Chapter 29

Percy couldn't help himself.

He knew it was dangerous developing strong feelings for someone. If anyone found out who he truly cared about, they could use that to their advantage and throw him off the trail. He would no longer be able to dictate the battles or the war. If he cared about someone enough, he wouldn't let them go for the sake of the grander picture.

It was easier with Zoë because she was a Hunter. There were boundaries that prevented him from fully expressing his feelings. Time and distance cooled any burning passion he may have had for her. A part of him still did love her, even if she had given up on him.

When Irene decided that she had enough and glued herself to his side, he became more cognizant of all the time they had spent together in the past. In his hazy memories, she had always tried to be there when he needed someone the most. He knew she saw him as an idol, like a figure worth looking up to. He knew that her faith in him waned as the Republic grew larger and larger, and his involvement in political affairs became stronger. But, for some reason, she returned.

He should have been mad that Irene had broken through the wall he put up, but he just felt happy.

"Percy, stop."

He looked up to face the owner of the voice.

Zoë was alone. He didn't sense the presence of any Hunters hidden in the woods around them. But he could never be too careful. He kept a watchful eye out as she approached him. Zoë and Irene were probably still in touch, and perhaps Irene had let Zoë know of their whereabouts. Perhaps she had planned the whole debacle in Constantinople. He didn't blame Irene. It was an obligation of hers. He just hoped the other Hunters weren't anywhere nearby. Any group with Phoebe in it would never result in a peaceful conversation.

He'd hoped to have gotten rid of the bandits before the Hunters found them, but he overheard Xanthe talking to Leon and Thanas about a run-in she and Irene had with Phoebe. It was only a matter of time before they finally got to him. Irene tried to reassure him that Phoebe was acting behind Zoë's back and that it was Phoebe that was ultimately leading the Hunters to help with the fight against the bandits. He wasn't that blind; he knew Irene had called them in just in case he went haywire. And that Zoë must've known all about Phoebe's exploits.

The silver aura around her was weaker than he remembered. "Have things been rough?" he asked.

She nodded. "They have." Then she gave him a long, hard look. "You look well, though."

"Things were going well," he agreed. He shot her a wry smile. "Up until a few days ago. You know. Right until we were forced to flee Constantinople."

Zoë eyed him carefully. "Do you blame us?"

"Maybe. There's a slim chance it was the Romans. Either way, it just speeds up my plan. If it wasn't the Romans, then we may be able to catch them off guard."

Zoë nodded again. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she skirted around the edges of the topic, like she was afraid to bring it to attention.

"I hear you were tracking the bandits," he said.

"I knew they would lead me straight to you," she replied. "And we would be able to help innocent young women in the process."

"I'm surprised you exposed yourself, considering your team nearly blew us up in Nicaea."

She gave him a weird look. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, was that Phoebe, then?"

"We were never in Nicaea."

"Don't lie to me."

"We never went to Nicaea," she repeated, her gaze unwavering. "We went straight to Pergamum. Your spy network was monitoring the situation with the pirates and bandits. They fed us valuable information about your plans and your status. Why do you think your Anatolian spies were never killed? Why do you think your Illyrian spies were killed?"

He hesitated. He didn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but Zoë had never been much of a fibber. When she didn't want to tell the truth, she would just ignore the person bothering her.

But, then, who was behind the explosive arrow?

"But that's not why I'm here."

Percy stared at her curiously as she took a deep breath, settling her nerves and gathering the courage to finally state her purpose.

"I... spent a lot of time thinking. I'm sure you knew, or at least had a hunch, that Irene and I have been in contact. We met a couple days before the incident at Constantinople. We spoke, and she told me something I spent a lot of time thinking about. Something that I agreed with at first." She paused. "But, after more thought, I realized that it doesn't have to be this way."

Percy met her eyes. They were dark and bold, just as they always had been. But her gaze was different. It was full of worry.

"Irene may have lived for over a thousand years, but she's no child of Athena. You have to stop before she does something you can't reverse."

"What are you talking about?"

He was startled by her words. Was she purposely being vague? Why was she speaking as if he was already aware of the situation?

