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Atychiphobia: Fear of Failure

Aurelia hated talking about her past

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Aurelia hated talking about her past.

It wasn't something she did often. The only person who knew about Puerto Rico or Circe's Island was Jason, and even after Aurelia told him, they never spoke of it again. If Percy still had his memory, maybe he would have known as well, but now he was going to know. Well, know some of it.

"Do not mention our relation," Aurelia requested as she hurried after Reyna was storming towards the principia in a fit of rage from the senate meeting. Reyna didn't verbally answer and Aurelia was trying to calm her down a little before they entered their meeting with Percy. She had gotten her necklace back and was feeling better now that the fear she had been holding was inside her Ferrum Temoris.

Reyna stormed into the principia, her purple cloak billowing, and her greyhounds at her feet. Aurelia came in quietly afterwards, closing the doors and ensuring they were locked so they wouldn't be interrupted.

Percy was sitting in one of the praetor chairs that he'd pulled to the visitor side. His eyes widened at Reyna's expression as Octavian's warning flashed through his mind. "The last person Reyna and Aurelia had a private talk with was Jason Grace. And that was the last time I ever saw him." Percy noticed the way Aurelia's brows furrowed slightly when she saw him. He was sitting in Jason's old chair. Percy started to stand.

"Stay seated," Reyna growled. "You two leave after lunch. We have a lot to discuss."

She plunked her dagger so hard, the jelly bean bowl rattled. Aurum and Argentum took their posts on her left and right and fixed their ruby eyes on Percy.

"What'd I do wrong?" Percy asked. "If it's about the chair—"

"It is not you," Aurelia assured Percy as she grabbed a small handful of jelly-beans. "We hate senate meetings. When Octavian gets talking ..."

Percy nodded. "You guys are warriors. Octavian is a talker. Put him in front of the senate, and suddenly he becomes the powerful one."

Reyna narrowed her eyes at Percy. "You're smarter than you look."

"Gee, thanks. I hear Octavian might get elected praetor, assuming the camp survives that long."

"Which brings us to the subject of doomsday," Reyna said, "and how you might help prevent it. But before I place the fate of Camp Jupiter in your hands, we need to get a few things straight." She sat down and put her ring on the table—a band of silver etched with a sword-and-torch design, like Reyna's tattoo. "Do you know what this is?"

"The sign of your mother," Percy guessed. "The ... uh, war goddess."

"Bellona, yes." Reyna scrutinized him carefully. "You don't remember where you saw this ring before? You really don't remember us or my sister Hylla?"

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