The Spartan of Olympus

6

Zoë Nightshade was already having a shitty day, knowing that her mistress had been captured, so she really didn't appreciate the demititan comment from the insufferable son of Zeus. Every time he or his girlfriend insulted her about her heritage, Zoë died a little on the inside. It may not have looked like it on the outside, but it hurt. Deeply. Zoë hated it when she wasn't trusted, just because she was the daughter of the sadistic, evil Titan Atlas. Zoë was preparing to calm down the Hunters after they beat the shit out of Zane, but someone beat them to it.

Arcus.

He punched Zane, kneed him, put a knee on his chest, put a knife to Zane's girlfriend's throat: all for Zoë. She couldn't believe that he—a male—was standing up for her! Again! Zoë was immensely impressed when he took that knife for her willingly (Annabeth was going to get some bad karma for that), and even more impressed, as well as confused, as Arcus went out of his way to make her happy. He convinced Argus to move when he didn't even know what she needed to see Chiron for, and constantly defended her from the camp bullies (not that she needed it with Phoebe around, of course).

Zoë thought that Arcus couldn't surprise her anymore, but the he did. Son of Poseidon, champion of Hades, and champion of Apollo. Zoë had already suspected he had some sort of relation to Apollo, due to the easygoing way that talked before the Hunters and campers left Westover Hall in Maine. And Hades was obvious done to the shadow travelling in Maine. But Poseidon? Zoë never would have guessed it. Arcus looked around sixteen, as she was, and Zoë was rather surprised that Poseidon broke his oath again; she thought he was loyal to his wife now. (A/N: Zoë never knew Percy was immortal, so she doesn't think that Arcus is Percy).

Zoë's thoughts strayed back to the last son of Poseidon she had met—not including that bastard Orion. Perseus. Zoë still remembered that dark-haired, green-eyed, handsome boy that saved her from being raped by Heracles all those years ago. She still remembered the kiss; she could sometimes still feel the soft touch of his lips on her own. But he was gone now. That was 2,000 and something years ago, and Perseus was long dead. The thought almost made her tear up. The one kind, caring, and lovable man on the planet was . . . dead.

Zoë was shaken from her thoughts as Phoebe tapped her shoulder. Zoë hummed in response.

"Let's go to the archery range. We need to warm up for the Capture the Flag game tonight, right?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes," Zoë said, rising from the Artemis table, trying to stare at Arcus, who had sat back down at the Poseidon table while that daughter of Athena bitch tried to revive her now unconscious boyfriend. He deserved every bit of it and more.

Zoë and Phoebe and a few others were firing at the archery range when Arcus showed up. He twisted a ring, and a pure black bow with sea green linings shimmered into existence. It was a beautiful bow; Zoë will give him that. But how he can shoot? That's a totally different story. Zoë knew that children of Poseidon were terrible at archery, but then again, Arcus was the champion of Apollo, one of the twin archers. On the cliff with the manticore, he shot from close range, so that didn't show much of his archery skill. Zoë bet he was horrible at it.

Well, it didn't go the way Zoë assumed it would. Arcus expertly pulled back an arrow, his body in a perfect stance. He let go of the arrow, and it hit right in the center of the bullseye. The Hunters' mouth dropped, along with Zoë because this guy was better than everyone in the Apollo cabin!

Each shot he made split the previous arrow down the middle, creating a small pile of half-arrows on the ground under the target. Arcus shot seventeen perfect arrows before he stopped. He turned to the Hunter's, and Zoë could just imagine some cocky smirk under his hood.

Arcus turned his bow back into a ring before putting it on his finger, and then turned and left. Phoebe was the first to speak, although not a complete thought.