Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any of its respective spin offs.

Chapter 1: I Book A Stay In The Hell Hotel

9 days. It takes 9 days to fall from the Earth to Tartarus. Or, at least, that's what Annabeth once told me. And I could believe it, falling as I was, clutching her, spinning and tumbling in the suffocating darkness, so far from light on either end that I could not see her face pressed against me.

How long we had fallen, I did not know, but I could feel the magic in the air, sustaining us, forcing us to survive despite our lack of nourishment, only to torment us further when we arrived. I tried not to think about the inevitability, the impact at the base of the fall, for how could any survive a nine day fall into hell itself?

And so we continued to fall, unable to see, to speak, to move. Just being, just falling, falling for all eternity.

Yet, after a passage of time, how long I knew not, I found myself seeing, feeling, able to perceive the body around which I held on so dearly. The golden locks softly illuminated in the dull red glow of the Tartarian light, the shivering, pale skin pressed up against mine through the tattered remains of our clothing.

And then the pain began.

Searing, biting pain, like an acid that permeated the air around us, constantly eating into our flesh yet consuming nothing. And pain, for all it is, is a wonderful distraction. As some French author Annabeth had read once said: "There is something more terrible than a hell of suffering - a hell of boredom." And truly, the pain that permeated my bones at that moment was preferable to the endless waiting, the endless dreading of the fall. And so I continued to fall, blissfully ignorant of the passage of time.

And then came impact, far less than I expected. Where I had expected sudden death at best and long, agonising death at worst, I was instead grasped by a cool feeling, a welcome respite to the constant agony of the air around us. Instead, I found myself seized by the sudden compulsion just to give up. It was futile, wasn't it? I was in the monster homeland. Nico had only survived to be used as bait. No. I could not give up. I had to get to the Doors of Death. Why? Did I have to? Yes. To save the world. To save Annabeth.

I snapped my eyes open, lunging forward, out of the river I had found myself, and lay shivering on the bank, as the feeling of hopelessness bled into the return of the agonising pain. I remembered a lesson I had had at Yancy, about the rivers of Erebus that flowed into Tartarus. The River Cocytus: the River of Lamentation, the sum total of all the tears of hopelessness. Lucky me. I get to struggle to survive rather than become a pancake.

I froze. Annabeth! Where was Annabeth? I stumbled upwards, struggling to move with a leg I did not remember breaking, searching for her.

"An-" I coughed out, my throat hoarse from disuse. "Anna-" I pitched forward, my face slumping against the rough, glassy shards that made up some sort of gravel-like floor. I felt the shards tear into my skin, drawing blood, only for it to be sealed up by the agonising breath of the pit. I pushed myself up, stumbling forwards. "Annabeth!" I screamed, my throat tickling with the small trickle of blood caused by the sudden aggravation of speech.

I am not sure how long I searched. Could have been minutes, hours, days. Time seemed off down in the pit, strange and difficult to grasp. Yet when I finally found her, I wished I had not.

She had not landed in the river, for all the good it would have done, rather, she landed against a wall of rocks, her head cracked open, oozing thick, poisoned blood, with her limbs bent in hundreds of unnatural directions. And that was my breaking point.

I slumped to my knees, screaming and wailing. Again, I could not grasp the time I spent there, with my sanity slowly slipping further towards instability, for the light around me did not change, nor did my pain ease or my insatiable hunger cease. I could likely have stayed there forever, if it was not for outside intervention.

"Tasssty demigod," a voice hissed, piercing through the haze of despair. "We know that you are here sssomewhere. We all felt your presssence."

I looked up, my eyes cold and murderous. Scythian Dracaena. Serpent women. Monsters, responsible for the deaths of hundreds of mortals and demigods. Demigods like Annabeth, who had fallen prey to the father of all monsters, the Pit itself.

I slowly stood up, absently noting that my leg had healed, albeit crudely, and was now strong enough to bear my weight. How long does a bone take to heal? Six weeks? Even taking into consideration the accelerated healing of the pit, it surely would take weeks to reach this stage.

