Volcanic Explosions and Ancient Rome - Whyvern_the_confused_dragon - Percy Jackson and the Olympians (2024)

Chapter 1: An exploding time-traveling volcano

Chapter Text

Percy is in the middle of Mount Saint Helens ankle deep in magma and surrounded by Telekhine soldiers. In his left hand he has the golden blade the Telekhine smiths had been trying to make. Kronos’ blade. Annabeth has left and Percy just needs to hold off the monsters long enough for her to get far away. His feet burn. Even if he was more fire resistant than most mortals he wasn’t -apparently- completely magma proof. Good to know. Percy kind of wished he’d known this before getting into the middle of a volcano.

Percy is surrounded by more than fifty large 7-foot wolf-headed monsters with swords and the bottom of his feet feel like they are on fire. He smells his own flesh burning. This is not going great. His heart beats like crazy as he clutches Riptide in one hand and Krono’s blade in the other.

“Ok you overgrown chihuahuas, which one of you thinks they can take me? Who will fall first?” Percy shouted. If the Telekhines attacked him one at a time Percy might be able to hold them off.

“ATTACK!” shouted one of the bigger and uglier wolf-headed hulking beasts and a group of them rush at Percy. So much for that plan. Percy runs. He wishes there was water nearby.

His feet sink into the magma, slowing him down. He tries to lead the hoard away from the tunnel Annabeth had gone down. He tries to outrun them. He tries to get back onto solid rock instead of burning magma. He tries to fight them off. He tries-

And fails.

He cuts down several of the beasts, covering Percy in gold dust. Then three Telekhines jump him and pin his arms down, trying to pull Kronos’ blade out of his grip. A fourth Telekhine runs forth and swing a large axe blade right at Percy’s torso. Percy’s going to die. His mom will be so disappointed. In the half a second before the blade cuts through him, Percy screams and pours all of his power out. He doesn’t have a goal, only fear.

BOOM

The earth shakes and Magma goes flying. The Telekhines scream. The air explodes with sound and ash and Percy feels himself burn and fly through the air. He feels Kronos’ blade get ripped from his fingers by the wind and cut his left arm. He hopes Annabeth got away.

Everything goes black.

*

Unexpectedly, Percy wakes up. His entire body aches, his lungs burn and his left forearm screams in pain. He is being carried on some kind of cloth. “Annabeth?” Percy asks, coughing painfully. His head hurts, his mind is muddled, and it is dark. Are they still in Mount Saint Helens?

“What are you doing here? I told you to leave. How did you-” Coughing, “Survive the explosion?” Percy’s mind is working very slowly and every muscle in his body is screaming. Hoover Dam that’s painful. Note to self: Do not stand in the middle of a volcanic explosion again. Not fun. 1/5 stars, would not recommend.

The two people carrying him put Percy down and Percy groans as his back touches the ground. He does not have the energy for things like “standing” or “thinking”. Still, after a few breaths, Percy realizes that the people carrying him are not Annabeth, and that they are not alone.

Listening to the shuffling and fearful muttering around them, Percy guesses he is among a group of about fifty people. He cannot understand them but the cries of fear, sobbing and the deep painful coughing of poisoned air doesn’t need translating.

They are outside and it’s dark out. The only light comes from two burning torches that are several feet away being held by terrified looking people covered in ash. The trees around them are dimly lit as the air itself seems to be eating the light. The air is filled with thick ash and stinking sulfur. This is likely the reason Percy’s lungs are burning. The group of people around him cough and sob in equal measure. Some of them are wearing pillows on their head, as if afraid of things falling from the sky. Ash is falling from the sky. It’s as if it is snowing heavily, but the snow is hot instead of cold and black instead of white.

The aftermath of a volcanic explosion. The aftermath of a volcanic explosion Percy caused. He caused this. A pit fills his stomach. He hadn’t meant to explode a volcano. He’d just been scared, and he needed to keep the monsters busy as Annabeth ran away. He had to keep Kronos’ blade out of the hands of his army. He never meant for people to be hurt.

Two people- a teen boy only a few years older than Percy and a middle-aged woman- had been carrying Percy on a makeshift stretcher that was really more of a blanket. The boy tries to speak to Percy, but he spoke a language Percy doesn’t understand. Spanish maybe? He knows Spanish is basically a second official language in California and some of the words sound similar to what his Spanish teacher Ms. Garcia-Lopez had tried to teach him last year. Unfortunately, Percy was not good at Spanish, so he pats the guy on the shoulder and hopes he understands Percy’s genuine “Thanks for carrying me, man.”

The woman tries to help Percy up, but Percy is far too exhausted to stand. “I’ll be ok,” he tries to assure the woman, not knowing if she can understand him, “I just need to lie down a bit.” Percy lies down on the ash covered ground. He tries to look around but it is still too dark. His left arm hurts in a way Percy recognizes as a deep cut. Percy hopes he isn’t in the Maze. He’s too tired for monsters. Exhaustion pulls at him.

Percy feels more than sees a stream nearby. The water is clogged with the same poisonous ash that covers the earth and fills the air. Percy reaches out toward the stream and with a twist in his gut pulls it forward until his fingers touch the water.

Percy lets the cool water flow through his fingers and up his arm. The water is a balm on his open wound. Percy assumes that the blade from Kronos’ scythe had torn through his flesh during the explosion. He certainly doesn’t have the blade anymore.

The wound starts to heal in the water. Percy knows the mist and the darkness will cover his actions so the mortals (Maybe? He hopes they’re mortals and not hungry monsters) don’t see anything weird. With the last of his energy, Percy clears the water, pushing the volcanic ash out of the stream. This way people will be able to drink clean water; it’s the least he can do. Once he’s finished though the exhaustion overwhelms him. Percy hears the woman that had been carrying him say something in Spanish, but Percy is already passing out as she grabs hold of his shoulder.

*

He wakes when someone wipes his face with a cloth. Apparently, more than two inches of ash and dust had built up on top of him as he slept. He’s still being carried on a makeshift stretcher- AKA two people holding a blanket. A third woman wipes the ash off of Percy face and Percy smiles tiredly at her. Percy tries to thank her but he doesn’t speak Spanish and she doesn’t speak English so it doesn’t go great. The boy and the woman (the boy’s mom?) that are carrying his stretcher-blanket let him down.

His arm is healed from the water, which is nice. Percy’s still tired, but more of a “stayed up all night playing video games instead of sleeping” kind of tired instead of a “my entire body is about to collapse into goo and never form anything resembling a Percy shaped creature again out of sheer spite” level of exhaustion. So that was nice.

People shuffled around nervously, but Percy couldn’t really blame them. They had just survived a volcanic explosion. Also, the air was still poisonous, and it was raining ash like snow in a polar vortex. Not great.

Pulling his tired body up, Percy looks up at the sky. The clouds are so thick and dark that it is almost as dark as night, but there is a little bit of ambient light filtering through, so Percy assumes it is daytime. They were on a hilly road surrounded by what might have once been a forest but was now a wasteland of ash lumps. The mountain several miles away was on fire- probably not great. Part of the mountain’s peak had been blown off and it was pushing black ash several miles into the air. That ash was raining back down. Occasionally a rock big enough to bash someone’s head in falls from the sky.

Percy is not wearing his normal clothes. It seems they were burned off in the explosion and Percy is now wearing an ash-colored blanket. Percy looked around at the assembled group of people in the dim light. Woman, children, men- all of them covered in dark ash. The people’s skin and tunics were grey from ash. Most of them were breathing heavy or coughing. People were occasionally kneeling to drink from the stream Percy had pulled through the crowd last time he was awake. Apparently, the stream had followed Percy in his sleep. They need to get away from the volcano and to a hospital ASAP.

The problem was, Percy has no idea where he was or where the nearest hospital was. Also, he had no shoes and his feet were severely burned. Percy closed his eyes; this was no time to be focused on his own wounds. If they didn’t get somewhere safe soon, people would die. The stream Percy had pulled from nearby was flowing swiftly downhill. They could follow the stream to the nearest body of water. If they could get to the Pacific Ocean then Percy would be able to orient himself. Percy always knew where he was on the ocean.

Percy stood up and addressed the crowd, “We need to keep moving. If we can make it to a lake or an ocean, I’m sure the rescue teams will be able to find us easier.” He pointed downstream, hoping that even if people spoke Spanish they would understand. If people wanted to stay it’s not like he could force them to keep walking, but he could lead the way.

Percy stepped into the cool stream, letting the water sooth his burnt feet and started walking. Behind him people started moving as well. After half a mile Percy glanced behind him and slowed his pace. These were not demigods; they were exhausted families. Some people were struggling more than others. He slowed his pace and waited for a few people to catch up with him before continuing.

People were talking among themselves. Their subdued tones were broken by sobs and long painful sounding coughing. Percy only catches the occasional words like “Pompeii”, “August”, “venom”, and “volcano”. Percy thinks it’s Spanish, but it was a weird Spanish that he couldn’t quite understand. In high school Percy got a C- in Spanish so he’s not too surprised he can’t understand anything other than the occasional word. He also learned Mexican-Spanish, and maybe this group of people spoke Spanish from a different country. Like Spain. Or Chile. Or Venezuela. Or - No, focus, Percy!

Percy finds the woman who had been carrying him when he first woke. She was a middle-aged woman wearing a simple dress and sandals- all grey from the ash of course. “Hey, I wanted to thank you for carrying me. I don’t know how long you had to do that but thanks. Um, Gracias. Mucho gracias,” Percy says. The woman had looked almost afraid or sad when Percy started talking; she averted her eyes and says something in weird-Spanish that Percy assumes means “no problem” but could have just as likely been “You owe me like a thousand dollars and like twenty coffees”. Percy tells himself to try to pay more attention in Spanish class next year.

They walk for a while. Percy’s mind is still cotton from exhaustion and, you know, being exploded in a volcano. Still, occasionally he looks at the ash raining sky hoping to see a helicopter or a search airplane. He doesn’t find anything. Then again, it’s probably not a great idea to fly a helicopter in air that is raining ash and dust. Probably not great flying conditions. Percy may not be a helicopter pilot, but he assumes being able to see is probably pretty important for pilots.

A child and their aging father (or grandfather?) lag behind the group and Percy stops, motioning for the group to keep walking before turning back to the pair. The man is walking unsteadily with tear tracks down his face and the child looked exhausted and terrified. Their tunics are gray with ash. Percy tries to put on his kindest voice, “Hey kiddo. Do you want to climb on my back? It’s a pretty sh*tty day, but we’ll get through it together, ok?” He uses body language to try to communicate piggy backs, and after a few moments and the kid presumably asking his dad for permission, the kid gets on Percy’s back. Kid then almost immediately passes out. Poor kid. Percy tries to smile a bit at the man, but nothing about this situation is good so everything comes across as forced.

They walk at an agonizingly slow pace. Hours pass and the world gets darker. If Percy was alone he would walk faster but he’s not alone. These people carried him for who knows how long, so he can carry them back. The sky continues to rain ash. The people whisper. Percy is beginning to think they don’t speak Spanish. Portuguese maybe? Italian?

Percy uses the water from the stream to push the built-up ash out of the way. At times the ash reached four feet high. This wasn’t ash like the stuff left over from a campfire at camp half blood. This was heavy hot dust that built up like snow but was harder to move through. Rocks occasionally pelted down from the sky like hail- the type of hail that could crack a windshield. A rock flew down from the sky and hit the arm of a man to Percy’s left. It ripped off a chunk of his flesh and the man cried out in pain. Percy was beginning to see why some people had tied pillows to their head. This was like a snowstorm in hell.

No one has phones. They must have really had to run pretty fast if no one brought their phone. Or maybe Percy had been unconscious longer than he thought, and all their phone batteries had already run out.

The ash and dust in the air obscured vision to such an extent that the group were a few hundred yards away from the ocean before Percy even sees it. He couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh. Finally! Ocean! Percy wakes the kid on his back and returns him to his father carefully before turning and sprinting into the water.

In the water, Percy feels his burnt feet heal and his lungs clear from all the dust that had been building up. Much like he had with the stream before, Percy separates the water from the poisonous ash, pushing the ash away so he can feel the salt water. He knows exactly where he is- a useful perk to being Poseidon’s kid. He’s off the coast of Italy near Naples, nowhere near Mount Saint Helens. The fog that had been muddling his mind since the volcanic eruption washes away and a few things become very obvious to Percy very quickly.

No phones. No helicopters. Tunics and sandals. A wound from Kronos’ blade. Kronos is the titan of time. Speaking not-Spanish. The coast of Naples. Pompeii.

Pompeii.

Oh. Oh no.

Chapter 2: If you give a crab to a cultist...

Chapter Text

Pompeii.

Oh man. Percy wished history class had discussed Pompeii more. The only things he really knows about Pompeii was that it was a city in Italy near a volcano that exploded and then everything was covered in magma and ash. Lots of people died and left weird corpses. He wasn’t even sure what year this was other than vaguely ***the past***. Which was not super specific.

Cool. Cool. Cool.

He was a fourteen-year-old demigod in the past. His mom wasn’t born yet. His friends weren’t born yet. Annabeth wasn’t here. His dad was alive, but didn’t know that Percy existed. Is he messing with the time line? He can’t even speak Italian, and he certainly can’t speak ancient Italian. The air is still full of ash and dust and the mountain in the distance is still covered in glowing magma.

Percy turns to look at the group of people on shore. The people of Pompeii. Some of them at any rate. Focus Percy. You are not the only person here who has lost their home and family. They need to get to safety. Panic later. Or never. Never is fine too.

Percy looks out into the ocean. Mount Vesuvius was still spewing dust and ash – hot burning ash- several hundred yards into the air. The ocean was wild from the shaking earth and burning projectiles occasionally shooting into the water. Closing his eyes Percy reached through the water.

“There are a bunch of ships nearby! You stay here, I’ll go get them!” Percy calls out to the people on shore. They can’t understand him because they don’t speak English, but hopefully his tone conveys something? Percy dived into the water and pushed himself toward the boats as fast as he could. Did English even exist yet? Old English? Super-duper-old English?

Percy approached the ships and stops. He is very close to the volcano now. The mountain is dimly lit with magma, but the tower of black ash rising from the mountain is deeply unsettling. Rocks crash into the ocean and the town beyond the docks. Pompeii. One day architects will find the bodies of people who die today.

There are twelve ships and they are near the shore. The ships aren’t great. Each ship only has one sail that isn’t big enough to really propel the ship, which is probably why there are over fifty paddles sticking out each side. They had no rudder, no jib, and they had anchors without stocks. Percy is surprised these ships haven’t crashed into anything yet. Maybe that’s why they don’t have big sails, with a ship this clunky and slow to turn going fast would be a death sentence. The waves are too big for these terrible, slow, clunky floating disasters to be able to get anywhere near the harbor without crashing.

There are people huddled at the docks hiding behind any structure they can for shelter from the fist-sized rocks that occasionally hurtle down from above. Ash-grey families look desperately at the ships unable to approach.

Percy uses his power to calm the waves even as the water was hit again and again with boiling hot projectiles. The water around the docks would stay calm, Percy demanded it. Yet the sailors still hesitated.

Percy launched himself up and onto the bow of the ship closest to shore. He shouted commands at the sailors. They didn’t understand him, but seemed to get the idea when Percy pointed at the docks and shouted. Percy also used his magic boat powers to move the ship he was onto toward the dock. An older man who might have been the captain was coughing his lungs out but looked at Percy with something that might have been gratefulness or fear. He repeated the order to get to the docks in Latin. Probably. Percy didn’t actually know what the man said.

Man, not being able to talk to people sucked.

Rescue operations began. A little more than half the people on the docks were able to get on the ships. Percy stayed behind after the ships were loaded, assuming that they would return soon enough. He used water to wash away more than two feet of ash that had built up on the docks.

Once the ships were rowing away and the remaining people of Pompeii had sheltered as much as they could, Percy decided to go to Pompeii proper. He ran up the road from the docks into the city to see if anyone was still alive. There was a rock wall surrounding the city but the gates were open and Percy was able to run through.

Roofs had collapsed from debris falling from the sky, houses burned, Percy could smell sulfur and the roads were covered in more than two feet of ash and dust. He found bodies dead beneath the ash. Carts of food and wares were abandoned along the side of the road. Every step he took away from the ocean exhausted him, but Percy kept going. The ash was several feet deep and it was like wading through snow but heavier. The sun was setting and the world was becoming darker, and yet the air was hotter than a bright summer day. He carved a path through the ash, hoping to find someone still alive. He saw things in those streets that Percy would not be able to speak of for quite some time.

Percy called out, then fell into a coughing fit as the ash stuck to his lungs. He kept going and called out again, checking the houses. Mount Vesuvius loomed over the town, more deadly than any monster Percy had fought.

Finally, Percy heard a voice and a thumping sound. Pushing through the ash, he made his way over to one of the houses. There was someone inside trying to push open the door but the heavy ash and debris from the sky had blocked up the door. Percy pulled it open, cracking some of the wood. A small family was inside, parents with two kids who all looked desperate and terrified. The mother carried a small oil lamp that she used to light the room. They were also the first people Percy had seen not covered in ash. Their tunics were a faded green and yellow. Percy pulls them out of the house and points down the path he had carved in the ash. He doesn’t know how to say “docks” or “ships” but after a few relieved sobs and steady clap on the back from the father the family moves away. Percy goes deeper into the city. A man lies on the street with a stone crushing his skull. A dead mama cat has been crushed by a burning beam; two living kittens surround her.

Another thumping behind a door reveals a young man with tears streaking down his cheeks. Percy points him in the right direction and keeps walking. He found and freed three more people trapped in their homes. Percy is exhausted.

He hears it before he sees it; a grey wall is rumbling down the mountain. If the ash up until this point had been like snow in a blizzard, then the thing coming down the mountain was an avalanche. An avalanche of ash and dust that would choke out all life in its path. If it had been snow Percy might have been able to stop it, but Percy had no power over burning ash. The fifty-foot wall would be here in minutes.

Percy turned and ran toward the last two people he had helped out of their homes, a woman with a young child. He grabbed the child and the mother’s elbow while shouting “Run!” in Greek.

A terrified dog ran after them, following the trail they left in the ash. The woman was shouting something, eyes wide with terror. Percy kept running, fueled by adrenaline. They caught up to the other formerly trapped people. Percy shouts at them to run and takes the lead. He stops occasionally to make sure no one is being left behind. The avalanche is already halfway down the mountain and they’re still half a mile from the docks.

Percy shouts at them to run faster, knowing he isn’t being understood. Percy still has a kid in his arms. The young man points to the mountain with the avalanche of dust on it and people seem to get the idea that This Is Bad because they run down the path faster.

Even running, Percy knows they’re not going to make it to shore, so he runs ahead. At the docks Percy throws the kid into the ocean. He probably looks like a lunatic. Certainly, the people on the docks shout in horror. But there is no time, and Percy can’t explain so instead he steps into the ocean and lets the water refill his terribly low energy supply.

Then he pulls the tide up and sweeps all two hundred people on the docks into the water. Percy ignores their screams. There is no time and Percy is running fully on adrenaline right now. He pulls a stream of saltwater with him up the path toward Pompeii. The ash avalanche has hit the far side of the city and the cloud of ash swallows the houses whole. Percy runs. He doesn’t need to make it to the city, just to the seven people running down the road lit by a single candle.

The avalanche is rushing toward them. Five hundred feet away, four hundred, three hundred. It is racing down the road and Pompeii itself is completely gone in a wall of ash. Percy pushes the ocean water past himself to envelope the running people.

The avalanche hits. It’s like being hit with a sledgehammer. A sledgehammer made of fire. Percy is thrown back several feet by the solid wall of rubble and ash and his skin starts to burn. Seeing as Percy was standing on magma less than a day ago, his skin burning is not a great sign. Percy takes a breath which ends up being a mistake as his lungs burn and his head swims.

Percy pulls the water back toward himself and is quickly enveloped by wonderful amazing ocean water. He breaths deeply even as he uses a lot of his energy to keep the water clear of any ash, heat and poisoned air. He also needed to keep the large bubble in the water because otherwise the seven terrified and confused people in the bubble would drown.

Percy tries to smile at the people of Pompeii trapped in his water bubble surrounded by rushing ash and poison but it probably didn’t look super comforting. Still, now that people were in his water bubble Percy was able to keep them safe as they walked toward the ocean. It’s a good thing Percy knows where the ocean is because the view outside of the bubble was black ash wall to the left and black ash wall to the right which wasn’t super useful for navigating.

A few minutes later Percy was finally able to walk into the ocean. There, beneath the waves were all two hundred refugees from the docks, safely in a bubble underwater. The air above them was black with ash and poison. The top of the ocean water was starting to steam and boil. What fun.

Percy wanted to stay with the Pompeii refugees but he also had to go to the original group of people he’d left behind when searching for boats. They were a few miles away but Percy had no idea if that was within ash-avalanche range or not. He also had to get the Pompeii people to safely. The air in the bubble would run out eventually.

As Percy was deciding on what to do, he felt the ships returning. Had Percy not been here the ships would not have been on time to save people from the ash avalanche. Percy tries not to think about it. The ships do not approach shore, probably because the shore has been swallowed by a cloud of super-heated dust and poison. Luckily, Percy can push people through the water up to the ships.

Despite the language barrier, Percy is able to convince a few people to take a deep breath using pantomiming. Then he sends them hurling through the water and up onto the ship. Not everyone on the ocean floor is equally enthusiastic about being shot through the ocean water, a few people even panic and cry. For those, Percy swims with them, keeping the bubble around their head and swimming them gently to the ships half a mile away. The swimming takes a lot of precious time however, so Percy sends people blasting through the water whenever he can.

Finally, when the last people have been blasted onto the ship, Percy follows suit. Percy is exhausted. The people on the boat are soaking wet, and terrified. The sailors are looking at Percy as if he is a monster. Maybe Percy is a monster, but he still needs to save the fifty people he had met earlier today.
Had it really been less than a day since he woke up? It feels a lot longer.

On the ship, Percy is easily able to move the ship toward the refugees on shore a few miles south. He gets the currents to push the other ships along with him. They sail along the shore faster than the avalanche and make it to the group of refugees on shore with several minutes to spare. They are able to get all the refugees onto the ship. Those that cannot swim to the ships are carried along by the tide onto the deck of the ships. The young man and middle-aged lady who carried Percy in a make-shift stretcher climb the ladder onto the ship. The older father with his young child are swept up by the current and deposited onto a ship. When the last person is safely on the ship Percy takes a deep breath.

People were afraid of him. The young man who had carried Percy earlier bowed at his feet, whispering something Percy didn’t understand. The mist apparently doesn’t work yet. Percy doesn’t know how to say “Don’t thank me. This is all my fault. I caused this. People died because of me.” So he stayed silent.

The ships started rowing north along the shore, avoiding the wall of ash that now covered many miles of land and sea alike. Percy sat down, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the deck and watches the ships sail past the cloud of death and the burning volcano with its pillar of black ash in the distance.

How many people died today?

The ships sail on.

*
It’s been a week since the explosion. Over two thousand ash-covered refugees have formed a camp outside of a city called Gaeta, further north from the explosion. Hastily constructed wooden structures are set up half a mile away from the beach and along the outside of the city wall. Percy has personally cut down more than one hundred trees to build the wooden huts. The structures are not waterproof and at night the temperature drops considerably so things are less than ideal. It’s late fall and the nights are cold.

The city is outside the range of the volcanic ash, but Percy can look out over the bay and see the distant coastline still covered in grey. A small black column of smoke still rises from Mount Vesuvius, the occasional burst of lightning flashing through the cloud.

Some people in Gaeta speak ancient Greek. The local priest of Jupiter (Percy’s pretty sure that’s Zeus) has splashed him with some water and said a blessing in Greek. Percy had thanked the priest and then awkwardly left, walking back to the refugee camp. Percy apparently spoke an old version of Greek, but the people of this time could understand him.

The two refugees that had carried Percy on a blanket when he was unconscious spoke ancient Greek. A teenager of about 18 named Gaius and his mother Marcella both spoke Greek. Gaius had been terrified and respectful of Percy at first, bowing and averting his eyes. That terror and respect had quickly faded when Percy had asked the teen a bunch of really stupid questions. Questions like “where do you poop?” and “how do you put on underwear?” In Percy’s defense ancient underwear was just a piece of cloth and his clothes has been burned away in the explosion. Percy now wore a plain off-white tunic and sandals.

Thanks to Gaius, Percy has learned a few things this past week. He’s learned they’re in the Roman Empire. He’s learned that he didn’t actually go into Pompeii because Pompeii was several miles upriver. The waterfront town he had entered was called Herculaneum. He’s learned a few words of Latin, he’s learned how to poo into a bucket and how to poo in a toilet-bench, he’s learned what people look like when they have lost everything and are mourning their dead children, and he’s learned how to fish for crabs.

Percy had itched to be useful somehow and ended up walking along the bottom of the sea trying to catch food. A crab had pinched his toe so Percy decided that crab was on the menu tonight. Now he goes around different parts of the coastline picking up angry crabs and putting them in a net-bag he found half buried in the sand at some point.

In the twenty-first century, Latin is a dead language and no one actually knows how Latin used to sound. So if Percy ever makes it back to his own time, he’d technically know how to speak Latin better than the smartest Latin professor in the world even though he only known a few words. Take that academia.

Gaius had also shown Percy the communal toilets located within the city Gaeta. The toilets were a room full of benches built over a stream of water with holes cut into the wood for pooping. Then there was the communal ass-wiping stick with a sponge on it- Percy was less enthused about that one.

Then they’d found a wall full of graffitied penises and Percy couldn’t help but laugh. Then he graffitied a penis on the wall with a chalky limestone rock. It was around this time that Gaius lost that last bit of respect he’d had for Percy. Which was good because Percy really needed a friend and not a worshipper.

“Perseus, you are a child,” Gaius muttered, shaking his head. Percy laughed harder.

*

Percy is a refugee. Not a refugee from Pompeii itself, but he is a homeless teenager who doesn’t have any mortal family and can’t return home so he’s some kind of refugee. A time traveling refugee. It’s been a weird week. Percy had thought about going to find his father but:

A) His father couldn’t even be bothered to be a father when he knew Percy existed, when Percy was his only living mortal son, and when he supposedly cared about Percy’s mom. It was unlikely he was going to care about Percy now.

B) Percy didn’t know where either Olympus or Atlantis was currently located. He’d have to spend weeks or months silently swimming around hoping to run into something.

C) Even if Poseidon decided that he would allow Percy to stay in Atlantis for some reason, Percy didn’t know if he wanted that. Most of the gods were dicks. He preferred to be with humans, generally.

D) Poseidon wasn’t a time traveler. He wouldn’t be able to bring Percy back to his own time.

Percy feels so lost. He’s supposed to be fighting Kronos. He’s supposed to be with Annabeth to find Dedalus and the ghost king and protect camp half-blood from monster invasion. He’s supposed to be able to go home and hug his mom. Instead, he’s swimming along the coast of Italy wondering what he should be doing next.

Percy swims past the ocean floor and scoops up four aggressive looking crabs. As he swims, he clears as much of the water from ash as he can. He puts the crabs in the bag and swims around a bit more. The water around Mount Vesuvius had turned acidic after the explosion and even now the corpses of rotten fish drift through the water. At least the starfish and shrimp seem to be having a good time eating the fish. He stops a pod of dolphins and warns them about the acidic ash water further south. After catching what he deems a sufficient number of angry crabs, Percy heads back to the shores on Gaeta.

Percy takes the crabs to the make-shift camp and hands the crabs out to whoever looks hungry. It’s a short-term solution, but it’s better than nothing. People try to pay him but Percy waves them off. He’s not going to take things from these people who have nothing. He takes the last three crabs to the small wooden hut he shares with Gaius and Marcella.

The city of Gaeta is trying to house two thousand refugees, but the city itself is more of a village with about five thousand people in it. They don’t have the space for two thousand refugees and they don’t have the food to feed them through the winter.

“Salve Gaius et Marcella,” Percy holds up the crabs, “Cancer!” Hahahaha. Latin is great.

Marcella bows her head as he comes in. Marcella has her long black hair braided and pinned in a bun. She tends to carry herself with dignity and Percy always finds himself correcting his own slouched posture when she’s nearby. Percy hasn’t yet been able to convince her that he is a stupid teenager and not, in fact, a god. It was a work in progress. “Salve Perse,” Gaius responded, his tone more subdued than normal.

“Something wrong?” Percy asked, switching to Greek.

“We have gotten reports from the sailors that my brother Gaius Plinius Secundus is dead. He died during the rescue operations before you arrived,” Marcella said, eyes still averted.

Percy sat down on the moist dirt next to her, his heart once more held in a heavy clamp of guilt, “I’m sorry to hear it. From what you have told me he was a good man.”

“He was,” Gaius nodded, “and he died in service to his country. He died a hero. Rome has lost a great man and a great mind. We will have to tell my grandfather and hold a funeral service for him. We had hoped he would join us and that we could return to Rome together. The road can be dangerous for travelers and it is many days to get to Rome.”

Gaius and his mom wouldn’t be the first people to leave. Many people had started journeys to nearby cities in search of family, clothes still stained grey from ash. Going to seek out family was the wise thing to do, of course Gaius and Marcellus would go to Rome. Percy shouldn’t feel abandoned.
“Would you join us on our journey, my Lord? We would feel safer if we had you with us. My father is quite rich; he would pay you when we arrive in Rome and offer you a place to stay as his guest. I am certain of it,” Marcella said.

Percy sat up straighter, his first instinct was to agree but he hesitated, “I want to. But these people, I can’t just leave them. Not that I’m doing much, but crab fishing is better than nothing.”

Gaius looked disappointed but Marcella seemed to expect this answer. “We will send a missive to my father; he will be able to hire a few men to escort us back to Rome. If you change your mind my Lord, we would be honored to have you accompany us.”

“I’m not any kind of lord, Lady Marcella.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Percy laughed. Marcella was secretly snarky. Good for her.

*

“Percy!” Gaius jogs over to where Percy is roasting his crab, “Have you heard the news? Augustus is coming to Gaeta with provisions!”

“Oh,” Percy says, “Is he an important person? A senator or something?”

“He’s the Augustus. Imperator Titus Caesar Vespasianus Augustus. Pontifex Maximus. Princeps. The first man among equals?” Gaius looked increasingly horrified that Percy did not know who this was. Reaching into his satchel, Gaius pulls out a silver penny and shoves it into Percy’s hand.

On the coin was a picture of a man with a laurel crown on his head and a stubby beard. The inscription read “IMP VESPASIANUS AUGUSTUS”. Percy covered part of the coin with his thumb so that it now read “IMP ----- ANUS”. Hahaha.

“Oh, you mean the…” Percy looked for the right word for ‘Emperor’ in ancient Greek, “the king?”

“He’s not a king,” Gaius frowned, “Rome doesn’t have a king.”

“…Sure. The Augustus is coming to Gaeta then? To bring food for the refugees?”

“Food and coin, I believe. From what I have heard, the Augustus went to see what has become of Mount Vesuvius with his own eyes and has been going to all of the nearby cities to pay them enough for food and to build housing for all the refugees.”

“So they’ll have enough food?”

“Yes. Or money to travel to whatever family they might have nearby.”

Percy nodded, looking out along the refugee camp. “I’ll stay here until all these people have somewhere to live. Gaius, I know you want me to go with you, but I can’t leave yet. Once everyone has a home, I promise I’ll come find you in Rome, alright?”

Gaius’ shoulders slumped. “Alright.”

“And Gaius? Don’t tell people in Rome I’m a demigod. I don’t really want people to know.”

“I’m afraid it is far too late for that. Everyone in Italy has heard of the son of Neptune born from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.”

“… What?”

*

A caravan train full of food, coin and other supplies arrives in Geata within three weeks of the explosion. It is accompanied by about three thousand soldiers and a guy in a purple cloak. The Augustus. Percy’s not going to lie, he looks pretty kingly. Shiny armor, healthy horse, silk tunic, flowy cloak, and about a hundred people bowing to him whenever he does anything. Also the soldiers. The three thousand soldiers who look like they are itching for a fight. Percy sees them ride in Gaeta from the beach and decides to avoid the headache by going crab fishing. He would probably deeply offend some guard by not bowing properly or commit a terrible Roman taboo by eating an apple wrong or something and get into a fight.

Or maybe one of the guards is a monster in disguise and when Percy kills them, he’ll then have to navigate the Roman justice system without being able to speak Latin. Nah. He treats the Augustus the same way he treats the popular kids at school: AVOID.

*

The next morning, Marcella and Gaius join the Augustus’ caravan train and a large group of refugees to travel back to Rome. Giaus tries once again to convince Percy to come with them, but Percy says goodbye and waves them off. Marcella hands Percy a scrap of paper with the name of her father, Gaius Plinius Celer, telling him again that he would be welcome if he goes to Rome. About half of the refugees leave with the Augustus’ caravan train back to Rome.

Percy stays in Geata. Augustus did indeed leave money behind for the refugees, and soon enough Geata has brought in extra food and building supplies to make new apartments. Percy is no builder but he helps where he can by digging foundations, baking bricks in a big clay oven and catching crabs around the coast to feed hungry people. Within a month they’ve built a three-story apartment building and have plastered the walls. They start building a second and third.

A month and a half after Giaus and Marcella leave a small group of travelers show up in Gaeta. At first Percy thinks they are refugees as they are not wearing fancy clothes and look around a bit lost. Then they show up at the beach one day when Percy comes out of the waters with his catch and bow to him wide-eyed.

“It is an honor for us mere mortals to meet a being such as yourself, my lord. We have come to honor and serve you,” the eldest of the five men says, bowing low.

