Hi guys! I'm Riley, author of Elena's story, if you're familiar with any of our other stories on this account.

This takes place in between part 1 and 2 of Elena/Emilie's stories, which is one year after part 1, a year before part 2. For those of you who don't have any idea of what that means, this is roughly the year 2014, when Percy is 20 years old.

Disclaimer: I own a lot of OCs with Whitney, but I do not own any of the characters from the books.

WARNING: There will be spoilers from every single PJO book.

-xxx-

I'd fought, and not died, in a full-out war when I was eleven, after Silena tricked us into fighting. That hardly scared me. I was a son of the war god. That's the kind of stuff we live for. I was claimed when I was ten, after a week of fending off the Hermes campers and kicking ass at javelin throwing. My sister, Clarisse, had liked me immediately. I'd never be caught dead telling her, but she reminds me of my mom, Margret Venn. It had a lot to do with the way she was really tough on the outside, but could be wounded if you pushed the right buttons. And I had always been really good at pushing buttons. I figured that out when I left. I never got to say sorry. I wouldn't have, anyway.

I'd been going to some 'juvenile delinquents'' school for the past few years when I met this huge guy- and when I say 'met,' I mean that he tried to kill me. It turned out he was a giant- I can't remember how exactly, but I killed it. And then things started to get a lot worse. I was getting into fights with monsters all the time, and then this nerdy kid, the one who I always threatened to shove head-first in the toilet, started telling me I was a half-blood, and that he was some half-goat thing. I didn't listen to him, until he showed up at my house and then my mom started telling me to listen. We got into some fight, which we rarely did, and I left. The satyr took me to Camp Half-Blood, where I've been ever since.

I get along with my half-sibs pretty well. Of course, 'getting along with' in the Ares cabin means picking on, beating up, and stealing the items of. And everyone else, especially the Poseidon kid, Percy Jackson, or something, even though we all have a little bit of respect for the guy since he raged full-out war with the toughest guy out there.

Life is pretty simple. Beat up, get beaten up, sneer at the other campers when they do something amusing. We really aren't as smart as Athena's, the fellow War goddess', kids, but we knew our way around camp. Anything that makes you weak is out. Love is somewhat of a strange subject for us, considering our dad is dating the love goddess, but most of us eventually find someone. Like Clarisse, and her boyfriend Chris. They've been thinking about getting married. I never expressed interest in anyone, and my sibs aren't exactly the type to try and set anyone up with someone, so I never dated. Because, not once in my six years at camp, had I told a single person the truth.

I'm gay.

-xxx-

Not all of the cabins were participating in the race, but like always, the Poseidon/Athena team of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase-Jackson, with their modified chariot, were in. Their chariot was the old Athena one, silver, with an owl on top of a sea-green trident, led by white stallions. It was way too dainty for my taste. They made good competition, but that didn't mean we weren't going to win. Ares won just as often as they did, and this time, I was driving. We don't always win, I'll admit- the Hephaestus cabin rigs their chariot with a shit-ton of different devices that I'm sure we haven't seen the full extent of, and Hermes has a bunch of tricky bastards who may or may not play by the rules. I mean, it's not like we follow the rules either. All is fair in war, right?

I looked over our chariot, bloodred and wrapped with barbed wire, with our father's symbol, a boar and spear. It was crude and harsh, pulled by two skeletal horses that were provided by our father. As usual, they paid us no heed until the race actually started. It was a great chariot, alright, but it was nothing like my Dad's. Driving it is a right-of-passage for sons of Ares when they turn fifteen, and I'd driven it last year. Phobos and Deimos had tried to give me a hard time, but I'd held them off for just long enough to take it for a spin and then get it back to my dad.

One of my brothers was loading the chariot with boxes of caltrops, spiked balls, a sword or two, javelins and extra tips, spears, Greek fire, bronze nets, and lots of other things my javelin man was going to use against the other chariots. I was grinning already, this was my favorite sport.

"Red, here," my brother said, tossing me my helmet. I caught it with a clang, as it hit my breastplate.

Turning to check out the competition, I saw him, and I felt as if the wind was knocked out of me. Sucking in a deep breath, I risked another glance. Manning the other Athena chariot was Mark Clemens. I'd been in love with him for the past two years. Two summers, anyway- he was a summer camper. He's literally the smartest kid I know, athletic and outgoing, and could give anyone a run for their money in one-on-one combat. His honey-blonde hair stuck up at odd angles, and as I watched, his ice-gray eyes scanned the crowed, as if evaluating how to take them all down. I liked that in a guy.

