August 16, 2000 Sally Jackson gave birth to twins. Perseus "Percy" Jackson, a son of Poseidon. And Theseus Jackson, a son of Neptune. The doctor, Apollo in disguise, told Sally that Theseus was stillborn, and used the mist powerfully enough to even overtake her clear sight and make it appear true. Sally cried and mourned her son, holding Percy ever closer.

The truth of the matter was far worse than his being stillborn. Theseus was given to Neptune's master at arms. A particularly brutal merman by the name of Marikus Drakar. Marikus was determined to make Theseus the greatest hero in history. Even if it meant potentially scarring the boy for life. Theseus was told his mother died in childbirth.

From the age of 2 forward Marikus trained his foster son as he would a soldier in the academy he taught at. He used a driftwood staff, grown over with barnacles to punish failure. To teach discipline. To correct stance. All under the watchful guise of Neptune. When he was 4, Marikus took Theseus to the depths of the Mariana Trench. Theseus divine heritage granted him immunity to the crushing effects of the oceans depths, but not its impending effect on movement. Or weights. For the next two years Theseus trained under the crushing depths of the sea. Growing faster and stronger than anyone his age should have been.

On his 6th birthday, Marikus called his foster son. "Theseus." The raven hair boy turned to his foster father and tormentor, fear and defiance flaring in his cerulean eyes.

"Yes Commander?" Came Theseus' icy reply. Marikus silently relished in the venom the boy had now.

"Your Father has summoned you to the surface. You will be leaving my care for Camp Jupiter. Pack your things." Marikus told him and Theseus fought hard to not scream out for joy. Theseus' "things" consisted of the clothes in his back, which were practically rags, and an Imperial Gold Pugio dagger. Together they swam to the surface. The higher they went, Theseus felt the pressure drop, and his speed began to increase, no longer fight the intense pressures of the water he quickly paced the merman. Theseus broke the surface to find his father in his chariot waiting on him. Cold cerulean meeting the same. Neptune looked his son over and was proud of what he saw.

"Climb in the chariot Theseus." Neptune order and his son complied, the tags that remained of his clothes practically falling off. Neptune handed him a black backpack inside were mortal clothes, jeans, socks, boots, t- shirts, and jackets. Along with mortal money and Denarii. And a white and blue pen multicolor pen.

Theseus dressed as his father's hippocampi pulled them to the east, towards America's west coast. More specifically a beach in Sonoma stet park in California. Before they got into a black Cadillac and Neptune drive his son to Jack London State park. To the Wolf House.

"That pen you saw is called the Scripteur of Neptune. Inside it is a Gladius, Pugio, Pila, and Bow." Theseus held the pen, looking at it as his father described its enchantment. "They are made of celestial bronze and will keep you safe in the trials to come." His father finished.

"Thank you, father." Theseus said with the emotion of a veteran soldier. His pride allowing a slight lift in tone at the end. Soon after Theseus got out the car and Neptune drove away.

Theseus found Jason Grace, his cousin and a son of Jupiter, hiding in the nearby bushes. He was five, malnourished and bruised. His eyes sunken and hair like straw made Theseus pity him. Care for him. And Theseus decided to protect him, through whatever came next.

Theseus crouched low in the shadows of the ruins, his heart pounding in his chest like the bass of a distant storm. The cold stone walls of the Wolf House were a stark contrast to the warm embrace of the ocean that had been his home for the last six years. He watched as the wolves prowled around him and Jason, their eyes reflecting the moonlight with a fiery glow. The pack had accepted him, but he was not one of them. He was different, a demigod in a place where gods were but whispers on the wind.

Lupa, the great she-wolf goddess herself, approached Theseus and Jason, her gait a silent dance of power and grace. The legendary caretaker of Romulus and Remus, she had taken the two of them under her furry wing, offering them protection and wisdom in the harsh world of the Lupan camp. Her eyes, a piercing gold, met Theseus' cerulean gaze and he knew she had something important to say. The air grew thick with anticipation as the rest of the pack fell quiet, their breaths shallow and eyes focused on their goddess.

"Theseus," she began, her voice a mix of warmth and steel, "You must now leave this place. Your journey lies to the south, where the scent of salt meets the earth. There you will find the Little Tiber, a stream that whispers the secrets of your ancestors. Follow its call, and it will guide you to your true home." Theseus felt a strange tug in his chest, as if the very essence of the ocean was drawing him towards the unexplored lands.

Jason looked at Theseus, his expression a mix of admiration and apprehension. He knew little of his cousin, but he could see the longing in his eyes to belong. "We'll stick together," he assured him, grasping Theseus' forearm in a firm grip. "Like the legends of old, we'll conquer whatever stands in our way."

Theo nodded solemnly, gripping the Scripteur of Neptune tightly in his hand. It was a symbol of hope, a beacon in the darkness that had been his life so far. The multi-colored pen felt warm to the touch, as if alive with the magic of the sea god. He knew he could count on it when the going got tough, and the thought brought him comfort.

The two young demigods set off into the night, the wolves of the pack watching them with knowing gazes. The moon cast long shadows across the landscape, turning the ruins into a maze of silvery light and inky darkness. Theo took the lead, his senses heightened from his years of training. He could feel the vibrations of the earth beneath his feet, the whispers of the wind carrying the scent of the ocean. The call of the Little Tiber grew stronger with each step, a siren's song that pulled him inexorably towards the south.

They had not traveled far before the first Hellhound appeared. It was a monstrous creature, its fur a mottled mix of black and red, eyes like burning coals, and teeth that gleamed in the moonlight. Theo's hand tightened around the Scripteur of Neptune as it grew in his hand, morphing into a razor edged Gladius. He planted his feet firmly, ready to face the beast. But as he charged, Jason was by his side, a fiery determination in his eyes. The battle was fierce, but Theseus' skills and the power of his godly weapon were too much for the creature. It yelped in pain before dissipating into a cloud of ash.

Yet, as they continued their journey, the night grew more treacherous. The Hellhounds grew bolder, and for each one Theo vanquished, two more seemed to emerge from the shadows. They were relentless, their baying echoing through the ruins like the cries of the damned. Theo and Jason fought side by side, their trust in each other growing with every passing moment. Despite the odds, the two demigods pushed on, their destination burning in their hearts like a beacon of hope.

