Note: I do not own Percy Jackson, nor any of the characters related to it. I would like to point out, however, that only the invention of Percy Jackson, Camp Half Blood and other half bloods belong to Rick Riordan. The Gods and Monsters belong to the culture of Ancient Greece, a place held in high regard amongst history. I do, however, own Echo. She is of my own invention and I do not wish for any other to use her. I have not profited from this fan fiction.

Okay, this is set in the Roman times; during the Reign of Octavian. I actually worked to make this very realistic; Horatia and Pollio are real people as far as I am aware. I read about Horatia and her pain with Pollio and wanted to work with that. My main source on this is 'Cleopatra's Daughter' by Michelle Moran, and is a brilliant novel. I would recommend it to anyone. Any questions, just ask and I will reply to the best of my knowledge. Here are some definitions.

Capri is a place along the coast of Italy where rich merchants would go to escape the sweltering heat of Rome. Pollio's Villa was much bigger than most and could house over three thousand; mostly slaves.

Palatine was a section of Rome where the wealthiest patricians (Rich merchants, senators and the Ruling family) lived.

Plebian's, or Plebs, were members of the lower classes.

A Praetorian was a Soldier that specifically protected the ruling family

The Silphuim Plant was believed to be an herbal contraception.

Ornatrix is a Slave Girl proficient in hair styling and make up.

Umbraculum was the Roman term for an Umbrella, or parasol to protect from the heat.

'Domina' is the feminine term for Master, the masculine being 'Domine' and the plural being 'Dominus'.

Oh, and I'm warning you now. Scenes of a sexual nature? This chapter is guilty. ;)

Horatia stood alone on her Portico watching her Husband, Pollio, waddle off into the distance. Tears sprung to her eyes as she thought of him. She hated him. He was old, far older than she, but she had been married off to him at 13 to gain prestige for her family. Pollio was a vile man and she had always hated him, even before she knew she was meant for him. He was a very wealthy merchant; it was true, with a massive, sprawling Villa in Capri and an enchanting place on the Palatine in Rome. She should be perfectly happy, for she had made a marriage worthy of one in the ruling family. She lived in the comfort and style befitting her husband.

And yet...

Horatia was now a woman of medium height. Her long black hair was luxuriously combed by her slaves each morning and came to her lower back. It was often down, and many of the Plebian women commented on it as she walked through Rome with her guards. Her eyes were startlingly dark, those of a Roman, and held a great deal of beauty. Her looks was the only reason Pollio had chosen her and she knew it. She had always dreamed of being married to a dashing young male; a great Soldier, maybe even a Praetorian, in his armour and his red cape. She had imagined the solemn departure, the long, painful wait and the passion homecoming in the leave of a Soldier more times than she had cared to count. Yet, her family had given her to Pollio. She despised him with a fiery pit that welled deep inside her stomach and festered deep inside her soul. He had taken her on their marital couch for as long as she could remember; however much she tried to forget, and then left to have a slave girl. She drank from the Silphuim plant to prevent any pregnancies, but the amount of slave girls she had had to send away because they were pregnant with her Husband's children had reached 53 now. Her crystal clear mind had remembered it because of the tears of their families as she had had to separate them. Her slaves hated her, but there was nothing she could do. She could only endure. It was all the women could do. She would wait until Pollio finally died and be remarried to a different man of her families choosing.

Horatia passed a dark hand over her face, coming away wet with sweat. It was the middle of June. They were due to leave the sweltering heat of Rome on the first of July, as they were to feast shortly after with the ruling family, Octavian, his wife and sister. Most importantly Julia Claudii was going to attend; Octavian's daughter and a close friend of Horatia. She sighed, uncomfortable in dwelling on such negative thoughts. She went inside to the spacious Atrium, where the Slaves fell over themselves to get away from her sight. She straightened her tunic of the deepest green, which complimented her dark features. Her Emerald jewellery simply furnished her elegant beauty. Her stomach suddenly began to feel restless and her eyes flicked around her home, around the stunning mosaics and startlingly sculpted frescoes. Something deep inside her was pulling her into the depths of Rome, and it almost frightened her. The pull was electric and to not follow it was almost painful. She snapped her long, slender fingers and her Gallic Ornatrix, Faustina, rushed to her side. "Fetch my Umbraculum. I wish to leave for the Forum." Faustina curtsied gracefully. "Should I get your Escort as well, Domina?" She asked, staring at the floor. "Not today. Today I wish to be alone." If the pretty, young slave girl was surprised she did not show it but simply rushed away to do her Mistress's bidding. Horatia watched her with a mixture of fondness and sadness. Faustina was her favourite slave and Horatia had made sure her Husband did not know about her. She didn't know how long she could do it, however, and she knew she must treasure Faustina's friendship for as long as she could. The slave girl rushed back, with a satin Umbraculum, and handed it to her Mistress, who smiled.

