that had once been used for meetings had been removed, leaving the throne in the back as the only piece of real furniture.

           In a maze across the ceiling, Pax had added metal bars, like monkey bars constructed by a maniac, with ladders installed on either side of the wall to reach them.

           That’s where they found the chaos.

           A fourteen-year-old half-Japanese boy dangled from the bars beside a tree that was further from the rest. His legs bobbed uselessly under him as he scrambled to catch one of the crimson nymphs.

           Pax knew there would be sixteen of those monstrosities in total, but he only spotted about a dozen in the branches, playing Keep Away with his littlest brother.

A crimson nymph curled up in a softly sobbing ball away from the others. Near her, Pax caught sight of Euna. She was, Pax assumed, pruning some of that nymph’s branches. Although most of the branches were thicker than her arm, Euna snipped them off with single strikes.

           He knew the last nymph would be by the former fire pit, and was too small to play with the others. Euna had already named that dryad Resilience since it was a sapling stubbornly sprouting from Santiago’s tree stump.  

           The walnut trees had red leaves, like the color of the nymph’s skin, hair, and eyes. Something about not having enough light for typical photosynthesis—bla-bla-bla—chemistry—bla-bla-bla—child of Demeter. All Pax cared about was the fact that Euna had NOT decided to prune Hiro’s functional limbs.

           Axel and Pax sighed in relief. Alabaster strolled in behind them, unconcerned.

           At their hurried entrance, some of the nymphs disappeared back into their trees. Euna set her shears down, then touched the snipped off sections. The bark rippled, healing over the nubs to leave little more than a scar. She knelt down beside the sobbing dryad, gently brushing away her tears with her work gloves. “Your branches were criss-crossed. We had to pick the strongest branch, since they would have been sickly if we kept both,” she said.

           The nymph sniffed and crawled up to lean into Euna’s long, black hair that hung over her shoulder.

           Euna awkwardly patted her back. Then, she gently set the nymph back into her tree.

           Once done, she brushed her gloves on her jeans and walked towards them. The vines and leaves dangling from her hair and limbs seemed to whisper with each step. Pax loved the fact that she hadn’t learned to control the whole “god glow” thing. It meant he wouldn’t trip over her when she found odd areas to nap or that he could use her as a nightlight.

           At Alabaster’s raised eyebrow, Euna shrugged. “It’s not their fault that they’re full grown and have the mental capacity of toddlers.”

           As much as Euna looked disinterested, she had been tending to these trees, and the former-fire-pit-new-garden, religiously. Axel and Pax had been worried about their favorite homicidal Korean until they brought her into this room and the dryads flocked to her like creepy, Satanic ducklings to their mother. When they were a little more developed, he was sure they’d run shrieking, “Mom’s home!”anytime Euna returned from missions.

           The creepy blood-born babies brought Euna peace and purpose beyond murder. Plus, it sort of solved the satanic dryad infestation. Still there, but at least they were more like pets and Hiro’s playmates than unwanted rodents. (Pax heard that most people didn’t want rodents in their houses, which he thought absurd.)

           Euna smiled at Axel as she tossed something at his head from her pocket. “Happy early birthday.”

           Axel caught it, flashing a fanged grin. They’d been playing a lot of “surprise” catch to work on her situational awareness. He held up the glass vial with something gold and fleshy inside. Attached to the lid were a pair of familiar sunglasses that seemed to glow with an internal fire. “Is this—”

           “A trophy from our fight last week?” she said. “Yea. Congrats. One down. Eleven to go.”

           Axel looked ecstatic. He hugged the heart-jar close to him with one hand, then held out the other in a fist. “Pound it,” he said.

           She fist bumped him. Her dark eyes searched around in lazy confusion. “Why isn’t Kally with you?”

           “Yea, Ajax, why did we deviate from the plan?” Alabaster asked, shooting him a side-glare.

           Pax had been hoping to avoid this conversation for as long as possible. At least now he had the perfect illustration as to his reasoning. “Because you just gave Axel a heart in a jar as a birthday gift.”

           “I thought it was very considerate and sweet,” Axel objected. He stepped around the group, walking towards the back wall. As he crossed paths with Joey’s statue, he nodded a greeting, then he continued forward, to put the jar in the section they’d designated for trophies.

Pax pondered over installing a modern art piece on the back wall. They already had the Triple A Chimera helms mounted there and Phobetor’s piccolo-hatchet. If they were going to have a menagerie of random godly item and organs, you might as well shape them into a weasel.

“Where’s Lapis?” Pax asked, watching Hiro snatch at a dryad. The girl giggled and hopped to a different branch. He swung down from the monkey bars, onto the tree, not realizing how hard he’d smashed his knees into another branch. They needed to buy him shin guards or a riot shield for his legs.

           “With the new recruits,” Euna said. “How’d the talk with Reyna go about the soldiers defecting from New Rome?”

           Axel snorted. “We’re protecting defectors and her reputation is on the line. How well do you think it went?”

           “So it was the huntress!” Pax said and snapped his fingers.

           Euna gave Pax a confused glance. “Do you mean Thalia? She hasn’t been a huntress for… um…” Her eyebrows furrowed. “The middle of the sweet potato harvest?”

           The fact that time had become difficult for their sprouting godling wasn’t the part of that sentence interested Pax.

           “A month,” Axel supplied, patiently “You and I celebrated her physical sweet sixteen with her, Percy, and Annabeth about a month ago.”

           “Holy Titans,” Pax whined, “So she—”

Before he could start guessing, Euna waved him off, sprinkling him with dirt from her gloves. “It didn’t have to do anything with me or Axel.”

           Axel shook his head. “The prophecy she was trying to prevent is over and she has paid proper homage to her fallen friend. She had some other reasons, but they didn’t have to do with any current romantic intentions.” The way he said it labeled the topic clearly with Off Limits.