Their days were spent navigating the treacherous lands, evading monsters and gods alike. Theo's skills grew sharper with each encounter, his reflexes honed by the constant danger. Jason, though young, proved a formidable warrior, his courage unyielding even in the face of the most terrifying creatures of myth. They became a well-oiled machine, their movements in sync, anticipating each other's needs and covering each other's backs. Their friendship, forged in the crucible of danger, grew stronger with each step they took toward the horizon.

Finally, the day came when the scent of saltwater grew so potent that it coated their tongues like the kiss of the sea. They had reached the shores of the San Francisco Bay, and the gleaming spires of New Rome could be seen in the distance. Theo's heart swelled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. This was the land of his ancestors, the place where he would find his true kin and purpose. As they approached the camp gates, two figures emerged from the shadows, their armor gleaming in the setting sun.

Robb and Jon Stark, twin sons of Mars, eyed the newcomers with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. Theo felt a strange kinship with them, as if they were long-lost siblings reunited after a tumultuous journey. "State your names and lineage," one of them, Jon, called out with the authority of a seasoned warrior.

Theseus stepped forward, the Scripteur of Neptune now a shimmering Celestial Bronze Gladius in his hand. "I am Theseus Romulus Jackson, son of Neptune, and this is Jason Grace, son of Jupiter. We come from the Lupan camp, sent by the goddess Lupa herself."

Robb and Jon exchanged glances, surprise and a hint of awe crossing their faces. The Stark twins were known for their stoic demeanor, but even they could not hide the spark of excitement that ignited at the mention of such illustrious parentage. "Welcome, brothers," Robb said, his voice deep and resonant. "You come at a time when the gods are restless, and we could use the strength of true heroes."

With a nod from Jon, the gates of Camp Jupiter swung open, revealing a bustling world of marble and oak. The 5th cohort barracks stood proudly at the center, a bastion of discipline and valor. The twins led them through the camp, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat and the clang of weapons on metal. The legionnaires that passed by offered curious stares, whispering about the new arrivals and their lineage. Theo felt the weight of expectations settle onto his shoulders, but he bore it with the poise of a true son of the sea.

Once inside the barracks, the twins handed them over to the current Centurion, a stern-faced young man named Castor. He studied them with a critical eye, noticing the determination etched into Theo's features and the quiet resilience in Jason's gaze. "You'll be bunking here," Castor said, pointing to two empty cots. "The 5th cohort doesn't take kindly to slackers, so you best get used to the routine. We train hard, we fight harder."

Theseus nodded respectfully, his mind racing with thoughts of the father who had abandoned him. Marikus' and by extension Neptune's harsh training had been brutal, but it had made him strong. He was certain that whatever Camp Jupiter had to offer, he could handle it. The warmth of the barracks was a stark contrast to the coldness of the sea, but he felt a strange comfort in the discipline and structure that surrounded him. It reminded him of the order that Neptune had instilled within him, even if it had been done with a heavy hand.

The night passed quickly, filled with the snores and restless dreams of their new comrades. The sun had barely crested the horizon when the sound of a bugle pierced the early morning air, jolting the camp awake. Theseus and Jason threw back their blankets, their muscles protesting from the unaccustomed stillness of the night. They dressed quickly, donning the simple tunic and leather sandals that had been left for them. The Scripteur of Neptune lay on the small wooden shelf beside his bed, the weapons within it slumbering until called upon once more.

The dining hall was already bustling when they arrived. The smell of cooking food filled the air, making their stomachs growl in anticipation. They found their place at the 5th cohort's table, the other demigods eyeing them curiously. Theo felt the weight of their gazes, knowing that he had to prove himself worthy of the respect they were granting him. He served himself a plate of eggs and bread, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of trouble. Jason, ever the peacekeeper, offered a tentative smile to those around them, hoping to break the ice.

As they ate, the camp's daily activities began to unfold. The legionnaires started their morning exercises, their shouts and the clanking of weapons echoing through the valleys. Theo's appetite grew with every bite, his body craving the exertion that was to come. When the bugle sounded again, signaling the start of the day's training, he and Jason rose without hesitation, eager to show their mettle.

The training fields were a whirlwind of chaos and camaraderie. Young demigods, each with their own unique set of skills and weapons, sparred and practiced under the watchful eyes of their centurions. Theo observed the 5th cohort, noticing that while they were disciplined, there was a sense of unity among them that he hadn't experienced in the cold halls of Atlantis. He watched as Jason, still only 5 years old, attempted to mimic the older demigods' swordplay, his dagger arcs awkward and clumsy. Theo felt a pang of pride as he recalled the many hours they had spent on their journey south, his young cousin trying to keep up with his rigorous training regimen. Despite his age, Jason had shown a natural aptitude for strategy, something Theseus had hoped would serve him well in the battles to come.

The bugle call grew closer, and the din of the camp grew louder as the cohorts began to assemble. Castor, the stern-faced centurion, called out to Theo. "You've been training under the sea, boy?" Theo nodded, his grip tightening around the Scripteur of Neptune, which had returned to its pen form. "Good," Castor said with a nod of approval. "You'll spar with me today. Show me what you're made of."

Theo stepped onto the dusty training ground, his heart racing. Castor drew his own sword, a gleaming gladius that sang through the air as he warmed up. The centurion was a formidable opponent, his movements precise and powerful. Theo took a deep breath and transformed the Scripteur into his weapon of choice, the Celestial Bronze Gladius. The weight of the sword was familiar in his hand, a comforting extension of his own arm, as if crafted for him.

The match began with Castor on the offensive, his blade a blur as he aimed to overwhelm the newcomer. Theseus fell into the rhythm of his training, his muscles moving almost on their own as he blocked and parried each blow. He searched for an opening, his eyes never leaving Castor's. The older demigod was skilled, but Theo had the advantage of Neptune's brutal tutelage. His reflexes were sharper, his instincts honed by the sea itself.

As they danced across the training ground, Theseus felt the ground beneath him shift slightly, as if the earth itself whispered secrets of his opponent's next move. He waited, his patience the calm eye of a storm. When Castor's blade arced high for a powerful blow, Theo saw his opportunity. He ducked, letting the sword whistle over his head, and countered with a swift strike to the leg. Castor grunted but did not falter, his stance never wavering.

