A/N: Okay, Percy will definitely meet the Hunt this chapter. Oh, and a bushel = 60 lbs.

Thank you for your reviews! Tinymidget, I struggle to accept that you think I'm a better writer than Anaklusmos, but I'm glad you think that of whatever skill I have at writing.

Chapter 4-

Time Skip: Five Days (12/30/2016)

Percy frowned at the half-field of wheat with one month of growth under it's belt. What would happen to it when the son of Poseidon left tomorrow?

The barley, on the other hand, was ready and waiting to be harvested. The son of Poseidon didn't disappoint, wielding the sickle Demeter had provided long ago with great effect. One bushel grew into two, into four, into twelve and still the demigod was harvesting. Twenty came and went, as did thirty and forty. At fifty bushels, the son of Poseidon wiped his brow and looked at the small section of the field he had left. Not more than five bushels later, the field was empty but for the young stalks of wheat. The day had grow darker too, the sunlight Apollo provided this deep underground waning as the day grew to a close.

It grew dark as Percy sat at the edge of the field, looking at what he had spent a year producing. This was a good life, he thought. Pity it wasn't lasting forever.

A reminder of that fact came from Demeter, having flashed in and taken a seat next to Perseus, "You leave tomorrow."

He nodded, "I am."

Demeter took a deep breath, knowing whatever Hades did to him wouldn't be pleasant, "I have a few options for you, about the field. I can freeze the growth of the wheat, and even the processes of the soil for if you return. Or I can tend to it myself."

"Really?" Percy looked over at the goddess, "I was under the impression that I would never see it again. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I would like the former of the two options"

Demeter sighed, "After your four months with my son-in-law and a few more with the Hunters, I think I should be able to convince the gods to let you return here. If you want to, of course."

This was certainly a piece of good news for the son of Poseidon. "Thank you so much, Demeter. I've enjoyed it here. Do you have any idea what being a slave to Hades means?"

The goddess shrugged, "I do not know. Hopefully, he has you completing menial tasks for a few months. Tying his shoes or something like that. But . . ."

"But you don't think I'll be that lucky?" asked Percy.

Demeter shook her head, "Hades' vindictiveness and spitefulness are legends, along with his cruelty. But you already know that. If all else fails, I may be able to hide you where he'll never find you."

Percy got up and stretched, "I'll just have to see, won't I? Goodnight, Demeter."

‡—XXXXX—‡

A savage shove woke Percy the next morning, followed by Hades' cruel voice, "Get up, boy. I have a task for you."

Blearily was the right word for the demigod at this time, yet the command in Hades' voice gave him no other choice than to bolt to his feet. He was also well prepared for what to expect from Hades, courtesy of Demeter, "Sir?"

"Follow me, boy." Hades ordered, then turned and strode away. After a quick mental debate of whether to get dressed into more suitable clothes or follow right away, Percy strode down the hallway after his new "master".

The King of the Dead led the son of Poseidon through his palace, stopping before a door. After a half-second, Percy realized what Hades wanted and quickly scurried around the god, opening the door for him. Hades strode through, looking powerful and imposing as he entered his throneroom. Persephone was sitting one her through, power and queenly. In fact, she radiated authority much as Hades did. It appeared that only in her mother's presence did Persephone play the role of a daughter. When Demeter was absent, the Goddess of Spring was gone and in her place was the Queen of the Underworld. However, her more morbid role did not make her any less the beauty Hades had been so entranced with millenia ago.

And so Hades took his own throne before looking down on Perseus, "Bow before your betters, sea spawn."

A a little more than a year ago, this would have the son of Poseidon respond with a cheeky comment. Now was a different son of the sea, who went to his knees and carefully pressed his forehead to the ground in a sign of subservience. Percy had gotten the sense this was a test that started the moment he had rolled -or rather, was shoved- out of bed.

"Rise, slave." called Persephone, her voice rich and musical. The demigod took to his feet, looking like he had no reaction to being called a slave -but inside, he was seething.

He kept his silence, though, sensing that any outburst would to little good and much evil at this time. Hades appeared satisfied by his subservience for the time, "Boy, see to my shoes. When you are finished, return here and wait for my return."

