chapter two
002. graecus

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

    GRAECUS. 

    In Latin, the word meant Greek. But it meant more than simply being from Greece. It embodied all that the Ancient Romans believed were of Greek nature: cowardice, impulsivity, their cunningness, their overly luxurious lives and their supercilious love for theatre and art. It was the language they spoke, their knowledge, way of thinking and philosophical understanding of the world, of society and every aspect of life. It was often an insult. Conservative Ancient Romans looked down upon the Greeks, and yet at the same time, they admired them. They admired their gods, their engineers and their epic tales. Romans loved theatre, they loved a good satirical play, and of course, they admired their architecture. A Roman would never admit it, but perhaps their hatred stemmed not only from their ability to hold grudges, but also because they were envious of Greek culture. A Roman dared not become a Graecus, and dared not embody the same traits, but they also took everything they could from the Greeks, like they did many other ancient cultures, and adapted these elements into their own. The Romans did not invent aqueducts, but they improved them. They were not the innovative engineer on the catapult, but they reinforced them. The Romans were strategic, not cunning. They were not the Graecus; they made the Graecus world their own. 

    As Reyna led Percy Jackson through the Decumanian Gate and into the castra, the word Graecus was all Fiona heard. It was whispered around them from ancient ghosts of the old empire and legionnaires, and the word followed them, carried through the wind. The castra was filled with sacred spirits, or Lares. Lares were House Gods, and often were found in the vici of New Rome, roaming the streets and accepting prayers and offerings at altars at the entrance of their neighbourhoods. But in the camp, each Cohort also had a sacred Lar. Many of them were ancient Roman military officers, most either legacies or demigods who once served in the ancient legionnaires. But the spirits that hovered along the side of the roads, between the buildings and conversed with current legionnaires weren't just Lares. They were a combination of Lares, Penates (pantry gods▬yes, Romans also had sacred guardians of their household food stores and provisions), and also random spirits of the old Roman Empire and the Twelfth Legion who decided to return, or were granted return from the Underworld to offer their guidance. Though many of them, in Fiona's experience, were pesky and liked to play jokes. 

    They passed the armoury, where shimmering purple warriors were polishing their swords alongside campers, having conversations about the upcoming War Games and holding bets about who would win the next senatorial election. A ghostly boy, little Romulus Marcellius, they all knew him as, sprinted between them across the road as he chased after a ghost dog. Spirits sat with campers in the Mess at the far right of the camp, gossiped outside the stables, wandered between the barracks on the other side of the Via Principalis and more often than not took up space in the baths (even when they didn't even need to bathe anymore▬it was very annoying). 

    But as Percy Jackson wandered past them all, they all stopped to watch him. Fiona frowned, not sure whether she was cautious or confused at the sudden anger that swelled in their ghoulish gazes and made their faces contort. She shared an uneasy glance with Hazel and Frank, feeling their fury like a hive of angry, buzzing bees in her ears. What could Percy Jackson have done to make them so furious?

    Little Romulus Marcellius saw Percy and shrieked, "Graecus!" before turning invisible. 

    The son of Neptune looked like he wanted to turn invisible, too. He was on edge, tense at the unwavering attention he received from both spirits and campers alike. He stayed between Hazel and Frank, though there was nothing he could do to hide himself. Even if he tried to seem inconspicuous, he commanded attention with every step he took. And it wasn't hard when he had just exploded the Tiber and stepped onto Camp Jupiter's boundaries with the Queen of the Gods at his side. There was no turning invisible after that. 

    Eyeing Reyna in the lead in front of them, Percy lowered his voice and murmured to Hazel and Frank, "Am I seeing things? Or are those▬"

    "Ghosts?" Hazel glanced up at him. "They're Lares. House gods."

    He frowned, incredulous. "House gods? Like ... smaller than real gods, but larger than apartment gods?"

    "No," said Fiona curtly. She didn't mean to sound so sharp, but she was also on edge. There was something about Percy Jackson that made her feel like she was standing on the front lines of a battle, ready to fight. Not even an hour had he been at Camp Jupiter, and he had given reason to be cautious. Not only was he a Forbidden Child, but Juno had mentioned he had a Greek blessing, and now the guardian spirits were calling him Greek. That made her uneasy. "They're ancestral spirits. Lares are guardians of the household. Then, you have your pantry gods, the Penates. But there are many wandering spirits. You'll get used to it."

    "The Lares are kind of like mascots," continued Frank, offering a kinder explanation. "Mostly, they're harmless, but I've never seen them so agitated."

    They continued down the road, passing the bustle of camp life, towards the principia at the far end of the road. The Principia was almost like the headquarters of the camp. Here, the praetors usually sat and held council with other military officers, consuls and senators. Usually, two praetors would take seats in the office, but with Jason missing, Reyna was shouldering a leadership role meant for two people, and while she hid it well, Fiona could see the toll it was taking on her. She had known Reyna for a long time. They always had a rocky relationship, but through their mutual friendship with Jason Grace, despite their disagreements, they had mutual respect for one another▬at least, until recently. They have been on quests together with Jason, had battled side by side against the Titans and many monsters, but Fiona could feel the tension between them that came from the agonistic relationship they held. Reyna knew Fiona always wanted to be praetor, and before she had taken the role, it had always been the consensus that when Jason Grace became praetor, the legacy of Victoria would be lifted up onto the shield at his side. Until Fiona wasn't, and Reyna's own military prowess and her ongoing roles within the Senate made her praetor after her predecessor retired from the legion, even before Jason was given the title. And then it meant that if Fiona became praetor, then she would have to dethrone Reyna. And suddenly, their already tense relationship became more turbulent than an ocean during a hurricane. 

