Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Riordan-Verse characters. Only the OCs included are mine and any original plots.

The Son of Neptune

( II )

Malcolm always dreaded his dreams; all demigods did. Demigod dreams always had some sort of meaning behind them; either they indicated a message from someone else or they were a premonition of the future. Whatever the case, dreams very rarely showed good things.

And this one was no exception, it seemed.

The scarred demigod was standing in the Gardens of Bacchus with the entirety of New Rome and Camp Jupiter in front for him to see. The sun had sunken high above in the sky and the light of the moon cast an argent glow all around him, creating eerie shadows of the trees and the buildings. Even at night, New Rome tended to be busy, with demigods and legacies bustling about, but right now, everything was silent. The lights were on in all the buildings but there wasn't a soul present.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the only home he had ever known, feeling something shift in the air. A melodic yet quiet hum then sounded all around him and he stumbled as the earth beneath his feet churned and shifted. His smoky grey eyes widened and he looked on in horror as the camp below him was swallowed whole by the earth. Waves of earth and dirt fell on top of all the buildings and houses that had stood for generations as the ground itself started to rise above him, taking the form of a massive hand.

Malcolm could still hear the sleepy humming in background as the earthen hand swung down on him before the scene suddenly shifted. He blinked as he found himself standing inside of an all too familiar building. He looked around slowly, taking in the sight of the towering Roman columns and the walls that depicted carvings of a man wearing a toga with a winged helm on his head and a caduceus in his hands. And in the center of the building, was a grand and golden altar with two bins on either side: one labeled incoming, the other labeled outgoing.

And standing in front of the altar was a tall middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, blue eyes, and elfish features. He had an athletic build and currently wore a pinstriped blue suit and a pair elegant black shoes. The scarred demigod instantly fell down to one knee and bowed his head, not out of respect but out of obligation.

"Dad."

Mercury, the Messenger of the Gods, sent a small and sad smile his way before bidding him to rise which the scarred demigod did, albeit reluctantly. "Malcolm. You are looking…well."

Malcolm shifted uncertainly but said nothing in response. Unlike many demigods his age, he held no grudge against his father. He understood that godly parents weren't the same as mortal ones; they had duties and laws that restricted them from interacting with their children. Most of them never even claimed their kids. Malcolm counted himself among one of the lucky ones; at least Mercury acknowledged him.

The silence between them seemed to stretch for what felt like an eternity. Malcolm waited for his father to speak whilst Mercury stared at his son with an awkward look in his eyes, his gaze lingering on the scars etched across his face before he sighed. "I'm sure you have questions. About what you just saw."

The scarred demigod narrowed his smoky grey eyes. "What does it all mean?"

The Messenger of the Gods held a look of foreboding as he continued to speak. "The Earth Mother, Gaea is rising and she amasses an army of giants, all of whom are ready to carry out their vengeance against the gods. And that vision shows only a fraction of the destruction that is to come should she awaken from her slumber."

Malcolm blinked, taking in everything his godly father just told him. "Gaea is…rising? I don't understand."

"The Son of Pluto told you of an imminent attack on Camp Jupiter during the Feast of Fortune, a warning which you and your fellow Praetor ignored." Mercury questioned with a raised eyebrow and the scarred demigod clenched his jaw and looked away. "Juno has now echoed that same warning. This attack is Gaea's first move and should she succeed, this camp, your people, your home, it will all be destroyed."

"I won't let that happen." Malcolm growled, a fire of determination burning in his eyes. He refused to let his home be razed to the ground.

Mercury simply shook his head. "It is not so simple, my son. Death has been chained. Pluto no longer has control over his subjects. Monsters no longer return to Tartarus. In order for you to be victorious and save Camp Jupiter, Death must be freed."

"I don't…I don't understand." The scarred demigod murmured, shaking his head in confusion. "Who imprisoned Death in the first place? And why?"

