wolf of rome, son of greece

by LoneSpectre004

Percy Jackson was born on the eighteenth of August, 1993. He was the son of Sally Jackson, a mortal woman, and Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas. Soon enough, Poseidon begins to fear for his son's safety. So, the god makes a decision; one that will shake the world's foundations, and rebuild them. Fifteen years later, Percy Jackson is known by a different name - The Wolf of Rome.

2. the first hurdles

Wiping his forehead with his sleeve, Jeremy sighed softly. Guard duty was enough of a drag any day, but Tilu just had to stick him with Davis for the graveyard shift.

Legionnaires may be taught not to complain, but Jeremy certainly would like to, as the young son of Mercury listened to the same story about how Davis had once saved some mortal from a gryphon for the thousandth time this hour.

The harsh glow of the overhead lights reflected off the rare car that raced past them at this late hour. Jeremy cursed softly under his breath as the ensuing wind from one ruffled the pages of his book, and he lost his focus.

This was a useless guard post.

It wasn't like many, or rather, any, demigods came in from the Caldecott Tunnel anyways. The station was little less than a place for Centurions to get rid of some of their more annoying subordinates for a day.

Eyes scanning the page but not registering the words, Jeremy decided that he definitely did not deserve this fate. He doesn't think that he's annoyed his centurion recently – though it's certainly a possibility - so he's not sure why exactly he's been pawned off here.

Practically alone at the entrance to the dark tunnel, he's left with nothing but the scent of gasoline burning his nostrils and Davis' incessant chattering to keep him awake and aware through the freezing night.

Sighing, he hoped that something interesting would happen soon, as he closed his thick book, and let it fall to the ground with a soft thump.

That's practically a death-wish for demigods, but he doesn't really care. It would be better than trying to get through this mundane history book; Mrs. Rio was actually a demon. What teenager could handle the Legion and the last year of high school at the same time?

To his shock, Jeremy's weary pleas seem to have been heard.

Because barely a moment later, he catches movement in his peripherals, a shadowy figure straying at the edges of the streetlights.

It's a child, barely visible in the late hours. He was stalking across the pavement towards the pair, determined in his gait. Long, windswept waves of shaggy black hair were pulled back into a loose pony, and his eyes, two toxic emeralds in the darkness, glinted dangerously in the night. His face was alert, his hands never still, and despite the late hour, the child looked completely at home walking through the empty street, dodging lights and staying deep in the shadows.

Jeremy's heart began to beat erratically in his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow, and suddenly, he was uncomfortably aware of his surroundings, everything from the flickering of the streetlights to the buzzing of a nearby mosquito becoming clearer and brighter, as his godly instincts kicked in.

Fight or flight was the question – and they were answering flight, flight, flight.

Jeremy knows well the history of New Rome – everyone who lives there does. He knows how the city is run, he knows who found the city, he knows the entrances, both secret and known, and the inhabitants of the city.

The demigods that randomly find New Rome don't enter through Caldecott's dreary tunnels. There are other, safer, more well-known paths. For young and scared children, for worried mortal parents, for the half-bloods, there are other roads to follow, other safer entrances.

Caldecott is where Lupa's cubs enter.

Grasping the hilt of his gladius and ignoring the rapidly pooling fear in his gut, Jeremy stood and moved to alert Davis, only to notice that the other teenager was already armed, his bow drawn and a sharp arrow strung. For all his personal faults, Davis is a good legionnaire.

"Halt!" Jeremy commanded as the child neared, too quickly for his comfort. His footfalls were completely silent as he glided towards the pair, giving the impression that he was merely a shadow upon the pavement. He tried to keep his voice calm and stern, but a waver pushed through nonetheless.

Jeremy has had the misfortune of meeting another cub of Lupa. His half-sister, another daughter of Mercury, and one of the most terrifying forces of nature he had ever had the misfortune to meet in his short, miserable life.

Her blade was a less of a tool and more of an extension of her hand. Her tongue, silver-gilded, drew others into her plans with minimal effort, and her sharp mind, overflowing with intricate schemes and twisted plots, were matched with her unending ambition, strength, and skill, like perfectly interlocking pieces, designed to complement each other. Her gifts were more than enough for her to burrow into New Rome's very foundations, and turn them into her own playthings.

As his mind runs back to dark nights and a darker present, no, Jeremy decides, no, he does not wish to meet another of Lupa's chosen. Just the one has been more than enough for him.

Still, Jeremy is a legionnaire, so he stands straight, his hand clenched on the gladius' pommel, and stares him down – the kid that seems more wolf than human. The similarities to Julia are terrifying, from the way his eyes almost shine in the dark, to the way that he slouches – no, not slouched. He's coiled, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

"This is the entrance to Camp Jupiter, right?" he asked suddenly, stopping in front of the pair. His voice was soft and quiet, as he tilted his head to the side with narrowed eyes. A deep, sea-green, they sliced straight down into Jeremy's soul, and he almost took a step back, before remembering his training. A cold breeze cut through the tunnel, and Jeremy can actually feel the temperature begin to drop around him.

He could have sworn that was just a saying.

"Y-Yes, it is. New Rome and Camp Jupiter are through this tunnel." He gulped softly, thankful that the sound didn't echo in the suddenly barren tunnel. There wasn't another living thing in sight. Just them and the wolf.

He's scared. Just a little scared, but he is scared.

Scratch that, he's a lot scared.

The kid is short, slim, maybe around ten or eleven. Short for his age, he noted. His hair, long and raven black, is pulled into a small braid behind his head, and his green eyes flick from place to place, watching the world around him with a strangely detached interest.

Jeremy's confused – from his voice, he's obviously a New Yorker, but that seems impossible. Everyone knows New York is a dead-zone for demigods - not to mention that it's on the opposite coast from California.

Suspicion rose in him, just for a moment, before he squashed it down without mercy. He doesn't want to irritate the kid, and if he's been trained in the same ways as Julia, he can probably read emotions about as well as her too.

And if he's anything like his pack-mate, then Jeremy really doesn't want the kid to get annoyed at him.

"You have your papers, don't you?" he asks, following tradition despite the wobble in his voice. He can't say that he isn't beginning to wonder about the kid's origins himself, though – it's not like he can read through his papers right now, but he can certainly steal a peek later. Or, well, ask Viktor to give them to him.

Pulling them out of a pocket, the child waved a leaf of papers through the air, his eyes never leaving Jeremy's, almost appraising in their pin-point interest. Jeremy can't help but feel like he's nothing but prey, in the playful claws of an apex predator - despite the apex predator being a literal child.

But suddenly, the predator's fangs disappeared, and he exclaimed brightly, "Let's go, then! I'm Percy, what are your names!"

Percy stuffed the papers back into his pocket and the tense, suffocating atmosphere disappeared alongside them. He beamed widely at the pair, all his teeth flashing in the night's warmth. Jeremy exchanged a stunned glance with Davis, both of them still holding their breaths and clenching their fists tight around their weapons from when Percy's hands had entered his pocket.

Where did the human wolf just go? Cold, terrifying and dangerous auras and all?

Coughing slightly to hide his shock, Davis responded for the both of them. "I'm Davis, son of Venus, and, uh, well, this is Jeremy, a son of Mercury." Davis gestured to him, and Jeremy raised his hand in a weak imitation of a wave. Percy waved back, still smiling in that strange, familiar way – he bared his teeth, a carbon copy of Julia. But whereas her smile was little more than a vicious warning, the child's was somehow kind, and calming.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Jeremy began to re-evaluate his notions of Lupa's pack, as he turned to lead the child through the tunnels. As he entered the tunnel, he said carefully, "Well, uh, we need to get you to the Praetor's ASAP, Percy."

This was going to be an interesting development, without a doubt.

Motioning for Percy to follow, he began the trek through the wet, dripping caverns, grimacing as he stepped over a muddy puddle. He pulled a flashlight from his belt and flicked it on, Davis doing the same. His fellow legionnaire followed behind softly, blessed silence filling the air between them, for once. Jeremy took the quiet moment to reconcile his initial impressions.

He's certainly strange – similar to Julia, yet not. He's glad, but wary that it isn't just an act for the time being. Call him paranoid, but whatever.

Personally, he'd rather not have a miniature Julia running around the city, with delusions of grandeur, narcissism up the asshole, and incredible skills at manipulation.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he looked over his shoulder at him. They are similar, yes, but Jeremy realizes that it begins and ends in their mannerisms. The way he acts, from being unnaturally still or gliding across the ground, eyes that don't seem human, tense and wary movements – it's all very resplendent of Julia.

But at the same time, it's not. He listens to Davis try to draw Percy into a small conversation and he responds happily, and he can clearly see that's where the similarities end. Jeremy would like to say that he's a good judge of character, and Percy doesn't feel like Julia does, not at all.

He's still her pack-mate, though, so he stays reserved for the time being.

He wonders if Julia was in the Wolf House whilst Percy was training there too. Not much is known about the inner workings of the Wolf House, but if it's so, that could throw a wrench in the plans he's already concocting. Cubs of Lupa have a lot of power in New Rome, and if they put Percy against Julia… well, it wasn't a bad idea.

He shook his head, grumbling. The kid's, like, ten. They're not gonna use him for anything. Hell, he won't join the Legion for another three or so years.

In any case, even if they aren't actually too similar, Jeremy isn't going to take this cub of Lupa as anything more than a tentative ally for the time being. His sharpened instincts definitely won't let him, considering that he's been forced onto high alert ever since Percy arrived.

They both have a similar aura of danger, but with a start, Jeremy realizes that Percy's was surprisingly, more potent and lethal, if such things could be quantified.

Though… it's harder to see.

Julia's terrifying, no matter which way, when or how you look at her, but after Percy stopped trying to be 'scary', it's like he no longer feels dangerous at all. It only proves that he is, to Jeremy. Already, Davis looks at ease around him, stomping through the tunnel with his bow strung on his back, talking animatedly about something or other.

However, Jeremy's senses are slightly more developed than him, he has to say. Ever since he locked eyes with the child, the hairs on his neck have been raised, and he's been overcome with a strange, confusing feeling. One that he just can't put his finger on.

He can't tell whether that's a good or bad thing, but he definitely doesn't like it.

"Oh!" Percy says suddenly, stirring Jeremy from his little analysis. Jeremy tunes back into the conversation just in time to hear the end of Davis asking Percy about his parentage.

A drop of tension spills into Percy's tone, his movements more subdued as he responded. Most wouldn't notice, but Jeremy's always been a little better at reading emotions. Might be a son of Mercury thing, might a Jeremy thing – he doesn't really know.

Percy took a quick, deep breath before beginning, comically exaggerated in the confines of the damp tunnel.

"I'm a son of Neptune!" he exclaimed suddenly, although the cheer was obviously faked.

Lupa must have told him about Shen Lun, Jeremy surmised, before realizing what those words meant.

It took everything in Jeremy to not stop and stare, or maybe run, but apparently Davis doesn't have any of his self-control. Spinning on his heel, he fixed a sudden, angry-disgusted glare upon Percy.

"Don't try anything here, you hear? We don't want anything like '06!" he said, wagging an angry finger at the son of Neptune. Percy takes a step back in surprise, his gaze flitting between Davis and Jeremy with confusion clear in his eyes.

Dumbass! he wants to shout. Davis changes his opinion of a person on whims - and even though he does sort of agree with him this time, damn if that wasn't the wrong way to go about it!

Grabbing Davis' arm, Jeremy pushed him forward, glaring at him. The last thing they need is for the kid to think he won't be accepted in New Rome – even if he probably won't be. Lying to him would be preferable.

Shoving Davis ahead of them a little not so gently, he placed a hand on Percy's shoulder reassuringly. Despite his initial wariness, the son of Mercury was warming up to Percy himself as he listened to him talk, and he didn't really know why.

Well… He hadn't shown himself to be anywhere near as bad as Julia, not that he's had any chances, but he was still just a kid. Sue him, but he doesn't think Percy'll do anything bad, son of Neptune or not.

And he's seen the effects of pushing away people just because of their godly parent. It never ends well, sometimes not just for the rejected. Especially those with power - demigods have taken revenge for lesser things in the past.

"Don't worry about that, Perce, it'll be fine!" he exclaimed brightly, ignoring his soft noise of surprise at the nickname. Olympus knows the kid would need someone on his side, especially when he'd meet with the Praetors.

Victor would probably be nice to him, but his sister would not, that's for certain.

---

"Fear has no place, here, child." The bared teeth of the massive white wolf had stopped barely an inch from Percy's throat, and his heart was hammering wildly in his chest from his position, sitting and shivering on the forest floor.

He had woken up here, alone.

Lying in a clearing of smushed, soft grass, a silent, massive forest surrounding him on every side. Alone. Not even a bird to hear, or the wind to jostle him, or even the stars to shine down on him, the night sky smothered by dark clouds. He was alone.

The last thing he could remember was strong arms holding him lovingly, a distant conversation, a dark house, and a whispered promise.

He had thought it was a dream, a nightmare perhaps, as he walked through brambles and thick trees with no idea of where he was headed. He had thought it was a dream, when he came across a gigantic wolf, fur white as snow and sitting calmly at the edge of a clear pond. He had thought he knew it was a dream, when she spoke to him, turning her wide amber eyes, flecks of gold dancing inside them, upon him.

He now knew it was no longer a dream.

He was so scared - he wanted to cry, his body shaking uncontrollably. Lupa had made it clear to him, though.

Fear had no place here.

Fuck that. Mama had told him to swear only in specific circumstances. Percy would hope that this counted. Fuck that.

He pushed himself off the ground, his other hand pushing Lupa's gigantic maw away from his face, her snout practically his size, her teeth massive daggers inches from his palm. The she-wolf moved away in surprise, taking a quick step back. Standing unsteadily on his two feet, he glared at her through his yet unshed tears.

"Well then, I don't want to be here! I want to go home!" he roared at her. "You can't keep me here!"

She almost grinned, her teeth warping and twisting between her lips. "And, how do you plan on leaving, little one?" she asked, her tail swishing across the forest floor, kicking up clumps of dirt and snow.

Percy looked around, thinking hard. In the end, he just remembered what mama had told him to do, and raised his tiny fists as menacingly as he could manage. "I'll fight you!" he shouted, his voice unwavering, even as he challenged a massive beast easily ten times his size.

Lupa regarded him with wide, surprised amber eyes, before she threw her head back, and laughed. The noise scraped across the forest, clawing at his ears and making Percy stumble back and clap his hands around his head.

As it died down, echoes of her scratching, abrasive laugh floating off with the wind, she looked back at him with something akin to joy.

"Oh, little one. I think you'll do just fine, here."

She grinned yet again, and Percy's hands and stomach dropped.

---

Viktor wants to sleep.

Why did he want to be Praetor again?

Oh, right, stop Julia from trying to take over New Rome, right.

Gods, he kind of hates her, but currently, he also has a slight problem with the ten-year old son of Neptune kneeling on the marble floor in front of him.

At the moment, they're ensconced in the main chamber of the principia; a large, rectangular room dominated by a massive table. Perseus is kneeling in the centre, with senior Legionnaire Jeremy Hasting standing behind him.

The man was a silent sentinel, promising a grim fate for anyone who disagreed with allowing the son of Neptune into New Rome. It looked like he'd already formed a bond with the child - Viktor could barely make out a wispy, half-formed string connecting the two.

The son of Mercury was quite an influential figure in New Rome's darkest corners, and everyone in the Senate knew it. Getting on his bad side was something nobody wanted.

Viktor was just glad he was on his side.

The pair is surrounded by the senate itself, all of them reminiscent of marble statues as they sat stock still behind the maple wood table.

The senators watched the son of Neptune, fear and apprehension painted across their faces with wide, glaringly obvious brush strokes.

Meanwhile, he and Julia were seated upon a dais, staring down at the child. He chanced a quick glance at Julia, and took in her face, a drop of vindictive glee settling in his stomach.

His old once-friend may have been a master at hiding her true emotions, but in this rare occurrence, he can clearly see the blazing anger simmering within her. It's visible in the tight eyes beneath her laurel wreath, her hands splayed across the table, grounding her. Outwardly, she's calm, but Viktor knows her better than most. She's on the edge of pulling her auburn hair out at the roots.

Well, he's not doing much better himself.

This son of Neptune will bring many problems in his wake, a massive boulder falling into a pool that had still not fully calmed from the last disturbances. The ripples he would bring would be felt for quite a long time, and a grimace settled on Viktor's face as he pondered the reactions of the city itself. It certainly wouldn't be pretty.

Neptune is disliked for a reason.

But if there's one good thing that the son of Neptune brings, it's, well, himself.

In Viktor's pragmatic eyes, the child will act as a good diversion, no matter what happens. He can already tell that Julia's attention is wholly on her pack-mate; they'll be safe, and able to plot in relative peace for a few more weeks.

Other than that, the praetor doesn't see any reason for the son of Neptune to be here.

Of course, he's not going to tell the kid that – he's not a monster, and he knows better than to judge someone on their parentage. The son of Neptune is still a ticking time bomb, though, and he's only just arrived. All of his plans, all of his schemes and plots to counter Julia – right out the window.

Viktor sees an opportunity for something more in him, though.

The son of Neptune is another variable in an ever-changing world, but he's a variable that this son of Janus doesn't know how to accommodate. He'll have to learn, though, if he wants to win.

"Rise, son of Neptune." He commanded, not letting any of his weariness show in his voice.

Honestly, couldn't the guards have given the poor kid a bed and waited until tomorrow to call a meeting? This is an incredibly important development, yes, but this little praetor would like to get some sleep.

Perseus stood, his calm, sea-green eyes rising to meet Julia's blazing amber with a defiant tilt to his head. She's pissed, no doubt about it.

