"You are not a mortal."

Annabeth had been anticipating it, but the words still made her cringe. She picked up her pace, walking swiftly through the dim hallway. During the day it was lit with natural light, but the sun was setting and the servants had not yet lit the fires that lined the walls at night.

"How would you know?" she asked, and it was maybe too impetulant a tone, but Annabeth didn't quite care. This man couldn't just come in here and accuse her like that. Thank the gods it had only been in front of Jason and Piper. If the servants and guards had gotten so much of a hint of that claim the whispers would never end.

"I know a half-blood when I see one," he said.

"Your vision must be rusted."

The words slipped out before she could stop them, and Annabeth almost stopped dead in the hallway. Regardless of what she thought of him, he was still powerful, and he was probably used to a certain level of respect. Not only that, but Annabeth was representing Jason and Piper, not just herself. It would not help them for her to be rude, or for him to obliterate her on the spot for her insolence.

Annabeth needn't have worried, however, because he simply threw back his head and laughed.

"Now I know that you must be a godling. Not many are brave enough to speak to me that way," he said, still smiling a bit from his laughter. Annabeth would've preferred him to obliterate her.

"I apologize," she said, through gritted teeth.

"No need," He said carelessly, "Though at least tell me why you insist on hiding it."

"I am not hiding anything," Annabeth insisted, but it felt futile at this point. He clearly did know that she was a demigod. Perhaps he had better senses than Jason's, or Apollo had told him more than he was letting on. But he knew.

Perseus studied her carefully. Annabeth once again got the sensation that he wasn't quite looking at her, not her face or her skin or her clothes, but something else, something deeper.

"If you say," he said, and Annabeth had the feeling he would not press again, at least not for the time being.

"I do," Annabeth said.

"Jason's wife. Which god is she the daughter of?" Perseus asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Have you not guessed? You recognized her magic."

"Aphrodite," Perseus said. There it was again, the Greek form, in Greek tongue.

"Venus," Annabeth corrected, but Perseus just shrugged.

"They are one and the same. Her form did not change much."

"And others have?" Annabeth asked. She tried to keep the interest out of her voice, but she was not very successful.

"Some," Perseus said, "My father is different. You Romans do not worship the ocean as we Greeks do."

"They fear it too much," Annabeth said.

"As they should. But the sea is powerful with or without veneration."

He was looking at her strangely, and it was only then Annabeth realized she had said they instead of we.

"Where are you from?" he asked, and Annabeth knew then that he had noticed.

"I don't know," Annabeth said, truthfully, walking slightly faster, "My home was conquered by the empire when I was young. I was brought here, and Jason made me his advisor."

Perseus raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"That is quite the leap."

Annabeth shrugged.

"It is the beauty of Rome. One can rise from servant to emperor."

"But you do not think yourself a Roman."

"I serve the empire," Annabeth said, knowing it was a non-answer.

"You serve Jason. You do not care for the empire," Perseus said. Annabeth hated how confident he sounded, but mostly she hated that he was right.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does," Perseus insisted, "Because Jason serves the empire, and will put it above all else. His wife cares for him, not politics. She knows they mean nothing. You are loyal to him. But only because you have nothing else to be loyal to."

"And what are you loyal to, son of Poseidon?" Annabeth snapped, whirling around to face him. He had somehow found his way under her skin, and she knew she should keep her temper but it was bubbling over the surface. How dare he come here, expect their hospitality, and insult them all behind their backs.

He did not look upset at her outburst, which only angered her more.

"My friends. My father. My homeland," he said simply. Annabeth did not respond, and he sighed.

"I know of aimlessness, Annabeth. The sea does not like to be restrained, or held in place. But I have roots, and a purpose. And I can tell that you do not."

"You know nothing of me," Annabeth said, ignoring the fact that this was obviously false, that he had already guessed the truth about her within half a day of meeting her. What he had said just now was not entirely untrue either, which was why it angered her so.

"I know you are meant to be on this quest," he said, unperturbed, "And you will need something to fight for if we wish to succeed."

"The quest might not even happen. The augury may not be favorable," Annabeth said.

"It will be favorable. Apollo has already decreed it," Perseus said confidently.

Annabeth snorted.

"You have not met our augur."

Perseus raised an eyebrow, but did not ask. It was probably for the best.

They finally reached the end of the hallway, where the guest quarters were. She pushed open the door, and gestured inside.

