146 B.C.

"Translate this: Puella amavit passerem, et non amavit puerem."

"The girl did love the sparrow, and did not love the boy," the little twelve year old boy replied, tapping his writing tablet. "Sed illud est valde stultum. Cur passer?"

The boy's mother smiled and laughed, her laugh perhaps the most beautiful in all of Greece. "Scio, meus filius. Amo te."

"Se agapó," the boy replied. He smiled up at her, but was surprised to see she was not smiling back. She jerked his arm, making him whine and complain, but she simply did not seem to register his protests. His mother's breathing became labored as she tugged him hard, always tugging. He barely even registered that he was running so hard.

Then he heard it. A deep voice, a voice he'd hear in his nightmares, rose above the screams, shouts, and crashing of objects. "Ardete! Ardete! Occidite ei! Punite ei!"

The hand that was tugging him began to shake. "Run, Perseus, please."

Perseus realized that he had stopped running. He had turned around to see women wailing as men seized them onto their horses, pulling them from their husbands. He watched as they brutally murdered all of the men and the town was burning.

Corinth was burning.

"Servate nihil!" There in the center was the man, the man who ordered to burn, punish, kill and spare no one. He wore heavy battle gear and had a large red beard. And his face…was twisted in pleasure, with a sneer and a long stretching from his temple to his lip. His eyes gleamed with bloodlust.

He didn't know the beautiful language of Latin could be used in such an ugly way until that man. He didn't want to speak it any longer.

Perseus felt another tug on his arm and he began to move again. He didn't know where he was going, and the fear began to set in when he realized his mother didn't know where they were going either. They were just running mindlessly away from the city's center.

His mother's breathing was getting heavier and heavier until it was all he could hear. His heart beat furiously in his chest. But he could hear it. They were advancing on them. There were horses moving towards them. Perseus looked behind them to see two men on horses approaching them. He was tugged down when his mother collapsed on the ground.

"Poseidon, help us please."

The boys heart was beating so loud it flooded his hearing. He turned around and took a protective stance in front of his mother. The two men approached them quickly.

"Quaeso servare me et mea mater, velim!" His small voice was stretched to its limit and it cracked. The two men stopped and laughed at him. Perseus growled and moved to closer in front of his mother, who was standing by then.

"Dicesne Latine?" the man on the gray horse asked darkly. "Bene."

"We'll have a use for you, slave."

The other man eyed Perseus's mother up and down. "And you too."

Perseus repeated his previous statement.

The first man on the gray horse rolled his eyes. "Shut up you pre-pubescent child. Your Greek accent is horrendous." He hopped off his horse and slowly walked towards them.

"No!" Perseus's mother leaped in front of him. "You will not take my son and sell his freedom away, you pig!" She leaped on top of him and attempted to attack him. Perseus was too stunned to do anything as the Roman soldier threw her off him. Her head landed hard on a rock, making a sickening crack. Perseus felt a tear roll down his face as he saw her, laying dead on the ground. Her beautiful dark brown hair was fanned about her head like a halo. Her eyes weren't closed. Perseus rushed to her side, but he felt fingers that were like claws grasp his shoulder. He screamed when he was dragged away from his mother.

"Mom!" He wailed, and sobbed as the soldier hauled him onto his gray horse.

"Shut up and quit your crying, latrinae!"

Perseus cried harder at the vile and cruel nickname. He felt hopeless. He couldn't bear to leave Corinth and his mother behind.

"Claudius," the man Perseus was with said, "Please. The boy just lost his mother."

Claudius glared at the man with the gray horse. "Of course you'd be weak with the little Grecian," his mouth twisted in disdain, "Fabullus. What worth will this little latrinae have anyway?"

Fabullus shook his head at Claudius and tightened his hold on Perseus. "He'll be a fine slave. He's young and good-looking. He knows Latin. You know Greek, boy?"

"Naí," Perseus replied reluctantly. "Ita," he added in case they couldn't quite understand him.

"See?" Fabullus said, sending Claudius a dirty look. "He can be a diplomat for Rome."

Claudius laughed a loud booming sound. "Speaking two languages is not how we Romans reach an agreement." His eyes shone with an evil light. "This," he lifted a hand and pointed to the chaos and hell behind him, at all the burning buildings and anguished screams, "is our diplomacy."