Percy bowed again, not getting to his knees but none the less a deep bow from the waist, then left the throneroom and covertly waited outside the doors. Not knowing where Hades kept his shoes, he was left with either wandering the palace until he found it, or hoping the two of them dropped a hint while they left.

Minutes later, when it was clear the son of Poseidon wasn't going to return to ask for directions, Hades stood and offered a hand to his wife. Persephone had a sad smile on her face as she accepted the hand, her delicate fingers being taken by Hades' strong grip.

"Does boy knows where you keep the shoes?" Persephone asked as they walked to the door of the throneroom.

"No, my beloved. He is likely to spend hours wandering the palace until he returns here and chances on the room." replied Hades as he held the door open for his wife, before stepping through behind her and taking her in a strong embrace, "But enough about the slave. This is our last day together for six lonely months."

"Mmm." was Persephone's reply, before capturing her husband's lips in her own. Percy, behind the door, held his breath in case even the slightest noise alerted the two gods of his presence. He had no doubt Hades would resent being disturbed from a passionate kiss from his wife -a kiss that may soon turn to something more. And by then, Percy had better be long gone.

The god and goddess released each other, Persephone catching a quick breath before speaking again, "Perhaps we should continue this in our bedchamber. . . . ."

Then they both flashed away, leaving Percy to sigh in relief before starting a search for Hades' shoe room. Hades said it was "here," so it had to be close. So he began checking rooms, opening every door in a spiral from the throneroom's door..

To say there were a lot of shoes would be awarded the "understatement of the year" award for the next century. This was more like a corridor, lined with just about every shoe, boot, or anything worn on the foot that one could imagine: From a woman's slippers, to the Middle Ages sabaton, to the sneakers of today.

Percy sighed, "This'll be a long day . . ."

‡—XXXXX—‡

The son of Poseidon sighed with relief as he ran a brush for the last time over a pair of blue suede shoes, then placed them back to their proper place on the shelves. His arms ached when he reached up to place them there, then ached again as he stretched them. Apparently, leather shoes were to be shined, seude was supposed to be brushed, and cambrella was to be washed. All other fabrics of shoes were sorted into those three catagories as best the demigod could, but he was sure a few mistakes were made. Still, the job was done and Perseus recalled his instructions from before. When you are finished, return here and wait for my return.

Perseus turned back to the throneroom, but his steps hesitated when he reached the hallway Hades marched him down.

"Hades probably won't be back for another few hours," Percy mused out loud, unsettled by the quite around him. In the farm, there would be the rustle of wheat or barley, the footsteps of the horse and the comforting scrape of the plow through the soil. Of course, one time the horse went lame and Percy was forced to pull the plow, but that was a memory for another day.

Making up his mind, the demigod strode into his very spartan room, retrieving his journal and walking back to the throneroom.

1/31/2017- Journal Four-Hundred One

Today I cleaned/shined shoes. If my math isn't failing me -which it probably is- it was something like four or five hundred pairs. Boy, do my arms hurt. I guess working in the field help prepare me for this, though. Imagine if I had to do that while I was still cutting my arms . . . ouch. And I wouldn't have been working that year, so . . . yeah. Hades was a bit more, I dunno, vindictive than I expected, but-

"What is that?" growled Hades as he stormed into the throneroom. He looked mad, very mad.

"Nothing, Lord Hades." I replied carefully, while performing the full bent-knees-and-forehead-on-the-ground bow.

"Nothing, eh?" His voice didn't get any less angry, "Give it to me."

"Lord Hades, -"

He was cut off by the King of the Underworld, "If it's nothing, it can't be very important to you then, can it? Give it to me, sea spawn. Now!"

But Percy still resisted. The journal had been a part of him for more than a year, "Sir, I do not believe-"

"Give it to me!" roared the god, "Or I will consign your dead friends to Punishment!"

Percy's blood turned to ice in his veins, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. He couldn't let that happen to Annabeth, or Beckendorf, or Leo, or anyone else who had died. Clearly unwillingly but lacking a better option, the son of Poseidon held out the journal -which the enraged god tore in half and tossed the two halves behind his back before grabbing Percy's arm and dragging him away.

