Caput IV

***XXVIII***

In the five weeks since Antonius' departure, more monsters fell to Percy's blade than in the over two years since joining the legion. Well, he thought, I suppose the army. I am not a legionnaire. Brutus' Sword, for all its intricacies of craftsmanship, was unable to kill the beasts. However, quite by accident, he had discovered that the sword with its golden trident quite capable of turning monsters into golden dust clouds. The weapon turned into a standard pugio when it was unwielded. While in his hand, it appeared as either a trident or sword at a whim, the sword felt more at home in his hand. He supposed his father's influence is what made him feel at ease with the trident. Well, at least at ease enough that the six dog-faced fuckers disintegrated into piles of dust before they realized I was there. The final words of the monsters worried him. Multiple of them shouted for a "commander" or a "lieutenant" in their garbled Greek. His rampage through the monsters of Tyre cleared the city and he soon found himself wandering the Syrian coast. To his left, the waves of Mare Nostrum crashed into the sands of the Levant. He wore only the cavalry trousers given to him by the Batavi, leaving his chest bare against the oppressive Syrian heat. About his waist a leather belt held both the Sword of Brutus and the magical weapon hidden as a pugio.

"It is not safe for a man to travel this area alone," Percy turned quickly. His hands settled on the hilts of both weapons, unsure which would be required. His eyes struggled in the moonlit night to find the speaker. It spoke again, but now from another direction. One closer to the sea, he thought.

"Is it not more so for a woman? Unless you possess comrades, who remain silent?" Only silence greeted his words. The woman speaking moved silently, more silently than anyone he had ever as she entered the surf, he heard nothing. He could sense where she stood, however. He waved his hand softly. Though it was faint, the Mare Nostrum was home to many gods after all, he felt the water obey him.

"If I am indeed speaking to someone who judges by my being a woman alone, perhaps I should address you as boy."

"Perhaps," mused Percy and he flicked his wrists. He felt the saltwater rise into a wave and crash forward. The owner of the voice cursed in Greek as the water remained in place from her shoulders down. The cocoon of water held her place as vulgarities of a dozen varieties flew at him in rage. He ignored their emotion and replied calmly in his own Corinthian accented Greek. "Who are you? Do you know who the commander of whom the monsters speak?"

"Fucker," the woman spat in response. More of her features were becoming visible, but he could not make out her complete appearance. She appeared to be someone from further east than his current posting. "Release me and fight me fairly, boy."

"I have no desire to fight you."

"You have a strange way of showing that." Percy released the water. The raven-haired blur that flew towards him was too fast to be human. That thought was all that he managed before a blow threw him to the sand. He could feel his cheek swelling already. He spit blood to the coastal sand. Slowly he curled his fingers into the surf zone and rose to his feet. A girl with pitch black hair and eyes of similar color stood ten feet away. She was beautiful, that much was clear, but there was a calculated wildness in her dark complexion. He sensed she had her own connection to the sea, but it was tenuous at best. Percy would have guessed her no older than himself, more than likely younger. That would have been based off her appearance, the pain in his face told him she was older, or something different.

"Who are you?" he forced his voice to remain level. His hand drifted away from Brutus' Sword but remained upon the hilt of the pugio.

"Who I am is no concern of yours, boy," she spat the final word at him. He endured the title from Antonius and Flavius. There was no malice in their usage, it was a term used because he could have been their son, he was their protégé. This was different. When he spoke again, the hint of iron that cut through the night air had been learned from them.

"My safety is likewise none of yours, girl." Anger flashed across her face. She lunged at him again. Percy flung the sand clenched within his fist at her face as he spun toward the surf. Gods she's fast. It was not that his opponent's gender infuriated him, it was their dismissal of him, because of his. I have marched for Antonius for nearly three years. I have led men into battle, I now lead the ala with Flavius' absence. I have killed man and beast. I have nearly been killed. He was in his twenties, and he was the son of god. He did not believe himself better than others simply because of what he had done or who his father was, but he was not one to be dismissed.