"I swore on the Styx I would never reveal the details," Zoë said, her eyes pleading. He hadn't seen that look from her in a while. "But you have to believe me. Irene is going to do something stupid, and Phoebe isn't going to help the situation. It may be too late to change their minds, but what they choose to do depends on your own actions. Stop the attack. Find Chiron and rebuild the camp. If you do that, there won't be any unnecessary—" She stopped herself suddenly, as if unable to say the next word.

"Did you expect that I would agree if you showed up and threw something at my face like this?" he asked. "You're not very convincing, you know."

She stared at the ground with a clenched jaw. "I don't have the time to try and convince you the traditional way. All of this makes me regret ever doubting you and breaking our trust. If I hadn't, you'd just listen to me and stop before it gets out of hand."

"I'm glad you understand that everything that's happened isn't all my fault."

She looked conflicted. "Percy, this isn't the time—"

"There is one thing you can do to regain my trust."

For one moment, she looked surprised. Then, her gaze turned desperate. "What?"

"Call off the Hunters," he said firmly, holding her gaze. "Show me the power of the lieutenant of Artemis. Call off the Amazons. None of them can help the Romans. None. If you can do that, I'll retreat."

"Did Irene tell you we brought the Amazons in on it?"

"Maybe. If you go tell them off, I'll retreat."

"You know the Amazons won't listen to my orders. They're not within my sphere of influence."

"You can give it a shot. Irene's always keeping in contact with you, isn't she? She can be pretty convincing."

"She's part of the problem!"

"What problem?"

"The problem I swore to the Styx that I would never reveal! I already told her that I would follow her plan. You're the only one that can change the path we're headed on."

"How does that even—?"

She cut him off with a fierce glare. Only Zoë could scare him with just the look in her eyes. He wasn't afraid of too much else. "I wouldn't spend my time doing this if I didn't think it was worth it." Her gaze softened a touch. "I mean it, Percy. Irene isn't going to back down this time. She's more determined than ever. Why do you think she's spending so much time around you? Do you think she's doing it to tag along? She wants you to change."

"I know that—"

"Then why do you continue forging forward? Because she's not stopping you adamantly? Don't you think her doing so seems too good to be true after everything you went through?"

Percy clenched his jaw. "That's not what Irene is doing. She's staying by me to help rein me in. But she's letting me make my own decisions. She's letting me control my fate instead of my strings pulled for me. No one ever gave me a chance at just being... me. The world seemed like it just wanted me to bow down and eat shit. Why would I want to do that?"

Her eyes were pained, like she was torn when she looked at him. "Percy, you—"

"I don't remember the last time you ever spoke to me like this," he continued, his anger growing. "Guess why you've changed. It's because of Irene. Irene has helped you change. She's done so much for us without us even knowing it. She's helped us throughout the centuries when we've been at our lowest!"

"Why do you think I want to save her from what she has planned?!" Zoë exclaimed. She was tearing up, though it eluded him whether it was out of anger and frustration or regret and sorrow. "I don't want her to go through with it! We might not always trust each other, but..." She trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right words to say. "Can you please trust me? Just this once."

He wanted to. But, based on Xanthe's conversation with Leon that he'd eavesdropped on, Phoebe was hunting him down. He didn't doubt Zoë, but he couldn't trust what the Hunters would do afterward. They could easily turn on him and hunt him down while his back was turned.

But you trusted Irene! a part of his mind argued.

That's different, he thought. Irene's been by my side. Zoë hasn't.

"I'll do everything in my power to convince Phoebe to stop," she said. "I know Irene wants you to believe that I'm stupid and I don't know anything, but there's a way we can stop her from executing her plan. I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try. The Amazons are a different story. I have no hope in controlling them. But, with the Hunters, I can at least minimize the number of Hunters that join Phoebe on her hunt."

He stared into her eyes. Zoë had never been a great actor, not like Irene. And though Irene tended to show her genuine self, Zoë was equally as transparent. At least, in situations like these. She wasn't lying. He knew that. She could've been hiding the truth, but at least she hadn't lied to him.

The Hunters were Zoë's team. He knew she cherished each and every one of them, even the ones that were out for his blood. Looking at her, he couldn't imagine the pain she would have to endure if he killed any of her Hunters. He couldn't do that to her. He didn't want to do that to her.