"A son of Gaea did." The Messenger of the Gods explained. "His name is Alcyoneus, the antheses of Pluto. As for why, it was done to ensure victory over Camp Jupiter." Malcolm's breath hitched in his throat as his father began to walk closer and closer to him, stopping just two feet away. "Jupiter has forbidden the rest of the gods from speaking with our children and has closed Olympus off from the world."

"Then why are you here?" Malcolm questioned tightly. "Surely, Lord Jupiter would know that you are talking to me, even if in a dream."

Mercury smiled a mischievous smile. "My father sees much, yes. But even he cannot see everything. Dreams are Somnia's domain and he owed me a favor, thus here I am. Besides, it is not like I am interfering in any demigod or mortal matters. I am the Messenger of the Gods and I am here to relay a message."

The scarred demigod blinked. "What kind of message?"

His father gingerly placed a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes, smoky grey meeting piercing blue. "The Fates have intertwined your thread with seven others, my son. You will have an important role to play, not only in the battle to come, but also in the events to follow. The prophecies have foretold it."

"The Prophecy of the Eight." Malcolm mumbled, his eyes widening in realization. "I am…one of the eight?"

The Messenger of the Gods lifted his head and nodded before a sad smile crossed his features. "I'm afraid I do not have a lot of time. I…I had a lot more I wanted to talk to you about."

The scarred demigod set his lips in a thin line. "You don't need to justify anything for me, Dad. I understand."

"But you shouldn't." Mercury stated solemnly. An echo of thunder suddenly rumbled outside the temple and the Messenger of the Gods frowned as their surroundings slowly started to peel away. "It seems my time is up." He looked back down at his son and squeezed his shoulder tightly. "May the Fates guide your path, my son. I know you will make me proud."

And with that, the scene melted away completely and Malcolm was jolted back to reality.

Smoky grey eyes stared ahead at the Legion that had assembled inside the camp for roll call. Even after all his years in camp, Malcolm still found the sight of the assembled Legion both impressive and intimidating.

The first four cohorts, each forty kids strong, stood in rows in front of their barracks on either side of the Via Praetoria. The members of the Fifth Cohort had congregated at the very end, right in front of the Principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of the camp next to the stables and the latrines.

The campers were all dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed over purple T-shirts and jeans. Sword-and-skull designs decorated their helmets. Even their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching through mud or stomping on faces.

In front of the legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoonlike spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment. If you were out of shape when you came to the legion, you didn't stay that way for long. Just walking around in your armor was a full-body workout.

Hearing the sound of rapid footsteps, the Son of Mercury took a quick glance down the street and spotted Hazel and her brother, Nico, jogging over in their direction with the former looking quite out of breath. He made sure to send the girl a disappointed look which she caught before ducking her head in embarrassment. She took her place at the end of her cohort next to Frank Zhang whilst her mysterious brother moved over to where Percy Jackson was standing uncomfortably with a couple of guards.

"Hazel Levesque. So glad you could join us." Reyna called from atop her trusty pegasus, Scipio – affectionately nicknamed as Skippy due to his coat being the color of peanut butter. Malcolm didn't have a pegasus of his own to sit on so he just stood next to her with Aurum and Argentum flanking his either side. He had to admit, it was a bit awkward because of the height difference but he had gotten used to it.

The Lares were the last ones to fall in. Their purple forms flickered as they jockeyed for places. They had an annoying habit of standing halfway inside living people, so that the ranks looked like a blurry photograph, but finally the centurions got them sorted out.

"Colors!" Octavian shouted as everyone settled into their respective places.

The standard-bearers stepped forward at his call. They were all wearing lion-skin capes and holding poles decorated with each cohort's emblems. The last to present his standard was Jacob, the Legion's eagle bearer. He held a long pole with absolutely nothing on top. The job was supposed to be a big honor, but Jacob obviously hated it. Even though Reyna insisted on following tradition, every time the eagleless pole was raised, Malcolm could feel embarrassment rippling through the Legion.