           “Hrm, and an argument between you and Reyna could easily end in a nomnom fest. Augh!” Pax ran a hand through his hair, messing up the gel and pulling more out of his ponytail. “How have I become such a terrible information gatherer?”

           “I don’t know. You were gone on one of your ‘business’ meetings,” Axel said.

           The first month had been insane. Pax had to meet with a lot of contacts, both in the pharmaceutical world and mythological one, to prove Santiago wasn’t dead. He and Claymore had spent many a torturous session on how to conduct a business meeting without discussing anything serious, so Claymore could handle emails that involved real dealings. And, there had been the rebranding. Pretending Santiago had found God or whatever they decided to change some of the “business” practices.

           Technically, Pax supposed, Santiago had found some god.

           Pax’s stomach clenched to think of some of the stuff that happened to him when Axel was too “busy” during their time at Camp Othrys. One glance at Axel’s bitter glare, and Pax calmed.

           “Hey,” he protested at Axel and Alabaster’s scowls, “I got this. You promised me. Six months. I know that’s an insanely long time for neither of you to have an aneurism, but I have four more months of unquestioned Pax tyranny and I think I’ve been taking pretty good care of us so far. Reese’s Sticks for everyone!”

           “Yea, but how much of that time have you spent as you?” Axel asked. His ears flattened against his hairline.

           Alabaster nodded. “You haven’t pulled a single prank in a month or worked on any art projects. Matthias has a calendar recording it.”

           Euna made a face. “How does Matthias have time for that?”

           Pax puffed up his cheeks and popped them, swearing prank vengeance on Matthias as soon as he had time to conduct a proper prank. He pressed the stump of his hand into his ribs. His eyes drifted to Joey’s statue, to what Hera had done to her, and to the Leonis Caput helm and to what the god of war—former god of war, he corrected gleefully—and the goddess of love had done to Axel. That was why he had to do this.

           That’s also why he couldn’t break down in front of the others. They needed a strong leader, else Alabaster wouldn’t be able to focus on cracking the curse of Joey’s statue, Axel wouldn’t be able to finally relax enough to play bump in the night with the girl he liked or set up the training regiment for their newbies, Euna… Euna would probably do whatever Euna wanted to, but he liked to think she’d have a harder time focusing on her new god-powers and sanity without him putting forward some effort.

           And, he wasn’t ready to admit to them the problems he was still in denial about, like the times he’d gotten stuck as Santiago and called Atë in a panic as he scratched and clawed at his own face. At Santiago’s face? Pax looked too much like the photos to glance in mirrors anymore. That’s when the private lessons started of How to Be a God 101. Atë had taught him how to alter a single feature on his face, so no one would notice the gashes. She had taught him a lot.

He forced himself not to tremble.

           Pax gave them a devilish smile, realizing he must have missed a response from Axel. “If I fail, you’re allowed to pull my ear off. If it works, I’m punishment-free for another six months.” He winked at Alabaster. “Then I can coddle Witch boy without interruption.”

           Alabaster sighed. “Ajax, don’t make me sabotage Camp Othrys to maintain my dignity. I will.”

           “I will be allowed to court him in polite, gentlefolk fashion,” Pax corrected. “Girls can court people too nowadays, Witch Boy.” He winked again.

           “You’re not a girl,” Alabaster said, not looking at him or Axel. Axel made the terrible mistake of thinking Alabaster was the older of the two, so would blame anything that happened on him.

           “I can if I want to be,” Pax said. This was when he was supposed to bump Alabaster’s hip if he was acting normal, but he couldn’t bring himself to, not when he had been Santiago so often. He wished he could pretend, like he had for that second by the van.

           “Kally hits hard now,” Axel observed, saving Alabaster a response. He rubbed his shoulder, the same spot that Kally had given each of them a solid welt.

           Pax refrained from touching his with his stump. He and Alabaster exchanged a glance before Pax glared at Axel. “I know your vetting process for Axel’s List of Requirements for Taste in Sexy Ladies. Don’t get any ideas.”

           Axel laughed, clearly not catching onto Pax’s threatening tone or the way Alabaster had set a hand on his spell pouches. “I’m just saying that she must still be training with Mr. Paine,” Axel said, “She must be bored, or even scared having to deal with monsters on her own. You said you were going to bring her, Ajax, and tell the others about this.” That bitterness returned to his voice. “And I think Lapis is going to kill you if we don’t have Merry start sessions with Hiro.”

           “Look at him. He’s as happy as a condor with a deer carcass,” Pax said, gesturing to where Hiro had latched himself to one of the braches and was biting at the bark. They really needed to get him down before he fell again. Hiro didn’t need the lower half of his body when he was doing the horizontal swing of the monkey bars, but he struggled more with the vertical jumps on the trees.

           Hiro, as they discovered, did not like looking up. It sent him into a fit. So, Pax reasoned, they would just make it so Hiro could move all around the temple without much up to look at. That didn’t work though when one of the more malicious dryads tricked him to the lower branches and he couldn’t boost himself up to climb and couldn’t use his legs to jump down.

           “For now. You know he’ll fall apart when his medication wears off,” Alabaster muttered.

           Pax couldn’t argue. “We do need a healer…” he said softly. “I just don’t know if Kally is ready for… this.” He gestured widely to Santiago’s throne room with its demonic dryads and eerie gloom and doom.

           “Are you trying to make sure someone is comfortable?” Euna asked skeptically.

           “No, I live to discomfort others,” Pax said.

           Alabaster sighed. He reached into Pax’s pocket to withdraw his phone and set it into Pax’s hand. “We need a healer in more ways than one.”        

           Axel’s shoulder slumped. “And maybe someone to keep us in check. If it ever gets to the point that you don’t feel like you can have Kally here, maybe we’ve gone too far.”

           Pax wanted to say Exhibit A and point to the heart in a jar, but he knew they were talking about his recent fad for dress up. Just one more week though. Then some poor Belizean tourists would find “Santiago Pax” dead in a swamp and his will would divvy up his fortune with his recently acquitted son, Axel Pax, as the executor.[4]

           Would that change anything for Pax though?

