03   how to be human

Medea finds herself beside Leo, surrounded by their crew along with Reyna and her people as tornadoes of food clutter up the table. It's so much different to the wound that is Camp Half-Blood—kids playing tag around statues and hanging onto their parents without a worry. There isn't the same anxiety, the crawling feeling beneath her skin every single time she steps out the safety of her cabin. The weight of her armbands gives Medea a sense of peace, poking at the food that Leo had piled onto her plate with a full mouth, mumbling something about how good it is through the meat. She doesn't participate as the differing crews begin exchanging war stories, but listens carefully.

          "Impossible!" Octavian interrupts Jason. "That's our most sacred place. If the giants had imprisoned a goddess there—"

          "They would've destroyed her," Piper says. "And blamed it on the Greeks, and started a war between the camps. Now, be quiet and let Jason finish."

Medea snorts, shoving a spoonful of pomegranate into her mouth. Octavian opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

          "Isn't charmspeak a wonderful thing?" Medea says, mouth quirked.

          "So," Jason continues without missing a beat, "that's how we found out about the earth goddess Gaea. She's still half asleep, but she's the one freeing the monsters from Tartarus and raising the giants. Porphyrion, the big leader dude we fought at the Wolf House: he said he was retreating to the ancient lands —Greece itself. He plans on awakening Gaea and destroying the gods by...what did he call it? Pulling up their roots."

Percy nods thoughtfully. "Gaea's been busy over here, too. We had our own encounter with Queen Dirt Face."

Medea returns to quiet as Percy begins to recount his last few weeks—turning up at Wolf House with no memories except one name: Annabeth; travelling to Alaska with Frank and Hazel; defeating enemies and returning a lost golden eagle statue.

Jason whistles appreciatively as Percy finishes. "No wonder they made you praetor."

Octavian snorts. "Which means we now have three praetors! The rules clearly state we can only have two!"

          "On the bright side," Percy says, "both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up."

Octavian's face turns purple as Jason gives Percy an enthusiastic fist bump. Reyna's stormy eyes crinkle with the crease of her smile, something small and sharp but not unkind. It's clear that she doesn't let loose very often; to see even a fraction of that now is mildly startling for Medea who thought that Reyna would take any chance to dispose of their presence. Much less enjoy it.

          "We'll have to figure out the extra praetor problem later," Reyna says. "Right now we have more serious issues to deal with."

          "I'll step aside for Jason," Percy says easily. "It's no biggie."

          "No biggie?" Octavian chokes on a piece of chicken. "The praetorship of Rome is no biggie?"

Percy ignores him, turning to Jason. "You're Thalia Grace's brother, huh? Wow. You guys look nothing alike."

Medea doesn't like to remember much of Thalia Grace— storm-weathered eyes and jagged black hair. She is the epitome of a God's daughter. Bold. Brave. Bright. She shines brighter than any other but is profoundly stubborn when she sets her mind to something. But like Danae Lovelace has always said: Zeus sires leaders, not wives. It's to be expected. In another life, Medea perhaps thinks they could've been friends.

          "Yeah, I noticed," Jason says. "Anyway, thanks for helping my camp while I was gone. You did an awesome job."

          "Back at you," Percy says.

Under the table, Medea feels a flash of air as Annabeth kicks Percy's shin. There's more important things to discuss at this moment. "We should talk about the Great Prophecy. It sounds like the Romans are aware of it too?"

Reyna nods. "We call it the Prophecy of Seven. Octavian, you have it committed to memory?"

          "Of course," he said. "But, Reyna—"

          "Recite it, please. In English, not Latin." Octavian sighs. "Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire the world must fall—"

          "An oath to keep with a final breath," Annabeth continues for Octavian. "And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

Medea narrows her eyes at the blonde. How does she know the rest of the prophecy?

Frank sits forward, staring at her in fascination, as if she'd grown a third eye. "Is it true you're a child of Min—I mean, Athena?"

          "Yes," Annabeth says defensively. "Why is that such a surprise?"

Octavian scoffs. "If you're truly a child of the wisdom goddess—"

Medea stamps her foot on Octavian's, only having to move slightly as he's sitting across from her. "Children should eat their carrots, better for your eyesight."

Leo smacks Medea's hand underneath the table. She hisses, glaring at him hotly. The girl doesn't overly care what bone Octavian has to pick with Camp Half-Blood or Annabeth in particular but it's beginning to get in the way of locating her brother. Her snarl is automatic. Flight has been erased from her reactions and she only knows how to fight.

           "Enough," Reyna snaps. "Annabeth is what she says. She's here in peace. Besides..." She gives Annabeth a look of grudging respect. "Percy has spoken highly of you."

Annabeth pales slightly. "Uh, thanks. At any rate, some of the prophecy is becoming clear. Foes bearing arms to the Doors of Death. That means Romans and Greeks. We have to combine forces to find those doors."

Hazel speaks up. "My brother, Nico, went looking for the doors.