    But it was more than that. Fiona was no fool. She knew Reyna had liked Jason for a long time, and it had only strengthened in the time they spent together in their roles as praetors of Camp Jupiter. But before then, they had butted heads over Jason. Fiona was his closest friend, and while she never once considered him as anything more than that, she always wondered whether Reyna had felt challenged▬In the race to praetor, in her friendship and relationship with Jason, in their political positions, in their training, in everything. 

    One thing that the archaic Greeks and Romans had in common was how agonistic their culture was. Though while the Ancient Greeks competed against one another in music, theatre and other forms of art and sport, the Romans were much more brutal. They were betted against each other from the moment they first arrived in the clutches of Lupa, and had to prove themselves worthy to join the Legion. Each Cohort competed against the others to be the best, and every legionnaire was bet against one another for glory and reputation. As the archaic Romans once valued, the concept of gloria and fama were what made a Roman known in their society▬whether it be within the colosseum, the battleground, their military training or political environment. Once a Roman had gloria and fama, they were nobilis; they were known for as long as they lived, and as long as their legacy survived through generations of their family. 

    And the Roman political climate was the most competitive of all.

    The environment around Fiona and Reyna meant they were always destined to be opponents. And while it was sad, that despite their similarities, they would always have a tense relationship, dictated by the quest for glory and respect, that was how it always had been. That was the world they lived in.

    The deeper they travelled into the castra, the more hisses and whispers from the spirits did Percy recieve. "They're staring at me," he muttered. "That ghost kid called me Greggus. My name isn't Greg."

    Fiona arched a dubious brow up at him, and she tried to hide the small bubble of amusement that threatened to burst at his thought process. She scolded it and counselled herself to keep it down. She didn't know this Percy Jackson. She couldn't trust him, not yet. He may have saved Frank, but he still had to prove himself before she could be fully confident he wasn't a danger to Camp. It was no coincidence Juno arrived with a Forbidden Child▬a son of Neptune, no doubt. Trouble was on the horizon, and Fiona already knew ancient forces were stirring, and the Underworld was restless. She had to be ready for anything. She had to be cautious and prepared for danger.

    She fiddled with her necklace again. 

    "Graecus," corrected Hazel. She had taken off the gorgons 50% off stickers and dusted the dirt from her cheeks. The sunlight shone down on her eyes, like fourteen-karat gold, and she had pulled her long braids back into a loose plait down her back, tying the strands together with a soft, thick hair band. "Once you've been here a while, you'll start understanding Latin. Demigods have a natural sense for it. Graecus means Greek."

    "Is that bad?"

    Fiona narrowed her eyes at Percy. She looked him up and down, trying to decipher every mysterious part about him. Of all the new campers that joined the legion, Percy was old. Many of them were sent to Lupa and arrived at the ages of ten, eleven, and twelve▬usually about the time when monsters would start finding them and hunting them if they lived outside the valley. But Percy looked at least sixteen. And he didn't seem like a stranger to his abilities, either, and Juno acted almost as if he had already been claimed by his father, Neptune, previously. And while it was not unheard of for a demigod to arrive at Camp Jupiter already claimed, it wasn't common. Usually, a demigod had to prove themselves to their parent for them to claim them▬often after a victory in battle or during War Games. However, times have changed since last summer. The gods claimed their children far more often, and usually before the age of thirteen. Yet, that still didn't explain why a Forbidden Child, who would be hunted down by gods and monsters alike from a young age, would not only survive on their own until sixteen, but would not have been urged to be sent to Camp Jupiter as soon as they could be▬like Jason. 

    Frank cleared his throat. "Maybe not. You've sort of got that type of complexion ... maybe they think you're actually Greek. Is your family from there?"

    "Don't know. Like I said, my memory is gone."

    "Or maybe..."

    "What?" 

    Fiona was tired of beating around the bush. She wasn't one to take unnecessary pathways in conversation to reach the point of what she was trying to say. "He's talking about the old rivalry between Greeks and Romans," she told Percy. "He doesn't want to tell you because the term graecus is sometimes used by Romans as an insult for someone who's an outsider▬an enemy." She set a steel gaze onto him, hoping to break him down to see what he was hiding, and if there was anything she should be worried about. He met her gaze, and suddenly looked uncomfortable. 

    Frank quickly jumped in, shooting Fiona a look that was supposed to be scolding her stand-offish attitude, but he was too anxious to actually hold it for longer than a second. "But, I wouldn't worry about it."

    Percy didn't look reassured.

