I can't tell how many people wanted this chapter to come. Let's go!

Also, one final week without recs. My exams just ended, so I'm free! (But still didn't have time to read enough. Heh)

Note: I do NOT own PJO or HOO. Otherwise, I wouldn't be uploading this here.

Chapter XXXIX

The entire army of Olympus froze in their tracks when they heard the name. The newer campers looked a bit confused, remembering the name from somewhere, but not able to truly pinpoint where it came from.

The immortalized campers and gods were a completely different story. They stood frozen, unable to take their eyes off the figure of the demigod they had believed to be long-dead.

"Br-Brandon?" Will Solace stuttered, pure disbelief shining in his eyes. "How are you— where were..."

The reason for his confusion was well founded. Brandon didn't look a day older than twenty-five, even though he had disappeared from camp nearly a century ago. He had never received the gift of immortality, even the partial form possessed by the hunters, but there he stood, still in the prime of his life when he was supposed to be a rotting corpse out in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello, brother," Brandon said, his eyes holding no slight amount of mirth. However, it wasn't comforting in the slightest. It made some of the younger demigods want to run away and hide behind their godly parents' legs, unable to hold his gaze.

"So, you joined him, huh? That's why you did everything you did," Apollo said, not a trace of joy present on his features at the reappearance of his son. The only thing visible was a mask of fury, one that almost caused a few of the demigods to stumble back in fright. None of them had seen the sun god ever adorn such an expression before.

"Why yes, father, yes I did. Did you really think I would be acting alone?" the long-lost son of Apollo quipped, his head tilted to the side in a mocking impression of a child deep in thought.

Apollo growled, but held back. He knew he couldn't interrupt the duel of honour, no matter what he wished.

"Brandon, what are you talking about? Why have you sided with the enemy? You know we didn't support Perseus' actions against you. Please, come back to our side," Malcolm said, his eyes displaying the same confusion present on the others' faces.

Said demigod threw his head back, laughing uproariously. "You really think this is because of Percy? Oh, that's rich. Tell you what, if Monaxiá defeats me in a duel, I'll tell you what happened."

The God of Heroes grit his teeth, feeling the urge to just rip the demigod apart where he stood. But he had to allow his opponent the chance to at least raise his guard. However, he couldn't feel the trap he was walking into.

"Choose your weapon, Brandon," he said, an animalistic growl lacing the edges of his words.

The son of Apollo grinned, although Monaxiá could see a hint of trepidation in the edges of the smug look. "Why should I? It feels nice to simply talk after so many years, doesn't it?" he asked, still not having drawn a weapon.

"Now," Monaxiá said. He didn't scream or yell, but the underlying power in his words was enough to unsettle his opponent. Brandon flinched ever so slightly but managed to play it off like it didn't affect him.

"Alright, alright, don't get your toga in a bunch," he said, drawing a standard Greek xiphos from its sheath hanging onto his side. He lifted it up, taking his guard before Monaxiá.

The God of Swordsmanship almost snorted when he saw the pitiful attempt before him. Granted, Brandon had improved since the last time he'd seen him, and could probably hold his own against someone like Piper if it came down to it, but to challenge him? It was almost too easy to pick up the flaws in his stance, along with all the openings present for him to attack. The choice of weapon also didn't do Brandon any favours. The idiot had chosen Monaxiá's signature blade.

He called Riptide forward, the green Atlantean Steel resting in his hands. He didn't have to worry about the army behind him recognizing the blade. The colour didn't even remotely resemble what they remembered. He bent his knees, waiting for Brandon to make the first move. He was going to show the gods-damned bastard why he shouldn't have messed with him all those years ago.

Brandon lunged forward, a wild yell escaping his lips. Monaxiá didn't even move as he saw the trajectory of the blade, instead simply raising his left arm to catch the strike against his vambrace. He didn't even feel anything through the metal, a testament to just how far apart the two of them were.

