So here's three more characters cleared up. Kind of. Sorry again for slow updates.

Fenix Fireblaze: Glad you're hooked XD I've loved your reviews on my other stories, so.

Bolle Accidentali: Hardcore Percabeth shipper, much? XD In all seriousness, though, it's precisely because he doesn't know what she's been through that he's being so unfair.

AthenaMonaLisa: YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE! Hahahaha!

Word Count: 2,510

"Lord Kronos," Hyperion called as they approached the throne.

"Hyperion," Kronos greeted him with a chilling smile. "What brings you to my throne room, brother?" His eyes settled on Annabeth, and he raised an eyebrow. She refused to meet his gaze.

"I'm afraid your favorite servant is a little too nosy for her own good," Hyperion purred, but his eyes glowed dangerously. "She found our guest in her old cell."

"Is that so?" Annabeth fixed her stare on the arm of his chair, tracing the details she herself had overseen carved into it, so she wouldn't have to look either Titan in the face. "And whatever were you doing down there?"

She swallowed. "I was walking past the entrance to the dungeon and heard him shouting my name."

"Him?"

She looked up suddenly, angry. "Yes, him. Percy. Percy Jackson. Whom you told me was dead." She clenched her hands into fists. "You lied to me."

Kronos leaned back in his throne. "What else is new?"

"You tricked me," she hissed. "You told me he was dead. You tricked me into taking this." She thrust her arm out, showing the brand clearly. The constant reminder of the biggest mistake of her life.

"You took up my service of your own free will."

"That depends on your definition of free will, doesn't it?" she snapped, nerves far past frayed.

She knew it was a mistake immediately. He rose to his feet, towering over her. Even Hyperion tensed beside her. "You forget your place," Kronos warned, his voice deathly quiet. "You are nothing, girl. You are alive only because I choose to keep you that way. You would do well to remember that. Perhaps you need a reminder."

Annabeth winced back. "No," she whispered. "No, please."

"Be silent," he said, and she was. "Hyperion, hold court until I return." Before anyone could react to that statement, Kronos snapped his fingers, and the world around Annabeth dissolved.

When she snapped back into reality, nauseous from the sensation, both of them were standing in her room, alone, Kronos back to a human size, though still taller than her. "You worthless, miserable girl," he snarled, striding toward her, and she backed away instinctively until she hit the dresser, setting everything on it shaking and knocking several things off. "How dare you challenge my authority?" He grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, and she cried out in pain. "How dare you, you sniveling brat? Have you forgotten what this means?" He yanked her arm up in front of her so that she could see the mark, upside down as it was from her perspective, burned into her forearm. He brushed his hand roughly over the brand, and it glowed with golden light, burning as if it had been freshly set into her skin. She gasped, the air leaving her lungs with the fresh wave of pain that she knew with a chilling certainty was only the beginning.

"Do you know what this mark means?" he repeated, face inches from hers, making her skin burn at the power of his presence. "It means you can't fight me. It means you can't disobey me. I own you, Annabeth Chase, and I'll own you until the day your worthless mortal soul leaves this body. You belong to me." He snatched the chain around her neck, lifting the Celestial bronze amulet free of her shirt, where it normally lay hidden. "Maybe you need a reminder."

He yanked the chain and the magnetic clasp snapped apart, leaving the necklace in his hand. Annabeth flinched as she felt the glamour around her dissipate. With his free hand, Kronos grabbed her face, forcing her to look in the mirror. "Remember what happens when you displease me?"

She fought back tears as she stared at her reflection, her real reflection, trying to focus on her eyes so she didn't have to see the rest. She would not cry, not in front of Kronos. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Because despite what he said, she still fought in all her small ways, all the ways she could.

"Well?" he asked, and she choked out a whisper.

"Yes, Lord Kronos."