    At last, their entourage reached the centre of camp, where two wide stone-paved roads met at an intersection. The main road cut through to the main Praetorian Gates, the Via Praetoria. The second road sliced through the middle of the castra, the Via Principalis. Each was labelled with stone markers on the sides of the roads, and underneath were hand-painted signs, all pointed in the appropriate direction: BERKELEY 5 MILES; NEW ROME 1 MILE; OLD ROME 7,280 MILES; PLUTO 2,310 MILES (pointing straight down); RENO 208 MILES; and CERTAIN DEATH: YOU ARE HERE!

    Certain Death was a collection of freshly whitewashed buildings laid out in neat grids▬the centre of the castra, or the camp. It included the Principia, the praetorium (the residence of the praetors▬though despite being given his own rooms, Jason never wanted to move out of the Fifth Cohort), the infirmary or the valetiduinarium, where a lot of the legacies and children of Apollo spent their days tending to wounded campers (especially after War Games), the treasury or the aerarium where they kept many of their spoils of war, money for quests and trophies, and the administrative offices. Along the Via Praetoria, rows of shops lined up on either side, including food, armour, weapons, gladiator equipment and toga rentals, and even some good coffee to help the exhausted legionnaire get through another day of training. A chariot dealership had a big advertisement out the front: CAEASAR XLS W/ANTILOCK BRAKES, NO DENARII DOWN!

    The baths were on the left side of the Via Praetoria, a courtyard of whitewashed buildings with red-tiled roofs that followed the same design as ancient Roman baths▬With a beautiful garden in the centre, a swimming pool, a gymnasium, a library, lecture halls, and its own small theatre. The public bathing facilities were separated between men and women, with apodyteria (changing rooms), the laconica and sudatoria, their dry and wet sweating-rooms, each had a calidaria, the heated bath rooms, a tepidarium, which were heated normally, and a frigidarium, the cool rooms. They also had private baths, restrooms and showers. The baths weren't just a place to wash; they were also a hub for social events, communal shared spaces where campers from different Cohorts could hang out and chat, complete homework and work on assignments if they were attending school in New Rome, and watch entertainment. 

    On the other side of the Via Praetoria were the barracks. The barracks wrapped around a courtyard, with another garden and a basketball court. They had chairs and benches, and statues of Roman gods and heroes. Each barracks had a shrine to their Cohort's Lar, out the front of their shady porches where campers lounged in hammocks or played cards and drank sodas. Each dorm had a different collection of banners out front▬each displaying Roman numerals: I, II, III, and IV, and various animals: an eagle for the First Cohort, a bear for the Second, a horse for the Third, and the Fourth Cohort proudly held a banner with a wolf. Every cohort had four barracks that could house around ten legionnaires. And though there were five cohorts in total, the Fifth Cohort was left standing alone on the opposite side of the Via Principalis. 

    Fiona glanced at the lonely group of barracks. They had no courtyard, they had a terrible garden and a crumbling statue of Minerva outside their porch. Their hammocks were in disarray, and their shrine to their Lar was abysmal. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get rid of the stench that wafted into their dorms from the stables nearby. And their banner was nothing frightening or glorious▬a crudely drawn rodent that looked like a hamster, but Fiona was yet to truly figure out whether it was a guinea pig or a badger. She once asked one of the older campers in the Fifth Cohort what the mascot was supposed to be, and she was told that once upon a time, it was the Fifth who held the banner of the eagle. Until that fateful day when the golden eagle had been lost on a quest led by Michael Varus, a disgraced praetor and ex-member of the Fifth Cohort. He destroyed their reputation with a long-lasting legacy none could ever forget, or forgive, and from that day forth, the eagle was taken by the First Cohort and the Fifth Cohort was left with a crude hamster drawing▬just as crude as their terrible reputation. 

    But despite all of its shortcomings, it was her home. 

    Many of her best memories were linked to those barracks. Even if they were ostracised from the rest, they had each other. Fiona wasn't sentimental▬or perhaps she was. But even when those hammocks were abysmal, that never stopped her and Jason from popping open a soda late at night on the porch when one of them couldn't sleep. She remembered sitting together on Jason's bunk, talking about everything and nothing, or the reunions they shared with their cohort every time they got back from a quest, or the days they comforted each other, finding family in each other when they were left abandoned by their godly parents and ancestors, and their heavy expectations. But now, also, those memories hit Fiona not only with a fond nostalgia but also a desperate pain.

    They made her think of Jason.

    She missed Jason. 

    She missed him so much. 

    He was alive. She knew he was alive. Nico hadn't seen him in the Underworld, and he could usually sense when someone had passed. That told her that Jason Grace was out there, and he was alive, which meant that he could be found.  

    He would be found. 

    Fiona, Hazel, Frank, and Reyna slowed down in front of the Principia at the corner of the crossroads. Of all the buildings in the castra, it was the mightiest▬a two-story building made of white marble and a columned portico. Two campers in full armour stood outside the front with their spears standing tall at their sides. Over the doorway hung a large purple banner, lavishly embroidered with the gold letters SPQR inside a laurel wreath.

    "It's the acronym for the state," explained Fiona to Percy before he could ask. She had made it her goal to know everything she could about Roman politics, history, mythology and their way of life▬she needed to know it all if she wanted to sit on one of those praetor thrones in a purple robe one day. Her mother always told her it was important to put in two hundred per cent in everything she did, or none at all, and so, Fiona made sure she doubled it. "Senatus Populusque Romanus▬the senate and the people."