He pushed the demigod backwards, causing the less experienced fighter to stumble as he was thrown off balance. Without giving him time to recover, Monaxiá stepped into his guard, slipping Riptide through a gap in Brandon's guard and armour, slicing the side of his abdomen. The demigod hissed in pain, but Monaxiá didn't give him the time to recover.

He knew he could have ended it then and there, but he wanted the demigod to suffer for what he'd put Monaxiá through. The years of pent-up hatred were spilling over, causing his vision to be tinted red once more. He allowed his sword to deliver multiple shallow cuts all over Brandon's body, noting that the blood flowing from the wounds was a bright gold. Someone had made the piece of shit not just partially immortal, but a full immortal.

It didn't matter to him, at least it allowed him greater leeway in his ability to throw the poor excuse of a former demigod around like a ragdoll. His opponent wasn't even putting up much of a fight, instead taking all his attacks without ever responding. Monaxiá even paused in his relentless offense to allow him a chance to fight back, but the swing was so laughable that he batted it aside with the palm of his hand, knowing that there was no way he was going to be injured with the pathetic amount of power behind it.

The macabre dance went on for almost five minutes before Brandon was flat on his ass, trying to scramble away as best he could from the furious figure before him. Monaxiá was slowly closing in, his sword ready to drop and complete the fight.

However, he paused right as he was about to finish it. Brandon had promised to tell them exactly what had happened, and why he was with Tartarus' army. It was his chance to prove that he had been innocent. He could finally get the closure he'd been after for so long...

Such thoughts dominated his mind when Brandon quickly thumped the ground thrice in quick succession. For a moment, Monaxiá wondered if his opponent was yielding before he was killed, but he heard a hint of movement behind him. He tensed, ready to turn around, but was too slow. An empousa, ridiculously fast for her breed, ran in between them, her knife slicing the strap that held his mask together.

He realized what Brandon was doing, but it was too late. The immortalized demigod leaped up, grabbing the front of his mask before yanking it away, leaving his face open for the world to see. The maniacal grin on his face rankled almost as much as his own stupidity.

He should have realized what was going on the moment Brandon attempted to rile him up. He should have known that thing was trying to make him lose his cool, causing him to not pay attention to his surroundings. He had paid the price, not even noticing that the empousa had crept close enough to do something like that.

He could hear Brandon's mocking laugh to his right. The entire thing had been beautifully orchestrated, and he had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. He hadn't even reacted when the empousa ran forward, knowing that the knife would be unable to pierce his skin. In his rage-addled mind, he hadn't even considered that she would be aiming for his strap.

His fists clenched as he felt the rage bubble up within him once more, but he felt it drain away as a series of gasps echoed from his other side. He turned around, noticing that the entire army was able to see exactly who he was, and there was no way he could hide it once again. The gods looked downright furious at the deception employed by Brandon, along with using another person in what was meant to be a one-on-one duel. However, worry was also prominent on their faces, and it was easy to se why.

The immortal demigods, along with the six and Nico, were looking like they'd seen a ghost, an expression they had worn just a few minutes ago when Brandon's identity had been revealed. Grover looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Although this time, their expressions were morphing much quicker, and he could see that the fallout wasn't going to be good.

"P... Perseus? You're the fourteenth Olympian?" Annabeth said, her grey eyes wide in disbelief and anger. "After everything you did, they gave you the honour when any one of us was better suited for it?"

"They trusted you to watch over the new demigods? After how you treated your closest friends?" Jason added, his blue eyes burning.

"It's no wonder you're the God of Monsters, considering you are one yourself," Nico hissed, before his voice was lost in the slowly rising clamour as the others began to recover from their shock, slowly beginning to hurl obscenities in his direction. He knew that if it continued, he would have an uprising on his hands.

He didn't prevent it by talking to them, however. Instead, he turned back to Brandon, sinking his fist into the demigod's stomach with a sick squelch. He could hear some more screams in the background, but he thoroughly ignored them. They weren't involved in this matter. It was between the two of them alone.