The pugio fit smoothly into his hand and transformed. The water lapped at his ankles. The moonlight glinted off of the large scar on his left forearm. His left hand was extended and level with the sea, which had calmed beneath him in an almost preparatory phase for what would come. In his right, the dagger elongated to nearly six feet of bronze and steel. Three prongs nearly touched the water at a downward angle while the butt rose toward the silver moon behind him. He spoke again, the iron fully consuming his tone.

"What are you?"

***XXIX***

So, the rumors are true, thought the Lieutenant of Artemis. There was no doubt in her mind who his father was. Tall and muscular, scarred from fights. Some of them required, some believed to be. The dark hair on his head and chest, the sea-green eyes. The sea's obedience to his command. Those had led to her decision, before the trident had appeared. And his pride. While never as prideful as the damnable sons of Zeus, Poseidon's children were not immune to the curse. Theseus, Bellerophon, Chrysaor, even Lysander, whose weapon it seemed the bare-chested man before her carried, had suffered from it. Will the weapon's new master follow the path of it's previous?

The water around him was completely still. The trident, equally motionless. Only his eyes moved as she attempted to remove the grit from her own. Instinctively, she had drawn her hunting knives. She held them next to her side. In her left hand the blade paralleled her left arm. In her right, it was held normally, blade forward. He's more restrained than his father, she thought. Regardless of his youth, she had no desire to fight a son of the sea god so near the water. And so, despite her unease at his assault with the water earlier, she sheathed the knives.

"My name is Zoe Nightshade; I serve as the Lieutenant of Artemis."

She studied the man's reaction. He kept it controlled. His opaline eyes studied her. His hand was the first thing to relax. The digits eased from their rigid plank-like state and soon the limb hung loosely at his side. She watched as the trident in in his hand slowly returned to the pugio. He had allowed his arms to relax, but he kept his shoulders tense. She could see that his torso was taut as well, prepared to spring away from an attack. Good, she thought, we trust each other the same amount it seems.

"I am Perseus of Corinth."

"I am here tracking the monsters, the lieutenant they seek is not their own, but me. Why is your force here?" He studied her.

"Do you not keep track of the events in this world?" She wanted to be annoyed by him, but at the same time she supposed the inquiry was owed an answer.

"We focus our attention upon the monsters of this world. The mortal world…" he cut her off.

"Has monsters of its own."

"Many of our ranks are fully aware of that, Perseus."

"Parthians took most of Syria and Asia Minor. We're holding Tyre until the Roman army arrives."

"We are here to eliminate monsters. It seems that you are why they have congregated. Allow my Hunters to fight them. Focus on your wars, Roman. Allow us to fight ours." He only nodded in response.

***XXX***

"Do you know where I came from?" Percy studied the man before him. Like Flavius, he was probably thirty years older than Percy. Percy had recently arrived with the remains of the Batavi. Over five hundred had accompanied Flavius west, Ambiotorix and Sedullas among them. Two hundred and fifty-six of the Batavi remained with Percy. Just days before, the cavalry had followed him north from Tyre. Six weeks had passed since his encounter with the Huntress of Artemis. It was now the ninth month of the year.

"I do not, general."

"I was a mule driver. Captured by Romans as a boy. I was in the army and Caesar saw something in me. Now I am here." The general possessed a broad chest and a powerful build, yet Percy stood nearly half a foot taller than him. "Do you know why I tell you this?"

"No, sir." The general stepped closer to him. This time his tone was more familial. He gripped Percy's upper arm.

"Flavius told me that you came from nothing, yet Antonius saw promise. He said you are gifted with sword and horse. Considering the worthless cunt that Caesar sent with me as a cavalry commander, I will have work for you."

The exhaustion that Percy felt a month later confirmed the words of Publius Ventidius Bassus. Percy's cavalry had ridden nearly nonstop for the entire time. Their raids had done little more than anger the more heavily armored cataphracts of the Parthians and the infantry commanded by Pompeiians. Nearly seven thousand cavalry, from the few hundred Germans with Percy to the Roman noblemen riding with Publius Octavian Varus, were capable of executing the raids. In the opinion of the blonde-haired legacy of Apollo, the raids into the conquered land that had led to this battle, were far beneath the Roman nobles. He had, in that line of thought's defense, ordered Percy "Go do what you barbarians do and ransack things."

