Chapter I

Percy drummed his fingers against the wooden surface of the table he sat at. His eyes focusing in and out as Mr. Dupont droned on about the difference between "ou" and "où".

To be honest, Percy had no idea why he chose to take French instead of Spanish or Latin. Latin was the obvious choice, and quite frankly the smartest. But as Annabeth kept reminding him, he was far from being smart. So Percy blamed it on curiosity. And the lack of thinking that took place in his head when he made the choice.

The son of Poseidon let out a silent sigh as he shifted in his seat - one of those wooden stools the school's low budget provided - and stared at the clock that hung over the classroom's door. The hand indicating the seconds was moving at such a slow pace, he almost whined out loud in frustration.

Leaning forward on his desk with his elbow propped up against the doodle-covered wood of his table and his hand cradling his head, his eyes landed on the old french teacher.

Mr. Dupont was a sixty year old man from Marseille, France, that for some reason decided to come to the States and teach a bunch of uninterested teenagers about his native language. He was always hunched over and spit flew across the classroom whenever he'd talk like a clementine ejecting its juice when squeezed (Wise girl would be so proud of him for using a simile).

Percy felt kinda bad for the bloke, he had huge pit stains and a bushy unibrow stretched across his greasy forehead.

If Smelly Gabe hadn't been turned to stone and would've lived until he was old enough to retire (not that he actually ever worked any), he'd probably look like Mr. Dupont. They were both overweight and stunk worse than the dumpster at the back of the school. And if Mr. Dupont thought that his baggy corduroy pants could hide the visible bump that appeared whenever he was talking to Amber and her group of skimpy-dressed friends, he was dead wrong.

Currently, the old pervert was pacing back and forth in front of the black board, his bald head reflecting the light shining from the fluorescent ceiling-lamps and his cheap dress shoes squeaking against the ground beneath him.

The raven-haired teen stretched his aching limbs and leaned on his other arm, the former one having turned numb from the weight of his head.

Percy closed his eyes slowly and his body relaxed, shoulders sagging as he started to doze off. He could faintly hear Mr. Dupont's nasal voice and the low chatter of the students around him; the son of Poseidon was currently thinking about his next class and the huge red F he was sure he'd receive in English Literature because he hadn't read the book he was supposed to finish for today, let alone buy it.

Percy was mentally preparing himself for the disappointed look he would be receiving from his teacher and step-father, Mr. Blofis, when a knock sounded at the door, jolting him from his thoughts.

His gaze lifted to the door as Mr. Dupont cleared his throat and spoke, "Come in."

A stern-looking woman in her late thirties wearing an ironed white blouse that fit tightly around her overbearing chest and a pair of ankle-lengthed dress pants entered the classroom and approached Mr. Dupont.

She muttered a few words to the old French bloke that served as our teacher, who in turn nodded his head frantically and turned to the half-awake students blinking blearily at the couple. His beady eyes scanned the room before settling on Percy.

"Perseus Jackson, the principal would like to see you in his office," he drawled in his thick French accent.

The raven-haired teen hesitantly stood up and started across the rows of desks to reach the two adults who stood at the front of the classroom.

"Prenez vos affaires, Madame says it might take some time," the old man spoke again. The whole classroom was dead silent as Percy backtracked to his place and grabbed his belongings that consisted of a mostly empty notebook and a spare pencil.

He finally reached his teacher and the lady that looked like she had a stick up her ass. The latter one nodded at the former and barely glancing in his direction, motioned for him to follow her out of the classroom.

He reluctantly followed her into the hallway. The locker-covered walls left little space for windows and this early in the morning the sun wasn't fully up yet so it was eerily dark and silent. The only sounds that surrounded them were the clicking of her heels and the shuffling of his feet.

Percy gripped his notebook to his chest in anxiousness. What had he done now? He couldn't come up with a good reason as to why he would be summoned by the principal.

They finally arrived at the principal's office and Percy's stomach lurched. The door was closed and he couldn't see any lights on through the little gap between the floor and said door.

"After you," the woman beside him said with a sneer.

Percy knocked on the door twice. The sound resonated through the silent hallway as he waited for an answer.

A low husky voice that sounded uncannily familiar appeared from the other side of the door. "You may enter."

Gripping the handle of the door, the son of Poseidon twisted it and pushed the door open with ease. Entering, he noted that the principal sat in a huge leather chair that faced the wall so he couldn't see him.

"Sit," the familiar voice said, sending a jolt up Percy's spine as he obliged, taking the seat on the other side of the glass desk that separated them.

