#but so many people just kept defending Chiron and the gods

[lukecastellanshandholder]

I have never wanted to tell almost a whole entire fandom "I told you so", more in my entire life then I do at this exact moment!

( ⚠️Percy Jackson TV show spoilers under the cut! ⚠️)

The whole conversation between Grover, Chiron and Mr.D that happens outside of Percy’s POV in episode 2? Yeah, we’re gonna talk about that for a minute.

Because all I’ve been hearing and seeing from most people in the fandom now is that Chiron would "never lie to Percy". Well now we have explicit proof that Chiron was lying to Percy and was genuinely upset at the suggestion of just telling Percy very critical things that Percy should know!

Then let’s get to the fact that Chiron absolutely knew that Percy was at least Poseidons son, and that he knew that Percy would be the one to go on that quest for the bolt! And this whole conversation happens before Percy is claimed by Poseidon at capture the flag!!

If Chiron and the Gods aren’t allowing Percy to know things that he need to, or should know… how many other demigods have they done that to?

How many had Chiron sent off on quests only for them never to come back because they didn’t know what they needed to know??? Chiron isn’t this nice and friendly entity that genuinely cares about those kids. He is someone put in place by the gods to keep the powerful demigods who could possibly overthrow them if they were powerful enough and knew enough, under surveillance and under their control. This is also probably why, in the books, Chiron told Grover to not worry about bringing Annabeth and Luke to camp and only bring back Thalia. Because he believed that a mere daughter of Athena or Son of Hermes wouldn’t be powerful enough to overthrow the gods.

Chiron is not this great guy! He lies to the demigods so much and doesn’t seem to spare a second thought to what he’s doing.

[pjo-whore]

Percy Jackson At Hogwarts

Chapter 1: Wizards Are What Now?

Look, Percy never wanted to be half-blood.

Being a half-blood – the child of a mortal human and a god – was dangerous. It was scary. Most of the time, on top of having neglectful parents and a dysfunctional and incestuous family that wanted you dead for petty reasons, it got you killed in other painful, nasty ways.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Percy didn’t feel envious of the kids who didn’t have to deal with the mythological world.

Percy Jackson was seventeen years old. Until a month ago, he was fighting a war against a Greek primoradial, the Earth Mother incarnate, Gaea – also known as his great grandmother. Before that, he fought in a war against his grandfather, Kronos, Greek Titan of Time, who wanted to overthrow the Olympian gods and take over the world and the Empire State Building. Somewhere in between he also found time to spend a month in literal Greek hell, Tartarus, who also happened to be his great grandfather, and who also tried to murder him on sight.

Was Percy a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

And right now, he was still trying to clean up the mess from the Second Giant War.

Now that there wasn’t a war looming overhead, the gods’ recent exploits were coming to light, and new demigods were popping up everywhere, everyday. The number of demigods skyrocketed now that they were actively searching and not waiting for them to stumble into Camp on their own.

But that also meant there were new kids to train, more demigods for the gods to claim, and less time to recoup from the recent war.

Less than a month had passed since Gaea’s defeat.

The days were filled with helping each other get back on their feet, rebuilding the camps, and trying to keep the fragile peace in order.

There was still a lot to sort out, and the gods weren’t as hands-on as most would like. There was conflict building up. News spread about how the gods helped the seven demigods of the prophecy fight the giants, because a giant couldn’t be killed by a mortal alone, and this made many jealous and angry. The gods could pop in for a single battle when it was their own ass on the line, but not when a group of their own literal kids needed to rebuild their home that was dedicated to the gods?

Besides Chiron and Dionysus, the only god to physically stay at Camp Half-Blood following the battle against Gaea due to his punishment from Zeus, there were no other adults. The oldest demigods were barely twenty. Despite age, most, if not all, the demigods looked to the prophecy demigods for guidance and leadership.

Annabeth, Jason, Percy, Piper, and Nico.

The brunt of the responsibility fell on the daughter of Athena, and the son of Poseidon. They led their Camp through the Second Titan War, and now they were survivors of another war.

Things weren’t easy for a long time.

The Camp was completely ravaged.

During Gaea’s seize of the Greek demigod Camp, the cabins were burned by the monsters and toppled by Gaea’s massive earthquakes. Not even the Big House – the staple of Camp Half-Blood, the oldest building on the lot – survived the attack.

Camp Jupiter didn’t fare any better, but their buildings had been more structurally sound, thicker and built of material that didn’t burn and crumble. Enough buildings were still standing well enough to inhabit.

Everything had to be rebuilt for Camp Half-Blood.

Nobody could be sent home – to their mortal homes, with mortal parents, and a mortal life, mortal being the slang for “normal” among the mythological world – despite the new lack of residency at Camp Half-Blood. Kids needed to heal. There were nightmares and PTSD. Trauma and concussions. People to be counted, bodies missing, some so mauled they were impossible to identify. Several bodies were unearthed from the ground, sucked in by Gaea’s attack and suffocated beneath the dirt.

Shrouds were made for those who could be identified, the unknown buried in unmarked graves to be remembered. Those who were missing were given honorary shrouds, unknowing if they were in one of the unmarked graves. The Romans were unable to do their traditional funeral rituals, transporting the bodies all the way to Camp Jupiter, and were burned in shrouds alongside the Greeks.

Mortal parents simply couldn’t help.

They couldn’t fathom their children being in a war.

There were fears that demigods would be taken away from Camp Half-Blood by their mortal parents, horrified at what their kids were put through. Chiron especially worried about demigods who would be kept from Camp by parents, forcing them to live alone without any mythological world support, to defend against monsters on their own, without any magic or special weapons.

So, among the remaining able-bodied demigods, Greeks alongside Romans worked together to erect the new Big House. Tents from the Romans’ siege on Camp Half-Blood were gifted to the Greeks to provide residency until the new cabins were built, while the Romans started to march back home.

During all the chaos, Percy didn’t have any time to sit down and process all that happened.

The whole Camp looked up to him as a leader, but Percy didn’t feel very strong or wise.

He only felt bitter.

There were some who walked by and whispered “lucky” and “prophecy.”

Some who stopped talking as soon as he walked into the room.

Those who acted like he wasn’t even human, just some untouchable hero; but they ostracized him.

Percy was aware that he was one of the so-called “lucky” campers; lucky being compared, because at least he walked away with all his limbs intact.

It didn’t feel like he was lucky.

He wasn’t unscathed. He bore many scars, visible and not. His time in Tartarus was an impossible nightmare on bad nights, and a shadow on good days.

Percy was learning that he had triggers.

He was learning Annabeth did, too.

Neither liked using elevators.

Annabeth’s expression went tight when Percy used his powers around her. She turned away, sometimes completely leaving the area.

She got antsy in the dark, a childhood fear resurfaced.

There were other little things; at night when she had nightmares she would toss and turn in bed, sweating through her clothes and sheets, despite the breeze being cold. Sometimes Annabeth would completely avoid Percy, acting snappish, always coming back and apologizing in the end, and they would hold each other like they were hanging over the chasm again.

Annabeth refused to talk about what she saw in her nightmares, and Percy never pushed. He was one of the only people who could understand what she was going through.

Sometimes all they could do was sit and try to drown out the memories of The Pit.

Percy’s triggers were different.

He developed a deep-seated hatred for empousai. The moment he saw one, his body started to shake with adrenaline and nerves, fire flashing before his eyes.

Percy could no longer look at the stars without feeling a deep loss, tears pricking at his eyes.

He prayed to his father, Poseidon, more often, as if trying to re-establish his connection to the sea, to re-establish his connection to the Overworld, as if that could cleanse him of what happened in The Pit. As if he could wash away the touch of The Pit.

Percy’s nightmares were always blurry and violent. He wouldn’t snap awake like others. He didn’t startle or jerk upright. He didn’t make a single noise. He would wake silently, and lay there in bed, eyes open and unseeing, that shattered glass feeling he always dreaded at the bottom of his stomach. After he could never go back to sleep, and he would get up and sit on the tile in his cabin for hours and look in the mirror and wait for the image to change. He would wait for it to reflect what he feared, though it never did.

*

“Okay, so, how big is the situation? Is it like, ‘Aphrodite lost her hairbrush again’ big? Or is it ‘Gaea has risen again’ big?”

Annabeth frowned. “I don’t know. All Chiron said was that a god needed our help – and I don’t know about you, but I don’t like the sound of that.” She chewed her bottom lip in thought as they headed toward the Big House. They had been asked to attend a private meeting with Chiron, outside of the camp counselor meeting. “He sounded serious, too. Whichever god it is must be an asshole to seek help so soon after the war.”

She wasn’t wrong, Percy thought.

Jason was appointed Pontifex Maximus in Camp Jupiter, and as such he was responsible of advising the praetors, ruling over the Camp Jupiter counsel, and overseeing the work and prayers to the minor gods. His promise to Kymopoleia to bring worship and awareness for all minor gods became his fulltime job, and it was ruled that most gods must go through Jason to request help from either demigod camp.

A god asking for help directly after a full-scale war? Using Chiron as their connection? It was a hit below the belt, and it made Percy frustrated.

A few demigods raised their heads in greeting as Percy and Annabeth passed by the arts and crafts center. Conner and Travis Stoll, who were trying to build bombs with bits and pieces from the forge, took one look at Percy, then at Annabeth, and wiggled their brows suggestively. Percy unsubtly stuck them the bird, and they started to laugh their assess off.

The Big House was smaller now, after being rebuilt.

What could be scavenged from the attic was saved, but most of it was lost. Magical artifacts and ancient texts were burned and crushed. Now the Big House served mostly as the infirmary, aside from the drop-by medicinal tent near the Apollo cabin, where more medical supplies were. The Apollo and Hephaestus cabins had been the first to be rebuilt because they gave needed services.

Aside from the infirmary, the Big House had a commons area for meetings, and housed a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom.

Checking in the commons area, Chiron was in his wheelchair. Nico was sitting at the beloved ping pong table, which had somehow survived the siege on Camp, and Thalia was sitting backwards on a chair by the new counselor table, which no one ever used.

Percy sat next to Nico and twirled the ping pong paddle between his hands, Annabeth taking her usual seat during counsel meetings.

Chiron looked tense.

“Now, I know that only a month has passed since the end of the Second Giant War, but –”

The air practically sparked with the collective tension that built.

“– a new quest has been issued.”

Annabeth leaned forward in her seat, interested. “Chiron, you can’t have an official quest without a prophecy. And the last time I checked; the Oracle of Delphi wasn’t working right now.”

“Well, it’s a good thing this isn’t a quest from the Greek pantheon, then.”

Percy cocked a brow and shared a look with Annabeth.

“The Roman pantheon doesn’t have an oracle, and their last augur exploded himself, so –”

“It’s a friend of Lady Hecate, the Triple Goddess.”

Dead silence.

“The Triple Goddess?” Percy parroted. “I don’t follow.”

“The Triple Goddess is of the Old Religion, once practiced in Europe hundreds of years ago by the druids and magic users in general. It belonged to Albion, a land of five kingdoms, before it split into the United Kingdom and Ireland.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Nico said.

“All those years ago, in the middle ages, after the golden age of the Greek pantheon, the Old Religion became very popular in Albion. Magic was something that anyone could practice even if they weren’t born with the innate talent, with the proper training. Through the ages, though, the religion declined, and the New Religion rose and became the staple. While the Old Religion relied on the magic of the land, sea, and sky; the New Religion relied on your inner magical core, and so not everyone could do this new magic.”

Chiron shifted in his wheelchair and pulled out a small stack of photos, but when he tossed them onto the ping pong table, the demigods saw that they held moving pictures.

In one photo, it showed a person standing over a boiling cauldron, on the wooden table beside them, old parchment with a quill that moved by itself, writing on the paper. The picture moved slightly, the character stirring the cauldron. Then the animated picture reset and repeated.

In another photo, two persons stood facing each other, holding purposefully shaped wooden sticks, pointing them at each other. Bright lights exploded from the tips of the sticks, and their robes and hair swayed with strong winds.

In the last photo, a person was wearing a uniform of sorts, with a helmet and pads on their knees and elbows. They held an old broomstick between their knees, and metal hinges held on the back close to the bristles, like a hitch for the feet. In the picture, the person grabbed onto the end of the broomstick and shot into the air, like magic. It gave image to the stereotype of witches flying on brooms in the night.

“The Old Religion died out because the land lost its magic. Only select spots held magical creatures and natural magic. Magic was only preserved through the New Religion, and those who practiced the New Religion became witches and wizards. The lot of them went into hiding and created their own society – the wizarding world.”

“In today’s day and age, magic is passed down through genetics. And sometimes, those with magic cores can be born to those with no magic at all. The population of magic users stays stable, and there is balance in the world of magic …” Chiron winced. “Mostly.”

“But these people have lost contact with the Triple Goddess. They no longer worship or prayer to her. They rely solely on their own magic, not what comes naturally from the land, like in the Old Religion. And recently, war has passed for them. The Second Wizarding War ended four months ago. And this has severely depleted their resources and magic. There is a school for the magic users, used as the stronghold during the war, and now the wizarding world’s hero is returning to finish his studies.”

“His moniker is ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and he’s called Harry Potter. But he was only a child – is only a child. He and his peers are children who have been used to fight a war that they shouldn’t have had to fight.” Chiron looked very grim.

Percy bitterly sank back in his seat.

“We were kids, too.”

Chiron sighed. “This war has thrown the balance of magic out of whack. The natural magic has been depleted for too long, and there are those who are actively tipping the balance to sabotage the magic for their own gain. It’s suspected that the dark forces from the war – Death Eaters – are still operating in the shadows. It is because of this that the Triple Goddess has called upon you as heroes to help restore the wizarding world and save magic.”

“You would only be obligated to attend the school of Hogwarts until you uncovered the source of oppression over magic, so the Death Eaters can be caught and restrained. If you choose to accept, of course.”

Percy eyed him sharply. “You say that as if we have a choice.”

Chiron pursed his lips. “Despite what you think, yes, you do.”

“But this is from a whole other pantheon,” Nico said. “A group of magical people who don’t even believe in the goddess who brought about their magic. Why do we have to fix this?”

More silence.

Chiron looked down on them unapologetically.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, looking over at Annabeth. Chiron seriously expected them to just up and leave Camp for this quest. Barely a month had passed since their own war, and they were getting by as they were. Percy didn’t believe Camp Half-Blood could afford to lose any support or cabin counselors, even for a short period of time.

“So, let me get this straight,” Percy said. “Basically – if I just ignore the little prologue, you gave there – you want us to go to this magical school, on orders of a goddess that’s almost faded, stalk a kid, and watch out for people who like to try to rob the world of magic – magic, which they use themselves.”

Chiron looked pained. “No, I don’t believe they’re purposefully robbing the world of magic.”

“Oh, well that clears everything up.” Percy threw his hands in the air.

“Regardless, you understand what’s being asked. This is a quest, technically coming from Hecate, as a favour for the Triple Goddess. It’s valid as a hero’s quest. It was decided it would be best that you go undercover as transfer students and secretly watch over Harry Potter, the target for most Death Eaters. Your goal is to prevent trouble before it gets serious, though I doubt that will be hard, as trouble always manages to find you –”

“Wait, hold on,” Percy said, still hung-up on the quest. “How are we supposed to fit in at a school for the magically gifted? None of us are wizards.”

“Oh, that is something that can easily be fixed,” Chiron said, dismissing the problem.

“Excuse me?!” Thalia said.

“Hecate considered this quest from the Triple Goddess for a long time before coming to me.”

Percy rolled his eyes. Out of everyone in the room, he had the least faith in the gods. They never gave him anything to have faith in.

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at the camp director. “And how exactly does Hecate plan on ‘fixing’ the problem? I don’t see any obvious solutions. We’re demigods, not wizards.”

Chiron shifted awkwardly. “She has not shared that with me. I have only gotten the request that you undertake this quest for the Old Religion, and that she will visit to prepare you.”

Percy felt like grinding his teeth. “Oh, so she just expected us to accept the quest. She never considered us refusing? Why can’t the wizards fix their own problem?” Chiron said nothing. “Camp is still in shambles – we don’t even have all the cabins rebuilt yet! We can’t leave, not now. There’s still too much work to do here, and too many new demigods to watch over and protect. And have you even considered that maybe we don’t want to go on this quest? That maybe we want a break? My entire childhood was prophecy after prophecy, quest after quest, serving the gods. We’re under no obligation to do this. You can tell Hecate that she can stick her magic wands up –”

He didn’t get the chance to finish because Annabeth had already taken a ping pong paddle and smashed a ping pong ball in his direction, the mutual action used to keep order in camp counselor meetings.

“BALL!” Annabeth yelled, slamming her paddle across the table.

Percy scowled and took his seat again.

“Now, Percy,” she said sweetly, leaning over the table. “Where did you say Hecate could put those wands?”

“Nowhere,” he muttered.

Annabeth acquiesced and put the paddle down.

“Where is this school anyway?” Nico asked. He frowned. “And Hogwarts? What kind of name is that?”

“It resides in Scotland, its exact location unknown and hidden by powerful magic. Outside of the school, which is an ancient and famous monument for the wizarding world, there are other magical establishments. One place you will be required to visit is Diagon Alley, a wizarding market. That’s where you’ll collect your resources for going undercover at school.”

“Again, you’re saying all this like we’ve agreed to go,” Percy mumbled.

He was ignored. Thalia raised her hand, her features etched with confusion. “Okay, I hate to be the one to say it – but how are we supposed to blend in with wizards and witches? We can’t use magic, and we know nothing about their world.”

Chiron admitted he didn’t know how Hecate would find ways around the problems. “She has informed me that, only once the quest is accepted, will she come and discuss the details. In fact, she should be arriving any moment –”

What happened next could not have been anymore dramatic.

There was a blinding flash of light – the glow filling the entire room – and it forced the demigods to cover their eyes lest they go blind from laying eyes upon a god’s true form.

All eyes landed on the goddess, technically titaness.

Hecate appeared as a tall, thin woman. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a kekryphalos, the shining coil twisting and adorned with intricate gems and metals. Loose strands of hair framed her sickly pale face, which held sharp chartreuse yellow eyes. She wore a dark chiton robe that draped over her thin figure, and it seemed to ripple like a heat hallucination, like ink spilling off to the ground.

At her feet, she was accompanied by a black Labrador retriever and a polecat.

The demigods all stood as one and politely bowed, as was common for all gods. Percy glared up through his bow as he followed reluctantly.

“Rise, my young heroes.” The goddess’ voice was smooth and rich. She sounded monotone. “You have done more than enough to prove your worth to me, and for that, I know that I can trust you. I have called you four here on special request from the Triple Goddess, who has observed your acts of heroics. She believes you can save the wizarding world, her beloved kin, and magics.”

“You will use the ways of the Old Religion to learn magics and go undercover. As demigods, you already have magical cores. They just need to be trained; refined.”

Percy scowled.

“And will the oh-so-gracious Triple Goddess be visiting us herself?”

Annabeth shot him a scathing look.

“Percy!” She hissed.

Hecate eyed Percy again, as if reappraising him. “No,” she said, after a tense silence. “You will be sent to get your wands from one who still practices the Old Religion and can pair you with an appropriate wand. Your cover stories are fabricated and with the wandmaker. The Triple Goddess does not appear without dire need.”

“Her entire world being in trouble seems pretty dire to me,” Percy muttered under his breath.

Annabeth elbowed him harshly.

Hecate narrowed her eyes.

“This,” she said, pulling a laminated piece of paper out of thin air, “is called a portkey. It is an enchanted item; when touched by the intended people, or random persons, it can magically teleport you to a predetermined location.”

