I'm sorry to say I might take another break from fanfiction writing soon. My grandpa isn't doing so good and it doesn't look good. Please understand. Thank you!
A/N (I recommend reading this): I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Rioran. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story.
Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book.
Due to the limited number of characters posted, I'm forced to post only the names of the characters telling their tales in this story. When I get to the House of Hades and Blood of Olympus, I'll list off the first four characters listed in the order they tell their tales. I'll post the pairings if the two of the four characters listed are a pair. Other than that, the Pairings stay the same for this story.
Jason x Piper
Percy x Annabeth
Frank x Hazel
If you haven't figured it out, each of the members of the Prophecy of Seven practically has a position. Keep in mind in the original series Juno started this when she told Percy he was the glue that holds the group together, so I thought to give the rest a title. But no matter what title they have they still depend on each other. Titles will be added for some as the series continue
Jason: Leader of the Group
Piper: Peacekeeper
Leo: Mechanic, Admiral, and Seventh Wheel (by Nemesis)
Percy: Glue that holds everyone together
Hazel: Mist Manipulator
Frank: Muscles
Annabeth: Battle Strategist and Consultant
Lastly I want to make clear that once 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus' is done I won't start immediately on 'The tales of...' version of the Trials of Apollo until that part of the Percy Jackson series is done. Just as I waited for the end of the Blood of Olympus to start 'The Tales of...' series. By waiting until that series ends, it might help me come up with something to add to it.
Warning: Certain ancient Greek names matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also I dropped the '& the Olympians' in 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians' as well as replaced the '&' with ':' in the short stories of that part of the series. So if you haven't read them yet read before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned:
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Early Adventures
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Lightning Thief
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Sea of Monsters
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Titan's Curse
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Magical Labyrinth
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Stolen Chariot
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Sword of Hades
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Bronze Dragon
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: The Last Olympian
The Tales of the Son of Poseidon: the Staff of Hermes
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Son of Neptune
The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Mark of Athena
Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.
Full Summary of this chapter: Separated from their friends, Percy and Annabeth must travel through Tartarus against all odds to find the Doors of Death while facing monsters, Titans, and all sorts of enemies of the gods with a help of an amnesiac Titan and Rogue Giant. Meanwhile Argo II must find away to make it to the house of Hades is at while facing all sorts of new trouble and making new allies along the way. This is the Tales of the Prophecy of Seven.
Jason's POV Part III
I first saw the angel at the Ice Cream Cart.
The Argo II had anchored in the bay along with six or seven cruise ships. As usual, the mortals didn't pay the trireme any attention; but just to be safe, Nico and I hopped on a skiff from one of the tourist boats so we would look like part of the crowd when they came ashore.
At first glance, Split seemed like a cool place. Curving around the harbor was a long esplanade lined with palm trees. At the sidewalk cafés, European teenagers were hanging out, speaking a dozen different languages and enjoying the sunny afternoon. The air smelled of grilled meat and fresh-cut flowers.
Beyond the main boulevard, the city was a hodgepodge of medieval castle towers, Roman walls, limestone town houses with red-tiled roofs, and modern office buildings all crammed together. In the distance, gray-green hills marched toward a mountain ridge, which made me a little nervous. I kept glancing at that rocky escarpment, expecting the face of Gaea to appear in its shadows.
Nico and I were wandering along the esplanade when I spotted the guy with wings buying an ice cream bar from a street cart. The vender lady looked bored as she counted the guy's change. Tourist navigated around the angel's huge wings without a second glance.
I nudged Nico. "Are you seeing this?"
"Yeah," Nico agreed. "Maybe we should buy some ice cream."
As we made our way toward the street cart, I was worried that this winged dude might be a son of Boreas the North Wind. At his side, the angel carried the same kind of jagged bronze sword that Boreads had, and my last encounter with them didn't go so well.
But this guy seemed more chill than chilly. He wore a red tank top, Bermuda shorts, and huarache sandals. His wings were a combination of russet colors, like a bantam rooster or a lazy sunset. He had a deep tan and dark hair almost as curly as Leo's.
"He's not a returned spirit," Nico murmured. "Or a creature of the Underworld."
"No," I agreed. "I doubt they would eat chocolate-covered ice cream bars."
"So what is he?" Nico wandered.
I thought back carefully. Now that I think about it, this place is giving me a strange feeling. As if not the city but rather the area itself has history older than ancient Rome and this guy might be connected to it.