The 5th cohort watched raptly, their eyes glued to the duel before them. Quiet bets had been taking place among the onlookers, with most placing their denarii on Castor's victory. His reputation as a skilled fighter and a fair leader had earned him the respect of his cohort. But as the fight dragged on, the tide of bets began to turn. The way Theseus moved, the fluid grace of his strokes, and the unyielding force behind each blow, it was clear that he was not just any demigod. He was a son of the sea, and the waters of the ocean ran in his veins.

Castor's breath grew ragged, his swings slightly less precise. He had underestimated the newcomer's skill, expecting a quick victory to establish dominance. Instead, he found himself locked in a dance of steel with a boy who had been shaped by the very essence of his father's realm. Theseus could see the exhaustion creeping into Castor's eyes, but he knew better than to let his guard down. The sea was unforgiving, and so was he.

As Castor took a step back, attempting to regain his footing and catch his breath, Theseus sensed his opportunity. He lunged forward, his sword a serpent's strike, each blow calculated to push Castor to the edge of his limits without crossing the line into injury. The centurion's parries grew less aggressive, his footwork more cautious. The 5th cohort watched, their eyes wide with wonder as the son of Neptune wove a tapestry of steel before them.

With a final, swift slash, Theseus' Gladius sliced through the air, knocking Castor's sword from his hand. It clattered to the ground, sending up a spray of dust and sparks. Castor stood there, panting heavily, his eyes filled with both respect and a hint of fear. Theo stepped back, his own breathing steady despite the intensity of the duel. He had proven himself, not just to Castor, but to the entire cohort.

The cheers from the 5th cohort were deafening, echoing off the walls of the training ground. Demigods of all ages and sizes slapped him on the back, their faces alight with excitement. Some had lost their bets, but it seemed that the sheer skill and strength Theseus had displayed was worth more than a handful of denarii. They saw in him a leader, a warrior worthy of their respect. Theo's cheeks flushed with pride as he offered his hand to Castor, who took it gratefully, a newfound respect in his gaze.

As they walked back to the barracks, wiping the sweat from their brows, the buzz of conversation grew louder. It was then that a voice called out from the sidelines, thin and reedy. "Theseus Jackson, son of Neptune!"

They turned to see a slight, scrawny boy with unruly hair and a smug grin. He was surrounded by the 1st cohort, the so-called "elites" of the camp, their armor gleaming with an almost haughty arrogance. The boy's name was Octavian, a legacy of Apollo, and he was known for his sharp tongue and cunning tactics.

"You think you're all high and mighty, don't you?" Octavian jeered, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Theseus. "Let's see what you're really made of, sea-brat. A game of King of the Hill, right here, right now. If you win, the 1st cohort will do the 5th's chores for a month. But if you lose," he sneered, "you'll do all of ours for a week. Alone."

The challenge was met with a roar of excitement from the surrounding demigods. The 5th cohort watched with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Theo knew this was a test, not just of his physical strength but of his pride and his place in the camp's hierarchy. He took a deep breath, the smell of the sea in his nostrils, and accepted the challenge with a nod. "Let's do this, then."

The 1st cohort's assault began with a flurry of motion. Young, eager demigods rushed forward, their weapons glinting in the sun. They were fast, but their inexperience showed in their erratic movements. Theseus moved with the grace of a dolphin, weaving in and out of their clumsy strikes. Each blow he dealt was precise and calculated, not meant to harm but to teach a lesson in humility.

The young demigods fell back, one by one, their pride bruised but not broken. They retreated to the bottom of the hill, panting and disheveled, their eyes filled with a newfound respect for the son of Neptune. The older legionnaires watched from the sidelines, their expressions unreadable. They had seen many battles, many champions rise and fall, but the ease with which Theseus dispatched the 1st cohort's first wave was something else entirely.

With the youths beaten back, the veterans of the 1st cohort took the field, their eyes gleaming with the challenge. They approached the hill with a grim determination, each step echoing like the march of an unstoppable army. Their swords and spears pointed upwards, a silent declaration of their intent to claim the crown of victory for themselves.

Theseus stood firm at the hill's peak, his feet planted like the roots of an ancient oak. He watched the seasoned warriors approach, their movements more disciplined and precise than their younger counterparts. Their armor bore the scars of countless battles, a testament to their experience and skill. He knew this would be no simple skirmish but a true trial of his mettle.

The first wave of veterans crashed into him like a wave upon the shore. Spears and swords thrust and sliced, seeking an opening in his defense. Yet Theseus remained unflappable, his Scripteur switching forms seamlessly in his hand, parrying and striking with a grace that belied his years. Each blow was met with steel, each advance rebutted with the fury of a tempest. The 5th cohort watched from the sidelines, their cheers swelling with each successful counter.

The second wave was more cunning, using their numbers to flank him. Theseus felt the earth tremble as they approached, their combined might a formidable force. He spun on his heels, his pila flicking out to catch one off-guard, sending him tumbling down the hill. The others paused, reassessing their strategy. Theseus took the momentary respite to survey the battlefield, his mind racing with tactics.

The next wave of veterans was more coordinated, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. They attacked from all sides, a veritable storm of steel and fury. Yet, Theseus remained the unyielding rock at the hill's summit. He dove into the fray, his weapons switching forms as quickly as the tides of battle demanded. The air was filled with the clang of metal, the scent of sweat and ozone. His cohort's cheers grew louder with each victory, urging him onward.

One by one, the veterans fell back, their pride bruised and their tactics thwarted. The hill grew slick with their sweat, the ground pockmarked by the impact of their weapons. Theseus' muscles burned, but he pushed through the pain, driven by the roars of his newfound family. His eyes never left the horizon, searching for the next threat, the next challenge to conquer.

As the final veteran stumbled down the hill, defeated, the entire 5th cohort erupted in a thunderous ovation. Theseus, panting and covered in dust, looked out at his newfound brothers and sisters, their faces a mix of awe and admiration. He had proven himself, not just to Castor, but to all of Camp Jupiter. The son of Neptune had claimed his place among the legion, his name echoing through the valleys like the call of a siren.

Their victory was short-lived, however, as the skies grew dark, and the air grew thick with an unsettling energy. A storm was brewing, not one of rain and thunder, but of prophecy and fate. Theseus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, his heart racing with an excitement that was tinged with dread. He knew that their battles were just beginning, that the gods had plans for him and Jason that would shake the very foundations of Olympus itself.