His chariot was a different shade of silver than his sister's, although both chariots had the sign of their mother, the owl. It, like his sister's, had bronze reinforcements and white horses. His javelin man appeared to be one of his sisters, who was about his height- a few inches shorter than me- and had the same honey-blonde hair and lithe figure as he and all the other Athena kids. She leaned back against their chariot next to him and said something to him. It made him throw back his head in laughter.

Turning away before they had a chance to catch me looking, I looked at everyone else's chariots. Hermes' chariot looked rickety and like they had thrown it together at the last moment (and now that I think about it, I thought I remembered a few Hermes kids skip breakfast to get it done) with nails sticking out of it everywhere. I couldn't tell if that was by design or not. It was manned by the Stolls, who were hunched over something in their chariot. I knew from experience to keep an eye on them.

Apollo's chariot was solid gold, and if it was as weak as last time, it was going to be a piece of cake to demolish. They'd polished it so much I could see myself staring back. They say I look like my dad- stocky and muscular, with short, spiky brown hair and brown eyes- wicked handsome, I guess, but without most of the scars. My position radiated dominance- I stood with my legs apart, my arms crossed, my head tilted up. I, like everyone else that was participating, was wearing armor over the Camp Half-Blood shirt I had grabbed from my bed that morning. It had been haphazardly thrown over the side of the bunk, and it looked clean, so I'd put it on. Our cabin wasn't going to win any awards for cleanliness, and it wouldn't have passed inspection, had we not been the ones with inspection duty today. My jeans were full of holes, and one of my combat boots' shoelaces was untied.

I heard the metal whine of the Hephaestus chariot driving up, the last campers to show up- a little late, but no one really cared as long as they made it in time for the race. They were flanked by the rest of their cabin, who scattered at the sound of the conch horn, along with everyone else who wasn't racing. I climbed onto my chariot, which rocked slightly, but then settled back down. I pulled the reins, which made the horses whine, as my javelin man climbed aboard as well.

I maneuvered us to the starting line, where we were all starting to line up. "Charioteers," Chiron called, "Attend your mark!" Mr. D never bothered to get up before ten, so Chiron came alone.

The starting signal dropped at his command and we were off. The crowd was roaring and I could barely hear the rowdy cries of, "Kick their asses, Red!" and "You have to my chores if you loose!" from my cabin mates in the stands. They were the loudest, hooting and cheering at me. I reveled in it, grinning maliciously at the other Chariots.

Poseidon/Athena was down within the first ten yards. Their wheel was caught on Hephaestus', which dragged the two chariots along together for a few feet, while both parties frantically tried to unhook the wheels. With a wicked grin, Leo Valdez, who I didn't know well, although he seemed like a pretty decent guy, since he made a lot of cool weapons and most of my javelin tips, sliced off Percy and Annabeth's wheel before they had a chance to see what he was doing, yelling, "Sorry!" over his shoulder as they were pulled a few more feet on one wheel. The side of their chariot that had lost the wheel was dragging across the dirt as their chariot shook apart.

By this time, they had bailed out moments earlier, Percy yelling, "Jump!" and tumbling into the grass, with a few curses in ancient Greek about how they'd build better wheels and suspension next time. As her mother was the inventor of the chariot, I wouldn't doubt it.

I let out a bark of laughter, turning back to the race ahead. We were in second only to Athena. We were catching up to them when Apollo rammed into our side. The barbed wire scratched up their paint job, but they didn't seem to care too much.

"Shouldn't you runts be good at this?" I sneered, "Your dad drives one of these! Oh wait, he's never taken you out to practice, has he?"

They frowned and nodded at each other, switching places quickly. The one who had been driving bent down and scooped something up, throwing it at us. I realized too late that it was a weighted net. "Sherman!" I yelled at my brother, who grunted in acknowledgment. He brought one of the swords up, slicing through the netting. I veered left to avoid a bag of Greek fire that exploded on the track right in front of Hermes. They took one look at each other and dove to either side of the track before their chariot caught fire.

Two down, two ahead of us.

I signaled for Sherman to throw the caltrops, to slow down Hephaestus, who still hadn't caught up. We were entering our second lap when we caught up with Apollo. Their chariot might have been lighter, but ours could withstand a lot more stress. My brother took one of the javelins and used it to push Apollo behind us. He threw our own metal net on them, which made them loose control of their horses.

"Yeah!" Sherman yelled, and high-fived me.

We were approaching Athena, when Mark's sister said, "Shit. They're catching up!" only barely discernable above the noises of the track. We had half a lap to go, and we had to win. "Go!"