"Good girl. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that I still have to punish you for being where you shouldn't have been." Without warning, he backhanded her; she fell backward over the chair even as it overturned, the force of the blow throwing her to the floor a few feet away. She curled instinctively into a ball, a thoughtless effort to protect herself, but it didn't matter. He may have been in a human size, but he was still far stronger than any human, and her cowering attempt to protect herself only made him angry. He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and flung her across the room, upsetting the bookshelf she slammed into and causing a minor avalanche of books across the floor around her. She slid to the floor with a groan, only to be snatched up again by the Titan, who pinned her against the bookshelf, burning forearm across her neck. She gasped, her hands flying to her throat in a vain attempt to free her airway as he put pressure on her windpipe. Spots danced in her vision even as she knew he wouldn't kill her – would he?

No. No such mercy would be shown today. Instead, she found herself on the floor again a second later, gagging and choking as she fought for air, though it felt like she was breathing thorns. He stood watching her for a moment, then said, "Try to remember who's in charge here, Chase." Casting a glance around the chaotic mess of her quarters, he added, "And clean this up." Then he was gone, in a blink, doubtlessly back to his throne room.

When Annabeth felt like she might be able to stand again, she struggled to her feet. Stumbling to the dresser, she found the discarded necklace with its glamour spell and clasped it around her neck again with shaking fingers, unable to bear the sight in the mirror any longer. The fresh bruises and scrapes vanished under the glamour as well. Of course. The Titan Lord couldn't have his favorite slave looking like the broken monster he'd turned her into. Even if they all knew what was really under Hecate's magic.

Will's quiver was empty. Which was strange, because it was never empty – a blessing from his father, Apollo.

Of course, Apollo being dead, or weakened and imprisoned at least, was probably a factor in that. It made sense that his magic would be gone. Unfortunately, that was rather inconvenient for Will when there was a Minotaur charging down on him and he had no arrows left and little skill with a knife, much less a sword.

Enter the run-and-hide routine which seemed to be getting more and more popular in this day and age.

Will leaped over a trash can that had somehow gotten overturned and careened around the side of the building, just as the Minotaur crashed into the alley he'd taken. The thing's nose was just too good. He couldn't seem to lose it. Finding himself out on the open highway again, he cursed. There was no way he'd make it across the street and into a safe spot before -

A bellow alerted him to the fact that the Minotaur had caught up again. He ducked and rolled as razor sharp horns swept overhead, coming to his feet and backing up as the monster turned to face him The Minotaur scraped his great hooves against the pavement as he readied himself to charge, and Will knew this was going to be the end of the line.

That was when he took another step back and discovered that there was no ground underneath him anymore. The earth rumbled and split, and just as the Minotaur bore down on him, Will fell headlong into the darkness, leaving the Minotaur to trip and fall over the gap not large enough for him to squeeze through.

Will must have blacked out at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was sore all over and flat on his back in the middle of a raging battle.

Things were fighting all around him in the darkness; as his eyes adjusted, Will could see hellhounds and skeletal warriors in everything from bronze armor to combat fatigues clashing with dracaenae and Cyclopes. He seemed to be in an enormous cave, the ceiling so high above he wasn't sure how he'd survived the fall without becoming a grease splatter on the stone below, or at least breaking every bone in his body. He couldn't see so much as a glimmer of light from the split where the earth had swallowed him up.

Suddenly, teeth flashed as one of the monsters picked up his scent and bore down on him. Will, immobilized, could do nothing but watch as the creature, impossible to make out in the gloom, bunched its muscles and leaped -

– right into a short but strong blade, wicked sharp and black as a nightmare.

The monster snarled and exploded into dust, which promptly fell all over Will. He brushed himself off and looked up at his savior. "Thanks," he said breathlessly. Then the small soldier pulled his skull-shaped visor up so his face was clear, and Will did a double take. "Nico?"

Nico diAngelo scowled down at him. Will had only met the son of Hades a few times, last year after the Battle of Manhattan. He'd never struck Will as a very friendly character, but Will suspected there was more to it. "That's me. And you're Will Solace. How did you get down here?"

"I fell," Will said, pointing up at the ceiling.

"You fell."

"There was a Minotaur chasing me. I was a little distracted."

"I see." Nico yelped and slashed blindly as a dracaena lunged at him. A few strokes later, she had fallen, but she'd left a long scratch down Nico's arm. Will struggled to his feet, ignoring his aching body's complaints.

"We're not safe here," he started.

