Olympus Apocrypha

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or Fate Stay Night or Fate Apocrypha

AN:Hey everyone. Sorry about taking so long for my story, but I had others on the go. Thanks for all of the reviews you guys have given me so far. In regards to the Servants summoned in this chapter. I will show you guys the basic stats, real names and personal skills of two of them revealed in this chapter, the ones summoned by the Greeks of the Seven, and the rest of the Red team when they arrive at Camp Jupiter. The Black faction, in it's entirety, will be featured in either the next chapter or the one after. However, the Noble Phantasms will only be revealed when they are used in the story. I have to keep you guys wanting more in some way don't I? :)


Perseus looked onto the blood red dawn the next morning, unleashed by the rays shining in his eyes as an uncharacteristically grim expression lined his face, even as he tried to savour the dawn air, trying to relax.

Things were not all well within Camp.

Especially with four Masters making up the population, one of which was his girlfriend. He could only be thankful that he would fighting side by side with all of them, instead of eventually having to fight them.

The end of last night had proven more than a little hectic.

FLASHBACK

Percy sighed heavily, slumping in his chair, as the Oracle looked around confused and Athena worried over the health of his girlfriend and her daughter, Annabeth.

He knew more Masters would be chosen, but he hadn't expected one of them to be her. Though he might have guessed, especially if his hypothesis was correct. Something that Caster had said ringing true and, hopefully, giving him a way out of this mess.

Though, if he ever got ahold of the Fates... A bloodbath wouldn't even begin to describe the aftermath.

Consequences be damned.

"And so another is chosen," he said calmly, cutting through the babbling and arguments amongst his divine family, even his father joining in. He looked at a worried Annabeth, straight in the eyes, "please show me your hand, beloved," he said softly.

He ignored the blinking around him, focused only on the woman who held his soul in the palm of her hand, even as he ignored the glare of Athena and the soft squeals of the Lady of Doves. To them, saying such a thing was out of character for the 'Percy' they knew.

For him, it was returning to and remembering what he was taught by Archer during that one month period.

Blushing slightly, Annabeth held up her hand, baring the brand marked back of it.

A quick glance of the marking, crimson glowing, seeming etched into the skin and bleeding a little, showed that is was authentic to the experienced Grail War Master.

"It is definitely a Command Seal," Percy commented.

Athena carefully examined her daughter's hand gently, even as the rest of the gods returned to their seats. It looked like a stylised owl, separated into three sections. One wing held high, one foot stepping forward and a forward facing head with body.

"It seems quite different than yours," Athena said with a tone of annoyance and disapproval.

Percy shrugged. Before he tone would have made him nervous, now, he didn't care less. He had experienced horrors and come out changed and stronger, but unbroken. A god's wrath, while still dangerous, didn't really phase him now. "No two Command Seals are ever the same in my experience. Considering their are supposed to link souls together, it stands to reason that the seals may take a form that represents the soul of the bearer in some way."

"So Annabeth's one of these Masters?" Questioned Nico in the place of his father, who looked like he was about to speak.

Percy nodded quietly, "which means I will have to walk her through the summoning ritual in order for her to summon her Servant," he choked a bit on the last word, remembering the spectre that had been behind the Oracle when she gave the prophecy. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten his face, much to his shame.

Archer? Would you still answer my call? Percy gripped a hand over his heart, feeling the soft thrum of power behind the walls of his flesh, blood and bone, the feeling of a soft golden light suffusing him invisibly for a moment, helping him to relax.

"You know the summoning?" Demeter asked, looking wholely surprised, "but I thought that...?"

"The Grail aided me the first time," he interrupted, "it used a sudden outburst of my power as a catalyst through the Command Seals it branded on me just before, to summon my Servant." Percy grimaced, "of course, as with everything that is done in a hurry, the results were not perfect, leaving my Servant weakened a little by the improper summoning, as they need power from their Master to keep themselves existing, which placed us at an immediate disadvantage against our enemies. If my Servant wasn't as strong and skilled as he was, or if, even through his tutoring, I was unable to eventually fix the bond, we would have been dead within the first fortnight."

Ares chuckled slightly in glee, "now your making me curious, punk," he said with a grin, "who was your Servant that he was so powerful, even when he was weakened?"

Percy scowled slightly, not willing to sully his friend's name to answer the War God, but knowing he had to give some type of answer, "I just called him Archer. It was what he went by so he could hide his identity and, thus, weakness from our enemies."

Percy inwardly smiled at the annoyance on Ares' face. He may respect him, a little, in hindsight due to his old memories being restored, but he doubted he would ever get along with the War God.

Percy wasn't one to make unnecessary conflict. He just finished them. Completely.

Percy noticed Hephaestus and his wife stiffen slightly, looking out through the windows towards their respective cabins, obviously feeling something wrong.

"Oh my," gasped the Lady of Doves, even as her husband grunted in surprise and shock.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what they had felt, not when Percy had all the pieces of the puzzle, or at least most of them.

"One of yours became Masters as well?" Hades asked them before Percy could, honestly proving to the child of the Seas that he was the smarter of the Big Three. Love him though he did, his father, while smart, intelligent and knowledgable, wasn't quite up there with Athena and Hades in his opinion.

A quiet nod was all he received, but truly was the only thing needed.

"Anyone want to bet that two more were branded when the Oracle went off?" Dionysus asked dryly, sipping his can of Pepsi, "with Peter and Annie, plus whoever summoned the monkey man, that would make seven."

"Three more actually," Percy corrected.

Apollo blinked in unison with everyone else before he interjected, "but I thought that the War was supposed to be a seven way free for all. Unless I miss my numbers, 7 minus 1 equals 6," he counted off on his hands, "you, Athena's girl, one each from H and Aph's cabin, and two more unseen. That is six."

"And I would agree with you," he said with a nod, "but something the intruder said and the prophecy that just spouted from Rachel have made me think otherwise. Something about this war is going to different."

"What do you mean?" Hera asked, leaning forward in her throne, her brown eyes piercing the young Sea Spawn intently.

"The intruder introduced himself as 'Caster of Black'," he explained, "if it was a normal War, he would have just identified himself as only Caster, which is one of the seven roles a Servant can take in the War." He sighed heavily, "with the new great prophecy, and the one just heard, I think it is going to come down to seven half-bloods, with their own Servants, facing an equal number of opposing Servants and their Masters, of a Black team."

His hardened green eyes pierced all there, mortal or immortal, "This means that there are going to be, at least, fourteen Servants running around, seven of which are going to be backed by 'Sons of the Earth ' and the others backed by delicate mortal half-bloods. Definitely not the fun of the fair."

Deep intakes of breath were heard as they all understood what he meant, his father's grip on his shoulder tightening greatly.

He was so tired now, his heart and soul wrung out. He just wanted to rest, to let those memories, cherished and despised, good and bad, of those days, to return to the depths of his mind.

"Lord Zeus," he asked in the quiet, drawing the God King's attention with his, to the divinity, unusual manners, "I have given you what information I can in regards to the current plight facing Olympus. If it pleases you, I ask that you inform the Masters who have just obtained the marks to meet me in the Arena tomorrow, so we can go about summoning the Servants so this Quest can begin. With this prophecy just given, we will be able to track down the last few Masters on our side and make our way to the staging ground of the War, where will fight our opponents, and crush this blight upon the earth."