"These are your rooms," she said.

"Thank you," he said. It was only when he looked longingly at the bed just inside that Annabeth realized how weary he looked. He must have been travelling for a long time to reach them now.

She almost wished him a good rest. But the words caught in her throat, and she found herself swallowing them down. She didn't know him. He'd just spent their entire conversation berating her. There was no reason to be so familiar.

"Jason will summon you when it's time," she said, instead.

He nodded, and entered the room. Annabeth walked away, feeling a little emptier than before.

It was getting late, the sun having sunk past the horizon hours ago. But Annabeth knew Jason would not wait for the next day to consult the auger, not for something as important as this. She pulled her cloak a little tighter over her shoulders as she exited the house, making her way through the open pavilion towards the temple they kept to the gods. The day had been scorching hot, but the evening air was cool and muggy.

The temple was not far, and she reached it easily. The guards let her through the doors. For better or worse, she was well-known here.

Jason and Piper were standing at the front of the temple, a few paces behind the gold altar that took up the bulk of the room. Octavian was already at work, his red and white robes hanging off his skinny arms, which were splattered with animal blood, chickens from the look of it. As Annabeth approached she could see Piper's nose wrinkled with disgust, and Jason's neutral expression. It was one he wore quite frequently, and Annabeth had come to learn it usually hid a sour mood.

He greeted her with a smile though, as soon as he caught sight of her.

"Is our guest settled?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. Octavian would yell at them for talking if he heard. In fairness, it was genuinely disrespectful, but Octavian was so deeply irritating that it made it difficult to care.

Annabeth nodded. She was glad she could not elaborate in this setting. She wasn't sure how she would be able to relay their conversation, when so much of it had revolved around information she could not share.

"How far along is he?" Annabeth asked quietly. Octavian was now chanting over the remains. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Only the gods know."

"We will run out of chickens at this rate," Piper muttered, and Annabeth had to disguise her laughter as a cough. Octavian turned around to glare at them, still chanting.

They kept quiet for the rest of Octavian's ceremony, which stretched for what felt like a long time, though with the sun down it was difficult to tell. Annabeth had already been anxious when she entered the room, which only compounded on itself the longer Octavian's theatrics stretched on. He took at least twice as long as any other auger, for no other reason than self-importance and personal flair. Why they had had the misfortune of being assigned him, over literally anyone else, Annabeth would never know.

"Well?" Jason asked finally, once the bulk of it seemed to be over, and Octavian was consulting the remains.

"The future is dim. The gods keep much concealed," Octavian said, turning to face them. His hands were covered in animal blood, and if Annabeth had not spent her morning around the scent of rotting corpses she might've gagged at the sight of it. She did not have a soft stomach, but something about entrails disturbed her.

"Well what can you read?" Jason asked, irritation clear. Octavian's eyes flashed angrily; he did not like to be challenged, and he especially did not like his talents being called into question.

"This graecus is a bad omen. He will bring misfortune to your household."

An icy feeling trickled down Annabeth's spine at Octavian's words, but Jason did not seem as affected.

"The quest, Octavian. What do the gods say of the quest?" he pressed.

"It is difficult to say," Octavian said coyly, and Annabeth had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, "Some look upon it favorably, others do not."

"But there is a quest?" Jason asked.

"Yes. Apollo has decreed it."

Thunder rumbled overhead at Octavian's declaration. Annabeth glanced at Jason, wondering if his agitation had caused the sound, but Jason looked displeased. He did not appreciate the gods validating Octavian's flair for the dramatic any more than Annabeth did.

"So be it, then," Jason sighed.

"Have the gods revealed any other details?" Annabeth asked. Octavian turned towards her, sneering, as if she were something dirty he had scraped off the bottom of his sandal.

"This does not concern you, mortal. Hold your tongue."

Annabeth bristled at the insult, but Jason was quicker.

"Annabeth stands with me, Octavian. Do not disrespect her."

Jason's hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, perhaps unconsciously, but the message was clear all the same. Octavian flashed Annabeth another contemptuous look.

"As you wish, lord governor. I know my place."

Something in his words, laced with unbridled malice, gave Annabeth a horrible feeling in her gut. She had never liked Octavian, but his bold hostility today was more unsettling than usual. Piper seemed to be thinking the same, because she sent Annabeth a worried glance over Jason's shoulder.

