―thirty-five. knights of the round... coffee table?

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋
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CHARLIE HOPED TO THE GODS THAT NO ONE WOULD LOOK UNDER THE TABLE. Sets of couches and both low and high surfaces had been carted into the forum until it resembled a furniture showroom. Romans lounged in groups of ten or twenty, talking and laughing while wind spirits ― aurae ― swirled overhead, bringing an endless assortment of pizzas, sandwiches, chips, cold drinks, and freshly baked cookies. Drifting through the crowd were purple ghosts ― Lares ― in togas and legionnaire armour. Around the edges of the feast, satyrs trotted from table to table, panhandling for food and spare change. In nearby fields, the war elephant frolicking with Mrs. O'Leary, and children played tag around the statues of Terminus that limed the city limits.

The whole scene was so familiar and yet so completely alien, that it gave Charlie vertigo.

And that was exactly why she had clutched Leo's hand the second they had all sat down.

The action had been purely instinctual. There were so many people, so many possibilities, so many outcomes. It had been overwhelming. Charlie was amazed she had made it to the chair to begin with, her breathing had been heavy and all eyes were on her, waiting for a moment of weakness. There might be a temporary truce ― one that would hopefully become permanent ― but that didn't mean that they weren't taking mental notes of what they could later exploit.

Charlie hoped to the gods that they wouldn't notice who's hand she was holding ― because he was one of her weaknesses.

A thumb gently scraped across the back of her hand and she realised she had begun to hold onto him just a little too tightly. Loosening her grip, she sent him an apologetic look quickly, and then withdrew her hand completely, rubbing the palms of her hands against her shorts. Charlie had decided it wasn't worth the risk. Even if these people could physically see that she was sat in a puddle of her own sweat, Charlie would have to put on a show and somehow convince them it was their imagination.

Luckily for them, there was one thing Charlie was good at; and that was faking it till she makes it.

She cleared her throat, sat up properly and gestured at Reyna. "So," she had no idea what to say, and should've realised that before because now everyone's attention was on her. "Reyna." She clasped her hands, placing them on the table in front of her. "You single?"

Annabeth face planted. Percy seemed to catch his laugh at the last possible moment, cheeks puffed up and lips sealed tight. His two new friends daren't look up from the table. Jason had never looked so mortified in his life. Piper was looking at Leo for some reason, and Leo she couldn't see ― she kept her gaze on Reyna, she couldn't show that that was a moment of panic.

"Outrageous―!" A blond declared, sitting straighter from beside Reyna, pointing a finger in Charlie's face. She moved it with a waft of her hand, loking bored.

"Relax, short-stack, there'll be someone out there for you too, I'm sure."

Reyna coughed into her fist, regaining her composure. "Perhaps it's wiser to skip the pleasantries for now, and explain how it is you ― that is, all of you ― came to be here."

"Exactly, I agree," Annabeth said, diving into the conversation the second she saw Charlie open her mouth. "Jason. I think its best you tell the story."

Charlie nearly collapsed. Thank gods for that.

Both the Romans and Annabeth's crew began exchanging stories. Jason explained how he'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood without his memory, and how he'd gone on a quest with Piper and Leo ― along with the slightly illegal addition of Charlie ― to rescue the goddess Hera (or Juno, take your pick ― she was equally annoying, Roman or Greek) from imprisonment at the Wolf House in Northern California.

"Impossible!" The blond interrupted, again. "That's our most sacred place. If the giants had imprisoned a goddess there―"

"They would've destroyed her," Piper said. "And blamed it on the Greeks, and started a war between the camps. Now, be quiet and let Jason finish."

Octavian opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Charlie really loved Piper's charmspeak. She noticed Reyna looking back and forth between Jason and Piper, her brow creased, as if just beginning to realise the two of them were a couple.

"So," Jason continued. "That's how we found out about the earth goddess Gaea. She's still half asleep, but she's the one freeing the monsters from Tartarus and raising the giants. Porphyrion, the big leaded dude we fought at the Wolf House: he said he was retreating to the ancient lands ― Greece itself. He plans on awakening Gaea and destroying the gods by... what did he call it? Pulling up their roots."

Percy nodded thoughtfully. "Gaea's been busy over here, too. We had our own encounter with Queen Dirt Face."

