Chapter Text
Triton pressed two fingers to the shankhakodun— a charmed shell that announced his presence to the people inside, sort of like a human bell but didn't make any sound. An opaque gold layer of maya covered the entrance to the cave system, and he focused his hearing on the low hum that came from it. It sounded like sand falling in an hourglass.
He checked the blocks he had placed on his power for this image of himself, satisfied when he found them perfectly in place. His graavbandha and payinja— armbands and tail ornaments— were in his royal chambers, and the only jewellery he wore was a simple silver chain with a protection shell charm strung on it, and a plain ring molded from bronze. His scales and hair were dull orange, and his eyes were yellow— in this disguise, he had a little magic, but not much.
Other parts of his consciousness were undisguised. He simultaneously ran drills in the royal training arena, sped towards the city of Baiae in the Mediterranean Sea with a message for Neptune and Salacia, and discussed vyuta with the Sadh Atlantisi.
The golden barrier flickered and turned translucent, revealing a familiar mermaid with chin length red hair decorated with white shells and green tinged skin. She had no lips but her fangs were hidden behind a closed mouth, and her eyes glittered like rubies as they took in his presence, humanoid legs swaying gently. He twisted his wrist close to his chest and folded two of his fingers into a dudakmudra— a general greeting used by the commons people in Atlantis.
"Nawik, Uikja-same," he said, careful not to show his teeth. She twisted her own wrist, having recognised his disguise as a frequent visitor.
"Nawik, Naeh-sayo," she greeted back, using the alias he had chosen for himself the first time he came here. None of the servants here had any idea who he really was, and Uikja was no different. "Setuki-dhru is waiting for you."
Setuki was the youngest member of the Wuikyiv family at only two years older than Persefe, and a gifted Dhrushmi, someone who could see events that were currently going on. Xey were a good friend to his mortal brother, and had helped tremendously in teaching Sefe the ways of the oceans.
"Suwekun, Uikja-same," Triton thanked her, nodding once. "If you would show me to xem—"
Uikja did not wait for him to complete his sentence, she simply turned around and swam deeper into the caves. Triton passed the barrier and followed her, darting through well decorated halls and curtains of red and green kelp. Small pearl lamps, Maukidiwe, that fit in the palm of a human hand were placed along the walls at equal intervals, giving off soft bluish white light that indicated it was late afternoon and bounced off the mother of pearl sheen the walls were covered in. The place was mostly empty, and it wasn't long before Uikja was coming to a stop in front of a familiar archway covered with a curtain of shell strings.
"You can go straight in, Naeh-sayo."
She swam away, kicking her feet lazily, and he parted the shell strings to enter. A familiar shiver of maya passed over him.
The room was gigantic and dimly lit, with a single round Maukidiwa the size of a human car gleaming high above his head. The walls lacked the mother of pearl finish that the rest of the caves had, instead lined with nooks and niches that were filled to the brim with rolls of blank kelp parchment, bottles of ink, books, shell boxes, glass containers and other objects. There were other entrances to the room, ranging in size from a foot wide to easily fitting a blue whale.
Right under the Maukidiwa, two seating khurlia carved out of sea stone were placed across from each other, one large enough to accomodate any creature that came. The other one was relatively small— around fifteen feet long— and occupied.
Setuki Wuikyivsi sat on the smaller khurlia, sleek black shark tail flicking lazily and smooth, scale-less black skin gleaming like it had been oiled. A single, thin silver graavbandh decorated each arm, and xer eyes were pitch black, almost like black holes. Xey were so dark that xey would not have been visible if not for xer hair.
It was the brightest pearly white that Triton had seen on a mortal sea dweller in decades, floating out in a halo around xer head. Under the sea, the brighter the colour of scales or hair or eyes, the more powerful the person was. Setuki's maya was connected to xer hair, and the pearly white strands almost glowed in the dim light.
"Nawase, Setuki-dhru," he greeted, allowing his disguise to fall away, twisting his right wrist and folding three fingers in a more formal greeting than the one he used with Uikja. "Fau koha isom?"
