On the porch of the big house, Angron sat in a rocking chair across from Dionysus, the god gesturing lewdly with his arms for added effect for his story.

"After that," Dionysus sang. "I took his city and his daughter. Left him a little heir to ra-"

"You can't leave!" Thalia screamed.

Angron and the god frowned, both turning to regard her. Thalia's lips were pressed into a thin line and a foot was tapping the ground relentlessly.

Dionysus glared at her. "Interrupting a god can be fatal, Thadius."

"Thalia!" she thundered.

"I apologize on her behalf, Lord Dionysus," Angron said. "I'll sort this out."

He stood and Dionysus huffed. The wine god had little love for his charges at the best of times, and it seemed to be mutual. Angron stepped off the porch and walked towards the beach, sure that Thalia would follow.

"You can't leave!" she repeated, louder this time.

He rolled his eyes. She just could not wait until they were at the beach for a good view, few ears, and no Athena children around to snitch about his plans to their mother. Maybe that was why she was being so loud about it. "Why not?" he questioned.

"Annabeth would be sad."

Angron scoffed. That little thing was the worst of the snitches.

Thalia changed tactics. "Who'll teach weapon skills?"

"Chiron, Luke is a promising candidate, or you could bargain with the Rich One for a work release permit for Achilles. Hector of Troy comes with my personal recommendation. You'll probably have an easier time getting him from my-"

"Stop!"

And they did. They were at the tree line where the beach met the wild. Angron leaned against a tree, the bark feeling pleasantly rough through his long sleeve. Thalia looked drained, all the previous anger bleeding out of her. Angron saw the dark bags under her eyes and wondered how long it had been since she had a full night's sleep.

"Why do you have to leave?" she muttered.

The son of Ares shrugged, and said, "I don't have to leave, I want to leave."

A green hand melted from the tree, snaking around his waist and up his shirt. Thalia's eyes went from the hand fondling his abs to his eyes and back, waiting.

If she was hoping he would stop the nymph, she would be disappointed. There was a distinct lack of grown, mortal women within the camp. So, nymphs would have to do. Angron smirked when the spirit's hand slipped down his waistband and wrapped around his length. Thalia looked prepared to commit herbicide.

"You stop her, or I will," she warned.

Angron placed a hand on the nymph's arm, caressing it gently. The hand squeezed his member and pulled away.

"You're disgusting," Thalia sneered. "You don't even know her!"

Angron was not about to discuss his sex life with her, or anyone else. Well, except Dionysus, but it was different with the wine god. That god's story was the best possible outcome for a demigod like Angron. He supposed that made Dionysus his role model. As far as gods went... he could have chosen worst.

The matter of the temperamental child of Zeus in front of him took precedence over his choice in role models. "How about I promise to visit every other month for a week or two?" he bargained.

The rage left her then, a fragile hope taking its place. "You mean that?"

No.

Angron nodded. "On the condition that you tell me how you found out."

"...Annabeth," Thalia revealed, a guilty look on her face. "She said you scrap off more food than usual the nights before you plan to leave."

Angron worked his jaw back and forth. He refused to show how impressed he was by the little terror's deduction skills. He would sacrifice food to Hermès for an assist if need be and to Hades to grease the wheels in case Athena literally caught him with his pants down.

At least now he knew how Wisdom managed to be at the boundary for every one of his attempts to leave. She never said a word when they met, though. The goddess would just stand there, begging him with her eyes to step across that invisible border and experience her fury. He grunted. "Alright, you can go now."

Thalia did not move an inch, glaring at him like he was some kind of criminal. Enough was enough, though. Angron glared back and Thalia flinched.

"You can leave, or you can watch, choose."

The green hand came back, going straight for his manhood. The nymph stroked him slowly, but Angron kept his glare on Thalia. He saw tears gather in the corners of her eyes, but tears would not work on him. She took off before the first one fell.

It was for the best; the son of Violence had zero intentions of settling down. Well, that was not entirely true, but Wisdom would rather keep him in a display case for all eternity than be in a relationship with him.

Angron leaned away from the tree and the nymph came free with him, flush against his back. He pulled her hand out of his pants and turned look at her: green eyes, purple hair, lean, and a full head shorter than him. He kept the frown from his face and thoughts of Wisdom at bay with two handfuls of the nymph's backside. The demigod lifted her and she wrapped her slim legs around his waist.