The Dracaena turned, hissing in frothing anger at the sight of me. "Perssseusss Jackssson. What a sssuprissse. A much worthier opponent than that pitiful ssspawn of Hadesss. Revenge will be ssso sssweet!"

I blinked. "Have we met? And did you say you met Nico?"

The lead Dracaena snarled. "Have we met? Have we met? Of courssse we have met, you sssorrowful wassste of ssspace, I am Ssscyntia the Great! We faced off in the Lassst Titan War!"

I cocked my head to the side. Five Dracaena? Easy. Might as well have some fun irritating them. "Really? Don't remember." I really didn't. Dracaena? More like Titan goons. "What happened?"

If a serpent woman could blush, this one did. "I wasss ssstabbed. By your sssword. After you were disssarmed."

I tried to keep a straight face. I really did. Actually, no, I didn't. I burst out laughing. Unfortunately, the Dracaena didn't seem to see the funny side. "Attack!" She screeched, pulling a long, bronze spear from off of her back, just as her companions did the same.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out Riptide, uncapping it just in time to block the first strike. I was not, however, prepared for what came next.

With speed and agility I had never seen in a Dracaena, the spear whipped round, piercing my defences, sinking into the flesh of my right arm, causing me to drop the sword in pain.

The serpent woman chuckled. "Not ssso brave now, are you little hero. That magic in the air, burning you, ssssapping your ssstrength? It healsss usss. Makesss usss ssstronger, fassster. Better than a meagre demigod."

Brilliant. This was getting worse every second (minute? Who knows how much time had passed. Pain really does distract you). Acid air that causes endless pain, healing me to continue suffering? Check. Same air upgrading my enemies so much that I am having trouble with Titan goons? Check. At least I still had Riptide. Oh wait, that had fallen in the Cocytus.

I screamed with pain as the spear re-entered my body, piercing through my thigh, as a second spear stabbed me through the small of my back. I watched with sick relief as the gaping wound in my bicep began to close, before it was held open by a third spear. Staring up with eyes full of anger and agony, I slowly pushed myself up, fighting against the unnatural strength behind the spears, only four a fourth spear to strike the pit of my other leg, causing me to collapse once more. The final Dracaena, Scyntia I think, slid in front of me, spear poised to strike me dead.

"And to think, this pathetic bag of flesh wasss feared by ssso many," she gloated. "I shall be famousss at leassst. Now die, demigod." As she raised the spear, its head gleaming in the dull glow of the pit, I closed my eyes, and pulled.

Ignoring the screams of protest coming from the spear wounds, I stood up, rising just enough for the spear to strike me in the chest rather than the throat. But the chest is still painful. I let out a scream of agony, collapsing once more, before an intense tug formed in my gut, causing me to pitch forward as everything faded to black.

| -|o |

I blinked my eyes open, slowly pushing myself up. I frowned. I was somewhere else. No, that's not right. The Cocytus was still there, but the boulders were new. As I got to my feet, I saw a small object, gleaming from underneath the smallest boulder. It was a spear head. I had caused a cave in.

I patted my pockets, relieved to find Riptide, in pen form of course, before struggling forwards, using the rocks as support. The spear wounds had healed, albeit leaving faint scars, but my muscles felt tired, lethargic, but from disuse rather than exhaustion. I rubbed my face, pausing as I felt the rough texture of thick, scratchy stubble. How long had I been unconscious? I was most certainly been clean shaven at the start of the fight. I stumbled around for a while, before stopping by where Annabeth's mangled corpse was. It had begun to start decomposing, yet another sign of just how long I had truly spent in the pit. I sighed.

"I promise, Annabeth. I promise to avenge you. I will stop this threat. I swear it by the River Styx." The signature boom of thunder echoed through the caverns of Tartarus, but I did not move, remaining next to her corpse, tired and weary. But I couldn't stop. I had to keep moving. For Annabeth.

