A/N: We are getting close to the end. For those that have been here throughout, I appreciate your support. Though my only question is for elexiacharlie because I want to know if "crying" was from how emotional I attempted to write that chapter or because it was cringy as hell? Anyway enjoy what follows because it's going to move fast from here on out.
Hills Overlooking Naupaktos
"We can do nothing for them. Brasidas was a true son of Sparta." The bearded men next to Clarisse nodded in agreement. Six thousand warriors in bronze cuirasses stood in the trees behind the group. Not all of them were Spartiates of course, there was only so much that could be done to keep those numbers high, but they were sons and daughters of Sparta none the less. Fifteen hundred Spartiates would form the group she kept with her. Clarisse turned to the them all. She knew not everyone could hear her, but enough would hear to pass the message along.
"To ellinikó aíma échei chytheí. Spartiatikó aíma échei chytheí. Tha pároume tin ekdíkisí mas sto drómo, kanénas Romaíos den tha fýgei apó ton paraliakó drómo.I Elláda eínai to spíti mas. I Elláda eínai i zoí mas. Eímaste i kardiá tis Elládas, den tha tin afísoume siopilá méchri to thánató tis." [Greek blood has been shed. Spartan blood has been shed. We will take our revenge on the road, no Roman will leave the coastal road. Greece is our home. Greece is our life. We are the heart of Greece, we will not let it go silently to its death.]
Already she could hear the words being repeated throughout her ranks. She meant them. Not one member of the legion beneath them would leave Greece. Those were her orders from Percy. But not the ones spoken in front of a group. They were orders for Clarisse alone, though the Daughter of Athena had been present at her receiving them. "She is best strategic mind we have, but there is a level of bloodletting required here she does not like." The Daughter of Ares understood, she also knew that Annabeth understood she just did not like it. Needless to say the orders had not been given in front of Hazel. Clarisse and Percy saw the mission as a necessary evil, Annabeth condoned it because even she could admit that leaving a force of Romans behind their lines was a mistake because it pulled the Spartan force away from the main army. If they managed to save Jason Grace a lesson still had be taught that Greece was not the weak target the Romans were claiming it to be. Spartans would teach that lesson.
Boeotia
Percy waived his hand through the Iris message. Clarisse had arrived at the coastal road and was giving her initial report. Part of the report included the deaths of Demosthenes and Brasidas. His head was hung and tears dampening his cheeks when Annabeth entered their tent. She rushed to his side.
"Percy, what is it?"
"Naupaktos burned. Most of the people got away. But they got away because Demosthenes and Brasidas held back the Romans. They have made their journey to the boatman." He stood quickly and began to move out of the room. She saw the look on his face, all of the pain and sadness was gone. It was masked under the veneer of King Perseus.
"Where are you going?"
"To find our daughter and tell her the boy she loves is dead. He told me he had left Sparta because the Pythia told him he would die young or hold the person he loves as they die. He was in love with Zoë."
Annabeth's hands covered her mouth. "Oh my gods, Percy, how do you…"
"I don't know. I don't fucking know. How does one tell your daughter that the man she loves loved her by so much that he was willing to die for her?" Annabeth followed him out of the tent. As much as she wanted to have an answer for him, she did not.
All of their daughters were gathered around a fire. Interspersed between them were old friends. Hazel curled into Frank's broad chest. Nico seated next to Reyna, taking care of everything she needed. Piper had chosen Thalia as her sanctuary, though Annabeth watched Thalia's gaze move to Reyna on several occasions with just a slight bit of sadness. Gwen and Michael were seated together, outcasts of the Greeks by being Roman, outcasts of the group that had fought Gaia by having stayed behind. Regardless Zoë Nightshade and Phoebe had taken post on either side of the two. Hunter and Naomi still kept each other's company for the most part. They had accepted their place within her and Percy's family, but not as readily as the others had. At the center of the group, regaling them with humorous stories of Percy as a single father, sat the green eyed and dark haired Zoë. A single long braid, something Reyna had smiled at, hung over a shoulder that Annabeth thought too muscled for a fifteen year old girl. But then again, most people probably thought that about any demigod. She's already as tall as me and I'd bet she'll end up taller. And gods is she beautiful.
"Patér!" She said brightly as they approached. "I was telling them about your misadventures with open fire cooking." Percy's face curled into a silent laugh without intention. It quickly died though and he looked back at his only natural born daughter.
