A/N: Saw this Daughter of Neptune trope here a while back... wanted to give it a try with my own spin!

Chapter 1: I Knock Up a Bunch of Virgins

What my old man taught me: don't trust anyone. Most importantly, don't trust him.

I hadn't heard anything from him since that day on the beach, when my mother died and he tossed me a hair comb as an apology. Since then I've been roaming around, not really lost but having nowhere to go, and then he pops up – out of a wishing fountain, of all things. And that is why I tend to avoid bodies of water.

But wishing wells were important to me, as they provided some sort of meager income. Mostly quarters and nickels, but with enough of them I could buy an entire convenience store meal. So that's what I was doing that day when my dad sent me to my death.

I was swiping some Thomas Jeffersons (my hands never got wet, so no one suspected me), he came out and splashed a ton of water into my eyes. I dropped the coins, cursing as I glanced around the center of the mall. No one seemed to notice the six-foot man posing in the fountain, with an old-fashioned beard and costume-y Roman drapes for clothes.

"Neptune," I whispered quickly. "What are you doing?"

"You are getting too old to be a straggler in the streets. Why do you not head towards camp?" Unlike me, Neptune was not whispering. His voice boomed throughout the entire mall like he was on loudspeaker.

My eyebrows wrinkled. I didn't have anything but a bland donut the entire day. My pockets were heavy with stolen coins. My dad popped out of my money-maker and was asking me to go to camp? I had a strange vision of singing in campfires, and racing in the lake where dad would cheer me on like, Neptune's kids don't go that slow! Pick up the pace, Reagan!

I had no idea if Neptune's kids don't actually swim as slow as I do. As far as I knew, I was his only child – and lucky me, getting all his attention.

But back to topic: he was asking me to go to camp. To which I said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Neptune narrowed his eyes at me. He was always this strict, silent dude, like a librarian that was also deadly and called Earth-shaker. I'm so sure he didn't appreciate my confusion. Then he said, "Camp, Reagan. The twenty-first legion," and then he turned into a blob of water that dipped back into the fountain. The mall-goers just continued on their way – chatting, on their phones – unaware that a god had just appeared and left me wondering what the hell camp could be.

So, all that led me here to Vesta Virtue's Village Camp. Funny enough, I found the brochure right in the mall where Neptune gave a surprise visit. The folks at the travel agency hadn't noticed the extra stand in their Summer Sun Summer Fun! display, which I chose to think was a sign of godly magic. Magic? Check. Camp? Definite check. Suspicious? No doubt. I still didn't know what the twenty-first legion was, but I was pretty much convinced this was where Neptune wanted me.

With all the water fountain quarters I had, I hopped on a bus to San Francisco and was ultimately disappointed. The camp was in a wide, green park that was empty besides six women in traditional Roman robes.

I didn't know what I was expecting. Maybe a line full of monsters herded by a goddess counselor, or a bunch of water nymphs my dad hired to torture me. A place full of kids like me? Maybe that was too much to hope for. But I definitely wasn't thinking around the lines of six beautiful girls and a campfire.

But there they were: priestesses, it seemed, tending a large campfire. They weren't singing songs or roasting marshmallows on it, just praying. One of the girls poured a vial of oil into it, and the flames sparked even brighter.

Let me tell you some things about myself: I'm Reagan King. I'm the daughter of a water god. Therefore, I absolutely hate fires.

I was already thinking 'Dad really did me in this time,' as I went to approach the six women. One of them turned towards me and whispered to the rest. I could hear faint catches of Latin, my father's name, Vesta (the name of the camp or the goddess of the hearth?), and stranger. If I'm lucky, they could just be talking about me as their new recruit.

But of course not. The woman who was whispering flicked her finger and flames burst out of the campfire and catapulted towards me.

"Woah!" I yelled, stumbling off to the side. The heat seared off the tips of my hair. "What's your problem?"

The flame hit the ground and wavered into black ash on dirt. A dark-haired woman who was sitting on a purple blanket stood up. "A daughter of Neptune arrives... unlucky. She smells like the sea."

I winced at that comment. I definitely did not like the sea, where my mom died and my dad effectively left me to a life like a nomad's. The original priestess who tried to burn me to death raised her hand to torch me again, but I managed to speak before the flames rose. "Well… nice to meet you all."

The woman's hand returned to her side. Being polite worked surprisingly well with possible homicidal immortals. I continued on unwaveringly, "I'm looking for a camp. Is this it?"

"This is certainly a camp. We are the vestal virgins, caring to the fire of Vesta, the goddess of the hearth. This has been our ancient duty since Roman times." The woman who outed me as Neptune's kid answered. "My name is Tarpeia."

"Galatea," the one who tried to burn me introduced.

"Lucretia."

One by one, each vestal virgin introduced herself. I was starting to think that they weren't so bad after all, despite our first fiery introduction. I addressed Tarpeia. "Neptune sent me here. I was hoping you could help me understand why."

Tarpeia and the other women whispered to each other once more in Latin. Galatea glanced over at the purple blanket Tarpeia was sitting on. Mom's voice was ringing in my head like it did all the time, an encyclopedia – vestal virgins: maidens who worked as priestesses to Vesta. If that was all they were, they couldn't be that bad, right? I'm sure there was something about Tarpeia too, something that itched at the back of my head like a monster was clawing at it.

Finally, all six women turned to me. "Are you a virgin?" One of them asked.

"Um," I answered.

"Do you enjoy sacrificing things to Vesta and being treated like a glass object?"

"Wait, I'm not sure – what?"

"Are you a daughter of a wealthy Roman citizen?"