"Gee, you don't say," Nico snapped.

Will gave him a withering look. "Is there anywhere we can go, get away from all this?"

Nico glanced up at the ceiling, as if calculating. "We could go to my father's palace," he said slowly. "But I'm not sure you want to do that."

"Your father," Will said, blinking as he tried to come to terms with that. "You mean -"

"Yes," Nico agreed sourly. "You somehow managed to fall straight into the Underworld. Welcome to Hades."

A slice of light fell across the cell, blinking with a shadow as someone entered the hallway and then going out as the outer door closed. It was replaced by the reddish glow of a torch. "Are you awake?" The occupant of the cell didn't reply. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I... I was delayed."

"It's hard to tell time when you can never see the sun." The words were impassionate, rough, mumbled around a split lip.

The boy flinched, too used to blows from his new masters. "Of course. Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." She shifted, stretching out a sore muscle – one of many. "I'm just the entertainment."

He didn't respond to that. After an awkward moment, he slid a tray under the door into her reach. She resisted the urge to snatch at the food, scanty as it was, and made a point of picking up the bread and inspecting it carefully before knocking her knuckles against the small loaf, producing a hollow sound. "They're feeding me rocks again, I see." He didn't react. "Did our gracious hosts deign to give me butter with this?"

"We're all out of butter upstairs," he replied. Another of our spies gone? There are too few already. "But maybe next time they'll give you a hacksaw so you can cut it up, at least."

She looked at him, surprise flashing over her face for a split second before the mask fell again. "That would be nice." She thought for a moment, considering, then knocked the hunk of bread hard against the wall so it cracked open, splitting. She tore a bite out of the interior, which, while tough and chewy, was at least not the consistency of marble like the crust. "Unfortunately, not everything splits open as easily as bread. I can make do. No need for them to inconvenience themselves on my behalf." She peeled away a fragment of crust and tossed it aside carelessly.

He blinked, but otherwise didn't react. Good for him. "So you know... they've got a fight scheduled for you in an hour."

"Oh, goodie," she said dryly. "I'd better eat fast, then. You know what they say – the show must go on." Even if the show might kill me.

He was silent again. She sighed to herself, wrapping her braid around her wrist once before letting it fall back behind her. What are you thinking? she asked herself silently. They would have come to get you.

But she knew they couldn't risk that. She was managing. She was surviving. She couldn't risk the Underground being exposed because they came to rescue her. There was too much at stake. One life wasn't worth it, despite what they seemed to think. She had disapproved of the coded messages being passed between them in the first place, but there was little she could do about that.

"Go on, get out of here," she said quietly. "I'm sure you have other duties to get to."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, "maybe." At the door, he paused. "Good luck, praetor."

She shook her head at the whisper. "I'm no praetor anymore."

He hesitated. "You'll always be praetor to me." Then the door closed, leaving Reyna in darkness to wait for the Titans to come fetch her whenever the fancy struck them so she could fight in their arena. A gladiator less skilled would have been slain weeks ago. Reyna had survived, barely, at the cost of her freedom, her leadership, and the right to have anyone to talk to. Solitary confinement. It was beginning to drive her mad – at least, she thought it was, but it was hard to tell when there was no one to compare sanity levels with.

Reyna sighed and looked at the marks on her forearm. They, along with the Imperial gold breastplate and greaves that had been returned to her when her status as gladiator had been made official, were all that was left of the legion now. She tugged at her purple T-shirt with its faded gold insignia idly (though she could see neither one in the darkness), at once restless and absolutely lacking in energy. It was a feeling that often plagued her these days.

One hour. One hour before she could see the sun again. Just in time to fight for her life, again.

She rubbed her forehead and finished her meager meal.

Well, she's alive, at least... hehe...

Fair warning: while I have only the barest bones of a plot sketched out, I do know that at some point in the (probably near) future there will be some Jeyna cropping up. I don't really ship Jeyna, but it does make sense for this story, since Jason hasn't even met Piper yet. It won't be anything hot-and-heavy, and it won't be permanent. Just fair warning. Stick with me XD

Don't kill the author. Reviews, please! Thank you for reading, and I'll see y'all next time!