“Um. No thank you. I don’t need any honor or service. Uhh. Here, have a crab.” Percy hands them a crab and awkwardly tries to walk past them.

“We can prove ourselves to you, my lord. Ask of us a task, and we shall deliver,” a younger man says in Greek, stepping forward.

“Haha. No. I don’t give out quests. That’s more of a thing the gods do. I am a normal teenager and not a god.”

“My lord, we have watched you walk along the bottom of the sea as easily as a mortals walk on a road and stay beneath the waves for over an hour.”

“I’m just really good at holding my breath.”

The men look at each other in utter confusion. Apparently, they were not expecting their local Demigod to be a terrible liar and weren’t sure what to do. Percy also wasn’t sure what to do. In hindsight he probably should have been expecting this after a thousand people saw him use his demigod powers to rescue them but in Percy’s defense Annabeth is usually the one who makes plans and she won’t be born for thousands of years. So.

“Have another crab,” Percy says. He hands the younger man a dead crab and walks away with the rest of his catch. Hopefully that will be the end of it.

It was not the end of it.

Percy’s cultists follow him to his wooden hut and leave him coins. Percy tries to returns the coins but they don’t accept them, so Percy hands them to other refugees. They hum prayers as Percy lays bricks for the apartment complex they were building. The cultists do not try to help build the apartment. Jerks. Percy wakes with a laurel wreath on his head and is a bit weirded out that someone came into his hut while he was asleep.

“Please just leave me alone. I do not want to be worshipped. Also, don’t enter my hut. How would you feel if I broke into your house in the middle of the night?”

“We would be honored, my lord.”

“Ugh! No! You weirdos.” Percy says, frustrated. A tiny storm-cloud starts to brew directly above Percy’s head. Great.

“You are still young, my lord. We understand if you feel lost, that is why we have come. I would guide you as if you were my own son.” The oldest man says, with a bit of a glint in his eyes.

Percy steps back. “I don’t need someone to adopt me. I already have parents.”

“Where is your mother then, Young Lord?” The old man asks.

“Shut up!” Percy raises his voice and the wind rises along with it. “My mother is fine! She’s just- She’s just… She’s fine!”

“My lord Perseus, we meant no harm. We only meant to help you,” The old man is looking nervous now. His eyes cast to the skies.

“I’m not a damn child and I’m not a damn puppet you can control. Leave me be, that’s an order!” Percy shouts and the rain starts pouring down. A storm has brewed on the beach of Gaeta. His tiny cult of five men flee. So do the other refugees.

Percy may have overdone it but he had been avoiding thinking about his mom and now these stupid men had ruined that. Percy lies down in the sand face down and allows the storm rage above him.

Percy misses his mom. He could really use a hug and some blue cookies right about now. Sally Jackson. A woman who isn’t born yet and won’t be for thousands of years. If she was dead Percy might have been able to travel to the underworld and see her again. Percy will likely never see her again. She’s not dead. She’s not alive either. She’s just not here.

Percy screams into the sand.

*

There is a big fire in the city. Percy sees the smoke in the moonlight. There also seems to be chanting or shouting. Let’s hope it’s a barbeque and not a weird Roman death ritual or something. Percy pulled himself up from the beach and walks toward Gaeta.

Bad news: It was a weird Roman death ritual.

Good news: the death was a goat.

They had cut the throat of the animal on a stone alter in the center of the city. The old priest of Zeus was standing over the corpse speaking to the gathered people in Latin. The priest had smeared his own face with blood. Charming.

If Percy thought he was being subtle, no one else seemed to agree because the crowd parted before him as he walked into the city square. People moved aside, held their children close and bowed their heads. Percy walked right through the large bonfire in the middle of the town square. He wouldn’t want to disappoint the Romans after they put all this effort to host a Roman ritual of goat death.

The priest motioned him to come to the podium before speaking in Greek “Lord Perseus, we have sacrificed a goat in your honor. Please forgive us mere mortals our hubris. The people of Gaeta would beg for your forgiveness. If the goat is not sufficient my Lord, we could sacrifice the offender.” The priest motioned to the old man cultist whose hands has been bound with rope. Two burley roman officers stood on both sides of the man, holding him in place.

“I’m not a god. I don’t need sacrifice. If you must sacrifice, I’m sure my father Poseidon wouldn’t mind a dead goat.” Percy picked up the bloody goat without asking permission. He walked down the stone steps of the alter toward the bonfire in the middle of the town square. There was a girl tending to the bonfire who looked oddly familiar.

Percy threw the goat into the bonfire, “To Poseidon! Please be nice to the people of Gaeta this year, I guess. Also, uh, maybe try not to shake the earth near Mount Vesuvius for a while because it turns out that’s a volcano. Thanks dad.”

The corpse of the goat was engulfed in a pillar of flame as Poseidon accepted the sacrifice and the smoke of the goat went up to the sky. Percy does not understand why gods like the smell of burnt offerings because the goat smelled like burnt hair to Percy, which is gross.

Percy turned to the old cultist man, who started shaking as Percy approached. Percy pulled Riptide from his pocket. Gaius’s mother Marcella had sewn a pocket into Percy’s simple tunic a few weeks back. Nice of her. Riptide has taken the form of a quill instead of a pen ever since Percy arrived in ancient Rome. Percy pulls out the bronze quill then twirls it in his fingers to get his sword.

“My Lord. I am so sorry. Forgive my impudence. I should never have spoken to you thus. Forgive an old man his Hubris.” The old man begs as the soldiers push him to his knees.

Percy cuts the man’s bonds with a single swing. “I am obviously not going to kill you. Have you not heard about Tantalus? I’m pretty sure the moral of that story is ‘don’t sacrifice people to the gods’. I don’t kill people for being mildly annoying. So, you’re forgiven for trying to use me as a demigod puppet I guess.”

Percy assumed that publicly forgiving the old man for trying to adopt (???) him was the point of this Roman death ritual. Percy looks up at the priest to see if he did a good job or if there was more to the ritual. The priest had fallen to his knees, which could not have been good for the old man’s joints. Looking around Percy saw most of the people of Gaeta had fallen to their knees, looking up at him with a mix of awe and fear. Percy was holding a bronze sword, with ten-foot flames roaring behind him, covered in goat’s blood and surrounded by over a thousand people on their knees praying in Latin.

Ok.

Alright.

Enough of this cult stuff. Percy was leaving.

People seemed to be united enough to perform rituals together and have enough food to be sacrificing goats to local demigods. The apartments they were building was mostly finished, so people should have a place to live before winter really hit. Percy walks past the crowd of Romans, through the gate in the city wall, past the wooden refugee huts, over the beach and into the ocean.

Time to go to Rome.

Chapter 3: Percy is a very normal Roman, no need to investigate further

Chapter Text

“Sinite!” A bust of a statue came alive in front of Percy as he tried to walk into Rome. The bust then promptly started yelling at Percy in Latin. Luckily, the road was fairly noisy and only two or three people turned to look who was yelling so Percy ducked behind the nearest building- an inn of some kind. He pulled the bust with him, using his body to hide the it from the road.

“Can you tone it down? What are you even mad about?” Percy asked in Greek, hoping the godly statue could understand him.

“Greacus?” The statue made a face of disgust.

“At least I have legs,” Percy hissed.

“I cannot allow you to enter, Greacus,” the bust declared. Loudly. At least he was speaking Greek.

“How are you planning to stop me? You can’t exactly physically hold me back. You have no arms.”

“How dare you? You insolate Greacus brat!”

“You’re the one who started yelling at me! Why can’t I enter Rome? Are Greeks not allowed? That’s racist man.”

“I have no idea what ‘racist’ is, but if it means I don’t like Greeks then you are absolutely correct!”

“Wow.”

“But no, unfortunately I cannot stop filthy Greacus from entering my city, but I will not allow those with godly blood to enter with weapons. That is absolutely not allowed. You must leave your weapons here.”

Percy stared at the stone face. He was tempted to punch it. ‘Do the smart thing Percy’, Percy tells himself, ‘try not to piss of gods on your first day. Pissing off gods is a day 2 activity at the earliest’. He is trying to be a normal Roman boy. Rude magic statues are not helping.

“Ok. I am happy to leave my weapon. Here you go. Have fun with this,” Percy smiles and places his bronze quill on the statue’s head knowing full well that Riptide will return to his pocket within minutes. “What was your name again?”

“I am the god Terminus! How can you not know that I guard the city? What is your name Boy?”

“I am Nobody,” Percy responds, saying the word “Nobody” in English.

“Well, Nobody, you better not cause any trouble in my city!”

“I’ll be on my best behavior despite being a gross Greek Demigod.”

“Do your best Greacus. I don’t tolerate ruckus in my city!”

“Me? Ruckus? Never.” Percy grinned as he ducked out of the alleyway and back onto the main road into Rome.

*

He is in the city of Rome! Ancient Rome! Poets and historians will write about this place for thousands of years. After spending the morning exploring Percy makes up his mind about the city.

Eh. It was ok.

Percy should probably be more impressed by the city than he is. It’s old. Old places didn’t have modern technology to build stuff. They just had horses and slavery. Cranes can lift way more than horses and slavery. Also, cranes are less of an afront to ethics and basic human dignity and stuff. Still, to a boy born and raised in New York City, ancient Rome was okay at best. The “largest and most impressive city in the world” (according to Gaius) was about one third the size of Queens and one third the population too. Percy was able to jog around the entire city in about an hour and a half.

While some of the buildings were made of marble, most were apartment buildings no taller than five stories high made of brick and concrete. Many buildings had plaster that was crumbling off the walls. Most of these apartment buildings had graffiti on the side of the wall as well. Lots of penises. Romans apparently really liked penises.

There were a bunch of statues; Percy recognized some of the statues as people that might be the gods if you took a step back and squinted. There was a statue that was probably Apollo near the library holding his lyre and a scroll. There was also a small temple to his father behind a big racetrack. It was a small room that seemed far more interested in his father’s connection to horses than the ocean. They called his father “Neptune”. Lots of paintings of horses. It almost seemed like the kind of place people would come to pray for their favorite horse winning in horse races. Was his father the god of gambling on horse races? Percy wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this horse shrine, but it was better than nothing. He bought some olive oil from a nearby vendor and used it to refill the empty oil lanterns in the temple and lite them.

The baths and fountains were cool though. There were several public baths in Rome including one called the Baths of Nero that were near the center of Rome across from the pantheon. The pantheon also had a carving of his dad in it. The baths were a public place that were a mix between a park and a YMCA. If your local YMCA had millions of dollars to spend on making everything out of marble and replacing encouraging workout posters with bronze statues. So many statues. Was that a statue of Aphrodite? Percy squinted. Yeah probably.

Percy makes a list of things he wants to do:

1) Eat food.

2) Find Gaius and Marcella, let them know he’s in Rome.

3) Do not think about causing volcanic explosions and the dead bodies he literally stepped over in Herculaneum. Do not think about it.

4) Figure out what he wants to do with his life now that he is no longer bound by the dual forces of godly prophecy and the New York State education system.

5) Get a job?

Percy had sold some crabs in the market square of the town at the mouth of the Tiber River, so he had some silver coins to spend on stuff. Luckily

Rome has lots of places to eat. There were many eateries, bars and food carts throughout the city.

Percy walks through the busy streets of Rome until he hears a pair of young men in their early twenties speaking Greek at a café. Percy entered the café and walked up to the bar. There were large ceramic pots placed inside a concrete countertop. The ceramic pots were filled with soups and stews and there were many loaves of bread on a shelf behind the friendly barmaid. The barmaid did not speak Greek, but Percy pointed to food and handed over some coin and it seemed to work out. By the way the barmaid smiled Percy assumed he had massively overpaid, but it’s not like Percy was saving the money for anything. If worst comes to worst, he can just sleep at the bottom of the river for a while as he tries to understand ancient economics and get a job other than crab fishing.

“Hello, I couldn’t help but overhear you discussing philosophy in Greek. I have an interest myself; would you mind if I joined you?” Percy is very cool and has great not-awkward-at-all social skills, thank you. No need to investigate further.

The two Greek-speaking Romans look up. One looks annoyed, the other excited. 50/50 isn’t bad. “A young philosopher!” The excited man exclaimed, “We would love to have a new mind join us, wouldn’t we Tacitus?”

“… Sure.”

“My name’s Perseus, what’s yours?”

“My name is Titus Aurelius Fulvus. Now before we get to know each other any more, I must first know what your definition of good and evil are.”

“….What?”

“Have you not heard the teachings of the philosopher Epictetus? One can learn a lot about a man by his definition of good and evil. Go on, young philosopher, gives us your definitions.”

“Uhhh… This bread is pretty good.”

“So you believe the pleasures of the flesh to be the very definition of goodness? You believe the pleasure of eating food surpasses the wholeness of one’s soul?” Titus Aurelius Fulvus asked.

“Leave the poor kid be, Aurelius, he does not need to endure your unending philosophizing,” Tacitus said, but he said it with a small smile as if he was used to his friend’s questions.

“Ok, I have a better definition of good: my mom. She’s pretty amazing and puts up with a lot of sh*t to protect me. My definition of evil? My grandpa. Not a great guy,” Percy said.

Aurelius laughed even though Percy was being pretty serious, actually. Then he launched into a twenty-minute speech about what makes a soul good or evil. He used a lot of big words but Percy wasn’t convinced he was actually saying much of substance. Something about not letting the world affect your soul by never having emotions or something. At some point Percy looked over at the quieter friend Tacitus who shook his head a bit with a wan smile. After finishing his food Aurelius excused himself, patting Percy on the shoulder while telling him about where young philosophers would meet every month to discuss philosophy (and drink), before running off with a wave.

“He likes to talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Percy asked.

Tacitus huffed a laugh before responding in Latin. Percy ate more of his soup in silence.

“You’re not a philosopher, are you?”

“No, I’m just Greek. I can’t speak Latin.”

Surprisingly, Tacitus burst out laughing. “Greek! Thank the gods! I was worried I would have to put up with more philosophers.”

“A fate worse than death,” Percy agreed. Tacitus laughed and started a calmer conversation. They talked about how Percy was a fisherman (“crabs, mostly”), and how Tacitus was studying law and wanted to start a career in politics.

“Politics? On purpose? Why? That sounds awful.”

Tacitus laughs and turns the subject to their food, how loud the merchants are, and some of the best places in Rome that Percy needs to visit.

Finally, Percy pulls out the paper Marcella had given him. “By the way Tacitus, do you know where a man named… Gaius Plinius Celer lives?” Percy asks.

Tacitus looks surprised and mildly alarmed, “You can read? No, more importantly, are you not too young for a wealthy man to… call upon you in such a way? What would your father think? Your grandfather?”

Percy shrugs, “Plinius didn’t call upon me, his daughter Marcella did.”

This seems to be the wrong thing to say because Tacitus pulls away in disgust. “I should warn you, Perseus, I am not the only one in Rome who speaks Greek. If you are not more discreet about your… indiscretions… you would bring ruin upon your lover’s name. I am also not one to aid in such illicit liaisons.”

“What?” Percy asked, horrified, “Marcella is not my lover. Gross. I’m friends with her son Gaius. The three of us walked through the ashes of Pompeii together. Marcella told me her father would welcome me as a guest if I was ever in Rome. And before you ask, I’m not sleeping with Gaius either.”

“You survived the explosion of Mount Vesuvius? I’m sorry Perseus, I did not realize you… I apologize for my assumptions. Did your parents…?”

Percy shrugged and looked away.

“Do you have family in Rome then?”

Percy stood up, “Look, if you don’t know where this Plinius Celer lives I can find him myself.”

“No, no, I know where he lives. He is a prominent Equestrian, his son is known as one of the smartest men in all of Rome,” Tacitus said, “His Domus is on the Via Julia. Come, I will lead you to him.”

Tacitus walked with him through the winding roads of Rome until they were not too far from the Tiber River on a one-way street on a bit of a slope. Tacitus tried to carefully continue their conversation and Percy attempts to keep the conversation going but things are awkward now. It’s hard to be casual after someone accuses you of sleeping with an old man and his daughter and then reminding you that your mom is non-existent.

The Plinius Domus was a two-story stone house nestled between two three-story apartment complexes. A doorman standing at the entrance looks Percy up and down with a judgmental look before turning to Tacitus. Apparently, Percy is too poor to talk to.

The doorman goes into the house and soon enough a familiar voice comes from within. “Perseus!” Gaius bursts from the door. He looks a lot better than he did in Gaeta; his hair is washed, his hands are free of dirt and sand, his tunic is a bright red with patterns on the bottom, and he’s wearing gold armbands. Percy had noticed that men wore more jewelry in ancient Rome than they did in modern times.

Tacitus seems to relax as Gaius welcomes them inside warmly. Perhaps a part of him still thought Percy was there to sleep with Gaius’s grandpa and steal from the family. Tacitus introduces himself to Gaius as Percy looks around. The entrance hall (?) had doors to the left and right, a large hole in the ceiling with a tiled and well-maintained ancle-deep pool of rainwater beneath it. Beyond the entrance hall was a garden courtyard where Percy could see grass, flowers and a fountain. Everything is either tiled or painted. Plants, birds and animals cover the walls. Half-naked men and woman that could be gods if Percy squints are among the scenes. Most noticeably, however, was the nerdy middle-aged man sitting in the well-maintained pool under the ceiling hole. He looked too young to be Gaius’ grandpa. A cousin or uncle maybe?

“Hello, I am Percy, a friend of Gaius,” Percy said to the man in the water. The man didn’t respond. “Are you a relative of Gaius? Why are you in the water?” At this the man looks up at Percy.

The man then looks behind himself before pointing at his own face in the universal gesture for “Wait were you talking to me?” Percy raises his eyebrows, amused, and nods.

“You can see me?” The man asks, and Percy belatedly realized that the man was slightly translucent. He was talking to a ghost. Whoops.

“No, I can’t,” Percy says, then glances behind himself to Tacitus and Gaius. They are both looking at him. So much for subtle. Tacitus looks concerned, Gaius looks excited.

“Wait,” the ghost says, “Can you tell Plinius the younger that it is the maid Camilla who is stealing the bronze spoons? I have been trying to have her caught in the act but it is so difficult to organize. Also, tell the family that the latch on the kitchen window is loose and anyone could break in with a little bit of force and steal our copper pots! We can’t have that happening! Not after all the tragedy that has befallen the family already.”

Percy is not convinced that stealing copper pots is quite on the same level of tragedy as the explosion of Mount Vesuvius and the death of Gaius’s uncle, but he holds his tongue because no one else can see the ghost and Percy doesn’t want to be labeled as that crazy guy talking to pools of water. The ghost seems harmless enough anyway.

“It was nice to meet you Tacitus, and thank you for bringing Perseus to our Domus,” Gaius says, dismissing the man and politely showing him the door. “Perseus, I will show you to your rooms. My mother had a room prepared for you, in case you did come to Rome,” Gaius says excitedly.

Tacitus grabbed Gaius’ arm in the doorway and pulled him aside, whispering in Latin. Percy assumes he’s asking Gaius if he’s sure it’s safe for him to be home alone with this crazy Greek homeless kid. Which is fair. Gaius seems to be able to convince Tacitus that Percy isn’t a murderous hobo and chats happily as he waves Tacitus away.

“Can you see our family’s Lars?” Gaius asked when he got back to Percy’s side, “Are they a fearsome spirit?”

Percy looks over at the nerdy middle-aged ghost-man sitting in the ancle deep pool, “Yeah, terrifying. What is a Lars?”

“A spirit who looks over a home and the family members of the house. Our Lars has been looking over our family and home for more than four generations,” Gaius says proudly.

“Well, he seems very concerned about the bronze kitchenware,” Percy says.

The Lars had jumped up, “I knew you could see me! Tell Plinius the Younger about the kitchen latch! It’s loose. Oh, this is wonderous. I have so many things for you to fix for me,” the Lars leapt up floated around the entryway.

If Percy was going to be staying here for a while, he may as well get along with the guardian spirit. “Give me a list, I’ll see what I can do. No guarantees though,” Percy says to the Lars before turning to Gaius, “Do you know someone names Plinius the Younger?”

“That would likely be me. My Uncle adopted me in his will and gave me his name. My name is now Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus,” Gaius said with a mix of pride and grief. Percy had this moment of horror when he thought of one of his uncles deciding they were going to retire and change Percy’s name to Zeus or Hades. Hard pass on that one, thanks.

“In that case, you should know that the latch in your kitchen window is loose.”

Gaius shows Percy to his room. The only furniture in the room is a bed and a stool, but it’s ten times nicer than the wooden hut he’s shared with Gaius and Marcella in Gaeta and Percy is grateful for it. Percy spends the afternoon being bossed around by the Plinius family Lars. He fixes the latch as well as he can. He pulls weeds from the inner courtyard, removes leaves and mud stuck on the roof tiles, washes the windows, and generally does chores. Gaius tries to tell Percy that he has servants for this kind of work but Percy just laughs and says it wouldn’t impress the Lars much if he got other people to do his chores. As far as godly quests go, doing menial chores wasn’t bad at all. There weren’t even any man-eating horses this time around.

At the end of the day Percy meets Gaius’ grandfather, who welcomes him warmly and thanks him for keeping his daughter and grandson safe after the disaster of Mount Vesuvius. Percy does not get the impression that the grandfather knows Percy’s a demigod and he shares a grateful smile with Gaius. Marcella also comes home and welcomes Percy warmly. She is very polite about it, but lets Percy know in no uncertain terms that he looks like a dirt-covered homeless man and he will wash up, put oil in his hair and put on some better clothes before dinner.

So Percy is freshly washed and wearing a green toga with some wave patterns on the edges when he goes to dinner. Dinner takes place in a dining room on wooden lying couches with pillows- the ones Percy has seen in painting of fancy Romans. It was surprisingly easy to adjust to eating on a lying couch instead of a chair. They have bread with oil, grapes, cheese, roasted veggies and soup which he eats with a wooden spoon as the bronze ones had apparently gone missing recently.

Grandpa Plinius tries to give Percy watered down wine, which Percy politely declines saying that he is not allowed to drink alcohol. This is apparently the weirdest thing Grandpa Plinius has ever heard in his life, but Percy does not allow himself to be convinced no matter how much the elderly man insists it’s been watered down and perfectly safe to drink. Percy doesn’t think that “Demigod that can explode volcanos” and “Alcohol” should mix. It doesn’t seem like that story would end well.

After dinner Percy retires to his new bedroom and stares at the ceiling. It’s been two months since Mount Vesuvius. Percy is fifteen now, his birthday would have passed at some point during the construction of the apartment in Gaeta. While Percy is grateful for the roof over his head and all the good food, he’s more grateful for how Gaius, Marcella and Grandpa Plinius treat him like a person.

Chapter 4: Interlude 1: Titus

Chapter Text

Imperator Titus Caesar Vespasianus Augustus

Two months after the death of his father and the start of Titus’ reign as Augustus, a thunderous roar had been heard in Rome. People had fled to their homes and prayed to Zeus for protection. Days later, reports came in that Mount Vesuvius had erupted. Soon enough, more reports of the absolute destruction arrived along with the first ash-covered refugees. Pompeii and Herculeum were lost in less than a day. Thousands of souls ferried across the river Styx. May the gods of the dead look over their souls.

That this was the work of the Gods was not in doubt. Titus consulted the Priests on Aventine hill and made public sacrifices to pray for Neptune’s forgiveness. Neptune was the god of the seas and volcanos exploded when he shook the earth. He was not known as a kind or forgiving God. Most of the people in Rome agreed that Neptune had been displeased with the lack of morals displayed by the people of Pompeii.

The area was known for its open displays of gambling and whoring. Many men of senatorial and equestrian rank own country estates near the coast of Mount Vesuvius and have been known to visit Pompeii to partake in the less than savory indulgences. Titus had, in his more youthful days, also spent several summers indulging in the pleasures of Pompeii. Many members of the Senate had assured Titus that the destruction was due to the lack of morals displayed by the people of Pompeii. This was a sign from the gods to return to the morals of their more noble ancestors. However, whispers among the plebians of Rome said that this was a sign that the gods did not support Titus and that they were displeased with his ascension to the Purple.

It was not an auspicious start to Titus’ reign.

Titus had organized the relieve efforts. Coordinating lines of wagons with food and wine. He had personally gone to the cities near the coast of Mount Vesuvius to give gold to the local city administrators. He gave enough gold to build apartments and purchase grain for the refugees during the cold winter months. He had his administrators keep records of who died. If someone wealthy had died without heirs their property and wealth was confiscated by the state and used to house and support survivors. He had also assigned some of his own personal slaves to oversee the use of the coin, so it would not be excessively hoarded by the officials.

His brother Domitian had argued that Titus should not place the gold in the hands of city officials at all, nor accept that any of it might be used to line the pockets of the local senatorial class. Titus had laughed at his brother’s naivety. As long as the gold taken by the senatorial administrators was not in excess and they performed their duties by looking after the refugees of Mount Vesuvius, then Titus considered it gold well spent. Domitian still harbored a great distaste for all those of senatorial class and was young enough that he still believed government could exist without corruption. While Titus understood the root of Domitian’s anger, he also knew not even the great Augustus himself could rule the empire without the support of the senate and people of Rome.

He made it known around Rome and the entire empire that he would personally visit Mount Vesuvius and that his court would look after the refugees. It would not do to be accused of being uncaring or inactive in times of crisis, especially not so soon after the death of his well-loved father.

Mount Vesuvius was only a week’s ride from Rome on horseback. However, since he had with him many wagons of coin and food along with three thousand of the Praetorian Guard it had taken Titus more than two weeks before arriving at the site of the eruption. It would ultimately take him another three weeks of visiting villages and dropping off supplies before he would get back to Rome.

He had been expecting the dead. He had been expecting refugees. He had not been expecting the size of the area now laying in deathly silence, covered in ash. Titus had led armies, he had burned fields and forests to starve the enemies of Rome, he had destroyed houses and plundered cities, executed hundreds by sword and by cross, but he had never seen destruction and death on such a scale.

Roads were impassable, forests and all the animals they had once contained burnt or buried, the ocean near Vesuvius littered with rotting dead fish. The smell of sulfur and rot was inescapable and the silence almost deafening. This was truly the work of a wrathful god. Titus had always been religious; all good Romans were. However, sitting on his horse and overlooking the massive amount of death that had been a thriving coastal city mere weeks before, Titus believed in a way he never had before.

The gods truly were powerful and terrifying.

*

This was not the first time Titus had heard about the spirit who walked among the ashes of Pompeii and looked over the sailors. Titus had assumed that the spirit had appeared before one or a few people to aid them in their darkest hour or give warnings before returning to the realm of the gods. A powerful protective spirit, no doubt, but one who disappears as quickly as they appear. However, the reports sitting on his desk now spoke not of a protective spirit, but a Semi-Deus of flesh and blood. A boy born from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

A young man of myth and legend that would be equivalent to only Titus himself. As Augustus of Rome, Titus knew that he too, would ascend to Olympus as a god upon his death, as his father had done before him, and Emperor Claudius before him all the way back to Jullius Ceasar. However, before death Titus was fully human. The son of a Neptune, one of the greatest and oldest gods, now walks among the Roman people in the village of Gaeta. If Titus made haste on horseback, he could reach Gaeta by sunset tomorrow.

“Slave! Bring a message to the Praetorian Prefect Tiberius Alexander, we ride out to Gaeta in an hour!”

*
The trip had been a four-day waste of time. Titus had spent a day in Gaeta speaking with the local elite, as much as a small town like Gaeta had elite anyway. He also sent his men to go speak with the refugees and the locals. Thay all spoke of the same man. The son of Neptune born in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. He spoke an archaic version of Greek and could walk beneath the waves with ease. Although he looked human, they had seen him reach into ovens to pick up freshly-baked bricks and dig foundations in rock hard earth without tiring for hours. Crabs were his sacred animal. A young man with mostly black hair except for a section of pure white. When angered he had summoned a storm within minutes. He had led a sacrificial ritual to his father Neptune and the sacrifice had been accepted in a column of flame. A true Semi-Deus. A being of more godly power than anyone had dreamed of seeing in their lifetime.

Of course, the Semi-Deus had left Gaeta a week before Titus’ arrival and left no proof of his existence apart from an adoring populace and sacred crab shells.

So, he once more traveled back to Rome without having seen this God-child. He left in the afternoon and spent a night camping in the countryside. Titus slept where his men slept, and ate what they ate. He laughed with his guard around the fire and shared war stories with the younger soldiers. The next day, they rode all day and continued on after dark. Titus knew his men had no problems finding their way home this close to Rome. Domitian met him at the Praetorian camp on the fields of Mars as Titus was dismounting.

“Any luck finding the son of Neptune, brother?”

“No,” Titus said, removing his horse’s saddle. He had slaves for this, but Titus enjoyed spending time with his horse. She was a good horse. “However, I do not regret the time spent. I quite enjoyed riding the countryside with my guard. It has been some time since I have traveled quickly,” Titus grunted as he rolled his shoulders, “though perhaps I am getting too old to ride through the night.”

“Shall we head to the bathes then, to scrape some of the sweat and dirt off your august ass?”

Titus smacked his brother, who just laughed.

Most of Titus’ one thousand guards went their separate way, but Tiberius Alexander and twelve guards remained with their Augustus. Tiberius Alexander was the captain of the Praetorian Guard and had been Titus’ right-hand man since the siege of Jerusalem. Titus could think of no man he trusted more.

Even in the middle of the night, Rome was active and full of life. During the day carts were not allowed on the streets of Rome. Too many children had died beneath the hooves and wheels of carts. Which meant the streets at night were full of wagons, horses and merchants yelling at each other. Though no cart or merchant, no matter how angry, would disturb Titus and his armor-clad guard as they walked through his city. Titus wore armor too, of course, but kept it hidden under his purple imperial tunic.

He sees a woman in a blue dress holding an oil lantern and for a moment Titus’ sees Berenice, his Jewish queen. A second look reveals it is not her, merely a lesser woman with similar features. Of course it’s not her. Berenice is back in Judea with her brother King Agrippa II. Titus loves her as he has no other. In his heart, she was his wife. But Rome could never accept a Jewish queen as Augusta and Titus would always put the will of the people of Rome over mere womanly desires. If he spends nights reaching out for someone who is not there then that is no one’s business but his own.

“Did you order the Bathes of Nero closed for cleaning, Brother?” Domitian asked as they walked past the Pantheon.

“No. Why would the baths need to be closed for cleaning?” Titus asked, his eyes following where his brother pointed across the road past the statue garden to the entrance of the public bathes. Indeed, barely visible from the light of the moon, the entrance to the Bathes of Nero had been roped off with a wooden sign in front reading “closed for cleaning”.

Tiberius Alexander laughed, “Do you think it’s a pair of lovers hoping to have the baths to themselves?”

Titus grinned back, “Let’s find out.” His men laughed and elbowed each other.

“We have bathes at home,” Domitian grumbled, but followed where Titus led.

Tiberius Alexander cut the rope blocking the doorway and their group entered the bathing complex. The changing rooms were empty but they could hear splashing from the large bathing complex beyond. It sounded almost like a waterfall but Titus could only faintly hear two voices. What was going on?

Titus removed his muddied sandals and put on the wooden ones provided by the baths. Normally he would remove all his clothing and scrape his body clean with a strigil for an afternoon in the baths, but the sound of moving water from the chambers beyond was far too intriguing. Titus walked further into the bathing complex knowing his men would follow.

He walked past the empty massage rooms and the smaller thermae, until he got to the several hundred paces wide, open roofed swimming pool. The room that could hold one hundred men held but two young men who had not yet noticed Titus, Domitian or his guards. However, it was not the two men that caught Titus’ attention. The water in the room did not fill the swimming pool, instead it raced along the walls like a monstrous snake. The moonlight reflected through the moving, floating water.

“Now jump in! It’ll be super fun, I promise!” the younger of the two men exclaimed to his friend in an archaic form of Greek. The young man had unkept black hair with a shock of pure white in the front and he controlled the water snake with merely a twitch of his fingers.

His companion jumped into the floating river snake with apparent glee. His head emerged from the water but he was dragged around the side of the room along the body of the snake at alarming speed. The man’s shouts of joy turned abruptly into surprised spluttering when his eyes landed on Titus, Domitian, Tiberius Alexander and the dozen praetorian guards that were standing at the entrance of the room.

The son of Neptune turned to Titus with bright burning green eyes, brandishing a bronze feather. The water snake and the young man it contained fell gently into the tiled pool. “Vespasianus Augustus,” the roman man who had been dropped in the pool spluttered. He stood up and bowed awkwardly, his head dipping beneath the water.

To Titus’ right, Tiberius Alexander made the Jewish hand sign to ward off the evil eye and whispered a prayer in Hebrew.

“Well,” Domitian said calmly, “we found him.”

Perseus son of Neptune, a Semi-Deus in the flesh.

Titus steps forward.

“It is an honor to meet you at last, Perseus Son of Neptune. I had set out to find you in Gaeta. If I had known you were coming to Rome, I would have ordered a parade at your arrival and one hundred days of celebration to welcome you properly,” Titus said, silently thanking his tutors for teaching him Greek in his youth.

The son of Neptune lowered the feather and spoke, “What? Perseus. No. I have never heard of him. I am… Gaius, uh, son of Gaius. Did you guys see that water? That was weird. I don’t know how that happened.”

Perseus is a bad liar. Titus was not entirely sure how to respond to such a blatant lie from a being as powerful as this.

“Did you guys not see the sign that said ‘closed for cleaning’?” Perseus asked, “You weren’t supposed to enter.”

“The public baths do not close for cleaning. We employ cleaning staff that work during the day,” Titus responded, “and it does not appear as if you are cleaning.”

