Chapter 5: Swordsmen

Percy breathed in deeply as he let himself drift to the floor of his cell. He'd already shed his shoes and thrown them against the wall, deciding they were a hindrance to his task. Barefoot, he pressed his heels against cool abalone, feeling the smooth shells that surrounded him on nearly all sides. Dragging his feet shoulder-width apart, Percy raised his sword in front of him, wielding it with both hands. He nearly fell forward.

Percy pulled the sword back to himself, regaining his balance by shifting one foot behind him before holding the weapon out again. This time, he stood steady. After allowing himself a brief satisfied smile, the demigod gritted his teeth and slashed diagonally.

"Top left to bottom right, top right to bottom left," Percy thought as he sliced through the water.

In a fluid motion, he tightened his grip and shifted the sword upside down, slashing the inverses.

"Bottom left to top right, bottom right to top left."

Percy felt his heart rate rising, so he continued with what he remembered. He stabbed straight ahead, twice in quick succession. Another pair of diagonal slashes. All the while, his feet hadn't moved an inch. Percy recalled that Luke always included footwork. The demigod narrowed his eyes, raising his back leg and tightening his core before he spun. He planned to slash after one cycle.

He didn't get the chance; both his feet left the floor, launched by his momentum as he spun like a twister. Percy's breath plunged from his chest when the world inverted, his head suddenly his nearest body part to the ground. Shutting his eyes, he tried to force himself still like before, but his mind was clouded by the nausea that had quickly gripped him. The young demigod was about to shout, his grip loosening on his spiraling bronze sword, when a strong hand caught him by the ankles and bound his feet together.

Hanging upside down, Percy took a few seconds to shudder off his dizziness. When he finally reopened his eyes, he found a merman in a full set of sea green armor. It was the same man as before, who'd summoned him and Triton to the palace. Percy met deep-set eyes framed by a Trojan helm, and saw that they held amusement. Not the callous kind that never seemed too far from Triton's rending gaze. It was just amusement. The kind you'd get watching a squirrel try to climb a greased pole.

The merman flipped Percy back over, letting go of his ankles. Mirth danced from the merman's eyes to his creasing smile.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his rich voice reverberating against the encircling wall.

"Yeah, thanks," Percy answered, rubbing the back of his neck when he felt his face flush in embarrassment.

"You are very unskilled."

Percy paused before slowly letting his hand fall to his side. The merman had just insulted him, except it hadn't really felt like it. There wasn't a hint of malice, or even teasing, in his words. They'd come out as bland as a comment about the brown color of a wooden chair. The demigod blinked past it.

"Yeah, I know. That's what this practice is for."

"Someone taught you to practice like this?" the merman asked, baffled.

Percy felt his face heat up again.

"No, I'm just copying my friend." he said firmly, "He does the moves separately to warm up. Calls them fundamentals."

"Ah. He certainly understands swordsmanship far better than you."

"So you're just here to make fun of me." Percy clenched his jaw. "Thanks, but I've got enough of that going on."

The merman's bewilderment only stoked Percy's growing irritation.

"No, I would like to offer my assistance, if you would have it."

The demigod snorted.

"Yeah, sounds like it. I'm pretty sure Triton is supposed to handle my training anyways."

Swishing his silver tail, the merman wrung his hands and regarded Percy with a somber gaze. He shook his head softly.

"Lord Triton will not be training you," he said.

Percy eyed the merman suspiciously, stepping past his solemn tone. Everything he'd said so far sounded genuine – or maybe blunt was a better way to put it – and he wasn't explicitly hostile towards Percy, which placed him far above the grand total of two other merpeople he'd met so far. But not being hateful was a ridiculously low bar to clear. Percy needed more.

"Why do you want to help me?"

The merman sighed, his lips drawn taut and his dark eyes still set on the demigod.

"I have a son," he finally said, "some years older than you, and I could not bear to see him left alone in your position."

Percy believed him. He hated that he believed him. He wished there was some kind of detector that he could just stick in his head and always know when people were lying. If only the Greek gods would read some DC comics and make Wonder Woman's lasso real. Actually, it was called the Lasso of Hestia… So was it real? What came first? Did it exist before the comics or was it made up by the writers?

The demigod blinked twice. He'd thoroughly gotten off track.

"Let's say that I don't believe you," Percy settled on, "Can you prove it?"