Medea's stomach drops. She grips her seat so tightly that the skin of her knuckles begins to turn white but her face still remains deceptively blank. Her mouth remains tightly closed. Hazel cannot know her connection yet, otherwise she might get defensive. The fight turns in on herself—a need to ask questions runs rampant with a raging river of jealousy. This is where Nico has spent months disappearing without a trace? These are the people that he left Medea for?

She feels sick. Medea has not yet learnt that she is more than flesh and blood and bone waiting to be ripped apart. She wishes that she didn't feel some satisfaction, that maybe Nico is better off without her and with Hazel instead, but she made a promise that she intends to keep. Even if it is the last thing she does. Putting her knife and fork down, Medea doesn't push her plate away. She forces herself to return to a standstill.

          "Wait," Annabeth says. "Nico di Angelo? He's your brother?"

Hazel nods.

          "Are you going to continue or what?" Medea asks, somewhat snappishly. Her tether is loosening.

          "He disappeared." Hazel looks down. "I'm afraid...I'm not sure, but I think something's happened to him."

You have no idea, Medea thinks, hands tightening, You have absolutely no idea, little girl.

          "We'll look for him," Percy promises as if it's his mission to hold. To take on. It's hers, Medea screams silently, protectively. He continues on. "We have to find the Doors of Death anyway. Thanatos told us we'd find both answers in Rome—like, the original Rome. That's on the way to Greece, right?"

          "Thanatos told you this?" Annabeth questions. "The death god?"

Percy takes a bite of his burger and Medea remembers her own food.

          "Now that Death is free, monsters will disintegrate and return to Tartarus again like they used to. But as long as the Doors of Death are open, they'll just keep coming back." Percy explains through the bite of his food.

Piper twists one of her curls. "Like water leaking through a dam."

          "Yeah." Percy smiles brightly like he's clued in on something. "We've got a dam hole."

Whatever Percy has said, means nothing to Medea. She pokes her food, taking another bite.

          "What?" Piper asks.

          "Nothing," Percy says. "Inside joke. The point is we'll have to find the doors and close them before we can head to Greece. It's the only way we'll stand a chance of defeating the giants and making sure they stay defeated."

          "Seems peachy." Medea says sarcastically.

          "You of all people should be able to help with that." Annabeth looks at Medea with narrowed eyes.

          "What's that supposed to mean?" Hazel asks.

Medea glares at Annabeth. Both Greek girls both remain silent, ignoring Hazel's question. A fruit platter passes by. Reyna plucks an apple from its contents and studies the red surface for flecks and imperfections. It's smooth beneath her fingertips.

          "You propose an expedition to Greece in your warship." Reyna cuts through the thick silence. "You do realise that the ancient lands—and the Mare Nostrum—are dangerous?"

          "Mary who?" Leo asks.

Medea rolls her eyes.

          "Mare Nostrum," Jason explains. "Our Sea. It's what the Ancient Romans called the Mediterranean."

Reyna nods. "The territory that was once the Roman Empire is not only the birthplace of the gods. It's also the ancestral home of the monsters, Titans and giants...and worse things. As dangerous as travel is for demigods here in America, there it would be ten times worse."

          "You said Alaska would be bad," Percy reminds her. "We survived that."

Reyna shakes her head. Her fingernails cut little crescents into the apple as she turns it. "Percy, travelling in the Mediterranean is a different level of danger altogether. It's been off limits to Roman demigods for centuries. No hero in his right mind would go there."

Medea smiles, in equal parts wicked and excited. "Who said we're in our right minds?"

          "See we're good!" Leo grins over the top of his pinwheel. "Because we're all crazy, right? Besides, the Argo II is a top-of-the-line warship. She'll get us through."

          "We'll have to hurry," Jason adds. "I don't know exactly what the giants are planning, but Gaea is growing more conscious all the time. She's invading dreams, appearing in weird places, summoning more and more powerful monsters. We have to stop the giants before they can wake her up fully."

Annabeth shivers.

          "Seven half-bloods must answer the call," she says. "It needs to be a mix from both our camps. Jason, Piper, Leo, and me. That's four."

          "And me," Percy says. "Along with Hazel and Frank. That's seven."

Medea looks down at her food. If they think they're leaving her behind, they have another thing coming.

          "What about her?" Reyna looks at Medea.

Her head tips to the side, cat-like and poised. "They're dropping me where I need to go and that's that. If you think you're leaving me behind," she curls her fingers around a piece of carrot and snaps it in half before chewing on it, "you have another thing coming."

Medea looks around.

          "Besides," she continues, "you're going to need me. 1. You owe me. 2. There's information only I can provide and only on the basis you take me where I need to go."

Reyna nods slowly.

Octavian looks downright murderous at the end of Medea's little speech, shooting to his feet. "We're just supposed to accept that? Without a vote in the senate? Without a proper debate? Without—"

          "Percy!" Tyson the Cyclops bounds toward them with Mrs. O'Leary at his heels. On the hellhound's back sits a sickly-looking girl with stringy red hair, a sackcloth dress, and red-feathered wings. A harpy. The strangest one she's ever seen.