The next four years passed in a blur of training, battles, and camaraderie. Theo, as he was affectionately known by his fellow legionnaires, grew into a leader of unmatched skill and wisdom. His natural charm and tactical prowess earned him the role of cohort standard bearer, carrying the proud emblem of the 5th cohort into every battle. Castor had become more than a mentor; he was a trusted confidant and an older brother to the young demigod. Together, they had faced countless challenges, each victory and loss etching their names deeper into the annals of camp history.

The day of Castor's retirement was bittersweet. The cohort had gathered under the open-air pavilion, the sun casting dappled shadows through the leaves of the ancient oaks that surrounded them. The air was heavy with the anticipation of change. Castor's stern gaze searched the faces of his legionnaires, his pride in them evident. He knew that in Theseus, he was leaving the 5th cohort in good hands.

Theseus felt the weight of his mentor's stare, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and apprehension. He had learned so much from Castor, not just in combat but in leadership and the value of a cohort's unity. The Scripteur of Neptune lay in his pocket, a constant reminder of the journey that had led him here. As the bugle call announced the start of the ceremony, Theo stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Legionnaires of the 5th cohort!" Robb's voice boomed across the pavilion, silencing the whispers of anticipation. "Today we bid farewell to a great leader, a mentor, and a brother in arms. Castor Simmons, son of Vulcan, has served with honor and valor, shaping this cohort into the finest fighting force in all of Camp Jupiter." The twins exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. This was the moment they had both been waiting for, the moment that would define the next chapter of their lives.

As the final notes of the bugle echoed through the camp, Robb Stark cleared his throat, his voice carrying the weight of the moment. "Theseus Romulus Jackson, son of Neptune, you have shown us time and again that you are a warrior of unparalleled skill and a leader of impeccable valor. Your dedication to the 5th cohort and to the legion has not gone unnoticed. It is with great honor that I, as praetor of Camp Jupiter, bestow upon you the title and responsibilities of centurion of the 5th cohort." The legionnaires erupted in cheers, their voices a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very earth beneath them.

Theo's heart raced as he accepted the crimson crest from Castor's outstretched hand. The symbol of his new rank gleamed in the sunlight, a stark reminder of the path laid before him. He knew that with great power came great responsibility, and he was ready to carry the torch that had been passed to him. He looked into Castor's eyes, seeing the trust and belief reflected there, and felt a surge of determination.

Under Theo's leadership, the 5th cohort grew stronger, their bond unbreakable. He pushed them to their limits, not with the brutality of Neptune's training but with a firm hand and an encouraging word. His kindness and fairness earned him the respect of his legionnaires, and the camp took notice. The son of Neptune had a way with words that could calm the stormiest of seas, and his strategies in war games were the stuff of legend.

Jason, though younger, had become a formidable force in his own right. His growth in the camp mirrored Theseus's, and he took his role as cohort standard bearer with a seriousness that belied his goofy nature. Together, they were the beating heart of the 5th cohort, inspiring their siblings in arms to strive for greatness. They faced battles and challenges side by side, their friendship a beacon of hope and unity in a world of gods and monsters.

For three years, they trained and fought as one, their bond growing stronger with every victory and every loss. Theo's sharp wit and strategic mind paired perfectly with Jason's burgeoning tactical prowess. They became a force to be reckoned with, their names whispered in awe in the barracks and around the campfire. The legionnaires looked to them for guidance and protection, and Theseus and Jason never disappointed.

Theseus was 14 when it came time for the Stark twins to retire. They had their last lunch as Praetors and then passed ballots around, there was a hush in the air as the collection boxes followed down the table. Theseus wrote not his own name, but Jason's feeling his cousin deserving of the honor.

When finally all the ballots came back and were counted, Jon stood with pride before the legion and announced that Theseus and Jason had won the positions. Theseus took the Dias to make his speech.

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen." He joked. The oldest joke in the legions book. It got a good chuckle out of everyone. "9 years i have served this legion, as soldier, standard bearer, and Centurion. I look forward to my years as Praetor and seeing the progress we make as a legion together!" He finished, receiving a standing applause. Even Octavian, now Augur and 1st Cohort Centurion cheered and applauded. The two had come to be friendly rivals in the years since their initial encounter.

Jason's speech was much the same, and the cousins began their terms as Praetor on a high note. But it quickly soured.

Within a month, Mercury came to deliver a message of war. Someone had saved lady Diana and helped re trap Atlas in Mt. Orthrys, holding up the sky once more.

"Jupiters word is prepare for war. The titans are rising once more. And the legion will be called to the war effort." Mercury said with finality.

"We are at the command of the King of the gods, my lord." Theseus replied, Jason nodding in affirmation mercury disappeared quick as a flash, and the true test of the leadership began.

Late one night the following year, Theseus walked the banks of the little Tiber. And for some reason he couldn't explain. He felt called to the ocean. So he left camp, scripteur in his pocket and his breastplate on. He found his way to a private sea cove he knew, where he went when he wanted to return home to the sea. As he dived into the water, inhaling the warm salt water with glee, he saw Triton, his brother.

"Triton. Did you call me here?" Theseus asked with trepidation.

"Yes Theseus. I have… bad news." His tone was grim, his eyes bloodshot. And then Theo saw the crown on his head, not his silver crown as Prince, but his father's gold. And Theseus knew, before his brother even said it.

"Our father is dead. He was killed by Oceanus who has sworn to wipe out our line." Triton seemed contrite in his concern for his well being.

"Is your mother…?" Theseus didn't finish the question. Triton nods tersely

"With father." He replied, looking at the ground beneath them.

"Thank you for telling me triton. What are we going to do now?" Theseus asked, unsure of what else to say.

"I will make a plan, but for now, you will remain at camp and help the war effort. When the time is right. We will have our revenge." Theseus nodded his head and triton left. Theseus returned to camp Jupiter. Falling into a deep sleep, and like many nights before, he dreamed of his green eyed mirror. The face was always in the back of his mind but he never knew why. When he awoke the next morning he told Jason what Triton had said.

"Holy shit Theo." Jason said stunned. "I never thought i would hear that Neptune was dead."

"I didn't either." Theseus replied, after everything Neptune had allowed Marikus to put him through, he was gone. Forever.