After all, Julia has been the only member of Lupa's pack in New Rome for the past few years, and now, this random kid has suddenly arrived, and he's saying that there are others coming, too, next year.

A son of Jupiter, no less.

Viktor sighed, rubbing his temples. A child of Neptune arriving would be a bad omen at any time, but now? With everything going on in the city?

He had offered the child an apartment in New Rome to stay in, alone. He knew Lupa's pack was solitary and independent, from his past friendship with Julia. The son of Neptune had refused immediately, though. He wished to join the Legion.

At ten.

It was true that the Legion conscripted every demigod and legacy between thirteen and twenty-one, and that was the way it had been for centuries. Some demigods would stay past twenty-one, but they hadn't had someone join early in living history.

Ten year olds were protected by the Legion. They were not part of it.

The size of the Legion was not because they needed an army; it was so they could keep their army alive. The praetor's had always done their best – Julia had not, to his displeasure – to prepare them for monsters, for life and death and inevitability, so they could live long enough for monsters to lose interest in their blood and flesh. So that its members could live relatively normal lives alongside the rest of the mortal world – that was the purpose of the legion.

It wasn't a place to earn glory, to live a life of fighting and killing, but Viktor had a nagging feeling that that wasn't the son of Neptune's end-game. No, he was joining the Legion for something else, but what was it?

Perseus had somehow given sound arguments, his low, rough voice crawling across the room and locking everyone in place, including him. Julia had been the only one who responded, glaring at him and refuting each reason he gave. The son of Neptune's frustration was invisible, but Viktor could see it in the way his breathing slowed down and his eyes narrowed like a predator, the way he flexed his hands and splayed his fingers instead of clenching his fists – all too similar to Julia for his comfort.

Eventually, though, he flat out declared that Lupa ordered him to join the Legion, crossing his arms on his chest and furrowing his brow.

Having had enough of their twisting conversation, Viktor managed to cough up the courage to ask why Lupa would have him join this early.

And in front of the entire senate, some of the most important people in the Legion, and his fellow praetor, Viktor had cursed, very loudly. Not his worst faux pas, considering mostly everyone else was too, albeit more quietly than him.

Another fucking prophecy.

Standing up and slamming his hands on the desk, he'd demanded the prophecy, his voice echoing through the chamber with its gruffness.

And just like Julia had done almost a decade ago, the son of Neptune had refused.

It was for him and the auguries alone to know.

He took back his seat, glowering as the son of Neptune gave him an apologetic smile, and glanced to his left. The daughter of Mercury was sitting up-right now, alert and somehow even more interested. She was looking at Perseus in a different light now, and Viktor knew that he had to draw the son of Neptune towards his side before Julia could.

He sighed. Julia was… a conundrum to the son of Janus.

In a few closed and close circles in the Legion, sometimes she would be misnamed the 'Tyrant of New Rome'. In his somewhat biased eyes, Julia wasn't much of a tyrant, but she wasn't much of a leader. In a different life, perhaps she would do her duty without being corrupted by power, but she wasn't even that bad in their time.

Just… really bad at leading. He knew Jeremy, practically his lieutenant, disagreed heavily. To him, Julia, with her constant excursions and war parties, monster hunting, it was all a disgrace. He saw her as one step away from a murderer.

He couldn't find it in himself to disagree with the younger man.

Although, perhaps this new Cub of Lupa might shed some insight. Did he have to have a prophecy, though?

Viktor remembered well the arrival of the Saviour of New Rome. When the auguries had proclaimed that she would save New Rome from a terrible fate.

The people of New Rome had loved her, at first. She'd arrived at ten, like every other of Lupa's cubs, and in a rare twist, she'd had a prophecy known to her from birth. Tradition was followed, and only the auguries and the oracles were permitted to know her destiny. The next day, the oracles told the praetors and the senate alone whether to fear Julia or to revere her, just as they would for Perseus. Should all go well.

But one thing led to another, and before long, all of New Rome knew that Julia was destined to save her from a terrible fate, and the praetors had to lead a public speech to stave off rumours.

Yes, the people of New Rome had loved her.

That hadn't changed much in recent days, but the opinions of those in Camp Jupiter had.

After all, leading entire parties of soldiers to their doom in search of glory? Didn't exactly help your reputation.

She looked down on common soldiers, was a bit of a narcissist, and had plenty of other problems. That was all known to Camp Jupiter, though. New Rome was another problem.

Besides, there wasn't much they could do about it - no unless Viktor found a way to purge the Senate of her sycophants.

Having had enough of the slight panic and awe on everyone's faces, Viktor put his foot down at last. The child seemed to have undergone the same training as Julia, and he frowned internally. Viktor didn't need another sweet tongue in New Rome. Julia was really more than enough for him.

In the end, he had grudgingly agreed with Perseus, allowing him to join the Legion under probation. The senate had to be given permission to control his responsibilities, but Viktor didn't think that would matter much, especially if his prophecy proved to be beneficial for New Rome.

Although, if Julia did leverage her power to try to control him… well, the less said about that the better.

Perhaps the son of Neptune would bring good luck for New Rome with his prophecy, but he doubted it.

Last year's Feast of Fortuna, Augusta, the head oracle, had proclaimed a year of horrible luck to follow. Viktor might be a bit of a pessimist, but he doesn't need to be an oracle to already know that Percy's prophecy spells out nothing good for New Rome.

Julia had narrowed her eyes at his decision, and he met her gaze head on. In the end, she had to concede; after all, they had to do whatever they could to appease the gods. The rules could be bent just a tad bit – especially for Lupa. At the very least, Julia harbored some love for her former mentor.

Even with the decision made and senate in approval, Viktor doesn't know how long Percy would survive in the Legion. A prophecy had guided her path as well, but Julia had lived alone in New Rome until she was thirteen, driving off any handler the previous praetors had assigned her.

Viktor knew that well, considering her quaint villa was opposite his. They used to be good friends, almost a decade ago.

Not so much now.

Still, his point is that Julia hadn't joined at ten. Privately, he doubted she could have managed the dangers of the Legion at ten. She wouldn't appreciate that, but in his eyes it was the truth.

And considering Percy's parentage, practically only the Fifth Cohort would take him in - he'd have to ask Jeremy to stand for him. Especially since he'll be sworn in before the praetors even hear his prophecy. Fairness and equality for all, yada yada.

He doesn't look like much of a fighter, either. More of a troublemaker, really.

However, he knows better than to disregard him over his appearance; Julia doesn't even reach his shoulders, and he holds no shame in saying that she could defeat him handily. This son of Neptune could probably do the same. Perhaps even more easily, considering his father. He certainly gave off… an aura.

Of what, Viktor couldn't tell. Perseus felt… well, the son of Neptune didn't feel.

Whereas other demigods, mortals, monsters, would have certain feelings, a certain aura or 'scent' for children of Janus to decipher, Perseus' didn't. What he had instead, was a broken, altered slate, something completely different.

All that Viktor could manage to sense was a vague collection of seemingly random 'feelings'. They were strangely familiar to the praetor, as he settled back in his chair to better examine the son of Neptune. Everything from strictness to rule-following, from a sense of duty to a love of comrades poured out from the son of Neptune. A vicious, chaotic disarray of information assaulted him whenever the son of Janus tried to inspect him closer.

It was confusing – Viktor was not a fan of it at all. Something about Percy was wrong, disturbed, different, as much as he loathed to say it.

Was this the power of a son of Neptune? It made sense - the sea was chaotic as well, after all.

To put this meeting short, the kid's a conundrum, Viktor's sleepy as hell, and not paid anywhere near enough to deal with this. He wonders if he could even ask for a raise, or if he'd be executed outright.

"Look, kid, we're going to get you a bed, and then we'll place you in a Cohort tomorrow morning, after you talk to the auguries." He looked over at Julia, taking in her face.

She was absently nodding along to his words, watching Perseus closely. Again, he knew that he had to get close to him before she could – the combined political power two cubs of Lupa would hold was nothing to be scoffed at, and if Percy was not as innocent as he seemed… well, the mere presence of a Son of Neptune would be enough to cow any dissenters.

The senators would be tripping over themselves to satisfy their every whim. Not that they were much different now.

Percy glanced into his eyes suddenly, and Viktor had to agree with Jeremy's initial, hesitant description of the child; he was unsettling. Still, having him in the Legion might be a good idea in the long run, and perhaps even better if he could be persuaded to help them depose Julia. There was a sly cunning hidden in the depths of his sea-green irises, and Viktor wasn't about to turn him away.

Manipulative, powerful, headstrong, dangerous, solitary; those were the main traits known of Neptune's children, and coincidentally, Lupa's pack. Viktor would be entering a treacherous game, playing with him, but the rewards outweigh the risks.

He just hoped that he'd end up as a player, and not a pawn.

Even if she would not show it, Viktor knew Julia was afraid of the son of Neptune and his unknown powers, and for good reason.

The catastrophe of Shen Lun has not been forgotten, not even a little. The legacy of Neptune had destroyed New Rome in 1906 – after the earthquake, the city was forced to relocate from the base of Mt. Tamalpais to its current location, nestled and hidden in a valley near San Francisco.

He didn't want anyone with such pure destructive power in his city any more than any other leader would.

Giving him a curt nod, Viktor gestured for Jeremy to get the kid out of the principia. Percy turned deftly, walking away with a feral grace that Viktor had come to associate with Julia over the past years. However, Percy's gait was more… defensive, almost afraid. No, not afraid. Wary.

A wolf who knew he was in the wrong den.

At least he came here knowing what he was getting himself into. Although Viktor would honestly be surprised if the kid doesn't strike off on his own within a year or two, whatever the hell his prophecy says. He's met people like him, the same down to the bone – they never stayed long.

Rubbing his eyes harshly, Viktor began to stand, ignoring his mind running with errant thoughts. Jeremy had given him a regretful smile as he relayed the news.

He was one of the few who knew why Viktor ran for Praetor, and while he hoped the regret was aimed towards dragging him out of bed, you could never tell with him. Shifty prick. Viktor had asked him to run for Praetor instead, but the man had refused even being promoted to Centurion. He preferred his role as an 'informant'.

Damn children of Mercury.

When he had almost made his way out of his chair, the rest of the senate having already left the room at Julia's dismissing hand, she spoke sharply, "We can't keep him here, whatever his prophecy says. He's too dangerous. A son of Neptune in New Rome…"

Resisting the urge to scream, Viktor plopped back into his seat, the wood creaking beneath him. Taking a deep, calming breath, he resigned himself to yet another meaningless debate under the fluorescent lights.

"Julia, he doesn't even have a weapon. Besides, wouldn't it be better for us to have him on our side over letting him run wild? Especially if he's destined for something important." He argued, staring up at the ceiling in despondence.

A sound like a wolf's growl escaped her throat. Sometimes, Viktor thought Julia was overdramatic, but she certainly had the skills to back up her erraticism. Not to mention, it was legitimately scary, at times.

He wondered whether Percy or this Jason would growl, too. He hadn't done so yet. Well, he hadn't spoken that much yet, so he'd have to find out on his own.

"You can't have forgotten 1906, Viktor – Shen Lun killed almost three thousand mortals just by existing, and the gods only know how many demigods died." she said, tapping her fingernails on the counter in front of them and huffing at him. He glared right back, wondering what happened to the Julia he remembered.

Viktor may have been able to hold in his sigh this time, but by the end of the two hour argument in which he could have been fast asleep, he would not.

---

Lupa turned to him, walking around his kneeling form as he tried to concentrate on the water. His head felt like it was falling apart, and he clenched his hands and scrunched up his pants, and resisted the urge to scream out into the darkness.

Hours spent, staring into this deep blue pool, with barely any progress.

"Your father plays a dangerous game," she sighed, startling him as she plopped down beside him. Peeking open an eye, he looked at her form, lithe and sinuous as she relaxed, dappling a paw in the clear waters. It had been a month or two since he'd been 'accepted' into her pack, as she called it.

She wouldn't let him meet his pack-mates, though. He only had the other wolves to keep him company, and they weren't altogether good at doing so.

Their fur was incredibly soft, though, and they adored being pet and rubbed. He'd always wanted a pet dog, but Mama had always said no.

The wolves had made it very clear to him that they were family, though. Not pets.

He had to agree that it was nice, having such a large family, and learning all these cool things, but Percy still had no clue what in the world was going on. Nor had he forgotten what and who he'd lost in coming here.

Lupa had explained much to him, but in the end, it had confused Percy more than if she had just kept him in the dark.

The Greek gods, a concept Percy vaguely remembered hearing older students chat about in school, were apparently real. For some reason, that hadn't come as much of a shock to Percy. Mama was never really too religious, and well, the giant talking she-wolf was more than enough proof, even if she did say she was a Roman goddess called Lupa.

However, learning that his father was the Greek god Poseidon did surprise him – not so much the fact that his father was a god as much as the fact his father was alive. He had always thought that dad was 'lost at sea'. Apparently not – he just didn't want to raise him.

But the real kicker, then, was that he, as in his own father, was the man that had kidnapped him from his amazing mama and brought him here to Lupa - so that she could 'train' him.

Because apparently monsters wanted to kill and eat him, and armed with that little tid-bit, a lot of his past encounters with strange people made a little more sense. And now he had to learn to defend himself. Somehow, a wolf would teach him, a human, that. He didn't question it.

Percy didn't even want to think about what his mom was thinking, with him gone. He missed her so, so much. He wonders if she even knew about any of this.

Lupa was… well, Lupa was Lupa. She was no replacement. No matter how much she forbade him from ever returning to New York every time he brought it up, Percy knew that he would find a way to get back to his mother.

In the meantime, Lupa had kept him very busy. Percy had no clue on how to survive in the wild his first day. She had changed that quickly.

She put a blade in his hand, too large for him to even hold properly, and taught him to cut and forage and trap and cook, how to live off the bounty of the forest. She'd given him a long bow, made of dark, twisted wood, and taught him to hunt. She guided his hands as he loosed his first arrow, missing the target set on a tree trunk by a mile.

She had chastised him, the next day, as he stood over a suffering deer, not fully dead by his first shot. His hands shook and his eyes watered, as it let out pitiful whimpers, crying out in pain and quivering by his feet.

And then, she had taught him how to kill it, how to slit its throat in a single fluid motion, not prolonging its misery any longer. His hands stained with its blood, she'd taught him how to cut it up and cook it and keep the rest safe for later. He did so silently, and then sat by a stream for hours, eyes empty.

"Percy. The water." She chided, her tail coming up to flick his ear and wrench him from his mind. It was more of a slap, although Percy didn't think Lupa realized, massive as she was. Shaking his head, he returned to focusing on the pool of water, despite the questions still making waves in his mind.

Gritting his teeth, he returned to focusing on the water. Despite his best efforts, he'd been unable to do much more than make ripples across the pool, although even that had made Lupa proud for a short moment.

Suddenly, Lupa sighed, a low, rumbling sound escaping her throat. "Speak your mind, cub."

Percy took his chance immediately, "What's the difference between the Roman and Greeks? Why am I here if I'm a Greek and you're Roman?"

Lupa had revealed that she was a part of the Roman pantheon of gods, yes, and that she had taken care of the founders of Rome, ages ago. But Percy knew that the Romans and Greeks weren't the same; he wasn't that stupid.

Lupa had stopped speaking, and a growl built up in her throat the first time he had asked that question, on the first day. However, that had only motivated Percy to try again, and again, and again. He wasn't going to let her just ignore him.

He was nothing if not stubborn.

Lupa snarled at the air, startling Percy, before laying her head down on the ground, and placed her paws over her snout, rubbing it softly in annoyance. It was a startlingly human gesture.

"I suppose you are… acquainted enough with our world, now." Percy sat up straighter, already enraptured by her whispered words. "You see, Perseus, your father is the Greek god Poseidon." Percy nodded quickly, yes, that's why he's sitting at a pool, trying to control water. The first time he made the water move with just his mind, he had fallen into the freezing pool in shock.

"There are… certain obstacles that come with being a son of Poseidon." She growled again, although it's not directed at him for once. The ground rumbled with her, and the pool rippled gently.

"You are not supposed to exist." She said after a few moments, lifting her face to look him in the eyes. Percy tilted his head, something that he's seen Lupa do frequently, and is just realizing he does himself. He tried to understand her words, but they're confusing to the young demigod.

"What do you mean? I mean – I do exist, but why shouldn't I?" he asked, some of his frustration colouring his actions, as he raised his hands, aggravated.

"My cub, be calm. Focus on the water, the ripples. Breathe, child." Lupa said softly. Softly, but not gently.

Huffing, he turned, and tried to focus on the water, his hands returning to rest on top of his knees, clenched into fists. It feels almost impossible; his mind is too chaotic, unorganized. Percy has never been able to concentrate on just one thing. The doctors had called it ADHD.

In any case, this, everything here, was all wrong – from the water to the cave itself. To Percy, the ocean always meant warmth and happiness, the bright beach, a soft sea breeze ruffling his hair and caressing his face.

It did not mean cold, bright pools in the depths of a cave, past long, dark, winding tunnels with only his hand on Lupa's fur to guide him.

Through Lupa's instructions, he had realized that he could feel the water; it's strange. A sixth sense he never knew he had, or maybe that other people didn't. Controlling water was a completely different matter, though.

Watching him struggle at calming down for a few moments, Lupa stretched forward, knocking her snout against his temples.

"If you can do this, I will answer your questions fully." She coaxed. Percy is trying, he really is, but Lupa's not helping. "Do not focus on the calm water, my child. You are the seas, the ancient oceans, the depths below. Look into yourself, so that you may look into the waves." She said after a moment, spouting off what sounds to Percy like some spiritual mumbo-jumbo, even if he would never say so to the wolf goddess.

