To begin, I'd like to say that this story is 90% word for word Son of Neptune, at least for the first chapter or so. It starts about 6 months before the Son of Neptune would've taken place, this is because in this story Jason never goes on the quest which elongates the amount of time Percy has to spend asleep. I recognize that this throws off the timing of the Titan War, but lets ignore that.
The past few days had been as hard as any Percy could remember. Now- he couldn't remember much, since waking at the wolf house to the she-wolf Lupa. She'd taught him to sharpen his senses—to trust the instincts that had been guiding him south. And his homing radar was tingling like crazy now. The end of his journey was close—almost right under his feet. But how could that be? There was nothing on the hilltop.
The past few days, he'd hardly slept. He'd eaten whatever he could scrounge—vending machine gummi bears, stale bagels, even a Jack in the Crack burrito, which was a new personal low. His clothes were torn, burned, and splattered with monster slime and dust. His orange t-shirt was in tatters, barely hanging on to him, yet he couldn't throw it away.
He tried to wipe some of the slime and dust off, with no luck there. Looking around, his only way down was to the west side of the hill.
He stared at the stream of cars flowing west toward San Fransisco and wished he were in one of them. Then he realized the highway must cut through the hill. There must be a tunnel. . . right under his feet. His internal radar went nuts. He was in the right place, just too high up. He had to check out that tunnel. He started downhill.
It was crazy to think it'd been two months since he woke up in the courtyard of a burned-out mansion in the middle of the woods, wearing shorts, an orange t-shirt, and a leather necklace with a lone clay bead on it. Percy had no idea how he'd gotten there and only the vaguest idea who he was. He'd been barefoot, freezing, and confused. And then the wolves came. . .
He'd just reached the bottom of the hill and glanced east. Just as he'd figured, a hundred yards up hill, the highway cut through the base of the cliff. Two tunnel entrances, one for each direction of traffic, stared down at him like eye sockets of a giant skull. In the middle, where the nose would have been, a cement wall jutted from the hillside, with a metal door, like the entrance to a bunker.
It might've been a maintenance tunnel. That's probably what mortals thought, if they noticed the door at all. But they couldn't see through the mist. Percy knew the door was more than that. Two kids in armor flanked the entrance. They wore a bizarre mix of plumed roman helmets, breastplates, scabbards, jeans, purple t-shirts, and white athletic shoes. The guard on the right looked like a girl, though it was hard to tell for sure with all that armor. The one on the left was a stocky guy with a bow and quiver on his back. Both kids held long wooden staffs with iron tops, like old-fashioned harpoons.
Percy's internal radar was pinging like crazy. After so many horrible days, he'd finally reached his goal. His instincts told him that if he could make it inside that door, he might find safety for the first time since the wolves had sent him south.
So why did he feel such dread?
He'd have to cross the median of the highway, but then it would be a short sprint to the hill.
"Are you crossing?" asked a voice next to him.
Percy jumped. His only company since the wolf house had been the monsters he'd ripped apart. Hence the monster dust and slime coating him.
At first, he'd thought a monster had snuck up on him again, but the old lady in the bushes was the one who spoke.
She looked like a hippie who'd been kicked to the side of the road maybe forty years ago, where she'd been collecting trash and rags ever since. She wore a dress made of tie-died cloth, ripped-up quilts, and plastic grocery bags. Her frizzy mop of hair was gray-brown, like root-beer foam, tied back with a peace sign head band. Warts and moles covered her face. When she smiled, she showed exactly three teeth.
"You're right of course. It isn't a maintenance tunnel," she confided. "It's the entrance to camp."
A jolt went up Percy's spine. Camp. Yes, that's where he was from. A camp. Maybe this was his home.
But something felt wrong.
"Who are you?" Percy asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know. The last thing he needed was another harmless mortal who turned out to be a monster—like those two gorgons he killed at a Bargain Mart, one who posed as someone giving free samples and the other a greeter.
"Oh, you can call me June." The old lady's eyes sparkled as if she'd made an excellent joke. "It is June, isn't it? They named the month after me!
"Okay. . . Look, I should go."
"Oh, but you could do a good deed for an old lady," she said. "Carry me to camp with you?"
