I do not own Hetalia or Percy Jackson.

Chapter 5: The Other Half

It was a beautiful day on Olympus, like usual. The sun shone brightly as puffy clouds glided on a gently breeze. Birds and nymphs played among the trees, and the minor gods and spirits chattered in the marketplace. On the tall hill, cows and other grazing animals lazily walked around, enjoying the sun.

All this went unnoticed by the goddess in the temple at the top of the hill. Hera concentrated as she gently wove her magic into the cracks of the floating orb before her, sealing up the pearly glass. Behind her floated four more orbs, each with a spider-web of cracks marring their surfaces. Within all five orbs swirled a bundle of pale gray mist. If one looked closely into the orbs, they may catch glimpses of glinting bayonets and majestic wooden ships, beautifully blended paintings and snow covered forests, since the orbs currently held the memories of five centuries-old nations.

The cause of the cracks was the memories themselves. Memories do not like to be confined and separated from the one they belong to. Because of this, the nations' memories constantly pushed at the inside of the orbs. When she had done this before with Percy and Jason, the orbs had suffered minimal damage. The main problem this time was that there were just so many memories. Hera could practically feel the pressure of America's memories as she repaired his orb. She had started with the youngest nation's orb, assuming that it would be easier to fix, but she hadn't anticipated the strength of his memories, many of which detailed the superpower's turbulent history.

For extra security, she added another layer of magic to his orb before pushing it to the side. Then she pulled Canada's orb toward her and started the process again. The northern nation's orb was a little easier to deal with, probably due to his quiet nature. She quickly finished the reparations and moved on to North Italy's orb. His memories emanated an almost visible aura of energy and happiness. She could practically see light coming out of the cracks, and almost felt bad as she cut off the radiance.

She had just reached for South Italy's orb when someone rapped on the door, causing her to lose control for a second and bumping the orb against the wall. She cursed and threw a layer of magic over the orb, but it was too late; a wisp of memory mist had already escaped. Hera glared at the offending sphere and tightened the layer of magic before going to answer the door. She composed herself before opening the door to reveal a slightly nervous-looking satyr.

"What is it?" Hera asked.

"Lady Hera, I-I have a message from Lord Zeus…" the satyr trailed off, seeing Hera's irritated expression.

"Well, say it," Hera said. "I haven't got all day."

The satyr let out a small eep before clearing his throat and continuing. "Lord Zeus would like to inform you of a war meeting during and after dinner. He expects you to be there on time."

Hera scowled, causing the satyr to shiver in fear. "Very well. You are dismissed." The satyr bowed before starting down the hill. Hera sighed and closed the door, massaging her temples before returning to her work. It was tiring, after all. She had to constantly use her magic to keep the five nations hidden, and now she had to mend the orbs; no wonder her temper was running short.

South Italy's orb had proven harder to deal with than she had originally anticipated, and by the time she finished it was almost time to meet Zeus. She started in on England's orb with a newfound urgency. She had just wrapped a layer of magic around it when a shout startled her, causing her to lose her concentration again. "HEEEEEERAAAAAAAA!"

Hera whipped around and glared at the door. Behind her, England's orb clinked against the other orbs, loosening the layer of magic around it and letting a small strand of mist slip out and fly out the window. Hera turned around and threw a few more layers of magic around the orb before going to deal with a particularly annoying messenger god.

Unnoticed by Hera, the memory floated through the closed window and shot toward a particular cabin close to Long Island Sound. There, it sought out a currently sleeping camper and settled into its rightful place in his mind, satisfied at last.

~.~+~.~

Images and sounds flashed around Arthur. It was hard to make sense of it all. Every now and then a comprehensible phrase or clearer image would slice through.

"We finally invented a machine that can make perfect boiled eggs!" [1]

Arthur sat in a warm pool, facing a creature with a duck beak, bald head, and turtle's shell…[2]

"Black sheep of Europe! Black sheep of Europe!"

Suddenly, the hurricane of images stabilized into a single clear scene…

Arthur sat on a grassy hill. The sun shone bright in the sky. He wore an old-fashioned, bright red uniform with a white sash across his chest. Beside him sat a man with neat, dark hair except for one unruly curl. Square glasses framed his dark indigo eyes. He wore a white uniform with blue cuffs and highlights, and his overall stature suggested aristocracy and nobility. A brown horse grazed nearby.