"Tell them," he hissed. "Tell them the fucking truth."

He pulled the son of Apollo to his feet, heedless to the ichor that was dribbling down his battered quarry's lip. He shoved him forward, making sure that he positioned himself behind the bastard. The monsters cowered before him, feeling the pure wrath in his aura. Even the yells of the demigods died down as they felt his aura pulse.

Brandon coughed once before beginning to speak, his voice scratchy due to the beating he'd just received. He glanced back towards Monaxiá once, and the god felt something akin to fear stir up within himself. Instead of seeing the resignation he'd expected, he saw a gleam of triumph. Suddenly, it didn't look like such a bright idea. However, he was too late to stop it.

"Alright, settle down," the demigod said, his mocking voice still present. "Let me tell you what actually happened."

Tanya didn't know how she could become any more shocked. She had seen a person who had been believed to be dead for over a century suddenly return before her eyes, only to challenge the god she'd travelled with for over a month to a duel. Added to that was when he managed to knock off Monaxiá's helmet through trickery, revealing the face of Perseus Jackson.

She could recognize him from some of the images the cabin counsellors had shown them when they returned from New Olympus after the day the Olympians had told them the story of Perseus, and while the face looked older and more mature, and the beard was definitely a new addition, there was no mistaking who it was. The sea green eyes were a dead giveaway, although she could see an almost equal amount of red in them now. It intrigued her as to why it was so.

She suddenly realized that he had lied about not knowing his mother. A small hint of indignation rose within her, before she brutally crushed it, knowing that he had a very valid reason to keep it secret. She knew that he didn't want to take chances, especially since she had witnessed first-hand the response he had received once he was unmasked.

However, all of it came to a grinding halt when she felt an aura of rage crash into her. Her eyes shifted over to Monaxiá's form, standing still as a statue as his eyes literally burned in anger. She could see his irises look like they contained flames of green and red, with a small hint of yellow present as well. It was lucky that Monaxiá... no, Perseus, had moved closer as the battle progressed. Now, Brandon was a mere five yards away from the front lines of Olympus, with Monaxiá standing a couple feet behind him.

She could hear the smugness in Brandon's voice. "Alright, settle down. Let me tell you what actually happened."

Poseidon almost lunged forward, ready to skewer him with his trident, but Percy held his hand up in a simple gesture, telling his father to hold his ground.

"But son, this insolent..." the god of the seas began before Percy cut him off.

"I know dad, that's why he's going to tell them himself," he growled, although she could see a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

Why is it so tense? She had always doubted the veracity of the final part of Percy's tale, since his character had undergone such a massive shift that it seemed almost impossible for him to be the same person. Brandon's return when he was supposed to have been killed by Percy himself, along with being present on the opposite side, should have been the nail in the coffin. Then why was he so tense, and Brandon so nonchalant? And why were the others still thinking that Percy was in the wrong?

Brandon waited, trying to see whether Percy would respond again. When he didn't, he began to talk. "I know how you all feel. Betrayed, hurt, and disbelieving of the fact that he could ever be an Olympian. But I think we need to do something before I tell you my side of the story. After all, we don't want to miss the full effect, do we?"

He reached into a small space in his belt, grabbing something before pulling it out. She watched as he drew forth a small, transparent ball, barely the size of her thumb. He tapped its side, causing it to expand to the size of her palm instead. Even from the distance, she could see that it wasn't glass. The cut and inherent gleam was indicative of it being a gemstone. It was beautiful, but she could also sense something off about it. It had a malevolent spirit within it, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. It felt like it had been highly diminished, but the lingering presence was still present.

Brandon closed his eyes before murmuring something in a language she couldn't comprehend. As he spoke, she could feel the sensation become even more pronounced, causing her to feel like something was crawling up her spine. She backed away a step but was then captured by the sight she witnessed.