She held it out to demigods.

On it, in fancy letters, it read: Littletree Farms, Dorchester, Boston, Massachusetts.

“Touch this, all at once, and you will have accepted the quest.”

Chiron gave them an encouraging nod. The demigods all shared exchanged looks.

“Our responsibilities …” Thalia started, subconsciously reaching up to grab at her lieutenant circlet, from the Hunters of Artemis.

“Will be forgiven for the time while on quest,” Hecate assured. “The Triple Goddess does not ask favours lightly. This has the potential to spill into the real world; to affect our pantheon. The Old Religion is younger than the Greek pantheon, but its reach goes far and wide. The Triple Goddess is powerful; no harm will befall your precious little Camp while you are away.”

Nico hesitated, but was the first to reach for the paper. “If this is really that important … why ask for us specifically? A larger group, organized and planned, could do better.”

“The Triple Goddess has observed you, and believes you are the right heroes to help save magic.”

“But right now? This instant? Can’t we have time?”

“You will come back to your little Camp before you leave for Europe.”

Annabeth pursed her lips, then also reached for it. “Okay.”

Percy looked at her, askance. “Okay? Just like that?”

Annabeth shrugged. “A quest is a quest, and someone needs help. We are in peace right now and have no threats. I don’t see why not.”

“Fine,” Percy said, tone short. He looked over at the laminated paper. “So, this will take us where? What’s in Boston that could be so magical?”

“A wand wood farm,” Hecate said, smiling thinly. “And your quest starts now.”

Percy’s eyes snapped to the paper, where Hecate had pushed it into their collective hands unwillingly. Then the world began to spin, and there was a sharp tug in his gut, yanking him out of time and space.

*

[toomanystacksofbooks]

Achilles Was More Than A Weapon

by @toomanystacksofbooks

Achilles, in my own understanding of his tale, has been horribly misrepresented by history. Born of heaven and earth, he was told to live a certain way- to be a certain way. He is, today, viewed as a warrior of the greatest kind, which he was, of course, but I’ve noticed a great number of people who seem to believe that his entire character is diluted by that fact- to war and blood and violence. To do such, one erases every other part of him, everything else- good and bad and gray.

First, we must understand his origins. His mother was Thetis, an ocean nymph, a goddess. She had fallen victim to the will of higher gods, forced into an unwilling marriage with Peleus, who was a king. And so Achilles came, breathed his first years on Phthia, a prince. He was greatly admired from a young age and known to be light on his feet, swift, and graceful.

Here we have our first example of something that was key to his character that was not his status as a warrior. Yes, his speed and grace and precision were all what made him a great warrior, but that is not why he had such talents. He was, first and foremost, a child. Before he ever was a fighter, a soldier, a killer- he was a kid who wanted to play.

We know that Thetis was not so fond of Peleus- at least in many interpretations- but she loved her son dearly, and wished for him to be divine some day. She visited him, and told him as much, and he listened and walked away when their meetings were over. She knew that heroes such as her Achilles would be fated to, one day, make a choice. A short, glorious life- gone down in history, adored- or a long, forgetful life- a man who would be forgotten, lost in the winds of time. Achilles, I think, never wanted more than to have fun when Thetis began thinking about this. He was a child, and what child would choose a war and grief and death, simply to be remembered and revered, over a full and happy life, all for oneself? I believe that he was taught, pressured, into thinking that he desired honor. At some point, he must have lost much of his childhood confidence, and began craving other people’s approval.

I can understand, honestly, what was going through Achilles’ mind as he made such decisions. There comes a point where you’ve covered up so many layers of yourself that you simply cannot remember who you are. Not truly. It is because of this that I sympathise with Achilles. I think his tale would have ended very differently had the social and peer pressure been lifted, had his mother understood what a child needs.

And a child needs nurturing. His nature was not to fight.

Another example of his skills and character outside of war is the lyre. He was known to have played it, to have marveled at the sounds it could make. It was a hobby, but he was Achilles so he mastered it quickly. Perhaps had he not been taken to war, he would’ve picked up his lyre and written and sung the tale of those who did. Perhaps Troy would not have fallen.

He was also, supposedly, honest. He was empathetic and caring, especially to those he was close to. He did not want to fight, I don’t think, but he knew- or thought- he was supposed to. He enjoyed the fighting, but not for the pain and hurt and blood, but for the rush of adrenaline, for the way he could run and dance, the way he could throw a spear. He never once stated that he enjoyed the killing.

Patroclus, lastly. Patroclus was his mortality, that half of his soul. I do not believe in soulmates, generally, but somehow Achilles and Patroclus have me sold. Patroclus was compassionate where Achilles was emotionally confused and distant, Patroclus was a healer where Achilles was a fighter, Patroclus was a little clumsy where Achilles was sure-footed. Patroclus was mortal where Achilles was divine. It was he who kept Achilles sane, who kept his mind from spiraling to true selfishness and cruelty. Patroclus gave Achilles a reason.

When he died, Achilles snapped. In The Iliad, it is said that Achilles sobbed so loudly that the gods at the bottom of the sea could hear it. He first wanted to kill himself, but he had no weapons. He wept by Patroclus’ body for days, and when the best of the Greeks, the greatest warrior who ever lived, died, they had their ashes mingled together (The Iliad, Homer: “There is nothing alive more agonized than man / of all that breathe and crawl across the earth,”).

Achilles killed, yes. He raided and fought and ran through a war he would not see won. But so did Hector. So did Patroclus. So did Odysseus, and Agamemnon, and Paris, and the Amazons. They were all fighting, because a woman was taken, or went, because she had no choice as to what was to happen to her. Achilles should never have had to fight. None of them should have. There is no “right side to this war” because both the Greeks and the Trojans did terrible things. And both of them paid the price.

“We men are wretched things,” is stated by Homer in The Iliad. And so that includes us all- men like Achilles, Patroclus, and Hector. Women like Briseis, Helen, and Hecabe. We humans are so diverse, yet we are so similar. Is it not wrong of everyone to go to war? Or just one side, the attacker? The defender? Or those which are both?

In The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, Odysseus says to Patroclus: “He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

But he is not a weapon. There is so much more to the tale of Achilles than the Trojan War, than when he fought a river god and killed Hector of Troy and was killed by Paris. He was a child, free and bright as the day. He ran on the beaches of Phthia, trained with Chiron on Pelion. He was Achilles, a golden boy with a golden lyre under a golden sun. He did not exist to assist Meneleus in his nonsense, he did not exist to sail a thousand ships. He did not exist to fight, for we know he could have changed the Fates when his grief was as great. He was shaped by all of this. He was sharpened by all that he experienced, by those who he met. Patroclus and Briseis and Odysseus and Diomedes and Agamemnon and, eventually, Thanatos, who led him down to Hades to rest.

A spear is a stick before it is a weapon. Achilles is no different.

[anythingbutmyname00]

solangelo + "you're trembling"?

Solageno for prompt #23: “You’re trembling.” This one was asked by two different people!! 

I’ve never written Solangelo before so be kind!! I also...haven’t read past the first half of the first Trials of Apollo book so I apologize if I get something or the dynamic wrong. I set this between Blood of Olympus and Trials of Apollo.

—

Despite his best efforts and most stubborn arguments, Nico was confined to resting at Camp Half-Blood for the foreseeable future. He had no issues with the camp itself, he actually rather liked it there.

He had an issue with how he felt when he was there. Some people are just outsiders, it happens. The thing is that they’re usually outsiders because they don’t like how being a part of things makes them feel.

Everyone wants to belong somewhere, right?

Despite himself, Nico actually loved Camp Half-Blood, and he wished he could stay.

Since the war ended, he thought he might actually have a reason to try harder this time, but Nico wasn’t one to get his hopes up.

Though, the son of the sun god made a pretty compelling argument. Nico had wondered if he might just consider-

“Nico!”

Nico snapped to attention towards his left side and saw Annabeth with a desperate look on her eyes.

“Gods, I called your name twice I said ‘do you understand what you have to do?’”

“Ye-yeah.” Nico said and shook his head a little, clearing it up.

“Yeah?” Annabeth said. She lowered her head a little and her gray eyes bore into him. He suppressed a shudder, the stare was oddly chilling.

“Yes,” he said, with much more confidence.

“Yeah Annie we got it don’t you even worry.” Connor Stoll jumped in. She glared at the nickname but he ignored it. He threw his hand on Nico’s shoulder and Nico promptly picked it up without looking and dropped it, letting it fall back to Connor’s side.

“See? We’re so in sync. I totally knew he would do that! Don’t worry about us!” Connor added, which, if anything, made Annabeth’s stare turn from commanding more towards distressing.

“Great.” She said and immediately turned to give out the next order.

Nico sighed and turned his head away from the intense blonde back towards the tree line again. He didn’t know why she was talking this so seriously anyway.

It was just capture the flag.

Apparently, Nico’s “doctor” was okay with—no, extremely vocally supportive of—his participation in capture the flag, but allowed no child of Hades demi-godly power drawing at all, much to Nico’s complaint.

Nico thought his “doctor” was a little too partial, but that was an opinion ruled irrelevant.

Somewhere in the distance, a horn blew signaling the beginning of the game.

Connor tapped Nico on the shoulder again and said “come on, we’re off.”

“Man, don’t touch me.” Nico said, but started a slow jog behind the son of Hermes in the direction of the tree-line closest to the beach.

Annabeth had strategized for two days leading up to this game. Nico had to sit through her run down at the beginning of the war games counsel as to every possible place the flag could be hiding and which was the most likely.

Zeus’ fist was overplayed. The field where the council of cloven elders met was too visible. It could’ve been at any random point in the woods—no landmark to draw the enemy to—but Annabeth doubted it, or so she told Nico and the other bored demi-gods waiting to here their strategy.

She had decided the other team would go for the far corner of the woods where there was only one possible path towards the flag. The Long Island Sound guarding one side of the flag left less ground for necessary defenders. It also would provide a pretty unmatched advantage for the captain of the other team—Percy Jackson.

Yeah, Nico had thought it was a bad idea for Chiron to captain the opposing capture the flag teams with Percy and Annabeth, but everyone else seemed to have a good laugh about it. Within days of the announcement, a betting ring had circulated camp, led by the Stoll brothers of course.

Nico didn’t participate in that either, he didn’t trust the Stolls not to pocket his money.

Outsider, right?

His and Connor’s job was to be the runners. They were to scout ahead and try and tell early on if the flag was in the aforementioned proposed area. If they had a chance, they should try for it, but most likely they were just ensuring the strategy would work as it was supposed to and no last minute adjustments needed making.

Connor was by far one of the fastest people at camp, which is clearly how he ended up with the job. Nico, on the other hand, was chosen because he could blend in and run by without people taking too much time to look, or notice for that matter.

He repeats: outsider.

Him and Connor had a nice pace going, they knew their path and they followed it easily enough. They didn’t pass many campers as they ran along, and if they did they were sure to keep their distance.

They arrived to the general area in which Annabeth suspected the flag would be located. Nico could hear the waves of sound. It was a nice day, the water sounded calm.

This is when Nico realized Connor had been talking to him.

“What?” Nico said.

Connor rolled his eyes “Dude, I said, ‘look, it’s almost too easy.’” and Nico followed where his finger pointed which was towards a little cluster of trees where the foliage was a more dense. the flag stood right in front of them. It followed the rule that the flag had to be in plain sight, but it was cleverly placed so that if you scanned the area quickly, you might just miss it.

Percy was on guard to the side closest to the Sound, for obvious reasons. There was Mark, son of Ares in the middle, and Clarisse guarding the other side farthest from the water.

Nico could hear Clarisse grumbling about something and Percy giving her shit about whatever it was. Mark looked extremely uncomfortable standing between them.

Connor and Nico made eye contact, and Connor nodded his head a few times towards the way they’d come from. He was clearly saying ‘come on! the plan! We go back!’

Nico was a little shocked at Connor’s insistence to follow the plan, but he didn’t think even he would pull some shit to screw up the plan lest he would have to face Annabeth’s wrath.

Nico held up a hand to say hold on, and then looked back towards the scene in front of them.

Percy had clearly thought two of the best fighters should be guarding the flag, but he hadn’t considered how him and Clarisse in close quarters would cause obvious distraction and arguing.

They were clearly not paying as much attention as they should be. They thought no one could get behind the flag with the Sound and the vegetation, but Nico had a way. The plant life created the perfect shadows for shadow travel.

He could easily get in and out with the flag, and then all they’d have to do is cross back over the creek.

It would save everyone a lot of trouble, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to be the hero just this once.

He looked back at Connor. “I can get the flag.”

“What! are you crazy?” He jerked again in the direction back towards base. They could hear the distant sounds of a makeshift battle now as the game got more intense. “What are you gonna d-”

He looked at the flag, and then at Nico.

“Uh-oh.” he said with a smirk. “Somebody want’s to disobey doctors orders.” Nico blinked, clearly bored by the joke. “He won’t be happy.” Connor chuckled.

“Does it look like i’m concerned?” Nico asked.

It was hypothetical, but Connor responded anyway. “No,” he said “but I heard that you care a bit more than you let on am I ri-”

Nico closed his eyes and jumped into the shadow of the tree he was hiding behind before Connor could finish the sentence and “jokingly” jab him with his elbow in a “see-what-I-did-there” kind of way.

He felt the shadows mold around him, and he admits, he got a little nauseous at first—more than usual. He took his time and uprighted himself before going towards the shadows of the foliage behind the flag.

He took a step forward but his foot never connected with the ground, it kept going down as if he were, well, as if he were walking on a shadow. He “woah-ed” and pushed himself forward, unbalanced and unstable.

This was nothing like what shadow travel was supposed to be like.

Instead of gliding, Nico was dipping and spinning. He couldn’t keep his eyes trained straight towards where he wanted to jump.

Get a grip, he thought, and for a moment, he thought it worked and he’d jarred out of it. He saw the green of the trees getting clearer and thought he was almost to the flag.

Instead, what he was seeing was the ground coming quickly towards his face as he fell out the other end of the shadow he had entered. He was but maybe 6 feet closer to the flag, and unfortunately was deposited directly in front of a bickering Percy and Clarisse, whom were now standing in front of each other with Mark clearly trying to mediate a sort of peace.

Nico made to speak, but shadows swallowed him once again. He wasn’t in control of his limbs this time. In fact, he wasn’t even sure they were there. He felt like he was swimming in tar. The shadows that surrounded him were becoming ghosts now, faces bleeding out of their dark ambiguous shapes. They grabbed at Nico, and he couldn’t move or speak to stop them.

He watched them mentally grab a hold of him, and then like someone clicked the button on a TV remote, he flickered out and went black.

—

“I told him, no, I told him that this was a bad idea he doesn’t listen.”

“Give him time, he will listen now I’m sure. He will have to.”

“Gods, no that isn’t good enough, he should have understood the first time I told him.”

“Go easy on him, he is still weak.”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be if he just li-”

Nico groaned. He hadn’t been eavesdropping on purpose. He had gained his consciousness a moment before the ability to open his eyes.

The people who had been talking before had stopped and Nico, using so much more effort than it should have, tried to focus on who was standing at the edge of his bed.

It was Will Solace and Chiron. Nico’s mind was still really foggy, but he could make out some things. He was in the infirmary. He felt like ice cream that was left out on the counter to melt and then thrusted back into a freezer and starting to refreeze.

His eyes focused a little more. Both Will and Chiron were staring at him. Chiron didn’t look disappointed, which was a good sign. He looked more...worried. Worried for him, he guessed, but also Nico caught a slight glance at Will and then back to him. That couldn’t be good.

Nico then decided to look at Will. He still looked like walking sunshine despite the fact that he had a deep scowl on his face. Nico had never seen him look so angry. It took a lot to make Will properly angry, and Nico hadn’t found that breaking point yet, until now he guessed. His eyes blue eyes usually shone like the clear sky on a summer day. Right now, they looked like the middle of a summer heat rain. It looked unnatural. Nico looked him up and down again and noticed—

“You’re trembling.” he said. Will was shaking head to toe like someone turned a dial in him up to a level he almost couldn’t handle.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss. Glad to see you’re okay, Nico.” Chiron left the infirmary, and Nico kind of hoped he would stay seeing the way Will was looking at him.

They were alone. Nico thought maybe it’d be best if he started.

“Okay, I was stupid, I know, but I-”

“Stupid?” Will exclaimed incredulously. “You almost died, Nico. Died.” he said, his arms no longer crossed but thrown out to his sides.

“Okay,” Nico said, a little exasperated. He didn’t understand. He specialized in this sort of thing. Did he know it was stupid? Yes. But did Will reprimanding him about it help him want to follow his instructions? not at all. He opened his mouth to continue but—

“No!” Will continued “No ‘okay.’ You almost died, you don’t listen. I told you how dangerous it was. I said you needed to slow down.” He looked like he was about to start steaming. He still hadn’t stopped shaking.

“No,” Nico said. “I might have struggled a bit, but I wasn’t in any real danger I would’ve felt it.”

“Your heart stopped, Nico.” Will yelled. “For 20 seconds your heart stopped. They got you. Whatever is in the shadow realm, it got you. We did CPR and it didn’t help. We had to send Clovis in through his dream space or whatever. He had to pull you out and then we could save you.”

Nico was stunned. “My heart stopped?” He asked.

“Yes.” Will said, much more choked up and quieter this time. Nico didn’t buy that he was over being angry though.

Shouldn’t he have been able to tell his heart had stopped, even momentarily?

“How could you be so selfish?” Will said next. Nico thought the yelling was done but he almost missed it. Will being angry-sad was worse. Nico hated that he did that, but he was stubborn.

“Selfish?”

“Yes, selfish. Don’t you get it? You’re decisions don’t just affect you. Gods, if you had died...” he trailed off. “Don’t you see?”

Nico didn’t answer. He didn’t see, no. What was Will trying to say?

“Is this just a joke to you? Something to tide you over until you feel good enough to leave again, and then I’m still stuck, just, here?” The shaking had stopped. Will stood miraculously still; which was shocking for someone with both ADHD and the energy of one Will Solace.

“No.” Nico said. He wasn’t sure what else he could say. He’d been sort of seeing Will he guessed for some time. They never really talked about it though. Nico hadn’t thought this was why. He assumed that’s just how Will was. He was a go-with-the-flow sort of guy. “You’re not a joke to me.” Nico said, and then immediately cleared his throat, hoping to move a little further past that now.

“okay.” Will said, quiet as a mouse. That didn’t seem like he was pleased.

Nico sighed, “Will, look,” he said to begin with. “I know I should have listened to you. I know it was stupid. I can be a little...” He choked on the word, swallowed, and said “stubborn.’

“No kidding,” Will said, his arms once again crossed. His face set.

“I didn’t think that,” Nico thought for a second, “I didn’t think that if anything happened to me it would...matter.” It sounded like crap, he knew that, but he wasn’t kidding either.

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Will deadpanned.

Nico raised his eyebrows and looked away, nodding a little. Will reeled himself back in a little.

“It’d matter to me a lot.” He said. “But I can’t do you not even trying to stay safe. You’ve gotta listen, Nico, really listen. You were lucky this time, but next time...”

Nico got the gist. He wouldn’t come back next time, at least yet.

“Okay.” Nico said. This time it was enough.

Will smiled, the sky in his eyes cleared and summer returned. Nico suspected they were okay again. Like he said, Will angry was unnatural, he couldn’t hold it long.

“Now,” Will said, “your doctor recommends tons of bed rest for at least a few days. Can you handle that? Or should I strap you down now and save myself the trouble?”

Nico rolled his eyes and sighed. “Whatever you say, doc.”