It felt good to let his Tevaiki back out, and his body rippled from a dull orange single tail to glowing deep green double tails, the payinja coming out of thin air to wrap around the base of his fins. He felt his armbands snap into place around his biceps, and the shell necklace disappeared. The dark water was illuminated with the familiar dim green light of his bioluminescence— his aavidiwuka had appeared in response to the darkness.
Setuki pressed xer palms together and dipped xer head in a shallow bow, making xer hair flick through the water like sea silk of the highest quality. "Nawaire, Triton Da'yorem. Viuha kalo, what about you?"
"I am well, thank you for asking," he replied as he settled into the khurlia across from her, throwing his tails over each other and leaning his side against the armrest. "I would stay and talk, but I have little time. May we get to the important matters?"
The young mermix inclined xer head. "But of course, Da'yorem. I would ask you what you have come for, but I already know."
Triton chuffed, amused. "Ayi, then we can begin, ve?"
Setuki chirped out xer own laugh, careful not to show xer fangs, and flicked two clawed fingers towards the left wall. A strip of white sea silk cloth floated into xer hands, and xey wrapped it around xer eyes.
Triton, used to the process, leaned back and watched. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the young adult's hair began to shine, throwing bright white light all over the large cavern. He felt his skin spark with the freezing, cottony feel of xer maya, felt it build and build till it was going to burst—
Setuki pulled off the blindfold.
"Persefe Va'yorem is in the city of what the humans call Seattle," xey fired off, eyes glowing stark white in contrast to the earlier pitch black. "He is currently in the throne room of Rivakya Amazosi, being greeted by Hylla Merai. The worship of Artemis Astrateia is set to begin in less than half an hour."
Triton was about to rise from the khurlia, but Setuki wasn't done talking.
"He has just thrown a blatant— albeit accurate— charge of wrongdoing towards Otrere, who has risen from the dead and is trying to take over the Rivakya."
Duasoi.
Triton shot up, his aavidiwuka flashing bright green and illuminating the water around him.
"That is enough," he snapped out, already halfway to the shell string curtain with his disguise back in place. Locking his Tevaiki down made something in his core snap like an elastic band, and he bared his teeth in a sharp hiss at the ache. "Thank you for your services, Setuki-dhru."
The moment he was beyond the curtain, he flashed out of the cave system and appeared on the surface, fifty miles away from Camp Half Blood.
Out of sight and earshot of anyone that mattered, he let out a long lace of absolutely appalling curse words that would have Amphitrite stuffing bitter kelp into his mouth if she heard it. The waves responded to his anger, lapping against the beach with increasing ferocity the longer he hissed out expletives.
A particularly violent wave crashed against the sand, and he took a deep breath, placing his emotions into the little box in the back of his mind and shoving it away. They would be dealt with later, in a healthy way, when he was alone or with his Metito.
It had been barely a day since his father had returned to Atlantis, having successfully stopped his forced merging with Neptune.
Poseidon hadn't come alone.
With him was an Olde One, a power that had been forgotten. One that reeked of Poseidon's essence, but was so different that the connection would barely be made by someone who wasn't immediate family.
Poseidon had glowing sea green eyes that sparked and pulsed in time with the tides of the Sea. His nose, cheekbones, jaw, all seemed to be carved out of the finest marble possible. Poseidon's power hummed under the skin like the steady pull and push of a tide that knew it was dangerous, but controlled.
The Tevai beside him, however...
His power sang with the crash of violent waves against cliffs, of the sound of seismic shifts and earthquakes, of the haunting whispers of dead souls in a way that made shivers run down Triton's spine. His eyes glowed the exact shade of burning sulphur— stark blue with flecks of white around the pupil. His features seemed fluid, ever changing, like they had been molded out of the sea waves themselves.
People called Poseidon temperamental, but none of them knew just how much control Triton's father had over himself and his powers. But this God.. he burned like ferality behind Triton's eyes, like he knew exactly how mercurial he was and wielded that to his advantage, used his explosive temper to his benefit.