Behind us, Hephaestus and Apollo were duking it out, with one or the other getting ahead, only having the other pull them back with what looked like a hooked pole. Mark tugged on the reins and they sped ahead, but it was pointless, we were right behind them. Sherman was throwing balls and chains at their wheels, only narrowly missing each time, with the Athena girl knocking them off course. He used the pole to push aside Athena, making them skid only as long as it took us to get slightly ahead. They rammed into us, and it was neck and neck for the last few feet. We crossed the finish line to a roar of cheers.

The chariot stopped with Athena shortly behind, and a moment later, Hephaestus and Apollo. I held my arms up and cheered, while our cabin chanted our names from the stands, stomping and whooping, banging their weapons on the stands. Chiron came over to award us the golden laurels, which made our siblings yell and stomp even louder. But as soon as Chiron reached us, a wave of protest came from the Athena campers. My sibs poured from the stands and surged up to meet the approaching Athena campers. Sherman and I jumped down from our chariot at about the same time Mark and his sister jumped from theirs', to go join the fight.

Well, it wasn't an actual fight yet, just a bunch of angry kids yelling at each other, but it would be, if we had anything to say about it.

"They crossed the finish line first!" yelled one Athena boy. Clarisse knocked him back on his ass, but two more of them came up to meet her. She crossed her arms and glared at them.

"Oh yeah, you little punk?"

All of a sudden, my line of sight was blocked by a head of blonde hair. I took a step back when I realized who it was in my face. Mark was scowling, and said, "We were ahead of you!"

I took another step back but he matched me step for step, staying in my face. I didn't want to fight him, but if he kept pushing me… "We won. Somewhat fairly," I smirked. He shook his head, a sour look still on his face. He jabbed me in the chest with one of his fingers.

"You know we won! Our horses were ahead of yours!" he said, in my face. Anger was welling up inside me. I shoved him back roughly. A look of shock briefly flitted across his features, and I crossed my arms, smug. It wasn't easy to shock a son of Athena.

"Give it up, Mark," I sneered, putting all my anger and smugness into those words. Being a son of Ares meant I was always full of anger. "You're grasping at straws."

"Damn it, lets settle this," he spat wretchedly. "We'll ask Mr. D to tell us who really won."

"Chiron was just about to hand us the golden laurels, who do you think won?" I laughed in his face. His eyes darkened, and he grabbed me by the shoulder strings of my breastplate, dragging me towards the big house. He was surprisingly strong for someone of his size. "Hey!" I protested, and tried halfheartedly to escape his grip. I ended up stumbling behind him. His chin was tiled upwards as he walked. He didn't even say anything to his sibs and they just followed him.

I nodded towards Clarisse, who called out, "Time to go settle this, kids!" and followed us up the hill. My brothers and sisters mingled with Mark's- who all had determined looks on their faces, just like he did- resuming their arguments. I sighed, it sounded a lot more weary than I had intended. Mark faltered, glancing back at me, and I couldn't tell what that look on his face was. He quickly looked back ahead of him, the stubbornly proud look that I liked taking it's normal place on his face.

He'd released me halfway up the hill when he was sure I'd follow, so I did. We gathered in front of the big house- all of Athena, Ares, and most of all the other cabins who came to eavesdrop- still in the midst of argument. It was escalating to the point of where everyone's weapon was half drawn.

"After we're finished I'll personally make sure you guys have to do our chores!" one tiny Athena girl piped up, facing off my biggest brother, who towered over her. He was nearly twice her size, but she held her ground. It was something we had to respect about the Athena cabin, however much they pissed us off at any given time.

A few feet away, one of my brothers was pulling away from his girlfriend, Drew, from the Aphrodite Cabin. She was biting her lip, and still holding his hand, her arm extending outwards the farther away he got. She looked like she was asking him to not fight, or something. He looked reluctant to part with her, but it was in our nature. Even some silly love goddess' daughter couldn't do anything about that. I could hear the other arguments- some which had gone past just the chariot race's winnings.

"MR.-" Mark started to call, hands cupped around his mouth to make himself louder, when suddenly there was a bright flash of light. We all shielded our eyes. I lowered my arm and turned back to face the big house. A few other people were still squinting, and I heard more than a few, "Oh!"s.

My dad, with his leather biker jacket and sunglasses covering his flaming eyes, was standing in front of us. Well, sort of. He was more of a projection, and he was floating. He was much larger than normal humans, but smaller than his large Mount Olympus form. If I focused hard enough, I could see that he was almost see-through, like a projection.

He laughed, and it was like rocks grinding over gravel. "Look at this! I show up and my kids are in the middle of a fight! I taught them well!" a few of us shifted around uncomfortably. He hadn't taught us anything, but damned if we'd say it. My dad scowled, and a few people flinched. I held my ground.