"Let's get a closer look," I suggested.
Nico nodded, probably because he senses the same thing as me.
We continued and we were only within thirty feet, and the winged dude looked directly at us. He smiled and gesture over his shoulder with his ice cream bar, and dissolved into the air.
I couldn't exactly see him, but I'd had enough experience controlling the wind that I could track the angel's path—a warm wisp of red and gold zipping across the street, spiraling down the sidewalk, and blowing postcards from the carousels in front of the tourist shops. The wind headed toward the end of the promenade, where a big fortress like structure loomed.
"I'm betting that's the palace," I said. "Come on."
Even after two millennia, Diocletian's Palace was still impressive. The outer wall was only a pink granite shell, with crumbling columns and arched windows opened to the sky, but it was mostly intact, a quarter mile long and seventy or eighty feet tall, dwarfing the modern shops and houses that huddled beneath it. I imagine what the palace must have looked like when it was newly built, with Imperial guards walking the ramparts and the golden eagles of Rome glinting on the parapets.
The wild angel—or whatever he was—whisked in and out of the pink granite windows, then disappeared on the other side. I scanned the palace's façade for an entrance. The only one I saw was several blocks away, with tourists lined up to buy tickets. No time for that.
"We've got to catch him," I said. "Hold on."
"But—"
I grabbed Nico and lifted us both into the air.
Nico made a muffled sound of protest as we soared over the walls and into a courtyard where more tourists were milling around, taking pictures.
A little kid did a double take when we landed. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook his head, like he was dismissing a juice-box-induce hallucination. No one else paid us any attention.
On the left side of the courtyard stood a line of columns holding up weathered gray arches. On the right side was a white marble building with rows of tall windows.
"The peristyle," Nico said. "This was the entrance to Diocletian's private conversation." He scowled at me. "And please, I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again."
My shoulder blades tensed. I thought I heard the undertone of a threat, like: unless you want to get a Stygian sword up your nose.
As threatening as it seemed, I had to remind myself I had that coming. I did grab Nico not knowing he didn't like being touched without making sure it was okay.
"Okay, sorry," I replied. "How do you know what this place is called?"
Nico scanned the atrium as if he was finding anything that might trigger some of his memory.
Then I remember after Nico's Hazel's and Nico's trip to Venice, Frank mentioning something about Hades having Nico's and Bianca's memory wash away in the River Lethe as part of their own protection but it might have not been as permanent to the living as it is to the dead since Nico seem to regain some of his memories of his forgotten past time to time.
That's when Nico focused on some steps in the far corner, leading down.
"I've been here before." His eyes were as dark as his blade. "With my mother and Bianca. A weekend trip from Venice. I think I was six."
"That was when… the 1930s?"
"'Thirty-eight or so," Nico said absently. "Why do you care?"
That is a good question. I never been taken out of the time line or had died and was brought back. Thalia might understand this kid better than me considering she told me that she was once that Zeus turned her into a tree for six years and when she was revived, she didn't recognized anything.
"Do you see the winged guy anywhere?" Nico asked.
"No…" I replied. "Look, I don't know what you been through, but I'm trying to work with you. If we can't trust each other, how are we supposed to work together and save Annabeth and Percy?"
Nico clenched his fist until his fingers turn white. "Fine."
His voice was heavy with bitterness—more than I could understand. Piper had mentioned a rumor that Nico might have had a crush on Annabeth. Maybe it has to do with Nico's behavior.
Still… I didn't get why Nico pushed people away, why he never spent time at either camp, why he preferred the dead to the living. I really didn't get why Nico had made an oath on the River Styx to lead the Argo II to Epirus if he hated Percy Jackson so much
Nico's eyes swept the windows above us. "Roman dead are everywhere here… Lares. Lemures. They're watching. They're angry."
"At us?" my hand went to my sword.
"At everything." Nico pointed to a small stone building on the west end of the courtyard. "That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts don't like that."
I stared at the dark doorway.
I never met Jupiter, but I thought of my father as a living person—the guy who'd fallen in love with my mom. Of course I knew my dad was immortal, but somehow the full meaning of that had never really sunk in until now, as I stared at the doorway Romans had walked through, thousands of years ago, to worship my dad. The idea gave me a splitting headache.
