Blessings from Khaos

|annask þik, elskan min|

A bunch of hogwash that Mercurius hadn't heard since that one buddist so long ago though he could admit the man had style.

"The Little Tiber," said Iūnō sympathetically. "It flows with the power of the original Tiberis, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out, child. The mark of Akhilles is a Greek blessing. You can't retain it if you cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will wash it away."

"If I cross, I won't have iron skin anymore?"

Iūnō smiled. "So what will it be? Safety, or a future of pain and possibility?"

The gorgons screeched as they flew from the tunnel only to be stopped by a life sized design of sticky paper. Sumarbrandr chopped them into pieces, but they only reformed. From the middle of the river, Medea yelled, "Percy, come on!" Up on the watchtowers, horns blew. The sentries shouted and swiveled their crossbows toward the gorgons.

Percy forged into the river and the gods could see Tiberis ridding the boy of his sister, Styx, touch. The boy reached the other side, placing Iūnō down as the camp's gated open, their children and legacies spilling out of it. His eyes moved across the camp, taking in the earthen ramparts on all four sides, the tops lined with sharpened spikes. Outside the walls ran a dry moat, also studded with spikes. Wooden watchtowers rose at each corner, manned by sentries with oversized, mounted crossbows. Purple banners hung from the towers. A wide gateway opened on the far side of camp, leading toward the city. A narrower gate stood closed on the riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity: dozens of kids going to and from barracks, carrying weapons, polishing armor.

Medea turned, hair flying in the air with as she smiled in relief before her expression became horrified as she took in the sight of her boyfriend. The boy was in the midst of teleporting across the river when the gorgons caught him, snatching him out of the midst of his spell. He screamed in pain as their claws dug into his skin; Sumarbrandr falling into the river.

"MAGNUS!" came the frightened voice of Medea mixed with their other blessings. It sounded appropriately shrill over the excellent quality of Vulcanus' surround system. The other kids drew swords and got ready to charge into the water as the sentries yelled, unable to get a clear shot.

It may have been because he was watching so intensely that he registered the flash of recognition and horror on Percy's face before he thrust out his hands. He took note of the affrontment and surprise that came from Tiberis as the boy's will pressed down upon him. The river surged, forming whirlpools on either side of Magnus. Giant watery hands erupted from the stream, copying Percy's movements. The giant hands grabbed the gorgons, who dropped Magnus in surprise. The boy teleported midair to land at Medea and Pranjal's side, the latter quickly checking him over while the girl smiled proudly at Percy. The giant hands lifted the squawking monsters in a liquid vise grip while the legionnaires yelped and backed away.

Over on Temple Hill, a certain someone, the son of Troy, turned towards the riverbank, the blue hue of his eyes engulfed by the golden lights of heaven.

Percy made smashing gesture with his fists, and the giant hands plunged the gorgons into the Tiber. Tiberis' feelings of offense poured deeper into the air as the monsters hit the bottom, breaking into dust. With barely a thought, he swept their essence downstream as they struggled to reform, sending them off to Tartara.

The legionaries all stared at him, but Medea rushed to check him over, murmurs of not-having-Lea-angry-at-me-again falling from her mouth.

"Well, that was a lovely trip," Iūnō said as Magnus got to his feet to also check Percy over, his and Medea's magicka roaming over his body to check for injuries. "Thank you, Percy Jackson, for bringing me to Camp Jupiter."