    Percy glanced at her again. She realised that the look in his sea-green eyes was very similar to the way she was watching him with her dark ones. Maybe with less hostility, but with the same curiosity. He was trying to figure her out, too▬to see whether she could be trusted. It made her look away, clenching her hands to keep herself from growing flustered. Why was she flustered? She didn't get flustered▬especially over strangers, no matter how sharp their jawline. 

    "So ... this is your headquarters?" asked Percy, nodding to the building in front of them.

    Reyna turned to face him, and her eyes were still cold and hostile. She looked at Percy Jackson like he was the enemy, and that was another reason why Fiona grew cautious. She and Reyna may have a difficult acquaintance, but she trusted and respected her judgment. She had earned that trust and respect. And if Reyna was hesitant about Percy, then Fiona had to be, too. "It's called the principia."

    Her gaze wandered to the mob of curious campers who had followed them all the way from the river. The whispers died down almost immediately when everyone realised Reyna's obsidian stare was fixed on them. "Everyone, back to your duties. I'll give you an update at evening muster. Remember, we have war games after dinner."

    The crowd was reluctant to disperse. Fiona caught some dirty looks from stuck-up members of the First and Second Cohorts. They weren't exactly popular amongst the first two cohorts, and she was sure that they were envious that it wasn't them who had gotten the chance to fight the Gorgon sisters and introduce a Forbidden Child to camp▬even if he were the son of Neptune. 

    And soon, those dirty scowls turned to amused, judgmental looks to one another. There were a few chuckles as they muttered comments and made bets about Percy's chances.

    "He's dead," said Michael Kahale, a son of Venus and Centurion of the First Cohort. 

    His fellow First Cohort legionnaire, Lucius Silver, who had only recently graduated from probatio after being claimed by Mercury, rolled his eyes. "Would be those three who found him."

    "Yeah," scoffed another. Marcus, a third-generation legacy of Vulcan from the Second Cohort. "Let him join the Fifth Cohort. Greeks and geeks."

    Laughter erupted at that from several campers. They cleared off, still joking about the Fifth Cohort and the Son of Neptune all the way back to the barracks. 

    Fiona couldn't help but scoff. She knew Marcus. He had always been ready to celebrate Jason's wins and had eagerly called himself his friend to the point it was obnoxious. She never liked him▬his loyalty to Jason had always been conditional on his parentage and his popularity. He thought that by being in direct association with the son of Jupiter, he, too, would have glory attached to his name. But now that Jason was gone, he just as easily insulted the Fifth Cohort that Jason Grace had called home, and the people who were his true friends and family, as easily as he had lifted Jason on his shield at the Battle of Mount Othrys.

    It felt like he was disrespecting Jason by disrespecting her cohort, and that thought made Fiona's short temper reach its fuse. She set her jaw and clenched her hands. She would have marched after Marcus and given him a piece of her mind if it weren't for Hazel's hand on her arm. Her half-sister didn't say a word, but the look in her eyes was enough to soften the fire of Fiona's anger. She set her jaw, but unclenched her hands and let the comment fester deep in her with the rest of her grudges.

    "Fiona," she glanced over when Reyna called her, admittedly surprised that she would address her directly. She hid it well, like she hid everything else. "You and Hazel will come with us. I want your report on what happened at the gates."

    "Me too?" Frank stepped forward, and he almost stumbled on the cracks in the cobblestone. "Percy saved my life. We've got to let him▬"

    The harsh look Reyna shot him made him step back. "I'd remind you, Frank Zhang," she said, "you are on probatio yourself. You've caused enough trouble this week."

    Frank flushed red at the ears and fiddled with the probatio tablet around his neck. Fiona gritted her teeth. While she would never admit it aloud, she had grown fond and very protective of Frank Zhang. He was sweet and caring, and too good for the harsh environment of Camp Jupiter. Maybe he was a pushover and a people pleaser, but he was her pushover and people pleaser. She had promised Jason in her prayers (even if he wasn't listening) that she would step up and look out for the Fifth Cohort, and any new campers who joined their ranks▬to remind them that they weren't alone, even if everyone else thought them an outsider. That included Frank. 

    "Go to the armoury," ordered Reyna. "Check our inventory. I'll call you if I need you."

    "But▬" he caught himself. "Yes, Reyna."

    Fiona watched him hurry off back down the road. Reyna waved her, Hazel and Percy towards the Principia, and her attention drifted away from Frank for now. "Now, Percy Jackson, let's see if we can improve your memory."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

    EVERY TIME Fiona Midgrass stepped inside the Principia, she wasn't sure whether she surged with confidence and ambition or felt the bitter resentment of jealousy. Her breath was always taken away by the glittering mosaic that stretched across the entire ceiling, depicting a scene they were all too familiar with: of Romulus, the founder of Rome and his brother Remus, underneath the she-wolf Lupa. Romulus had to sacrifice his brother for the empire, and it was a lesson of the choices every demigod and legacy would one day have to make for the betterment of their own legacy and those whom they served. Every step Fiona took was placed upon polished marble, and all around her, the towering walls were draped in luxurious, purple velvet curtains and banners with golden SPQR lettering. Along the back wall was a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze military medals. The central display stand was empty of banners and medals. Fiona felt her teeth clench at the sight of it, not sure whether she felt an overwhelming sense of shame or determined anger to see the missing spot of the glorious eagle. Glory reeked off this building▬in every crevice and from every corner. It was built with the glory of plenty of praetors and heroes before it, and Fiona could imagine herself adding her own stone to its foundation, but then she saw Reyna walk to the edge of her long, wooden work table at the centre of the room, and turn around to face them, and Fiona was hit with a taste of resentful jealously▬sour and bitter as the green monster inside her grew too powerful. 