Barbarians. No, my Batavi are not barbarians, thought Percy. For the last month, they had ridden and fought together nearly nonstop. He knew each of them by name. He knew each of the twenty-seven that had died by name, as well. The raids had targeted the food and supply routes leading to their enemies' strongholds and camps. They struck each of the supply points in the same manner as the supply column before Philippi. They killed everyone and burned everything. The horses of the dead, German or Parthian, carried the spoils of their raiding. Arms and armor, gold and gems, anything of value, they carried it back and slowly it filled the tents of the Batavi cavalrymen. The wealth accumulating in Percy's tent would have made him a rich man in Corinth.

The sun stood high in the Anatolian sky. Despite this, Percy remained in his cot. It was the first night he slept off the ground in over seven days. He heard shouting in the camp outside his tent. He could had understood the words if not for the mix of languages. He heard Romans shouting at Batavi, each in their own tongue. He called out in Latin.

"What in the fuck is happening out here?" His belt held his sword and pugio. Much like Antonius regularly did, Percy forewent shaving. The rough beard and a shaggier mop of hair than usual framed his opaline eyes. In addition to the scars from previous campaigns, new lacerations were visible on his left abdomen and the upper part of his right arm. In an effort to let the wounds breathe, he refused to replace the bloodied tunic laying in the dirt of his tent. He saw a trio of Batavi towering over the Romans currently screaming at them. Those Romans had looked him following his question but did not answer. The Batavis' arms were crossed over their chests, unmoved by the words of Romans. Behind the volume producing Romans, Octavian slunk and watched the larger men argue. Percy repeated his earlier inquiry, switching from Latin to German. "What in the fuck is happening?"

One of Octavian's men began to address him. "We ordered these barbarians." Percy held up a hand to him and looked to his Germans.

"They want part of what we took from our enemies." The tone revealed his opinion of what they asked.

"You claim part of our spoils." Percy controlled his tone as he turned upon the four Romans. The tallest of the four stood half a foot shorter than him. The cavalry commander sent from Rome now made his way forward. He shouldered past his three compatriots, Percy now identified them as centurions, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes," the man's entire visage reminded Percy of a weasel. His voice was nasally and high pitched, his skin pale underneath the red of sunburn. Or, in Bassus' words, a cunt. "You are auxiliaries, as a Roman citizen it is my right to claim part of the spoils."

Unfortunately, Percy knew this to be true. That exact issue served as the impetus for several conversations between he, Flavius, and Antonius. They knew Percy desired to become Roman. They also knew that the traditional citizenship after service would result in his citizenship after his career, after he could be of any use as the commander they believed he could be. Antonius' solution had shocked both Flavius and Percy into silence when he had suggested in Alexandria. "I've got the power to get your citizenship through the fucking Senate. I'll take care of you, boy." The statement had been made nearly a year before, as far as Percy was aware, no progress had been made before it.

"Then take mine, and leave my men be." The weaselly man appeared shocked. Percy understood it unfortunately well, the man had never once considered that a commander would give up his own share for his soldiers. It was unfathomable for a man with that much sense of self-worth.

***XXXI***

"What is this place?" Annabeth could not keep the wonder from her voice. Throughout the clearing, dozens of children, from near infants to teens, wandered about or trained. Couples held babies or worked in shops along the street.

"My dear, this is a home for people like yourself. Town might be an overstatement, but more than a camp." The last comment seemed directed at Lukas, who had used the term earlier in the day upon their arrival. At the base of Mount Pelion, two, she could only call them soldiers, intercepted them and the centaur walking beside them had appeared several minutes later. Luke had asked for directions to the "camp for children of the gods." Now they were here.

"Chiron?" she asked, and the bearded face smiled and nodded for her to continue. "Who are all these people?" Hundreds of people seemed to live in the houses and barracks-style living quarters built into the mountain. Near the summit, temples disappeared into the mountain face or rose above the ancient trees.

"Demigods, my dear, or their children. We've built a home here; the gods protect us from the monsters that would do us harm. The mortals know, or at least assume, what we are here. However, they treat us with the same respect we give them. We stay out of their matters that are not ours, and they have granted us the same curtesy." He extended his arms. "We have peace here."