          "Ella is scared," Tyson says, filled to the brim with concern.

          "N-n-no more boats," the harpy mutters to herself, picking furiously at her feathers. "Titanic, Lusitania, Pax... boats are not for harpies."

Medea narrows her eyes.

Leo looks at her. "Did that chicken girl just compare my ship to the Titanic?"

          "She's not a chicken." Hazel cuts in, looking away from Leo. "Ella's a harpy. She's just a little...highstrung."

          "Ella is pretty," Tyson says. "And scared. We need to take her away, but she will not go on the ship."

          "No ships," Ella repeats. She looked straight at Annabeth. "Bad luck. There she is. Wisdom's daughter walks alone—"

          "Ella!" Frank stands suddenly. "Maybe it's not the best time—"

          "The Mark of Athena burns through Rome," Ella continues, cupping her hands over her ears and raising her voice. "Twins snuff out the angel's breath, Who holds the key to endless death. Giants' bane stands gold and pale, Won through pain from a woven jail."

A stunned silence falls over the table. Around them, the feast continues as if nothing is wrong. As if nothing has happened. The rest of the camp lives in a bubble of blissful ignorance.

Medea looks faintly interested, turning to Annabeth with a raised eyebrow. "Have you been keeping secrets, Blondie?"

Her words snap Percy into action. He takes Tyson's arm, beginning to gently guide him. "I know! How about you take Ella to get some fresh air? You and Mrs. O'Leary —"

           "Hold on." Octavian grips one of his teddy bears, strangling it with shaking hands. He keenly watches Ella. "What was that she said? It sounded like—"

          "Ella reads a lot," Frank blurts out. "We found her at a library."

          "Yes!" Hazel says. "Probably just something she read in a book."

          "Books," Ella mutters helpfully, beginning to relax. "Ella likes books."

          "That was a prophecy," Octavian insisted. "It sounded like a prophecy."

No one answers.

Annabeth forces a laugh. "Really, Octavian? Maybe harpies are different here, on the Roman side. Ours have just enough intelligence to clean cabins and cook lunches. Do yours usually foretell the future? Do you consult them for your auguries?"

This causes a ripple of reaction throughout the Roman Officers—murmurs and looks of nervousness covered with laughter.

          "I, uh..." Octavian drops his teddy bear into his lap. "No, but—"

          "She's just spouting lines from some book," Annabeth says, "like Hazel suggested. Besides, we already have a real prophecy to worry about." She turns to Tyson. "Percy's right. Why don't you take Ella and Mrs. O'Leary and shadow-travel somewhere for a while. Is Ella okay with that?"

          "'Large dogs are good,'" Ella quotes. "Old Yeller, 1957, screenplay by Fred Gipson and William Tunberg."

Percy smiles like all problems are solved "Great! We'll Iris-message you guys when we're done and catch up with you later."

Medea watches Reyna, looking for even a flicker in her iron-clad mask, but the girl is good. She's dutiful, quiet, studying the group surrounding her pensively.

          "Fine," the praetor says at last. "Go."

          "Yay!"

Tyson goes around the couches and gives everyone a big hug. Octavian shrugs him away. Medea allows a pat on the head, smoothing down her hair in the aftermath. That's never happening again. Without another word he climbs onto Mrs. O'Leary's back, in front of Ella and they take off, diving straight into a shadow on the Senate House wall and disappearing.

          "Well." Reyna sets down her uneaten apple. "Octavian is right about one thing. We must gain the senate's approval before we let any of our legionnaires go on a quest— especially one as dangerous as you're suggesting."

          "This whole thing smells of treachery," Octavian grumbles. "That trireme is not a ship of peace!"

          "Come aboard, man," Leo offers. "I'll give you a tour. You can steer the boat, and if you're really good I'll give you a little paper captain's hat to wear."

Octavian's nostrils flare in anger. "How dare you—"

          "It's a good idea," Reyna says. "Octavian, go with him. See the ship. We'll convene a senate meeting in one hour."

          "But..." Octavian halts his complaints. "Fine."

Leo gets up, shooting a smile in Annabeth's direction and knocking his elbow on Medea's shoulder as he clumsily moves.

           "Back soon," he promises. "This is gonna be epic."

           "Uh, Reyna," Jason said, "if you don't mind, I'd like to show Piper around before the senate meeting. She's never seen New Rome."

Reyna's expression shifts, hardened. Medea's head cocks again curiously. This could be amusing.

          "Of course," Reyna says coldly.

Percy takes Annabeth's hand. "Yeah, me, too. I'd like to show Annabeth—"

          "No," Reyna snaps.

Percy's eyebrows pinch together. "Sorry?"

          "I'd like a few words with Annabeth," Reyna says. "Alone. If you don't mind, my fellow praetor."

She isn't asking for permission.

           "Come, daughter of Athena." Reyna rises from her couch. "Walk with me."

Before she leaves, Annabeth turns to Medea. "Go with Leo. Watch him."

Medea groans, but gets up and heads to their ship anyway.