I carefully pulled her Camp necklace off of her, placing it around my own neck, before picking up her knife, the one from Luke, stowing it in one of my jacket's surviving pockets; tattered as it was there were still several that were usable. My shirt, however, was another story, as I discarded it by simply peeling it off my skin, the only thing keeping it together having been the sweat dripping off of me. So too did I pull off my shoes, battered and beaten, as they were in danger of falling apart. I sighed at the state of my socks, both of which having fallen off as soon as they were freed from the confines of my shoes.

I winced as my feet made contact with the glassy shards that made up the ground, but preserved, slowly making my way down the gloomy tunnel I found myself in. I was slowly growing used to the pain that saturated my bones; so too would I adapt to the shards carving up my soles, only to be healed by the acidic air around me.

As I walked, I observed my surroundings in sick curiosity. The floor, like in the alcove, was that glassy, volcanic gravel, with thick outcrops of jagged obsidian interrupting the area. The walls were made of the same dark rock, with small alcoves filled with sickly, bulbous spots. Upon closer inspection, I realised that they were some sort of cocoons or egg sack, like ants in an ant hill, re-growing the fallen monsters.

I think the thing that surprised me was the lack of living monsters. I had expected to be swarmed and overrun, me being on their home turf, but other than the Dracaena, I had yet to see another living being outside of the pustules.

Of course, just as I thought that, a pustule burst ahead of me, a small shape falling out of it. I uncapped Riptide, raising it defensively, pulling out Annabeth's knife (named Doroklefton, Gift of Thieves), holding it in a offensive, reverse grip (Annabeth had once spent three hours drilling me on the various knife grips, especially ones that could be used in combination with a sword).

I almost sighed in relief to see that it was only a Harpy, before it dove straight at me, screeching, its talons raking across my face, blinding my left eye. I let out a yelp of pain, clumsily swinging at the speeding pigeon.

"Why do dinner ladies hate m-argh!" It dodged my swing, talons, raking along my chest, before I managed to catch it off guard, turning it to dust with a lucky swing of my knife. I sighed, collapsing to the ground, exhausted. Great. So not only am I in perpetual agony, surrounded by upgraded monsters, but I also grow exhausted quicket. Fan-bloody-tastic.

I slumped up against the cave wall, capping Riptide, hiding in the alcove the harpy had burst from, before I felt my roll back as I sank into the blissful ignorance of sleep. Of course, for me, sleep would never be without its own problems.

| -|o |

I found myself on board the Argo, surrounded by the five remaining members of the seven, plus Coach and Nico, all of whom sat at the mess table, looking weary and morose (except Coach, who was asleep and snoring).

"Dammit!" Jason cried out, slamming a fist against the surface of the table. "What are we going to do now?"

Nico shrugged. "Heck if I know. He was our leader, and she was our planner."

Hazel frowned. "And? I know this is awful, but we have to keep going. Between us we can plan, and Jason is technically still a Praetor. Surely he can replace Percy."

Jason slumped backwards. "I'm no leader. I got the role because of my father; Percy got it despite his. Face it, he was the only leader on board."

I wanted to scream at them. Shout at them. I wasn't the leader! I was a fighter, a survivor! I only did what I had to.

Frank nodded in agreement. "Even on our quest, when I was the Centurion and he was the Probatio, he was the one who led us."

Nico smiled sadly. "Same happened during the Titan War. No-one explicitly said he was in charge, but if it had come down to his or Chiron's orders, we would have followed him. And the funny thing is, he never even realised."

Leo tried to smile, but failed easily. "I mean, that was what happened here. Even the Romans would have followed Percy over Jason, no offence dude."

Jason smirked. "Ain't no offence in the truth."

I was gobsmacked. Did they all think this? I was just a lucky bastard, who happened to have a modicum of power. I wasn't a leader! Was I?

Piper sighed. "Let's put yesterday behind us." Yesterday? "Let's just get to Epirus, get him out of Tartarus. Then this won't be a problem."