"You finish your consultation," she said, touching her husband's arm gently, "Annabeth and I have other matters to attend to."

Annabeth had never so much appreciated Piper's magic with words as she did now, managing to make their other tasks sound doubly, triply, more important than Octavian's findings, despite the fact that—as far as Annabeth knew—they didn't even exist. She almost smiled at the offended expression on the augur's face.

"Go," Jason said. He did not look particularly happy about it, but he must have suspected, as Piper and Annabeth did, that Octavian would not speak freely in either woman's presence, especially not Annabeth's.

"The audacity of him, to call you mortal," Piper grumbled, when they were safely out of the temple doors, "when he himself is generations removed from the gods."

It was truly dark now, the sun well set. Oil lanterns lined the path back to the main house, casting a soft glow over the well beaten path.

"Apollo is his patron," Annabeth reminded her, though she secretly appreciated Piper's indignation on her behalf. She had never had a better friend, despite the fact that Piper was leagues above her rank. But Piper had never cared for such things, and was not afraid to show it.

"That does not make him a godling," Piper said, darkly.

Piper would know, being one herself. She did not radiate the same dangerous energy as Jason, but removed from his presence her aura was obvious enough. She tried to hide her beauty with plain clothes and a lack of makeup, but there was no disguising the flawlessness of her smooth brown skin, the softness of her dark hair, nor her perfectly balanced complexion. She had her mother's blessing in more than her words.

"And yet, he acts like one," Annabeth said.

It was ironic, really, how Octavian had spoken to her today. Annabeth had more divinity running through her veins than Octavian ever would. Not that he could ever know. Octavian would be the first to string her up for her secret.

"He acts like a god," Piper said, casting a resentful look towards the temple, "He barely pretends to respect even Jason."

Annabeth knew she was thinking about their earlier meeting with Perseus; about his declaration that Jason might be in danger. Perhaps the threat was closer than they had anticipated.

"It might not matter. If Jason accepts this quest, Octavian will be far away for a long while," Annabeth said. Piper scowled.

"And yet, I worry what he would do in our absence."

"Assuming the quest comes back," Annabeth said, without thinking. She regretted it as fear flickered across Piper's perfect features.

"We will return. We must," Piper said forcefully, magic seeping into her words, perhaps unintentionally. Regardless, Annabeth felt a sudden wash of confidence and assurance.

"Forgive my words. You will succeed," she said. She wished she could sound as confident as Piper, but she had no magic to buffer them.

Piper sighed, brushing a dark strand of hair behind her ear. Annabeth could tell that despite the magical reassurance, Piper was no more confident about the quest's success than she was.

"You will come with us, will you not? Jason needs your judgment, and I your companionship. And we all could use your blade."

Annabeth faltered slightly on the path. She had known, logically, that she would be formally asked to accompany them. Perseus had already said as much. But the idea partaking on this quest gave her a feeling of such dread, she could barely stand it. Something told her that if she left here with them, things would never be the same.

And yet, she felt drawn to it. Drawn to the strange man who had shown up on their doorstep, drawn to the danger and the city of Athens, monstrous threat awaiting them or not. Like there was something deep inside her soul that longed to go.

But would she be able to conceal herself, if put to the test like this? When they would be so close to the gods? If anyone discovered her secret, they would be honor-bound to slay her on the spot.

"You would take a mortal on your quest?" Annabeth asked, though she was just stalling. Piper rolled her eyes.

"I would trust your skills against any half-blood's. You know this."

Annabeth remained quiet, unsure how to proceed. She couldn't exactly refuse. And, quite honestly, she did not know how welcome her presence would be here without Jason's protection.

She knew others disliked her, resented her strange rise among the ranks, and her friendship with Jason and Piper. She was not oblivious to the rumors that swirled through the household, that her and Jason's relationship went beyond that of a politician and his advisor. They were false, of course, but rumors did not need to be true to be believed. If Piper and Jason left without her, it might be more dangerous for her to stay than it would be to accompany them.

"You do not have to come," Piper said, her voice softening, "I know I ask much."

Annabeth looked at her friend, the lines of worry on her face somehow enhancing her beauty rather than marring it. She knew in that moment that she could not let them go without her.

"No. I will come with you," Annabeth said, sounding stronger than she felt. Piper smiled, grabbed Annabeth's hand out of the darkness, and squeezed it.

