Sorry for the wait!

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…Or guy…

Chapter Three

"This is either really cool," whispers Percy in Annabeth's ear, "or really, really creepy."

"It's the latter one!" Cato's cheerful voice goads her deeper into the darkness.

Annabeth is unnerved by the infinite darkness all around her. The ground is smooth and steady on its slight downward decline, but worry stabs her gut. Something feels fundamentally wrong about the underground tunnel. The stench of rotting seaweed and stale saltwater fills the corridors, an awful perfume. Every so often, the group will reach a glowing alter, a memorial to either a god or a titan, or, once, a fallen demititan.

"How much longer?" wails Brendon like a spoiled child from somewhere in the darkness to Annabeth's left. His voice is distant and close at the same time, rebounding off the sides of the tunnel to contort the sound. Her hold around her knife tightens.

"Shut up," groans Nico. The Ghost King can probably see perfectly fine in the darkened light.

"Not much further," coaxes Cato. "Don't worry, we'll be to the city soon. I think you guys will like it there. The buildings were all created by an architect, like you, Annabeth. They were hand-carved out of the stone. Or tooth-carved. We used our fangs. There's always dancing and singing and people helping other people. See, we aren't divided like you demigods into cabins or anything. We all chill together, regardless of immortal parent. It strengthens our bonds and forms links between people. Like a wolf pack, I guess you could say."

"Really?" Annabeth is bizarrely intrigued. "How have you guys kept under the radar for so long?"

She can almost feel Cato shrug. "Well, we used to get to place to place by the Labyrinth. It would allow us passage, for some reason. Maybe it thought we had cute smiles. But that option isn't available anymore, so I don't know how we're going to keep together. We might need to burrow in some new tunnels connecting our sanctuaries."

"Wouldn't it be easier to use something like, I don't know, a train?" asks Percy.

"In theory, yes," agrees Cato. The tunnel begins to slope downwards. "But we've got nearly a thousand people hiding down here. It would be really costly to always be shipping them around."

"A thousand?" exclaims Percy.

Nico grunts. "I knew your numbers were impressive, Cato, but that's slightly frightening."

"Well, you have to take the demigods who didn't go to Camp Half-Blood into account," points out Brendon analytically. "A lot of demigods find it very comforting underneath the stone, Nico's brothers and sisters being a fine example. Minor demigods have found sanctuary with us for centuries. Plus, a lot of the more powerful demititans, like Cato and Phillips, age really, really slowly. Cato's close to a thousand himself, in years."

Annabeth's jaw drops.

"No." Cato's voice is bashful. "It's over a thousand, but a gentleman never tells his age."

"There's something wrong with that logic," mutters Nico from the shadows. "Oh, yeah. The answer is: everything."

"Don't hate." Cato sounds offended. "Anyway, we're going to arrive at the city gates in a matter of minutes. They're pretty cool; you should get a kick out of them, Annabeth. We'll meet Cora there. Hopefully she's cooled off a bit."

"Your city," comments Annabeth, curiosity waxing. "What is it like there? I mean, you said city, so I assume it's bigger than our camp. But are there buildings down there?" Her throat tightens. "Families? Because if not, you need to redefine your vocabulary."

Annabeth can feel Cato's smile. "I meant what I said. City. And it's not even the biggest civilization under the ground. There's mothers and daughters and fathers and sons dancing in the streets. Not at all like anything you've ever come across. Paradise, some say. But paradise comes with a price, and I make sure that this place has none."

"Wait, you make sure?" questions Percy, his tone puzzled.

"Uh, I'm going to go scout ahead." Cato's presence leaves the area. "Bye."

Brendon chuckles. "He's so humble. So shy."

"It's ridiculous," mutters Nico darkly. "It doesn't even matter so much. He's just being noble."

"What do you mean?" questions Annabeth, continuing to amble along in the darkness. Her mind ticks away. "Why is he being noble?"

"You're a smart girl." Brendon's voice is unusually skeptical. For some reason, she knows he's studying her in the darkness, as if Percy's brother can see through the shadows. "Think of it yourself. The way he holds himself, the way we treat him, the way he fights for peace. Who is Cato?"

Annabeth freezes in her spot, Percy clumsily bumping into her from behind. Her mind scratches away the impossibilities to reach a nearly impossible conclusion. "He's some sort of leader," she whispers in disbelief. "Some sort of general."

"He's more than that." Nico's voice is steely. "He's their leader in war. They look to him. He's an alpha, despite his genteel attitude. Everyone knows who he is. He's the closest thing we have to a god."

"Which pretty much won him my approval," adds Brendon.

"Whoa, you guys run on a monarchy?" wonders Percy. "Isn't that, like, not at all American? And Cato, of all dudes?"