The merman's brow furrowed.

"That I have a son?"

"No! That you actually want to help and aren't just lying to get me to trust you."

Again, the merman eyed him dolefully, staring at him like he was broken glass. It was getting annoying; being pitied was the worst.

"It is unfortunate to see such a young soul so untrusting. I am sorry for whatever all has led to this."

Finding out that Greek myths aren't myths at all, and that you'd been living with a monster for years will do that, Percy thought to himself.

But he said nothing, only nodding stiffly as he waited for the merman to continue.

"My name is Ascalon," he said, straightening his back, "I am a Kybernetes in the Atlantean army."

Captain, Percy's mind automatically translated.

He could innately understand Ancient Greek. He also knew that the language was Ancient Greek. Sure, what was one more impossibility?

"I assume you would like to know what led me to you," Ascalon continued, and Percy nodded again.

"Nearly two nights ago, I was on a routine patrol outside of Atlantis when I, as well as my entire battalion, was commanded to return to the city by Lord Poseidon himself. I came at once, swimming over the walls only to find that the entire army had flooded the streets, as well as the city's populace. We all shared the same blanket of confusion until Lord Poseidon descended on the city."

"He was here?" Percy asked.

"Yes. It was a surprise for us all, as he does not spend much time in the city. He revealed to us that he had a demigod son and that the boy would be coming to stay here. We were all shocked at his breaking of the Three Brothers' pact, but far less so when we learned that Zeus had broken it first."

Percy's mouth twitched with a smile. He hadn't had many conversations about the King of the Gods, but from the ones he'd had, the god didn't seem to be too well liked. Neither Triton nor Ascalon had bothered to call him 'Lord' like they did with Poseidon, and the merman soldier had just admitted that maybe even all of Atlantis held Zeus' trustworthiness in lower regard. But Zeus and Poseidon were rivals in a way, so maybe Percy's sample was a little biased.

"Was that it?" the demigod asked, "You heard an announcement that I exist, and you're here?"

Ascalon shook his head.

"The oath is what intrigued me."

Percy's brow furrowed as the merman continued.

"All of Atlantis, each and every citizen and soldier of the Sea's capital, was asked to take an oath following Lord Poseidon's announcement. And we all did. We swore on the River Styx to not discuss your existence with anyone not present at that moment. Zeus believes you dead, and Lord Poseidon intends to keep it that way. As do we all."

An involuntary shiver sluiced through Percy. The River Styx: the sacred current that separated the dead and the living. His mother had told him stories of its abilities, from granting invulnerability to completely shredding the sanity of mortal men. It was the most powerful of the Underworld's rivers. But Percy had never heard of an oath on it.

"What does swearing on the river do?"

Ascalon paused, his mouth half open before an understanding smile curved through his scruffy grey beard.

"I forget how little you know." Percy grimaced at the merman's words. "An oath on the Styx is the most solemn promise a mortal can make. Its power is palpable even when the words are merely spoken; thunder rumbles to seal the promise. Lord Poseidon wielded storms of divine proportions on the surface far above Atlantis, legitimizing the thousands upon thousands of promises that were made following his announcement. Without the storms, even the most oblivious of gods would have become aware of the thundering."

"What happens if you break the promise?"

"There is no single answer, but, in comparison, death would be a welcome solace."

Percy felt the shiver again, like cold fingers pinching their way up his spine. He swallowed. An entire city of people had taken a beyond-deadly vow for him. No, for his father, but it was still tied to him. He gravely met Ascalon's eyes, who stared back unflinchingly.

"Okay," the demigod said, releasing a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, "I believe you, but just one more thing."

The merman's face brightened, his eyes creasing with his grin.

"Certainly."

"Tell me what the Gauntlet is."

Ascalon's expression collapsed in an instant. He was silent for a while.

"No. Not yet," he eventually said.

"Why not?"

Percy's curiosity was immediately piqued. He hadn't cared that much before, but a denial made him far more desperate to know. But his new interest slowed when he saw the genuine worry on the merman's face. Ascalon sighed.

"You do not tell a calf how it will one day be thrown to the wolves. It would live its remaining life paralyzed by fear," he said slowly, "You let it first grow into a bull, you teach it strength, so that when the den does come, it enters with a chance." The merman grimaced. "All you must know now is that the Gauntlet involves fighting."