"There, I boldly rose against France," Arthur was saying smugly. "Then he got scared and started saying this and that, this and that."

"That's amazing," the other man said.

"Right? He's no match for me."

The other man made a quiet sound of agreement. His eyes alighted on something. "Oh, yes… Would you like to have this?" He held up a sausage sandwich.

Arthur, surprised, stuttered, "Oh. Y-yeah, thanks." He took a bite and exclaimed, "Whoa, this is good! Do you usually bring luxurious food like this to the battlefield? Did a first-class chef make this?"

The other man looked at him with a hint of pity in his eyes. "I made it. It's a common food in my country."

"Oh, I see…" Arthur muttered, a wave of depression overtaking him. The scene faded, only to be replaced by…[3]

A blond-haired man with a large bump on his head along with several scrapes and bruises sobbed on the bank of a river. Arthur stood in the river with another man, one with long blonde hair and stubble on his chin, both of them trying to catch fish. All three men wore old-fashioned clothing, with puffy trousers, simple vests, and, in the sobbing man's case, a puffy shirt as well.

"Come on, you two, please listen!" the sobbing man cried. "It's too cruel."

"Hey, Finland, what happened?" the long-haired man asked.

"Did you take a big fall somewhere again?" Arthur asked exasperatedly.

"No!" Finland exclaimed. He looked away sheepishly. "Well, I built a villa in America with Mr. Sweden. But then Mr. Netherlands took it all away from us!"

"Well, that must have been tough," Arthur said disinterestedly.

"Yeah, that must have been tough," the long-haired man agreed.

It'll all be mine anyway, they simultaneously thought. The scene faded again… [4]Arthur was suddenly seized by a sense of foreboding as the final scene fell into place around him.

A heavy rain pounded down around Arthur. He wore a red uniform with two white sashes crossed over his chest and pants tucked into tall black boots. In his hands he held an old-fashioned rifle with a bayonet attached to the end. He stood alone under the gray sky, facing a group of soldiers dressed in shabbier uniforms, with dark blue coats and the same crossed white sashes. At the front stood Alfred. He wasn't wearing glasses, but his blue eyes were filled with a steely determination. Thunder boomed around the tense standoff.

Arthur was filled with rage at the young man before him. How dare he defy his brother! How dare he rise up against the mighty British Empire! How dare he! Arthur trembled, from both his anger and the icy cold rain running down his back.

"Hey, England," Alfred said. It was not in his usual, boisterous tone, but in a serious voice that disguised his own frustration. "After all, I want freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother. I'll become independent from you from now on." As he spoke, his frustration made its way onto his face.

Arthur gasped lightly. It was out there now… there was no going back. For both of them. He fought to contain the tears welling up, and gritted his teeth before charging at Alfred. Alfred's shock was clear; he gasped and drew back slightly.

"I won't allow it!" Arthur shouted, bringing his bayonet up. Alfred put his own gun up in defense at the last second. There was a moment of stillness before the force of the bayonet flung the musket away, leaving a long scratch that would certainly be permanent.

Arthur was breathing hard, glaring at Alfred over the top of the gun. Alfred appeared to still be in shock; he stared dumbly at the blade pointed at his throat.

"Fire!" One of the soldiers behind him yelled. The blue soldiers lined up, muskets at the ready, but none of them fired. Everything was still but for the pounding rain. Then Arthur lowered his gun.

"There's no way I can shoot you, is there?" Arthur said, resignation in his voice. "You idiot!"

Finally, his emotions spilled over. He dropped his gun and collapsed onto his knees, sobbing into his hands. "Dammit, why? Dammit!" Why are you leaving me?

Alfred stared at him, sadness in his gaze. "England… You were so great once…"

Thunder boomed in the distance. The rain continued to pour down as the scene faded to black…

~.~+~.~

Arthur awoke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. He sat up and looked around. It was still dark outside, the sliver of a crescent moon only just beginning its descent. He lay back down, but his dreams troubled him. They also made absolutely no sense. Who had invented an egg-boiling machine? What was that green, shelled creature in the pool? What was a "black sheep of Europe"? The scenes where even more confusing. Why would he have been wearing a red uniform? He wasn't in the army. And the other man with glasses had looked much older. A scrap of information resurfaced… wasn't that kind of red uniform once used by the British army? But that didn't explain why he had been wearing one. And the second scene… those clothes looked even older than in the first scene. And why was the man with the bump called Finland? Finland was a country, not a person. Right?