"Not a monarchy," corrects Brendon. "It's nothing like anything around today. We basically come up with rules ourselves; basic conducts, pieced together by ancients. On occasion, we hold a giant Gathering to bend the rules or remove them or add them or something. We don't have much in the way of government, more like wolves do. Alpha and Omega instincts hold strong. But if anyone becomes corrupted, we join forces and take them down. Cato's really respected. And the King and Queen are adored, sort of like the ultimate alphas. They don't really have much power over their people unless it is a time of war. I mean, they hold weight, but they can be overruled. And they can be removed at any time."

Annabeth frowns. "That sounds like an awfully finicky system."

"Maybe for demigods." Nico seems amused. "You are finicky. But titans are the wolves of the world, and wolves cooperate beautifully. There have been no flaws in their governing in recorded history."

"That's either amazing or creepy." Percy shrugs against Annabeth. "I don't know."

"It's a bit of both," laughs Brendon. "I didn't like it at first in the slightest. As for Cato… well, you've only seen the tip of the iceberg. Not only is he an excellent general and warrior but he is an inspiring leader. The gentleness to the things he loves really are what sealed the deal; you haven't seen him with a child, but he's like a dad with every freaking one. They trust him and his kindness. They know the warmth in his eyes. I certainly did. He's the father a lot of them never had."

Annabeth studies the darkness doubtfully. "He wasn't there with me."

Brendon laughs from somewhere in the tunnel, the sound echoing off the walls eerily. "So, this little seven year old girl just happens to run into the only other half bloods in her side of the country? Right, that's going to happen. He would've taken you in, but that guy sees the future from time to time, and he knew that your path didn't lead away with him."

Annabeth stiffens like she'd been slapped. "He knew about me?"

"Yep." Nico's voice this time. "He knew about all of us. But he's a slave to destiny, unable to interrupt the fates of anyone, no matter how agonizing it may be to him. They say that his pain carves his soul. I think that his attitude's individual to him, though."

"Yeah," agrees Brendon. "It's funny how pain sharpens some people – people like you and I – but then the most beautiful of men rise from its dark grasp as well."

"He hasn't come back yet, sir," reports Travis, fingering the hem of his shirt nervously. "Chiron, Percy was supposed to go fetch Annabeth from her university and then ride the seahorses back here. But the latest he's said he'd be back by is done and gone."

"I see." Chiron's voice is neutral. "Where did he say he was picking her up from?"

Travis's brow furrows. "Well, he said he'd be going to Fire Island, sir. I don't know exactly where that is."

Chiron laces his fingers together, staring out the window broodingly. "Hmm," is all he says though, leaving Travis confused and in the dark.

Cato was right. Annabeth loves the gate.

It's not just the immense amount of architectural skill that must've gone into designing the swooping curves and the embellished brass décor, but also the care placed in carving the smooth marble from the rest of the white cavern, the love put into each and every angle of the design. Emanating from an ornate copper lock placed directly in the center of the twenty foot high, forty foot wide wall are tactful tendrils of white and gold and bronze with the occasional highlight of silver, swirling together in a lovely mass, only brightened by the light shining from a pinpoint hole in the ceiling high above. Some of the stone and metal strands twisted together are large, others are small as noodles. But twined together in a massive net around the keyhole, they maintain a magnificence she'd been unable to grant to anything in Olympus.

"Okay, that's very impressive," admits Percy.

"Of course it is." The deep voice calls from the shadows, where Annabeth's eyes can't reach. She whips around, hand resting on the dagger at her side. A regal white wolf steps into the light. "I knew the chick who designed it."

Annabeth's eyes dilate. True, she had seen the wolf before, but it hadn't been quite so striking with its fangs inches away from Percy's neck. Now, she can see and respect the wild beauty in the beast's stance. Her shoulders are broad and her chest and mane are fluffy, spread wide like a fan of albino fur. Her expressive pale sea green eyes are set beautifully on her face. Her ears are pricked in a formation of domination. Despite her impressive front size, her back half is slim and petite, thin until her fluffy tail. All of her paws are curbed, with the tips of black razorlike claws peering through her white fur.

"Cora!" greets Cato, spreading his arms and stepping in front of Annabeth and Percy. "We agreed you wouldn't rip their throats out."

Cora raises a lupine eyebrow. "You mean you agreed that and moved my head up and down in a nod. You really don't think you fooled anybody with that, did you?"

"Not really," he laughs, shaking his head. "But I had hoped you wouldn't kill them out of kindness."

"What is this kindness you speak of?" Cora grumbles. Casting a frustrated glance over her shoulder, she huffs. "Well, let them into my city if you must. I'm warning you though, Jackson – we've all seen your destruction. And you, Chase, goading him on. One step out of line, and in there, Cato won't be able to protect you."

A chill runs down Annabeth's spine at the malevolent tone in Cora's voice. Her uneasiness grows, bursting inside her chest.