Percy's knuckles had turned white around his sword. His heart throbbed in his chest, but somehow – maybe he was so scared that he could barely feel it anymore – he managed half a smile.

"I've got a weird feeling that I want to start training as soon as possible."

Ascalon's wide grin made the rest of Percy's smile come easier.

"Yes, you do," the merman said, "but first, stance. You will start on the ground."

Percy drifted to the floor again. He set his legs shoulder width apart, then shifted one foot behind him and raised his blade, both hands tight on the hilt. He held steady. But instead of granting praise, Ascalon tutted.

"Wrong."

A golden trident materialized in the merman's hand. With a deft sweep, as if the deadly weapon was simply a garden rake, Ascalon guided the three razor prongs harmlessly against the demigod. He shifted the boy's back foot so it was perpendicular to his body. He straightened his lead foot to point perfectly ahead. A rough tap on Percy's lower back tightened it and hinged his hips, and another jut to his inner elbows raised the sword higher. Instantly, the demigod felt more stable, holding a lower center of gravity from which he could definitely produce more force.

Ascalon nodded approvingly, circling the demigod.

"This stance is Long Point. Your friend must be strong if it is the one he favors," the merman said, his voice taking on a firmer tone, "With a sword, it is my preferred position as well."

Percy kept his eyes forward as Ascalon continued speaking. The demigod watched his cell's iridescent walls dance as they refracted their rainbows through the lightly drifting water. He barely noticed when his fingers started tapping an uneven melody against the hilt of his sword. Percy only fell back into his mind when he realized that his instructor had gone silent.

He smiled sheepishly, offering a quick apology. It wasn't like he ever meant to zone out, but it didn't feel like much of a choice after he'd been still for a certain amount of time. 'Less than ten seconds!' was always the quoted number when his old teachers called home to complain. Maybe Ascalon would ring up Poseidon and do the same.

But the merman's face was unreadable.

"You are wondering when your training will begin, yes?"

Percy felt a churn in his stomach. He didn't want to already disappoint the one guy in the city that actually seemed to care what happened to him. He took a deep breath. He'd focus harder, listen to whatever Ascalon had to say about stances. He'd–

The demigod slashed his sword on pure instinct, catching a trio of prongs just inches from his face. Behind them, Ascalon grinned, pressing his trident forward.

"Good. I prefer teaching as we go."

The merman shoved Percy away before rocketing towards him again, pushing off water itself as he swung his weapon.

"Keep your feet on the ground!"

Percy obeyed, twisting his sword for another slash and catching the weapon again. He gritted his teeth, his heart racing as Ascalon bore down on him from above. The demigod's knees shook under the strain, catching another quick thrust.

"These stabs are favored by the Romans," the merman said, backing off with a fluid whip of his tail.

Percy's sword tip struck the floor, and he leaned on it, his other hand on his knee as he bent to catch his breath. Raising his head, he watched as Ascalon's trident shifted. The prongs, formerly sharp at only their tips, thinned and grew razor edges.

"And these slashes are Greek."

Percy wrenched his blade upright, kicking one foot behind him as he braced and swung. Sparks hissed as edge met edge, and a small shockwave ripped away from the clash. A blur of surprise traced across Ascalon's face before he struck Percy with his tail.

The demigod carted across the cylindrical cell before willing the water to catch him. He was already mid-swing as the water obeyed, and his blade slashed the nearing golden trident.

"Beautiful instincts," the merman mused.

His voice had remained perfectly level throughout their sparring. Percy nearly scoffed, realizing Ascalon was barely exerting himself. The demigod clenched his jaw as his instructor stabbed again and shoved him into the wall. The smooth shells were harder than rock, crushing into Percy's back while he pushed back the razor prongs.

The demigod held out until Ascalon relented. The moment the trident withdrew, Percy surged forward with his own stab, kicking off of the wall behind him. The tip of his blade was an inch from opening up Ascalon's cuirass when he realized his opponent was smiling. Faster than should've been possible, the merman spun out of danger, completing exactly one cycle before the flat of his trident rammed into Percy's back.

Face first, the demigod struck his cell floor. A twinge of iron quickly washed over his tongue. The blood was coming from a split lip that was ready to swell, and yet, Percy was smiling. He fought to his knees and stumbled to his feet, using his blade almost as a cane. Ascalon stood ahead of him, stone faced.