“Uh. This isn’t working. Retreat!” Perseus says with a laugh, jumping into the pool. He doesn’t swim so much as the water itself pushes him toward his roman friend. Grabbing his friend, Perseus pulls the water of the swimming pool into a giant wave that pushes the two young men up and over the ten-paces-high far wall of the open-air baths. There is a splash on the other side of the wall.

“Perseus! We can’t run away from the Augustus!”

“Of course we can Gaius, we’re doing it right now! It’s not like those guys will be able to jump over the wall. Come on!”

Titus and Domitian shared a look as the voices of the two young men got further away.

“Shall I get the guard to find them, Augustus?” Tiberious Alexander asked.

“No need. I recognized the Roman man. He and his mother were among the refugees who joined our caravan line on the return route from our trip to Mount Vesuvius. I spoke to his mother. I believe he is the nephew of Plinius Secundus, the Navy Commander stationed at Misenum when Mount Vesuvius erupted,” Titus said, “We will send their family and any guests of their household an invitation to dinner at the palace.”

“While I had heard the Semi-Deus was youthful, it had not occurred to me that the son of Neptune could be more child than god,” Domitian said. “I will have to pray to Minerva for guidance.”

“A Semi-Deus barely out of his youth,” Titus agreed, “one who is the same age as my daughter.”

“A dangerous gamble,” Domitian said, alarmed, “with a power as uncontrollable as this Semi-Deus seems to be.”

“It is whispered that the first Augustus was the son of Apollo. His dynasty ruled over Rome for almost one hundred years. The son of Neptune could legitimize our dynasty for far longer.”

“Let’s first have dinner with the boy, before you promise your only daughter to him,” Domitian counseled. Titus grunted his agreement.

“Men,” Titus turned to his wide-eyed guard, “No one is to whisper a word about what happened tonight to a single soul. I will have your silence on this matter, understood?”

*

“Julia,” Titus called his daughter, knocking on her door.

“I’m busy! Go away!” Julia called from behind the door.

“Do not speak to your father that way. You have ten seconds to hide whatever inappropriate scroll you do not want me to know you are reading before I come in,” Titus called back.

There was scrambling behind the door. “I am not reading anything inappropriate! Why would you even say that?”

When ten seconds passed, Titus opened the door. Julia was lounging on a chair, reading a scroll Titus recognized as his own copy of the Aeneid. The blankets on her bed behind her formed a suspicious scroll shaped lump. “I’m studying the history of Rome, father,” Julia Flavia said.

“Tell me then, of the role Neptune plays in Aeneas’ journey to Italy.”

“Neptune calms the storms around Ilia to allow Aeneas and his men to leave safely while sinking the ships of many unworthy Greek kings. He also guides Aeneas and his crew to Italy after Aeneas leaves the unworthy behind in Sicily.”

“Wonderful, then you already know of the power of your potential father-in-law.”

Julia looked up at Titus for the first time that day, eyes wide. “You found the Semi-Deus in Gaeta? Are you certain? Father, what if he is a common juggler and sorcerer?

Even if I divorce him, being married to some plebian juggler for even a day would destroy my name forever! Please say I am not engaged!”

“You are not engaged,” Titus agreed. Julia looked relieved until Titus continued, “I am no fool Julia. I am certain of his godly blood. You will meet him tomorrow night so make sure you look and act your best. He is a powerful man and we cannot afford to upset him. If he proves to be a reliable ally, I do intend to engage you to him. You are already sixteen, I have waited far too long to settle you in a proper marriage.”

“If I can prove he is a swindler and a juggler, will you let the matter drop?”

Titus walked across the room and pulled his daughter’s face up to meet his eyes, “Do not do anything to anger the gods, daughter. They are not as forgiving as I. If this Perseus is even half as powerful as the people of Gaeta claim, he would be a powerful ally and an incredibly dangerous enemy. Do not allow your pride to anger him. You will not get a second warning.”

Julia pressed her lips in defiance but nodded. After a few more seconds Titus releases her and turns to leave.

“Neptune is known as the father of monsters,” Julia calls after him, “How many eyes does my future husband have?”

“Two eyes, two legs and zero tentacles,” Titus sighs, “I would not wed you to a monster for political gain.” Internally, Titus wondered if that was the truth.

Chapter 5: Dinner with the Flavians

Chapter Text

“Be on your best behavior Perseus,” Marcella chided as she adjusted the obnoxiously long half-circle blanket that apparently counted as formal wear in ancient Rome.

“I will,” Percy agreed.

“And apologize for running away yesterday, that was terribly rude.”

“I will,” Percy agreed, again.

Marcella brushed his hair with a wooden comb, “I know this all seems very silly and strange to a godly child like you. I hope you understand that to us mere mortals, dinner with the Augustus is the kind of thing we will tell our grandchildren about. It has the potential to help our family get to great heights or banish us from the empire. I would greatly prefer not having to move again.”

Percy shuffled his feet, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Marcella smiled at him softly, “I know you will Perseus. You are a good man. Now let me take a look at you in your toga. Look how regal you are!”

Percy felt quite silly himself. The white toga was a bit too big on him and dragged on the ground. He felt like a kid wearing his father’s suit. Usually, a toga was not supposed to have any pockets, but Percy had sewn a pocket into one of the flappy sides. Marcella had seen the badly done stitches, pulled them out and re-sewn a better pocket while showing Percy proper sewing techniques. Riptide was in reach.

Grandpa Plinius had been overjoyed this morning when a messenger had arrived from the palace inviting them to dinner. Gaius and Percy had shared a look of horror. How did the August guy know where Percy lived? Did he have them followed? Percy had been sure to check to make sure they hadn’t been followed.

Marcella had seen the look of sheer dread on Gaius’ face and asked her son if he maybe had something to share with the family. Gaius immediately broke down and explained about what had happened the night before when Percy had made a water slide. How the bloody emperor showed up in his wooden flip-flops and ruined the entire night. Gaius phrased it differently.

They had to explain to Grandpa Plinius that Percy was a demi-god. It had been a hectic day. Now they were going to dinner at a palace dressed like a family of burritos. Several people on the street stared at them. Grandpa Pliny preened at their attention, stopping to chat to some of his friends along the way to say how his family had been invited to dinner with the Augustus. Grandpa Pliny seemed genuinely more excited about going to the palace than he did when he learned Percy was a demigod. At some point Gaius had to pull him away from one of his chattier friends so they wouldn’t be late.

The palace was within sight of the colosseum. The colosseum was still being built. If Annabeth were here, she would probably be super excited about the architecture of both of these places. Percy did his best to remember a few details just in case he ever saw her again.

The colosseum had wooden scaffolding and pulley systems to pull rocks and concrete bags up several floors to the last part of the colosseum that needed to be built. The palace was four stories tall at the highest point and stood on top of a small hill. It was similar to the Plinius house except bigger and with fancier rocks. Everything was made of marble and painted with reds, yellow, greens and blues. The ceilings had lots of pictures of the gods. Percy even found one picture of his dad. Neat.

The Pliny household had a little ancle deep kiddie pool for their family Lars to hang out in, the Flavian palace had a whole pond with a fountain in it. The Plinius family had a dining room with five lounge chairs and looked out on a courtyard, the Flavian palace had a dining room with ten lounge chairs, enough room on the sides for ten guards to stand around and look intimidating and looked out over the city of Rome. Etc. etc.

Palace stuff. Rome flavored. You get it.

The guards led Percy and the Plinius family to the dining room where four people were waiting for them. The Purple man himself, Titus Augustus, a teen girl in a silk dress who was introduced as the Augustus’ daughter Julia, the Augustus’ brother Domitian, and Domitian’s wife Domitia. Domitia had a silk scarf draped over her hair and had a bunch of gold jewelry. Percy wondered if Domitian married his wife Domitia because her name sounded so much like his own name.

Grandpa Pliny bowed, kissing Titus’ ring and introduced his family in Latin. Gaius and Marcella both also bowed and kissed Titus’ ring. When it was Percy’s turn Grandpa Pliny hesitated to introduce him.

“Perseus Jackson, but you can call me Percy,” Percy said in Greek.

There was an awkward silence after Percy introduced himself, as if they were waiting for a bunch of mermaids to pop out of the walls blowing on trumpets.

“… and here I thought your name was Gaius son of Gaius?” Domitian asked with a bit of a smile, “as we Romans have two family names, should I assume your name is Gaius Gaius Gaius the normal Roman?”

Percy grinned. “Not my best lie. I don’t know enough about Rome to be good at pretending to be Roman,” Percy admitted.

“It also doesn’t help that you speak an old form of Greek and perform miracles for fun,” Domitian said. Percy liked Domitian.

“Sorry about running away. I have been told that that was rude,” Percy says, glancing at Marcella.

“No harm done,” Titus assures him, “We are glad to have this opportunity to talk again. I myself have many questions, but first, let’s eat.”

The Roman couch-chairs were arranged in a U-shape around a central table. A servant shows everyone to their seats. Titus Augustus lounges at the head of the table, to his right sits his brother Domitian, Domitian’s wife Domitia and finally Marcella. To Titus’ left sits his daughter Julia, Percy, Grandpa Pliny and finally Gaius. Food is brought out to the table: fruits, breads, all kinds of nuts, olive oil, several types of meats, crab and roasted vegetables. Percy has had enough crab to last a lifetime and doesn’t touch the stuff.

Marcella and Domitia start a conversation in Latin and Percy gets the feeling that Domitia may not speak Greek. Percy compliments the food because he’s on his best behavior.

Then a servant comes by to pour everyone wine. Percy covered his glass.

“If you don’t like the wine, I can get you a different variety,” Titus says, more curious than judgmental.

“No thank you, Augustus,” Percy says politely.

“I’ve tried to tell the boy Roman water will get him sick if he doesn’t mix it with wine, but Perseus is stubborn,” Grandpa Pliny says, shaking his head.

“Water won’t get me sick,” Percy says, “and I just don’t think it’s a good idea for a Demi-god to get drunk. It just seems like that story would end badly.”

Titus seems to understand him as he asks the servants to bring a pitcher of water for Percy.

“So you do claim to be a Demi-god,” the princess says with a fake smile, “Tell me Perseus, what kind of magic can you do, exactly?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it magic, but I can do water stuff and um, boats. Also, I can talk to horses.”

“Boat magic,” princess Julia says, unimpressed. “Can you also juggle?”

“I’ve been trying to learn juggling, but I’m not very good at it yet,” Percy says. Julia sends her father a look. Titus Augustus in turn stares back at her. There seems to be a silent conversation going on between father and daughter, though Percy’s not sure about what. “I also have a magic sword.” Percy pulls out Riptide. Ta-da! Julia does not seem impressed by his bronze feather.

Percy grins and flips the quill into his sword. Movement comes from behind Percy and he blocks the sword coming at the back of his head immediately. Percy is off the lounge chair and behind his opponent in seconds. The Praetorian Guardsman swings at Percy again but Percy counters and disarms him easily, sending the sword flying into the wall. With a side-sweep Percy has the guard on the floor. He turns to the next two closest guards who have drawn their swords. He sidesteps one sword-swing and blocks the other. With a twist of his wrist the second guard is also disarmed, but not down. There are ten of them total, but they surround Gaius, Marcella and Grandpa Pliny so he’ll have to-

“Desine! Depone gladius Praetorianos,” Titus Augustus shouts, standing. His eyes are blazing. It takes Percy a second to register that he’s talking to his guards who have taken a step back and are slowly re-holstering their blades. The captain of the guard (he’s the one with feathers on his helmet) repeats the order and the guards step back without taking their eyes off Percy.

“I apologize for my overzealous guards. Their vigilance is generally to my benefit. He only meant to protect me,” Augustus says. Everyone in the room is staring at Percy now. Most people look a little scared. Domitian is standing in front of his wife. Julia is staring wide-eyed. Gaius looks like he wants to study the shiny sword. Marcella calmly takes another sip of wine. That woman is unflappable.

“In hindsight, I probably should not have pulled out my sword when I was within armlength of the Augustus,” Percy says. It’d be like pulling out a gun at dinner with the president and then being surprised when the secret service attacks you. Percy holds out his hand to help the Praetorian Guard back to his feet. “Sorry buddy,” Percy said knowing full well the guard couldn’t understand Greek. The man was really only doing his job. Also, he was so far from actually being a threat that Percy didn’t hold a grudge.

The guard hesitated before accepting Percy’s hand. Once he was standing, Percy hands him Riptide, “Hold onto that for me, would you?” The fight would be harder without Riptide if the guards do choose to attack again, but trust is a two-way street. Also, Percy would easily be able to overpower ten guards if he pulls some water from the pond-sized fountain that is just down the hall. The guard captain pulls the guard holding riptide aside, presumably to translate Percy’s words and/or scold him.

“So,” Domitian says with a bit of strained smile as he takes a seat next to his wife again, “You have boat magic?”

Percy shrugs.

“We have heard tales of your control of the Navy fleet during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. What did you think of the roman navy?” Domitian asked.

Percy is on his best behavior. He will do his best to be nice. “Those boats certainly do… float.” Nailed it.

Domitian laughed and the tension left the room a bit, “I have rarely seen a man more disgusted.”

Percy sits back down on his couch-chair. “Your boats are not terrible. It’s just that they could be so much better. It’s frustrating.” Percy says.

“How so?” Domitian asked.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s like looking at a chariot with square wheels and a horse without a bridle. Every time you want to turn the chariot, ten men have to come by and pick up the horse to turn it in the right direction. You clearly have all the tools to make it better but just design the whole thing badly.”

Percy had spent the years between his seventh and eleventh birthday obsessed with ships. He watched documentary after documentary about all the different parts of a ship, modern shipping vessels, Olympic sailboats, motorized boats, sailing ships, pirate ships, military navy vessels, and more.

“Would you be able to design better ships?” Titus asked, sharing a look with his brother.

Percy snorted, “Oh, easily. To be entirely honest, it’d be hard to design worse ships.”

“Could you explain?” Titus asked.

“Are you sure you want to know? I can talk about this for hours.”

Titus apparently did want to know about ships, so Percy did his best to explain some of the design flaws as they ate dinner. Titus seemed interested in ship design, or at least he pretends to be. Julia occasionally interrupted to ask clarifying questions, and Domitian split his time between paying attention to Percy talking about boats and chatting with Domitia and Marcella. Grandpa Pliny seemed mostly excited about the food and doesn’t bother listening in, while Gaius was too shy to interrupt. Percy explains what is wrong with Roman boats as he eats, trying not to talk with food in his mouth because Percy is on his best behavior.

1) First of all, Roman ships do not have keels. Percy explains about how a keel help maintain the stability of the ship. There are different kinds of keels like side keels, full keels and fin-like keels. If your ship needs to go in shallow water, you can even make them retractable.

2) Roman ships use paddles near the back of the ship to steer, but larger and longer rudders would be better. The small paddles give very little control and makes the Roman ships slow to turn.

3) The sails are too small, and why is there only one sail? You can easily add two or three masts and add a jib to help control the direction of the ship.

4) Square sails are fine, but have you tried triangle shaped sails? Triangle sails are more efficient and allow you to travel against the wind as long as you zig-zag a bit. You’ll have much better maneuverability.

5) No crow’s nest. Why not? They are very useful helping the captain and navigator orient the ship. They also help detect pirate ships from further away so you can prepare better. Wait, let me explain what a crow’s nest is.

6) Your anchors don’t have stocks. Stocks will help the anchor attached to uneven ground without getting stuck.

7) Roman ships have hulls that are too flat. This can allow the ship to sail in shallow water but makes them easy to tip over. This might be fine in the gentle Mediterranean Sea, but how on earth have you crossed the open ocean to conquer England without tipping over? Poseidon wouldn’t need to be mad at the ships for them to sink, he would just need to be mildly annoyed in the vague vicinity of the ships for them all to sail to the bottom of the sea.

“Would you be interested in taking a job as a Roman ship designer?” Titus asked.

“A job? Yeah, that’s sounds—”

“That sounds like a potentially interesting idea,” Grandpa Pliny interrupts, “and Perseus would be happy to look over any job offer you would give him. After I have had time to look through the details.”

“You claim to do business in his name, Plinius Celer?” Domitian asked.

“This young man is my guest, so I have some responsibility for him. He is a wonderful young man, but he has no idea how much anything is worth and I will ensure he is compensated fairly,” Grandpa Pliny said. Percy had no idea why he was worried about telling Grandpa Pliny that Percy was a demigod. Grandpa Pliny was clearly awesome.

“You don’t know how much things are worth?” Julia asked, brow furrowing.

“I’m new to Rome. I still need to figure out the coins.”

“I thought you were from Pompeii. Surely you had coin there? Pompeii uses Roman coin just as the entire empire does,” Julia responded.

“I didn’t grow up in Pompeii, and Chiron doesn’t ask for payment,” Percy says, evading the question a bit. He had decided not to tell people he was from the future. Answering the question about how he traveled back in time included exploding a volcano and holding on to the titan Kronos’ blade, and Percy didn’t want to tell people about any of those things. He didn’t want people to know he was responsible for Mount Vesuvius. He also didn’t want to give people the existential dread of not knowing what was going to happen in about 2000 years when Kronos would try to overthrow the gods and Percy was no longer there to help.

Percy had come up with a cover story: Percy’s mom was Greek and he went to Chiron full time when he was twelve. Chiron’s location was so super-secret that Percy could not tell anyone where it was. Not because he didn’t know where Chiron was. He was visiting Pompeii when it unexpectedly exploded.

“You were raised by a centaur?” Julia asked, amazed.

“I was raised by my mom in Greece, but Chiron is one of my teachers.”

“So, you weren’t born from the volcano? We have heard conflicting tales. Some say you are half-human, others say you are a new god born from Poseidon and the spirit of Mount Vesuvius,” Domitian said.

“My mother is human. Also, I’m fifteen, not a newborn baby! Why did those rumors start? I’m blaming Gaius,” Percy grumbled.

“What?” Gaius asked, frazzled, “I never said you were born from the volcano, only that mother and I had pulled you, naked, from a lump of lava that had flown out of the Volcano. Other people assumed that was your birth.”

“I was wearing clothes before the explosion! The clothes just burned off!” Percy said.

“I have heard many tales of you Perseus Jak-son,” Titus says, “Would you tell us of the truth of these tales?”

“I’m not a great storyteller, but Gaius is,” Percy says nodding at his friend.

Titus Augustus looks at Gaius. “I have notes, Ceasar Augustus,” Gaius says nervously, pulling out a scroll. He starts to slowly tell his tale about what happened in Pompeii. He talks about the deafening explosion of the mountainside and the huge amount of black smoke. He talks about his uncle Plinius the Elder running to the navy ships to rescue the people of Pompeii and never coming back. He talks about running away from home on foot as the sky turns black and starts hailing rocks large enough to smash your skull in. He talks about finding Percy completely unburnt inside a large lump of lava.

Percy remembers the dead bodies in Herculaneum. It starts to rain.

He remembers the gray silence of the coastline in the days and weeks following the eruption. He remembers having to throw a child into the ocean because there was an avalanche of burning ash hurtling down the side of Mount Vesuvius. Percy remembers the strange corpses the people in Pompeii will look like in two thousand years.

Gaius is still talking but Percy doesn’t hear him.

“I’m afraid I must go to the bathroom,” Marcella stands up, “Perseus, would you mind escorting me?”

Percy looks up. Marcella has a pleasant smile on her face but Percy can see she’s concerned. He nods and stands. Once out of the dining room though, Percy doesn’t actually know where the bathrooms are. The guard captain follows them, but keeps his distance.

Marcella leads him to the pond sized water fountain in the middle of the palace and sits on the ledge of the fountain. The fountain is in a courtyard, and it’s still raining. Soon Marcella’s fancy clothes get wet. The statue in the fountain looks like Athena.

“It looked like you needed to get out of there for a little bit,” Marcella says.

Percy nods and sits next to her. “Thanks,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

“You’re not the only one who lost family and friends that day, Perseus. Some days I can’t bear to think of Mount Vesuvius, on other days I can think of little else. The ash rain and smell of sulfur fills my dreams. I needed to leave the room as much as you did, I think.”

Pery should tell her that it was him who caused the eruption, but he doesn’t. He sits and lets the rain wash over him.

“Gaius wants to be a natural philosopher and historian like his uncle. I’ve always encouraged him to learn and write as much as he can. He’s written and re-written the events of the eruption several times. I think writing about what happened helps him think about it. I want to support him, but I don’t think I’m ready to read this part of his histories just yet,” Marcella says.

“I’d never seen so many dead human bodies before,” Percy says, “and there were so many people I couldn’t save.”

“You did all you could, and that’s all we can really expect from each other,” Marcella said.

After a few minutes the rain lessens.

“We do still need to find the bathroom though,” Marcella casually mentions, “I wasn’t lying about having to pee. I think I’ve had a bit too much wine.”

Percy laughs and stands up, “I’m sure we can find it.”

They do find it eventually with the help of the guard. Afterwards, the two of them head back to dinner. Before entering the dining room, Percy dries Marcella’s clothes.

Entering the room, Percy finds Titus talking intently to the one guard Percy had defeated. “What’s going on?” Percy asked Julia as he walks back to his lounge-chair-couch thing.

“There is a small problem with your sword. It seems to have, um, disappeared. I’m sure we’ll find it soon,” Julia says.

“Oh, that?” Percy pulls out Riptide. “It’s a magic sword. It’s mine. It will always return to me.”

Titus stops whispering to the guard, who looks relieved. Crisis averted.

“It is bizarre how casual you are with a godly gift that would be considered the most holy item in the empire if it was in anyone else’s hands,” Julia says, her eyes glued on the bronze feather.

“It’s a good sword,” Percy says, “and if it was in anyone else’s hands, it would just disappear after a bit. Poseidon had Chiron give it to me when I was twelve, mostly because Poseidon can’t be bothered to talk to me himself.”

“You’ve never spoken with the lord of the seas directly?” Domitian asked.

“No, I’ve spoken with my father a few times. He looks out for me sometimes. But gods are not great parents; they usually just ignore you. I didn’t even know Poseidon was my dad until I was twelve. I’ve spoken to Ares more than I’ve spoken to my dad, and I don’t even like Ares. He’s a dick. But I’ve been told I’ve inherited my father’s respect for authority,” Percy says.

“You have respect for authority?” Domitian asked.

Percy grinned, “Not really. The sea doesn’t like to be restrained.”

“Perseus,” Marcella said, “Please apologize to the god of war.”

Oh right. One of the down sides to living in a society that believes in the gods is that people actually get upset when you insult them. Percy picks up some of the chicken from the table and tosses it into the metal firepit at the end of the table. “To Ares. I’m sorry I called you a dick. I’m sure Aphrodite finds your violent arrogance appealing. Have some food,” Percy says. The meat is consumed in less than a second. In the smoke of the firepit appears the symbol of a penis. Ares was apparently listening and clearly calling Percy a dick as well.

Half the people in the room fell to their knees including Domitian and several of the Praetorian guards. Julia is covering her eyes, head bowed low. Titus is staring directly at the smoke, eyes wide. Perseus is reminded again that people in ancient Rome are actually religious. “Oh. Uhh, sorry. I’ll give you more of a warning next time,” Percy says awkwardly.

People eventually sit back down or resume their post as guards. Some whisper prayers and make hand signs Percy is unaware of. Conversation starts again when Grandpa Pliny compliments the food. Soon enough, people are talking in a slightly more hushed tone than before. Titus continues to stand and stare into the fire.

“You can uncover your eyes,” Percy says to Julia, who is still covering her eyes.

“No way. I do not want to become pregnant with Mars’ child. I’m not even married yet!” Julia shakes her head.

“You can’t get pregnant from looking at the shape of a penis in smoke,” Percy laughs.

“Of course you can! Seeing the symbol of Mars in a sacred fire is exactly how Princess Silvia got pregnant with Romulus and Remus! I am not ready to be a mother.” Julia hissed.

“Mars’ symbol is a penis?” Percy asked. Internally, he wondered about the frequency of virgin births that apparently happened a lot more than Percy realized in olden times.

“Of course it is, he is Mars. Why else would people use that symbol to ward off the evil eye and keep their homes safe?” Julia asked, still covering her eyes.

Mars’ symbol being a giant dick made a lot of sense to Percy. He decided not to say this out loud because Percy was on his best behavior, and because he didn’t think anyone would appreciate it if he had to apologize to Mars/Ares again so soon. Although why anyone would think that drawing a bunch of dicks on their house would keep anything safe was beyond Percy.

Dinner continued on in a more subdued tone for about half an hour. During that time Julia absolutely refused to open her eyes despite Percy’s assurances that the fire no longer had penis-shaped smoke. Apparently, she was not about to risk getting pregnant just because Percy didn’t know how to respect the gods.

Finally, Titus stood and thanked everyone for coming to dinner, asking the servants to come in and escort the guests out of the palace. Each member of the Plinius family bowed to Titus as they stood up to leave, thanking Titus for hosting them. Percy held back a bit and waited until after Domitian escorted Julia (who was still covering her eyes) out of the room.

“Titus Augustus, may I speak with you for a moment?” Percy asked.

“Of course,” Titus said.

Titus dismissed his guards, sending them into the hallway. The guard captain frowned at this, giving Percy a hard stare as he stepped outside. That guy does not smile much.

Once it was just Percy and the Emperor of Rome, Percy spoke again, “I wanted to ask if you could not tell people I was a demigod? When I was Gaeta, they started worshipping me and there were cultists and goat sacrifices. I didn’t like that. I’m more human than God. I’d rather not start any cults.”

Titus seemed to choose his words carefully, “Rumors have already started to spread. Stories of your emergence from a volcano have moved beyond Italy, and word of your worshipers in Gaeta has already reached Rome. Complete anonymity may be impossible, even if I stay silent.”

Percy grunted, “Yeah. I understand that, but I was hoping to start over in Rome, just be a normal guy.”

“Godly power surrounds you, Perseus. You may not see it, but people who spend time with you will see it. Your powers and the Gods’ response to your sacrifices are also fairly noticeable.”

“I’ll be more careful,” Percy promises, “I won’t cause any trouble.”

Titus nods, “I will agree to remain silent about your parentage and godly nature. I will swear my family and guards to a similar silence. However, I would ask for a favor in exchange.” Percy prepared himself for this favor.

“I would ask you to become a citizen of Rome and obey our laws,” Titus said, “and that you ask my permission before killing a Roman citizen.”

Percy stared at Titus for a second, baffled. “I don’t plan to kill anyone,” Percy said.

“Do we have a deal then, Perseus son of the sea god?” Titus asked.

“I can agree to be a citizen and promise not to kill anyone without your permission, but I can only promise to do my best not to break Roman laws, as I don’t know them very well. I don’t know any Roman laws actually, but I’ll try not to break them anyway,” Percy said, holding out his hand.

Titus shook his hand. A deal was struck.

*

“Tiberius Alexander, what do you think of Perseus?” Titus asked after the Semi-Deus had left. Titus and Tiberius Alexander were in Titus’ office. It was late and Titus has dismissed his slaves. No one else was around, so discussing Perseus’ nature with someone who already knows would not be breaking his oath.

“He defeated one of my best men in seconds, even when Jullius had the advantage of surprise,” Tiberius Alexander said. “His stance and mastery of the sword is one of an experienced soldier. With how quickly he moved, he would have easily defeated my other soldiers if you hadn’t stopped them. However, he didn’t finish the job. He disarmed and outmaneuvered Julius but didn’t spend two seconds to run him through before turning to the other guards.”

“Mercy, perhaps? Or is he only accustomed to bloodless sword practice?”

“Hard to tell.”

“Where did he go when he and Plinius Celer’s daughter left the dining room?” Titus asked.

Tiberius Alexander stood next to his friend with a frown. “I followed them. I can read Greek better than I can understand it, but I caught some of their words. Additionally, I’ve learned to be good at reading people as a soldier and a governor and as your guard. When the two left the dining room, the woman was overwhelmed and grieving, but Perseus? Perseus was guilty. I have seen guilt in the eyes of fresh soldiers as they crucify people begging for mercy or burn a home to ash. I know what guilt looks like. Guilt eats away at Perseus more than grief does.”

Titus stopped and turned to his right-hand man, “Guilt? Guilt about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius?”

Tiberius Alexander nodded.

“I think this Semi-Deus may be far more powerful than he pretends to be,” Titus said, wondering what kind of monster, exactly, he had just made a citizen of Rome.

Chapter 6: Interlude 2: A Roman Mythology Podcast, 2024 AD

Chapter Text

Rob: Hello and welcome back to the Roman Mythology Podcasts where we discuss great stories from -you guessed it- Roman Mythology! I’m Rob!

Jamie: and I’m Jamie.

Rob: This week, we’ll be discussing the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

Jamie: I’ve heard of it, yes.

Rob: Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD during the Reign of Emperor Titus. It very famously covered Pompeii and Herculeum in a large layer of ash, preserving a snapshot of Roman life and killing thousands of people. Now, one of the most interesting things about Mount Vesuvius is the myth of Perseus Fillius Neptunus. The Historian Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, also known as Pliny the Younger writes about this.

Jamie: Another Gaius? It seems like a third of Rome is called Gaius.

Rob: Yeah, it does seem like Rome only had about ten total names for men and like two for woman. They really need to get more creative. Anyway, Pliny the Younger was actually near Mount Vesuvius when it erupted, so we have a first-person account.

Jamie: Great!

Rob: Unfortunately, for reasons that will become clear quite soon, modern historians strongly question the reliability of Pliny the Younger’s account of Perseus Neptunus. Modern historians see this as an attempt to glorify his friend.

Jamie: Unreliable History. My favorite.

Rob: Pliny the younger writes about his account watching the volcano erupt. His uncle goes off with a fleet of ships to the coast near Pompeii. Unfortunately, his uncle dies of either of a heart attack or from inhaling poisonous volcano fumes while he’s trying to rescue people.

Jamie: Note to self: do not walk toward an exploding volcano. Got it.

Rob: Pliny the younger goes on to account what it was like fleeing the volcano. It was raining ash, the sky was black, rocks falling from the sky and killing people. He thought the world was ending and was resigned to death. It’s quite a chilling read.

Jamie: Fun.

Rob: Then the group of refugees he was traveling with find a young man half-buried in a clump of burning ash and lava.

Jamie: A very crispy man, I assume.

Rob: No, he was completely unburnt.

Jamie: Right. In lava, you said?

Rob: Yup. Pliny writes about how this was the birth of Perseus Filllius Neptunus, the son of Neptune! The Roman god of the seas and earthquakes! Several years before the explosion of Mount Vesuvius, there had been an earthquake that knocked down a few buildings in Pompeii. We know this because there is archeological evidence of the building being rebuilt and repaired. The myth says that this was when Neptune impregnates the volcano. Perseus was then born fully formed during the explosion of Mount Vesuvius several years later in order to teach the Roman people about ship building.

Jamie: What? He’s the god of… shipbuilding? And he exploded from a volcano? Not the god of volcanos?

Rob: The shipbuilding part will make sense in a minute. Plinius the Younger writes to his friend the historian Tacitus. In the letters he writes about how Perseus can breathe underwater, control ships with his mind, calm the seas, control all nearby water, engulf people in the ocean without letting them drown, summon storms, have a godly understanding of shipbuilding and is also pretty good at catching crabs.

Jamie: I feel like one of those things is less impressive than the other things.

Rob: I don’t know what you mean. “Pretty good at catching crabs” is clearly a power only demi-gods possess.

Jamie: Clearly.

Rob: Pliny the Younger describes how Perseus is immensely powerful but also clearly a newborn with very little understanding of the world. He doesn't understand how coins work and is terrible at social etiquette. He doesn’t speak Latin but does speak Greek and “the language of the gods”- AKA gibberish. Perseus also doesn’t know much about the mortal world, and cries when he’s sad, a thing that adult Roman men were not supposed to do.

Jamie: Sounds like a Greek boy with a concussion.

Rob: Pliny assures us that Perseus is a demi-god.

Jamie: Right. Of course.

Rob: Anyway, in the time that Perseus walked among the Romans he creates blueprints for large ships that would be able to sail in harsh winds and stormy waves. A relevant note that I should mention here is that modern historians think that much of the Roman Navy would not have been able to get to the shores of Pompeii or Herculaneum because the volcano caused such strong winds and violent waves that the boats couldn’t get close without crashing the into the harbor. Many people died at the harbors, waiting for the winds to get better so they could get on the ships.

Jamie: Sounds like strong motivation for someone to want to build better ships.

Rob: Perseus was a friend of Pliny the Younger. He stayed with Pliny the Younger’s family in Rome for a while. Pliny was from an equestrian family so they were well off and had guest rooms. Perseus then spent half a year making detailed drawings and wooden ship models.

Jamie: Nice. Who doesn’t love a good model ship hobby to get over the traumatizing loss of your entire family?

Rob: During this time, Emperor Titus finishing building the Colosseum and holds 100 days of games to celebrate. On the last week of the games, the colosseum is flooded.

Jamie: It’s flooded? On purpose?

Rob: Yeah! Archeologists have actually found evidence of this. They would fill it from a nearby aqueduct and hold mock naval battles. But this is Rome so they did mock battles with actual small ships manned by prisoners and many people actually died.

Jamie: Good old Rome. Can’t have a celebration without some public murder.

Rob: On this day, however, they don’t do a mock naval battle or public murder and instead Perseus displays his model ships. They’re good models- they float, turn and sail with the wind and everything. Then Perseus uses his godly powers to create harsh winds and high waves, showing how the models from the current Roman Naval ships are destroyed while Perseus’ models don’t sink and can withstand waves and storms much better. Tacitus writes how Perseus “summoned a violent storm directly above the colosseum for the purposes of this display, but the storm did not harm a single person inside the colosseum”.

Jamie: So, it happened to rain that day.

Rob: Yeah, pretty much.