Once all the formalities were done, Reyna cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Romans! You've probably heard about the incursion today. Two gorgons attacked a group of campers in front of the Little Tiber. Praetor Malcolm disposed of one while the other was swept into the river by the newcomer, Percy Jackson. Juno herself guided him here, and proclaimed him a son of Neptune."

The kids in the back rows craned their necks to see Percy who raised his hand and said, "Hi."

"He seeks to join the Legion." Reyna continued. "What do the auguries say?"

"I have read the entrails!" Octavian – the weasel that he was – announced proudly, as if he'd killed the Nemean Lion with his bare hands rather than ripping up a stuffed toy. "The auguries are favorable. He is qualified to serve!"

The campers all gave a shout of: "Ave!"

Reyna then glanced down at Malcolm who nodded in understanding before turning to face the Legion. "Centurions, step forwards!"

The senior officers – one from each cohort – all heeded their Praetor's command and moved in front of their respective groups. Octavian, being the most senior centurion, turned to look at Percy.

"Recruit." The augur began to say haughtily. "Do you have credentials? Letters of reference?"

A lot of kids brought letters from older demigods in the outside world, adults who were veterans of the camp. Some recruits had rich and famous sponsors. Some were third or fourth-generation campers. A good letter could get you a position in the better cohorts, sometimes even special jobs like Legion Messenger, which made you exempt from the grunt work like digging ditches or conjugating Latin verbs. The scarred demigod had no such letters on him when he first joined the Legion. Luckily for him, his half-sibling in the Third Cohort had stood for him.

Percy shifted. "Letters? Um, no."

Octavian wrinkled his nose at the dark haired boy's words and even Malcolm could see the unfairness in the situation. Letters of recommendation or not, the Son of Neptune had been fighting off the gorgons for days before he crossed over the Little Tiber. Not only that but he had also carried a goddess into camp; the Queen of Olympus herself. That in itself was a feat worthy of the First Cohort. Unfortunately, Octavian's family had been sending kids to camp for over a century now. He loved to remind recruits that they were less important than he was.

"No letters." Octavian stated regretfully. "Will any legionnaires stand for him?"

"I will!" Frank Zhang stepped forward. "He saved my life!"

Immediately there were shouts of protest from the other cohorts. Reyna instantly raised her hand for quiet before turning to look at Frank with a stern glare.

"Frank Zhang. For the second time today, I remind you that you are on probatio. Your godly parent has not even claimed you yet. You're not eligible to stand for another camper until you've earned your first stripe."

Frank shrunk back, looking as if he might die of embarrassment and Malcolm couldn't help but pity the poor kid. He remembered when the boy had first arrived at camp and asked to speak with the two praetors in private. He had told them about how he was the great-grandson of Shen Lun and had begged for forgiveness for what his great grandfather had done – the man had accidentally created an earthquake and almost accidentally destroyed Camp Jupiter. But neither Malcolm nor Reyna would ever judge people by what their ancestors did. No, the only thing that mattered was a person's own merits.

Of course, they also told him to keep that information to himself as not everyone may be as forgiving towards him than they were.

The scarred demigod quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts once he saw Hazel step forward as well. "What Frank means is that Percy saved both our lives. I am a full member of the Legion. I will stand for Percy Jackson."

Reyna and Malcolm exchanged looks once again while the other campers began muttering amongst themselves. Hazel had gotten her stripes just a few weeks ago and the act of valor that had earned it for her had been mostly an accident. Nevertheless, she was a full-fledged member of the Legion as she just stated herself, and was eligible to stand for Percy. Besides, there was no one else who was eager to take the new recruit in and they had to put him somewhere.

"Fine. You may stand for the recruit, Hazel Levesque." Malcolm stated as he turned to face her. "Does your cohort accept him?"

