Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kronos was a sore loser.

When most people lost a fight (although admittedly the Titan War was a pretty big smack down to lose) they sulked for a bit, maybe burst into golden monster dust if you were particularly lucky, or just started trying to kill you again if you weren’t. 

They did not, in Percy’s (quite considerable, he likes to think) experience, start glowing so brightly that it felt like your retina’s would never recover before knocking you sound unconscious. 

And yet, as soon as Luke had made the pained swing downwards towards his most vulnerable spot- his Achilles heel, right under his armpit- that is exactly what happened.

Honestly. It would be just like Kronos to mess up his day as a last ditched effort for payback by going nuclear and making Percy a splatter of Percy bits on the wall of the slightly ruined but still very elegant throne room. 

Although, to be fair, most of his friends and family were fighting for their lives against a giant army of monsters set on both Olympus’s, and life as we know its destruction, so maybe his day was already messed up to begin with. 

Still, it was a bit of a let down to come so close to actually surviving his 16th birthday, something which had seemed impossible since being 13 years old and told about the prophecy for the first time, and then getting killed by a Titan supernova.

The fates had a sick sense of humour. Percy wondered if the cut string he had seen at 12 years old without even knowing who he was yet was his string, after all. He had suspected it to be Luke's, but recent events were calling that theory into question.

Still, as the golden light of Kronos’s temper tantrum lit up the room, Percy’s last thought in between the “well, fuck” and “adfusefvbi” is wondering if it was possible for his mum to sue the Oracle of Delphi for child endangerment.

It’s a good thought to die with.

Chapter Text

Percy wakes up, which is impressive, since he was pretty sure that he had been dead or dying at the very least. 

He lays there for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness for either minutes or days, (he can’t tell which, and nothing disturbs him) as he simply breaths, reassuring himself that he is alive, despite Kronos’s apparently best efforts and the hellfire agony he is in.

Opening his eyes and sitting up, however, are much harder skills to master. 

His body feels as if it is made up of nothing more but bruises and more bruises, as if Tyson had slammed tackled him when in the pursuit of peanut butter, or Mrs O'leary had used him as a chew toy. 

It is, funnily enough, not a good feeling. 

Still, the time comes when his body sees fit to further reassure him that he is still alive in the worst way possible, with the parched tightness of his throat becoming uncomfortable.

His stomach, which is also trying to commit mutiny, is trying to eat itself, but it’s a less pressing concern- he read somewhere that the body could survive longer without food then water.

Still, there is a message here, about bodily functions and how they contribute to the promise of a continued existence and so Percy groans, gets over himself (and the feeling of being put in a shredder, that somehow the Curse of Achilles hadn’t helped with, and why was he only noticing that he was hurt when he wasn’t supposed to be able to get hurt now-) and gets up.

And stares.

To be completely honest, Percy had kind of been hoping that despite the very obvious King-Titan-going-nuclear-right-in-front-of-him, and the fact that he had just kind of lain in the same position without being bothered for a while-

(despite it being fairly obvious that he was injured, what with the shredded clothes that he was just noticing- at least the camp necklace survived, although his shirt was less a shirt and more several pieces of rags that stubbornly hung onto his body) 

-he would still wake up in the infirmity, maybe on Olympus or even Camp.

He would even take the hotel in Manhattan that they had based the war efforts out of, at this point. 

But no. The Fates had seen fit to drop him right in the middle of nothing. 

And by nothing, he means nothing sentient. 

Percy is on an island. 

He can tell that now, as easily as 2 + 2 = 4, and his best guess is that he had been so focused on the pain he hadn’t exactly paid attention to what his powers were telling him. He can sense the water all around them, now that he is listening, and it is almost enough to make him relax if it weren’t for the sheer wrongness of it all.

Because although he can sense the water, it feels… different. Rougher, perhaps. Even newer, if that made sense. 

The waters seem wild, less tamed, and isn’t that a thought? 

He had never thought of the Sea as tamed before, and yet this Sea was definitely different in temperament from what he was used to. 

It made the waters he had felt in the past feel mild in comparison, although no less in powerful, and that was a thought that unsettled him.

The Sea does not like to be restrained. 

The memory comes unbidden to him, and he frowns.

If that was so (and he very clearly knew from personal experience that it was, and that it was his go to excuse when pissing of Gods in his spare time) then why did the Sea of his memories feel muted, compared to this spirited and bright water?

No answers appeared to pop out at him, not in the form of a holier-than-you God or anything equally as unpleasant, so he turns his attentions to his immediate surroundings. 

It is beautiful in a way that reminds him of Calypso, and of Ogygia- clear skies being framed by the blinding light of the sun, healthy greenery that probably was right out of a satyr’s wet dream, and of course, the frantic hum of the strange Sea, comforting yet foreign. 

Strangely enough, Percy notes that many of the vibrant flowers you would normally see in places such as this are absent, and in their places are wild herbs, the kind that he vaguely recognises only through years of being Grover Underwood’s best friend.

While Percy likes to think his self-preservation has gotten slightly better from when he was 12 (although he did just (almost?) die after giving his greatest enemy and the guy trying to kill him Annabeth’s knife and oh, Annabeth-) he still finds the curiosity (and that was a dangerous thing for a demigod to have, Percy knew) to want to look around and explore. 

Actually, he recognises that that “want” may become a need, because his insides still felt roasted, and his throat is still uncomfortably parched.

Still, the curiosity was there, because, well. The island was weird, for a reason that Percy couldn’t quite put a finger. 

And as Percy looked around, he realised why.

There was nobody here. Like, at all. He had known that there wasn’t anyone around (at least anyone willing to help a stranger laying on the ground for a few days, which was fair, he supposed) but it was still startling. 

The very air felt silent, as if whatever wind spirits that were supposed to, you know, be wind, decided to take a day off. It made Percy feel like he was in the scene of a horror movie right before the main characters split up and got eaten.

The little voice in his head that sounded like a mix between his Mum, Annabeth and his safety officer in fifth grade (listen, her talk on Stranger Danger and the statistics for child kidnapping in New York had left an impression, ok? It was terrifyingly high) was telling him that maybe he should get of this strange island, pronto.

Unfortunately, there were a few problems with that. Namely:

1. He felt like he had gone ten rounds with Typhon, and consequently was monster chow if something did decide to pop out of the shadows, because he was pretty sure his legs would not cooperate if he had to make a fast strategic retreat in the opposite direction.

(The pain was less physical, and more inside him, if that made sense. It still hurt like a bitch, but it was almost comparable to a crack in a plastic container- the water would flow into the crack, and the outside of the container would be left alone. His skin had been the container, and he suspected the crack to be his Heel.)

     2. He was parched and starving, a real double or nothing situation, and he had absolutely nothing to remedy the situation, which was a shame since he was really craving some hamburgers like, yesterday. Also, fresh water. Or anything drinkable and not likely to kill him.

Even if Percy wanted to leave the island, he couldn’t. It was his best chance of recovery, and he hoped he could gather resources to help heal or feed him (although he wasn’t exactly how to heal something that was inside, but whatever)

Plus, he was hopeful that maybe he could contact camp, perhaps through the sea mist as an Iris message after he got the immediate needs sorted out.

Hopefully, with Kronos dead (-because he had to be dead, he had to be, after that little light show-) the war would be won- and the monster armies either killed or given up- and camp would have enough time to come pick his ass up from whatever strange situation he was in now.

Because too many things were freaking him out about this island to not be some sort of weird trap, and that was the way his luck worked, historically- besides, with how he was feeling now, he really hoped he wouldn’t need to get himself out of his own scrapes.

Speaking of which, why exactly did he feel this horrible? 

One of the reasons Percy even went for a quick summer dip in the River Styx was so this stuff could stop happening.

If the Curse of Achilles had a best-by-date or time limit that no-one had decided to tell him, than Percy was so going to tell Mrs O’Leary to lick Nico when he got back.

(While adorable, the hellhound’s slobber got everywhere, and was impossible to wash out even days afterwards, making it a cruel and unusual punishment that Percy had definitely used on the Stolls more than once.)

Still, Percy weakly grabbed at his pockets, relaxing when he felt a familiar ball-point pen poking through the stiff fabric of the monster splattered jeans. 

Drawing it out, he uncapped it, before attempting to make a small cut on his elbow (in the movies, everyone always went for the palm, which undoubtedly hurt much more due to the abundance of nerve endings- it had always annoyed Annabeth, the few times they had had the opportunity to discuss it). 

The sword reacted as he had gotten used to over the course of the battle, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The bronze blade had slid off his skin, smooth as butter, not a scratch left behind. 

Although a firm reminder to watch for his Heel, the test had reassured him that he was still basically invincible, and as he put the sword away, he smiled.

He had suspected that his curse hadn’t changed, given the pain had felt less like broken bones and more like hellfire unleashed inside his body, but at least he was protected from physical effects. 

Besides, he had a feeling a situation like this was a consequence of a once in a lifetime series of events, and he was unlikely of being harmed like this again, unless someone had another Titan nuclear temper tantrum to pull from their back pockets.

He still felt like death warmed over, though. And not the nice Elysium part of death either.

Plus, his list of problems was still there, and he had better get a move on. If he died of thirst before getting to even message his friends, he was pretty sure he’d be refused at the Underworld gates on the sheer principle. 

Because really, who survives the Titan of Time trying to kill you, and then dies of something as stupid as thirst?

Percy apparently, because he had to get water, or something else to drink, fast. He didn’t know how long he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, but he had a sick feeling it could have been days, as is in, more than one, and he was pretty sure he had once watched a movie that almost had a dude die of thirst in like, 3 days. 

He could try and use his powers on the sea water, maybe to purify it or something, but he didn’t really trust himself to do something that vital right now, and he had read somewhere (read: Annabeth had read somewhere, and he had been caught in a lecture that had gone widely of topic) that salt water just made you thirstier.

With a sigh, he turned towards the middle of the island, further inland, before cautiously reaching out in search of a freshwater lake or spring, not very optimistic about his chances of just finding a freshwater source.

To his surprise and slight trepidation, he sensed a spring not to far from where he was, but far enough away that it was going to be annoying to get to, especially in his current state. 

Beggars can’t be choosers though, and Percy was definitely feeling the lack of liquid now, so he cast one more glance around at the scenery and put his hand in his pocket to fiddle with his sword. 

From there, he carefully picked his way through the greenery around him, towards the spring, because if there was anything his time at camp had taught him, it was that nature spirits could be vicious when they felt someone had slighted them.

And he most definitely did not want to offend a random bush nymph by accidently stepping on her roots.

Chapter Text

Percy followed the feeling of the river in his gut, stumbling his way through a too-quiet forest as carefully as he can.

It’s not a long walk, but with the hash sun shining up above and his already dry throat, it feels like it takes forever.

Even the trees, which Percy had assumed might have some respite from the sun, are too spaced out for some decent shadow to rest in, and he scowls up at the sky.

He didn’t think Apollo hated him, but with the way the sun was glaring down at him right now, he was having some second thoughts.

Really, at this point he shouldn’t be surprised. The Gods had been screwing him over since he was 12, why should they stop when he was 16 and had just fought a war for them?

(Although to be fair, he was brought here by a titan hissy fit, but the devil is in the details, and Percy wasn’t feeling exactly generous in his view of the Gods right now. Not after the war. Not after Michael, and Silena, and Beckendorf.)

Eventually though, he makes it. The forestry dips away somewhat, and he hears the gentle flow of a natural spring right before he sees it.

The river stretches out in a picturesque clearing, and Percy reckons it looks more like a painting then actual real life, which is a little suspicious, but whatever. He can feel the fresh water, and his throat is on fire so he can worry about monster threats later.

He makes his way to the bank on unsteady feet, dully realising that the soles of his sneakers had been worn- or burnt- through, and he can feel the grass under his heel.

It’s a good thing his Achilles Heel isn’t his actual heel, huh.

Scooping the water up with his hands, Percy briefly checked if the water is good to drink one more time (although he wasn’t sure what he would do if it wasn’t) before gulping it down, savouring the coolness of it as its sooths his dry throat.

Percy instantly feels better- more aware- and he grins. The pain that had been throbbing throughout his body since he had woken up here is gone, or at least significantly diminished, and he finds that his thought process is clearer as well.

Healing from water was one of the better powers he had. Thank you, father.

The water’s essence itself, as well, is softer, much softer than the feeling he had gotten from the ocean where he had first- woken up? Landed?

Whatever the case, it doesn’t surprise him too much. The river feels gentle and calm, like the soft touch of a mother’s hand on your face when you’re sick.

It makes sense- River naiads are generally much gentler in nature then their oceanic cousins.

After all, nature spirits are tied to their domains, and an ocean is of a much wilder temperament then a river.

Percy sits down on the back where he was kneeling, and sighs. His most immediate need is taken care of, so now what?

His thoughts immediately turn towards camp, and he bits his lip. They had just had a war- they had just lost people, lost friends and family, and where was he?

In the middle of bumfuck nowhere, being absolutely useless.

Although his stomach was still grumbling, (his appetite had seemed to increase because of his dip in the Styx) Percy decided it could wait.

Contacting camp was the most important thing right now.

Standing up, Percy eyed the river.

Although he had originally planned to use sea mist to try and get an iris message through, it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility that he could just use his powers to bend the river.

Plus, it was already afternoon, if he had judged the position of the sun right, and he didn’t like his chances of finding his way home before dark.

The ocean was at least an hour walk from here (although it could be less, he had been pretty out of it on the walk over) and the clearing was a pretty good place to set up camp.

Also, there was the bonus of fresh water whenever.

With this is mind, Percy concentrated on his gut, at that ball of energy that always seemed to react each time he used his godly side, and reached for the river.

It came easily to him, and he smiled slightly, willing the water to spread itself thin and come into contact with the warm air.

It obeys his mental command in the blink of an eye, and he grins wider, staring at the new mist in front of him cheerfully before realising one crucial detail.