    Reyna sat behind her table, in one of two high-backed chairs. Fiona stared at the empty throne beside her, looking at the way dust had started to coat the arms and the purple velvet draped over its back. She clenched her jaw. Who let the dust settle?

    Reyna noticed the intense stare Fiona set upon the empty praetor seat beside her. Her expression grew sour, and her hand reached out to pet the silver greyhound that rested beside her, sitting as still as a statue. Another was perched on the right of her, but instead of silver, this greyhound was made of pure gold. Argentum and Aurum. Their fierce ruby red eyes scowled at Percy Jackson, and their hackles looked ready to be raised. He watched them warily, though he didn't cower. He stood courageously in front of the daughter of Bellona, and Fiona couldn't help but feel a little impressed. 

    A long silence followed until the son of Neptune pursed his lips and began awkwardly, "So..."

    Immediately, Aurum and Argentum bared their teeth and growled. 

    Percy froze.   

    "Easy, guys," Reyna told her hounds. 

    They listened, returning to her side. They sat down, and their growling ceased, but their gaze did not move from Percy Jackson once. 

    "They won't attack," said the praetor, "unless you try to steal something, or unless I tell them to. That's Argentum and Aurum."

    "Silver and Gold," said Percy. He narrowed his eyes at Reyna, watching as she carefully set her dagger on the table beside her large bowl of jelly beans. "We have met," he decided. "I don't remember when. Please, if you can tell me anything▬"

    "First things first," the way Reyna cut him off made Fiona grow suspicious. She was hiding something; she knew it. "I want to hear your story. What do you remember? How did you get here? And don't lie. My dogs don't like liars."

    Argentum and Aurum snarled to emphasise the point. Her greyhounds not 'liking liars' was an understatement. They could both sense when someone was lying, and when they did, Reyna didn't hesitate to declare someone an enemy and either have them disciplined. 

    Or killed.

    (Romans weren't the most welcoming of people).

    Percy set his jaw, eyeing the dogs. But, reluctantly, he decided to tell his story▬from start to finish, or what he remembered of it. Fiona listened intently, standing at the side with Hazel. Percy Jackson's story started much like the rest of theirs did: with the Wolf House and surviving Lupa's training. He told them he woke up in the woods near the home with no recollection of how he got there or who he was. Much like many divine soldiers before them, Lupa forced every Roman demigod and legacy of the modern world to learn how to survive and fight. She taught them some things, but much of their success was their own▬they had to prove to her, much like they would have to prove to their brethren, that they were worthy of glory and attention; that they could fight and survive in the horrific world of gods and monsters. She trained them to be strong, tough, and vicious▬like the wolves of her pack▬but they had to be vicious and strong to begin with. 

    When he finished, Reyna leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. She was graceful and with perfect posture, even when lounging. "No memory at all?" she asked. "You still remember nothing?"

    Percy hesitated. He glanced at the greyhounds. Fiona tilted her head, watching the way he clenched and unclenched his hands. Slowly, his gaze found her, as if he could feel her stare burn into his back, and somehow, it looked like she seemed to intimidate him even more than the lie-detector greyhounds. "Fuzzy bits and pieces," he decided to say. 

    She wasn't a greyhound with the magical power to tell whether someone was lying or not, but she knew when someone was withholding information. He remembered something, but he wasn't telling them what. 

    He looked away from her quickly. 

    Reyna picked up her dagger from the table and spun it, examining Percy as if she were deciding the best way to skewer him with it. "Most of what you're describing is normal for demigods. At a certain age, one way or another, we find our way to the Wolf House. We're tested and trained. If Lupa thinks we're worthy, she sends us south to join the legion. But I've never heard of someone losing their memory. How did you find Camp Jupiter?"

    He delved into his last three days. Fiona shared a quick glance with Hazel when he brought up the gorgon sisters, who, no matter what he tried, wouldn't die. Her sister looked uncomfortable. When Percy's story reached his arrival at the maintenance tunnel entrance, Fiona realised she was supposed to speak for him, and blinked out of her troubled thoughts to say▬

    "He carried Juno with him all the way to Camp," she said. "Hazel took care of the gorgons for as long as she could while Frank and I escorted Percy through the tunnel." Fiona set her frown on him again. "For someone who was chased by monsters for three days, he doesn't seem to have a scratch on him."

    "He saved Frank's life," added Hazel, even though Reyna had witnessed the entire rescue from the Little Tiber. "He was brave and he was heroic, Reyna."