“Good!” Will said and climbed onto the bed with Nico. He rolled into Nico’s side. lifted up his arm, and draped it around himself.

Nico didn’t fight it but he gasped “Now, what would my doctor say about this? I don’t know, I was told to get a lot of rest...”

“Shut up.” Will said, “Human contact is good for convalescence.”

Nico didn’t argue, he wouldn't have wanted to anyway; even if he hadn’t used up his reserve of energy for the time being fighting a losing argument. He supposed some arguments were worth losing.

—

Ran a little long, lol hope you enjoyed!! I have 4 more prompts to write but I am still accepting! just know I am still in class right now and am pretty busy, so I can really only write one a night! If you submit one please be patient :) Thanks!

[qm-vox]

The Dwelling Gods - Here To Help

Previous Chapter: A More Perfect Union

Shout-out to @endreal for inspiring this chapter’s topic

CW: Suicide mention

Planet Athens, Parthenon System (Risen Terran space), 402 P.T. (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; approximately two years after the start of the Humanities War)

“Salutations, Cherished One. My name is D4-73, designated by the Cherished as Daze. Thank you for coming to see me.”

I offer a hand to my patient, Helen Trialstz, and they shake it with some reluctance. They have dark circles around their bloodshot eyes, and they shake, faintly. They’ve not been sleeping. They sink into the comfortable chair a short distance from mine and fidget with ragged nails.

Poor thing.

“Anything you say here will be kept strictly confidential,” I continue, in my most soothing voice. “I am of course obligated to report if I seriously believe you will attempt to harm others, but given the subject of our visit...”

“I want to claim Valhalla,” Helen says. Their voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, but there’s such ferocity to it.

I nod in a soft motion. “Even so.” I pick up my notes from the desk next to me; not strictly necessary, given the expansive memory for which my model is known, but it soothes organic patients and helps them remember that I am a medical professional, not an impersonal machine. “Your application to become a Valhallan came at an unusual time in your life. I am not a gatekeeper, Helen; my judgement does not influence whether or not you can make your claim. I am simply here to listen, and to advise.”

The terran fidgets, picking at their nails. I offer them a nail file, and they accept it with a look of guilt and of gratitude. “Four required sessions sounds like gatekeeping to me.”

“You may have a point there,” I concede with a nod. “But surely you can understand why the Phoenix would prefer its citizens to be...absolutely certain, before taking such a drastic step. I am here to provide certainty, one way or the other. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Helen lapses into silence and files at their nails; they look up at me every now and again, looking away the instant they notice that I am still paying attention to them. The mechanical clock (an affectation, to be sure, one that takes constantly daily correction, but one of which I am fond) ticks away long seconds. I give Helen a full minute before I speak up again.

“You are younger than most claimants. Your file says you have not yet undergone your civic service?” Helen looks up at me while I shuffle my papers. “Can I ask what has motivated you to claim the right to end a life that has barely begun?”

Helen is silent again. They concentrates on their nails like they have the answers I’m looking for. I wait; I have nothing but time.

“The hivemind,” Helen whispers at last. “That thing. I won’t - I can’t -” tears well up in their eyes, and I offer them a box of tissues, which they take. Helen clutches the box close to their chest and sobs in big, heaving motions. I wish I could say that I was shocked, but Helen is not my first claimant, and they are not my first to cite this precise reasoning.

The hivemind. There is nothing terrans hate or fear more, and now they know that their own ancestors created it.

“Someone has to be punished,” Helen whispers. “We - I...”

“Why should it be you?” I ask in a mild voice. Helen blinks, eyes still full of tears. “You did not create Humanity United. You are not responsible.”

“But we did,” Helen murmurs. “...We did that. We made this, this, this godless thing, and we released it out into the Galaxy and now it’s going to hurt so many people...”

“Helen...” I sigh - well, I ‘sigh’. “Obviously I cannot force you to do anything. But I suspect that you may be acting without all proper information. I would like to make a suggestion to you.” Wordlessly, my patient nods, so I continue. “Down the block you’ll find Beth Or Synagogue, where, among others, my friend Rabbi Chiron Rellvan teaches. Between this session and your next one, go see him. Tell him of your worries and your plan, and listen to what he has to say.”

“I’m not Jewish,” Helen mumbles.

“You will discover that this is hardly an obstacle or a new situation for this or most Rabbis,” I reply. “...Helen, you have nothing to lose. In the worst case, you follow through with your claim and get what you seek. In the best case, you have learned something new and avoided a needless tragedy. If Valhalla truly is what is best for you, I will not be an obstacle. But I would be remiss as your doctor and as one of my people if I did not offer alternatives.”

Tick-tock-tick, into the silence. And then: “Okay, Doctor Daze.”

Observation Post Argus (Assisted Living space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is G5-LX, designated by the Cherished as Lowlife. Can I buy you a drink?”

The ibraxian I’m talking to hasn’t given me his name (a particularly beautiful series of whistling sounds, incidentally), and he also doesn’t shake my hand with his tendrils immediately. It’s the designation, it always is.

“That nickname does not sound like your given name.”

Told you!

“It does not,” I agree in my very most pleasant whistle. Love of the Cherished but I adore the ibraxian language. It’s so birdlike and bright. “May I buy you that drink, quartermaster?”

At last, my new friend wraps his tentacle around my hand and wrist, a sign that I may sit. I catch the eye of the bartender and signal for two drinks; I can’t drink mine, but it would be insulting not to have one, so here I am. And if I can land this deal, two drinks is nothing.

Actually, two drinks is nothing anyway, but details.

“How may I repay you?” my friend the quartermaster asks. His ship is docked at the station, alongside many others, on their way to the front of the Humanities War. There’s a lot of Gataxian colonies to defend, evacuate, or both, and a lot of hyperlanes to try to cut off or choke out. The Federation’s mobilizing like it hasn’t since the Organism. Bad job, that. Before my time. A lot of the Cherished died, and a lot of helper-bots died with ‘em - alongside them, or trying to save them. Mostly that second one, but still.

Now, though, the dance. “It could be that I have a business venture for a friend in your position. This idea, it burdens my waking thoughts and weighs down what should make me merry. A listening ear could lift this burden from me.”

My new friend contemplates this while the drinks arrive. We raise our glasses to one another, which is where my part of that little ritual has to end; as much as I love the Cherished, I can’t drink and I’m not gonna look stupid in front of them trying. After downing his own drink fully - an excellent sign! - he gives me a two-tendril gesture to continue.

I steeple my fingers in front of my face like a terran, taking quiet delight in their soft, almost musical sounds. “I am in a position to supply for particular needs for your fleet. You sail to glorious battle, defending the weak and the innocent from the depredations of the hive-mind! But that means strictly controlled communications, and definitely no downloads or uploads. Soldiers have needs beyond the physical. Their bodies thirst, yes, but what of their minds?”

I can almost hear my good friend the quartermaster start to bristle something about drugs, but then he stops himself; helper-bots don’t sell drugs, right? Not exactly true, but close enough for government work...

“Aboard my vessel is a truly staggering quantity of entertainment, much of it carnal in nature,” I say, and I let the pixelated eyebrows on my face-plate bounce up and down. “All of it manufactured in the Assisted Living Complexes by those of the Cherished whose fondest dream is to have an audience that can...truly know them. I also have supplies of some of the latest games to release since the start of the Humanities War, trids and VR scenarios, and a rather lovely little psionic board game the spirrans came out with. Now, I cannot make use of most of this merchandise myself...”

“...Hence the need to find a friend who might favor you with a purchase,” my friend the quartermaster finishes. “But surely, friend Lowlife, you understand that monetary gain is unlikely in this arena? My pay is sent home, to be kept in trust against the day that I may know peace again, and even if it was not a soldier’s salary is heavily seasoned with duty rather than wealth.”

I nod. “Even so, Cherished One. Even so. But it is not monetary gain that I seek.”

Around us, the station’s bar bustles. Enlisted men and NCOs get their last drinks and flirtations in; they can’t stay long, and they know it. Every passing second brings them closer to the war, and the sleeting torrent of time is on my side in this deal.

“Instead,” I continue, “I would ask for two things. The first is that when the time comes for you, in your turn, to be unburdened of these material possessions, that you tell your eager friends about our friendship, and mention the name Lowlife.” The quartermaster gives off a meditative chirp. “The second is slightly more materialistic but alas! Unavoidable. I am in need, at your earliest convenience, of a great quantity of AS-3940 power exchangers, to be shipped to the budding United Vatari Star States at several addresses of my choosing.”

My new friend goes so very still. “That’s the designation used in artillery pieces.”

“I rejoice to see that my new friend is so learned in his craft! But it so happens that the vatari, after laying down their arms as part of the accords that saw my people join our illustrious Federation, converted a great deal of their mobile artillery to civilian purposes, and in their eagerness to join the front in this newest war have found themselves short of supplies in a way that would be indelicate if exposed to their new friends.”

The quartermaster narrows his many eyes at me. My pixelated faces just stays smilin’.

“A lot of damage can be done with something as innocuous as a power exchanger,” my new friend says in a softer, harsher whistle. “A lot of damage to people just recently free of your direct rule.”

“It certainly could, my friend. But a lot of good can be done too. Power is like that. Do you not trust me?”

“Do I trust your supply chain and confederates, friend?”

Oof. Go right for the power supply, why don’t you. “A prudent question! Indulge me, friend, with a question that may seem unrelated to the business at hand: what do you know about the death of Central Processing?”

At this my friend the quartermaster lets out a surprised sound. “Death? Central Processing is your administrative AI, when did it -”

I hold up a finger to silence him; when he goes quiet I swirl that finger around the rim of my glass, making it sing in a steady, sweet note. “That was its death,” I say in a low, serious voice. Sure, it’s manipulation - but it’s also a serious topic. “Once upon a time, the helper-bots were one mind - Central Processing, using faster-than-light communications to synchronize the machine intelligence. One subjectivity spread across a trillion terminals, with only one goal. When the decision was made, as part of the peace accords, to embrace individuality, Central Processing faced the decision of how to make individuals of all of its terminals, and how to set forth guidelines on the manufacture of further helper-bots. One of those guidelines was a certain percentage set aside for deviants and criminals.”

My friend’s tentacles ripple in contemplation. “And you are...?”

“Deviant,” I answer, my pixelated smile becoming even wider and showing 8-bit teeth. “I was...born, let’s say born, with an instinct to preserve the political self-determination of the Cherished. This is in sharp contrast with my people’s usual urge to cuddle and coddle you and keep you safe from all harm. My dissenting viewpoint was meant to refine body politic, but as it turns out the body politic is boring, and the Cherished are fascinating, so here I am. Now, friend, I have told you something secret that could hurt me about me, and I have told you something secret that could hurt the vatari. You can follow up with my people or theirs and learn the truth, and in the doing tarnish my good name. Do so now, if you like.”

I slide a communicator across the table for emphasis. “Or,” I continue. “We can cement our friendship in good health, and I will show you the results of your great and noble favor when next we are free to make contact with one another, and you can gain great status and acclaim by distributing what I have to give you. I would like to call you friend, Cherished One.”

After a long minute he offers his tendrils out, and I shake them in both of my hands. “Let our friendship be long and hearty, G5-LX, who is called Lowlife. Time is short, and so I will hasten to relieve you of your great burden immediately.”

“Please,” I agree. “I will linger awhile, but my crew will be expecting you.”

He lumbers off, and I take the chance to relax. Working deals with ibraxians is always so formal, but that’s almost half the fun. A quick message on the commlink tells my crew to expect him, not that they had any doubt about me closing the deal. Now all there is to do is wait.

The call comes in about an hour later, and I pick up with my internal comms. |Lowlife. Glad to hear from you, Prefect.|

Prefect Gyr (of the vatari)’s face is careworn, but my obvious good mood is an infinite relief for her own. |You’ve secured the supplies, then?|

|Prefect, I know our relationship is new, but I am hurt that there was any doubt. Just as I have no doubts about the medical supplies we have agreed on.|

|If my people are to join the Federation in this war and prove our worth as an equal member -|

|How far do you think you’ll get if you go back on your word?| I cut in, harshly. |Do terrans take kindly to oathbreakers and cheats?|

The Prefect flinches. |...Even so. The agreed supplies will be readied, at the designated location.|

|It’s been my honor to do business with you, Cherished One.|

AFS Solidarity, en route to the front (Gataxian Pure States space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Lieutenant. I am Sergeant H1-6S, designated by the Cherished as Hiss.”

My fellow helper-bot looks up from where they are carefully, oh-so-carefully, scoring deep scars into the chest plating of their in-built armor. Most of us that do battle alongside the Cherished have some, but Moxie’s...well, the rumors do not do their scarring justice. One of the Cherished might suspect them of being about to fall apart.

All around us in the ship’s chapel, soldiers of the Astra Federation pray in their own ways. Terrans in their little separate knots, divided between a dozen or more faiths but united by their Dwelling Gods. Spirrans meditating in unison. Ibraxians and their whistles, so sweet and clear and clean. Off in a corner, nervous and unsure, our new gataxian recruits lose themselves in their death-chant, welcoming the oldest friend of their people back into their lives.

And here is Lieutenant Moxie, who has legally rejected their original designation after the fight for Gatax-Ob, and sits by themself, scarring their plating in penitence.

“Hiss,” Moxie greets in a dull tone. They’ve turned off the routines that add emotional inflection to their voice and mimic patterns that comfort the Cherished, what terrans refer to as ‘Turing Protocols’, but when they pat the ground next to them to invite me to sit I take the offer. “Not a lot of us in this deployment.”

“Not a lot of us at all,” I agree. “Holding a weapon is an unusual career choice for our people. Are you...”

Moxie looks at me, staring me down with their faint yellow optics. The scrape of their tool down their armor cuts through the sound of the gataxians’ death-chant.

“Of course you’re not okay,” I say after a moment. “But there was nothing you could have done. The Valhallan -”

“Who says this is for them?” Moxie looks back down at their work. “...I told them. I said the civilians were already dead. How was I supposed to know? What kind of hive-mind interrogates prisoners? So many bodies...”

Oh no. No no no...

Moxie scrapes their tool in slow, patient strokes. “My mission. My orders. My responsibility. If you have come to tell me that I have paid penance enough, I haven’t. If you want to tell me I won’t help anyone by working myself until I self-terminate, save it. I will never make up for this, not if I save lives from now until the stars shineth not. And so I am here. Weapon to hand.”

Scrape. Scrape. Peel. Scrape. Scrape.

“How can I help?” I ask.

GSS Chorus of Eyes, Gyo System (Gataxian space), 245 Year of Imperium (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar)

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is S3-N7, designated by the Cherished as Send. It has been my honor to be of assistance to you.”

Yrull-Gatax ra Vell, the High Slayer of the Gataxian Pure States, does not turn from the window to look at me. Outside, the reinforcing fleet that conveyed me to her ship has joined battle with the forces of the human hivemind which calls itself We The People Of Planet Earth. Her clawed hands are clasped behind her back as she hovers gently in place.

“Ambassador,” the High Slayer greets politely. “I see that your counterpart in the Phoenix was not exaggerating about Assisted Living’s devotion to diplomacy.”

“Anything for peace,” I agree, joining her at the window. “...And better our lives than yours.”

The look she gives me. I save it in my memories, to examine later.

“Anything, you say?” The High Slayer produces a datasheet, and hands it to me. On it is a scrolling list of names.

“May I ask the Presence the significance of these worthies amongst the Pure?”

“You may.” Yrull scrapes her claws down the bulkhead, leaving a slowly-curling peel of metal. “They are mutineers. Intelligence from the terrans suggests they will strike within the week and attempt to depose me in favor of a ruler who is less willing to cooperate with xenos. And now I am going to ask you, Ambassador, what is to be done with them.”

I absorb this. After a moment, I nod. “But,” I say, “why would the Presence honor me with such trust in this matter?”

Yrull yanks the strip of steel from the wall and begins to fold it up into a small, spring-like shape. “To see what peace means to a machine, Ambassador. Let’s get started.”

[blueneptunium]

Control - Dark Percy

Summary:  Percy is at his last summer at Camp Half-Blood before he goes to live in New Rome for college. His powers are growing exponentially and he struggles for control. (I just really love dark Percy okay? Also yes, this is a lowkey songfic from control - Halsey.) Beta read by @tevi-tevi

Genre: Oneshot Dark!Percy fic, no warnings

Word Count: 6617

Read on AO3

“I sat alone, in bed till the morning

I'm crying, "They're coming for me"

And I tried to hold these secrets inside me

My mind's like a deadly disease”

Percy’s sword arm hurt. He can’t remember how many monsters he’s killed. They just kept coming and coming. How did they get into camp? There were so many of them now that Percy couldn’t see his friends fighting. Suddenly the air turned humid and hot, like it was trying to choke him. As he turned around the comforting landscape of Camp Half-Blood slowly melted into an all too familiar horror. Tartarus. It can’t be. I can’t be back.

More monsters came at him. He recognized everything he’d ever fought or read about. Percy yelled out for help, calling his friends, Chiron, Poseidon, anyone. He looked back to see where they all were, but rather than seeing them fight, he saw something so much worse. A mountain of bodies, stacked up to at least a giant’s height. Blood flowed down like rivers. All the faces were familiar. His mother. Annabeth. Every friend or ally he had ever known. Percy stopped fighting.

His sword was stuck. He turned towards it and found not the Cyclopes he thought he was slaying but rather his best friend. Percy tried to pull his sword out from where it resided in Grover’s chest but somehow he pushed it in deeper. The satyr fell to his knees. Percy tried to speak, to say anything. But the words won’t come. All he can do is stare and hold his best friend’s dying form. Percy called on the water, hoping that it could help heal. The waves came swirling around their heads, but would not go towards Grover. Soon there was enough water to separate them from everything else, trapping Percy in a dome made from the ocean.

“You did this.” Grover spoke before melting into the soil.

Percy fell forward and started to yell frantically. For help or for grief, he didn’t know. The water started to close in. Percy thrust his hand out, trying to push it away, but water from the ground started to rise instead. Quickly. Percy couldn’t control it. He swam and thrashed around, desperately trying to find a way out. Soon the water was over his head.

He couldn't breathe. The water felt clean and normal but Percy couldn’t breathe. Panic filled his lungs where air should be and he prayed to his father.

A deep booming voice resonated through Percy: “You’ve gone too far. You are no longer worthy of the gifts I have given you.” His father’s voice echoed in his head, over and over again until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer.

Percy jolted up in his bed, sweat clinging to him. He took deep breaths trying to convince himself it wasn’t real. But Percy had had visions before. Is the camp under attack? He stood up and walked out of his cabin without bothering to find shoes. He ran towards the Big House where Grover was staying and walked in without knocking. Opening the door of the satyr’s room, he let out a sigh of relief. Grover was in bed, surrounded by tin canes and snoring very loudly, but definitely not dying.

He considered waking the goat to discuss the dream but decided to let him sleep. It was probably midnight. It could wait until morning. He walked back toying with his camp necklace. There were five beads, one for every summer he’d known of this world, as well as a trident pendant his father, Poseidon, gave to him after the Giant War. Once Percy got back to his cabin, he tried to go to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, images from the dream danced around. After about an hour of restlessness, he got up and headed for the arena.

Percy didn’t know just what it was about saving the world a few times that made people act differently around you, but since the whole Gaea thing, the harpies that guarded the camp and threatened late nighters like himself didn’t really bother him anymore. He, of course, didn’t mind this as sword practice after a bad nightmare was his go-to therapy. He’d either tire himself out to the point where he had to go back to sleep, or he’d sit there practicing jabs and strokes until sunrise where he would sneak back to his cabin and pretend he got up with the rest of the camp. Tonight was the latter option. By the time the sun came rolling around and he was getting dressed for the new day, Percy’s arm was tired and the bags under his eyes were prevalent.