"You… You wanted to see me, Sir?" Percy said in a small voice. He hesitantly set his notebook and pencil down on the principal's desk before leaning back into the wooden back-rest of his chair.

Silence. Then a laugh.

The principal's laugh rang in the small room and Percy felt his blood run cold at the familiar sound that emitted from the man that sat in the turned chair.

Slowly, the chair swung around and the man that sat in it came face to face with Percy.

Percy's eyes widened as he took in the man's appearance. Familiar blue eyes met his and Percy's heart stuttered. There, in his principal's leather chair, sat Luke Castellan, a mischievous grin stretching the scar that ran down his left cheek.

He looked exactly the same. His sandy blond hair was a bit longer and fell in his smiling eyes. He still had that perfect sun-kissed tan that Percy himself had obtained after hours and hours of training out in the sun and his eyes sparkled with glee at the Sea god's son's reaction.

"You-You're alive," Percy stuttered.

Luke leaned forward in his seat and smirked at him knowingly, making Percy's stomach flutter.

Percy blushed at the feeling in his tummy, confused as to why it was there. I'm surprised, that's why, he told himself.

"That I am, Percy," Luke exclaimed, chuckling softly.

"You-You're…How?" Percy demanded.

Luke's grin widened . "Use your brain, Perce."

The son of the Sea God frowned as he raked his mind for a possible explanation.

A dozen seconds passed before Luke let out a breathy laugh and looked down at Percy with fondness. "Forgot how slow you were," Percy's eyes narrowed at the Son of Hermes's words, "the Doors of Death, Perce."

The ravenette gaped at the older man. Luke had escaped Hades's realm while the Doors of Death were open and had probably been living in the mortal world since then. "Where were you during the war then? We could have used your skills!"

Luke's eyes darkened. "You mean the Gods could have used my skills. The Gods would have used me. I didn't come back to relive what I died for."

"Luke, you can't be serious," the teen exclaimed, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair he sat at in frustration. Percy couldn't believe this guy. "You made the right choice! You sacrificed yourself to save Olympus and here you are, telling me the same bullshit you told m-"

"It's not bullshit, Percy. It's the truth! Do you think your father would have claimed you that first year at camp if he didn't need you to clear his name! I thought I had made the right choice, I believed I had. But then I realized, once I had come back from the dead and found out that another war was brewing, that Kronos was right and I was foolish and stupidly in love not to fully devote myself in the task of razing Olympus," Luke cut him off, his eyes blazing with anger.

The son of Poseidon clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. "Don't bring Annabeth into this," he growled.

The blonde's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Luke! Don't blame your disloyalty on Annabeth. Keep her out of this! You don't know what you're talking about, it wasn't the gods' fault that Gaea awoke," Percy retorted.

"Yes it is, if they weren't such shitty rulers she wouldn't have felt obliged to wake up and pulverize them!"

"Well, you see how well that worked out!"

"That's only because the gods used their children to fight their war!"

"That's not true! They helped us defeat the giants!"

"Only because you guys wouldn't have been able to get rid of them otherwise! They didn't help you during the real battle, did they?"

"That's not the point! They're not supposed to interfere, Luke! You know that!"

"Why? Because some dumb rule-"

"Ahem!"

Both bickering boys turned their gaze to the lady in the doorway. Percy had completely forgotten about her.

"We're running late, sir," she said in a quipped tone, steely gaze trained on the Son of Hermes.

Luke nodded at her before leaning back in his seat. His eyes held an unruly temper and he was still a bit red from the yelling.

Luke ran his hand through his hair and slowly unclenched his jaw before returning his gaze to the teen in front of him.

"Running late? For what?" Percy questioned, wary of what the lady had said.

"Nothing that important, to be honest. You'll see soon enough," Luke answered, grin reappearing on his lips.

"What do you mean I'll see?"

"Well, you're coming with, of course," the son of Hermes exclaimed with an amused huff.

"No, I'm not. I'm not going anywhere with you, Luke," the raven-haired male stated, sea green eyes narrowing at the blonde.

Said blonde chuckled. "Ah, I'm afraid you don't have the choice."

"What do you mean I don't-"

Before he could finish his question, the sea god's son received a blow to his neck. The teen slumped over the glass table.

The sour-faced woman stood behind the unconscious body of the younger demigod, a smile playing on her thinned lips.

"You're carrying the body," Luke ordered, his blue eyes boring into those of the stern-looking woman that had just knocked the son of Poseidon out. He stood up from his seat and walked out the door.

(A/N) Comment below?