He needed a drachma, and Kronos, the King of Sore Losers, (not to be confused with Zeus, King of Drama Queens) had seen fit to shred his clothes.

He drops the water with a groan, and that is when he hears it.

Someone clearing their throat from behind him.

Spinning around widely, Percy has his sword out before he can think- a reaction born from years of a very troubled childhood of fighting monsters, Gods, and everything in between.

The person who cleared their throat jerks back suddenly, their eyes widening at the pointed tip now hovering above their neck, and Percy sees them clearly for the first time.

Or rather, Percy sees her clearly for the first time. She is obviously not human- she radiates power like a God, but… more harsh, somehow. If he had to compare it, he’d say she feels like a Titan, and the comparison doesn’t help his nerves.

She has long black hair that laps at her collarbone, paired with slightly pointed ears and strikingly familiar blue eyes. Strangely enough for the 21^st century (all though Percy supposed immortals worked on different rules) she is wearing a rough woollen chiton, the tunic obviously made by hand.

Covering the garment is a soft orange cape- a Himation, Annabeth’s voice whispers in his mind- a cloak worn in the Greece of Old. The knowledge is the product of countless lessons on Greek history he hadn’t cared about, but learned because she did.

The most interesting things about her however, has nothing to do with her clothing.

Because the immortal is wearing a crown that seems to be made out of tiny towers- (a turret, he thinks they’re called) and the real kicker?

Is that she is alarmingly and overwhelmingly pregnant.

Chapter Text

The women blinks against the metal hovering near her throat, and raises an eyebrow.

“Would you raise arms against an unarmed opponent? And a pregnant one at that.” She speaks unhurried and slow, like someone who has all the time in the world, and Percy grits his teeth, thinks scornfully Immortals and freezes.

It’s not what she said, but the language she spoke in. If it was Greek, it would make sense. He understands modern Greek, and even the older dialects fairly well, thanks to his heritage.

However, this language- it’s recognisable as Ancient Greek, it shares the same incantations and verbs. But at the same time, the Ancient Greek dictionary inbuilt into his brain is sending Error Pending messages. He can understand the general gist of what she is saying, yes, but there were words that just didn’t feel right in his brain.

At Camp, they were part taught and part just knew the three major dialects of Ancient Greece: Dorian Greek, Ionic Greek and Aeolian Greek.

But this? This is something different. Terrifyingly enough, he suspects it might be something older.

A small part of his brain screams at him to remember the strange water, the silence of the forest, the women’s old style of handmade clothes, and he ignores it for later examination.

After all, the immediate threat of an immortal- almost definitely a Titan- is right in front of him, and he suspects due to his earlier understanding that he can make out her words if he concentrates hard enough, so he focuses on her.

She is staring at him expectantly, waiting for a response and so he indulges her, sword unwavering.

“I highly doubt you are unarmed,” and because he has met types like her he before he adds “My lady.”

She shrugs, studying him with unabashed curiosity- he gets the feeling that she could hide her feelings expertly if she wished, but doesn’t care enough about him to do so. “True enough, although this conversation would be smoother without a pointed piece of metal in my face, if you understand.”

Percy smiles without humour. He doesn’t know who she is, and so he has no inclination of removing his safety net without something to reassure him, especially on this not-quite-right island. “We must all protect ourselves somehow.” Percy says calmly, gazing at her.

It is a test, and she knows it. “Thankfully, none shall come to harm on this island- unless, of course, they cause harm first.”

It is both a subtle reassurance and threat, and he studies her body language before silently re-capping Riptide. He’s trusted more suspicious individuals on less, after all.

Before the Titan War, he would have seen surrendering his weapon as a sign of submission, an acknowledgement of her power over him as a mortal. Now? He has fought Titans.

Several of them, actually.

He isn’t sure that he could defeat her (his fatal flaw will never be over-confidence) but he could at least put up a decent fight, especially with the river next to him.

“So,” she breaks the silence first, a strange curiosity in her eyes, “What are you?”

Of all the things she could have said, that throws him, and he stares in disbelief at her.

“What am I?” He repeats, his mind running wild.

Does she live under a rock? Or- he blinks as a thought comes to him. Maybe this was some kind of time bubble, like Ogygia but on steroids. Complete isolation from the outside world.

Still, to have not seen humans before? Humans were everywhere. Surely she had to have come across one of the 7 something billion of them at some point.

She crosses her arms, the movement drawing attention to her pregnancy, and at the reminder of other life he draws a mental cross over isolation from the world, although he wouldn’t be surprised if a God had cursed her to be pregnant forever in a fit of petty vengeance and then proceeded to forgot about her on an island somewhere.

Admittedly, the situation sounded more in line for a mortal lover than a probable Titaness, but hey, it could happen. Just look at Calypso.

“Yes? Are you just slow, or is it supposed to be obvious?” She says with a huff, although he got the feeling most of it was for show. “Are you some new spawn of one of my siblings? Your aura feels like-” she cuts herself quickly, and looks away, and he is positively burning with curiosity now.

Percy raises an eyebrow and says, “I’m a human. And as far as I know, I have no affiliation with any of your siblings.” He leaves out the rest of his heritage, because if she hasn’t heard of humans, then demigods were probably a no go too and he doesn’t want to reveal his entire hand just yet.

She was a Titan after all, although he admits she doesn’t seem to mean him any harm. Yet, his self-preservation whispers, and he acknowledges the warning that it is.

A thought strikes him- she is a Titan. He had answered a strong ‘No’ when she asked if he had any affiliation with her siblings, but it’s quite possible that he’s met or even fought one. After all, most Titans that he can remember were family.

Still, he can definitely confirm that his parents aren’t Titans (the idea might have even been insulting to his father, which is funny), so he technically still answered somewhat truthfully.

It’s a good thing, because he may be an accomplished liar, but he feels like if he lied, she could look into his soul and see the truth if she wanted too anyway.

Not that that would stop him, though.

Then again, now that he thinks about it, most Immortals felt like that. Maybe it was a side affect of the long-life span?

He is pulled out of his musings when she takes a soft step back, away from both the river and himself.

Percy blinks as her eyes widen, and he briefly makes out a hint of fear before she smooths her face out.

A Titan afraid of Humans?

Her next words are harsh, accusations flying, “Are you some new version of mortal my husband has created, then? Has he sent you to watch over me?” Her eyes narrow. “I told him I wished to be alone here.”

That is… a lot to take in. Her husband? Percy does a little mental run down of all the Greek mythology he knows, trying to come up with an answer, but finds zip.

Percy wasn’t exactly known for being the brains of the situation, - and his heart gives a painful throb that he ruthlessly ignores- but even he had absorbed some information about the annoyances that make up the Greek world. Nothing was ringing a bell.

He frowns.

“As far as I know, I wasn’t created by your husband or sent by him, either.” Percy informs her. That is the truth, after all. The only one who could be blamed for his appearance is Kronos, of all people.

“You’re lying.”

“You know I’m not.”

She frowns. “If you are human, then you must be lying. They answer to my husband. Although,” she looks critically at him. “You look like no mortal I have ever seen.”

Percy raises an eyebrow, and laughs. “I’m a special little snowflake, all right.”

Weirdly enough, the more he talked with her, the less concerned he was. Of her, at least.

Her husband, on the other hand…

According to her, he created humans who answer to him, which is bullshit, because he’s pretty sure that that honour goes to Zeus in all his Godly glory and humans have definitely never answered to him.

Been scared shitless of him, yes. But answered to him? No. Not willingly.

So is she lying, or being lied to?

His attention drifts back to her, where she wears a blank expression that Percy would be willing to bet several drachmas on being caused by the term “Special little snowflake”.

“What?” she says in confusion, her tone steady but eyes baffled.

Still, no-one has ever accused Percy Jackson of not being a little shit, so he smirks, and deliberately doesn’t answer her question.

Besides, changing the topic seems safer, for now at least.

“It’s just that I’m usually asked for my name before my species, to be perfectly honest,” and then because he isn’t a complete asshole, he takes pity on her, and says “My name is Percy.”

“Percy.” The name sounds foreign on her tongue, and she sounds puzzled at the sound of it. He considers offering her the name Perseus to use, and then gives a mental shrug. Percy is his name, whether she likes it or not.

There is a silence in which he stares at her expectantly, and she seems to not know that she is supposed to giver her name in turn.

“My name is Percy,” he repeats, “And your name is…?”

She gives him a confused look, like she thought it was a stupid question, before raising a judgmental eyebrow.

“You should already know my name, if you are a human.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and he says with some annoyance. “I am a human, but I obviously don’t.” Her haughtiness is getting annoying, and a sudden flash of familiarity at the tone fills him, but he can’t quite place it.

She studies him like a bug under a microscope, before nodding decisively. “Very well. I am Rhea, Queen of the Titans.”

Well, he thinks, Shit.

Percy’s entire body stiffens, and he quickly chokes down the urge to pull out Riptide once again.

He really, really, really wishes she was lying. But the sudden familiarity at her words from earlier and her face -her eyes and even her hair, recognisable as the same black as his own- bring him little comfort in that regard.

She is who she says she is, and that’s a lot terrifying, and a tiny bit cool. Just a smidge.

Rhea (because that’s who she is, Kronos’s wife and the elder God’s mother, and Percy may be freaking out just a little bit) smiles in satisfaction, obviously noting his reaction but probably not really understanding the reason behind it.

At least, Percy hopes Rhea doesn’t understand the reason for it, because things would get messy, fast.

“Ah,” she says, like she hasn’t caused problems for him just by existing, “You’ve heard of me, then.”

“Most people have.” Percy manages to grit out, his mind whirling. Why was she here? Had she heard about the war? Whose side was she on?

In the myths, she had hated her husband for eating her kids (understandable, really, it seemed like the kind of think that could make or break a marriage, to him).

Percy went cold. Her husband. Rhea had claimed that her husband made humans- and that he sent them to check up on her. But that was impossible- as far as Percy was aware, Kronos hated humans, mortal scum in his eyes.

Plus, last time Percy checked, Kronos was busy being blown up. So how was he sending people to check up on his wife?

And then- and then- Percy thinks. About time, Seaweed Brain the voice of Annabeth declares, and his mind whirls. Everything strange or odd that’s happened to him since showing up.

The rough water, the weird stillness of the forest around them, her being unable to recognise a human-

Percy remembers the proud tone she had had when declaring herself to be Queen of the Titans (so much like Hera, now he knew the connection) and felt the puzzle pieces arrange themselves into place.

Because there was no queen of the Titans, at least not now. But there was before.

And, of course, the last piece of evidence, staring him in the face. Because Rhea, Titan of motherhood and fertility, was pregnant.

And according to the myths, she had only ever had six children.

Percy closed his eyes.

Kronos was a dick. He was also the Titan of time.

And Percy was pretty sure that this wasn’t the 21^st century.

Chapter Text

What do you do when you realise that your murderous cannibalistic Grandfather yoinked you out of 21^st century, back into the ye old days of Ancient Greece?

Well, as Percy was discovering, the action most appealing in this scenario was to scream.

Loudly.

Preferably at the fates, or even Kronos himself.

Because seriously. Percy knew demigods had a rough life, but he had been hoping (quite foolishly, it seems) that after the whole, you know, saving Olympus thing that Percy could have caught a break.

Especially considering that he had thought he was going to die at 16 for years now.

But no. Here he was, in a time so old that he didn’t even think it had a date yet, arguing with Queen Rhea about whether or not he was human.

Because now that he had context, her insistence that he wasn’t human made sense as well. After all, he may have ADHD, but even he remembers the frequent lectures Chiron gave them about Greek history- in particular, the Five Ages of Men.

Obviously, most of the lectures were about the age most relevant to them- the Age of Heroes. But some went into depth about the other ages, and things slide into place as he remembers the first.

Because yes, Zeus made humans. But he didn’t make every version of human. In fact, the first version of humans- of mortals- were created by Kronos.

It was called The Golden Age, and isn’t that just a kick in the teeth?

Because from what he remembered, humans in this age lived long, happy lives, wanting for nothing and nobody. No work, and all play.

And Kronos was the one to make this Golden Age for humans. Not the Gods. Kronos, the murder happy scythe wielding Titan.

It really put the Gods into a different perspective.

Still, Percy thought he preferred the gods. Not because of anything they had done, personally (although he supposed his dad, Hestia and maybe Hermes were cool) but because the alternative sucked.

Because Kronos was a piece of crap, and humans in this golden age?

They lived to serve Kronos and his every need. The price for such pristine lives, he supposed (Maybe it wasn’t fair to judge ancient humans that he never met, but he was bitter, so.)

No wonder Zeus, in his ever-loving mercy had killed them.

But, according to Rhea’s pregnant stomach…. Zeus hadn’t killed them yet.

Ugh, time travel was annoying.

“Has my identity really shocked you that much?” The words bring Percy back from out of his head, and he stares at Rhea, confused.

“What?” he says, maybe a little too sharply, although he can forgive himself in the situation.

He just realised that he had time travelled. Give him a break.

Rhea shrugs. “I said my name and you froze.” She looks thoughtful. “Although perhaps it was my title, not my name that shocked you.”

Percy considers that. “To be completely honest, my lady, it was a combination of both.”

She shakes her head in wonder, looking at him. “You are an odd creature! During our marriage, my husband assured me that every being on Earth, Sea and Sky would know my name. And he is not one to make promises lightly.”

Her face seems to darken at this, but she presses on. “So how come you stand in my presence, not only not knowing my name, but convinced you are a human when I have met them before, and your very being feels like-”

Percy looks at her steadily, an inkling of an idea in his mind. “My very being feels like what?”

She hesitates a moment too long, and Percy narrows his eyes at the indecision on her face. “It matters not.”

“I think, my lady, that it very much does.”

Rhea shakes her head, a touch to fast to be normal and says, “I am the Queen. If I say it matters not, then it does not.”

“If it does not matter, then you should be able to tell me.” Percy hesitates, but steps closer.