But what was Irene planning? The way Zoë spoke made it seem like she was going to sacrifice herself. For what reason? How would her sacrifice help him in the end?

Was it even meant to help him? What if Irene's plan was to backstab him? Would Zoë even be worried about that? No, she was worried that Irene was going to get hurt. If Zoë was confronting him about it, there was no way she would be planning to backstab him. At very least, she wouldn't backstab him if it was true that they weren't trying to play mind games. It was getting confusing.

"Just because I don't love you anymore, doesn't mean I can't care for you as a friend," Zoë said through watery eyes. "And Irene... who was like another sister of mine..."

"Was..." He raised an eyebrow. "Is she going to threaten to kill herself if I don't stop? Does she think that will work? Does she have the guts to kill herself without knowing the outcome?"

Zoë shut her eyes tight and looked down, her lips quivering.

"I don't believe you." He clenched his jaw. Irene wasn't that stupid. She would never concoct a plan like that. "If you're here to throw me off, it's not going to work. Irene will side with me in the end. I know it."

The Hunter shook her head. For a moment, she seemed to be contemplating what to say. Her torn expression faded, replaced by a look of anger. "For once, can you think about someone other than yourself?!"

"Don't give me that bullshit."

"Fuck you!" Zoë gave him a hard shove, forcing him back a few steps. "I'm trying to help!"

"Yeah, sure. That's a good way to help me. Cuss me out more, why don't you?"

She put a hand to her belt, where her hunting knife was.

"What are you going to do?" he asked with a cold laugh. "Kill me? Can you even kill me?"

Trembling, she drew her knife and threw it at his feet.

He stared at it. Then he looked up at her.

"Anerríphtho kývos," she said before she turned on her heels and marched away from him.

No other words needed to be said. Just as Caesar had done before he crossed the Rubicon, all she needed to do was utter that simple phrase. Now, there was certainty that Zoë and the Hunters were going to forego all customs and traditions.

It was, effectively, her declaration of war.

Irene glared at the mortal. "Stay back. He'll meet you outside."

"Feisty," the bandit purred. "I like a wild ride sometimes."

She clenched her fists but held her tongue. She couldn't afford to get in a fight. Otherwise, her plan would fail. Calming her nerves, she held her gaze and continued to stare down the outlaw son of Poseidon.

Percy arrived a few moments later.

"There he is," the bandit said. "The man of the hour. How are you doing, brother?"

Percy curled his lips for a moment, obviously displeased that the bandit seemed to think they were close enough to warrant any sort of companionship. But he forced a smile and bowed his head. "You have the Romans?"

"Of course."

"Let's see them."

The bandit glanced at Irene. "Is your lovely wife coming?"

Percy nodded. "She is. Not my wife, but she's off-limits regardless."

"As if I don't know," the bandit chuckled. He gave Percy a sly smile. "I know you want her all to yourself."

Irene resisted the urge to drive a dagger through the bandit's throat.

"Let's see them," Percy insisted, sensing her tension.

"Very well."

The bandit led them to his little campsite down the road. There were a couple of his helpers. Dressed in grey clothes that blended well with the forest around them, they ran around cleaning things up. At the center of the site, ringed around a dying campfire, were ten Roman prisoners. Six of them were female, and the majority looked younger than Percy's physical form. The youngest was a boy, who hardly looked older than six. All of them looked tired and weary, some with fresh wounds from cuts all over their arms and legs. Their feet were covered with bruises and calluses, and some had swelling from mosquito bites.

All of the prisoners were tied together with rope. Irene suspected that most of them would have rope burns around their wrists with how defeated they looked. Bandits weren't exactly known for their hospitality. Chances were high that they'd already sexually abused some of the girls.

As Percy went to discuss terms with the bandit, Irene went over to the prisoners to check on their health.

The oldest was a girl, probably around her own physical age, with bruises on her neck. Irene twitched, recalling her old memories. She took a closer look at the marks. The imprints were more prominent on one side than the other. She held out her hand and imagined the grip. It matched.