Even so, he took her advice. He felt inward, insane as it sounded, and breathed deeply, matching his breaths to an age-old ebb tickling gently at the back of his mind. Even if he couldn't truly feel them, didn't know what they meant, the ancient rise and fall of the tides would always guide him on his wayward path.

The water stilled for a moment, perfectly clear. With a jolt, it rose into the air gently, not a sound to be heard in the cavern other than his controlled breathing. The soft blue light of the crystalline cave reflected off the pool, an incredibly enthralling sight.

And then, without any warning, it exploded.

The water went everywhere, leaving the pool itself completely empty. Staring back at him, there was nothing but a deep hole, much deeper than the initial sight of the pool suggested.

Beside him, Lupa laughed, the now familiar sound gracing his ears.

"Well, cub! I cannot say that I expected that!" She continued laughing, shaking stray droplets off her fur. "Your power is unprecedented, but precision lacking. Though… I fear that I have been going around this the wrong way."

Licking his hair out of his face, she stared him in his shocked eyes with her own wide amber. "So long since I have had a child of Neptune to train, I have all but forgotten. Do not force the water to be still. Water is unyielding. It will stop moving for nothing, not even you. Embrace the chaos in the flowing stream, or you will never know the power of the storm."

Percy was completely motionless, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Taking his hands off his knees, he finally registered that he was completely dry, despite the massive outburst of water that had happened, and had definitely flown right into his face.

Reality set in – strange that it was so late, but it set in nonetheless.

Percy may have known it was real from the moment Lupa's jaws had closed an inch from his throat the first day, but the hope that it was just a long, intense, realistic dream had remained in the back of his mind.

That hope disappeared now.

Anticipation took its place.

"Will you answer my questions now, Lupa?" he asked, turning to the she-wolf. She tilted her head, her ears twitching. He'd learnt that that meant she was annoyed, although he couldn't see why she'd be annoyed by this. He'd done as she asked.

"Again, child. Before you sleep today, if you can control the water, I will." She offered, the water suddenly flying off the walls and floor and floating back into the pool.

Sighing, Percy turned back to the pool. He stared at it, the regenerated water seeming more like an unstoppable, daunting foe rather than a simple obstacle in his path back home to his mother.

What did Lupa say? 'Embrace the chaos'?

Yeah.

Yeah, he could manage that.

As she turned to go train her other cubs, Lupa pondered when Percy would be fit to train with the other. It would do well for him to become friendly with Jason.

She knew that she had set the child an impossible task, but she was well-versed in parrying her cub's annoying questions. Hopefully he would have learned some restraint and patience by the time she returned.

She did not expect to return to her cub offering up to her a bluish green sphere. She had almost recoiled as she saw a pulsating and swirling globe of water floating above his palm, and as his mischievous grin lit up the entire cave.

---

The Twelfth Legion Fulminata, in all of their splendour, was an inspiring sight on the best of days and downright terrifying on their worst.

Today was certainly not a good day, Jeremy decided, as they listened to praetor Viktor speak.

"Now, whilst I understand that these are unique circumstances, it is certainly not the first time someone below the age of conscription has joined the Legion."

From his position in the front of the Fifth Cohort, behind Centurions Tilu and Lao, Jeremy had a wonderful view of Viktor standing on the stage. He had his arms spread wide, sweat beading down his valiantly cheerful face as Julia cleaned her fingernails with a dagger behind him, giving off a perfect mask of indifference to the situation. Standing beside the pair, Percy stood straight, staring at the Legion with a neutral mask himself.

Jeremy could still tell that he was apprehensive and anxious, even though he hid his emotions as well as Julia.

"Lupa has spoken, and the son of Neptune will join the Legion!" Viktor proclaimed, his hand on his chest. At that, Percy strode forwards, ignoring the fearful gazes of the Legion to stand tall next to Viktor.

It was a strange, humbling sight. A ten year-old with long waves of black hair tucked behind his ears, wearing a scruffy t-shirt and faded jeans, standing next to one of the best warriors of their generation, six and a half feet tall, resplendent in full Roman armour and a gladius strapped to his waist - yet the audience knew who they feared more.

Even to Jeremy, who had decided to try and befriend the kid as soon as possible, he gave off an unmistakable aura of 'stay the hell away'. Everything, from the way he spoke to the way he moved, was unnatural and scary and toxic, but really only at a first glance. More of a precautionary measure than anything, but it does make him wonder - why does the child want to be left alone so bad?

Julia, trained by the wolf goddess as well, was terrifying enough with the habits she had learned from her time in the Wolf House. Percy hadn't shown much of those, apart from his stance and terrifying stare, to Jeremy's relief. Still, the young son of Neptune inspired much more fear in the Legion than she did.

Perhaps Shen Lun's influence ran deeper than he thought.

"Perseus does not have any letters of recommendation," Julia began softly, still staring at her dagger. Viktor, however interrupted her before she could continue, speaking slightly faster than normal, "Will any Legionnaire stand for him?"

No-one moved. The entire field was still, not a creak of armour or a shuffling of feet to be heard. Sighing mentally, Jeremy stepped forward, ignoring the hundreds of wide, shocked eyes shifting to him.

The Fifth Cohort was disgraced, yes, but to Viktor they were his last line of defence, untainted by Julia's claws. She had almost every other Centurion under her thumb, and practically a complete control of New Rome and its senate, if it weren't for Viktor, Tilu, and him. And, well, the auguries.

Jeremy didn't know what she wanted to do with that much power. It's not like there were many enemies to attack or land to conquer, and it wasn't like they were actual Romans, but maybe she was just a narcissistic maniac.

It seemed the most likely, what with her constant forays out into the world, in search of glory and the heads of monsters.

Besides, she was already prophesied to save New Rome – what was the point in all of this?

Clearing his throat, Jeremy spoke, projecting his voice over the field. "I stand for Perseus Jackson!"

Around him, his fellow Legionnaires stared at him incredulously, and a vein popped on Lao's neck, but Tilu gave him a discreet thumbs-up. Viktor had told Jeremy to stand for Percy, after all.

If he's dangerous, then use him to his fullest potential in the lowest risk environment. Well, that was Viktor's explanation, after he told Jeremy that the kid had a damn prophecy.

Faintly, he could hear the other cohorts murmur and snicker to their left, although the undertone of fear didn't leave.

All these years later, the legacy of Shen Lun had left wounds – the entirety of New Rome was forced to relocate after the quake of 1906.

It had left deep, deep wounds that Percy's appearance was sure to be re-opening. Almost a thousand demigods had died in the quake of Shen Lun, some demigods in the city, some legionnaires, some legacies. That's not even mentioning the casualties in San Francisco itself.

It had taken years, but they'd finally achieved the same concentration of population that they'd had before the quake, and suddenly, another descendant of Neptune had arrived in the city.

If one thing was certain, the other cohorts would be walking on eggshells around the Fifth from now on.

Whether that would be worse or better than the ridicule they suffered now, Jeremy didn't know yet.

"Very well, Legionnaire Hasting. Does your cohort accept him?" Viktor asked, his voice shutting down any murmurs.

Slowly and unsurely, his cohort joined Jeremy in pounding their shields on the ground. It was a pitiful and weak sound, but it was enough.

Julia slipped her dagger back into its sheath, regarding the Fifth Cohort with visible disgust. She was not a fan of the Fifth Cohort, not one bit. She seemed rather happy that Percy was getting thrown away to rot with them, though, if he's reading her right. Jeremy grimaced; oh, what he would do to get rid of her.

Lao glanced at Tilu, wrinkling his nose as if to ask, 'are we really doing this?'. Ignoring him, Tilu stood straighter, and announced sharply, "My Cohort has spoken! We accept the recruit!"

Viktor's shoulders slumped invisibly, and he huffed out a breath, some of the tension leaking out of his form. "Perseus Jackson, welcome to the Legion. As of today, you are a member of the Fifth Cohort, on probatio. After one year with this cohort, or as soon as you complete an act of valour, you will become a full member of the Legion. Serve Rome well, son of Neptune. Senatus Populusque Romanus!"

The rest of the Legion echoed Viktor's cheer, the sound rumbling across the field. Jeremy's eyes narrowed as Percy took a step back, clenching his fists. Sensitive hearing, perhaps?

"Centurions!" Julia began, stepping off the dais. "You will have half an hour for breakfast. War Games take place at the Field of Mars afterwards! First, Second, and Third Cohorts attacking! Fourth and Fifth defending!"

Sheathing the blade he had drawn during his speech, Viktor walked off the platform quickly, heading towards the auguries and rubbing his eyes. Poor guy; maybe Jeremy should've waited to wake him, but he didn't want Julia to get to Percy first.

He couldn't wait to hear the prophecy from Viktor – he was sure he could wheedle it out of him. Or, he could get it from the source, he supposed.

Ignoring the tugs of his fellow soldiers on his arms, Jeremy grabbed Tilu gently, and steered him towards Percy, who was blankly staring at the probation tablet hanging around his neck.

"Perce! How are you, kid! Welcome to the Fifth!" he said, ruffling the much shorter kids hair. In truth, Jeremy himself was seventeen, Tilu sixteen and Viktor twenty, and Percy was ten.

He was a baby.

By the way Percy seemed to lean into his touch, Jeremy didn't think he minded too much. He doubted he'd had much human interaction while in the wolves den.

Tilu gave him a quick greeting, before returning to mumbling under his breath just as he was before Jeremy dragged him here.

Rolling his eyes, Jeremy snapped his fingers under his nose, startling him out of his planning. Most legionnaires wouldn't dare, but Jeremy was practically a centurion in his own right; he had declined the promotion when it was offered, not a fan of the higher stress and workload, but his mates still treated him like one most days. Not to mention the web of smugglers, informants, and more he still managed in his down time. Yes, definitely do not mention that.

"I'm good, I think." Percy's eyes flitted between the other cohorts, as they blatantly watched the conversation. Most tripped on themselves turning away the moment his eyes fell upon them, but Julia, speaking to a member of the senate, met his gaze head-on.

After a few tense moments of staring, both their gazes devoid of emotion, Julia looked away first, turning back to her own conversation like nothing happened. She nodded at whatever the council member said, before setting off alongside Viktor yet again. They walked in the direction of the auguries together, silently.

Jeremy snapped his jaw shut quietly. He wasn't the only one to notice; others nearby took a few rapid steps away from Percy.

"Well, kid, I know that we need to get breakfast, but we should probably get you a sword or something before you head into War Games, yeah?" As he steered the conversation quickly to a different topic, Jeremy had a feeling that Percy was going to bring massive changes to New Rome.

Percy just tilted his head, grinning sharply and showing all his teeth in response.

"I don't need weapons." He said softly, but his voice carried across the field, bringing more questions than answers. Questions that most didn't want answers to, honestly.

If the other cohorts, even the Fourth, half-sprinted away from the Fifth, none of the Fifth said anything.

---

Lupa had answered his questions after getting over her initial shock. Her answers had only birthed more questions for the young demigod, which she also actually answered for once.

Percy didn't really understand, but he knew, at least, that he was a Greek demigod in Roman lands, and that was a bad thing, a really bad thing. Lupa had made him promise to never tell anyone at all that his father was Poseidon, not Neptune, and that he'd begin to understand why, soon enough. She'd train him more, and help sure he knew what he was getting into, once he was old enough to understand.

He didn't want to wait that long, and it showed. He couldn't grow up any faster, but if he proved himself to Lupa, maybe she'd explain it fully. And then, with a full understanding, maybe he could find his mother again. Maybe.

It was like a barrier had been broken, after the first conversation. Now, almost another month later, between hunting and eating in the forest, the rare combat training days, and the near constant sessions in the cave, Percy could scarcely believe that he could once never call water to his aid.

It was as natural as breathing, he thought, as he drew water from the streams cutting through the forest and whipped long snakes of water through the air. He laughed as they would splash into each other, creating miniature showers of rain in the forest. He didn't really think about what it meant when they left deep gouges in the earth, when they sliced claw marks into massive trunks of ancient trees, although he did feel kind of bad about it.

But when Lupa gazed at the destruction he left in his wake and despaired, she knew.

The Wolf of Rome was rising at last.

A week after her cub had managed to realize his control over water, Lupa decided that he had grown powerful enough to meet her other cub. It would be good for them both to get some human interaction - sleeping and living with only the wolves to keep them company wasn't good for them.

Still, he was nowhere near talented enough to fight or spar with him. She had to remedy that.

Being able to fight, or at least challenge him, was a necessity before he could meet Jason. To that end, Lupa began weapon training. She talked Percy through Roman forms for weeks, patient and watchful as he practiced incessantly through the long hours of the morning, Apollo's rays shining down on him.

Even in the little cave he'd found and called home, he was never still, always moving, always practicing the blade after she'd given it to him. Some nights, she'd come and drag him into his bed of furs by his hair, and find him up again and moving only minutes later.

Although, even as his skills with the gladius and pilum grew at an incredible rate, she had the feeling that he would need something more suited to him.

Watching him practice his swings and strikes, his form perfect and precision immaculate only a month into training, she couldn't help but think that training him like a Roman was nothing but a waste of the highest potential since Hercules himself.

Stalking forward, she spoke, "Little wolf, tell me, what is water?"

Gently, she took the blade from his hand, flinging it to the side, before licking his hair out of his face, yet again. She'll need to get him to cut it, soon enough. Thankfully, he's been doing a fair job of keeping himself clean in the wild without her instruction. She wonders if she should go and get him another one of those human… 'toothpastes', was it? He'd been grumbling about it.

"Water is… water?" Narrowing his green eyes, he wiped the sweat running down his face off with the back of his hand.

Shaking her head, Lupa replied, "You are Greek, remember that." He nodded, slowly, not really understanding the non sequitur. "It is, in my opinion, a waste to treat you like a Roman. The Romans were never as focused on the individual as the Greeks. Teaching you how to fight in a unit is useless; after all, in the end, you are worth a legion of soldiers on your own." He widened his eyes, but was otherwise completely still.

She laughed internally; just like Julia and Jason and the rest, he was assimilating her own quirks and habits into himself without realizing.

"A 'legion on my own' might be pushing it?" he said, apprehensive. He shook his head softly, pushing his thoughts away. "Treat me like a Greek… didn't the Romans, like, kill all the Greeks?"

Lupa snorted softly. "Cub." she chided, shaking her head. "The Greeks of old placed much importance on their god-given powers, on individuality. For you, that would be your control of the elements. At the moment, you have barely given thought to the notion of using them in a fight. Tell me, what could you do?"

Pausing, Percy put a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it as he thought. "I guess I could throw water at people, but the problem is that I need water nearby to do anything." He said finally, twirling an unruly lock of hair through his fingers.

Lupa laughed out loud; a howling laugh that reached to the moon and back. Percy grimaced, his fists clenching as he resisted the urge to clap his hands around his ears; time amongst the wolves had heightened all of his senses.

"Child, what did they teach you in school?" she said, her laugh still rumbling deep in her throat. His face hardened, before he spoke, "I don't know, Lupa, my dad kidnapped me and brought me here before I could learn anything." Sarcasm was a favourite tool of his, it seemed.

Her snout wrinkling, Lupa decided that she liked having cubs brought to her at birth better. They were too loud and angry when brought in late.

Changing the subject, she spoke, "Perseus, in a fight, what are the traits of water?"

Scoffing, the cub turned away, crossing his arms before answering. "It's unyielding." He parroted off what she had told him.

Ignoring his little rebellion, Lupa's tail swished across the forest floor, sweeping stray leaves into the air. "Good, but there are others. Water is dynamic, it is fluid, it is unpredictable, devious and unstoppable. Most importantly, the ocean has left its marks everywhere, from the cloud-filled skies to the depths of the earth."

Scowling, Percy turned back. "And that helps me how?"

Lupa sighed and circled him slowly, her tail came up to brush his cheek softly. This cub had no easy path set out for him, she feared.

"You must be dynamic and ever-changing yourself, flowing and shifting like a stream of water, evading and evolving, so that you can command the full force of the tsunami at the right moment, and strike. There are many who would seek to harm you; you must learn these things and much more. You will need to be better to survive."

Percy sighed. "What does that even mean, Lupa?"

Forgoing any mystery for her cub's benefit, Lupa answered, "Why use a single blade and art when you can learn many?"

Percy stared at her for a long moment, before plopping onto the ground, thinking. "Okay. Okay. You want me to use more than one way of fighting." Lupa nodded. "So – so why all the water metaphors, then?" he exploded.

"Are you planning on lugging around half a dozen blades, cub? No. The water will be your weapon."

Throwing his hands up in the air, Percy exclaimed, "I still don't know what that means!"

It's hard for her to explain, Percy thinks, but she still tries her best. "Summon a sphere of water, as you did one week ago." She commanded.

Looking around, Percy narrowed his eyes. "There's no water here."

"Do you not remember what I said, cub? The ocean is everywhere."

He frowned. "At least try," she urged, nudging him.

Groaning, Percy brought his hands together, cupping them in front of his face.

He remembered the feeling that he felt whenever he was near water, and he tried to focus on it, focus, focus, focus.

He gave up. It was worthless – he couldn't control water if there was no water for him to control.

Lupa's snout smacked against his shoulder.

"Draw water from the air around you, cub."

Blinking, he nodded thoughtfully, concentrating again and trying to feel out into the air surrounding him. Perhaps - water in the air?

It was… strange. He could feel the water around him, if he concentrated hard enough. Floating in the air, many separate, miniscule 'blobs' in the air, flying around. Biting his tongue hard, he tried to draw it to his hands, to coalesce it between his cupped palms.

Opening his eyes, he stared in surprise at the water he was holding. It was barely a few drops, a small puddle in his palms, but it was something.

Beside him, Lupa rumbled. "Perfect, my cub."

Despite how much he had tried not to get too close to Lupa, still somewhat angry at the loss of his own mother, he couldn't deny the swell of pride in his chest.