Angron gave his father a fourth of his steak that night. It burned quickly, produced a bit of smoke. He did not stick around to figure out what it smelled like this time. The demigod made his way over to Wisdom's table, his target in the middle of talking with one of the other children. "Annabeth," he said. "Do you have a moment?"

The little girl turned in her seat to stare up at him. So did her siblings. A dozen sets of identical grey eyes fixated on his face. Angron wondered if, in a different life, he would have had a little one sitting here with them.

"Did my mom want you to tell me something?" Annabeth asked.

He almost ruined his plan by glaring. "You do understand I have a life and mind of my own, right?"

At least she looked embarrassed. He went to a knee so that they were eye-to-eye; children loved that kind of thing. "Hey, don't worry about it," he soothed. "I came over here because I, by no push from your mother, wanted to offer you some one-on-one training."

Her little eyebrows shot high. Annabeth almost fell out of her seat trying to wrap her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cheered.

Angron smiled, patting her back gently. "Two days from now, after lunch, the arena, don't be late."

"I won't!"

Angron left the table as her siblings gave her the fifth degree over 'blatant favoritism by mom.' He blocked it out, took his seat next to Dionysus, and ate his food.

"I didn't take you for the charitable type," the god accused.

The demigod finished chewing and swallowed before he responded. "You said I should interact with the campers more. Annabeth's a camper."

Dionysus scoffed. They both knew he had not been referring to her or her siblings. "They won't stop sulking," the god began. "I keep receiving complaints of them barely interacting with other campers, sleeping in past breakfast, picking fights over the slightest offense, the list goes on."

"I don't like them," Angron said frankly. "I doubt that's an uncommon opinion in this camp."

Dionysus raised a finger. "But your opinion is the only one they care about, and you made your distaste known to their faces."

"It was that or deal with them clinging to me."

Dionysus rolled his eyes. "You're their hero."

"I'm hardly a good role model, my lord."

"That just means you're a greek hero."

They lapsed into silence after that. Angron took the time to eat his food. He truly did find his siblings repugnant, all bluster and loud shouting. They put no real thought into their actions, nor did they consider the consequences of them. So, being the man that he was, he told them exactly that to their faces, so they understood where everything stood. Angron did not care if they took it to heart. If it had been up to him, they would have never met him. Thinking of which, the demigod turned to the wine god. "I need a favor, my lord," he said.

Dionysus smiled, it was far too wide and showed too many teeth. "A favor? Now you sound like a camper."

Angron frowned and continued, "I'm leaving here tomorrow." Now Dionysus frowned, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "And I'd appreciate it if I was 'in quarantine' for some sickness or another for a few days."

The wine god looked out over the campers as he spoke. "I know that you are in disfavor with my sister, Angron. This camp is the safest place for you, it's neutral ground."

"I don't care about being safe, my lord. I'm trying to live my life."

The god's jaw tightened, and he turned a glare on him. Angron met those cauldrons of blackish-purple fire evenly; he would not be intimidated into submission.

"... Seven days," Dionysus finally said. "No more than that."

Angron smiled. A nymph stepped in close to him, running a hand down his bicep as she bent forward to take his plate in hand. He wrapped one of his own around her thigh, just above her knee, turned to regard her, and dragged the hand up slowly. In seconds, his hand had disappeared up her mid-thigh long dress. She paused, her fingers wrapped tightly around the empty plate, waiting. Angron took his hand off just shy of her snatch. The nymph whined low in her throat. She roughly yanked the plate off the table, leaving his side in quick strides. He turned back to look at the god and found him staring, approval brimming in his eyes.

"I'll burn down a winery in sacrifice to you soon," Angron promised.

Dionysus huffed a laugh and said, "Where will you go?"

"Las Vegas. She hates it with a passion, and I made sure to voice the same opinion to her on a few occasions."

Dionysus unfolded his arms, his black eyebrows scrunching together. "How long have you been planning this?"

Angron chuckled, turned to face the packed dining hall, and took a sip from his cup. "My current circumstances have always been a possibility in my mind," he admitted. "The price of having a god's attention."

"...I think you have more than just her attention."

Angron blinked and turned to the god. He could not possibly be suggesting he had taken her virginity. The look on the wine god's face suggested that he did. "She's still a maiden."

"Be careful, Angron," the god demanded.

Angron nodded, stood, and left for the Big House. The stares of his siblings followed him out. They really were never supposed to meet.