Shuddering in disgust, she went around to each person to check on their health. A few were sickly with pace faces and were shivering despite the daylight. The two youngest were staring blankly at the ground, as if they couldn't comprehend the situation. Or maybe they didn't want to understand the situation. She empathized.

All of them were legacies. Each had the tattoo on their forearms.

Irene fed everyone a small bite of ambrosia.

"Thank you," the youngest boy said, munching on the tiny chunk like he was trying to save as much as he could. He looked skinny and malnourished, and it made her angrier. It was one thing to die in battle, fighting against the enemy. It was another to be captured and suffer agonizingly until death.

She stood up and turned toward Percy. He was walking over, eyeing the prisoners.

"You can't do this," she told him. "You can't leave the girls with him."

Percy's eyes flickered toward the oldest girl, his expression pained. "I'm sorry, Irene. It's part of the deal."

She shook her head insistently. "It doesn't have to be. Do you have to work with scum like this?"

"It makes them an easier target for the Hunters," he shot back. "I'm making large, clumsy movements. If they track me, they'll be able to find them and hunt them down. If I'm going to help make this world a better place, what's the harm in sending a bunch of bandits to certain death against the Hunters?"

"I thought this was about Apollo!" she said angrily, trying to hush her voice so the bandits wouldn't hear.

"It is! The bandits will now attack the Romans, which is good for hurting Apollo. So, while the Romans suffer, the Hunters can swoop in and clean up the bandits." He paused. "Listen, I don't like what they do either. The sooner we deal with them, the faster we can move on to Tarsus."

Irene crossed her arms and turned away, acting fed up. It wasn't hard to muster up the emotions to fake it, since a part of her truly felt angry. But it was all heading according to plan. She just needed to get Phoebe's group right on their tail.

"Hey." Percy touched her arm gently. His expression was soft and apologetic. "We have to do it. The kids have been kicked out of Constantinople, and this time it wasn't my doing. I should've been more careful, but I owe it to them to fight for their survival. Especially the Trio."

Now that Zoë had pointed out how Irene felt, Irene couldn't help but notice how youthful he looked. While his expression was full of the pain and anger of someone who had experienced a long, hard life, he was strong and athletic. And his gentle gaze, a reminder of the time before his exile, almost melted her act. She caught herself at the last moment, clenching her jaw and muttering something incoherent, even to herself, underneath her breath.

As was promised, the bandit gave them all the boys while keeping the girls. After a little negotiation, Percy managed to wrestle away the youngest girls, arguing that they wouldn't have the "features" the bandits wanted. Irene wanted to save the oldest, but neither she nor Percy could come up with a reasonable excuse.

They brought the Romans to a secluded area nearby, lining them up in the clearing.

Irene watched, fully expecting Percy to execute them, one by one.

But, after he lined them up, he took a long look at her. She ignored his gaze, trying to pretend like she didn't notice. She met the eyes of all the boys. And the girls. They seemed to think that this was their end as well. No one spoke up. The Romans resigned themselves to their fate.

The young boy popped the last bit of the ambrosia into his mouth, his eyes teary. Irene nearly broke down crying herself. That would be the boy's last meal before his death. It would be his last act.

Percy made his way to the front and said, "You're free."

Irene looked up at him in shock. She couldn't believe her ears.

Neither could the Romans.

"After I'm done talking, I'm going to slash you all free from your ropes and bounds," he continued. "I'm not going to give you weapons. I'm not going to give you food. There will be no help getting to the nearest village or town. There will be no medic to treat your sicknesses. I'm sure you all know we're fairly close to Attaleia. You might want to head there before anywhere else. You can choose to leave this life and live somewhere away from this stupid world for the rest of your days. You can choose to return to a legion and risk dying by my hand another day. You can choose to attack me right here and right now if you wish to die today. Regardless, you are free. The choice is yours."

Irene put a hand on his shoulder as he took a step forward. "Are you serious?"

She met his eyes again. They were softer than usual.

"Yes, I'm serious, Irene."

She stared at him for what seemed like ages. Was it possible for him to change without having to kill herself? Her hopes were beginning to rise, but she suppressed them. If she raised her hopes, she would only end up disappointed.