The next months were a blur of preparations. But one day, right before they are planning their attack to Siege Mount Orthrys, he received word the Oceanus was seen in the Bay.

"Jason." He ordered calmly, they were the same rank, but everyone knew the decisions were made by Theseus. "Hold down the fort. I have some business to attend to." He didn't say for Jason's reply as he prepared his armor, midnight black with silver trim, and a cerulean blue trident raised in the center of his breastplate. His pauldrons were like those of Lorice Segmentata and his helm in a late Corinthian Greek style. A purple cloak billowed from his back normally. But it wasn't necessary where he was going.

Theseus again made his way to the sea. But this time he had a goal. He could feel Oceanus' presence in the water. Like an iceberg in the warm Pacific Ocean. The Titan found him quickly, as was the plan. Theseus activated his Scripteur's pila form

"Oceanus!" He called. The brine bearded Titan roared in reply, charging towards Theseus, his fish tail propelling him with intense speed. Theseus blocked and drew Oceanus further out to sea, away from the city, away from the camp. And then he really began to fight. His years of training in the Mariana Trench had made him incredibly fast in such low pressure water. He and Oceanus exchanged blows, but neither was able to make anything connect. A shark rushed Theseus, a momentary distraction that allowed Oceanus to close the gap. Oceanus' trident found its mark, drawing crimson from Theseus' back, the water closed the wound quickly. Theseus' Scripteur was now in Gladius form as he fended off the trident.

Oceanus's trident, a terrifying fusion of Titanic Steel and Stygian Iron, sliced through the water with a hiss that sent schools of fish scattering in every direction. Theseus felt the pressure of the water around him shift as the trident neared, and with a flick of his wrist, he deflected the attack. The force was tremendous, sending a shockwave through his arm that made his teeth clench, but he held firm. His eyes never left the Titan's, the blue of Oceanus' depths mirrored in his own.

Again and again, Oceanus thrust and swiped, his movements as fluid and powerful as the currents he controlled. Each time, Theseus met the onslaught with a block or parry that reverberated through the deep, the Scripteur of Neptune leaving a trail of bubbles that shimmered with the light of its celestial metal. The ocean floor was a blur beneath them, a canvas of sand and rock that they danced upon, a silent stage for their epic battle.

Above the surface, the power they wielded began to manifest in the form of a swirling maelstrom. The waves grew taller, the winds howled, and the sea grew darker as the storm they created grew more intense. Ships on the horizon tossed about like toys, their crews unaware of the titanic struggle happening just below the surface. Onlookers on the shore watched in awe and fear as the sea roiled and churned, the beginnings of a hurricane taking shape.

Their battle reflected in the chaos above, the sea animals around them grew agitated. Dolphins leaped through the waves, their cries piercing the air, while sharks circled, sensing the bloodlust in the water. Even the great sea turtles, usually so serene and stoic, swam faster to escape the tumult. The water grew colder and denser, the very essence of Oceanus's fury pressing down on them as the Titan called upon his might to end Theseus's life.

Theseus felt the chill seep into his bones, but he ignored it, focusing solely on the dance of death before him. His father's death at the hands of this monster fueled his rage, his every movement precise and calculated. The Scripteur of Neptune grew warm in his grip, the metal almost seeming to pulse with approval as he blocked another strike. He knew he had to find an opening, a moment of weakness, if he was to survive this encounter and claim victory.

The Titan's relentless attacks grew more frenzied, his trident cutting through the water with increasing speed and ferocity. Theseus waited, watching for the telltale shift in Oceanus' stance that would signal his intent. And then, it came: a brief moment of overextension as the Titan reached for a wide, sweeping attack. With the grace of a dolphin and the speed of a torpedo, Theseus darted forward, the Scripteur of Neptune a gleaming streak in the murky depths.

He struck, aiming for the Titan's side, where the water pressure was less likely to hinder his blade. The impact was like lightning, a brilliant flash of gold piercing the dark blue, as the celestial bronze sliced through Oceanus' flesh. The Titan roared in pain, the sound a cacophony of rage that seemed to shake the very foundation of the ocean. The water around them grew thick with the gold of his Ichor, and the sea creatures fled in terror.

But Oceanus was not so easily defeated. With a swipe of his mighty hand, he sent Theseus hurtling into the seabed, a crater forming where he hit. The impact was bone-crushing, his ribs cracking like ancient coral under the force. Yet even as the pain shot through him, the healing powers of the sea rushed to his aid, knitting his bones back together. Blood filled his mouth, but with each breath, it grew less, until it was just a metallic taste on his tongue.

The Titan loomed above him, his wrists wrapped in seaweed, a grin of triumph twisting his monstrous features. He had scored a hit, but it had cost him; the tip of Theseus's sword had nicked his hand, leaving a gash that oozed the dark, viscous fluid of his kind. The water around them grew murky with their combined blood, a crimson cloud that slowly dissipated in the current.

Theseus took a moment to catch his breath, the cold ocean water filling his lungs and revitalizing him. His eyes never left Oceanus, watching as the Titan's grin faltered. He saw the realization dawn on the Titan's face: Theseus healed faster than he could. The son of Neptune felt a surge of hope, his resolve strengthening.

They circled each other once more, their weapons poised and ready. Oceanus' trident sliced through the water, aiming for Theseus' chest, but the demigod anticipated the move and twisted aside. The trident missed by a hair's breadth, and Theseus took the opportunity to strike again with the Scripteur of Neptune. The blade sang as it met Titan flesh, and Oceanus howled as another gush of golden Ichor filled the water.

Theseus' eyes never left the Titan's movements. He noticed the way Oceanus favored his wounded side, the way his strikes grew slightly slower as his strength waned. It was subtle, but it was there. And Theseus knew that every drop of blood he spilled brought him closer to victory. The Titan's healing powers were not as swift as his own, a gift from his divine parentage that he would not waste.

The dance of combat continued, a mesmerizing ballet of steel and seafoam. Each time Oceanus' trident neared, Theseus felt the pressure of the water shift, his instincts screaming for him to move. And move he did, his body a blur of speed and precision as he wove around the Titan's attacks. His blade flashed in the dim light, leaving trails of bubbles in its wake. The water grew warmer with the heat of their battle, the ocean floor trembling beneath them.