"The torturers need some new ideas to be tested, slave." Hades growled, his voice on the border of a shout, "If you ever try to resist, your friends will be thrown into Punishment. Starting with that son of Hephaestus and ending with your dead girlfriend."

Even hours later, Hades' palace echoed with the screams of a young man pushed beyond his limits of pain, clinging to sanity with a single thought: This is my penance for failing Annabeth.

In one day, the Vengeful One had undone everything Demeter had spent eight months trying to create . . .

‡—XXXXX—‡

Time Skip: Four Months and One Day (5/1/2017)

Perseus was kneeling in front of Hades, waiting as the god talked to Persephone via Iris Message and all but dead to the world. The last four months had been tough for him: Scars circled up his arms and legs, some of them still leaking blood. A vertical cut crossed over his right eye from a rogue hellhound he was tasked to destroy. Deep furrows in his back were from when Hades wrapped him in bratwurst and threw him into the hellhound pens -for a bit of "entertainment". He had been used as a vent for Hades' anger more times than he could remember, but he didn't care. This Perseus hardly cared about anything anymore -aside from not angering the Silent One.

Eventually, the Lord of the Dead cut the connection and looked at the demigod, "It appears your stay here is over. Gather your possessions and return in five minutes."

Percy, without saying a word, turned and headed back to his room. Dimly, he recalled the sunlight of the world above, and the people in it. Gods who were more than Hades, demigods other than Nico. A half-forgotten memory arose of a blond-hair, but that was quickly shaken out his mind. Hades was his master. His commands were all that stood between that head of hair being in Elysium or Punishment. Thus, Hades ruled.

The demigod carefully reached under his straw bed and withdrew a necklace he was attached to, but couldn't remember why. It was from a life outside the Underworld, and thus wasn't important. But Percy couldn't bear to have it taken from him like the book and the dagger, going so far as to hide it in his room. It got folded and tucked into the tunic he now wore, the beads rubbing against his heavily scared skin.

Hades had forced him to wear traditional Greek or Roman clothing, or else. It was a pure black tunic, Hades' favorite color, and went from his shoulders to mid-knee, with quarter-sleeves. It didn't impair movement, and the wide belt that gathered the tunic at the waist was perfect for holding sheathes -all that mattered, to Perseus. Then the rooster-clock was taken by the demigod as well, a memento from a time he remembered mostly clearly.

Perseus returned to the throneroom, entering silently and bowing -with his forehead pressed to the ground- to his master. Three objects clattered to the floor in front his head.

"Rise, slave." commanded Hades, giving the demigod an opportunity to see the objects as he got to his feet. Two halves of the book from his dimly-remembered past and a sheathed dagger that had once belonged to the blonde. "Those are your property. Thank me, slave. You may speak."

"Thank you, oh King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, Rich One, Silent One, Feared One, Great One, Eldest One, master." recited the demigod dully, no spirit or any feeling at all in his voice.

"You will find Artemis, and be her servant for the rest of your life." said the god, more as a reminder than anything else. But he also felt a vindictive pleasure of controlling the uppity brat that his son was always talking about. Him and that spawn of the Apollo, Solace . . .

While he was speaking, Perseus had grabbed the dagger and the two halves of the journal. Hades growled, "Did I tell you that you could take them? Uppity wretch!"

A kick from Hades' booted foot sent the demigod sprawling. No words came from the son of Poseidon's mouth. He knew that if he spoke to apologize, he could get beaten. Same if he didn't apologize. But he didn't care anymore; This was his penance for failing the one with blond hair. How he failed her, the demigod couldn't remember. But he did, and that's all that mattered.

"You're lucky I am feeling merciful today. You're also lucky that you aren't worth the time it would take to deliver the beating you deserve." Hades said, then waved his hand and flashed the demigod away.

‡—XXXXX—‡

Artemis was hunting. No surprise there, this hour was reserved specifically for solitary hunting: Every other day, between five and six in the afternoon was when she walked into the forest the Hunt had situated itself in, losing herself in the tracking of whatever prey the trees had to offer. This time, though, her arrow was going to strike a different kind of prey as she had completely forgotten that one year had passed since the council meeting when Perseus was sentenced to the Underworld.