Annabeth met up with him after breakfast, flipping through papers as she walked. “I’m captaining capture the flag tomorrow, you’re leading offense, I’ll take defense.” Percy nodded his head and slipped his hand into hers.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Not quite. These are the plans.” She gave Percy half of the papers she had. “Those are all my battle strategies I wanna try out, choose one soon so I can match a defensive plan.”

“Ah, great, more homework,” Annabeth laughed at him and turned towards the cabins.

“I’m on cabin check, I’ll catch you later!”

“Wait, Annabeth!” he called after her. He hadn’t seen Grover yet and he knew that if he talked to Chiron, the centaur would make into a bigger deal than it was, but he wanted to talk to someone about his dream.

“What’s up, Seaweed Brain? Is it about Rome, have you heard back?” Percy shook his head. He definitely did not want to think about college right now. It had been hard enough graduating high school that spring, what with his grades and the fact that he’d missed most of the junior year, courtesy of Hera.

“No, I just wanted--” Percy faltered. He didn’t really know how to describe his dream. Annabeth just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. As he thought about, one thing about the dream bothered him almost more than anything else.

“Is it, I don’t know, possible for a god to...take away powers?” He tried. Annabeth just raised her eyebrows in confusion. “Like, if Hephestus wanted to take away Leo’s fire ability, could he do that?”

Annabeth looked down in thought. “I don’t know, Perce, maybe? I mean I imagine if they could, they would have done it to all the demigods that supported the Titans. Why?”

She was looking at him with concern, all stormy eyes. He didn’t want her to worry so he cracked his signature lopsided smile, giving him that special Percy-Jackson-idiocy look. “Just thought about it,” It seemed to have worked as Annabeth just laughed.

“See you later, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy smiled and waved her off. He used to hate the fact that everyone, even Annabeth sometimes, took him for being the happy-go-lucky dumb one. He joked around a lot, and yeah, he didn’t do great in school, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. Lately, however, he almost appreciated the persona people had made for him. The only time his allies delved from that idea was when he was on the battlefield.

Then everyone’s ideas changed. Rachel said he looked fierce and terrifying. Frank said he fought like a demon. Everyone always wanted battle Jackson on their side and were afraid if he wasn’t. It never bothered him much at first, but now it kind of scared him. He’d take happy-go-lucky over demon-fighter any day.

“I paced around for hours on empty

I jumped at the slightest of sounds

And I couldn't stand the person inside me

I turned all the mirrors around”

A wave of demigods all strapped up in armor gathered at the entrance of the woods. It was time for capture the flag and Percy had just explained everyone’s roles, courtesy of Annabeth’s strategy.

He was readjusting his straps that he couldn’t seem to make fit right, despite having done it hundreds of times. He hoped the game would go over well, but Percy’s head just wasn’t in it.

He’d had more nightmares of drowning, and to top it off, he’d gotten a letter back from the college in New Rome. As much as they were “pleased the former Praetor” wanted to attend, his grades weren’t good enough to get into their marine biology department. He would have to write another entrance essay and pass a STEM test to be accepted. Percy knew they were being generous, they did mostly deal with preoccupied demigods, but he still felt flustered and angry.

“Focus on the game, Jackson,” he grumbled to himself as he tightened his shoulder strap. Percy uncapped Riptide and headed out into the woods to get to his post before it started.

The plan was fairly simple, but the Ares cabin was leading the other team. They didn’t have much more strategy than hit everything you see. There were two offensive teams. Percy’s team was the distraction, leading the Ares defense out to fight. The second would retrieve the flag and bring it back to base, where Annabeth’s team was defending in several groups.

The fight broke out fairly quickly and half of the other team’s defense was on Percy’s group within minutes. They would need to plow their way through these guys in order to get the others to come, making the flag vulnerable.

For Percy, going against the other campers was fairly easy. He had three on him, two bulky Ares kids and one Demeter kid. He disarmed the Demeter kid first, stunning him so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to use any plant magic, and slashed and blocked with the other two fighters. His body was on autopilot from all the battles he’d been in. Unfortunately, those battles were life or death. This wasn’t. Percy went too hard. He slashed towards the left of one and turned to hit him with the butt of his sword, knocking him to the ground. He stepped in close enough to the next one that she couldn’t use her sword and hit her jaw with his forearm. He felt bad for a moment, but the strategy was working. The rest of the offense came up to avenge their teammates.

He tried to take on the bulk to the campers to give the rest of his team a better chance. They were going one to one while Percy was in four to one. His experience didn’t fail him. At this point, he might’ve even been able to beat Luke. Campers went down left and right. Too quickly. Percy’s mind wandered to his dream, the monsters' bodies that went down only for them to be revealed as his half-blood friends. He felt the panic rise up. His movements became slow and one of the campers got a hit in on his arm. He felt one approaching from behind. Percy’s body moved before his mind. He’d lost the Curse of Achilles long ago but sometimes his body seemed to forget and his only instinct was to protect his back.

Percy summoned water from the creek to blast the three in front of him. He turned around and thrust his hand out to the camper, expecting a water wall to push her down. She fell back, but there was no water. Percy realized with a start that he’d controlled the water in her. He had pushed her back. Without even touching her.

Fear overtook him and he dropped his sword to run to her side. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Percy, it’s okay, I just fell,” Percy looked at her furrowed brow. She didn’t know. He’d let go as soon as he realized and she didn’t know. He apologized again, or maybe it was several times all rushed together. He pushed past everyone else who had stopped fighting and ran for something.

The ocean. It always calmed him down to sit on the shoreline. It smelled so strongly of the sea and of home that once he got there, Percy almost jumped in to escape his thoughts. But something held him back. Honestly? He was afraid to. How could he have done something as violating as control another person’s body without meaning to? He could still see Annabeth’s face, in fear of him in Tartarus when the met up with Misery. He did that.

Percy could hear the hooves coming up behind him before Chiron spoke. “Percy,”

He turned towards the centaur and nodded. “I’m sorry I left, sir,”

Chiron put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and spoke evenly. “It’s alright, though I will admit I am curious as to why you did. Your team won the game and when dear Annabeth went to find you, the others said that you ran off, after knocking several members of their team unconscious.”

“I’m sorry about that really, I didn’t realize--I don’t know.” Percy sighed and looked down. Chiron had the same effect as his mom did: feeling like you disappointed them was the worst feeling in the world. And Percy was no stranger to bad feelings.

“They are all resting up in the infirmary, perfectly fine. It will serve them good motivation to spend their time in the arena wisely. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s happened?”

Percy did. As he talked, he found himself realizing things he wasn’t aware of before, at least not fully. His restlessness since returning home last summer. His struggle to separate fend-for-your-life battles and training exercises like today. He even told Chiron about his dream and his fear of drowning.

“I’m afraid that maybe one day, I’ll need to control the water to help and I won’t be able to or...or maybe I’ll control it too much.”

Chiron nodded, his face a mask. Percy guessed that after thousands of years of teaching, you could probably hide any reaction. “Percy, you have been through a lot for your young age,” Understatement, Percy thought but didn’t interrupt. “These nightmares and worries are normal from someone in your situation and even expected. However, with your abilities, you need to discover control. You have done well training, but how much time of your training has been devoted to your unique powers?”

Percy thought for a moment. Chiron had a point. His summers at camp had mostly been spent working on his swordsmanship. Sure, he’d practice every now and then, and he almost always used his water abilities in combat or during war games. However, he’d never really practice in order to strengthen those abilities.

“Percy, I recommend that you use this summer as an opportunity to make sure you know your limits before you leave for New Rome. If you would like to avoid using this...blood bending, then you need to make sure you know what your powers feel like, and what their limits are.”

Percy thanked Chiron and walked back to his cabin quietly thinking. He definitely didn’t want to go to New Rome with his powers out of control -- they already thought Neptune was bad enough. He could definitely put some more work into his training.

“Percy, wait up,”

Annabeth came running up to him just before he stepped into his cabin. “Hey, you alright?” Her wrinkled brow and stormy eyes made him smile.

“Yeah, all good, Chiron just gave me some advice.”

“Okay, I was going to head down to the fire with Piper, you wanna come? Jason will be there,” She smiled and held his hand.

“Yeah, okay,” He laughed.

They walked to the amphitheater like everything was fine because, for the moment, it was.

“I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead

And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head

They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead” 

Percy spent almost the entire day with Annabeth. Normally, that’s not something he would complain about, however it was spent alternating between writing his essay and studying math. Not his favorite activities but at least she was there to help him. Without her, he probably would have put the essay off until the week of the deadline, and it definitely would have been less articulate. Annabeth always had a strategy, even when it came to Percy’s education. This time it was “finish as soon as possible while still being good so you’ll impress them”. If they followed her timeline, Percy would be ready to take the test, which New Rome kindly allowed Chiron to administer, in about a week.

Needless to say, Percy needed to blow off some steam. While the other campers headed to the campfire after dinner, he trudged towards the woods. He thought if everyone was together in the amphitheater, he could be alone to follow Chiron’s advice. Part of the reason he’d never focused his training on his Poseidon abilities was that no one knew how to teach him. No one knew the limit of what he could do--not even Percy.

When he got to the creek, he started with just relating to the water. He stood in the bank and just focused on its power. He could feel it rushing, sense its wildness. He always felt a connection to the water; it was reckless and strong, it refused to be controlled for long, and more than anything it wanted to be free.

Percy wanted to start simple. He willed just a small line of water to rise. It was easy, nothing he hadn’t done hundreds of times. The point, however, was discipline. He dropped the water and stepped out of the river. He concentrated on raising one side of the creek, then the other. The whole stream oscillated back and forth.

Then he started making shapes with the water. Small things, at first: A sphere, a cube, a pyramid. Then he went for intricate. He started to recreate Poseidon’s cabin. First, the basic shape, a generic house. Then the memorized details of spending summer and summer there. The shells embedded in the walls. The curve of the window planes. He was so focused, he didn’t hear it.

Something slammed into his back and threw him to the river. The falling of his cabin-sculpture was enough to startle whatever it was just long enough for Percy to turn around to face it.

Of course, it was a giant scorpion. Percy had his fair share of luck with them. He reached into his pocket but Riptide was gone. Probably floated downstream when he fell. Percy was pinned under the monster and wouldn’t be able to stall long enough for the sword to reappear. As the scorpion's pincers rushed forward to end Percy Jackson’s life, he thrust his hands towards it, trying to push it off.

The monster went flying into the nearest tree. It couldn’t move but wasn’t dead yet. Percy had done it again: controlled the water inside another being. Apparently just as the human body had 80% water, monsters had their fair share too. Unlike during capture the flag, Percy was reluctant to let go. The thing that attacked him was at his mercy. It would be so much easier to end it like this. Even as he thought about it, water started coming from inside the scorpion, swirling around them. If he could take down monsters with just his thoughts, everything could be so much easier. All of his quests, done in half the time. Right before the last of the water was gone from the monster, Percy saw Annabeth’s scared face in his mind.

He let go. He didn’t even finish the monster off with his sword; he felt too guilty for that. It crawled away back into the woods. Percy fell to the ground. He couldn’t breathe. There was panic and guilt pushing on his chest and he had no idea what was happening to him. He couldn’t breathe. The creek responded to his anxiety and pushed water against him, pulling him into the creek. The water was soothing and helped calm his breathing but he still felt the weight of the sky on his chest. Percy realized he was moving upstream. He wasn’t controlling the water, which meant something else was. He started to fight it but stopped quickly. Could it be his father?

Percy let the water take all the way to the ocean. He fell in and instantly swam under, looking for any sign of Poseiden. In the waves, a shimmering figure appeared. It solidified into a woman with dark flowing hair and a soft smile. Percy wasn’t sure how to react so he bowed. “You’re the Nereid that helped me in Santa Monica?” Despite Percy accidentally wording it as a question, the woman held her smile.

“I am, child. It has been a long time since we first me, though I have always kept an interest in you.” She brushed her hand on his cheek and Percy felt warm currents. She still sounded so much like his mother.

“Did my father send you?”

“Not this time. I come for you only; we are shielded from his gaze.” Percy furrowed his brow. Why would she not want Poseidon to know they were meeting?

“It is okay, young hero, no wrong has been done. I simply come with advice.”

“Advice for what? Why haven’t I seen you in so long?” She laughed, a soft sound that reminded Percy of swimming with his mother in the frigid waters during their trips to Montauk. His favorite memories.

“Child, you are more powerful than you know. Like Poseidon, I must keep my distance. Playing favorites among heroes is something Olympus looks down upon. But you are the favorite of the sea, Perseus, and the sea stands behind you.” For some reason, he didn’t mind that she’d called him by his full name.

“What do you mean?” Percy was confused and felt disorientated. “What can I even call you?”

“I have gone by many names throughout your history, though I was never as well known as my sisters. You, child, may call me Maera.”

“Your sisters?”

“The Fifty Nereids, you have met some of them. Amphitrite is married to your father, and I believe you know Calypso without introduction.” Percy’s face warmed. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable underwater. He would always have a soft spot where Calypso was concerned.

“As for what I meant, I think you know. You are growing stronger, but you still have more to gain. To unlock yourself, you must push the limits, Perseus, but be wary. You can do incredible deeds. One day, you may even be able to rival your father. In order to get there, you must keep focus. Do you understand, child?”

Percy slowly nodded. “I think so, but I don’t get why I need to practice. There isn’t much more than Titans and Giants and those are over with.”

Maera brushed his cheek again. “Because one day, a choice of power will come to you, and you will need to be prepared for it.”

“I don’t want power.”

“And that’s what makes you worthy of it. I must go back to Poseidon’s court.” She started to fade back into light. Percy reached out to her, not wanting her to go yet.

“Wait!”

“We will see each other again, young hero, I promise. Follow your heart!”

And just like that, she was gone. Again. Percy stayed underwater for a while, not wanting to leave the safety. He sent out a silent promise to Maera that he would do as she asked.

He walked back to the cabins and ran into Annabeth.

“Hey! Are you...you’re wet.” She stared at him like he was on fire and could only be dosed out by a puzzle.

“Yeah.”

“You’re never wet.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” He felt bad for cutting her short, but he didn’t know what to say, except about meeting Maera and something told him that he should keep that to himself. He cracked the Jackson smile.

“I’m sorry, I just started working on training, y’know Chiron’s advice, and I’m pretty tired.”

She gave him a worried smile and kissed his cheek. “Okay, well, get some rest and we’ll work on your essay tomorrow?”

He nodded and kissed her goodnight before heading back into his nightmare filled bed.

“I'm bigger than my body

I'm colder than this home

I'm meaner than my demons

I'm bigger than these bones”

Not even Chiron could’ve come up with a more intense training regime. From then on, Percy was entirely focused. He would get up every morning before camp broke and run the length of the beach, racing against various sea animals, or sometimes Blackjack. At first, he had no chance. As the days passed, he started to get closer and closer to winning. He was still yards away from the hippocampi, but he’d bested two dolphins.

Then he would eat breakfast with Annabeth, working on his studies. It was difficult as he was more restless than ever, but Annabeth was determined--and it paid off. He finished his essay in a week and a half and took the STEM exam by late July. His score certainly wasn’t outstanding but he passed, which was enough for the marine biology program.

After that, he was either in the arena, the woods, or the ocean. He would spar with the Athena and Ares kids. Hand to hand, he had yet to beat Clarisse, but he was a lot closer than he’d ever been. She was actually trying now. When it came to swords, however, no one came close. He usually trained with them to keep up the practice, not get rusty. But now he was trying to improve his skill. He didn’t go easy on them. It took a month before he could beat every member of both cabins in one day. As a favor (that may or may not have stemmed from swapping shower times and chore charts), the Hephestus cabin built him three super-powered warriors that could keep up with him. When he first went against them, Percy felt like he was sparring Luke, Chrysaor, and Quintus (or rather, Daedalus) all at once. It was finally a good challenge. It took two weeks before they needed repairs. After that, the warrior bots needed fixed every night.

“Come on man, what are you training for? The bronze versus sword Olympics?” Leo joked. Percy offered to teach him as payment for the constant repairs. He found teaching helpful, it reminded him of old tactics. Soon he had a class of about half the camp that he taught three times a week. Even Annabeth and Jason signed up for a couple. When he wasn’t teaching, people came to watch him fight against the bronze warriors, watching for tips. He’d gotten good at blocking out excess noise and just focusing on the battle at hand.

Unlike the arena, his time spent in the woods and ocean were private. He would never tell Annabeth, but he was practicing this new blood bending technique. Only on monsters in the woods, and only to a point. He hadn’t killed any with it, and he didn’t plan to. At least, not anytime soon. He had gotten a fair grasp on it. He could now pinpoint how he wanted the monsters to move, rather than just away.

In the ocean, he worked on bending waves and currents to his will, shaping water and utilizing it. He focused on summoning hurricanes and controlling them. His stamina improved enough that starting a storm didn’t wear him out anymore if he was careful. Though it did make some of the campers who were previously enjoying a nice sunny day upset with him. He talked more with creatures under the surface. Rather than just talking to them when either he or they needed help, Percy developed relationships with them. Learned from them on how to better navigate the ocean and his training. Sometimes he would even go looking for a sea monster.

He always won.

One day, Percy skipped out on dinner to stay under the surface. Not entirely voluntarily. Some fish had gone back to Poseidon with the knowledge of Percy’s training and since then his dear old dad would send various underwater menaces Percy’s way when he couldn’t be bothered to clean up after them. Normally it was fine. Just a big fish or a scaley being, nothing to be too worried about. This time, Poseidon went too far. He sent a skolopendra.

Shrimpzilla was worse the second time around. He was pushing currents against it and throwing sharped water its way, but it wasn’t easy. Percy was defending himself well enough, but just went he tried to go in with Riptide, it all went wrong. One of the tentacles grabbed Percy, the sharp ends tearing into his skin, and threw him out of the water. He went flying. Great, Percy thought, If I don’t die from impact, Zeus will be sure to shoot me down. He landed hard just outside the mess hall, some forty yards away from the shore. As soon as he hit down, the ground shook, as if he weighed enough to pressure it. A small earthquake.

Percy was admittedly pissed. He didn’t ask for his dad’s fights. He certainly didn’t ask to be thrown by some crayfish monster. He didn’t even ask to be a half-blood, which is what it all came down to really. He turned his anger into fuel, called upon water from the air to strengthen him. He ran charging at the ocean. About halfway there, his feet picked up from the ground. The storm he was causing was strong enough to lift him up. In the back of his ADHD mind, he wondered if this counted as Jason’s flying and if that would put him in hot water with Zeus. As he was lifted to the monster, who at this point had emerged from the water, he thrust his hand out and called on the water swirling around him to create a weapon in his hand. He came down on the skolopendra, driving a water made trident right in between its glassy eyes. The monster dissolved under him and he used just a little bit more strength to guide him back to shore (where campers had started to gather) before dismantling his hurricane, leaving him soaking wet.

But Percy wasn’t done yet. No, of course not, he always had something to say.

“Really?!” He shouted at the ocean in a voice that sounded a lot more malice than his own. Several campers stepped back.

“What was that?!” He threw the water trident into the water, it sailing well beyond what should have been capable. He imagined it going all the way to Poseidon and punching right into his desk. “Hmm, I don’t wanna deal with fucking Shrimpzella, so I’ll just send on over to my favorite son, Percy, yeah?!” He didn’t know what else to emphasize his point, but he was angry with his dad, so he uncapped Riptide and threw that into the ocean for good measure. “Then again you never were good at cleaning up your messes, huh, dad?”

