A/N: To the review questioning the use of rapax. I respect your commitment to following up on your hunch. However, rapax is the Latin term for the English predator. I spent many hours researching this, both from the linguistic perspective as well as that of the history of Legio XXI Rapax. The legion was known as the Predators and their cognomen was Rapax. Also, Tombat says you are a wombat.

Caput XX

***CCXXVI***

Across the lands surrounding the Mare Nostrum, three missives were received within days of each other. The first was a request, the second a transfer of funds, the last was an order. The originator and benefactor of the request would not know if the three missives reached their intended recipient or were followed on until the actions were complete. Such was the risk of relying upon horse-born messengers across the expanse of Rome.

***CCXXVII***

Sixty years earlier, Lucius Cornelius Sulla Felix destroyed much of the social and military buildings of the city. The cultural ones remained, as even Sulla did not wish to risk the gods' wrath. Around those vestiges of the once great Delian League, the city sat reborn. The expansion of baths, academia, and artistry had, in recent years, given over to great defensive walls and the manufactories of war. With the aid of demigods, what once would have required decades of work had been completed in only a few years. The walls surrounding the city did not reach the twenty-five feet of protection which the Themistoclean Wall provided, but similarly, no longer did they possess Themistocles' great wooden wall.

Instead, walls of eighteen feet surrounded the city. Like the originals, spolia—the ruins of destroyed buildings, formed the basis for the massive project. The eastern portion of the wall followed not Themistocles' wall, but that of the Diateichisma. That section of the wall, unsuccessfully built to withstand Macedonian expansion, ran along the crest of the hills of the Muses, the Nymphs, and the Pynx. The expansion demanded the construction of over ten thousand yards of wall, nine hundred more than Themistocles' wall. Within those walls, a secondary fortification rose about the base of the Acropolis. These walls rose an additional seven feet over those of the outer walls and the Pelargikon formed a redoubt at the city's center.

The once strategic Long Walls yearned for reconstruction as well, but the scope of the project's expansive resource and time demands prevented such. Instead of the once great stone monuments to Athenian power which enclosed all the land from Phaleron to Piraeus to Athens, an amalgamation of stone, earthworks, and wooden fortifications flanked a single pathway from the city of Athena to the sea. Stone towers dotted the four miles from the walls of Athens to their sister protecting Piraeus, but few trusted their survival to last long. In a sprint against time, mental and physical strength reinforced what they could of the precarious lifeline. Malcolm recognized it for what it was, a vain attempt at mortal will against that of an approaching storm. As such, the walls facing the oncoming maelstrom of violence and aggression consisted of five feet of stone topped with earthworks, wooden palisades, and wicker shields that averaged just ten feet in height.

The walls of Piraeus rose just fifteen feet. They, unlike the Long Walls, however, were completed and made of stone. The city would supply Athens as long it could and when it could no longer do so, it would turn to its own defense. With the scant fifteen hundred troops dedicated to its defense. If the supply lines broke, Athens possessed two months of supplies. That would put them into the winter. There existed a hope within the city that, like the Spartans of the early Archidamian War, the end of the campaign season would mark the end of the Roman onslaught. The thought made Malcolm laugh, Yes and when they return, they will have replaced all their losses. This is not Sparta who could not fuck their way to a larger population of Spartiates, this is fucking Rome.

All these thoughts and more tumbled within Malcolm's mind as he stood atop the Propylaia. Concern for cities, the masses, and the soldiers fought for control with a single mental image, his daughter. Named after the companion of the great Pericles, Aspasia loved nothing more than to run through the streets of her grandmother's city with a smile and a laugh. At just eight, she never knew her mother. Lydia had not survived the girl's birth and that even, more than any, gave Malcolm his cynical of "the gods" and "their blessings." The gods had less to do with Greece's predicament than did the decisions of man. Despite this, he was Aspasia's world and gazing about the city and the land beyond it, he feared the outside world was closing upon hers. In the distance, clouds of dust rose into the air. They betrayed the location of the Roman army; not that it hid itself, one only needed to follow the trail of crosses and death. His eyes caught movement on a far hilltop. A collection of riders sat silhouetted against the sun. I am afraid your world has become threatened, Aspasia; Rome has come.