“Forgive me for my presumption, but if the matter concerns some… unfavourable opinions of your husband, then you will find no opposition in me. I swear it.”

Rhea stiffens, and Percy wonders if he pushed to far- or maybe should of even promised to swear it on the River Styx, although Percy privately feels he had already had way much to much contact with that particular river.

He is just about to press her again-because he refuses to let the matter go, especially if they are in the past, when Kronos rules (after all, admitting what he just did must be, from what he assumes, a death sentence) when she interrupts him.

“Like my children!” She blurts out, before looking around them, horrified at herself. “You feel like my children!”

Her hands come up to her mouth like she is considering clasping them over it to stop herself from saying more, and he blinks.

Her composure- the self-assuredness she had carried throughout the entire conversation- had shattered completely at the slightest push from him about her kids.

Rhea is still staring at the forest as if some beast will come crawling out of it and try to eat them, or something equally horrible as Percy considers the situation.

Truthfully, he has no idea what to say or how to explain himself. After all, what would he say?

Oh yeah, Rhea, no biggie. I just feel like your children because I’m the future kid of one of your sons who may or may not be born yet, sent back in time after I pissed your husband off for daring to try and stop him from destroying the world.

Yeah, Percy got the feeling that wouldn’t go over to well.

Still, one thing was clear.

Before he decided to do, or rather, say anything, he had to get some more info on the situation.

After all, there was no way he could tell which kid was in the oven right now, other than it probably not being Hestia, thanks to Rhea’s outburst about children (as in, multiple), so Percy does what he does best.

He plays dumb.

He furrows his brow, widening his eyes slightly. “I wasn’t aware that you and… the King had any children, my lady.”

Rhea bits her lip, an action so out of the realm of most Titan-behaviour (or Immortal behaviour in general) that he almost does a double take.

It’s almost entirely different from the confidence she had at the start of the conversation, and it throws him off balance. He wonders if she was normally like this, or he had just managed to happen upon her weak spot.

Looking at her, Percy suspected the former.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t, would you? After all he doesn’t want anyone to know…” she mutters under her breath, bitterly.

Percy barely has time to think “oh, I’m probably not going to die from treason then, awesome” before she reaches out and grabs his shoulder.

The sudden bodily contact has his hackles raised again, although he very much doubts Rhea will try anything. Not after that outburst. Not after admitting what she has already done.

“Even on the Island, we shouldn’t discuss this here,” she looks him in the eye then, her face both hopeful and scared, and lowers her voice, muttering, “She said that I would find help here, and I am running out of time. Please, you must help me. Perhaps-”

She cuts herself off and says “Allow me to guide you to a safer location. Please.”

And Percy thinks -slightly hysterically, because today has been crazy by even his standards- that despite it all, despite just finding out that he is very much not where (or when) he is supposed to be and that he may never be able to see his friends again, he wants to help her.

She seems desperate (she must have been, if she was trusting the word of strange people, she met on the bank of rivers- she hadn’t even got him to swear on the River Styx about Kronos!) and sad as well, which Percy supposes makes sense considering what exactly Kronos was doing with his kids.

If there was anything he had learnt over his years of being a demigod, it was that the myths had never seemed that bad until he had been dropped right in the middle of them and was no longer allowed to think of them as just stories.

(And that sentence pretty much summed up his life)

Besides, leaving her here would be a pretty shitty thing to do. And it’s not like he has anything better to do with his time anyway, with any vague plans he had made of getting back to camp destroyed after the revelation of his surprise jaunt through time.

Also, he was feeling maybe a little bit pissed that Kronos had dumped him here without so much of a “How do you do”, basically ruining his life for the foreseeable future.

It would practically be rude of Percy not to take the giant opportunity to be a thorn in Kronos’s side once again, after all. No matter what time period.

And putting aside all that… it may have been a strange thing to think about an immortal Titan, but in the moment? When she was begging him for his help? (although he wasn’t exactly sure what he could do to help, but still.)

Rhea had seemed very young. And that was coming from a 16-year-old demigod.

Ugh. Percy sighs, mentally kissing his dreams of a quiet life goodbye. Not that he ever really thought they were gonna happen, because they were called dreams for a reason, but still.

He looks at her, with her familiar lightning blue eyes and regal tone

“Do you have a place in mind?”

 Rhea nods, her body language relaxing. “Yes, I do. Have you ever heard of Mount Ida?”

Chapter Text

It turned out, when Rhea said, “Mount Ida”, she really meant a big cave underneath Mount Ida.

As Rhea explained to him, the cave was protected by strong earth magic and was therefore convenient if one wanted to speak without someone overhearing.

It seemed a bit dodgy, but Percy had agreed that it seemed like their best shot.

The modern saying had confused Rhea (although she tried valiantly to hide it) and amused Percy, and so they had soon lapsed into silence on the journey there, lost in their own thoughts.

As they made their way on foot (because apparently instant teleportation was not a skill Titans had, which probably shouldn’t have surprised him but did -he was too used to Gods), Percy thought about everything that had happened.

It was, unsurprisingly, a lot.

Percy had asked Rhea for the name of the island, getting a weird look (hey! It wasn’t his fault he was thrown through time and crashed landed here with no helpful signs labelling the area!) and the name Crete as his answer.

Which really, now that he thought about it, made sense.

After all, the Isle of Crete was where Zeus himself had be born. If he remembered correctly, the Isle was home to the nine original nymphs that had looked after a young Zeus while his mother had to attend Kronos.

If he had to guess, it was the reason why the forest had been so silent. Those nine nymphs had started an entire race through their offspring, but it simply hadn’t happened yet.

Percy thought about the trees and greenery they had walked past and shuddered. Before he had known about, you know, being a demigod, it had felt weird that every tree had its own spirit.

Now?

The exact opposite was true. If the trees had no nymphs, then how where they growing? Thriving?

The thought unsettled him, and so he pushed it into the back of his brain for now, pausing as he reconsidered something.

The wind had been silent as well, and Percy was willing to bet the reason the Sea had been strange also had something to do with it- the spirits that had tended to natures domains in his time probably hadn’t been born yet.

It was a weird thought.

Actually, the entire situation was weird.

After all, it wasn’t every day you were thrown into a time before the wind had even been born, and it was a bit uncomfortable, as, for the first time, Percy realised how young everything was, and just how far back in time he was.

And, Percy thought, giving a sideways glance at Rhea’s pregnant stomach, that this being the Isle of Crete did give him a hint about where, or rather when exactly he was on the Gods Being Born Timeline™.

Crete was Zeus’s birthplace, after all.

They had made fairly good time navigating around Crete (thankfully, the mountain wasn’t far) and had reached the mountain before the sun had truly disappeared from the horizon.

Apollo, Percy thought, and then- no wait, Helios. It was just another reminder of the strange differences between times, and Percy felt a headache started to form.

Rhea directed him to a small opening in the rocks, and they both ducked into the cave, the movement looking strange on the Queen’s normally graceful body as she was hampered by her pregnancy, making her do a little duck-waddle thing.

Inside, Percy had been prepared for many things- a death pit or even a trap, chief among them, perhaps with Kronos popping in out of nowhere and doing a little dance before saying “Surprise, sucker!” and ending his life horribly.

However, what he was not prepared for was the goat.

In hindsight, he should have probably been prepared for the goat.

It was curled up against one side of the far cave, its shaggy gray fur gleaming in the rays of the small fire cackling merrily away in the cave.

It had curlicue horns like a ram, but the swollen udders of a female goat, which would have been strange, had the goat not been glowing in the dull light of the cave, almost as if wisps of light were clinging to it.

Huh, Percy thought, Radioactive Goat. Nice.

“Her name is Amaltheia.” Percy glanced at Rhea, who had apparently followed his gaze to the radioactive goat. “She is a nymph of sorts, given to me by my mother to help with the nursing of my future child.”

“Ah,” Percy nodded, as if he had any idea either way. He had one vague memory of chatting with Thalia about her shield, Aegis, and the name popping up in the conversation, but other than that, he was flying blind.

He hoped the goat wasn’t a murder goat. That would suck.

“And your mother is…?” Percy said, wanting to move the subject along.

Rhea stopped from where she had moved across the cave to poke the fire, giving him a strange look. She did that quite often, and it was getting pretty annoying.

“My mother. The primordial being of the Earth.” She stared at him, and Percy very clearly got the uncomfortable feeling that this was one of these things he was just expected to know.

He blinked. “Right, of course. I knew that.”

Rhea gave him a doubtful look, and then sighed heavily, hunching over and turning back to the fire and staring into the flames.

It felt like a dismissal, and Percy wondered what, exactly, he had got himself into.

He observed her as plainly as he could, trying to discern what she was thinking- maybe regretting bringing him here? For someone who had seemed so frantic at the river, she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to talk.

Tearing his gaze away from the Titan, Percy cautiously made his way into the cave, avoiding Rhea for now as he looked around.

(This time he also ignored the sleeping goat in the corner. He, quite frankly, didn’t really have the energy to deal with it, and he was like 60% sure it probably wouldn’t kill him from Rhea’s comments and the half-remembered conversation with Thalia, which was more than 50% and therefore good enough for him.)

The inside of the cave was nicely furnished in a caveman sort of way, with a thick woollen rug spread out on the floor (though what creature it was from, he had no idea- a bear, perhaps?) and the small fire that Rhea now sat next to illuminating the space.

There were hides covering most of the walls, reflecting and insulating the heat back into the area, and Percy found himself grateful as the sun came down and the chill crept in.

In the small places where the cave wasn’t covered with hides, opposite Amaltheia, there seemed to be small gaps carved into the rock, serving as some sort of ancient bookshelf from what Percy could tell, as they housed what looked to be a stack of clay tablets, with scratches and indents that indicated some sort of writing.

And, if Percy squinted, he could make out the very back of the cave, where there was a small (but quite deep) pool of water that he could sense was fresh with his water powers.

The pool had a quiet gurgling waterfall throughout it, bringing the fresh water in, and as Percy stared it, trying to gauge where it came from (perhaps run off from the mountain?) he thought he saw movement in the water out of the corner of his eye.

However, it was gone as soon as it came, and Percy eventually gave up waiting to see if it happened again. This was Rhea’s- not home- secret base, maybe? And he doubted that there was anything harmful here.

It may not be harmful to Titans, but what about mortals? his subconscious whispered, and he quickly checked Riptide was in its proper pace.

Percy spared a moment to wonder why Rhea was at river they had met at if her home had already had fresh water, raising a curious eyebrow in the pool’s direction.

Actually, she was a Titan, so he wasn’t really sure she needed water in the first place, anyway.

However, it wasn’t like he had had a chat with Hyperion or Kronos during the time they had tried to kill him about their powers and how they worked, so who knows?

He smiled slightly at the thought of that conversation.

Percy: Hey Hyperion, Can I ask a few questions about your powers?

Hyperion: Sure Percy, go right ahead! I promise I won’t bludgeon your brains out!

Percy: Thanks Hyperion. You’re a real pal.

Yeah, Percy was sure that would go over really well.

Once he had observed the full contents of the cave-

(feeling increasingly grateful that he didn’t have to spend the night outside- he might of done it before, when he had first been injured, but he couldn’t really remember anything, and Crete at night, from what little he could see from the opening, looked very cold.)

-Percy drifted over to Rhea, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with just standing there gawking like a 5-year-old in a candy store. She was still hunched over the flames, staring intently (was this normal behaviour for Titans?) and he wasn’t sure if he should interrupt.

He took about 5 seconds to think about the merits of interrupting her or not, which was an improvement from his usual manner of what Annabeth called “Making decisions without thinking even the slightest bit, Gods of Olympus Percy, do want me to have a heart attack before I turn 16?” and made up his mind.

Percy took a deep breath, walking over to join her near the fire. “I’m not sure exactly what you want me to do, or even why you think I can help, but I want you to know I’m on your… and your children’s side.”

The statement was truer than Rhea knew, and Percy hoped it would help her decide what to do, or whether to trust him. Although she had brought him here, so that was a good sign.

He hoped.

Rhea looked over to him in what he thought might be surprise, and nodded once, firmly, before untangling her hands from where she had clasped them together, and he suddenly felt kind of stupid.

She wasn’t ignoring him- she was praying, probably to her mother, the primordial of Earth if he had to guess and Rhea was to be believed.

Rhea shook her head, perhaps guessing his thoughts as she said, “Mother is not responding to my prayers at this time. I can only assume that I am on the correct path, and she has decided I do not need guidance in this.”

Rhea didn’t sound too convinced, and Percy grimaced, knowing the feeling of praying to an absent parent you weren’t sure was listening well.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, sighing, “What were you praying about?”

Rhea smiled slightly. “You.”

Percy gave her a startled look, and she elaborated, the fire flickering softly over her face. “Did you not think me hasty when asking you to come here?” She gestured around the room. “This is my sanctuary after all.”

“From your husband?” Percy asked shrewdly. It may have been rude, but he had had enough of dealing with Kronos for a lifetime, and he was still annoyed at the trip through time.

Percy had a feeling that that feeling wouldn’t go away for quite some time. Still, a part of Percy wanted to hope maybe he could get home, one day. It was probably a long shot, but he supposed it was part of being human.

Rhea gave him a look, before nodding. “Yes, from my husband. I will explain why, if I must. It is not common knowledge for a reason.”

Percy made a noise of affirmance, before considering the first half of her statement. “Wait, if you thought you were being hasty, why did you ask me to come with you?”

“My mother told me too.”

Percy’s face must have been a sight to see, because Rhea laughed (for the first time in his presence as well-he hadn’t realised how sad her face had been until he saw the opposite) and added, “Well, she told me that I would find a being I could trust near the natural giver of life. From lack of any other options, I figured her meaning to be the running freshwater river that passes through the middle of the island- it helps the trees and plants grow, and waters the animals that live here.”

Percy tried to make out the implications of that. A primordial being had seen him coming here and told Rhea that he would help her? It sounded a little farfetched, but ok, Percy could role with that.

A thought came to him. “When were you told to check the river?”