The last scene disturbed him the most. Even now, thinking back on it, he was swept with a wave of sadness. Alfred was in it… why? What did he mean, "I'm no longer your little brother…I'll become independent from you from now on…" Was he related to Alfred? If so, why didn't Alfred remember disowning him? And, at the end, strangely enough Alfred had called him "England". Another country name being used as a person's name… and in that scene, he had also been in the red British uniform.

Maybe he had really just dreamt all of this. But how could he dream of the past (because that was obviously where the three scenes had been set)? And the scenes had been so vivid, so real, more like memories than dreams. Arthur yawned, the exhilaration from the dreams draining away.

I should probably tell Feliciano and Alfred tomorrow, he thought, ignoring the sudden nervousness that filled him. The last scene… Why…

Arthur fell asleep with his mind still swimming with questions.

~.~+~.~

Jason was just climbing down the concealed ladder behind the pillar in the Zeus cabin when he heard a few furtive knocks on the door. With some apprehension, he cracked the door open.

"Jason?" Percy's voice whispered from the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" Jason hissed back. "The patrol harpies will shred you!"

"So let me in!" Percy shot back. "We need to talk."

Jason opened the door just enough for Percy to slip inside. He led the way to the beds and plopped down on a mattress.

"So what was so important you had to risk death by harpy?" Jason asked.

"It's about those new kids, actually," Percy said. "Feliciano, Arthur, and Alfred."

"What about them?"

"Well, they're kind of weird, aren't they?" Percy said. "They show up unconscious outside of camp in the space of a few seconds. Nico said there was no one there on Will's watch but they were there when he got to the hill."

"Not only that, they were in military uniform," Jason recalled.

"Alfred's freakishly strong," Percy supplied. "I saw him in the forge."

"Feliciano's inhumanly fast," Jason added.

"And Arthur's magic is better than Miranda Gardner's, and he isn't a child of Hecate, as far as we know." Percy paused. "That's another thing. They're over the age limit, but they're not claimed. And have you noticed, sometimes, when you look into their eyes…"

"You get that feeling too?" Jason asked. "Like you're looking at something really, really, old?"

"Oh, good," Percy said. "I thought it was just me."

"Plus, their nationalities, too," Jason said. His mind was getting worked up, analyzing all the strange details about the trio. "Feliciano and Arthur sound foreign."

"Nico's Italian-"

"Yeah, but he doesn't have an accent, does he?"

Percy hesitated. "And… they've lost their memories."

Jason glanced at him. "Are you suggesting something?"

Percy nodded. "I think they are somehow involved with…" He hesitated again. "Um, let's not use names. I think they're involved with Her Majesty, though."

"Yeah, let's not." Jason tapped his knee, thinking hard. "So why would she send them here? That's the question."

"Last time, it was because our camps were about to go to war," Percy recalled thoughtfully. "She sent us as sort of ambassadors. Think it's the same this time?"

"That would make sense, except we don't know who they would be ambassadors from," Jason said. "And as far as I can tell, none of our campers have disappeared yet."

"But if that's really what He- I mean, Her Most Annoying Majesty is doing," Percy said, catching himself. Jason snickered at the nickname. "Does that mean that the rest of the 'enemy' we're fighting is like them?"

"I guess so?" Jason frowned. "But that would mean that the other side is also comprised of demigods, which makes no sense."

"I've been thinking about that," Percy said quietly. "What if they're not demigods?"

"They wouldn't have been able to enter the camp if they weren't," Jason reminded him. "Or even see the camp."

"I know, but Tyson can enter the camp, and he's a Cyclops," Percy argued.

"Annabeth gave him permission, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but…" Percy frowned. "I'm still getting the feeling they're not like the rest of us. Especially from Alfred. Have you felt it? Like you've know him all your life, not just two weeks or so?"

"Yeah, I have," Jason said. "It's strange, but lots of things about them are strange."

Percy opened his mouth to talk again, but instead let out a huge yawn. Jason patted his back. "Get some sleep, Percy. Maybe we can talk with Piper, Annabeth and the others tomorrow."

"Alright," Percy muttered sleepily. Jason led the way to the door, opening it just enough for Percy to slip outside with a parting wave. Jason waved back.

"Don't get eaten, Perce."

Percy yawned again. "I won't. G'night."