A thick, black smoke was billowing from the bodies of the immortal demigods, along with those who had been gifted godhood right after the Giant War. The majority of the hunters also had the same substance emanating from their beings. She watched as the smoke slowly drifted towards the ball held in Brandon's hand, slowly entering the object. She would never know how so much of a substance managed to fit inside such a small container, but it somehow worked, leaving him with a now black ball, so dark that she couldn't see any light reflected from it at all.

He grinned widely, watching as they clutched their heads for a long moment, groaning slightly. "Felt bad, didn't it? Sorry about that, had to be done."

"Wh-what was that?" hissed Thalia, massaging her head like she was trying to ease a painful headache.

"That, my dear huntress, was Vapour of Lethe," he said.

Tanya instantly sensed a shift in the atmosphere. All around her, the Olympians had stilled, their eyes glancing nervously between Brandon and the other demigods. The only thing she could think of was, They knew. They knew, and they didn't tell us. Why?

Annabeth asked the question for her. "What in Hades is that?" It seemed surprising to see that even the daughter of Athena didn't know about something.

"Oh, have your parents hidden even more information from you," he mocked, before his face quickly morphed back into his jolly facade. "For once, they did something smart. This isn't knowledge one should bandy about. Of course, I don't care.

"The Vapour of Lethe is a powerful mist-like substance that is obtained from concentrating the waters of the river it's named after before enacting a few rituals on it. What you're left with is one of the best substances available to sabotage."

"And why is that?" asked Malcolm, even as he held onto his head, although she could see that the pain was receding.

"Why, a very good question!" There was no mistaking the mockery in his voice now. "You see, this allows a person to influence what others perceive, along with locking down the perception after it has gone on long enough. After that, it will erase any evidence of the contrary from your minds, no matter how damning it may be."

"But what does that have to do with... Percy," Hazel realized, her eyes widening along with all the others'.

"Right in one," Brandon chirped. "You see, as a son of Apollo, I had the ability to make you all believe I was telling the truth. It was incredibly weak, but it was enough for the Vapour to utilize."

"But why? Why would you do that?" asked Leo. She could see his eyes starting to become slightly watery, and she knew the others were experiencing something similar. It must have been unbelievably painful to know that they'd thrown out their friend over something that hadn't happened.

Brandon simply continued with his tale. "Well, you can thank my father for that. He never even visited me while I was a kid, even though my life was pure shit."

Apollo almost lunged forward, and he would have done so if it hadn't been for Hermes restraining him. "Don't you dare put this on me!" he yelled. "I didn't even know where you were! I thought I told you the moment you reached camp that your presence had been masked by some other entity. I couldn't sense you even though I'd tried!"

His son simply shrugged, not looking overly concerned at that part. "Doesn't matter. I was already working for someone else at that point. You were far too late to change my path anyways. And I'm thankful for that. I've gotten a much better bargain."

"A much better bargain means cowering at your master's feet?" asked Monaxiá coldly.

Brandon didn't respond, instead focusing on the demigods once more. "I didn't know who my master was at first, but he contacted me in my dreams. I had received this gift—" he lifted the orb containing the Vapour, "—as I was making my way to camp. He told me I would know when to use it. By then, I knew to explicitly trust him, and to not reveal any information about him to anyone else.

"You see, we needed him out of the picture before we could proceed," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "What better way to do that than by him being betrayed by those he cared for the most?"

"You mean everything we thought he did..." began Frank.

"Yup. All me. You were fool enough to believe it," said Brandon. "Honestly, I couldn't believe how quickly you fell for it. Even I expected to have to work more to pull it off, but you all made it so easy."

"But... But you said that you released the Vapour to cloud our minds," said Piper, trying to grasp at any straw she could.

Brandon snorted in derision. "That made it so that the thought would remain locked on, and my influence only made you more open to the decision. No one can put a thought directly into your mind except maybe the Fates, and even they only have limited powers over that. You all made the choice yourselves. There's no magic 'get out of jail free' card for you lot.