"Good," she said, "I think we would all be dead in a day without you."

"We all might be dead in a day with me," Annabeth countered, but she could not help but match Piper's hopeful smile.

"Perhaps," Piper agreed, though her tone remained light, "And what of our guest? Did he have any insights?"

Annabeth grimaced. Most of her conversation with Perseus could not be repeated, even to Piper.

"Only that he agrees I should accompany you," Annabeth said. Piper hummed softly, pleased.

"Good. I will not have to waste any energy convincing him."

They reached the doors to the main house, the hallways of which were now lit in the dark just like the path. Piper let go of Annabeth's hand, which she had still been holding.

"You should rest. We could leave as early as tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Annabeth asked, surprised. She knew their deadline was tight, but she had assumed they would take at least a little time to prepare. But Piper looked certain.

"Jason does not like to linger. Once he has his orders, he will want to go."

Annabeth drew a deep breath, and let it out slowly. There was not much tethering herself to this place beyond her friends, but it would still feel strange to leave it so quickly. For better or worse, it had become her home.

"Go. Rest. I will find you in the morning," Piper said, giving Annabeth a gentle push in the general direction of her rooms.

Annabeth did not need to be told again. She had not realized how much the day had exhausted her until her head hit the pillow, and she fell into a restless sleep.

Annabeth dreamt of her mother.

She did not remember much of her childhood, but there were still flashes that came to her in her dreams— a house by the sea, her father's smile, friendly faces, now faded. But with the first half always came the second, soldiers marching in under a roman flag, a burning village, crying children.

Later in life, after spending many years with Jason, this would bother her. Rome was violent, yes, but this level of destruction was unfounded, not when the people could have been merely subjugated instead. It made no sense strategically. But Annabeth had not been thinking about that then. At the time she had known nothing of brutality and empires, just her home and her family, isolated from the outside world.

Annabeth couldn't remember how she had survived, when so many others perished. Maybe she'd been so small that hiding had been easy; maybe there had been some divine intervention, shielding her from the Roman's view. Maybe the fates had simply chosen to take pity on her. She didn't know, and she doubted she ever would.

There was something else too, some other part of that day that had been buried over the years, turned sloppy and unclear around the edges. She'd spent so much time trying to forget everything but the most necessary details that she'd almost succeeded. But the memory returned to Annabeth now with perfect clarity.

The air was thick with smoke, the ground littered with bits of burned buildings and fallen friends. Annabeth stumbled through the wreckage, coughing, trying not to look down. She'd already seen far too many familiar faces staring up at her with blank eyes and bloodied clothes. Annabeth looked for her house, having some vague, childlike hope that it had survived. She found nothing but wreckage, and a slab of stone that had once been her front stoop.

There was a woman sitting there, muttering to herself. She was dressed in shabby robes barely above rags, a black shawl covering her shoulders. Her fingernails clawed at her forehead, like she was trying to wrest her thoughts from her own mind. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulders, unkept and stringy. Annabeth knew everyone in their village, but she did not know this woman.

"Nowhere to go. No way home," Annabeth heard her say, and it was barely above a whisper.

At first Annabeth thought the woman did not notice her, but as she tried to back away the woman looked up. Her eyes were stormy grey, the exact same as Annabeth's. Her heart froze in her chest.

"Come here child," the woman said, and Annabeth walked forward, as if her legs were controlled by some invisible force. She tried to speak, to ask this woman who she was, but the words died in her throat.

"I have been watching you, waiting for the right time. But we are out of time," she said, gripping Annabeth's shoulders. Annabeth wanted to cry and run away, but her feet wouldn't move.

"Who are you?" she managed, and the woman's face broke into a snarl.

"They call me the goddess Minerva," the woman said, spitting out the title like it was a curse, "Your home worshipped me, one of the few left who did. Now they are destroyed, and I am nothing, less than nothing."

Her boney fingers dug into Annabeth's shoulders. Annabeth looked into her bright grey eyes. There was madness there, yes, but there was also intelligence underneath, desperately trying to break free. The sight scared her so she had to look away.

"You are my daughter," The woman announced, still not letting go of Annabeth, "I used to have many children, many heroes desperate for my patronage, but now I have few. You are the last, and the greatest. You will avenge me."

"I don't know how," Annabeth choked out, trying not to sob.