Frank was the first to pound his shield against the ground and the other members of the Fifth followed his lead, though they didn't seem very excited. The centurions, Dakota and Gwen, exchanged pained looks, almost as if they were saying: here we go again.

"My cohort has spoken." Dakota declared groggily. "We accept the recruit."

Reyna looked down at Percy with pity. "Congratulations, Percy Jackson. You stand on probatio. You will be given a tablet with your name and cohort. In one year's time, or as soon as you complete an Act of Valor, you will become a full member of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. Serve Rome, obey the rules of the Legion, and defend the camp with honor. Senatus Populusque Romanus!"

The rest of the Legion echoed the cheer.

"Centurions!" Malcolm then announced and all eyes fell on him. "You and your troops have one hour for dinner. Then we will meet on the Field of Mars for Siege. The First and Second Cohorts will defend. The Third, Fourth, and Fifth will attack. You can all go now!"

A cheer broke out among the gathered demigods before they dispersed and began to make their way to the Mess Hall, laughing and cheering as they went.

Malcolm wanted to enjoy his colcannon, he really did. It wasn't exactly the greatest dish in the world but he had grown up eating it. It reminded him of his younger days, before he arrived at Camp Jupiter. It reminded him of his mother, his sweet and caring mother who had been taken from him far too soon. But tonight, he didn't seem to have much of an appetite. No, his mind was elsewhere; still stuck on the conversation he had with his father.

The Earth Mother was rising, Death had been imprisoned by a giant, and an army of bloodthirsty monsters was currently marching towards Camp Jupiter with the intent to raze it to the ground. He had learned from a young age that the life of a demigod was anything but simple, however, this…even this was too much. This was a whole other level of danger that they were facing.

"You're brooding again." Reyna muttered from next to him as she ate her mofongo – a traditional dish from Puerto Rico. If he were being honest, he didn't understand why she liked it so much. She had forced him to eat it once and he had greatly disliked it. Then again, Reyna had always hated his choice in food so he supposed that evened them out.

"I'm not brooding, I'm thinking." Malcolm countered. The two of them were sitting at the Praetor's Table with the other centurions seated all around them, trading snippets of gossip and all that whatnot.

"Care to elaborate?" The Daughter of Bellona questioned with one eyebrow lifted. Malcolm looked around the table and saw that everyone was busy in their own conversations. Once he was sure that no one would eavesdrop, he leaned in closer to Reyna.

"I had a dream last night. I talked to my father."

Reyna's eyes narrowed and she set down her spoon. "What about?"

The scarred demigod pursed his lips before he recounted everything his father had told him. About Gaea, about the attack, about Death. He relayed all of it to Reyna. By the time he was finished speaking, she had her brows furrowed together, lines creasing through her forehead. It seemed that the stones of burden weighing on her shoulders had just become heavier by tenfold.

"That's the gist of it." Malcolm murmured as he stared down at his now cold and uneaten food. "Sooner or later a quest must be issued to free Death."

"We don't even know where he is." The Daughter of Bellona shook her head and Malcolm scrunched his nose.

"But we can find out." He stated and the dark haired girl turned to him in confusion. "My dad said that Death was captured by Alcyoneus – the antheses of Pluto. If anyone knows where he is…"

"It would be Pluto's children." Reyna muttered, her eyes widening in realization.

The Son of Mercury nodded. "That's right. Which is why, during the games, I'm going to go have a conversation with Nico Di Angelo. He's the first one who told us that an attack is coming; I want to find out what else he knows."

Malcolm really had to appreciate the capabilities of the children of Vulcan. In only a few hours, they had built an entire stone fortress with an iron portcullis, guard towers, scorpion ballistae, water cannons, and no doubt many more nasty surprises for the defenders to use at the north end of the Field of Mars – the largest, flattest part of the valley.

"The builders seem to have done a good job today." Nico noted as he stood next to Malcolm on an observation tower about a hundred yards away from the fort. A pair of binoculars hung from his neck as he glanced at the Praetor standing next to him.