    "Still doesn't explain the fact that those gorgons didn't hurt you," muttered Fiona, crossing her arms. "Even an experienced demigod wouldn't get out of an encounter with the gorgon sisters completely unharmed."

    Percy glanced at her. He grew uncomfortable, but with a harsh swallow, his jaw set, and he replied to her in the same tone, "I don't know why they couldn't harm me. Whatever they tried didn't work."

    She knew. Juno mentioned the mark of Achilles, a Greek blessing. In the moment, Fiona hadn't considered much of it and had no time to rifle through her knowledge of many archaic myths and tales when she was busy running from gorgons. But now, she could stop and think. She was familiar with the Greek tale of Achilles. His mother had bathed him in the underworld stream, the River Styx, to make him almost invulnerable to any weapon, all except for his heel. That heel had been the bane of existence. But a newcomer such as Percy Jackson would have never bathed in the River Styx. Not unless he had been introduced to this world much earlier.

    Percy Jackson had a story to tell▬and a long one, Fiona was sure. And she wasn't sure what was stranger, his obvious intense history, or the fact that he couldn't remember any of it. 

    Who would take his memory and why? Juno had mentioned he had been slumbering, but for how long? 

    Reyna studied him with similar interest. "You're old for a recruit. You're what, sixteen?"

    "I think so," said Percy.

    "If you spent that many years on your own, without training or help, you should be dead. A son of Neptune? You'd have a powerful aura that would attract all kinds of monsters."

    "Yeah," muttered the son of Neptune. "I've been told that I smell."

    Fiona did well to resist a smile. She didn't want Percy Jackson to crack her armour within not even a day of knowing each other. But his sarcasm was amusing. 

    And so, she hid it with a curt comment of, "He must have been somewhere before the Wolf House, Reyna."

    She could tell with the warning look Reyna sent her that her speaking suddenly out of turn, without being asked a question first, was putting her leader on edge. Fiona swallowed her frustration because once upon a time, her voice was always respected and listened to▬she had earned it. And now, she had lost that respect. 

    Reluctantly, Reyna had to agree with her. She nodded and then let out a sigh. "Well, the dogs haven't eaten you, so I suppose you're telling the truth."

    "Great," said Percy. "Next time, can I take a polygraph?"

    Reyna didn't give him much of a reaction other than her constant, calculating frown. She stood up silently, beginning to pace in front of the many banners behind her. Her metal dogs watched her go back and forth. 

    "Even if I accept that you're not an enemy," she said, "you're not a typical recruit. The Queen of Olympus simply doesn't appear at camp, announcing a new demigod. The last time a major god visited us in person like that..." she pursed her lips and shook her head. "I've only heard legends about such things. And a son of Neptune ... that's not a good omen. Especially now."

    Percy frowned. "What's wrong with Neptune?" he demanded. "And what do you mean, 'especially now'?"

    Hazel shot him a warning look at his tone.

    Reyna continued to pace. "You've fought Medusa's sisters, who haven't been seen in thousands of years. You've agitated our Lares, who are calling you a graecus. And you wear strange symbols▬that shirt, the beads on your necklace. What do they mean?"

    Fiona thought she had missed the obvious that many people never seemed to forget mentioning whenever she was around: You're a Forbidden Child, they told her. She wasn't meant to be alive. And that made her equally dangerous, as she was always in danger. 

    But the beads on Percy's necklace caught her attention. Her gaze drifted to the leather necklace that hung over Percy's tattered orange shirt. The words and symbols printed across his chest had faded to almost nothing, and she couldn't make them out. The necklace had four decorated clay beads: the first showed a glowing green trident, the second was a small golden icon of the Golden Fleece, the third was etched with the design of a maze, and the last had an image of the Empire State Building. She had never been to New York. Romans avoided the East as much as they could. Fiona never truly knew why; she just knew to avoid it. 

    Percy glanced down, too. He reached up to hold his necklace, and his fingers brushed over the trident on the first bead. He stared at it for a long time, his brows knitting together as he desperately tried to put together to pieces of the puzzle that was his memory. In the end, he murmured sadly, "I don't know."

    Fiona's scowl softened slightly. She couldn't help but feel something in her chest tug with a sad empathy for Percy Jackson. He looked anguished and terrified, and even though he was hiding it admirably well, she could see. 

    Reyna paused. "And your sword?"

    Sword?

    Fiona didn't remember seeing Percy Jackson wield a sword at all during the battle with the gorgons at the Little Tiber. She shared a glance with Hazel, who looked apprehensive. There was no reasonable way that Reyna would know about his weapon. Fiona's surprised frown quickly turned to one of suspicion, and it returned its focus onto her praetor. Reyna ignored her, but she was tense. 

    They watched Percy pull a pen out of his pocket, a little confused. He hesitated, but then swiftly uncapped it. Hazel's breath hitched when a sharp, leaf-shaped double-edged sword materialised into existence with a shrill sound. It glowed a brilliant bronze colour, and the hilt was etched with elaborate designs of vines and waves. There was lettering across the hilt, but it was too far away for Fiona to read it. 