Jamie: Do you think he put holes in the ships he didn’t like. “Behold the sinking ships! Those ships are just terrible, unlike MY ships!”

Rob: “What about the giant hole in the hull of that model there, sir?”

Jamie: “What giant hole in the hull? I don’t see any.”

Rob: “The giant hole right there, it looks like a square was sawed out of…”

Jamie: “Shut up before I use my godly powers of crab fishing to kill you and your children.”

Rob: “Hahaha. Yes. Clearly your ships are superior.”

Jamie: This is also not the first time you’ve told me about it raining and the Romans attributing that to the Gods.

Rob: It’s happened more than once. Apparently, Romans were fairly superstitious about rain. The Roman people and Emperor Titus are so amazed by the model boats- and the rain, presumably – that they order the ships Perseus designed be built. Perseus is seen as a Demigod. Then he dies.

Jamie: Oh. That was sudden.

Rob: Yup! He dies almost exactly one year after the explosion on Mount Vesuvius. He was still only a teenager. His exact age is hard to verify. There are four theories about how he dies.

Jamie: I love multiple choice deaths.

Rob: Option 1: Perseus has completed his quest and willingly returns to his father’s kingdom under the sea, taking his place among the gods. This is the option that the Romans believed.

Jamie: Hmm… Right.

Rob: Option 2: He drowns. He goes for a swim one day while he was overseeing the building of the ships and drowns.

Jamie: Maybe he was trying to catch crabs. I’ve been told he was pretty good at that.

Rob: Option 3: Emperor Titus murders him because Titus is afraid of how popular Perseus has gotten with the people. Titus has him quietly assassinated by the Praetorian Prefect, Tiberius Julius Alexander.

Jamie: Oh wow! Very dramatic, but I can see the logic behind that. Perseus is seen as a demi-god and that can be dangerous to Titus who doesn’t want any threats to his rule.

Rob: There is evidence that Titus and Perseus both went back to Pompeii on the one-year anniversary of the explosion and that could have been the moment Titus had Perseus killed. It’s relevant to note that Titus’s father became emperor after a civil war, so Titus was not part of a long-established dynasty and was likely very sensitive to potential usurpers. Titus also dies only a few months after the death of Perseus so some contemporary Romans claim that was the god’s way of getting revenge for the murder.

Option 4 is very similar, but just replace Titus with his brother Domitian. Titus was quite a popular emperor while Domitian was not well liked by the senate- and since the senate wrote the histories Domitian was seen quite negatively for a long time. Domitian was also rumored to have poisoned Titus, so Domitian may have been getting rid of any competition by killing Perseus first. It was rumored that Titus might have been planning to marry Perseus to his daughter and name the demigod as his heir. Domitian didn’t want that, so he killed them both and became emperor.

However, other people point out that the ships Perseus was in charge of building weren’t finished yet. If you were going to assassinate a genius ship builder, wouldn’t you wait until after the ships were built? Which option do you think is most likely?

Jamie: The assassination one is very tempting- very dramatic. However, I think that the drowning one might be more realistic. History can sometimes be surprisingly mundane. You mentioned he went swimming a lot, right? Maybe he was out catching crabs and got caught in a riptide.

Rob: Maybe if his godly powers had been ‘being very good at catching crabs’ instead of just ‘pretty good’ at it, he wouldn’t have died.

Jamie: It’s really quite a sad story. A teenager who loses his family in a natural disaster because the ships couldn’t sail in a violent volcano-induced storm designs ships that can sail in storms but drowns before seeing them fully built. Then his friend the historian writes about him as if he was a demi-god so people would remember him and worship him.

Rob: That is quite bittersweet. We do still have statues of Perseus Fillius Neptunus, also known as Perseus the ship-builder, so we know what he looked like. They built fountains of him in Rome and a statue of him in the central square of a small coastal city called Gaeta, which he apparently visited. We also know the ship designs he came up with made Rome a naval superpower and led directly to Rome’s golden age in the second century. Without Perseus, Rome may never have been the Naval superpower that it became.

Jamie: It’s a wonderfully dramatic story. I can imagine an event as devastating as the eruption of Mount Vesuvius leading to stories about the gods.

Rob: Here are some pictures of his statues. You can see him stepping out of a volcano holding a model ship with a feather in his hair.

Jamie: Oh, I think I’ve seen these before. Perseus looks so young!

Rob: He was only around 15, or a newborn demigod baby, depending on what you believe. So, final thoughts?

Jamie: I think it’s a very cool myth. You can understand how something as epic as a volcanic explosion combined with the start of Rome’s legendary navy and a tragic early death can merge to make a myth about a demigod being born from a volcano and granting Rome this great gift.

Rob: It’s certainly a story worth discussing on a Roman History Podcast. Until Next week everybody!

Jamie: Remember everyone, if you know someone who is pretty good at catching crabs, they are definitely a demigod. Good bye!

Chapter 7: When in Rome...

Chapter Text

Grandpa Pliny does end up doing business of Percy’s behalf. The palace sends a messenger with a job offer and Grandpa Pliny goes through the contract with Percy. He also gives Percy a quick overview of Roman finances, and how much he should be able to expect from a normal job. The palace is paying a lot more than a normal job. Nevertheless, Grandpa Pliny returns the offer with a counter offer after Percy explains that he can draw pictures of cool ships and ship related things, but he can’t build boats. The counter offer includes giving Percy permission and funds to hire two people: a woodworker and a ship’s captain or ex-captain of some kind. Percy would also need an office of some kind to build his models.

The palace makes a counter offer: they will hire three men including a retired captain a ship builder and a woodworker to help Percy and to learn from him. Titus offers Percy a room in an apartment complex the crown owns to do his work. However, Percy would also have to spend mornings learning Latin with a Latin teacher Titus hired. Percy groans. He just got out of ever having to go to school again and now he has to take Latin class? Ugh!

Grandpa Pliny laughs at Percy’s misery and promises to help him with any homework. So, with Grandpa Pliny’s approval, Percy agrees to the job contract. He now officially has his first job!

Percy starts his job as Rome’s new ship designer the next week. He also starts Latin lessons with an older man named Pompeius Magnus, which is an accurate name because this guy is Mega Pompous and exclusively wears togas. Percy’s dyslexia comes back in full force when Mr. Pompous starts teaching Percy all the Roman letters. The “V” was pronounced like a U and the “I” was pronounced like J, but only sometimes? School. At least it was only mornings.

In the afternoon he gets to do his actual job. The office Titus has given him for his boat work was in an apartment complex next to the river, and it had lots of paper and quills. It would take a few weeks to hire the ship builder, woodworker and retired captain, but in the meantime Percy was expected to start making plans. Percy discovers that Riptide actually works like a quill too with endless ink, so that’s pretty cool.

Percy spends a few weeks just drawing a bunch of cool boats and ships with as much detail as he can. He designs big ships with long keels and side fins for crossing the English Channel, and he designs river boats with wide, shallow hulls to be able to sail through rivers. He designs grain ships with several masts and war ships with space for soldiers. Initially he had drawn a boat with a bunch of cannons, but Percy doesn’t know how cannons really work and he probably should not give Romans gun powder, so he burns that picture. Then he makes drawings of different rudders, sail shapes and keels. At some point, he thinks about adding retractable spikes to the side of the ship so you can ram into another boat and cut it apart. The spikes might not be anything Percy had ever seen in any boat documentary but they sure do look cool.

Whenever Percy gets bored of drawing ships and ship parts, he goes outside the apartment complex and sits along the banks of the Tiber River with some bread or grapes. Having a job isn’t so bad.

*
A week before new year’s, Marcella and Grandpa Plinius had spent the better part of a week travelling to the Plinius farmhouse that was a few days travel north of Rome. There Marcella had picked up a bunch of honey jars she had prepared early that year. Apparently, Marcella had a bee-keeping hobby and she kept many hives up at their family farm. During the week they were gone, Percy and Gaius had eten out every day and Percy had been late to Latin class twice.

On the morning of January 1st, Marcella had dragged Gaius away from his books and Percy out of bed early to deliver new year’s gifts to their neighbors. Since the Plinius household was nestled between two apartment complexes they had a lot of neighbors. Gaius and Percy had to help her carry the crates of honey jars as she handed each of their direct neighbors a jar of honey.

Percy held his crate and tried to yawn discretely while Marcella spent several minutes talking to each of the neighbors. Percy could generally understand the greetings, but then the conversations devolved into other topics and Percy’s Latin was no longer good enough to understand. All of the neighbors gave return gifts like candles or sweet-smelling clumps of dried flowers.

A bit further up the road there was another Domus and Marcella brought Gaius and Percy along there too. Apparently, the mother of the household and Marcella were friends so they ended up exchanging gifts and eating some snacks in their dining room. Percy had short conversations with the children of the household who wanted to show Percy the cool wooden horse they had recently gotten. Percy let them know that it was a pretty cool wooden horse.

In the afternoon, Percy and the Pliny’s (a good name for a band, by the way) all went to the festival of Janus. The main forum of Rome was full of merchants selling food and wares. Everyone was wearing their best clothes and small firepits had been set up around the forum ready to be lit upon nightfall. People lined up to walk through a large archway. Lovers would walk through the archway together, and kids with run through holding the hands of their frazzled parents.

“You have to say a wish before running through the arch,” Gaius said, “but you can’t tell anyone what it is or Janus will not listen to it.”

Annabeth. Grover. Mom. How showers. Toilet paper. Everything Percy wanted was thousands of years away. He stands in front of the archway. There are no gods or spirits here, as far as Percy can see. It’s just an archway. Still, Percy closes his eyes. “I wish nothing bad happens to the Plinius family this year,” Percy whispers and walks through the gate.

Afterwards, Percy and the Pliny’s went up to the temple of Janus, which was a simple one room stone building with large iron doors. The first month of the Roman year was the month of Janus, the god of transitions. “You cannot open the doors,” Marcella said, “otherwise people might think you are declaring war.”

Obviously. Yeah. Why wouldn’t opening doors be considered a declaration of war.

Romans are ridiculous.

Since Percy did not want to declare war, he did not open the doors. Instead, he stood in front of the temple where many candles and oil lamps had been lit on the doorway to the temple. Grandpa Pliny set an oil lamp down and lit the spout. The oil lanterns in Rome were like the magic Aladin lamps, except made of ceramic instead of gold and filled with olive oil instead of magic genies.

“To new beginnings,” Marcella said, folding her hands and praying in front of the doors of the temple, “This last year has seen many deaths and much sorrow, but also so many blessings. I lost my brother, I lost many friends and I walked through the ashes of the world. Yet we have gained a blessing in the form of Perseus, the newest member of our household. With his help and despite all the dangers, both myself and my son survived the end of the world. Oh lord of transitions, oh lord of doorways, please watch over our household as we enter this new year.”

*
“Perseus, would you mind joining me for lunch?” Domitian asked as he entered the room. Pompeius Magnus halted his Latin lecture and bowed as Domitian entered. Magnus’ only student looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Perseus looked happy to jump up out of his chair. “Yes! Absolutely! Sorry Pompous, I unfortunately have to leave your very interesting lecture about Latin suffixes and go with the Ceasar. How about we continue this interesting lecture tomorrow?” Perseus said in Greek.

“I will allow you the afternoon off if you request it politely in Latin,” Magnus told his student in Latin.

“Non prohibere me!” Perseus grinned. You cannot stop me! Then the boy got up from his seat and leapt into the hallway with Domitian. Domitian led the young man to the dining room where the slaves had laid out some food. Domitian poured himself some watered-down wine and offered freshly pressed grape juice to the son of Neptune.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Perseus asked.

“What makes you think I wanted to talk? I merely thought you might be hungry for lunch,” Domitian answered.

Perseus shot him that boyish grin of his, “Please don’t insult me. I know that inquisitive look in your eyes. I have seen that look in Athena’s --- uh --- priestesses. You want to know something.”

Domitian filed that information away for later. “I’ll admit I am endlessly curious about you. I have tried to piece together the events of your childhood to better understand how it is we have the most powerful demigod alive in the Roman Empire but there had not been a single whisper of you before Mount Vesuvius,” Domitian said.

“I lived in Greece with my mother.”

“What city in Greece?”

“… Um… Greeeecia.”

“That is not a place.”

“Poseidonopolis.”

“That is also not a place.”

“… oh! Athens!”

“Congratulations on remembering the name of a single Greek city. I hope you’ll forgive me for not believing you,” Domitian said.

Perseus’ shoulders slouched and he ate his food in silence for several moments. Domitian let the silence sit. He’d found that silence could be a powerful tool when questioning someone. Having fully-armed soldiers stand behind people was also generally effective but Domitian doubted it would work on Perseus.

“I may have lied about a few things,” Perseus admitted at last, “But I’m not going to tell you the truth. I have decided to stay silent on my past for a reason.”

Domitian nodded. He expected as much, “May I ask a few questions then. If you do not wish to answer, you may just say so and I will let the matter drop.”

Perseus lounged casually but Domitian saw his fingers tap-tap-tap the side of the couch, “Ok, but if I say pass you stop asking, and afterwards you have to answer my questions honestly as well.”

“I will not share state secrets or anything that might endanger my family. Given those terms, we have a deal. Where were you actually born?” Domitian asked.

“Pass.”

“Do you intend to bring Rome or the royal family any harm?”

“No! I’ll admit you guys annoy me sometimes, but I don’t want to hurt anyone! Is that what you think?”

“No. You do not seem like a malicious spirit to me, but gods can be hard to predict and their wrath can be destructive,” Domitian said calmly.

“I’m not a god Domitian,” Percy said as he pulled out his godly bronze feather and twisted it between his fingers.

“You are not human either Perseus, and when it comes to the fate of Rome, I prefer to be cautious. One final question then,” and this was the question Athena had bid him to ask the child of Poseidon when the goddess had visited Domitian in his sleep, “Is your mother a priestess of Athena?” Athena was usually aware of all demigod children, but she had not known about Perseus. This might mean someone had been keeping him a secret, and she suspected it was Neptune. There were a few reasons Neptune might want to keep his demigod children hidden, and Athena had some suspicions.

Perseus seemed shocked for a second before laughing at the absurdity of the question. “No! Ha! Could you imagine? A second Medusa? No, No. My mother is Christian, actually.”

Of all the answers Domitian had prepared himself for, that was not one of them. The lover of Poseidon was part of that new cult? The ones that worship the Jew Jeshua and refused to worship any other god? How could such a woman be considered worthy of Poseidon’s attentions?

Perseus laughed, “Yeah. You can imagine her surprise when my father told her he was Poseidon.”

Now it was Domitian’s turn to sit in silence as he tried to process what this meant and what to say next.

“My turn,” Perseus said, “What are Titus’ plans for me?”

“Your knowledge of shipbuilding –”

“The truth, Domitian. You agreed.”

Domitian took a sip of wine, then said, “My brother wants to get a better understanding of your character. However, there is a good possibility that he intends to offer you Julia’s hand in marriage and name you his heir.”

Perseus choked on his bread and spent over a minute coughing before washing the food down with some water. Perseus then babbled something in a language Domitian had never heard before, waving his arm to demonstrate something that Domitian did not understand. The language was on odd mix of sounds that Domitian could not place, at time is sounded similar to Latin, other words sounded more Germanic. Not Persian at any rate, which was a comfort.

“His HEIR???” Perseus sputtered, “No! That is- that is- I don’t even speak Latin! I don’t know anything about Roman law or politics! I would look terrible in purple!”

“You would have advisors, of course. I myself have quite a bit of experience with the treacherous ways of the senate, if you ever find yourself in need of advising. Besides, if the fates are kind my brother will be Emperor for many more years. Succession would not occur for decades.”

“I am too young to get married! I mean, Julia seems nice but I don’t love her- I-I’m only fifteen! What??”

“Why in the world would you need to love her? Your marriage would be a political union to unite the two bloodline and publicly establish you as heir to the Augustus. As long as you produce an heir, it does not matter if you love her. You can have mistresses for love.”

“No way. If I cheated on my future wife my mother would never forgive me. I also don’t think I would forgive myself.”

Domitian ate some of his food and let Perseus mutter in his foreign tongue for a while. This wasn’t the first time Domitian had met a young man who assumed the love he would share with his wife would be eternal and pure. Domitian also doubted the young man would maintain such notions after marriage.

“Why do you hate the senate so much?” Perseus finally asked.

Domitian debated on how to answer such a question, “How much do you know about the year of the four emperors?”

“Well. I assume it had four emperors,” Perseus said.

Domitian sipped his wine, “The year after Emperor Nero took his own life four men laid claim to the purple. My brother and father were in Judea putting down a revolt. I was too young for war and had been in my Uncle Sabinus’ care for many years. My uncle, cousins and I lived in Rome and were able to witness each of these men who claimed to be Augustus. Since my father was a powerful general, my uncle and I were kept under guard as a way to ensure my father would not rebel against the Augustus.”

“The first Augustus was a good general, but did not understand the niceties of politics. When he did not pay his praetorian guard an adequate bribe, they murdered him and he was replaced by a second man. The second man was an excellent politician but knew nothing of war. When he had to defend his title and saw the bloodshed of battle, he chose to burn all his letters so none in the senate could be implicated for supporting him, then committed suicide. The third man was a puppet for ambitious generals and largely incompetent at both war and politics. My father was the fourth and final emperor.”

“With each Augustus the senate would welcome the man and swear loyalty. Such beautiful praise fell from their lips with each new man to ascend to the purple. How quickly their loyalties changed. Their words of loyalty are all empty, Perseus, you must always remember that.”

“My uncle was a senator too. He was in charge of the city guard and worked hard to maintain order and prevent riots with each death. My uncle was friends with the senate. He attended every senate meeting and invited many senators to his house to discuss poetry and politics. He considered them friends.”

“When my father was declared Augustus by his troops and his troops started to win battles Augustus Vitellius attempted to surrender. He planned to step down and hand the city over to my uncle until my father could enter the city. However, Vitellius’ generals and soldiers discovered his plan and stopped Vitellius from doing something they considered disgraceful. His soldiers came to our house. We fled to the well-fortified Capitoline hill and closed the gates. We stayed there overnight, protected by my uncle’s guards. Within a day Vitellius’ soldiers set fire to the temple of Zeus where we resided."

“I was awakened by the smoke and the sounds of battle in the dark of the night. We had to flee in the chaos. My uncle instructed all of us to hide in the houses of trusted friends who might shelter us. We would all go to different places, to increase the chances that at least one of us might live. I dressed myself as a priest of Isis and walked among the other priests as I fled the flame. Once I was down from Capitoline hill, I was able to make my escape and hide at the house of an old friend who welcomed me in and kept me sheltered.”

“Soon enough my father’s troops won the war and my father was declared Emperor.”

“Emerging from hiding, my father’s troops declared me Ceasar and took me to the Senate house where all the senators pledged their allegiance and told me such kind things about how they had prayed for my health and how overjoyed they were that a good man like my father had won. Many of these men had said the exact same thing to Vitellius, and to Otho and to Galba and to Nero. Such pretty lies.”

“My uncle and aunt did not survive. They had been found and murdered on the night the Capitoline hill had been set ablaze. My uncle’s corpse had been cast onto the Gemonian stairs to rot. The stairs are usually reserved for the corpses of criminals and traitors.”

“I found out several years later that my uncle and aunt had gone to the house of one of their close friends, a fellow senator with whom my uncle was well acquainted. They had been friends. They had diner at each other’s houses and spoke of politics, poetry and philosophy. They had sat together as equals in the senate house for years. None of that mattered though when Vitellius’ soldiers offered coin. This man was one of the first to pledge his allegiance to my family when my father’s troops entered the city.”

Domitian took another sip of wine.

“I do not much trust the senate, Perseus, because they are liars who would sell their friends for coin and sing endless praise while they stab you in the back. I would advise you not to trust them either.”

Percy was silent for a while, processing. He rubbed his palm that still contained the scar of a pit scorpion’s venom. Percy knew what it was like to be betrayed by a friend, “I’ll remember.”

*
Perseus is away most days at the palace learning Latin and building models for Roman ships. Gaius Plinius Secundus the younger has no such official responsibilities, but that doesn’t mean he has been idle. Giaus has inherited his uncle’s name and he intends to live up to this reputation and make his uncle proud. His uncle was known as one of the smartest men in the empire and had written many works that were well regarded within the senate including his history of the German people and his writings on natural history.

While only an equestrian himself, Plinius Secundus had been one of Emperor Vespasian’s good friends and spent most of his life studying and recording the nature of things. Gaius would honor his uncle’s memory by organizing the last five books of his Uncle’s Naturalis Historica, making at least three copies of each book and delivering them to the Library of Rome and hopefully the Library of Alexandria. Once finished, his uncle’s Naturalis Historica would make up of 37 books total and cover everything from astronomy, zoology, botany, human physiology and minerals.

The last five books were about mining and the study of metals and minerals. Plinius the elder had visited several mines, spoken to smiths that worked with gold, solver, bronze and iron about their craft. He had visited stone quarries and spoken to artists that created bronze and marble statues and written down all information he could about these materials and the trades that created or used them. Gaius carefully organized the many notebooks worth of interviews and observations into five books and had carefully copied the information into clean scrolls.

Once, Gaius had spilled his ink well on the scroll for one copy of the third book of minerals. Distraught, Gaius had burned the ruined text and isolated himself in his room for two days. His mother had left food for him outside the door and tried to speak to him several times, but Gaius had not answered. One the second day Perseus had broken in through his window. Assuming Perseus would try to comfort him with words Gaius had been immensely surprised when the demigod had picked Gaius up as if he weighed nothing, walked out of the house and down the Via Julia to the shore of the Tiber River and tossed Gaius into the water.

Spluttering in indignant rage, Gaius had splashed Perseus back. Soon enough, the two men were acting like children. Many onlookers on the shore of the Tiber had shaken their heads. One year ago, if someone would have told him of this kind of behavior, Gaius might have been so ashamed he would never have shown his face in Rome again. Somehow, being in the presence of Perseus had a way of soothing Gaius’ nerves and making him act with joy instead of with caution.

The two of them had returned two hours later, both covered head to toe in mud and sand grinning like barbarians. Perseus had used his godly powers to summon water from the small fountain they had in the courtyard to clean their clothes of filth. It baffled Gaius once more how normal it was for Perseus to use powers only reserved for gods for such mundane human tasks.

After dinner Perseus had allowed Gaius to examine his holy quill. Perseus had offered to turn the object into a sword as he had done in the palace, but Gaius was far more interested in the quill. It looked like bronze, but did not melt at the temperature bronze melted and did not bend when Gaius attempted to bend it.

Perseus had followed Gaius back to his study and Gaius had started writing the second copy of the third book of minerals anew. He wrote the first word with Perseus’ holy quill. Gaius had been so overwhelmed by the high quality of the ink that flowed from it that he had returned the quill with reverence and spent half an hour explaining to Perseus of different types and qualities of ink so he may better understand the blessing his father had bestowed him with.

*
“Do you want to fight?” Perseus asks in heavily accented Latin.

Tiberius Alexander looks up from where he was sharpening his sword. The boy seemed excited and holds up his bronze sword.

“Have I offended you in some way Perseus, that you would challenge me to a duel? If I have caused offense, I do apologize, that was never my intent,” Tiberius Alexander responds, speaking slowly so the boy can understand.

Percy seemed to process the Latin for a few seconds, then says, “No, no. I am no offended. Friendship-fighting! Not murder fighting.”

Tiberius Alexander raised his eyebrows. The boy had apparently wandered onto the fields of Mars and into the Praetorian camp to challenge the Praetorian Prefect to a friendly spar. Tiberius Alexander wasn’t sure how the boy got into camp. The camp was surrounded on all sides by a wooden wall several paces high and it was patrolled and guarded at all times. Had he snuck in without anyone noticing or had one of the guards allowed him entry? While all of the Praetorian guard who had witnessed Perseus’ godly nature had sworn an oath of secrecy, that did not mean they had forgotten. Tiberius Alexander would not be surprised if one of the men who knew of Perseus’ godly nature had allowed him entry into the most fortified camp in Rome.

This was a difficult situation. Tiberius Alexander was fairly certain the boy meant well with the challenge, but if he defeated this Semi-Deus in a duel his pagan soldiers that knew of Perseus’ nature would claim that he was a Jewish heretic for threatening the child of a god. Already the people of Rome were suspicious of Tiberius Alexander for his Jewish roots. Holding a sword-point to a pagan god-child would be a dangerous choice. Alternatively, if Tiberius Alexander lost the fight against this fifteen-year-old boy the majority of his guard that did not know of the boy’s nature would questions Tiberius Alexander’s skill.

“Come,” Tiberius Alexander said, “We shall go to the training fields and I will supervise your training. My men will be your opponents today.”

Perseus followed him with a grin, seemingly unaware of the many eyes that followed the two to the practice fields. Tiberius Alexander called upon several of his men, from new recruits to some of his most experienced fighters to join them.

“Magnus! Step forth and challenge your opponent to a duel,” Tiberius Alexander ordered one of his younger recruits, a man in his late twenties who had been part of the city guard for ten years before being promoted to the Praetorian Guard.

Perseus had no armor and only carried his bronze sword. Bronze is metal that is famously weaker than the steel swords Romans wielded. Perseus’ opponent on the other hand was wearing full roman armor and was armed with a sword, spear and full shield. Had Tiberius Alexander not seen the boy wield the sword with deadly accuracy in the Augustus’ Palace he would have laughed at how unprepared this boy was.

As it was, Tiberius Alexander was not surprised when Perseus ran around his opponent, disarmed him, and pushed him forward to fall face first onto his shield in less than a minute. “Ego victor!” Perseus declared with a laugh. That was not the correct grammar for calling oneself the victor but it was close enough. Tiberius Alexander sent the next man forward.

The afternoon continued on. Perseus fought against several of the Praetorian Guard’s best fighters, and won as easily as he had in the Palace. After defeating his second opponent Perseus started giving sword fighting advice in broken Latin, “Legs! Legs like this. Look. You legs wrong.” “You sword more up. Look.” Perseus clearly had experience teaching sword fighting, although he did not seem to take the soldier’s shield into account. One soldier had tried to shoot him with an arrow. Tiberius Alexander had been enraged and yelled at the soldier. He had explicitly said this was a practice duel, a real arrow shot at the boy could have killed him. However, Perseus had cut the arrow in two with his weapon as if it was a common occurrence and had waved away Tiberius Alexander’s concern.

Next, groups of three, five and finally ten men with full gear were sent forth. While Perseus won individual duels with ease, he did not seem to know how to fight men in formations, especially when Tiberius Alexander commanded them with some skill. The fight with ten men had taken over an hour, most of which consisted of the Praetorian guard marching forth in a defensive square while Perseus stayed out of range of the spears and tried to find cracks in their defense. Finally, Perseus had picked up a large stone and thrown it into the soldiers. The stone bounced off their shield, but it caused one of the soldiers to stumble and Perseus had used the opportunity to pull the spear out of the soldier’s grasp. Once armed with a spear, Perseus was able to break through their shield wall within a few minutes. It was also the only time one of his soldiers had been hurt. The spear wound had been a shallow cut, but Perseus had been concerned and had apologized several times. He called an end to the fights so he could help the soldier to the infirmary tent.

Perseus had never been hit.

He was sweating though and by the end of the afternoon he seemed a bit fatigued.

Several of his men had walked forth to ask who this soldier was. Tiberius Alexander had answered honestly when he said, “Perseus is Rome’s official ship designer and a personal friend of the Augustus.” This had confused the men. Surely this fleet-footed boy with unparallelled skill in the blade was a soldier, not a sailor?

The sun set and dinner was brought forth. Perseus sat and ate with the guard. His Latin was limited but his excitement and obvious joy did not need translating.

After dinner, Tiberius Alexander walked Perseus to his home in the city. Their conversation was stilted because Perseus could only speak a bit of Latin and Tiberius Alexander could only speak a bit of Greek. Nevertheless, Perseus had been impressed with Roman shields and group formations. He asked questions about how to organize a small army.

“The Praetorian Guard have four and a half thousand soldiers,” Tiberius Alexander said when they approached the Plinius household on the Via Jullia. The road was quiet this time of night so he was not too worried about being overheard. “If you had to fight all of them, who do you think would win?”

Perseus answered in Greek, “Where are we fighting?”

“Does it matter?” Tiberius Alexander asked. Perseus nodded. “Here, then. In Rome. If we fought now, who would win?”

“Me.”

“You think you can fight four and a half thousand men by yourself and win?”

“No. I can fight ten. I would lose sword fight to fifty of your soldiers. However, your soldiers are on… a flat field next to big river. The Field of Mars is very flat and next to the Tiber River. Tiberius Alexander, I am not dangerous because of my sword. Not to Romans. I am dangerous because of my nature. Your men would drown long before their spears ever reached me,” Perseus says.

Perseus is a bad liar so Tiberius Alexander knows he is telling the truth.

Perseus waves with a smile as he enters the Plinius household. Tiberius Alexander stands still in front of the house for many moments before returning to camp. He stayed awake for hours that night listening to the sound of the nearby rushing waters.

Chapter 8: ... Do as Romans do

Chapter Text

Percy hears a man whispering a prayer to ask for Perseus’ protection as they sail past Mount Vesuvius. Disoriented, Perseus tries to look around to find the source of the words, but this dream shows him no images. Then, the smell of roasted crab fills his nostrils. The smell is so strong and so realistic that Perseus wakes up and is momentarily disoriented by the smell of pillows and sheets instead of crab and fire. Percy stares at the wall for a bit as the memory of his dream fades. Then he turns around and goes back to sleep. He dreams of ships.

*
“If boats only float because wood floats then why do they sink when you put a hole in the bottom?” Percy asked his fellow boat makers pointedly.

When the assembled men started muttering and trying to brush off Percy’s question as inconsequential Percy spoke over them again. “The water pushes up against the boat. As long as the weight of the boat is less than the weight of the water it is replacing then the water will push up,” Percy has been trying to explain the concept of buoyancy to these so-called ship builders of Rome. Unfortunately, ancient Greek did not have words for “Buoyancy” or “gravitational force”.

“Water does not push, boy,” ship builder Trios said.

“It does not push with hands, but it pushes things that weigh less than water upward all the same,” Percy tried again. They’d been at this for several hours. Percy had drawn a diagram of a ship and had drawn the arrows showing the forces of Buoyancy and gravity force. He had then tried to explain what those were and had been met with ridicule.

“If I make a boat of metal or glass, will you believe that it is the volume of water being displaced by the boat that determines whether or not a boat floats, and not the material of the boat?” Percy asked.

“Ridiculous!” Captain Valerius shouted, “A boat cannot be made of metal. You must think us stupid boy! Just because you are the Augustus’ favorite does not mean you know anything of ships!”

“Unfortunately for you, you still have to do what I say. And I say we measure the volume of the water moved aside by the boat, measure the weight of the boat so we can figure out how much weight the boat can carry before it sinks!”

Percy spent the next day at a blacksmith’s shop trying to make model rowboats out of metal. Percy hired the blacksmith to make thin sheets of metal and bend and mound it into the shape of a hull that Percy hoped would float. Unfortunately, Romans did not have aluminum and they certainly did not have fiberglass. The metal models Percy had made of iron, bronze and even a tiny one made of silver did not float. The metals Romans had available were too heavy to make boats from. No matter how thin Percy tried to make the sides of the boat, the weight of the iron or copper was more than the weight of the displaced water.

Percy had better luck at the glass worker shop. Once Percy gave them some coin, the married couple who ran the shop was happy to spend a day making boats out of glass instead of the vases, intricate drinking glasses and glass beads they normally made. It took a few tries, but eventually they were able to make the hull of a rowboat that did float. First, they had to blow a bubble into a blob of hot glass by attaching the hot glass to a long metal rod and blowing into it. Then, the glass bubble was pressed into a wooden mold of a boat hull Percy had cut into a block of wood. Then the glass bubble would be cut in half and cooled so the hull shape solidified.

Percy was even able to make a few versions of the glass boat. Once Percy explained what a keel was in broken Latin and sketched what he meant, the two glassmakers were easily able to manipulate hot blobs of glass with big tweezers and big scissors into a thin keel at the bottom of the boat, or two fin-like keels on the sides of the boat.

An actual glass boat would be stupid, of course. If it hit a single rock or if a sailor dropped the anchor a bit too quickly it would shatter and everyone would drown. But Percy hoped his glass boat would prove the point about buoyancy.

It probably wouldn’t.

Still, the glass rowboat model was pretty cool so Percy wasn’t even mad. He also asked the glass makers to make a big glass aquarium so that Percy could fill it with water and they could test their ship models in an aquarium and see the bottom of the models. The wooden tub they were currently using made the bottom of the ships impossible to see.

The roman shipbuilders were grudgingly impressed by the glass boat, but they didn’t understand how this proved anything about water pushing a boat upward. Which is fair. They were a lot more impressed by the glass aquarium for their wooden ship models. Once Percy made waves in the aquarium by rhythmically pushing a bucket in and out on one side of the aquarium, they started using it daily to test their models in calm and high-wave conditions.

Percy’s job was weird, but man this was fun.

*
Spring is in full swing and the colosseum was almost finished. Although the Ancient Romans call it the Flavian Amphitheatre instead of the colosseum. There’s also a big bronze statue of a naked guy next to it for some reason. Even when Percy squints he can’t quite figure out who that’s supposed to be. The builders are also still in the middle of setting up the big round sail that will cover the seating area of the colosseum. The sail is only partially attached at the moment, with the second half of the sail rolled up.

Only one section of the round building has scaffolding around it, and from what Percy has heard from listening in on people at the palace, it should be done within the month. He was listening in on LATIN conversations, by the way. Percy is pretty pleased with himself.