"It worked because you either harboured jealousy for his position or thought you could have done better than him, even if it was just in certain areas. All of you were so easy to be brought under its sway. I just needed to make it look like he'd killed me, and the deal was set. Nothing else left to do." He finished his story, grinning like a maniac.

Tanya finally understood why Percy looked so hesitant to allow him to talk. All around her, she could feel the morale, bolstered after a massive victory over the opposing forces, crash and burn at the revelation that they had betrayed their greatest hero. That the name they had ruined and insulted for over a century was completely innocent of everything he had been accused of.

She understood what Tartarus had planned. In one single motion, he had sucked away the spirit of the army, causing them to lose almost all of the fight they had left within them.

Brandon realized that as well, laughing as he looked at the surrounding monsters. "Well then, on with it! Take them out now!"

He was about to make a move when Percy appeared behind him, his eyes blazing with fury. There was no mistaking it now. There were definite tints of yellow in his irises.

"Thank you for that, Brandon. It was a glorious final act," the god hissed, causing the traitor to widen his eyes at the statement.

"Final act? What do you..." his words were cut off as Percy's twin swords speared him, causing him to choke on his own blood. Percy allowed him to slowly slide down, before grabbing a knife that was hanging off his belt. He flipped it over, checking the shining edge.

"Essence of Styx, huh?" he asked, looking at the tar like substance coating the blade. "So, has your master switched his plan to knocking me off now that he can't get his beloved back, or did you do it by yourself, knowing that you could probably get me in the ensuing chaos. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but that's not going to happen."

He lunged forward, quickly stabbing the knife into Brandon's heart. Tanya could see the black lines tracing their way along his chest, causing him to foam at the mouth.

Percy, however, wasn't done yet. He grabbed the immortalized demigod by the front of his armour, slitting his throat with the poisoned blade before ramming it through his head, cracking the skull as the blade plunged into the brain. She watched as Brandon's chest stopped moving before he slowly crumbled away into grey dust. It was the same as what had happened to Dakota.

Percy stood up, his aura now pulsating around them in a terrifying manner. In that moment, she thought that he was almost on par with the Big Three when it came to power. But something told her that he was grappling with himself, holding his true rage back as it tried to burst forth.

He moved, moving far too quickly for her to see. All she heard was the sound of blades cutting through the air, followed by the poof of monsters bursting into dust.

The other gods leapt into action, Percy's troops not far behind. They were unaffected by the situation, although they were looking at the demigods with a slightly more distrustful eye. Still, they were more focused on taking out the remaining forces.

The demigods moved forward as well, although it was clear that they were far less enthusiastic. All the confidence they had built up vanished without a trace after Brandon's declaration. Tanya could see the older ones hunched over, their minds probably replaying everything that had occurred from a fresh perspective. They were probably wondering how they could have missed such obvious signs. She wouldn't be surprised if they decided to not fight in the next wave.

However, her attention was drawn towards Percy. She had thought she had seen the full extent of his battle prowess, but she had been sorely mistaken. Nothing she had seen before compared to the swathe of destruction left in his wake as he made his way through the monster army. He had access to every bit of his vast powers, and he was infuriated. She could see his eyes burning, and for a moment she thought that his eyes had been replaced by pits of flame.

The other Olympians were warheads, but at that moment, none of them could hold their own against the wave of destruction on the battlefield. His movements were almost as quick as Hermes', but even he couldn't hope to recreate the ease with which Percy moved. His fluid motions looked so out of place on the battlefield, almost as if they were an artist's rendition of the ideal form instead of the gritty reality.

In the end, the monsters around them finally turned tail and ran. Their numbers had been decimated, and Percy didn't look like he was going to be calming anytime soon. Barely three hundred monsters escaped his wrath, heading for the hills.

He didn't let them escape, though. Exerting the power of his domain over monsters and his bloodline to assert complete and utter control over hydrokinesis, he controlled the liquid-like substance inside the beings of the monsters and superheated it to the point where they were begging for Tartarus, until they all exploded from the liquid-turned-gas having nowhere to go, which exerted so much pressure that it nigh-flayed them before they were granted the lesser evil of being sent to the Pit.