***CCXXVIII***

The hill overlooked the city. From where he stood, Percy's height matched that of the bronze depiction of Athena. With the sun to his back, the glint of the metallic surface of the Athena Promachos glowed brightly above the center of the rebellion. Behind the statue, rose the expanse that was the Parthenon. Beside that stood the Erechtheion. Below the Acropolis, the city expanded between two sets of walls. The taller of the two surrounded the base of the mount while the other surrounded the populace. The recent completion of the construction was obvious. Smart fuckers, he thought.

"The city is as impressive as the stories tell," Lepidus stated beside him.

"Yes," Percy responded, "a pity we will have to kill it."

***CCXXIX***

Annabeth looked up from a map of the city and its defenses as Malcolm threw open the door. "He's here." While a collection of "gods damn him" was uttered by the collective audience, none appeared surprised. Annabeth and three Hunters followed Malcom to his perch atop the Propylaia, Clarisse and the other commanders remained below. Malcolm felt the Hunters' contempt for him.

To their west, they watched hundreds of torches assemble into the familiar rectangular form of a camp just fifteen miles away. Sweeping the horizon to the east they watched a snake like formation of cavalry move down the hillsides. Further east more torches marked the location of the damned Thirteenth legion and their whoreson, Son of Jupiter commander.

"Could we strike at him now? Before he is established?" Annabeth opened her mouth to answer, but Malcolm did so first.

"No." The quick response drew judgmental looks. "Look at the bastards," he motioned toward the cavalry waiting for such a decision. "They're not sitting around for no reason. They are there hoping we attack, because then they will close off any avenue of escape and our aggression will have doomed us." Not that that has stopped us before, he thought, hoping his cynicism had remained hidden. A Son of Poseidon, how fitting the wave of destruction across Greece is led by him. And that it is directed at the city he lost to Athena.

***CCXXX***

"YOU LYING BASTARD!" shrieked Athena the moment that Neptune entered the throne room of Olympus. The God of the Sea wore the muscle cuirass and Attic helmet so common in Roman statuary of deities and generals. There was little doubt as to why his Roman form appeared before. "You said you had no sons amongst the Romans!"

"And I do not," Neptune replied evenly, the tone filling the large space with a soft cascade of sound.

"Poseidon does!" hissed Artemis, appearing beside her half-sister.

"Yes, but that question was never asked."

"Bastard! How can Poseidon allow his Greek son to do this to Greece?" Artemis asked. Neptune turned to the Greek form of his elder niece.

"The same way Athena allowed her daughter to drive Greece to ruin."

***CCXXXI***

"What troubles you, old friend?" Percy looked up to the Son of Jupiter, realizing and Tiberius looked at him.

"Realizations. That war seems to be the only aspect of my life which I competently handle." Jason knew expected he knew to what Percy referred. The young Tiberius seemed bold, or foolish, enough to ask.

"Sir, what do you mean?" Jason looked at him questioningly, given Tiberius' presence. Percy studied the younger man before determining that he would speak the truth. The boy had been loyal and reliable.

"Because there is a woman who loves me and who I care about deeply, but have any of you heard me speak of her at all?" He looked about. "I can tell you that you have not, because I know you have also not heard me speak of my three children. They I have repeatedly abandoned at Caesar's call, in order to permanently separate husbands and fathers from wives and children."

"Then the rumors are true? Reyna Varus and her three children," Tiberius asked slowly.

"Have you seen the older girl? It's a much prettier version of him, not that says much," Jason said with a laugh.

"Yes, they are, it seems I am incapable of putting aside the burdens and complications that stem from duty for the eternal and straight forward thing that is loving someone." He cracked half a smile. "Admittedly, your stepfather's penchant for starting wars hasn't helped." Tiberius ignored the jab and attempt to end the conversation.

"My stepfather could arrange for a divorce, if you love you."

"I am sure he could. But let me ask you, with which parent do Roman children stay with in the event of a divorce?" Percy's voice had risen despite his attempt to control it. Tiberius suddenly looked uneasy. "I am not angry, but answer and you will see why my hands are tied."

"Patria potestas."