The God had pressed three fingers to Triton's sick mother's forehead, murmuring a prayer in an Old Tongue that made pressure build between his eyebrows, and pushing a wave of his Tevaiki into her two warring essences. Immediately, Salacia had stopped trying to merge with Amphitrite. The younger Goddess had stepped away, a separate deity of her own as she should have been, had given Amphitrite a single nod and vanished.
Posedawone came with news of Persefe, saying that he was at the new Roman city. He told them that the mortal child had been with the young Goddess Lupa for the last two and a half months, passing her tests to enter Camp Jupiter.
He said that Sefe was on two quests. One to free Thanatos, who was imprisoned by Alkyoneus, and the other to bring the Mykenaean Gods back— Posedawone was the first to return, and Wairi the second.
Triton had barely stopped himself— or Amphitrite, for that matter— from ripping someone to shreds.
Had Sefe not done enough for the Gods? Had eteh maukit not spearheaded a war for all his childhood? Did he not deserve to rest, after four years of constant battles? Persefe was owed his peace and yet Hera, the foolish foolish being, in her desperation, had taken him from his own father's cabin.
Triton wanted to tear Hera apart for daring to touch a Child of the Seas, for daring to touch his brother.
Now, because of the Me'Tevarai, Persefe was on a quest for the Gods. A quest that Mars had no fucking right to issue towards someone who deserved to rest. And that same quest had placed his little brother in the path of a conniving, power hungry woman who was not afraid to kill for her goals.
There may have been a time when he respected Otrere for her politics and ambitious nature, but Persefe was family. If Triton had his way, and he usually did, anyone who stood to harm his family would be met with a swift and painful end.
He pursed his lips, mentally going through several possible ways that he could send help.
None of his messengers could do anything on land. Rhodos, Kymopoleia and Benthesikyme were all Goddesses, and could not directly assist heroes on quests. Khrysaor... the less said about the wayward brother of his the better. Herophile, in the face of the imminent rise of Gaia, was needed at her seat of power more than ever.
Triton bit down a furious hiss, clenching his fists. There were no other choices, no one else she could send—
Wait.
His lips pulled up into a smile too sharp, too wide, showing off too many fangs.
There was one being he could send, who would be able to help on land without facing the consequences of the laws Khaos had decreed.
He opened his mouth.
"AREION."
———————
"Where does your opinion stand on dipping your sword in poison?"
Percy's skin still tingled with the after effects of prayer, but he wrestled the overflowing influence back into his body. He had no time to focus on the power boost the ritual had given him, or for the way his aura was flaring— too big for his human body. He needed to change, needed to let his claws rake across Otrere's throat, needed to taste blood on his tongue.
He ignored the need, for now. There were more important and time sensitive things to do. Letting his base instincts take over during a diplomatic conversation was not the move to make.
Hylla frowned. "She cannot die, even when her heart itself is run through with a sword. I have no idea if poison will work on her."
Oh the other side of Hazel, Frank let out a chuckle, low and tinged with madness, so unlike his usual soft laughter that Percy looked at him to make sure he was alright, both biological and metaphysical senses reaching out.
Frank's eyes were glowing. The dark brown irises were gone, leaving bright fiery red coals in their place. His smile was sharp, back straight, and in that moment he looked exactly like what Percy had expected a Son of Mars would look.
The usual faint heat under his skin that was Frank's aura was so much stronger compared to other times that Percy began to sweat. His fingers tingled with the itch of letting his claws out and raking them across someone's face, and his eyes tingled with the phantom scents of burning flesh and blood. The something in his aura that Percy had not been able to identify yet grew bolder. It reminded him of riding a horse without a saddle, hair and mane whipping through the wind and hooves thundering on the grounds of open fields.
"How about Gorgon blood?" Frank asked, white teeth glinting in the red light of the fires burning all around them, throwing shadows over his Oriental cheekbones.
Percy had, at one point, wondered whether Frank even possessed the bloodlust that almost all children of Warlike deities showed. Frank had the sense of strategy, the sharpness in battle, the quick thinking needed to win a duel. He was too calm though, too collected, and did not seem to have enough taste for violence for a son of a War God. He had thought Frank was simply different from other kids. Just as capable, of course, but different.
He had clearly been wrong.