He stood, his chest heaving from the exertion. He retracted his swords back into their ring forms, the dust that had collected on them instantly falling off. He turned around, noticing the expressions on the faces of the people around him.

"What are you all looking at," he growled, his rough voice causing the others to step back in shock.

"P... Percy, we just wanted to..." began Annabeth before she was brutally cut off.

"Save it. Right now, we still have more forces to worry about. We need to stay on our guard. There's no time for idle chit-chat," he said, already searching for any remnant of the army.

"But Perce, we..." said Jason, before he got the same treatment.

"Do not call me Perce, Jason. Only my friends call me that, and you lost the privilege of being my friend long ago." The frigidness was practically pouring out of his voice as he hissed that out, still not looking towards them as he scanned the surroundings.

"Why are you being so..." began Piper, before he truly lost his temper.

"I SAID, SHUT IT!" His voice slammed into them, sending all of them stumbling back a few steps. They met his eyes, the green and red swirling together. For a second, it looked like it had shifted to burning pits of the same colours, with a heavy dose of poisonous yellow thrown in.

For once, it worked. They instantly quieted as he kept looking out over the landscape, giving him the silence he needed to finish his search.

"There's no monsters," he confirmed. "But we should be ready for the next wave. It could be coming any minute now."

"B-but are troops are demoralized," said Nico, looking extremely unsettled. "There's no way they can..."

"They will," he interrupted coldly once more. "Or they'll be gambling with their lives. Besides, who's fault is that?"

Throughout the entire exchange, Tanya could sense the hostility that was oozing off Percy. It wasn't even directed towards her, but she still felt like cowering before its terrifying presence. She could only imagine how it felt for those who were receiving it head on.

"P-Percy, we just want to talk..." Grover began, almost bleating due to fear, before the god rounded on him.

"Talk? Talk about what, exactly? I don't feel like I would be very inclined to discuss that fucking gods-damned topic with ANY OF YOU! And if you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of a war, so you can take that offer and shove it up your..."

She knew where he was going, but his words were halted by a sudden tremor that passed through the area. She stumbled on her feet, along with most people in the clearing. The only ones who truly didn't look affected were Poseidon and Percy, but even they looked troubled at the sudden disturbance.

Their heads whipped around, trying to locate the source of the quake, seeing that neither of the two gods who controlled it amongst their ranks had anything to do with it. Their eyes finally landed on one spot, where the ground was darkening to a maroon that stood out against the rest of the land.

A voice rang out in their midst, old and powerful. She could feel the latent authority in it, and worse, she recognized where it came from. Tartarus.

"You have fought well, demigods," the primordial's voice said. "But I see that you have encountered some internal conflict. For now, I will allow you two whole days in which you may resolve it. Let it never be said that I am a dishonourable fighter."

Tanya bristled at that. You were the one who caused it to happen in the first place, bastard! But another part of her was far more worried. Why is he giving us this much time? What is he planning?

The voice faded away, but not before leaving a final message.

"Use it well. I will not be so lenient in the future."

Silence pervaded the clearing after the startling proclamation, everyone trying their best to comprehend what exactly just occurred. Amid all the confusion, Percy simply grabbed his fallen helmet, storming towards the camp. No one dared to stand in his way as he headed towards his tent, entering it before zipping it up behind him.

Apollo's eyes never left his friend's figure until he disappeared inside the structure, before he looked back towards the demigods. Tanya was surprised to see a hint of anger in them, but the most prominent emotion was concern.

"Well," he said. "That went well."

The noxious air of the pit swirled around them, the reddish hue painful to the eyes. The monsters killed about, but nine of them dared enter the throne room. They weren't going to risk incurring the wrath of the lord of the pit himself.

Within the confines of the room, the atmosphere was choked with tension. Most of the monsters already present were hiding behind the pillars, shivering as the rage of their master washed over them, making them cower even further.