"I agree that the Quest should begin as soon as possible," Zeus rumbled in agreement, his eyes narrowing slightly, "but there are certain... issues... With the prophecy and it's meaning. Issues that we Gods have kept to ourselves, for your own safety."

Percy nodded, "I suspected as much with your collective reactions during Rachel's outburst."

Thunderous eyes narrowed even more, "You are far more observant than you were," the words were idle even if the stare was fierce. He could feel his father stiffen, ready to move. He obviously thought his youngest brother may do something... Precipitous.

"A skill I learned at my Servant's feet during the last War," he demurred, "it, along with a few other skills, were locked away at the same time my memories were."

Eyes narrowed even further, "It seems you are far different than what I had believed you to be," Zeus looked long at him, as if judging him, "whether that is good or ill remains to be seen."

Percy didn't shift an inch, looking at the King with complete calm.

Zeus kept his eyes on him, even as he addressed his son and daughter-in-law, "Hephaestus, Aphrodite, inform your chosen children to be in the Arena at high noon tomorrow," after the nods, Zeus' eyebrow quirked in question at Perseus, "is there anything else required for this Summoning?"

Perseus shrugged, "It depends on how it is performed. One way, we can choose the hero summoned, one of great power and fame, using a catalyst, something that represents the legend of Hero you desire at your side. An example being a fragment of the King of Conquerors, Iskander of Macedonia's cloak will summon Alexander the Great. This, however, runs the risk of summoning a Servant that you are not compatible with, despite the power of the individual, leading to ruin for yourself and your Servant. United we stand, divided we fall and all that."

Many raised an eyebrow in wonder at that, no doubt thinking of the various heroes of their own blood and the opportunity to summon them to the world once more. Mothers and Fathers able to speak to their children, brothers and sisters to know them for real rather than in the pages of history.

"And the other way?" Athena asked in interest. Her grey eyes intent, though a trifle puzzled at the 'King of Conquerors' title.

"The other way is to, in a way, send out a beacon," he explained, "you push your spirit out, showing your true nature, and a spirit responds. Whether they be strong or weak, is rather pot luck. Even 'good' and 'evil' is up for grabs."

"What?" Spluttered Drew Tanaka of Aphrodite Cabin, "but I thought you said Heroes would be summoned. How does evil come into play?"

"Have you even read the legends?" Percy asked rhetorically, "in many myths, the 'hero' of the story accomplished many great feats, but also committed acts of depravity that are disgusting by any standard. As much as I dislike to think of it, my half-brother Orion is the perfect example of that."

Many in the room winced at the name, Artemis' face filled with a rage that mirrored her twin's. Despite his rather impressive feats, he was truly little more than a selfish savage. Even his father had truly regretted siring the man, such was his disgust towards his own offspring.

"Another part of it is the nature of the Throne of Heroes, which is inherently neutral despite other beliefs. I said you needed enough fame. Infamy works just as well. Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Bathory the Bloody Countess, Jack the Ripper, Tamamo-no-Mae the Bewitching Vixen even Frankenstein's Monster managed to get in there. All of these and such of their ilk, also dwell within the Throne and can be summoned. As well as heroes from other religions. Karna the Son of the Sun God, Robin Hood, Miyamoto Musashi the Sword Saint, Attila the Hun, Julius Caesar, Horatius the Defender, Siegfried the Dragon-Blooded Knight, Beowulf the Bane of Monsters, Moses, Ramses the Second. I could go on forever. Wherever there is man, there are heroes and villains, and the Throne holds them all."

Everyone, and he did mean everyone, stared at him.

Percy blinked as he realised that with that speech, it was the most animated he had been all night.

"There are other pantheons out there?" Asked his beloved with awe, looking at her mother, "truly?"

"Yes, there are," Athena responded with a slight purse of the lips, "though they generally tend to stay in there own ancestral lands rather than move as the West does. There have been some conflicts between us at times because of this due to the increase of Western influence, but nothing truly major except for the Shinto during World War II. Nevertheless, every pantheon tries to keep clear of the others, just so nothing really does happen."

"It is something we try to keep a lid on," Hermes explained, "encouraging any children of ours who do have encounters with others to keep quiet about it. Less confusion that way."

"Agreed," nodded Athena, before she turned back to her daughter's paramour, who she was now scrutinising even more with his change in attitude, "though it appears you are quite well read to be able to list so many."

"I looked through the various myths and legends after my memories returned," he said with a slight shrug, "it helped me get my bearings, to be able to balance my mind between the old and new memories," he chuckled slightly, true humour and fondness in it as he reached into his shirt to draw out an old paperback, caressing it slightly, "this was the first one I obtained once things began coming back."

He felt his father stretch in order to look down and see the title. He helped him out.

"The Mahabharata. The Hindu equivalent of the Iliad. Describing a fourteen day war, called the Kurukshetra War, and the events that lead up to it, between two sides numbering in the millions. Gods and demons, heroes and villians. Many were the number of Hindu Half-bloods involved in that struggle," he smiled at Ares, who looked to be in ecstasy at what he had described, "the Kurukshetra War was the Hindu version of the Trojan War...without the sordid heartbreak and romance.

"It was also the battle that my Servant had been in before he died and ascended to the Throne," he smiled sadly, remembering the days when Archer had taught him after a hellish night. How to read, to think, manners, the arts, martial discipline and so much more.

He glanced at Annabeth, her nose slightly twitching in that curious and cute way of hers, "it was he that you saw standing behind Rachel when she prophesied."

A flick of his wrist and the book was now in his beloved's lap, "Please give it back when your done, it is a reminder that I do not wish to lose."

Percy slowly stood, looking at the table as he did so, locking eyes with his royal uncle, "By your leave Lord Zeus, I will retire for tonight so that I can be prepared the next morning."

Zeus nodded in agreement, "This meeting is adjourned," he declared with a rumble of thunder, "we will recommence at high noon in the Arena. This summoning will be seen and believed."

The deities all began to leave, their thrones and bodies flashing out of existence, returning to Olympus. Soon, only Dionysus and his father remained.

Poseidon looked his son in the eyes, "I think we will need to have a long talk, sometime soon. Privately."

Percy looked up at him, The Lord of the Sea's gut unclenching for the first time that night as he saw his son's familiar crooked grin at last, "Indeed," he said with a nod, "after the summoning?"

Poseidon nodded, a small smile on his face, patting his child on the back, and vanishing in a swirl of water.

Percy looked at the absent spot for a moment, before he left to his own cabin.

The long and tiring day finally ended.

But a new one, a longer one, would start.

Tomorrow.

END FLASHBACK

Percy sighed heavily, closing his eyes as the dawn breeze and the soft light of Apollo's charge washed over him. He could remember, back during those times, having to fight and move all night, keeping up with a legendary hero turned almost-deity despite not even being in his teens, the darkness was both their ally and foe. Aiding their concealment while doing the same for their better prepared enemy. It was only as the new day dawned, liquid gold flowing onto the streets, that all fighting was halted, none of them willing to chance drawing the attention and ire of beings capable of squashing them.

It was because of those days that he welcomed and loved the dawn.

Dawn represented safety, survival and life to him from then on. It still did even when the memories were sealed and suppressed.