Finally, Oceanus backed off, his movements growing sluggish as his power wavered. His wounds gaped open, and the golden blood painted the water around him in a macabre display of his weakening state. Theseus knew this was his chance. With a roar that seemed to be drawn from the very depths of the sea, he charged at the Titan, the Scripteur of Neptune a bronze blur in his hand.

The Titan's eyes widened in surprise, but his reaction was too slow. Theseus' blade, driven by the anger and determination that burned within him, sliced through the water with the speed of a riptide. He struck again and again, each blow a precise and deliberate attack aimed at the weakened spots he had identified during their dance of death. The ocean itself seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his strikes, the water surging with each hit.

Oceanus stumbled backward, his movements no longer fluid and powerful, but jerky and pained. The once proud Titan, ruler of the sea, now looked like a creature caught in a fisherman's net, struggling futilely against its fate. His once imperious gaze now held a hint of fear, and Theseus knew that the end was near

"Why Oceanus?" Theseus asked as Oceanus sank to the bottom of the ocean, growing weaker and weaker from the ichor loss, Theseus had decided that death by a thousand cuts was probably the way to go

"Too long have you upstarts claimed the seas as your domain. It was mine first." The ancient Titan replies, his voice barely even there.

"You're correct Oceanus. It was yours first. Or were you the Seas first? You know as well as any of us that the oceans have a mind of their own." Ever the orator and diplomat, "They chose my father. Just like they chose you. And now they shall have to choose again. A new sea god to rule them." Theseus claimed Oceanus' discarded trident and placed it on his chest respectfully.

"Such wisdom for one so young. You're right son of Neptune." Oceanus grabbed Theseus' left arm, and Theseus felt a burning where Oceanus' Ichor touched the skin. "When you are ready. They may just choose you." And then Oceanus faded into nothingness. His sickle shimmered and shifted the black metal morphing until it was a Bastard sword before the half-blood. He took the sword and then noticed his left arm, where Oceanus had grabbed him, a golden shark was now imbued into his skin. Oceanus' mark. Oceanus' message to the sea that the Titan had left his powers to the young son of his now dead rival.

Theseus, panting, bleeding, and exhausted walked out of the surf. The storm the battle he was just part of had driven the mortals into their homes so he walked openly on the streets. The new, black bladed hand and a half bastard sword slung over his shoulder, the silver quillons of the guard and the pommel were shaped like horses, and silver inlaid waves ran and broke down the length of the blade. Following the fuller. As the rain fell, Theseus' bleeding began to stop as the water healed his skin. He could feel a burning in his left arm. As if his godly body was attempting to resist the titanic power that had been etched into it.

Theseus walked into camp to be welcomed by several silver garbed young women, mortal, half-blood, and nymph alike. Lead by a silver eyed, auburn hair young woman, Diana, goddess of the moon and hunt, who approached him. He had met the goddess before, though she and her hunters seldom visited Camp Jupiter.

"Theseus Jackson!" Her voice boomed through the walls of the fortress. "As praetor of the 12th legion, it is your duty to be available as much as possi-" she froze when she noticed the bastard sword he carried, and the mark on his left arm.

"What did you do?" She asked, her eyes going wide. Theseus took a deep breath.

"I avenged my father. Oceanus is dead. Faded." Came the blue eyed boy's reply. Silver met cerulean as her hard gaze fell on his exhausted one. Behind Diana he could see Jason, next to him his sister, Thalia, who Theseus had heard about but never expected to meet, how did she come to join Diana's hunt? And why was she looking at him like she had seen a ghost?

"You did more than avenge your father. Come with me." She turned and marched towards the Praetoria. "Thalia." She called over her shoulder, and the black haired beauty turned to follow her. Theseus followed tiredly, gesturing to Jason to follow as well.

As they walked into the praetoria, Aurum and Argentum, the gold and silver dogs that matched their respective names, ran to Theseus' side, jumping and licking their master who limped to his praetorial throne and slumped into it as 10 flashes of light signaled the coming of the other Olympians. Theseus put the tip of his new weapon on the ground, leaning the flat of its blade against the armrest.

"My Lords and Ladies, i do hope you forgive me for not standing to greet you, but i have just slain a Titan and nearly joined him in death." Theseus announced to the new arrivals. Jupiter approached him.

"Nephew." He said, his voice a growl. "What happened?" He asked. Theseus explained the battle, including the way he honored Oceanus as he lay dying, and the words he said with his final breaths. The Olympians stood in stunned silence. Before speaking amongst themselves in a language Theseus couldn't understand, was that, Greek? Thalia's eyes widened as they talked as she looked between them.

"Theseus." Mars spoke now, the War god stepping forward. "You have done Olympus a great service but we have more to ask of you. We must go to fight Typhon the Storm Giant as he heads to Olympus. We need you to take the legion to Mount Orthrys, and claim it for the gods. There will be more titans there, but you now will have the power to kill them, even outside the oceans."

"And perhaps even claim their powers for yourself." Juno's word came as a shock to the Roman demigods who hadn't understood the Greek exchange.

"I will do as you command." Theseus replied, bowing his head as Jason brought him a pitcher of nectar and a small loaf of ambrosia. With a nod, all but Diana disappeared in a flash of light, as quickly as they came.

"Now, Theseus. I am going to leave a portion of my hunters under your command to aid you in your assault. The others i have another mission for in the east, Atalanta will lead the hunters that remain here. You and Jason alone are authorized to speak to her, and only her. If any other male in your legion speaks to them, i cannot guarantee their safety." Diana said. Thalia was still staring at Theseus, examining him as if he were a sculpture in a museum, as if committing his face to memory.

Diana left, Thalia followed her. And Jason was still in stunned silence at what had transpired.

"Theo…" his voice was awestruck. "You killed a Titan. And now my father wants you to kill more." Jason collapsed into his throne to Theseus' left.