"You did well, Percy."

His tone gave him away.

"How well?" Percy pressed, and the merman cracked a smile.

"Regarding your future trials, I have much more hope than I expected when I first descended into this cell."

Percy beamed, quickly wincing when he remembered his lip.

"But," Ascalon added, "your stabbing is unnatural. Slashing came instinctually to you; you certainly are a Greek. We will focus on your natural talent."

Percy nodded.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" the demigod asked, "Spinning like I tried to, except actually doing it right?"

The mirth in Ascalon's eyes was enough of an answer.

"Everything I did was on purpose," the merman said, "Unorthodox styles, including that spin, are important skills to hone and keep in your arsenal." His mouth twitched. "I have a strange feeling that you will excel in that field."

Before Percy could respond, the whirlpool above them dissolved. Ascalon jerked away from the demigod, drifting to the far wall as his face became stone. He floated silently as Triton descended, the prince's eyes hungry as they met Percy's. But the god's harshness faded when he came level between the demigod and the soldier.

"Ascalon," Triton mused, "Toying with the prisoner, are we?"

His gaze settled on the trail of blood floating up from Percy, tainting the surrounding water with a thin river of red. The demigod's eyes were dead set on his divine half brother, and he barely noticed that the cut on his lip had closed, the swelling already fading. And with a lazy swipe from Triton, the ocean swallowed the demigod's escaped blood as well.

Ascalon pulled beside Triton, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to speak only for the larger merman to hold up his hand.

"It is alright. I am not the only one who gets to have fun with him."

Percy met Ascalon's sorrowful gaze for a moment, and he realized Triton thought that he'd been deliberately hurting him. The demigod tried to speak, but he found himself clawing at his own throat.

He'd lost his breath again, and his wild eyes snapped to Triton's clenched fist. The water around Percy's throat spun on itself like a halo ringing his neck, and his eyes began to roll back in his head. He was already so tired from his bout with Ascalon. His legs kicked aimlessly, slowing in their intensity.

Triton sighed and released him, letting the demigod hack and cough against the floor as oxygen returned to his lungs.

"Humans are so fragile," the prince bemoaned, "Next time, Ascalon, leave some of him behind for me."

Ascalon said nothing as Triton rose from the cell and the whirlpool reformed, sealing them back in. Percy massaged his throat, glaring at the churning ceiling while his instructor frowned.

"This will be a difficult three months, young one."

(Line Break)

Luke stretched his legs as he found himself walking from cabin to arena. He made his way down the U-shape layout of twelve dwellings, each one a unique design that represented a different Olympian parent. An important rule at camp was that you had to bunk underneath your mom or dad's roof once you were claimed, which sounded simple enough. Luke had officially learned that he was a son of Hermes months ago, so he'd been quickly ushered to the big brown barn decorated with a caduceus above its front doors and badly peeling paint just about everywhere else.

He'd entered to find a throng of kids, way too many for the space available, arguing over the lines drawn by hanging curtains that apparently settled the sizes of their rooms. The back half of the barn had seemed to not be participating, the population instead laying on cots or spinning in desk chairs, watching the front half for entertainment. Both the fighting and the laughter had hushed when Luke had stood in the doorway for long enough.

Many of the kids had rolled their eyes at the sight of him, or murmured "another one," but an almost identical pair of kids had jumped from their cots and jostled their way up to the front door, wearing impish smiles.

"Hey, dude," the taller one had said, "Claimed or unclaimed?"

Luke hadn't understood.

"Hermes is my father."

Cheers had gone up from the back half of the cabin, the duo of curly-haired kids joining in.

Luke had learned right after that the Hermes cabin welcomed both the god's own children as well as all the demigods that remained unclaimed by their parents. There were dozens of them, fighting to claim space, and the idea had made Luke's stomach turn. But he'd swallowed his indignation then and settled into the back half of the cabin with the help of the two demigods, Travis and Connor Stoll. The former was the taller and older brother, but they were both younger than Luke.

He liked them. They eerily mirrored each other: curly brown hair, blue eyes, upturned eyebrows, and elfish features. Their senses of humor were identical as well, and although Luke found them seriously funny, he remained permanently on guard around them after seeing them separately sneak scorpions into the other's pants. That'd been on day three of Luke joining his cabin, and he'd seen both brothers bedridden for the day with ice on their groins, still laughing.