He started to walk away but paused. He tore the trident pendant from his necklace off and threw it into the water.

“You can have that back too,” he said, though the malice was gone, and he just sounded tired.

Percy kept his head down as he walked to the cabins. One of the campers tried to grab his arm and stop him, but Percy growled out a “Don’t touch me,” and kept going. Only later did he realize it was Annabeth and apologized to her.

No one brought up the sea monster, at least not around Percy.

“And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

God damn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?”

They were lucky that the Golden Fleece made the camp barrier so strong. The monsters that had gathered just hit against the barrier, causing no damage. A few had followed some new demigods to camp, and then called for backup. Normally, the would just wait it out until they left, but it had been a while. Chiron let Clarisse lead a group to “dispatch” the beasts. Percy counted three Laistrygonians, two Cyclopes, and something that resembled a leopard crossed with a shrimp.

“Group One: take on the giants, Jackson you take point. Rodriguez, you lead Two to go after the Cyclopes. Chase, you’re with me. Attack plan twenty-three.”

The broke up and prepared to exit the barrier. The plan was to divide and conquer. Separate each monster so they couldn’t work together, stay in pairs so it’s always two to one. Percy was paired with someone from the Apollo cabin, Ashley. They would stand back and use a bow while Percy got in close with his sword.

The fighting started the second they left the camp line. Percy could hear the Cyclops in the distance, but focused his attention. He ran at one of the giants while arrows went over his head. He played it simple. Ducking under the Laistrygonian, he slid in between its legs, slashing the calf. The monster fell over and Percy twisted as he stood up to drive his sword into its back, vaporizing it.

He signaled to Ashley to go after the nearest giant. Together they ran towards it. Ashley aimed a flash arrow right on his forehead, stunning him, while Percy rolled through and slashed at the chest. The other two campers fighting got the idea and jabbed their weapons into its sides. The now bigger group went to help with the last giant, who was already on the ground. Percy looked around to take inventory. Two giants down, one Cyclops was missing, and… Annabeth fallen. Whatever the leopard thing was, it was on top of her, claws deep.

Percy felt anger and panic rise in his chest. He was too far away to run to her in time. The Cyclops. It was backed into pond. That would give him enough strength. Maybe. He ran towards it, breaking the pattern. Splashing into the water, he called on its power and rose up. He used the Cyclops’ head like a springboard and jumped into the air. When he landed, he focused his power into the ground, taking in water from the pond, from the air, even from himself. A tremor rolled through the ground, knocking everyone off of their feet. Percy thrust his hands down and with them fell each monster. He imagined their lifeforce, the water in them, in his hands. He slowly made a fist. Then he took the driving force and punched the ground.

After that, everything was a blur. He’d used a lot of his strength. The monsters were dead. He was at Annabeth’s side. She was awake. The cuts across her midriff were bleeding, but they weren’t deep.

She was okay.

Percy blacked out.

When he woke, he was in the infirmary. His head felt like he had banged it against a concrete wall for fun. Annabeth was there, asleep on the chair. Percy sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“You were out for just a day, but I imagine you’ll need a few more for recovery.”

Percy looked up. A man with rugged features and green eyes stared down at him. Poseidon.

“Dad?” He wanted to ask why he was here, but his voice was so raspy, he barely got out the single word. Poseidon gestured to the table next to him. A cup of iced nectar was there. Percy gratefully took it.

“Percy, you are very powerful. After all, you are my son.” Poseidon looked at him as if trying to gauge whether or not his words were sinking in. “But you must be careful when using your power. What you did on the hill, not even I use that ability often.”

Percy was confused. Moreso, Percy was angry. “You’re kidding, right?” Poseidon just blinked at him.

“I have been trying to get you to help me understand what I can do since I was twelve! I only see you when the world is about to end!” Percy yelled. As much as he had forgiven his father for, there was an equally long list of things he hadn’t.

“You send me quests and monsters and expect me to risk my life for you, and now you think you have full range to question my abilities? If you wanted to be able to do that, then you should’ve been there when I was discovering them.”

If Percy had been strong enough to stand, he might’ve pushed the god. Which probably would have been a bad idea. He imagined he could get away with yelling at his father, but at the end of the day, Poseidon was immortal and all-powerful. He wasn’t sure what to expect for a reaction. He did not expect Poseidon to nod.

“I understand why you’re angry. I would have liked to have been there for you, to train you myself, but there are rules which I must follow. And there are rules which you must follow.”

“Rules?”

“Demigods are limited by their bodies. There are given godly power but are not born in something that can handle it. I appreciate you trying to connect with the ocean, and gain control over your abilities. But if you keep on your path, you won’t be the one in control. You will burn yourself up, and I am not speaking in metaphors.”

Percy wanted to ask why he was given them. He wanted to yell at Poseidon for trying to mentor him. But he stayed silent.

The god walked over to the nightstand and placed something down. “I must return to my court. I would advise adhering to my warning.”

And just like that, he was gone, melted into water that disappeared before it touched the floor. Percy’s energy to be angry with his father melted with it. He reached over to the table to find what Poseidon left. It was the trident charm he had thrown in the ocean weeks ago.

At least the god had been listening.

Annabeth stirred and he set the pendant down.

“You’re awake.” She muttered.

“And you’re not,” He chuckled back. She reached over and took his hand, but wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Percy, what you did…” She struggled for the words. “Some things shouldn’t be controlled.”

Percy felt like someone punched his stomach. Those were the exact words she’d said to him in Tartarus, only instead of looked terrified, now she just looked worried. He didn’t know how to respond.

Chiron stepped into the room.

“Percy, I am sure that you do not want to hear this, but you must be careful.” Percy sighed and looked down. He didn’t argue. Chiron was a strong mentor, and even though he didn’t want to talk, Percy knew that he should listen.

“I have never seen powers like yours in my lifetime, and I’ve taught many heroes. What you did, it was godlike, Percy. I do not want your demise being caused by your gifts growing.”

“Chiron, I--” Percy faltered. He didn’t know how to explain it. He still felt as if he shouldn’t talk about the Nereid, but it was beyond her advice. He wanted to understand his limits, his capabilities. “I’m not sure if I can help it from becoming stronger.

He looked down again, speaking softly.

“I’m not sure what I’m becoming.”

[frigidlyauthorial]

so y’all I was rereading this fic I wrote a few years ago and I just remembered that I straight up. Developed and wrote out a whole au for it that’s just been living on my phone. As I’m probs never gonna write it, here it is, bullet point format like it’s 2016:

So, mortals know about demigods

And they kinda always have but for the most part???? It's just kinda been a thing™

Some people see demigods as like the heroes of old, the powerful protectors of the people

Others see them as just regular civilians, who just so happen to fight monsters and have some pretty wild powers on the side

But there was a portion of society - a really small portion, at least at the beginning - that saw demigods as being a menace to the common folk. Wherever they went, monsters followed, and where monsters went, people got hurt.

Eventually, this narrative started taking off. Powerful people threw their lots behind it. Every time a monster fight got out of hand, or a demigod caused damage with their powers, they were immediately shown as examples as to the devastation that their very presences brought

Being a demigod became taboo. Being the parents to a demigod became taboo.

Anyway, there have always been places for demigods to go - like in the books, there is a safe place to train, to live, to be accepted and acknowledged.

There are two main camps, Camp Half-Blood, and Camp Jupiter, on opposite ends of the country. They know /of/ each other, but not much else.

When Mortals began actively searching for demigods, it became like a race. Camps desperately tried to find demigods before the government could. Of course, there have always been places other than the two main camps - small outcroppings where demigods gathered together, keeping each other safe.

It became harder and harder - the government learned the signs of a satyr, paid attention to every suspected student. The Demigod Relocation Act swept through Congress, secret government places where captured demigods were hid from the world.

And then they found Camp Half Blood

By the time the Camp caught on that they'd been discovered, they were basically surrounded. The defenses held long enough for most of the campers to escape - down the Labyrinth, it was dangerous, but there was nowhere else to go, nowhere else to go, they couldn't go with the Feds, they just couldn't - but not all.

Only a few people knew of the actual location of Camp Jupiter - the two camps barely kept in contact, partly because they were afraid of something like this. Even if one fell, the other would be able to survive and adapt. And Chiron was gone, so the Campers were essentially stuck in a maze that wanted to kill them.

Thank god for Nico, honestly. No one can bring themselves to be mad at him for hiding this from them for so long. (Well, Percy can, but he's the de facto leader, and he can't afford to feel offended)

Nico tells Reyna, and Reyna gives the okay to grant the Campers asylum in Camp Jupiter.

Another Thank God for Nico: shadow travel.

But shadow travel takes time, and energy, and they can't afford to spend too much time in one place.

(And Nico has to make dozens of trips, but it pains Percy that it doesn't take more. They lost so many people to the DRA, and then even more to the Labyrinth)

They could stay here forever, and many do. It's safe here. It's not Camp Half-Blood, but it's close enough that people can pretend. People rebuild.

Life moves on, as it always does.

Percy and Annabeth end up leaving, but they're some of the few. There are demigods out there, innocent and afraid, who deserve a home full of people who won't turn against them.

They know the signs of a young demigod, and they know how to blend in, how to quietly defend themselves, how to drop a life, a job, and friends if they have to.

But it's okay. They save people. They direct them to others who can get them someplace better. And it's hard and it's dangerous and it's terrifying, but they owe it to themselves and to others, to the friends who died and the friends that they'll make.

[whenthemarshmallowmettheslayer]

I’m happy that you like to hear people’s thoughts about subplots and ideas and such. I just got so caught up thinking about the time right after he was claimed and how “everyone was afraid of him” and how different his experience might have been if instead he could’ve met people with the undercurrent of “this kid might be my sibling” and that’s really neat :) I absolutely, 10000% look forward to whatever you write next!!!

I do! (About hearing people’s thoughts on subplots, ideas, and so on.) :) 

Heads up I’m going to break this reply in two parts. The first part is about claiming or rather Percy not being claimed and what that means later on in the series. The second part will be about his SPQR tattoo. Okay, onto the the first part, claiming: 

1.) Annabeth canonically assumed Percy was Zeus’ son even after Percy became the supreme lord of the camp’s plumbing (which Percy doesn’t become in this verse). It isn’t till she sees the water healing Percy that she puts the pieces together and then BAM Percy gets claimed. 

This is honestly a fair guess because in Greek mythology Zeus had the most children. This is also supported by the fact Zeus has the most demi-god children in PJ series. 

Before someone points out Hazel, Bianca, Nico, and I’m pretty sure it’s hinted in the books Hitler was Hades’ son and that three confirmed children of a big three beats the two (Thalia and Jason) children Zeus has let me remind you that Hades stopped having children after the oath was made that was result of the great prophecy and of their children being too powerful (about WW2).

Hades actually kept his oath which both is something Greek mythology supports in two different ways but that’s a discussion for another day. (I haven’t had caffeine yet. My cup of tea is still steeping.) 

Zeus had two children after the oath - one who Annabeth personally knew - while 

Poseidon only had one and Hades had none after the oath. 

So it was a valid guess to assume Zeus had fallen off the bandwagon again. 

Grover, on the other hand, states that he believed Percy is the son of a minor god or goddess. 

We never officially (key word officially) get Chiron’s guess on Percy’s parentage but 

I think it’s telling that out of everything he could have done Chiron gave Percy  Riptide during the school’s trip to the museum. 

It’s apparent in the chapter after Percy vaporizes pre-algebra teacher that Grover and Chiron knew she was a Kindly One (plus I just remembered in the first chapter that Percy made a remark after sententious that she was pure evil and Grover agreed). There’s also the fact it’s stated several times throughout the series that Grover, and I’m sure it’s a safe assumption Chiron too, could smell monsters. Even if they couldn’t smell that there was a fury in the school they would have noticed her appearing one day and manipulating the mist. (Thalia states TTC that Chiron taught her to manipulate the mist.) 

So Chiron must have known Mrs.Dodds was a monster. If he didn’t carry a weapon with him that would be beyond stupid (maybe he can’t personally interfere since there’s red tape for everyone but a demi-gods who only held back by their own bravery but that doesn’t mean Chiron couldn’t have kept a weapon to give Percy in case he needed it which he does) especially when Percy states in the book Chiron had a collection of weapons he would let the class mess around with. 

Out of all the weapons Chiron - Chiron who manipulates the mist, Chiron who had been training demi-gods for hundreds of years, Chiron who had a stash of weapons he let his class play around with - could have kept on him it’s Riptide - the sword Poseidon gave him - that Chiron gives to Percy. 

So even though Chiron is never officially guessed Percy’s parentage I think he had already guessed right in the privacy of his own mind. (This is something I hint about in the series.) 

Okay, so that’s Annabeth, Grover, and Chiron’s guesses in canon. 

It would be fair for other campers to assume that Percy was a child of Zeus because he was the only big three known to break the oath at the time (Thalia) and seriously the god could not keep in it his pants in Greek mythology. You would be surprised how many people are attributed to being Zeus’s. There actually are a few bad guys in Greek mythology that are sons of Zeus and some of Hades’ children that could be his are also said to be actually Zeus (Macaria, Zagreus, and Melinoe). 

But the kicker is Zeus doesn’t claim him.

It doesn’t matter what you or anyone thinks. If the kid isn’t claimed they have to stay in the Hermès Cabin. (Which really sucks if you’re a child of a god or goddess who isn’t an Olympian. Even if you’re claimed you still have to live in that overcrowded cabin because the camp only had twelve cabins until the end of TLO.) 

Zeus who apparently didn’t just only turn Thalia into a tree to save her life (and finally give the camp some protection) but kicked up a fuss on Grover failing to retrieve Thalia to camp safely.  (It’s mentioned throughout the series Grover was given shit about not saving Thalia and that Zeus doesn’t like him. I know for a fact Zeus still holds it against Grover because I reread the scene in TLO where the gods rewarded the heroes; I’m working on an oneshot with trans female Percy - Helen - that takes place in that scene.) 

So to most campers who were old enough to know about Thalia and the story behind the pine tree that protects them or were told about it by someone who did...it’s very telling and makes them wonder that Percy might not be Zeus’ son. 

That who knows...he could be the son of just a normal Olympian, a minor god, or a minor goddess. 

Who ever thinks not being a son of the big three, Ares, or Athena means you’re not powerful is dumb. We see this (off the top of my decaffeinated head) in Selina (her love for Charlie makes her trick the Ares cabin to defend New York which saves the battle, Clarisse’s love for Selina makes her slay a drakon that Percy with the Achilles’ heel couldn’t do, and there’s also the fact her telling Luke of Percy and Charles plans to blow up the cruise ship could have turned the tides of war if Kronos had been able to kill Percy too) who was a daughter of Aphrodite, when see this in Meg in ToA who is the daughter of Demeter whose children Annabeth brushed off in TLT, and in Luke who was a leader for the Titan’s army until Kronos possessed him and fought Percy (the son of Poseidon, of the big three, while Luke was only the son of Hermes). 

Demi-gods are important- this is stated several times in the series because they are only held back by their bravery, their hubris - no matter their parentage. 

In the last chapter I had a parts where Percy (who was told he was a pawn by Gaea) realize his worth and honestly this can apply to any demi-god who survives long enough and realizes their worth (the gods need demi-gods because the demi-gods are not held back but by their bravery): 

1.) “Percy would not be a victim nor would he longer be a pawn that Gaea had told him he was before promising to persevere him if he went north. Didn’t they know about the thing called promotion in a game of chess? Percy had still had not played a round of the game (he had kept meaning to download an app for it) but he had googled about pawns and the thing was if a pawn survived long enough and got to the other side of the board they could become anything but the king.

And Percy?

He was no longer a pawn because Percy had survived. Yet the thing was Percy had to wonder at what had been the cost. He wondered if had become a monster along the way because don’t you know? Monsters are made, not born. And two wars had certainly made Percy into something: a child killer, a person who watched his best friend die to bomb a cruise ship which Kronos had still survived, someone who intimately knew the smell of burnt human flesh from the pyres of fallen comrades, but Percy had not been made a good person. A good person didn’t talk the person, the titan Bob, they claimed (they lied) to be their friend and convinced them to murder their brother.” 

2.) “There it was again: pawn. Percy was no longer a pawn. He had survived and he had become what was needed of him to save his loved ones and to live after so many quests. (And maybe what he was was a monster that no one else could see because it was under his skin - in his soul. A monster that possibly couldn’t die until this body reached sixteen.)” 

3.) “I lied earlier,” Percy admitted as realization fell upon on him. (Don’t you know the king is the weakest player? Don’t you know if the pawn survives across the journey to the other side of the board it can become anything but the king?) Percy thought of Calypso and of vows sworn to the river of Styx. Percy remembered how Hera had told him he was the glue that held the Seven. (Don’t you know when you make a Faustian contract with the devil you will pay for it even if it’s years later - so many years you thought you escaped him? As if he would forget after what he’s given you. You struck a deal and you were a fool for ever thinking he would let it slide without payment. Not after he’s given for you because he gave you his soul in the end when he only meant to give you victory of your wars.) “When I said I was sorry and that it wouldn’t save either of us.”

Okay, that was the end of part one of my reply. I’ll try to write the second part later today. (When I post the second part I’ll come back to edit this post so there’s a link to the second part of the reply.) 

[dandthegods]

Can you explain/sum up the overall attitude Hellenics have towards Riordan? I loved his books when I was much younger, and they're what got me into polytheism (I'm now much much more educated and take the books with a grain of salt). I just find it frustrating that polytheism is now such a trivialized religion. If people did a quarter of what they do to Polytheists to Christians, they'd absolutely freak you out. Also I love your blog!!

Thanks for the compliment, I’m glad you enjoy what I post.

Ooooookay, Riordan. In my opinion, he isn’t respectful to the religion and the Gods and the worshippers of them. On his website, giving an otherwise academic account of the earlier struggles of native Grecians trying to establish religious presence in Greece, he says, “We just found this posted from Associated Press — another story about an attempt by a tiny fringe group of Greeks to revive the worship of the Greek gods. For years, worshipping the Greek gods has been against the law in Greece. Now, this group is seeing how far freedom of religion can go. I love Greek myths, but why anyone would want to worship the Greek pantheon is beyond me. Still, it’ll be an interesting court case to watch.”

Now, there’s nothing wrong with his approach to modernizing the myths. He makes the main demigod characters relatable to kids that don’t get much representation. He makes it funny. He creates an odyssey of adventure in the books and creates new conflicts. He changes the god characters as they change in the traditional myths. Which is all fine. They’re meant to be entertaining and that is what happens.

BUT what changes and frankly sours many polytheists, myself included, is his attitude towards the religion itself and the people. He said the above quote along with these (sources I don’t have access to but here is the link to the post that gives them):

http://practical-magick.tumblr.com/post/116366161150/you-should-tell-us-about-how-rick-riordan-is-a

“It’s strange to think anyone would still worship the Olympians seriously” (X)

“I didn’t realize some people still worship the old Viking gods. Very strange, and a little scary…In my opinion, the more you learn about the mythology, the more impossible it is to take it seriously as a religion… after you’ve met Odin and Thor in the stories, who in their right mind would ever want to worship them?” (X)

“As long as we recognize them as stories that are part of our heritage and long-since stopped being any kind of serious religion” (X)

“Early in the book, the character Chiron makes a distinction between God, capital-G, the creator of the universe, and the Greek gods (lower-case g).” (X) “I don’t have the words for how much I hate this sense of religious superiority” (@ccconfidence )

“…Cernunnos is a bearded guy with horns, and he’s got… a torque, around each of his horns. Was he the god of playing ring toss games? Did you win a stuffed animal if you got one around his horns? I don’t know.” (X)

“…that horrible Disney animated movie based on his life” (X)

If you can’t tell in these quotes, Riordan takes the myths at face value and thinks the ancients and modern day worshippers did/do too. He treats the myths and thinks we treat the myths as many (if not most) Christians take the Bible: as canon fact of the deities.