The same Perseus -a male- who had killed five females; Such a crime was grave in the eyes of the Hunt.

Soon the Goddess of the Moon chanced on a different kind of tracks: Ones left by shoes that weren't the Hunt's boots. Footprints that reminded her of the ancient world, when rubber was mostly unknown and wood sandals ruled supreme in the warm grass of Greece. Curiosity piqued, the goddess followed them and stepped lightly on the ground which was made wet by yesterday's rain.

The footsteps continued, until the goddess took sight of someone silently walking away from the Hunt's camp. A someone wearing a black tunic with Greek sandal-shoes. His arms were covered in scars, and led up into some of the broadest shoulders Artemis seen. Clearly, this man -boy, she corrected herself- was as strong as an ox. But he was silently moving away from the Hunt's camp, as if returning from something important. His hands were in front of him and out of Artemis' sight, likely clutching a weapon.

He stopped and looked around while Artemis hid, obviously checking for anyone following him after his mission was complete, whatever it was. In truth, the son of Poseidon was lost and looking for the Hunt's camp. Pure, dumb luck had him going in the opposite direction.

"Halt, male." ordered Artemis, an arrow nocked on the string of her bow. It would be drawn and fired in the space of a second if needed. The male immediately stopped at the authority in her voice -subservience had been beaten into him from four months under Hades' thumb. He didn't turn, however -no one told him to do so.

Artemis waited for the male to turn and confront her, only for him not to do so, "Face me, male."

The demigod turned until he faced the goddess, standing as still and silent as a stone. Or, more fitting to his stature, a boulder. Then his legs bent as he got to his knees and pressed his forehead to the ground in a sign of subservience. In his hands was a clock shaped like a rooster, not a weapon in any form of the word.

Artemis was shocked by what she saw. It was Perseus, she knew, but her mind couldn't connect the boy she had seen before to the bowing male in front of her. The son of Poseidon she remember never had a scar running down his left eye, nor did he had more lacerating his arms or legs. The son of Poseidon she remembered didn't have dead eyes, nor did he even stand that way. The son of Poseidon was well-built, this male was very heavily muscled. He completely different, yet wore Percy's face. And the Perseus she had met did not seem to know respect.

To her credit, that was all buzzing in the back of her mind as she spoke with – more like spoke to- the male, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Perseus Jackson, ma'am. To meet you." answered the male, in as few words as possible while his forehead was still on the ground..

"Why?" demanded Artemis, "And get to your feet."

Percy climbed up again before responding with the answer she feared, "Servitude, ma'am."

Artemis sighed, but at least looked strong, The Hunt would probably accept someone to do all the chores. Besides, this was a mandate from the council, "Fine. The camp is behind me, go and wait."

Without replying, the son of Poseidon -careful not to touch the goddess- passed her and started walking towards the camp while Artemis flashed to the camp itself -wasting as little time as possible before getting back to her solo hunting.

"Hunters!" announced Artemis, at the head of the table the Hunters were eating it, "If you remember, a year ago Perseus Jackson was sentenced to spending twelve months in the Underworld before returning to be our servant. Obviously, those months have passed and the demigod is on his way now."

Then Artemis flashed away, leaving the Hunters to talk amongst themselves. Some of the newer Hunters were quickly told just who Perseus was and what he'd done. Most of them remembered why he had been sent to the Underworld, but most of them also weren't especially fond of the Ares Cabin. That he'd killed them to defend a girl also earned a few points, enough for most the Hunters to decide not to kill him on sight -but that didn't mean they'd play nice.

Soon, Percy entered the clearing and saw the Hunters eating dinner, probably a freshly hunted stag or elk. Once they noticed him, the Hunters immediately snatched all the food that wasn't already on a plate -half from dislike, half as a test to see how the demigod would react: Would he start blustering and arrogantly demand food like most boorish males, or weakly ask for some?

The answer was neither, as that action failed to draw a reaction from him. Percy passed the table on by, walking until he reached the center of the camp, standing next to the fire that usually crackled there. Then he stopped, still and silent as if waiting for instructions. And after being Hades' slave for four months, he was.