Luke smiled to himself before he reached the bottom of the U-shape. He stepped between Zeus and Hera's empty cabins, the pair anchoring the rest of the buildings in the flatland they all stood in. Luke didn't even look at the small grey citadel that was Zeus', and he only offered a glance at the pale, columned atrium that was Hera's.

The demigod left the cabins behind, relaxing his jaw and breathing in the late afternoon sounds of Camp Half-Blood. He heard the bickering of nymphs and the metallic echoes of their cooking from the dining pavilion ahead, the open-air hall standing on a hill that looked down on the beach and Long Island Sound. Far right of it, he could just make out demigods shouting and laughing as they fought up the huge climbing wall that Luke had almost lethally learned housed real lava.

To his left, pegasi whinnied as they soared through the air, slicing towards their stables several football fields away, nestled against the edge of the valley's forest. Between him and the stables, Luke found the sound he was looking for. The arena, filled with the clanging of swords on swords on shields on spears, stood as a gladiator coliseum. It had quickly become his favorite activity at camp, with the black, bubbling forge that rose behind it as a close second.

Luke broke into a jog, bridging the gap between him and the arena in half a minute. He strode in through the arched entryway, moving into the building's armory that was really just a little locker room reserved for Head Counselors. The actual camp armory stood just next door, a massive storage space filled with traditional weapons as well as ones that Luke had never heard of.

Locker 11. He spun the little wheel and flung open the door to find his bronze blade standing proudly amongst dirty gym clothes. The demigod weaseled it out, careful not to touch the sweaty shorts that were surely Connor's. Travis was the camp's head counselor, and he'd quickly let Luke start using the locker for his sword after seeing what he could do in the arena.

Luke twirled the blade in his hand, making his way into the open section of the arena where nearly twenty demigods were already training, either sparring each other or working on both straw and bronze dummies. The demigod found an empty spot and carted over one dozen strawmen to work with. He organized them in a surrounding circle, doubling some up and fashioning them as if they were swinging their own swords.

Luke stood in the center, closing his eyes as he held his blade out in front of him. He shifted a foot behind him, turning it out and perpendicular to his body. With a sharp exhale, he launched forward with a heavy slash.

The first strawman cleaved in two. Luke carried his own momentum, shifting into a slash in the opposite direction. Another strawman fell. He dropped low, releasing one hand from his blade, holding himself against the ground and kicking in a wide arc. A strawman launched from its fixture. Luke finally opened his eyes, bounding towards it and bringing his blade down to rend it midair.

Before the halved strawman could hit the ground, Luke had already beheaded two more. He slashed the arms off one before kicking it in the chest, and he stabbed the next through the stomach. In a whirlwind, the demigod ripped four to splinters. He still hadn't stopped moving, his light feet carrying him like he could fly. But for the twelfth and final one, the demigod planted his heels, hinging his hips as he brought his blade down from above with as much force as he could muster. The sword entered the mannequin's head, slicing through its body like a warm knife through butter, and exiting its groin. Dramatically, its halves fell away from each other, seemingly in slow motion.

Sweat beaded on Luke's forehead as he held himself in his final position, sword already swung. He was uncomfortably aware of his own panting, and he realized it was because the rest of the arena had gone silent.

An arc of demigods stared at him, their own duels and training forgotten while watching Luke's dismantling.

They were just straw puppets, Luke thought, moving a hand to his knee, but he knew what they'd seen.

Three years on the run – two and a half with a sword – would do that to you. Especially if you went out picking fights with real monsters.

Luke quickly caught his breath, his tight mouth twitching as Connor Stoll shouldered past the crowd. The younger demigod chuckled.

"You sure you're not an Ares kid?" he asked, putting a hand on Luke's shoulder.

Luke gave him a wry smile as he straightened up, shrugging off Connor's arm and holding out a wrapped Twinkie.

"Nah," he said, feeling his heart rate return to normal, "Hermes for sure."

Connor's eyes widened, and he searched all of his pockets to find them empty. The demigod looked back at Luke, smirking.

"Keep it. You probably need the energy."

At the mischievous glint that sparked in Connor's eyes, Luke swallowed. He may have made a big mistake. Going forward, he'd have to check every pair of pants he put on.