           There was still so much to do. Others could do it so much better than Pax, well “Pax” as himself. It had been so much easier not being himself.  

           If Kally were here, he would have to do things a different way. She could read all of them like a book. Stupid authors and their assumptions on people’s—haha—character. She wouldn’t let him do his weekly visits with his half-sister, or sequester himself in his room under the guise of business meetings, or talk to the new recruits as Santiago because Santiago was so much better as a leader than he was.

           Maybe she could help him find a balance between serious, tyrant Pax and that soft child-prankster. What he normally was. If nothing else, her presence would get Alabaster and Axel off his back. Kally would probably be so lost adjusting the first week, she wouldn’t be able to keep track of him and his movements or who he was. If he set Alabaster up as her tour guide, then they’d both be too distracted—

           What was Pax thinking?! He had to be there if Alabaster and Kally would be battling for cutest and most oblivious flirt.

           Axel had thought this through too well.

           Pax sighed heavily. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, squared his shoulders, and tried—as best as he’d learned with one hand—to smooth his hair back into a tighter ponytail.

           Alabaster tapped the bracelet on Pax’s wrist.

           Mist emanated from the silver and gold band and twisted until it formed a hand. Pax still got phantom limb spasms, but at least the Mist hand worked. He smoothed the gel back down. His stray hair, this week he took to calling it One Who Dodges Hair Ties, popped out to curl down his cheek.

           “Can I at least make an official announcement?” Pax pouted.

           Axel stepped out of the path to the throne. After a split second of her staring off into the trees, he dragged Euna out of the way too.

           Pax walked through the room. As he passed Joey’s statue, he gave their marbled friend a quick kiss on the cheek, something he’d done every day they moved her here. Had he found out that she had a crush for him before she died, he’d have teased her relentlessly, and decided to make up for it during her stone age.

           “I bought you a pre-released recording session for EXO,” he said, “I heard Suho’s vocals can crack any girl’s hardened heart.”

           He set the CD at her feet. He still couldn’t believe people bought CDs. That was supposed to be for creatures that walked the earth hundreds of years ago. Later, they would have to pull the old CD player they’d salvaged out of Santiago’s room to give her some easy listening.

           Pax continued forward, forcing himself to look at the Leonis Caput helm on the back wall. It felt right to have a heart in a jar nearby. The sight made him wonder if Alabaster had put Pax’s severed hand in a bottle of formaldehyde and it was now floating somewhere in the Witch Boy’s laboratory. Pax wished he could still move the limb despite being severed. Then he’d make it wave to Alabaster every time he knew Alabaster was in his lab. Questions to ask Atë when next he saw her.

           Finally, Pax leveled with the throne of bones that was sewn together with tendons. He’d thrown a smiling panda car seat over it. Baby steps in remodeling.

           When he sat down—bones were very uncomfortable; Pax didn’t know what his father had been thinking—he saw Alabaster mid-eyebrow raise, Axel trying not to avert his gaze, and Euna staring off at Hiro as he chased a dryad around the canopy.

           He cleared his throat. “I promise to kidnap Kally—”

           “Bring Kally with parental knowledge and consent,” Axel corrected.

           “Hey.” Pax glared at the interruption. “We’re not shooting for gold and diamonds here.”        

           Euna shrugged, proving she was paying attention. “It went well with my dad.”

           All three boys shifted uncomfortably. “You call that ‘well?’” Alabaster asked.

           “Your dad hits really hard for a mortal,” Axel said, though Pax couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or a complaint.

           “He kept up with his military training,” Euna said, “I think he’s supposed to be visiting sometime this week.”

           Alabaster and Pax groaned. Mr. Song had a very strict expectation for his daughters’ livelihood and Camp Othrys II didn’t meet it.

           “Anyway,” Pax said, “I hereby say that Kally shall come here, but under one condition and one condition only.” He pointed a finger at Axel. “You tell me which girl got your neck.”

           Axel’s jaw started to clench, but his lips curved into a tired smile. “You know what? Deal. You bring in Kally, I’ll leave hints that any capable spymaster should be able to figure out.”

           “Ah, a challenge,” Pax said. He couldn’t decide if he was thrilled or annoyed. The fact that it was a question between the two emotions made Pax wonder if Alabaster and Axel were right: he needed to relax and smell the puff pastries.

           “Assuming you have the time to take said challenge.” Axel examined his claws on his right hand. His pointer and middle finger barely had new growth from when they ripped off in the Labyrinth. Pax decided not to ask, since it was so inappropriate—

           “Is it easier to court your girl now that those fingers have become more versatile?” Pax asked.

           Alabaster choked on a laugh.

           From somewhere in the trees, Hiro whistled.[5]

           Axel’s face deepened to crimson. Those fingers curled into a fist. “Ajax, you have four months left before I can rip off your ear.”

           “Allegedly,” Alabaster said.

           “I think it was a reasonable question,” Euna said, “Those claws have gotta get in the way.”

           Axel tried to keep his expression neutral as he changed the subject. “How are we going to tell Kally about this?” He gestured to their trophy wall: trophies from the minor gods that they had killed—two tiny gods and now one major. Ta-da! Pax was really proud of them for sticking to their New Year’s Resolution. Some people went to gyms. Some people slew a deity per month.

           “Maybe we should ease her more into this,” Alabaster said.

           Pax had to agree. Glancing from Joey’s statue to the Leonis Caput helm, he felt a smile crawl onto his lips. A malicious glee made him tap the armrest of his bone throne. In an instance that made him realize just how desperately they needed Kally to keep them in check, he leaned forward and asked, “The real question is: One down. Eleven to go. Who are we going after next?”

 ***

All the Author’s Notes!