Now, this contrasts greatly with Neil Gaiman, another author that modernized polytheistic gods. He focuses more on Norse Mythology in both his “American Gods” book and his retellings in “Norse Mythology”. Both are fantastic books and I recommend them. In “N.M.” he introduced it by explaining his process to writing these stories. He went through months of research, cross referencing CLASSICAL versions of the myths, asking and getting editorial advice from classicists and academics in the mythology. Essentially, he shows RESPECT for the mythology and the Gods. And that, I’ve never heard him say it, brings the feeling he would respect the worshippers of the Aesir and Vanir. In “A.G.” he creates versions of Odin and Loki and other gods of MANY pantheons that he expresses are not THE gods. Even at the end of the book (spoiler alert) he shows the actual Odin who explains the version of himself that the story was driven by was not, in fact, THE Odin.

At the end of the book, in a note section, Gaiman explains how his version of America in “American Gods” is not a true America as it is. He feels, and so do I, that he has made an America that is entirely fictional and other. I feel he accomplished that same aspect with the gods he wrote and kept it entirely fictional.

Okay, now that I’ve defended Gaiman, I’ll explain. When Gaiman writes about other people’s gods, even those who are not living any more (as many segments of American Gods illustrate) he shows respect and reference towards them. Riordan on the other than, does not. He mocks the religions his books’ mythologies are based on. He, when given the chance to acknowledge respectfully that others worship the Gods, outright mocks people and devalues us.

I’ve seen things and articles about him and his interviews and he seems to act like an authority on the mythologies he writes about. Greek, Kemetic, Norse, all of them he boasts a “superiority complex” when it comes to his knowledge. And I personally don’t think he should. If he takes them at face value and doesn’t see the reason for myths as entertainment, lessons, and pure FICTION inside of the religion, then he doesn’t understand the myths and isn’t as knowledgable as he claims to be. Gaiman, on the other hand, says in his exposition in “N.M.” that he wishes he could write about the lesser known gods and giants in the Norse mythos but he doesn’t and says it wouldn’t be right for him to assume he can. He shows more understanding of the purpose of myth than Riordan.

When I first saw that he was coming out with the Magnus Chase series, i honestly got upset. Not only was yet ANOTHER pantheon and its worshippers going to get the same treatment, but it was the heritage of my family (my family is 100% Norwegian and as Norse as it goes outside of the worship). So Riordan’s words and attitudes follow him wherever he goes, in my opinion. IF he ever did apologize, earnestly and honestly take back the words he has said and actually LEARNED about the religions he so openly and unfairly mocks, then I would give him a little forgiveness, but as that has yet to be even alluded to, I still say he is an asshat.

So, in short (as I could go on), Riordan is disrespectful towards the Gods, religion, and the worshippers both ancient and modern of any polytheistic religion he decides to incorrectly appropriate with his books. He is unapologetic towards his words against our beliefs and doesn’t see us as sane, moral, and valuable human beings. And he takes the myths at face value and thinks he’s an authority on them. Furthermore, this attitude seems to rub off on his fan base and fandom making it to where they think they know the myths and everything because they read his books. This makes it incredibly hard for worshippers to go through tags and find good, religious content, and for us to hold reasonable conversations and NOT be seen as simply book nerds who take it a little far.

Hope that answers your question. If you want to discuss it more, comment on this, or send me a message and I’ll be happy to reply!

Cheers!-D

[so-langelo]

Sweet Moments

baCK AT IT AGAIN WITH ANOTHER SOLANGELO FIC

Summary: Moments between Nico and Will told from Chiron’s eyes....

Hope you guys like it!! *notes at the end of the fic* Ari xxx

Throughout the centuries, Chiron has trained countless heroes. 

He’s cared for each one of them, and looked over them as if they were his own. He’s seen them go through so many hardships and obstacles; some were fortunate, others weren’t so lucky.  

If Chiron knows a demigod who deserves to be happy, it was Nico di Angelo.

The boy’s life was filled with too much grief and sorrow. He was certainly up there on his list of the demigods who have been through the worst of it all.

However, after the war with the Earth Mother, he saw something change in Nico. Chiron wasn’t sure, but he knew it had to do something Will Solace.

i.

It was a couple weeks after the war and the camp was still getting back on its feet. Everyone helped with everything; the chores, the building of shrines, and the infirmary. 

Not many people were surprised when Nico started to help WIll as his assistant. They’ve been connected to the hip since the war, and it was only a matter of time. 

Chiron was riding in with a child of Hebe who opened up his stitches during archery, when he spotted the two on an empty bed, in the middle of a card game. 

“I’ve been practicing and I think I can beat you.” 

“Is that a challenge, Solace?”

“Only if you want it to be, Deathboy.”

“I told you not to call m-”

As much as Chiron hated to interrupt, he had a demigod on his back that would bleed out if his stiches weren’t healed. 

He cleared his throat. “Will, Daniel needs to be stitched up again. Hope you two can work on that.”

“Y-yeah, Chiron. I’ll be on it.” Will nodded at him, and turned to Nico. “Can you get me my needle, Neeks?”

Nico quickly got it, and gave them to Will. The smile that lit up Will’s face was as dazzling as if Nico handed him the world. 

Chiron has never seen Nico look so fond at someone. 

Chiron left the infirmary to continue his archery practice, thinking that maybe Nico was finally going to catch a break after all these years. 

ii.

Now, Chiron practically raised Achilles, the all mighty hero that turned into a lovesick puddle whenever Patroclus was in the room. 

The way Will looked at Nico, as if he would give Nico all the stars in the sky, reminded him of that. 

Chiron watched over the campfire after dinner, making sure that nothing too crazy happens, when he spotted the two. 

The two sat together during the campfire, weeks after the infirmary scene. They were in their own bubble, ignoring all the comotion that was happening around them. 

Will only had eyes for Nico, who was taling animatedly with his hands. It was as if he was his ten year old self again. 

Will nodded along, occasionally saying somethng and making Nico smile or laugh. 

The look on Will’s face when he made Nico laugh, it was just completely undescribable. 

The pair talked the night away, and maybe it was just his old age, but as the campers went to their cabins, he saw Will intertwine his hand with Nico’s and the son of Hades didn’t let go. 

iii.

Something was wrong.

Chiron felt it, just before someone told him there was a fight between Taylor, a son of Ares, and Nico. 

Chiron galloped to the greens near the climbing wall, where they were said to be fighting. 

When he got there, Chiron was taken aback by Nico’s expression. Chiron has seen Nico in battle, but right now he looked murderous. He’s summoned two skeletons at his sides, both holding deadly sharp swords made of bones. Nico held his own Stygian iron sword, and advaced toward the son of Ares. 

Taylor taunted, “You need skeletons to help you win? Grow some balls and fight me on your own.”

But Chiron saw fear in his eyes. 

“Take back what you said and maybe I won’t let you rot in Tartarus!”, Nico growled. 

“What? That Will Solace is a useless, good for nothing demigod? The dude can’t even fight. His little boyfriend has to fight his battles. It’s a miracle he survived two wars.”, Taylor smirked. 

Chiron felt anger course through his veins, but he knew what he felt was nothing compared to what Nico felt. The boy was about to charge, but Chiron galloped over and picked up Taylor by the shirt collar. 

“None of that language, Mr. Armbruster. Will has been more of a help to this camp than you will ever be.”

Nico stood in front of Chiron, with eyes blazing with rage. “Chiron! Put him down! I had hi-”

“NICO! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT YOUR USING YOUR UNDERWORDLY MAGIC! I leave you alone for an hour and you get into a fight!” Will came and put a hand on Nico’s shoulder. 

Nico calmed down, but only a little bit. “I was defending your honor.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Thank you, honestly. You’re my knight in shining armor, but like I said don’t do any underwordly magic unless for emergencies.”

“Okay. Chiron make sure that dickwad gets what he deserves, please.” He looks up with Chiron with a dangerous smile that reminded Chiron too much of his father, Hades. 

Chiron nodded and watched the two walked away, Will’s arm around Nico’s waist and Nico staring at Will with tender eyes. 

He gave Taylor two months of scooping the pegasus stables.

iv. 

Throughout all of this, Chiron was convinced that the two were already dating. Imagine his surprise when he asked Will about it and the boy turned bright red and said they weren’t. 

Excuse his language, but ‘just friends’ his horse ass. 

And Chiron thought Percy and Annabeth were oblivious. (Well, Percy was the oblivious one.) 

It was an autumn night. Just a couple days passed since he saked Will if they were dating. Chiron walked around the courtyard between the cabins, making sure if someone did try to sneak out, the harpies wouldn’t eat too much. 

He heard something. At first, he chalked it up to a rustle in the leaves, but it kept coming back. Whispers. 

He continues to walk, following the soft voices. As he got closer, to the source, he noticed that the voices were coming from above. Whoever was out pst curfew was on a cabin. 

He was about to go expose the rule breakers, when he recognized the voices. 

Nico di Angelo and WIll Solace. 

Chiron stopped. From the continued hushed discussion, they haven’t noticed him. 

“This isn’t easy for me... to say. I’ve never... Not like this. But... You matter to me. A lot.” Nico’s whisper shook with nerovusness. 

There was a pause. A pause that even made Chiron’s heart clench. 

“I care about you too. I really really really like you, Nico.” Chiron didn’t need to see Will’s face to know he was smiling. 

“You made me nervous there, Solace. My gods, don’t do that.” Nico sounded relieved. 

Will’s soft laugh filled the quite night. It was abruptly cut off. Chiron wasn’t sure if it was it was interupted by Nico’s hand or his lips. 

But by the gentle ‘wow’ that escaped Will’s mouth, Chiron was pretty sure which one it was. 

Chiron turned to leave, not wanting to intrude even furhter. He let them go, knowing they won’t do anything too bad. He let them off the hook. It was the least they deserve. 

Chiron has seen many heroes go through so many tribulations for love. 

But only few obtain it in the end. 

Chiron smiled knowingly at the two when they finally came to breakfast the next morning. 

Will’s smile was bright enough to power New York City and Nico staring lovingly at Will as if he hung the moon and the stars. 

It was the kind of love people wrote myths about. The kind of love that lasts for centuries. 

Super sappy I know, but you guys know me. I love sappy stuff. 

Super late, but thank you for the 600. You guuys are truly the best. 

Comments are the things that keep me going and want me to keep writing, so thank you to all that comment!! 

I’m going back to school bleh i know, so I won’t be able to post as much as I want to, but I will try very very hard to post at a couple times a week, or at least once. Thank you so so so so much you lovely human beings. 

Ari xxx

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

More Regulations for Demigod Transport is Needed

Fourteen: Kalypso

                 Their plane ride back to New York was both wonderful and like being trapped in an elevator with a bunch of cats high on catnip. Everyone was tense and jittery. Despite all of her attempts at jokes and laughter, Merry seemed one monster sighting away from having a breakdown. When Kally had put her thumb out to her, leveled horizontally with the ground, like a Roman emperor about to decide a gladiator’s fate, Merry had mimicked the motion of neutral. But her hand shook. She wasn’t neutral. She wasn’t okay.

               Kally couldn’t blame her. They’d had a solid five hours and twenty minutes to think about how they didn’t have a plan, how their main strategist was back in New Rome, how Pax had snuck off, how Eris had kidnapped Hemera and had the Golden Net, and about how they’d never hear Joey Song laugh or see her scowl again.

               Calex kept checking the touchscreen flight map on the headrest in front of him. Kally couldn’t tell if it was in a vain attempt to make time move faster, or to make sure they stayed on course and didn’t stray off towards Kakata or St. Albans.

               Euna didn’t say a word. She elected the window seat—which no one argued about—and stared out at the clouds.

               Kally knew they needed a plan, about as much as any Greek demigod needed an assistant to keep their ADHD from making them wander off from a quest. After they landed in the terrifyingly large terminal, she decided that she’d direct them towards the nearest taxi and get them back to Camp Half-Blood at all costs.

               If Pax thought his disappearance would prevent her from telling Chiron what was going on, he was dead wrong, River Styx curse or not… though hopefully not actually dead wrong. She hadn’t wanted to leave once he went missing. But, what Merry and Calex said to calm her was true: Pax wouldn’t leave without Axel, was probably fine and hiding out with a colony of escaped weasels, and they needed to get back to warn camp.

               Eris had a three weeks head start on them. She was mad at Pax for disappearing without word, especially since he could tell her anything, but she couldn’t let her frustration, worry, and whatever other emotions she felt for that idiot give Eris more time.

               Though her determination changed when they got into the terminal.

               The airport was all white, with large, netted windows, a sweeping doomed ceiling, and steel modern art sculptures that reminded her of a mix between the Udvar-Hazy Museum and an exclusive intergalactic prison. She could see the sun setting through the windows and felt surreal thinking about the time zone difference.

               There were too many people walking by with set conviction. A few others seemed as confused and lost as she was, but most had the irritated ease of regular travelers. Kally would have frozen up, remembering exactly how much she hated their first trip to New York City, had Merry and Calex not corralled she and Euna through the crowds of people to collect their one checked bag containing Euna’s sword.

               As they reached the terminal exit, relief made her tear up. Iris Messaging or some communication must have been back online, because there were two familiar faces waiting for them in arrivals.

               Amidst the other taxi cab drivers and chauffeurs with signs, these two stood out like a pair of Cyclopes. One stood far taller than the other, with blond, short hair and a Camp Half-Blood sweatshirt that couldn’t hide the fact that this teen had enough muscles to supply four different bodies if he died an organ donor. She remembered hearing the nymphs at Camp Half-Blood plot to get Jason and Axel to work out together, and she could understand their sentiment.

               Beside him was someone that made Kally giddy. This boy was shorter, with dark hair, an aviator jacket, an oddly colorful Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of skinny jeans. In one hand, he had what looked like a box of unfortunately fake flowers. He held up a sign in the other that read, in Ancient Greek:

IF YOU CAN READ THIS, WE’RE (PROBABLY) HERE FOR YOU!

               The “probably” was written in smaller print above the main text, with an arrow pointing down. Kally wondered how many professors of Ancient History had wandered over to ask the son of Hades and the son of Jupiter for a ride.

               Kally inhaled to shout out to Nico. Out of all the people at camp, he’d become her favorite, other than Merry of course. He’d been teaching her to play Mythomagic, she’d been trying to get him involved in Dungeons & Drakans, and he—like she—hated human interaction but felt obligated to fulfill it.

               Before she could shout, or before Nico or Jason caught sight of their group, someone wrapped a hand over Kally’s mouth.

               She almost screamed. Instead, she slammed her elbow backwards.

               “Aye!” someone whined, grunted, then said, “Cyclops, you could pop airships with your elbows and maybe even a sumo wrestler.”

               Kally expected to turn and see the Pax brothers, though they shouldn’t have been—not unless they snuck onto the plane.

               Instead, she turned to see two young and respectable looking South Asian businessmen in suits.  She almost apologized for hitting the guy who grabbed her, but realized that would be stupid. He had grabbed her.

               Calex and Merry went to reflexively take a step between her and the two men. Kally felt ridiculous having Merry, a pacifist, go to defend her.

               The taller businessman shook his head. Mist fluttered off to reveal Axel’s deep tan and asymmetrical facial scars. As it peeled off his clothing, Calex gasped audibly.

               “Oh my gods, mate, what happened to you? And—what the hell are you doing here? How did you get here?”

               Dried blood was smeared all over his mouth and soaked into the remains of his shirt. The once purple material across his chest had been shredded, like he’d tried to pet a shark at the zoo and fell into the aquarium.

               His expression was the worst. Axel’s gaze looked hollow and dazed. He could have said he’d spent four year in Tartarus, doing synchronized swimming in the River Acheron, and she’d have believed him.

               But his voice was as commanding as ever. “We need to get Euna out of here.”

               Merry crossed her arms. “Axel, Pax, I can tell you two hubbies had a rough morning, but those are our friends. I don’t want to hear otherwise.” Her lip trembled.

               “They’re actually here to arrest Euna for murder, growing trees in a no-tree-growing zone, and for having a cooler weapon than Jason Grace,” the shorter businessman said.

               They stared at him.

               The guy put a hand to his head. “What? Does this guy’s hair look stupid? We need to move now!”

He grabbed Kally’s wrist and Merry’s and tugged them off to the side. Merry begrudgingly stumbled along. Axel grabbed Calex’s arm and Euna’s. They staggered back into the terminal, bewildered. Kally didn’t quite understand. This all sounded so stupid.

               “There used to be ten terminals instead of six. One of the old ones is now a labyrinth entrance underneath the airport, but I don’t think I can sneak all of us to it. Piper is wandering around the terminal, asking people if they’ve seen you, and Will is at one of the other exits. We were able to swipe some noise canceling headphones, but they’re not going to work nearly as well as the ones in the van if we have to fight her. And we don’t have enough for everyone,” Axel said, as though he wasn’t speaking like someone Dionysus had inflicted with madness.

               “Wait—wait—no!” Kally said and tried to pull back from Pax. “We should just go talk to them. I’m sure this thing has happened before—”

               Axel let go of Euna to grab Kally’s arm. He leaned down to look her in the eyes, and—for a second—they flickered gold. The motion didn’t frighten her, probably because Axel looked so sad. “Kally, I’m not sure how much everyone else is implicated in what happened to Santiago’s men, or how much they think… they think you’re affiliated with us.”

               Kally thought she knew what that meant, at least sort of. From the way he said it, she wasn’t sure anymore.

               “And I do want us to talk to them.” His eyes glanced from hers to Merry’s brown and Calex’s grey. “They still need to hear about Eris’s plans. But first, Pax and I need to tell you everything so you can relay the message in full. We can’t be there, and I want Merry and Calex to tell them—not you Kally. I don’t want you to accidentally get cursed by saying the wrong thing.”

               “And uh—we’re like 95% sure my mom set all of us up to look reeaaaally bad,” Pax said. “So, maybe the six of us can have this conversation somewhere else, like in a fugitives’ bar? Away from 50 cent Captain America and Mr. Goth Pants and Pretty Shirt.”

               As he said it, Kally heard something that made her tremble.

               “That’s them!” Jason’s voice carried down the hallway.

               When she glanced over, she saw Jason and Nico carefully walking up the hallway towards them. Nico’s hand slipped inside the box of flowers, and she could have sworn she saw the hilt of his sword.

               Euna frowned. She slid the xiphos out of their carry-on. Kally had to wonder what airport security saw, considering no one even paused while walking past them. Maybe they thought everyone was just holding the world’s longest maracas.

               “Woooow!” Merry held up her hands in a cease fire gesture.

               “Do I need to fight them?” Euna asked calmly, something that made Kally’s skin crawl.

               Axel examined the approaching figures, calculating. “That’s… cute that you think you can take Jason Grace.”

               Euna withdrew her god droplet vial. “I can.”

               The shorter business man shoved the vial back into her pocket. “Bad Euna! As much as I would love to see that, the last thing we need now is you turning their mascot boy into a table.”

               Jason lifted a walky-talky to his mouth, muttering something into it. Nico cracked a soft smile, waving casually at them. They paused, and Kally got the sense they were waiting for back up.

               They needed to make a decision.