~.~+~.~

The next morning dawned bright and warm rather than cold. Arthur woke up earlier than usual, and was about to start the morning routine of bed-kicking when he suddenly remembered his dreams. He gazed down at Alfred's sleeping form.

I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother.

Why did that bother him so much? Abruptly Arthur turned and left the cabin. It was just a dream. There was no reason for it to have such a strong, lingering effect.

He decided to go for a walk by the forest to clear his mind. The air was clean and sharp, and the heat was warm enough to be called "warm" but not so hot that it was uncomfortable. Not many people were awake at this time, but the little animals were already hard at work, birds singing to each other and flapping through the leaves, squirrels and chipmunks racing through the boughs. Arthur strolled along casually, trying to ignore the dreams, which were just as clear in his mind as they were when he first had them. Absentmindedly, he wove his hands in a series of patterns, creating an illusion of a rabbit with little feathery wings, glinting a light green color in the sunlight. The rabbit fluttered around in a few loop-de-loops, and a smile crept onto Arthur's face. For some reason, the rabbit felt comforting, like an old friend you could always go back to.

"You can do magic?"

The voice startled him. He spun around, the illusion fading.

The girl who had spoken was a Hunter, one of the ones that had arrived the previous day. She had electric-blue eyes and freckles across her pale skin. Her hair was spiky, in a "punk" style, and a silver circlet glinted within the spikes. She wore silvery camouflage, and she held a bow in her hand.

"O-Oh, yeah. Yeah, I can do magic," Arthur said.

"Child of Hecate?" the Hunter asked.

"No. At least, I don't think so."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "You're not claimed?"

Arthur shook his head.

"That's weird," she mused. "You're what, seventeen?"

"I think so?"

"You think so?" she repeated.

"I kind of… er… lost my memory," Arthur admitted.

"Huh. You're a funny one." She held out her hand. "I'm Thalia. Daughter of Zeus and Lieutenant to Artemis."

Arthur shook her hand. "I'm Arthur. What are you doing out here so early?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Just some early morning hunting to clear my mind. You?"

"Same," Arthur sighed. "Clearing my mind."

"Why, something happened?"

"Just some dreams."

"You want to talk?"

Arthur glanced at her in surprise. "I thought you Hunters don't hang around males."

Thalia grinned. "Not usually. It's not forbidden, though. And you look like you need someone to talk with."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Not really. But demigod dreams are usually something to worry about. What happened in them?"

"Well…" Arthur hesitated, unsure whether to confide in Thalia or not. She seemed like a trustworthy person; of course, she'd have to be, if she was a goddess's lieutenant. But the dreams felt private somehow, making him reluctant to talk. In his moment of hesitation, a voice yelled, "Artie! Hey! Whaddaya doing?"

Arthur had never felt more relieved to see Alfred than now. "Alfred, don't call me Artie!" he scolded.

Alfred stuck out his tongue at him, grinning. A sudden flash of irritation hit Arthur. He was used to Alfred's antics at this point – and today the fifteen-year old was acting no different than normal – but his dream still hovered in the back of his mind, and Arthur, for a reason he couldn't understand, was irritated at Alfred's insubordination. Which made no sense, because Alfred had never been his subordinate in the first place. Right?

"Who are you?" Thalia asked.

"Oh, sorry, Thalia. This is-" Arthur began, but Alfred cut him off.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones, the hero of the world!" Alfred shouted excitedly, striking a pose. Arthur facepalmed while Thalia just looked amused.

"Hero, huh?" she said, a small smile on her face. "We'll see what you can do, then." She nodded to Arthur. "See you." Then she bounded off towards the Artemis cabin, Cabin Eight.

"Who was that?" Alfred asked, calming down a little. "She looked like one of those Hunter chicks."

"That 'Hunter chick'," Arthur said, a little irritated, "is Thalia, Artemis's lieutenant. Show a little respect."

Alfred gave him a hurt-puppy look. "I didn't know!"

Arthur sighed. "Whatever. Where's Feliciano?"

"Waiting at the dining pavilion, as usual," Alfred replied. "I think he wants to invade the kitchen or wherever the food gets prepared."

"As usual," Arthur said. "Let's go, then."

They trudged down to the pavilion as the conch horn sounded. Campers stumbled from their cabins and satyrs came out from the woods. The sleepy atmosphere soon dissipated, though, when the Hunters arrived, chatting and laughing together like a family. Arthur counted about fifteen Hunters.