Nico shook his head solemnly. "No. Tartarus changes people. Who knows how long he's been down there."

Leo frowned. "But it's only been a day!"

Nico sighed. "For us."

The dream suddenly changed, and I found myself on the farm road outside camp, amid a gathering of Roman soldiers. I frowned. They were preparing for war.

I walked into the large, purple tent, to find the Praetor's office, occupied by Octavian and Reyna.

"Octavian, stop this madness!" Reyna yelled out, slamming his fist. "We have not given them time to explain their actions, we do not have to have war. Remember, you are only acting Praetor, I outrank you."

Octavian smiled a sadistic smirk. "But who, pray tell, would they obey, if I foretold of your betrayal, of you abandoning the legion for the Graecus scum."

Reyna gaped at him. "But that's not true?"

Octavian's face gained a shark-like quality. "They don't have to know that."

And then my vision changed again, overhanging the vast pit of which I had dreamed many years ago. The entrance to Tartarus.

I watched as I fell down, observing the layout. It was essentially a giant cone, with tunnels in walls, and thin membrane-like platforms spanning the gap every so often, such as one that held a giant arena, and another a fortress. But I kept going down, until I reached the bottom, a thin area, swirling with the five rivers of the Underworld. And at the centre, the Doors of Death.

Yet, as soon as I saw my destination, my vision changed again, showing me a small room, in the centre of which was an old, yet strong-looking, man, chained to the floor. His head tilted up as his eyelids snapped open, revealing orbs of pure gold.

| -|o |

I lunged forward, breathing heavily, even though every breath felt like I was inhaling gravel. I closed my eyes, calming myself. A day. For them, it had been a day. For me? I did not know, but it had surely been longer. I pushed the thought away, as well as the vision of the Romans. It would only distract me from my quest, a quest in which I now knew my destination: the base of the pit. And I pushed the thoughts of the man away too. Whoever he was imprisoned, and wouldn't be a problem.

I struggled to my feet, continuing my silent journey down the winding tunnels in the flesh of Tartarus. I had to find the exit, the way into the central cone, for that was how I would reach the Doors.

I strode onwards, stopping only to sleep (thankfully void of dreams), stumbling through the winding caverns, having to backtrack on several occasions after picking the wrong route and hitting a dead end. I could not really grasp how long I had been here, for I could not even trust my sleep cycle anymore. I knew not if the air of Tartarus affected my need for sleep, nor did I know how long I had slept. In fact, there were several occasions in which I woke up, not remembering having gone to sleep. I was thankful that I had not encountered another monster, unlikely as it was, though I chalked it down to the Fates compensating for the luck they had given me previously.

At long last, however long that last may be, the dull red glow seemed to intensify, as well as the pain I received from the acidic air (my skin was now a dirty red, with burnt patches on the soles of my feet), as I found myself staring at down the corridor that ended in the sheer drop that was the pit itself. Of course, that was when my luck had to run out.

With a mighty, animalistic bellow, the nearest pustule burst open, with a giant hulking figure falling out. I knew instantly what it was. It was one of the first monsters I had ever faced, a beast I had enough trouble with on the surface, let alone in the monster-enhancing demigod-weakening air of Tartarus.

It was the Minotaur, and it looked royally ticked off.

What made it worse was that it wasn't like I had first met it, almost naked and unarmed - I could have dealt with that - rather, it was clad in thick, bulky armour, carrying its hulking axe which I had encountered a year before. I gulped. This wasn't good. "Hiya, beefcake, how about we let bygones be bygones, yeah? We don't have to fight, right?"

The minotaur seemed to disagree. It let out a mighty bellow, charging straight at me, its axe trailing behind it. I rolled out of the way, uncapping Riptide as I did, before swinging forward, intending to strike an early blow. Unfortunately, like the other monsters I had encountered, it seemed to have agility that did not match its form, as it quickly spun around, blocking my strike with the flat of its axe, stunning me momentarily. It utilised that moment, kicking me in the chest, causing me to tumble backwards, my head hitting an outcrop with a notable crack. Great. The monsters even seemed to be smarter. Dazed, I watched as the Minotaur strolled over towards me, its axe trailing lazily behind it.