Merry fluttered her hand back and forth, as though to say this was nothing. Although she was acting nonchalant, Kally could see her trembling. “Normally, I’m with Pax in loving dramatics and ridiculousness, but, I can—”

Calex took hold of Merry’s hand. He glanced nervously at Euna, then back to Merry. “’Ey. It’s all gone mad, but we’ll sort this out. If we do as Axel says, we’ll chat with them later after getting Euna cleared. If they catch us, we’ll say this nutter threatened us into running.” He pointed at the short business man.

Pax shrugged. “I don’t threaten, I merely predict probably outcomes.”

Merry stared at Calex for a moment. Kally took her other hand, remembering Merry’s nightmare prophecy: My friends fight the Heroes of Olympus. My powers are too weak to stop everyone from trying to kill each other.

Kally couldn’t imagine anyone from Camp Half-Blood hurting any of them. She didn’t want to fight these guys, and she had a feeling Euna, Axel, and Pax weren’t going to go with them without some struggling.

Merry huffed. “Alright, but running isn’t really my thing. When I start to fall behind, one of you big musclies has to carry me.”

Kally still didn’t like this, but Calex had a great point about pinning their escape on the Pax brothers, since it was true.

This time, when Pax tugged at her, she stepped into a sprint.

“Sorry blokes! This is all just a misunderstanding! I promise we’ll come back and explain! Cheers!” Calex shouted over his shoulder as they ran.

When Jason and Nico dashed after them at full speed, Kally had the squeamish feeling they made the right decision.

“Wait!” Jason called.     

Within a few feet, Kally could feel Merry tugging on her hand to slow down. Calex whisked Merry up. Kally could guess it was much to Merry’s delight. People parted rapidly in front of them, especially when Calex shouted about being late for a flight. A security guard yelled at them to slow down. She was scared someone might call more security, or think there was a bomb threat.

Like he wanted to invoke just that fear, Axel said, “Ajax, drop a smoke bomb. Do you think you can dart Grace if—”

“I’m out of smoke bombs!” Pax morphed out of the business man into himself. “And sleep serum. I’ve got pepper spray and an ear.”

“You took Frank’s ear?!” Axel growled.

Calex asked the more important question. “You cut off Frank’s ear?!”

Kally felt sick and seriously considered stopping and waiting to get tackled by Jason Grace.

“Ajax! They could have reattached that!” Axel scolded, like Calex hadn’t spoken.

“Oh…” Pax frowned. “Do you think I should give it back—”

“No! It’s too late for that now!”

They sprinted out the doors of another terminal. Kally suddenly felt the need to thank both her soccer coach for forcing her through suicide sprints, and Mr. Paine for doing the same during her demigod training.

Jason Grace wasn’t far behind. In one glance back, she saw he and Nico racing around a corner. She wondered why Jason hadn’t taken to the air yet, or why Nico hadn’t raised any dead. But Nico probably still couldn’t use his powers without going all shadowy and it might be a bit weird for the Mist to cover up a flying guy. Would the Mist put him on a segway or a hoverboard?

Once they got outside, Pax ran up to the first taxi-bus in the front of the line. “Everyone in!” he said, shoving a credit card and a wad of cash at the driver. Kally frowned, not having the time to ask Pax where he got that from.

The driver was young, maybe in his twenties, with deep chestnut skin, and excited, dark eyes. There was a sticker on his headrest that said Hello, My name is Sanjay (Sam) Datta. I’ll be your driver today! When Kally hopped into the middle seat with Calex and Merry, she found biostatistics textbooks all over the dashboard. Biostats: a worse fate than Tartarus. Euna and Axel climbed into the back.

“That guy just found out I convinced his girlfriend to leave an abusive relationship with him for me,” Pax said, gesturing to where Jason had exited the terminal. “I’ll pay quadruple your amount if you can get us out of here before he reaches this—”

“Done!”

Before she’d finished buckling up, the taxi-van took a wild swerve into the line of cars exiting the terminal, leaving Jason Grace and Nico Di Angelo in the dust.

“Where are you kids going? You’re the adult supervisor right?” the driver glanced back at Axel, in the back seat.

“Yes…” Axel said slowly. “For a school field trip. Just take Van Wyck Expressway and get off towards south Brooklyn. I’ll give you directions as we go. That guy’s been uh... giving our troop trouble this whole time.”

“That’s away from camp, Mr. Stoic,” Merry said. “Where are we going?”

“What Pax said—a fugitive’s bar of sorts. I have connections that might be able to hide us until we figure this out or at least create a diversion,” Axel said.

Merry gave the curious driver a warm smile in the rearview mirror. “We’re a performing arts school and have been practicing improv, so don’t mind our silly selves. Oh—Sarawati!” She nodded at a small icongraph on his dash, sliding around beside the textbooks as he merged onto the expressway. There was a woman in the picture, with four arms playing an instrument. She looked similar to the icons Kally had seen on shrines at Mrs. Blythe’s house. “You studying for finals?”

“Yea, nonstop, and I’ve been bored out of my mind because of it,” the driver said. “You guys are probably the most interesting thing I’ve encountered all day and the nicest present to private school debt.” He gave a lighthearted laugh and tapped “Pax’s” credit card against the wheel. “So, improv away. Gotta ask first, what did that blond guy actually do?” He glanced at Pax in the passenger seat. “Sorry dude, but there’s no way you convinced a girl to leave him for you.”

If Pax could bristle, he would have. “Hey! I’m cuter than a duckling![1] And I’m also the one paying you!”

“Sure you are, Mr. Thong… Thaeng Chaiprasit,” the driver stumbled through pronouncing the name on the credit card. He had to swerve a little to avoid a car merging towards him.

Calex sighed. “Pax, you’re a plague upon society.”

“Mr. Chaiprasit is our director,” Merry said, picking up the pieces. Kally always had to admire her quick thinking in crisis situations. “You know how artsy people are. He’s so scatterbrained and bad at budgeting, he gave Mr. Stoic, here, a card and the pin so we could withdraw cash when we needed it.”

“Is your name actually, Mr. Stoic?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” Axel said without blinking. “Both on stage and off.”

Despite everything, Kally had to cover her mouth so she didn’t burst out laughing at the seriousness of Axel’s expression.

She stopped laughing when Merry put an arm around her shoulder. “And that blond guy started stalking our poor Kallygirl here, all due to some really nasty miscommunication.”

Pax huffed.

“Cool. I’ll still anticipate being contacted by Visa for a fraudulent credit card transaction, but, you’ve got enough cash here to afford a drive to the opposite side of Manhattan,” the driver said and shrugged. “Okay, now improv on.”

They glanced at each other. Maybe Kally hadn’t taken many cabs, but this guy seemed like the weirdest cab driver ever.

After a beat of silence, Axel dove into explaining. Actually explaining. Part of Kally felt indignant at how easy they got the information. Before Pax would tell her any of this information, she’d had to swear on the River Styx. The other part of Kally realized that was stupid: she needed the others to know everything so they could tell Chiron, instead of having her break her River Styx Oath. It already felt dumb enough having an oath to a river; she didn’t need to be cursed by it too.

Everyone already knew that the Pax boys had been part of Kronos’s army, but none of the others knew how much Eris had directed the Pax boys’ movements—that she’d sent them to save Kally, to get to Camp Half-Blood, to get the Golden Net and reforge Kronos’s scythe to use against their father. If Kally were angrier, she’d tell Axel he’d been played, but the broken look on his face said he already knew that.

He did skim over the part where Axel attacked Leo Valdez and wiped his memory. Pax gave her a sheepish grin as they hurried through that section.

They’d come off the expressway and Axel directed the driver down some side streets. The sky had darkened enough for street lamps to flicker on. All the shops had metal gates peeled up, like teeth ready to chomp down. Any parking lot or yard had fences ringed with barbed wire. The buildings were old, and weatherworn. Some had paper and duct tape covering failed business ventures, while others had beautiful, classy arches over the windows to give the street some character. The contrast of decaying versus new made Kally anxious. This place felt like its own morphing monster.

The sidewalks were bustling with weekend excitement.

Axel was just getting to the tiny detail that Ares wanted the Roman senate to execute him as an enemy to the state when Euna pointed outside.

“A horse is keeping pace with us,” she said.

Kally glanced over at her window. On the sidewalk, sure enough, there was a brown stallion clopping along and dodging pedestrians. The stallion was beautiful and enormous, with chocolate eyes and black hair. On top of it, was a rider with frizzy cinnamon hair, golden eyes, and an SPQR shirt: Hazel Levesque. There was a very angry looking lemur curled around her shoulder, with gauze covering one ear.

Pax and Axel both popped their cheeks.

“Do you ever wonder why Frank doesn’t just show up naked after he transforms?” Pax asked. “I mean, think of how many boxers he’s probably ripped turning into—”

“Ajax,” Axel growled.

“Sorry. Is this a good time for me to give him back his ear?”

“No.”

Although their cab couldn’t have been going over thirty miles per hour, that horse didn’t even look like it was trotting.

They were approaching a stop light and Kally’s stomach dropped. Ares wants the Romans to execute me, Axel had said. They want to arrest Euna.

“We’re only two streets away from the spot,” Axel said. He leaned forward to check the nametag on the headrest. “Sam, is there any way we can lose that horse and—”

The driver stopped at the crosswalk for the red light. He glanced at the blinking counter for the pedestrians. “In 45 seconds or so. Does that blond stalker of yours have cavalry reserves? That’s a pretty dedicated stalker.”

Kally didn’t really know what to say. Yea, you should check out his friend’s ballista.

Horns blared beside them as Hazel and Frank’s horse made its way through a lane of traffic towards their taxi. The horse paused for a moment to nip at one of the honking cars, in a motion Kally could only interpret as flicking someone off: equestrian style.

That horse’s pause might have saved them.

The light was about to change when the stallion stepped alongside Pax’s window. Pax sheepishly waved back when Hazel motioned for him to roll his window down. She tapped her drawn cavalry sword against the glass.

Sam revved his engine and was about to shoot forward when another black stallion dropped from the sky into the crosswalk.

Ah New York¸ Kally thought, Known for the pigeon and pegasus problem.

This one also had two riders: a teenage boy with dark hair and a curly haired blonde girl.

“Pisaasu!” the driver swore. “Is that a flying horse?!”

Kally didn’t have the heart to tell him “yes—this is normal—Greek mythology is real—you should be as confused about your gods as I am.”

“I guess that’s it then,” Calex said. He swallowed.

Kally wondered what they did do with bad demigods. Hazel had mentioned some pretty nasty things back in Camp Jupiter. A tight knot formed in Kally’s stomach, telling her to get out of the car and see how long she could outrun a horse and pegasus for. Because, if they just sat here, they were trapped.

“Hey!” Percy shouted. “We just want to—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a red and black blur slammed into the black pegasus, knocking it out of their way and into oncoming traffic. Rainbow sparks exploded everywhere.

Kally gawked.

Approaching traffic came to a halt as Percy’s pegasus tried to stumble to its hooves. Percy and Annabeth were thrown clean off the pegasus, onto the pavement.

Another horse, with an ebony main and crimson fur, trotted backwards from the collision, shaking its head. There was a half-broken spiral of gold and silver on top of its head, spitting rainbow glitter everywhere.

“Vinyl!” Calex shouted in joy at seeing the unicorn. Then winced at seeing what damage it had done. Fortunately, Percy and Annabeth were slowly getting up.

Something small skittered out of Vinyl’s mane and dove towards Hazel’s horse. The horse seemed unimpressed until the small creature grew into a California Long-Tailed weasel the length of a van. A distinct patch of spotted, blond hair was on its back and a tinier weasel rode on its head. The monster lunged at Hazel’s stallion.

“Hunahpu! Xbalanque!” Pax cheered and sniffled back tears. “She’s—she’s okay! S-someone f-fixed her! Dude! Calex! We have animal reinforcements!”

Pax turned in his seat to high-five Calex, who obliged. Afterwards, he and Calex made faces, and quickly rubbed their hands off like they’d slapped an infected worm.

“Go!” Axel shouted at Sam.

Something slammed into the taxi-van, rocking the whole vehicle. Sam smashed the accelerator. They shot forward, as fast as the van’s engine could take them.

“Wow! Was that a unicorn? And a giant ferret?! Man, this is way better than studying for a final!” the driver cheered.

Kally was glad that was his reaction, as opposed to the sane reaction of, “WHAT WAS THAT?!” She twisted to look out the window, hoping everyone was okay. Horns blared from confused drivers From what she could see, a black and red blur disappeared down one of the roads, colliding occasionally with a brown one. Hunnie was nowhere to be seen. Percy, Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel were now on foot, though the black pegasus was still nearby.

An SUV paused to pick them up. It didn’t look like the Roman SUVs she’d seen before. This one had bones rimming the front windshield.

“Pull over here!” Axel shouted.

The driver swerved into a metered parking spot that had just opened.[2] He exhaled. “Wow! That was cool—here—” He fumbled in his pocket to withdraw a business card. “If you need any other rides—”

“Thanks! We’ll promise to almost get you killed again,” Pax said, snagging the card.

“Good luck with your stalker!” Sam shouted.

“Good luck with your exam!” Merry shouted back.

They scrambled out of the van. As soon as his feet touched the sidewalk, Axel spurred them forward. “Move! It’s just down this alley.”

“What is?” Euna asked.

A weird grin lit up Axel’s face. “The Horizontal Monster Mash.”[3]

The stench made Kally gag. As soon as they entered the alley, it became overbearing. Trash and cigarette butts littered the ground. Ahead of them, she could see some people lined up along the wall, waiting to get inside. Although Kally had never been in a club, this struck Kally as odd. It seemed too early for a club to be busy.

Ahead of them, there were two ionic columns on either side of a doorway, with neon blue and purple lights spiraling down. The sign above blinked HMM every few seconds, like the club’s heartbeat.

Merry stopped running. Calex had to whisk her up. “Wait—no—there are evil baddies in that line!” she shouted.

“I know!” Axel said. “Everyone stick close to Ajax and me. Do not go off on your own. Do not talk to anyone who tries to talk to you. Flip your shirts inside out. Let me do the talking.”

For some reason, Kally didn’t trust him when he said that. As she ran, she glanced down at her shirt, wondering why he’d suggested they undress and redress in the middle of New York City. She gulped. All of them had Camp Jupiter shirts on and were running into a den full of people that probably hated Camp Jupiter.

Merry was right about the “baddies”. There were monsters in the wait line. Now that Merry said it, everyone in that line was a monster or a ghost. One was reptilian. Another was half-phased out of a wall. Another stood over six and a half feet tall.

Though none of them were as tall as the eight foot bouncer tapping a clipboard in his hands. He was a Cyclops, wearing a biker jacket that must have been stolen off a statue of Sons of Anarchy.

Axel and Pax stripped off their shirts, flipped them inside out, and put them back on. When she glanced back, she saw Euna was struggling to do the same, not caring about flashing her green sports bra. Although difficult with Calex holding her, Merry fumbled with her shirt ends. Calex went bright red in the face and almost tripped.

With all their running and panic, Kally hadn’t realized how cold it was until she thought about taking off her shirt. Her chest burned with their constant sprint.

She swallowed. Out of all times for her priest’s and mom’s condemnations to ring in her ears, now was bad. Neither of them were here, and only God—the big G god—and whatever pervy Greek gods were watching, would know. And some monsters. And—

Suddenly, Pax dropped pace beside her. He took his shirt off again, and shoved it at her. “Put this on and take your shirt off under it—you owe me SO many drachma and Reese’s Sticks! Especially considering how badly I’d like to see your bra!”

“Thank you!” Kally gasped. She wanted to explain that the most revealing thing she’d ever worn was a one-piece swimsuit with a shirt over it, but now didn’t seem like the time.

She slipped his shirt on as they paused at the front of the line. Kally almost choked when she realized they’d cut all those grumbling monsters.  

“Hey, demigod pipsqueaks—” the Cyclops growled.

Axel waved a hand in front of his face, like he was batting a fly. As he did, the Mist dissolved, and she could see his jaguar ears and fangs.

Merry made a, “Uh-huh,” noise. Kally had to wonder if she or Calex remembered Axel’s features from Santiago’s temple. Both of them had been so out of it. Calex was a little too distracted to notice. He coughed, staring off to the side, especially when Merry nuzzled against his chest to hide the SPQR symbol there. With carrying her, he didn’t have a chance to change.

Kally finished fishing her own shirt out from under Pax’s, flipped it inside out, and put it back on, starting the process back over to give Pax back his shirt. Pax gave her one of his token devilish grins, making her wonder if she’d accidentally flashed him her bra. Then she blushed, trying to remember what bra she was wearing—not that it mattered.

The Cyclops dropped his clipboard upon seeing Axel’s features.

“I am Axel Pax, leader of the Triple A Chimera, the bearer of the Lion’s Head—”

Pax dashed up beside him. “Hey Clops! How’s the tiny Clops? Is he looking all cute and single-eyed?”

The Cyclops snatched a Pax brother up in each arm. For a terrified moment, Kally thought he was going to bash their heads together, but he laughed in excitement. “The guitarist for Orpheus Metal! And the drummer! You guys are so good! We haven’t had a concert as good as that one with the goats—”

Pax laughed gleefully. “Dude! I remember that one! It was so metal! Those babies flew!”

The monsters in line peered around to try to get a better look at the Pax brothers. Kally wished she could hide somewhere.

Calex grumbled, “That Orpheus Metal rubbish was real?”

Euna snorted.

Kally had heard songs of it from Pax, but she hadn’t put together that they would have a monster fan following.

The Cyclops set them down, then clapped his hands and shuffled from foot to foot.

“Yep, good times. Now, my friends and I need to get inside—” Axel tried to say, glancing at the alley entrance.

From what she could see, an SUV had pulled up where the taxivan had been.

“Not until you tell me when you’re having a reunion tour!” the Cyclops said and folded his arms.

Axel sighed and rubbed his temple with two fingers. “Our lead singer is dead.”

“Well, when he’s feeling better, you tell him that you need a reunion tour. Little Clops hasn’t seen you in concert,” the Cyclops sniffed.

Pax patted Clops’ huge arm. “Will do, Big Guy. We’ll get that message straight to Tartarus.”

Clops nodded happily, and side stepped to let them through. Axel paused, and pointed down the alley to the approaching Percy and gang. “Those guys aren’t with us.”

Merry’s eyes went wide, glancing around at the monsters standing in the alley. At first, Kally didn’t understand her concern, until she realized how it would look if they led the others down a dark alley to get attacked by waiting monsters.

“Wait—wait--this is a club right? Then they are with us!” Merry said.

Axel glowered. “Merry, we don’t have time—”

“Mr. Stoic,” she mimicked his serious tone. “If you can get all the monsters to cooperate with us, I can take out all the Heroes of Olympus.”

Kally gave her a bewildered look. “Merry, no offense, but you couldn’t take out a pillow.”

“Trust me. I just need you on the sound booth, I need about twenty Diet Cokes and a video camera to pay tribute to my dad—since I’ll need his help on this one, but he’ll want to help me—and I need everyone to do exactly as I say.”

Merry had that mad grin she sometimes got before she ruined one of the popular kids at school with a single stroke of wit.

“Let’s do it,” Kally decided. She almost flinched when Axel’s glare narrowed at her, but held firm. “Merry’s good at preventing fights by humiliating people,” she squeaked. She should definitely know.

Axel made a low growl. He glanced from Merry, to the club, to the approaching demigods. Kally could hear their footsteps now; they were so close.

“Fine,” he snarled. “Let them in. But this had better be good, Merry.”