"I did not expect you to grasp the theory so quickly, but you exceed every expectation." She licked his face again, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Now, you must practice until it is second nature." She continued. "Once you have accomplished that, I will teach you to make weapons out of the waves."

Percy grinned as he dove back into his powers, eager to accomplish more, learn more.

---

Viktor didn't know what to think.

He was watching the battle from above, riding a Pegasus - very gently. Viktor despised horses and heights, but he'd gotten over his fears a long time; rather, he was forced to. The Praetor's pegasus was a sign of their power. He couldn't reject it out of some paltry fears.

In any case, he felt as if the bird's-eye view was not much of a help, as he watched the War Games. He'd rather he didn't have such a clear view, honestly.

Viktor kept a close eye upon the field, searching for the quicksilver form of the son of Neptune.

He had watched as the battle started, the Legion marching forwards on the fort, their thundering steps rushing across the Field of Mars. As they neared, the defenders rushed out with a cry, meeting them blade for blade.

The son of Neptune was among them.

Watching the battle from above, he wonders why they even try.

When someone like that exists… why?

And he had thought Julia was a good swordswoman. Floating nearby, even she looked shocked and scared, her expressions mirroring his perfectly.

Perseus was a tidal wave, demolishing entire battalions on his own.

In his hand, he held a massive blade, practically a goddamn claymore, made of water and edged with what looked like blunt ice. How it held true, how it managed to deflect other blades and dent armour without shattering, he couldn't tell, but it did, and it did it well. Suddenly, it morphed into a javelin, large pieces of ice cracking and splintering off. It was thrown perfectly to knock down someone he wasn't even fighting, with scarcely a glance to calibrate. As if it were as simple as breathing, he summoned a pair of shorter, thin blue blades in his hands while he charged another group. How many types of weapons he's seen him use, he can't tell, but the son of Neptune has practically perfected his style already.

Just what the hell did they recruit? Shen Lun's power had nothing in the face of Percy's combat prowess. Was this kid just doing nothing but learning to fight since he could walk?

If anything was certain, the senate would be raising hell about him, even if his prophecy didn't exist. Hell, some of the senators are getting their asses kicked by him.

Even Viktor's re-evaluating his decision to recruit him. He was fine with the child having some strangeness, some confusing actions, or a few eccentric habits. This, though? He didn't think he was fine with this.

Troublemaker. He had thought that he looked like a troublemaker.

As the best and most skilled soldiers of the Legion fell unconscious in heaps at his feet, he knew he couldn't have been more right.

This kid was going to bring too much trouble for him to deal with.

And it all started with his damned prophecy. What in Jupiter's name was he supposed to do?

Viktor clearly remembered when Julia's prophecy was revealed, almost a full decade ago. The praetors in her times had publicly revealed it to the city after a few days of rumours plaguing New Rome, because obviously only good could come from it. With it had come happiness across the city, a goddamn festival, and nothing but an outpouring of love for the daughter of Mercury.

Well, in the end, that had led to Julia turning from the sweet, nice girl he remembered into a bit of a tyrant who didn't listen to anyone but herself - so perhaps that praetor was wrong.

But Viktor, now a praetor himself – he had no idea of what to do, when a prophecy of this magnitude arrived.

When the oracle wouldn't even speak of the prophecy, he could only assume how bad it was.

Augusta, the head oracle, had flat out refused to even speak of it, saying this one would have to play out on its own. The senate had not been pleased. Neither had he. However, Julia had accepted Augusta's words with nothing more than a deferential nod, to his surprise.

They'd been ushered out with only a stern, slightly terrifying warning not to interfere. But the moment they'd left the Temple of Jupiter, the senators were whispering amongst themselves, hushed conversations surrounding him at every turn. Viktor caught Sylvia's eye - one of the few senators who wasn't fully behind Julia's rule. She shook her head at him silently, frowning.

Viktor hadn't heard much, but he heard enough. With clenched fists, he ordered the senators not to speak of the situation any further, and to prepare for War Games.

Kicking him out… it would be lunacy. Perhaps well-intentioned, putting the safety of many over the comfort of one, but still lunacy!

Do they want a vengeful son of Neptune on their asses?

Fear ruled the hearts of the weak, but it seemed that Rome was ruled by the weak.

Whatever the case, Viktor should've warned the son of Neptune to stay his hand. If anything, this battle would only bring more ammunition to assist the senate's tentative plans to oust him. And Viktor, unlike Julia, would follow his duty to be unbiased – if the senate truly, unanimously decided Percy was a threat, then that was it for Percy.

Viktor doesn't know what's guiding him, but he knows that he cannot let Percy be exiled under any circumstances. Perhaps it's the unknown prophecy altering his path, but he doubts it.

If there's one thing that they all know about Neptune, it's that he's vengeful. Viktor really doesn't want to be on the storm god's wrong side.

He guided his Pegasus over to Julia, and looked over at her, about to call the end of the game, before stopping. He stared in awe for a quick moment, before shaking his head and looking away.

Julia was seated on her tawny Pegasus, regal and still with her head tilted as she seemed to listen to the battle beneath them. Her eyes seemed to almost glow in the sunlight, a strangely blue colour in the bright light overriding her natural amber.

"Julia!" he shouted over the sound of their wings, blatantly ignoring the sight. "Shall we call the games? They aren't getting inside any time soon!"

Shaking her head suddenly, she looked at him, her lips parted in surprise. It looked like she hadn't even realized he was there till now. Strange – Julia usually knew where he was before he knew it, knew what he was thinking before he did. Benefits of a childhood friendship, he supposes, although he'd never gotten that same feeling with her.

"Yeah – yes, uh, yeah!" she shouted back after a moment, her voice – soft, almost scared.

He doesn't really blame her for it, but she was barely even watching the battle.

Ah, whatever.

Grunting, he guided his Pegasus to fly down, flicking the reins. Viktor gritted his teeth and bit back a curse, as the damned beast folded its wings and plummeted to the ground with no warning.

Damn, he really hates horses.

---

The first time Percy had drawn water from the atmosphere, it had taken him mere minutes. Reaching the conditions that Lupa had set him, however, had taken him three months, at his best estimates.

He's pretty sure his birthday's passed since he'd woken up in the Wolf House. Lupa hasn't ever told him the exact date, but she did give him a sandwich one day, still wrapped and toasty, around the time he thought his birthday was coming up.

He ended up sharing most of it with the wolves nearby, but he didn't mind too much.

They were his family, after all.

Lupa didn't leave him without work during those three months, though, not at all. Between surviving the harsh forest and preparing for the upcoming winter, he had more than enough on his plate.

Even then, Lupa had increased his weapon training until he was almost constantly practicing, no time to do anything else. If he wasn't holding a sword, he was training his powers – he thinks the wolves hunted for him in those time, but he was too engrossed in his work to properly thank them.

Staffs. Bows. Scythes and spears. Every shade of a blade, from short knives to slim stilettos to massive claymores, almost his size. It was an arduous task, and more than once he'd fallen asleep with a blade in his hand.

His skin, once soft and unmarred, was now criss-crossed by thin white lines, thicker stretched and warped skin, or angry, red blotches of colour. Lupa was not a kind, easy-going teacher – she pushed him to his limits with every waking second.

It was lucky Percy had been taken out of the American education system before he could learn the meaning of giving up, however. The thought didn't even once cross his mind, not until he could hold every weapon Lupa challenged him to master in his palms and not feel out of place.

Then, Lupa had tried to teach him to combine his weaponry skills with his water powers.

Key word there being 'tried'.

If Percy thought that opening his mind and making puddles of water was hard, then creating a shape was ten times worse. First, she had him make a stick. Just a simple, measly stick.

It took him two weeks of constantly trying and practicing, day in and day out, to create something that vaguely resembled an almost solid line of water, the length of his arm.

He didn't falter, though, nor again did he ever even entertain the thought of giving up. Not until he could make wobbly depictions of blades, long and squiggly staffs, and half-melted bows.

He didn't stop there. He didn't stop until he could manage a sword, an actual blade out of water.

Like that wasn't the coolest, most badass thing he'd ever heard of in his entire life – he was not giving up until he could do that.

It was after only a few more weeks of practice, his skills growing exponentially, that he managed a shape that Lupa deemed good enough. A leaf-shaped blade, strong and stout. The hilt and blade were both solid, and didn't splash as much as bend when they slammed into a tree trunk.

But the blade was obviously blunt.

So, how does he make it sharp, Lupa?

The answer was simple in theory, and ludicrously complicated in practice - ice.

Coat the edges of the blade in sharp, thin lines of ice. Apparently, despite monsters requiring a magical metal to wound and kill them, ice produced by a demigod was more than magical enough. Even though it wasn't a metal, which sort of confused him, but whatever.

There was only one problem – Percy didn't know how to make ice. Once again, Lupa had to teach him the process.

This time, however, she was much more secretive and apprehensive, whispering the technique into his ear as he left the blade hanging at his side. Then, she had watched him unblinkingly the entire time he attempted the painstakingly boring process.

It was the exact opposite of how he drew water from the air. Instead of aiding the water on its warpath to movement, he had to force it to cool down, to stop moving at all. Surprisingly, this aspect had come easier to him than the others had. It was actually fairly simple for him to subjugate the water and force it to still, much simpler than it was to guide water into shapes.

It only took him three or so hours of sitting on the grass, the blade resting across his lap, one hand absent-mindedly scratching a nearby wolf behind their ears and the other folded under his chin, before he managed it. A stark contrast to the sheer amount of time the other aspects of his power had taken him.

When he had finally succeeded, the blade coming up in his hand to reflect the moonlight brilliantly, he could have sworn he'd forged an art piece and not a weapon. Every shade of blue and green in the world swirled together in the blade's flat edge, almost luminescent. It faded and brightened to a solid line of bright bluish white solely on the edges. The edge itself, though, was the sharpest he'd ever seen in his life, and he'd managed to cut himself on a lot of the blades Lupa gave him.

Upon seeing the blade, Lupa had congratulated him somberly. She'd told him to meet her at the pool the next day, where she could explain. Then she had left, leaving Percy in a small clearing with his blade.

He'd arrived the next day, ready for anything. There, she had looked at him solemnly, and declared him old enough, experienced enough, to understand. She tried to gently explain what she had failed to explain many months prior.

It took her many words, but she managed it – to some meaning of the word.

Percy didn't truly understand it at first, or even believe it. Lupa hadn't given him any time to think on it, think on this prophecy, on his fate, though. She had challenged him, right then and there, to fight her and prove himself worthy of the path that was written out for him.

She did not let him refuse. No matter the shock still in his system, the disbelief running its course, she had attacked mercilessly.

The sudden and unexpected fight was a struggle like no other. Lupa was quick as a crack of thunder, and much more dangerous. She was thankfully shrunk smaller, but no less sharp, and although she never hit him anywhere near lethally, he'd been given his fair share of scars by her claws that day.

Percy persevered, though. Blow after strike after parry after blow, until he had brought Lupa down beneath his blade, her golden ichor staining the ice beautifully, tragically.

She had encouraged him to fight as lethally as possible throughout the long struggle, that she was a goddess and she could survive even if he chopped her head off, but he – he didn't. He couldn't.

Over the past years, she'd told him he'd need to kill monsters, but he didn't know if he could even manage that.

All he could do was leave long, shallow cuts across her body, slices across her paws and legs, fighting a war of attrition. At one terrifying moment, he'd sliced her eye clean through, a sickening squelch echoing in the luminescent cavern. She had laughed as he dropped his blade in shock, fumbling on the ground for the slick hilt.

He – he didn't want this. Not anymore.

Not since she had explained what it meant.

What he meant.

Why he was born.

What he would do.

When he would die.

She could tell, he thought. She never said much, but she could tell – sorrow and disappointment in equal parts swirled in her gaze. Every time he looked at her after that day, he could see it.

Once he had completed his 'challenge' - the fight won but his war lost - it was only hours after their conversation, with it hanging over his head the entire time. Lupa had licked his face tenderly afterwards, and told him that there was still more to come.

He didn't respond.

He'd been silent since they'd spoken, still parsing her words in his mind.

After all, it was a lot for an eight year old to process.

Dead, at sixteen. A bridge between two worlds that should not and could not coexist. New Rome, and a place called Camp Half-Blood.

Hatred for him at one. Death at the other.

If he ever told anyone that he was a son of Poseidon and not Neptune, then that was it. He'd be killed, murdered by his own uncles, the moment they got word of his existence.

That was what had happened to his cousin, a daughter of Zeus, and the reason his father had decided to hide him. What happened to her, her apparently painful, agonizing death – that was all that would be in store for him, if he wasn't careful.

All because of a single prophecy they'd been cursed with.

All Percy could do was continue learning. Continue growing, so he could meet his fate head on, and challenge it.

A prophecy said he would die at sixteen, as a 'hero'. He knew that now.

What he also knew was that he would not die easily. Whatever came for him, for Olympus, would have to fight for each and every drop of his blood.

Olympus would not fall, if he had any say in it. And he definitely did.

He learnt quicker, faster. After all, his time was limited.

According to Lupa, the best course of action was for him to remain in Camp Jupiter until fate forced him to return to Manhattan, where both Olympus and Camp Half-Blood lay in wait. There, he would at least know what life had in store for him.

Towards that end, he continued his training with Lupa, every hour of the day, since apparently, the fate of Olympus rested upon his shoulders.

Percy was a natural hunter by this point, stalking through the forest and stringing arrows like he'd been doing it his entire life. An eight year old with a better aim and a surer step than the best mortal. Silent feet and sharp eyes, traversing even the most difficult of terrain without any issues.

No more deer thudded to the ground, gasping for breath and panting miserably. Not after his first kill.

His hand was steady as he guided water through the air, as it formed in solid blades, sharper and stronger than any steel. Javelins that flew true and hit their mark, swords cutting sharp arcs through the air as he twisted and practiced.

Ancient arts forgotten to time that Lupa revived for him to learn, techniques to use against monsters, fellow demigods, even mortals, he devoured. How to read emotions, to control a conversation, to distract, to fight dirty, to make others fight for you. All of this and more, Lupa taught him, each topic gaining a shallower and shallower understanding as time grew scarcer.

It wasn't enough – there wasn't enough time. He would leave at ten – he had two and a bit years to learn, but that was a sliver of time against all Lupa wanted him to know.

It simply wasn't enough. He couldn't do enough. He wasn't enough.

Would he ever be?

---

Jeremy slipped into his seat, frowning as he scanned the colourful, bustling classroom. The airy room let in the morning lights, only exacerbating his weariness, but as always, everyone else was awake as ever.

Mrs. Rio was late, it seemed, and everyone else around him was taking the opportunity to chat. Or gossip. Letting his head fall to the desk softly, he instead listened in on the conversations around him.

The topic on everyone's lips was unanimous; Percy Jackson. That had been the only topic of note for the past few weeks. The son of Neptune who'd apparently fought the entire Legion on his first day in New Rome, and won without a scratch. The demigod who could summon earthquakes and tidal waves, apparently, or control people's minds? Jeremy doesn't even want to know what spawned that one.

Rumours, some based in reality and some very much not, literally everywhere.

They aren't unwarranted, though. Percy is mysterious, dangerous, and powerful, and that makes him interesting. Everything from wondering about the extent of his powers, to his motives, to some more… dangerous topics.

Like the supposed prophecy that was so dangerous even the praetors weren't allowed to hear it.

Jeremy didn't know how that got out, but he had a few fair guesses – the senators weren't as sly as they thought. He's already got a few plans on how to deal with Hadi or Trayton, whichever it is – that was confidential information.

Whoever started it, rumours spread like wildfire in the paved streets of New Rome, and it wasn't long before no one in the city could separate truth from fiction about the young demigod.

Jeremy was about ninety percent sure Percy couldn't kill someone with a single glance, but what did he know?

The bits circulating about the prophecy were incredibly dangerous to the city's peace, however. Already, people in the Fifth Cohort were giving Percy an even wider berth, even wider than before, and it wasn't long before it would increase. Conversations would end when he entered a room, people would rapidly leave, out of some misplaced fear.

He had to admit, the rumours weren't the greatest thing to have happened. If he could find a way to stop them, he would. No one really listened to him, though. Jeremy had a hell of a reputation in the darker corners of New Rome, but not much anywhere else.

Jeremy and Viktor had already taken the time to explain the Legion's position and how it was changing in ways that weren't appreciated due to Julia's interference, to the son of Neptune. To not much surprise, Percy agreed with them – Julia had to go. He had agreed to help them in any way he could, but after only a few days, it seemed his help would be limited.

Well, what he could do personally was limited, but despite their original hesitance and fear that his arrival would be bad for them, Percy's arrival was more than enough help.

Julia's changes were finally beginning to be felt, and people were at last talking about and recognizing them. Apparently, she'd done something in the latest senate meeting that was sending waves across the city – something about increasing the conscription age range.

Whoever it was who spread information about the inner workings of the senate – probably Hadi - certainly did a good job of it. Yet again, news spread quickly. While everyone in New Rome touted their love of the city and of the Legion at every opportunity, no one really wanted them or their kids to spend any more time as a legionnaire than was needed.

It had to be strange for her, to not have everything go her way, he thought. She'd been acting strange ever since Percy arrived, angrier than normal. He's pretty sure she's broken no less than ten bones in the last training session in the fields, all chalked up to the legionnaires not being good enough to challenge her.

Jeremy worries for her, just a bit. He knows that she and Viktor used to be very close, and he teases his friend about it constantly. In all honesty, though, he doesn't think she's a bad person, she's just a bit spoiled, or maybe insensitive. Still, he can't excuse how many good legionnaires have died on her excursions – she doesn't follow the rule of the Legion, not in any way.

That the Legion isn't a machine of glory.

It's survival in its purest form.