But this sunrise, Apollo's orb was crimson as spilt blood, reflected his views of the coming struggle. Not even a year after the Crooked Bastard had bought the farm, permanently this time, another war and battle drifts into view from time's horizon.

Percy's shoulders hunched. The only time worse during those days, was the hour of dusk, when the enemy emerged from their shelters of the day, and proceeded to hunt and fight and kill, their actions filled with blind righteousness, their goal excusing all means, as they stepped upon a blood drenched path to the Grail.

He despised those times, wishing the gone and forgotten, even as he equally loved them, his partner being a salve on his battered soul even as the bond grew.

And now, those days were awoken from their dirt nap he thought he and Archer had put them in permanently.

His eyes became chips of emerald, hard and cold. Things would be different this time. He was faster, stronger and more skilled than ever before. Even his magecraft, despite not being used for such a long time, had even improved, waiting for him to call upon it, for it to devour the enemy.

He once had to stand aside, to hide, like a coward, as Archer fended off all foes, helpless and weak and unsure of his place in the world.

Now though, he clenched a fist, rather than be forced to cower due to the disparity of power, he would be able to proudly stand beside the Oathbound Prince, as friend and comrade once more.

His equal.

So locked in his thoughts was he, that he almost missed the gleaming form of Athena's daughter, his beloved, as she slowly strode toward him, her hair a bright gold as the light if dawn bounced off it.

Paying more attention, he saw the signs.

Narrowed eyes, a worried lip, a furrowed brow and a twitching pair of hands.

Percy sighed slightly, resigning himself to the interrogation he was about to receive from his girlfriend as she strode with purpose towards him.

He knew it was going to happen. He knew her too well.

Just as well he was prepared.


Annabeth Chase, Leader of Cabin Eight, daughter of Athena, was a young woman on a mission.

Last night, her world had been turned inside out, never mind upside down, with the amount of revelations taking place.

Holy Grails, Heroic Spirits, Magi, other Pantheons. All of which was beyond confusing. But she managed to take it all in stride, stubborn disbelief despite clear evidence was not a wise trait after all, just as a child of Athena should. However, there was one particular revelation that had her on edge, and making her scold herself for not seeing it months earlier.

Percy was no longer the Percy she thought she knew.

About a month after they had began an official relationship, she had noticed slight changes in him. Subtle and small ones, barely noticeable, but in hindsight seemed to be greater than she had originally thought.

Increased focus on jobs at hand. A more studious demeanour. A way of taking things far more seriously. More thoughtful and patient. An drive to excel that seemed crafted from the bones of the earth itself.

She could pick up on these things, remember them, after spending a sleepless night going over her interactions with her boyfriend after the revelations.

She had thought that these changes were because of his growing maturity. Obviously, there had been more to it.

These changes, and ones she probably hadn't unconsciously noticed, all revolved around memories that had been released, ones that had been locked away.

Ones she hadn't been able to share with him.

It made her ill at ease. She had thought she knew who her boyfriend was, what was inscribed in his deepest hearts of hearts. She had thought she knew what made him tick, what made him think.

What was held dearest to him.

She had thought she knew. Now she wasn't so sure, even as she desperately hoped that that part him, the one that held golden hair and grey eyes close to him, hadn't changed.

She didn't think she could cope if it had.

To see into the heart of this morass of these emotions and thoughts, there was only one thing she could do, something that was, not exactly anathema but certainly not her most favoured of plans. She needed to be bold, blunt and forceful.

She needed to grab the bull by the horns.

She needed to confront her problems head on.

She needed to talk to Percy, bluntly and forcefully, without any hidden agenda, forthrightly.

This, thus, brought her in the early hours, barely at the break of day, had her striding up the shirt path that led to Cabin Three.

Much to her surprise, her grey eyes, calculating and observant, saw the relaxed form of her boyfriend as he reclined on the grass around his cabin, his bare torso, his visible muscles compacted and toned, creating the much sought after V-cut and six pack abs, much to her embarrassed pleasure, leaned on the wall of said cabin as he looked towards the ocean. A small breeze stirred his short, dark locks of hair idly as his gaze never wavered from the blood crimson sun, something that made her want to scold, doing something so potentially damaging.

But that was small potatoes compared to what she really wanted from the child of Poseidon, her Seaweed Brain.

As if sensing the directions of her thoughts, despite her being not quite within earshot, his head turned towards her.

Her own steel grey eyes met the hard emerald of Perseus. She kept approaching, eyes locked and not saying a word. She would save them up for her little fact finding mission, a quiet one, rather than shouting them for half the camp to hear.

To her surprise, the face that had not held a true smile for the last week as far as she could recall, slowly let his lips turn upward slightly, even if his eyes turned slightly resigned, and gestured to a bare patch of grass that was directly beside him, before turning back towards the rising sun.

Annabeth frowned. Did he just blow her off? She shook herself. No. No, even if the world burned, he wouldn't do that. The brief thought still stung slightly though, gnawing at her uncertainty on who he truly was, rather than what she thought he had been.

She quietly took the offered seat, using the wall of Poseidon's cabin to slide down beside the one she hoped still held heart. Neither of them spoke for a time, a silence that was both familiar and tense falling between them. She had so many things that she wanted to say, so many questions to ask, that she didn't even know where to begin. She felt like she was almost bursting at seams, wanting to explode with her inquiries but pure willpower preventing her tongue from tripping over itself. She knew if she started to speak, this whole conversation would go downhill faster than Sisyphus' boulder.

Thankfully for her, she wasn't the one to break the silence.

"I remember when I first saw a sunrise," Percy said softly, jolting her out of her whirling thoughts enough to hear what he was saying, "I must have been six or seven, not exactly sure of the precise date, and Mum and I were at Montauk. She had managed to get some time off work and had a friend drop us at the cabin. The foul malodorous pig," she could hear him spit the words, disgust in every one of them, and if she was correct in who he was referring to, she completely agreed. She had had a few talks with Sally Jackson over the past year, stories and opinions traded to and fro. Her former husband had only come up once, the stony expressions on both mother and son made sure she never brought it up again, "was gone on a trip some where in Michigan, so he was wasn't a factor," he smiled slightly, softly and slightly crooked, a Percy smile she had seen for as long as she had known him, even if they had rarely come up over the last few months. It put her at ease somewhat.

Somewhere in there, her Percy still existed.

"I was a little restless the first day after we arrived," he continued, "so I ended up awakening when it was still dark. I clambered out of bed, quietly passed my sleeping Mum and went down the beach, sitting in the sand as my feet brushed the waves as they rolled in, a steel grey to match the sky," he smiled softly, "it was probably one of the most relaxing times of my life," he chuckled ruefully, "or even the only relaxing time of my life."

Despite herself, Annabeth couldn't help but smirk. Considering his life, she wasn't surprised. Trouble seemed to follow him like a lost puppy.

"Then I saw the faint glimmer on the horizon," he smiled, his lips curling lightly, "a dim red circle, slowly ascending into the heavens. With every moment that passed, it grew brighter, from red to orange to a burning gold. As I watched, I couldn't help but think of the life it lived, ever shining, ever bright. A life I desperately wanted to strive, even in those early times," he sighed slightly, "to me, that shining orb was the symbol of hope, a part of a dream I wanted to make come true," he grimaced then, his face and shoulders tensing and flexing, making her distracted for a moment as he took in the shifting of his bared muscles, "during the Grail War, I came to see it as nothing more than a sign of a ceasefire, a signal that I had survived another night of Hell, a portent that life would go on... At least until the darkness came once more," his face hardened, turning to the stony features that she had seen so recently and yet remained alien to her, creating the mask of an angered warrior legend, his wrath so hard, so cold that it burned, "and that be damned and befouled vessel forced me to forget that lesson and more. Lessons, skills, knowledge and more, that could have been the key to keeping a few more of my friends, my family, alive."

