Author: Jason Strong

Pairings: none

Rating/warning: T

Summary: We all know that after WWII, Zeus and Poseidon forced Hades to take a vow with them to stop having children. They had been having children for thousands of years before then, so what could've happened in that time frame for them to stop?

Notes: Same story I have on .

Charlotte, North Carolina, 1939

We walked through the First Methodist Cemetery, a light rain patting our face, wind swaying the trees.

It was pitch black outside; I could hardly see a thing. But I didn't need to see anything; I knew where I was going. I'd been there at least ten times in the past year. The brown paper bag I kept clutched in my fist rattled with every step I took. The only loud noise around me though, was the footsteps of the half-blood I had only befriended, Cynthia, daughter of Ares.

"Ouch!" Cynthia called. "I swear, Greg, if you bring me out here one more time without a light..." her voice trailed off. She knew every time I came out here it was going to be a stressful night for me.

I stopped. I was at my destination. Third headstone of the third row. I got down on my knee, looking at the headstone, wiping rainwater from the slick surface. It read:

Ms. Victoria Galvani, beloved friend and mother.

Even though it had been over two years, I still got emotional thinking about it. My mother had been the most wonderful woman in the world, I couldn't have lived without her, the things that she gave up for me... and then, just like that, I get home from school, and she's gone.

I opened the bag and reached in, grabbing the loaf of bread it contained. I tossed it on the grave. My hand fell over something cold; a glass bottle of pure white milk. I poured it over the bread, and got to my feet.

"Allow the dead to taste again," I spoke up, my voice raspy and deep, as it usually was. "Allow them to remember..."

The wind started to blow harder, and a low whisper traveled through the night air. I drew the sword that was sheathed against my side. The first ghost appeared, and headed for the food. I leveled my sword to them. "Stay back! The son of Hades commands you!"

The shade was that of a man, who was dressed in dark green pants and matching suspenders froze in place. More and more ghosts came from their grave. "Keep them back," I ordered Cynthia. She drew her spear. I watched the grave intently, waiting for my mother to arise. Nothing.

More ghosts materialized from behind her grave. The cemetery was becoming restless. I made a silent prayer to my father, hoping my mother would show soon, or before the ghosts woke the neighbors.

"Please, mother, please," I begged, looking behind me, the ghosts were starting to corner Cynthia, backing her against the chain-linked fence.

"Back off!" She yelled at the ghosts. "Greg, a little help, please?"

I gave the grave one more pleading glance; still nothing. I gripped my sword, the black Stygian iron so cold I could feel its chill against my leg. I walked towards the crowd of ghosts, lashing out at the first ghost I saw. My sword passed effortlessly through the creature, causing them to disappear in a light smoke-like mist.

"My son," a light, poetic voice came from behind me before I even had a chance to swing at another ghost. I turned around, hope filling through my body.

"Mother!" I cried, she stood over her grave, looking disaprovingly down at the soggy rain soaked bread.

"I think I'll pass on the bread, thank you," she said as I rushed towards her. I sheathed my sword.

"Mother I—it's been so long." I said, wanting to hug her, but knowing I couldn't, and would never get to again.

"Has it?" she asked. "You lose your since of time when you're dead. It hasn't seemed to be too long to me."

My heart sank, it had been three months since my mom had responded to my summon. I couldn't help but to think that my visits to her wouldn't mean the same thing to her as it did to me. Lightning lit up the night sky overhead.

"Oh," I said, looking down. There was a short period of silence.

"What year is it now?" My mom asked. "Still 1939?"

"Yeah," I told her. She paused for a second. I listened as Cynthia struggled with the ghosts.

"There's something on your mind, isn't there?" she asked. She was wearing the clothes she had died in—her gym clothes, sweat pants and a matching sweat shirt that she had been jogging in when the car hit her. I could still see the picture in my mind of her on the stretcher, a white sheet pulled over her head, the driver of the car sobbing as the police interrogated her, she looked at me, and started crying harder. The police ushered me to come with them, but instead, I took off in a run. Guided by instinct and sorrow.

I shifted uncomfortably. "What would make you think that?" Her facial expression changed to a soft, concerned look.