The boy had almost made a complete one-eighty in personality. His aura crackled around him in a fiery haze, and Percy heard the phantom sounds of a battlefield echoing in his brain— screams, yells, clashing metal, pounding feet and chariots being dragged across a ground littered with dead bodies. He heard hooves clattering on concrete, the roar of a bear, the whistle of wind through bird feathers, the buzz of bees.
It made him wonder whether the Romans did ritual prayers at all, because this was too large an amplification in power after just one ritual. There was a reason there were so many major dates for worship, after all— demigods didn't just provide Gods with respect, they got increased skill in return, and their prayers answered if they were within reason.
In her seat, Hylla bolted into a ramrod straight posture, her own eyes gaining the deep red sheen that began to bleed over into the whites of her eyes.
"That would work perfectly," she breathed, lips twisting into an insane smile that looked exactly like Frank's. The ghost noise of battle grew stronger in Percy's ears, Frank and Hylla's combined presence bouncing off of each other, making the urge to tear something apart with his bare hands grow to impossible heights.
Beside him, Hazel leaned back in her seat, hand twining through Percy's and squeezing tightly. Percy blinked, pulling himself back from letting the urge to rip into flesh take over him. If he focused, he could hear her heart going sixty miles a minute.
He squeezed her hand back, and she relaxed a little.
"Percy?" Frank questioned, holding a hand out to him, eyes still burning like red hot coals.
Percy gave the two war demigods a beatific smile, and slipped his free hand into a little pocket he had folded out of the khiton, to keep Anaklusmos and one vial of poison. The rest of the ceramic containers were back in his rucksack, at the northernmost point of Seattle with his pegasus.
Frank took it in a delicate grip, large fingers gentle in their handling as he lifted the ceramic vial up to make the red light of the torches shine off the patterns painted on it. The detailing was bright against the white surface, gleaming like molten gold.
"Percy's spoils of battle," Frank told Hylla, who rose to her full height and glided over to take the vial from him.
She ran slender fingertips over the golden paint, the battle-thirsty smile still firmly in place. With her glowing bloody eyes and the red light throwing shadows over her tanned features, she looked like a lieutenant of Hades to Percy— one of the particularly terrifying ones.
Abruptly, she twisted on her heel and went back to her chair, dropping into it with all the grace of a panther.
"I refuse to believe," she said to Percy as she slid open a drawer and placed the vial in, "that you are willing to help me without asking for something in return. There are few things more valuable that Gorgon blood, whether poisonous or healing, and you cannot be ready to give it up so easily to help a cause that is not your own."
Percy let an amused grin curl his lips upwards. He wouldn't have believed it either, if he had been in her place, and she was right. He would help, but in return, he was going to ask for a favour. The favour of an alliance between the Romans and Amazons— and the Greeks, when they were brought into the picture.
"We want an alliance," he told her as much. "Camp Jupiter needs assistance against the army of monsters, and the Greek camp Half Blood will join the treaty as soon as their delegation arrives at Rome."
Reyna had only told him to ask for help in the battle, but Percy was nothing if not an opportunist. Gaia was rising, and they— the Greeks, the Romans, and the Amazons— needed to form a fleet, not be separate warships. As for the Greek envoys, he knew that Annabeth would find a way to get to the Roman camp even if she had to go as far as to wrangle a wish from a God for it, no matter the consequences.
Hylla's eyebrow had almost disappeared into her hairline with how high she had raised it.
"You do realise," she drawled, "that a treaty between the Greeks and the Amazon Nation hasn't been established in the last four hundred years? The Romans— we have never allied with them." A soft huff left her lips. "You want all three communities in one treaty of alliance? You have high goals, Prince Perseus."
She shook her head. "Some might even say unattainable goals."
Percy gave her a smile he had learnt over the Titan War and perfected under the tutelage of his Mevi, sharp and arrogant and a bit of the sharpness of his fangs bleeding into his human teeth. Under the sea, the showing of your teeth— shuldanta— was seen as a sign of agression, and Percy had gotten the difference hammered into him by Amphitrite. Delegations from Atlantis did smile at the surface dwellers, however, seeing as it was a polite gesture on land.