"Zoë, we need to speak with you. Privately." Annabeth observed the group. Percy only had eyes on his daughter. Worry crept into many of the faces. Piper's kaleidoscopic eyes met Annabeth's gray ones and suddenly Annabeth realized that Piper knew. It must be some sort of Aphrodite magic. Percy had put an arm around Zoë. Her sisters looked at the trio as they backed away with concern.
"What is it, patér?"
"Brasidas." Annabeth would admit that Zoë hid her reaction well. "He was the boy, was he not? The one you did not know how to talk to or about?" Zoë's expression was more puzzled now. She had assumed whenever the aspect of a boy arrived her father's tone would be much more accusatory. She nodded to him.
"You love him, don't you?" Again Zoë nodded slowly.
"Zoë. The Romans got to Naupaktos faster than we anticipated. Brasidas gave his life to save the people. He and Demosthenes held back the Romans so the could escape." Zoë took a half step back. "He loved you too, Zoë, he came and talked to me about it. But he felt it his duty to go north." Wisely he did not mention that a prophecy had forced him to make a choice between his own life and Zoë's. Neither of her parents knew how she would have reacted to that revelation.
"So you let him go die?" Annabeth clutched her hands over her mouth. She watched the muscles in Percy's jaw flex and clench. She knew what Demosthenes had meant to Percy, had meant to them both. She also knew that Percy did everything he could to keep his temper in check when speaking to his family. The rapidity of his clenching and unclenching made that seem unlikely. Zoë looked at her father's face and for the first time in her life, she was scared. The hard pressed jaw, contorted brow line, and the flames of Greek fire dancing in his eyes. Zoë, for the first time in her life, saw what others saw when they looked at him. A tall man with large muscles and a stone face controlling his emotions. She opened her mouth, but Percy stopped her with a hand.
"I made the call that I had to make. Demosthenes has been by my side for nearly twenty years, he trained Brasidas to take his place. They were the two most loyal and gifted soldiers I had. They knew my duty to the people and did whatever it took to ensure their safety, even if it meant giving their lives." He paused and took a deep breath. He placed both of his hands on Zoë's shoulders. "Never think that I let people die. I know every person that has died under my command. I wish it was not as many as it was. Brasidas loved you very much Zoë, Demosthenes loved you, he loved your whole family. They went to the boat man together. They will not be the only ones to meet Charon in the coming days. Go back to your sisters, they will comfort you better than I can."
Percy turned and walked back to his tent. He heard Zoë's cry for him and he spun to meet her as she hurtled toward him. He wrapped his thick arms around her and held her close.
"Does it always hurt so much? So much that you want to attack anyone to relieve it?"
"Yes. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but yes." He held her for a few moments more then she threw herself into the arms of her mother and together they began the slow walk to the fire where Zoë's sisters waited. Percy watched them. He allowed himself a few tears more, these for the pain his daughter was going through. He opened an Iris message above his firepit and Clarisse soon appeared before him.
"Yes, Prissy?"
"No one lives, Clarisse. No surrender, no quarter. Erase the Ninth Legion from existence."
"Of course, my king."
Coastal Road East of Naupaktos
The narrowness of the road forced the legion to decrease its marching order from eight to four men across. At its lead, with its Legate declared an enemy of Rome and Tribune Sextus killed in Naupaktos, rode Prefect Longinus. Normally a cavalry commander he was filled with hubris at the essentially mandatory promotion. Also a cavalry man he had long hated the legion commanders who would send out his horsemen without support on scouting missions. Given the terrain and that mindset, he had sent ten infantry scouts ahead. They had disappeared around the next bend in the road six minutes before with orders to return if there were issues. They had not returned.
Around the turn in the an army waited. Fifteen hundred Spartans in red capes and bronze armor gripped their dory and shields in preparation. Their commander had sent four and a half thousand of their fellow Lacedaemonians, the non-Spartans, on a trek over the mountains. They would have a surprise for the Romans. Chorís tétarto. That had been their orders. No quarter. No Roman would escape the coastal road. It was the way of war.
The scouts hidden in the hillside signaled that the head of the Roman column was only two hundred hundred yards away from the front rank. They would be within fifty yards when they had line of sight on the Spartans. Clarisse had chosen her spot well. Suddenly she stepped forward, away from her position at the far right of the line. The right most hoplite was the most important position. Only they had no fellow to protect their side. No fellow Spartan aspis to protect them. Their dory was their only protection on the their right side. Commander Clarisse only ever occupied that position in the battle line.