Throughout her life, all of her decisions were taken at face value as law, and she'd used that to supplant her words above all others. She would save New Rome – how could she be wrong? Her little conquests, they were nothing but a way to ensure her future would come to fruition. She would protect New Rome every day, till her dying breath, there was no doubt of that. But did that protection extend to these missions for glory?

She returned victorious every time she left the city to hunt down some monsters, and that was all New Rome cared to see. Not that those she left with didn't always come back.

Mistakes made, lives lost, glory granted, a city in celebration, and families in silent mourning.

The city never thought much of it – after all, legionnaires died all the time. It was a fact of life. And they died honourably, in any case. Fighting for the city's safety.

In Jeremy's eyes, and he knew, many others, those deaths were completely preventable. There was no glory or honour in hunting down monsters cities away.

But everyone in the city was blind to it.

In his classroom alone, there were only two other demigods, not even from his cohort – the rest of the students were legacies, or mortals. He thinks a faun is studying in one of the lower grades, too – good for her, although he did wish her brethren were a little less annoying.

Everyone in his classroom loves Julia. And, why wouldn't they? Ever since she became praetor, there hasn't been a single major attack on the city. Monsters have returned to little more than scary stories parents tell their kids to keep them from sneaking out.

No one realizes Viktor was raised to praetor not long after she was. The past decade had been one of the most prosperous in New Rome's history, no doubt. Most of it was not thanks to her.

In fact, Julia wasn't even very good at running a city – Viktor ended up dealing with most of the more detailed work, streamlining every system in the city, while she led battalions out into the world in search of glory. Jeremy would probably attribute New Rome's success to Viktor.

Not telling him that, though.

The people of New Rome were finally realizing these things themselves, and it's probably because of the second cub of Lupa residing in the city, throwing everything into disarray and making everyone question everything.

Jeremy didn't involve himself too much with the politics side of the job, letting Viktor and Sylvia and the others deal with that, but according to Sylvia, the senate was waking up.

Instead of nodding along at every word, some were finally listening to her and Viktor in relatively equal parts. Partly due to Percy's arrival forcing them to reconsider their positions, she'd guessed.

Suddenly, Jeremy's drawn out of his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. Raising his head, he blinked blankly at his fellow classmate, pulling her name out of the deep recesses of his mind. He was having a good… he doesn't know what the hell he's been doing for the past few minutes, but it was definitely good. Why'd she have to pull him out of it?

"Rikka," he said slowly, looking around the room to make sure the teacher hadn't arrived, "what's up?"

"You're close with the son of Neptune, right?" she asked, tapping her fingers on his desk. Furrowing his brow, he answered, "Yeah, closer than others." He hoped she didn't ask for information – he'll just lie if she does.

"So, does he actually have a prophecy?" she said, after a moment. Blinking blearily, he shook his head in response. Nodding, she said brightly, "That's all I wanted to ask. Thanks!"

Better for her to think he didn't have one, than for her to know the truth, he decided as she returned to her friends. Stretching slightly, he sat up straight and cricked his neck. With a groan, he set his table with his books, just as the devil entered the classroom.

Just as he always does, Jeremy tunes out immediately as her droning voice begins to float through the class, and everyone sits down. Robotically, he counts the minutes and copies down the history notes, the long paragraphs entering his notebook in a lazy scrawl, barely legible.

Instead, he's caught up in his own mind yet again, going over the latest news of New Rome's underworld – apparently someone in the upper rings was somehow smuggling mortal drugs into the city. He sighed mentally; they're not really comparable to the substances the children of Hecate created, but they were slightly safer, at least.

He'll have to get someone to talk to them – they aren't exactly being subtle about it, and they only need one person to mess up for the entire system to go down in flames. He really needs to fix that.

Perhaps Pierre? As he ponders who'd be the best person to find and deal with the newcomer, his thoughts are suddenly yanked away as he hears a familiar name come out of Mrs. Rio's mouth.

Shen Lun.

Blinking, he tunes back into the lesson, looking around the classroom. Mrs. Rio is at the front of the classroom, a shrivelled old woman dressed in a frankly offensive maroon cardigan and a giant woolly scarf that he hadn't noticed till now. It's really not that cold, but he's not too caught up on that - he's more invested in the topic she's talking of.

The quake of 1906. He's pretty sure this wasn't on the syllabus.

"Well," she said, speaking at a student – Rikka again? - in her shaky, ancient voice, "Shen Lun wasn't a son of Neptune. Actually, he was a legacy, so he was probably less powerful than that little devil running around." She spat out venomously.

She continued, unaware, or perhaps not caring, that about half the class was already listening in to the conversation, "Well, I'd hope you've heard about the prophecy going about? I'll say, we shouldn't have let the devil in – the same thing's gonna happen, mark my words. Julia will deal with him, soon enough, though – don't worry about it, lass!" Rikka nods thoughtfully, before settling back in her seat.

Jeremy's mouth is slightly open. Just slightly.

Honestly, he should've expected it. If the people in Camp Jupiter didn't like Percy, what would those in the city do? The two groups were practically separate, but the city was a shadow of Camp Jupiter, and a much darker one at that.

He wants to say something, he wants to protect Percy, he wants to tell them that they are wrong. But he doesn't. The words stick in his throat, his mouth opens and nothing comes out, but a soft, strangled noise. His neighbour looks at him strangely, and he lies. It comes too simply, these days.

"Way too cold today." He said, with an easy smile. "Should've worn a coat – I think I'm catching a cold."

What could he even say? Was there a way to defend Percy – to prove he wasn't as bad as he had already made himself look?

Or were they right?

Where do you draw the line? At what point does the danger Percy poses become unacceptable?

Were they right?

---

It was only a few months after Lupa's revelation, that the she-wolf arrived at his camp yet again, wading through the blindingly bright snow. The morning was a cold affair, freezing rays of sunlight shining down upon Percy, sitting at the edge of the cave's entrance and roasting a cut of meat. He was just pondering whether there was anything he could add to his camp, when she arrived.

His camp – well, he liked his camp.

Under a massive outcropping of rocks, a large cavern, and a well-kept campfire just outside. All his weapons tucked safely in a corner, food and water close by, carpets and rugs of animal fur, plenty of heat and warmth, and most of all, it was completely his.

He couldn't count the hours he'd spent practicing something or other in here, eager to hear more praise from Lupa, awaiting the day that he could leave this place. More recently, it had become a place of thinking – where he could truly ponder the meaning of his prophecy.

So he could come to terms with what it meant, before it would arrive.

He's young – only eight, possibly nine by now – but he doesn't feel that way anymore. He doesn't truly think that he'll ever come to terms with his fate, but he can prepare for it, at least. And, at least he'd have a great amount of privacy the entire time, wouldn't he?

Wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

Well, it was correct. At least, until Lupa brought back a bright-eyed brat.

It did come as a bit of a shock to Percy that Lupa had other cubs to take care of, as he caught sight of a child sitting calmly on her back. She'd simply dropped him off, said his name was Jason and to play nice, and took off back into the snow with a gallop.

They'd stared at each other for a total of three seconds, before the kid erupted into a flurry of words and phrases that Percy could barely understand. It had taken him a few minutes to quiet the kid down, and parse some information out of his spiel.

Jason Grace, a son of Jupiter, seven years old, and apparently Percy's younger kind of cousin? Technically, the gods were the same in either form, but would a son of Jupiter be his cousin, or would it need to be a son of Zeus?

Whatever the case, Percy had to pretend to be a son of Neptune anyways, so younger cousin it was.

To Percy's frustration, it seemed that this child was only slightly younger than him, and only a few minutes into meeting him, very, very annoying. Percy doesn't remember himself being this annoying one year ago, though perhaps he's just gotten used to being an only child.

He welcomed him into his humble abode with open arms, whatever his feelings might've said about it. They'd talked for a while outside, and Percy had offered him some of the meat once it was done. He'd ripped into it ravenously, chewing with his mouth open.

He wasn't that bad of a kid – just young. It felt like he almost hadn't grown up yet, like Lupa hadn't taught him what life meant.

Or maybe Percy was already turning into a cynical idiot.

He kept him close, watching as he explored the little cave Percy called home with a bright smile and too many comments to count. He was in awe as the sun set on the snowy day, sending brilliant colours into the sky, and cooed as the wolves trotted in, shaking snow off their coats and snapping at each other. Never a dull day with them around, Percy thought ruefully.

It wasn't long before they were sitting around a fire, chatting to each other and just learning more and more about the other. The wolves walked between them, licking and talking to them every now and then.

It wasn't really talking; Percy had just learned to decipher their thoughts and the meanings of their actions, after all this time together.

The wolves treated Jason like a baby, licking his face and nuzzling him every time they passed him. It was adorable. And he might've been a bit jealous of him.

Noticing Percy's slight annoyance at the same not happening to him, a wolf sitting nearby had settled in his lap and given him a thoroughly wet makeover, giving a rough laugh alongside Jason as she did.

Sometimes he thought Lupa's wolves forgot their size; even at eight-almost-nine years of age, each was pretty much two or three times his size. That definitely didn't stop them from trying to sit in his lap.

He'd learnt more about the son of Jupiter as time passed, the night turning darker and darker as Percy listened to him talk, a small smile gracing his face. He'd missed other humans; he can't remember the last time he spoke to anyone other than Lupa.

He can't even remember the last words his mother said to him, he realizes with a start. He doesn't think too much of it – he would talk to her at least once more before he turned sixteen. That was a promise.

Eventually, though, he decided that Lupa wasn't coming back, and that he needed to put the kid to sleep and not waste time dwelling on his memories or listening to Jason's. Pulling out some fur blankets he'd procured ages ago, he threw a pile at Jason, the shorter child getting squashed under their weight.

He'd hunched over and laughed as he groaned from under the pile, before wrenching him out and giving him a place to set up his bed. He ruffled his blonde hair, before whistling and directing a few wolves to heat him up. After all, they were a pack.

Percy snuggled into his own pile of personal heaters, and fell asleep promptly, unaware of the tribulations the next day would offer him.

He awoke to the dawn sky, Lupa's jaw somehow hooked around his collar and carrying him out of the cavern. He didn't question it.

Standing and struggling his way out of her grasp, he brushed himself off, grimacing as he felt the slobber on his back. Lupa was still a wolf, no matter how human she acted.

"Sparring!" she'd exclaimed happily, when he asked why she was dragging him out so much earlier than normal.

In an empty field, she ordered them to begin, shoving them towards the centre.

The son of Jupiter stood across from him, and summoned his own weapon. He had an awesome coin that turned into a sword and a spear - not comparable to ice swords, though. Face set into a weary expression, he stood across from him, frost crystallizing into a long staff in his hands. He'd fight defensively at first, and gain an understanding of his cousin's fighting style.

It would be far from the first time he'd fought a humanoid opponent – Lupa would summon wind spirits to challenge him from time to time. They took the form of human swordsmen, then. Percy always won.

Steadying his breathing, he spread his feet, ready for a quick fight.

He got his ass handed to him on a golden platter, the edge of the spear at his throat and his feet splayed across the ground before he could even react, all accompanied by nothing but a soft breeze.

Lupa had laughed softly behind him, and he stood to fight again, his eyes blazing. Okay, maybe the kid was fast, faster than he'd expected, but Percy would be taking him more seriously now.

The second match started more evenly, Percy blocking his first blow, and dodging the next, before starting his own assault, a short blade making wide sweeping arcs in the air.

He lost again, a gust of wind sending him tumbling to the ground in the middle of a wild flurry of strikes. Despite his younger age, Jason was able to parry and block most of his attacks fairly well. His nostrils flaring, Percy stood again, challenging him with a short dagger of ice in one hand and a whip of water in the other.

He won that round, just barely, the whip slipping around Jason's ankles and sending him tumbling to the ground. With the tip of Percy's newly made spear resting on his throat, the son of Jupiter had conceded defeat.

Not even a moment after the words had left his lips, Percy tensed and jumped to the side as lightning struck the field where he was standing, and he realized that he had just barely dodged lightning.

He didn't have time to think about how cool that was, before he was sent flying into the air by the impact of the sky and earth meeting. The son of Jupiter apologized frantically as Percy landed on the ground supported by an unseen breeze, saying that he still couldn't really control it.

Blinking and waving off his apologies, Percy looked over at Lupa, who shrugged with her massive shoulders, regarding him with a quizzical eye.

"That's mostly new. Besides, it's not truly my place." She said, licking her paw like a cat.

"Aren't you his mentor?"

"More of a caretaker, although I do believe Juno's plans have been demolished by your arrival. Jason's purpose might have been supplemented by you." Percy elected to ignore that; the less he had to do with the vengeful queen of the heavens, the better.

Breathing deeply, he decided that he should probably teach this brat something before he accidentally hurt someone.

He slapped a hand onto his face as Jason commanded lightning to strike around him, as he accidentally started hurricanes and practically destroyed the forest, and wondered how in the world Lupa ever dealt with him when he was in that stage.

He persevered, though, keeping an eye on the kid, helping him through learning and channelling his powers. He taught him how to use it carefully, how to use it to protect others, how to keep it in him and not hurt anyone. How to meditate. How to breathe and keep breathing, count and stay calm, think of other things.

Lupa should've taught him these things too, he's sure, but Percy decided that she was getting a bit of a kick out of watching her older cub teach the younger one.

Whatever the reason it began and why it was encouraged, this was the start of an unbreakable brotherhood.

---

Viktor did not like to drink. It was a tasteless activity. There was no point in losing your inhibitions and your senses; he just couldn't see the point.

Viktor also really, really wanted a drink.

Dealing with the senate was part of a praetor's requirements, but sometimes it felt like that was his whole job. Especially since it was a job meant for two, one of whom was out of the city nearly constantly.

Another excursion – he doesn't know what Julia expects to find. Still, he doesn't try to stop her too much. She's messing with her own reputation, and he can deal with the work himself. Mostly – not today. Not today. Despite himself, he's seriously wondering if he can disband the senate.

The senate was made up of thirty demigods, at all times. Ten veterans living in the city, and twenty elected from the Legion - originally, the Consul would elect the Senate, and their word was law. Nowadays, the Consul doesn't exist, and in any case, that was a very, very corruption susceptible society. Instead, the Legion elects twenty members of the Senate.

Now, in theory, the Legion would elect those most suited to the job. They'll be unbiased, they'll work with the praetors, and they won't have agendas of their own.

That's the biggest load of bullshit he's ever heard.

Instead, he's got a room full of yes-men who nod along to Julia's every word, two or three people on his side, and the wild cards. And oh, the wild cards.

Trayton. Shitty name, shittier person. The product of a noble family, who'd supported the Legion for a century straight – and they couldn't have made a worse progeny if they tried. Sly and cunning and proud and exclusionist to the extreme, it's a wonder Trayton was ever elected to the senate.

Viktor can't count the amount of times both he and Julia have been inconvenienced by this prick.

Did he already mention he was an asshole? He might've – he's a few drinks in.

And he's got a new target. Percy. And of course, one of the oldest families would have lots of knowledge on ancient laws that were never changed.

Caputalis.

Whatever the fuck that was.

Dangerous – Viktor won't deny that the translation doesn't fit the son of Neptune. Hell, the kid accepts that he's dangerous, but this is something else.

Trayton had the entire senate in acceptance before he'd even arrived, giving him a sharp smile and saying that the senate doesn't wait for late praetors. Smiles all around, the majority had declared the son of Neptune as on a Probatio Caputalis, for the duration of one year, or until the Senate declared him fit to be released.

Viktor had no clue what the hell they were talking about, at first. A little bit of digging, and he was… pissed, to say the least.

Caputalis probatio was essentially a form of the normal probatio – just a thousand times more strict.

No longer allowed to participate in anything without the express permission of the senate – that included War Games, even guard duty, and fucking festivals. Permission for any business to refuse service, et cetera, et cetera, thirty pages of restrictions upon restrictions. Viktor doesn't even know what type of person this was made for - criminals who couldn't be executed for some reason or other, probably - but he's determined to get it abolished as soon as possible. Not that anyone's on his side.

For all intents and purposes, the son of Neptune wasn't a part of the Legion anymore. Less than a year into his career, and he's been ousted.

Viktor isn't sure how the hell Trayton convinced sixteen other senators to go along with his plan to call upon a centuries old law, and have it work.

He's got a good idea, though – 'Julia would like it if this happened'.

Dumbasses, the entire senate. What, do they think that helping Julia 'save' New Rome is gonna get them anything? It's been a decade – nothing's happened. If anything, Viktor's beginning to doubt the validity of her prophecy.

Save New Rome, doesn't look like anything's attacking New Rome, does it?

Merry Christmas, Trayton had sneered at him haughtily, before leaving to fuck off to Pluto knows where. Gods, he's kind of drunk.

Ah, whatever. He can't really help it – if they're that desperate to get him out of the Legion, Viktor can't really fight it anymore. It would be a waste of effort, and Viktor's sure Percy's going to leave the Legion soon enough, and go his own way. It would be for the best, honestly.

Not really worth it, he says, as he downs the rest of his bottle and prepares for a long, long, year.

---

Months had passed since Jason had cemented his place as a constant in Percy's life, and the little brat had taken to calling him his older brother.

Percy hadn't objected.

It was nice, he thought. Jason and Lupa and the wolves. It was nice, no doubt - he was happier than he'd been since that day.

But he should have known that nice things don't last. Not in the Wolf House. Not for him.

Lupa had arrived once again, with a late winter night's wind rushing across her enchanted forest. As she dragged him out of his pile of wolves and fur, Jason just kept snoring on and on in the corner.

It was easily the loudest noise Percy had ever heard in his entire life, and he'd grown up in New York.

Before she'd even gotten him halfway out of his furs, Percy knew exactly what was coming.

He may have defeated Lupa, in a sense, during their little fight, but he had utterly failed at proving himself to her.