Connor retreated to his own training amidst light laughter aimed at him for being the one to get pickpocketed, as opposed to his normal kleptomania. Most of the kids followed suit, turning away, but Luke's gaze shifted to the one girl who didn't move. She was big, like a rugby player. Probably a little younger than him. Whatever the case, she was glaring daggers.

Clarisse, Luke thought.

The Stoll brothers had mentioned her several times, as had some of the other people Luke had met so far. He hadn't seen her before, but the mean eyes and permanent sneer plastered across her face marked her pretty easily. Luke shrugged her off.

He made his way to the secluded section of the arena that was just a massive wall of thick Celestial Bronze. It was the divine metal his sword was made of as well. Apparently, it moved straight through regular morals while being lethal to demigods and monsters alike, which he found interesting.

Luke looked at the thin gashes that dug into the wall before him. The sheet of bronze was designed for practicing the pure strength behind swinging your weapon. It was allegedly blessed by Hephaestus to be nearly impossible to break, making it completely impossible by just a mortal, but Chiron always skirted that rumor. Luke traced the gashes again. He wanted to be the one to prove the idea wrong.

He gritted his teeth and swung his sword, bracing as its sharp edge screeched against the immovable sheet of metal. The demigod's forearms rattled as the force doubled back on him, bouncing from the wall. He shuddered and struck again, then again. The deafening sound gripped him, echoing around the boxed room and spilling into the rest of the arena behind him.

The rhythmic clang of metal on metal, separated only by sparse breaks to let his body recover, were all Luke heard for the next forty-five minutes. At the end of it, his sword fell from his hands and his hands met his knees, holding him up from collapsing. The demigod was drenched in sweat, his throat aching for water as his ears rang. But he was satisfied by the new gashes that marked the unbreakable wall.

Luke slowly straightened himself and trudged out of the training area, too tired to meet the eyes of anyone staring at him. His shower went by in a daze, and he hung his sword back in Travis' locker before making his way outside. It was almost sunset, meaning Annabeth would be where she always was when the sky melted to a soft orange.

A brisk wind drifted through camp as Luke left the arena and arc of cabins behind. Autumn had come early, bringing its evening chills that were softly biting at the demigod. As he came up on the Big House, he remembered the moment that Annabeth had woken up in the infirmary, and how brave she'd been after hearing about Percy and Thalia.

She'd quietly sat in her infirmary bed, only nodding as Chiron had explained everything to her. Luke had been sitting beside her, rubbing her back. Her eyes had welled, but she hadn't cried even after the centaur had left and Luke had hugged her tightly.

They'd explored camp together that day, joined at the hip while Silena had led them around. Luke and Silena had done their best to talk to Annabeth, but she'd been mostly small smiles and silent nods. They'd each retired to their cabins when nighttime came, and it had stung Luke to not be able to stay with her.

But, in the middle of the night, a boy from the Athena cabin had snuck to Hermes' and found Luke. His name was Malcolm, and they'd run back to his cabin together to find Annabeth in her bed, sitting with her knees tucked to her chest and sobbing. Luke had thanked Malcolm before taking a seat beside Annabeth and just holding her. The whole night had passed like that.

That'd been five nights ago. Since then, they'd both thrown themselves into camp activities during the day and then, from sunset, spent their evenings together at Thalia's tree.

Luke breathed deeply as he reached the top of the hill, coming up on Annabeth already facing him, her legs crossed and her back against the trunk. She smiled as Luke lowered himself beside her and draped an arm around her shoulder. When another gust of wind came, she leaned into him.

"How was your day?" Luke asked, looking out at the camp below.

The demigods in the strawberry fields looked like little ants foraging through a bundle of vines.

"It was fun," Annabeth answered, her voice much fuller than it'd been in recent days, "I finished another book in the Athena cabin library."

"Yeah? What was it on?"

"Architecture." Luke could hear the pure wonder in her voice. "Mostly Greek and Roman, but there were chapters on lots of American buildings, too."

Annabeth twisted to look up at him.

"Did you know that the St. Louis Arch was built in two halves? They had to build it so perfectly that the maximum error was less than half a millimeter to get the centerpiece at the peak to fit!"

Luke couldn't help but smile.

"We have to go one day," she added.

Her tone left no room for argument, not that Luke would have had one.