"And over there…" Nico pointed east to a hexagonal building ringed with freestanding columns. "That was the mausoleum of the emperor."
"But his tomb isn't there anymore," I guessed.
"Not for centuries," Nico said. "When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral."
I swallowed. "So if Diocletian's ghost is still around here—"
"He's probably not happy."
The wind rustled, pushing leaves and food wrappers across the peristyle. In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement—a blur of red and gold.
"That way." I pointed. "The winged guy. Where do you think those stairs lead?"
Nico drew his sword. His smile was even more unsettling than his scowl. "Underground," he said. "My favorite place."
Of course, I thought, but I kept it to myself.
I guess it makes sense though. As a child of Jupiter, I like the sky. As a child of Poseidon, Percy likes the sea. So as children of Hades I would guess it's natural Nico likes underground places. Only thing I could think for something to change it would be something to happen for them to think otherwise, like Thalia's fear of heights.
"Let's go down," I said.
…
Underground places never really been my favorite placed. Especially after my trip beneath Rome with Piper and Percy, fighting those twin giants in the hypogeum under the Colosseum. Ever since then most of my nightmares were about basements, trapdoors, and large hamster wheels.
Having Nico along was not reassuring. His Stygian iron blade seemed to make the shadows even gloomier, as if the infernal metal was drawing light and heat out of the air. I wish he use that hunter's knife Percy said he got from Bianca for light.
I still can't believe this kid is related to Bianca. Sure Bianca can be scary, but unlike Nico, Bianca never gave me a feeling that makes me rethink whether or not I should trust her. Sure she made me uneasy, but I thought that had more to do with Bianca being a Hunter. Other than that, Bianca reminded me more of Hazel.
Maybe Nico wasn't always like the way he is. Maybe there was a time where he was a different demigod. I don't see it now, but then again, I didn't know him before he brought Hazel to Camp Jupiter.
We crept through a vast cellar with thick support columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The limestone blocks were so old, they had fused together from centuries of moisture, making the place look almost like a naturally form cave.
None of the tourist had ventured down here. Probably a trick of the Mist that kept them from coming down here.
I drew my gladius. We made our way under the low archways, their steps echoing on the stone floor. Barred windows lined the top of one wall, facing the street level, but that just made the cellar feel more claustrophobic. The shafts of sunlight looked like slanted prison bars, swirling with ancient dust.
I passed a support beam, looked to my left, and almost had a heart attack. Staring right at him was a marble bust of Diocletian, his limestone face glowering with disapproval.
I steadied my breathing. This seemed like a good place to leave the note I'd written for Reyna, telling her where to find us and the route we took. It was away from the crowds, but I trusted Reyna would find it. She had the instincts of a hunter. I slipped the note between the bust and its pedestal, and stepped back.
Diocletian's marble eyes made me jumpy. I couldn't help thinking of Terminus, the talking statue-god back at New Rome. I hoped Diocletian didn't bark at me or suddenly burst into song (a long story).
"Hello!"
Before I could register that the voice had come from somewhere else, I sliced off the emperor's head. The bust toppled and shattered against the floor.
"That wasn't very nice," said the voice behind me.
I turned and saw the winged man from the ice cream stand was leaning against a nearby column, casually tossing a small bronze hoop in the air. At his feet sat a wicker picnic basket full of fruit.
"I mean," the man said, "what did Diocletian ever do to you?"
The air swirled around my feet. The shards of marble gathered into a miniature tornado, spiraled back to the pedestal, and reassembled into a complete bust, the note still tucked underneath.
"Uh—" I lowered my sword. "It was an accident. You startled me."
The winged dude chuckled. "Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things… warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behavior to my gusty brethren in the north."
Nico inched backward. "The West Wind? You mean you're—"
"Favonius," I realized. "God of the West Wind."
Favonius smiled and bowed, obviously pleased to be recognized. "You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if you're Greek. I'm not hung up about it."
Nico looked pretty hung up about it. "So then you're one of the few minor gods not affected by the war?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that. I have the occasional headaches," Favonius shrugged. "Some mornings I'll wake up in a Greek chiton when I'm sure I went to sleep in my SPQR pajamas. But mostly, the war doesn't bother me. Unlike some of my Brethren, I never really been much in the limelight. The to-and-fro battles among you demigods don't affect me as greatly."