Now, the only question was what she would make him do as a test instead.

In the end, it wasn't actually too complicated.

She'd made him sit on her back, and after a short disorienting sprint, they were suddenly stood in a vast, expansive field of snowy grass, moonlight shining down on them. Faintly, he could hear a cacophony of inhuman shrieks and low murmuring, far, far away.

Lupa's instructions were clear and her voice flat as she gave him his second trial. Survive till the dawn comes.

He remembered her words, then.

Lupa had told him every day that he'd get better with every monster he killed, every life he saved – or ended.

She told him that he'd have to get used to it – killing. Because, this was his life. This was what the Moirai had written out for him.

But she could tell, he'd realized. Throughout their fights, throughout all his spars, she could tell that he didn't want to kill anything.

That was why he had failed her. That was why this new trial existed. And if Percy wanted to live, well, he'd have to survive. He'd have to learn to kill.

It was a monumental task, incredibly difficult – yet so, so simple at the same time.

Still, the first time he'd impaled a hellhound to the ground with a spear of ice and showered himself in golden dust, he had cried.

Left in a frozen tundra at midnight, snowflakes smattering onto his eyelashes, he'd stared down dozens of monsters as their hungry, ravenous eyes locked onto him. Some looked almost human. Others were purely monstrous abominations.

Which would be worse to fight, he couldn't say.

In the end, his objective was simple, as Lupa took off into the night, leaving him there alone.

Kill or be killed.

Percy made his choice.

And he found himself to be exceedingly good at it.

The first time he pierced a hellhound's throat with a spear formed from mist moments prior, the blade slicing through the flesh like it wasn't even there, pricks of tears formed on the corners of his eyes, and he gasped out loud, a soft sob escaping his throat. He retreated, then. It took him many moments of dodging, parrying, countering his foes before he could bring himself to attack again.

Killing deer and trapping rabbits was one thing. It was a necessary sacrifice, so he could survive. It was natural. It was human.

Fighting Lupa was one thing. She couldn't die, not by his hand, nor at any other. She was a goddess.

This was something else entirely. These were living beings, breathing and alive, that he had to kill, in order to prove himself. To prove that he could kill. To prove that he would be able to, when the time came.

But they were still alive.

He realized that they weren't, though. They toed the line between death and life, between the overworld and the depths of hell, never straying for too long on either side.

Like he had grown to feel – spending every moment of his life preparing to die and never to live. It was a strange type of connection he felt with them, wrong and twisted, but it was there nonetheless.

He ignored it, and fought on, wiping his defiant tears every time he got a reprieve.

The first time he was trapped under a gryphon's massive body, her talons cutting deep into his shoulders, was when he truly learnt what death felt like. Lupa may have taught him what fear was, but the reality of death being mere seconds was completely different. The first time he felt the certainty that he was going to die, that he would never see his mother again, that Jason wouldn't know where he had gone, that he had actually failed, his eyes were wet yet again.

It certainly wouldn't be the last time he felt this way, as his fingers wiggled their way free under its belly. Sharp claws of ice covering them ripped the beast's belly apart, covering him in its guts, but leaving him mostly unharmed.

He retreated, pushing through the weakened throngs of monsters to anywhere that was safe, so he could breathe again. The tears came slower, this time. They dropped onto the ground, lost in the valleys of snow. Hidden from sight and mind.

The sixth time he chopped the head off a monster, some type of demon whose face was eerily similar to his mother's, his eyes were dry.

Lupa was right. She was harsh in her methods, but she was right. This was his life, now, from now till he died at sixteen.

Kill, or be killed.

And then, be killed anyways, for Olympus' sake.

Percy gritted his teeth, as he stabbed the last monster through their scaled chest, trying his best to ignore their fearful panting, and failing. He had no time to dwell on the past, or worry about the future, as he wrenched his blade out of the wound, watching as they dissolved into dust.

Only the present mattered.

That was all that he would ever get, and he knew it.

---

Jeremy sighed, reclining and rubbing a hand across his face.

What idiot had looked at math and said, 'You know what this needs? To be even more complicated.'

He was seated in a small café inside New Rome, enjoying the atmosphere as he studied. His last year of finals were coming up, and he needed to get into New Rome University. The quiet, relaxed aura of this café was perfect; the soft mutters and calming lights, the delicious food and coffee, and the cute barista he'd been flirting with was more than enough of an upside.

The past few months had been a whirlwind. Percy had arrived, sometime in September. Now, it was March of the next year, and the kid had made one hell of a name for himself.

After the eventful first weeks, Percy's reputation had only worsened, especially after the caputalis announcement. Across the city, no one trusted the young demigod even a bit, and it was all the senate's fault.

If he ever gets his hands on Trayton… well, there's not much he could do, honestly. Now, Percy's known as nothing but a troublemaker, thanks to that bastard.

The son of Neptune's never gotten written up for anything, but apparently the senate didn't care. Fuckers.

Even the fifth cohort didn't speak to him anymore. He would get into his bunk, sleep, wake up, and leave, without anyone saying a word to him.

They said a lot about him, though.

Jeremy was well aware of what they said. He had to be – it came with the job.

How could everyone hate, despise, detest this kid?

He listened to their sharp words himself, face stony and voice silent, because he knew Percy had to do it alone.

None of the legionnaires would dare call Julia the words they called him in private. Hell, most people wouldn't dare to call anyone those words.

Was Percy a freak? Was he a monster in disguise? Was he scary, terrifying, a walking disaster, an atomic bomb waiting to explode? Should they kick him out? Should they 'deal' with him before he gets too dangerous? Before he destroys New Rome?

A son of Neptune, a cub of Lupa, and just a kid.

He never responded, though. He heard the names, the acerbic words, but he said nothing. Perhaps he was afraid - afraid of what would happen if he did fight back. Afraid they would kick him out. Just… afraid.

He didn't deserve this.

He didn't deserve for New Rome's senate to publicly announce him as a dangerous individual, simply for existing.

Fucking Trayton. Everyone in New Rome; mortals, demigods, legacies, fauns, all knew that he was 'dangerous', because of a prophecy, because of his father.

They didn't know him.

They knew what a slip of paper said.

He didn't deserve to walk through New Rome, maybe to peruse a café or enjoy a beautiful vista, and have stores close their doors suddenly. For parents to quickly vacate the streets, dragging their children along quickly, wary of his supposed 'quick temper'.

Jeremy hadn't seen the kid raise his voice once, or use his powers outside of a fight.

He hasn't seen the kid in a while, though.

Percy didn't - he didn't deserve for Jeremy to leave him, either.

Jeremy wasn't proud of it.

No, he wasn't, but – but he still did it.

He knew what Percy was like. He'd been his friend, for two or three months. He knew he was a good kid.

He knew that he loved it when people ruffled his hair, that he liked people in general, and that he adored hugs. He knew that Percy already knew people in New Rome would hate him for existing. He knew that he treated the incoming son of Jupiter as his surrogate brother, he knew that he had already killed countless monsters, he knew that if there was anything Percy needed, it was friends.

And he'd still left him, placing more importance on Viktor's pragmatism over the kid.

He had a responsibility to stay respected in the fifth cohort, and to keep his system running.

He had a responsibility towards New Rome, to stay Julia's ever increasing power and protect those who she obviously didn't care for. His position in the fifth cohort, his unseen power over decisions made in the Senate, were invaluable to Viktor's plans. He had responsibilities - but did they really matter in the face of Percy's troubles?

That poor kid, dammit. The height of his human interactions were the rare times Viktor let him join war games, after pleading with the senate, and even then, his section of the field was barren. Other than that, the only time the kid was with someone else was when Tilu sent him on guard duty, or footwork. He did it all without any complaints, too.

Jeremy couldn't say the same of those assigned to work alongside him.

There was a reason Jeremy didn't run for Praetor when Viktor asked him to, other than his sheer inaptitude with politics. He could do so much more without the weight of the senate on his shoulders. Jeremy was a link between the darker sides of every cohort. He had 'friends' everywhere.

He was a son of Mercury, after all. The trickster god.

Julia had her own systems, he knew. In his opinion, his were better. Julia's served to keep an eye on the cohorts. Jeremy's folk would scatter rumours about Julia and her folk, help the legionnaires realize that she wasn't as all powerful as she showed herself. That it was possible for her to save New Rome without the methods she employed now. Maybe smuggle a bit of contraband here and there, but Viktor didn't need to know about that.

But was keeping it up worth losing Percy's trust?

Viktor would say yes. Many people didn't see Julia as the end-all solution she'd advertised herself as, anymore, and most of it was thanks to him – and thanks to Percy's arrival.

It was necessary, he said, damn logical and pragmatic bastard that he was.

But – Julia was doing a good enough job of ruining her own reputation herself.

Public spouts of rage and anger, falling asleep standing, near constant arena challenges for the smallest of insults. Jeremy didn't know what was troubling her, but he certainly welcomed it. The faster they could oust her, the faster he could work on getting Percy back into the public eye, in a good way this time.

If the kid would even talk to him again, that is.

He sighed again, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee, frowning.

He's had a feeling in his gut for the past few days.

Jeremy knew to trust his instincts. Something dangerous was going to happen soon, and it certainly wasn't his calculus final.

He wondered whether it would have been worth it to have Percy cemented as a 'good guy' when it would hit.

Who knows. But, he's not going to spend the next few weeks panicking about it. He knows better than that. He stood, stretching.

Might as well ask the barista out, right? Especially if something bad was coming! Right?

He walked out on his own.

It's the third time this week he hadn't been able to muster up the courage.

It's Monday.

---

This won't work.

Do you have any other path, starwatcher? The fates have already written theirs, and their plan was already altered. We cannot change it further.

It doesn't mean I have to like it. People are going to die.

People die every day.

It's different.

What's different is your attachment. Let go of it – everyone will die, or many will die. The stars do not lie.

Shut up.

Does the truth hurt?

No. I'll ask you again - why are you helping us?

The stars do not lie.

That isn't an answer.

It is enough of one.

Answer the question. Now.

You'll just have to trust me.

That's not happening.

You're smarter than you look. Don't trust me, then. Just listen to me.

You're going to get me killed.

Of course. It's necessary – and I'll die alongside you, worry not.

You can't die.

Hmph. Tartarus is a far worse fate than what you have in store, child. Besides, I'm already dead.

You'll still live again.

Yes, I shall, eventually. Do your part, do good, and New Rome may remember your name as well.

Consorting with a demon isn't exactly what I want to be remembered for.

It's necessary, and if all goes well, no one will ever know. And I am hardly a demon.

You're close enough to one. I've heard the stories.

Good. Fear me.

I don't. You're a voice - I still think I'm going insane, listening to your plans.

Insanity is much darker than this, child, I assure you. Besides, are they not working? You won't find your death like that, searching off into the darkest corners of the world. You have to earn it.

Death doesn't scare me.

You've known what - who - would kill you since you were twelve. Of course it doesn't scare you. You've made peace with it long ago.

I - I don't want to die, though.

Perhaps you should try to get close to the Son of Neptune, then. He's more similar to you than you think.

The young Wolf of Rome. Nothing about his prophecy says he will die.

Nothing about your prophecy says that one will be your end, either.

I'm not blind, Titan. Don't patronize me.

Still, you should try to get close to him. He's more similar to you than you think.

What would you know about him?

The stars speak little and say much. You should listen, someday.

Ugh. Get out of my head - I have work to do.

---

Viktor was worried.

This – well, anyone close to him would tell you this wasn't a rare occurrence.

He was always worried.

But his gut wrenching him towards the top of New Rome, telling him something was wrong was rare. His stomach twisted and churned and boiled. Something bad was coming, and every demigod in New Rome could sense it, in the dark depths of their minds.

Would it be Julia, or Percy, or monsters?

All were equally as bad, in his eyes.

April had just begun; Jeremy had pranked him last week. It was more vicious than the past years, strangely.

They were slowly inching their way towards July; according to Perseus' information, the son of Jupiter would finally arrive sometime in that month.

Now, Viktor wasn't stupid enough to think that a son of Jupiter would solve all their problems, but damn if it wouldn't help.

It couldn't be a more auspicious event; the son of Jupiter arriving just after the Feast of Fortuna. If the auguries predicted good luck for the year, such an event would certainly be the first sign. Not to mention the absolute morale boost he would no doubt bring.

After all, the auguries had predicted horrible luck for this year, and it had evidently come true. A son of Neptune had arrived, and while Viktor held no hate towards him, he had to agree that he was a catalyst of change in New Rome.

He'd spoken to Perseus little in the past months, but he had heard much of him.

Not soon after his incredible showing at the first war game, the senate's punishment struck, the caputalis punishment weighing down like shackles on him. Percy hadn't resisted any of it at all, which struck Viktor as strange.

He'd known before he came here, what exactly he was getting into. He'd shown that time and time again, but then, why would he still come? He was powerful enough to survive on his own. He was smart enough to realize it was the no doubt more attractive option than staying in New Rome.

A wolf will not, can not be chained.

Why would Percy let himself be?

Why would he suffer like this, and stay in the Legion?

Hell, he was young enough that he could still just… leave the Legion. Go live in the city. He could. And yet, he didn't.

What does he gain, from the Legion? Viktor still can't tell.

He couldn't participate in war games unless Viktor specifically requested him weeks in advance. And that specifically irked Viktor; it would be very good for the Legion to get used to fighting opponents much more powerful than them.

The son of Neptune wasn't given many responsibilities, either. It seemed that the council wanted to push him out of the Legion, out of the spotlight, and while Viktor understood their motivations, he couldn't just let it happen. At the most, he would do everything in his power to not let him be kicked out.

Honestly, all the kid got these days was a bed in the barracks and food, and he didn't come to any of the mess hall meals anyways.

Viktor feels that he should be a little more worried about where he's eating, but… well, if he's survived till now, he's probably got something figured out. Besides, it's not like Viktor's got anyone tracking him, but he's fairly sure the kid doesn't spend most of the day in the city, on the days he isn't given a small, menial task to do.

Some people in the city, mostly the older and ancient idiots, had, and are still, raising many, many concerns about even letting him stay in New Rome, let alone join the Legion. Their support had been the main reason that Perseus' benefits were removed so simply; the veterans of the Legion held more power than they even knew.

Viktor cursed Shen Lun under his breath, feet stomping across cobblestone paths, carving a path through the gardens. It was that bastard's fault that Percy couldn't live a normal life.

Viktor was not about to let the kid get kicked out of the city. Not just for his benefit, but for Percy's as well, obviously.

Other than that, though, he was pretty much powerless. All of his time and power was being consumed on Julia; she'd been in a strange manic craze the past few weeks. He was still consumed with laws and principles she'd altered in the past Praetorship, when she was praetor alongside one of her supporters – sneakily giving herself more and more power with every legislation passed. She was crafty, no doubt about it. A true daughter of Mercury.

However, public opinion in the Legion still seemed to favour her over Perseus.

It seemed that Julia had to do absolutely nothing to decimate her packmate's reputation. His simple existence was more than enough. She was still utterly captivated by him for some reason.

Rumours surrounded him every way he walked; from planning to take down the praetors, to being a monster in human's clothing. If any of the idiotic legionnaires would take a moment to speak to him, they'd probably like him a bit, Viktor thought. In the few short conversations he'd had with the son of Neptune, he'd found him to be a smart, dependable young man.

He'd still thrown him to the wolves at the first chance he got, but it was necessary.

After all, the son of Neptune probably had some experience in that specific field.

The true benefit of keeping him around was that Perseus' existence was enough to lower public opinion of Lupa's pack, and simultaneously, Julia's.

More of a benefit of Shen Lun's legacy, but still.

It was almost scary how much everyone hated him.

The son of Neptune was strange, Viktor would be the first to admit, but even he winced and cringed at times, hearing the vitriol aimed towards the child when he wasn't near. He had debated making a public show of support for the son of Neptune, but, well, Viktor had his own shit to worry about and Perseus made for a good distraction.

Percy had almost all of Julia's attention; he doesn't think she's been fully coherent the past months.

It confuses him, but if she wants to let some small issue like this consume her so, he'll welcome it with open arms. The more open members of the council, the ones she hasn't instated, or that she doesn't have blackmail on, have been talking about the option of deposing her behind closed doors. After all, she'd been practically unhinged recently, alternating between stomping and fuming around New Rome, challenging anyone on her bad side to a fight, and locking herself in her room for hours on end.

Viktor doesn't know what's going on anymore, doesn't know what's calling him to the top of New Rome, nor where the city was headed.

He doesn't like not knowing these things.

Holding his breath, he turns a corner, the intensity of the feeling growing with every step. Leaning against a marble wall, he peeks around a corner, hoping he isn't making any noise. He doesn't know what he's spying on, but he definitely is spying on something.

He blinks, as he's treated to an incredibly strange sight.

Percy's leaning on a railing, looking over the city, while Julia stands next to him. Neither of them seemed to have noticed his arrival, but Viktor stills, his heart pounding in his throat.

What was this? Was… had Julia somehow recruited Percy? What was going on?

"I'm not telling you, Julia," Percy sighed, his soft voice right in place in the quiet, dark garden. Only the soft hooting of an owl could be heard, and the swishing of wind through leaves.

"Fine, then," she sneered, her voice haughty. "You can leave, if you don't want to hear it."

Viktor bites his lip. Is Julia trying to get Percy into her schemes somehow? He thought she hated him, and vice versa.

"I don't want to hear it, Julia. I don't want to have to worry about what another one of these little shits mean." He says, turning to look at her. With a soft grunt, he clambers up and over the railing and sways in the wind, above a massive drop.

"I already know who you are, by the way. Wolf."

Percy flinched at that, strangely. Julia raised a hand to steady him as he perched on the railing, uncaring of the fall.

"Then you know what's going to happen?"