"I know… can you handle the announcements tonight? I…" he didn't know how to express the wave of thoughts flying through his head "i need to rest." He finally settled on. Jason nodded his affirmation and Theseus took his new weapon to their villa, he laid the nearly 5 foot long weapon down on the table. The 42" blade seemed to be forged out of Stygian iron, or perhaps even a Stygian Iron and Tartaric Steel alloy, it was then he noticed the engraving in the ricasso. "Tidebreaker" a fitting name for a weapon claimed in battle. He fell into bed, a deep sleep consuming him. He dreamed of the green eyed boy again. But things were different this time. The two of them weren't looking at one another in the forest, now, Theseus watched as he swung a leaf bladed sword with precision. The bronze blade cutting arcs and cleaving monsters in two before he exploded into golden dust, then the scene shifted and Theseus saw him facing a Titan of gold and flame, a hurricane swirling around him. They were in a city, was the… New York?" There was a flash of lightning in his dream, and Theseus awoke to the first rays of the sun climbing over the horizon, peeking through his window and hitting him in the face.

After almost two years of recruitment, hard training, and levying battle ready auxiliaries. The time had flown since Mercury first delivered the gods call to war. The legion stood at 550 strong, with Theseus and Jason at their head. The day finally had come that they would meet the titans in battle at Mount Orthrys. Theseus lead the column of Legionaries, siege engines, and Hannibal the battle elephant through the still storming city. Heading for Mount Tamalpais, the location of the garden of the Hesperides. It took almost a full day to move the troops and materiel into position, and the legion marched straight into the garden of dusk and dawn as the gates opened and the sky was washed in golden light. They saw the apple tree in the garden's center, the hundred headed dragon guarding its base. And beyond the garden there was Mount Orthrys, palace of the Titans. Their goal.

The legion set up camp for the night, and waited with bated breath through the night. The sun rose once again, again Theseus was plagued by visions of his eyes eyed mirror cutting through monsters on a bridge, and kissing a blonde girl with grey eyes.

The next morning Theseus and Jason rose to the sight of two titans, Crius and Pallas. The titans of Stars and war respectively.

"Jason,"Theseus said, "Do you think you can distract Crius while i deal with the Titan of war first?" His cousin nodded in affirmation. The centurions could take care of the monsters with their forces. The two sons of the big three had bigger problems to deal with. Jason used his natural ability to manipulate the winds to lift himself into the air and fly around Crius, keeping him busy while Theseus drew Tidebreaker and turned to face the Titan of war, the new weapon felt balanced in his hands, as if it were made for him. The shark on his left arm burned now, but instead of the feeling of rejection it had been at first, now he felt as if power were flowing into him from the mark.

"You." The titan's red eyes flared seeing the black blade in his hand. "You killed my uncle."

"He killed my father." was the solemn reply Theseus gave. He held Tidebreaker in both hands. And took a deep breath. The golden shark on his arm was on fire. He closed his eyes, feeling the pull in his gut the call of the sea, and he answered it, stepping into the powers he had earned.

The silver waves in the blade began to glow Blue, as did his eyes when they opened, as a small hurricane began to form around him, he batted Pallas first thrust away with a casualness that infuriated the Titan before him. The power boost that he got from being in the ocean now his at will, his speed and strength was magnified like this, every thrust Pallas threw was parried as Theseus searched for the moment to go on the attack, any weaknesses to press on. Being limited to the ground meant he could attack in as versatile a manner he had with Oceanus, but finally, Pallas decided to step back, to reassess. Theseus saw his shield disappear, and his spear be replaced with a two handed swords like Theseus used. Theseus was already moving, closing the distance in a blink of an eye, even the Titan struggled to see. In three great, bounding steps Theseus was on him. Tidebreaker finding its mark on the un protected inside of the Titan's knee. Pallas fell, his right leg now useless beneath him. And now Pallas was the one on the defensive, the furious flurry of blows falling with the force of a tidal wave.

Pallas had rarely seen speed like this, even from the titans. Saturn looked that fast, but that was because he slowed everyone around him to a near standstill. This son of Neptune had no such powers. He moved with the speed of the ocean currents, and struck with their fury. Like a blue eyed demon of the deep. The ground cracked beneath Pallas as he did everything he could to stop the furious blows from connecting. Then Theseus backed off for a moment, allowing Pallas to swing back at him, the blow connected and sent the demigod flying, rolling to a stop before getting up, red blood speckled with golden ichor poured from the would as he charged, wielding Tidebreaker in one hand and pulling his Scripteur with the other, Theseus spun as he came close, betting the titans strike away before driving his Scripteur in pugio form into his eye, with another click, the pugio was replaced by a pila, the celestial bronze tip erupting from the back of Pallas' skull. Golden energy flowed up into Theseus and a new mark appeared on his left arm, the crossed spear and sword of Pallas, representing another domain under his control, if he could learn to use it.

Theseus looked around the battlefield, Jason was doing good damage to Crius with his lightning blasts, but the Titan of Constellations just kept coming. The legion was making short work of the monsters and rebel half bloods in the army surrounding them. Pallas' sword lay on the ground, but it was smaller, having shrunk to fit its new master. As soon as Theseus grabbed it, it shifted its form once more, taking the form of a Battle axe. He didn't have time to examine its attributes, as another Titan exited the palace. Perses, Titan of Destruction. He pointed his lance and a wave of energy blasted out of it, disintegrating a squad of legionaries, and Theseus saw red.

With a roar that echoed across the vast battlefield, Theseus charged forward, the power of the sea surging through his veins. His legs propelled him with a speed that defied his mortal frame, each step causing the earth to shudder beneath his feet. Tidebreaker sliced through the air with a sound akin to a thunderclap as he closed the distance between him and his adversary.

Perses, the colossal Titan of Destruction, stood firm as the embodiment of chaos. The ground around him was scorched, the once-verdant foliage of the garden now a smoldering testament to his wrath. His eyes narrowed, the pupils burning like embers in a sea of molten lava, and he raised his gleaming bronze lance, the weapon of his own dominion. The very air crackled with energy as he prepared to meet Theseus' onslaught.

Theseus, fueled by the power of the oceans and rage to see his soldiers killed in such a way , flew towards Perses like a dark comet. The wind whipped his hair back, his muscles bulging with divine strength as he gripped Tidebreaker with both hands. Each swing of the sword left a trail of seawater in its wake, the very essence of the ocean bending to his will.

But Perses was not a foe to be underestimated. With a swift and powerful strike, he brought his bronze lance down upon Theseus, the impact resonating through the air like a thunderous boom. The demigod felt the searing pain as the weapon bit into his shoulder, sending him spiraling through the air like a ragdoll thrown by a giant. He crashed into the earth with a tremor, the impact sending dirt and rocks flying in all directions.