“Perhaps seven of Selene’s moon cycles ago? I have made the trek to the river seven times now.”

A week ago, he wasn’t even in this time. He had been fighting a war for Olympus. So how had the Earth Mother known? It’s a troubling thought, as much of this entire experience lately has been.

“Right,” Percy took a breath, “And so your mum showed up, told you “Oh yeah, you’ll meet a dude near the river, trust him because he’s cool” and then you just… did what she said?”

Rhea looked slightly mutinous at this description, although whether it was from his language or what he said was anyone’s guess. “I tend to not doubt my mother’s wisdom, especially in times like these.”

She shook her head, continuing. “You should show more respect to those who deserve it though, especially my mother -she is not one for you to anger lightly- although I am starting to understand it is not in your nature. Many of my kin would strike you down for your tongue before you could even raise your sword.”

Percy gave her a sweet grin. “I suppose I am lucky that you found me then, my lady, and not your kin.”

The corners of Rhea’s mouth twitched upwards, and he took that as a good sign that he wasn’t going to be struck down.

“Very well,” she said with a theatrical sigh, and Percy found hope in the display of humour as she added, “And I did not just bring you back because my mother willed it, anyway. As I said before, you are an oddity- a being claiming to be human but not under my husband’s sway, with a distaste of my husband as well! And of course, there is your aura, reminiscent of my children’s.”

“You’ve mentioned your children are the reason you brought me here before. Like I said, I didn’t know you and…well, I didn’t know you had any children.”

A white lie. Santa could put him on the naughty list for all he cared. It was an invitation to explain though, and so Rhea did.

She described how, years ago, she had gotten pregnant with her first child. A girl, she said bitterly, not that they had known it then. The King had been overjoyed at the prospect of an heir and everything had seemed fine. It seemed naïve now, to not have realise that behind his joyous expression, Kronos had been panicking, paranoid about the prophecy.

“The prophecy?” Percy asked to be polite, a bitter edge to his words that he tried to hide but was unsuccessful from the look on Rhea’s face.

“Yes. When my husband killed our father at our mothers’ orders, the last thing the Sky Lord did was prophesies that Kronos would be killed by his children just as my father had been killed by my brothers.”

There was a particular look on Rhea’s face, and Percy found himself remembering that for all her seemingly good cheer now, the Titaness had still been there as Uranus was slaughtered.

“Of course,” she snorted, “My husband believe it to be a curse, although I suppose it doesn’t matter now. What matters is what he did afterwards.” The words are hissed in hate, and Percy decides to stay silent because he wasn’t touching that with a 10-foot stick.

Rhea shakes her head and narrates how, when it came time to give birth, she had named the child “Hestia” and presented her to Kronos as his first-born daughter. And Kronos, in all his loving kindness (this is said with such sarcasm that even Percy feels impressed) had eaten her.

Rhea looks at him like she is expecting questions from this statement, and Percy determinedly says nothing. He would like this part to be over and done with as quickly as possible, thank you very much.

However, instead of moving on to her next children, Rhea frowns and says, “Hestia’s aura was different from any Titan I have ever delivered into the world.”

Percy’s gaze darted to her, and he leant forwards. “You’ve mentioned the aura before. What do you mean?”

Rhea sighs. “As the Titan of motherhood, I help with any pregnancies throughout my family, and help deliver the children. But Hestia, and then the others after her, all without fail, seem to be different.”

“Different how?”

“If I had to guess? More powerful. Less rough, more divine. They were smaller than most babes of our kind. And I think that, more than anything else, tipped Kronos over the edge.”

“He ate them.” Percy says flatly, annoyed to have had to have said it, and Rhea nods with a pain that only mothers could have in her eyes.

“He ate all of them. I’m not sure they even survived- they were immortal, yes, but they were so small when it happened…” Rhea’s voice trails away, lost in what Percy assumes are memories.

He clears his throat, and she jerks back to the present.

“Which is why this child,” Rhea gestures vaguely to her stomach, “Will be different. I will make sure of it.”

Percy looks at her.

“I know you will.”

The statement is said with a quiet sort of confidence that Percy thinks only one who knows the future could pull off.

He finds himself wishing that it gives her hope, for the years to come.

Chapter Text

After Rhea told the tale of her children, which Percy thinks might be one of, if not the first times in history that the origin story of the Elder Gods had been told, which was crazy, his stomach decided to quite loudly remind him that he hadn’t had anything to eat since, well.

A very long time, at least.

Maybe a bit before the final battle, after Michael? Annabeth had shoved some bread into his hands just before he had crashed to catch his 30 minutes power nap before the big finale.

Rhea raised an eyebrow as the loud noise broke the tension in the room and he blushed scarlet.

“It’s been a long day,” he said by way of explanation, and she nodded, looking thoughtful, before waving her hand.

In front of him, a wide platter made of clay appeared, beautifully decorated with animals that Percy could only assume were lions and covered with what looked to be a circular sheet of thin bread that had been fried in olive oil. Next to the bread, a pile of slightly wrinkled fruit that Percy actually recognised lay, and he looked at Rhea in question.

“Bread and… dates?”

The Titaness nodded, looking quite satisfied as she snagged a date for herself. “Laganon bread and honeyed dates. A treat if ever I saw one.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “I thought immortals ate Ambrosia and Nectar?”

“We do, but sometimes that gets boring. Nothing like some mortal food to keep your taste buds alive!” Rhea smiled, but it soon faded away as Percy shrugged and tucked in.

He polished off the meal and was considering going over to the freshwater pool at the other end of the cave for a drink when he felt Rhea’s eyes on him, considering.

“Yes?”

Rhea shrugged gracefully, managing to make nibbling on a date elegant as she spoke, “It’s just that you asked many questions before we ate, but you never asked the most important one. Or, well, the one most pertaining to you, anyway.”

Percy blinks, sitting back from the platter and watching as it was blinked away with a flick of Rhea’s hand. There is something not quite right in her tone. “And what question would that be?”

Rhea moves closer to him, like a hunter moving in for the kill, and he suddenly feels like little more than prey, lured closer by the promise of food and drink. “Well, Percy, what does any of this- my plight, my children- have to do with you? Why did my mother send me to you, over all others? I have explained my story, but you have not explained yours.”

“Ah,” Percy says and considers the question carefully in his mind, mindful of Rhea’s dark gaze, pinning him to the spot.

From what he remembers, the nymphs had helped Rhea in the myths of old, and the goat still slumbering in the corner of the room pointed to that being the case in this time as well.

However, Percy got the feeling that pointing out would not be looked at kindly, not now.

He briefly thinks about lying to her, and then decides what the hell, because he doesn’t even know what lie he could give her that would be believable, and it’s the least he can do after she explained her vulnerability to him, so he looks at her and trades one truth for another.

“I’m from the future,” he says, and her face is changes so quickly from calculating to baffled that he snorts.

Rhea says blankly, “What?” and Percy smiles slightly, shrugging.

“You wanted to know how I am connected to you and your struggle, so I answered.”

“So you said you’re from the future? I don’t believe you. You are either lying or mad.”

“I am neither.” Percy says, affronted.

Rhea scowls, looking annoyed, “Then do I not deserve the truth, after all the truth I have told you?” she demands, before her eyes widen.

Percy has just enough time to think, Oh no.

Suddenly there are two lions on either side of him, surrounding him with snarls in their throat and too many teeth to be entirely comfortable. He probably should have seen this coming, to be honest, although a part of him is surprised it took this long.

He is famous for pissing of gods (or anybody with the capacity for snapping him like a twig, really) at camp for a reason.

“If you are telling the truth, about… time travel,” and Rhea’s lips curl, “then you must be a spy from my husband, after all.” She says flatly. “He is the Titan of Time.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Did you not say that your mother sent you to find me? And that you “tended to trust her in” these types of matters? Besides, do you not think that a spy for Kronos would have a more plausible excuse?”

He chooses to not mention that technically, him being here is Kronos’s fault. And Chiron had said he’d never learn any tack! Shows what he knows.

Rhea does not seem happy that Percy quoted her own words back at her, but the two lions fall back from where they had been circling him, at least.

He takes it that their dinner (of him) has been put on a temporary hold, and that whether or not they get their tasty Percy-Snack really depends on what he says next.

Rhea gestures for him to explain himself, and so he does.

“You said I felt like your children several times, and you are most definitely correct. I am, technically speaking, your future grandchild.”

Rhea frowns. “So, you…” she blinks. “Wait. One of my children is your-?”

“Yep,” Percy says, and before she asks, adds “Poseidon.”

Rhea stares at him. “Poseidon is currently in his fathers’ stomach. Do you truly expect me to believe-?”

Percy elaborates, “I said I was from the future, didn’t I?” and Rhea falls silent. He can practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

“Suppose you are not insane-”

“I’m not!”

“Poseidon is free, then?” There is a terrible sort of vulnerability in the question. “From him?”

Percy immediately stops protesting, nodding solemnly at her.

“Not just him, my lady,” Percy says, “The others too- all of them. And not only that,” he says slowly, savouring the victory even if he was not part of the fight, “They win.”

Rhea’s eyes hold both the fear that he is lying, and a dangerous fiery hope in them. She needs more convincing, and so Percy finally brings out the big guns, his ace in the hole.

“They don’t feel like Titans,” he says quietly, “Because they are not. They, for all their faults, are better. They are Gods. I swear to you on the River Styx that I am not lying about this.”

There is no thunder booming in the air to signal the oath, but that is ok, because the King of the Gods is with them even now, in Rhea’s womb, and the air around them suddenly feels electric.

One glance at Rhea shows that she feels it as well, looking disconcerted as she stares at Percy like he’s ripped her entire world from underneath him. The fierce hope in her eyes is back, and she looks at him as if he holds the answers to life itself.

The lions around her lower to the ground and make themselves as small as possible, before being dismissed in a heartbeat.

It is slightly pleasing, knowing that he has caused such a strong response in Rhea, and he smiles at her cheerfully.

“So,” he says finally, after she makes no move to say or do anything. “I’m sure you have questions?”

Chapter Text

They talk well into the night, despite Percy’s mortal need for sleep, and he answers her questions as best he can (although he is the first to admit that his knowledge of his myths is somewhat spotty, and sometimes even he knows that some things should be kept a secret).

He was careful to not mention Zeus by name though- something told him that that was one of the things that needed to happen naturally.

Still, it is a start.

After he explained what he could about what happened with Kronos, and her children, Rhea shook her head in shock, muttering about how she had been expecting many things, but never this.

Percy could definitely relate. His life was insane.

Still, the more time they spend conversing, the more time Rhea seems to relax, believing him more and more to be truthful.

It is a relief to see that a tentative trust has grown between them, and Percy suspects that there will be no more lions in his future, thank the- well, not Gods. Not yet, at least.

Maybe Titans? Urgg, no. Just because he had met like, one good Titan didn’t mean he was going to start using them in his internal monologue.

Still, by the time they lapsed into silence, Nyx had been overcome by her daughter, Hemera- which was a fancy way of saying that the night had been passed, and it was now day.

Percy was still deliberating the pros and cons of screwing up his sleep schedule and just falling asleep now after the long night (because after dropping the ‘future person’ bombshell he couldn’t very well just go to sleep, huh), but his gaze drifted to the goat curled up against the wall, and he raised an eyebrow in consideration.

It had been easy to forget she was there, to be honest, but now it seemed strange.

“So is there a reason our fuzzy friend hasn’t woken up yet?” Percy says groggily, still a little bitter about having to stay up so late despite it being mostly his own fault. He was the one who decided to drop the bombshell of being-from-the-future-without-a-DeLorean late at night.

Rhea smiled slightly, sounding way to cheerful at this time in the morning (stupid Immortals and lack of needed sleep), as she said, “Actually, since Amaltheia is going to be nursing my child, she doesn’t really need to be awake just yet. She prefers to sleep through days until she’s actually needed.”

Huh. The goat may have the right idea, after all.

Wait.

“So…” Percy nods to Rhea’s pregnant stomach, “When is the kid gonna pop out?”

Rhea placed a hand on her stomach, looking thoughtful. “In around 3 of Selene’s cycles, I think. Around noon, to be precise.”

Percy was going to ask how on earth she knew that, then swallowed his own tongue. Right. Titan of Motherhood, the Great Mother. It was basically in her job description.

And then her words actually hit.

“Wait,” Percy blurts out in panic, his eyes wide. “In 3 days!?”

Rhea raised an eyebrow dangerously. “Is that a problem?”

“Um,” Percy mutters, unable to explain that he really really didn’t wanna see the joys of childbirth, especially the birth of a God. His middle school “Physical Development” course had scarred him as a child.

Percy had more trauma from that course than the entirety of the Titan War. Doctors were truly the real MVPs of the human race.

He couldn’t come up with a good excuse in the face of Rhea’s disapproval though, so he decided to do the next best thing.

Change the subject.

“That does raise an interesting question. You’ll have to go back to Mount Oryths right after, to perform the switcheroo-”

“Yes,” Rhea interrupts, “Although I still don’t quite believe it. A rock? Where would I even get it?”

Percy shrugs, smiling slightly. “I find it funny that you find that more concerning that Kronos not noticing that he’s eating a rock.”

Rhea looks contrite. “You haven’t seen Kronos of late. He’s sluggish, and slow. Perhaps his consumption of five gods is getting to him after all.” She looked vindictively pleased at the thought. “Usually, he would realise he was being tricked. Actually, in any other subject he would. But I don’t believe that he likes eating my children, although his paranoia drives him too it. He doesn’t usually like to linger on what he has done.”

“So you think he’ll just swallow it down and try to never think about it again?” Percy asks, slightly fascinated but mostly grossed out.

Greek mythology was weird.

Rhea nods firmly. “Exactly. Which brings me back to my question. Where do I even get this rock?”

At the Titan’s words, as if triggered by them, the ground began to shake ominously, with both Percy and Rhea shooting to their feet from where they had been conversing on the furs.