"Yes. Power of the father. The worthless cunt's pride and shame will not allow him to admit they are not his. If they divorce, the children are his to do with as he wishes. He can raise them to hate Reyna and I. He can never allow us to see them, and we would watch another man, who hates us, raise our children. In an extreme, I am certain he could find a way to justify killing them. He can force, I won't even say us, he can force a mother and her children to never again see each other. And so as much as it pains me that five cannot be one, I will gladly allow her love and my reputation to keep those four as one. Because if they divorced and he refused any right of ours to see them, would she ever forgive me?"

"Does she know that?" Tiberius asked softly. He had never seen affection so strong in one with the reputation of "The Greek," as the society of Rome referred to him. Percy smiled, though Tiberius could see the sadness in his eyes.

"No."

***CCXXXII***

The earthworks appeared first. The tons of earth and the wooden palisades atop them stretched across the Attic countryside, slowly encircling the city. Roving cavalry prevented any form of sally or counterattack. For three weeks, the investments grew, extending until only the Long Walls provided any avenue of movement outside the city. During the fourth week, the days were marked by the raising of towers. Thus, for the entire eighth month of the year, the Romans built while the Greeks held behind their walls. Five sallies had been made; all had been thwarted with minimal impact on the Roman forces. On the first day of the ninth month of the year, the siege engines appeared. On the second day, they opened fire.

Jason stood beside Percy and watched with equally cold determination as stones and flames hurled toward the city. In each tower, a scorpio covered the city gates and archers stood ready to support them. Along the line, battering rams and towers in various stages of construction sat ready. Only in the south were any of the torsion devices being used. There three cohorts waited for their order to sever the lifeline of Athens. They suspected their commander had his reasons for delaying, but the two cohorts from Jason's Thirteenth and the single cohort of the Second would prefer to cut off the city sooner rather than later.

***CCXXXIII***

The Romans were not alone in recognizing that the severance of the Long Wall precipitated the fall of the city. More than a few of the students of history compared their position to that of Troy, only in this instance the Trojans surrounded them. Hunters with the knowledge of Roman origin stories explained that the Romans saw themselves as the children of Troy and such comparisons only increased. But that very comparison led to Zoë's response at a council two days after the siege engines began their bombardment.

"If they cut road to Piraeus, there is no escape." Annabeth's voice refused to allow defeatism into its tone, but she knew as well as the others that defeat was much more possible than she had ever expected.

"It is possible we may escape the way Aeneas and the few Trojans did."

"No one escaped," snapped back Annabeth. "The stories are clear; they razed the town. The only escape from Troy was death." The girl's response drew the ire of both Zoë and Phoebe. Despite their appearance, the Daughter of Athena's life represented but a section of theirs. Phoebe, in a demonstration of why Artemis had chosen Zoë as lieutenant over her, could not control her anger and tongue as she spat a response.

"If no one escaped, where did Rome come from? Did it spring out of the fucking ground? Or did Heniocheia, one of our former sisters, lead Aeneas through the Labyrinth at which he turned to her and said "You and I will have children to carry on Priam's line." She dedicated herself to Artemis on the spot. But after that, her cousin founded that damned city, so do not claim there were no survivors when their very descendants sit outside your walls. She left the Hunt rather than assist Greeks, after we destroyed her city. Heniochaeia led the survivors through the Labyrinth, there has to be an entrance in Athens."

"The Labyrinth is in Crete," Malcolm said calmly. Arguments amongst leaders nearly defeated the Greeks at Troy after all. Zoë recognized his ploy and responded equally calmly, ignoring Annabeth and Phoebe glaring at each other.

"The Labyrinth is something of magic, it is here and it not. It is in Crete and is not. Mortal, Hunter, child of gods, all can see it, sometimes, but all can fall prey to it as well. Only those gifted to see beyond what Hecate puts before you are truly safe. One of our number is gifted such. If we can find the entrance, usually marked with a blue delta for Daedalus. The entrance used to be here on the Acropolis, but I know not where. Survivors fleeing the Persians used it after Thermopylae. Only three made it out."

"The search will consume many of our men."

"No," Malcolm said calmly to his sister. "I've got just the people to search."

