Percy and Reyna interact, and as usual Percy has no clue what's going on. But hey at least she's still alive.
Replies:
Undeath9087: That shall be discussed later I assure you. And even Octavian won't be as bad as Alabaster- though- he's still an asshole like in canon.
The Official Clarisse: Hera is always a bitch, it's genuinely lucky Reyna didn't kill Percy given the history if you think about it.
JjlovesPJO: Don't worry, you won't hate Reyna- her anger is understandable after all, but she's a good person.
Weirdhead: Thingsare definitely getting interesting.
Drizzle: You could say that.
To Captain Abvious: You're right, that's what I've planned anyway.
Camphalfblood738857: Percy and detention- two things that work together perfectly- if she bothers to attend.
On a scale of one to ten of 'life threatening terrifying situations' Percy had gotten herself into she'd probably rank this at around a six- it was pretty bad but it hadn't reached the stage where Percy needed to start considering her escape routes.
It was also a very good thing that Percy wasn't afraid of ghosts- for some reason they felt oddly familiar too her, since it seemed like half of the people in camp were dead. Shimmering purple warriors stood outside the armory, polishing ethereal swords. Others hung out in front of the barracks. A ghostly boy chased a ghostly dog down the street. And at the stables, a big glowing red dude with the head of a wolf guarded a herd of…Were those unicorns?
None of the campers paid the ghosts much attention, but as Percy's entourage walked by, with Reyna in the lead and Frank and Hazel on either side, all the spirits stopped what they were doing and stared at Percy. A few looked angry. The little boy ghost shrieked something like "Greggus!" and turned invisible.
Percy wished she could turn invisible too. After weeks on her own, all this attention made her uneasy. He stayed between Hazel and Frank and tried to look inconspicuous.
"Am I seeing things or are those ghosts?" Percy asked hesitantly- as if she didn't already know they were- though she wasn't really sure how she knew that.
Hazel turned to look at her at the question- and Percy found herself struck by those eyes- startling golden eyes- something in the pit of her stomach felt almost uneasy at that- like gold eyes were bad- but- Hazel seemed nice enough, and she was probably the main reason Percy was alive right now, her and Frank so she pushed that thought aside dismissively. Even if she did have some genuine reason to distrust gold eyes she had none to distrust Hazel.
"Yeah, they're Lares. House gods."
"House gods?" Percy's lips twitched despite herself, "Like, smaller than real gods but larger than apartment gods?"
Hazel looked startled at that, but it was Frank who spoke up. "They're ancestral spirits." and Percy turned her focus to him.
He'd removed his helmet, revealing a babyish face that didn't go with his military haircut or his big burly frame. He looked kinda like a toddler who'd taken steroids and joined the marines. "The Lares are kind of like mascots." he continued, "Mostly they're harmless but I've never seen them so agitated."
"They're staring at me." Percy's brows furrowed, "That ghost kid called me Greggus- and I dunno if you've noticed but I don't really look like a Greg. For one thing, not a boy."
"We can tell." Hazel looked like she was resisting the urge to smile. "The boy called you a Graecus. Once you've been here a while you'll start understanding Latin. Demigods have a nature sense for it. Gaecus means Greek."
"Is that bad?" Percy asked hesitantly- it didn't feel bad to her- it felt- well, it felt familiar, but she had the feeling that the people around here wouldn't be too happy
with that.
Frank cleared his throat. "Maybe not. You've got that type of complexion, the dark hair and all. Maybe they think you're actually Greek. Is your family from there?"
"Don't know. Like I said, my memory is gone."
"Or maybe…" Frank hesitated.
"What?" Percy asked.
"Probably nothing," Frank said. "Romans and Greeks have an old rivalry. Sometimes Romans use graecus as an insult for someone who's an outsider—an enemy. I wouldn't worry about it."
He sounded pretty worried, and despite his words Percy found herself starting to worry about it too.
They stopped at the centre of camp, where two wide stone-paved roads met at a T.
A street sign labeled the road to the main gates as via praetoria. The other road, cutting across the middle of camp, was labeled via principalis. Under those markers were hand-painted signs like berkeley 5 miles; NEW ROME 1 MILE; OLD ROME 7280 MILES; HADES 2310 MILES (pointing straight down); RENO 208 MILES, AND CERTAIN DEATH: YOU ARE HERE!