"So…" I wasn't quite sure whether to sheathe my sword. The last time I met one of the wind gods I been informed that all wind gods had the order to kill all demigods from Achelous, and no thanks to Gaea, it hasn't been lifted. "Why did you lead us to this cellar?"
"Well that's easy," Favonius said, spinning a bronze hoop on his index finger. "The sarcophagus of Diocletian. Yes. This was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroy the coffin. I just want to show you"—he spread his hands sadly—"that what you're looking for isn't here. My master has taken it."
"Aeolus has the scepter?" I asked.
"That airhead?" Favonius snorted. "No, of course not."
"He's talking about Eros," Nico's voice turned edgy. "Cupid, in Latin."
Favonius smiled. "Very good, Nico di Angelo. I'm glad to see you again, by the way. It's been a long time, and I'm glad you haven't completely ended up like some of your older half-siblings."
Nico knit his eyebrows. "How—I've never met you."
"You never seen me," the god corrected. "But I've been watching you. When you came here as a small boy, and several times since. I knew eventually you would return to look upon my master's face."
Nico turned even paler than usual. His eyes darted around the cavernous room as if he was starting to feel trapped.
"Nico?" I said carefully. "What's he talking about?"
"I don't know. Nothing."
"Nothing?" Favonius cried. "The one you care for most… plunged into Tartarus, and still you will not allow the truth?"
Suddenly I felt like I was eavesdropping.
The one you care for most.
Piper told me about Nico's crush on Annabeth, but apparently Nico's feelings went way deeper than a simple crush.
"We've only come for Diocletian's scepter," Nico said, clearly anxious to change the subject. "Where is it?"
"Ah…" Favonius nodded sadly. "You thought it would be as easy as facing Diocletian's ghost? I'm afraid not, Nico. Your trials will be much more difficult. You know, long before this was Diocletian's Palace, it was the gateway to my master's court."
That explains why the area felt older than Ancient Rome. But I didn't like the mention of difficult trials. Ever since the prophecy of seven started I felt like we been through nothing but trials, and when I thought we were done with them and have proven ourselves, the gods decided to tell us: Hey, you're not done yet. You still need to close the Doors of Death to show your teamwork. But there's a catch, two of your friends need to fall into Tartarus and find the doors from there in order to pass.
I don't blame Nico for bringing up that the Doors of Death needs to be closed from both sides. We would find out eventually anyways. But after what we been through, I don't even know if I should trust Favonius.
"I wouldn't worry about my order to kill demigods, Jason Grace," Favonius said as if reading my mind. "Since my loyalty lies with Cupid, I been ignoring Aeolus' order. Unlike Aeolus, Cupid hasn't created some ridiculous reason to hold grudge against demigods to the point of sending me the order to kill any who sought love in his presence. You heard of the story of Psyche, right?"
The story ringed in my mind. "She was Cupid's wife. You carried her to his palace."
Favonius' eyes twinkled. "That's correct, Jason Grace. From this exact spot, I carried Psyche on the winds and brought her to the chambers of my master. Even after she looked upon my master's face and hurt his trust, Psyche did everything in her power to make it up to him. All of it possible with my service to my master. In fact, that is why Diocletion built his palace here. This place has always been graced by the gentle West Wind." He spread his arms. "It is a spot of tranquility and love in a turbulent world. When Diocletian's Palace was ransacked—"
"You took the scepter," I guessed.
"For safekeeping," Favonius agreed. "It is one of Cupid's many treasures, a reminder of better times. If you want it…" Favonius turned to Nico. "You must face the god of love."
Nico stared at the sunlight coming through the windows, as if wishing he could escape through those narrow openings.
I wasn't sure what Favonius wanted, but if facing the god of love meant forcing Nico into some sort of confession about which girl he liked, it couldn't be too bad, right?
"Nico, you can do this," I said. "It might be embarrassing, but it's for the scepter."
Nico didn't look convinced. In fact, he looked like he was going to be sick. But he squared his shoulders and nodded. "You're right. I—I'm not afraid of a love god."
Favonius beamed. "Excellent! Would you two like a snack before you go?" He plucked a green apple from his basket and frowned at it. "Oh, bluster. I keep forgetting my symbol is a basket of unripe fruit. Why doesn't the spring wind get more credit? Summer has all the fun."
"That's okay," Nico said quickly. "Just take us to Cupid."
Favonius spun the hoop on his finger, and my body dissolved into air.