In the end, he had been forced to put his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place while he and Zoë delivered instructions. The Huntress's face remained emotionless of late, but as she knelt beside the Son of Athena before a girl that appeared to be a ringleader of a twelve strong pack of youths, she allowed a smile to crease her face. The innocence of them all. Malcolm had his daughter repeat her instructions back to them.

"We are supposed to find a door that not everyone can see and that may not always be there when it is there." The words in and of themselves were ridiculous, but the eight-year-old recited them with such dutifulness that Zoë could not help but enlarge her smile. She now asked a question.

"And how will you know you have found it?"

"It will be marked with a Delta for Demeter." Malcolm smiled at his daughter.

"Well, this time it stands for Daedalus."

"The flying man!" Aspasia said excitedly. "I want to fly one day."

"Amongst other things," Malcolm said dryly.

"Is there a reward for finding it?"

"Yes, there is most definitely a reward. A chance to fucking live.

"I want drachmae."

"Why do you need drachmae?"

"Sweet buns!" she yelled as she twisted from her father's grip and returned to her posse. The youth gathered about as Aspasia delivered to them the task from her father. After a few minutes consultation under the watchful eyes of Zoë, Malcolm, and the Athena Promachos, the children sprinted through the crowds in search of the "door that not everyone can see and that may not always be there when it is there" as if it was the simplest of tasks.

***CCXXXIV***

"This is true revenge for Troy." Perseus looked over to his friend.

"Was not my father chief amongst the gods against Troy? Does it make me a traitor that I lead Troy's children against the Greeks?" Jason appeared at a loss for words. That did not last long.

"All our lives, but you and I in particular, become defined by what we choose. Neither of us chose to be children of the great and ancient gods. You did not choose to be born to a Greek woman. If we want to speak your time with the legion alone, the commander you chose to follow in turn did not give you a choice when he horse-traded you to Bassus and then Agrippa and Caesar. You however, chose to fight with them against him. You chose to fight for Rome and not Greece. I chose to be a good son to Balbus, because he chose to be a father to me when he did not have to do so. Choices, not the cock you originally spurted out of, define you." Percy appraised the younger man. He just sounded remarkably like Marcus Antonius, not that he would appreciate the comparison.

"Has the younger man surpassed the older man as the wiser man?" Jason looked at him in annoyance.

"As long as I am still the less confusing man, I will take it."

***CCXXXV***

Three attacks had probed the Long Walls. Between the fifth and tenth days of the month, siege engines pummeled the Long Walls while those inside the walls prepared for the assault, they believed inevitable. Days of apprehension became days of death. In five days, five battles raged along the improvised fortifications. Thrice the Romans assaulted the walls, twice the Greeks had counterattacked.

This was the eleventh day of the month. The two cohorts behind the Son of Jupiter believed they could succeed where the First, Fourth, Sixth, and Eighth cohorts had failed. The Second and Third believed themselves the executors of Jason's will.

Jason's mind was not on the nine hundred and sixty men behind him. Instead, it remained on the latest order. The order grew out of both his commander's inherent impatience and the demands of Rome. "Jason, cut off Piraeus from Athens or designate someone who will." Jason did not blame his cousin and commander. The pressure on the man was extreme and Jason preferred to think each decision he made benefitted Rome and its people. Opposite his position, the Second Cohort of Legio II waited. Their orders denied their commitment to battle until the Greeks were decisively engaged with Jason's men. He motioned with his hand and it triggered a series of whistle and horn signals. The nearly thousand men surged forward. Jason sprinted at the fore of the assault. He knew he should not, but similarly Percy should not have led the attack with the Twenty-first. As the men rushed forward, their formations ignored as they attempted to keep up with their commander, the first of the Greeks appeared.

The first of them, distinguished as leaders by the transverse nature of the crest on their helmets, watched the Roman advance for a few moments before disappearing. Jason watched as the few officers became several hundred armored hoplites as they appeared in the orderly rows of a phalanx. The narrow breach presented the Greek soldiers the perfect location to employ the spear-bearing infantry. If they held again, it would be the fourth defeat inflicted upon his legion. Not fucking this time.