For certain death, the place looked pretty clean and orderly. The buildings were freshly whitewashed, laid out in neat grids like the camp had been designed by a fussy math teacher. The barracks had shady porches, where campers lounged in hammocks or played cards and drank sodas. Each dorm had a different collection of banners out front displaying Roman numerals and various animals—eagle, bear, wolf, horse, and something that looked like a hamster.
Along the Via Praetoria, rows of shops advertised food, armor, weapons, coffee, gladiator equipment, and toga rentals. A chariot dealership had a big advertisement out front: CAESAR XLS W/ANTILOCK BRAKES, NO DENARII DOWN!
At one corner of the crossroads stood the most impressive building—a two-story wedge of white marble with a columned portico like an old-fashioned bank. Roman guards stood out front. Over the doorway hung a big purple banner with the gold letters SPQR embroidered inside a laurel wreath.
"Your headquarters?" Percy asked.
Reyna faced him, her eyes still cold and hostile. "It's called the principia."
She scanned the mob of curious campers who had followed them from the river. "Everyone back to your duties. I'll give you an update at evening muster. Remember, we have war games after dinner."
The thought of dinner made Percy's stomach rumble. The scent of barbecue from the dining hall made her mouth water. The bakery down the street smelled pretty wonderful too, but she doubted Reyna would let her get an order to go.
The crowd dispersed reluctantly. Some muttered comments about Percy's chances.
"She's dead," said one.
"Would be those two who found her," said another.
"Yeah." muttered another, "Let her join the Fifth Cohort, Greeks and geeks."
Several kids laughed at that, but Reyna scowled at them, and they cleared off.
"Hazel," Reyna said. "Come with us. I want your report on what happened at the gates."
"Me too?" Frank said. "Percy saved my life. We've got to let her—" Reyna gave Frank such a harsh look, he stepped back.
"I'd remind you, Frank Zhang," she said, "you are on probatio yourself. You've caused enough trouble this week."
Frank's ears turned red. He fiddled with a little tablet on a cord around his neck. Percy hadn't paid much attention to it, but it looked like a name tag made out of lead.
"Go to the armory," Reyna told him. "Check our inventory. I'll call you if I need you."
"But—" Frank caught himself. "Yes, Reyna."
He hurried off.
Reyna waved Hazel and Percy toward the headquarters. "Now, Percy Jackson, let's see if we can improve your memory."
The principia was even more impressive inside. On the ceiling glittered a mosaic of Romulus and Remus under their adopted mama she-wolf (Lupa had told Percy that story a million times). The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so Percy felt like she was inside the world's most expensive camping tent.
Along the back wall stood a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze medals—military symbols, Percy guessed. In the center was one empty display stand, as if the main banner had been taken down for cleaning or something.
In the back corner, a stairwell led down. It was blocked by a row of iron bars like a prison door. Percy wondered what was down there—monsters? Treasure? Amnesiac demigods who had gotten on Reyna's bad side?
In the centre of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, notebooks, tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans, which seemed kind of out of place. Two life-sized statues of greyhounds—one silver, one gold—flanked the table. Reyna walked behind the table and sat in one of two high-backed chairs. Percy wished she could sit in the other, but Hazel remained standing. Percy got the feeling she was supposed to also.
"Listen-" Percy started to speak but the dog statues bared their teeth and growled at her- and Percy froze- she loved dogs. Usually. The bigger the better, but these glared at her with ruby eyes and fangs that looked as sharp as razors.
"Easy, guys," Reyna told the greyhounds.
They stopped growling, but kept eyeing Percy as though they were imagining her in a doggie bag.
"They won't attack," Reyna said, "unless you try to steal something, or unless I tell them to. That's Argentum and Aurum."
"Silver and Gold," Percy said. The Latin meanings popped into her head like Hazel had said they would. She almost asked which dog was which. Then she realized that that was a stupid question. Then again she was exhausted so she could probably be excused a couple of real stupid questions- but she'd rather save those ones up.