Scrambling back from where the ground was shaking the most, as they watched, a small crack appeared in the ground a few feet from where they had been sitting. It was off putting, to say the least, and Percy put his hand in his pocket.

He remembered his less than perfect experiences with cracks in the ground and monsters jumping out, after all and having his hand near a sword was never a bad thing in situations like this.

However, his forward thinking was soon interrupted by Rhea putting her hand on his arm.

Her eyes are shinning.

“My mother! This must be the work of my mother!” She shouts over the loud noise of crashing rocks.

Percy has a sudden flash of understanding. “Your mother, the Earth?!”

“Yes! Gaia!”

Percy would have asked more questions, but the shaking dislodged a few of the rocks on the ceiling, and he narrowly jumped back just in time to avoid a decent sized chunk of rock, falling exactly where he had been standing previously.

Despite Rhea’s optimism, an earthquake in a cave sounds like a death trap.

Suddenly, as if to prove Percy wrong, everything stops, and the world goes quiet. Rhea seizes his shoulder.

“Look!” She grins, pointing. It was entirely too girlish of her, nothing like the fear that had entered her eyes so often since he had known her, and Percy relaxes at that if nothing else, turning to look where she had been pointing.

There, where the crack had been previously (and had obviously been closed up) was a smooth, oval shaped rock.

They stare at in silence for a bit, blinking at it. The conversation they had been in the middle of before comes back, and Percy barks out a laugh.

“Well,” he says grinning. “Will you look at that? I guess you got your rock after all.”

And in the corner, the goat is still, unbelievably, asleep.

Chapter Text

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No. No way.”

“What did you think was going to happen?”

Percy stared at the Titaness in horror. “Not this! What do you mean, you want me to be the one to take care of your kid?! I can barely keep my dog alive, and you want me to help babysit a god?!”

It had been two days since they had first meet, and time have gone fast. Rhea had all but dragged him around Crete, telling him things about the island that she thought could be useful in the future.

It had seemed like an innocent (if a bit baffling-why would he need to know?) past time, before Rhea had dropped the absolute bombshell that it was her expectation that Percy would help raise her only godly child that was outside of a stomach.

“You are the best choice for this,” Rhea says calmly, obviously not caring about his (quite loud) objection to the idea. “You have previous experience with gods-”

“Not like this!” Percy says with a snarl, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Rhea ignores him, continuing on with her speech stubbornly, which Percy would have found impressive if that determination was used on anyone except him.

“Which means you know the power set of a god better than anyone in the universe right now. Plus, he’ll be able to feel how you are of his kind-”

“Oh, you’re just grasping on straws with that one.” Percy says flatly, interrupting her yet again. “I’m a mortal. A demigod. Nowhere near an actual god. Besides, don’t you have other care takers lined up? What about the nymphs?”

“Percy,” Rhea says simply, looking in his eyes solemnly, once again ignoring his very valid points. “Be realistic. Do you really have anything better to do? You’re from the future, and you told me yourself that you find it unlikely that you’ll be able to get home anytime soon.”

The words hurt, and Percy makes a conscious effort not to let Rhea realise how much.

Still.

Percy hates that she is kind of right.

“But it’s-” He gestures vaguely to her stomach, looking upset.

He’s trying to make her understand, to get why the entire thing is completely insane.

Because the simple lunacy of the proposition is completely out there. Percy can take time travel. He can take chatting to Rhea and a magic goat that has still not woken up, despite Rhea only being a day out from the actual birth.

He draws the line at being responsible for a tiny Zeus, which is what Rhea wants him to do while she climbs up Mount Oryths and plays the part of a devoted wife.

He has several reasons why.

Firstly, Zeus is a dick. Not as bad as Kronos, but still. A dick. Literally and physically, too, because 99% of problems in Ancient Greece started because Zeus couldn’t keep it in his pants.

(Yes, Percy is aware of the irony of a demigod saying that. His very existence depends on beings that can not keep it in their pants. No, he doesn’t care. If he could get away with calling Zeus a whore to his face and not get blasted into oblivion, he would.)

Secondly, the sheer wrongness of the entire situation is overwhelming. Something in him screams that this is not right. A demigod, raising a God? It’s against the natural order of the universe.

So is time travel, his subconscious whispers, but that didn’t stop Kronos, did it? If he did broke the rules, why can’t you? This is an opportunity that no other person in the universe has. You could make him better. You could make him see things your way.

Percy pushes the thought away with more force than necessary, surprised that his mind even went there. He is not a child of Zeus, after all (ironies of ironies). His fatal flaw is not power.

Besides, the guy would be younger than him, and he would be taking advantage of a child’s trust.

He is slightly relieved to find that the thought of that still disgusts him.

Even if the child is Zeus, the freaking King of the Gods, Sky, and also probably sticking his dick where it doesn’t belong.

(Yes, he is still on that.)

So Percy Jackson, professional thorn in the side of all Gods, major or minor (he doesn’t discriminate) becoming the ultimate babysitter?

Yeah, no.

Rhea breaks into his inner monologue, with more of her horrible calm logic, her campaign to win him over on this horrid plan apparently not finished. “The nymphs will still be there- you met some of them, remember? I just need you to watch over him, maybe teach him.”

“Teach him what.” Percy demands, wondering if the whole thing could be a hallucination. Maybe he ate some magic mushrooms, or something. It’s possible.

It’s true that he had met the nymphs though. One of them, Hagno, is actually a naiad that is part of the cave system, which explains why he saw something in the river the first night he was here.

Obviously, her entire river isn’t just the cave pool, but it allows her to be in the cave whenever they need her, unlike the most of the others, who have their own nature domains to tend to.

She also hates him, but he gets the feeling she hates everyone, so it’s cool.

A soft sigh passes Rhea’s lips. “I need you to teach him how to be good.” The admission shocks him out of his protest, and he meets her eyes, tired from her pregnancy but still going strong.

“Percy, I’ve only known you for a few days, but I already decided that you were a good person after the first night. Your tale, the battles you fought… It was too raw not to be true. I would give everything to be able to nurture and guide him as he grows, but Kronos will be especially paranoid after the birth. I will not be able to see him nearly as often as I want to be.”

Rhea sounds not just sad, but completely wrecked, wistful. He is suddenly struck how, despite her title being The Great Mother, she is unable to do exactly that due to Kronos’s crimes.

It silences any protests about his supposed ‘goodness’.

Although he was just thinking about how to manipulate someone who isn’t even born yet so. Maybe not that good? Although to be fair he just wants Zeus to be better.

That isn’t a sin, right?

“I need you to teach him how to be just, how to do the right thing. To teach him morals where I cannot.”

Besides, his mother is asking him to do that. To make him a better person.

That has to count for something.

And it’s not like it’ll be entirely for his own gain, either. Every person Zeus has ever fucked over is sitting on his shoulders now, a lovely little weight to add to what feels like the rest of the entire world.

“You want me to give the King of the Gods an ethics lesson.” Percy hopes he doesn’t sound as conflicted he looks, but from Rhea’s expression, he thinks that he failed.

“Several, if I may be so bold. What you’ve told me… it doesn’t paint Zeus in a good light. The war you fought indirectly started because of his actions, and then he didn’t do much to help you. Wouldn’t you want to change that? Make the world a better place?”

“Through good parenting?” Percy says, slightly sarcastic and slightly hysterical, like her words aren’t echoing his thoughts. He is so not the right person for this.

He is 16 years old. He’s pretty sure that’s illegal in most places, to have kids raise other kids.

He doesn’t feel like a kid though, and Zeus is a god. A young, easily influenced god, he could-

Percy could- Percy could save so many people, indirectly. He could make them more prepared for Kronos, in the war, if they had Zeus on their side.

Is that why Kronos sent him to the past? To test his morals in some horrible sort of ‘Baby Hitler’ scenario?

Go back in time and kill Hitler as child, prevent atrocities.

Go back in time and make sure Zeus doesn’t grow up as the raging asshole he is in Percy’s present, prevent atrocities.

But what proof does he even have that he could change a god’s nature, anyway? They weren’t human. They didn’t work how humans did.

But if Percy didn’t try-

He feels like screaming in frustration.

Rhea is looking at him with wide eyes, trusting despite such little time together, and he almost wants to explain the ‘Baby Hitler’ thing to her, because Percy doesn’t know what to do.

Although even he knows it might be for the best if he didn’t. He’s not sure if Ancient Greece has philosophical debates this far back. Rhea probably wouldn’t take kindly to the whole “killing a child” thing, anyway.

He doesn’t know how he gained so much trust in so little time, to be asked to care for her precious son. It is terrifying and thrilling at the same time, to know that this ancient being (although, not that Ancient yet, huh) trusts him so much.

Maybe Percy’s over thinking, though. He groans.

Why aren’t the nymphs raising him again? That’s what happened last time, right?

Percy looks at Rhea, struggling to order his thoughts coherently. “Have you thought about this? Why on earth would you trust something like this to me? Your child is… not the best person, but not the worst, either. Besides, I’m not even supposed to be here- aren’t you worried about changing things? I could accidently destroy the world!”

His voice wavers without his permission, and he curses himself in his head as Rhea softens. It’s mostly out of instinct more than anything else- showing weakness like that is generally frowned upon by more than just monsters- Gabe had taught him that.

“I don’t think anything so drastic will happen. My mother told me to trust you for a reason, and I know this is it. Make him a better person, a better King than Kronos is.”

Her voice is confident, strong, and Percy takes a deep breath, and folds under her expectant eyes.

There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea.

He has no idea how to go about doing any of that. He has never been the king of anything. (What right does he have to teach the King of the Gods how to rule fairly?) He may be acting selfishly out of his desire to help his friends out, although to be fair, his friends do rank higher on “list of people I give a shit about” than Zeus.

Plus, he most empathetically knows nothing about children. Or even worse, children gods.

All in all, Percy is majorly underqualified. If he had a CV, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t even get an interview.

It is such a terrible idea.

He narrows his eyes at Rhea. “The nymphs had better be the ones to change the nappies.”

And that is that.

Chapter Text

When the contractions first started, Percy was asked to leave by Hagno.

Really, she was quite rude about it.

The nymph- naiad, really- was the oldest of the nine trusted with Zeus’s upbringing (except Percy had gone and got himself roped in as well, so ten? But he wasn’t a nymph…) and she was definitely the most unimpressed by him.

Despite Rhea’s word being law, as far as most nymphs were concerned, and Rhea assuring them that Percy was the best person for the job, Hagno had quickly concluded that Percy had no clue what in Zeus’s name he was doing.

Which, fair. He did have no idea. This entire “take care of child” thing was Rhea’s fault. He had just been roped in by her puppy dog eyes.

It was this derision though, that lead to Percy quickly learning that despite her face being the picture of the otherworldly beauty that marked all nymphs, Hagno had personality of an old southern grandma and she took no shit.

Obviously, she was his favourite. Even if the current conversation did not seem to be going well for Team Percy.

Hagno snorts, her hair pulled with a small piece of leather as she glares at him. “No, I don’t need you to fetch anything. I just need you to not be in my way when I actually pull my weight around here.”

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid, but heavily implied.

“I mean, are you sure? Because I could boil the linens or-” Percy wrings his hands and feels like withering slightly at the look at her face, which could probably scare Medusa at this point.

Not that Medusa was alive, yet. Geeze.

“I’m sure,” Hagno says icily, her eyes exasperated as she quickly checked over her shoulder at Rhea, who was being tended to by at least four other nymphs. Where the others went, Percy doesn’t know. “We already have more than enough hands for everything without you messing it up.”

Percy bites his lip. “Alright. But-”

“No.” She says with bite, looking for all the world like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “I will send someone to get you when the young lord is born. No sooner, no later. Until then, stay out.”

The words are said harshly, but Percy thinks that maybe they aren’t said unkindly. They are united in their worry, after all, but Percy is functionally useless in this environment whereas Hagno isn’t.

If he was being honest with himself, he probably was being a bit much. The Infant Mortality Rate in Ancient Greece had been horrible, but Zeus was immortal. And so was Rhea. Percy was pretty sure that fact was the statistical outlier.

Hagno sighs, and Percy glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “Go, kid.” She says, rolling her eyes. “There’s nothing you could do here, anyway.”

He nods.

“Alright, just… be careful.”

Hagno gives him a flat look. “Our Queen is a Titaness. What exactly do you think is going to happen?” Her lips flatten into an exasperated line. “Honestly, men.” With those final words, she clambers back through the entrance of the cave again, although not before giving him a rough hand gesture that Percy took to mean: Shoo!

It’s a little on the nose, but Percy can’t bring himself to feel that annoyed about her attitude. If more people in the world were like her, things probably would get done a lot faster.

Although maybe the world would be a bit scarier, as well.

Hagno gives him flashbacks of Artemis, after all.

After being unceremoniously shoved out of the cave that had been his home for the last three says, Percy whittled away the hours by using his newfound knowledge of the island to his advantage, wondering about the scenery in silence.

There wasn’t very much happening, because of how very young the world was, but now that Percy knew the reason, his nerves were a little better.

At least, he doesn’t accidently attack a tree that rustles too loudly.

It was the small victories.

Eventually, Percy decided to make himself easier to find by heading back to the river where he had first meet Rhea.

He had been making shapes in the water to amuse himself when he felt a presence approach him, and found himself face to face with, (surprise surprise) another Nymph.

Not a naiad though- a tree dryad.

With dark green eyes, glossy black hair, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, she was (like everyone had had met so far in the past- it was kind of unfair) supermodel gorgeous.

Percy raises an eyebrow, and she giggles cheerfully before darting out and, with no regard for personal space, grabs his elbow with a familiarity that surprises him.

He had met a few of the nymphs before (including Hagno) but the tree dryad was a new face.

“I’m Neda!” She says happily as she drags him in the general direction of the cave. He gets the feeling that patience isn’t one of her strengths. “You’re Percy, right? Dark hair, dreamy green eyes- you gotta be him!”

Percy feels himself flush. “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Why-?”