Annabeth spent the rest of her day wandering the village. Children of Hephaestus smithed armor tools and jewelry at levels the greatest craftsmen of Athens would envy. Families owing lineage to Demeter and Persephone tended glorious gardens or sold food and drink in markets. Drachmae exchanged hands with the ease of words. Laughter and joy filled the stone streets. Can I risk them? She thought realizing for the first time that her mother's task would not only challenge the Roman invaders, but it might disrupt the life these people had built. HER voice filled Annabeth's head.

Rise against them. Overthrow those that insult my nature. Prove to them the Greeks are not to be trampled over. Prove to them Wisdom's Worth. Show them my supremacy over their inventions.

***XXXII***

"Why aren't your cavalry bloody advancing?!"

"The situation was not opportune," Octavian's stammering response only stoked Bassus' anger.

"Not fucking opportune? I am bloody general; you advance when I say." Bassus spun to Percy. "You! Go command the fucking attack this coward will not. Take control of the cavalry, salvage what you can of the battle he just fucked or don't come back." Percy's fist bounced against his chest in salute. Bassus reached out and gripped his arm. "Don't fail me, son." Percy's fist slammed against his chest again. This time he held it there while he looked at Bassus and nodded. He put heels to the "black bastard" and galloped off. A dozen of the Batavi rode directly behind him. The rest waited beside the Roman cavalry. Ventidius' plan had initially involved the infantry fixing the Parthian cavalry in place so that the Roman cavalry could ride them down in a melee. However, Caesar's appointee, Praefectus Equitatus Publius Octavian Varus had failed to advance due to the lack of an opportune situation it seemed. Percy and his dozen Batavi had been serving as Bassus' personal guard. Now they would lead the advance.

Below them, in the pass known as the Cilician Gates, the Parthian cavalry seemed to be breaking contact and retreating. In doing so, they streamed past and abandoned the two legions commanded by the traitor Quintus Labienus Parthicus. The man had conquered Syria the year before, but this, his attempted foray into Cilicia that brought forth the battle with Publius Ventidius Bassus. As Percy and his guard reached the contingent of cavalry a young Roman officer moved his horse forward.

"What do you want, barbarian?"

"We have orders to advance." Percy responded curtly.

"Praefectus Octavian said nothing…" Percy cut off the young man.

"Praefectus Octavian is not in the general's favor. We will advance, or you will find yourself in the same positon." The Roman only nodded at that. The Batavi forced their way to the front of the column with their commander in the lead and formed themselves for the advance, the Romans did the same only because it seemed the natural thing to do.

"Our orders?" asked the Roman.

"Attack!" shouted Percy swung the Sword of Brutus forward. The Batavi unleashed their barritas and thousands of men and horses surged forward. The thunder of their charge filled Percy's ears. Two feelings however seemed to transform the noise into mere distraction.

One was the desire to succeed, not for himself, but for Bassus. It was the term he used, son. To Bassus it may have only been a throw-away word, but to Percy, it meant more. His actual father had never been met. The man that raised him did so because of his mother. To Flavius and Antonius, he was mere boy. Bassus called him son. That meant something.

The second feeling was born of his current position. He, a bastard child from Greece, leading the charge of several thousand cavalry under direct orders from the general. His ideas of service never extended to this level of command. Spending his years of service as a cavalryman had been his expectation, nothing more.

The column spread into a wide V as they approached the disorganized legions. Ahead the charging horsemen could see officers attempting to organize their troops in a cohesive defense. Smiles began to appear on the faces of the cavalry. Enemy infantry out of position and disorganized spelled rapid success for cavalry. The first of the Roman infantry now fell within sword's reach. Percy swung.

***XXXIII***

Of the two legions following Labienus, damned few remained to be taken captive. Many fled before the cavalry struck. Once the cavalry struck, Roman blood stained the Anatolian ground. As satisfying as it had been to succeed on Bassus' behalf, Percy believed nothing would surpass it. The dressing down Octavian Varus received proved him incorrect. Percy's spoils, surrendered so that his soldiers could retain theirs were returned to him, since, as Bassus put it, they had been given to the commander of cavalry. Percy now held the role. Following another failed command at Amanus Pass, Bassus rid himself of the "worthless cunt" and passed his cavalry to Percy.