Annabeth lowered her head in respect for the dead, even as he agile mind began to put the pieces together, almost profiling this stranger in Percy's skin.

Perhaps she had been too hasty, too quick, about knowing her boyfriend. She had always been surprised by him before, his battle tactics being more spur of the moment and instinctive made predicting, anticipating and facing him a nightmare in battle. It was one of his more well known and, to his enemies, feared traits. But, as if to balance that, there was always one thing, one specific line of thought, that always made his enemies know where to strike, where the son Poseidon's weakness lay.

His fatal flaw. His personal loyalty.

His Heart.

Amongst all of his friends and family, he was always willing to lend a hand, to help them however he could, in whatever endeavours they had, often at some expense to himself. Not that he really cared much. To him, his family and friends, his nakama (to use a term she had run across while playing some of the computer RPGs. Some of the presented quite a challenge in the strategy department, much to her surprise), were his world.

And if it meant trading his life for them to have even a second more, he would gladly pay it, even if the world had to burn for it.

To know that he, somewhere, in the deepest depths of his mind and soul, had the ability, the power, the strength, to be able to save some of those he had lost and to not to have used it...

Now she wasn't as sure that her boyfriend had been drowned beneath this new (or old, she wasn't sure which) and less idealistic persona. If she thought about it, given the few scraps of information she had been able to parse from his words, she could admit that this Percy could be her own, if the experiences he implied happened to him had been remembered.

It was both a sobering and oddly comforting thought.

But it still brought up something she wanted to know, needed to know.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" She asked. It was an important question. Relationships, especially ones were desired to be long-lasting, were all about trust. Trusting your partner with your past, your present and your future.

It hurt somewhat that he hadn't shared such a major event, a turning point of his life, with her.

Warm arms suddenly engulfed her, pulling her into a bare muscled chest with a squeak, something that she would fervently deny ever having done forever after. She forced down a heavy flush as her cheek met the solid flesh of her boyfriend. Even if they were in a relationship, they had yet to go this far, so blushing was still allowed. That blushing was pushed to wayside, however, when her head was tilted up, eyes looking into each other for the first time that morning.

The eyes of Perseus were still the same sea green as always, but there was a new light in them. She had seen them in sorrow, plagued with anger, hardened with determination and alight with happiness, but she had never seen this one before.

They seemed to be pools of molten green, burning and rippling as the sunlight seemed to dazzle them, but there was something even deeper in them. A smouldering green fire that seemed to ready to engulf her, hungry for her heart and soul, desiring to claim it. A fierce possessiveness that made her feel like a fragile china doll in his muscular arms.

Her body quivered in response to that strange look, a deep primal response that she didn't know she had let alone control over. The quivering was not in fear, nor in terror. Deep inside herself, it was a deep anticipation, a wanting that made her blood seem to burn.

Paralysed by these new feelings, the hungry fire in her boyfriend's eyes, all she could do was shiver as his hot breath passed her ear as he spoke, "You have seen the changes in me because of what I remembered," he breathed gently, tickling her and making her previous flush seem like nothing, "I love you too much, too hard, to risk that what I remember will change you as much as it changed me," a gentle and warm hand caressed her warm cheek, "you are far too precious to me, a light in the darkness, a pillar of strength that I draw from, to risk losing you to my own abyss," light kisses were showered on her forehead and down her cheek, "even if I must walk a lonely road," those heated lips reached her ear and delicately nibbled, making her moan silently. Di Immortales! What was he doing to her?! "Even if I must bear the burden of all within my sight," her breath came hard and short, gasps of air she tried frantically to swallow as heart pounded faster and harder, as those nibbling teeth and lips worked down her graceful neck, devouring it, before working back up, "I will never chance losing you," the burning lips were now at the corner of her own, even as her hands clenched at her boyfriend's shorts, hoping to keep a hold of her faculties a little longer.

His lips halted, hovering over her own, even as his smouldering eyes were locked with her own wide grey ones, "I am conflicted. I am scared of losing you, the you that you are now," his lips moved, his breathe, a sweet mint, brushing against her own ruby lips, "but I know you deserve the truth. Your nature will not permit anything else," his large hands, rough and powerful yet feeling like silk, caressed both her cheeks, before cupping them, "so I give of myself, so you may know."

So flushed and confused and, dare she admit it, aroused, that she didn't have time to interpret her Seaweed Brain's words, before his lips met hers in a fierce lock, his eyes shining even more.

Then everything was tipped on it's head.

As she lost herself in the kiss, each of them devouring the other in their heart-hunger, she could barely feel something, like a river of power and strength, as it passed through her. Even as her body was experiencing pleasure she had never had before, her mind, so confused and twisted, was left wide open. Something that Perseus took advantage of.

Her mind was assaulted with images, almost overwhelming her, except that the majority of her focus was on the lips that met hers and the feel of the hard abs of her boyfriend as they were stroked by her roaming hands.

*****
A dark alley, filled with trash and steam emitting from vents placed into the concrete slabs that made up it's floor. In it a boy, small and scared, looked at an approaching figure with fearful green eyes, scrambling on his butt backwards away from the approaching black clad figure, until his back met the wall of the alley. Neither said anything, one approaching silently, stalking, like a hunter does its prey and the other desperately looked for a way out, somehow knowing any pleas for survival he voiced would be ignored.

The being was close to the boy now, it's skull-like mask catching the dim light of the moon as it raised back the dagger in it's hand, ready to rend the boy of his life. Desperately, the child threw his hands in front of him, a futile attempt at protecting himself, even as something deep within him, startled awake, answered his inner wordless pleas of deliverance.

The back of the boy's hand, inscribed with a small stigma, like a brand, suddenly lit up in a blinding crimson light, making the figure flinch back and halt it's advance on instinct.

It would be the last mistake it made.

The blinding crimson became an incandescent silver, making the alley appear as day, even as a heavy weight seemed to weigh down on the boy, pushing him flat on the ground even as a sudden wave of exhaustion almost robbed him of consciousness. However, he still managed to retain enough of his mind to notice the next sequence of events.

The skull masked assailant, one that had already killed a man whose body lay just at the entrance of the alley, suddenly jerked back from his startled position, his head snapping back. With an arrow piercing him directly between the eyes and protruding from the back of his skull.

Dead.

The boy could only watch in disbelief and horror at the now corpse fell backward, slumping onto the cold concrete, blood pouring like a river from the holes in its skull. Weirdly to the boy, their also seemed to golden sparkles, little lights, that gathered around the dead body, swarming and wrapping around where it fell.

"Che," a gruff voice interrupted the boy's morbid fascination, "such filth."

Ignoring the body, the boy turned to the source of the voice and couldn't help but look in awe.