Neda grins at him from over her shoulder. “Hagno, that meany, said to come get you! We have to go- the young lord has been born!”

“Wait,” Percy says, struggling slightly at her fast past- she almost reminded him of a young child, with her simplistic way of speaking and cheerful attitude, and the comparison wasn’t made better by the generally smaller statue of a dryad. “Zeu- I mean, the young lord has been born? Why do we need to go now, then?”

There is a genuine surprise in the question, and Neda looks surprised as well. “Our lady wanted you to be the first to see him.” She says simply, “And her family might have sensed the presence of a newborn by now, right? So, we need to be quick.”

“Rhea asked for me?” Percy says, taken off guard, but he picks up his pace. If Rhea was determined to do something, he had learnt it was better to try and get out of her way then contest her.

Neda huffs and brakes out into a slight jog to counter his longer stride. She nods viciously. “Yeah! That’s why we need to go!”

Percy, personally, hadn’t been quite sure how much these nymphs had understood about the circumstances surrounding Zeus’s birth, but at Neda’s tone (bright but understanding) a sense of admiration comes over him.

It probably wasn’t easy to be committing treason against the King of the universe, after all. And they had none of the experience Percy had had either.

Despite this, the dryad is still grins like a lunatic as the mountain draws closer on the horizon (and maybe Percy should of chosen a closer place, but sue him, he didn’t know) and Percy raises and eyebrow as he catches his breath.

“You look like a manic,” Percy says, smiling slightly.

Neda was around the only person who he had met in this time who seemed at least a little bit young (even if it was weird to think of it like that) and he had to admit he enjoyed it. It was a breath of fresh air.

The dryad laughs, her chuckles sounding like leaves rustling as she replies with a grin. “Of course! A new lord is being born, and I-we- have been chosen to help our lady throughout it! We are being blessed, no matter the circumstances.”

She momentarily stops from where she had been perpetually moving, gasping. “Oh! What do you think his favourite fruit will be? Or what colours will his eyes be? Do you think I can sing to him? What about-?”

Percy blinked, before snorting slightly. He forgotten the more “groupie” aspect of Nymphs, it seemed. They were worthy of respect, but this one seemed a tad ditsy. Or maybe that was just her youth.

“I don’t know.” Percy interrupts the word vomit when he sees the chance. “Maybe you’ll get to ask him yourself.”

Neda practically glows, and she looks like Christmas had come early. “Do you think our lady would let me?”

Percy shrugged. “I see no reason why not.” She squeals, and Percy laughs as she grabs his hand, pulling him along with more apparent urgency than before.

Her happiness was infectious, and it was an innocent joy that Percy hadn’t seem much of recently. He hadn’t had much time to get to know all nine of the nymphs gathered, but silently he made up his mind to fix that.

It seemed like they’d be spending a lot of time together, anyway.

Chapter Text

The thing is, Percy had had a vague idea that Gods were supposed to jump out of the womb as fully formed kids, but apparently not.

Rhea is situated on the furs in the back of the cave, with Hagno and three other nymphs (their names might start with A. Maybe. Percy was probably wrong. He should really pay more attention) on either side of her.

There is a wet cloth of roughly woven linen (which had been boiled over the fire a few hours before) on her abdomen, and the scent of herbs permeates the air, making it feel very lethargic.

“Myrrh,” Neda says knowingly as they clamber inside. “It’s a soothing herb, used to promote the delivery of a child, and make the mother as comfortable as possible. An old birthing tip.”

Even as she explains the smell though, her eyes dart to the back of the cave, and Percy follows her gaze as they draw near.

Hagno is there, muttering softly to Rhea, but she is silenced when the new mother looks up and catches sight of him. For someone who just gave birth, she looks as beautiful as always, with not a hair out of place, and Percy thinks Well, immortality had to come with some perks.

There is a small figure bundled into her side, and Rhea’s smile is brilliant as she says, “Percy! Come meet my son.”

“Sorry I was late,” Percy says dryly, for lack of anything else to say, and quickly makes his way over to Rhea’s side, almost curious despite himself about the newborn god.

Zeus is… small. And wrinkly. He looks, if Percy is being honest, like an angry pink prune. Not very much like a rock at all. Or, for that matter, like the King of the Gods Percy remembers Zeus to be.

Still, the baby’s eyes open as Percy approaches, and he catches a breath despite himself.

Vivid lightning blue, clear as the sky on a summer’s day. The eyes watch him with an intensity that does not belong on a newborns face, and Percy knows that although Zeus may look like a human child, he is anything but.

Percy take a quick moment to try and clear himself of any lingering animosity he feels towards Zeus’s older counterpart (he doesn’t want the past to cloud his judgment of what is, thanks to Rhea, his foreseeable future) before smiling slightly at the child.

“Hello,” He says politely, feeling stupid for talking to a newborn, but knowing that Gods work differently from humans. “I’m Percy. What’s your name?”

Rhea laughs softly, bringing Percy’s attention to her. “He can’t speak yet. Give it a week. His name is Zeus.”

“Living,” Percy translates with a raised brow. “Simple hopes, huh?”

Rhea snorts at the question. “After everything? Yes.”

Zeus watches them with a bright, almost unnerving gaze, but at the sound of his name, his previously calm expression darkens.

Both Percy and Rhea have no time to react as he starts to cry, so loud that it echoes around the cave and startles one of the Nymphs from where she had been pretending to fold up furs while eavesdropping.

Rhea swears, and tries desperately to rock Zeus, hoping to calm him down to no avail. His cries seem to grow louder, drowning out all background noise around them, ringing inside of Percy’s skull like a drum.

Is this the kind of stuff godly parents had to deal with?

If so, then Percy should probably consider getting earmuffs. It was enough to give anyone, even immortals, a headache.

Almost in direct contrast to Percy’s light thoughts, however, is the look on Rhea’s face, her expression much more panicked than it has the right to be.

The realization that something is definitely not right is accompanied by a sinking feeling in his gut.

“What’s wrong?” Percy yells, trying to get over the noise, and Rhea may or may not here him from where she sits, trying to hurriedly shush Zeus, but she looks up either way.

Her eyes are frightened, and she drags Percy down to eye level so she can whisper in his ear.

“It’s Zeus’s cries,” She grips his arms. “The noise of a newborn is going to inform my family that Zeus has been born. How am I supposed to go through with the plan if his cries alert every being from Mount Oryths to Crete that Zeus is alive, even as I try to convince my husband to eat a rock?”

‘It’s a good point,’ Percy thinks, even as he places a hand on her shoulder for support. The pit in the stomach grows heavier. If they don’t find a way to shut Zeus up soon, the rebellion against Kronos would be dead before it had even begun.

More importantly, Zeus would be dead (or eaten, which is debatably worse) and Kronos would continue to suck at being King.

Percy looks over to the screaming god, grimacing even as Rhea silently (or at least silent in the face of her sons screams) begs Zeus to be quiet.

Zeus doesn’t seem to want to stop testing out his new set of pipes, however, and although Percy is tempted to try and shush the baby god himself, he gets the feeling that removing the little brat (because this was completely his fault, even if he wasn’t even a day old yet) from his mother was a bad idea.

If she couldn’t get him to stop, nobody could.

They needed a miracle. Or, at the very least, a very good idea.

Percy allows his gaze to wonder around the room as he tries to think up something to get out of this mess with a child screaming in his ear, and his eyes land on the nymphs.

They are huddled together, in the corner of the room, looking terrified. They know as well as Rhea what will happen if they can’t get Zeus to stop, and Percy’s determination solidifies as he watches them.

An idea comes to him, and he rises from where he had been half kneeling near Rhea.

“I’ll be back!” He yells at her, before hurrying over to the nymphs. Hagno sees him coming and straightens up from where she had been kneeling, comforting a younger nymph that seemed to be on the verge of tears.

“Can’t you get him to stop?” She demands harshly as he approaches, her hands curled into fists. “This could spell our doom! If the others hear-”

“You’re welcome to try,” Percy says impatiently. “But I doubt it would do any good. He seems like a stubborn one.”

Hagno looks like she agrees with his assessment of Zeus’s character, (which is funny, or not, because even now as a kid Zeus’s stubbornness is going to get them killed) before her gaze hardens.

“We can’t simply do nothing! We must try, even if it’ll do no good. I refuse to simply lie down and die, and I will not let my sisters meet their own fate like this!” The words are hissed at him, and afterwards the nymphs seem to press closer to Hagno, their own resolve being found in hers.

Mutters of affirmation follow, and Percy sees quite a few of them nod determinedly. Suddenly, he misses Camp Half-Blood and the friendships and comradeship Percy had had there with furiousness that startles him, but Percy pushes it away, focusing on the problem at hand.

“I have a plan, but I need your help. You might not trust me, but-”

Hagno cuts him off harshly, “This is not the time for that, boy. What do you need us to do?”

Percy blinks. It couldn’t be that easy. “You need to make as much noise as physically possible.”

Hagno frowns at him, less challenging and more confused as she takes in the answer. “Why would I do that?”

Before Percy can respond, Neda pushes her way through the throng of nymphs, giving Percy a small smile despite the ear splittingly loud cries coming from the crying god a few feet away and the urgency that can be felt in the air. “You wanna drown out his cries, right?”

Percy looks at her, surprised, before he nods. “Yeah, just until we find a different way of dealing with it. I figured as long as it isn’t a new immortal, no one cares how loud anyone is, right?”

Neda looks thoughtful, more serious than Percy has ever seen her. “It could work. We’d have to act fast, though. Our lady should probably get ready to return to the palace as soon as the cries die down, to avoid suspicion. Most likely, the Titans have already heard his cries. They know Zeus has been born. The problem lies in the fact that as soon as the Queen leaves, if Zeus is heard in Crete when he is supposed to be with the King, people will realise something is wrong. If we drown out the cries with other noise-”

“-The other Titans won’t know that Zeus is not with Kronos- they’ll just think that Crete is being particularly noisy this time of year.” Percy finishes, nodding his head. It wasn’t the most complicated of plans, but complicated wasn’t what they needed right now.

Hagno stares at them both. “That is the most stupid plan I’ve ever heard of.”

Percy’s frustration mounts, because he’s trying, ok? He opens his mouth to rebuff her, or reason with her, when Hagno’s shoulders slump and she looks at Neda. “You think this will work?”

Neda nods firmly. “I do.”

“It’d better,” Hagno snarls darkly, before she turns around and starts yelling at the nymphs behind her, ordering them around with the military efficiency of a self-righteous soccer mum.

Some of the nymphs race out of the cave, coming back holding crudely made pans of metal and wooden sticks, while others come back with flutes hollowed out of wood, and other old versions of instruments that Percy has never seen before.

Hagno herself takes a deep breath before beginning to sing in a loud, rich voice, and Neda soon joins her, her sweet voice contrasting and hitting the top notes. As more and more nymphs join in on various instruments, (not in any distinguishable melody but still noise) Zeus’s cries are gradually drowned out.

It is working, and Percy takes a moment to mouth a thank you to Neda before darting back over to Rhea, who is looking more frazzled then when she had just given birth.

Percy supposes that it’s not every day your baby decides to almost ruin your treason against your murderous husband by crying too loud.

She is still rocking Zeus, but she grasps his wrist again as Percy nears, her expression unreadable.

“Thank you,” She shouts over the noise at him, although this time the noise is coming more so from the nymphs then him. “I knew I made the right choice with you.”

She smirks, and Percy rolls his eyes. However, her smile soon disappears. “I need to go,” she says simply, and Percy nods.

“I guessed.”

The Queen of the Titan’s sighs. “Someone would have heard the noise by now, and besides, one of the rules of divine law that Themis has decreed is that the mother must present their child to the father after birth.”

Rhea’s eyes darken, and Percy winces, wondering how many times Rhea had cursed that particular law. Quite a few times, from the murderous look on her face.

Rhea continues. “But with the help, hopefully no one will come looking afterwards.”

Percy smiles slightly, before he grips her solidly, a thought hitting him. “The nymphs can’t do this forever- there needs to be a more permanent solution.”

“I know.” Rhea looks thoughtful for a secound. “Actually, you’ve given me an idea. They do owe me a favour.”

“They?” Percy presses, and Rhea nods.

“The Kouretes. Mountain Gods- very loud. And,” Rhea continues meaningfully, “Very loyal. They will come when I call.”

“Then do it.”

“I will.” Rhea says softly before she looks down at the child on her lap, with his bright blue intelligent eyes and ear-splitting cries, and hugs him to his chest.

“Please be safe, my child.” She says in a whisper. “I will be back.”

It sounds more like a plea than an actual statement, and Percy frowns.

“You will.” He says sharply, and Rhea looks at him. He sees all her fear and longing in that one glance, and he reaches over to squeeze her fingers before he can remind himself not to.

“You will be fine. Zeus will be fine- once he stops crying.” Percy says with an exasperated glance at the aforementioned God.

“Kronos won’t even see you coming.” Percy continues his speech, trying to be reassuring.

Rhea laughs. “For the plan to work, he needs to.”

Her amusement quickly fades, and she pulls herself up. Snapping her fingers, the Rock appears before them, already wrapped courtesy of one of the nymphs. Looking at it, Percy can almost (almost) see how Kronos made the mistake.

Maybe.

Rhea sighs, before placing one last kiss on Zeus’s forehead. “Be good,” she mutters, before placing him softly on the bed of furs where she had been sitting, picking up the Rock and hefting in onto her hip.

As Percy watches, Rhea’s appearance changes, becomes less ‘I had a child’ and more ‘Queen of the Universe’ and she nods once, firmly to him, before disappearing.

(Rhea had explained Titans could apparently only teleport themselves, which was just annoying, but whatever.)

They don’t say goodbye, because it isn’t one.

Both Percy and Zeus are left staring at the empty air where Rhea was, and the noise in the room seems to crescendo to an even louder volume. The nymphs increase their own volume in response, but Percy swears and hurries over to the child.