Feliciano waved them over to the Hades table, where Nico was already sitting.

"Buongiorno, Arthur!" he chirped. "Where were you? I woke up and you were gone!"

"Just taking a walk," Arthur said, sitting down.

"With a Hunter!" Alfred piped up, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Not with her, you idiot!" Arthur snapped, his face flushed. "We just met at the edge of the woods."

"Yeah. Just met," Alfred snickered. Feliciano grinned. "Ve… was she pretty?"

They continued to bicker over breakfast until suddenly Chiron stomped his hoof. "Quiet, please! I have a message coming in!"

"A message?" Feliciano said confusedly. "I thought electronics don't work in camp."

"They don't," Nico said. "That's an Iris-message."

"What's that?"

"You'll see."

The dining pavilion quieted as an image shimmered into being on a spray of morning mist. It was of a girl with dark hair and serious eyes, wearing armor and a purple cape standing next to a muscular Asian guy, also with a purple cape.

"Greetings, Reyna, Frank," Chiron said politely.

"Hello, Chiron," Reyna said. "We're just letting you all know we should be arriving late today."

"Where are you now?" Jason called from his table.

"Eastern Massachusetts," Frank replied. "We had to take a detour around a hydra nest. The Second Cohort is taking care of the hydras right now."

"Very well, we'll prepare for your arrival," Chiron said. "Do you want to set up camp in the same area as last time?"

Reyna shrugged. "Sure, that will work."

A girl suddenly ran into the image. She had dark, curly hair, chocolate skin, and amber eyes barely visible through her helmet.

"Reyna, Frank! The Second Cohort sent a message for reinforcements. Should I take my cohort-"

Frank held up a hand. "Just a sec, Hazel. Sorry, Chiron, gotta go now. See you later." Reyna swiped her hand through the mist, cutting the connection. The campers broke into excited chatters.

"Who were they?" Arthur wondered.

"They're Romans," Feliciano said.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Aaaand… how did you know that?"

"The style of the armor," Feliciano replied. "And the 'cohorts' that they mentioned."

"Feli's right," Nico broke in. "That was Reyna and Frank, the two praetors of the Twelfth Legion. The girl that ran in was Hazel, the centurion of the Fifth Cohort."

"Twelfth Legion?" Arthur asked. "What happened to One through Eleven?"

"They disappeared when Rome fell," Nico explained. "The Twelfth Legion, which is made up of demigods like us, is the only one that survived. They're coming here to join the battle."

~.~+~.~

The day passed with considerably more excitement and gossip floating through the air – literally, since even some cloud and wind spirits had dropped by to pass the same message on to the resident nymphs. By the time the sky started turning orange most campers weren't even doing camp activities anymore, and instead stood in view of Half-Blood Hill, chatting with their friends and maybe half-heartedly having a friendly spar or playing volleyball. The anticipation in the air was almost visible; many campers were eager to catch up with their Roman friends.

Feliciano stood by Thalia's Pine, scanning the fields outside of camp. He'd offered to pull sentry duty only because of… a feeling. But not really a feeling.

"Well, it's like a feeling," he said to himself; he'd been standing there watching the sun go down for more than an hour already and he'd started talking to himself around the forty-minute mark. "But it's also not really a feeling. It feels like a thread. Yes, like a connection to something! Ve~"

He smiled, glad he had figured something out. "But, if it's a thread, why am I feeling it? If one end is tied to me, where's the other end? Hmm…"

He'd been feeling the thread all day. As the sun's descent turned the sky orange, the feeling of being connected only grew stronger. It was like a yearning in his chest, tugging at him, urging him to go seek out the source, as if he was one half of a whole and his heart was reaching to his other half. Someone was out there that Feliciano wanted to go to.

Another half hour passed, the feeling growing stronger… stronger… suddenly, there was movement on the highway – or rather, lack of movement, for one of the cars had suddenly stopped. Behind it, a line of identical cars lined up. A screech tore through the air, and Feliciano gasped when he saw a flock of giant eagles, still far away but drawing steadily closer. A sudden revving of car wheels brought his attention back to the cars; they were now turning off the road, heading toward Half-Blood Hill. To Feliciano's surprise, a tan blur shot in front of the cars, leading the way to a grassy field. The blur revealed itself to be a powerful tan horse with an armored rider on his back. The rider waved to him.

The Romans had arrived.