Some would have assumed that he was enraged due to Brandon's death. Some of the other monsters were saddened about it. He may have been annoying and a pain in their ass, but he had been a high-ranking member of their forces. However, Tartarus didn't care about his death. To him, it was a necessary sacrifice to achieve victory in the war.

What made him reach such an unstable state was hearing that the plan he had wished to implement mere hours after Perseus' identity had been revealed would have to be pushed back due to unforeseen complications. It had forced him to give them two days to settle, not because he was trying to be honourable, but because he had to delay to get his plans set.

"Could you tell me why this delay came up so suddenly?" His voice was in complete contrast to his furious aura. It was frighteningly calm and composed, but all of them could hear the ice gathering around the edges.

The two dracaenae before him bowed their heads, trembling under the intense gaze. "My... My Lord, they have been holding up far better than we had perceived. We didn't expect them to be so hardy, especially after your last visit. We underestimated them. Forgive us." They dropped to their scaly knees, hoping that he would spare them.

For a moment, the primordial seemed to consider it, his rippling muscles relaxing as he sat on his throne. The dracaenae almost breathed a sigh of relief, ready to leave, when they felt something tug them forwards.

Their terrified eyes glanced up, knowing what awaited them. They desperately tried to cling onto any surface they could, but to no avail. One after the other, their bodies were pulled towards the bottomless vortex that took up Tartarus' face, being ripped into miniscule shreds.

He turned to the others, noticing how they were trying to put as much distance as he could between their location and his throne. He almost chuckled at the sight before he slowly stood up, moving towards the doorway of the throne room.

"I guess I'll have to do it myself," he said, heading to the dungeons. He could feel the anger coiling within him, and that was as good a method to alleviate it as any other.

Apollo raised his hand, knocking against the wooden support of the tent. He waited for a moment, hoping that his friend would respond.

"Who is it?" Percy asked, his voice muffled from within the tent. Apollo felt like cursing Hecate for designing it so that the voices could exit if the people within wanted it to. He was hoping Percy would step out for once.

"It's Apollo, man. Come on, I need to talk to you," he pleaded, knowing that his friend was going to be exceedingly difficult to convince. He hoped that for once, he could get Percy to talk to the other demigods. They needed to overcome their barriers if there was any chance of them becoming a cohesive unit when the final battle took place.

"Go away," came the voice from within the tent. It wasn't a childish sound either. It was the sound of someone who had simply gone through far too much and didn't want to handle the next big issue.

Apollo sighed, before turning around "He's all yours, Artemis. Good luck getting through to him," he said, patting his sister on the shoulder. If he had done the same before their quest, she would have been chasing after him with a bow and arrow, but now she was far too worried about what lay before her to be concerned about that.

"Are you sure, Apollo?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically unsure. "Wouldn't it be better for someone like Hestia to do it? He has a far better relationship with her, and she understands him better than I do."

Apollo shook his head. "She wants to be the one, but she's a little too busy in the infirmary to be able to do it. And I think he would need a slightly firmer hand than Aunt Hestia's for him to come out of his shell. She would most likely have allowed him to stay put. Trust me, Artemis, he will open up to you."

Artemis doubted multiple parts of the sentence. She could easily recall times when she had seen Hestia have a form hand when things really mattered. She still remembered the chewing out she had received from the normally peaceful goddess when she had learnt about her abysmal treatment of Perseus. It had been one of the few times she hadn't fired back at anyone, although the words never registered in her mind. Until now, at least.

"Did you ever think about how he felt while you were off in your own bubble?" She hadn't. All she had focused on was what she had lost, and how cruel the Fates must have been to entrap her in such a predicament. Little did she know, Perseus had the worse end of the deal in the end.

"He always tried to give you what you wanted, but you never cared. All you did was berate him whenever he made the slightest mistake!" Again, Hestia had been spot-on. She had been far too blind to see all the good he was doing, instead only focusing on his extremely rare mishaps.