Percy recounted his side of the story. He talked about waking up at the Wolf House with no memories except for one name ― Annabeth. Charlie was worried the girl would've cried at that, but she seemed to be holding her own pretty well. Percy told them how he'd travelled to Alaska with Frank and Hazel ― how they'd defeated the giant Alcyoneus, freed the death god Thanatos, and returned with the lost golden eag,e standard of the Roman Camp to repel an attack by the giant's army.

When Percy finished, Jason whistled appreciatively, "No wonder they made you praetor."

Octavian snorted. "Which means we now have three praetors! The rules clearly state we can only have two!"

"On the bright side," Percy said, "both Jason and I outrank you, Octavian. So we can both tell you to shut up."

Octavian turned as purple as a Roman T-shirt. Jason gave Percy a fistbump and, simultaneously, he and Charlie gave a high five from across the table, their palms not touching due to the distance. Even Reyna managed a smile, though her eyes were stormy.

"We'll have to figure out the extra praetor problem later," she said. "Right now, we have more serious issues to deal with."

"I'll step aside for Jason," Percy said with a carefree shrug of his shoulders. "No biggie."

"No biggie?" Octavian chocked. "The praetorship of Rome is no biggie?"

Percy ignored him and turned to Jason. “You’re Thalia Grace’s brother, huh? Wow. You guys look nothing alike.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Jason said. “Anyway, thanks for helping my camp while I was gone. You did an awesome job.”

“Back at you,” Percy said.

Annabeth kicked his shin. She hated to interrupt a budding bromance, but Reyna was right: they had serious things to discuss. “We should talk about the Great Prophecy. It sounds like the Romans are aware of it too?”

Reyna nodded. “We call it the Prophecy of Seven. Octavian, you have it committed to memory?”

“Of course,” he said. “But, Reyna—”

“Recite it, please. In English, not Latin.”

Octavian sighed. “Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire the world must fall—”

“An oath to keep with a final breath,” Annabeth continued, clearly having enough of Octavian's hissy fit. “And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.”

The big kid, Frank,  sat forward, staring at her in fascination, as if she'd grown a third eye. "Is it true you're a child of Min― I mean Athena?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why is it that such a surprise?"

Octavian scoffed. "If you're truly a child of the wisdom goddess―"

"Hey!" Charlie was grabbing the tablespoon for her cereal in a very threatening hold, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, her voice raised and yet low. "You better pick the next words to leave your mouth carefully, pipsqueak."

Octavian opened his mouth, face incredibly red. Reyna lowered his shaking finger once more. "Enough," she snapped. "Annabeth is what she says, and she's here in peace. Besides..." she gave Annabeth a look of grudging respect. "Percy has spoken highly of you."

Annabeth seemed to space for a moment, before she was smiling and nodding. "Thank you," she said, "At any rate, some of the Prophecy is becoming clear. Foes bearing arms to the Doors of Death... that means Romans and Greeks. We have to combine forces to find these Doors."

Hazel, the girl with the cavalry helmet and the long curly hair, picked up something next to her plate. It looked like a large red object; but Hazel slipped it into her pocket the moment Charlie's beady eyes had locked onto it. Though it would be impossible for anyone else to distinguish what the item was, Charlie knew immediately, her radar bleeping at her. A ruby. Her fingers twitched and she had to force herself to look away.

"My brother, Nico, went looking for the Doors," she said.

"Wait," Annabeth said. "Nico Di Angelo? He's your brother?"

Hazel nodded as if it were obvious. Charlie's shoulders tensed. Leo grabbed her hand from under the table once more, leaning over slyly. "You gotta calm down."

Charlie nodded and the conversation surrounding them continued and Leo resumed his usual position before any one else could notice the interaction.

"Okay," Annabeth nodded. "Continue."

"He disappeared." Hazel moistened her lips. "I'm afraid... I'm not sure, but I think somethings happened to him."

"Have you sent out search parties for him?" Charlie asked, and that was the moment the Romans sat at the table realised she wasn't just an intimidation tactic with the scars to prove her traumas. Charlie also had the compassion and the characteristics of a true leader. Her need of the battlefield prevented her from moving up in the Greek ranks. That, the Romans could acknowledge and respect. Even if they had interpreted it wrong ― Charlie was so low in ranks because she had once been a coward, a fact she didn't need reminding of.

Charlie was glad she could see the recognition of that in their faces, because she was not feeling as confident as she was acting. Charlie had never spoken at a meeting before. Again, her hands were under the table, shaking. It was like she could physically feel the nerves firing inside them.