She took it, opening it up against the burning sun and wordlessly walked out of her home and onto the dirt road leading into Rome. She sighed, effortlessly weaving through shouting Plebs, grumbling centurions and old, gossiping senators. She did not know where she was going, but the 'pull' was guiding her. She suddenly stopped, staring up at the Temple of Neptune. She stepped into the cool marble temple, which smelled of sea salt. It was strangely empty, but she automatically knew this was where she was supposed to be. She sighed and took a stick of incense and set it alight in a burning, bronze brazier. She set it at the feet of the statue of Neptune, God of the Sea. She prayed silently for a blessing, one that would make her life just that little bit better. She frowned slightly at all the injustices she had had committed to her in her life and all those she had committed to others. All of the troubles, the weights the world had seen fit to place on her shoulders, seemed to suddenly come out in tears. They flowed freely, silently, as she let all her woes out at the feet of Neptune, a God she didn't even believe in. Suddenly, the smell of the sea filled her nostrils.

"Do not cry, my Pretty One. You should not cry."

Horatia looked up, startled to see a handsome young man crouching beside her. He spoke with a Grecian accent that surprised her. She scrambled back, almost tripping over her rich, silk tunic. "I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in here..." She stuttered, but the man put up a hand to silence her and such was his authority that she did indeed lapse into silence. "Come with me." He said simply, standing and holding a hand out to her. She almost argued for a second, but something stopped her. She looked up at him. He looked young, with a chiselled jaw line and strong features. He dressed in a toga virilis, so he was old enough to be married, but nothing indicated that he was. Thick black hair curled at the nape of his neck. His skin was paler than the normal Roman and that, added with his accent, made her think he was originally from Greece. His green eyes, however, were what drew her to him. They were... Odd. They changed in the light and she was transfixed by them. Almost mindlessly she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet with no effort. Deciding not to relinquish her hand, he led her to a back room of the Temple. It was a lovely little room, obviously for one of the Priests of Neptune. He led her to the couch and sat down on it. Normally, Horatia would have refused to sit in a man's chamber, on his couch no less, but something about this man made her feel safe and secure. He watched her as she sat demurely on the silk surface and smiled at her. "Now, tell me. What is it that bothers you?"

Horatia hesitated; her worries were that of a woman. She had never yet met a man who had ever understood the pain of any woman, let alone her own. She bit her lip and something compelled her to look into his eyes. That flash of safety rushed through her once more and she knew in that moment she had never met a man like this. Before she even realised it was happening her worries were spilling from her mouth in a icy tsunami of woe and fear. The tears were once again spilling, but silently, for she was a strong woman that came from a good family of pure lineage. The man simply watched her and nodded understandingly. When she finally stopped and wiped her tears away shakily, the man put comforting hand on her knee.

"You have suffered so much for someone so young, Horatia."

Horatia blinked, suddenly unsure as to whether she had actually revealed her name. She sighed impatiently at herself. Of course, she must have. How else would he have known it? She gasped. "Oh, I am sorry! I have beguiled you with all my tales of woe and yet I still don't know your name, although you know mine." She said, with a soft smile. He chuckled in a husky baritone that sent little prickles of desire down Horatia's spine. "I have gone by many names. However, I prefer Poseidon." Horatia nodded, unable to do much else as lust slowly crept into her body. She had never lusted after anyone quite as badly as she did at that moment and she struggled to keep her emotions in check. He shifted closer to her and her eyes widened in alarm and anticipation.

She had always been a good, faithful wife to Pollio, even though she had never wanted him. She had been taught from a young age to place her honour as a woman even higher than her life and she had never dared to go against that; but suddenly she wanted to abandon it all just to have this man. She didn't want him to be the big 'what if' in her life. She wanted to be able to experience true pleasure. She wanted to be swept off her feet. So she smiled and took the biggest risk she had ever taken in her 18 years of life. Poseidon placed a hand on her cheek, shifting even closer to her. "I hope you do not mind me saying, but this husband of yours... Pollio? I do not think he deserves a woman like you. I have never met someone quite like you before." Horatia blushed, before looking up provocatively.

"Would you deserve a woman like me?" Poseidon looked taken aback before relaxing and giving her a slow chuckle, pulling her even closer. "I don't know, Mistress. Why don't you tell me?" Horatia leant up to his face and pressed her lips against his, her heart thudding in her chest. The thrilling feeling when he kissed her back rushed through her veins as Euphoria and desire took her and he pushed her down onto his couch. His strong chest pressed against her breasts as he lay on top of her, his strong thighs pressed either side of her hips. Slowly he slid his tongue into her mouth, not something she had ever done before. She gasped, but slowly began to grasp the concept. As their tongues met, Horatia felt the need and want build up between her legs. She moaned slightly with longing, earning a smile from the man on top of her. He slowly brought his hands up her sides, sliding smoothly across the silk of her tunic. He reached the pins at her shoulders and slowly unclasped them. She smiled as he pulled away and gave her a sexy grin, before removing the pins from the folds of material and placing them by the side of the couch. She giggled, the knowledge that with a simply pull she could be in only her loincloth and breast band beneath him made her giddy. Poseidon smiled, as he slowly began to remove his own clothing, eventually leaning on top of her in only his loincloth. His excitement was easily visible and Horatia could feel herself getting wetter in anticipation for him.