Percy has convinced Gaius to break into the construction site with him after dark to check out the building. It was a full moon today, so there should be some visibility. What Giaus didn’t know was the Percy had asked Julia to come too. He’d run into her in the palace halls after Latin lectures and they had chatted a few times. Knowing what Percy did about Titus’ plans to potentially get Percy to marry his daughter, he doubted these random encounters were quite as random as they seemed. Still, Julia was one of the few people who knew what Percy was and she was quite funny. So basically, they were friends now and Percy wanted to get to know her better. Julia had agreed to come, but had to bring her personal guard.

So when Percy and Giaus made their way through the streets of Rome to the Colosseum they were met with a host of guards and Giaus had tried to turn around and leave. Percy had to grab him by the collar and pull him further.

“Percy, there are guards! I thought the place would be abandoned!” Gaius hissed.

“Relax, it’s just Julia’s guard. Titus was never going to let her wander around at night without them,” Percy responded.

“Julia?” Giaus asked as his voice climbed five octaves, “As in the DAUGHTER of the AUGUSTUS? Percy are you insane? He’s going to execute us.”

“Not if I supervise,” Domitian said, as he walked out of one of the entryways of the colosseum, “although the location is a bit unusual.”

“My first idea was to go swimming in the Tiber,” Percy admitted.

“Absolutely not,” Domitian said.

Gaius gave Percy a look as if Percy was a dumbass. Percy just shrugged.

Percy, Domitian and Gaius walked through one of the entrances to the colosseum through a hallway labeled “vomitorium” (hahahaha) and out into the seating area. Julia was waiting in a seat box looking out over the empty colosseum. She was sitting on a large stone chair. Percy assumed that was where the Augustus was supposed to sit because it had room for guards to stand around him.

She was wearing a purple silk dress with some beads and stuff on it and had her hair up in a fancy up-do. Percy hoped she didn’t think this was like a date or something, because it wasn’t. This was a friend hang out. Not a date.

Percy waved. Gaius looked around nervously.

“Salve Julia,” Percy said in Latin, “Ready to go exploring?”

They walked around the ancient roman bleachers a bit. Most of the benches were made of stone, but then near the top they had a few wooden rows and finally a place to just stand. Percy assumed the standing area were the cheaper tickets.

There were some waterpipes underneath the colosseum that apparently hooked up to some aqueducts. The pipes were not super large, but the central ring area of the colosseum did look like it could hold water. This gave Percy an idea for showing off his new boat models. If they filled the colosseum with water, then Percy could make a much larger version of the glass aquarium to display how the models sailed and withstood waves. He’ll need to impress Titus and probably a bunch of official ship-builders to show that his designs were better if he wanted his ships to be made.

“This is where they will keep the lions,” Gaius said, pointing to a cage below the ancient roman bleachers. They had made their way down to the field area.

“Why do they have lions?” Percy asked.

“So gladiators can kill them, or die trying. Most people in Rome have never seen lions before, so it’s very exciting to see such a beast of legend.”

“Yeah, but why kill it? You can just show off the lion, then bring it back to Africa. Or just paint a picture?”

“It’s not really the same. People want to see gladiators kill lions, and it would cost way too much to bring them back to Egypt. Do you think you would be able to kill a lion, Perseus?”

“Sure, but why would I want to kill a lion? It’s just a big cat.” Percy had killed the Nemean lion last year with the help of Thalia and Zoe on his quest to save Annabeth, but the lion had been trying to eat them so Percy things that was justified.

“I wish I could see the fights. I think it’d be pretty cool to see a gladiator fighting a lion,” Julia said.

“I’m sure your dad could get you tickets. I feel like the Augustus should be able to afford two tickets instead of one,” Percy said.

Julia frowned at him, “First of all, the gladiatorial fights are free and do not require tickets. Second, women are not allowed. Except for the vestal virgins, but I am not a priestess.”

“Unnecessary blood sport and being mean to woman. Very Roman,” Percy hummed.

“Do the games not please the gods?” Gaius asked, motioning to the heavens.

“Oh, they probably do. But the gods are a bunch of—”

“Do NOT insult the gods!” Julia hissed, “Otherwise you’re going to have to apologize again and I’m going to end up pregnant with a demigod baby or struck down by lightning! That is NOT happening before I get married!”

“What, so it’s fine after marriage?” Percy asked.

“Maybe let’s not talk about this?” Gaius asked.

“Well, after marriage I won’t be exiled from society if I get pregnant,” Julia said, “And if I get pregnant because my husband was being a jerk to the gods then it’s his fault either way.”

Percy frowned at her, “If some god tried to impregnate my wife without her permission, I would beat the crap out of them.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” Julia said.

“I wasn’t asking permission,” Percy responded. Julia blushed. She was probably upset that Percy was being rude to the gods again.

“Hey look a sword!” Giaus said a bit too loudly to be casual. His voice came up from one of the dungeon rooms. “I think these are the gladiator quarters. It has all kinds of weapons on the wall.”

“That’s fun!” Percy said, following Gaius down. Julia did not follow, probably because she had to stay within eyesight of Domitian and the guards. Percy emerged from the Gladiatorial quarters with two swords, and a shield.

“Here,” Percy said, extending the items to Julia, “We can practice.”

“Woman can’t fight,” Julia said, hesitating.

“You must have never met a daughter of Mars. They are vicious. Or any demigod woman, really. Most of them are really good fighters.”

“And since your grandfather Vespasianus Augustus the elder was Deified, that makes you one fourth god,” Gaius said. Percy made a note to be extra careful with Riptide around the royal family. If grandpa Vespasianus had become a god, would that make the royal family demigods? And would Riptide cut them?

Julia laughed and grabbed the sword from Percy, “I don’t know if that’s how that works, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint the gods by not trying.”

Domitian and Julia’s bodyguards walked up to them. Domitian was holding a sword from one of the guards. “May I join in?” he asked.

“Sure! Okay, so we are going to start with the basics. So spread your legs as wide as your shoulders and keep your knees bent. No Gaius that is way too far, you’re going to tip over.”

As it turned out, Domitian was a pretty good sword fighter already. He seemed to join in mostly to practice his stances. Julia had clearly never held a sword before, but was a quick learner. Gaius was neither of those things and had to go lie down after fifteen minutes because he was pretty sure his arms were falling off.

Julia seemed to enjoy herself though even though she sweat through her fancy clothes. After about an hour Domitian said that it was getting late, and Julia should be escorted back to the palace. So the night came to an end.

*
“Hello Camilla” Percy said to the Plinius family maid in Latin. He’d been meaning to have this conversation for a while, but hadn’t trusted anyone to translate for him.

“Tell her I have witnessed her crimes and I shall place a curse upon her!” The Pliny family Lars explained behind Percy.

“Hello Lord Perseus,” Camilla bowed. Camilla was a year or two younger than Percy but she already worked as a maid for half a day. Someone should really invent child labor laws.

“I know you steal the bronze spoons,” Percy said in his best Latin.

Camilla’s head shot up, eyes filled with terror. She started talking in Latin, a desperate edge to her tone. She spoke far too quickly for Percy to understand.

Percy shook his head and held up his hand to try to silence the girl. No one was currently in the house other than the two of them, as Percy had waited until the rest of the family was away before speaking to her. Still, Percy didn’t want the doorman or anyone walking outside to hear. “No, No. It- I am not, um, angry. Yes? Just give spoons back?” Percy was still learning Latin and he always felt like a bloody idiot when he had to speak it.

Camilla on the other hand did not have any problem speaking Latin and her fear made her speak ten times faster, so Percy was only able to catch a half of the words. She had apparently sold the spoons and given the money to her father.

“If you steal again, the Lars sees you and will tell me about it. I have been quiet about spoons, but if you steal again, I will tell Grandpa Pliny and Marcella. I will also be- hmm- not happy? So stop now. Please. If you father not happy, he can talk to me.”

“Tell her I am watcher her! You should give her a proper thrashing! I will curse her family until she returns the spoons!” The Lars calls from behind Percy. Percy has gotten pretty used to ignoring the man though.

The last time Percy had confronted someone about stealing, the Stolls brothers had laughed, admitted that yes it had been them, and then showed Percy pictures of all the cool stuff they’d stolen. Percy had asked them to return Annabeth’s copy of the Illiad. They had laughed in his face and run off to the archery range. Percy ended up going to the Hermes cabin while their cabin was going Pegasus riding and stole the book back. He’d left a note saying, “Next time you steal something from my friends I will fill flood your beds with saltwater and stinky fish, XOXOXO Percy” and the Stoll brothers had thought that was hilarious.

Camilla’s reaction to getting caught stealing was a bit different. She had burst into tears and was sobbing something that sounded like apologies. Percy didn’t really have the words in Latin to comfort a scared girl so he pats her hand and tries to convey understanding.

“Hey,” Percy says quieter, “If you father hurt you, you tell me, ok? I protect children.”

Since Percy was being paid a stupid amount of money and not paying rent, he had the cash needed to buy a set of new bronze spoons. The blacksmith spent half a day making them and soon enough the Pliny family had bronze spoons again.

The Pliny family Lars was ecstatic and called all the local Lars to the Pliny Domus so he could brag about the spoons and about how clean and secure his Domus was. The Pliny Lars also introduced Percy as a family guest who can see protective spirits like Lars’. The other Lars seemed to be equally impressed by the spoons as they were by Percy. Percy ended up spending the afternoon attending a ghost party and fending off questions from the well-meaning Lars’ who wanted to know who his family was and if he was getting married soon. One of the Lars who looked over a family down the road stared talking about the daughter of the family and how she would make a perfect wife for Percy.

Percy politely declined.

*
“Augustus, the youngest member of the senate is thirty; there has not been a man less than 25 on the senate in decades. Even the First Augustus, having been promoted to senator under extremely unusual circ*mstances, became a senator at 19. To try to promote a man of just fifteen to the senate is unheard of. Not everyone on the senate may view this decision favorably. Perhaps if you could explain your reasoning more clearly, I might understand,” Marcus Cocceius Nerva cautioned.

“I would if I could, old friend. However, I have taken a vow of silence on the matter and will not break my oath. I would ask you to trust me. I would not make this offer lightly or without reason,” Titus responded.

“Why would you ask for my council, Augustus, if you refuse to explain your choices and do not wish to consider other options?” Nerva asked.

“You have been a voice of wise council to my father, Nerva. I do not reject your wisdom without thought. Your council gives me insight into the mind of the senate, so I might better prepare for their objections. Please, do not limit your words for fear of retribution. I value your critique,” Titus said.

Nerva took a sip of diluted wine as he observed the man who had been Augustus for less than a year. Nerva eyed the Praetorian Prefect who was standing in the corner of the room casually. The man seemed at ease. “Some among the senate may worry that this boy has captured your eye romantically, and that this unprecedented offer is a misguided romantic gesture. Your Romanitas and manly nature are beyond question, oh great Augustus, but your romantic interests have raised some concern in the past.”

“I can assure you this is not a romantic gesture of any kind. In some ways, offering to promote Perseus to the senate is not a way to honor Perseus either, but to honor his father. I believe Rome has been remiss in showing Perseus and his family proper respect,” Titus said.

“I am glad to hear it. When you announce the promotion of a fifteen your old to one of the highest and most prestigious offices of state, you might start by saying how this title has been given to the son to honor the father. If I may ask, who is the father of Perseus, and for what reason do you wish to honor him?” Nerva counseled.

“I’m afraid I cannot say.”

“If you wish to honor the father, why not have the father brought to Rome? Any man within the empire would obey your direct summons and be happy for the honor to do so.”

“I’m afraid I cannot say.”

“It is difficult to give council with such limited information, my honorable Augustus,” Nerva said, keeping the frustration out of his voice.

“Yet you already have given me great council, my dear Nerva. When I present Perseus with a promotion to the senate, I will form my speech to make it clear that the promotion of the son is to honor his father. And when speaking to Perseus I will be sure to conduct myself beyond all suspicion of romance,” Titus said.

“My council has not changed. I do not think the promotion of Perseus to the Senate will be well-received by your court. I also have concerns that promoting someone so young could be the beginning of a dangerous political career,” Nerva said.

“I am happy to dissuade you of these concerns, old friend. For I have no fears that Perseus’ political aspirations may be a threat to my rule. If I have any fears regarding his aspirations, it would perhaps be that he has too few political aspirations,” Titus said.

“If I may be terribly rude, Augustus Ceasar?” Nerva waits for Titus to nod before continuing, “Is the boy perhaps your son by blood? You would not be the first man who seeks to promote their bastard.”

“He is no son of mine, Nerva. Neither by law, marriage, nor by blood. You have my word,” Titus said.

Nerva nodded, “Yet, it might be wise to spread the rumor that he is your blood. My fellow senators would be more inclined to accept the young man among their ranks if they believed this promotion was due to his royal blood. It might help stem rumors of romance or whispers of foreign kings having undue influence in Roman affairs.”

“Wise council, my friend. I can see why my father held you in such high esteem. However, I will not be involved with spreading false rumors among the senate. Such things must be beneath an Augustus,” Titus said.

“Of course,” Nerva agreed, “You will have no knowledge at all of such rumors and would deny them if anyone was rude enough to mention them directly.”

*
Titus had decided to promote Percy to the senate. Percy had initially declined until Titus explained that it was a way to honor Neptune. It would not do for Rome to show the son of Neptune so few honors upon his arrival in Rome, especially not so soon after Neptune erupted Mount Vesuvius. As the head of the Roman religion, it was Titus’ duty to ensure that the gods were being properly worshipped and respected. While Titus agreed to keep Perseus’ godly nature a secret, he was worried his lack of proper respect for Percy would upset Neptune.

Percy wanted to say that Neptune probably didn’t care, but he wasn’t actually sure what his dad was like in this time period. Annabeth had once said that the gods had calmed down since ancient times. Percy wasn’t sure what a not-calm version of his dad would do. Titus had also said that Percy just needed to show up for the senate; he didn’t actually have to say anything.

So Percy reluctantly accepted the promotion. He’s a senator now.

Yay?

Marcella had insisted they celebrate. Percy had insisted that he get to cook for his own celebration.

Most Romans could not afford to live in a house with a kitchen, and while the Pliny family had enough money for a kitchen, they didn’t have enough money to hire a chef. Marcella also seemed to be the only one who could cook and most day she didn’t want to. Most nights, the Pliny family and the majority of Rome ate at Roman fast-food cafes that had pre-made Ancient Roman bar foods. But today Percy would cook himself.

It’s not much but Percy spent the day putting together dinner for the Pliny family. He got as many blue foods as he could find. He had bought several bunches of blueish-purple grapes, crabs with blue claws, and some mushrooms whole gills were blue once you tapped them. The merchant assured Percy that the mushrooms were edible. The mushrooms were sauteed in a cream sauce along with some pressed grape skins for extra color. Percy then took the blue parts of the crab shells and smashed it with the pestle and mortar until it became a blue powder, then he mixed that with the crab meat and baked it in the oven.

He had baked the grapes into a pie, and made honeyed bread with grapes baked into the tops. The grape juices had turned the bread blue when baking. There was no purified sugar in ancient Rome, so Percy couldn’t make most of his mother’s baking recipes precisely, but he found he could use honey instead of sugar as long as he reduced the amount of water he added.

Perseus knew enough of Roman culture to know that men of status did not generally cook. Luckily, his host-family knew enough of Percy’s customs to know that Percy did whatever the hell he wanted to and that this was important to him. Grandpa Pliny had cheered as the food was brought out while Gaius stared at it with curiosity and confusion. Marcella had laughed and asked how in the world Percy had made all this food blue.

As they ate dinner with their bronze spoons the family celebrated Percy’s promotion.

“This is delicious and also the strangest meal I have ever had. Quite fitting for a wonderfully strange young man,” Grandpa Pliny said as he ate another bite of his blue crab cake.

“When did you learn to cook?” Gaius asked as he cautiously nibbled a blue mushroom in the blue cream sauce.

“My mother taught me. She believed that since men and woman need to eat, men and woman should know how to make food,” Percy said.

“Your mother sounds like a wonderful person Perseus,” Marcella smiled, “But why is all the food blue?”

Percy looked down at his meal and explained about his terrible step-father and how the man had not believed food could be blue. How blue food was strange, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be great. Blue food proved that his step father was wrong. It was the first time Percy had told any Romans about his step father, but it felt right to share it with his host-family.

“Where is your step father now?” Marcella asked carefully.

“Oh, my mom murdered him a few years ago.”

Marcella choaked on her blue honey bread.

*
Domitian had invited Aulus Marius Celsus and his wife Julia over for dinner. This was supposed to be a public display of forgiveness and fraternity so Domitian made sure to kiss the senator and welcome him warmly in view of the public. He led the man and his wife to the dining room where Domitian’s wife Domitia Longina welcomes them as well.

They dine and Domitian does his best to be a kind and humble host. They don’t discuss the year of the four emperors or the death of Domitian’s uncle. They don’t talk about how Aulus Marius Celsus was the man who betrayed Domitian’s uncle to Vitellius’s soldiers for coin. Domitian smiles and asks after Celsus’ grandson.

After they have had two cups of wine Domitian mentions how he’s interested to see how Perseus will behave as a senator. Earlier that week, Titus had declared that he had named a new senator who would be joining all future senate meetings. The Augustus had spoken about how he was sure the senate would treat this new man with the utmost respect. It had caused quite a stir among the assembled men.

Aulus Marius Celsus took the bait, as Domitian expected. “What do you know about this new Senator? Our great Augustus only saw fit to introduce the man with a single name,” Celsus asked.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t tell you too much. Titus has sworn me to silence. But I can say that he is very young, only fifteen,” Domitian said.

“Fifteen?” Celsus asked horrified, “No one has ever entered the senate that young! What is this farce?”

“Careful, Celsus. Perseus is the Augustus’ favorite, and it would not do to question the Augustus.”

“Of course, of course Ceasar. I would never question the Augustus. I was merely caught by surprise. What manner of man is this Perseus that the Augustus has placed such trust in him? Is there any truth to the rumor that the young man may be of royal blood?”

“Oh no. Perseus shared no blood with our family. He does, however, have a great knowledge of ships. He is fairly handsome for a young man, and kind enough if you speak Greek.”

“Greek?”

“Yes, Perseus does not speak much Latin, I’m afraid.”

“Is Perseus even Roman? Domitian, please tell me the Augustus has not been enchanted by another Jew with a beautiful face. We all know of Titus’ fascination with the foreign queen Berenice and what a disaster that could have been.”

“Oh no, Perseus is not Jewish, his mother is Christian.”

“What of his father, the one whom the Augustus wishes to honor?”

Domitian shrugged nonchalantly, “I’m afraid I cannot say. What I can say is that his mother is unmarried.”

“A Christian bastard? What enchantment has he cast upon the Augustus to weasel his way into one of Rome’s most esteemed institutions?”

Domitian put his cup down, “Goodness. I have said too much. The wine may have been a bit strong. Aulus Marius Celsus, I would appreciate it if you kept the things I have said to yourself. My August brother has bid us both to treat Perseus with all the respects of a senator. It would not be right to upset my brother by disobeying his order or insulting his favorite.”

“Of course, of course, Ceasar Domitian. You have my word to keep silent on this matter,” Celsus said with a fake politician’s smile and a furrowed brow. The conversation soon turned to other matters.

Domitian smiled into his wine cup as he took another sip of freshly pressed grape juice.

Chapter 9: Prayers and Parties

Chapter Text

Perseus feels floaty, as if he’s been suspended in the ocean. The water makes his hair float around his head, but his skin was dry. He hears the whispers again. A man was praying that Perseus would grant him safe and swift passage along the coast of Italy. At first things are dark, then the man filled an oil lamp and the lantern lit up the space around him. Perseus can see the man and the small shine he is kneeling in front of. The shrine is no larger than a cupboard and holds a plank with the lantern below a painting of a young man surrounded by crab shells that have been cemented to the wall like a border of a painting.

Perseus stared at his shine silently until the oil runs out and Percy awoke once more.

At breakfast, Percy stared into the mid distance for a while. “What’s wrong Perseus?” Marcella asked.

“I… think someone made a shrine and prayed to me last night.” Percy responded. Movement around the table stopped, including the very confused Lars. Percy belatedly realized he never told the Pliny family Lars that he was a demigod.

“Wait, let me get my quill and a scroll. I want to write this down!” Gaius said, rushing off. That was not helpful.

Marcella sat down next to him, “This seems to worry you. Was the shrine not to your liking?”

What a bizarre question, “The shrine was fine? I’m a demigod, Marcella, we don’t hear prayers. That doesn’t happen. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it. I can’t control the waves in Gaeta when I’m in Rome, and I don’t want to move to Gaeta just because someone prayed to me.”

“Did they ask you to move to Gaeta?” Marcella asked.

“Well, no,” Percy admitted.

Marcella handed him a handful of raisins. As Percy ate, he started feeling more human, or maybe just less hungry, hard to tell.

“Sometimes when I pray, I do not expect anything of the gods, I just want someone to listen. Gods are pretty good listeners.”

“I can probably do that,” Percy said eating another raisin, “and when I make better ships, it’ll keep people safer in their sea travels.”

Marcella patted Percy on his knee as Gaius rushed back into the dining room with his writing supplies. “Okay, tell me everything!”

*

“Tacitus, hello again!” Percy said as he walked across the square toward the senate building.

The roman man looked up. Tacitus was holding an empty scroll, a quill and a writing tablet. He seemed quite surprised to see Percy.

“Perseus, what a surprise it is to see you again. And Gaius Plinius Secundus, it is good to see you as well,” Tacitus said in Greek.

Gaius waved and Tacitus fell in line next to the two of them as they walked.

“Perseus, I am not sure if you are aware, but only senators are supposed to wear a large purple stripe on their toga. If you are coming to listen to the senate debate, they may see your toga as presumptuous,” Tacitus said in Greek.

Gaius grinned, “Perseus is a senator! The Augustus himself appointed him to the senate.”

Tacitus looked at Percy, then at Gaius, then back at Percy. “Surely you jest. Perseus does not seem old enough to have been tribune for ten years. Last we spoke, you did not speak any Latin.”

“Perseus is very smart,” Gaius grinned. Percy was pretty sure that was the first time someone other than Percy’s mom had ever said that about him. He was learning Latin pretty quickly though. Something about the language clicked in Percy’s mind in a way that was hard to describe. It wasn’t as automatic as ancient Greek, but still felt demi-god related.

“I have learned a bit of Latin,” Percy agreed, “and I don’t actually plan to talk much at these meetings, so it should be fine.”

When they got to the senate house, many people wearing the purple-striped togas were milling about in the square chatting. Marcella had given Percy a crash course in how to be polite in Roman society. Shaking hands, standing when someone introduces themselves or wishes to speak to you, remembering everyone’s full name (this was never going to happen, Romans had too many names), and being very reserved in your body language (a near impossible challenge but Percy will try his best).

Percy enters the senate building. It’s a large rectangular hall with ornately tiled floor and painted walls. On either side of the long room are five rows of chairs, with each row sitting a little higher than the one in front of it. Light filters in through the large windows on the second story of the hall.

On the far side of the room is a single chair, behind which was a gold statue of a woman with large wings. It looked like a statue of an angel to Percy, but seeing as Christianity was a weird cult at the moment, he was guessing it probably wasn’t an angel. There are four statues of Roman-looking men placed in little shrines in the walls, and Percy recognizes them as four previous rulers of Rome including Jullius Ceasar and Titus’ dad.

People mingle but largely ignore Percy, which is great because Percy makes his way to the far corner of the room and tries not to bring any attention to himself. Domitian enters and gives Percy a little wave before going to sit in the front row. Soon enough the room fills up with over three hundred men. Percy’s neighbors give him strange looks but don’t comment.

Then Augustus Titus enters in his fully purple robe and laurel crown. He is flanked by Tiberius Alexander on his right and another guard on his left. The assembled senate fall quiet and take their seats. Percy can’t lie: Titus looks very regal. The Augustus takes his place on the throne beneath the statue of not-an-angel.

Titus starts the meeting by welcoming Percy directly. All 300+ pairs of eyes in the senate house turn to him and Percy waves awkwardly. Several of the senators look at him in distaste. The following three hours were predictably boring. Percy often lost track of what people were talking about. Percy can understand most casual conversations in Latin at this point, but long debates about money and law and ethics are a bit too much. Percy mostly focuses on trying not to fall asleep.

He'll have to bring some paper next time so Percy can draw ships, or at least doodle.

Near the end of the meeting, Titus goes over the plans for the opening of the Flavian Amphitheatre and the 100 days of games to celebrate. The games will start soon, on the first on May. Senators stomp their feet in support. Titus goes over some of the attractions and preparatory work the Imperial house has done. He has paid for food and merchants from around the empire to be brought to Rome. He has also brought lions, ostriches, elephants and hyenas for shows in the theatre. Over one hundred gladiators have been brought to Rome for gladiator fights. Finally, the bathes of Titus will also be opening; a new public bathing facility not far from the Flavian Amphitheatre.

Several senators offer to contribute to the games by financially supporting one or another attraction. A handful of senators offer to set up tents and other forms of temporary housing to help support the influx of visitors in Rome. A few more offer to pay for a theatre groups to hold performances. Titus thanks them each individually.

Percy stands up. People don’t notice at first because he is in a far corner, but Percy can be loud when he needs to, “Titus Vespasianus Augustus, the ship models my crew and I are building will be finished by the end of the 100 days of games. If it would please the Senate, I could publicly discuss the improvements to ship design and demonstrate the function of the models.”

Titus accepts and thanks Percy in the same way he thanked all the other senators who offered to contribute. Percy sits back down. There’s muttering around the senate. After twenty more minutes of senators offering to contribute, the senate meeting is finally over and Percy is the first out the door.

Freedom!

*

Captain Valerius asks Percy if they might have the day off tomorrow for the opening of the colosseum and the first day of games. It belatedly occurs to Percy that he is technically the boss of his little boat-building crew, and that he hasn’t really given anyone any vacation days. Man, Percy is a sh*tty boss.

“Yeah, of course. I was also planning to take the day off. Go enjoy the games. Feel free to take off more days during the celebrations, just let me know the day before so we can plan around it.” Percy says.

Captain Valerius, woodworker Gaius and ship-builder Trios were a lot happier for the rest of that day. Percy and his crew were building a larger ship model with three masts. Right now, only the skeleton of the boat is complete. Percy is working on designing a proper stern and rudder for her.

When Percy had first explained the concept of a ship skeleton a few months ago, his men had been hesitant but now they all agreed that setting up a skeleton helped keep the ship intact and well proportioned. They’d built a keel that acted as the backbone, then the frames were added like ribs, then an inner keel was added and nailed together with the first keel to keep everything in place. Finally, a bow and stern were added to complete the skeleton.

Trios had been particularly impressed. He’d spent at least half a day muttering to himself, wondering why he’d never thought of that. Do you know how much trouble it would have saved to have a skeleton built first, instead of just building up from the hull and hoping things stayed symmetrical? Percy had just laughed.

*

The whole city was celebrating the opening of the Flavian Amphitheatre. The forum and the market square are full of vendors selling food. There are more people in Rome than Percy has ever seen- he wondered where everyone was staying. People are wearing their best clothes, short of wearing togas, and there are multiple events being held throughout the city.

There are horse races in the big racetrack near to where Neptune’s horse shrine was located, the Circus Maximus. Priests were holding sermons, leading prayer and sacrificing olive oil, incense or animals to the gods. Several theatre troops around Rome were holding performances, politicians were giving speeches at the forum to variably interested crowds, and of course the main attraction: the colosseum!

When Percy had accidentally called it the colosseum instead of the Flavian amphitheater, Gaius had been a bit confused and asked if he meant the Colossus – the giant bronze statue of Emperor Nero standing next to the amphitheater. Percy had just said yes, that is definitely what I meant.

Apparently, the opening ceremony of the colosseum/amphitheater will involve gladiators fighting lions. Percy isn’t super interested in watching badly armored people hurt hungry animals for sport, but Gaius begs Percy to join him until Percy agrees. Still, Percy is relieved when the guards stop him near the Colosseum and tell him the amphitheater is already full and that they can come back another time.

Gaius and Percy go watch the chariot racing instead. Go Green team! The chariots were pulled by a team of four horses. They were pretty good horses, so Percy could see why people honored them in his father’s shrine. When he has time, Percy should go talk to them to see if they’re being treated alright.

After the races, they go watch a play in the theatre of Pompey. Percy wasn’t super impressed by the play they watched. The play only had three actors and they all wore masks that were a bit too uncanny-valley for Percy’s taste. The story, as far as Percy can understand it, basically went like this:

Roman Play!

Dude: Woe is me! I am in love with a prostitute, and we can never get married!

Pimp: Yup. According to the law, no marriages allowed.

Dude: This is a great tragedy for me, the man not being sold as a prostitute against my will, and not for anyone else.

Soldier-friend: Hey Dude. How are you? I just got this letter but I’m too stupid to read it. Can you help?

Dude: I am too sad for friendship!

Soldier-friend: Ok? Bye.

Dude’ Dad: Oh man, that prostitute who is young enough to be my daughter sure is hot.

Dude’ Mother: I am comically upset by this and will chase you around with a broom. Then immediately forgive you for trying to cheat on me.

Dude: Woe is me. Let me give a ten-minute speech about how hot this girl is and how that definitely means we should get married. If only she wasn’t a prostitute. I am so sad.

Soldier-friend: You’re right Dude. You are the saddest person is the universe. Can’t think of anyone else in this scenario who is in a worse position than you: a wealthy Roman man who is (and Percy cannot stress this enough) not a young girl being sold into prostitution against her will. Anyway, can you read this letter?

Dude: This letter from your father says you have a long-lost sister who was accidentally sold into slavery as a baby and he’s been looking for her ever since. She also has a very convenient birth mark. Oh my god, it’s the prostitute I met like twice and am completely in love with! This solves all my problems!

Pimp: Yup this letter checks out. You can marry her now.

Dude: Yay!

Girl: Yay?

The end!

Quite frankly, Hamilton was better.

Quite frankly, Cats was better, but only the play not the live action movie version. Roman theatre was not quite a Broadway level production. Percy is also frankly concerned that Gaius thinks this is a great love story. Gaius starts to talk about the poetic structure of the love soliloquy, and Percy just nods and smiles because he doesn’t know any of the things Gaius is talking about.

It had gotten dark during the theatre production and the theatre of Pompey was a bit further away from the Plinius domus than the colosseum was. They are walking home from the theatre eating a handkerchief full of roasted nuts when three shifty young men cross the street toward the two of them. Percy clocks them right away and positions himself between the young men and Gaius. This is my friend, no touchy.

The three men try to surround Percy and Gaius. The gruffest of the men motions for his to friends to stay left as he moves right. Percy turns around abruptly letting Gaius keep walking. “Can I help you?” Percy asks.

One of the young men is so startled he drops his dagger. Man, if Chiron saw such terrible weapon handling, he’d be so disappointed. Percy kicks the dropped dagger away while the other two men pull out their daggers. “Come on rich boy, we don’t want any problems,” says Mr. Gruff.

“You have a really bad way of going about not wanting problems. Someone could easily misinterpret your intentions, what with the daggers and all,” Percy responds.

“Perseus?” Gaius asked, finally noticing Percy wasn’t next to him anymore.

“Just hand over your coin purse and no one needs to get hurt.”

“Hmm, let me think about it. No,” Percy said.

“Is something wrong?” Gaius asked. His voice sounded closer, and a quick glance told Percy that Gaius had turned around and was walking back to Percy.

“Look, guys, how about you just drop your daggers and walk away. We can all forget this ever happened?” Percy said.

Mr. Gruff steps forward, slashing his dagger close to Percy’s face. Percy steps out of the way easily. “Or how about you give us your purse while you can still—” In that moment, Mr. Gruff’s friend points his dagger at the confused Gaius and Percy’s mood shifts.

My. Friend.

No. Touchy.

A bit further down the street an aqueduct that passes over the roadway overflows. Perseus reaches forward and snaps the man’s wrist with a twist. A second dagger falls to the ground and Perseus kicks it into the gutter. Then he continues to twist until the man is on his knees, screaming and demanding that Perseus lets him go. Mr. Gruff goes for an attack, trying to stab Perseus from the side. Perseus sidesteps and pushes the kneeling friend toward Mr. Gruff. Friend number two, who had already dropped his dagger earlier, tries to grab Perseus so Perseus punches him in the gut so hard he collapses gasping for breath.

Perseus walks forward. Mr. Gruff looks scared and his dagger wavers. Then his eyes shift to a weaker target, Gaius. He turns his blade toward Perseus’ friend. A mistake. For a moment Perseus thinks about drowning the man or ripping his face off. He could. Easily.

Percy blinks and shakes the thought away. What was that?

He then sweeps the man’s left foot and sends him tumbling to the ground long before he could get within arm's reach of Gaius. Percy picks up Mr. Gruff’s dagger and steps on his hand painfully. “You should have just walked away,” Percy said, “Now we’re going to have to call the guard and it’s going to be a whole thing!”

They do call the guard. Due to the games, the city guard is patrolling more often than normal and it only takes a few minutes to find a pair of guards to take the three men away. The city guard are not quite police as they don’t actually investigate any crimes, but they do arrest and/or hit people who are caught stealing, stabbing or starting riots. So, they’re like Ancient Roman pre-police. At first the guard don’t believe that Percy took them out by himself, but an old lady from the third-floor apartment across the street was sitting on a balcony and loudly yells down to the guard what happened.

Old ladies are apparently the ancient Roman equivalent to CCTV. Nice.