    It was a design Fiona had never seen in the armoury, nor read about in her books about Roman warfare. It was impressive, but it made Fiona wary for the same reason she was wary of everything else about Percy Jackson: the mystery that surrounded him, the whispers of Graecus and the puzzle pieces that didn't fit perfectly into the mould they should. 

    "What is that?" asked Hazel, breathless. "I've never seen a sword like that."

    "I have," murmured Reyna darkly. "It's very old▬a Greek design. We used to have a few in the armoury before ..." She stopped herself. "The metal is called Celestial bronze. It's deadly to monsters, like Imperial gold, but even rarer."

    There was that word again. Greek. 

    Percy frowned. "Imperial gold?"

    Reyna showed him her dagger, spinning it masterfully. It was a beautiful piece, perfect for the praetor of a legion. "The metal was consecrated in ancient times, at the Pantheon in Rome. Its existence was a closely guarded secret of the emperors▬a way for their champions to slay monsters that threatened the empire. We used to have more weapons like this, but now ... well, we scrape by. I use this dagger. Fiona uses a similar design. Hazel has a spatha, a cavalry sword. Most legionnaires use a shorter sword called a gladius. But that weapon of yours is not Roman at all. It's another sign you're not a typical demigod. And your arm..."

    "What about it?"

    Reyna held out her right forearm. There, burned onto her skin, were her legionnaire tattoos: the letters SPQR, a crossed sword and torch▬the symbol of her mother, Bellona▬and under that, were four parallel lines of service. 

    The sight seemed to trouble Percy. Fiona traced hers as he glanced at her and Hazel expectantly. She pursed her lips, but quickly hid her nerves, tilting up her chin with pride and holding out her arm for him to see. 

    "Every full member of the legion has one," she told him. 

     "Why do you have two?" Percy asked her.

    Her fingers traced along the two symbols that sat above her three lines of service. Her skin was raised along the marks, and she could feel the pain and heat of them being burned into her skin as if they happened yesterday. She was due for her fourth strike soon. The first symbol sitting immediately above the lines was the symbol of her grandmother, Victoria: two feathers inside a victory laurel wreath. Above it was a symbol that had been burned in more recently, and it sent fear into the hearts of even the most courageous of Romans: a black glyth like a cross with curved arms and a head. The symbol of Pluto, God of the Underworld and her father. 

    It had changed her entire life. She went from being the best, incredibly popular with all the glory and fame she could ever ask to being ostracised from her own home. And the one person she wished she could speak to about her father, about how her life had turned upside down, about the lies her mother told her and the sheer anger she felt toward her father for never telling her until recently (and not even having the care to claim her in person), was gone. 

    Jason didn't even know she was the daughter of Pluto. He had been taken from her before everything had happened. 

    If he were to miraculously return, now, eight months later, would he even recognise her? 

    The girl she had been and the girl she was now felt like two entirely separate people. One was confident, ambitious, successful and not afraid of anything. The girl Fiona was now ... her ambition still lingered like a painful reminder of all she could have achieved if she had not destroyed her empire of dreams into ruins coated in ashes and dying embers, but everything else? 

    Fiona was scared that if Jason were here now, he would be ashamed of who she had become. That in the end, he, too, would look at her like everyone else: an outsider, a disappointment, a failure. 

    She and Jason had been through everything together. He had been the one person she trusted ... the one person she knew she could trust, no matter what. If Fiona couldn't trust Jason, then she could trust no one. 

    And now she was so alone.

    And it didn't matter how much she prayed. Even to her grandmother, she begged for forgiveness, risking her anger by humiliating her even more, just to know whether Jason was alive ... just to find a way to get him back. But no one listened. 

    All of their prayers were left unanswered. 

    It was like Olympus had closed its doors and fused them shut, refusing to let anyone back in, even when their children were crying and screaming, slamming their fists against the surface to be let in and to be heard▬they had abandoned them all over again.

    And it made Fiona furious. Her father had pretended she didn't exist for fifteen years, and the moment he decided to acknowledge she was alive, he didn't even speak a single word to her. It made her question why he even bothered. It felt like some form of punishment to be named his daughter, especially in the ruins of Jason's absence and her fall from grace. 

    She realised she still hadn't answered Percy's question. "My grandmother is Victoria, goddess of Victory," she said, and she wasn't so confident anymore. She set her jaw and forced herself to look unfazed. She pointed out the black glyph that matched Hazel's. "But my father is Pluto."

    "You're a Forbidden kid," murmured Percy. He glanced at Hazel. "You both are."

    He seemed so shocked at the thought, but Fiona was more shocked that he knew that was what they were: Forbidden Children. "Did Lupa tell you about Forbidden Children, and the pact between Jupiter, Pluto and Neptune?" she asked before Reyna could say anything. She knew she should have let her leader ask the questions, but Fiona couldn't help it. Percy Jackson caught her attention, and no matter her ADHD, she had yet to lose focus. 

    Percy frowned, as if he had only just realised what he said. He thought about her question, "No, I..."

    "But you've never been a member of the legion," continued Fiona. She shook her head, struck with disbelief. She hated not knowing the answers. "How have you survived this long as a Forbidden kid?"