Legs shaking, I struggled to my feet, absently noting the warm blood that dripped down my back, soothing my back.

"You've been working out?" I slurred. "Coz it's working." The beast swung a meaty fist at me, catching me on the jaw, causing me to fall back over, thankfully avoiding the outcrop.

"Come on, Burger King, let's just treat this like the old days, y'know, where you just roll over and d-yikes!" I barely dodged the blade of the axe as it cleaved down beside me; as it was, the razor sharp blade tore a hole in my sleeve.

"Hey! That was my only jacket!" It did not seem to care, swinging back around, catching me in the stomach with its elbow, causing me to double over, stumbling to a stop against an outcrop.

So this was how I was going to die. Alone, in the dark tunnels of Tartarus, a failure. Well, never let it be said that I wasn't going down without a fight. "Bring it, Bull Face."

Time seemed to slow down as the axe swung down at me, my sword arm desperately lifting Riptide in a last ditch effort to block the inevitable strike. I simply did not have the strength to block such a blow.

And then time sped back up, and the axe hit my blade with a mighty clang, before my eyes were filled with a blinding, golden light as I was flung backwards, hitting my head against the wall for the second time, and my mind was lost to unconsciousness.

| -|o |

I woke up groggily, which was a surprise, as I did not expect to be tired as a ghost. Nor did I expect my head to hurt so much. Slowly, I cracked an eye open, surprised to see the hellish landscape before me. I survived?

I pushed myself up, stumbling forward, to find the Minotaur lying on the floor, in a pool of its own blood (probably some of mine too) as it slowly disintegrated. At least I knew I wasn't unconscious for long.

I frowned. What had killed it? I studied the beast, but I did not find the cause until it had disappeared, for among the dust lay a small shard of metal, jagged and broken. My heart sank.

Sure enough, there were more shards around me, one even lodged in my kneecap (just goes to show my level of pain tolerance when I didn't even realise it was there), and lying the furthest away was a leather wrapped hilt.

Riptide was no more.

I lay there sobbing; my eldest weapon, the only sword that I had ever felt was right, gone, snapped in half a dozen pieces. My one prized possession, cruelly taken, like the life of Annabeth. I froze. Annabeth. I couldn't remember her face. She was gone, and I couldn't remember her face beyond the stormy grey eyes and golden locks; even those felt incomplete, like I was missing details. And so I wept even more, clutching the shards of my loyal weapon.

After some time, my hand had found its way into my pocket, and I could feel a moderately sized, hard object made of some sort of cold metal. Frowning, I pulled it out, realising it was indeed a golden drachma. I turned it around in my hand, pondering the currency. Iris Messages were out of the question; Tartarus was out of her working area. Hermes Express? I seemed to remember him once mentioning that he could ship things out of Tartarus, but not in. I shrugged. Might as well give it a try.

Retrieving the torn material that had once been my sleeve, I wrapped the shards in a bundle, before fetching a rock, slowly carving an address in. After a long period of time, I sat back, exhausted, staring at my work:

Hephaestus

The Forge

Mount Olympus

Empire State Building

New York

US

Please reforge my sword - PJ

Nodding to myself in satisfaction, I placed a drachma on top of the parcel, watching in relief as it disappeared with a sound reminiscent of a cash register. Sighing, I leant back, my mind once more retreating in the land of Morpheus.

| -|o |

After I had awoken, I stumbled towards the exit of the tunnel - towards the start of the exit. I pulled out Gift of Thieves, holding it in a swordsman grip - a shoddy replacement for Riptide, yet still capable of defence and parrying if need be. I stuck to the walls, hoping to stay out of sight of anything that may be lurking just beyond the cave's exit.