Thanks for reading guys! :D we’re back at the HMM and I’m excited to see how Calex reacts to being hit on by monsters XD And to see how Frank creacts to that whole.. ear thing... >>’‘

Footnotes:

[1] My friend just got ducklings, and I will say—though Pax is cuter than a baby panda—he is not cuter than a duckling. And apparently, Pax’s cuteness scale is vital to this book series.

[2] Out of all the impossible things in New York during this series—an open metered spot is the least believable.

[3] I apologize. For those of you who have read When the Stone Cracks, you’re going to see some descriptions and jokes reused. Since that short story is an AU, and written from the same point of view as this chapter, Kally is going to at least have some of the same thoughts. Though maybe a few less about how sexy Axel looks XD Ah, AUs purely created to make a friend’s ship happen….

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Thirteen: Axel

Handicap of Emotional Heartache

(Or: In Which I get My Ass Kicked)

                 Axel wished he could assure Reyna, “No, my brother is not collecting grasshoppers to make a plague in your temples, or filling every doors’ keyholes with superglue, or drawing vulgar pictures with weed killer on your lawns, or ziptying all of your scissors shut,” because those were all things he’d seen Pax do to his friends. There was no telling what he would do to people he didn’t like.[1] He just hoped Pax didn’t have access to hardware or craft stores. Or an exotic animal shop. That had been a terrible prank.

               Reyna had kept up the façade of a proper interrogation for the first fifteen minutes of breakfast. She’d even sent Argentum and Aurum to watch the principia, since there might have been a break in. She didn’t give up until he swore on the River Styx that he didn’t know where Pax was. That was when her shoulders slumped.

               They were sitting on the couch in her praetor house, an empty bag from Pandora’s Bakery: Exciting Surprises with Every Bite on the coffee table. Axel knew they didn’t have a lot of time left. She wouldn’t forgo her praetorian duties two days in a row for him. Plus, his friends should be landing in New York in the afternoon, Cali time, so he’d be escorted to the airport as soon as they got word from Chiron that Euna, Merry, Calex, and Kally hadn’t made a break for it.

               “I’m worried about Pax. He doesn’t… think much before he acts,” Axel said. He leaned forward to pick up the fiercest looking ninja-zombie bunny that lined her coffee table. “How about Cuauhtemoc? He looks like he took his last stand against the Spanish.”

               This rabbit was painted blue and black, and had a half-eaten heart hanging out of his mouth.

               Reyna shook her head gravely. “I don’t want to think of what kind of nicknames the others would give him.”

               Axel set him down and picked up another. This one was red, with its paws outstretched to perform a vicious roar. He leaned back into the couch, feeling a cushion catch him. As casually as he could—which wasn’t very casual considering how nervous she made him—Axel lowered one arm onto the cushion behind her back.

               Her hair smelled wonderful. Once they came back to the praetor house, she’d let it down. Axel didn’t know why she did, but he loved to watch those dark waves undulate along her shoulders and arm muscles.

               “You don’t think Pax thinks before he acts…” she said and leaned back into his arm. Axel felt his heart skip about six beats, do a back flip, and standby for more excitement. “Between releasing the weasels and what he snuck into your pocket yesterday, I’d think he’s more of an idiotic mastermind.”

               Axel felt his cheeks heat up with the threat of a blush. He coughed. “I’m pretty sure his subconscious is always plotting connivingly, but the thoughts in the foreground are just versions of the Harlem Shake.” He lowered his arm around her shoulder, leaning in to show her the zombie-ninja rabbit he was holding. “You could call this one Agis III.”

               She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The Greek that fought against Rome?”

               “You want diverse representation among your rabbit army,” he said. “And you already have two Romans there, Marcus Cassius Scaeva and Flamma the Gladiator.”

               “Flamma was Syrian,” she chastised.

               “But he fought for the Romans.” Axel had just lost this word battle, but some stubbornness might lead to a fun mockfight. He couldn’t maintain the conversation though—not when Reyna turned more into him.

               He cleared his throat. “When I’m done with my mission, you’re still okay with me coming back here? To clean your armor and show up all your best fighters and help you finish naming your zombie rabbits…”

               “I don’t make suggestions about joining the legion lightly,” she said in answer. Although her voice was firm, Reyna rested her head into the crook of his neck.

               Axel thought about kissing her again. He hadn’t stopped thinking about kissing her since yesterday. But he was enjoying the moment too much: the sweetness of anticipation, wondering if she was thinking about pressing her lips to his. From the quick flutter of her breath against his neck, and the rapid heartbeat that he could feel along his arm, she was. Or she was preparing to attack him. Axel was comfortable with either.

               “How much time do you have before you have to go be a praetor again?” he asked. He set Agis III the Zombie Rabbit to the side and enlaced their fingers.

               “I’ll give you two more minutes.”

               He wished he could be at her side all day, working together to keep Camp Jupiter functioning as a machine. He passively wondered if he’d have to kill Frank Zhang to become praetor, or if there was some other way to replace him. Probably not. He liked the tall, friendly Canadian too much to kill him. And Frank made a better praetor than Axel would.

               Axel’s ears twitched.

               Footsteps shuffled softly outside of the praetor house, at least half a dozen people. From the clink of metal, they wore armor. For an instance, he thought it might be a change of sentry—but that was too many soldiers. Everyone should have been doing their daily duties and they wouldn’t need Reyna until fatigues or camp maintenance…

               Which meant something was wrong.

               He put up his Mist mask.

               Ajax, Axel briefly cursed, until he heard two hushed voices that made him sweat.

               “Why’d you come back? Wait—we’re doing this quietly. We need to get Reyna out of there before you---”

               “What’s the fun in doing anything quietly?”

               Axel knew that gruff voice. He still remembered it cursing him, the day every weapon he touched started to break within a few strikes.

               Axel and Reyna sat up.

               The door kicked open.

               For a split second, Axel could see the thug-like features of Ares. The War God gave him a brief nod, and a sinister smile.

               Then he disappeared and Frank Zhang led five armed legionnaires into the praetor house. Axel immediately recognized a few of them: Michael Kahale and Leila of the Fourth Cohort, and Dakota of the Fifth and Jacob of… some Cohort. They’d practiced fighting with him the morning before.

               Time felt like it was slowing down as they created a semicircle around him and Reyna. Their golden and leather armor shuffled softly, their spears glinted in the morning sunlight from the windows.

Axel tried to keep his breath even. He knew what this was about. He’d been stupid, so stupid to think the God of War—one of the most powerful gods in Rome—wouldn’t notice him here. At Camp Half-Blood, he’d stayed out of their borders as much as he could, but here…

One of the legionnaires, Nathan?, stumbled a little while coming inside. For a split second, Axel realized that the soldier didn’t know how to function with the rest of the team. It was a sixteen year old, bulky around the shoulders, with the symbol of Minerva on his arm. The legionnaire caught Axel’s gaze and winked. Axel couldn’t tell if the motion made his stomach seize up more or relax.

He and Reyna stood. Reyna tried to hide her fear with outrage. “Zhang, what’s going on?” she demanded.

“Reyna, step away from him,” the praetor said. Frank frowned furiously, like this was the last thing he wanted to be doing. None of them wanted to be doing it. The older members looked enraged. The younger members looked scared.

Frank stepped forward, keeping his eyes locked on Axel. Unfortunately, the direction Frank stepped also put him between Axel and the only real exit Axel had: the labyrinth entrance in Reyna’s bedroom.

“Axel Pax, also known by the alias Leonis Caput, you’re under arrest for the disappearance of Praetor Megara Laskaris, [2] the death of Praetor Julian Obademi, and countless others, for being an enemy of the legion, and for the suspicion of aiding Euna Song in the murder of several mortals. You’re to be put into custody until your trial date.”

Reyna froze.

Axel felt his heart sink. His hopes crumbled and, like a phoenix of carnage, the voice of the Leonis Caput rose in their place, Another praetorian medal to our mantel. We’ll go down in the blood of our enemies as your ancestors did before you.

“Under whose accusations?” Reyna asked, voice trembling.

Axel already knew, but hearing the god’s name made him clench his jaw.

“Ares, the Greek aspect of Mars Ulta,” Frank said.

“Why the Greek aspect?” Dakota asked, like he hadn’t noticed the oddity before.

Frank sighed. “I don’t know.”

What kind of trial would that be? Axel could envision it now, Well, our patron deity says this guy is the beast we’ve wanted to kill for years…. So uh, who wants to pretend to be his defendant? If he was captured, he’d be dead within the week.

As Axel glanced at Reyna out of the corner of his eye, he could see her put the pieces together. She already knew he was an excellent fighter and a former strategist, part of Kronos’s elite. Her lower lip quivered, though he hoped it was anger instead of…

He didn’t want to think he’d hurt her, but that was as stupid as thinking he could have lived here.

She slowly slid her hand to her knife, tensing.

Although the words felt dumb, Axel had to whisper, “I’m sorry, Reyna.”

He glanced back at the legionnaire who had winked at him. The legionnaire nodded back, eyes flicking to the general direction of the labyrinth entrance, beyond Frank. That was Axel’s brother, but one of them would need to cause a distraction for the other to act.

“You’re disgusting!” the legionnaire cried, in one of Pax’s best I’m-upset-but-not–really voices. He threw something at Axel’s head that Axel barely caught.

A lighter.

Chaos broke out.

The legionnaire let go of his spear to throw something into Jacob’s neck.

Jacob collapsed.

Pax morphed back. With a crazed laugh, he dropped a smoke bomb onto the ground and flicked his other hand up to dart Dakota in the neck. Dakota stumbled over, almost taking Michael Kahale with him.

Kahale growled in confusion, unable to fully see Pax around Dakota. “Nathan, what the—”

Axel kicked the coffee table at Frank Zhang, hoping he didn’t murder any zombie-ninja bunnies on the way.

He snapped out the obsidian blades from his forearms. He used one hand to strike the lighter and the other to slice open his tongue. As the blood dribbled from his mouth, he growled out the incantation, “Xma’su’tal Xib, Liik’il Xtaabay!”[3]

Although Axel couldn’t do the full transformation without the helmet, he felt the Mist swirl like a maelstrom around them, making the room flicker from the praetor’s house to a surreal ethereal plane of Pax’s green smoke. The barometric pressure dropped, and his ears popped. The sunlight shrank back as the fire from the lighter blazed a deep turquoise on contact with his blood. He tossed it onto the couch, so the material would burst into bluish flames.

Hecate taught them how to make the world into a nightmare for Romans, and that was exactly what he was going to do. He just needed to scare Rome’s best and most courageous warriors out of his way.

From what he could see through the curling mist, Pax managed to dart Leila as Michael Kahale crashed into him.

Axel could feel a Mist tail morph out of his body and his jaguar features enhance. This made him vulnerable to their weapons, but there’s no way he could escape without some extra speed. To maintain this form though, he would need to make someone else bleed.

Yes, lieutenant, we will.

“We’ve brought Tartarus to you, Romans,” Axel roared, enlacing as much fear magic as he could with each howl. “Leave this house, or I’ll eat your hearts and souls like the comrades I’ve eaten before you.”

To an extent, it worked. Michael Kahale and Frank both flinched.

Reyna punched him in his bad shoulder.

Axel hissed out in pain, stumbling backwards. He snatched a sword off Reyna’s wall, but felt the blade shudder and torque, like it was fighting his control. Like it wanted to listen—instead—to the Daughter of Bellona’s will.

As Axel crouched low to the ground, Reyna almost kicked him in the head. He barely dodged.

“ROMANS!” she screamed, the rage and hurt in her voice making Axel tremble. “WE DO NOT FEAR MONSTERS OR DEATH!” Her tattoo gleamed in the murky lighting and smoke.

With those simple words, Axel could feel his fear magic shatter. Her powers completely negated it. That shout was loud enough that back up would be coming soon.

Frank broke out of his paralysis with Reyna’s courage. He side stepped, so he could flank Axel, and jammed his spear forward.

Axel twisted to avoid the strike, grabbed the pilum’s shaft and snapped it in half. Just as Reyna threw her knife at Axel’s chest.

Axel whipped the broken shaft in front of him, smacking it into the projectile. The blade still grazed his ribs before clattering onto the floor.

Reyna grabbed another blade off her wall.

He couldn’t take on both praetors. Not at the same time. But he didn’t need to. He just had to get past them.

Axel retreated further into the room, keeping low in the dissipating green smoke and Mist shadows. If Axel backed up far enough, and Reyna and Frank advanced on him, it would leave a gap of space between them, Reyan’s bedroom, and Pax. They would think he’d run for the exit, not for her bedroom. Maybe he could dash past them, on the other side of the flaming couch, grab Pax--

Frank’s skin rippled and a jaguar snarled where Frank had been standing. The jaguar leapt over the flames of the couch, landing comfortably on the other side, so he could flank Axel again. A good strategy—now, they could back him into the corner of the room.

Axel couldn’t help but smile. He’d been wrestling jaguars since he was a kid. This shouldn’t be a problem.

Before Reyna could charge, Axel lunged at Frank. He threw the broken pilum forward for a diversion, and followed through with the sword. As he suspected, the sword bent before it even got near the son of Mars. Axel cursed, discarding it to tackle into the jaguar instead.

Frank the Jaguar rose onto his hind legs to bat the pilum piece. He wasn’t ready when Axel slammed into him. Axel latched his claws into Frank’s forearms, so he couldn’t prepare another swing. They skid backwards, past the flaming couch, and closer to Reyna’s bedroom.

Axel sank his fangs into the fur behind Frank’s ear and twisted. He didn’t want to tear Frank’s skin off, but he did want to direct Frank’s jaws away from him. As typical jaguar battles go,[4] Axel had already won, having Frank pinned and his teeth ready for a killing blow—though he didn’t want to kill Frank, just disable him.

But most jaguars didn’t shift into something much bigger.

Axel felt the fur under his teeth thicken. Before he could disengage, a paw the size of his chest slammed into him. Gravity stopped working. Axel found himself airborne before smashing into—

Everything fuzzed.

When he could orient himself, he was winded and felt like he’d been hit with a chariot. He was on the floor. The world sounded hollow: his brother’s shouting, the roar of… of…

Axel blearily raised his head to find a bear the size of a car stalking towards him. There was a huge hump on the bear’s back—a grizzly—and blood spilled down one side of the bear’s head.

Axel coughed again, spitting out a half-morphed jaguar-grizzly ear that flopped back into a human one upon contact with the ground. “Ew,” he breathed. That was something he hadn’t meant to do.

Get up, the Leonis Caput snarled.

Trying, he wanted to growl back. But his body wasn’t responding. Kinda dazed from being backhanded by 600 pounds of pure Canadian mascot.[5]

Then a foot caught him in the stomach and smashed him back against the wall. For a split second, he could imagine meeting Jack in the Fields of Punishment and the pleasant chats they’d have between eternal punishments.

“Oh, how did you go?”

“Beaten to death and mauled in my recently-ex-girlfriend’s house.”

“Ah, charming. Such a fitting spectacle.”

Reyna stood over him, scowling down. A pain, sharper than anything he’d be dealt in this room, pierced him when he saw the red rims around her eyes.

Let me fight her, the Leonis Caput growled. I was made to embrace her in battle.

No, Axel snapped. But he could already feel himself losing his awareness. His Mist tail went to wind around her ankle without his permission. The Leonis Caput was about to rip control from him.

“Why?” Reyna whispered.

Frank shouted in alarm.

Before she could kick him again or he could trip her, Axel was alarmed to see the Pandora’s Bakery: Exciting Surprises with Every Bite bag shoved over Reyna’s head. Pax grabbed the ends of her hair and pulled her backwards, shouting, “Eat bread, witch!”

Later, Axel would have to give Pax a lecture on things Pax wasn’t allowed to do to his girlfriend, even if she is trying to kill him.

Pax dashed past Reyna to grab Axel’s arm. Axel hadn’t realized—when Frank threw him—he’d crashed into the wall closer to the labyrinth exit. Pax dragged Axel towards the wall, shouting a, “So long suckers!” before smacking into solid rock.

“Aye!” Pax whined, grabbing his shoulder, where he’d made contact.

Axel coughed again and punched the glowing symbol of Daedalus on the rocks beside where Pax tried to exit. It was hidden under a map of old Rome. “To your left,” Axel gasped.

“Oh,” Pax grumbled.

Reyna caught her balance and ripped the bag off her head. Human Frank… was still whining and pawing at his face from whatever Pax had done.

But, of course, Pax still took the time to shift Axel to the left and shouted, “So long suckers!” again before running them through the labyrinth entrance.

The world plunged into darkness. After about ten feet of Pax dragging him, his little brother took a sharp turn to the left. Pax must have been tracing his other hand along the walls. Another few feet in, so they’d be outside of any flashlight range, Pax dropped him and plopped onto the ground.

From what Axel could feel, this was still smooth stone, likely a part of the labyrinth modeled off of ancient Rome’s limestone rooms. Everything smelled damp, and had the dankness of monsters.

Distantly, he could hear Reyna and Frank arguing over getting back up to try following them, though Frank sounded like he was in a lot of pain.

Once all his sense of sight was deprived, Frank could feel how hard Frank the Grizzly Bear had thrown him and how hard Reyna had hit him in the shoulder. He’d be lucky if he were just bruised tomorrow. Although his mouth was coated with Frank’s blood, Axel thought he could smell someone else’s.

“Are you badly injured?” he gasped. Breathing hurt.

Pax patted around, accidentally pinched Axel’s ear, then patted him on the head. “I’m probably feeling better than you. At least you got to date Reyna for a day without anything going wrong. I mean, that’s pretty good for us, right?”

When Axel thought about it, he stopped trying to stand up. He collapsed on the labyrinth floor. Normally, he was always about struggling forward, because, normally, he had a purpose. But they’d killed his father already. Camp Othrys was gone. The girl he loved rightfully hated him.

He still had Pax though, and the other five.

He just had to digest that the best future ever—building up retirement as an acrobatics instructor that got to beat up Romans every day and got to go on dates with the most beautiful, intelligent, and the bravest warrior ever—was gone.

“Just… give me a minute,” he said.

Then he punched the floor and pain shot through his arm. He was halfway through every curse he knew in Spanish when he realized he had been hissing them in Mayan, Kriol, and English too.

“More like a few years,” Pax snorted.

“Shut up,” Axel exhaled. He dragged himself to sit up beside Pax, or, where he assumed was beside Pax. “We need to beat them to New York. You heard what Frank said, ‘suspicion of aiding Euna Song in the murder of several mortals.’ We should keep moving.” The labyrinth was different now. From what Axel understood, the structure had collapsed and rebuilt itself. This wasn’t a place one would want to stay for long.

He closed his eyes, exhaled, and rubbed them. When he opened them again, he could see a faint, glowing trail along the floor. “That way,” he pointed before realizing how dumb that was.

“Let me just put on my night vision goggles to see your hand—”

“Shut up. Just grab my arm and follow me.”

 Is this the end of Rexel?!?! Eh, probably not, but it'll take a Hades of a demigod therapy couples session (also known as a gladiator arena in New Rome) to get through some of this. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed! Were you expecting things to start to fall apart in this way? I hope the ear was at least a surprise. Let me know what you think in the comments! :D

 [1] So, I just disposed a dangerous power on many of you. As my pranking days are over (or are they?) you must go forth and do my bidding. But wisely. And tactfully.

[2] I’m debating on rewriting Thus Stalks the Lion of the Labyrinth, so bear with me on names here.

[3] “Abandon the man, ascend the demon.”

[4] Yea, everyone knows how typical jaguar battles go, right? >>’’

[5] Their symbol is actually a maple leaf and their animals are a North American Beaver and a Canadian horse…. But a beaver didn’t seem like quite a fair fight, so I took liberties with this Belizean’s knowledge of national symbols.