Author's Note: It has been a very, very long time, but I'm back with plenty of ideas in tow. So let's get on with it!

That weekend marked the start of training. Not sword-fighting, thank the gods, but physical and mental preparation for it. Physically, Troy wasn't that bad. Basketball set him up with a decent base. I told him this, and of course his narcissism popped up, as he protested through a quiet groan and eye roll. However, he was nowhere near being mentally ready to handle a toilet paper roll, much less a sword.

First of all, he couldn't handle being in danger. I took a solid half hour to get through to him that he, like any mortal being, can die at any time and simply be gone forever. Monsters get a second chance, (though I didn't mention Tartarus—it was to be saved for if he'd ever ask), and immortals weren't usually stupid enough to put themselves in danger if it even existed for them in the first place. When it sank in, he couldn't even swing at me in unarmed combat training. He began to understand what it really means to fight and to prepare for that kind of thing.

After minutes of useless arguing about why Troy should learn to fight, I decided to call a break. I needed air so badly I was afraid I would knock the air out of the kid. When he came back out of his house with a towel in hand, I motioned for him to sit with me on the patio.

"I know that this is tough, Troy. You just have to—"

"Look, man: you don't know me. Like, at all. Do you know what it means to be what you are? You're a killer, Percy! You murder people! I can't do that. You don't understand that I haven't grown up killing, and I can't just start now."

I sighed, the tips of my fingers going numb as I remembered when the aurai in Tartarus unleashed the curses of all of those I hurt on me. I had become a killer. However, I refuse to this day to be a heartless one.

"Trust me. I know how it feels to be thrown into this more than anyone. I grew up running from school to school, expulsion after expulsion, and... I was introduced to this world when I was accused by Zeus of stealing his master bolt and a war that would destroy the world as we know it was almost inevitable. My lineage put me at the frontline of every battle, the head of every war council—"

I took a second to breathe. I was rambling, and I needed to stop. But Troy would never get it unless I told him everything.

"Nobody wants that. I never wanted this for myself and I'm certain you don't either. You're right; I'm a killer. I've had many curses placed on me by those who I've hurt. But I don't take any of it lightly. I should've died over—you know, Poseidon made an oath with his brothers that none of them would have demigod children; I shouldn't have even been born, Troy. But this is how life is. You can't change who you are, and you just need to deal with what you got to deal with. It's a burden each and every person out there with ichor in their veins has to face."

A too-long silence followed. Troy looked me in the eye for the first time since I started talking, and then looked down at his shoes. No speech was necessary for me to tell that he was sorry.

I felt uncomfortable under such a spotlight in the midst of such emotion. I didn't want to be heartless, but that fights against my nature. There isn't much to be optimistic about anymore. I'm a fighter, not programmed to handle peacetime, and I needed to go back to what I do best, so I stood up and uncapped Riptide. The sword felt like heaven in my hands. I felt almost whole as I walked to an open spot in the backyard with a makeshift dummy and slashed the heck out of it, feeling Troy's eyes on me as I did so. This was what I did. This was what I was good at.

I heard him clear his throat. "I know I'm not ready to handle a sword, but—"

"Yet. You aren't ready yet. You will fight with a sword. Eventually," I reassured him.

"Okay, yeah. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get there."

I capped Riptide and it shrank back to a pen. As I put back in my pocket, I said, "Well, first, you need to be mentally ready. You'll keep going on jogs with me to the gym, and you'll keep up your work in school and in basketball. Then, if you can prove to me that you can stay afloat, then you can pick up a blade."

He seemed just fine with that.