"We will," he affirmed, "Find all the other cool buildings in America, and we'll go to all of them."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Annabeth laid her head against him. Luke didn't see the tear roll down her cheek. After a minute of silence, she sighed.

"What do you think Percy's doing?"

Luke swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He forced a smile. Chiron had told them both about Poseidon turning their friend into a dolphin.

"Exploring, probably. Seeing lots of islands and beaches." Luke said, "Bothering the other dolphins about whatever dolphins do."

Annabeth laughed.

"'How do I swim faster?'" she added, imitating Percy and making Luke chuckle, "'How do I do that flipping trick?'"

For the few days that he'd been trained by Luke, Percy had incessantly asked questions, desperate to get faster than Annabeth. They might have spent more time talking than training.

"Once we get some quests under our belts," Luke started, "we'll ask Chiron to start going away from camp on our own. We'll go sailing on ships and chase after dolphins until we find the one with enough sass to be Percy."

Annabeth giggled and leaned back, looking up at Thalia's towering tree.

"We could take some branches, too. The longer ones that hang down."

"Definitely," Luke said, "She wouldn't mind; she likes her hair shorter anyways."

The two demigods fell into silence as the sun dipped behind the horizon. A blanket of twilight wrapped Camp Half-Blood, and the early night still left enough light to cast long shadows past Thalia's tree.

Luke extended his arm, bending his fingers and creating the shadow puppet of a dog against the grass. Annabeth laughed before mirroring him, making hers bark and scare his. Luke's growled and bit forward while Annabeth shrieked and pulled her own shadow away. Before she could answer with her own attack, a conch horn sounded.

Both demigods shot to their feet, holding each other's eyes for a moment. After a backwards countdown from three, they tore down their hill towards the dining pavilion that overlooked Long Island Sound. The dinner horn had sounded, and neither demigod wanted to be stuck in the rush on Steak Night.

A/N: Gonna spoil a little bit of my own story heh. Triton will become pretty cool soon. I hate having to make him be a dick at first, but I promise it'll all make sense. Also, Luke/Annabeth will NEVER happen. I hate THAT line from TLO where Luke asked if she loved him. He was 23 and she was 16, and even in my story, they'll be 20 and 16 by that point. Absolutely NOT. Annabeth will develop a crush on him like canon, but it'll be cute and childish like it SHOULD HAVE remained in the stories. Anyways, as you can tell, I have gripes with that. Moving on, hope you enjoyed my rare non-cliffhanger chapter ending :) Please lmk how you think the story is going so far. Most of my writing happens as I go, so I seriously implement feedback based on what you think.

levisorous: okay i get it, this feels like the chaos punishment in divergent path haha. i thoroughly enjoyed the split perspectives, curious to how lukes thinking. itll be especially cool if you keep it up and luke still follows the path of hosting kronos. theres a lot youve done that sets up for the future, its curious. the plot lines you can take us through are crazy man. your way with writing never ceases to amaze me, you always got something. already begging for chapter 5, at least ive got the next four days off to speed the process along lmfao.

Haha oh yeah it does. I mainly named it that since it was the chapter where I diverged POVs and couldn't resist naming it the same as my story. I don't think I'll follow through with Luke's perspective forever because if I go the traditional route of him becoming Kronos, I'd eventually be writing from Kronos pov. I do want to explore him for a while and may shift to Thalia or Annabeth if I think that could go better. Guess we'll see haha, and as always, I appreciate the kind words :)

Wabbs: I can say without a shadow of doubt that so far this story is amazing, like with a premise that is not necessarily original you manage to give it a little twist (and also let's be honest, with very good writing too) to make it different from the rest and give it too many possibilities for the future (and in my option thats great, trying to figure out in which way you will go is really interesting, and with only 4 chapters as of right now there are an interesting amount o different paths ahead) like "Will luke still turn bad?" or "how will percy get tangled with the whole lighting thief mess if Zeus believes he is dead (maybe poseidon sends him in secret so they don't go to war?and honestly I can go for a lot longer.

Thank you so much, I genuinely appreciate it. I have a few possibilities I'm weighing for where Luke is going to go, but I know exactly how Percy will get hung up in the lightning thief issue. That's technically two years away, but expect a timeskip soon-ish :) Just got some more groundwork to lay with certain characters and relationships. Hope you enjoy the direction it takes!