𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 》 LEO VALDEZ ¹

―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.