Feliciano grabbed the sentry horn and raised it to his lips, and blew three long blasts across the valley. Meanwhile, the Twelfth Legion had climbed out of the cramped cars and began to unpack equipment, pulling out of the trunks everything from swords and armor to long poles and shovels, from normal cloth banners to a large golden eagle on a pole: the legion's standard.

The "thread" suddenly felt like it had gone taut. Gazing out over the assembling legion, Feliciano was certain that someone in there was tied to the other end. But how, and why? Something niggled at the back of his mind. The feeling felt familiar somehow, with that sense of maybe having felt it before, maybe not. But it was growing stronger.

Feliciano turned to look back down into Camp Half-Blood, where the Greeks were gathering. Then he looked back at the Romans. At the Greeks. At the Romans. It was incredible, to see the two gathered armies, even if said armies were made up of teenagers. And he stood right in the middle, bridging the divide on Half-Blood Hill, connecting the two sides.

"Hey, Feli!" Alfred called, jogging up the hill with Arthur behind him. "Are they here?"

"Ve, of course they are…" Feliciano pointed out at the legion, but trailed off when his gaze met a legionnaire's green eyes. It was like the string had been sharply tugged. Feliciano sucked in a breath, eyes widening. The legionnaire stared back at him in surprise, and Feliciano was certain the other had also felt the tug. They were connected, and now Feliciano could finally identify that connection and where he had felt it before.

"Feliciano, are you feeling all right?" Arthur asked, turning Feliciano to face him.

Feliciano, still stunned, could only stutter out a short reply. "Yes… Arthur, him."

Arthur's giant eyebrows furrowed together in confusion over his narrowed eyes. "Him, who?"

Feliciano was suddenly struck by a sense of terror. He had to get away from Arthur. Away from danger. That face… when Arthur looked like that… that meant bad things. That meant danger. And when danger approached, Feliciano runs. He stumbled backward, trying to put some distance between them, only to bump into Alfred.

"Whoa, there, buddy," Alfred said, supporting him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I don't know, he seems to be ill," Arthur replied. "Feliciano, are you feeling sick or tired?"

Feliciano didn't answer, because at that moment the thread pulled taut, quivering like a bowstring. Behind them, a shout came from the Romans. Feliciano spun around, seeing a legionnaire run up the hill toward them. Alfred's hand, still gripping his shoulder, tensed. "What does that guy want?"

"He wants…" Feliciano couldn't seem to form the words. Tears welled up in his eyes at the rightness of getting closer to his other half. "He wants…"

The legionnaire skidded to a stop in front of them. For a moment, they stared at each other, brown eyes into jade green. Then the legionnaire lifted his helmet. Feliciano broke into a huge smile.

"Brother!"

Feliciano's tears spilled over as they embraced, sliding down his brother's armor to splash onto the ground between the two halves, reunited into a whole at last.

All dialogue is taken from the Japanese sub version of Hetalia.

[1] Axis Powers Episode 20 Sub, right before [5]

[2] England with the kappa, can't remember w/hich episode

[3]Axis Powers Episode 39 Sub - War of the Austrian Succession, second episode

[4] World Series Episode 13 Sub – Battle for America, first episode

[5] Axis Powers Episode 20 Sub – America's Cleaning of the Storage, Part Two: American Revolution. One line was omitted from the episode: This is why I say you don't follow things through to the end, you dummy.

*dodges rotten tomato*

Okay, guys. I lied. Canada didn't show up. I meant for him to show up, but...

*gets beaned by beans*

...it just turned out this way.

*gets potted by a pot roast and knocked over*

I'm not dead, guys, and neither is this fic! I really have to give you all a huge apology: the main reason this took so long was that I was lazy. I procrastinate a lot; even now, I am procrastinating on my homework. So this chapter was extra long (4,858 words without Author's notes, disclaimer, and title) as part of my apology. A special shout out to:

Katgirl, for pointing out "why aren't Percy and Jason suspicious?" and inspiring the third scene.

SeaShellSakura, for supporting and encouraging me.

And to all you readers, for patiently waiting so long. Thanks so much for all your support, comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions!

Next chapter will begin Part Two, which will follow Canada, Romano, and the Romans!

*bows and promptly gets hit by a tomato*

See you all... uh... sometime! Hopefully soon!

Edit 6/11/16 The line break did something weird... it cut a sentence in half. Sorry if you thought this was an update, but I had to fix it.