"Of course I do."

"Hmph. Why do you do all this, then?"

Julia sighed, and leaned on the railing next to him, staring out at the twinkling city. The air between them was quiet for a long moment. "You at least, should know," she said gravely, before raising her voice and reciting… something.

"A daughter of Mercury, forged for wars,

Shall scour the earth for the herald of stars.

Listen to his counsel, another path clears,

Two worlds will collide, as the young Wolf nears.

By love's unknowing hand, she will be slain,

But with her last breath, New Rome lives again."

Julia's melodious voice rose into the sky, and Viktor took a step back. That could only be a prophecy, her prophecy, but… but how? It's so much… worse than he'd ever expected. That - what? The oracles had said she'd bring glory to New Rome. Not that she would die for it. By love's hand? What?

Her voice interrupted his rapidfire thoughts. "I can read between the lines, at least. I know who'll kill me and how I'll die. So, maybe, I'm just scared. I wanted to - someone told me you might understand.."

Viktor took another step back, but neither of them noticed.

Percy hummed. "That's simple. Mostly - better than mine, at least. The Herald of Stars - so that's why you're always out there. Found him, yet?"

Julia looked over at him, silent.

"I'll take that as a yes, then. Not bad."

He continued, "You got so much information, though. Lucky. All I know is that I'll die on my sixteenth birthday. Yay." He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if I'll be able to get my drivers license before then."

Julia stared at him with her mouth open for a few moments, before tugging on his sleeve.

"Augusta told me that you were the Wolf of Rome, but there's nothing in the Wolf's prophecy about dying at sixteen."

Shrugging her off, he jumped back onto solid ground with a furrow in his eyebrows.

"You wouldn't understand," he whispered, barely audible in the rushing wind.

Percy started walking away, towards him, but Viktor had slinked off moments ago. The son of Neptune didn't notice him, thankfully.

Well, now. That was both interesting and terrifying. He had more questions than he could count, but there was no way to get any answers.

Not yet, at least.

---

Hours later, when Lupa had come to take him away from his little outing, she'd found only a broken child sitting atop a pile of golden dust, watching it float away in the cold breeze with empty eyes.

For the first time in a year – it had been thirteen or fourteen months of constant struggling to just survive – she'd taken him back to the modern world.

Transforming into a sharply dressed businesswoman, tall and stern with pure white hair waterfalling over her shoulders, she'd held Percy's hand gently, and strolled with him through Manhattan.

He had actually cried, then. Not when he had slaughtered dozens of monsters, but when he was finally home.

Dressed in a ragged t-shirt and jeans Lupa had magicked onto him after giving him a morsel of ambrosia for his bleeding body, they'd explored the island for hours. Percy showed her all of his favourite places, and she indulged him, smiling softly the entire time.

He wondered what the mortals around thought about him, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. His city was enough of a distraction from the pain of the past few hours.

They'd gone to the beach afterwards, and sat at the edge of the ocean together. Carding her hands through his curls, Lupa noted their length, and silently taught him to tie his long hair into a loose braided pony. Her nimble fingers guided his, and while he said nothing, the child put his hair up like that every single day afterwards.

A calm evening after a night full of stress and pain, with two fond parental gazes upon the child, Percy fell asleep just as the sun fell under the shimmering horizon, his head in Lupa's lap. She stroked his temples gently, as his breathing calmed under her touch.

A man formed out of the ocean foam suddenly, not long after Percy began snoring gently.

A short man he was, wearing a bright, flamboyant shirt, Bermuda shorts, and a fishing hat.

"He's – has he been doing good?" he began, tentatively, sitting beside the pair.

Lupa sat forward, placing a fist under her chin, focused on the rising sun. "I have never seen a demigod as strong."

Poseidon flinched, flickering between two forms as he did. The ruthless businessman, and the temperamental fisherman.

"I – hopefully, it'll be enough." He said, after a long moment, settling on Poseidon.

Lupa turned to look at him sharply. "He's the child of your little prophecy, no doubt. Too powerful." He nodded frantically. Sighing, she continued, "The wolves corralled around two hundred monsters into a single area. He killed every single one in a day's worth of fighting. I didn't think he would have it in him."

The god recoiled. "I – you've been training him for less than a year!"

She turned her amber eyes upon him, and the god of storms trembled ever so slightly. "He can make blades of water and control ice from the air – might I remind you, a technique that perhaps two of your children have ever mastered. He uses any weapon placed in his hands like it was made for him, and has shown himself to be able to control any water, even those that shouldn't have been possible for him to control so early, so easily."

"Was it fate that he's this powerful? Will he bring an end to Olympus, or a new beginning, Neptune? Both are equally as likely, if he lives until sixteen. This powerful at eight – I cannot think of his strength at sixteen." She ended, stroking his face softly.

The god of the storms sighed. "Who knows – perhaps it isn't him. Perhaps my brothers have another child hidden somewhere."

She stared at him unblinkingly, until he cringed under her gaze. "Okay, perhaps not."

"Still – as long as he can hide his identity, he'll survive. We'll survive." he replied confidently, watching his son sleep with a fond gaze.

"Will we?" she whispered. "Will we – if he turns, turns to the Titans, to the Giants, to Typhon, to the Primordials, to whatever rises, we will not."

After a long moment staring out at the ocean, he said simply, "We can only hope, can't we." before returning to the waves without another word.

Lupa snarled at the air. "We can do much more than hope, Neptune!" she said bitingly.

Standing and huffing, she hoisted her cub gently, not waking him as she placed his head on her shoulder. Breathing softly, the wind surrounded her, and she was back in her forest in but a moment, ready to put her child to sleep in his own home alongside his brother.

She didn't notice the woman rush onto the beach moments before, sprinting at her and shouting.

In reality, across all the mythos of the world, the mother's senses are the most refined.

---

Jeremy strode into the room, locking a sheathed blade onto his belt as he pushed through the doors of the war room. He slammed his helmet onto his head, jostled on his sides by the throngs of soldiers entering the principia.

All of the senior legionnaires and the centurions were roused at this late hour, scouts entering their bunks with panic written across their faces. Jeremy's senses were calm and collected, hardwired and ready for battle as he awoke, to his intense displeasure.

Whatever was coming, had arrived.

Pushing through the others to stand next to Tilu and Lao, he saw a rather strange sight; Viktor and Julia were standing next to each other, both their heads bowed over a map and whispering to each other.

This was serious, no doubt.

Jeremy kept a close eye on the pair, his mind racing. He was so lost in theories as to what happened, that he didn't see the approaching demigod. He tried not to react, but he stiffened as Percy sidled up next to him, everyone around them suddenly giving the pair a wide berth.

He gulped softly, hoping he wouldn't notice. He looked at the kid out of the corner of his eye; he was standing straight as a rod, arms crossed across his chest. His eyes were blazing with anger, though, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Jeremy hoped that the anger wasn't directed at him, but a sinking feeling told him otherwise.

He took his eyes off him, focusing on his praetors as Viktor turned to the assembled crowd of the best soldiers of the Legion. They encircled the table he and Julia were making plans upon.

Taking in a deep breath, he paused for a moment, his eyes roving over the crowd. He frowned when he saw Percy, and to his right, Julia tilted her head.

He spoke, his voice flat and dead. "Terminus is indisposed – the border of Rome has fallen."

The room was still, silent apart from the hundred sharp intakes of air. Jeremy's own breath hitched in his throat, and his head turned to Percy. His smouldering gaze met Jeremy's halfway. He turned away quickly.

"We suspect foul play. The god will recover, but until then, New Rome is left undefended. Prepare for a fight; we don't know who is coming for us, but we cannot assume this is a fluke, or a mistake. A perimeter has already been prepared; centurions, rouse the Legion and protect New Rome. Take these guides and follow them, ensure a guard is stationed at every point indicated, and assign patrols across the entirety of the valley. Any questions?" Viktor continued, slapping a paper in his hand.

Jeremy looked around, his throat dry. He can tell what everyone in the room was thinking, the way their eyes slid to him and Percy, the shocked gasps and grim determination filling the air.

Legionnaires don't ask questions – they follow orders. However, it seems that right now, questions and allegations rest on everyone's tongues. All pointed towards one child.

He doesn't think it's possible, but he still takes a few steps backwards. He likes Percy, sure – a traitorous voice in his mind reminds him that he hasn't shown any of that recently - but this is a bit much for him.

A centurion steps forward across the room, though, already dressed in full battle garb. Jeremy recognizes him as Centurion Hiran, of the Second Cohort.

"Praetors, if the border god was poisoned, then shouldn't we find the perpetrator and get the plan of attack off of them?" he says, his silky smooth voice sliding across the room as his eyes are trained solely on Percy.

Despite himself, Jeremy's hands clenched into fists.

It's unlikely that Percy did it, in his opinion. Jeremy chances a glance at Julia, standing stock still with narrowed eyes. Probably not her, either, he decides glumly. She cares for New Rome – in a roundabout, manipulative way.

He doubts anyone cares about what he thinks, though, least of all Percy. The son of Neptune holds himself straight, his eyes boring into Hiran.

Before Viktor can say anything, he speaks, his tone terrifyingly cold and distant. "Say what you mean, son of Mars, or don't say it at all."

The centurion takes a step back, almost stumbling. Around him, everyone near to Percy stops breathing for a moment as the temperature of the room seems to drop.

Gritting his teeth, the centurion speaks again. "So, sea-spawn? You got any information you want to give us?" he sneers.

"Silence." Viktor said, turning to look at the map on the table. His voice left no room for argument – Viktor does not have any patience left, and with his stern yet kind personality, most forget he's rightfully terrifying. He's probably completely drained by both working with Julia and the situation itself. "We do not have the time for petty in-fighting. I gave you orders – obey."

Turning and clasping his hands behind his back, he commanded, "To your stations."

The soldiers look at each other for a moment, before turning to leave as one, clanging and clattering out of the room.

The murmurs start quickly, however.

They don't stop. They only rise, as the son of Neptune stalks off, disappearing from the city as the Legion wakes with a bang, orders and shouts filling the night sky. Some of the legionnaires scour the valley for him, finding nothing.

Jeremy doesn't want to say it, but he's scared – after all, the son of Neptune has plenty of reason to hate New Rome. To hate them.

Something feels off about it all, and try as he might, he can't put his finger on it.

That's a constant when dealing with the son of Neptune, though.

---

Percy's blade slammed into Jason's, ice smacking against gold and flaking off into the air. He side-stepped swiftly, dodging the gust of wind heading for him, and stabbed forwards again, his blade morphing into a spear as it whistled through the air.

They'd been at it for hours. Near constant sparring – Lupa had told them to go at it until she returned. So far, Percy had won twelve fights and Jason thirteen, although it looked like Percy had the advantage this round.

They crossed blades again, and twisting the hilt in his hand, with a deft flick of his hand, Percy knocked the blade out of Jason's hand. The golden blade clattering to the ground, sliding across the rough earth. His brother didn't waste a moment, dropping to the ground and rolling to the side, the wind pushing Percy back.

With a whip of water, mist turning to water in front of their eyes, Percy grabbed Jason's blade and threw it even further across the arena, embedding it deep in a wall. Without any warning, he lunged at his opponent. Jason, his eyes narrow and focused, managed to dodge many of his swipes and stabs, cleverly using his control over the winds to distract Percy, but with his blade missing, it wasn't long until the tip of Percy's spear, formed seconds prior, rested upon his throat. Jason slumped on the ground just as the telltale crackle of electricity hung over them.

"I yield," he panted out suddenly, the crackle softening to silence. His own weapon turning to mist, Percy dropped to the ground next to him, panting hard.

"Perce," Jason rasped out, "water."

Weakly, he summoned two cups made of ice and filled them with clean, pure water, one sliding through the air towards Jason. Sitting up, both of them grabbed their cups with the desperation of dying men. Jason downed his cup in one gulp, and went into a fit of coughs immediately.

Shaking his head, Percy drank the glass slower, not having realized how thirsty he was – they hadn't taken a break in a while.

"Perce," Jason began after a few moments, his voice apprehensive, wobbling slightly. Percy had a good idea what he was going to say, and he didn't really want to talk about it. "You're almost ten." He said apprehensively, gesturing his cup around. Percy refilled it without a thought, his mind elsewhere.

Yeah. He was.

Time flies. It really does.

It had been a year and a bit since he'd met Jason – now, he could confidently say he was nine, considering Lupa had actually celebrated his birthday this time – another trip, this time to California.

He had watched New Rome from afar, and Lupa had taught him everything he needed to know about the city, before entering silently and enjoying the delights of the hidden society.

In a few more months, Percy would turn ten, leave the forest, leave the Wolf House, and enter into a far more dangerous world, this time for real.

"Yeah, I am, Jase." He said, sighing as he refilled his own cup.

He took another gulp as Jason spoke again, haltingly. "You won't forget me, when you go to Camp, right?" He looked at him with wide, bright eyes, so scared, and Percy resisted the urge to laugh.

"C'mere." He said, opening his arms and throwing the cup away. If there was one thing he's learnt about his little brother over the past years, it was that he absolutely loved hugs.

Well, Percy himself was pretty fond of them himself, but for a kid who had lived his entire life around wolves, Jason really liked hugs.

Jason didn't hesitate, the younger child cuddling up against him without another word.

Percy could understand how he was feeling, just a bit. The son of Jupiter wasn't ready for his only friend to leave him – and while Jason was only a little bit younger than him, sometimes Percy felt like Jason was his little baby brother.

Didn't help that Jason acted like a typical annoying younger brother at times, too. He still loved the little brat, though. He hoped he would have a good time when he finally got to New Rome.

Percy knew that he himself wouldn't – he just wanted Jason to be safe when he came.

"I won't forget you, Jason, don't even think about it. Besides, you'll be coming to join me in just a few more months, right?" he reassured, his hands rising to ruffle his golden locks.

Jason had taken to keeping his hair long too, in an imitation of Percy's. He didn't have the heart to tell him that it didn't look too great on him, but he'd figure it out himself at some point. Hopefully.

"Perce?" Jason said, raising his head to look him in the eyes. "Why aren't you happy about going to Camp?" he asked, his sky-blue irises inquisitive and curious. He really was too perceptive.

Percy grimaced – two years, and he'd followed Lupa's instructions to the letter.

Never let anyone know his true parentage. Not even Jason.

"Well, Jase," he began, putting a hand on his chin as he thought, "People in Camp probably won't like me because of who my dad is – y'know?" he said, deciding that was good enough of an answer for now.

Jason frowned to himself. "That's stupid," he declared, crossing his arms. Percy smiled softly. At least he knew he'd have someone on his side at New Rome.

Lupa hadn't held back recently. She was very… graphic in her descriptions. It was for the best, Percy knew, that he would be aware of what he would have to face at New Rome, hatred he'd no doubt have to fight through, but she could be a bit nicer.

It was a strange feeling; Percy probably knew the most of each Camp, how they were run, their leaders, their weaknesses and defences, how to fight their demigods, out of every other demigod in the world. Hell, he was probably the only person who knew both existed. Lupa did not coddle him, but things like that were how he knew she trusted him, that she loved him.

If she could give the one person in the world that had a chance to destroy the gods such confidential information, put so much trust in him, how could he fail her? He was dying either way – how could he choose to let Olympus fall and condemn his family to death alongside him?

Percy had already listened to his prophecy, committed it to memory, Lupa's voice in his mind repeating it to him every night.

Well, at the very least, he knew he had to look out for anyone with a cursed blade and the power to challenge the gods.

That was a lot of already dead people and higher beings that were already defeated, so not really helpful. Unless he comes across a necromancer, he guessed. Hmm. That's a thought; he should watch out for children of Hades or Pluto or other gods of death.

He sighed, burying his worries in Jason's hair, pulling him closer.

He would worry about when it came.

---

The sky was dark, the gaze of the stars upon them obscured by dark storm clouds as a drizzle of rain pattered down onto New Rome. Thunder and lightning lit up the sky intermittently, and the moon was barely visible.

He hoped Diana would watch over them tonight.

The wind was racing, a low, keen whistle across the valley.

Viktor sighed, weary and tired, drenched to the bone as he stood in the storm.

Too many variables, too many mistakes made.

Scouts reported seeing abnormal amounts of monsters in the area recently, but he hadn't thought much of it.

All their healers had said that Terminus wasn't ill – just asleep, somehow. Taken out of the equation, by something. Someone.

New Rome was under siege, and he didn't know who brought it upon them.

He heard the whispers of his soldiers in the past few hours, the murmurs of the city as they were locked in and guarded, the grumbles of Julia as she planned and devised strategies alongside him.

It was the most likely explanation – even he had to agree.

The son of Neptune had disappeared after the first meeting, and did not arrive at the post assigned by his centurions.

The city was on lockdown, and no one had seen him in hours.

No one in the Legion had any reason to betray the Legion. No one, but one child who'd been outcast on account of nothing but his parentage.

Julia exited the door behind him, closing it slowly. She walked up to stand next to him, leaning on the railing, and staring down at the city together.

They were high up in New Rome, a place for the praetors to convene and plan. Soon enough, they'd return to the fortresses dotting the valley, surrounding the city on every side.

He thanked the gods they hadn't torn down the latest forts – it was Julia who'd insisted, saying that a five part fight would make for a good War Game for just before the Feast.

It certainly came in handy now.

She swore at the air next to him, her auburn curls slick against her face as the rain strengthened. Sometimes, in dark nights like these, Viktor would say that in another life, they could have still been friends. She'd agree quietly, and say that maybe they could have been more.

Viktor doesn't know what those words mean anymore, but Viktor has accepted that he knows nothing. Not after he'd allowed one of the most powerful demigods he'd ever met turn against them.

If they survive this, he's going to kill Trayton, going to fucking gut the man with his own spear. He can't stick all the blame on him, though. He's just as guilty.