Hazel shook her head, relieved at having finally gotten it off her chest, and even more so that she was being taken seriously. "No."

Charlie nodded. "We should get on that." She turned to Annabeth and Reyna. The two seemed conflicted. Nico wasn't their priority, but they wanted to help him just as much as the next person. But, time was of the essence. They needed to deal with one problem at a time.

"We'll look for him," Percy decided. "We have to find the Doors of Death anyway. Thanatos told us we'd find both answers in Rome ― like, the original Rome. That's on the way to Greece, right?"

"Thanatos told you this?" Annabeth tried to wrap her mind around the idea. "The death god?"

Charlie had met many gods. She'd been to the underworld twice now; once six months ago and once when Hera had possessed her body, but Percy's story about freeing the incarnation of Death itself really creeped her out.

Percy took a bit of his burger. "Now that Death is free, monsters will disintegrate and return to Tartarus again like they used to. But as long as the Doors of Death are open, they'll just keep coming back."

Piper twisted the feather in her hair. “Like water leaking through a dam,” she suggested.

“Yeah.” Percy smiled. “We’ve got a dam hole.”

“What?” Piper asked.

“Nothing,” he said. “Inside joke. The point is we’ll have to find the doors and close them before we can head to Greece. It’s the only way we’ll stand a chance of defeating the giants and making sure they stay defeated.”

Reyna plucked an apple from a passing fruit tray. She turned it in her fingers, studying the dark red surface. “You propose an expedition to Greece in your warship. You do realize that the ancient lands ― and the Mare Nostrum ― are dangerous?”

“Mary who?” Leo asked.

“Mare Nostrum,” Jason explained. “Our Sea. It’s what the Ancient Romans called the Mediterranean.”

Reyna nodded. “The territory that was once the Roman Empire is not only the birthplace of the gods. It’s also the ancestral home of the monsters, Titans and giants… and worse things. As dangerous as travel is for demigods here in America, there it would be ten times worse.”

“You said Alaska would be bad,” Percy reminded her. “We survived that.”

Reyna shook her head. Her fingernails cut little crescents into the apple as she turned it. “Percy, traveling in the Mediterranean is a different level of danger altogether. It’s been off limits to Roman demigods for centuries. No hero in his right mind would go there.”

“Then we’re good!” Leo grinned over the top of his pinwheel. “Because we’re all crazy, right? Besides, the Argo II is a top-of-the-line warship. She’ll get us through.”

“We’ll have to hurry,” Jason added. “I don’t know exactly what the giants are planning, but Gaea is growing more conscious all the time. She’s invading dreams, appearing in weird places, summoning more and more powerful monsters. We have to stop the giants before they can wake her up fully.”

Annabeth shuddered. She’d had her own share of nightmares lately. “Seven half-bloods must answer the call,” she said. “It needs to be a mix from both our camps. Jason, Piper, Leo, and me. That’s four.”

“And me,” Percy said. “Along with Hazel and Frank. That’s seven.”

Charlie tried to make herself as small as possible. Her team were aware that she wasn't meant to be with them right now, but they had overlooked the potential consequences. The Romans might not be willing to risk it as much as they were.

"What?” Octavian shot to his feet. “We’re just supposed to accept that? Without a vote in the senate? Without a proper debate? Without—”

"I have no quelms with it," Reyna nodded towards her campers, they had clearly won over her trust.

Octavian turned to Charlie. "And what of the eighth?"

"And what of her?" Charlie challenged, a quirk to her right elbow, a sign she was improvising.

"You are not apart of the Great Prophecy, you have no right to be here. No reason to be on our land―"

Charlie started off with her voice raised, speaking over him, and then she quietened down. Maybe if she spoke calmly and with purpose, they wouldn't second guess her. "I'm here, because of Death." God's, she had gone and done it now. "The two of us have an unscheduled date."

Leo hoped to god she wasn't being serious. Her poker face was too good, even for him. He couldn't decipher it.

"Preposterous―"

Hazel interjected. "It's true. She smells of the River Styx. She's has been tainted; I don't know how, but, Charlie reeks of the dead."

Charlie had no idea if Hazel was merely strengthening her lie, or if her words rang with truth. Either way, it was helping her case, so Charlie had no issues with her speaking up.

"I'm on a side quest. You have my word that I will not be aiding those of the Great Prophecy."