"Of course, they did." The scarred demigod replied. "Legionnaires are all trained to build; the children of Vulcan simply excel at it."

The Ambassador of Pluto hummed before directing his attention back to the battlefield. The First and Second Cohort had already taken their place inside the fortress while the other cohorts were forming ranks outside of it. In the sky above them, Reyna circled on Scipio, ready to play referee while half a dozen giant eagles flew in formation behind her – prepared for ambulance airlift duty if necessary.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Malcolm questioned after a brief moment of silence. Nico, however, seemed to be able to see right through him and sent him a flat look.

"You know, you aren't really good at the whole beating around the bush thing." The young pale boy stated.

The Son of Mercury narrowed his eyes before he sighed and looked back down at the battlefield just as the conch horn blew and the games went underway. From the attacking cohorts, only the Fifth advanced, no doubt being used to soften up the defenses. The others stayed back.

"I had a dream last night." He began to say and Nico glanced at him. "I talked to my father and he told me some…interesting things, to say the least."

"Let me guess, he told you about the attack." The Son of Pluto guessed glumly. "If only someone had warned you about it before. Oh wait…I did. But you and Reyna didn't listen."

"Well, I'm listening now." The scarred demigod stated firmly, turning around completely to look at the younger boy. "My dad told me that Death is chained and his jailer is Alcyoneus, the giant born to destroy Pluto."

"He is." Nico confirmed. "And so long as he remains imprisoned, the dead will not die. He must be freed if…"

"If we are to have a chance in this fight." Malcolm finished his sentence for him. It was the exact same thing that Mercury had told him. "Where can we find him? And don't bother trying to lie. I know that you know where he is."

Nico stared at him for a good few seconds with blank eyes before he answered his question. "He's in Alaska."

Malcolm's eyes widened at his words. "In…Alaska? The land beyond the gods?"

The young dark haired boy nodded and the scarred demigod swallowed thickly, dissipating the lump that had formed in his throat. Alaska was bad luck; every demigod in Camp Jupiter knew that. Not only was it a land filled with monsters but none of the gods had any power over there.

That state was where Camp Jupiter's greatest shame originated from. In the 1980s, the Praetor at the time and the Son of Janus, led the entire Fifth Cohort to an expedition in Alaska in an attempt to control the Prophecy of Eight. They never returned though and with them was lost the camp's eagle along with a wide array of Imperial Gold weapons. That incident was why the majority of the Legion saw the Fifth as a cursed cohort.

But now things were different. Back then, Michael Varus had been told by the augur that the Prophecy of Eight was not for him and yet he had gone anyway, which many claimed was why he had failed. However, if his father was to be believed, the prophecy had now started. And his fate was intertwined within it.

"What else do you know about what's coming, Nico?" Malcolm questioned, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. The Son of Pluto pursed his lips, uncertainty crossing over his features.

"I…I can't tell you." The young dark haired boy finally said, a grim look passing over his face. "I wish I could, trust me I do. But I can't interfere anymore than I already have."

The scarred demigod clenched his fists. "Then what can you tell me?"

Before Nico could respond, a sudden explosion sounded and the two of them looked over the railing of the observation tower, taking in the sight of all the water cannons on the battlements exploding. No doubt it was the work of Percy Jackson – he was the only demigod Malcolm knew was capable of controlling water. The Fifth Cohort all cheered after a moment of stunned silence and charged and broke down the gates. It wasn't long before the Fifth Cohort paraded out of the fortress with Frank, Percy and Hazel carrying the defender's banners. Malcolm couldn't help but let out a laugh at the scene playing out before him, his previous thoughts momentarily forgotten.

"The game is won!" Reyna announced as she urged Scipio to fly closer to the ground. She had a strained look on her face and Malcolm knew her well enough to know that she was trying her hardest not to break out into laughter. "Assemble for honors!"