After the guard take the men away, Gaius spends the rest of the walk telling Percy about how Percy defeated the three wannabe muggers as if Percy hadn’t been there. “And then you were all- whoosh!- And then -Bam!- and then the guy was on his knees and it was so amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

*

Marcus Annius Afrinus was sitting in the back of the senate hall next to the newest and youngest member of the senate. At first, Marcus thought the young man was taking notes on the meeting, but then he saw that the boy was instead drawing pictures of boats and completely ignoring the discussion on the senate floor. He seemed completely uninterested in trying got prove himself as a capable member of the senate.

The senate moves on to a new potential law that would re-introduce Augustus-era laws that executed woman who cheated on their husbands. The law had fallen out of favor decades ago as men tended to want to deal with matters of infidelity privately with discussion or divorce. Marcus doubted it would pass today. Though senator Celsus, the old bitter man, argued that it would bring back core Roman values.

Surprisingly, Perseus stood up and walked to the podium to speak. The young senator argued, in very accented and basic Latin, that if they wanted to pass a law executing woman who cheated on their husbands, they would also need to execute men who cheated on their wives. Men should either be held to the same ethical standard as woman, or they must acknowledge that woman are morally superior and should therefore be the ones passing laws instead. A ridiculous argument, of course, but it did point out the ridiculousness of this law and made Marcus chuckle.

A few other senators chuckled, while more grumbled at the veiled insult.

“And just to clarify,” Perseus continued, “Sleeping with prostitutes counts as cheating on your wife. So, if a member of the city guard sees a married man enter a brothel, they would have to be executed.”

Shouting erupted from the senate. Men who were usually reserved in their speech stood up and shouted at the absolute audacity of this boy. Sleeping with a prostitute was not the same level of crime as a woman cheating on her husband! What did this child know of married life? He was all but accusing the senate of basal plebian vices, how dare he?

Senator Celsus, the bitter old man, stands up and turns to Perseus, “I would recommend you keep your foreign, barbaric, thoughts to yourself, boy. Your stupid words are not fit to be heard within these halls.” Hundreds of senators stomp their feet in support. The Augustus looked alarmed.

Perseus seems unbothered and waits for some of the foot stomping and muttering to subside before responding, “I agree that I sound quite stupid, Senator. In my defense, I am fifteen and only started learning Latin five months ago. What’s your excuse for sounding like a moron?” More yelling broke out. Marcus muffles a laugh. The young man was clearly not educated in proper Roman rhetoric, but one couldn’t deny he had wit.

Titus put an end to the yelling and reminded the senate that discussions must remain about the law being discussed and should not be attacks on the person giving the arguments. The senate calmed down. Though Marcus noticed Celsus had a sour look on his face for the rest of the day. In the end, the law was not recommended by the Senate. He knew many of his fellow senators were sleeping with each other’s wives and would not want to recommend any law that would endanger their lovers or expose their private affairs should their wives be caught in another’s bed.

After the senate meeting was over, Marcus had to jog to catch up with Perseus, who had quickly left the building. “Persues! One moment, if you please,” Marcus called out as he caught up. “I wanted to invite you and your wife to dinner tomorrow, if you have no prior engagements?”

“Oh,” Persues said, “I’m not married. I can come to dinner though. What was your name senator?”

“Marcus Annius Afrinus,” Marcus introduced himself then gave directions to his house, “My wife and I would be honored to host you.”

“Oh, yes. I would also be honored to, uh, have dinner,” Persues stuttered. It was once again clear to Marcus that the young man had never been trained in rhetoric. Still, Marcus smiled and shook Perseus’ hand before excusing himself and walking home. Tomorrow night would be interesting, if nothing else.

*
Marcus and his wife Drucilla welcomed Perseus into their home. Marcus has his slaves bring dinner as Drucilla starts a discussion about philosophy. Perseus laughs a bit, “I’m not much of a philosopher, I’m afraid. And I can’t say I agree with Stoic philosophy.”

“No?” Drucilla asked, “You don’t think one should guard their soul from vices and focus of logical, rational thought? Via thought, we can identify good and evil and choose to do right. Thought is what makes us human and separates us from mere beasts.”

“I would disagree. While thought is important, love is a big part of being human. My emotions are as much a part of who I am as my thoughts are. Sometimes the best way to identify evil is because it just feels wrong, even if it is logically sound. Maybe I’m just not suited for Stoic philosophy, I have way too many emotions,” Perseus says.

“How would you identify evil, Perseus, if not by use of logic?” Drucilla asks.

“I don’t know about evil, but you can usually get a pretty good feeling for who someone is by how they treat those they consider beneath them,” Perseus says.

“What does the Augustus think of your philosophy?” Marcus asks.

“I have no idea. I haven’t spoken about philosophy with him. I haven’t spoken to him much at all really.”

“No?” Marcus asked, “So those rumors of him being your lover are false?”

Perseus looked disgusted, “Very false. That man is old enough to be my father. Gross. Why does everyone in Rome think I’m sleeping with everybody?”

“Is he your father?” Marcus asked, evading the question.

“Also no,” Perseus says easily, “is that why you invited me to dinner? To get gossip?”

Drucilla laughed, “He sees right through you, my love.” Marcus shares a smile with her.

“I’ll admit I was curious if the rumors were true. You are the most interesting thing that has happened in the senate in years. But gossip is not my only motivation. I wanted to invite you to my home to welcome you to the senate. I myself was born in a provincial equestrian family, so I do understand some of the prejudice established senators can have toward new members of the patrician,” Marcus explains, “I was given some advice when I first joined that I thought to pass down to you, though your circ*mstances seem quite different.”

Marcus gives the young man advice about senatorial politics, advises him to establish a network of friends, to take lessons in rhetoric, and to not get too closely involved with the Augustus or his heirs.

“You don’t like Titus?” Perseus asked. Marcus had to think for several seconds before realizing the boy spoke of the Augustus himself. Marcus did not know anyone who would dare speak of the Augustus by only his first name instead of his titles, save perhaps the Ceasar. He wondered once more if the boy was the Augustus’ lover.

“By all accounts, Titus Ceasar Flavius Vespasianus Augustus has adapted very well to his new role and makes a wonderful Augustus. But in Rome, the closer one is to power the more likely they are to be assassinated. One becomes Augustus via blood; either the blood of your family or the blood of your victims. If you share no blood with the Augustus, it is best to be content with the honorable life of a senator and not to get too close to the purple,” Marcus said.

Perseus considers this for a while. “Can you tell me about the year of the four Augustus’?” Perseus asked, “Did you swear allegiance to all the Augustus’?”

“Of course I did,” Marcus agrees easily. Perseus frowns at this. “If I had not, I would have been executed. I suppose at fifteen, you must have been born right after the civil war ended.” Marcus feels old for a moment, being in his mid-fifties himself, “Back then, it did not matter who won, as long as someone won and ended the civil war.

During the war, troops moved away from our borders to fight each other. The villages and cities along our borders were raided by violent barbarians. Each man that took the Purple had to reward his troops; halfway through the year Rome’s treasury was empty and the Augusti that followed had to convince senators to pay their troops, else the troops would have revolted and burned down our cities and houses. Each new Augustus had the top supporters of the previous administration executed for treason. One third of the senate died that year. I grieved many friends, but I grieved in silence.

Ultimately, it matters very little who ascends to the Purple, as long as someone is unquestionably in charge. For the most part, Roman generals control their legions while Roman governors control their provinces. Even Vitellius, incompetent man that he was, made a passable Augustus, for he had many advisors and hundreds of senators to aid him.

No one will call me a brave man. No songs will be sung of my heroic feats. But I can mediate complex disputes, speak four languages, have studied the laws of Rome, and can balance a provincial budget. In short, I am a senator. My job and my position have allowed me to hire good doctors when my children fell ill, to ensure that my daughters marry respectable men and that my sons have respectable careers of their own.

So yes. I pledged allegiance to each new man to assume the Purple. All senators are trained in rhetoric. We understand empty praise is just business and serves as a demonstration of a willingness to cooperate. The current Augustus seems like an honorable man, Perseus, but I have yet to find an Augustus worth dying for.

Wars are bloody, terrible things. Sometimes the best you can do is survive them. Let us hope you never have to live through one.”

Perseus considered this, frowning. “I think you’re wrong about that. I couldn’t just stand by and let a bad man attain such power, even if fighting back would cost me my life.”

“Then you are a braver man than I, and would surely have died very quickly,” Marcus responds.

“Do you know what happened to Titus and Domitian’s uncle, Sabinus?”

“You should really be careful of addressing the Augustus and Ceasar Domitian with such familiar names. People may misunderstand your relationship,” Marcus chides. Then he takes a sip of his wine. He notices that the young man had not touched his and wonders if the boy thinks it’s been poisoned. “I knew Sabinus. He was the one who welcomed me to the senate as he, too, was born equestrian.

Poor Sabinus. Ceasar Domitian used to follow his uncle around like a little duckling. The Ceasar was not much older than you when his uncle was killed. I admit, I do not know the details of Sabinus’ death, and I have never asked. But I saw his body cut up and thrown down the Gemonian Steps.

Sabinus did not deserve his death. But then again, I would be hard pressed to name a senator who did deserve death that year. One third of us died anyway.”

Marcus shook his head, “Such dark topics are not suited to a celebratory dinner. Come, let us talk of better things. You mentioned that you are building model ships?”

Perseus grinned. The conversation flowed to more cheerful things. Marcus ended up learning more about ships than he ever wanted to know, but he supposed it was a good thing someone was interested in such things.

*
Tiberius Alexander is sparring with the god-child. They’re surrounded by a hoard of cheering Praetorian Guards, a suspicious number of which are not cheering for their own captain. Perseus wins the swordfight, sending Tiberius Alexander’s sword across the field. It’s not an unexpected defeat. Perseus is the best swordfighter the Praetorian Prefect has ever met, and he himself has been largely an administrator and guard instead of a soldier for more than ten years.

“Don’t worry Captain, you’ll get him next time!”

“The brat was probably cheating anyway!”

“Per-Se-Us! Per-Se-Us! Per-Se-Us!”

Perseus does a flourishing bow to his supporters, while Tiberius Alexander glares at his guards until they stop cheering for the enemy. They awkwardly shuffle their feet, “Uh, I mean, good try captain.” Tiberius Alexander is still going to assign them bathroom cleaning duty later today.

“You’re an expert swordfighter. There is no denying that, Perseus. But how are you with a spear and shield?” Tiberius Alexander asked. Then he walked to the side of the practice ring to pick up said weapons and handed one of each to the surprised boy. While swords were used in war, spears were the first line of attack for the infantry, with swords only being used if the spear was lost or broken and the enemy was within arms-reach.

“I think I can still beat you, Alex.”

“Do not call me that.”

They clash again. This time Tiberius Alexander has the advantage. The boy keeps approaching Tiberius Alexander as if he needs to get up close for a sword swing, while the Praetorian Prefect knows how to keep distance. Perseus holds the spear too far up the shaft, meaning Tiberius Alexander has the longer reach. Additionally, Tiberius Alexander has seen Perseus defeat many of his own soldiers and knows how Perseus fights, while Perseus hasn’t seen him wield a spear before. Despite these advantages, it still takes the him longer than it should to get his spearpoint beyond Perseus’ shield to the exposed soft flesh of his ribcage. First blood is his.

Perseus’ eyes flash a bright green and Tiberius Alexander hears the water from the Tiber crash onto the Field of Mars a few hundred paces away. The hairs on his arm stand on end but he does not move his spearpoint. It only takes a second, then Perseus grins and the river water recedes. His guard are cheering again.

“Captain! Captain! Captain!”

“That was amazing!” Perseus grins, “Can you teach me how to wield a spear?”

“No,” Tiberius Alexander grunts, “I am far too busy for that. One of the men would be happy to teach you the basics. But are you sure you should be spending so much time fighting? I am fairly certain The Augustus pays you to design ships, not annoy his guard.”

Perseus laughed, “Yeah. I should probably get back to that before my crew starts arguing with each other again. I’ll help you put the spears and shields away.”

Tiberius Alexander was perfectly capable of ordering his guards to put the weapons away, but he suspected Perseus wanted to talk to him about something. They entered the weapons tent and Tiberius Alexander noticed his spear had some drops of blood on it. He wiped it off with a rag and noticed a few specks of gold dust within the red. Odd. As predicted, after they left the public eye Perseus spoke again.

“Is it weird that I’m a Demi-God of the Olympians? I mean, because you’re Jewish and all. Do you see me as -um – sacrilegious or something? Or do you think I’m lying? I wouldn’t be mad if you did! I’m just curious,” Perseus speaks quickly, as if he’s nervous.

Tiberius Alexander hums noncommittally, “It’s certainly weird seeing you summon weapons and wield water. Though that has nothing to do with me being Jewish.”

“Yeah, but I mean. Um. Never-mind. Forget I asked.”

“The Torah has commandments,” Tiberius Alexander continues, “The second commandment says not to worship other gods before our Lord. The Torah never says other gods don’t exist. My Rabbi might disagree with me, but I have no problem believing the Olympian gods exist. We’re just not supposed to worship them. As long as you don’t want me to sacrifice any animals to you, we should be fine. That won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

“No that’s fine. If anything, that’s a bit of a relief,” Perseus said.

“Besides, I don’t pray much. I’ve found money and swords are much more effective than prayer.”

Perseus laughed, but it had a bit of an edge to it, “Yeah. The gods aren’t always very reliable.”

The Praetorian Prefect walks Perseus out of the Praetorian camp. He watches the son of the sea god with gold in his blood walk back to Rome. Tiberius Alexander then heads back to work; he has bathroom-cleaning duty to assign.

Chapter 10: Fire and Flood

Chapter Text

*

“Fire!”

Percy startles awake. It was late at night and Percy had only just gotten to sleep. The Plinius family Lars was floating above his bed with a serious expression on his face.

“There’s a fire in Rome, Perseus. It is quite large and if it spreads it might burn down the Plinius domus. Wake the family and make sure they are prepared to flee!” The Lars says.

Percy is out the bed and scrambling to put on his green tunic before the Lars is done speaking. He runs out the door and bangs on all the bedroom doors. “Get up Gaius! There’s a fire in Rome.”

Gaius opens the door dragging his bedsheets with him looking incredibly groggy, “What? Perseus?”

“There’s a fire in Rome. I’m going to go put it out. Make sure everyone is awake so they can leave the house if they need to,” Percy said then ran out the front door.

The heavy black smoke was easy enough to see under the light of the moon. Before going toward the smoke though, Percy ran down the Via Julia to the Tiber River. He ran straight into the water. With the twist in his gut, he pulls the river water with him as he ran back onto the road and toward the smoke. The river floods the roads behind him, and he shouts at people to move aside as he passes. The fire was several blocks away in a crowded district not far from the theatre of Pompey.

A cart with a terrified horse is on fire and running down the road toward Percy. Three people are trying to calm the horse to prevent it from spreading the fire, but the poor girl is screaming in terror. The flaming cart is dropping burning grain as it passes, starting small flames along the road.

“I got you, don’t worry,” Percy said to the horse, sending a wave of water over her backside and then into the flaming cart. The cart apparently carried crates of grain, so Percy was able to put them out quickly.

“Prince!” the horse calls, “Thank you Prince!”

“Get out of here, buddy, before the fire tries to burn you again. Calmly! No need to start a panic,” Percy says as the horse runs, then trots, off. The small flames along the road are quickly put out as Percy runs past with the river behind him.

When Percy arrived at the fire it was chaos. People were running out of nearby buildings with as many possessions as they could carry. The Ancient Roman firefighters were coordinating evacuations, moving or destroying anything on the roads that might catch fire and a row of them were passing buckets of water from nearby fountains to throw not on the flames, but on nearby buildings. Food stalls and barrels that had lined the busy streets were being cut apart and moved away from the flames in the hope that they would not spread the fire to the other side of the street.

Two apartment buildings were engulfed in flame and two nearby apartments were close to catching fire themselves. The roar of the fire combined with shouts of firefighters and the screams of people stuck in the apartments. The top floor of one apartment had already collapsed and it looked like the buildings were going to fall apart soon. He could see faces of terrified people looking out from the windows, calling down to people below. A woman drops her baby from the second story to a man below.

Ash.

Ash and fire.

Percy ran toward them, pulling the river water behind him. While he’d been largely powerless to stop the might of a volcano, he could put a complete stop to this. The water became a wave that crashed against the walls of the neighboring buildings, cooling them and preventing the spread of fire. The nearby fountain shot water several paces into the sky. It quickly overflowed and sent freshwater flooding the nearby roads. He sent the river water around the burning buildings, setting up a water barrier between them and the surrounding city blocks.

Now for the two flaming apartments. If Percy sent water into the apartments directly, people might drown; if he didn’t, they would burn. He pulled the river toward him and sent it rushing up one side of the buildings and pouring down the outside of the other sides like a waterfall. He sent a stream of water into all the windows and doors, enough to cover the floor but not enough to drown people. He then jumped into the river and pushed himself up to the top floor (the fifth floor) of the nearest apartment complex.

He’s going to need to go floor to floor, apartment to apartment and get people out. Apartments tended to be two rooms, a living room and a bedroom, likely shared with an entire family by the number of blankets and hey mattresses. The furniture was knocked over and moved about strangely due to the water flowing over the floor and the walls broken down by the inferno. The first apartment was empty, but the next few apartments had people in them, and Percy was able to open stuck doors and put out the flames of wooden beams or brick piles that covered hallways. A man with a burnt leg was stuck under a fallen table. Percy moved the table around and help the man up and out of the apartment.

He found two crying and terrified babies in two different apartments. Percy picked them up, set them on a nearby floating table and wicker basket. He sent them floating down the stairs with a surge of water to the front door below.

Like Moses. But with more fire.

Once he was finished with the top floor, he flooded the whole floor and rushed down to the next floor.

Percy was not able to save everybody. He found bodies. Bodies of burnt children. Bodies of a young couple crushed by falling bricks. Bodies of a sleeping family on their hey mattresses. Suffocated. He grabs their bodies and sends them down the stairs to the street below with a wave. Keep moving Percy. If you stop now more people will die. Percy moved on.

An apartment had four children in it. The eldest daughter was trying to protect her siblings from Percy with a knife. Normally he would understand but they wouldn’t leave the apartment because their mom wasn’t back yet. Percy explained the building was on fire and their mom would want them to leave. The ten-year-old girl told him that if he tried to kidnap her siblings, she would stab him. Understandable.

Percy threw the kids out the window anyway. Yeet!

He made sure the water caught them in a waterslide that slowed their descent and deposited them dry and unharmed on the other side of the street. He waved from the window down at the shocked kids and their protective sister.

The second and first floors were largely empty as people had been able to climb out of the windows. Once outside, Percy spent a minute coughing some of the smoke and dust out of his lungs, then he moved on to the next apartment. The fourth floor had already collapsed.

Percy went in. An hour later he came back out, having saved who he could. Burnt and suffocated bodies lined the street where Percy had placed them. The roads were still shallow rivers flowing in a circle around the burnt apartments. Percy coughed again, lying down in the flooded streets to let the water clear his lungs for a second.

“My Lord!” A man came forward dressed as a firefighter. Percy sat up. The man bowed low, “My Lord, the theatre of Pompey is on fire. We’ve managed to contain the flames, but-“

“Lead me to it,” Percy said, and followed where the man led. Once he was closer, he saw a pile of debris and a few barrels that were on fire in the middle of the flooded road in front of the theatre of Pompey and some smoke coming from further inside.

“They’re olive oil barrels my Lord, the merchant moved them away from the apartments before realizing they were on fire. He tried to put the barrels out with water but ended up spreading the fire instead,” the firefighter said. Percy brought the river water up and over into a bubble. The bubble wanted to break from the heat of the flame but Percy held the water in place until the air in the bubble filled with carbon dioxide and the fire was snuffed out. Percy wet the barrel caps and placed it onto the charred barrels before soaking the burnt curtains and rugs. Then he went inside and flooded the wooden seating area, parts of which were burning.

Percy spent the next several hours putting out smaller flames in the neighborhoods nearby and generally making everything wet. People bowed to him in the streets and averted their eyes. He hears their whispers calling him the son of Neptune, the spirit of Gaeta, the child born in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, the living god.

He returns to the apartments. The city guard had set up a perimeter around the main burnt area to keep spectators out. The guards bowed to him as he passed. Both apartments were completely filled with water, and their walls were a continuous waterfall. One of the apartment complexes had partially collapsed, the other was still standing but only barely.

The sun is starting to rise.

The street in front of the apartments was littered with bodies of the dead. They’ll need a lot of funeral shrouds tonight. It started to rain. Percy knows it’s his mood that causes this rain. He lets himself wallow in misery and grief so that the rain covers all of Rome and hopefully prevents the flames from rekindling.

“Perseus,” a voice calls. Percy turns and sees Titus flanked by his guard as he dismounts from a chestnut horse. “I owe you an immense debt for saving my city. Thank you” Titus says.

“Hello Prince,” Titus’s horse says, bowing his head. Percy pats the horse.

Percy motions toward the bodies, “I couldn’t save them.”

“How many more would have died tonight if not for you? Fires are big as these can spread quickly and destroy districts,” Titus says, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder and turning him around to look to the other side of the street, “Look how many people are alive because of you.”

The far side of the street is full of people. He sees the ten-year-old-girl with her three younger siblings being embraced by a woman who is sobbing and smiling and holding her children close. A father had picked up his baby, the one Percy had floated down in a basket. A woman is embracing the man with the burnt leg. “Thank you, Titus,” Percy said.

“Go home, Perseus. You look exhausted, and you have been up all night. I’ll take it from here,” Titus said.

“The buildings aren’t structurally safe. You’ll have to take them down,” Percy said.

“I know. We have ballistics for that very purpose.”

“There might be more fires, I should stay to put them out.”

“Rome employs firefighters, they can take care of small fires.”

“Will you let me know if a big fire breaks out?”

“You have my word.”

Percy nods, “All right. Thank you, Titus.” Titus pats him on the shoulder. People on the other side of the street whisper about the Augustus and the Living God being friends. Percy wonders if Titus is here as a kind of Ancient Roman photo op.

Percy allows the apartments to drain into the street below. As the water leaves the building, the second apartment complex collapses in on itself spewing forth a wave of filth. He takes the river water with him as he walks home, letting it flow back into the Tiber. Percy’s green tunic has been charred and stained black in several places. People bow as Percy walks by. Whispers and water follow his every step.

When he gets back to the Plinius domus, a groggy Gaius asks him if he was still planning to go to the senate meeting this morning. Percy grunts angrily, and grabs his purple-striped toga. Maybe he can just sit in a corner and nap. He throws the toga on over his charred tunic and heads back into the city.

*
Percy is sitting in the back corner on the senate house away from the throne in the front. He’s tired from fighting fires all night and actively trying to stay mildly-annoyed so that the rain continues, but not so annoyed that a storm breaks out. He has a headache that kind of feels like a hundred voices whispering in his mind. Domitian is presiding over the senate today because Titus is personally dealing with the consequences of the fire. He looks comfortable on his brother’s throne.

Percy’s eyes close. The whispered words get stronger, and Perseus tries to listen to them.

Senator Marcus elbows him hard and Percy sits up disoriented. Marcus nods at the man standing in the middle of the senate hall giving a speech. Senator Celsus; that dick.

“- now the boy is asleep within these sacred halls! See the disrespect he shows us!” Celsus said.

Percy stood up and started making his way past Marcus and the back row of senators to the path down to the senate floor. “Do you want to know why I am tired, Senator Celsus?” Percy asks, “It is because I was awake all night fighting the fire that broke out in Rome.” Percy pulls open his toga to show the charred tunic below, “I was pulling people out of burning building and working together with the firefighters to prevent the spread of the flames. You would know this if you had been there. But I assume you were too busy philosophizing about what it means to be a good man to do anything useful.”

“How dare you speak to me that way, boy? Your looks may have enchanted the Augustus, but such tricks will not work on me,” Celsus says. One of the senators tries to pull Celsus down to whisper something in his ear, but Celsus pushes him away and continues, “Every other man on this senate has earned the right to sit here with years of service and study. Yet you dare to act as if you are worthy after having accomplished nothing.”

When Percy gets to the senate floor he glances at Domitian. Titus usually puts a stop to personal arguments in the senate pretty quickly, but Domitian is just listening calmly.

Percy rolls his eyes, “I’m not in the mood for this. I’m leaving.” He turns and walks toward the doors of the senate hall.

“Walk away, boy. I don’t know what sorcery you have used upon our Augustus, but the Senate of Rome will never accept the foreign bastard of a lying Christian whor*,” Celsus says with a snarl.

Percy stops. Lightning flashes and the wind picks up as the resulting thunder shakes through the senate house. ‘Walk away, Percy. Walk away from this,’ Percy tries to tell himself, but Perseus’ blood is boiling with rage.

Perseus shakes off his toga so that the draped cloth does not obstruct his movement. He turns around and reaches into his tunic pocket to pull out Riptide. With a twist he has his sword in hand. The two soldiers that had been standing guard at the senate doors see Perseus’ sword and move to stop him. Water explodes out of the nearest fountain and spills over the sides of the aqueduct that feeds it. The water reaches forward like hands and pulls the guards out of the senate building, throwing them across the adjacent square. Perseus hears the clang of their armor as they land. The water then rushes into the senate floor. Perseus sends some water up the walls to drown out the oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling.

Perseus walks back into the senate building and toward senator Celsus as the water rushes ahead of him. Two senators step forward to try to stop him. One of them pulls out a dagger. Perseus blocks the blow with Riptide and unarms the man. He catches the dagger midair and stabs the attempted murderer in the hand. Blood sprays into the water. Then Perseus pulls both of Celsus’s friends underwater. The water in the senate house is up to Perseus’ shins at this point and the water holds the two men under, allowing only their flailing arms above the surface.

The skies are dark and pouring rain. Only the occasional lightning strike lights up the room. Perseus keeps walking across the room to the man who insulted his mother. The sound of the two drowning men struggling to get above water echoes off the walls. There are hectic shouts and movements from the raised seating area. Senator Marcus is in the far corner, terrified. Several of the senators flee for the doors, but Perseus uses the water on the senate floor to push them back inside. No one is leaving until Perseus allows it.

Senator Celsus pulls out a dagger with shaking hands. Perseus parries it easily and grabs the dagger out of the man’s fingers. The senator falls to his knees in the water and starts praying to Jupiter.

“Jupiter?” Perseus asks as he steps forward. His words echo through the suddenly silent senate house. “Do not pray to Jupiter. My uncle will not save you from your disrespect. Pray to my mother, Sally. Pray that on this f*ckING day my mother’s mercy will be more powerful than my father’s WRATH.”

The room lights up with a greenish glow and Perseus doesn’t need to look up to know that his father has claimed him as a son. The light from the glowing trident reflects off of Perseus’ dual blades.

Celsus prays and begs, “Forgive me my lord, I did not know you were a god. Forgive me Sali for my dreadful words. Sali, I pray for your mercy. Salacia, oh beautiful, merciful goddess. Spare me my wretched life, please.” Salacia was not Perseus’s mother’s name. Perseus considers drowning the man for the mistake. The only thing holding him back was his promise to Titus not to murder a Roman citizen without Titus’ permission.

Before him was a pathetic old man kneeling in blood filled water, begging for his life while Perseus stands over him with two blades. Domitian’s words echo in his mind “I do not much trust the senate, Perseus, because they are liars who would sell their friends for coin”. Behind him, Perseus hears senators try and fail to help Celsus’s two friends out of the water. A senator Perseus does not know kneels and submerges his face in the bloodied water to kiss oxygen into his friend’s mouth. Such loyalty. In one hand Perseus has Riptide, which would not harm mortal flesh, in the other he holds a cold steel dagger.

The mortal had tried to stab him with this dagger.

Perseus plunges Riptide into the Celsus’ chest and pushes him backward. One, two, three steps until Perseus is able to push Riptide into the back of a wooden senate chair. Celsus has fallen silent with shock, looking at the blade passing through his chest, his arms flail as they fail to grasp the blade. Riptide may pass through mortal flesh painlessly, but Perseus can still use it to pin the man’s toga to the senate chair. Perseus grabs one of the man’s flailing arms. Taking the steel dagger that Celsus had tried to stab him with, Perseus cuts the senator’s left arm off. It’s almost surprising how easily the blade passes through flesh.

Perseus tosses the severed arm into the water. The blood spreads quickly. With a flick of his wrist, Perseus pushes Celsus’ two friends up and out of the water. Three other senators surround them and pull them up as they cough and gasp for air.

“You live another day,” Perseus says, pulling Riptide out of the man’s chest and walking away, “Domitian, tell Titus that our deal has ended.”

The water in the senate hall was up to Perseus’ knees and filled with blood. He releases the water, which quickly starts to flow down the senate steps out into the square. As Perseus gets to the exit doors, he picks up his toga. It had been soaking in the bloody water and stained red. Percy drapes it over his shoulders like a cape and walks out of the building. The glowing trident above his head flickers out as he walks down the steps.

The people in the square move out of his way and bow as Perseus walks down the road to the Circus Maximus. He finds the shrine to Neptune and enters, closing the doors behind him. It is still filled with pictures of racehorses, but the central alter has a painting of Neptune and a candle on it. Perseus lights it.

In front of his father’s stone alter, draped in a blood-soaked toga Percy falls to his knees and buries his head into his hands.

“Father? Can you hear me? I could really use some advice right now.”

*
The rain only seemed to be getting worse and neither Gaius nor Perseus had taken their cloaks to protect them from the rain. Marcella picked up the beeswax imbued cloth, grabbed her own palla, and followed after her son. As she walked through the roads of Rome, lightning flashed almost directly above her and the thunderclap that followed seemed to shake the air. For a moment Marcella thought to turn around, but she clutched the two cloaks close and continued on in the heavy rain.

A crowd had gathered around the edge of the square in front of the senate building. Only a few brave people were in the square itself. Two soldiers were picking themselves up from the edges of the square, dazed. Gaius, of course, was directly in front of the senate steps. From beyond the open doors of the senate house, Marcella could see a green glow. Marcella crossed the square toward her son, intent on dragging him away from the open space toward the shelter of the surrounding buildings.

The nearby aqueduct and the fountain in the square were both overflowing. The rain that fell on the square and the nearby streets was flowing unnaturally through the square and up the steps of the senate house like a reverse waterfall. Marcella reached her son and draped his cloak over his head and shoulders, though it did little good as her son was already soaked to the bone.

“Gaius, we should get out of the open. This storm is far too dangerous,” Marcella said, trying to pull her son away from the steps. The water flowing into the senate house stopped suddenly, then reversed and flowed back down the steps.

“Perseus,” Gaius said, eyes glued on the iron doors above. An unnatural greenish glow filled the square as a figure emerged from the Senate house. Perseus’ eyes glowed with the same green light as the trident above his head. He wielded two blades and was draped in a red cloak. A wave of blood flowed down the senate steps, into the square below, and over Marcella’s feet.

“Perseus,” Gaius said again, stepping forward. Marcella reached out and grabbed her brave, stupid boy, jerking him back and out of the way. The green light flickered out and plunged the area into darkness. Marcella averted her eyes and bowed, pulling Gaius into a bow with her as Perseus marched past. This was not Perseus, the boy who cooked blue foods and laughed at silly jokes.

This was Perseus the god, and Marcella was afraid.

Chapter 11: After the Storm

Chapter Text

“You should have killed him,” a voice behind Percy says.

Percy turns to see a man standing behind him at the entrance to the temple of Neptune. The man is strongly built and has a black beard and shoulder length hair. He is loosely wrapped in a green toga with gold detailing and holds a golden trident. The toga seems to float around him as if it’s underwater.

“Father,” Percy says, “What do you mean?”

“You asked for my advice,” Neptune says, “My advice is this: you should have killed that senator who insulted you.”

“Oh,” Percy says, feeling a bit sick, “I was actually hoping for advice on how to not lose control of my temper and almost murder someone for insulting my mom. The punishment should fit the crime.”

“Anyone who insults your mother insults you and by extension, me. Death is an appropriate punishment for mortals that insult the gods,” Neptune says casually.

“I am also mortal. Would you kill me for insulting the gods?”

Neptune green eyes focus on Percy, “I would never allow that. Stand up son, let me take a look at you.”

Percy stands, pulling his blood-soaked toga awkwardly around his shoulders. Neptune approaches and stares into Percy’s eyes. Percy stares back. Neptune raises his trident and stabs at his son. Percy instinctively tries to defend himself, but although Riptide makes contact with Neptune’s trident, Percy doesn’t have the strength to deflect the weapon. The prongs of the trident poke three small wounds into Percy’s upper arm.

“What was that for?” Percy says angrily.

“Good instincts,” Neptune responds as he reaches forward and pulls his finger through Percy’s blood. Neptune’s fingers are cold like the ocean. He rubs the blood between his fingers, “Hm. You are still mortal, but you’re closer to a god than a human at this point, about 80%.”

“What?” Last Percy had checked he was only 50% god.

“Congratulations. I haven’t had a child this close to ascension since Theseus. Although he was Poseidon’s child,” Neptune says patting Percy on his shoulder, “You’ll have to die before you can complete you ascension though. It’s weird that you’re mortal at all if you have two immortal parents.”

“My mother is human,” Percy says, trying to process what it means to be 80% god, “I wasn’t actually born from Mount Vesuvius.”

“You weren’t? That’s what all the dolphins are saying. And I don’t remember impregnating a human recently. I usually remember these things. Also, I would have noticed a child as powerful as you before the eruption, and I had not sensed you at all,” Neptune says.

“So your first thought was that you impregnated a mountain?”

“Oh, I’ve definitely lain with the spirit of Vesuvius before, she is a fiery lady. I shook her rocks real good, if you know what I mean. This wouldn’t be the first time I impregnated something people thought was impregnable.”

“Dad. Gross. I don’t need to know that,” Percy said, horrified.