This concludes the Traitors of Olympus series. For those of you who have made it through all of this madness, I can’t thank you enough for taking this journey with me, and it has been a crazy journey. (Pax is sobbing behind me. I think I saw Axel wipe a tear away too. Nope. Nope, that’s just him showing off his claws…) I hope you were able to enjoy this ending (it is VERY different than its original conception) and I really hope you’ve enjoyed the ride! As always, I’d love to hear any of your thoughts on the series, favorite ships, favorite scenes, favorite characters, or even for you just to say a quick, “Hi!” XD You guys rock and made this possible! (I’m not crying while writing this, I swear)

By September, I’m aiming to have the first short from Tales from Mount Othrys out, the prologue to this series, so you might not be rid of me just yet. Hold onto those pitchforks!

 ***

Thank you so much to Mel, my betatester and close friend, for inspiring me and encouraging me to keep going (and doting on my babies while I traumatize them). I would have crashed and burned forever ago without you. <3

And, lastly, I wanted to write a quick dedication to my Merry: I know you’re never going to read this, but this is how I wish things could have gone for you and your Nikhil. I’m sorry everything didn’t turn out like a storybook ending—you did everything you could with what was given to you. Please, remember that, and remember to take care of yourself. Nikhil, I hope you’ve found your favorite place to jam to comedy R&B in the Elysian Fields, hanging with the other heroes, like you, who are so good at bringing a smile to people’s faces.

***

Footnotes:

[1] Tyche vs. Prometheus. I think Tyche would win, because luck always destroys careful planning.

[2] Yea, I know Pax hit on him as a girl. Pax will still consider that making Alabaster question his sexuality, since Pax believes Alabaster’s sexuality is exclusively dedicated to his laboratory.

[3] Some things never change. Though Jack does think Jason Grace and Axel are now friends much to Pax’s pouty distaste.

[4] In Mel’s betanotes, she read this first as the Pokemon, “Exeggutor” and thought of an Axel version of that. I mean… Axel is both a psychic and nature type….

[5] Melbeta note, “HIRO FUCKING WHISTLED YOU GO YOU SMOL CHEEKY LITTLE PAX GET YOUR KICKS WHERE YOU CAN GET THEM XD XD … OH GOSH THAT PUN WASN’T INTENDED AND WAS MEANER THAN I EVER MEANT I’M SO SORRY!” Jack, “I couldn’t stop laughing at this. I think you understand why I needed to put this in here XD”

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Forty-Seven: Ajax

Two Out of Ten Stars on the Monologue

             Before Eris could set him down, something took her completely by surprise.

           A tree exploded out of the ground beside Eris and slapped her across the face. She lost her grip on him.

           Pax toppled away into someone else’s feet.

           This certain someone sprinkled another powder over his face.

           By this point, Pax’s instinct should have said Foreign Powder: Bad, but he didn’t have much choice in breathing. His mother’s concoction had left him gasping so heavily, all he could do was gulp up the flowery-scented air.

           Breathing became a lot easier. The fuzziness erased, so the world became a lot less weeeeee! and a lot more Oh, right, I’m in immense amounts of pain.

           When Pax looked up to see who he had to thank for this revelation, he remembered that he was a bit blind from the flashbang.

           Everything was still too bright. The flashbang should have warn off by now. Could it really be—

           “I LOVE LOW-CUT SHIRTS!” someone shouted from far above. The voice was so distant, Pax wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the spectral perv and wondered if demigods heard spectral pervs before they died instead of God. That seemed to fit Greek mythology to a T.

           When Pax blinked a few times, he could see the curtains of Nyx’s cape parting in the sky. As he’d been told not to many times before, Pax stared straight into the sun.

           While his eyes weren’t super fond of this decision, his brain was throwing a party: someone was driving the sun chariot.

           Pax had to wonder if Apollo had been released, but wasn’t so sure when he heard a figure from far above shout, “Looking good, Daughter of Demeter!”

           Apollo was creepy. But, usually, he was a bit more subtle.            

           However, Pax had to admit, Euna did look pretty awesome and terrifying.

           She stood over Pax, strawberry plants and grass growing wild around them, curling around Pax like a protective shield. She held Kronos’ scythe to one side. Her hand rested on it more like a hand on a friend’s shoulder than a hand holding a weapon that would sever Pax in half if her finger slipped.

           Black tar dripped off her arms and smeared her shirt.

           “Ew,” Pax said, “Is that Phobetor goo? Did you turn him into costume supplies? Oh titans, that’s not the powder you dumped on me, is it?”

           Real questions with disturbing answers.

           Pax tilted his head to glance at the camp. Sure enough, there was a weird sheen forming around the barriers. Normally, Pax couldn’t see the Mist at work, but apparently Mist repair was a bit more visible.

           The God of Nightmares had been keeping the Mist shield down. Euna must have defeated him. And then made motor oil out of him.

           A roar sounded in the distance. With Phobetor’s sleep magic gone, Pax had to wonder if a very confused dragon, Peleus, realized he’d been teepeed by campers during his nap.

           In the background, ghosts and ghouls screamed along with the roar. There was probably a massive Thriller retreat back to their graveyards with all this sunshine.

           Hope lifted his core and made it feel all feathery until Euna took a step towards his mom.

           Eris clapped her hands together, the flat edge of her knife pressed between her fingers. She tilted her head to the side and leaned her cheek against her hands like a giddy school girl. Eris didn’t look right in full daylight. In it, he could see the amount of damage that he and Axel had done to his mother: the way she could barely balance on her shredded ankle, how her torso curled towards the ichor spilling out of her side. The injuries didn’t match her expression as she said, “Oh, this is wonderful—it’s beautiful and perfect.”

           “You lost,” Axel wheezed out from somewhere nearby.[1]

           “But, I never had an objective to lose,” Eris giggled. Her round, dark eyes analyzed Euna gleefully. “Remember, I don’t really plan. I just set bombs and watch them go off. And you, my lovely darling, are a nuclear missile without a honing device.”

           Euna twisted the scythe in her hands. “I’m killing you now,” she decided.