"Well, you see, Hylla Merai," he answered blithely, teeth still bared and still a little too sharp to be human, "I have a track record of managing to do the impossible, and I intend to see this three-way treaty through if it's the last thing I do."
The young woman stared at him, the red of her pupils having bled over the entirety of her scleras. A second later, a vicious smile of her own pulled at her lips.
"Very well, Prince Perseus," she said. "You have my word: as soon as First Queen Otrere is killed, a third of the Amazons will march South to assist the Romans against the army of monsters. I myself will lead the assault, and will stay at New Rome for the finalising of the alliance."
Percy pressed three fingers to his lips and turned his wrist to point them towards Hylla, palm faced downwards— the formal gesture for gratitude.
"Vi krutase," he replied, pulling back the sharpness he had let bleed into his teeth to give Hylla a genuine smile. "That is most appreciated."
"Now," she began, leaning back in her chair and tipping her head back to look at them through half shut eyelids. She looked exhausted this way, with red light throwing shadows across her sharp features. "How is Reyna? I haven't talked to her in weeks."
Percy opened his mouth to reply.
Boom.
The ground shook violently. All three of them shot to their feet, hands reaching for weapons that weren't there. Percy hissed out an expletive when he realised he was the only one with a weapon— his quest-mates had stashed theirs in their rucksacks.
He watched as Hylla pulled open a secret drawer and tossed Hazel a long knife, and Frank a dagger.
Boom.
Percy focused his hearing and let his metaphysical senses spread out, sending subtle waves of magic through the earth. Somewhere to his seven o'clock, he could feel the stomping of the ritual dancers as it slowed down, the Amazons no doubt wondering what was making the ground shake. He could feel the vibrations that travelled through the packed earth walls when the guards that patrolled the hallways all began marching in the same direction.
The thing that worried him most, however, was the frantic thuds of armoured feet around where he knew the Mist elevator was. And—
Are those fucking hoof stomps?
"Come," Hylla snapped out, and Percy yanked off his himatyan, throwing it at the sofa alongside Frank's and Hazel's. She pulled open the office door, and another loud boom sent tremors through Percy's senses. The festival music couldn't be heard anymore, but he could hear the shouts and yells as metal clashed and swords were drawn. The Amazons were passing around weapons and armour, by the sounds of it.
They stalked out, and Percy let the power boost from the ritual slip through his iron hold, sending some of it into his senses to give himself a little advantage. Immediately, he noticed it— something in the air felt... Other.
He felt his scales begin to ripple right underneath the surface, felt the bases of his fingernails itch even as they turned around a corner. He felt a slight shift in his bone structure, but clamped down on it before it became physically noticeable.
Boom.
They broke out into a sprint, bare feet not making a single sound on the cool earth paths. The torches on the walls threw their shadows over the hallways, and Percy could hear more clashes, more shouts. Hooves clattered on packed mud, and a second later, a deafening neigh echoed throughout the entire underground colony.
PERSEUS JACKSON.
Percy blinked even as another boom shook the ground under his feet.
It was a horse, then. Said horse was asking for him, specifically, by name. He let out a string of curse words in several languages, picking up his speed till he was running at inhuman speeds. Shouts of his name rang out from behind him, but he didn't turn back, skidding around the corner.
His heart pounded in his chest in tandem to the boom boom that vibrated through the packed earth and travelled through his body, but his breath didn't stutter. He turned corners at full speed, pushing off the walls with his legs and arms to keep his momentum. The elevator was not far, now, and he could hear the sounds of a dwindling battle. We're the Amazons winning?
PERSEUS JACKSON.
Pontus, dude, Percy thought with an annoyed huff, gimme a hot minute to get there.
The last of the clashes of metal died out, and a moment later, he felt something slam into the earthen wall right around the corner in the back of his mayavi senses. A body.
Someone had been thrown then.
The door to the throne room was right on front of him. He planted his toes on the ground and twisted, throwing a hand out to press it against the wall, and curved around the corner at a breakneck speed.
Abruptly, he skidded to a stop.