The battle around them came to a halt, Jason and Crius were still locked in their duel, and Jason seemed to be winning, but it took every bit of strength he had. But legionaries and monster alike watched in awe as the other Praetor of the 12th legion faced off against his second Titan of the day.

As the dust settled, Perses stepped closer, the grin on his face a twisted mix of triumph and malice. He watched as Theseus pushed himself up, the ground around him turning to mud as the seawater that trailed his movements seeped into the soil. The black blade of Tidebreaker lay a few paces away, but Theseus' eyes remained locked on the Titan, a fiery determination burning within their depths.

Ignoring the pain, Theseus drew upon the power of the sea that surged through his blood. His eyes began to glow an ethereal blue, the color of the deepest ocean trenches. He clenched his fists, and a miniature hurricane began to form around him, the very fabric of the air bending to his will. The wind howled, sending leaves and debris swirling into the sky, creating a whirlwind of destruction that grew stronger with every passing second.

With a roar that could challenge the gods themselves, Theseus surged back to his feet, the force of his will propelling him towards Perses. His movements were no longer those of a mere man; they were the embodiment of the ocean's fury. The wind grew stronger, the whirlwind around him spinning faster, the pressure building like a storm about to break upon the shore. The Titan of Destruction took a step back, his grin faltering for the briefest of moments as he faced the unrelenting fury of the demigod.

In that moment of hesitation, Theseus struck. Leaping through the air, Tidebreaker held high, he harnessed the power of his tempest. The blade sliced through the air, a black streak against the tumultuous sky. It connected with Perses' gleaming breastplate, the metal groaning as it gave way to the divine might behind the blow. The sound of rent metal and flesh echoed through the garden as the sword cleaved through the Titan's defenses, leaving a gaping wound in its wake.

The force of the strike sent Perses stumbling back, his massive frame struggling to maintain balance. The deep gash across his chest smoked, a testament to the power of Tidebreaker. Theseus landed with a thud, the impact shaking the ground beneath them. The winds of his storm swirled around him, lifting him slightly off the ground as the power of the sea surged through his veins, his eyes still aglow with the cerulean light of the ocean depths.

With a feral grin, Theseus lunged again, raining blows upon Perses like a tempest unleashed. Each swing of Tidebreaker left a trail of frothing brine that stung the Titan's flesh. The once-mighty Titan of Destruction staggered under the onslaught, his bronze skin now marred with deep cuts that oozed forth golden blood. The armies around them watched this duel between titans, one older than history, and the other, soon to be born.

Perses roared in pain and anger, swiping his lance in a wild arc, trying to keep the relentless demigod at bay. But Theseus was not to be denied. He danced through the air, moving with the grace of a dolphin in the sea, his sword a blur as it sought out the Titan's weak points. The black blade found its mark time and again, leaving a crimson tapestry of gashes across the towering figure's body.

The Titan of Destruction stumbled backward, the once-proud weapon dropping from his trembling hand. His eyes, now filled with fear and desperation, searched the battlefield for an escape. The power of the sea crashed against him, wave after wave of unyielding might, each blow from Tidebreaker pushing him closer to the brink. Theseus could feel the tide of victory rising within him, the very essence of the ocean surging to aid him in this final battle.

With a bellow that seemed to shake the very foundations of the world, Theseus swung Tidebreaker with all his might. The black blade cleaved through Perses' neck with a sickening crunch, separating the Titan's head from his body. The monstrous visage of destruction fell to the earth, the ground shaking as it hit with the force of a collapsing mountain. The air grew still, the storm around Theseus dissipating as he stared down at the lifeless body of his foe.

The legion began to cheer, and the enemy forces ran in terror. Theseus turned his attention to Jason's duel with Crius, seeing Jason had him pinned on the ground, beaten but unable to get the killing blow, Theseus swung tide breaker and the breastplate was torn open, allowing the son of Jupiter to drive his golden gladius home, the Titan dissipating into golden dust and fading away. Leaving his horned helmet as a spoil of war for Jason, though Theseus could see it was not a magic helmet, anymore than it was made of adamantine, the black metal was quite rare and near invulnerable. Unlike Theseus' two new weapons. Symbols of power for domains he now possessed.

The battle axe and lance both shimmered and shifted as he asked himself how he was going to transport them. The axe turned into an "out the front" or OTF switchblade. And the lance a gleaming bronze bracelet. Theseus tried the same trick with Tidebreaker, which turned into a capped fountain pen. With the same black and silver theme as the sword it became.

He held the pen in his hand, and in that moment, he felt something in him go dark. The tug in the back of his mind went silent. As if a piece of Theseus he didn't know was missing was suddenly gone for good. A hole, now aching where it once had been. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, he saw flashes of images against his eyelids, the green eyed mirror facing off against a boy with golden eyes, that oozed even greater power than Oceanus or Crius had. He saw the bronze, leaf shaped blade break, shards of metal cutting both combatants, claiming his mirror's left eye, and now, armed with only a shard of his once proud blade that remained attached to the hilt, his mirror charged forward, there was the sound of metal piercing flesh, and then the vision went dark. Theseus knew that something had gone horribly wrong. As soon as he left the vision he collapsed, his body smoking from the exertion of the amount of power he had called on to fight the titans. His blood pooled around him as his cuts began to bleed, his power no longer holding his body together. The healers of the legion took their praetor into the palace, and began to tend his wounds.

No sooner had they stitched the last stitch and then there was a flash of golden light, and Theseus was gone. The healers knew the gods had taken their hero. But did not know why. They told Jason what happened.

In the following weeks after the battle. The legion mourned the loss of their praetor, and prayed for his safe return.

They built a statue in his honor, one of the sons of Minerva and two sons of Vulcan working together. The sons of Vulcan forging an identical replica of Tidebreaker, but only in appearance, and the sword was placed into the hand of the statue, raised high into the air as if declaring their legion's victory over the titans. "Titan's Bane" they named the statue. Jason ordered it placed in the center of the camp, where the via preatoria, and via principia meet.

There was a new camper. She had been found at the wolf house with no memory of who she was. But the daughter of Minerva knew one thing. She knew the man in that statue. But not by the name of Theseus. Annabeth Chase needed to get her memories back, quickly. She needed to know why she knew that boys face, why it made her cry to look at it.