"Cora," Nico scolds. His tone is lazily arrogant, saturated with disapproval. "I think that Cato and I can take all of your little puppies."

"Bring 'em on," chuckles Brendon, cracking his knuckles. "A bit of tussling is good for the ranks!"

"Don't bet against Percabeth yet," laughs Cato. His golden eyes lack their sparkle. "They're the highest ship of the moment. Bobbleheads on every street corner. I daresay that they'll be more than a little forgiving if their precious OTP screws up."

"They're not everybody's OTP," growls Cora. She finds her way to the center of the room. "Certainly not mine."

"Awww," coos Nico, tone buttery with feigned pity. "Is the poor puppy upset that the media isn't obsessed with her anymore?" The son of Hade's tone sharpens. "Wake up and smell the cookies, Cora. You and Cato are not the big thing."

"Good thing, too," harrumphs Cato. He glances towards Percy, eyes flicking to Annabeth and back, pity dripping from the gold. "You're going to be assaulted by the fans when you step in. They should be genteel enough – you're just demigods – but they'll be excited, and excitement sends the blood pumping."

Annabeth narrows her eyes. "You're making it sound like you're herding us into a pack of bloodthirsty sharks."

"Sharks are easy," mutters Percy. Annabeth jabs him in the ribs to silence him.

Cato smirks. "In a way, I suppose I am. Demigods are either loved or despised in our society, depending on the relation. You're young and naïve, with short lives and fifteen seconds of fame. You are our brothers and sisters, and we've fought side by side more times than I can count on both hands. At the same time, you are singlehandedly responsible for the massacre of thousands of my kindred in the Flee of the Titans, and murdered hundreds of children when you claimed America, the land you had exiled us into in the first place. You slaughtered Cora's sister." Ice glazes his golden eyes. "One could wonder what we possibly have to gain by allying ourselves to you."

Annabeth eyes Cora. The wolf develops a sudden interest in the ceiling, swallowing. Percy frowns. Brendon clears his throat.

Cato claps his hands abruptly, clearing his throat. "But, anyway, we have things to do, and people to see, and parties to crash and the likes. What stands in our way for the time being are those pesky gates! Cora, are you…?"

Cora nods curtly. Though perhaps somewhat unnoticeable, Cato's diplomatic skill with that social maneuver is impressive; he both removed the spotlight from his statement and focused the group back on the problem at hand.

The white she wolf steps onto the floor, standing before the mass of bronze and gold strings. She steps into the light, each stride measured carefully. When she reaches the exact center, Cora throws her head up and begins to sing.

Annabeth's lips part.

She has the luxurious depth of Lana Del Ray, and the sharp edge of Adele. Cora's song, though in an unintelligible language, swoops and slices through the notes of the piano like an owl's flight. Her voice, so rich and melodious, thrums deeply in times of intense song, but still touches those gentle tones of a lullaby.

Annabeth's knees feel weak as the metal bands begin to writhe. They unknit from one another, moving like metallic arms. Her mouth drops open. A door appears, beneath the lock, wide and high enough for nearly anything to pass safely. Cora still sings, but she moves forward, her strides in beat of her tune.

Annabeth glances at the guys. They, too, move forward in sync with the song. Snatching Percy's hand, she moves forward, strides long and equal with the music. Thankfully, Seaweed Brain gets the deal, matching her pace.

Annabeth gawks as they pass beneath the arch of writhing metal, her mind floundering for an explanation, and finding none. The arch leads to a long, dark corridor with jeweled mosaics on either wall. When Brendon, the last in the party, passes through the arch, the copper vines twist back into place, covering the hole behind him.

Cora cuts off with a sigh. "Now that, that is some old magic."

"Watch it," warns Cato playfully. "I set up that magic."

Shooting him a mischievous look, the wolf grins. "See? Ancient!"

Chuckling under his breath, Cato turns to Percy and Annabeth. He jerks a thumb towards the mess of metal. "It's ancient magic, that. It needs to be sung open, sung in only a titan language or the friends-of-titans language. Cora knows the friends-of-titans language, plus she's great at singing, so the door opened for her. For the time being, you'll have to have one of us with you to pass. And trust me, we've all got brilliant vocals." His golden eyes twinkle. "Well, except for Brendon."

A shoe hits Cato in the head. Cato laughs and leans down to pick it up, his eyes trained on Brendon. Before he can retaliate, though, Annabeth interjects.

"So, what is this hallway?" she asks, stepping between the two.

Cato's crooked grin falters, but then a whole smile spreads over his face. Gesturing towards the walls, Cato begins to walk forward. The pack of people follows him in silence, letting Cato tell the story. Uncertainly, Percy follows, and then Annabeth.