He was tall, easily over six feet, and muscular, but not like a body builder, with weathered but smooth skin that was a deep tan. Beneath the long silver beard, the boy could make out the slight scowl as the man looked at the slowly disappearing body of his would be attacker. His silver brows were furrowed as well, matching the spiked helmet and the hair beneath. He was clad in silver armour and silver cloths, making him look like a beam of moonlight upon the darkened sea. In his hand was clasped a massive bow, just below the man's own height, which seemed to be the source of the arrow that had taken his attacker's life.

There was also a presence about the man, something that the boy couldn't make sense of. A feeling of power, might and majesty, as if he were more than human, above human.

To the boy, he seemed like a hero that had stepped out of the pages of history to save him.

Harsh eyes suddenly turned to him, before immediately softening, a soft glow that the boy hadn't really noticed coating this strange man slowly ebbing. Those eyes, so warm, so like his mother's, made him feel like he was protected, as if the hosts of darkness that sought his life would break upon the owner of those eyes, never to reach the boy.

Even as the boy felt his body relax, exhausted from pumping the adrenaline and the newly awakened power the boy was unaware of, and his sight begin to fall into darkness, he heard one last statement, one that would confuse him even in his dreams.

"In accordance with summoning, I, Servant Archer, have appeared," the gruff voice of the man-who-was-more-than-man said softly, "I ask of you; are you my Master?"

Then darkness engulfed him.
*******

The memory passed through her, as if she had read it in a book. She could see the information, understand it, but there was no emotion, no heart in it.

The deep kiss went on, more images filling her lust preoccupied mind.

****
The flash of sword, splitting a silver arrow as it streaked towards it's owner. Baleful eyes watching the origin of the missile atop a tall building, hundreds of yards away. The large Archer, with a mere boy at his side, already stringing and firing a barrage of identical missiles at the sword bearing target. The fur covered swordsman growled lowly, spinning one of his three blades, before hurling the now crimson glowing sword toward the pair.

FLASH

A horde of beings, twisted, grotesque and strange, charged full on into a silvery cloud of arrows, screaming and wailing and roaring their war cries, a strange symbol burnt into each of their foreheads, even as, in the distance, a massive temple glowed bright with power, the sounds of hymns heard even over the clash of battle.

FLASH

A woman with hair as crimson as blood, a face painted with black ink, grinned fiercely as she charged in her chariot, thundering toward a stoic Archer and his charge, her bright spear almost howling for blood.

FLASH

Archer was twisting around wildly now, firing his bow at the speed of a machine gun, even as the boy at his side thrusted his hands out now and again, seeming to twist the rain to his will. Each of them picking off the individuals of the skull masked swarm charging them from all angles on the rooftop, scrambling up the walls in order to reach the surrounded pair, like a swarm of spiders.

FLASH

A massive bronze skinned giant charged toward Archer, a veil of crimson hexagons reflecting the silver arrows as he closed in, a massive hammer swinging toward Archer and the boy. Abandoning his attack, Archer swiftly grasped the boy and leapt towards the rooftops. A thunderous BOOOOOOOM and howl of rage was heard even as they both landed.

FLASH

Archer and the boy were in a church. Archer seemed to be slightly tired and blood seeped from his side through the bandages. The boy seemed grim, frightened and determined. They both looked up the aisle towards the altar.

A large golden cup, as wide as a kitchen sink, sat there, bubbling and frothing with a black liquid that had them both ill at ease. The palpable power and sheer malice it exuded told them both that it was what they were looking for. That what they were told was true.

Cold chuckling had them both broken from their horrified fascination with the tainted vessel, turning towards the source.

"Well now," the voice purred from the shadows, even as the figure moved into the moonlight piercing through the broken windows of the church, "this is a surprise," the figure chuckled again, pale and sharp features practically leering at them.

He was dressed all in black. Black armour, black boots, black leggings and a black spear that screamed evil and pain and torture, even as a black liquid dripped from its head.

"Move yourself Lancer," Archer demanded gruffly, "this whole War was a farce from the beginning. The Grail is corrupted and befouled. It will not grant your wish. Let us pass so we may destroy it before it taints this world more than it already has."

Lancer merely smirked slightly, "I already know that," his smirk widened at the eyes of the pair, "who do you think helped it?"

Archer and the boy didn't get to say another word, to recover from their shock and surprise, before Lancer was already in front of them, his spear slicing through the side of Archer.

FLASH

Blood.

FLASH

Fire.

FLASH

Anger. Pain.

FLASH

Darkness.

FLASH

Annabeth stumbled, before quickly recovering herself to stand up.

"What the Styx was that?!" She groaned to herself, holding her thumping head in order to relieve what she could of the migraine.

She groaned again as her mind slowly eased those images, memories she realised, into her organised mind. Not just memories, they were Percy's memories, ones that he had recently recovered.

She shivered slightly in remembrance. Despite the fact she had not been able to feel the emotion, the fear, that her boyfriend had no doubt felt in every one of those memories, she couldn't help but feel her heart pump faster. Even as removed as she was, like a teen watching a movie, the blood, the slaughter, the death and destruction she had witnessed via her boyfriend's mind, affected her.

It was almost no wonder that her boyfriend had changed when he had remembered these memories.

Having sorted her mind, she now observed her surroundings, only to halt at her first glance.

The place she found herself in was weak in light, but even with the limited light, she could see an endless expanse of a solid black paved stone floor, puddles of water everywhere, each square of the paved floor, each as large as the cabins at Camp, had a tall white marble column situated dead center, reaching almost higher than she could see, ending just before the clouds that filled the sky. Each of the columns was lined up horizontally, diagonally and vertically with another, each of these rows extending out of her sight. She vaguely thought she could see the faint glint of bronze atop the columns but dismissed it as unimportant.

"What in Olympus?" She whispered in wonderment, walking carefully along the stone floor to examine one of the columns.

Upon closer inspection, she could see the deep engravings carved into the stone. A picture of someone, slumped onto their knees, and bathed in flames and fire. It was disturbingly realistic. She could see the rips in his shirt, the holes that had been burnt into it and the sword that lay at his side in the cracked ground. A quick glance showed it was repeated up and down and all around the column.

It reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite place what. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand, curious about this carved piece of artwork. As her fingers came closer, she thought she could feel heat, deep and dull and powerful, like a burning stone, begin to creep up her arm.

Splosh! Clo-Clo!

The strange sound made snap back her hand, trying to identify the sound and where it came from, the heat disappearing. She was quiet, listening hard now, and she could hear the faint trickling of water.

Following it, she walked through the columns slowly, carefully, slightly apprehensive of what was happening and where she was. As she did so, she noticed the carvings on the columns were all different from the one she had examined, all of them depicting different scenes, but most of them had a similar subject, the teen she had seen in the first one.

There was one with a rip in his shirt again, near the shoulder, what little of his face that she could see scrunched in pain, and the obvious cause of the injury, a large spike-like object, buried in the wall depicted behind him.

There was another, his hand and arm swollen grotesquely, as he looked like he was stumbling through a forest.

These scenes and more were depicted, each seeming more familiar to her than the last.

Finally, after another frustrating five minutes, her mind going nuts trying to understand why each of the scenes on the pillars felt familiar, she arrived at the source of the sound.

It was a large square, a clearing of stone amongst this marble forest, the size of a football stadium, seats, field, lockers and all, completely devoid of the columns that otherwise stretched into seeming infinity. But that was only a side thought for the daughter of Athena, as all of her attention was focused on the centre of the otherwise empty space.