"Uh huh," he said. We exchanged glances and a few confused shrugs. We didn't know who he was talking to, "Red!" he barked, searching the crowed for me. He found me, and narrowed his eyes, sizing me up. I stood tall, back straight, tin tilted up defiantly. He seemed to like what he saw, because the next thing out of his mouth made me grin, "You're going on a quest," he hiked his thumb backwards over his shoulder.

I looked him in the eye and said, "I accept," like it was a challenge, and with my dad, it had to be. He held my gaze.

He laughed again, "You have guts, kid. I can see you're mine," I kind of felt like I was going to pass out, and everyone who wasn't from my cabin or Percy, was looking at me like I was crazy. So I did the smart thing.

I smirked and said, "Obviously."

"Don't get too cocky," he huffed. "You haven't heard what the quest is."

I faltered. I hadn't heard what the quest was. I could be stealing cows of Apollo, or I could be asked to battle legions of the undead on the river Styx. Although I wouldn't know why my dad would need me to do either of those things. I nodded.

"You have to fetch three of Hera's golden apples," he said, holding up three fingers. I slouched in disappointment. Heracles had already done this, as well as Luke. I hadn't known Luke personally, but that guy had some pretty bad stories floating around about him. And I'd fought against his army. "But you can't get them from Mount Orthrys."

I was dumbfounded, "What?"

"That's what I said, kid. You have to find them somewhere else."

"But… how?"

"Can't say!"

I frowned, and Dad spoke again, "I think that's- huh?" he said, turning to the left, as if he was listening to some invisible person. "Yes dear, right," he grumbled. He turned back to me, then let his gaze wander over the crowed, till he settled on someone in the distance. "Oh, and take him. And no one else. Or else," he said, pointing.

"Me?" a familiar voice squeaked. Mark looked shocked, pointing to himself. My dad tilted his head in acknowledgement. If it were possible, Mark went even paler. He swallowed, and nodded. I frowned. Did he really hate me that much?

My dad started to disappear, but as he faded, he said, "Take a walk! Go to Atlanta! That's all I can tell you!"

It didn't occur to me till later that he might have said 'Atalanta,' not the city.

-xxx-

After my dad disappeared, we consulted the Oracle. She spouted absolutely useless things about going south to the land in drought (Atlanta, probably) and trading gold for gold. We were baffled. So we parted ways, and went to pack. We decided to leave late that afternoon.

As my sibs piled into our cabin to help me pack (really to throw things at my head and give me pointers on how to blow shit up) and wish me off (probably call out suggestively and take bets on whether I'd come back alive,) I debated the best way to kill myself so I wouldn't have to suffer through days of Mark. The ways were getting more and more creative the longer I stood there. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with him- I was in love with him, after all- it was that I might make a really big mistake and accidentally tell him or something.

My oldest brother- the one who had been fighting with the little Athena girl- walked up to me and winked. He made suggestive gestures and said, "Gonna get some, bro?"

I swallowed, and knew he was only goading me, "What?" I asked slowly, continuing to stuff my weapons and (probably) clean clothes from my trunk into the ratty backpack.

He leaned in close, leering, the stench of his breath in my face, "You think we don't know?"

"Um," I said. One of my siblings guffawed.

My brother patted me on the shoulder, sobering up for a moment, "Seriously, kid. We might look like we'd give a fuck, but you're a son of Ares. Don't let anyone give you shit about it. Kick their asses if they try."

I stood gaping at him, and I'm sure I looked stupid, but all I could think was, "Oh shit they know I'm gay."

I didn't realize I'd said it aloud till I heard another bark of laughter, and someone said, "No shit Sherlock. We live with you."

"Uh," I floundered, "I… um okay," I said, hardly knowing what I was agreeing to. My brother laughed, along with half of the cabin, and patted me on the back.

"Go kill some shit for us," a few of my siblings patted me on the back (hard) as I stumbled out the cabin to meet up with Mark in front of his cabin. The door slammed shut I arrived, giving me only enough time to see that his cabin was filled almost entirely with stacks of books and papers. Way too much reading for my demigod mind.

Mark was standing in front of his cabin, watching me with his ice-gray eyes. His blonde hair was tousled from the light breeze, sunlight dancing on it, making it almost glow.

-xxx-

In case you're wondering, this story probably isn't going to be very many chapters. Most likely five at most. It's the love story of Mark and Red.

ALSO, as you may notice, Mark is a son of Athena. "Mark of Athena" ring any bells? Ironically, I created the character of Mark during the winter of 2010, long before the Mark of Athena book ever had a title.