Nearly a year had passed since Percy's rescue of Varus' isolated command at Amanus Pass. Few throughout the army did not know the "barbarian" Praefectus Equitatus. He was Bassus' right hand, given authority to maneuver as necessary in support of the army. For that reason, he now stood with three thousand cavalry and an equal number of infantry far away from the battle.

To the west Bassus and eleven legions traded blows with the Parthian Army under Pacorus I, son of the Parthian King. So confident in his abilities and army was Bassus that he had ordered the Praefectus to march each and conceal his force. After the victory, as the defeated streamed eastward toward their homeland, Perseus of Corinth would lead his soldiers to cut them down. The defeated owed a debt to Ares, his task was to ensure it was honored.

"Sir!" Percy sat upright and turned the west. A large dust cloud rose in that that direction and continued to grow. He looked to the infantry commander.

"Block their path." Only one caveat applied to their orders, they were not to pursue the enemy past the Euphrates River. The infantry moved slowly, attempting to reduce the dust cloud they too produced.

"Orders, sir?" Percy looked to the Batavi who had asked.

"None of them cross the river. We will not pass the river." The leader of the Roman infantry appeared. The man was not happy to be serving under the "barbarian" cavalry officer. Unlike Octavian Varus, he could put such personal qualms behind him for the sake of the army.

"Centurion Quintus, are your infantry ready?"

"Yes, praefectus." Percy moved forward until he stood beside the shorter Roman.

"I did not ask for this position, Quintus. But I am sorry you are put a position beneath your status."

"Perseus, I serve at the will of Rome. Rome has willed you lead this battle; therefore, I follow."

***XXXIV***

"Bassus, you've been ordered to Rome." The column of wearied soldiers halted behind Publius Ventidius Bassus. Before the general and his Greek cavalry commander, Flavius looked at them with a unit of German cavalry backing him. After the slaughter at Cyrrhestica, instead of pursuing the Parthian forces the army had reduced Roman rebel cities one after another. Samosata had been the last of his targets. The city had originally offered Bassus one thousand talents for peace. A questionable siege by Antonius resulted in merely three hundred.

"As the general orders," Bassus replied coldly. He put heels to his horse and at a gallop departed for his tent.

"You're leaving with him, boy." Perseus froze.

"What?" For over four years, he had served faithfully. As a trooper then optio, before serving Bassus as praefectus. He had been relegated once again to optio with Flavius' return, but he accepted it as his position. Flavius was senior after all. But this…

"You will serve as Bassus' bodyguard on his travels." Flavius' voice was cold, colder than Bassus' had been minutes before. "Follow me." Flavius turned his horse and Percy numbly followed on the Arabian he had finally named Blackjack. Once they cleared the earshot of all other soldiers, Flavius spoke again.

"Listen, boy. Antonius does not like how well the two of you have performed without him. He's marching into Parthia soon for his own glory, he cannot risk the success that has followed you and Bassus clouding his invasion." He looked pointedly at Percy. "Percy, Bassus is protected as a citizen and protégé of Caesar. You have neither of those protections. He will not target you, but if given the chance I do not know he would save you."

"But my citizenship…"

"Is something to dangle before you until your usefulness is spent." Percy froze, staring at the man who had taught him all he knew of war. No, he thought suddenly, he taught me to fight. Bassus taught me war. "Leave with Bassus. The man will do right by you, gods know the reports say he should." They had reached Percy's tent, all of his worldly possessions rested inside. Bassus waited for them.

"That was a bit rough, Flavius." The cavalry commander smiled.

"It convinced them."

"Son, my slaves have packed all the shit you consider possessions. We should go, before Antonius develops some foolhardy mission for you." Percy merely looked back and forth between the two older men. Flavius extended his arm.

"Perseus, you can be a great man one day. Just remember, sometimes you look out for yourself first." Percy stared at the hand for a moment, before taking the man's forearm in his hand as Flavius gripped his.

"I owe you nearly everything," he muttered.