"Spartiátes! Giatí vadízoume símera?" [Spartans! Why do we march today?] The first Roman had rounded the corner and cries of warning were emitting from their lines. As one the Spartiates beat their spears against their shields as Clarise joined them in their chant.
"Cháros! Cháros! Cháros!" Death, thought Clarisse. It had been on her mind several times in recent years. She was a Daughter of Ares. She had won many battles at Percy's side, having been instrumental in Sparta's acceptance of the king in Athens, but even luck such as theirs would run out eventually. Not today, she thought.
"Emprós!" Step, step, step. "Cháros! Cháros! Cháros!" Step, step, step. Panicking Romans were attempting to form their ranks. They appeared unsure of tactics. Half of the centuries were prepared to use pila as swords, the other half were preparing them for throwing. Already the phalanx was within twenty yards of the first century. This century was attempting to throw their spears. On order the phalanx adjusted their shields and angled dory from the back row to deflect missiles. The front rows were just steps from their Roman opponents.
"Cháros! Cháros! Cháros!" Step, step, step. Step, thrust dory, pull dory back, step, thrust dory, pull dory back, step, thrust dory, pull dory back. The rhythm of death, thought Clarisse. Step, thrust dory, pull dory back. The first century of the Roman legion had been brushed past, their bodies trampled underfoot. The second century was attempting to hold position even as the centuries behind them fell into disarray.
"Cháros! Cháros! Cháros!" This time it was not her Spartiates shouting. It was four and a half thousand Lacedaemonians blocking the only retreat, a half mile wide stretch of flat land a mile and a half behind the front of the Roman column. The cliff to the column's left was maybe twelve feet high into the mountainside. To the Roman's right was a forty foot cliff into the sea.
Panic had began to set in. Even the Roman cavalry was panicked they had no room to maneuver their horses and Greek spears kept them away from the lines. The front ranks had began to lose their dory and as rear ranks passed their spears forward they drew the heavy Spartan kopis. Men who fell wounded by dory were trampled to death or their suffering quickly ended by a Greek wielded kopis.
Step, thrust dory, pull dory back. Prefect Longinus watched his men fall. The first cohort was breaking. The rear three had folded as Greeks appeared on their exposed rear and they had yet to reform, but no one had anywhere to escape the Greeks. His lines were collapsing, towards the cliffs. What have I done to displease, great Mars Ultor? When have I not honored you as I was taught? When have I not done my work for you? He received no answer. But a study of the Greek formation gave him his answer. He watched as a large woman thrust her spear through the chest of a centurion. She held a place of honor on the far right of the Greek line. She was the warrior who kept the formation in order. She threw a swordsmen off of her with a shield then her spear opened his throat. A faint red glow appeared to surround her. Above her head the silhouette of a boar was barely visible. Daughter of War, thought Longinus. Slowly he dismounted his horse and drew his spata. He slowly knelt. The pommel of the sword rested on the Greek soil. He let his body fall forward onto it.
Thermopylae, the Hot Gates
From their camps, Percy and Jason were staring across the Malian Gulf at each other. They could not identify each other at this range, but they stared at the two fire lit camps. Percy had twelve thousand Greek infantry in his camp. Clarisse had what was left of her six thousand Spartans marching across Boeotia. Along the eastern edge of the Boeotian plain, two thousand heavy cavalry waited for her to join them. Another two thousand soldiers were stationed in the mountains, defending the mountain passes that allowed Xerxes to surround the Three Hundred.
Jason's camp held seven legions. He had marched into Greece with eight. One of them lay feeding carrion on the coastal road of Naupaktos. He supposed the elimination of the Ninth was bound to happen eventually. In the original timeline rumor held the Ninth disappeared in the wilds of Scotland. Their eagle was lost, just as his Legio IX had ceased to exist. Seven legions remained, roughly forty thousands Roman soldiers. Thirty-one and a half thousand legionaries, three thousand cavalry, and six and a half thousand auxiliary. Desertions had been bad among the auxilia of his army. Rumors of the power of Greece's king scared the auxilia who were mostly pulled from the local peoples.
"Imperator!" Jason turned to see a group of horsemen escorting a bound prisoner toward him. The prisoner was tall for a woman, but not overly so. Her hands were bound and the rope tide to one of his men's saddle. Bruises covered the left side of her face. The side of her cream colored tunic was stained with blood. "We found her and several other girls scouting our position. The others got away." The girl had gotten closer to him. Jason studied her bruised face and muscled physique. Then his eyes settled on hers. A cruel grin split his face.
"I know exactly whose fucking daughter you are. We'll take special care of you."