The hallway was littered with unconscious bodies, half covered in metal armour plates, weapons and round shields gripped loosely in limp hands. The Mist elevator was at the opposite end, the doors thrown wide open and golden fog curling and twisting in the air close to the ground, sparking against Percy's senses.
The most attention grabbing thing, however, was the Horse.
He was gigantic— ridiculously tall even for a horse, glossy black mane hanging off one side of his neck and midnight fur brushed to perfect sleekness. His dark eyes gleamed with a familiar look, and Percy's blood sang in his veins the moment their gazes met. The feeling pulled him forward, pulled him towards the magnificent creature.
Towards his brother.
He ignored the bodies around him, ignored the armour pieces and fallen swords and splayed limbs. Instead, he stepped forward slowly, picking his way through the obstacles, a wide grin pulling his lips upwards.
"You know," he drawled, picking up a metal staff from the ground and lazily twirling it around with one hand as he moved closer, "if you wanted to talk to me that badly, Dau, you could have wreaked a little less havoc."
Areion let out a neigh of a laugh, harrumphing and tossing his mane.
Where's the fun in that? The horse shot back, an obvious smirk in his gruff voice. Destruction is in our blood, little brother. After all, both of us are the bastard children of Posedawone.
Percy froze.
Areion gave him a knowing look (he was a horse, how the fuck was he doing that) and scuffed his front hoof on the ground, scraping off a bit of soil. Percy could hear muffled footsteps growing louder; the Queen and his two companions were getting closer. He needed to get this conversation over with, now.
How'd you know—
I was born in Mykenae, child, Areion interrupted. I remember things even the oldest of God's have forgotten.
Percy eyed him up and down, letting his hip cock to the side just so. If Areion knew, if he remembered, there was a chance...
"Did Yotito send—"
No. Triton-vau did.
He stared at the Horse, shoulders going slack and jaw twitching in outrage. The footsteps were just two turns away, now. He sucked in a sharp breath, then raised a hand to his face.
Smack!
The worst thing about the Curse of Achilles, he thought with an irritated scowl after dragging his hand off his face, was that he couldn't even feel the effects of a perfectly good face palm.
"Triton, you asshole," he muttered under his breath, drawing a snort of horse-laughter from Areion.
You'd think my youngest brother would be happy to see me, he whinnied, amused and very much not trying to hide it. Percy huffed and stuck out his tongue at him, crossing his arms petulantly. The three sets of footsteps were only a few meters away from the last turn.
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you," he answered, scowling childishly, "but I'm not glad that Dau thinks I need help on a quest."
So you don't need help?
"Lahi! It's my quest!" Percy was not whining, shut up. "I can handle it."
Too bad, kid, you're stuck with me.
Percy let a little bit of his fangs show and bared them in an aggravated hiss, then hung his head. Areion harrumphed out a laugh, and he threw him an annoyed glare that did not really have any heat. Mentally, he cussed out Triton and his overprotective nature.
The dude had no chill whatsoever. Talk about helicopter parent.
"Ayi re, fine," he groaned, lifting his head and fixing his gaze on a point on the ceiling in an effort to pray to any God that wasn't Greek, "you can accompany us—"
"Percy!"
He heard three sets of bare feet skid around the corner, and he breathed in, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Frank's voice. He threw Areion one last annoyed look before turning around to face his friends and the Queen.
A wide grin abruptly pulled his lips up at the sight.
Hylla, Frank and Hazel were staring at the mass of bodies that littered the hallway and the giant Horse that stood in the middle of the carnage. All of them looked varying degrees of stunned, ranging from the Queen's blood red eyes and blank expression, to Frank's burning coal gaze and dropped jaw, to Hazel's comically blinking gold eyes and a twitching muscle in the cheek. Something gleamed in her metallic eyes, something that reminded Percy of the look he had seen when he looked in the mirror for the first time after drinking that Gorgon blood.
Recognition?
"Hey, guys!" Percy chirped, choosing to ignore that look and clasping his hands behind his back, and bounced on the balls of his feet like an excited child. Their speechless stares settled on him, and his grin widened. "Meet my brother, Areion."
Frank choked on his own spit.