Zeus, for all intents and purposes, looks absolutely miserable on the bed, alone without his mother, Percy feels his heart soften as he leans over and picks the baby up, curling his hands around him to try and mimic the way Rhea had held him.

He might not be used to babysitting kids, but no child deserves to look that miserable, and no child deserves to have their mother taken from then that early because of things out of their control.

Instantly, there is an abrupt drop in volume.

Percy looks down in astonishment and finds that Zeus is staring up at him with those too knowing eyes, completely quiet.

If Percy didn’t know any better, he’d say that Zeus looks content.

Chapter Text

Five minutes after Rhea disappears, off to feed her cannibalistic husband a rock, the Kouretes appear.

They melt out of the ground like ghosts phasing through a wall, but the similarities end there, because unlike ghosts, the Kouretes are red, bright and loud.

There are three of them, all men with sharp pointy swords, shields bigger than Percy’s face and most importantly, bulging muscles that would make any bodybuilder cry tears of jealous awe.

“HELLO,” says the one in the middle, apparently the de facto leader of the group. “I AM PYRRHIKHO. THE HEAVENLY QUEEN HAS ASKED FOR OUR ASSISTANCE IN RAISING THE HEIR.”

Percy winces slightly, firstly at his speaking voice, which is so loud that Percy’s ears, still tender after Zeus’s ear-splitting cries, feel like shrivelling up after the abuse they’ve been put under, and secondly because that was the opposite of subtle.

Anyone who is listening now knows that the Rhea has an heir. Percy fervently hopes that no one was listening.

Despite this, though, Percy thinks that Rhea has made the right choice. These mountain gods are loud enough to ward of the sound of any other temper tantrums, and if they can impressive the need for secrecy on them, everything should be fine and dandy.

Still, it doesn’t mean that he has to be the one to deal with them.

Percy looks hopefully to Hagno, who gives him a flat look and turns away, and then to Neda, who gives him an encouraging smile but makes no move to help with the large men currently standing in the middle of the cave.

Traitor.

After giving the other nymphs one more hopeful passing gaze (none of them seem interested in engaging the Kouretes in a conversation, suspiciously eyeing them while still clutching their various instruments or other appliances) Percy adjusts his grip on Zeus (who is looking at the mountain gods with wide eyes, blissfully silent) before smiling nervously.

“Hi,” Percy says, nodding to Pyrrhikho. “Did Rhea explain the situation to you?”

His fledging hopes of a painless interaction are dashed when the man shakes his head in movements that would look exaggerated on anyone else but seems normal on him.

“NO,” he booms out, “ONLY THAT WE WERE TO HELP WITH-”

Pery cuts him of quickly, hurriedly nodding. “Yeah, we know. The, uh, little one’s existence should be kept quiet at all costs, so try not and shout it out again, even if it isn’t likely that anyone is listening.”

Pyrrhikho looks confused. “I WAS NOT SHOUTING.”

Percy does a smile-grimace, feeling bone deep tired and questioning how his life went from world ending prophecy to dealing with the new help as a tired godly babysitter. “Of course you weren’t.”

From there, Percy hurriedly explains the situation, getting understanding nods and enthusiastic promises of guarding Zeus with their lives (aren’t they immortal?) if anything should happen.

He learns that the other two’s names are Curetes and Dactyls, and that they specialise not only in being very, very loud, but also in a very intimidating war dance that shakes the very foundation of the mountain when they dance.

It’s this, surprisingly enough, that gets the nymphs to start conversing with the three mountain gods, comparing notes on dancing, of all things.

Thankfully, the slight tension with the Kouretes and the Nymphs is resolved quickly, probably helped when the Nymphs realise that with the Kouretes there, the chances of imminent death go down greatly.

Percy retreats to the furs when he hears them start to contemplate Zeus’s (or the young lord, as many of the nymph call him) potential in singing.

“He has the lungs for it,” says one certain nymph with bright red hair, voice perfectly innocent, and Percy makes a mental note to approach her soon.

She seems like fun, and trouble has always liked company.

Still, he leaves the gathered nature immortals and sits down, placing Zeus in front of him with a sigh.

“Your mother,” he says to the baby god, “Is more trouble than she is worth.”

Zeus makes a confused sound, and he really is too cute for being such an epic douche bag as an adult.

Percy stares at the child, and the child stares back.

“So,” he clears his throat, mind screaming at him because of the sheer awkwardness of the situation, and has he mentioned that he’s never taken care of a kid before?

What does he do now?

What do you even do with a child? Like, what do children even do? Does Percy have to walk him? What does he feed him?

Rhea probably should off thought this plan through a little bit more, because handing a 16 year old a baby is bound to end in things burning and then crashing hideously.

And a godly baby at that.

Besides, Percy’s pretty sure that most kids don’t gain like, actual personalities until at least 6 years old, so they should be good for another day or so.

Thankfully, however, Percy is saved from his thoughts and an existential crisis by the soft “bray” of a goat.

He stiffens, picking a compliant Zeus up in his arms and turning around very slowly to face where the sound came from.

He almost can’t believe his eyes when he sees that not only is the goat glowing a very bright golden colour, but it is, for the first time in (Percy’s) living memory, awake.

The goat, Amaltheia, he remembers Rhea saying, brays again, more insistently and Percy takes a moment to stare at it in dumbfounded silence, before snapping out of it.

“What?” He frowns at the shaggy animal, and Amaltheia almost seems to role her eyes at him, before shaking her head and coming closer to where Zeus and Percy are on the rug.

As if on cue, Zeus’s stomach rumbles, and Percy suddenly feels like an idiot.

The goat gives him a look, as if she sensed his thoughts and completely agreed, before sitting down on the furs where they are.

Right.

To help with the nursing of my future child, Rhea had said.

At least, he thinks with a snort, that’s food taken care off for a while.

Chapter Text

There is an object falling from the sky, and it is certainly not food.

Hades watches with wide eyes as Demeter (who had the unfortunate luck to have been sitting right underneath where it had fell), screams and lurches back, just in time to barely miss being flattened.

All his siblings immediately turn towards the source of sound, drawn to the most entertaining thing to happen to them since Poseidon. There’s not much to do in a stomach, after all.

“What is it?” Poseidon curiously asks, leaning over from where he had managed to wedge himself against Hera and Hestia (not a lot of room in a stomach, either) and trying to poke it with one finger.

Demeter slaps his hand away, huffing. “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s mine. It fell on me, not you.”

“What?” Hera’s outrage is clear in her voice. “That’s not fair! Hestia, tell her that’s not fair.”

Hestia, Hades favourite sister, sighs, looking long suffering. If Hades had to listen to Hera and Demeter bicker for any more years than he had, he would probably look that tired to. Poseidon had no idea how lucky he got it, being the youngest.

“Demeter, Hera, try and at least figure what it is before you start fighting over it.”

Demeter pouts (or at least, Hades thinks she does- it can be a little hard to tell in the dark lighting of Father dearests’ stomach) before reaching out and picking it up with a huff.

“It’s round, and smooth, with some sort of cloth wrapped around it.” She sounds puzzled, and Hades can’t blame her. Why on earth would Kronos eat that? It certainly didn’t sound (or even look, for that matter) like the customary bits of mush that was usually dumped on them.

“You idiots,” Hera huffs, her eyes piercing and face regal even in the dull light of their horrid prison, although the image is sullied somewhat by the fig juice from Kronos’s breakfast nestled in her hair. “It’s a baby.”

There’s a brief silence where all of his siblings take in this latest development.

“Great!” says Poseidon cheerfully, with apparently no sense of self-preservation. Being eaten as soon as you were born might have had something to do with it. “Hera’s gone mad. It was only a matter of time, really.”

At this, Hera makes a brief lunge towards Poseidon, managing to shove a bony elbow in his ribs before Hestia once again splits them up for what was maybe the millionth time.

Really, Hades thinks, Hestia is probably the only reason they are all still alive.

For some reason, being temperamental seemed to be a family trait.

Two guesses where that came from, and if you guessed their mother, you would be wrong.

Hestia sighs. “Poseidon, please. Hera,” she hesitates, and then says dryly, “An explanation would be nice?”

“Because that-” Demeter adds, butting in, “Is most definitely not a baby. Babies cry and blubber and are gross.”

It’s a succinct explanation, but one that Hades agrees with firmly. Poseidon had been gross, before he could talk. Now he was just irritating, a slight improvement but an improvement none the less.

“Well, no.” Hera admits. “It’s not a baby. But it’s supposed to look like one. See how the round thing has been wrapped? Plus, it’s around the same size that babies are.”

Hades tilts his head, and amazingly, he sees it. “That… actually kind of makes sense.”

He looks up from where he had been studying the round thing and sees that all his sibling are looking at him with varying degrees of surprise.

“What?” He says defensively, and Hestia shakes her head.

“You just don’t usually…” She trails off. “Never mind. Why does a fake baby make sense?”

Hades blinks, wondering if that was a trick question. Still, Hestia sounds genuine, and Poseidon and Demeter are staring at him too, although Hera looks annoyed that he stole her spotlight.

“Well,” he says slowly, “If I were mother, and I wanted father to, well, stop eating my kids, I would try and come up with a way to hide I was pregnant. But, if that didn’t work, I would try and trick him somehow. Like maybe making a fake baby.”

“Exactly!” Hera bursts in. “Like a diversion.”

Demeter raises a sceptical eyebrow. “Would father really be fooled by it? I mean, we didn’t even think it looked like a baby until you pointed it out.”

There’s a pause where everyone considers that.

“Father doesn’t sound like someone tricked him with a fake baby,” Poseidon points out.

Which, fair.

Because if Father had figured out he had been tricked, they would of heard something, even from the depths of the man's stomach. His stomach was loud when angry.

Then again, trying to base someone’s moods off of their digestive system really isn’t the most reliable.

Hestia blinks. “Is he really that stupid?”

She sounds a bit baffled, and so was Hades. Had their father, who they had grown up thinking was a criminal mastermind, second to none, really been tricked by some pieces of cloth and a heavy round thing?

Apparently so.

“Huh.” Hades says, more to himself than anything else. Maybe there is hope of one day seeing the outside world? If father was tricked by a fake baby, anything is possible.

Suddenly, Hera gasps. “We’re idiots! We totally missed the most important thing!”

Her voice is way to shrill for the small space they occupy, and Hades winces. Still, ignoring Hera is dangerous to one’s health, so he takes one for the team. Hestia can’t do all the heavy lifting, after all.

“What?”

“If we have a fake baby, then there’s probably a real baby! Outside!”

Demeter lights up, both curiosity and envy in her eyes. “So, mother managed to save our sister?”

“Or brother!” Poseidon says with huff, although his own curiosity is betrayed by the thoughtful look in his eyes.

Demeter carries on, ignoring the interruption. “I wonder who she-” and at the dirty look Poseidon shots her, amends “-Or he is?”

Hestia hums. “Or what their name is?”

It’s an interesting thought, one that immediately grabs all of Hades siblings’ attention as they compete to see who can guess the most outlandish name, with Hades being quite partial to Hera’s “Alfonso” if only because after “Poseidon” he doesn’t really have any faith in their mother’s naming ability.

While it’s fascinating to think that Hades might have a sibling that he might never get to meet (depending on whether he ever gets out of this stomach), he personally is quite relived that they aren’t going to be joined by a sixth sibling.

After all, if five bodies make the small space they lived in cramped, then Hades doesn’t even want to think about how little space they would have left after a sixth.

Chapter Text

Percy doesn’t know what the fuck he is doing.

“I,” he announces grandly, spinning around to look at Melissa, his newest friend out of the nine nymphs he had suddenly been granted co-parentage with, “Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

She snorts, her red vibrant hair reminding him painfully of Rachel for a split second, and grins. “Well, the little lord seems to be having a fun time. The way you use the river is definitely interesting. You’re sure you aren’t a water nymph of some kind? We might be cousins!”

“Ha.” Percy says deadpan, raising his hand to contort the river into a giraffe this time, and watching as Zeus goes nuts over the new animal.

The young god reaches out one small hand to smack the water out of shape, looking extremely surprised when his hand goes through the giraffe, despite the same thing happening several times over by now.

They are at the river, a closer section of the same stretch of water he met Rhea at, having been sent outside by Hagno to entertain Zeus, and quite frankly Percy had welcomed a chance to escape.

Although the Kouretes had been a welcome addition to the team, the single inescapable fact of the mountain warriors was that they were loud.

Which was of course, an incredibly important part of their job of protecting Zeus. And an incredibly annoying one at that.

Still, the day has shaped up to be pretty entertaining.

It’s one of the first times Zeus had gone out of the cave, and after being plopped down on the ground, he had made quick work of the grass around him, with Percy and Melissa watching with amusement as he massacred the plants one by one.

When Zeus had finally gotten bored of that, Percy had decided to test out his creative talents yet again. He spent the time creating all manner of interesting shapes and animals that probably had yet to be born yet, gaining the godlings undivided attention as Zeus attempted to destroy each one as quickly as possible.

It was a nice way to spend the day, trying not to worry about Rhea as Melissa attempted to identify all of the creatures Percy displayed, before giving up with an annoyed pout.

Percy grins at her, all teeth as he reformed the giraffe and made it prance in a circle around Zeus, darting away as the kid hurled his limbs forward to try and catch it each time it came close. “Not quite a water spirit.”

The words are said teasingly, and Melissa smirks, crossing her arms from where she sat at their picnic site on the bank of the river, close enough to Zeus in case of an emergency. “Probably true. You’re too ugly to be one of us.”

Percy gapes at her, before smirking. “Oh, it’s on.”

Melissa, who he had known for all of two days, immediately looked uneasy, which probably meant Percy’s nature as a troublemaker had been somewhat realised already, but didn’t back away until she saw the slow rise of the river into the air.

She swore viciously, having time to shoot Percy one more glare before scrambling back as Percy commanded all the water around them that wasn’t entertaining baby godlings to dump itself on her head in revenge.