Irene was startled at the sudden change. Even just a few days ago, he'd been anxious to keep moving and destroy the last legions. And that meant obliterating any trace of the Romans, regardless of whether the stray Romans wanted to surrender or not. Before, this had been a war of annihilation. No side could win without the complete extinction of the other.

She reminded herself that Percy's ultimate goal was still to hurt Apollo. Hunting down the Romans was his only current way of doing so.

As Percy cut through their bounds, every single one of the Romans left the clearing. A couple of the older ones helped the young kids move along. The Romans' training began to show as they moved as a unit, scouting ahead and making sure the coast was clear. In spite of their weak condition, they were doing everything they could to survive.

There was no guarantee that they wouldn't return to the legion to fight again, but Irene couldn't help but smile. This was what she'd learned over the centuries. That, ultimately, if people could learn how to be compassionate and kind to everyone, instead of just their own group, they were capable of peace. If a child of Rome could understand that and bring the Athena Parthenos home, the rift would be healed.

"Are you that happy?" Percy asked.

She broke out of her stupor and looked at him. "What?" she glanced back in the direction the Romans had disappeared to. "Oh. Yeah. I am."

He nodded and gave her a smile. "I'm glad you're happy. I feel a lot better when you're smiling."

"Are you hitting on me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ha!" He bumped her shoulder lightly. "You wish."

"And if I do?"

"Sorry, I don't have time for love."

She laughed. It was good to laugh.

"Is that funny?" he snickered.

"You're laughing too!" she pointed out.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Because you're being weird."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

But instead of shooting back a retort, he put a hand on top of her head and patted her gently. With a wistful smile, he said, "When I first became immortal, after Zoë left for the Hunters, I reflected back on my life. Up to that point, I only experienced sixteen years of life, but one thing I'd wanted was a sibling. I would've been okay with a brother or a sister. My family was gone. My mom died when I was young. Zoë wasn't a sibling to me. Jason turned back on his word. If only I had a sibling whom I could turn to no matter what. That was a wish that I'd had for years."

Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was born a generation earlier than her. If he never became immortal, he probably should've been somewhere between 40 or 50 when the Trojan War ended. Maybe even older. She couldn't imagine him at any other physical age than 16.

"Thank you for not giving up on me after all this time," he said.

"I feel like you've said this before."

"It's worth repeating, no?"

She smiled. Suddenly, a thought came to her mind. She remembered Percy's old memory of Mei, the girl in the Far East whom he'd cherished as a sister. She put her arms around him and embraced him tightly. "I feel like this could be seen the wrong way, but listen to my words carefully. You may feel thankful toward me for sticking by you, but I also feel thankful toward you for being there for me. You're what I wanted Aeneas to be. Not without faults. Not without poor decisions. But someone who isn't afraid to acknowledge when he has made a mistake."

"Are you drunk?" he scoffed. "Where have you been the past millennium while I've been brutally killing any Roman or Greek in my way?"

"It's a war," she said. "If you don't kill anyone, it means you're losing."

"I mean, that's true, but—"

"Oh, just forget about it." She pulled away from the hug. "I'm trying to compliment you."

"I'm not feeling the genuineness," he remarked sarcastically.

She punched his shoulder. "Shut up."

He grinned.

Irene sighed. She put her hands on his shoulders. "I just want you to be happy. You don't deserve this eternal torment. Perhaps you're twisted in a way, and it's hard to ignore your wrongdoings, but had the gods not shunned you in the first place, based on what I know about you, I think you would've turned out to be a pretty nice and normal person. Aside from the whole immortality thing."

"I will be happy." He put his hands on her shoulders and nodded confidently, staring into her eyes. "I think I've finally found it. After this whole ordeal is over, if I survive through it all, I know what I want."

Irene wanted to shake her head, to tell him that he could be happy without finishing this ordeal. But she was afraid it would backfire. Was it possible for her to save him without taking her own life? If she just spoke up, told him that she wanted to be his partner forever, went straight for Olympus to demand some sort of apology out of Apollo through Athena, could she do it?

Break him, the voice in her mind told her. Minerva's voice. Break him to save him.

She pressed her lips together and smiled. "This ordeal? Let's get this shit done."