The Son of Death (Percy Jackson x Male Reader)

My Friends Meet My Dad

Alright, so I've started playing Hades II and it's awesome!  And Darren Korb has blessed us with yet another flawless soundtrack.  I have been listening to Coral Crown on repeat while driving to work.  But here's the new theme for YN!

Ahead of us stood a frozen Roman camp, like a giant sized ghostly replica of Camp Jupiter.  The trenches bristled with ice spikes.  The icy ramparts glared blinding white.  Hanging from the guard towers, banners of frozen blue cloth shimmered in the arctic sun.  There was no sign of life.  The gates stood wide open.  No sentries walked the walls.  Still, I had an uneasy feeling in my gut.  Arion trotted skittishly.

Percy: Frank, Sarah, how about we go on foot from here?

The two sighed with relief.

Frank: Thought you'd never ask.

They dismounted and took some tentative steps.  The ice seemed stable, covered with a fine carpet of snow so that it wasn't too slippery.  Hazel urged Arion forward.  Sarah, Alexa, Percy, Frank, and I walked beside her, our weapons ready.  We approached the gates without being challenged.  There were no enemies or traps, just the tall icy gates and the frozen banners crackling in the wind.  I could see straight down the Via Praetoria.  At the crossroads, in front of the snow brick principia, a tall, robed figure stood, bound in icy chains.

Alexa: Dad.

Hazel looked nervous and hesitated.

Frank: We've got you.

YN: Nobody's taking you away, Hazel.

Hazel gripped Frank's hand, but she didn't look convinced.  After all, Frank's own life was as fragile as a half burned piece of wood.

Hazel: I'm all right.

Sarah: No defenders?  No giant?  This has to be a trap.

Frank: Obviously.  But I don't think we have a choice.

YN: Well, as long as we know it's a trap, it's not a trap anymore.  It's a face off.

Sarah smirked and we proceeded through the gates.  The layout was so familiar.  Cohort barracks, baths, armory.  It was an exact replica of Camp Jupiter, except three times as big.  It felt like we were moving through a model city constructed by the gods.  We stopped ten feet from the robed figure.

YN: Father?

The hooded figure raised his head.  His eyes fell on Alexa and I, and a smile momentarily spread on his face.  Instantly, the whole camp stirred to life.  Figures in Roman armor emerged from the barracks, the principia, the armory, and the canteen, but they weren't human.  They were shades.  Ghosts from the Fields of Asphodel.  Their bodies weren't much more than wisps of black vapor, but they managed to hold together sets of scale armor, greaves, and helmets.  Frost covered swords were strapped to their waists.  Pila and dented shields floated in their smoky hands.  The plumes on the centurions' helmets were frozen and ragged.  Most of the shades were on foot, but two soldiers burst out of the stables in a golden chariot pulled by ghostly black steeds.  When Arion saw the horses, he stamped the ground in outrage.  Frank gripped his bow as Sarah's axe appeared in her hand, and Alexa gripped her sword.  I pulled out Orcus and spread my wings.

Frank: Yep, here's the trap.

The ghosts formed ranks and encircled the crossroads.  There were about a hundred in all.  Not an entire legion, but more than a cohort.  Some carried the tattered lightning bolt banners of the Twelfth Legion, Fifth Cohort.  Michael Varus's doomed expedition from the 1980s.  Others carried standards and insignia I didn't recognize, as if they'd died at different times, on different quests.  Maybe not even from Camp Jupiter.  Most were armed with Imperial gold weapons, more Imperial gold than the entire Twelfth Legion possessed.