"Eî kakó," Perseus growled at Claudius. Fabullus pushed him lightly, warning him to shut up.

"We respect Greek in Rome," Fabullus said lowly, "But the soldiers here despise it. Don't say one Greek word when you're with us. Once you're with your master, flaunt it. Your education will be your saving grace."

"Okay," Perseus nodded. "Why can you speak Greek?"

"I'm not your friend, boy," Fabullus pushed him again, harder this time.

They continued on their way until they reached the city center. There Perseus was thrown from the horse, and landed harshly on the ground among other Corinthians. He grunted from the pain that consumed his entire side.

"You Grecians are Rome's now!" a man bellowed out. Perseus' face was still on the ground. "You are not Roman! You deserve no such honor. No, you are a prisoner of Rome. You are Emperor Jupiter's now."

The man walked closer to him. "Cooperate and I might not recommend that you work in the mines. Disobey me and pay the price. Get up!"

The remaining Corinthians struggled to get to their feet. Perseus looked around him and his eyes widened in horror. Corinth was not a small city. And only thirty or so had been spared. He'd heard stories. The Romans would always take more slaves. Wouldn't they? Why was Corinth different? Perseus's eyes moved to Fabullus. The man was stroking his big beard.

The rest of the Corinthians were looking down at their feet. It appeared that they had noticed their small numbers as well. Perseus felt dizzy and sick. How could they…? Surely they managed to run away…

"We begin our way back to the homeland now."

Perseus felt a harsh tug on his rapidly bruising wrist and looked up to see Fabullus pulling him along as they walked away and out of Corinth. He saw other Corinthians as he shuffled alongside the gray horse. Most of them were women and young boys like him. There were some girls his age, but not any younger. They all groaned in pain, probably because they'd been thrown down like him, and walked at a brisk pace in fear of getting yelled at and maybe even whipped. The weather was hot, and humid.

Perseus rubbed his arm but winced when he hit a bruise on his forearm. He decided to check for any other injuries. Twisting his torso, he discovered bruises on his side and abdominals. His wrists were bruised as well. Scrapes were on his knees, making every step jab at his legs uncomfortably. Gently tracing his fingertips on his cheeks, he removed his hand and saw blood.

His eyes went wide when he saw just how much blood was on his hand. He felt sick. There was an unbearable pain throbbing in his head. Perseus must've stopped moving because Fabullus shoved him along.

They shuffled for a few hours, and when the soldiers decided that they wanted to stop to eat, the newly made slaves sighed in relief and collapsed on the ground, exhausted.

"Get back up!" The man with the large red beard said. General Brutus was his name, Fabullus had told him. Perseus thought that was the proper name for that brute. "And I better not hear a peep outta you vappa."

Perseus cringed, yet was in disbelief. The Corinthians did not deserve to be treated in such a vile way. General Brutus glared down at him. "Get up, stulte. Do what I ordered you." Perseus scrambled to his feet, only to feel himself slip back down again. He yelped when he felt his chin slam against the dirt.

General Brutus laughed hysterically. "Ha! Pathetic!"

Perseus stilled himself, taking deep breaths as he stared at the ground. His world was spinning uncontrollably. He felt like heaving. Suddenly pain shot through his side and he registered the General's boot where he was before on all fours. Perseus coughed, beginning to dry heave.

Bam.

He was kicked again. This time he coughed up blood.

Oh Zeus. Oh Zeus.

His heart was beating loud and hard. He could barely feel it as he was kicked once more.

Gasping for air, he wondered just exactly why the man was kicking him.

"General, the men are hungry. This boy is not worth eating into our dinner time." Fabullus placed a strong arm on his shoulder. His form was blurry and his voice was muffled. "Perhaps cleaning duty would be a better punishment."

