Here's the second chapter in the story for those interested. Please review! If you review then whatever suggestions or ideas that you have an be incorporated into later chapters, but I cant do that if you all don't tell me what you think! So please review! And I guess a disclaimer is necessary for this chapter, as characters other than my own are introduced. Therefore; DISCLAIMER: I do not own PJO. All rights to Rick Riordan.

Chapter 2: In Which I find out who my Mother is

I couldn't have been out more than a couple of hours, and I awoke to the sound of an argument. There were two people who seemed to be fighting about something. One of them sounded young, around my age or so, while the other was obviously older. I couldn't tell how much older, but he wasn't a teenager. I kept my eyes closed, willing myself to ignore them and go back to sleep. No such luck.

"I'm telling you," the younger one was saying, "Erik's disappearance was the final straw. Titus isn't going to sit back and wait anymore; as far as he's concerned, we've proven our treachery. And as far as I'm concerned, throwing you out of Camp Jupiter was concrete evidence that he's making preparations that he doesn't want us to know about."

"I was not thrown out of the camp, Croesus." the older man said mildly. "Titus asked me to return to Camp Half-Blood to ensure that the Roman representation was still loyal and intact, and to search for Erik. While I admit that continuously delaying my return is a bit suspicious, I feel we can rest assured that the gods will not allow another conflict between their children. Mars himself would gladly dispose of Titus if his continued possession of power meant war."

"I really think that, just so we're not caught off guard, we should-"

"Enough." the older voice said firmly. "I will sanction no war preparations in this camp, at least until Chiron returns."

"But-"

"Croesus, stop." This was a woman's voice entering the discussion. She sounded like she was young, but had seen far too much of the world already. "Besides," she continued, "he's awake."

It took me a moment to process that she was talking about me, but when I finally did, I opened my eyes and smiled rather sheepishly at the group. A girl of about sixteen sat in a chair next to the bed I was lying in. Dark hair rippled down her shoulders and back, and her skin was a pale white. Bright blue eyes looked out from under dark eyebrows. Behind her stood a boy, who really couldn't have been any older than she was. It was difficult to tell though, because he was huge. Broad-shouldered with muscled arms and standing at least six and a half feet tall, he had a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped across his back, and a massive two-handed bronze sword leaned against the wall next to him. His skin was a light tan, and he had that Eastern European or Middle-Eastern look that suggested he might come from Asia Minor or something. He absolutely dwarfed the girl, and the older man who sat in a chair next to her, looking at me intently with brilliant green eyes.

I focused my attention on this man. He was the older figure who had been speaking, and despite the size advantage that the younger man had, it was clear where the authority lay. The guy radiated power and confidence, his gaze steady and intense. His eyes stared at me from under ruffled black hair flecked with gray and silver. He was spinning a ballpoint pen in his hands as he stared at me, and when he spoke I was reminded of the crashing of waves and the sound of the ocean.

"Are you feeling all right, boy?" he said, concern flashing through his eyes as he looked me over. "You've had quite an experience."

"I'm fine." I said calmly, "Can I get out of bed?"

The man smiled. "You don't like to be tied down, do you? Reminds me of myself when I was your age. My name is Percy. I am a son of Poseidon."

"Call me Sander." I said, speaking the whole group. "Wait-you said Poseidon? Like the Greek god of the Sea?"

Percy nodded sadly. "I've found over the years that there is no way to ease someone into this, no way to break it gently to them." he said musingly, "So I am just going to say it outright. The gods of ancient Greece and Rome are real, and very much a part of our world today. One of them is likely your parent. For instance, my father is Poseidon, and Croesus here," At this he gestured to the gigantic teenager behind him, "is a son of Apollo."

I just looked at him for a moment, and shrugged. "Okay then." I said.

Percy gave me an odd look. "You're taking this very calmly." he noticed.

I shrugged again. "The reality of what you just said will probably set in and confuse or scare me in a while, but right now the last thing I can remember is being throttled by my math teacher who had just before that grown taller and turned into some form of demon or something. So I figure anything is really possible right now."

Percy laughed at that, a rich sound that filled the air, and even the stoic son of Apollo cracked a half smile. The girl, however, didn't. She leaned forward in her chair and stared right at me, her eyes questioning.

"What did you shout at the boar?" she asked. The question brought an end to the laughter as Percy became suddenly intensely interested again. "What's this?" he said, "You encountered a boar in downtown Boston?"

"The Calydonian Boar." the girl said, "Right before the teacher attacked him. He scared it away by yelling something. What did you say to it?"

I shrugged, straining to remember. "Aera, or something," I said, and then the whole sequence came back to me, "Yeah that was it. Aera, eja Alale."

The girl gasped, and Percy's face darkened. Only the boy called Croesus and I were left in the dark.

"What?" Croesus asked, "What does it mean?" He looked at me but I just shrugged and waited for one of the other two to clarify.

"It was the war-cry of the Greek armies throughout history, intended to drive fear and panic into the enemy's ranks, and inspire courage and bravery among their own troops." Percy said, with reverence and borderline admiration.

"So...why is it important?" I asked, still not getting it.

"It's important," the girl said as if I was slow, "Because only children of the goddess Alale, or the goddess herself, can instill true fear and panic by using the cry, causing all but the staunchest people and creatures to flee in terror. If I, or Percy, or Croesus, had said those words to the boar, it would've kept coming and skewered us. Which, since you drove the creature away with the words, means that you are a son of Alale."

Something of confusion must have still shown on my face, because Percy stood up. "Let me give you a tour of the camp," he said, "and I'll explain as we go."

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