in my dreams.

iii : don't turn back now that we're here

III. ANYA !
⋆ ★
don't turn back now that we're here

Anya couldn't hate New Rome, not as she went through the terraced gardens, the fountains and temples, the winding cobblestone streets and gleaming white villas. She had never been in an ancient city, clearly, even Camp Half-blood was more modern than everything she was witnessing. She felt like she was walking through the old ancient city of Rome. Her mind crowded Annabeth's thoughts of the architecture and for once she didn't mind. She thought the same thing — the beauty of everything was taking her breath away.

"We have the best architects and builders in the world," Reyna said, as if reading her thoughts. Ironic because it was Anya who read hers. "Rome always did, in the ancient times. Many demigods stay on to live here after their time in the legion. They go to our university. They settle down to raise families."

"Families live here?" Even if Anya knew she was telling the truth, she didn't quite believe Reyna. How could she when back at camp, the oldest person she knew was twenty? It just felt . . . impossible. She felt jealously all throughout her body. How unfair was it? The gods had all these beautiful places and things for their Roman kids, and the Greeks get what? The hand-me-downs?

"We aren't use to that back at our camp," explained Annabeth. "And Anya is pretty new so . . . it's a bit hard to believe for her. Me too, even."

"Yeah back at ours we also have necklaces instead of tattoos," Anya muttered. Reyna wasn't offended at the small bite she took. In fact, she was impressed. Anya assumed it wasn't everyday someone remarked on the traditions of the camp.

"I can tell you're a warrior, Anya," the praetor said. "You've got a certain fire in your eyes."

Fire.

"It's not fire, more like every single emotion I ever feel."

"Anya?" Annabeth's forehead creased. "Are you—"

"I'm fine," said Anya. She cleared her throat while she slowly bowed her head at Reyna. She rubbed her head trying to get rid of the migraine starting to appear. "Sorry . . ."

"Don't be. You know, I'm a daughter of Bellona."

"Roman goddess of war?" asked Annabeth.

Reyna nodded. She turned and whistled like she was hailing a cab. A moment later, two metal dogs raced toward them— automaton greyhounds, one silver and one gold. They brushed against Reyna's legs and regarded Annabeth and Anya with glistening ruby eyes.

"My pets," Reyna explained. "Aurum and Argentum. You don't mind if they walk with us?"

Again, Anya got the feeling it wasn't really a request. Even if they weren't Roman something she couldn't do was disobey her. She noted that the greyhounds had teeth like steel arrowheads. Maybe weapons weren't allowed inside the city, but Reyna's pets could still tear her to pieces if they chose.

Reyna led them to an outdoor café, where the waiter clearly knew her. He smiled and handed her a to-go cup, then offered one to Annabeth and Anya.

"Would you like some?" Reyna asked. "They make wonderful hot chocolate. Not really a Roman drink—"

"But chocolate is universal," Anya smiled.