Slowly becoming impatient Horatia began to pull down her tunic inch by inch. When Poseidon caught sight of her he growled slightly and bent down to kiss her again, sliding her tunic down himself and eventually helping her to kick it on the sea blue mosaic floor. He pulled away again, marvelling at the woman beneath him; the dark contours of her body, the long curving lines, writhing beneath him with her obvious desire. Her breathing was becoming faster and he revelled in her lust. He let his hands run over her body and listened to her moans as her body reacted to him. She grasped at his hair and pulled his lips down to meet hers once more. She smiled, her whole body felt as if it were on fire with passion as she let her nails gently rake his back, earning a little nip on her lip. She smirked. He bit her lip again, eager to get revenge. He slowly let his left hand run down her body and trace small circles on the inside of her thigh. She bucked her hips slightly, but was held down by Poseidon's strong thighs. His fingers slowly pushed the loincloth aside slightly and the tip of his finger slid across her soft, damp curls softly. Her eyes flew open and she gasped suddenly for air. Poseidon chuckled, and slid two fingers into her core, probing and exploring sensually with the digits. Horatia arched her back, letting her head lean backward and her hair spill like a fountain on the couch. Poseidon began to explore deeper and deeper, until Horatia could feel herself brimming to a climax. As Horatia released, Poseidon withdrew and kissed her with renewed vigour, positioning himself above her. Horatia kissed him back in a fever, wanting him inside her so desperately she didn't know how to control herself. Pulling his own loincloth off, Poseidon knelt above Horatia, who finally saw his body in all its glory. With a primal instinct and not really thinking about what she was doing, Horatia leant up on her elbows and took Poseidon into her mouth, pressing her tongue against the shaft and sucking in an upwards motion very slowly. Poseidon's intake of breath and his obvious shiver to her touch was enough for her to continue. She slowly began to build up the speed and increase the suction before Poseidon pushed her back onto the couch with a firm but gentle strength. With a single, fluid movement he plunged into her and she gasped at the size of him. He held still, not oblivious to her pain, and kissed her gently whilst allowing her to adjust. She nodded slightly after a minute or so, and Poseidon began to move inside her. Horatia's breathing once again began to quicken as she felt the ecstasy build, even more than before. She hadn't ever believed herself capable of the pleasure she was feeling and suddenly the risk was worth it. She felt Poseidon grip her more firmly and he leant down to kiss her with an urgency that forewarned her of his forthcoming climax. Horatia pulled his head down and kissed him deeper, increasing the speed and power of the steady rhythm. Poseidon responded with enthusiasm, pressing against her and quickening the motion even more, but remaining gentle. Horatia spread her fingers as the tingling pleasure erupted throughout her body, washing over her. She felt herself reach climax, and felt her Lover tighten his hold around her as he climaxed as well.

They lay together once finished, sweating and panting, still wrapped in each other's embrace. Poseidon regained his breath first and tenderly kissed Horatia on the forehead, before standing and dressing. He looked at the naked woman on his couch and grinned, as she smiled and sat up. He motioned for her to wait before dressing and went into a side room, coming out with a deep basin of lavender water. He washed her himself, sliding the water over her and allowing it to trickle between her breasts, kissing her wet shoulders. Finally he dried her with some fresh linen, smiling and touching her all the while. She smiled as she dressed, carefully replacing her pins and her long, black hair, slightly damp and arranged fetchingly around her shoulders. Poseidon smiles, almost in a melancholy fashion, and Horatia caught it. "Poseidon? What is wrong?" Poseidon caught himself and smiled, stepping over in a few long strides to wraps his arms around her tightly, pressing her to his chest. Horatia blinked rapidly, holding back tears. "Will... Will I ever see you again?" Poseidon looked down at her and nodded. "Yes. But it may not be for a while, my Brave Lover." Horatia nodded, holding her chin up. "As long as I can see you, I do not care when it is." Poseidon kissed her tenderly on the lips. "I shall count the days. Now, close your eyes." Horatia thought it strange, but did so. Poseidon released her and stepped back, before stopping. Horatia heard no more movement from him and frowned slightly. She heard the small sigh of the wind, maybe an open window, and her eyes flew open. She was alone. She spun around, but Poseidon was nowhere to be seen in the little room. Oddly, nor was there any open windows or not even anywhere any winds could escape. She walked out, confused, picking up her abandoned Umbraculum and looking briefly at the statue, where her incense was still burning furiously. She froze, startled. A tingle fell down her spine, as she looked into the Statue's eyes.

They were the eyes of Poseidon.

Okay, firstly I'm sorry about the wait. My Muses do NOT work mortal hours, I'm afraid. I know this seems completely off topic, and I'll be interested to hear your theories. Please review! Thanks for all the people who have done so already! You're, like, friends of mine for life! ^^