           Before Euna could step out of his reach, Pax managed to grab her ankle. Upon registering Jack’s head—still mumbling angrily into a flower gag—Pax remembered last time he frantically grabbed Jack’s ankle to prevent Jack from killing Will Solace. That time, he epically failed in the preventative killing measure. “Please don’t make me an orphan,” Pax begged. Despite all of this, his stomach twisted at the thought. “I know those are the first steps to becoming a Disney princess, but I’ll give up that dream if it means you won’t kill someone else in my family.”

           Underneath his grip, he could feel Euna violently shaking. Regardless of her resolve, Pax wasn’t sure if she would have the strength to live through fighting his mom. Yea, they were both injured, but Pax imagined killing one god a day would earn a powernap. Killing two..?

           “We didn’t get to kill my sister, Hemera, and that’s a bummer,” Eris said, her gaze surveying the carnage around Camp Half-Blood, seeming satisfied. “But we got something much more fun: we get to find out whether parents really appreciate their children more when they’re gone—” Pax assumed she meant the dead demigods in camp, but Eris gestured to the black gunk on Euna. Huh. Hypnos baby. Gross. “We got a godly assassin that wants to murder all the gods. We got the seeds—” Pax wanted to giggle as his mother nodded to Euna again, but he felt a little too queasy. “—to make a third demigod group that neither of the others will trust. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you three sometime soon.”

           She winked at Axel, Pax, and Euna.

           And with that, Eris slowly stalked off down Farm Road. She didn’t even use a flash bomb or laugh manically. Pax gave her a zero out of ten for dramatic exits or proper villain monologues—a major let down since she and her gang had been doing so well.

           Euna’s shakes, meanwhile, became worse. She collapsed backwards. Her butt crushed the air out of Pax’s diaphragm, making pain explode in his shoulder. Jack made a mumble of protest through his gag.

           Pax squeaked when Kronos’ scythe sliced into the ground right beside his head.

           This felt suspiciously easy and anticlimactic. And he didn’t like his mother’s “this isn’t over” type speech. When Pax squirmed, the pain in his shoulder intensified. His opposite hand wouldn’t respond. He wanted to complain to Euna, but a loud snore signaled how thoroughly she’d listen.

           While taking a massive, mid-day nap sounded appealing—

           Panic seized him when he remembered Eris’ knife digging into the avatar’s chest. Axel was lying somewhere close, potentially dying, and he was concerned about his mom’s proper villain etiquette. Pax didn’t even know where his brother was.

“Axel, help. I’m being crushed by a beautiful, hot woman,” Pax said, figuring that was the best way to gauge how Axel felt.

           In the moment of silence that followed afterwards, Pax assigned an Axel rating system.

“Don’t objectify her” would be somewhere between 8 to 10.

“Ajax, shut up” would be a between 4 to 10.

A grunt: 2 to 4.

No response…

           “You’re a sore sight for tired eyes, Leonis Caput,” someone said before Axel could.

           Pax released a massive sigh of relief, something he never thought he’d do around a Roman.

           Reyna strode towards them. With that hint of amusement in Reyna’s tone as she approached, she couldn’t think Axel was too hurt, and Pax knew that comment wasn’t for him.

           Pax squirmed to look around when he heard Axel’s weak, slow response, “I take it it’s time to party?”

           Pax immediately stopped squirming when Reyna said, much more serious, “I think it’s time to finally arrest you.”

***

 Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I know this battle sequence might feel a little anticlimactic, but Mel and I agreed that if felt proper for Pax. Stay tuned next week for Calex’s chapter, A Punch of Home.

***

Footnote:

[1] Mel beta, “I just imagine him popping up with leaves in his hair and looking all frazzled and confused like a guy just popped out of the forest.”

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Forty-Six: Ajax

Keeping it Holy

             Really, it was Pax’s fault for getting floored.

           He had been so wrapped up in the excitement of his surrogate father’s horrifying voice ringing through the battlefield and Tony the Egyptian Tiger punching through the ground that Pax may have forgotten the whole near-death family feud going on.

           But now, at least he understood Calex’s fanboyism over Percy and the others. Pax was ready to storm over and ask for autographs of their reinforcements. That way he could jack up the price and sell them to Romans later.

           During all this, Pax had to remember not to crush anyone when he jumped for joy. Flattened Romans: not good for positive demigod relations.  

           Plus, Pax was shrinking and weakening as some of the fighting slowed, bringing him closer to cute panda size. By laws of familial mythological powers, that meant his mom was losing powers too.

           By the time Pax realized this, he also realized how much he’d screwed up by taking his eyes off his mother.

           Something swept one of his legs.

           Pax flopped backwards, crushing something. He hoped it was a ghoul, otherwise he’d have to add someone to the Nightmare Counter.

           He slapped his hand against the strawberry field to break his fall, but a squawk—oh gods, did he really squawk when he was in eagle form? Hawkward[1]—erupted from his lips. Despite the hot, muscly bod his Mayan magic granted him, the impact spread pain through his recently fractured shoulder and recently healed hand.

           Pax expected stickers, lollipops, and kisses-to-make-it-better for months after this.

           Though a queasy weakness made his limbs shake, he had hoped he would keep the whole demigod super speed a little longer.

           He didn’t.

           His mother jammed her stiletto high heel into his injured hand before he could move.

           Pax screamed. For an instance, he could remember the Leonis Caput lurking closer as Pax squirmed and withered to escape his own dagger. The smell of blood and smoke was too familiar. Panic bubbled in his stomach. Or maybe that was bile. Could never be too sure nowadays.

           Pax thrashed. His now-talons tore into his mother’s ankle, shredding some of the leather boot.

           His hand felt like it was on fire as she twisted her heel deeper.

           He wanted to scold his mother and say Kally had just fixed that, but all that came out was, “What do the Fates have against my hand!?”