"The only payment I will accept is you becoming an officer yourself, boy. Now go, keep the man safe." Two riders led a procession of two ox carts and a dozen slaves out of the camp. On the two occasions when Percy attempted to turn and look at the only home he had known as an adult, Bassus stopped him.

"Don't look back, the only thing you ever need to know is what is front of you."

***XXXV***

The expanse of Rome had shocked him. Alexandria was a large city in his eyes, but Rome seemed larger than life itself. Temples seemed to soar into the heavens while the streets of stone cracked beneath the hooves of his horse. His morning began at the Campus Martius, the Field of Mars, before Apollo guided the sun into the sky. As he was no citizen, he wore his armor without arms, appearing wealthier he was due to the centurion's armor he wore. Before him, the great wagon bearing Bassus and vestiges of Parthia rumbled through the Porta Triumphalis. At the pomerium Bassus surrendered his command of the army in the east to the Senate's representative, Antonius already present in Syria. Weaving along the Via Triumphalis, through the Circus Flaminius and Capitoline Hill, it passed the Circus Maximus before entering the Via Sacra.

The Forum, center of Roman politics fell past them, as they climbed the Capitoline Hill. To their right, the Temple of Jupiter Tonans lay in the shadow of Scipio's Arch. The procession came to a halt. The great Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus rose high into the clear sky. Atop the building an eagle landed, keenly watching the proceedings and the priests declared it an auspicious day. A brace of oxen met their end in the honor of Jupiter, before a bull was killed for Mars. Sheep's wool stained red as they too were killed in the name of Juno, Bellona, and dozen other deities. Percy's face hardened as his father received an honorific well down the list. But, as Bassus received the triumphal laurels, he forget his ire and roared in celebration.

The sun had nearly set before the triumph ended, and while his Roman companions spoke of Diana's arrival, Percy thanked Artemis that evening had come. He removed his armor and wore the simple garments of a soldier under it. He was present as a guest of Bassus and for that, no one questioned him. As such, he could attend the party thrown in Bassus' honor and finally eat.

"So, you're the one Antonius and Bassus were on about?" Percy knew enough of the Roman tongue to recognize the patrician in the voice. He turned slowly to look into the eyes of the sandy haired officer from Philippi. Percy tried to quickly swallow the food in his mouth. The eyes twinkled in laughter at Percy's expression of recognition. His hair was short in the Roman style and his jaw broad with a cleft in his chin. His eyes cast over the tall Greek.

"I am merely Perseus, sir."

"Perseus, so you are a Greek?"

"From Corinth, sir."

"I am Marcus Agrippa, and there is no need for sir in this house." He inclined his head toward Caesar, "Except maybe with Octavian." Percy noticed the usage of Caesar's birthname.

"He is Caesar." Agrippa threw his head back and laughed deeply.

"Aye, I suppose he is." Agrippa studied Percy further. "I see you prefer Antonius's rugged look. Or is it a Greek thing, the beard I mean?" He moved his hand in a strange motion under his chin as he asked.

"It grows remarkably fast and is a pain to keep up with."

Agrippa smiled, "You do look remarkably akin to a statue of Neptune I have."

"I get that a lot, sir." Agrippa noticed the change in demeanor.

"I guess it is true then. Antonius bragged about having someone extraordinary. Bassus spoke of the same. I thought the former was merely playing his game of look what I have. Bassus spoke of a brilliantly brutal commander. Then I saw you, and there was little doubt the quality of you blood." Agrippa's tone told Percy he knew exactly the quality of his blood. Agrippa took a drink of wine. "The only damning thing Bassus could say about you was your damnable loyalty to Antonius."

"He promised me citizenship, for what it was worth." Percy spoke frankly and Agrippa seemed to approve of the approach. He leaned forward.

"He's not the only one who can approve such things." Agrippa stood upright, "I, however, have a specific ask of you." Percy cocked his head and studied the slightly broader built man. "Our naval war is not going well. I need a way to train my sailors without their being ambushed by Sextus's ships. I imagine you could be uniquely qualified to find me a solution. I would be immensely grateful." He raised his cup of wine with a conspiratorial grin and drifted into the crowd.

