We lost. How could we have lost? Yes, we were outnumbered, even with the reinforcements from the Ares cabin and the Party Ponies, and even though Nico had managed to bring his father and the entire army of hell into the battle, we were still outnumbered. But something more happened. Something went wrong on Mount Olympus. Kronos had made it to Olympus, had begun to destroy the city of the gods. But Percy Jackson was there. Percy tried to fight him, but I guess the Titan was just too strong. Or something like that…Percy was captured alive after the fight, along with Annabeth and Nico and a lot of other half-bloods. Nobody will tell me what happened. I've seen Percy twice since the battle, and Annabeth four times, but nobody will tell me what happened in the halls of Mount Olympus. I haven't seen Chiron since the battle. There was a rumor that he retreated with as many half-bloods he could get to along with the Oracle and was hiding somewhere. But no one knows where he could be hiding. No one knows for sure, but I heard that most of the nymphs were cursed and trapped within the tree that gave them life. And the satyrs...well...I don't know what happened to them. I don't even know what happened to the Olympians. Maybe they've been imprisoned in Tartarus like the Titans before them. But I do know one thing: the Titans are out to make sure we remember who captured Mount Olympus.
That's where the Games come in. And this time, I'm a competitor. I'm a sacrifice to the Games, to the Titans, to the defeat of the half-bloods in the streets of Manhattan. And it's not just me: twenty three other half-bloods will be locked in together and made to fight, to murder each other for survival. Kill or be killed. That's the way of the Games. And I don't plan on going down without a fight.
Lyca Bowyer leaned against the wall in the darkness of her cell, trying to keep her breathing steady. She couldn't let her fears of the Games get to her. She hadn't been scared before. When Luke's army broke into the confines of Camp Half-Blood and threatened the campers, she wasn't afraid. When Percy came back from blowing up Luke's ship and Beckendorf didn't come home with him, she wasn't afraid. She was sad, like most of the half-bloods were, but not afraid. When Percy and Annabeth called for the camp to go to Manhattan and face off with the entirety of Krono's army, she was ready. She knew from the get-go that people were going to die trying to make sure that Olympus was still standing at the end of the day. But for some reason, this was different. It was the fact of being deprived of a choice, she decided. The Titans had forced her, forced all of the half-bloods and humans and whoever else existed to watch in horror as the first Game was played. The thought of the atrocities committed in there made her sick. And to top it all off, no one was given a choice. No one was allowed to say no to the Titans, to refuse to fight. Even thinking of speaking out against the Games punished, and Lyca knew many people who had been punished for speaking out against the Titans. You were locked into the arena regardless, and there were only two ways out: the chamber doors in victory, or in body-bags.
The first Game was fought with humans, normal humans who hardly had any idea of what was going on. Lyca sighed as she ran her fingers up the wall behind her. Most half-bloods stopped even trying to understand what the humans saw through the Mist, and she was one of them. But she did feel the pain that many half-bloods felt when the humans slaughtered each other mercilessly just to come out alive. The second Game used purely monsters. Apparently some of the Titans monsters weren't quite happy with all that happened and were thirsty for more blood. Percy's brother Tyson had gone into the Games, and the Cyclops had somehow managed to overcome the odds and win the entire thing.
This one, the third Games was different. Apparently, the Titans thought that the last Game was unfair to the competitors, since Tyson was a reckoning force during the War. In order for the third one to be "fair" they decided on something special: using the half-blood heroes who fought in the War themselves to take on each other. The children of the gods were the next sacrifice. When Lyca thought about it, it actually made a little sense. The gods themselves couldn't fight in the Games; or rather it would be pointless to watch. The gods themselves couldn't die, much as the Titans could not die when the Olympians defeated them. So the next best thing was to use their children to fight in their stead. Lyca sighed slowly. She had no clue what she was up against, didn't know who would be thrown into the arena with her.
She had been in the dark for so long, she was almost blinded by the light from someone opening the door to her chamber. She could clearly hear the sound of snakes slithering on the cold concrete next to her and looked up expectantly. She'd heard the sound enough from the Battle of the Labyrinth and the Battle of Manhattan. Lyca looked up into the humanoid face of the dracaena standing above her, the serpent woman's two tails coiling and unfurling behind her.
"What do you want?" Lyca snarled lowly at the dracaena.
The monster raised its hand as if to strike her for her insolence but thought better of it. "Itsss time for you to get ready, half-blood." The dracaena licked its lips almost hungrily, as if it was eager for the Games to start again.
Lyca glared at the dracaena but didn't make a move to stand up. After a beat or two the serpent woman's hand shot out like a cobra's strike, wrapping around Lyca's throat. "You will obey half-blood. You have no choice." The dracaena then tossed the girl towards the door. Lyca stumbled but managed to keep her balance and walk slowly, trying to let her eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the outer rooms.