Anger at the deaths of his men suddenly seemed to fade away. An unknown feeling overtook Jason. A blinding rage, the likes of which had never experienced, filled him as he looked at the Greeks who he knew mocked him and as men due to their three victories. The two punishing defeats of Greek sallies did not enter his mind. Punish them all he thought. He did not know from what dark reach of his soul the thought grew from, but as he sprinted toward the Greek shield wall, he allowed it to flourish.

"Jupiter wills it!" he shouted and directed the blade of his gladius at the Greek formation. From the clear sky a bolt of lightning hurtled toward the earth. It impacted in the center of the formation, the resulting explosion hurling bodies and body parts high into the air. The assault rent the Greek formation nearly in half and they were not able to recover before the Roman attack made contact.

As his cry was repeated throughout the assaulting force, Jason could not have predicted the result. Jupiter, in the eyes of his soldiers, now ordained their attack. If Jupiter endorsed the coming violence, who were they to hold back from Jupiter's charge?

Jason's sword cut through the helmet and into the brain matter of a Greek soldier. Even as his sword came free, Romans rushed past him. The blades of their swords dripped blood as they bowled over the defenders, driving them back to the paved road that the modicum of protective walls flanked. Those that survived the initial onslaught fell back to the road. There two choices presented themselves, one to run and hope to reach the gates of Athens or Piraeus, two to defend the hundreds of women, children, and elderly attempting to reach loved ones on either end of the Long Walls.

The ferocity of the Roman assault demanded swift action. The Greek defenders were not prepared and while the force divided itself into small bands attempting to execute both options, the Roman blades fell upon the citizenry. Jason remained at the fore, his blade finding enemy after enemy. With each slash or thust, more Greek blood was spilt. He saw nothing but an enemy, until, as he withdrew this sword from deep in the chest cavity of the victim, it seemed as if a mist was lifted. The dying Greek, whom Jason's mind identified as a spear bearing hoplite, fell to the roadway.

***CCXXXVI***

"You, wife, will speak." Jupiter drew himself to full height, his crystalline blue eyes flashing with the brightness of lightning. "You will release my son."

"I know not of what you speak husband." Jupiter's staff slammed to the stone floor. The blows shattered stone as a thunderclap shook the room. In his hand, the staff transformed into its true form, the weapon built by cyclopes. The goddess took half a step away from her husband now that the cracking Master Bolt sat in his hand.

"Do not lie to me, woman! And do not attempt to hide behind the appearance of Juno, Hera. I recognize the madness overtaking my son. Do you think I could forget the curse you put upon Hercules?" The sneer of Hera turned to the Roman King of the Gods.

"Do you think I have forgotten your promise to not have another bastard?"

The room darkened and Jupiter seemed to grow even taller. "Release him," Jupiter's voice dropped to a dangerous growl.

***CCXXXVII***

At his feet, lay a girl no more than thirteen or fourteen, a farmer's shovel clattering to the stones. What in the gods' names have I done? Before he could react, another Greek soldier attacked him. The man, clearly in his thirties, soon joined the teenager in the growing river of blood.

Jason watched as blood began to flood the roadway. The dirt into which the paving stones were sat turned to mud as first the soldiers attempting to defend the citizens and then those the soldiers failed fell to Roman blades. Chaos reigned. An extermination of all Greeks within sight led to the Third Cohort racing north while the Second chased survivors south.

In the north, archers picked off the pursuers until the Romans were forced to halt as a volley of arrows from the "Silver clad bitches" tore into their ranks. The roadway also appeared blocked with overturned carts, loose stone, and sacks of grain or earth. Loosing men, the centurion ordered their withdrawal. The Second Cohort made it to the gates of Piraeus, where, again, volleys of arrows intercepted their path. Stymied at both ends of their advance, the two cohorts began to capture the towers currently threatening his men. All occupants, much like those occupying the roadway during the breach, received the mercy of Roman iron.