“I got my wife’s brother pregnant once. That’s how your brother Anteros was born. Salacia was… not happy with me, but in my defense, Nerites has a kind soul and a great ass.”

“Please stop.”

“So who is your mother then, that I do not remember her at all?” Neptune asks.

“This may sound unbelievable, but I am from about two thousand years in the future. I got sent back in time when I held onto Kronos’ blade and shook the earth so hard the volcano erupted. Then I awoke during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius,” Percy says.

Neptune stares at his son, glancing at his left arm where the blade had cut Percy. “I suppose that does explain why I don’t remember your mother. I’ve never impregnated an unborn soul before. The fates must have been pretty drunk when they wove this particular tale. Erupting not one but two volcanos? That’s impressive, well done.”

“I didn’t mean to erupt any volcanos. I was afraid and it just happened,” Percy says, clutching the blood-stained cloak tighter around his shoulders. The blood from the cloth stains his hands. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Pity. That’s less impressive.”

“I didn’t do it to impress you. I was trying to survive, and I succeeded!” Perseus snaps. He takes a breath to calm himself. “Look, I can tell you about the future. Kronos is trying to return and he’s recruiting demigods,” Percy changes the subject. Trying to think of all the things he should tell his father about.

“In two thousand years? I’ll let my future-self figure it out. My siblings and I have defeated our father before, we can do it again. I barely make plans for one month in advance, I’m not going to bother planning for two thousand years in advance,” Neptune says as he waves away Percy’s attempts at advice.

Percy is caught off guard. What? But…

His disoriented mind goes over their conversation and picks up on an odd detail, “You mentioned Theseus was Poseidon’s son. I thought you were Poseidon, and that Neptune was just your Roman name. Poseidon is my father.”

Neptune’s eyes glow, “I am Poseidon, and I am not.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Percy says.

“Does it not, Perseus? I would think a Greek demigod who is halfway to becoming a Roman god would be uniquely able to understand exactly what that means.”

Perseus’ eyes glow in response to his father’s words, “How do I stop the transition? How do I control it?”

“Control it?” Neptune asks, “I think you fundamentally misunderstand what a god is. I am not a human who lives a long time and controls the ocean. I AM the ocean. I AM the streams and the rivers. My anger IS the storm and the shaking earth. This form I have now is useful, but I am not fully contained within it.”

“You pray to me in Latin in this temple to Neptune in the heart of Rome. Here I am Neptune.

The Mediterranean Sea connects to the Atlantic Ocean. On calm days you might not notice a difference between the waters of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, but during a storm the difference is stark. Any sailor worth their salt knows the difference between sailing on the sea and on the ocean. A ship built to traverse the Mediterranean would be swallowed by the waves of the Atlantic.

There are fish in the depth of the Atlantic Ocean that would not survive in the warm and shallow waters of the Mediterranean. There are fish in the Mediterranean that would freeze or be ripped apart within minutes of being in the open ocean. There are also schools of tuna that will swim back and forth between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic without noticing the transition. There are whales that hunt seals in the sea just as easily as they do squids in the open ocean.

Water flows easily and constantly between these two bodies. If you walk along the beaches of North Africa, would you be able to tell when the Mediterranean ended and the Atlantic began? To try to draw a strict line between the two bodies of water would be ridiculous. They are the same, and they are very different.”

Neptune is standing directly in front of Perseus now. Father and son with matching green eyes. “You can build a mountain range and keep your two waters separate Perseus. You can make sure that the waters of your mortal and godly selves never mix. You would remain unchanged, but in exchange you would have no influence over your godly self when he emerges and grows stronger.

Or you can open the channel wider. Let your waters flow back and forth. You would change. Your worship and your domains would influence who you are and how you act, but your waters would be part of the god you are becoming and you would never be completely foreign to yourself,” Neptune says.

“If I build a good ship with a deep keel and a strong rudder, my friends should be able to sail in both the Mediterranean and the open ocean. Even if the waters are different, even if there is a storm, a well-built ship should be able to endure,” Perseus says.

“Build your ship then Perseus. I would love to see it when you are ready,” Neptune says patting Perseus on his shoulder. The candle Percy had lit to pray to Neptune goes out and the temple falls into silent darkness.

Percy is alone, and he is not.

He’d been holding onto the time-traveling, volcano-erupting secret tightly. Now he’s finally told someone, but they didn’t even really care. Percy falls into a heap at the foot of his father’s shrine and an exhausted laugh bubbles up from him as adrenaline leaks out of his body like water from a colander. The laugh turns into dry sobbing, which turns into hiccups that turn into silence.

80% God.

What does that even mean?

*
A crowd was gathering in the senate house square. Now that the lightning has passed, people came into the square and walked up the steps to see what had happened in the Senate Hall. Messengers had run up to the senate hall and left minutes later, bringing messages all around the city. Most senators had fled down the steps and away from the square.

“We should go back home,” Marcella says, still clutching her son’s arm tightly, “I do not trust this crowd.”

“I have to at least see what happened,” Gaius says, pulling away from his mother to walk up the steps. Her son wasn’t a child anymore, as much as Marcella might still wish it.

“Just come back down soon,” Marcella says, keeping an eye on the crowd in the square.

People were coming to the senate hall from all over Rome as word spread. The crowd was discontent with fear and anger. Marcella saw that some of the messengers that had visited the senate house were mulling around among the crowd, talking to groups of people and pointing first at the senate house and then at the road that Perseus had walked down. The crowd started getting more restless and angrier.

The sound of hooves indicated the arrival of the Augustus and his Praetorian guard. The crowd parted for the procession and a few people were knocked over by the guard’s horses as they passed. The horses come up the steps past Marcella, who bowed as they passed. At the top of the steps, the Augustus dismounted and walked into the Senate Hall.

“Domitian! What the f*ck happened?” The Augustus’ voice came from inside the hall.

Gaius came back down the steps to Marcella’s side. “The whole floor is covered in blood. There’s a severed arm on the floor of the senate hall,” Gaius tells her, “Do you think Perseus was hurt?”

“I think we need to leave this place before the crowd gets any angrier,” Marcella says, pulling her son down the steps.

Just then a senator emerged from the senate hall. His toga was stained red with blood and had a hole ripped in the front. He was missing an arm and a section of his toga had been ripped up to bind the wound. The man walked alone as every other senator seemed to move out of his way as he wobbled down the steps. A roar went up from the crowd.

“That’s the bastard that insulted Lord Perseus!” a shout came from the crowd.

“Heretic!”

“A disgrace to Rome!”

Undecipherable angry shouting came from the now crowded square. Marcella heard the sound of breaking glass. Marcella grabbed her son’s arm tightly and pulled him into the nearest road, “We’re leaving. Now.”

*
Julia had been awake since the early hours of the morning. There had been a fire in Rome and her father had insisted she stay awake in case they had to leave the palace. Then there were reports of Perseus putting out the fire by bending the river itself. Titus had gone to investigate. Julia had wanted to come but apparently it was too dangerous for a girl so Julia has been sent to her room where she has been reading spicy poetry.

Apparently the first Augustus had been so offended by these scrolls that he had banished the poet out of Rome to the distant edges of the empire. ‘The Art of Love’ by Ovid. It was basically an instruction manual for how to seduce with the wives of senators. The places Ovid recommended for a romantic rendezvous included every temple and public building constructed by the Augustus. Julia can see why it got the poet banished.

What an idiot.

A soldier burst into her room and Julia shoves the scroll under her blankets immediately. “Your father has called for you, Lady Julia,” the Praetorian guard says.

Julia finds herself walking down the palatine hill to the circus maximus surrounded by ten guards. She wears her long royal purple pala. It was storming earlier, but the storm had passed by now. There was only a light rain at this point. Except at the temple of Neptune at the base of the Circus Maximus, which had a small storm cloud above it. Julia assumed Perseus was doing his god magic there.

Julia meets her father and uncle across from Neptune’s temple. They tell her about what happened. Perseus prevented a city-wide inferno and saved thousands of people. Then a senator insulted his mother so he cut the man’s arm off while displaying his godly powers to all of Rome. He had then retreated to Neptune’s temple, likely to pay proper respect to his father.

People around the temple were leaving gifts on the small square in front of the temple to honor Perseus and hopefully appease his rightful wrath. People had left jewelry, oil lamps and flowers. There was a crowd forming on the edges of the square, but no one dared enter the raincloud radius around the temple.

Titus welcomes her with a kiss to her forehead. “Julia. Perseus has seen fit to bring an end to our deal, so I in turn release you of your vow of silence regarding his nature. Additionally, I have decided to offer him your hand in marriage. I will discuss the details of the offer with him privately. Given your upcoming engagement, it would reassure the people of Rome of our alliance if you are seen with him,” Her father says.

Engaged! Or about to be, at any rate. How exciting. All of Julia’s friends have already been married, while Julia remains unmarried at seventeen. Most of her friends are married to generals or politicians who are forty years old or older. Her husband will be younger than her, a demigod, and a kind but absolutely bizarre man. Her children will have godly blood. “Of course, father. It would be my honor,” Julia says, accepting the quest he has set out for her.

“Tiberius Alexander will stand guard at the entrance to the temple if your discussion does not go well,” Titus continues, “but I do not believe you will be in any danger as long as you do not insult his mother or the gods themselves.” Julia had never once felt threatened around Perseus, so she was inclined to agree.

With the Praetorian Guard by her side, Julia walks across the square to the temple of Neptune. All eyes are on her and Julia composes herself with as much grace as she can. People offer her blessings as she walks. A few people are so overwhelmed they sob.

Julia pushes open the wooden door to the small temple. The room beyond is dark and there is a foot of water on the floor. At the far side of the room directly below the alter to Neptune is a wet lump of cloth and limbs with dimly glowing eyes. Perseus did not seem wrathful so much as exhausted. Julia took a hesitant step into the water of the temple.

“Hello Perseus, may I come in?” Julia asks. When no response comes, she closes the door behind her and steps forward.

“Did your father send you to arrest me?” Perseus asks from his position on the floor.

“No. Why would my father arrest you?” Julia asks.

“I stabbed a man, cut off another man’s arm and flooded the senate building with blood. I’m no expert on Roman law, but I’m fairly certain that is illegal. He should arrest me.”

“You are certainly no expert on Roman law if you think my father would arrest the son of Neptune for delivering divine justice. From what I’ve been told, the senate agrees that Senator Celsus was solely responsible,” Julia says as she lights a lantern and sits down next to him.
Perseus eyes glow green in the dim light as he looks at her, “Why are you here then?”

“Rome is worried that you are upset with them. You’ve been in here for over two hours. My father has sent me as a display of his trust, or something.”

“I have been trying to… swish the waters of my soul,” Perseus admits.

“What does that mean?”

“I have no idea.”

“Is it working?”

“I have no idea.”

Julia pats him on his shoulder. Her hand comes back slightly wet with blood. “You’ll have to wash that with ammonia to get the blood out,” Julia says.

“Why do you know how to get blood out of clothes?” Perseus asks, alarmed.

Julia stares back at him, “I’m a woman.” She then takes great pleasure is seeing Perseus’ confusion turn to understanding turn to embarrassment. His eyes return to normal.

“Oh, right. Forget I asked,” Perseus mutters, looking away with a bit of a blush.

Julia laughs, stands up, and offers Perseus her hand, “Come on. Let’s get out of here. You can swish the waters of your soul outside after you tell the people of Rome that you are not going to drown them.” Perseus looks at her hand then takes it. She pulls him up but does not let go of his hand.

“I should warn you, my father intends to offer you my hand in marriage,” Julia says as they walk toward the door of the temple.

“Already? Domitian mentioned he might, but I thought I had more time. I’m not sure I’m ready to be married, I’m only fifteen. Not that you're not... um... lovely and pretty and stuff.”

“I’m sure you can convince him to make it a long engagement. You do understand that our marriage would be a political alliance between you and my father, right? It would help assure the empire that the gods are not upset with Rome.”

Perseus sighs, “Politics. I had hoped to marry for love.” Julia had to stop herself from laughing. Only plebians married for love. The best you could hope for as a patrician was to learn to love your partner after the wedding. Or at least respect each other and use your marriage to create powerful political alliances. Still, Perseus’ romantic naivete was kind of endearing.

They open the door and walk out of the temple. The raincloud above the temple has disappeared. A cheer goes up from the crowd of Romans around them. Julia holds onto Perseus’ hand and waves to the crowd. People get on their knees to offer blessings and prayers. Perseus comes to an abrupt stop halfway across the square. His eyes are locked on a new offering that has been placed in front of Neptune’s temple.

Senator Celsus’s severed head.

It was forever frozen in an expression of fear.

The rest of his still bleeding dismembered body parts were also strewn across the square among the flowers and jewelry. Perseus gripped her hand tightly. Julia needed to make sure this situation didn’t turn bad for Rome.

“Are you upset?” Julia whispered, “Are you upset with Rome? I can have the body parts removed.”

“No. Yes. I –” Perseus’ eyes glowed, then dimmed, leaving him disoriented, “They killed him. Why would they-? I think I need some time. I am too tired to deal with this right now and there are so many voices.”

Julia didn’t really understand why he was so upset. By all accounts, Perseus and Celsus had never gotten along. The senator had publicly insulted the mother of a demigod who had just saved the city. Of course he was going to die. Still, Perseus seemed upset and that didn’t look good to Romans who had done nothing but try to appease their lord.

“Shall I walk you to the river? Or to your home?” Julia asked.

“The river,” Perseus says, keeping his voice low, “I think I need to swim in the waters of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic for a bit. Can you tell the Plinius family that I’ll be gone for a while?”

The Circus Maxima and the Temple of Neptune were not far from the Tiber River. So Julia keeps a pleasant smile on her face, grips Perseus’ arm tightly, and walks them to the river as if that had always been the plan. Once at the riverfront, Perseus lets go of her hand and walks into the river. He stops, turns and kisses her hand.

“Come back soon, my lord,” Julia smiles, raising her voice so the crowd around her can hear them, “The festival of Neptunalia will be celebrated in two weeks. Will you return to Rome by then?”

“I’ll do my best… um, my lady,” Perseus says then walks into the water effortlessly. His toga floats around him and mirror his movements as he swims downriver. Julia thinks he looks like a god.

Julia is going to have to explain this to her father. She takes a deep breath and keeps her calm smile on her face as she turns to see him walk up behind her. This is going to be a long day.

*

Earlier that day:

When reports came in that Perseus was very publicly putting out the flames, Domitian had known today would be the day. He’d asked Titus if he could lead the Senate meeting this morning, and Titus had agreed easily enough. So Domitian had sent out his messengers and told them to go to the flames and spread news of whatever they saw there around Rome, except to the houses of senators. This was not breaking his vow to Titus to stay silent on Perseus’ nature, because Domitian did not mention Perseus at any point.

Then the senate meeting had happened, and Domitian opened the floor for any public grievances. Senator Celsus did not disappoint. The water that flooded the senate hall was unexpected, and the glow of the trident did strike fear into Domitian’s heart. Neptune was apparently watching over the boy and Perseus himself was a lot more powerful than Domitian had realized. He was sure to act surprised and horrified when Perseus cut the Senators arm off.

Domitian would have preferred murder, but he could make this work. Once Perseus was out of the senate hall, Domitian had sent his messengers. One to his brother to tell him of the event, and the rest around Rome to tell the people exactly what happened. Senators were fleeing the Senate Hall. Then the sound of hooves announced Titus’ arrival.

“Domitian!” Titus said looking around at the blood covered floor and the severed arm lying in the middle of the senate hall, “What the f*ck happened?”

Titus walked through the senate hall with his guards, stopping only to order one of his guards to wrap Senator Celsus’ wound so he would not bleed to death. After a public greeting, Domitian led his brother into one of the two smaller conference rooms at the back of the hall. Domitian asked for a private meeting, which seemed to concern the Praetorian guard. Titus, however, agreed to only take Tiberius Alexander with him. Domitian supposed that would have to do, the man had proven good at keeping secrets.

“What happened?” Titus demanded.

Domitian then explained what happened in the senate hall. The accusations against Perseus’ mother and the shade cast upon Titus’ own character and Perseus’ response.

Then Domitian continued. Last year not long after Titus was declared Augustus, Domitian had learned that it was Senator Celsus who had sold Uncle Sabinus to Vitellius’ soldiers. However, when he became Augustus, Titus had sworn that he would put an end to the treason trials and that no senator would be put to death during his reign. This had won Titus quite a lot of support. Likely, it was this assurance that had made Celsus sloppy with his secrets. Initially, Domitian had assumed Celsus would live unpunished. For as much as Domitian hated the man, he would not undermine Titus’ decrees.

Then a demi-god had walked into Rome. If a demi-god killed a man for heresy, no one could blame the Augustus now could they? All Domitian had to do was ensure Celsus publicly insulted the demigod.

“You planned this,” Titus said.

“Oh yes,” Domitian admitted easily enough, “And I do not regret it. This way I can avenge our uncle, and you can keep your promise not to execute any senators. Such schemes are beneath an Augustus after all, but I am not Augustus. Don’t look so surprised, brother. Did you not do the same thing for our father? Eliminate any threat and traitor with extreme prejudice?”

“He is not dead, Domitian. He may come to suspect your scheming,” Titus said, shaking his head, “I will banish him from Rome for heresy. Let us hope he will not implicate you in attempted murder.”

“Is he not dead?” Domitian asked, calmly, “I sent out messengers so the fervent crowd outside would know exactly what happened and what Celsus looks like. I think it’s been long enough.”

“What?”

Domitian and Titus walked back out through the senate hall, past the severed arm to the iron doors. The senate hall had emptied out while Domitian and Titus had been talking. In the square below, the results of Domitian’s plan became evident.

“Domitian, I believe I have underestimated you,” Titus said, looking out on where a mob of angry Romans were ripping the corpse of Senator Celsus apart limb from limb. One Roman was using a shard of a broken wine bottle to cut the senator’s head off. “Thank you, brother. This was most considerate of you.”

Domitian elbowed his brother lightly, “We Flavians stick together.”

Chapter 12: Swish Swish

Chapter Text

When Percy got to the area between the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean he sat down on the sandy bottom and tried to meditate. He hoped one of those song montages would start and he would learn all the soul-water swishing ways. All that really happened is that his ADHD brain got twitchy and Percy almost immediately gave up meditating.

Still, there was a lot to think about and just kinda process. Dismemberment. Cult. Prayers. Ash and fire. Becoming a god. His dad having a sex life. All equally horrifying things.

Also, his upcoming engagement? Oh man. Percy’s quite sure he’s not ready to get married. He’s only met Julia a handful of times! What would Annabeth think? Percy will never know because she’s not born yet. If he became a god he could wait for her, but then he’d be 2,000 years old and she’d be a teenager. Ew.

Ugh. Too many feelings. Time to poke some fish or something.

Percy swims further into the ocean until there was a sharp drop in the ocean floor. He swims down into the dark and doesn’t come up for a few days. There is no one to talk to here, no one he could hurt except the fish. He tries to swish his soul, letting the less human parts of him drift through as he swims.

There are some cool fish down there: angler fish, big squids, starfish, a sperm whale. Nice. Poke, poke, poke.

Note to self: squids do not like being poked.

Also, on a completely unrelated note: squid ink stains your skin.

*
When Perseus sleeps, he hears prayers. People in Rome and Gaeta pray to him regularly. Perseus listens.

The people from the burning apartments and the firefighters pray to Perseus to thank him for putting out the flames. Gaius and Julia also pray to him. Gaius rambles about all the things he’s doing and reading about, while Julia tells him what day it is and about what is happening in Rome. They’ve cleaned up the body of Celsus and Titus has announced that they’ll start building a larger temple to Neptune, alongside a temple to Perseus in the place that the burnt apartment complex’ are now.

Good. The small horse-based temple was a little insulting for the god of the seas, his father deserves better. When he gets back to Rome, Perseus should discuss what he wants his own temple to look like. It’ll need a place for offerings and oil lamps. But does it need to be a classic temple? It could be a giant fountain! No wait, maybe a ship building harbor? Or a fire-station!

Swish. Swish.

*
Lucian was fishing off the coast of Lusitania. It was a peaceful day and Lucian has his fishing line in the water; he’s already caught three fish. A seagull calls in the distance as he pulls out his lunch.

“You might want to head back to shore. There’s a storm coming, and your boat would not survive a storm.”

“My boat is fine. It’s survived plenty of bad weather before” Lucian responded, taking another bite of his bread. He’d dipped it in some oil with cheese and –

Lucian jumps up, making his boat sway back and forth. There was a young man with a shock of white hair hanging on to the side of the boat. “By the gods! Let me help you up. How long have you been out here, young man?” Lucian asks, moving forward.

The boy laughs, and Lucian notices that his eyes were unnaturally green and one of his arms was black. This was no man. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. You should really head back to shore though, there’s a storm coming. Not my doing, by the way, the winds are just playing around. Also, if you come back tomorrow, could you bring a bag of some kind and a glass vial? I have some stuff I want to carry around. I’ll pay you for them,” the god says.

“Of- Of course, my lord. What should I call you?”

“Perseus, son of Neptune,” the god says with a grin, then falls back beneath the ocean. At first Lucian thinks he might have imagined it, but he rows back to shore anyway. When the storm hits less than an hour later Lucian sends a prayer to Perseus as thanks. The next day Lucian throws a flax woven bag and several glass vials into the sea. A crab climbs onto the side of his boat and drops three pearls from his crabby claws as payment.

*
When Percy pokes a clam, he can tell how annoyed the clam is. Clams don’t have any thoughts though and only have very limited feelings: hunger, fear and annoyance. Percy’s figures out that if a clam is annoyed, they have a pearl in them. Poke. Poke. Poke- oh, a pearl! He’s going to give this to Julia as a thank you for being a good friend and walking him to the river after Percy saw that decapitated head.

A hermit crab in a conch shell has taken to following Percy around. Which is ridiculous because hermit crabs cannot walk or swim very fast. Percy will swim away and not see the thing for hours. Then he’ll take a nap at the bottom of the sea and wake up to the Hermit Crab crawling up his arm. The second time Percy saw the crab he told it that if it pinched Percy, Percy will eat it. The crab has not pinched Percy yet, so Percy decided it was now his pet.

Percy has decided to call him Mr. Pinchy.

Mr. Pinchy is very stupid. He has very few thoughts and his main emotions are: eat? EAT! Pinch? PINCH!

It’s great.

Percy asks a fisherman to bring him a bag for the pearls and some glass vials and gets Mr. Pinchy to deliver the pearls as payment. He finds that one squid again and was able to scare it and harvest the ink into a glass vial for Gaius without staining his arm black this time. Ink apparently is close enough to water that Percy can swish it into a vial.

*
‘So. Murder,’ Percy thinks as he drifts at the surface of the sea.

Murder is bad. Generally. But Mom killed Smelly Gabe and that was a great move. Smelly Gabe deserved to die. Did Celsus deserve to die? Percy doesn’t think so. Celsus insulted Percy’s mom and was just generally an unlikable guy. Percy just graduated middle school; he’s heard a hundred “your mama” jokes and never killed anyone for it. What would Annabeth think? He should tell his cult that they are not allowed to murder people on his behalf.

Percy is a soldier. Maybe he pretends to be a middle schooler, but all Demigods are soldiers to some extent if only for mere survival. He’s killed plenty of monsters. Monsters with thoughts and feeling and a desire to eat Demigod flesh. But they were trying to kill Percy, Celsus wasn’t; also, monsters don’t die, they are reincarnated in Tartarus. And they don’t bleed.

Human souls also go to the underworld. You could say the fields of Asphodel are better than Tartarus.

It’s different though.

Is it? Not all monsters bleed gold. What if someone tried to hurt his friends?

Percy would kill anyone who tried.

Swish. Swish.

*
Gaius hoped no one saw that his hands were shaking. This was his first-time public speaking and there were a lot of eyes on him. Gaius had studied and practiced for this. He had memorized the gestures of Cicero and written and re-written this speech. Gaius was dressed in his white toga, standing on a wooden box in front of the temple of Neptune. The 100 days of games in celebration of the opening of the Flavian Amphitheater were still ongoing despite the disturbance ten days ago. A race was scheduled to be held in the Circus Maximus in an hour, so a few people were gathering but not a full crowd.

Gaius took a deep breath, stood up straight, held his hand out for silence, “Romans! I am here to tell you of the day I met Perseus Fillius Neptunus!” People looked up, and Gaius pressed his thumb gently against the tip of his middle finger in the gesture to indicate the beginning of a speech. His hands shook slightly. “Though my shocked soul both recoils and rejoices, my tongue shall tell the tale. My uncle was at that time with the fleet under his command at Misenum. On that fall day, at about one in the afternoon, my mother desired us to observe a cloud which appeared of very unusual size and shape originating from Mount Vesuvius,” Gaius starts his tale.

He orates, with the best of his limited ability, the tale of the eruption of Vesuvius. He tells of how his uncle had gone to his ships to organize a rescue operation but had never returned. He tells of the earthquakes that nearly toppled their house. He tells the crowd of the ash that rained from the sky and how the shoreline retreated as the earth shook. He tells about leaving Misenum on foot with a crowd of terrified people behind them.

He tells the now growing crowd about the ash cloud that descended upon them and blocked out all light. “Through the darkness my mother had seen a glowing orb of liquid rock fall from the sky and impact the ground a short distance from where we walked. As we approached, the orb broke apart to reveal a beautiful young man who was unburnt by the heat of the burning rock. At first, we thought him dead but then I saw him breath and we knew we had discovered a god.”

Gaius went on to tell of Perseus’ miracles. How a stream had followed him as he lay unconscious, how he had saved so many people from Herculaum by keeping them safe under the waters and how he controlled the ships to pick up Gaius and the people of Misenum to deliver them to safety. Finally, Gaius spoke about how Perseus protected the refugees in Gaeta after the eruption by building apartments and fishing for crabs.

Gaius ended the speech by saying that he was a mere humble observer of Perseus’ great miracles. Gaius stepped down among applause from the now larger crowd. Though his stomach felt as if it had a whole beehive buzzing inside it, Gaius was quite proud of himself. Next time he’ll tell the crowd about Perseus the boy, instead of just Perseus the god.

A senator who had been listening to his speech, Lucius Otho Titianus, approached Gaius and compliments his rhetoric skills. The man asks if Gaius would like to come to dinner with the man’s family tomorrow night to discuss rhetoric and Perseus. Gaius was happy to accept.

*
While swimming through the Atlantic poking at the occasional fish a group of dolphins approaches him. They are swimming very quickly. “Volcano boy!” they call him excitedly.

“My name is Percy,” Percy says.

“Okay Volcano-Percy! Do you kill Sea Serpents? Because one has been trying to eat us for a while!” One of the dolphins with long scars down his back says.

Percy pulls out Riptide, “Of course!” Percy says. He had never killed a sea serpent by himself before. He had scared away the crocodile-headed serpent Deimos had been riding when he was tracking down the stolen chariot, and he’d been part of a demigod group that killed a big pink one back at the lake in camp half blood.

The pod of dolphins keeps swimming. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” one of the smaller ones says as he swims past.

Percy prepares himself but he does not need to wait long. A large sickly yellow serpent with the face of a moray eel swam toward him, mouth open. Its spotted skin is covered in a layer of slick and its teeth are like shards on broken glass. Except they are the size of Percy’s arm.

Percy swims up and away from the jaws as it tries to swallow him whole. The serpent is fast, and its slippery body avoids the swing of Percy’s sword. Percy tries to swish his soul, letting it flow into a larger container. Or maybe he’s pouring it out of a container and letting it flow through the water.

Perseus grips Riptide tightly and pulls the current toward him. The Serpent slows from the unfavorable flow and Perseus catches up to it. Approaching it from behind, Percy plunges Riptide into its body. Perseus tries to pull riptide through the skin to cut the creature open but the gel-like slime that covers the creature slows the blade and make it difficult to cut the skin beneath. Perseus wishes he had taken a spear from the Praetorian camp.

The serpent turns, contorting its body unnaturally so his face it now next to the tail Riptide is still embedded in. The Serpent opens its mouth of jagged teeth and Perseus swims forward. He uses the water around him to increase his speed and swim past the beast’s teeth. The Serpent is quick, and manages to close its mouth on one of Perseus’ legs, cutting a wide gash from knee to ancle.

The mouth closes and it’s pitch dark. The monster’s teeth point inward, making it near impossible to swim outward. Luckily, that’s not Perseus’ plan. The creature’s tongue comes up to try to push Perseus into its throat. Percy pulls out Riptide, flips the quill into a sword and plunges it into the roof of the creature’s mouth.

The creature’s roar is almost deafening. His tongue tries to push Perseus to the side, into the sharp inward facing jagged teeth. Perseus holds onto Riptide and pulls the blade through flesh and bone. Perseus feels the creature’s skull crack. The tongue is a powerful muscle and the Monster’s tongue pushes Perseus toward the jagged teeth desperately.

Percy pulls at the water around him. He wants to use it to push the tongue away but there is not much water inside a closed mouth. Perseus pulls. The acid in the creature’s stomach responds, coming up its throat and burning the creature’s mouth. Another roar and the tongue moves away, allowing Perseus to stab again into the cut he had previously made.

The creature bursts into gold dust. Perseus breaths wonderful seawater. He picks up the trophy, a large jagged tooth about the size of Perseus’s arm. The dolphins return to thank their prince and celebrate with a bunch of flips. Perseus spends some time with the creatures before letting himself flow back into his more contained human form.

*
Akhon Djoser had lived through some vicious storms before and this one would be no different. It was best to focus on your oar strokes and not to think too much about how high the waves were getting. Every wave that hit the boat would splash cold salt water over the side and onto Akhon. His oar mate who was supposed to be helping Akhon row lets go of the oar. Akhon swears loudly.

“Marcus you bastard with a hairy ball sack, you better pick the oar back up right now,” Akhon shouted over the sound of the storm, the drumbeat, and one hundred groaning men.

Marcus- that absolute bastard – was holding his crab-shell necklace and whispering prayers. Akhon wanted to strangle him and his bloody Roman gods. One of the down sides to taking a job rowing the grain ships from Alexandria, Egypt to Rome was all the bloody Romans that also had the job. Marcus was a new hire and had spent the trip to Alexanria nearly crying and praying to some horse-sh*t new Roman god of crabs every time it rained even a little.

The oar was designed for two men to row, and if you got out of time with the rowers in front and behind you your oars would collide. This could mess up everybody or even break the oar and Akhon was not going to lose his job just because Marcus was a superstitious Roman bastard. Akhon’s muscles strained trying to keep time by himself.

Akhon was going to strangle Marcus.

There was a loud thump that shook the ship, as if the ship had hit something. Akhon hopes it was some floating debris and not a rock. Marcus – the bastard- finally grabbed back onto the oar just as the waves calmed down. They calmed down very quickly actually. Akhon had never felt a storm calm this quickly before. Looking over the side of the ship, Akhon saw a ring of calm water around their ship surrounded by the rage of a storm.

There was another sound, this time it was a knocking sound. Knock knock knock. As if something was hammering on the underside of the ship. Or as if someone was knocking, trying to get in. Akhon wondered if they had not hit something, but if something had hit THEM. There was a shout from behind them and the row commander ordered a halt, stopping his drumbeat.

Once they had pulled their oar in, Akhon realized just how smooth the waves were. They were not merely in the eye of the storm. This was something unnatural. He shared a look with Marcus, who looked similarly confused.

The knocking came back. This time it was closer to where Akhon was sitting. Knock knock knock. This didn’t sound like the ship was bumping into something. This sounded alive. Almost as if… almost as if someone was hammering on the bottom of the ship. Then there was a single wave rising starboard side that crashed over the side of the ship. Akhon braced for the shaking and spray of the water, but the wave flowed painlessly over the deck of the ship. It had deposited something onboard.

The figure looks human aside from his eyes that glow green in the dim light of the storm and the purple lined cape that seemed to follow him and drape itself over his shoulders. There was a conk shell with claws that had clamped itself onto the figure’s cloak. The being looks across the now silent sailors.

“Is Marcus here?” The creature asks.

Akhon turns to stare at Marcus. What had the bastard done now? Had he pissed off a god?

Marcus grips his crab shell necklace, stands up and bows, “That would be me, Lord Perseus.”

Lord Perseus smiles in the dim light of the storm. “Yours was the first prayer I ever heard; did you know that? I don’t always answer, but I hear all your prayers. I also nailed a fin-like keel to the bottom of your wobbly vessel. It’s not ideal, I had to scavenge some wood from a nearby shipwreck, and it would be better if it was a part of the ship’s spine. A full central keel would be best, but you can’t add those after the ship’s been built. Still, the fin-like keels should help stabilize this ship until Rome builds better ones. You'll have to be more careful near shallow waters though.”

Akhon has no idea what a ‘keel’ is but isn’t about to ask either. “Tell me Marcus, have we met before?” the god asks.

‘Is this the crab god Marcus had been talking about?’ Akhon wonders. Perseus was a lot more human looking than Akhon had imagined. Marcus had said the god was born from a volcano so Akhon had imagined something more monstrous with a crab head. Many of the Egyptian gods had animal heads.

“We have, my Lord. You gave me a crab in Gaeta and built an apartment for my family after our home was destroyed,” Marcus answers.

“I should visit Gaeta again,” the god says, “maybe for the anniversary of the eruption.” Then the god shakes his head, “You should lower anchor and pull down your sails for a few hours. Some of the wind spirits are fighting about something stupid and I haven’t been able to convince them to stop. So the storm may last a while, but it shouldn’t be severe enough to tip the ship. You might as well wait the storm out a bit.”

“Yes my Lord,” Marcus says, “Gaeta would celebrate your arrival most honorably if you came to visit.”