But on top of all that, one of Hestia's sentences rang within her mind: "I don't think you know what you've lost."

She had never even considered it before. It had been a laughable concept for the former maiden goddess to feel bad about losing the trust of a male. But after seeing how fiercely he defended those he cared about, and knowing that he still felt for her, even after everything, she was finally beginning to realize just how valuable his trust was.

She would have never thought in such a fashion before the quest, but so many barriers had been broken during those couple short months that she didn't even know why she hadn't thought so before. It was a confusing mess in her mind, almost as confusing as her emotions were regarding the youngest Olympian. But she knew that she would try to win his trust back.

Waiting for a moment after Apollo left, she knocked on the wooden beam once more. She waited for a response, hoping that he wouldn't simply ignore her.

She had almost decided to throw in the towel when she simply knocked once more, guessing that she had nothing to lose. She assumed that it would be silent once more, but she heard a faint voice. "For fuck's sake, leave me alone, Apollo!"

"Perseus, I hope you aren't mistaking me for my brother," she said, knowing that it would be an effective way to draw him out of his shell. She waited a moment, before adopting a kinder voice. "Let me in, please. I want to talk to you."

She heard a soft shuffle from within, before the tent's zipper slowly opened, allowing Perseus' head to peek through. His green eyes were blazing with angel, with a few more stress lines on his face than she had seen on any god other than her father.

"You know, this is the third time in as many days that you came to me to have a talk," he said, trying to lighten the mood, although she could hear that strain present in his voice.

Her mouth quirked for a moment, before her face returned to its neutral mask. "Does it really matter? Now, may I enter? I don't think it would be proper for me to have a conversation with you while I'm outside the tent."

He sighed, but stepped to the side anyways. She swept past him, glancing around to see his accommodations. They were sparse, with a simple bed in one corner and a smaller layout of the map in the main tent spread out across one wall. It seemed like he had spent even his down time planning the assault.

She slowly drew one of the three chairs scattered across the interior, pulling it up to herself before sitting down. She saw Monaxiá take a seat on his bed, and she suddenly realized that their roles from a couple nights ago had been reversed. She pushed the thought away, instead focusing on the person before her.

"I know it must be hard for you right now," she said. "But you have to address your issues with the campers as soon as you can. We cannot afford to have any dissent in our ranks, especially when the next wave comes. Something tells me it will most likely be the final one, whatever be the outcome."

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "I will not do that, Artemis. I can't. It's too hard. Don't ask me to do it."

She gripped the sides of the chair harder, feeling a little bit of frustration well up within her. "Perseus, we cannot allow our emotions to interfere now. This is bigger than all of us. This is about the future of our world!"

He stiffened for a moment, before going limp, sagging slightly in his seat. She could almost feel the air of defeat around him.

"I know, but it's so fucking hard to see their faces!" His voice sounded dangerously close to breaking. "Seeing their reactions when my identity was revealed... then when they found out the truth... you wouldn't understand!" He slumped against the bed, his chin dropping even lower.

Artemis reached forward, grabbing his chin before jerking it up, forcing him to meet her eyes. For a moment, he looked shocked at how forthright she was, but it was overridden when he saw the burning intensity in her silver eyes as they bore into his sea-green and red ones.

"Then tell me," she said, her grip not relaxing in the slightest.

Whew! You all wanted it so bad, didn't you? And here you go! Also, I'll explain how Dakota escaped from the Vapour, don't worry. Just not in the next chapter, that has to deal with all the others. And when I said no 'get out of jail free card', I meant it. There's still going to be hell to pay for them.

Please review!

Okay, one question answered today.

To Meet the Great: Hopefully it was clear from this chappie, but the Vapour of Lethe would have prevented his oath from being accepted by the demigods, or they may have ignored it. It's a bloody powerful thing, but the betrayal was still 100% their fault. Just because it locked them down doesn't mean it made them choose.