"Carry you?" Percy hoped she was kidding. Then June hiked up her skirt and showed him her swollen purple feet.
"I can't get there by myself," she said. "Carry me to camp—across the highway, through the tunnel, and across the river."
Percy didn't know what river she meant. June wouldn't be tough to carry, he was strong, something he'd found out pretty quickly when killing monsters.
Percy looked at the old lady. "And I'd carry you to this camp because—?"
"Because it's a kindness!" she said. "And if you don't, the gods will die—your father included—the world we know will perish, and everyone from your old life will be destroyed. Of course, you wouldn't remember them, so I suppose it won't matter."
"If I go to this camp," he said. "Will I get my memory back?"
"Eventually," June said, "but be warned. You will sacrifice much. You'll feel pain, misery, and loss beyond anything you've ever known. But you might have a chance to save your family, who exiled you," she muttered the last part. Percy caught it but barely. "As well as old friends, a chance to reclaim your old life. If by the end of this journey that's still what you'd like."
"Exiled? And what about the guards at the door?" Percy asked.
June smiled. "Oh, they'll let you in dear. You can trust those two. So, what do you say? Will you help a defenseless old woman?"
Somehow Percy knew she wasn't defenseless, she seemed familiar though. At worst this was a trap. At best, it was some kind of test.
Percy hated tests. Since he'd lost his memory, his whole life was one big fill-in-the-blank.
He was _, from _, and he felt like _.
"I'll carry you." he scooped up the old woman.
She was heavier than he expected. She was skin and bones but weighed a ton. He went with it though. Percy tried to ignore her sour breath and her calloused hands clinging to his neck. He made it across the first lane of traffic. A driver honked. Another yelled something that was lost in the wind. Most just swerved and looked irritated, as if they had to deal with a lot of ratty teenagers carrying old hippie women across the freeway here in Berkley.
Percy ran for the door in the hillside. June got heavier with every step. Percy's heart pounded. His ribs ached.
The two guards looked at Percy and his passenger. "Frank," the girl said. "Get them inside."
"Onward, Percy Jackson! Through the tunnel, over the river!" June shouted.
The female guard was darker-skinned, with curly hair sticking out the sides of her helmet. She looked younger than Frank—maybe fourteen. Her sword scabbard came down almost to her ankle. Still she sounded like she was the one in charge. "Okay, you're obviously a demigod. But what the-?" She glanced at June. "Never mind. Just get inside."
Frank stood with the door open, "Come on!"
Percy followed, staggering under the weight of the old lady, who was defying physics—not that this was anything new to Percy. He was no slouch, but she was definitely getting heavier. Somehow.
The tunnel cut through solid rock, about the width and height of a school hallway. At first it looked like a typical maintenance tunnel, with electric cables, warning signs, and fuse boxes on the walls, lightbulbs in wire cages along the ceiling. As they walked deeper into the hillside, the cement floor changed to tiled mosaic. The lights changed to reed torches, which burned but didn't smoke. A few hundred yards ahead, Percy spotted a square of daylight.
Percy's arms shook from the strain. June mumbled a song in Latin, like a lullaby, which didn't help his concentration.
"We're almost there," Frank said.
"Almost where?"
June chuckled. "All roads lead there, child. You should know that."
"Punishment?" Percy asked.
"Rome, child," the old woman said. "Rome."
Percy wasn't sure he'd heard her right. True, his memory was gone. His brain hadn't felt right since he had woken up at the wolf house. But he was pretty sure Rome wasn't in California.
They kept walking. The glow at the end of the tunnel grew brighter, and finally they emerged into sunlight.
Percy froze. Spread out at his feet was a bowl-shaped valley, several miles wide. The basin floor was rumpled with smaller hills, golden plains, and stretches of forest. A small clear river cut a winding course from a lake in the center and around the perimeter, like a capital G.
The geography could've been anywhere in northern California—live oaks and eucalyptus trees, gold hills, and blue skies. That big inland mountain—what was it called, Mount Diablo?—rose in the distance, right where it should be.
But Percy felt like he'd stepped into a secret world. In the center of the valley, nestled by the lake, was a small city of white marble buildings with red tiled roofs. Some had domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments. Other looked like palaces with golden doors and large gardens. He could see an open plaza with freestanding columns, fountains, and statues. A five-story-tall Roman Coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a long oval arena like a racetrack.
Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with even more impressive building—temples, Percy guessed. Several stone bridges crossed the river as it wound through the valley; and in the north, a long line of brickwork arches stretched from the hills into the town. Percy thought it looked like an elevated train track. Then he realized it must be an aqueduct.
The strangest part of the valley was right below him. About two hundred yards away, just across the river, was some sort of military encampment. It was about a quarter mile square, with earthen ramparts on all four sides, the tops lined with sharpened spikes. Wooden watch towers rose at each corner, manned by sentries with oversized, mounted crossbows. Purple banners hung from towers. A wide gateway opened on the riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity: Dozens of kids going to and from barracks, carrying weapons, polishing armor. Percy heard the clank of hammers at a forge and smelled meat cooking over a fire.
Something about this place felt very familiar, yet not quite right.
"Camp Jupiter," Frank said. "We just have to get across the river."
June squeezed Percy's neck tighter. "Oh, yes, please. I can't get my dress wet."
Percy bit his tongue. He'd come this far; he'd better keep lugging her along. If this was a test, he couldn't afford to get an F.
They reached the riverbank and Percy stopped to reposition June. Only a stone's throws across the river stood the gates of the fort.
"The Little Tiber," said June. "It flows with the power of the original Tiber, river of the empire."
Percy was too exhausted to understand all that. But he got the main point and forged into the river. It was icy cold. Refreshing.
He reached the other side and put the old woman down as the camp's gate opened. Two sentries came out.
"Well that was a lovely trip," she said. "Thank you, Percy Jackson, for bringing me to Camp Jupiter."
Then, just because the day hadn't been weird enough already, the old lady began to glow and change form. She grew until she was a shining seven-foot-tall goddess in a blue dress, with a cloak that looked like a goat's skin over her shoulders. Her face was stern and stately. In her hand was a staff topped with a lotus flower.
Frank spoke first, "Juno."
It finally clicked with Percy who she was. So, he joined the others in kneeling.
She smiled at Percy. He may not know who she really is to him, but she appreciated the respect, even after carrying her all this way.
She turned to look at the other. "Romans, I present to you, Percy Jackson, the son of Neptune. His fate is in your hands."
Juno shimmered and disappeared. Frank and the two sentries gaped at Percy. Stunned that he had carried a goddess; and the fact that he was a son of Neptune, almost a direct replacement of their recently missing Praetor, Jason—a son of Jupiter.
Line Break
Frank was leading Percy to the Principia where he'd meet Reyna, the remaining Praetor of New Rome.
"She's not bad, but she just lost her other Praetor two weeks ago, so she might be a little on edge."
"I'm sorry. . . Um, if you want to talk about—" Percy tried to comfort Frank.
"It's fine, man. I didn't get to meet him. He was gone before I got here. Anyway, he's probably fine."
"Oh, he's not—dead?"
"No," Frank started, seemingly thinking how to answer. "He just disappeared one night, I guess. He was our other Praetor, a son of Jupiter, another one of the big three. He wouldn't have just abandoned New Rome. So, he was probably taken."
"Hey, it's cool. Why don't we talk about something else." Frank seemed to cheer a little at that. "So, I guess my parent is Po-Neptune. Who's yours?"
"I don't know. I really hope it's Apollo. I'm awesome with a bow, my sixteenth birthday is soon, so I should be claimed then—Here, this is it."
It was at the corner of a crossroads. It stood as the most impressive building Percy had seen. 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 gold letter 'SPQR' embroidered inside a laurel wreath.
"Your headquarters?" Percy asked.
"It's called the principia." Frank corrected. "C'mon, she'll want to meet you—oh yeah! Don't lie in front of her dogs, they'll tear you apart if you do."
That didn't calm Percy down at all. Not only was he going to meet the leader of New Rome, a city filled with Lares, as Frank had called them, as well as a legion of soldiers. But had also just lost her co-leader. To top it off she's got dogs that will eat him if he lies. . . So yeah, there's that.