Dozens remained stranded high in the towers, unable to escape the Romans rushing for them. The lucky ones died by the sword or by arrow, their life ended quickly. More of them found ropes secured about their necks before Roman soldiers hurled them from the towers, the binding resulting in a short drop and a sudden stop. A change in noise drew Jason's attention. In the tower directly above him, men shouted curses as an occupant appeared to kill several of their number. He took two steps toward it when a female scream rent the air. Jason looked up to see two of his soldiers lift a struggling figure overhead and heave it to the roadway below. The silver clad figure struck the already blood-soaked pavement and bounced once, before laying still as their blood joined that already spilled. Jason looked at the body, clearly that of a young woman and by her attire another of the cult that seemed to worship Artemis, Hunters I think they call themselves.

Hooves sounded loud at his side and Jason turned to see his commander overlooking the scene from his great black charger with cold acceptance. "How did it come to this? This level of brutality… What I just did…" Percy cut off his younger cousin.

"Is nothing compared to what can come. Depending on how long they hold we may be wishing for a slaughter by the end of this."

"How can I justify…" He looked down on the dead girl. "How is it the men justify this?" Percy shrugged, though Jason could not tell if it was from acceptance or resignation.

"Sieges turn men to animals. They will do things to each other during and after a siege that mortal enemies would not do."

"And me?"

"You are already regretting it; it means you still have a conscience. The most you can do is the least evil necessary to prevent a greater evil."

"What do you mean, Percy?"

"If we fail here, every province with enough of a martial background will rise up. The thousands we lost will be multiple by however many dozen rise against Rome. This," he swept his hand across the carnage, "prevents it from happening again."

"How do we stop it?"

"I am afraid we cannot. Once it starts it is already too late. This is just day eleven, the longer this lasts, the worse it will be." He looked over the piles of bodies and the bloody ground. Jason watched eyes linger on the children and silver-clad girl. "It appears we have made the boatman quite busy today."

***CCXXXVIII***

From the halls of Olympus, thirteen deities looked down upon the slaughter in the same myriad emotions as those enduring, observing, or perpetrating it. Jupiter's eyes only now left the scene, having witnessed his son call down his birthright to initiate the carnage. First, they glared at his wife, still in her Greek form. Athena and Artemis attempted to watch with cool impassiveness, as was expected of goddess. But they could not hide the whiteness of their knuckles as they gripped the arms of their thrones. At the brutal killing of her Hunter, Artemis sprang to her feet.

"Father! We must…" he cut her off. For he had been waiting for this moment. His words filled the hall with a measured cadence.

"We are gods, there is very little we must do. But my decree is thus, we will do nothing." He held up a hand, stifling his Olympian daughters' immediate response. "We will not create or ease storms. We will not demand loved ones sacrificed or guide arrows to weak points. Suggestions of dreams and wooden horses will not happen. Nor will we sow discord with promises of love." None of the assembly missed that each of the actions called out had been perpetrated by one of their number during the Trojan War. "This war will be won by the mortals, by the strength of the arms and capacity of their thoughts. Our children lead both armies. Their will, not ours, will determine this fight." His eyes turned directly to Artemis and Athena. "None of our number will again become involved in this war, unless your very being is threatened. Is that clear?" Thunder shook the throne room as he asked. The assembly confirmed his order. They began to leave. "Neptune, a moment."

"I have done nothing to assist him. He is Poseidon's son, not my own."

"I know," Jupiter said calmly and not for the first time Neptune, as well as Poseidon, felt grateful that Jupiter appeared more than Zeus these days. "But that is my bigger concern, look at what he has done on his own."

"As your son Sulla did. Or Venus' grandson, the first Caesar. Rome has always favored the bold. But you seem to be coalescing power, brother."

"As Rome bows to a single man, this council mirrors it."

"How very Grecian Zeus of you."

***CCXXXIX***

For days the sentries scanned the horizon for any sort of reinforcing army or navy. On the fourteenth day of the ninth month, mastheads appeared. From the sentries' perch thirty feet above the ground, they could see just the top four feet of the mastheads at fifteen miles. After three miles approach, the full image of the cream-colored sail became clear. It took another mile, with the ships now just eleven miles away when the image painted upon the canvas sail hanging from the histos megas, the main mast, became visible. The blue horse-like depiction slowly became clear and within moments of identifying the equine shape, the wings of Poseidon's son revealed themselves. Blue pegasi shown upon the one hundred and fifty sails approaching Piraeus.

"Corinth has come."