As if to make a final point, General Brutus kicked Perseus's shoulder and walked away, his boots heavy on the ground. Perseus was left on the dirt as he struggled not to make a sound. To do so would make him seem weak.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Perseus opened one eye to see a girl with gray eyes and curly blonde hair that was still tied back in the typical Corinthian hairstyle. Her voice was soft and her face was pretty. A stray hair escaped from its place behind her ear. Her knit brows communicated her sincere and genuine concern. She was wearing a long sleeveless dress with minimal design. She got down on her knees and bit her lip in concentration as she tugged hard on her dress, ripping a considerably large piece off. Perseus stared in awe—she looked like an angel, with her blonde hair framing her face and the sunset light shining around her skin and glowing like a halo. "Sorry I don't have any water. Here." She gently placed the cloth on his cheek. Perseus closed his eyes.

She lifted his tunic shirt sleeve, revealing a gash on his bicep. She wrapped it around his wound tightly, making him wince. Tying it off, she smiled at him. "I'm Annabeth."

"Perseus," he replied, his voice was scratchy and when he spoke he felt like knives were sliding down his throat.

Her smile grew wider. "Nice name."

"Th-Thanks," Perseus' voice broke.

He closed his eyes again. He wasn't in the mood to do anything else.

"Feel better," Annabeth gently touched his arm and got up to leave. Perseus sighed and let his neck muscles relax. He must've blacked out, because the world eventually faded away and drifted far from his reach.

His rest was abruptly interrupted by a voice.

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

Perseus opened one eye slowly and saw Fabullus. "Get up!" Fabullus pulled him up harshly by his bruised shoulders. Perseus winced. "You're supposed to be cleaning up the mess!"

Perseus nodded slowly, his mind still foggy. He felt like sleeping for a few days straight through.

He couldn't take one step without agitating some part of his body. His sides felt sore and he groaned from the pain when he bent down to put out the fire. "General Brutus wanted me to let you know that you won't be getting dinner like the rest of the slaves," Fabullus said coldly. Perseus noticed that all of the slaves were slowly eating two slices of bread each. He had to admit that he felt the fire of anger light up in his belly. He wanted food. He hadn't eaten since that morning, and all he had was a few olives. His stomach growled as if to agree.

Sighing, he cleaned up all the mess and put the leftovers into saddle bags.

The slaves were devastated to learn that they had to get moving right after dinner and that there would be no more rest until daybreak. They'd be at the ports by then and would be shipped to Rome. Some of them, anyway.

Perseus's mind was becoming blank after all the walking when he felt a timid tap to his shoulder. He turned to see Annabeth smiling up at him shyly. She reached into her dress and pulled out a piece of bread. "You need food to heal properly."

Perseus stared at it for a moment. "Annabeth…you need to have this yourself. Who knows how long it'll be until our next meal."

Annabeth's face communicated resolve. "Exactly." She brought the bread closer. They kept their eyes level and stared each other down. Finally Perseus conceded, and grabbed the bread tentatively from her. He took a small bite and Annabeth's face lit up brightly. Glancing at her, he finished it all.

"Thank you," he said, his voice level and respectful. Annabeth bowed her head. "Of course, Perseus."

She was so kind. She was like his mother.

Percy couldn't look at her anymore. He averted his eyes, lost in thought. He felt warmth and a soft touch on his shoulder. He looked up and saw her grey eyes shining with unshed tears. "We all lost someone today," her voice gentle. "We lost our home." She turned around and walked to a small group of Corinthian girls. There was one boy as well. Perseus nodded even though Annabeth was gone, because he knew she understood. Annabeth understood.

They reached the ship by dawn. It took a while to get the ship set up to go back to Rome, and the newly made slaves were crammed under the deck. Perseus was lucky to be placed next to Annabeth and a guy named Leo. Annabeth smelled like lavender. Leo smelled like smoke.

Leo was an interesting character. He had a slightly darker color than the typical olive skin color and his features were impish; mischief written on his face. His eyes were a dark color that glinted with humor. Perseus was thankful because he didn't mind his slightly larger build was intruding on his space. Leo was pleasant to talk to as well. Perseus hoped that being a slave wouldn't harm him so much he'd lose himself.

The three of them got along pretty well, but it began to feel stuffy and it became agonizing that he couldn't move from his position on his back. I think this is the point, he thought. Otherwise we could be standing to conserve space. They want us to lie here and stay static. The small of his back was beginning to feel sore.

"I miss home," Annabeth said softly, "What's going to happen to us? What's happened to Corinth? I don't want to—" she turned her head, beginning to cry, "I'm afraid…"

Perseus didn't know what to say to help her. So he settled on, "Me too. We—We can be scared together."