Well, being the king of the seas, I'm sure Neptune would be considered wealthy (at least with fish, anemone, and perhaps the Cyclops), but he was more of a god than a citizen. Are gods citizens? "No," I replied.

"Are you six to ten years old?"

"Alright, that's enough. She doesn't seem to be here to replace one of us," Tarpeia concluded. "I believe you have the wrong camp."

Galatea nodded. "A boy was here quite a way back as well. He had the same scent as you, with strange markings on his arm. Another hero."

"He had a nice golden sword with him," Tarpeia said.

Not gonna lie, I was a little bit relieved that I wasn't going to become a priestess. I filed away what Galatea mentioned at the back of my mind and turned away to leave. "Thanks for helping me out. I'm not going to disturb you any longer."

I had barely taken a step away when Tarpeia's voice stopped me. "What's that on your head?" She asked.

Her voice sounded different, like she found a cute toy in the arcade machine. Mom's voice came back ringing in my head, like an ambulance siren. Wee-o, wee-o. A warning.

I looked back at her, trying to keep my hand from drifting to the back of my ponytail. "A hair comb," I answered. The very same hair comb that Neptune flung at me that day on the beach.

"It's a very beautiful shining gold. Let me see it." Tarpeia demanded.

"I better go," I said, shuffling away. Tarpeia loves gold, my mother whispered in my ear. She suffered dearly for it.

"Let me see it, little girl!" Overhead, something let out a cackle, like an animal's cry. It might have been Tarpeia. She betrayed Rome.

I had just broken into a run when a ball of fire shot over at my head. I dove down head-first into the grass and saw it burn a line into the grass in front of me. Rolling to my side, I saw the vestal virgins, hands raised and glaring at me. My back was now a barrier of fire. Me, the daughter of water, was now trapped with flames from behind. And of course, a bunch of pyromaniac ladies from the front.

I stood up shakily. All the fire was making me nauseous. "Hey, girls, I thought you were gonna let me go."

One of them shrieked. "You thought?!"

"You thought," Galatea spat. "You Romans buried me alive because you thought I had broken my vow of chastity!"

The others started hissing. Tarpeia took a step toward me. "We have been wronged! When the fire of Vesta sputtered out, we took the blame! We were their scapegoats. But we are innocent." She gestured towards me. "We will take revenge on all Romans, starting with you. And I will take that pretty comb off your hair to start."

Now it clicked. My mom's voice whispered at the background. I yelled at Tarpeia, "You aren't even innocent! You betrayed Rome to one of their enemies for the gold cuffs on their arms!"

"I was tricked!" Tarpeia wailed. "Instead of the cuffs, they pelted me with their shields. I was done wrong, labelled a traitor and a betrayer of Rome."

They weren't wrong, I thought.

Tarpeia and the other virgins raised their hands to create another deadly fireball. I reached for the hair comb pinned neatly in my ponytail. Now or never. "You guys want the hair comb? Well, come and get it!"

I flicked the comb like a deck of cards, and it sprung into a five-foot-tall trident in my hands. "Give me the trident!" Tarpeia screamed. She wasn't looking so pretty anymore. Her hair was coiling like seaweed, and her face was slowly gaining wrinkles as her and her colleagues flung fireball after fireball at me.

I ducked and raced towards them. I swiped at the nearest vestal virgin, who tumbled down with a shriek. Apparently, these maidens weren't used to hand to hand combat. I narrowly missed some fire aimed at my cheek, hitting another one with the butt of my trident, Libby (short for Liberty, long story). Galatea lobbed me with fire after fire, but I thought I was getting the hang of keeping them away.

Then Tarpeia took out a huge golden sword.

Damn, I thought. No more damsels-in-distress, I guess.

"Look at what the other hero left us," Tarpeia giggled.

"You guys can't be vestal virgins," I breathed. "People like you can't serve a goddess."

"Well, where is Vesta now?" she snarled. "Her fire is going out. We will be her priestesses again."

Vesta's gone? Her fire? I thought as Tarpeia's sword slammed against my trident. I slashed to the side, my trident going through the fire. The flames sputtered shook and sputtered. One of the maidens saw it and shrieked.

An idea sprung to life in my head. They don't like the fire going out…

This wasn't my favorite thing to do, but I guess six to one is a pretty bad ratio for a fight. The common thought would be: shoot the fire with water, right? Not really my style actually. See, Neptune might be the water god, but he's also called Earth-shaker for a reason.

I slammed the trident to the ground, and felt the earth shake beneath me.

First, the earth grabbed at the feet of the virgins, tying them to the ground. Then I willed it to rise and swallow the fire, pushing the flames toward the dirt. As the fire grew smaller and smaller, the virgins shrieked and shook, their beautiful features crumbling with the earth.

Some of them scrambled to keep the flame alive and others ran towards me, but it was too late. I gripped the trident and willed the quake to continue, watching as the flames were completely consumed and the virgins erupted into dust.

Slowly I lifted Libby, my trident, from the ground. The earthquake immediately calmed. A bird's cry echoed in the distance. I tried to catch my breath, wondering what the hell just happened here.

Vesta... they said she was gone. I glanced at the mound of dirt that had once been the fire. It would have been so much easier to water-gun it, but I guessed it couldn't be helped.

A glint of gold at the corner captured my eye – the sword Tarpeia had brandished from a fallen hero. It lay fallen near the purple tarp she sat on. As I walked towards it, I realized it wasn't actually a tarp but a bright purple shirt. The words SPQR flashed across the chest. The Senate and People of Rome. I flicked my mom's voice out of my head.

As I was leaving the park, SPQR turned over and over in my head. It didn't seem like a camp, but it was probably much better than Tarpeia and her crew of deadly virgins. Huh. Maybe my dad was onto something after all.