He deposited the clothes gifted to him by Wisdom in a pile on his bed. Knowing her as he did, they likely had some form of divide tracker in them. In their place, he wore white shoes, blue jeans, and a purple shirt, all of it courtesy of Dionysus.

It was well before dawn as he sprinted through the woods. A harpy flew overhead, took a look at him, and went back the way she came. He'd have to burn down two wineries for the mad god. Once he made it to the road, he clicked his key fob and a white 1979 Porsche 911 materialized, roaring. Angron grinned. He put distance between him and the camp, his odometer over a hundred the entire time to New York.

He was on a plane, flying first class to Las Vegas when dawn finally came. There was no secret bartender amongst the attendants on this flight, unfortunately. Angron ordered food and sat in silence.

No matter how fervently Wisdom searched, the son of Ares would get five, maybe seven, years of freedom before she found him. Dionysus had given him seven days and he only planned to be in Las Vegas for two. He supposed he could stay longer. The cash repository he had in the desert would keep well for an extra day. Or he could walk into the Lotus and spend a century or three in bliss. By that point, Angron hoped she would be too happy from finding him alive to remember what he'd said on that plane to New York.

The demigod nodded to himself. The Lotus it was. If he never found his way out, well, there were worse ways to spend eternity. A blue-eyed attendant brought his food. He ate quietly and watched the clouds after.

Angron had brought nothing but the clothes on his back to Las Vegas. Which made his trip from the plane to the exit a straight shot. He stepped out into the afternoon heat feeling more than a little happy. The Lotus was a legendary experience if his father was to be believed.

"I want you to know," a familiar voice said, directly behind Angron.

The demigod spun on his heel. Wisdom was right there: faded grey shirt, blue jeans, blond hair, grey eyes, and a frown on her face.

"That Annabeth has been praying to me since eight in the morning for your swift recovery."

The frown morphed into something ugly. He took two steps back, and she took three forwards.

"Imagine my surprise when I looked in your room and found it empty," she continued. "Oh, Dionysus held out for you for longer than I expected, but he gave you up all the same."

"What did you do to him?" he asked.

"You should be more worried about what I'm going to do to you."

"I have a right to live my life, Athena," Angron growled.

Athena grabbed a fist full of his shirt, growing in height till she matched his own. Her breaths were coming out in hot puffs.

"You don't," she grunted. "Your mind, your body, your soul are mine, and only mine. Which is why no nymph in that camp will ever touch you again."

Angron went cold inside. "How did you know about that?" he whispered.

Athena snarled. The world shift like he had spun too quickly, and then they were in a penthouse overlooking the New York skyline: black and grey decor, black and white tiled floor, a few plants, a tv mounted to the living room wall. Athena picked him up by his shirt and smashed him into the tiles. A moan turned into a wheeze when she put her foot on his sternum and pressed.

"You mean how did I know about them?" she hissed. "I was watching you, you stupid whore. Every. Single. Time!"

...Oh fuck.

Athena fell upon him, straddling his waist. She traced a finger along his jawline. The intimacy of the action at odds with the hellish rage in her eyes. "I'm going to break you, Angron," she whispered. A hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed. "And then... And then I'm going to put you back in that bed where you should have been. And if you, if you ever let anyone touch what's mine again. It won't end well for you."

And then the beating started. Angron's left ulna and radius were the first things to break, but then it was all breaking. His ribs, his right ulna, his left femur, his nose, his right eye socket, his left clavicle, breaking, breaking, breaking. He cried, he pleaded, and she just kept snarling.

Angron's vision fell out of focus and he begged for the sweet release of death. The beating stopped. He could hear her ragged breathing above him. The son of war was in agony from his wounds: internal bleeding in multiple locations, punctured lungs, estimated time till death was fifteen seconds. Angron glared up at her with his sole functioning eye. He could make that work.

Angron forced his mouth to work and garbled, "...H- Hate you... Al-always h- have."

Athena laughed, long, loud, and mocking. He knew she had never loved anything more than her own voice. Visual details were beyond him now. The world was a fading blur and she was just a weird smear of colors. It would not be long now.

"I'm surprised you can talk," she crooned. "Do you really think I'd believe that? I know your feelings, Angron. How badly you yearn for me. Drowning yourself in loose women to hurt me because I won't submit to you. Don't think you can." –Wisdom made a choking sound like she had been punched in her throat– "What?"

Angron could not smile or feel his body anymore, but he laughed in his deteriorating mind. Three seconds.

"No! No!" Athena screamed.

Too late you, you...