    A thought struck Hazel. She leaned forward with a hitched breath, her golden eyes turning bright. "If he's survived as a loner all this time, maybe he's seen Jason," she turned to Percy. "Have you ever met a demigod like us before? A guy in a purple shirt with marks on his arm▬"

    "Hazel," Reyna's voice tightened. She glanced at Fiona, and no matter their differences, they shared the same sharp ache in their chest, squeezing so tightly that suddenly they both felt claustrophobic. "Percy's got enough to worry about."

    Percy noticed the way the light in the room seemed to grow dull, and the air cold. Suddenly, this place wasn't so glorious, not anymore. He touched the point of his sword, and it shrank back into a pen. "I haven't seen anyone like you guys before. Who's Jason?"

    Reyna sent Hazel an irritated look. Fiona's half-sister swallowed harshly and looked away, troubled. "He is ... he was my colleague," she glanced at the empty chair beside her. Fiona felt her heart squeeze painfully again. "The legion normally has two elected praetors. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, was our other praetor until he disappeared last October."

    "You mean he's been gone eight months, and you haven't replaced him?"

    "Replace," scoffed Fiona, her words sharp like a dagger. She didn't hold back this time. She narrowed her eyes at Percy. She knew he didn't mean it. He had no clue about the history here, and what Jason meant to them▬meant to her. But she couldn't help but feel like the dagger had stabbed her, instead at the thought of someone replacing her best friend. Because replacing him meant that he was actually gone▬forever. That they had given up the search for him. That they believed he truly was dead. He wasn't dead. "You can't replace Jason Grace. He was▬is▬the bravest hero I know."

    Reyna grimaced. "Elections only happen in two ways," she explained, giving Fiona a warning look. She set her jaw. "Either the legion raises someone on a shield after a major success on the battlefield▬and we haven't had any major battles▬or we hold a ballot on the evening of June twenty-fourth, at the Feast of Fortuna. That's in five days."

    Percy frowned. "You have a feast for tuna?"

    "Fortuna," Fiona corrected stiffly. "Goddess of luck. Whatever happens on her feast day affects the rest of the year. She can grant the camp good luck ... or really bad luck."

    The Feast of Fortuna had always been a time of celebration. She remembered watching the fireworks and walking through the markets surrounding the Forum with Jason. And now, on that same day, in under a week, they were going to replace him. It made her furious. Fiona's gaze fixed on Jason's empty chair again.

    "The Feast of Fortuna..." Percy stiffened. His brows furrowed as he tried to think, and soon, his gaze snapped up to them. He recognised the name. He gripped his pen-sword tighter in his right palm. "The gorgons mentioned that. So did Juno. They said the camp was going to be attacked on that day, something about a big bad goddess named Gaea, and an army, and Death being unleashed. You're telling me that day is this week?"

    Fiona and Hazel shared a look that went missed by Reyna. She knew exactly what her sister was thinking▬about what Nico had told them about what was stirring in the Underworld. Fiona had hoped none of this would be connected, but she should know by now that nothing was a coincidence in their world. The Fates and gods liked to play their games.

    Though the mention of Gaea brought a chill to the back of Fiona's neck. She hitched her breath, as if she heard the wind whisper to her, and nails crawled down her spine. She almost wondered whether that was a heartbeat she felt pounding through the stone underneath her feet, a reminder that the Earth Goddess was always near. 

    Reyna's fingers clenched around the hilt of her dagger. Her obsidian eyes glinted harshly. "You will say nothing about that outside this room," she ordered. "I will not have you spreading more panic in the camp."

    "So, it's true," Percy didn't back down. "Do you know what's going to happen? Can we stop it?"

    Can we stop it? Fiona was surprised by the way Percy was suddenly prepared to just lay down his sword for a group of demigods he didn't even know, who were just as prepared to kill him as they were to accept him.

    "We've talked enough for now," said Reyna. "Take him to Temple Hill," she told Fiona and Hazel. "Find Octavian, do not▬" her glare flashed at Fiona, and she took a sharp, livid breath through her nose, "▬attack him this time. On the way, you can answer Percy's questions. Tell him about the legion."

    "Yes, Reyna," nodded Hazel.

    Fiona wondered whether she was being punished. But she knew better than to test Reyna's anger. "Of course," she muttered.

    Reyna stood and sheathed her weapon. She approached Percy Jackson with her greyhounds at her heels, snarling. "Good luck with the augury, Percy Jackson. If Octavian lets you live, perhaps we can compare notes ... about your past."

    They stared each other down for a long time before Percy stepped back. Fiona pursed her lips and marched over to him. "Come on," she told him, nodding to the door. "This way."

    She and Hazel led him out of the room, and when she glanced back just as the doors closed, she could see the ashen look upon Reyna's face. 

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

    a/n: this chapter is kinda boringggg, sorry.

    but fiona and jason angst imma cry. they're so tragic my babies *sobs*.

    2 weeks until pjo season 2 comes out i am SCREAMING

    the more i like reread this series the more i want to know about jason's back story. like i would totally read a whole series just about camp jupiter and jason's like history there, and the quests he went on. but then again idk whether i could handle the jason/reyna angst. or just handle the angst of getting to know my baby in the way he deserved knowing what happens to him

    (limited editing).