Charlie's word didn't mean jack shit. She wasn't a soldier whose honour and integrity meant something to her. She would happily kiss the feet of her enemy if it meant the delivery of a killing blow once his back was turned. Charlie wasn't above stooping to get what she wanted.

"Percy!” Tyson the Cyclops bounded toward them with Mrs. O’Leary at his heels. On the hellhound’s back sat the skinniest harpy Charlie had ever seen ― a sickly-looking girl with stringy red hair, a sackcloth dress, and red-feathered wings.

Charlie didn’t know where the harpy had come from, but her heart warmed to see Tyson in his tattered flannel and denim with the backward SPQR banner across his chest. Tyson was a sweetheart. He was also Percy’s half brother (long story), and he had been alongside her in battles, that made him family.

Tyson stopped by their couch and wrung his meaty hands. His big brown eye was full of concern. “Ella is scared,” he said.

“N0 more boats,” the harpy muttered to herself, picking furiously at her feathers. “Titanic, Lusitania, Pax… boats are not for harpies.”

Leo squinted. He looked at Hazel, who was seated next to him. “Did that chicken girl just compare my ship to the Titanic?”

“She’s not a chicken.” Hazel averted her eyes, as if Leo made her nervous. “Ella’s a harpy. She’s just a little… high-strung.”

“Ella is pretty,” Tyson said. “And scared. We need to take her away, but she will not go on the ship.”

“No ships,” Ella repeated. She looked straight at Annabeth. “Bad luck. There she is. Wisdom’s daughter walks alone—”

“Ella!” Frank stood suddenly. “Maybe it’s not the best time—”

“The Mark of Athena burns through Rome,” Ella continued, cupping her hands over her ears and raising her voice. “Twins snuff out the angel’s breath, Who holds the key to endless death. Giants’ bane stands gold and pale, Won through pain from a woven jail.”

The effect was like someone dropping a flash grenade on the table. Everyone stared at the harpy. No one spoke. Annabeth’s heart was pounding. The Mark of Athena… She resisted the urge to check her pocket, but she could feel the silver coin growing warmer ― the cursed gift from her mother. Follow the Mark of Athena. Avenge me.

Around them, the sounds of the feast continued, but muted and distant, as if their little cluster of couches had slipped into a quieter dimension.

Percy was the first to recover. He stood and took Tyson’s arm.

“I know!” he said with feigned enthusiasm. “How about you take Ella to get some fresh air? You and Mrs. O’Leary—”

“Hold on.” Octavian gripped one of his teddy bears, strangling it with shaking hands. His eyes fixed on Ella. “What was that she said? It sounded like—”

“Ella reads a lot,” Frank blurted out. “We found her at a library.”

“Yes!” Hazel said. “Probably just something she read in a book.”

“Books,” Ella muttered helpfully. “Ella likes books.”

Now that she’d said her piece, the harpy seemed more relaxed. She sat cross-legged on Mrs. O’Leary’s back, preening her wings.

Annabeth gave Percy a curious glance. Obviously, he and Frank and Hazel were hiding something. Just as obviously, Ella had recited a prophecy ― a prophecy that concerned her.

Percy’s expression said, Help.

“That was a prophecy,” Octavian insisted. “It sounded like a prophecy.”

No one answered.

Annabeth wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but she understood that Percy was on the verge of big trouble.

She didn't know where to go from here. Charlie bought her some time. A very loud laugh reached their ears, and Charlie hunched over, pointing at Octavian like he had just told the best joke she had ever heard. Annabeth quickly joined her, her own laugh more hoarse and less confident, but it did the trick. “Really, Octavian? Maybe harpies are different here, on the Roman side. Ours have just enough intelligence to clean cabins and cook lunches. Do yours usually foretell the future? Do you consult them for your auguries?”

Her words and their laughter had the intended effect. The Roman officers laughed nervously. Some sized up Ella, then looked at Octavian and snorted. The idea of a chicken lady issuing prophecies was apparently just as ridiculous to Romans as it was to Greeks.

“I, uh…” Octavian dropped his teddy bear. “No, but—”

“She’s just spouting lines from some book,” Annabeth said, “like Hazel suggested. Besides, we already have a real prophecy to worry about.”

She turned to Tyson. “Percy’s right. Why don’t you take Ella and Mrs. O’Leary and shadow-travel somewhere for a while. Is

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