Hesitantly, he pushehe raised a hand to her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to his as he squeezed her shoulder, giving her a hopefully reassuring smile. She gave him a weaker smile in return.

"I – We need to talk." She said, after a long moment of silence.

Viktor looked at her, eyes unreadable. "Okay?"

"No, I mean – I just – I know you all, you and Sylvia and Trayton and all the rest think I'm insane and power-hungry or whatever, but I just wanted New Rome to prosper." She said, speaking rapidly and hunching in on herself.

Viktor leaned back slightly. Was he finally going to get some real insight into her motives?

"Prosper?" he prodded, biting his cheek as she nodded.

"None of you see it. War is coming, soon."

Viktor scoffed, shaking his head. No, no, they weren't getting any insight. "I'd hardly call this a war, Julia. This is just a simple incursion – we'll win, defend New Rome, and that'll be it." He said with confidence he didn't have, turning back to the vista.

He'd come here to calm down just for a moment. But she just had to follow him. The prophecy he'd heard - it wasn't doing anything for his mental health, either.

"This isn't the war, Viktor." She said, grabbing his arm suddenly. Stunned, he shook himself out of her grasp. "No, you don't understand!"

He huffed angrily. "Tell me, then."

She looked around, her eyes wide as raindrops ran down her face.

"Okay, you know I have a prophecy, right, but you need to know that this is - gods, this is all fucked. The prophecy is wrong. New Rome, I'm not going to save it."

Viktor blinked, before placing both his hands on her shoulders. "Julia, tell me what you mean, now." He commanded – he knows she's not insane or stupid. Something deeper is going on, and his heart is suddenly racing.

She took in a deep breath, before continuing. "Fate and destiny and all that shit are constant, right? But, it's not, and it is. Constant means different things to mortals and immortals – things are changing, Viktor."

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened. Something that wasn't supposed to happen. Fate is shifting, the stars are realigning. The prophecies - they're the same, but the paths aren't, anymore."

"Julia… How would you know this?"

She ignored him, pressing on. "Viktor, my prophecy - it's almost finished. I - I just need you to promise me."

He took a deep breath. "Julia, speak clearly."

He swore she was blushing. "You can't know, Viktor. Just promise me, you'll do the right thing." She turned, cupping his cheek with her hand, and his heart raced even faster.

"Logic over emotions, right? Do the right thing, even if it's wrong."

Viktor's even more confused now. "What do you-"

But suddenly, there's the faint sound of clapping behind them. "Bravo, bravo!" A familiar voice whooped. Viktor turned, his blade halfway out of its sheath, but Julia stayed his hand.

"Percy." She said, tonelessly, a stark contrast to her former vulnerability.

"Not bad," the son of Neptune said, smirking viciously. "But I think we should do another take. It needs a little more emotion, hm? 'Specially from you, Viktor, that was abysm-"

"Percy," Vuktor growled. "Why weren't you at your post? How'd you get here?"

He grinned sharply at him, looking more alive than Viktor had seen him in months. "Have some respect, would you? Here." He brandished a paper in his hand, with a crude, barely visible map on it. "All locations of the main attack forces, and what I assume their plans are, from observation."

Viktor blinked.

Percy shook the paper. "So? Take it already."

Carefully, Viktor walked up and snatched the paper from his hand, and examined it. Almost immediately, he blanched.

"Perc-"

"I swear, it's all correct." He said, face suddenly serious. He looks away,staring out at New Rome wistfully. "We're going to need a hell of a lot more firepower."

Yeah. Yeah, they were.

"I've got a lot more info to give, Viktor. Do you trust me?" he asked, turning to him with a tilted head and predatory eyes, the green hues gleaming in the dark - two pin-pricks of an unnatural flame.

Unnatural. That's what he was. Blunt and rude, but accurate.

Viktor gulped softly. "I - Yes."

Percy smiled, baring his fangs, and Viktor was suddenly very glad that they hadn't actually pushed away the son of Neptune. "A bit late, but whatever. We'll make it work."

---

Percy sighed, looking around the little cave he'd called home for years now.

Jason was snoring away in a corner, little rumbles of thunder rocking the cave. He was tucked into a soft bed of fur and surrounded by sleeping wolves; always the favourite child. The blades hung on the wall glistened in the thin slivers of moonlight snaking their way in. Percy took in the sight with a bittersweet feeling, memorizing the position of every odd belonging he'd collected over the past years, the pile of clothes in the corner, the little cubby that he'd practiced his powers in for hours at a time.

Gently pushing the old, grizzled black wolf asleep on his lap off, he stood, stretching languidly.

Without making a sound, he stalked over to the entrance of the cave, taking in the warm night air of the clearing, the bright moon suspended in the sky, and the massive she-wolf lying in wait outside. Ceasing her watch of the moon, she turned her eyes upon him.

"The time comes near, cub."

Percy tilted his head; she almost sounded sad.

"Yeah, it does." He agreed, his shoulders slumping as he strode over to sit next to her.

She shifted, letting him rest gently across her snow white fur. "By dawn…" she trailed off.

"I'll be gone by dawn, yeah, I know." He said, his voice muffled by her fur.

She sniffed the air once, her ear twitching. "Before you go – you have much to learn, cub."

He sighed into her fur. "What can you teach me in just a few hours, Lupa?"

Her ear twitched, and her body shook slowly as she stood, shaking him off. "This is not as much a lesson as it is a warning, Perseus." She said, her voice rumbling from deep in her throat. "There are some… things that I should clarify."

She snarled at the air once again, her claws scraping across the earth. Her massive amber eyes turned to him, sorrow clear in their oranges and yellows.

She strode around him, twisting and circling him. He spun slowly to keep his eyes on her, his hands ready to condense a blade from the air. Lupa had made a habit of attacking him randomly in the past years, to keep his guard up.

"Prophecies have foretold your coming for many years." Percy nodded slowly – he knew the Great Prophecy, his prophecy, by heart.

"Not of the coming of the saviour or death of Olympus." Percy blinked, his eyes narrowing. The wind floated through his hair, long raven locks framing his face and fluttering softly in the warm winds. His heart began to thump loudly in his chest. He already knew whatever she said next would not bode well for him.

"This prophecy speaks of the saviour of Rome – and it's been known for centuries." She said, stopping and turning to face him directly.

"It speaks of the Wolf of Rome."

Percy clenched his fists, ignoring his suddenly spiralling emotions – guilt, anger, despair. "Another prophecy… Why haven't you told me already? Why do you think it's for me, anyways?" he said, resting his face in both his palms. "Why not Jason? There are other demigods you've trained, right? Other wolves?"

"Would you wish a prophecy upon him without even hearing it, first?"

"Never!" he shouted without hesitance, hands back to be clenched by his side. Frost crystallized on the ground, and despite the warmth of the night, the clearing outside the cave was bitingly cold.

She sat down, her hind upon the earth as she stared at him. "Cub… you are more powerful than you know."

"I'd say I know just how powerful I am – end of Olympus and all." He snarled, glaring at her.

"Perseus – why do you think that you have the possibility of destroying Olympus?"

"Because I'm the first demigod child of the Big Three with a chance of surviving to sixteen." He said, slowly sitting on the ground across from her, his eyes still blazing. He doesn't want to hear the new prophecy – not yet, at least. Besides, he thinks he's in for one last lesson.

Lupa shook her head.

"No."

Percy tilted his head, keeping a close eye on her. What other reason could there be?

"Prophecies do not have a chance, they do not have possibilities. That prophecy has spoken of you, and you alone. Other demigods could have survived until sixteen, but they haven't, because none of them were you. Their lives and deaths were written out by the Moirai, by the stars, just as yours was. There is no question of it; the prophecy spoke of you from the moment it was revealed. As a goddess who has seen uncountable prophecies come to fruition, I can tell you this."

She sighed, not noticing Percy leaning back to lie down and stare at the stars, not able to look her in her ancient eyes. He never could, especially when her eyes were as sad and sorrowful as they were now.

Well, he'd always known that the prophecy was his – Lupa had told him, had trained him, had prepared him for it. He'd known that he was - he would be - a 'hero'. A hero who'd save or destroy Olympus with his final breath. What luck.

Why, though?

He'd never wondered that.

"You are the one with the power to destroy the gods or save them, because fate willed it. Because you were born to become the most powerful demigod in millennia. Because this, this is your destiny."

Softly, he said, "But I don't want it, Lupa."

"You can't run from fate, Perseus." She breathed deeply, the sound swishing through the clearing. Faintly, Percy could hear Jason shift from deep in the cave, and he could notice wolves stir in the darkness.

Why can't he run? What will they do – how can the gods be in danger if he's not there? If the one with the power to make the choice isn't there? He doesn't want anything to do with the gods.

But if he runs, then who will protect the demigods? The mortals? Who will have the power to save them from whatever rises from the depths of ancient, forgotten stories?

Who will save Olympus?

Others will stand tall, will weather the same storm, will fight back against what comes.

But will they be enough, without him?

He just wants to see his mama again.

"Can't run from destiny, can't fight my own death." He breathed deeply, watching and counting the constellations closely. "So what do I do, Lupa? Why am I the only person who can fight back?"

"Are you?" he noticed that her voice came from much closer now.

He pushed himself up to look at her, stiffening in surprise as her massive snout came down to rest on his stomach, her head the size of his entire body. Slowly, he stretched a hand to scratch her ears. "Isn't that the point of the prophecy, Lupa? That I'm the one who has to die to save Olympus?"

She growled softly, baring her teeth. "Yes, but who says you're the only one who can fight back? You'll make friends and allies, little one. You'll never fight alone – fighting alone means death. Remember the rule of wolves, cub."

"We stay in packs." He recited. Leaning forwards, he rested his head against hers, nestling in her wild fur.

And he'll be the one wolf in the world with two packs to choose from, and unable to truly join either.

"Good. The lone wolf is a mortal myth; we fight together, we die together. Do you understand what I mean by all this, cub?" she asked, rumbling beneath his skin, unaware of the worries plaguing him.

"Something I was born with gives me the ability to win against what is coming, or kill the gods or something, I need to fight with friends and not alone, yada yada." He summarized, his patience thinning. He hugged her a little tighter.

He didn't want to leave. Not to New Rome. Not to New York.

Prejudice at one, death at the other. That was what Lupa had warned him of, so why couldn't he stay here, until he turned sixteen?

"And what is it, that you are born with?" she asked again, shifting beneath him. Percy took a moment to reflect, pondering the question.

He frowned, unseen by the stars in the sky. "I – I don't know. Water powers?" he suggested.

She snorted under him. "Many of your past brothers and sisters have the same powers, some even stronger than you. No, what you have is a will."

He rolled his eyes, glad she couldn't see him. "A will." He deadpanned.

"Yes, young wolf. A will, a determination, a soul shining brighter than any star, a strength of mind stronger than even the gods themselves."

"Great. I'm determined. Wow."

"I'm afraid you don't understand just how rare that is, Perseus. Even now, have you even given thought to the possibility of joining the other side, of destroying Olympus purposefully?"

His head rose from Lupa's fur violently.

"No!" he shouted, angry and scared that she'd ever even think that of him. He looked into her eyes, wide and unmoving as she stared at him emotionlessly, and repeated, more calmly this time, "No."

"Then you understand why you are the subject of two great prophecies?" she asked, reminding Percy of the other Roman prophecy, and forcing him to reconsider his arguments.

He hasn't ever thought of 'razing Olympus'. There was no point – whatever challenged the gods would have to be an incredibly vile, disgusting monster.

Percy had given some thought on the matter, and his most prominent hypothesis so far, based off the paltry books Lupa supplied him with, was Typhon.

He wasn't sure how he could fight the father of monsters, or whether he had a cursed blade somewhere in one of his myths, but he made the most sense to him. The gods in all their power weren't even able to kill him, just contain him. As for the choice, well, he couldn't know that, but he assumed that he could make a choice to stop or kill Typhon or something. It's a prophecy. They aren't exactly known for beingclear.

"No, Lupa. I still don't know why I apparently have two prophecies." He said, angrily crossing his arms as she stared up at him, saying nothing.

"Lupa," he began after a few silent moments, his curiosity mounting despite how much he didn't want to hear it, "so - what's this new prophecy?"

She snorted. "Ah, little wolf. This is one you'll have to learn yourself – although I'm sure the auguries in New Rome will help a bit. When you do reach the auguries, just tell the head oracle about the Wolf of Rome."

He huffed out a short breath, letting his frustrations out into the world. No point in trying to force it out of her. Lupa never let a secret out when she didn't want to, except that one time Percy forced her to let him help plan Jason's birthday.

Still, he's glad he doesn't have to hear it just yet. He's got more than enough on his plate so far.

Lupa shifted beneath him.

"The time comes ever closer, cub."

Percy sighed softly, looking back up at the stars, slowly being overtaken by the light of the rising sun.

They were the ones to outline his fate, the ones to whisper it into the ears of the fates. Along the same strand of reasoning, maybe they could offer him a different path, a way out.

One day, they might.

But tonight, they remained silent.

---

Jeremy sheathed his blade, golden dust smattering the length of the imperial gold. He took a moment to look around, scan his surroundings.

The Legion was out in full force.

The city of New Rome was at their backs, and when the floodgates opened and the monsters poured in mercilessly, they had held strong. A wall, a shield, completely unbreakable.

But not for long.

Percy's information was in no way wrong, but they still weren't prepared.

Massive, twenty foot tall giants, mindless lumbering beasts crushing anything in their paths. Massive gusts of wind that knocked entire battalions into the night sky to fall, screaming and crying, to their deaths. With sharp claws and fangs, gryphons ruled the sky, bringing down eagle after eagle. The monsters at the forefront, every variety from gorgons to hellhounds, decimated the Legion's shield-wall, smashing through like it were glass.

Viktor had given the call to retreat to the second defence point, from his position roaming fearlessly in the thick of the battle. Beside him, Julia was a breeze of gold and steel, slicing monsters down with reckless abandon, yet the pair were still making barely a dent in their forces.

He didn't see Percy anywhere, but he knew the young son of Neptune had commandeered a range of soldiers to deal with an incursion at the west entrances. No monsters had attacked from there, so he could only assume they'd been dealt with.

A contingent as cohesive as this… Multiple attack points, separated into units and with knowledge of the structure of New Rome, targeting centurions and the praetors…

Jeremy knew that whoever was attacking New Rome, they'd planned this for months. Other than a small worry raised about increased monster sightings, they'd had no clue that an army like this was gathering in San Francisco.

This could very well be the end of New Rome, he thought, watching a distant plume of smoke rise. The principia was burning.

New Rome, taken out of the picture before the game could even begin. What game, he didn't even know.

But for what? Why? There had to be a leader, someone pulling the strings. Monsters didn't congregate and plan in such large numbers without a goal and a commander.

And it was his job to eliminate them.

Shouts, screams and clangs filled the night sky, and the rain pooled on the streets. Lightning flashed across the sky, drowning out the death throes of his fellow legionnaires.

They weren't ready.

Jeremy had tried to infiltrate behind the lines as Percy had done, but he'd been forced to protect his city, when the monsters had gotten in. Between the furious, vengeful screams of his brothers and sisters, he could hear the shrieking of the civilians, of the mortals.

Something had to be done, and quickly. He had not abandoned his mission, but the lives of his people were more important.

Running through the city, his feet pounding on intricately paved stone paths, he rushed past burning buildings and corpses littering the streets, one hand on his blade's hilt.

Percy had said their leader was a disembodied voice, when Viktor had summoned the elites for a preliminary briefing. Most didn't trust the son of Neptune, but Jeremy did.

He didn't know how to fight that, but he'd find a way, he vowed, as he turned a corner and slit a monster's throat in one fluid motion, twisting to stab another through its scaled chest. No quarter given.

The legionnaire, standing unsteadily with their hand on an open wound, panted out a thanks, and the civilians she was protecting cried in relief, but Jeremy was already gone, leaving nothing but golden dust in his wake.

Son of Mercury, after all.

When they'd fallen back to the secondary defence point, Julia had disappeared into the throngs of monsters, cutting a path straight to the centre of their forces. He guessed she was trying to reach the leader herself.

Scaling a building and jumping between roofs to get a better view, Jeremy grimaced as he counted how many fires plagued the city. At least seventeen separate buildings were burning.

Terminus was stirring, the last he'd heard from the murmurs of legionnaires, desperate to resume his post and protect New Rome, but as he swung off a building, sprinting towards the front, it was obvious that New Rome was still unprotected. No magical barrier, no defenses, nada.

Julia's efforts had been rebuffed, obvious by the fact the monsters had reached the city. The secondary defence point was again recalled, and the war machines began firing, the hordes finally in their range.

That had managed to slow the tidal wave of monsters for a few moments. And then, all of them, from onagers to trebuchets and catapults to ballistae, had cracked and splintered, as ice grew along the wood. They had snapped themselves in two, and the monsters advanced.

The fight was in the city, now.

Jeremy had been busy protecting the southern side when it happened, commanding an archery battalion from the Second and Third cohorts. They managed well enough, but the centurion leading them had fallen.

He'd taken command and led them to safety, sending volley after volley at the advancing lines. Most of them had survived, and were now protecting the city from the walls of New Rome, instead of the fortresses of Camp Jupiter. The few monsters that had arrived in the city were causing more than their fair share of havoc, though. The defending battalions needed assistance.

But Jeremy had left the walls, sprinting the moment lightning had struck the top of New Rome.

He didn't have a clue of what was going on, but he intended to find out.

---

"The war has begun, brother."

"…"

"Brother?"

"I am aware, Krios."

"Of course, Koios. It won't be long before we have our bodies again. I can't wait."

"Mm."

"Is something the matter, Koios?"

"Nothing, brother. Nothing at all."