           Eris released her fashionable Joker laugh. She leaned down. He’d torn the bandana off her face during their fight, revealing a smeared mash of reddish-black lipstick stretched into a crazed grin. It complimented the maniac glint in her eyes. “Oh, my little Terror Muffin. I would hope that you would do the same to me if I got in your way.” Her long, black plaits slipped from her shoulders to dangle in his face.

           Tears wheeled up in his eyes. “No! I wouldn’t! I really wouldn’t!” Ichor spilled all over his fingers from where he clawed at her ankle. Why wouldn’t she get off? “I can’t balance in high heels tall enough!”[2]

           Definitely impressive, but more horrifying at the moment.

           When she leaned more onto that leg, Pax heard something crunch in his hand. He squealed. Not again! His fingers had barely been able to move from having a dagger shoved through the tendons—

           “Now, come along. Join us! I’d have so much more fun fighting alongside you instead of against you!” she said with a huge grin, like none of this was weird.

           Not for the first time, Pax became queasy at wondering how his parents had flirted, especially if this was his mother’s version of a Bring Your Son to Work day. He was also frustrated to remember his mother knew exactly how he fought: she’d kept her stance wide enough that he couldn’t tie her boot laces together.

           He was about to point out that godly social services might not like this, but a ball of glowing, turquoise fur beat him to it.

           Something their size smashed into Eris’ side.

           Eris toppled backwards, down Farm Road’s hill.

           Someone’s hands grabbed him, claws pinching his skin. The momentum happened so fast, he barely registered the plan before it started. “Smile for the audience.”

           More tears threatened to well in Pax’s eyes, not that he had stopped crying recently. If these last few weeks kept at their current rate, he could probably team up with global warming to flood all coastal towns in the world.

           That was a phrase Frasco used to say back in the circus whenever one of them fell or forgot their part. As Frasco explained in private, Frasco never cared about the mistakes they made during the performances, just that they had fun and were safe at the end of the day. Frasco said those words when lifting them for a quick recovery flip, so they could hop out of the flip with more excitement and pride than embarrassment or shame.

           The same way this person lifted Pax for an assisted flip, apparently realizing his shoulder and hand were less than functional.

           Pax landed back onto his feet, digging his ankle talon into the ground for stability.

           Even though everything was not Reese’s Stick and Weasels, Pax still grinned with nostalgia. He glanced to the side at the glowing cat-headed avatar beside him.

           For some reason, seeing Axel as a giant cat-chick didn’t scare Pax. Yea, this giant cat-chick was terrifying. But this could be any terrifying giant murder machine, not the special kind of PTSD-forever terrifying the Leonis Caput inspired.

           While nausea did hit Pax’s stomach with the renew pain in the new hole in his hand, he didn’t flinch away from his brother.

           A sense of giddy hope calmed Pax. While they couldn’t erase how Ares and Aphrodite had forced the Leonis Caput to give Pax How to Fillet a Demigod lessons, maybe he and Axel could be fine after this. Maybe he could still have one healthy, happy familial relationship.

           Pax wanted to share his calm with Axel and comfort Axel after whatever ordeals he had to suffer going—apparently—to a magical, Egyptian Halloween store that landed Axel with the new outfit. He needed to say something that would make all this chaos and madness feel normal and easy. Something for a real heart-to-heart—

           “Nice rack,” Pax said.[3]

           Eris had regained her footing and was making her way up the hill. She hummed happily, like things couldn’t have been going better.

           Axel growled deep in his throat as he shifted within the cat warrior. The avatar mimicked his defensive stance. “I’m twisting your ear off as soon as both our trauma settles,” Axel said.

           “All I heard was, ‘Ajax, you have a free pass to harass all your friends and be inappropriate for the next few years,’” Pax said.

           The cat avatar’s weird W mouth tweaked into a smirk. “Use it well. And know I have an excellent memory for when that pass runs out.”

           The brothers stood side-by-side, one with claws out, the other talons, as Eris leveled with them.

           This wasn’t their usual fighting stance. Normally, Pax practiced more of the hiding-behind-Axel-style, but he liked the change. It wasn’t like he hadn’t trained for it.

           Eris’ serial killer, black eyes glistened with glee. “Santiago would be so proud of you both—”

           Pax didn’t want his mother to finish the comment, since he guessed it wasn’t going to end with anything about his pranking glory. Clearly, Axel didn’t oppose some quality interruption either.

           The brothers attacked at the same time, moving in harmony the way they might have if this were a circus performance with Frasco, Hiro, Lapis, and Kouta cheering them on.

           Eris may have been able to handle Pax alone and even given him some nasty knife kisses, but alternating attacks between Axel and Pax sent her retreating.

           As soon as Eris went to stab at one of Pax’s quick kicks, Axel would rush at her open side, slashing his claws out. She couldn’t block them both.

           There was one major disadvantage of Axel’s new form: sword fighting and grappling were a little difficult when you had Mrs. O’Leary-sized-toothpicks for nails. At some point, Pax would need to make a haiku with that: Axel finally gets rid of his curse on swords. Gains sexy cat-lady form that will never need swords.

           Pax, meanwhile, could barely use his hands. His fingers wouldn’t respond where his mother had smashed the ligaments again and where pain racked his shoulder with every movement. Plus, Pax had to admit, he hadn’t really wanted to hurt his mother. Until this point, he’d been mostly stalling to keep her from attacking the rest of camp.

           They combo-ed everything they knew—using acrobatic and fighting, tumbling around her, kicking, attempting grapples. Each attack sent Eris stumbling backwards with more ichor smudges to her makeup.

           The nice thing: Axel wasn’t here to save him or let Pax reduce to his cute fluffy self. Axel was here to fight beside him. Axel’s presence made it less chaotic. The attacks were methodical, designed to force Eris to focus—something Pax guessed was a deficit for his whole side of the family.