I need not have worried, for the only danger to be found was a sheer, jagged cliff, stretching down far below. Looking up, I could see the faint glimmer of daylight making its way through the membranous platforms that stretched across the pit's expanse, and below I could see only darkness, interrupted by more membranes.

Some of the membranes were small, barely large enough for a small hut, whereas others seemed to cover the entire expanse. Some were void of life, while others were teeming with it, such as the ominous looking Colosseum replica down below on one of the larger membranes.

I looked around, scanning the walls for my next stop. It would be difficult to continue for long here, for the air was thick with the poisonous magic, and the next platform down was too far for one journey.

After a while of contemplation, I settled on a small cave in the wall, about 18 feet below me, with a very small amount of membrane that would allow me easier access.

Gritting my teeth, I tucked my knife away, gripping onto the jagged walls. Oh why could it never be easy? As I slowly descended the walls, I felt my palms repetitively be pierced before healing, an endless symphony of recurring agony. But still, I continued on, for to stop now was surely death. Alas, my luck was not to continue.

When I only had about 8 feet left to go, I passed a pustule sitting precariously in an alcove in the wall. I noticed absently that inside was a small bird, with gleaming talons and a metallic beak. A Stymphalian Bird! I hadn't seen one in ages, not since the summer with the Golden Fleece. Of course, just as I was passing the pustule, it decided to burst open, the bird lunging directly at me. Fortunately, I whipped out my knife quickly enough, slamming the blade through its skull before it could harm me. Unfortunately, that meant I was no longer gripping onto the wall. A fact that I realised when I pitched backwards, falling head first towards the platform below; a fall that once again returned me to unconsciousness.

| -|o |

As I came to, I groggily noted that I had once again cheated death. My eyes sliding open, I sighed in relief to see Doroklefton laying before me, having narrowly avoided falling down the pit before me. Slowly pushing myself up, I retrieved it, before turning around to survey the area.

I had, thankfully, landed in the right place, and thankfully, the cave didn't seem too deep; just a dead end with a largish alcove on the right, nowhere to get lost. And then I entered the alcove.

Inside was the old man from my dream, chained to the ground like a common criminal. As I came in, just like my dreams, his head tilted up, his eyes opening to reveal orbs of pure gold. The man smirked, and it was a cruel smirk, one promising pain and misery in the near future.

"Hello, grandson," Kronos sneered, his voice like a knife scraping against stone. "Long time, no see."

A/N: So, how was that Jacksonians? Good? Bad? Not sure? Let me know in the reviews!

So, if any of you have read any of my previous (discontinued) works, you may know that I am going through a major over hall in my Fanfiction. My previous works have been... messy, and to be frank (Zhang), are a bit of an embarrassment. Apart from Dreams: that one I just got board of the dream segment, and can't be bothered to get to the main bit. Who knows? Maybe I might continue it. I don't know.

So, over hall: old fics cancelled? Check. New profile page? Coming soon. New style with better planning? I hope so.

So, from now on, instead of me going trigger happy with plot bunnies, I'm sticking to this plan: occasional one-shots (like 'I heard that' - do check that out if you like Harry Potter), sporadic updates for my Crack-Fic story 'Fun With Names' (Also Harry Potter, but very easy to write chapters for. Hmm... perhaps I should post another one. Will have to get on to that) and finally this: 'Lessons of the Pit'.

I have a very big plan for this, or rather, 'The Tartarian Legacy'. That's right. As you can see in the summary, this will be a series, with ten planned instalments with others highlighted as a possibility. The aim of this is to create a more mature, more serious fanfic, with longer, more engaging chapters, better writing and combat scenes (with more of the latter than I had done previously), better world building and better, more inclusive dialogue. So, basically, everything better.

The first instalment, 'Lessons of the Pit', will only take place in Tartarus, though *spoiler*he will escape at the end*end spoiler. It has a more expansive and more detailed plan than any of my other fics, so hopefully I can find the time and effort to complete this.

Anyway, see you all next time, please favourite, follow and review, and if you have any questions, feel free to send me a PM.

This is JaguarAJG, signing off.