Reyna set her dagger on the table and Percy watched her carefully- she still had the odd vague feeling that she'd seen the other girl before. Her hair was black and glossy as volcanic rock, woven into a single braid down her back. She had the poise of a sword fighter—relaxed yet vigilant, as if ready to spring into action at any moment.
The worry lines around her eyes made her look older than she probably was.
"We have met," she decided. "I don't remember when. Please, if you can tell me anything—"
"First things first," Reyna said. "I want to hear your story. What do you remember? How did you get here? And don't lie. My dogs don't like liars."
Argentum and Aurum snarled to emphasize the point.
Percy told her story—how she'd woken up at the ruined mansion in the woods of Sonoma. She described her time with Lupa and her pack, learning their language of gestures and expressions, learning to survive and fight.
Lupa had taught herabout demigods, monsters, and gods. She'd explained that she was one of the guardian spirits of Ancient Rome. Demigods like Percy were still responsible for carrying on Roman traditions in modern times—fighting monsters, serving the gods, protecting mortals, and upholding the memory of the empire.
She'd spent weeks training her, until she was as strong and tough and vicious as a wolf. When she was satisfied with her skills, she'd sent her south, telling her that if she survived the journey, she might find a new home and regain her memory.
None of it seemed to surprise Reyna. In fact, she seemed to find it pretty ordinary—except for one thing.
"No memory at all?" she asked. "You still remember nothing?"
"Fuzzy bits and pieces." Percy glanced at the greyhounds. She didn't want to mention Annabeth or Rachel- or even Luke- and when she thought of that name she felt safe and warm in a strange way. It seemed too private, and she was still confused about where to find them. She was sure they'd met at a camp—but this one didn't feel like the right place.
None of the memories she did have were clear, mostly gut feelings- and flashes of gray shining eyes and blonde curls- a laugh, the way Annabeth's hair was spun golden in sunlight- or the way Rachel's were the same shade as leaves in a forest- her paint streaked cheeks- hair that glinted like fire in the sun.
She was terrified, as irrational as it was, that if she said that out loud the memories would evaporate like a dream and she couldn't risk that.
Reyna spun her dagger. "Most of what you're describing is normal for demigods. At a certain age, one way or another, we find our way to the Wolf House. We're tested and trained. If Lupa thinks we're worthy, she sends us south to join the legion. But I've never heard of someone losing their memory. How did you find Camp Jupiter?"
Percy told her about the last three days—the gorgons who wouldn't die, the old lady who turned out to be a goddess, and finally meeting Hazel and Frank at the tunnel in the hill.
Hazel took the story from there. She described Percy as brave and heroic, which made her uncomfortable. All she'd done was carry a hippie bag lady, that didn't scream impressive.
Reyna studied her. "You're old for a recruit. You're what, sixteen?"
"I think so," Percy said, her brows furrowing- something was important about that too. The age of sixteen was special.
"If you spent that many years on your own, without training or help, you should be dead. A daughter of Neptune? You'd have a powerful aura that would attract all kinds of monsters."
"Yeah," Percy said. "I've been told that I smell."
Reyna almost cracked a smile, which gave Percy hope. Maybe she was human after all.
"You must've been somewhere before the Wolf House," she said.
"I don't know." Percy shook her head, "I- I wish I could tell you I do but I don't know." she let out a breath, "I- I feel like- I was somewhere before- I have to have been somewhere good." she shook her head, "I just don't know where."
"Is there anything that could be a clue?"
"I-" Percy shrugged, "I guess there's the diadem I was wearing when I woke up-"
"A diadem?"
"Yeah." Percy slung her bag off her shoulder and opened it up, rummaging through it until she could pull out the beautiful golden diadem. "I- I feel like it was a present from someone. And I have this." she gestured to the beautiful band on her arm.
Reyna held out her hand and Percy swallowed hard before handing the diadem over, letting the other girl examine it for several moments before she sighed.
"I don't know what I expected. It seems to be gold- probably worth a good deal of money but nothing truly special." she handed it back and Percy had to stop herself from snatching. "Well, the dogs haven't eaten you, so I suppose you're telling me the truth."
And Percy felt a flood of relief. It felt like she'd passed some kind of test.