Meanwhile Artemis crept through the foliage, quietly tracking a deer through the undergrowth. It was nearly fifteen yards away and presenting it's side to the goddess: a perfect firing position.

Carefully and silently, the aformentioned goddess drew a hunting arrow and bent the bow before slowly breathing out and releasing the taut bowstring. The doe, startled by the whip of the bow, began to leap away before the arrow hit, scarlet blood flowing down it's flank as the goddess approached.

She knelt next to the deer, whispering a quick blessing before retrieving the arrow and flashing the deer back to camp. It was time to see just how badly the Hunt had beaten up Percy . . .

‡—XXXXX—‡

Percy wasn't getting beaten up at all. In fact, he as being left alone by a Hunt with another thing on it's mind: Dinner. Once the demigod had made his intentions clear and not moved from the fire, the Hunt had eagerly returned to their meal and almost forgotten about him entirely. That is, until they were finished.

"Hey, Naomi!" Thalia called, "Your turn to wash!"

"Come on, Thalia! Get the servant to do it." replied the once-dead Hunter, "I mean, he has to be here for a reason, right?"

A chorus of voices joined hers, Pheobe's being prominent among them. Percy, not having been addressed stayed right where he was. Hades didn't like his slaves showing initiative.

"Male! Didn't you hear me? Get washing!" ordered Pheobe. Obediently and without questioning her authority, the demigod began to collect plates and silverware while the Hunt left. Thalia and a few others discretely looked on, the former not believing what Hades had done to her old friend. Even best friend, now that both Luke and Annabeth were dead.

The demigod worked like a machine, holding the plates in a giant stack and taking them into a tent labeled "Kitchen." Keen observance was a crucial skill, honed by Hades' irritation at having to provide directions when Percy couldn't find something.

Inside, it was remarkably similar to the Camp Half-Blood kitchens: A potbelly oven, grill, freezer, and sink on one side, while the other had two giant basins and faucets that were clearly meant to be used for washing. With the thought of using his powers never entering him mind, Perseus filled the basins and dumped the plates in before returning for the silverware. And that -of course- is when Artemis returned.

"What are you doing?" asked Artemis, careful to keep her voice neutral. She would have to see what her Hunt thought of this new addition before influencing them one way or another.

"Washing, ma'am." was Perseus' reply, automatically getting to his knees and pressing his forehead into the dirt.

"Why?" pressed Artemis. "And continue your task."

"Orders, ma'am." Percy stood and entered the kitchen, continuing the chore while Artemis became more frustrated with the one-word answers.

"Who's orders?"

This one Percy considered for a while, pulling names out of the dark murk that was the memory of his past. "Pheobe, Naomi and others, Lady Artemis."

Artemis filed the answer away, finding nothing wrong with what he was doing, "While you are here, you will follow my rules."

This was greeted with silence, and Artemis slowly began to realize he wouldn't reply unless being told to, "If you understand me, say yes."

"Yes." replied Perseus, flat and emotionless.

"Good. The first rule is this: Even look at my Hunters in a way I don't want you to, and I will castrate you. Harm them, and much worse will happen. Second, you will call all of my Hunters and I either ma'am or Lady." rattled off Artemis, thinking before she created the next rule, "Third, you bow only to me. And bow from the waist, not on your knees. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Four: You will obey my Hunters and I. Whatever they want you to do, you will do unless it contradicts me, in which case you will ask me first. Lastly, there will be a list of chores provided to you at the beginning of each day. Those chores must be completed by the next day."

"Yes."

"Very well. When you're done here, I have a deer that needs skinning and cleaning." Artemis started to leave, before sensing a problem and turning back, "Do you know how?"

"Yes." That answer was starting to get on Artemis' nerves, but she let it slid and left. Percy wasn't exactly thankful of his experiences of both skinning rogue hellhounds and butchering cows for Hades' table, but those skills were convenient here.

Percy kept washing, scalding water feeling only slightly warm against his skin as he scrubbed plates and silverware with what he took to be soap. The dull, repetitive work didn't make his arms ache or even twinge after being used for over an hour, courtesy of the farmwork -and latter shoe-work- that had toned his arms.