"Go West. There are others like you. They will find you."

She released Annabeth, but her feet still felt bolted to the ground.

"Do not trust the Romans. They will kill you if they discover who you are. They have destroyed me, changed me. They misunderstand me, hold me to their laws, and they will hold you to them as well."

It would take years for Annabeth to fully understand what her mother had meant in that moment, but as a child all she knew was that she had wanted nothing more than to run away. The weights seemed to be lifted off her legs, and she began to stumble backwards, away from the strange woman who claimed to be a goddess and her mother, away from the terrible fate she had placed upon her.

"Go West," Minerva repeated, unphased by Annabeth's fear, "I grow weaker by the hour. I will not be able to appear to you again, not as myself. Avenge me, daughter."

Annabeth turned around and ran as fast as her feet would carry her.

The dream shifted. She was older now, fifteen, no longer the scared little girl who had run away from her village. She had gone West, found those her mother had spoken of, and lost them in the same breath. Rome was too great. There would be no vengeance for Minerva.

She had wandered for a long time, and she was still wandering. There was no refuge for a child of Minerva in Rome, whose very existence was an abomination. Today, however, she was making camp on the edge of a hill, overlooking the road. There were crops on the far side, some sort of grass.

She knew this patch of land well, had been scouting it for a few weeks. The town a few miles away had not yet caught onto her pickpocketing and her stolen food, and she might be able to stay for a few days more.

And she had a feeling. Something important would happen here, if she waited for it.

So, wait for it she did.

People passed by on the road, each less interesting than the last. Annabeth ate her stolen bread as she watched the travelers on the road below. Night fell. Annabeth finished her food, wishing she had more, but something told her not to leave.

A group of soldiers walked the road, not the first of the day, but something about these men were different. They were what she had been waiting for, she was sure of it. Annabeth stood, but before she could determine what to do next, something burst from the tall grass on the opposite side of the road, and shot towards the soldiers.

Without thinking, she sprinted down the road, drawing her knife as she did. It was short, bronze, but she trusted no other blade.

The things from the wheat were little, but vicious. Pudgy and green, with faces hollowed by marks, and dry and brittle wings. Their hands were claws, their teeth long and sharp.

One soldier in the group was fighting them, his gold blade dissolving every one he passed through, but it wasn't enough. His companions' swords passed right through the monsters, as if they weren't even there.

Annabeth stabbed one with her knife, and it exploded in a burst of sulphuric yellow dust. The other man had been holding on his own, but the last monster plowed into him, dragging him to the ground and causing his sword to clatter away. It would've sunk its teeth into his neck if Annabeth had not stabbed it in the back.

It dissolved like the others, but it left Annabeth face to face with the other fighter, with nowhere to hide.

He was about her age, handsome, if she were one to care about that sort of thing. His blonde hair was cropped in the military style, and his eyes were an icy, piercing blue. There was a small white scar on his upper lip.

More than any of that, he radiated something powerful. Annabeth felt a spark of electricity race up her spine, and she stepped back.

The man did not seem to notice her nerves, or perhaps he was used to the type of reaction she was having. He kept his eyes on her as he stood, slowly. The other soldiers held back. They clearly deferred to this man, whoever he was.

"I— thank you," he said, still looking at Annabeth with those bright blue eyes.

"I should go," Annabeth said, backing away, but the man reached out, grabbed her hand. A static shock travelled from his fingers to hers, and she flinched without meaning to.

"Wait," he said, and Annabeth felt frozen in place.

"You're like me," he said, studying her face carefully. Annabeth saw his eyes flicker down to her knife, still in her free hand. It had cut through the monsters as well as his sword. There was absolutely no doubt in Annabeth's mind as to what he meant, but she knew she had to deny it.

"No. I just have clear sight, and a fallen friend's blade," she said. It was her usual lie, effective because it was mostly the truth.

"I see," he said, letting go of her hand. Annabeth still did not move.

"Mortal or no, you saved my life. I will see you rewarded."

This caused some muttering around the other soldiers. Annabeth noted for the first time that they were mostly older than the boy in front of her, but he was clearly their leader regardless.

He held out his hand, despite having just dropped hers.

"Come with me," he had said. Annabeth remembered it clear as day. So why then, when this Jason opened his mouth, did he say in a voice not his own:

"Wake up."

Annabeth woke to the sound of screams, and the smell of smoke.