"A mother can tell," she told me. I looked into her colorless eyes, and stared for a while. Tears formed in my eyes, and the rain around us started coming down harder.

"We're killing each other, Ma," I told her. She blinked in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"Us," I said, as if that would clear things up. "The children of the Big Three. Even the minor Olympian's children are being brought into it."

I waited for a response, but she said nothing, she just stared at me. Last time I saw her, I had been a tad shorter than the five-foot-five woman, now I stood at her height.

"There's another fight going on between the three gods, about the war going on right now-"

"World War II?" she asked, interrupting me.

I nodded. "I don't know too much, but I know that Zeus and Poseidon are siding with the Allies, and Hades with the Axis. The war between them has gotten so bad, it seems that they have forgotten about the real war."

"So what does this have to do with their children?" She asked.

"A few weeks ago, Poseidon sent five of his kids to attack a group of my bothers that were at the school house, because of something Hades had done to a group of American Axis."

"What did he do?" She asked, curious.

"He turned a hell hound loose on them, killing all six of them. But after Poseidon's children ambushed my brothers, Hades was outraged. He sent me, and two of my sisters to fight with the Furies against the two cabins at Camp Half-Blood."

"They're having their own side war," My mom said, figuring it out.

"There's more," I told her. "The other gods are starting to choose sides, causing even further arguments on Olympus. I fear that soon, there will be armies established between the two sides."

"Most likely..." she said.

"I'm being relocated," I said all of a sudden. "That's why I came here."

"What?" My mom asked. "To where?"

"Germany to start," I said, looking down. "But I'll probably be doing some heavy traveling. I don't want to go... and Hades doesn't care."

"Gregory," My mom started. "Your father... he... well he, oh, confound it all! Let's tell the truth, your father doesn't care about you, or any of his children."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"I mean to say, he doesn't know what you're already put through, because he hasn't witnessed it first-hand like I have."

"Give me a break," I said, "he knows."

"Oh yes," she said. "Don't get me wrong, he knows. Just not to the full extent."

"Um, Greg." Cynthia cried out, trying to lead the ghosts away from the fence. "Could we hurry up? There are too many." There was a ghost coming for the bread that still lay on the ground, soggy wet. I unsheathed my sword again and swiped at it, it disappeared into the night.

"I don't have much time left," My mom admitted after a while.

"I know," I told her. "I wish I could go back with you."

She looked at me immediately. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I really do," I said. "I think about it everyday. I've considered... killing myself." What I didn't tell her was that I had already tried killing myself.

"But..." she began, I interrupted.

"My life sucks, mom!" I told her, voice cracking.

"Gregory!" She yelled. "Don't ever use that kind of language."

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down, then back up really fast. "But it does. As if it's not enough being a half-blood, but I have to be a son of the Big Three... and I'm not to thrilled of which of them is my father, either."

"My son," she said, raising her hand to my face, it passed through my cheek, I didn't even feel it. "You're strong, smart, and tough as a nail. Your father... he needs you, whether you like it or not, he is your father... you owe him that much." She disappeared for a moment and flashed back into existence.

"Mom..."

"You're almost a man of fourteen, you are old enough to make your own decisions." She continued.

"So you think I should rebel against Hades and stay in America?" I asked.

"But," she persisted, ignoring my question. "You are also old enough to know that with every decision, comes a consequence. In this case, you'd make your father mad by refusing his order, and he's not one to irritate." A tear finally slid down my cheek.

"I miss you, mom." I told her.

"I miss you too," she said. "I love you."

Her last word was stretched long as her spirit was yanked back into the Underworld. A hand slid over my shoulder.

"You'll see her again," Cynthia said. She pushed her wet red hair over her shoulder.

"No," I said. "No I won't. I can't raise her spirit outside the country she died in." My shirt was soaked, and my pants the same. Cynthia's hair was matted to her forehead. Her hand stayed on my shoulder. She was oddly sympathetic for a daughter to Ares.

I had a feeling that this was only the beginning, that many more would die before this war came even close to ending. The blood of innocent demigods would be shed, and spilled all over the world.