Annabeth looked at him, then glanced down. She hesitantly grabbed his hand. "Promise me, Perseus, you'll never forget Corinth. You'll always fight for Corinth, never Rome. No matter what."

Perseus nodded. "I promise."

She smiled at him warmly and then nodded off to sleep. After a few minutes, she snuggled up close to his side. He stiffened at the movement, but relaxed when she moaned in her sleep.

He closed his eyes and fell asleep himself.

About a week later they reached Rome, and Perseus felt like he'd gone to Tartarus and back. Every part of his body was so sore. He didn't want to lift a limb. He was parched and he needed to eat. He'd never been so skinny in his life. And it was worse to watch Annabeth. She was emaciated. He tried to offer her his food but she always insisted he eat his own.

A few times on the ship the soldiers would take random slaves and take them away. Perhaps they were going to different cities to work. There were only about twenty or so left when they arrived in Rome.

They were practically pushed off the ship. Collars were put on them, and it took all the self control Perseus had not to try and rip it off. They then went directly to the slave markets. The slave markets were busy and bustling. People were yelling and the streets were packed. He saw slaves from all places on the stands, looking hopeless. Men looking for slaves would look at the plaques while other men in special white garb, the slave traders, would explain the "features" of each slave like they were products. Perseus's shoulders slumped. He was feeling hopeless too.

As Perseus walked to his place on the stand, Fabullus pulled him aside. "I will try to purchase you myself. But I cannot guarantee—"

"You! Strip!"

Perseus was confused. Everything was so overwhelming. It was loud and chaotic and he wanted to leave. He looked to Fabullus. He nodded. "You need to remove your clothes to get on the stand." And with that, he walked away. Perseus was shaking as he removed his clothing and walked onto the stand. He was barely there a minute before he was swarmed by buyers. His plaque was apparently very impressive.

A loud voice stood out from the others. "I'm looking for a teacher and a companion for my little girl."

"May I ask how old the Lady is, my Praetor?" asked the slave trader.

"Ten."

"I have the perfect slave for you, my Praetor."

Perseus's heart stopped as they walked towards him.

The Praetor of Rome?!

The Pretoria was an older man with a large white beard and electric blue eyes. He was tall and broad-shouldered, he was strong and intimidating. He had an air about him that communicated strength. Right beside him was a girl not much younger than he was. She had wavy auburn hair that was tied up into a bun, and she was wearing a silver headband to add to the look. She wore a long silver dress made out of fabric so light it flowed to the ground like water. A silver armband was clasped around her forearm. The girl had delicate, retry features, and skin like porcelain. She caught his eyes with her silver ones. They reminded him of the moon.

"Here is Perseus. He is from Corrinth, Greece. He's twelve years old—only two years older than you my lady, and is highly educated. He can read, write, and speak in Latin and Greek. As you can see he has other assets as well regarding his physical appearance." He pointed at the plaque. Right then Annabeth stepped next to him, her hair falling over her shoulder in long flowing waves. She wasn't wearing any clothes either. Annabeth did her best to hide her body using her arms. She looked away, humiliated. Perseus wanted to stand in front of her protectively.

"This is Annabeth. She's twelve as well, you see. She'd be the perfect companion! She is quite educated as well. I believe she'd be an excellent choice!" the slave trader was so enthusiastic Perseus was disgusted.

"She seems like the best choice, as she is the same gender…"

"No," the girl said sharply. She narrowed her eyes at him, staring him down with her powerful gaze. "I want him."

Translations*

*I suggest you don't look these up on Google translate. It won't come out right, as this is true, real Latin I studied in school.*

Sed illud est valde stultum. Cur passer? :: But that is very stupid. Why the sparrow?

Scio, meus filius. Amo te. :: I know my son. I love you.

Quaeso servare me et mea mater velim! :: Please spare my mother and me!

Dicesne Latine? Bene. ::You speak Latin? Good.

Ita:: yes

Vappa :: scum

GREEK (Sorry if some are wrong. I do not speak Greek)

Naí :: yes

Eî kakó :: you are evil

Se agapó :: I love you

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions and if you enjoyed reading.

Until next chapter!