The source of the sound was revealed to several of those tilted bamboo fountains, like the one she had seen in the Kill Bill movie a while ago, arranged in a circle around a black altar, each of them filling with water that seemed to appear from nowhere, filling and emptying in complete unison, creating the loud trickling and hollow clapping noises that had drawn her ear.

On the altar was the centrepiece, the focus, of this strange, desolate and otherwise silent place. The immense figure of a man, rivalling the Colossus of Rhodes, bare of clothing except for what appeared to be a set of loose leggings, crafted from what seemed to by a mix of stone, bronze and steel, was kneeling hunched with his face to the ground, hair shaped metal hanging in front of the figure's face, hiding it from her view. His two arms were outstretched, palms toward the stormy sky, each holding up a truly immense shallow metal bowl. She didn't know if they contained anything, they were far, far above her head, and at that point she didn't really care.

Even if it was only because of the immense weight she felt upon entering the square.

She slumped to the ground, barely able to hold herself up by kneeling. She couldn't move anywhere except down. It terrified something big, as it felt like she was once more holding up the sky.

Only there was no Artemis to take it for her this time around.

As she struggled, trying to raise herself, breathing hard, she heard the immense groaning, something she had heard more than once in her Quest beneath the earth, in the Labyrinth.

The shifting of earth and stone, the grinding of metal, as something that had never known life began to move.

As she heard the movement of what was undoubtedly the statue, she also felt herself begin to rise, to float, the weight of the world no longer on her shoulders.

Faster and faster she floated upwards, ever upwards, accelerating faster and faster, rising towards the clouds high above. Before she hit the layer of low clouds, she had a brief glimpse of the bowls the statue held, each of them filled with vivid green glowing liquid, swirling and twisting like twin whirlpools.

Then she hit the clouds...

And, with a gasp, Annabeth was thrown back to reality as Percy ended the, literal, soul deep kiss he had been giving her.
Her thoughts tripped over one another, even as her frazzled mind and panting and burning body tried to calm themselves from what they had experienced.

"What," she croaked slightly, staring blearily at a calm but intense son of Poseidon, his eyes a vivid green, compared to his normal calm sea green, and seeming to whirl before her, "what was that? What did you do?" He dry voice, as if parched of water, demanded of the son of the Seas.

She could now see all the memories he had, ones that were hidden from him until recently, run across her mind. Had he just given her his memories?! Why did he do that? How did he do that?

Percy merely looked at her intently, "You asked to know why I had kept these memories from you, the reason I had changed," his seemed to glow, even in the now brighter sun, "Having seen them, the horrors and terrors that dwelled within, that I had seen," his eyes fell forward, somber now, but no less intense, "that I had done? Can you even blame me? Especially if I wanted to keep you, to stay by your side?"

Annabeth flinched violently, some the memories she had somehow been given coming to the fore. Images of blood and darkness and hands stained crimson. She saw some the actions that he had taken, some of them that would be deemed reprehensible by those who did not understand his reasons.

Part of her was horrified, even disgusted, by the actions of her paramour. Actions that would make even the most forgiving of saints deem him the devil incarnate if they knew. Actions done when he was still a child, innocent of the nature of the world. That part of her told her she should drop him like a hot rock, to break away from him, to cut all ties. Something she thought her Mother would approve of, even without knowing her own reasons.

But she would not do that.

Another part of her, the immensely larger part, while still slightly horrified, merely wanted to take this young man, this scarred soul, into her arms, to hold him close. If she had just been told of his actions by his own mouth, she would have gone with her other side, but by sharing his memories, his thoughts, but not his emotions, or at least not all of them, she was able to sympathise with him, knowing that choices he made were hard, beyond so, but he chose the best path he could with the options he had available, and he grieved deeply for the consequences of each one.

In a perfect world, there would be no bad choices. In a lighter world, there would always be a good choice and a bad one. In reality, sometimes, most of the time, there were only bad choices and worse ones.

She grimaced slightly to herself. Having seen these scenes of blood and slaughter, she now had a very good understanding of the changes that had engulfed her boyfriend, why he had hesitated to confide in her. What he had been through, the acts he had done, in normal society, or at least as normal as you could get for a half-blood, would hardly be condoned, let alone understood for the necessary acts they were. Understanding that, and knowing of his fatal flaw and the deep and powerful connection he had with her, the strong desire to be with her, it was unsurprising that he would hold his tongue, to keep his peace, and struggle through the obstacles and problems caused by the memories by himself.

Understanding all this, knowing his secrets that he had kept, even if she had learned about them in an unusual way, her next actions were not surprising, except to Perseus.

It was now the son of Poseidon's turn to be grabbed and pulled forcefully into an embrace, much to his surprise, his face now squashed firmly between her developing bust, much to his embarrassment.

"I saw everything," she spoke slowly into his ear, soft and gentle, as her hand gently stroked his hair, liking calming a frightened deer, stopping it from bolting, "every strike, every drop of blood that was shed and every spell that caused harm," she could feel the stiff and shuddering frame of her paramour, her partner, as she felt emotions begin to rise within him, ones that were kept suppressed by him for almost a year, dealing with them one at a time, barely making a dent in the sheer number of them. With him now on the edge, teetering above an abyss of madness, they swarmed to the forefront, engulfing his mind even as she knew that he hung onto to her every word.

"And I accept them," she held him tighter, feeling him tremble, burying her face into his hair, smelling the natural scent of the sea that he gave off, "I accept you."

As she held him, at the beginning of a new day, she pretended not to hear the choked sobs that came from his throat.

Beneath the rising sun, a heart was cleansed of the rotting guilt and anger and rage that had been festering within it for almost a year, tears washing away their presence, leaving healed scars.

Beneath the rising sun, a mind was filled with knowledge, dark and terrible, and yet was untainted by it's touch, allowing it bond even tighter with it's heart and the one who who held it.

As the new day dawned, the bond between these two lovers survived a heavy trial, stretching and changing, yet growing closer, tighter, stronger and far more powerful. The love between them was no strong enough to endure almost any hardship as each traded the other's darkness for their own.

As Apollo shined bright, as the Camp began to stir to life, thus was born a couple with a bond that would overcome anything.

Together.


Poseidon settled himself into the seats in the Amphitheatre, seated beside his sister and sister-in-law, Hera, and one of the more tolerable of his nephews, Hephaestus, as they all watched the floor and the gathered group of their children within it.

His son was clearly in charge, standing before the two young half-bloods that had not yet heard what exactly was happening, and looking pale and more than a little scared as they backs of their respective hands, as his son's lover, at least that was what The Lord of the Seas believed (the way they acted together left little room for alternative interpretation), interjected here and there in order to keep them calm.

His divine eyes noticed the slight curls of smoke as they rose from beneath the feet of the agitated elfin featured boy, the Hephaestus child if he remembered correctly, one that inherited his gift for pyrokinesis.

For a given value of calm, anyway.

"The kid needs ter learn ter calm down," grunted his nephew, as he eyed his elfin son critically, noticing the rise in his power and the curls of smoke.

Poseidon agreed heartily. The rare few of the smith god's children that inherited that particular trait that created disaster, the last one being the instigator of the Great Fire of London. They didn't need the Great Fire of New York to be added to the list.