It was even more impressive inside the principia. The ceiling bore a mosaic of Romulus and Remus under their adopted mama she-wolf. The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so Percy felt like he 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.
In the center of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jellybeans, which seemed a tad out of place. Two life sized statues of greyhounds—one silver, one gold, flanked the table. Two high-backed chairs were sat behind the table.
Frank and Percy stopped. It was then that Percy noticed the girl in the purple cape, sitting in one of the high-backed chairs behind the table.
She looked to be about Percy's age, sixteen or so. She had piercing-black eyes, as she looked at Percy. Sea-green met onyx-black as they sized one another up. She had glossy black hair in a single braid. Her face looked regal, and it made Percy wonder if he should bow to her, like Juno.
"Frank, who's this?" Her accented voice broke Percy out of his stupor.
"This is Percy Jackson, amnesiac son of Neptune, who carried Lady Juno across the Little Tiber."
Reyna's eyes widened. The man in front of her was tall—taller than Frank, so she'd guess 6'4" at least. He had raven-black hair, just like her own. With sea-green eyes that so much resembled the ocean she grew up surrounded by on Puerto Rico.
Reyna stood up and walked around the table. Offering her hand, she asked, "And how may I help you, Percy Jackson?"
Frank felt like he'd just introduced two nuclear bombs. Now he was waiting to see which one exploded first.
Until that morning, Reyna and Hazel had been the two most powerful demigods he'd met. Reyna was the best fighter in camp. Hazel is a daughter of Pluto.
Then he'd met Percy.
At first when he saw Percy stumbling up the highway with the old lady in his arms, Frank had thought he might be a god in disguise. Even though he was beat up, dirty, and stooped with exhaustion, he'd held an aura of power. The good looks of a Roman god, with sea-green eyes, and wind-blown black hair.
The two continued to eye each other up, so Frank decided to speak for Percy. "Lady Juno declared that his fate was up to us Romans—so you. . ."
Reyna released Percy's hand, cleared her throat, and took a step back.
"First things first," she sat back down. "I want to hear your story. What do you remember? How did you get here?"
Percy told his story—how he'd woken up in the woods of Sonoma. He described his time with Lupa and her pack, learning their language of gestures and expressions, learning to survive and fight.
Lupa had taught him about 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 him until he was as strong and tough and vicious as a wolf. When she was satisfied with his skills, she'd sent him south, telling him that if he survived the journey, he might find a new home and regain his 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?" 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. Were 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." Reyna studied him. "You're old for a recruit. You're what, sixteen?"
"I think so," Percy said.
"If you spent that many years on your own, without training or help, you should be dead. A son 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."
A smile cracked Reyna's mask of indifference. "You must've been somewhere before the wolf house," she said. Reyna sighed, rubbing her temples. "Well, the dogs haven't barked or tried to eat you, so I suppose you're telling the truth."
Frank was shifting from foot to foot like had to pee—which he either did or he was nervous.
"You're definitely not a typical demigod," she continued. "And your arm. . ."
"What about it?" Percy asked.
Reyna held up her own forearm. Percy hadn't noticed before, but she had a tattoo on the inside; The letters SPQR, a crossed sword and torch, and under that, four parallel lines like score marks.
Percy glanced at Frank.
"Not me." He followed Frank's arm to the tablet he was holding on a necklace. "I'm too new—need to be here a year for a bar of service."
"So, you've never been a member of the legion," Reyna said. "These marks can't be removed."
Frank leaned forward. "What if the gods brought him to replace Jaso—"
"Frank," Reyna's voice tightened. "Percy's got enough to worry about. It's been two weeks. There's six months until the Feast of Fortuna. If he hasn't shown up by then. . ."
Reyna grimaced. Percy got the feeling this guy, Jason, might've been more to her than just a colleague.
"Elections only happen in two ways," Reyna said. "Either the legion raises someone on a shield after a major success on the battlefield—and we haven't had any major battles since Othrys. Or we hold a ballot. June 24th, the feast of Fortuna. Six months from now." Reyna took a deep breath. "We've talked enough for now. Frank, take him to Temple Hill. Find Octavian. On your way, tell him about the legion."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Percy stood. Reyna nodded at him, "Good luck with the Augury, Percy Jackson. You'll need it."