“We’ll see. I will make no promises as I’ve found promises to be too restraining. But it is good to see you again Marcus. Try to stay safe, yeah?” The god says. Then the god just jumps over the side of the ship casually, as if falling into open waters would not be a death sentence to any other creature. The water that had splashed into the ship with his arrival flowed with him, leaving the sailors within strangely dry.

Everyone in the ship is staring at Marcus.

“You got any more of those god-summoning crab-shell necklaces, Marcus, old buddy?” Akhon asks.

*
“Halt right there, young man,” a voice calls out to Percy as he’s swimming his way up the river. Percy turns to find a bearded Roman god with curly hair. The god is wearing what Percy is starting to suspect is “the water god style” of being largely shirtless and just having a toga loosely draped around your legs. Percy should really introduce him to the concept of belts because this guy’s skirt-thing is really only one good stretch away from falling down.

“Hello,” Percy says, “You must be the river god.”

“Yes! I am! Tiberinus, god of the Tiber. And you must be the new brat who thinks he can go around commanding my waters without so much as a ‘by your leave’!” Tiberinus says, arms crossed.

“That would be me,” Percy agreed, “I put out a fire in Rome. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your wonderful river water. It’s just such amazing water. Look how strongly it flows! It was just absolutely perfect for putting out fires in Rome.”

Tiberinus is apparently not immune to flattery as he grins and looks around proudly at the flowing river around them, “The Tiber is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“One of the best rivers I have ever swam in,” Percy says, “The waters are strong and full of life.” Also full of poop, but Percy doesn't mention that.

Thoroughly flattered, Tiberinus smiles proudly, “My wife will be pleased that you put out a fire in her son’s city. Little Romulus was always so proud of his town. Would you like to join my wife and I for lunch? We can discuss how it is that a demi-god is pulling water away from my amazing river so easily.”

So Percy finds himself sitting on the muddy banks of the Tiber about halfway between the ocean and Rome having lunch with the river god and his wife Rhea Silvia, who is apparently the mother of Rome’s founder king. The one who got pregnant by seeing the shape of a penis in smoke. Rhea is wearing a silk dress and has her hair up in a complex braid pattern. The Rhea and Tiberinus are very much in love. Tiberinus keeps his head in his wife’s lap and she seems to enjoy braiding and unbraiding his curly hair.

It’s a bit early for lunch, but Percy skipped breakfast so he doesn’t mind. Tiberinus had a cornucopia that was full of fish, grains, olives and grapes; he pours some of the food out onto a picnic blanket Rhea had woven. They eat and chat about Rome and about Percy. Rhea Silvia is very interested in all the goings on of her son’s city.

Percy mentions he needs to head back to Rome today because there’s a celebration for his father going on and Percy said he would be back by then. Tiberinus stops. “It’s Neptunalia today,” the river god says.

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, “A celebration for Neptune, my dad.”

Tiberinus is even nicer after that.

“I didn’t know Romulus was half river god,” Percy says after a few minutes. The two gods look confused.

“He’s not?” Rhea says, “My sons Romulus and Remus are the son of Mars. He was born before I met Tiberinus. One of the reasons I fell in love with Tiberinus is because he saved my babies from drowning and delivered them to a she-wolf who kept them fed. My man is sexy and kind.” Rhea and Tiberinus make kissy sounds at each other without actually kissing. Percy wasn’t sure where he was supposed to look.

“But aren’t you a river god Rhea?” Percy asks after they stop making kissy sounds.

“I only became a god after I died. I was a legacy of Venus and apparently my sons worshipped me as they built their city, making me one of the protective spirits of Rome. So here I am,” Rhea Silvia says. Percy looks up.

“You became a god?” he asks, “I think I am as well. Do you have any advice?”

“Marry someone who is sexy and kind.” More kissy sounds.

“Any… um… other advice?”

“Try not to lose track of who you were. Gods are…” Rhea searches for words, “only partially physical. Humans are contained within their bodies, but when you become a god, you are a part of your domains. A part of me will always be connected to Rome and to the Tiber River.”

“Does the difference between being a god and a human mess with your mind?”

“Oh” Rhea says, “I know that feeling. It does recede a bit after you fully become a god. But there will always be times when I am a bit more spirit and a bit less conscious, and there will be times like this where I feel almost human. Try not to be one of those gods who completely lose themselves in their domains- they get a bit weird. If things get very bad you can always talk to Bacchus, he knows a thing or two about going crazy during ascension.”

Percy couldn’t think of a single scenario where he would ask camp counselor Dionysus for life advice. Ever. But Percy is trying not to insult gods out loud anymore, so he eats some grapes instead.

“So Perseus, do you have any romantic interests?” Rhea asks.

“Uuuhhh… Maybe?” Percy says.

“Oooh!” Tiberinus says, grinning, “Do tell. Love trouble, eh? Have you tried taking your shirt off?”

“Um. No. There was this girl, right? And I really like her, but I have no idea if she likes me. Then she kissed me. But she said it’s for luck, so I don’t know if that means she like-likes me or not. You know?”

“You’re not sure if she likes you? After she kissed you?” Rhea asks.

“A true mystery,” Tiberinus says with a laugh.

“She said it was for luck! But if she does like me, does that mean we’re dating? What if she is - uuuhhh- not technically alive at the moment, and we might never see each other again. Are we still dating?”

“Oh wow. That took an unexpected turn,” Tiberinus says somberly.

“And what if there was this other girl. And um. She is alive? And I think her dad wants me to marry her for political reasons? And I get that. It’s very Roman. She’s pretty cool. She picked up sword fighting really fast and it’s easy to talk to her. If I don’t marry her, her dad might get annoyed at me or see me as a politic threat, right? That would probably be bad. And if I do marry her, I might become Augustus of Rome? Which, I don’t know how to feel about. On one hand, I could build so many ships and travel around the Mediterranean meeting cool people, on the other hand, I’d probably have to do a lot of paperwork and wear purple.”

“Those are your main concerns?” Rhea asks.

“I mean Titus is only in his fifties. I don’t actually have to worry about being Augustus anytime soon! I have plenty of time to grow up and learn politics and stuff. But I don’t want to marry Julia for politics. That just feels wrong, you know?” Percy says, “What do I do?”

Rhea and Tiberinus look at each other. Then Rhea says, “It’s fairly clear that you’re not over the first girl. I’ve known several people who got married almost immediately after the death of their first husband. When your ability to feed your children is dependent on a marriage, a second marriage is just practical. But if you don’t have any kids that are going to starve to death, it might be a good idea to hold off on any marriages until after you’ve had some time to grieve.”

“Annabeth isn’t dead!” Percy shouts, his hands curl into fists. The clouds darken.

Tiberinus sits up. “Ok,” he says calmly, raising his hand up, “She’s not dead. But will you see her again any time soon?”

“No,” Percy reluctantly admits.

“Then you are still grieving a relationship. Even if this Annabeth is definitely not dead,” Tiberinus says.

By that definition Percy should be grieving a lot of relationships. Which is ridiculous because everyone is fine. Everything is fine, and there is nothing to be sad about. No need to investigate further.

“Have you tried talking to the daughter of the Augustus about what she thinks about this situation?” Tiberinus asks.

“No,” Percy admits.

“Maybe start there,” Tiberinus says, “and if you do want to flirt, take your shirt off. Being shirtless always helps when you’re flirting.” Rhea nods in agreement very enthusiastically. Percy isn’t sure how to feel about that. Not long after that he says his goodbyes and goes back to the river to continue on his journey to Rome.

*
It was Neptunalia, and people were expecting Perseus to show up today. The Roman festival celebrating Neptune was held on the 23rd of July in order to ask Neptune to keep the rivers and spring flowing during the dryest time in the summer.

Julia had prayed to Perseus, lighting a candle at a small alter and everything, to let him know that she was going to be on Tiber Island during Neptunalia. Tiber Island is called that because it’s in the Tiber River, which in turn is named after Tiberinus. Romans are very creative.

As Percy enters Rome via the river, he sees Julia is on the shores of the island on the southern tip. She is playing a lyre. Next to her, Titus is lounging under a shaded canopy made of branches in a full purple tunic. The two of them are having a picnic and are surrounded by about fifty Praetorian guards. Behind the guards are a lose crowd of people on Tiber Island who are also having food and sitting near the river under little huts made of branches to protect them from the harsh Italian summer sun. Sunscreen hasn’t been invented yet so Percy imagines shade is extra important.

The bridge to Tiber Island is full of people. The bridge from Tiber Island to the other side of the river is full of people. The riversides near the island are full of people. There are a lot of people. Everyone is discretely watching their Augustus and his daughter. Waiting. Percy did not want to disappoint.

He swells the river as he swims forward so that he is in the middle of a large wave. Once the wave reaches the southern shore of Tiber Island, he pulls his arms apart and cuts the wave in two. Part of the wave continues on past the sides of the island upriver, but most of it splashes sideways over the riverbed. Percy can’t help but laugh at the surprised screams and squeals as people get soaked. Percy had cleaned the water before making the wave so that he didn’t splash mud and poop on people. It’s a warm day, and they’ll dry soon enough. There is a lot of poop in this river. Probably because of Rome.

Over the past two weeks the blood had been washed out of his toga, while the purple stripe remained strong. Whatever dye they’d used seemed pretty resistant to being washed out. Percy had been pulling the thing along behind him in the water like a cloak. But he was in Rome now, and when in Rome, do as Romans do. Percy stepped out of the wall of water he had summoned and onto Tiber Island. As he does, he gets the water to wrap the toga around him properly, then dries himself off. Riptide is tucked behind his ear as a quill and Mr. Pinchy is holding on to the side of his toga.

“Perseus Filius Neptunus,” Titus says walking forward, “It is good to see you again. Welcome back to Rome.” Titus, like everyone else on Tiber Island is soaked, but he seems more amused than annoyed.

Percy walked forward and shakes the Augustus’ hand, drying him off in the process, “Hello Titus. It’s good to be back.” People around them cheer. Apparently Romans are big fans of handshakes? Or maybe they were worried Titus and Percy would be angry at each other for some reason. Another PR stunt, probably. Politics.

Percy then turns to Julia, who had stopped playing the lyre. She was also soaking wet and trying hard not to look annoyed about it. “Hello Julia,” Percy says, “Thanks for helping me the other day. I got you something.” Percy hands her the woven bag he got from the fisherman and in the process dries her off by pulling the water away from her in little floating swirls.

“Thank you, Perseus, what a nice bag.”

“The present is inside the bag.”

Julia opens the bag and pulls out a handful of pearls. She looks up at Percy with wide eyes. “Pearls?”

“Yeah. I tapped on a lot of annoyed clams.”

Julia looked confused but looked back at the bag with awe, “This is amazing. Thank you, Perseus.”

“You could probably sell it and buy a sword or something,” Percy says.

“There are no weapons allowed in Rome,” Titus says, “And you are definitely not allowed to have a weapon, Julia.”

Julia looks a bit disappointed, but schools her features quickly. Percy points at Tiberius Alexander, who is gripping his spear very tightly and looks annoyed about being splashed by a wave. “He gets a weapon,” Percy says.

“Tiberius Alexander is a soldier. He only gets weapons when he’s on duty. That’s different,” Titus says. Percy will just have to sneak Julia a sword later, one she can hide in her dress. If senators can hide daggers, then so can princesses.

Percy looks around at the crowd surrounding Tiber Island. There were a lot of people here. Enough that he should be able to get his message across. “Titus, I think we have a lot to discuss, but we’ll have to discuss later. I have an announcement to make to Rome. If you don’t mind,” Percy says. He’d probably make the announcement anyway, even if Titus did mind, but asking permission probably looks good.

“I can order a senate meeting be held,” Titus says.

“No. The bridge will do.”

Percy steps back into the Tiber River and lets to soul swish into a different shape. Like pouring a cup of water into a different container. But with your soul. Sort of. Perseus pulls the toga open and falls back into the river. He gathers a wave and swims to the bridge between Tiber River and Rome proper, leaping out of the wave and onto the bridge.

People on the bridge scramble back. It’s not a very tall bridge, but Perseus calms the waters of the river to make it quieter and raises his voice. He lets the soaking wet toga drape over his shoulders loosely and pulls Riptide from behind his ear. He flips it into a sword and the sun reflects of the bronze blade. People scramble back faster.

“People of Rome! I mean you no harm but bid you to listen,” Perseus says.

“I always have my sword,” Perseus says, then throws Riptide away into the river, “It’s a magic sword, you see. It will always find its way back to me.” Riptide disappears and Percy pulls it back out of his pocket. He flips the quill into a sword. “I always have it and I’m a pretty good fighter. Tiberius Alexander! You’re a soldier and a general. You’ve met thousands of soldiers. You have seen me fight. What do you think, am I any good at fighting?”

From the island below, Tiberius Alexander glances steadily at the crowd of Romans now all staring at him “Yeah. He’s not bad.”

Perseus grins, “High praise from the Praetorian Prefect. Yet my sword is not the most dangerous part of me. I am the son of Neptune. The waters respond to my commands and my emotions.” Perseus pulls the water from the river at multiple places along the riverbank. He lets the waters run through the crowd of Romans who quickly step out of the way. He pulls the water up to the bridge like a bunch of snakes, then pushed the water up like a geyser and lets it rain back into the river. Some people clap like they think it’s a cool magic trick.

“When I was a child, a monster tried to kill my friend. I didn’t have my sword yet, so I ripped the monster’s horn off its head and used that to stab the beast until it stopped moving. Last week I killed a sea-monster by stabbing its skull from inside its mouth. I have killed far more dangerous things than an old man with a dagger,” Perseus says. The crowd has gone quiet.

“What I am trying to say here, is that I am perfectly capable of murder my own enemies. If I want someone dead, I’ll kill them myself. I do appreciate the sentiment of ripping apart Celsus. However, I do not want you to kill people on my behalf, not without my permission. Never do it again,” Perseus says, eyes glowing. He lets the words echo and register through the crowd. Then lets himself flow back into his more human self.

“If we can agree on that, I think we’ll get along great,” Percy says, grinning, “Have a wonderful Neptunalia! I'll be sure to ask my dad to keep the streams flowing during the summer months.” He then lets himself drop back to the river and swim back to Titus and Julia to join them on their picnic.

Chapter 13: Ships!

Chapter Text

When the picnic is over Percy sees Gaius on the banks of the Tiber River. Grinning, Percy waves. He says the proper goodbyes to the Augustus and Julia then jogs across the river, focusing enough to keep himself from sinking though the water.

“Gaius!” Percy says with a grin.

“Lord Perseus,” Gaius says with a bow.

“Oh, don’t you start,” Percy grumbles and pulls him into a brief back pat, “Sorry I left without saying anything. I had some stuff to figure out.”

Gaius grins but then glances around self-consciously at the gathering crowd. So the two of them make their way up the Via Julia to the Plinius Domus. There is a bunch of stuff in front of the doorway. Flowers, gold bands, old food, oil lamps.

“What’s with the stuff?” Percy asks.

“They are sacrifices to you. People have been leaving them in front of the door since you left.”

“Oh. Why haven’t you picked them up yet?”

“They’re for you. I wouldn’t steal from a god.”

“I’m only a demigod,” Percy says as he picks up some of the stuff before walking into the domus.

The door closes behind them. “Are you?” Gaius asks, “Still a demigod I mean? The Augustus is planning to build a temple for you along with your father.”

“Yeah. I’ll be a demigod until I die. So let's hope I stay a demigod for a while yet,” Percy says, “Do you think I can convince Titus to include a cool fountain or something with my temple?”

“You would know better than I, my friend.”

“Oh, I got you squid ink, here.” Percy hands Gaius the vial of ink. “I can get you more if you run out.”

Gaius thanks him then excuses himself. He walks off quickly with a grin as he goes to test out the squid ink.

Percy drops his toga and some of his stuff off in his room. Mr. Pinchy climbs onto his shoulder. ‘Food?’ he thinks. So Percy goes to the kitchen and gives Mr. Pinchy some dried meat.

Percy will have to talk to Grandpa Pliny later about helping him negotiate his engagement to Julia. Or at least give advice about how engagements work in Rome. He also still needs to talk to Julia about what she wants to do, and finish the model boats. The last day of the 100 days of games was next week and Percy had promised to give a demonstration of his cool ships.

Marcella walks into the house holding a wine amphora and some groceries. When she sees Percy in the kitchen, she stops. For a second Percy sees a flash of fear in her eyes before she bows. “Lord Perseus. Welcome back,” she says, eyes cast downward.

Percy tries to smile, but he feels wrong footed. Marcella isn’t supposed to be afraid of him. “It’s just me Marcella. No need to bow,” Percy says.

Marcella stops bowing but won’t meet his eyes, “As you say my lord."

Percy takes a step back. He feels like he’s been slapped.

Marcella gives him a wide berth as she walks past him to the courtyard. Percy is left feeling disoriented, but he isn’t sure how to make this situation better. Hopefully everything will just go back to normal soon. Marcella shouldn’t be afraid of him.

*
Percy enters his model ship workshop. Most of the models are complete. He’d been gone for two weeks, but his crew hadn’t stopped working, apparently. The models are about one pace in length, with the smallest rowboat being about the size of Percy’s forearm, and the largest warship model being around the size of Percy himself. Mr. Pinchy climbs onto one of the boats, his little crabby feet tap-tap-tapping on the wood. Percy runs his fingers over the models and feels the tides of Perseus the god grow stronger.

The model ships seemed to respond to Perseus’ presence. Their oars and sails shaking with recognition. These are his ship models. Swish swish.

The door opened behind him and Perseus turns to see Gaius the woodworker step inside. The man stops in his tracks, looks up at Perseus wide-eyed and falls to one knee. “Perseus,” he says, “Welcome back my lord.”

“Hello Gaius. The ships are coming along nicely, I am very pleased. You have done a wonderful job,” Perseus says.

“Only due to your designs my lord,” Gaius says, head bowed. The man was afraid.

“We have one week to finish the river boats,” Perseus says, “Do you think we’ll make it on time?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“Wonderful. I’ll work on the rudder if you make the planks for the hull. Where are Captain Valerius and ship-builder Trios?”

Gaius stands up but doesn’t look Percy in the eyes, keeping his head lowered, “They are in Ostia, my lord. They were ordered by the Augustus to oversee the collection of wood for the shipyard.” Ostia was the fishing village at the mouth of the Tiber River.

Perseus feels himself swell with pride, “They’re building a ship. Which one?”

Gaius points to one of the mid-size vessels with two masts, triangle sails, a jib, a central full keel and an extra-long rudder. “This one, my lord. There are some skirmishes in Britannia as barbarians from the north of the island invade our lands. The Augustus wishes for more reliable transport across the sea.”

“A fine choice. This one is designed to withstand the waves of the Atlantic and the currents of the crossing to Britannia,” Percy says, running his hand over the model.

“You’ve explained your designs quite well, my lord.”

Percy allows Mr. Pinchy to grab onto his tunic and starts heading out the door, “I’m going to go take a look at the shipyard. Get started on the riverboat hull, I should be back before dark. You’ve done good work.”

Perseus walks out the apartment and to the river. A few people bow to him as he jogs past. Once in the water, Perseus makes good time to downriver. Walking from Rome to Ostia would take all day, but it’s only an hour by swimming. Not having to pretend to be fully human makes travel so much faster.

He startles some merchants at the riverfront when he steps out of the water in Ostia. One of the horses greets him as ‘Prince’. Percy greets the horse back and walks down the road to the large wooden building on the beach. Next to the structure are several tree trunks piled on top of each other and a pond. A shipyard.

He throws open the door and startles the group of men beyond. “Valerius! Trios! I heard you were building one of my ships!”

“Perseus!” Captain Valerius says happily.

Trios the ship builder elbows him hard then bows to Percy, “Welcome back, my lord.”

“Ow. What in the harry balls was that for Trios?”

“Show some respect to the god, you dumb-ass,” Trios hisses back.

Perseus approaches the two men. On the desk in front of them is a diagram of an ocean ready vessel. Next to the diagram are calculations about how many materials they need including the number and thickness of wood planks, the length and thickness needed for the masts, the length of triangular sails, the lengths of rope, the number of hinges, and more.

“Have you started building her?” Perseus asks.

“Not yet, my lord. We are gathering materials and allowing the wood to age. The trees needed to build the hull are underwater as we speak,” Trios says.

“We’ve picked out the wood for her keel already Perseus. Um, I mean Lord Perseus,” Valerius says, “a strong tree, thick enough to make a full keel.”

“Show me,” Perseus says. He needs to see these trees. He needs to see the pieces of his ship.

Valerius and Trios lead him outside. Next to the large pile of trees is a pond connected to the ocean but blocked off by a wooden gate. The pond is full of oak trees. Wood that is used to make the part of the ship that sits underwater should be aged underwater as well. Dry wood will swell as much as 5% when fully swollen with moisture. If you build a ship's hull with dry wood, the hull will swell and cause shifting and cracking when launched. A mere 5% expansion is enough to sink a ship.

Perseus walks into the pond. There’s not much room in the pond as it is absolutely full of tree trunks. Still, Perseus can see which of these trees is going to be the hull, because it’s the largest oak tree near the bottom of the underwater pile.

Perseus places a hand on it. This is going to be his ship.

A part of him flows into the wood.

After a few moments, Perseus swishes back into a more human state. Percy spends the rest of the day discussing details of shipbuilding with Trios and Valerius and getting to know some of the builders. Eventually he makes his way back to Rome, filled with a newborn excitement.

*
The senate meeting is awkward. People are all very polite and give Percy a wide berth. Titus discusses a minor invasion in northern Britania (ancient Scotts, maybe?), and his planned response. Senators discuss taxes. Percy makes drawings of cool ships and stays quiet.

Senator Marcus does not sit next to him.

Fair enough.

*
Tiberius Alexander has been sent to guard the Augustus’ daughter on her date. Ceasar Domitian was sent as chaperone, and Perseus has brought his friend along as a chaperone as well. He clearly does not understand what a chaperone is supposed to be. Or what a date is supposed to be.

Teenagers.

Julia had turned the pearls Perseus had given her into various types of jewelry. She has her hair in a bun with a pearl chain wrapped around it, a necklace with several rows of beaded pearls, earrings with several dangly pearls, rings and bracelets with pearls, and peals sewn into her dress. It was normal for engaged Roman woman to wear jewelry that had been given to her by her fiancé, but as far as Tiberius Alexander knew the two were not yet engaged. She was clearly making a statement.

The only jewelry Perseus wore was his bronze quill tucked behind his ear.

They are in the Augustus’ box in the Circus Maximus looking out at the horse races. The races started twenty minutes late because all the horses stopped near the box to bow and prance around in circles for a while as the chariot riders tried and failed to control the beasts. Perseus finally spoke to the horses and told them they are very amazing and fast looking horses. Then the races had finally started.

Apparently the kid talks to animals now.

Why not.

The races start. There are four chariots, each drawn by four horses. The red, white, blue and green teams. Perseus laughs and says that the lead horse in the red team swears like a sailor while one of the horses in the blue team monologues everything he does.

Perseus’ friend pulls out a scroll and starts to read.

“Gaius, there are races going on! What are you doing?” Perseus asks.

“I don’t really see the appeal of racing. I knew I would get bored, so I brought some scrolls I have been meaning to study,” the friend says. He spends the rest of the race reading.

Tiberius Alexander had thought that Perseus was quite bad at hiding his godly nature ever since they had found the boy performing water magic in the Baths of Nero. However, now that Perseus was no longer pretending to be human, Tiberius Alexander realized how much of his nature he had been hiding.

When the god-child laughs the water in Tiberius Alexander’s water pouch shivers. Now that he is no longer avoiding horses, they would stop and bow their heads as he passes. He just seems bigger than he was even though the kid is still a head shorter than Tiberius Alexander.

The first race is won by the blues, then the reds. Each time a race finishes a loud cheer and angry yelling roars from the crowd. People are chanting songs about how the charioteer of the white team is a moron too stupid to find his own shoes. On the third race one of the spectators throws something onto the racetrack and it gets caught in the wheel of the green team’s chariot. The chariot veers to the right and crashes into the side of the racetrack. Perseus leaps out of his seat and down the wooding bleachers onto the racetrack many paces below.

The crowd goes wild.

He commands the horses to stop, and they do. Clouds gather above the Circus Maximus. Then he runs to the chariot, helps the charioteer out of the wreckage and checks on the horses. He’s too far away for the Praetorian Prefect to hear what he says but the charioteer and horses are alive and escorted off the track. Perseus comes back holding a wooden tablet with large ten-inch nails hammered through it.

“What is this?” He asks.

“That’s a curse tablet. Spectators use it to curse chariots they do not like,” Ceasar Domitian says.

“That’s like calling a sword a curse stick. The curse is not the part of this thing that does damage, it’s clearly the nails,” Perseus says, frustrated, “How was this allowed into the Circus Maximus? Don’t they have guards?”

He and Ceasar Domitian talk about the role of the city guard at various public events. Perseus seems frustrated when the Ceasar says it’s fairly common for charioteers to die during races, it happens multiple times a year.

After the races the party has lunch in the palace dining room. Lunch is served. Bread, olive oil, fruit, cheese and boiled eggs. At this point Tiberius Alexander realizes just how bad Perseus is at flirting.

“You’re like a killer whale,” Perseus says to Julia.

“Excuse me?” Julia says, not quite keeping her annoyance out of her voice.

“Oh um,” Perseus’ friend Plinius Secundus interrupts, “He called me a squid the other day. I think it’s a compliment, or a metaphor.”

“Well, more like a description,” Perseus says.

“Oh.” Julia says.

“In a good way!” Perseus says, flustered. “Killer whales live and hunt in both the Mediterranean and the open ocean. You know? They eat sharks for breakfast. Gaius is more of a Mediterranean squid, you know? He would not do well in the open ocean.”

Julia looks at Plinius in confusion. He just shrugs. “I’m a whale?” Julia asks.

“Well, technically, killer whales are actually dolphins,” Perseus says.

“So I’m a murderous dolphin? Okay, I can accept that,” Julia says, “What is my father?”

“Shark.”

“Uncle Domitian?”

“Hmm… Angler fish, maybe? Definitely an ocean creature,” Perseus says. Tiberius Alexander has no idea what a fishing-fish is. How can fish fish? He doesn’t ask. Ceasar Domitian laughs at his own description.

Lunch continues. At some point Perseus talks about dagger-fighting techniques with Julia, while Domitian and Gaius discuss the Cursus Honorium. At some point Gaius and Julia discuss poetry and some of their favorite plays while Perseus and Ceasar Domitian discuss warships and their max capacity. No one tries to assassinate them so Tiberius Alexander’s job that day is fairly easy.

*
“Begone foul creature! Spreader of lies!” An old man with grey hair and tan skin splashes water from a cup on Percy. He had been on his way to the boat-making workshop. It was only three days until Percy would get to show off his boat models, so he was excited to finish them. The people on the road nearby stop and stare, giving Percy, the old man and the man’s ten followers a wide berth. People held their breath. Perseus was more amused by the water attack than annoyed.

Percy can’t help but laugh, snorting a little. The man’s hands shake but he does not step back even when one of his followers tries to get in between Percy and the man. “You heard that I was the son of Neptune and your first thought to get rid of me was to splash water on me?” Percy laughed, “You should probably re-think your approach. Have you tried daggers?”

“This is Holy water,” the old man says, “and God will protect me from your unholy wrath.”

“You’re ancient Christians,” Percy realizes, “I mean modern Christians.” Percy is very good at this time-travel stuff. “Well sorry to break it to you, but if Holy water was going to hurt me, I would have died as a baby when my mom had me baptized.”

“You’re Christian?” the man asked with wide eyes.

“I don’t know about that,” Percy says with a shrug, “I haven’t been to church in years, but my mom Sally is.” Sort of, Sally had also not been to church in years, but she did occasionally say grace before eating dinner, so maybe that still counts.

“We heard you murdered a man for accusing your mother of being Christian,” the old man says.

“Oh. Um. No. I cut a man’s arm off for calling my mom a liar and um… a loose woman. The Romans killed him after. I can’t say I’m too upset about it. Although I have had a chat with my followers about not murdering people in my name in the future,” Percy says.

The Christians whisper among themselves. The old man looks up at the sky and whispers in what Percy thinks is Hebrew. Were Christians still also considered Jewish? That was a thing for a while, right?

“Well, it was nice to meet you…” Percy trails off.

“Yohanan, cousin of Yeshua,” The old man introduces himself and Percy shakes his hand. Percy’s not sure who Yeshua is though. Someone famous? A senator maybe?

“Well, nice to meet you, Yohanan. I actually have to go to work. I have boat models to finish building for the Augustus. Good luck with the whole being a Christian thing,” Percy says, excusing himself. “Oh, and have your Holy Water back,” Percy says as he taps the chalice the man was carrying, letting the water flow back into it. Percy then waves and continues walking. He should be able to finish building his river-boat models today!

*
Today’s the day!

The last day of the 100 days of games, and the day Percy will get to show off his model ships! He starts the day in the theatre of Pompeii, where he talks about some of the design changes he’s made.

He had several large wooden signs on which he had painted different types of keels, sails and rudders. He also has the glass crate full of water and one of his model ships he uses to demonstrate the concepts. He explains the trade-offs between having deep keels vs being able to sail in shallow waters. He explains how the weight limit of a ship can be measured by volume of water displaces minus the weight of the ship. He explains how square sails can pick up more wind, but triangle sails can be pulled tighter to give better control of the ship’s direction.

There are a lot of people in the theatre, and only a handful of them are interested. Percy feels kind of like he has to present his middle school research project in front of his class. Except the class is Rome. The senators in the front row are clearly trying not to fall asleep.

Welp.

Ship design is not for everyone.

Percy sees at least a few people in the audience who seem to think this is cool, so he’ll take that as a win. After the lecture Percy spends some time answering questions for the handful of people that stay behind.

In the afternoon, Percy goes to the Colosseum. The Augustus had ordered the colosseum flooded several days ago. For the past three days they had been re-enacting historical naval battles. Percy had personally saved seven people who had fallen from the ships during the demonstrations so they wouldn’t drown in the ten feet of water.

He meets his team there. Gaius the woodworker, Trios the ship builder and Captain Valerius. Percy carries the warship model he’d used in Pompey’s theatre, and the rest of the models are laid out on the front row of the colosseum. All twenty-five of them. The recreations of current Roman ships were painted red, Percy’s ships were painted green. Percy asks his crew to put the riverboats in the water first. He puts Mr. Pinchy on one of the riverboats. Mr. Pinchy clicks his claws happily.

Julia is sitting next to her father and uncle in the Augustus’ box. She’s looking mighty proud in her pearl studded outfit while Titus looks collected and regal. Women are generally now allowed in the colosseum, but Percy had been able to convince Titus to let woman in to see this performance. There was still about a 5:1 ratio of men to woman in the bleachers. Still, it was something. Percy grins and waves. The Flavian family waves back. Gaius and Grandpa Pliny are also in the seating area.

Marcella had not come.

Percy swims to the middle of the colosseum and pulls himself up to stand on top of the water. “Hello Rome!” Percy shouts and his voice is carried throughout the colosseum. A thunderous cheer comes up from the colosseum that could likely be heard through all of Rome.

Percy starts the demonstration with the riverboats. He pushes most of the water out of colosseum to form a kind of moat around the structure, then forms a river through the center of the arena. He sails his riverboats over the river, explaining the changes he’s made to their design.

Even from a distance, it’s as easy for Percy to control the models as if they were an extension of his own body. The red ships have to row while the green ships can sail zig-zag up the river. He feels the waters of his more godly side swish and flow so Percy is not entirely sure who is in charge now. Both sides of him are proud of his ships.

After the river ships, Percy pulls the water from outside back in to show his Mediterranean ship models. The large grain ships, the quick messenger ships, the strong warships. Then he fills the water higher, going above the first row of seats to show the depth increase in the Atlantic. He keeps the water within the bounds of the arena floor so the senators in the first row are looking at a thick column of water and have to look up to see the ships, but the people further up in the bleachers can see the ships easier.

Percy narrates and explains his ships as best he can over the sound of rushing water. He shows how his triangle sailed ships can sail up to 45 degrees against the wind direction. Thus, by zig-zagging, they can sail upwind. He generates waves and shows how much more stable a keel will make a ship, and how much faster they can turn with a rudder instead of a paddle.

Then it’s time for the storm test.

Perseus makes the water more and more jagged; he makes the waves bigger and with a twist in his gut he summons a storm. He’s not currently angry, so he has to put effort into summoning a storm. He also needs to keep it contained to only the arena and not the seating area so no one gets hurt. He starts with a windy day, then a rainstorm, then a real storm for ships on the Mediterranean, then a storm with the currents of the English Channel, and finally a storm you could only see on the open ocean.

The riverboats sink first. But riverboats are not designed to survive sea storms. He explains this, as best he can over the sound of a storm. When Mr. Pinchy’s boat sinks the hermit crab swims up to Perseus and climbs into his feet.

Then, one by one, the red ships sink. The roman ships. Without keels they sway with the water and capsize with large waves. Percy brings the sunken ships to rest on the arena floor without breaking them. He lets the storm continue for a while. He controls the ships as he would if sailors were on board but doesn’t prevent them from sinking. This is a test as much as it is a demonstration.

His Mediterranean messenger ships sink. They had been designed for speed over stability. The rest don’t sink.

He calms the waters and the winds and lets his surviving ships sail around the arena victoriously for a several laps. People are cheering. Percy walks over the water to the Augustus’ box. Since he’s standing on several feet of water, he’s eye level with Titus.

“What do you think of my ships, Augustus Titus? Will you agree to build them?”

Titus stands in his full purple robes and very regally gives Percy a thumbs up. Percy grins as the crowd cheers louder.