           She could wear them down. Pax knew his Mayan blood sacrifice would run out, and he guessed Axel’s Tony the Egyptian Tiger suit would fail too, and, if it didn’t, Pax had a million questions he wanted to ask Reyna about her attraction to his brother. Regardless, they would need to end this fight fast.

           Eris laughed hysterically, her form shrinking with each step backwards. Pax hadn’t realized it, but he was shrinking too, now smaller than Axel’s flickering avatar.

           Flickering?

           Eris let Axel’s next slash hit, grabbing his clawed hand and jamming it further into her side.

           Axel growled and wrenched to withdraw, sensing the trap.

           Eris spun, positioning herself between Pax and Axel, leaving her back completely open to Pax when she tossed something between she and her son.

           A flashbang.

           Sometimes, Pax really hated how much he was like his family.

           “Stop—”

           The last thing Pax saw over his mother’s shoulder was her knife digging deep into Axel’s avatar chest.

           Then everything went white.

           His ears rang.

           Having super-eagle vision super sucked when you’re staring at a miniature sun explosion. A pop and flash left Pax stunned and disoriented.

           His heart pounded in his head. Pax rubbed at his eyes, slashing a claw forward to snatch at his mother or find his brother’s avatar or a magical rewind button hovering in the air.

           “Axel!” Pax screamed.

           “I’m fine!” Axel said, sounding very not-fine. He sounded weak and raspy. His voice came from somewhere near the ground. It didn’t resound the way it had with the cat warrior suit. Tony the Egyptian Tiger was no more.

           Pax should have seen this coming. This was his usual tactic: when outnumbered, drop a smoke bomb to confuse the enemy, take out your biggest opponent, do the world’s shortest victory dance, then run away to pet your weasels for another day.

           While Pax still reached out blindly, something powdery puffed into his face.

           Pax realized he should have held his breath after the first inhalation.

           His lungs felt like they were burning. Chokes and cough racked his chest.

           Maybe his Mom’s utility belt was a lot more dangerous than his. The grenades should have cued him in.

           One thing was for sure though: Eris had not retreated to pet her weasels for another day. Her knee slammed into Pax’s diaphragm. Whatever breath he had left in him deflated as he collapsed to his knees.

           He couldn’t even grab something from her utility belt or tie her shoes together. His fingers wouldn’t react enough. His mind was fuzzy from whatever she’d thrown in his face, now making him wheeze worse than a hippopotamus with bronchitis.

           Eris pulled off his Silver Tongued Snake helm and pinched his cheeks together with her thumb and fingers, probably making him look like a fish. “Oh, little Terror Muffin,” she cooed. “I think you’re out of steam.”

           She was right. Pax could feel a numbing, icy tingle as the Mayan power surge left him. Pain pierced his fingers, ankles, and arms. He wasn’t sure why until he managed to lift one hand to claw at her grip.

           One of his finger talons snapped off. Although Pax knew they weren’t permanent, the rip felt very permanent. His arms felt weak and gangly, not nearly hot enough for his normal sexy, runaway acrobatic look.[4]

           She patted his head, smearing some of her own ichor onto his skin. If Pax hadn’t already been conditioned to feeling sick, he might have thrown up a satyr.

           He tried to look for his brother, to make sure Axel was actually okay, but everything was still too bright and blotchy. He felt too weak to turn his head.

           “Darkness’ end: pax or chaos,” Eris muttered, reciting the last line of the Traitors of Olympus prophecy. “Such an odd thing for an oracle to say, almost too ambiguous. Your sister thought your choice of involvement would alter the end. After all, Axel would have never led his crew to help Euna if not for you. Some of your friends would have never found the courage to stand up the way they did today, to stand up and fall. My inspiring little hero.”

           Eris tickled him. Normally, Pax would pretend to be ticklish when she did that. Now, he batted her hand away, mind reeling for a plan, but Pax had always been weak in the planning department.

           “You take a nice nap here,” Eris said, “Now that I’ve taken care of you and your brother, I’m going to kill all of your friends while they’re distracted playing with the other gods.”

 ***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned next week for another Ajax chapter, Two out of Ten Stars on the Monologue.

 ***

footnotes:

[1] Mel betacomment, “Pax! How have you survived this long! Right.. Axel.”

[2] False. He totally can and he knows it. One of the few actual lies Pax tells in the series.

[3] Mel was very concerned about whether or not cat avatar had boobs. Canon. Boom.

[4] Mel, “It’s like a delirious and sick Pax trying to do the sexy arm on a door thing to Kally and Kally scolding him.”

Jack, “I need to draw this now XD”

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Forty-Four: Reyna

I Ride a Cat into Battle[1]

              Seeing her comrades almost overwhelmed made Reyna’s throat constrict. For a moment, Reyna remembered her old nightmares, about the earth overtaking New Rome and the villas and temples of her bloved home crumbling. When Axel punched through the earth that the Plague Bringer’s voice had weakened and she saw the destruction of Camp Half-Blood, Reyna had to wonder if this was Percy’s version of that nightmare.

           While riding on the green avatar’s shoulders, she could tell Thalia and Calex had tensed at the sight of the camp. Despite seeing Kaos and everything else they had been through, she wondered if either of them was prepared to see their home in rubble. From their height advantage, they could see everything.

           When Reyna saw her scattered troops succumbing to the chaos here, she had to hope Calex and Thalia could stick to their plan as they and Euna had hopped off.

           Now, after calling out to her troops and commanding they keep their resolve, she couldn’t think about Euna’s, Thalia’s, or Calex’s fight. She had to focus on her own.

           “Hold on,” the two-toned voice of Axel and the goddess said.

           Reyna wanted to hang on to the avatar’s neck for stability, but couldn’t. She needed to keep in sight of the Romans. She had mustered what was left of her strength and courage to spread it to the others below. Her tattoo burned. They needed to see her as a symbol of power and hope.

           Instead, she crouched, clutching on to the wide collared necklace that stretched across the avatar’s shoulders.

