The Son of Neptune

Gods of Olympus, she’s beautiful, Frank thought

June chuckled. “All roads lead there, child. You should know that.”

“Detention?” Percy asked.

“These were on my pillow this morning.” He passed them to Percy. “Like the Tooth Fairy visited.”
The book was The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Percy had never heard of it, but he could guess who sent it. The letter read: Good job, kid. A real man’s best weapon is his mind. This was your mom’s favorite book. Give it a read. P.S.—I hope your friend Percy has learned some respect for me.
“Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.”

The last few weeks he’d been so worried about surviving day to day. The idea of living long enough to be an adult and have kids of his own—that seemed like an impossible dream.

He imagined holding hands with Annabeth at a café. Maybe when they were older, watching their own kid chase seagulls across the forum…

Annabeth’s face, her blond hair and gray eyes, the way she laughed, threw her arms around him, and gave him a kiss whenever he did something stupid.

She must have kissed me a lot, Percy thought.

“Because I know you, Percy Jackson. In many ways, you are impulsive, but when it comes to your friends, you are as constant as a compass needle. You are unswervingly loyal, and you inspire loyalty. You are the glue that will unite the seven.”

“No such thing as fair,” Frank told himself. “If I’m going to burn, it might as well be bright.”

“Self-pity isn’t helpful, kid. It isn’t worthy of you.

The god shook his head. “You’d prefer it if it wasn’t me?”

“Yes,” Frank confessed.

Mars shrugged. “Can’t blame you. Nobody welcomes war—not if they’re smart. But war finds everyone sooner or later. It’s inevitable.”

“That’s stupid,” Frank said. “War isn’t inevitable. It kills people. It—”

“—took your mom,” Mars finished.