"One night in Rome, and you've already caught Agrippa's eye. He is the sanest of the lot. Impressive." Percy turned to find a tall and dark woman beside him. Her dark eyes creased in a nearly hidden smile. Her long hair was gathered behind her back in a loose braid. She's bloody gorgeous, he thought. But a woman like her is surely already attached to a senator or commander. One of Rome's elites, not an auxiliary cavalryman. "No response? Pity."

"I'm the rarity here, people notice that."

"I heard that despite being a Greek and not a citizen of Rome, you replaced Octavian Varus as the commander of Bassus' cavalry?"

"One hears many things in a war." Percy noticed the charms hanging from a chain about her neck. A torch and a helmet.

"Yes," she responded with a smile Percy placed halfway between joking and sly. "Why did he replace him with you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"War is of great interest to me." Percy now played the role of Agrippa earlier in the evening. He suspected her blood was of the same quality as his own. Women of her beauty did not occur by natural human means.

"I wonder why." His smile was knowing, the one she returned again split the difference between connotations.

"Why did you replace him?" her finger had tapped him lightly on the chin with each word. He decided enough wine had been consumed for him to not care what he said, and he hoped her reaction would confirm what he believed to be her ultimate intention.

"The little prick is limp and couldn't perform."

"Of that, I am well aware," she responded. She smiled again, all pretense of joke dispensed with and sly invitation showing clearly. She moved her hips to the side and began to drift into the crowd. As had been her intention, his eyes followed her. Percy reached out with his cup and a passing slave filled it with more of Agrippa's wine.

"She's a beauty." For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Percy turned to the person appearing by his side. Initially, he believed he had turned into a mirror. Percy inclined his head.

"My lord," the response rolled through the hall like the waves upon the Adriatic coast, yet others did not seem to hear.

"There is no need for that, son." The god took a drink of wine, though Percy was unsure if human wine would have any effect on the god. "My other form is quite proud of who you have become, you have impressed me with your dedication to Rome." Only now did Percy realize that he was speaking to Neptune and not his father, Poseidon.

"Rome proved loyal to me first." The Roman form of his father nodded slowly and looked across the room. Percy's matching eyes of green followed his father's. They landed on the woman in a red stola, the woman whose eyes were locked upon Percy.

"Are you following her or not?" Percy did not speak an answer, but began to walk across the room. Despite himself, Neptune smiled. It vanished when he felt a presence near him.

"You should not encourage him." Bellona moved gracefully through the chamber; mortals seemed unaware of her.

"He is my son."

"And she is my daughter and married."

"So was her father, but I do not see you stopping it either."

Percy entered the darkened corner. Just steps before him, the woman's sashaying hips had entered the shadows. As he neared her, she spun, and her arm rose. "What is your name?" Her finger ran along Percy's bearded jawline.

"Perseus." The finger traced along Percy's jugular to his shoulder and bicep before traveling down his arm.

"Perseus the Greek," she leaned toward him, and her breath was hot on his neck.

"Perseus of Corinth," he breathed in response. He felt her hum against the side of his neck.

"The City of Venus, are you blessed in her domains?" she hummed into his ear. "You smell of the sea." He felt her tongue flick across his ear. His hands had moved around her. They felt the curves and the firmness of her body under stola. She pressed against him as his hands found her most intimate areas. Again, he felt her breath against his ear, "Not here, come to my villa."

"Ashamed to be seen with the barbarian Greek?" he asked taking half a step away.

"No," she replied coyly, "I just want there to be no doubt that I am cucking my husband in his own bed." That statement completed Percy's step away. "Oh yes, my husband is Octavian Varus and a bastard, you took his command and his honor, surely taking the limp dick's wife to bed is no matter?" A debate raged in Percy's mind. On one side, taking another man's wife to bed was not the correct thing to do. On the other, it was the cunt's wife. In the back of his mind, Percy could hear Antonius's voice A married woman who hates her husband. He smiled at her roguishly and began to follow her from Agrippa's villa.

"I should probably know the name of the woman whose bed and body I am about to enjoy." She returned his roguish grin with a coy smile of her own.

"My name is Reyna."