At last, the final few forks were wiped off and Percy headed outside again, seeing the deer carcass hanging from a tree branch near the fire. But, before he could begin, a good skinning knife was required, After all, the skin would probably end up in Artemis' tent, just as Hades loved a good hellhound pelt for a carpet.

Luckily, he found one in a tent marked "Armory and Supplies" and returned to the deer, first making a few long cuts up from the groin of the deer.

Artemis was doing something else: Watching. This wasn't unusual by any meaning of the word -she usually watched new members of the Hunt, to make sure they were mixing well. If the Hunt clearly wasn't the place for the girl, she would contact the Amazons. This, however, was a different case.

She saw Percy hang the deer by the throat, then deftley start removing it's organs. The intestines, stomach, lungs, and anus were put aside for burying, while the liver and heart were kept for possible eating. Then he skinned it, Artemis having to keep her eyes from wandering to his muscular arms. . .

The skinning took a great deal of strength -usually, two or three of her Hunters would join together to pull the skin off it's body. Percy made it look effortless as he also laid the skin aside -there was plenty of fat that needed to be removed later, but now the deer needed his attention.

The "cleaning" ended with the deer laid in pieces in the Hunt's freezer, and there it would wait until someone wanted to cook it. Now Artemis approached him, "You may sleep now, or do whatever else you do in your spare time."

After nodding, Percy left without another word, not bothering to ask Artemis if he could have a tent and not caring if he could or couldn't. Instead he sat next to the fire and looked into it's depths, before drawing the blonde's dagger.

Θάνατος- σήμανση Αγάπη

Death-marked Love. The translation was effortless now, as the demigod had spent many a night in the Underworld looking at it -before Hades had taken it and denied him even that link to the past.

As he watched, the flickering light of the fire reflected from the blade of Annabeth's dagger, throwing the Greek letters into sharp relief. Originally, the demigod just meant to look at the blade and see if it needed to be sharpened. But, as he turned it over and over, he began to remember those events that Hades had repressed. Flashes of blond hair, stormy grey eyes, and a flashing knife that killed monsters with breathtaking ease. He vaguely saw himself in the background, holding a bronze sword and battling a Cyclops. A tower rose in the background, that eventually narrowed into a spire -New York. At the top, blue lights streaked into the clouds before being blocked by invisible servants of the air.

Percy shook the memory out of his head. Hades said it didn't matter, so it didn't and the son of Poseidon had better not think about it -or else. The dagger returned to his waist as he laid back, the ground made soft by grass and rain. Then, he slept.

-Dream-

He was in a tent. A tent vaguely recognizable by the sheer number of animal pelts decorating the place. Artemis was lying in a bed in the center of the tent, covered by a thick, fur blanket. Percy didn't remember how he got there, but didn't care and didn't bother moving. A timberwolf was stretched out on a deerskin rug right next to the bed, snoring softly before growling in it's sleep.

Artemis' hand stoked the wolf's fur, not getting out of bed, "Quiet, Amber . . . I'm trying to sleep . . ."

Then her eyes shot open as she felt someone watching her, which usually wasn't good for the watcher, "Perseus!? What are- Get out!"

Perseus turned and left the tent without saying a word, then stood outside with no drive or spirit to do anything other than wait to wake up. Meanwhile, Artemis got out of the bed and changed from her rather revealing -to her- nightgown to a standard Hunter uniform: Silver jacket over a white shirt, silver camo pants and black combat boots. She was also quite determined to find out how and why Percy entered her tent -and punish him accordingly.

The Goddess of Hunting also readied her bow. If Percy tried to put up a fight, it would be a fight he'd quickly lose.

A/N: So, Artemis and Perseus are sharing dreams . . . . Do you want this (them dreaming in the same dream every time they go to sleep) to be permanent, a one-time thing, or do you hate it so badly I should edit it out? I need a way for Artemis and Percy to interact outside of the Hunt's eyes while thinking it wasn't real -a hallucinogen came to mind, but this seemed like a better solution than both of them getting drugged every once and a while.

Oh, and I haven't forgotten about The Proctor of Judgment, I just have a massive case of writer's block on it. Which is why I started this story.