           Axel—Reyna decided she had to think of the female avatar as Axel still and no one else—lunged a step forward. She dug her fingers into the jewelry, feeling the rush of air whip her hair and cloak about. Despite the size, Axel pounced with the same agility that he normally did. Only, this time, he smashed a line of ghosts that were descending on her troops in the strawberry field.

           A cheer started from below.

           “Thank the gods! It’s on our side!” one Roman called.

           A relieved smile touched Reyna’s lips when she saw Hazel with a handful of Romans.

           “Praetor Reyna has a new pet!” another laughed.

           Reyna wondered if they would have the same enthusiasm had they known the Leonis Caput was inside.

           She also wondered if Axel would appreciate being called her pet.

           “I am no one’s pet,” Axel and the goddess said. The goddess continued with a savage grin in her tone, “Though, I do enjoy hunting a nest of mice.”

           Axel leaned down, making Reyna brace again. He wracked the massive saber-like claws through the next line of ghosts. The glowing green blades shredded through the ground and destroyed a dozen ghouls along the way.

           “Romans! To the barracks! We regroup now to make a defense!” she called.

           The Romans rallied by Axel’s feet, following the order with continued cheer. Between the reinforcements and her imbuing them with hope and courage, the Romans quickly turned the tide in the mayhem.

           A piercing whistle echoed throughout the camp. Two figures, looking like distant comets, blurred across the camp’s boundary line. Reyna almost shouted a warning into Axel’s ear until one of the approaching figures slowed down enough for Hazel to throw her arms up around it.

           Arion—her amazing horse—had arrived. Hazel mounted and she and Arion crossed the battle field to help a rather groggy-looking bear fend off several ghouls.

           Axel took a careful step forward, toward the barracks. With another sweep, he slashed a dozen more ghosts. The distance to the barracks, which had seemed so far and bulging with violent spirits, now looked easier than one of Frank’s training exercises.

           Although Reyna had been skeptical to accept help from the foreign goddess whose avatar Axel wielded (especially considering Axel was typically paranoid and hateful towards any gods—he had trusted this one with suspicious ease)[2] Reyna had to admit she liked the Egyptian cat goddess’ style. Slapping enemies into oblivion? A+

           Another cry of joy erupted from below as the troops by the barracks met up with the stragglers from the strawberry field.

           Before they got too distracted by their minor victory, Reyna shouted, “ORBEM FORMATE!” Her troops followed instruction, the archers forming a line behind the loose circle of infantry. There must have been one or two Greeks down there, as some of her soldiers shoved a confused demigod into the proper formation.

           Somewhere down below, she heard a scream of rage.

           About twenty feet away, the goddess of Ghosts, Melinoe, stumbled to her feet. Whatever ghost she had mimicked now melted away to reveal her creepy half-charred corpse, half-mummy body. Axel must have swept her aside without realizing he’d even tossed a goddess.

           At Melinoe’s cry, the chaotic mess of ghosts formed a line near her. They stumbled away from the rest of the Greek encampment, flooding towards Reyna’s troops.

           Further in the distance, Reyna heard a squawk-like squeal from one of the giants battling on the edge of the strawberry field.

           “I need to help my brother,” Axel said, “I cannot sustain this form much longer.”

           Despite his size, Reyna could hear a tremor in his voice. Axel might have been nervous—he hadn’t been around Pax much since Axel had almost killed his little brother. Or, maybe, this form took more energy out of him than he let on.

           Reyna sucked in a breath. She would be fighting the ghost of her father again. Melinoe would inevitably call upon him, or turn into him; she wasn’t sure what the goddess’ power entailed. But, she would rather it be her burden than that of her troops. At least she’d faced down her father before. She could do it again.

           “Go,” she said, “We can show them the skill of New Rome.”

           One of his hands—almost the size of her body—lifted to her foot height. Reyna jumped onto it, grabbing hold as he knelt and gently lowered her to the ground.[3] Her archers covered their movement, taking out a few scattered ghouls that were making their way over. With his free hand, Axel flicked another one, sending the ghoul flying through the air.

           Once Reyna stepped off, he used a finger to gently caressed her cheek—quite alarming considering any mishap in pressure could decapitate her or knock her over in front of all of her troops. Plus, the avatar’s giant cat head made the interaction really weird. She was scared Axel would pick her up and lick her, a motion that might have been cute if he were normal cat size, but would just leave her in a gross, slobbery bath.

           Instead, Axel rose to his feet and cracked his neck—did the avatar’s neck crack too?

           “The glamour of Rome better not disappoint,” he teased.

           Then he lunged towards Eris and Pax, taking out five or six ghosts with each step.

           Reyna accepted a sword from Butch, one of the Greeks who had joined her troops. She turned to face the oncoming Goddess of Ghosts, watching Melinoe’s features twist into those of her father: Julian Ramírez-Arellano.

           Reyna forced herself not to shake. Her troops would be nervous now that their giant cat mascot was gone. She channeled her calm and courage to the rest of them, feeling the tattoo on her forearm burn with a harsher intensity. “FOR ROME!” Reyna cried.

           She and her troops charged forward.

 Hey everyone! Thank you for reading! After this chapter, the battle should smooth out and be a little easier to follow. (I promised myself that I would do a big battle at the end, a la Riordan, but—uh—you might have noticed I’m shaky writing them T.T) Thank you for your patience with it and I hope you’ve enjoyed regardless! I hope everyone is enjoying summer break :D Stay tuned next week for Euna’s chapter, A Dream Catcher Would Have Been Easier.

Footnotes:

[1] Meow?

[2] Mel betacomment, “What? Can he say it’s a cat thing? XD” Jack response, “Cats know to be suspicious of each other. The ones that don’t get side-tackled. Why do you think cat owners are so paranoid?”

[3] Mel betacomment, “AWWW! What a gentleman!

Thalia, in the distance, “COULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT FOR US CAT BREATH!”

Jack response,

Calex, “Thalia! Quiet! They’re having a moment!”