"See, us demititans don't really have a lot to do most of the time," explains Cato, his grammar making Annabeth cringe. "We fight titans and stuff, and train to fight titans. Good for us, really good. But a lot of the time, there's no titans around, and people get bored. Why wouldn't they? So, we find brilliant ways to entertain ourselves! Tunneling out passageways to cavern systems, learning how to sing like a Disney princess – or prince, maybe – and bejeweling things. The arts are our forte. Oh my god, I'm on a roll, with all these puns. I'm really sharp." Cato cackles, clutching his stomach. "Oh, god! Oh, god… Deep breaths, deep breaths…"

"Your sense of humor is so flat," remarks Nico in boredom, mischief sparkling in his dark eyes.

Cato loses it, howling with laughter. "It's so…," he pants, "much… better… when Nico… tells the jokes!"

"You guys are nothing but treble," groans Percy. Annabeth elbows him in the gut, but it's too late. Cato gives up, leaning against the wall, choking with laughter. He holds his stomach.

Cora cuffs Cato gently, nipping at his ear. "Continue, Cato."

"Right." Cato mimes wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, that was too good. Anyway, the demititans got bored, so they made this hallway. All of the tiles are slabs of precious jewels, polished regularly by bored demititans. They're very proud of this corridor, so they like it to sparkle." He gestures towards a scene on the right wall, depicting a red wolf with blue eyes and a black wolf with yellow eyes standing, facing one another, their heads cast up into howls. The artwork is, indeed, a killer, each nook and cranny of the wolves' body illustrated.

"These tunnels wrap around the city. Each wall tells a story. This one is story of how the Titan King and Queen – the leaders of the demititans – led them to safety after your invasion of America. If you're anybody, you're sculpted somewhere on these walls. See, there's Cora."

He jabs a finger towards a she wolf on the opposite wall, her ivory fur gleaming everywhere except her muzzle, where ruby glows in the darkness of the tunnel.

"So, you're on here," guesses Annabeth, scrutinizing his face.

Cato's smile is as radiant as the sun. His eyes sparkle. "You'd be brilliant on one of those game shows, Annabeth! Yes, I am! But we should hurry… eventually, you'll have to head back to your camp, yes? Well, let's get crack-a-lacking!"

Cato glides over the hallways, cheerfully making conversation out of everything. Annabeth drones him out, instead focusing her attention on the Titan King and Queen story. She notes that the demigods' faces are shielded by their helmets, and that they're all cloaked in orange. The wolves aren't depicted as victims as conquered forces usually are in old art; in fact, in one scene, there's text that's translated into multiple languages, one of them being Greek. It reads: EQUAL EVIL. Above the script, it's a picture of the Titan Queen – the red wolf, with her fangs in the neck of a demigod, and the demigod's sword plunged through her heart. They're in such a position that Annabeth can't tell who had struck first.

As more and more light floods the corridor and they reach the end of the tunnel, Annabeth finds herself studying the mosaics more, frowning. The black wolf is shown multiple times, always with a halo around his head, one that had not been evident in earlier pictures. He's shown helping a demigod to its feet, jumping before children from either side. He's shown crying over a grave, diamond tears slipping onto the headstone. He's shown ripping out hearts as well, but those few scenes displays that the Titan King is an apple in the eye of the people.

Annabeth watches as the issue is resolved, still drowning out Cato's talking. She watches at a painting of a distant warrior with a golden sword warding off the enemy while wolves retreat underground, most likely never to be seen again.

"We're almost there," announces Brendon.

Annabeth freezes at the next scene. Her heart flutters. There is a picture of the Titan King and the Titan Queen, sitting in thrones. It's not a mosaic, but rather a carving, sculpted from the wall with aweing skill. They both are human, with eyes set with gems. The Titan Queen has a rounded face and a long braid over one shoulder, her dark skin clashing with the bright red pallor of her hair. Her piercing blue eyes only add to the concept of strangeness.

The Titan King has curled black hair and chiseled features, cheekbones and the muscles of a god. Around his neck, a chain necklace wraps. A golden sword hangs at his waist. The undeniably bright shade of gold dominating the eyes of the statue is the final straw.

"Annabeth, what –" wonders Percy, but his voice cuts off with a sharp gasp. Annabeth can picture him, mouth agape, staring at the regal creature on the walls of the chamber.

"You didn't think just anybody would come to pick you up, did you?" laughs Cato. Annabeth jolts around to face him, to see that Cato's eyebrow is cocked and his mouth twisted in a wry smile. "You're like celebrities. It would be rude of me to send anybody else. Thanks for finding my swordy sword, again. Very important swordy sword." He beckons them forward, mysterious gleam in his eyes emerging. "C'mon. We're almost to the city."

Phew! Finally updated! Wow!

So, Cato is the Titan King. Surprise!

POLL: It doesn't seem like Cora's the Titan Queen… thoughts?

Ciao,

~wolfluvermh