The light began to hurt her eyes, so she squinted as best she could when she heard the distinct sound of someone clucking their tongue as if in annoyance or disgust. The sound focused her attention towards the sound of the voice. Soon after, her vision began to clear and she immediately let out a soft growl, disdain coating her features. A long finger reached out to tilt her face towards the light and Lyca bit at the finger viciously. She heard a chuckle ring from the Titan's throat and it merely served to anger her more as she the dracaena restrained the half-blood once more.
"Let the little demigod go," the Titan's voice said, almost softly and ringing with a tone of sympathy. The dracaena let out a sound that reverberated like a snort against Lyca's ears before roughly dropping the girl on the floor of the largely empty room. The monster slithered its way out of the room before the Titan began to speak again.
"Welcome half-blood," he said with almost a sense of glee. "Welcome to the Games."
Lyca glared at the Titan. She didn't know why, but the mere sight of this particular Titan angered her like no other. This Titan that dressed himself in a pitch black tuxedo, complete with black bow tie and a starch white tuxedo shirt. His hand, the one that had reached out to touch Lyca toyed with a blood red rose pinned to his lapel. She watched as he again leaned closer to her, his ponytail flowing over his shoulder. She spat in anger at the Titan, her saliva beginning to drip from his face before the radiation of the Titan's sheer power evaporated it. He drew a handkerchief from a back pocket and delicately dabbed at his face, even though there was no longer anything staining him, once again a figure of perfection.
"Traitor!" Lyca raged bitterly. "Prometheus you're a traitor to the gods!"
Prometheus began to pace slowly in the room. "Dear child, I am no traitor," he spoke in a sickeningly sweet tone. "If you'll remember, I was the one that brought the peace treaty to Percy Jackson. I tried to save you, all of you. It was Jackson's decision to surrender, a decision he refused to make. In fact, the Olympians, they are the traitors. At birth, they betrayed their own father. When I sided with them in the Great War, they betrayed me afterwards, leaving me to suffer on the side of a mountain! And even you," he returned to Lyca, looking into her eyes. "Even you, dear child. The Olympians betrayed you and your demigod brethren. Your own parents did not come to see about you, no matter what trouble you were in. When Kronos and his army marched on Manhattan, you were left alone by the Olympians. Even now, the Olympians will watch and not help as you are thrown into the arena to be at the mercy of the Games."
Lyca could do nothing but glower at the Titan in front of her. It took all she had within her to refrain from outright snarling at Prometheus. "Well," he said finally. "It seems you ought to be left with your thoughts while the rest of the contenders are prepared for the Games. Good luck to you, and may the…gods be in your favor."
Lyca found herself looking around. After she assured herself she was alone for what might be the last time, she gave herself one final look-over. Black sweatpants rode low on her hips, each leg having two pockets on it. She had been supplied with a sturdy pair of black boots. The shirt they had given her was white and sleeveless, which made it a bit easier in the early goings of the Games to be seen by the opposition. It was also slightly cropped, baring a little more skin than she was used to or cared to show. She bit at her lip bitterly, hoping that the least the Titans could do is make the arena a little warm so that the participants didn't freeze to death while fighting to the death. She slipped her hand into her pockets, her fingers brushing against a fabric different from the one that made up her pants. She tugged on the fabric, pulling a pair of long gloves out of her pocket. She looked the black gloves over before pulling them on her hands, not knowing what might be waiting on her once she made it into the arena and not wanting to take the chance. The gloves had no fingers and reached from her slender knuckles to her elbows, and the palms were reinforced, as was the back of the hands.
As she glanced over herself, coming to grips with the fact that the odds were largely against her in the Games, a voice boomed from a speaker she did not know was in her room. "Will all competitors pleased stand on the insignias placed in your chambers?" It commanded, almost peacefully, which Lyca considered ironic considering the brutal slaughter that was going to take place soon. The half-blood stared at the floor, looking for the insignia that the voice talked about. Before long, she noticed a symbol resembling crisscrossed arrows with a lyre emblazoned atop them. She shrugged, hoping that that was what she was supposed to stand on so she could get this over with. Gingerly she stepped onto the floor symbols, awaiting further instructions.
Then the voice resounded throughout the chamber again. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the voice boomed. "WELCOME AND LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"
Almost immediately, the insignia under Lyca's feet began to rise, becoming a platform carrying her up through a tunnel in her chamber to the arena above. Her heart slammed hard against her chest erratically. Her body knew it was time; the Games were about to begin.
I've been trying to write a decent Percy Jackson story for about a year now and couldn't think of anything that would be memorable...at least, memorable for me. But then it hit me...and this story is the brain-child of what hit me. I hope you guys will enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it.
PS: If you'd like to take a shot at it, try guessing who's parent Lyca is. (NOTE: her parent is definitely a god: and as it's been stated in the story, both Percy and Annabeth are alive and well and around Lyca's age so it certainly isn't them.) There are hints listed throughout this story, so read it over and try to pick out the (hopefully) subtle clues I left. I haven't decided when I will reveal the parentage: Lyca knows, but isn't sure she's ready to share the information yet.
Also, the pairing in this story has both Percy and Jason because, as the story evolves, both Greek campers and Roman campers will have great roles in this story.