Melissa made the sound of a drowned rat dying a terrible and agonising death as it hit her directly, an indignant “Hey!” spilling out as she was left floundering and damp.

“You-!” she spluttered, her face the picture of flummoxed outrage, and Percy quickly darts back out of her arm range, well aware already in the short time they’ve known each other about her deadly elbow nudge to the ribs.

He smirks, but is soon distracted by the laughter of Zeus, turning round to see the young God giggling at the two of them, which would be slightly emasculating if not for the fact Percy is pretty sure that they do look ridiculous.

With a shared look towards Melissa, who understands the silent call for a truce with a good-natured sigh, Percy shakes his head and walks over to the god, picking him up and smiling at the now toddler. It had only been 2 days since his birth, and Percy was already losing his mind over Zeus’s extreme growth rate.

“I should have guessed you would be more entertained by violence than simple magic tricks, huh.”

Zeus grins, his smile gummy with a few hints of teeth peeking through as he babbled something incomprehensible, and Percy felt like melting. In moments like this, it was easy to forget who this kid was.

Then Zeus promptly grabbed a handful of his hair, and Percy abruptly remembered. Geeze, godly strength was nothing to sneeze at.

“Ow ow, Zeus, no. My hair is not for your personal convenience. We don’t hurt others for our own amusement, come on.”

Percy carefully reached up and opened up Zeus’s still tiny fist, painfully aware of the fact that if he had been a normal mortal without the ever-nifty Curse of Achilles, than that might have caused severe head damage.

Who knew the Curse of Achilles was so useful for Godly babysitting?

Melissa, who had been packing up the remains of the lunch they had brought down to the river with them into the handwoven basket, raised an eyebrow.

“Trying to start early on the lessons, huh?” The nymphs had all been informed of his job to teach ethics to Zeus, with various reactions that ranged from confused to, well, even more confused.

Morals weren’t really a thing that had been invented yet.

Percy huffed. “No, I’m trying to get by without life threating injuries from young gods who should know better by now.”

The last part was directed to a deceptively innocent looking Zeus, who blinked slowly, still in Percy’s arms, before snuggling his face into his borrowed chiton, of which Percy had reluctantly agreed to after Hagno had confiscated his 21^st century clothes in a disgusted huff.

She hadn’t mentioned the strangeness of them, or why they had been ripped, but must of seen his reluctance to part with one of the only legacy’s of his past, because later that day a freshly washed pile of clothes appeared on the pile of furs he had claimed as his own.

It appeared to be a good choice to acclimatize to the style of the time however, because that was definitely drool that Zeus had just graced his chiton with.

Percy sighed. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to save the lessons for when sir-drool-a lot had grown up a bit more.”

Melissa blinked, possibly puzzled at Percy’s continued use of modern idioms being translated (quite poorly, but whatever) into this ancient version of Greek, before shaking it off and giggling quietly.

“You know, you should probably show more respect to the little lord. I mean, he is the heir and son of our Queen.” Her tone sounded inquiring, and Percy made a little sound of the back of his throat, amused at the familiarity of the phrase even thousands of years apart.

“I want him to grow up knowing that respect must be earned, not simply given. Plus, someone has to say his name around here. I mean, what if he grew up thinking his name was little lord or something?”

Melissa shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. You are ridiculous. Where did you come from?” but her tone was exasperated and fond, already knowing she wouldn’t get an answer, and Percy just smiled in a way he hoped was mysterious, and not constipated.

The red-haired nymph reached out to quickly brush Zeus’s rapidly growing and darkening curls, getting an annoyed but sleepy moan for her actions, before shaking her head.

“We should probably get back to the cave and put him down to rest. Queen Rhea did say he might tire quickly from his rapid growth in the first few days or so.”

Percy nodded. “I mean, if I had to grow that quickly when I was a kid, I would be tired all the time too.”

Melissa turned from where she had started up the track back to stare at him.

“What?”

“You mean you didn’t?” She sounded so baffled that Percy stared at her.

“I- what? Of course I didn’t have rapid-godly-baby-growth! I got to adulthood (mostly) the old fashion way!” A thought occurred to him, and he blinked. “Wait, did you?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. But I’m a nymph, and you felt so similar to the young lord I thought-”

Percy groaned, and Melissa blushed as red as her hair, looking annoyed.

“Well, you just said you weren’t a water spirit! It was a reasonable explanation.”

“Yeah, I know.” Percy shook his head slightly, starting up the path back to the cave. “Rhea made a similar comment when we first met. It’s complicated, and I’m similar, but not really the same.”

Melissa scoffed and turned to continue back. “You’re an enigma wrapped a question mark, Percy Jackson.”

Percy laughed, careful to not to wake the mostly sleeping child in his arms. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

The nymph rolled her eyes. “Keep your secrets, then. We need to get back before Hagno scolds us out for staying to long when someone might see us.”

“She knows no-one is looking now,” Percy said, with a slightly annoyed look. “Weren’t you the one who literally told me that all eyes are on Rhea right now?” He pauses, and adds, “Well, all Titan eyes.”

“Yes, but I understand the paranoia. It was a good move on the Queen’s part to have a very public argument with… that man, but it still doesn’t allow us to get overconfident. If we are found out…”

Melissa trailed off, and Percy reached out to grab her hand, squeezing it while feeling the comfortable weight of Zeus in his arms.

“You don’t need me to tell me twice. Lead the way back? I have to admit, I still get lost half the times, even with these trails.”

Melissa smiled slightly. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

There is something oddly soothing about taking care of a child, Percy thinks, even if it’s only been a few days, you are one of what, 13 people in charge of said child, and that child can truly be a little brat at times.

Also, the future King of the Gods, but Percy’s trying to focus on what’s truly important here.

“Zeus,” He says, with all the exasperation of a single mother suffering The Agonies after her husband left her with all the kids for a younger wife (who would ultimately leave him for a man with more money), “You’re going to have to eat at some point.”

Zeus scowls. At a comparable human age of around 15 or so months, he has truly mastered the art of looking very very displeased with his lot in his life, and he wields this skill with deadly precision on most of his guardians with very little trouble at getting his way.

This is why Percy has been called in by Neda for dinner time. It was Hagno’s day off and they needed someone mean enough to argue, she had explained. Truly, it was nice to feel wanted.

“No!” says Zeus, and scowls harder, his little face forming eerily familiar thunderclouds.

It’s kind of cute, especially when he knows now it’s not because Zeus wants to kill him for the crime of being born.

Well, Percy thinks his long track record of Making Things Difficult For Gods might also have had something to do with it, but still.

He sighs, and sits down heavily in front of Zeus, picking up the discarded clay bowl from the furs that contains a truly delectable slab of meat (venison, maybe? Deer meet was definitely a thing in Ancient Greece, there’s too many stories of people being turned into them by Artemis for it not to be) as well as some greens that look significantly less appealing.

Zeus watches him with his customary frown getting deeper. The kid doesn’t like getting his way, but he doesn’t like people taking things he considers his either. He doesn’t protest though, still hung up on his tantrum and hoping things will turn his way.

Too bad.

“Are you sure you don’t want this?” Percy asks, tapping the bowl. “Didn’t one of the Kouretes hunt this specifically because you said you wanted to have something other than ambrosia for dinner?”

Zeus crosses his arms with a huff. “Don’t like the taste! Yucky!”

Percy remains unmoved.

“But you asked for this. How do you think it makes…” Percy trails off with a grimace, wishing Neda had given a bit more information on the situation, and one of the attending Nymphs who had helpfully been trying to fade into the cave wall at the back slips forward.

“It was Dactyls, my Lord.” She says in a whisper into his ear, and he nods in thanks as she resumes her position only belatedly remembering to yell, “Not a Lord!” at her retreating back.

There is a giggle in answer, and Percy sighs. Melissa’s latest attempt to screw with him by getting all the nymphs to call him by formal titles had really done some damage to his mission of getting the others to see him as normal and cool and not really weird and mysterious, but whatever.

He turns back to Zeus, who was watching the whole exchange with interested vivid blue eyes, scowl mysteriously disappeared, and Percy coughs into his fist. Seeing his renewed attention, like clockwork Zeus frowns again, and Percy rolls his eyes.

The kid isn’t really that invested then, if he was willing to let the attention be momentarily diverted away from him in the midst of a hissy fit, and there was no waterworks involved.

(Being involved in raising the little brat meant finding out new and fun things, such as how the apparent love of dramatics did not start in adulthood.)

With renewed confidence, Percy tries again. “So? How do you think it makes Dactyls feel? You wasting all his hard work?”

Zeus scrunches up his nose. “Just get something else.”

Percy sighs.

The problem with teaching a baby god how to be a good person is that, well, he’s a baby god, with all the bells and whistles that come with that.

While not quite up to the power level of his older self, and he won’t be for a while yet, Zeus had figured out pretty quickly how to poof things into existence for his own amusement, giving everyone a collective heart attack when one day he’d decided to fill the entire cave with his favourite snack of honied dates.

Hagno had not been amused, considering her water pool was part of the cave, and Zeus had since had the fear of one very pissed off nymph put into him and stopped to that extreme, but he still had trouble comprehending that most people could not, in fact, simply magic up anything under the sun.

It was understandable, but still troubling.

Percy made sure to gentle his voice. “Remember our talk about how for most people it doesn’t work like that? For you, making another dish might be easy, but Dactyls can’t do that. He had to go hunting especially for it, because he wanted to do something nice for you when you asked. His armour might have gotten dirty!”

The bright, red and eyewatering armour of the Kouretes, Percy had found out pretty quickly, was a point of pride for all three of the loud bodybuilders. There was nothing as damning to the mountain gods as getting it dirty, a fact Zeus was well aware of.

Zeus huffed, but Percy was sure he saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. Good, he was cracking. Now for the finishing blow.

“This isn’t to guilt you into not enjoying what you want, Zeus. I always want you to be happy and healthy. However, when you ask for something that takes time and effort from a person, especially when you specifically request it, and they were nice enough to go get it and prepare it for you, can you tell me why they might feel sad if you immediately refuse it?”

Zeus looked reluctant, but answered anyway, “Because… they mad it bad? And they should have made it better. And now I’m hungry.” He pouted.

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think that?”

“…Yes?”

“Uhuh. But just a few days ago you said Dactyls was the best at hunting, didn’t you? And that he always managed to grab the tastiest meat? You even stole some of mine from my bowl after you ate yours!” Percy may have still been a bit sore over that last part, but in his defence, it was the closest he would get to a cheeseburger for another thousand years.

Zeus scowled even harder, and Percy continued, “So. Could there be another reason he might be upset, do you think?”

Zeus mumbled something into his chest, and Percy leaned forward. “Sorry, what was that?”

The little lightning God looked defeated. “Because he… cares about me.”

Percy broke into a proud grin, grabbed the bowl, and scooted over to Zeus, giving the godling a one-armed shoulder hug in his delight that Zeus immediately began to complain about, trying to wriggle out of Percy’s grip like a particularly determined worm.

“He does!” Percy confirmed, releasing Zeus but sitting down at his side. “We all do. It’s an infliction, really. So when you say mean things about us or what we do, or just reject us and our gestures, we get sad.”

Percy considered this for a second, and then added, “Of course, if we do something that actually warrants criticism, you should always let us know. But in this case, it wasn’t anything to do with the food, was it? You just changed your mind.”

Zeus put his hands over his knees and looked at the ground. “So I can’t change my mind?” His tone was snarkish, but there was a hint of unsureness to it. He didn’t lean away from Percy.

Percy smiled. “Of course you can! But there’s a difference between saying, “Hey, Dactyls! Thank you for the food, I really appreciate you taking the time to get it for me, but I’m not feeling like it today.”, and throwing it to the ground and screaming “NO!” at anyone who tries to get you to eat it.” He raised an eyebrow, and Zeus flushed.

Yeah, he was gonna tease the kid mercilessly for that later on, when things were less tender. It would do him some good, especially when he was surrounded by “Yes men” all the time (apart from Percy and Hagno, of course). Percy would probably wager being raised by people who are in awe of you AND instructed to cater to your every whim was one of the reasons the Zeus from his past became the man he was.

“So Zeus,” he said instead, a small smile on his face. “Would you like to eat this today?”

Zeus immediately shook his head, his eyes wide. He swung his head so fast he looked like a slightly demented chipmunk, and Percy hid a laugh.

“No, please.”

Percy nodded. “That’s fine, but please remember to apologise to Dactyls tomorrow and say thank you for the food and his effort. Is there something in particular you want instead? Remember though, I would like you to actually eat it this time. You’re allowed to change your mind, but there are limits.”

The kid lit up. “Honied dates, please!”

At Percy’s look, he relented, obviously remembering the lecture about eating healthily after the Honied Dates Incident (not that Percy was sure it really applied to Gods, seeing as one of the main abilities listed on their Wikipedia was “Shapeshifting”, right after “massive ego” but who would it hurt?) “And some of Ama’s cheese.”

Ama (which was the nickname Zeus had given the nymph/magic goat Amaltheia) had started letting them turn her milk into cheese after Zeus had stopped nursing on her.

It was sadly, very delicious. And no, it had not gotten less weird.

Percy made to get up, leaving Zeus alone on the mat and taking the discarded meal. He’d eat it if Zeus wouldn’t. “I’ll also grab some of Neda’s bread.” It wasn’t a question, and Zeus nodded silently, obviously less happy with the inclusion but knowing it was an essential part of the renegotiation of “What Zeus is Eating Today.”

As he turned to talk with the Nymphs who were already in motion to grab the ingredients they needed, another thought occurred to Percy, and he turned to Zeus.

“We good?” In saying that, Percy pointed at himself and then Zeus. While the godling could be a brat, he didn’t want to push him too far.

He was, after all, still a kid.

No matter how many terrifying powers or ear-splitting tantrums he had.

Zeus blinked at him, and for a split second his eyes looked very, very old.

“Yes.” The kid considered, before nodding. “Thank you.”

Percy smiled.

Yeah, they were good.