DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS OR GAME OF THRONES
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|PROLOGUE

"To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world."

I couldn't help but think of Athena's words as I stared into the eyes of some poor northern fool who had just tried to kill me with an axe. Not even a proper battle axe or a poleaxe, but a poorly made woodcutter's axe whose handle had splintered with a sharp crack when the shoddy blade bounced uselessly off my armor.

The man's eyes widened in his last moments as I pulled my sword from his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground, just another body among thousands strewn across the chaotic battlefield.

All around us, the madness of war raged on; the ground rumbling under the weight of clashing armies, the air choked with dust, and the battlefield covered in men and horses who died badly, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, eyes staring hollowly up at the clouds.

The stench was worse of it. Sweat, blood, and shit—the songs never told you how the dead shit themselves.

"Bastard!"

I grit my teeth, glaring through the narrow slit of my great helm as another enemy crashed toward me with a wooden club. He was practically frothing at the mouth, like a rabid hellhound. There was no sanity left in his bloodshot eyes—just a frenzied bloodlust.

I sidestepped the club's wild swing and sliced outward in a vicious arc, severing the man's arm at the elbow. As the disarmed stumbled past me, howling in agony, I silenced him forever with a single thrust between the shoulders.

"To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world."

Snatching up a fallen spear from the back of our dead bannermen, I hurled it in one smooth motion to impale a charging rider through the neck. The man made a wet, rattling sound, then toppled limply from his saddle, his horse careening away and disappearing into the melee.

"Any man runs, I'll cut him down myself!"

The Mountain roared to our troops as I moved into position on the left flank, keeping an eye on the massive warrior. My grandfather might like to believe he had Clegane under control, but eventually, a mad dog would break his leash. It was only a matter of time.

Even in the chaos of war, it would be hard to lose sight of him. The Mountain wore dull steel plates with no sigil, scarred from hard use. He towered over our men, bellowing commands. With one hand, he swung his great two-handed longsword like a dagger as he charged into a line of Karstark spearmen on a stallion that dwarfed all other horses.

The Mountain's beast reared as the barbed blades raked its thick neck. It lunged into the ranks, bashing aside shields and bodies with hooves like sledgehammers. Though stabbed by spears on all sides, the shield wall shattered beneath the stallion's bulk. The horse thrashed violently, blood foaming from its snout, but The Mountain remained unscathed, laying waste to the enemy with furious sweeps of his massive sword.

With a final bellow, the Mountain's horse collapsed, kicking desperately with its last breaths. The Mountain continued hacking relentlessly, heedless of the dying beast beneath him, his armor now spattered with its blood and gore.

Just then, screams of "Loose, loose!" rang out, followed by a nightmarish whistling noise. A flutter of shadows passed over me. I glanced up to see a dark cloud descend from above, blotting out the sunlight.

Not a cloud—a barrage of arrows!

Hundreds of deadly shafts fell from the sky, glancing off armor or finding flesh with sickening thuds. A squire only a few years older than myself took one straight through the eye, the feathered shaft sprouting grotesquely from his face as he fell backward, sprawling at my feet, pale-faced and wide-eyed with death.

"To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world."

I'd killed before. Thousands of monsters, but they didn't really count. Monsters just vaporized and re-formed eventually. But demigods…between the Princess Andromeda and the Battle of Manhattan, I was sure I'd killed a few.

This was different.

I wasn't fighting in a war with the fate of the world on the line. The people I was fighting weren't evil monsters, a lot of them weren't even real soldiers. I was killing common people who prayed for rain, health, and a summer that never ends. People who didn't care what games the high lords played. It wasn't fair to them, but it didn't change the fact that they were here and they were fighting.

This war might not determine the fate of the entire world, but it would determine my family's fate. I wasn't in the 21st century anymore. Less than twenty years ago the royal family of Westeros had almost been wiped out. Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys murdered, while Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys were forced to flee across the Narrow Sea, doomed to a life on the run.

If my "side" lost, my sweet sister Myrcella and innocent brother Tommen would suffer, forced to pay for the crimes of our cruel older brother Joffrey, who had started this all by executing Ned Stark.