"Alright," he heard his own son say a little louder, drawing his attention back to Perseus with the rest of the Council present, minus Apollo who had his duties to attend with the Sun, though Poseidon would wager an acorn to an oak that the childish Lord of the Sun was watching the proceedings intently from his chariot, "as much as I hate to hurry things along, especially considering how dangerous this type of thing can be, we are all on a deadline, marching to a schedule made by who knows who, who knows when, so time is of the essence."

Saying that, his son then crouched, placing his hand flat on the ground. His brow furrowed as if in concentration, and then Poseidon felt it. A pressure, a presence, in the air. His son's half-blood scent suddenly grew stronger as he no doubt delved into whatever abilities he had.

"Burst. Circle. Four," his son muttered, seeming to be trying to press his hand deeper into the earth.

Multiple tendrils of green energy seemed to burst from his son's grounded hand, racing along the ground and carving lines into it in it's wake.

Many of his siblings and niece and nephews all started along with himself. This was not something they had encountered, at least not for a very long time, and not from his son.

Magic. Not quite like Hecate's and those of her kin, but mortal magic, completely removed from the Mist and thus did not have it's power and aid. To think that his son had such abilities deep within him...

Poseidon watched as the children down on the floor all leapt back as the energy carved itself into the earth, creating patterns that were alien to the god but obviously had some meaning. He raised an eyebrow in thought as he looked a little harder.

Ah. His son wasn't just creating a single spell circle, if that was the correct terminology, he hadn't really delved into the Deeper Secrets of magic, watching over the oceans chewed into his time rather heavily, leaving him little room to study. He was creating four identical circles. Probably the Servant (and he still had trouble believing that such entities like those within the Throne of Heroes existed. It made him wonder how many more of his sons had made it there.) summoning circle unless he missed his guess.

"Interesting," he heard his sister, the Queen of Olympus, muse, making the rest of the Council look at her askance. It was not like her to say something of that nature about a half-blood, her distaste for them, especially those sired by her wandering husband, was legendary, "the boy used simple Alteration to imprint the design of a Ritual Circle into the ground, thus eliminating the need to draw it out and risking a mistake. Repeatedly and simultaneously," she tapped her chin thoughtfully as she analysed the efforts of his son, "Quite impressive."

Many of the Council nodded in agreement, accepting her analysis. Some of them may not have been able to immediately identify what his son had done, Poseidon being sadly among them, but they knew enough magic to understand what Hera, someone who had focused on her magic in order to fight in the original Titanomachy and had kept up her skills in that arena, had said and agreed. It was a unique use of the rather simple spell, one that was barely above a starting Initiate's if he remembered, but it was one that would have required a decent amount of skill, needing to keep in mind every detail of the circles and where they would be placed. A single wrong stroke, a misremembered or forgotten piece of the circle, and if it was used, especially considering what the circle was supposedly designed to do...

Well, let's just say Cthulu may not just be an idle thought and the creation of silly mortal imagination.

"What the Hell?" the child of Aphrodite, a beautiful, which was a given considering who her mother was, young lady of obvious Native American descent by the name of Piper McLean (whose last name rang a bell for some reason, something his wife had said.) freaked, looking at the resulting effect with wide kaleidoscopic eyes. It seemed she was unused the odd, weird, wonderful and sometimes down right terrifying things that happened behind the Veil of Mist.

Must be a new comer.

"Each of you take a position at one of the circles," his son hastily instructed, striding towards his own. He wasn't wasting any time. "Quickly," he barked at the children of the Forge and Love, Annabeth Chase already having already moved to one, kneeling beside it as his son was already doing.

They were quick to move, the soft, dark, rumble in his son's voice spurring them on.

"Now, place your hand in the circle," Perseus instructed, demonstrating with his own, "except for you, Annabeth," he quickly said, halting the Owl Head's spawn, "you will need to cut your palm, deep enough to draw blood, and then place it in the circle."

Poseidon winced slightly as Mother and Daughter's sharp grey eyes turned steely as they looked at his son. They wanted an explanation and they would get it, one way or another, even at the expense of his son's health.

He wasn't stupid enough to get between them when they were like that, he liked his balls where they were, thank you very much. He had learned the hard way that there were certain buttons on his rival that you did not push.

The fishing industry had taken a decided down turn for about a decade when he had last stepped over that line. His...virility, or lack thereof in that time...being linked to fish stocks for some reason.

His son was intelligent to see which way the wind was blowing and was quick to offer an explanation.

"Your abilities are different from the rest of us," he quickly explained, "you have no physical expression of your half-blood gifts, unlike myself with my magic and hydrokinetic abilities, Leo and his flames and Piper with her charmspeak. Each of those can act as a medium to carry the magic inherent in the abilities in order to fuel the ritual. As you don't have that particular advantage, you need something more basic, more primal, to act as a medium."

Poseidon saw his youngest sister and eldest brother nod in understanding, his grey eyed rival not far behind as her eyes widened in realisation. He could understand what his son was saying, it was one of the few sticking points that he managed hold over Athena. Her sons and daughters were good fighters, strategists and scholars, he would give them that, but they generally lacked some of the outwardly expressed specialised abilities that other half-bloods had. Instead, their gifts were focused inward, in the mind primarily, but also coursing through their...

"My blood," Annabeth said in realisation, "the very substance of life. It has ichor within it, the blood of the gods and their magic."

Perseus nodded in agreement before looking at them all piercingly, "What you each need to do is use your half-blood gifts as you chant the words I give you with your hand in the circle," he cocked an eyebrow at the two new comers, "Can you each do that?"

The pair looked at each other uncertainly, hesitantly, "I should be able to," said young Piper softly, shifting on her feet, frowning almost cutely, "I haven't really practiced with it, but I have used charmspeak unconsciously in the past," she frowned deeper, "it's turning it off that is the problem."

As he saw the Lady of Dove's rather wicked grin at her daughter's statement, Poseidon noted to himself to be careful around that young lady.

Percy merely nodded and turned to a rather apprehensive Leo Valdez, "and what about you?" He asked.

The lad seemed to fight with himself for a bit, his face a study in contrasts. He was obviously very very unwilling to use his flames, though the Sea God was unsure why, but knew that he would have to in order to fulfil this task, one that would only help this Camp that had offered him a real place to belong.

In the end, duty won.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said with an blatantly fake laugh, "just have the extinguishers ready would you?"

Poseidon had a feeling the boy wasn't joking.

"Alright," Perseus nodded, taking a knee, "when your ready, draw on your power and repeat after me."

Poseidon and the rest all leaned forward in anticipation. This is what they had all come here for. The main event. Time to see what happens.

A slash of her dagger and Annabeth was swiftly placing a bleeding palm in the circle.

Piper was taking deep breaths, warming up her voice.

The air around Leo began to waver, heat exuding from his form, but no flames as yet.

Perseus looked at them all, before glancing up at the Council, locking eyes with each of them in turn, and nodding sharply and glowing a vivid green, even as he reached into his shirt with his unoccupied hand and drawing out a small golden object, that looked something like an arrow head and placing it in the very centre.

Poseidon looked carefully at the object, trying to identify it, Where it had come from, what it represented. It exuded a fair bit of power, he could feel that easily enough, and a part of it's power felt similar to his own, like water, but it was still very much alien to him. Though, he could swear he had encountered energy similar to this before, but wasn't sure where.

He relaxed slightly. It was of no moment right now, he would find out soon enough.

"Here we go," whispered Hermes, clutching his Caduceus firmly, the serpents silence for once, "hold on to your butts."

Perseus' voice was powerful, resounding throughout the Amphitheatre like thunder.

"I command thee..," Percy recited, swiftly echoed by the others.

"Thou shalt come forth to my side;
Thy sword shalt control my fate.
"

Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. It seemed partnership was a big thing in this ritual.

"Abiding by the Holy Grail's haven,
If thou accedest to this will and reason
,"

Poseidon saw Ares practically bouncing in his seat, almost salivating at seeing new and powerful warriors. Fool. The Lord of the Seas was more concerned by those last two lines. To him, they sounded rather ominous. A glance at both his brothers showed that they felt the same.

Power was now heavy in the air, making it feel it almost stifling. Something was beginning to answer this call. The Question was; What?

"Then answer me,
The oath set forth here,
I am the embodiment of good in the eternal world,
I am the disposer of evil in the eternal world."

The words were coming faster now, his son's eagerness could clearly be seen, but he did not neglect the others, holding himself back and controlling himself to ensure that this ritual was performed properly.

The very air around them was beginning to distort, such was the amount of power gathering, but it seemed that none of the four were even aware of anything but the ritual.

"Open the Gate. Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill). Shut(fill).
Thee, the seven heavens that bear the great trinity,
Come forth from the circle of constraint..."

The power seemed to reach a crescendo, each of the circles lighting up like a solar flare on the Fourth of July.

It was time.

"... O Guardian of the balance!" Perseus declared, almost triumphantly, and echoed by the others.

Then power roared, the veil of energy exploding outward in a great flash of light, blinding many who were watching

Curses and yells were flung around heavily, the Council's divine vision hindering rather helping them at this point in time. Their sharper eyes taking longer to heal. Thankfully, as Gods, they healed much quicker than any mortal, divine heritage or not.

By the time they were back to normal, bare moments (though uncomfortable ones) had passed, and what greeted their returned sight was breath taking.

In front of each of the half-bloods below, stood beings of power.

That was honestly the only way Poseidon could describe them. The presence they exuded, the power they emitted and even the way they stood, completely at ease and yet ready to explode into action at a moment's notice.

"Mother Rhea," the Big Three breathed in unison, the others not far behind with their own oaths of shock, surprise and awe.

So these were Servants. Copies of a great Hero. The King of the Sea smiled slightly, satisfied. They were adequate enough. The strength he felt from each of them was enough that he felt at ease enough to let them take his son's protection in their hands.

He would need it in the coming struggle.

He blinked as his eyes scanned over the figures. Surprisingly enough, he recognised one of them.


An older man, his hair and close cropped beard both grey, laid his eyes upon a crouching and wide-eyed Annabeth, grey eyes meeting grey eyes. Dressed in traditional Ancient Greek chiton and sandals, he smiled softly, tilting his head slightly as he did, slightly bearing a mark on his neck that Annabeth would never forget.

"In accordance with the summoning, I, Servant Caster of Red, have come forth," his smile grew wider as she began to recover her faculties, "I ask of you; are you my Master?"

Still not fully recovered, all Annabeth could do was stare at the figure of someone she had seen die. A mentor to her that had passed on. One word escaped her mouth, such was her shock.

"Daedalus?"


Perseus ignored everything around him, focusing only on the figure that stood before him, his heart in his dry mouth.

He ignored the bronze skinned giant that towered over a slightly intimidated Leo.

He ignored the reunion of brother and sister with Annabeth, both in deep discussion.

He ignored the provocatively dressed woman as she smirked at a startled Piper.

It had worked.

The same silver armour, the same face, the same eyes, the same weapon. He had managed to summon who he wanted, his catalyst was enough to influence the summoning.

Now it was time to see if his theory, his hope, had borne fruit.

"I thank you for coming forth, Bhishma Pitmaha, Silver Prince of Oaths," he said, almost choking on his words, "I am your...master, Perseus Jackson," he stumbled over referring himself by such a title to someone who was a friend, a brother, a teacher or even a father, to him, "it will be an honour to fight at your side."

His Servant was silent, even as sea green kept themselves locked on the silver clad Archer. Reaching down, the Servant plucked up the golden arrowhead, looking at it carefully.

Then he spoke, and Perseus could do nothing but freeze.

"Golden Life is a Noble Phantasm that changes with every experience I have. A record of my life turned into raw unadulterated power. After all we had been through, everything that we have done, do you truly think that what we did would not be inscribed on my very heart?"

Disbelieving and hopeful green met calm and joyous silver.

It had worked.

Percy stumbled to his feet, still ignoring the crowd now gathering around him, both divine and mortal and otherwise, and shakily reached out with his hand towards his beloved friend and brother in arms.

This was his Bhishma.

Hand met hand in a warrior's clasp before this pair drew themselves into an embrace.

Forgetting what was to come, what was happening at this very moment, they simply rejoiced at be reunited, tears streaming down their faces.

A bond of brothers was reborn.

Let the Sons of Earth beware.


Class: Archer of Red
Name: Bhishma Pitamaha
Title: Oathbound Silver Prince
Master: Perseus Jackson (Proper Summoning)

Stats:
STR B
AGL B+
END A+
MAG B+
LCK D
NP A+++

Class Skills:

Independent Action: B+
Capable of remaining in the world for five days without an established contract. Also capable of living on after a extensive damage to the spiritual core. Note that it's rank should be higher but due to portions of his legend it is brought down.

Magic Resistance: A
Cancel spells of A-Rank or below. In practice, the Servant is untouchable to modern magi, so it would not be an exaggeration to title the Servant a "Magus Killer".

Personal Skills:

Divinity: A
Originally he was a deity forced to reincarnate and was reborn as the child of Ganga, a personification/deity of the sacred Ganges River, and when he died, returned to being a deity. Around water he gains a noticeable boost in power. Due to the link with his master, his attributes are all increased.

Astras: A
A form of Divine spell craft used by many of the heroes in Hindu epics, often used in conjunction with a projectile weapon, most often a bow and arrow. As a boon earlier in his life, Archer was given knowledge of all of these.

Clairvoyance: B
Blessed by his teacher within Divine vision. Eyes became suited for long range combat, allowing projectiles to be accurate within ten kilometres. Also able to see through any illusion and see the true form of any object, thus Shapeshifting deception is impossible.

Military Tactics: B
Lead the an army in the greatest war in Hindu belief for ten of the fourteen days, creating formations seen as impenetrable, and was seen as one of the best commanders.

Charisma: B
Suitable for a King of a country, even if he had never became one.

Class: Caster of Red
Name: Daedalus
Title: The Crafter of Life
Master: Annabeth Chase

Stats:
STR D
AGL C
END B+
MAG A+
LCK B
NP A++

Class Skills

Territory Creation: A
A Temple is able to be built.

Item Construction: B
Many things can be made by Caster, though he is limited by the materials of the era.

Personal Skills

Expert of Many Specialisations: A+
As a result of living in hiding for millennia, there is little that he is not capable of doing or has knowledge of.

Divinity: C
He is a demi-god child of Athena. However, this is not known to the world at large and the Skill is only possible through the summoners own knowledge of Caster. In addition, he did not have the best of relationships with the Gods. This thus lowers the level of the skill.