"I knew the War Games would be interesting tonight." Nico commented with a small smirk on his face but then it faded and a frown took it's place. Malcolm glanced at him in confusion.

"What is it?" He questioned and Nico sent him a worried look.

"Something's wrong." The Son of Pluto stated just before a cry burst forth from the crowd of demigods in the battlefield. Malcolm spotted Reyna swooping down on her pegasus and felt dread fill him up. Acting quickly, he tapped his boots together, summoning his golden ankle wings before he pushed off the railing of the observation tower and swiftly flew down to the field.

As soon as he touched the ground, his wings receded and he stormed through the crowd, pushing away anyone who got in his way until he reached the center and his face went pale.

There, on the ground and surrounded by a group of campers lay Gwen Redfield – a centurion of the Fifth Cohort. Her eyes closed and the tip of a pilum was sticking out of her armor.

"Everyone, back away!" The Son of Mercury barked just as the medics broke through the crowd and rushed over to the fallen Daughter of Ceres. The whole Legion fell silent as the healers worked – trying to get gauze and powdered unicorn horn under Gwen's armor to stop the bleeding, trying to force some nectar into her mouth. But despite all their attempts, the centurion didn't move even a single muscle, her face ashen gray.

Finally one of the medics looked up at Malcolm and then Reyna and shook his head. For a moment, there was no sound except water from the ruined cannons trickling down the walls of the fort. Hannibal nuzzled Gwen's hair with his trunk.

The Son of Mercury slowly moved closer to the unmoving body of the female demigod and knelt down next to her. Then he noticed the marks engraved in the wooden pilum shaft sticking out of her. The weapon…it belonged to the First Cohort and the point was sticking out the front of her armor. That meant that she had been speared from the back – possibly after the game had ended. He looked up at Reyna who had also taken note of the details.

"There will be an investigation." The Daughter of Bellona announced, her face hard and dark as iron. Whoever did this, you cost the legion a good officer. Honorable death is one thing, but this-"

At that exact moment, Gwen suddenly let out a gasp, interrupting Reyna's words. Malcolm recoiled in shock as the demigod who he had been sure was dead slowly opened her eyes, the color coming back to her face. He could hear the whispers all around him as Gwen looked around at everyone in confusion.

"Wh-what is it?" She blinked. "What's everyone staring at?" She didn't seem to notice the seven-foot harpoon sticking out through her chest.

"There's no way. She was dead. She has to be dead." One of the medics murmured fearfully.

Gwen tried to sit up, but couldn't. "There was a river, and a man asking…for a coin? I turned around and the exit door was open. So I just…I just left. I don't understand. What's happened?"

Pushing back his surprise, Malcolm moved forward and gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Gwen." He said in a soothing voice. "Don't try to get up. Just close your eyes for a second, okay?"

"Why? What—"

"Just trust me."

Gwen thankfully did what he asked and once she closed her eyes, the scarred demigod grabbed the shaft of the pilum below its tip. He ignored the protests of the medic and counted to three before pulling the weapon out from the front. The resurrected centurion didn't even seem to register it.

'Death has been chained. Pluto no longer has control over his subjects. Monsters no longer return to Tartarus.'

His father's voice rang in his ears as Malcolm tossed the spear away before returning to examine her wound. The blood that had begun to flow out stopped quickly and the wound closed on its own.

"I feel fine." Gwen protested after opening her eyes again. "What's everyone worried about?"

"You died." Malcolm told her without hesitation, choosing to rip off the band aid rather than beat around the bush. It appeared Nico was right about him. "And now you're back." He lifted his head and looked around at the demigods around him. "Someone come help me get her up."

Frank was the one to heed his command and quickly ran over to him, grabbing the shell-shocked girl by one arm and together, the two of them got her to her feet and passed her on to the medics. Once she was in their custody, Malcolm moved to address the rest of the crowd but before he could a thunderous voice suddenly rolled across the field:

DEATH LOSES ITS HOLD. THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING.