Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The ding of the elevator was deceptively soft, echoing across the gaping cavern. Hazel's head snapped up, her grip on her blade loosening as she stared at the doors, rushing forward towards them as they slid open. 

She only caught a glimpse of the interior; smoothly paneled walls and tiled floor, the perfect picture of any normal elevator. What drew her focus was the body that tumbled out of it, collapsing on the threshold. In the low lighting, she couldn't see much, just torn, dirty clothes and a head of dark hair, a gently glowing bronze sword clenched in bloodied fingers. 

Clytius, too, had heard the opening of the doors, eyes cruel and glittering. The Giant's footsteps shook the entire cavern, barreling down on Percy's vulnerable form. Clytius loomed over him, hefting his blade, that terrible, suffocating smoke curling from his skin, reaching outwards to envelop Percy, and Hazel was too far away.

Hazel only remembered screaming, desperation and rage, a surging protectiveness in her chest. The walls of the cavern made a sound like dropping ice in warm water. The next thing she knew, razor-sharp gems were flying through the air at Clytius, shredding his breastplate and punching through him like a buckshot. Ichor streamed down one of his arms. A new invigoration filled Hazel, suddenly extremely aware of the tonnes of rock and mineral surrounding them. 

Percy's words, what seemed like a lifetime ago, came to her. The two had been sitting on the deck of the Argo II, Percy peering down into the open ocean below. He'd seemed so at ease, peaceful in the middle of a war, the exact color and current of the sea below mirrored in his eyes, as if he was just another part of the waves. When she'd asked, Percy had just smiled at her and told her it's because he was. 

She'd envied his connection with his abilities. Hers had been a curse, something she was drawn in and repulsed by at the same time. There was no comfort to be surrounded by her domain, not like it was for Percy. 

It still wasn't quite comfort, but right now, it felt like power. Clytius stumbled back, hand coming up to staunch the flow of ichor. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Hazel dashed forward, ignoring the fatigue in her bones as she roared the Giant's name and charged. He must've not expected her to be so brash, jolting in surprise as she slid under his legs, coming up on his other side, proceeding to stab him right in the ass. 

The Giant's roar of pain made the ground beneath her feet tremble, but Hazel tried to pay it no mind, entirely consumed by her goal. It pained her to not run directly to Percy, to roll him over and check that he was still breathing, he was so still. Hazel lunged at the chains and sliced through one of them, her sword like a knife through a pad of soft butter. She prepared to strike once more at the other, but before she could, Clytius's blade caught her in the side. Hazel flew across the cavern, hitting the far wall with a dull crack. 

Her vision whited out, bile rising in her throat as her head swam. She heard a scream in the distance; Leo, maybe. Hazel felt like she couldn't breathe, lungs heaving and stuttering at the same time. Clytius rounded back on the doors, to Percy, still laying limp on the cold stone ground. Hazel did the only thing she could, taking inspiration from her friend and his screwdriver. She raised her arm, ignoring how the simple movement made her stomach churn and her head scream, and threw her sword with all her might. 

It hit the last chain, making it shatter like brittle ice. Clytius roared so loudly it reverberated in her bones, stone around them shaking so badly that a few loose pieces of rock fell to the ground. Hazel curled protectively over her self, arms clutching her ribs, trying to gain control of her own breathing. "That was for my brothers," She got out, ragged and weak. "Both of them." 

Clytius's eyes, a cold, hard blue, zeroed in on her. She suddenly felt very small in the face of the Giant's utter fury, the snarl that formed on his face as he looked down on her broken form. She closed her eyes, not needing to see to know he was advancing on her, not when she could feel every step. In the far corner, Hecate's head snapped back towards the wall, looking worried. Hazel wanted to scream at the Goddess, to beg for her to do something. But she didn't. Instead, Hazel kept her eyes shut and braced for impact. 

She just hoped the others would get here in time to still save Percy. 

Truthfully, Hazel didn't want to die again. She wanted to stay alive more than anything, feel the sunlight on her skin and the breeze through her hair. She didn't want to leave everyone, not when they were so close. But her side felt like it had been run through a shredder, blood from her forehead ran down her face, collecting in the seams of her lips and pooling at the edge of her jaw. Everything felt so faint, sounds fading to be replacing by the crack of her heart hitting her chest. 

Hazel did not look at the Giant as he stood over her and raised his blade. She would not give him the satisfaction of being the last thing she ever saw.

Maybe she would get to Elysium this time. 

Clang.

She felt like she had been sucker punched, the metallic noise so loud she jolted, every muscle screaming in protest. She waited a second more, but nothing happened. She opened her eyes. 

Between her and Clytius, blocking her advance, stood Percy Jackson. The spot he'd been on the floor was empty, seemingly having snapped from consciousness and clawed his way inbetween her and the Giant. His legs were shaking with the effort, arms straining as he held up Riptide, pressing back against Clytius's massive stygian iron claymore. The sight was striking; Percy was not even half the size of the giant, but he was successfully holding him back with trembling arms. 

"Percy?" She croaked out.

The moment he head her voice, a low, animalistic snarl left his body, a shout as he suddenly pressed forward, breaking the lock of blades, pushing Clytius back in an awe-inspiring show of strength. The Giant stumbled, his eyes locked on Percy's face. 

"Are you alright?" Percy asked, still facing the Giant, not turning to look at her. His voice was raspy, hoarse and rough, cracking in the middle of his words. 

Hazel, arm around her ribs, let a sole tear slip down her cheek. "Fine." She whispered. 

He nodded once, a sharp jerk of his chin, attention still focused on Clytius, who was rapidly righting himself.  “You,” The Giant boomed, echoing across the cavern, making her head hurt. It sounded as if he were speaking through a chorus of the dead, using all the unfortunate souls who’d been buried behind the dome’s stelae. "You may have escaped the Pit, but you will go no further." 

Percy stabbed him in the leg. It was so fast Hazel almost missed it, Riptide just a arc of bronze light. She didn't remember him being that fast to strike, but she was incredibly grateful for it now. Behind them, the air rippled, mist condensing and forming a door embedded in the wall of the cavern. Four people stepped out, and Hazel almost wept with relief. Frank's arm was bleeding and bandaged, but still alive. Next to him stood Nico, Piper, and Jason—all with their weapons drawn, and looking absolutely furious.

Jason smiled, eyes crackling with electricity and the scent of ozone filling the cavern. "Sorry we're late." 

What followed was vicious enough to almost make Hazel feel sorry for Clytius. They attacked him from every direction; Leo shooting white-hot plumes of flame at his legs, Frank and Piper ripping open whatever hint of skin was available through his chestplate, Jason soaring high above them and slamming the flat of his blade into the Giant's temple, disorienting him. Every time the Giant's smokey veil thickened and began to creep around one of them, Nico was there, slashing through it, drinking in the darkness with his stygian iron blade. Clytius turned back and forth, as if he couldn't decide which one of them to kill first. 

Percy, who'd been standing at the edge of the fight, began to make his way to Hazel. He had a slight limp, but walked towards her regardless. Everything about his movements betrayed how dead tired he was, slumped shoulders and lowered head. Bracing himself on the wall, Percy slid down next to her, breathing labored. Mindful of both their injuries, Hazel refrained from hugging him, instead just leaning into his side, weak with relief. 

An arm settled over her shoulders, and in the cover of darkness, Hazel muffled her sobs into his side. 

Across the cavern, the darkness around Clytius dispelled completely, leaving nothing to protect him but his battered armor. Ichor oozed from a dozen wounds. The damage healed almost as fast as it was inflicted, but Hazel could tell the Giant was tiring. One last time, Jason flew at him, kicking him in the chest, and the Giant’s breastplate shattered like glass. Clytius staggered backwards, his sword dropping to the floor. He fell to his knees, and the demigods encircled him. Only then did Hecate step forward, her torches raised.

Mist curled around the Giant, hissing and bubbling as it touched his skin. 

“And so it ends.” Hecate said.

She turned her torches upside down and thrust them like daggers at Clytius’s head. The Giant’s hair went up faster than dry tinder, spreading down his head and across his body until the heat of the bonfire made Hazel wince. Clytius fell without a sound, face-first into the rubble of Hades’s altar. His body crumbled to ashes.

For a moment, no one spoke. Hazel heard a ragged, painful noise and realized it was her own breathing. Her side felt like it had been kicked in with a battering ram. 

The goddess Hecate faced her. “You should go now, Hazel Leveque. Lead your friends out of this place.”

Hazel gritted her teeth, trying to hold in her anger. “Just like that? No ‘thank you’? No ‘good work’?” She was too tired to be surprised at the lack of respect in her words. Yet another thing she had picked up from the son of Poseidon. 

The goddess tilted her head. Gale the weasel chittered---maybe a good-bye, maybe a warning---and disappeared in the folds of her mistress’s skirts. 

“You look in the wrong place for gratitude.” Hecate said. “As for ‘good work’, that remains to be seen. Speed your way to Athens. Clytius was not wrong. The Giants have risen--- all of them, stronger than ever. Gaea is on the very edge of waking. The Feast of Hope will be poorly named unless you arrive to stop her.”
The chamber rumbled. Another stela crashed to the floor and shattered. “The House of Hades is unstable,” Hecate said. “Leave now. We shall meet again.” The goddess dissolved. The Mist evaporated. 

The remaining demigods rounded on Percy and Hazel as a bout of silence filled the room. Then, suddenly, Nico made an agonized noise. "No," Her brother got out, choking on the single syllable. His eyes were wide, shining and absolutely devastated. 

“What? What's wrong?” Piper said hurriedly, eyes straining in the darkness to try and get a good look at Percy and Hazel. It was hard to tell if he was injured or not; everything he wore was tattered and bloodsoaked. Then suddenly, all at once, they all realized the problem.

Percy was fine. 

Fine,

and alone. 

For just a second, it was so utterly silent, she swore she could hear everyone's heart shatter. 

Hazel covered her mouth with a hand. “No,” she echoed. “Percy,” her voice cracked. 

Jason was shaking his head, like he couldn't believe it. “Where is she?” He asked, frantic. “Percy, where’s Annabeth?”

Percy just shook his head. 

Leo let out a choked sob, and Frank's hands dropped to his side, shell-shocked. Piper just stood there, face blank. Nico kept his gaze steady on Percy. “I, I didn’t know. Why didn't I feel it?” He whispered. He sounded like he was about to cry. Instead, he just barreled forward, dropping to his knees, in a very un-Nico-like gesture, and wrapped his arms around Percy. The son of Poseidon returned the gesture, grip tight on the back of Nico's jacket as his shoulders trembled.

Still holding onto her brother, Percy spoke. "Hecate was right. We aren't safe here. We need to go.” There was no tone of cadence of his voice; just flat, empty words.

"Shadow travel." Hazel said, not recognizing the sound her own voice, distant to her own ears. "Nico. I'll help you." 

He nodded, furiously wiping at his face as Frank came forward to help Percy and Hazel up. When she linked hands with her brother, his were shaking. Hazel took in a deep breath, envisioning the countryside above them as the group formed a circle. She reached out to Percy, who took her hand. His hands were rough and more calloused than she remembered. 

They appeared on the hillside overlooking the River Acheron. The sun was just rising, making the water glitter and the clouds glow orange. The cool morning air smelled like honeysuckle, a gentle breeze rustling the tall grass around them. 

Jason was pretty sure his heart stopped. Running into the cavern, seeing Percy there...Jupiter above, he broke out into a smile so wide it hurt. Once they dealt with Clytius, Jason barely stopped himself from tackling his cousin into a hug; Gods know what injuries he had received in the Pit. 

But then they noticed that somebody was missing.

Normally, Jason loved the outside; he had spent most of his childhood under the stars. First with Lupa in the wolf den and the surrounding forest, and then New Rome, with the open city and perfectly green fields. He remembered him and Reyna used to run around Temple Hill together as kids, making sure to avoid Neptune’s temple. It had always made Jason uneasy, not to mention the sorry state it was in. Romans didn’t like Neptune. They had a healthy fear and respect for him, but there was no love lost. 

When Jason had first met Percy; the first son of Neptune in almost a century, he had been similarly wary. Neptune was always said to have an uncontrollable temper, he would go from fine to city-destroying storms in less than a minute. The way Annabeth—

The way Annabeth talked about him showed for certain she trusted him, though, and Jason trusted her. When they had fought off Otis and Ephilates together, Jason knew he had found a friend. Percy fought like a whirlwind, his strikes wild yet precise at the same time. At camp, kids had described Percy as the best swordsman in a century. And Jason really believed it, too. There was something wild and uncontained about Percy Jackson, and Jason found himself drawn to it.

The weather was perfect; a cool breeze swept across the grass and everything smelled like fresh wildflowers. None of them were in any capacity to enjoy it, however. Instead, all eyes were on Percy, who was finally fully visible under the rays of the morning. 

His clothes were in tatters. The jeans and zip-up he'd originally been wearing were shredded, pieces of fabric cut off and tied around his palms, soaked through with blood. Bulk around his ribs indicated some form of wrapping, overlaid by a strange piece of almost leather-like armor that protected his chest and stomach. An arm guard of the same material went from wrist to right under the elbow of his sword arm. All of this was overlaid by layers of grime, ash, and blood. So, so much blood. It stained his skin, coagulated pieces of his hair, made the whites of his eyes stand out against the crimson. And, oddly enough, he was wearing a pair of sneakers that he was positive Percy hadn't had earlier.

And as the sun climbed further into the sky, they became painfully aware of one last thing. 

Golden dust. Percy was absolutely covered in it, head to toe. The morning light caught on it, illuminating every single speck that was stuck to him. Jason couldn't even imagine how many monsters it had taken for it to accumulate like this. He felt sick. 

Percy didn't say anything, so neither did they, a hollow devastation following them to the hilltop where Reyna was waiting for them. The second she laid eyes on Percy, her composure broke, and Jason swore he saw her almost gag from the amount of carnage stuck to his body. Jason stared down at the grass and desperately tried to blink away the burning sensation of tears. 

Before they boarded the ship, Percy and Nico separated from the group, rejoining not a few minutes later. Nico's hands were shaking, and he was drawn into his jacket, hollow-faced and cheeks damp. If Jason had to bet, it was probably about what Nico had said down below. The son of Hades had a sixth sense for souls—was there something so truly terrible about Tartarus that could interfere with that? Jason wouldn't be surprised. 

None of the Seven had gathered up the courage to ask what went down in Tartarus. None of them really wanted to know. Based off the few words Percy had said, the Pit was unlike anything he could’ve imagined. For all Jason knew, he could’ve been down there for a lot longer than he thought. Magical places were like that, time was funny. What could have been a few weeks to them might’ve been months to Percy. 

Reyna and Hedge staggered their plans to depart, giving up a precious few hours to allow everyone to regain some semblance of composure. Percy disappeared into his room wordlessly, a far-away look in his eyes. Jason heard the shower creak on moments later—Percy was probably desperate to scrape the blood and dust off his skin. They all seemed to want some form privacy; Leo went down to the engines to start up the ship, and had stayed down there since. Hazel and Frank had clung to eachother, sitting on the edge of Frank's bed. Piper had dropped into a chair in the dining room and hadn't moved since. Jason found himself up on deck, staring mindlessly over the landscape as sobs wracked his body.

It was long enough that, at some point, he felt like he couldn't cry anymore, eyes dry and rubbed red. Jason barely heard the footsteps behind him—maybe he was just too lost in his own head to notice, or maybe the Pit had trained all the noise out of Percy. The son of Poseidon took a place next to Jason, using the railing as support. 

Jason looked over him, and his heart felt like it broke all over again. Percy's skin was scrubbed raw, finally free of all the grime but revealing the mosaic of bruises and wounds that lay beneath. A long, deep cut ran from the top of his left brow down to his jaw, half scabbed over and pulling at his skin. His cheekbones stuck out, and dark circles swooped under his eyes. He looked almost sickly, complexion having lost that healthy warm glow that typically emanated from him. 

His hands, despite his efforts, were still a mess. Thick callouses, more than any swordsman should have, decorated his palms and fingertips. His knuckles were split open, dirt and dried blood stuck under his nails. His hair was longer than Jason remembered—damp, it hung in his eyes, went past his shirt collar. He'd never seen Percy with wet hair, even after stepping right out of the sea. Jason wondered if he couldn't be bothered to dry it, or if he just forgot he could. Standing there, in pajama pants and a sweatshirt, bandages peeking out above his socks, wrappings anchored around his ankle, Percy looked so incredibly lost.

Annabeth had been his everything, Jason knew. Not even a Goddess could remove how much Percy loved her from his mind. Jason was sure he'd feel just as lost if he'd lost something like that.

The wind picked up for a moment, blowing the strands of Percy's hair out of his face, and Jason couldn't help the awful choking gasp that escaped him. All around Percy's eyes, stretching from temple to temple, across his nose bridge and scattered on his cheekbones, burns, shiny and red, stood out. Some of his eyelashes were missing, as well as a bit of eyebrow. The skin was twisted and rough, looking so incredibly painful that Jason's chest tightened. 

"Percy," He got out. 

The demigod ducked his head, unfamiliarly long hair falling over the marks. Percy's arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into his ribs. "It's alright." He said, subdued. "I'm okay."

Jason stepped forward, putting a hand on Percy's shoulder as gently as he could. The demigod still flinched. Hands trembling, Jason tilted Percy's chin up to look at him, only to find his eyes remained focused somewhere over his shoulder. When Jason shifted to the side, trying to catch his attention, his gaze stayed blank and unfocused. This time, Jason didn't even try to hide the pained noise that slipped out. "You can't see," He whispered, free hand coming up to cover his mouth in horror. 

It was a nail in a terrible, terrible coffin, when Percy just lowered his head.

Chapter Text

The storm came out of nowhere. 

Jason stumbled up from belowdecks. The ship was tilting so violently he had to climb the floor to get out the sickbay, the hull creaked and the engine roared. Somewhere from the brig, Nike was screaming at the storm to do better. 

He passed Hazel, who was clutching her stomach and looking green around the face. She called after him, but he didn’t reply. 

It was hard to distinguish the tilting of the ship from the lurching of his own vision, the pounding of the rain from the steady beat of pain in his own head. He tripped and ran into walls, loosing his footing every few steps. 

When he finally made it to the deck, he was shocked still on the last stair.

It was raining so hard that water was spilling down belowdecks, and the waves he could see could easily swallow Jupiter’s Temple back home. Horizontal rain pelted his skin and the rolling clouds made it impossible to know if it was day or night. The wind blew him back, and the thunder temporarily deafened him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The crew was doing everything they could, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

Leo had tied himself to the mast, and, with Piper’s help, was trying to get the ship airborne. Jason took a cautious look up at the sky---he doubted up there would be much better. Frank was up in the rigging, trying to take care of the sails. But every few seconds, a wave would rock the ship and throw them off their feet. 

Only Percy was having any sort of luck. He stood at the bow, right near the edge, his arms held out to the sides like he was walking on a tightrope. With every wave that hit, every slam of the wind, Percy didn’t even move. He stood perfectly steady, looking strangely at ease. 

Every time a wall of water reared, Percy held an open palm towards it and pushed out, forcing the wave back down. But, Jason knew, he couldn’t do it forever. As he drew closer, he noticed Percy’s brow was furrowed in concentration, his jaw set. 

Jason hesitated for a second. Nobody could hear anything is this storm, and Percy sure as hell couldn't see him. If he went up and tapped him on the shoulder, would he scare him so bad he lost concentration?

Percy seemed to sense his predicament, somehow. “Hey, Jace!” He yelled. Or, at least, he was fairly sure that’s what he said. Percy threw both hands out, taking down to giant waves coming in from either side. The son of Poseidon turned towards Jason and extended a hand. (How did he know exactly where he was?) Jason gratefully took it, Percy keeping him stable as he moved the last few paces across the deck. 

Percy didn't freak out or demand that he go back to the sickbay, which he appreciated. Instead, he just pointed at the waves and said something---Jason couldn't tell what. 

“What?” Jason yelled.

Percy repeated what he said, slower. Jason just shook his head. 

Looking frustrated, Percy took in a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Then, as the next wave came, he threw a hand out. The wave was even bigger than the rest---the storm was getting more aggressive. Instead of throwing this one back into the depths, Percy seemed to coax it up, making it taller and taller until it looked like it swallow the ship in one move. Piper seemed to notice what he was doing and yelled something, eyes wide. 

Percy ignored her, and kept at it. On the other side, he repeated the process, the churning seafoam stretching high above their heads. “Percy, dude…” Jason trailed off, his face tilted up. In one smooth move, Percy brought his hands both together like he was clapping. Jason couldn't help the full body flinch. No matter the trust he had in Percy, Jason would always hold a fear of the water. 

His worry was unfounded. The dark water met in the middle, high above the sails, forming a perfect dome. Jason worked his jaw, popping his ears. It was...quiet. The water pittered down at the top, but was seamlessly absorbed into the top of the dome. The thunder and lightning was muted by what was probably thousands of gallons of liquid, all the waves being held back. Jason couldn't help but stare, awestruck.

Frank turned back into a human, his feet touching down onto the deck. He, too, like the rest of the crew, was craning their necks up, eyes wide. Percy didn’t waste any time, crossing his arms. 

“This isn’t a normal storm.” He stated flatly. 

Leo blinked a couple times. “What?”

“Something is causing this. We need to go find it.” 

Frank tilted his head. “How do you know?” 

Percy gestured loosely past the dome, to where they could see the waves crashing by. “See that? The waves are going in opposite directions. That dosent happen. I can feel the pressure in the air and the movement in the tides---it’s unnatural.” 

Piper looked uneasy. “Any idea what could be causing it?”

Jason blinked a couple times. He had no idea Percy could even feel that. “It, uh, could be a group of storm spirits, maybe?” He offered. Percy shook his head. “I don’t think so. This? This is the work of a God, no doubt. We just gotta go find ‘em.” 

Nervously, Frank frowned. “A God? How are you going to stop this ?” He gestured around him. “We aren’t going to be much help.” 

Percy tossed an arm around Jason’s shoulders, startling him. “No problem, Jay and I can handle it.” 

The round of protests were immidietly cut off by Percy dragging Jason away by the collar. “Be back soon!” He yelled. 

“He’s hurt--- ” Someone started, but Percy had already muscled Jason up to the bow. Jason gave him an incredelous look, then down at the waves, also ignoring their friends’ yelling. “Are you sure about this? I mean, dude. A God?” 

Percy shrugged. Then he jumped.

Jason sighed, then leapt after him.

Breathing air full of a dumb storm spirit was mildly gross, but Jason endured. Percy was floating effortlessly next to him, his head tilted to the side. Maybe Jason had hit his head harder than he thought, because he could’ve sword that in the dim lighting, Percy’s eyes almost glowed, illuminating the depths. 

“What re we looking for?”

Percy kept his gaze straight ahead. “Wait for it.” 

Three seconds later, a shaft of pale light cut through the void like a spotlight, then disappeared. 

“Something’s down there, stirring up the storm.” He said flatly. Jason gave him a surprised look. He wasn’t sure if Percy could see the light at all, much less pinpoint where it came from. But there was just something about the way Percy held himself, the look on his face, that made Jason trust him. He knew better than to underestimate the son of Poseidon is his element, after all. 

Still without turning his head, Percy smiled. “Nice outfit. Can you hold it together when we go deeper?” 

Jason looked down at his tornado. “I honestly have no idea how I’m doing this.” 

“Okay,” Percy said, “Just don’t get knocked unconscious.” 

“Shut up, Jackson.”

Percy grinned once more. “Well, let’s go see what’s down there.” 

They swam so deep that Jason couldn't see an inch in front of him, the only light coming from Percy’s sharp eyes and Jason’s sword. Every so often, the spotlight shot upwards, and Percy swam straight towards it. He was one hell of a swimmer. Percy, with Jason in tow, cut through the depths like a torpedo. 

The water was ice cold, and Jason’s ventus crackled and roared, straining to escape. The smell of ozone made him light-headed, but he kept the shell of air intact. 

At last, the darkness gave way below them. Soft white luminous patches, like schools of jellyfish, floated before Jason’s eyes. As he approached the sea floor, he realized that the patchs were growing fields of algae surrounding the ruins of a palace. Silt swirled through empty courtyards with abalone floors. Barnacle-covered Greek columns marched into the gloom. In the center of the complex rose a citadel larger than Grand Cerntal Station, it’s walls encrusted with pearls. Its domed golden roof cracked open like an egg. 

“...Percy, is this Atlantis?” 

His cousin rolled his eyes. “No. Atlantis is a myth. Or, at least, the Atlantis you know of. Kids story.” Jason gave him a look even though he could see it. “Percy, you share hald your DNA with a God. Myths are kind our thing.” 

Percy snorted. “And do you really want all of them to be real?” 

“...Good point.” 

Percy ran his fingers over one of the closets columns. “Annabeth would’ve loved to see this.” He murmured. 

Jason’s throat dried up. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out as they floated through the broken dome and down into the shadows. Before he could formulate a response, the spotlight flashed directly below them, blinding Jason. He dropped like a stone, touching down on the smooth marble floor. When his vision cleared, he saw that they weren’t alone. 

Standing before them was a woman, almost twenty feet tall, in a flowing green dress, cinched at the waist with abalone shells. Her skin was as luminous white as the fields of algae, and her hair swayed and glowed like jellyfish tendrils. Her face was beautiful, but unearthly---her eyes a little too bright, her features a bit too delicate, her smile far too cold, as if she’d been studying human expressions but hadn’t quite mastered the art. 

Percy, still upright and floating above Jason, sucked in a small breath. “You.” He murmured. His tone was...familiar. From some sort of dream, most likely. Percy always did seem to have more prophetic dreams than the rest of them. 

The woman’s hands rested on a disk of polished green metal about six feet in diameter, sitting on a bronze tripod. It reminded Jason of a steel drum he’d once seen when he was a kid.

The woman turned the metal disk like a steering wheel. A shaft of light shot upward, churning the water, shaking the walls of the old palace. Shards from the doomed ceiling broke and tumbled down in slow motion. 

“You’re making the storm.” Jason realize aloud. 

“Indeed I am.” Her voice was melodic, yet it had a strange resonance, as if it extended past the human range of hearing. Pressure built inbetween Jason’s eyes. His sinuses felt like they might explode. 

“Who are you, what do you want?” Percy said bluntly. Jason looked at him from the corner of his eye. He looked perfectly calm---the blinding light obviously hadn’t affected him like it did Jason, nor did the odd qualities of her voice seem to bother him. 

Her eyes fixated on him. “Why, I’m your sister, Perseus Jackson. And I wanted to meet you before you die.”

Jason saw two options. Fight, or talk. Usually, he would’ve picked fight. But the woman called Percy brother. Jason was a bit out of his depth here---he stepped back beside Percy. Maybe it would be best if he took the lead on this one. 

“I’m assuming you mean another Poseidon kid,” Percy intoned. “I severely doubt you are related to my mom.” Which...yeah. Fair point. Percy was tanned bronze skin and dark hair, she was so pale she glowed and jellyfish hair. Not many similarites going on there. 

The woman sighed, raking her nails against the metal disk, making a screeching sound like a tortured whale. “No one knows me,” she sighed. “Why would I assume my own brother would recognize me? I---”

Percy cut her off. “Uh, Miss. I can’t recognize anyone .”
She blinked. “What?”
Percy waved a hand in front of his eyes, which were staring blankly a few inches away from her.
“Oh.” She said awkwardly. 

Percy just huffed and gestured for her to go on. 

“My name is Kymopoleia.” She informed them. Her gaze flickered from Percy to Jason. She squinted. “Jason Grace,” she hummed. “Son of Jupiter.”
“Yeah. I’m a friend of Percy’s.”
“So it’s true...these times make for strange friends and unexpected enemies. The Romans never worshipped me.” She sniffed. “To them, I was a nameless fear. A sigh on Neptune’s greatest wrath. They never worshipped Kymopoleia, the goddess of violent storms!” 

She spun her disk. Another beam of light flashed upward, churning the water and making the ruins rumble. 

Percy sighed. “Yeah, the Romans aren't big on navies. They had, like, one rowboat. Which I sank.”
“Oh. Good for you.”
“Thanks.”

Jason looked between the two, a tad incredulous. 

Percy continued. “So. That’s a nice storm up there. But why us?”

Kym looked up. “It’s a nice ship, I’ll admit. Very fine craftmenship---I’m amazed it’s held together this long.”

Jason’s air was getting stale. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to use up a ventus by inhaling it, but if he was going to have to fight, he’d better take her on before he found out. But, taking on a goddess in her domain would not be a good idea. Even if they did manage, there was no guarantee the storm would stop. 

“Is there anything we could do to make you change your mind and let our ship go?” He tried. He thought about the crew frantically trying to keep the ship in one piece. Without Percy up there to help, they had to act soon.  

She gave him that creepy alien smile. “Son of Jupiter, do you know where you are?” Jason was tempted to say underwater, but that was probably just Percy rubbing off on him. “The ruins? An ancient palace?”

Percy drifted over to one of the crumbling walls, running his calloused fingertips along it lightly. “I recognize this place. The original palace of Poseidon.” Kym looked a little surprised at his recognition. “Is it true his new one looks just like it?” 

Percy gave a little shrug. “A bit. I don’t remember much of it.” 

She sighed. “I’m never invited to see my parents. I can only wander the ruins of their old domain. They find my presence... disruptive .” Percy frowned. 

She spun her wheel again. The entire back wall of the building collapsed, sending a cloud of silt and algae through the chamber. Percy took a step closer to Jason, and as it flew past them, with an idle flick of Percy’s hand, it made a perfect curve on either side, avoiding them completely. 

Kym looked a little curious at Percy’s reaction time. Jason was a little shook, too. He had barely seen it coming---how did Percy notice?

But Percy stayed eerily silent, so Kym continued. “Father does not welcome me in his court. He restricts my powers. The storm above? I haven’t had this much fun in ages, yet it is only a small taste of what I can do! He even married me off without my permission! He handed me off like a prize as a reward for Briares, the Hundred-Handed One, for supporting the Gods in the war against Kronos eons ago.”

Percy’s face darkened. “He seriously did that?” Kym nodded bitterly. Percy let out a breath through his nose. “What a dick.” 

He seemed to be surprising Kym pretty consistently. Her brows shot up. “You would say that about your own father? In his domain?” 

Percy pulled a face. “I’d say it to his face. If you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised.” He threw his hands out. “Besides, seems like your domain to me. Do you see him here?” His lips twitched. “I sure don’t.” 

It was silent for a moment, then Kym let out a bark of laughter. It didn’t seem as off as her smile, thank the Gods. 

“You are not what I expected, brother.” Percy gave a little shrug. “Thanks, I think. If it helps, I’m not really welcome in his court either. Or, like, anywhere near his palace and city..” 

“Really?” She seemed interested, leaning forward. “What did you do? Is it because of your mortality?”
Percy scoffed. “No. Triton was talking shit and I beat his ass.” 

Jason’s brows reached his hairline. “You what? ” But he went ignored as Kym groaned. “Ugh, I’m glad someone finally did it. He’s so pompous .” Percy leaned his head back. “I know, right? Seriously, all he ever talks about is how he’s Dad’s heir. All of you are immortal . He’s not going to inherit anything. Like, seriously, dude, you’re a God . Stop flexing on your teenage brother.” 

Kym sighed. “It’s a shame neither of us are allowed back. We could show those stuffy old courtiers how to have a good time.” She looked around. “I suppose it dosen’t matter, though. Someday, his new palace will look just like this one, and the seas will rage unchecked.” 

Percy made an annoyed noise. “Is this the part you tell us you’re working for Gaea?”

Jason crossed his arms. “Yeah. And the Earth Mother promised her a better deal once the Gods are destroyed, blah, blah, blah. You know she won’t keep her promise, right?”

Kym crossed her arms. “You’re concern is touching, but as far as I’m worried, the Gods are no better.” She floated towards Percy, her jellyfish hair floating out to touch him. “I’ve heard so much about you, little brother. The Giants are quite obsessed with capturing you. It’s a shame, really.” She did seem a little genuine in that, but it didn’t matter much.

Percy didn’t say a word, his eyes narrowed. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. My part of the bargain was simply to get your attention. Someone else is here, though, who very much wants to kill you.” Above them, at the edge of the broken roof, a dark shape appeared---a figure even taller than Kymopoleia.

“The son of Neptune,” boomed a deep voice. 

The Giant floated down. Clouds of dark viscous fluid---poison, perhaps,---curled from his blue skin. His green breastplate was fashioned to resemble a cluster of open hungry mouths. In his hands were the weapon of a retiarius ---a trident and a weighted net.

Jason had never met this particular Giant, but he’d heard the stories. “Polybotes,” he breathed. “The anti-Poseidon.” 

The Giant shook his dreadlocks. A dozen serpents swam free---each one lime green with a frilled crown around its head. Basilisks.

“Indeed, son of Rome,” the Giant said, “But if you’ll excuse me, my immediate business is with Perseus Jackson. I tracked him all the way across Tartarus.” Percy’s face darkened like a stormcloud. Jason stepped back at the expression. “Now, here in his father’s ruins, I mean to crush him once and for all.”

Jason had always hated basilisks. The little scum-sucks loved to burrow under the temples in New Rome. Back when Jason was a centurion, his cohort always got the unpopular chore of clearing out their nests. They didn’t look like much---just an arm-length serpent with yellow eyes and a white frill collar. But they moved fast and could kill anything they touched. 

Jason had never faced more than two at a time. Now a dozen were swimming around the Giant’s legs. The one good thing; underwater, the basilisks wouldn't be bale to breath fire. Not that that made them any less deadly, though. 

Two of the serpents shot towards them. Jason sliced them in half with a golden arc of his sword. The other ten approached, slowly, out of reach. They writhed back and forth in a hypnotic pattern, looking for an opening. 

Jason looked up. It was still storming---he could feel the electricity in his veins. He thrust his sword up, and the blade immediately glowed red hot. A cloud of yellow light billowed through the depths, like someone had poured liquid neon into the water. The light hit Jason’s sword and sprayed out in ten separate tendrils, zapping the basilisks. 

They’re eyes went dark.Their frills disintegrated. All ten serpents turned belly-up and floated dead in the water.

Jason grinned. 

Polybotes’s smile curdled. “Are you so anxious to die, Roman?” 

In response, both of the demigods raised their swords. Riptide, as always, glowed faintly bronze in the dark. It illuminated Percy’s face, and Kym sucked in a breath at the knotted scars twisting around his eyes. Polybotes stepped forward. Another set of serpents slipped out of his hair. 

Jason turned to look over his shoulder. “You dealt with this guy before?” Percy nodded. Jason dipped his chin back. “Great. Do it again?” 

Percy smiled---it looked more like he was baring his teeth, than anything.

Jason darted to the right, and the basilisks followed. Hm, maybe they were pissed he fried half their friends. He narrowly dodged a strike. 

Percy was slowly moved across the chamber. Polybotes watched him like a hungry animal. 

“Kymopoleia, is this really what you want?” He asked, far too calm for the situation. The Goddess looked bored, idly spinning her disk. “Unlimmited power? Why not?” 

“What’s a storm without anyone to watch it?” Percy countered. 

It was then Polybotes struck. He sliced a hand through the water, leaving a thick cloud of oily black poison. Jason’s heart skipped a beat as it sped towards Percy. The son of Jupiter sliced a basilisk in half, jumping back from another strike. 

Percy didn’t even move. He planted his feet, and stuck his arms out. Fingers spread out, thumbs tucked in, he threw his hands to the side. The oily black mass went straight for him, but instead of trying to duck out of the way, he stood perfectly still. The ink cloud parted around his head, making delicate swirls in the water behind him. Percy lowered into a fighting stance, one hand close to his chest, the other held out. 

Jason stared, dumbfounded. Not a good idea, considering he was fighting poisonous snakes. He smacked one with his blade, then struck two more down. 

Percy controlled the poison. Polybotes’s poison. 

The Giant himself seemed equally shocked. Kym was watching, brow knit in concentration. Percy continued like nothing had happened. “Where’s the fun? Gaea destroys the world. You down our ship, you reform coastlines to your liking. But who’s left to see it? To acknowledge it, to fear it?” 

Polybotes charged him. Percy didn’t move until the last second, ducking under the Giant’s legs and slicing at the back of his knee. Polybotes’s trident struck the sea floor where Percy had been not even a second before. He roared it rage. “I will crush you!”

Percy didn't even acknowledge him. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He asked Kym. “You want people to fear you. You want respect, recognition.” 

Kym sighed. “I really deserve more fear, don’t I?” 

Three more basilisks down. Jason hissed, jerking his leg back as one went for his ankle. He couldn’t help it---watching was fascinating. Polybotes went for him again, but Percy just ducked without even blinking. It was awe-inspiring. He used the Giant’s weight against him, making every right move to unbalance him. 

“You do. And I can help with that. The more recognition you get, the stronger you are. You don’t need the Giants, Kymopoleia.”
She crossed her arms. “I wouldn't know. I’ve never gotten recognition. From mortals,” she sighed, “or from the Gods.” 

Percy whipped around, parrying a strike from the trident. Jason killed another serpent. “I know,” he yelled, pushing back against the Giant. “I get it. Seriously, those guys have voted to kill me more than once. But you can do better than this, Kymopoleia. And we both know Triton is going to talk shit about you if you really do join the Giants.” 

That seemed to be the deciding factor. Kym glided over to him. “You will make sure people know who I am?” Percy grinned. “Sure. You’re like, one of the only half siblings I’ve met who dosen’t seem to be the worst.” 

Polybotes roared. “You swore fealty to Gaea!” Kym shrugged. “He offers more than Gaea. Besides,” she gave Percy a sly look. “I like this one. He has a destructive spirit.” 

“You cannot trust him! He is the Gods little errand boy, he can offer you nothing !”

Percy shrugged. “At least with me, she can make sure I honor my side of the bargain. No guarantee with Gaea.” 

As Polybotes struggled to find a worthy argument, Kym lifted her bronze disk from her pedestal. “You have defeated him before, Perseus?”

He nodded. “With Terminus. And call me Percy.” She scrunched her nose. “I refuse to be outdone by Terminus of all people. Call me Kym.”

Jason struck down the last few basilisks, thankfully unharmed. He thought about stepping forward to help, but decided that interrupting this strange sibling bonding wouldn't be in his best interest. 

With a wordless cue, both of them lunged forward. Percy jumped up, slamming Riptide right into the Giant’s gut. Kym was right behind him, and as soon as Percy was out of the way, she spun her bronze disk right at the Giant’s head. 

Turns out, it was quite sharp. 

Percy, with an arm firmly around Jason, shot them up to the surface so fast it made his head swim. Of course, it didn’t bother Percy, who was still smiling faintly. 

The stream of water deposited them gently on deck. Their friends ran towards them, worried voices overlapping. 

It was Piper who spoke loudest. “You got the storm to stop! What happened?” 

Percy grinned in response. “My older sister is really cool.” 

The rest of the crew looked towards Jason. He shrugged. “He promised to IM her at some point. I think they might go destroy a small island together.” 

Oddly enough, his explanation didn’t seem to help.

Chapter Text

Piper was panicking. Percy wasn’t moving. Enceladus’s fist was wrapped around his body, a vice grip. The demigod wasn’t even struggling. His face was blank, hands loose, pinned to his sides. 

Periboia stood next to him, her arms crossed. It took Piper a moment to realize, that if everything hadn’t gone wrong, Annabeth would have been in the princess’s grip, just like Percy. But Annabeth wasn’t here. Only her other half was.

Enceladus displayed him to the cheering horde of monsters, then turned to face King Porphyrion, who sat in his makeshift throne, his white eyes glittering with malice.

“Right on time!” The Giant King bellowed. “The blood of Olympus to raise the Earth Mother!”

But who was the other one? They needed two sacrifices. Percy alone couldn't complete the ritual. Piper watched in horror as the Giant king rose to his full height---almost as tall as the temple columns. His face looked just as Piper remembered---green as bile, with a twisted sneer. His seaweed-colored hair braided with swords and axes taken from dead demigods. She wondered if Riptide would soon join them. 

The thought made her sick. 

He loomed over his captive. “He arrived just as you foresaw, Enceladus! Well done!” Piper’s old enemy bowed his head, braided bones clattering in his dreadlocks. “It was simple, my king.” The flame design gleamed on his armor. His spear burned with purplish fire. He only needed one hand to cold his captive. Despite all of Percy Jackson’s power, despite everything he had survived, in the end he was helpless against the inevitability of prophecy. 

“I knew he would lead the assault,” Enceladus continued. “Truthfully, both were expected. A shame we only get half the set.” He held Percy up, examining him. “The Pit was a complication, but alas. Finding a second will be of no difficulty.” 

The king nodded. “If you are sure. We will wait.” 

Over the roar of the crowd, she could barely hear herself think, but she replayed Enceladus’s words.

I knew he would lead the assault. 

Her heart raced.

The Giant’s had expected Percy, even Annabeth. The didn’t expect her. For once, being Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite, the one nobody took seriously, might play to her advantage. 

Periboia leaned over to look at Percy. “Is this one broken?” She cast a glance at Enceladus. “I expected more.” The son of Poseidon was still not moving, not trying to escape. His breathing was even, and she had a feeling that, if he could, he would be impatiently tapping his foot. The Giant just shrugged. “What does it matter? He will not live much longer.” The princess hummed, then drew a knife as long as Piper’s sword. “Let me do the honors, Father!”

“Wait.” Porphrion held up a hand. “The sacrifice must be done properly. Thoon, destroyer of the Fates, come forward!” Shit, there went that plan. Piper assumed both sacrifices had to be done together. She thought Percy had more time. Piper scanned the sky desperately. Where was the Argo 2? Thoon knelt down and touched the blade of his cleaver reverently to the earth. 

Even now, Percy stayed perfectly still. She knit her brow. Why wasn’t he doing anything? At least trying to buy himself time, if no one else could? 

“Mother Gaea…” His voice was impossibly deep, shaking the ruins, making the metal scaffold resonate under Piper’s feet. “In ancient times, blood mixed with your soil to create life. Now, let the blood of this demigod return the favor. We vow to bring you to full wakefullness, starting with this death. We greet you as our eternal mistress!” 

Without thinking, Piper leaped from the scaffolding. She sailed over the heads of the Cyclopes and ogres, landed in the center of the courtyard, and pushed her way into the circle of Giants. As Thoon rose to use his cleaver, Piper slashed upward with her sword. She took off Thoon’s hand right at the wrist.

The old Giant wailed. The cleaver and severe hand lay in the dust at Piper’s feet. She felt her Mist disguise burn away until she was just Piper again---one girl in the middle of an army of Giants, her jagged bronze blade like a toothpick compared to their massive weapons. She wondered if that was what Percy felt like, down in the Pit.

“WHAT IS THIS?” Porphyrion thundered, “How dare this weak, useless creature interrupt?” 

Piper followed her gut. She attacked.

Her advantages: she was small, quick, and absolutely insane. She drew her knife and threw Katoptris at Enceladus, hoping she wouldn't hit Percy by accident. She veered aside without witnessing the results, but judging from the giant’s painful howl, she’d aimed well. 

It was like capture the flag, she told herself. Only her opponents were thirty feel tall. Swords sliced across her path, and compared to practice with Hazel, the strike was ridiculously slow. Piper ran and ducked and dodged, no real plan in mind. Enecladus’s fist tightened on Percy, the other reaching up at his forehead. 

In front of her, Periboia yelled in rage, knife in hand. Piper swallowed. Gods, where were the others? Enceladus needed to let Percy go, now, or else Piper was ogre chow. The Giantess dove at her. Piper ducked, barely. 

Distantly, she heard a cry of pain. She risked a glance---Katoptris was no longer buried in Enceladus’s forehead. Instead, there was a long gash that went down his brow, leaving a river of Ichor to stream across his face. Percy was on the ground, dagger in hand. His face was titled down, to the side, almost like he was listening for something. Move, she wanted to scream. What was he waiting for?

Suddenly, Piper’s jagged sword felt ice cold in her hands. Piper lunged at Periboia, and the surprised Giantess glanced down at the sword of the Boread pierced through her gut. Frost spread across her bronze breastplate. Piper yanked out the sword. The Giantess toppled backward, steaming white and frozen solid. Periboia hit the ground with a thud. 

“My daughter!” King Porphyrion leveled his spear and charged.

But Percy had other ideas.

He tucked the knife into his belt, and as the Giant King ran toward Piper, he jumped up, impossibly high, and grabbed the tip of Porphyrion’s spear. With a startling show of strength, Percy forced it to the ground. It all happened so quickly, the Giant’s own momentum lifting him off his feet and, in an untraditional pole vault manuever, flipped him over on his back.

Piper blinked a few times. She had seen Percy do things like that, occasionally. Jason had told her about Kymolopeia and Polybotes, how the son of Poseidon seemed to do the perfect thing at the perfect moment to unbalance his enemies. It was smart, and breathtaking to watch. 

Piper swept her sword back and forth, cold blue steam now wreathing the blade. “Who wants to be the next Popsicle?” She yelled, channeling anger into her charmspeak. “Who wants to go back to Tartarus?” She almost regretted the words as soon as she said them, glancing back at Percy. His face had considerably darkened. Just not at her, she hoped.

With everyone else, it too seemed to hit a nerve. The Giant’s shuffled uneasily, glancing at the frozen corpse. And why shouldn’t Piper intimidate them? Aphrodite was the most ancient of the Olympians, born of the sea and the blood of Ouranos. She was older than Zeus or Ares or Athena, and Piper was her daughter. 

More than that. Piper was a McLean. Her father had come from nothing, and now he was known all over the world. 

Porphyrion snarled. “These demigods cannot kill us!” He bellowed. “They do not have the help of the Gods! Remember who you are!” The Giants all exchnaged looks, then slowly advanced, weapons at the ready. Percy just took a few slow steps to the side, closer to Piper. If anything, he looked relaxed. His hand wasn’t even on the holstered dagger. 

Piper snarled. “Come on, then!” She yelled. “I’ll destroy you all myself if I have to!” The assembled monsters eyed her, then her silent companion. Percy’s hair hung down in front of his eyes, longer and shaggier since before the fall. His face was unreadable. But then, his lips twitched into a smile. He put a hand on Piper’s elbow. “Take a step back.” He advised in a quiet voice. “They can’t smell it yet.”

She gave him a baffled look, but allowed him to pull her back a few feet. “What are you talking about?” He shrugged. “They have good noses. Mine’s better.” He paused, then held up three fingers. 

The Giants closed in. A dozen spears pointed directly at Piper’s chest. 

Two fingers. 

Porphyrion was smiling. 

One finger.

Percy looked up at the Giant King. He smiled back.

Then, he put down the last finger. 

The metallic smell of a storm filled the air. All the hairs on Piper’s arm stood up. “The thing is,” a voice said from above, “you don't have to.” 

Piper’s heart could've floated out of her body. At the top of the nearest colonnade stood Jason, his sword gleaming gold in the sun. Frank stood at his side, his bow ready. Hazel sat astride Arion, who reared and whinnied in challenge. 

With a deafening blast, a white-hot bolt arced from the sky, straight through Jason’s body as he leaped, wreathed in lightning, at the Giant King. It crackled around him, randomly striking the ground, including where Piper had been standing moments before.

Huh.

So that’s what Percy was waiting for.

For the next three minutes, life was great. So much happened that only an ADHD demigod could've kept track. 

Jason fell on King Porphrion with such force that the Giant crumbled to his knees---blasted with lightning and stabbed in the neck with a golden gladius. Frank unleashed a hail of arrows, driving back the Giants near Piper and Percy. The Argo 2 rose above the ruins and all the ballistae and catapults fired simultaneously. Leo must have programmed the weapons with surgical presicion. A wall of Greek fire roared upward around all around the Parthenon. It didn't touch the interior, but in a flash most of the smaller monsters were incinerated. 

Leo’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “ SURRENDER! YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY ONE SPANKING HOT WAR MACHINE!”

Enceladus howled in outrage. “Valdez!” Leo yelled back some...unflattering words.

“Monsters, destroy that ship!” The Giant ordered. The remaining forces tried their best. A flock of gryphons rose to attack. Festus the figurehead blew flames and charboiled them right out of the sky. A few Earthborn launched a volley of rocks, but they were blasted to dust. Somewhere, Buford yelled at them to put their clothes on.

Hazel spurred Arion off the colonnade and they leaped into battle. The forty foot fall would’ve broken any other horse’s legs, but Arion hit the ground running. Hazel zipped from Giant to Giant, stinging them with the blade of her spatha. 

But their luck was running out. They had lost the element of surprise, and were hopelessly outnumbered. Every time a Giant went down, they got back up again not a moment later. Frank ran out of arrows, and Hazel got knocked off her mount at sixty miles per hour.

The five demigods were forced into a defensive ring. 

Then Enceladus threw his fiery spear. It pierced the hull of the Agro 2 and exploded inside, sending sprouts of fire through the broken oar openings. An ominous black cloud billowed from the deck, and the ship began to sink.

“Leo!” Jason cried. 

To her left, Otis and Ephialtes circled around, Enceladus to her right, Periboia in front of her. Thoon was to her back with Porphyrion. All the Giants were smiling like a cat that had just caught a mouse. In a way, that was pretty accurate. Piper raised her sword. And once again, everything descended into chaos. 

The demigods kept their backs to each other, fighting side by side. At one point, Piper got smacked so hard she flew into the air, only to be caught by elephant-Frank. Jason zapped anyone who got too close, and Hazel summoned gems the size of her head to trip them. 

Periboia wasn't giving up. The princess attacked Piper with a newfound rage, her lips pulled back in a snarl Piper was fast, but not fast enough. She has growing tired, but the Giantess seemed to have unlimited energy. Piper ducked a swipe of her knife, and sidestepped a jab.

Then, to her left, a cry of pain sounded. Piper couldn't help it, she looked.

The side of Porphyrion’s spear caught Jason in the chest, and he flew across the Parthenon. He hit one of the columns with a sickening crack . Piper let out a yell, moving to run towards him. 

Periboia took advantage of her distraction. The giantess swung towards her in a wide arc that would’ve cut her clean in half if Piper hadn’t jumped back in time. But it was too late. The knife made a clean slice on the back of her thigh, and the blood trickled down her leg, alarmingly fast, into the dirt. As soon is it hit the ground, it hissed and bubbled, turning from red to gold. Periboia laughed. “The first blood is spilled!” 

Piper stumbled back. Frank was the one to catch her, holding her upright with a strong arm. Meanwhile Percy, stunningly fast, broke into a run, ducking under the Twin Giants' strikes. He reached Jason, skidding onto his knees. Percy murmured something to the son of Jupiter, pressing hands to his ribs and checking him for fractures in an efficiency that was new to Piper. 

But the fighting didn’t stop, not even for this. Hazel jumped back from a hit, and Frank was forced to let go of Piper to go help her. Periboia was watching with a sense of pride. “Nothing left, daughter of Aphrodite?” She taunted. 

Piper roared and charged at her. Hazel and Frank both backed up towards the column Jason sat up against, protecting him. Percy joined their defensive line, Riptide gleaming in his hands. The three of them fought with a familiarity Piper hadn’t noticed before. When Frank swung high, Hazel went low. When Percy used his unnatural strength to give Hazel a boost, she jumped up and stabbed one of the Giant’s in the neck. Frank turned into an animal, and Percy protected his blind spots.

It was a well-oiled machine, but not good enough. 

Piper hit the ground rolling under Periboia’s hunting knife. She aimed a hit with her sword, but the Giantess moved, only making a scratch on the side of her leg. Ichor swelled up, only a small rivulet sliding down her skin. Piper almost wanted to scream in frustration. 

The Argo 2 was still smoking. Ash was falling down onto the ground, like snow. The air smelled burnt, and Piper coughed. Leo was doing everything he could to keep it aloft, but she knew he could only keep it up for so long. 

Piper finally made a good hit. A deep gouge on Periboia’s ankle, almost straight through. Once again, the frost crept up her skin and covered her in seconds. The Giantess hit the ground, but Piper knew it would only be so long before she thawed. 

She took a second to regain her breath, hands on her knees. Most of the hair from her braid had come undone, and fell in her face, some plastered to her sweaty forehead. Piper started towards the trio, determined. 

And then it happened. 

Percy, with a now standing Jason, was focused on Otis and Ephialtes. Jason’s forehead was already bruised, and she could see the stiff way he moved himself. He was dazed, his movement sluggish. Percy was growing tired, too. But he still moving with that graceful, ruthless air he had, matching the Giant strike for strike. Occasionally, a long tendril of water would come out of the air and knock one of the twins off balance when they got too close to Jason. 

Piper had no clue where the water was coming from---the Acropolis was dry as a bone, covered in dust and ash from the Argo. There weren’t any water sources nearby, either. 

Frank was occupied with Thoon, shifting seamlessly from man to beast. Enceladus was dueling Hazel, Arion dashing in when there was a hole in the Giant’s defense and landing a solid kick. 

Porphyrion himself had been thrown across the Parthenon by an angry rhino and a strong surge of water, but he was back on his feet. Sprinting right towards Hazel, who had her back turned, focused on the giant in front of her. 

Piper started running. 

She wasn’t fast enough. And for once, her voice failed her.

The Giant hefted his spear. 

But then...Percy froze. Piper didn’t know if it was his hearing, or what, that tipped him off, but he kicked Otis in the gut, and then whirled around. He lunged towards Hazel, grabbing her by the collar, pulling her away. “Percy, what---” she started.

Porphyrion was the king of the Giant’s, and his aim was true. His spear went straight forward with enough force to pierce through a marble column. 

Right to where Hazel was. Right to where Percy had placed himself in front of her, shielding her with his own body. 

The spear went straight through his body with a sickening squelch . 

Hazel screamed. Frank faltered, Jason turned around in horror. 

Porphyrion yanked the blade out, a vicious look on his face. Both Percy’s hands covered his stomach, all the color draining from his face. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. And the blood---there was too much blood. Percy collapsed, and his blood soaked the earth, hissing and bubbling as it hit.

The blood of Olympus watered the ancient stones.

The Acropolis groaned and shifted as the Earth Mother woke.

Chapter Text

The sky turned dark. Hazel’s head whipped up, eyes wide. Instead of the blue skies that had been above them seconds ago, she saw black space spangled with stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleaming silver and gold in the background. And an army of Gods charged down from on high. 

Supersized Jupiter---no, this was Zeus , his original form. He rode into battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the size of a telephone pole crackling in one hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses made of pure wind. They shifted constantly, trying to break free. One second, Hazel saw the ice visage of Boreas. Then Notus’s swirling crown of fire and steam. Another wore the smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. Zeus had bound and harnessed the four winds himself. 

On the underbelly of the Argo 2, the glass bay doors split open. The Goddess Nike tumbled out, free from her golden net. She spread her glittering wings and soared towards Zeus’s side, taking her rightful place as his charioteer. “MY MIND HAS BEEN RESTORED!” She roared. “VICTORY TO THE GODS!” 

Hera rode next to Zeus, her chariot pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow colored plumage so bright it made her dizzy. Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered down on the back of a fire breathing horse. His spear glistened red. Artemis and Apollo were mirror images, silver and gold, each with a quiver full of deadly points. 

The entire Olympian council, plus some, charged into battle. But they were not led by Zeus---someone was in front of him. Hazel squinted from her spot on the ground, Percy’s limp body pulled against her. 

Poseidon led the charge, trident gleaming wickedly in the light. His face was one Hazel would never forget. Pure, unbridled fury was written on every single one of his features as he rode into battle towards his son. It was getting windy, Hazel could feel the cool sea breeze appear and turn violent. Clouds began to accumulate in the clouds, turning everything an ominous grey. 

Hazel looked down. Percy’s eyes were fluttering, his hands pressed to the wound on his stomach. Hazel’s own hands were on top, trying to keep the blood in, trying to keep him alive. She knew tears were running down her face and dripping onto the filthy ground, but she couldn't bring herself to care. 

They just lost Annabeth, they couldn't lose Percy too. Not Percy . Why did he take that stupid spear for her? She was the one who didn’t notice in time, it was her fault. Hazel’s shoulders shook. 

The Giants were standing in a loose ring, staring at the Gods, weapons at the ready. Piper had run over to Percy and Hazel and was ripping a length of her sleeve off to wrap around Percy’s torso. Jason and Frank stood guard around their fallen friend, hands trembling they were so angry. Lightning seemed to spark under Jason’s skin, crackling and snapping. Frank’s lips were pulled back in a gutteral snarl.

In the last second, before the Gods reached the Parthenon, they seemed to displace themselves, like they’d jumped through hyperspace. The chariots disappeared. Suddenly, Hazel and her friends were surrounded by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny next to the giants, but glowing with power. 

Poseidon ran and skidded to his knees, his hands cupping Percy’s face.

”Percy…” He gasped out. To her shock, the God was crying. Truthfully, Hazel didn’t think they could. Poseidon looked down at the wound. Blood was still pouring out, soaking through Percy’s clothes and further into the dirt. Hazel knew her own pants were coated in the red liquid, her hands stained.

Percy’s hand, weak and trembling, reaching out. He placed it overtop his father’s, leaving a red mark. Poseidon swallowed thickly. The demigod took in a few shaky breaths, gritting his teeth. 

Then, he said something to his dad. The language dug up a memory in Hazel’s brain---the day Percy called his mom in Alaska. She couldn’t understand what he had said, then, but she knew from his body language that he was relieved. 

She had given him a curious look after, and he had shrugged a little. “Hawiian.” He mumbled. His brow had been furrowed, staring down at the ground. Hazel had just let him be.

Now, her eyes flittered between the father and son as Percy spoke. His voice was wavering, and he stopped mid-word to take in sharp, wet breaths. Poseidon seemed to understand, though, and his face went pale. 

“No. Percy, no.” He murmured. 

Percy spoke again, this time his voice firmer. She understood one word--- Annabeth. 

Poseidon closed his eyes, dipping his head forward. It was one of the strangest sights Hazel had ever seen, an Olympian God bowing to a demigod. Then, wordlessly, Poseidon carefully removed his hands from Percy’s face, and placed them on his stomach. 

Hazel moved her own arms out of the way, using them to support Percy instead. Poseidon started murmuring something, eyes focused and sharp. Hazel didn’t recognize the language he spoke---it sounded old , the very words and syllables making Hazel’s hairs stand on end. In an odd way, though, it felt familiar, deep in her bones.

Jason watched for a moment longer, lower lip trembling. The son of Jupiter wiped at his nose, then, then turned back to Porphyrion. He was white-knuckling his sword, jaw clenched. 

He shouted and charged. 

Piper and Frank joined in behind him, one last effort. Thunder and lightning screamed, metal clashed, and she could hear the great booming steps of an elephant every now and then. But Hazel didn’t focus on that---she just looked down at Percy. 

Poseidon pulled away, falling silent. Percy’s breathing leveled out, color returned to his face. The God looked intently at his son, sorrow written on his face. He brushed Percy’s dark hair off his forehead, and pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. Hazel gazed upwards as the God stood, brushing the dirt off his armor. 

Then, he held a hand out. Percy took it. Poseidon hauled him up, looking over him with a critical eye. The air around the two felt uneasy as Percy rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck. 

Numbly, Hazel rose to her feet. That... what? Healing was Apollo’s domain---she was fairly sure not all Gods could spontaneously cure life-threatening injuries. But Percy was standing, upright, and albeit covered in his own blood, he looked fine. 

It wasn’t until Percy turned around did she understand. 

Now that he was standing, it was easier to see. The lower portion of his shirt and armor was almost shredded, displaying the gaping wound in his gut. She could see the torn muscles and ligaments, even what she was fairly sure was organ and bone. Blood no longer rushed out, like it was frozen. 

Over the music of the battle, Hazel couldn't hear what Poseidon said next. She was staring, transfixed on the impossible wound, and missed the sorrowful look the father gave his son. And the soft words, in one of Percy’s mother tongues, 

I’m sorry this is what you had to become, my son. 

Instead, father stood next to son, sharing the same steely storm eyes, the same determined set of their jaw, the draw of their brows. One held a trident, the other a sword, both wicked sharp and glowing bronze. 

Percy took in a few deep breaths. He could smell it---the blood, the metal, the exertion and bloodlust in the air. Ozone and sweat, the energy fizzling around the Parthenon. Hazel stood a few paces away, her heart beating out of her chest. 

Percy turned to face her. Or, his closest approximation of her. “I’m fine.” He said, leaving no room for argument. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times, unable to form words. She swallowed. Then let out a breath. “Alright.” Her voice cracked. 

Then she turned on her heel and ran to join the fight, by her father’s side. The battle ranged all over the Parthenon and spilled across the Acropolis. Athena, golden armored and white robed, kept monsters and Giants alike occupied with razor sharp spear, brandishing the infamous shield with Medusa’s bronzed visage on it. With her, Frank and Ares smashed through an entire phalanx of Giants, Ares with his own spear and shield, Frank as a seven-ton elephant. 

In another world, Athena wouldn’t have been alone, a voice whispered. Percy closed his eyes. Then he moved on. 

Hazel raced through battle on Arion’s back, disappearing in the Mist whenever a Giant got close, then reappearing and stabbing them in the back. Hecate danced in her wake, setting fire to their enemies with two blazing torches. Percy couldn’t feel Hades on the battlefield, but he knew the God was present. He could sense the ground shifting under the Giant’s feet, snapping open and swallowing them whole. 

Piper fenced with Periboia, sword against sword. Aphrodite was next to her, the Goddess blowing clouds of powder in the Giant’s eyes. Every time it hit, Periboia gave out a strangled cry. Whatever it was, Percy could both smell and feel the curdling flesh as Aphrodite was calling encouragement to her daughter, jabbing her nails down the Giant’s legs when Piper needed a breather. They were surprisingly sharp, shredding flesh like butter. Doves rose up, swarming Periboia’s face, scratching at her face and armor. 

Leo was racing up and down the deck of the Argo 2, shooting ballistae, dropping hammers on Giant’s heads, and blowtorching their loincloths. Behind him, Hephestus stood at the helm in a mechanics uniform, working with the controls, furiously trying to keep the ship aloft. 

Jason exchanged blows with Enceladus, Zeus next to him, electricity crackling through the air, sharp and crisp. They worked as a team, a unit, blasting the Giant with lightning and slicing through his armor and skin. 

Even Thoon was getting bludgeoned to death by the three Fates, their brass clubs held high. A long way from old ladies knitting socks at a fruit stand, huh?

Percy, one by one, cracked his knuckles. His father stood by his side. “Ready?” 

The hyperaware feeling of his own blood, organs, muscles, torn open and exposed, was almost indescribable. Percy could feel his father’s strength coursing through his veins, his own powers keeping his body together. 

He received a smile. “Of course.” 

Jason’s head was clearer than ever. For someone who’d had one too many concussions in a startlingly short amount of time, that was quite the statement. It was almost like a runner’s high, being next to his father. He could feel the static in the air, building up under his veins, his skin. Zeus’s presence felt reassuringly familiar, smelling of clean rain and wind, making the air burn with energy.

Up close, his Master Bolt appeared as a bronze rod a meter long, pointed at both ends, with blades of energy extending from both sides to form a javelin of pure, white electricity. 

The clouds had been gathering around the duo as they smashed Enceladus into the dirt, but suddenly, the air felt thick with moisture. The winds picked up, the rain started falling. Jason started to get the scent of the sea in his nose. 

He smiled.

It almost reminded him of Percy’s scary as hell older sister, how fast the storm started up. Zeus grinned as he summoned more bolts, adding to the chaos. The water built up on the ground, making splashes wherever Jason stepped. The earth shook, thunder boomed. 

Jason risked a brief look behind him. 

Percy and Poseidon stood tall, identically dark hair whipping in the wind. Their eyes seemed to glow, pulsing with green energy as it grew darker. Jason’s eyes drew down, towards Percy’s previously fatal wound. It... oh Gods. 

Percy stood there, a gaping hole in his gut, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Hair plastered to his forehead, his cheeks still gaunt and eyes dark circled from his time in the Pit. Blood soaked, holding Riptide, his sharp grin gleaming in the dark. Jason searched his brain, but the only word he could come up with was haunting.

Percy held Riptide in front of himself, a ready stance. Then he ran at the King of the Giants. 

Jason sighed slightly as he jabbed his sword through Enceladus’s arm. Honestly, he almost felt bad for Porphyrion. That was probably going to be the material for nightmares for centuries. Keyword being almost, though. 

Zeus fried the Giant’s arm as Hazel sped by, sword out, cutting Enceladus across the back at 60 miles per hour. The Giant screamed, whipped around to grab Arion, but he and his rider were already halfway across the Acropolis. Zeus took advantage of the distraction, lunging forward. His bolt hit Enceladus directly across the head. 

Jason wrinkled his nose as the smell of burnt hair wafted over to him. He let lightning of his own crackle around his blade, and ran forward once more. 

He traded blows with Enceladus, half his focus on the arena around him. Thoon was losing, badly. Jason had always imagined what it would be like if he every saw the Fates in person---this was probably the last was he thought it would go. 

Frank and Ares took on the Twin Giants with Athena’s help, the perfect mix of brutal strength and cunning strategy. Frank was like a wrecking ball, taking the from of whatever animal could hit the hardest. Ares’s spear was but a blur, slicing cleanly through flesh. Athena’s eyes were steely and furious under her helm, shield brandished. It sent shivers down Jason’s spine. 

Periboia faired no better than the others. Piper was meeting her blow for blow, her sword gleaming. Aphrodite floated around her daughter, a vicious smile on her painted lips. The Goddess's nails were tipped in golden ichor. Jason made a mental note to never mess with Piper’s mom. 

Percy could feel it when Porphyrion saw him. Or, well, he made a pretty good guess. The Giant’s heart rate skyrocketed as he sputtered. 

Percy took in a steady breath, taking in the feeling of his own organs exposed to the air. This would probably fuck him up later, but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was that the Gods were here, and that they finally had a chance. Gaea was awake, but maybe, just maybe, they could do this. 

But for now, baby steps. 

First step being to send Porphyrion and his buddies back to Hell. 

His father put a hand on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke as Porphyrion charged them, standing strong through the storm of the battle, both literal and figurative. Zeus was getting a little lightning-happy, but since Jason seemed pretty happy, Percy figured he’d let it slide just this once. He was nice like that. 

The King Giant’s thudding footsteps were a steady beat, getting louder and louder as he closed in, drowning out everything but Percy’s own heart in his ears. The demigod forced himself to relax, hand clenched around Riptide’s hilt. 

He knew how much was at stake here. This wasn’t just the end of the Gods, the pantheon, but the end of everything. And all that stood between that and salvation, was Percy and his friends. 

He raised Riptide. 

Porphyrion bared down at him, the giant spear swinging in a downwards arc towards his head that would surely cut him cleanly in two if he didn’t move. Idly, Percy noted as the metal point closed the last couple meters towards him, it was easier to pinpoint it now that it was covered in his own blood. 

The very last second, Percy dropped to the ground and rolled, making a long cut on Porphyrion’s left ankle as he went back up. The Giant stumbled forward, thrown off balance. Poseidon lunged forward with his trident, and the three prongs hit him in the chest, cutting through his armor like it was butter. The trident came out with a rough yank, now dripping in the enemies ichor. 

The Giant righted himself, turning around to look down at Percy. He opened his mouth to speak, but neither son nor father gave him the chance. Water was pulled up from the ground, condensed from the air, formed into a wall taller than Percy’s old apartment building. It slammed into the King, pushing him backwards.

Porphyrion’s dragon-like feet dug trenches into the ground as he struggled against the water, skidding back a few meters. 

In sync, Percy and Poseidon moved forward, the startling speed of Atlanteans behind them. The Giant hefted his spear and met them in the middle. 

Percy had never been more grateful for the laser focus his heritage gave him in battle. It was almost like a dance---dodge, hit, block. His father mirrored his moves, trident striking chinks in armor. Water pushed and pulled around their ankles with every move, flowing back and forth as they fought. The Giant met them strike for strike, each of his moves strong enough to crack the marble columns like they were twigs. 

Adapting was the key---Porphyrion was so large, his shoulders as broad as a school bus. He was muscled and dense, it was like he had his own gravitational field. Normal tactics wouldn't work, considering the amount of strength needed to even pierce his skin. 

Percy could feel himself slowing down, even with his father’s blessing. Most of his power and energy was being used to keep his organs on the inside of his body, so it wasn’t much of a surprise. To his left, Poseidon dodged a hit, then used the hilt of his trident to block another. 

The two immortals circled each other. Percy bit the inside of his cheek. There was something there...but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was missing something. 

He looked down. The water flooding the Acropolis had risen higher, the rain ice cold. It didn’t bother Percy much, the opposite, really. It was comforting, to wade around in his own element. 

His element. 

Percy’s head shot up.

And he did the only thing he could---he ran. 

His beaten shoes soaked through as he ducked under the Giant’s arm, speeding past his father. 

“Perseus, what are you---” The God called, breaking off to block the shaft of a giant spear. 

The King laughed. “There’s nowhere for you to go, little demigod!” 

Percy flipped him off. The Acropolis was pretty damn huge---he could almost hear her. 226,000 square feet, Seaweed Brain, she’d say. Behind him, Poseidon disappeared in a cloud of sea mist, leaving Porphyrion to lunge at empty air, almost falling flat on his ugly face. 

The sounds of the battle lost its intensity, replaced by the roar of outrage as the King of the Giants began the chase across the Parthenon. The wind tore at Percy’s face, numbing his nose and cheeks. His hair was plastered across his forehead, soaked to the bone as his feet hit the ground. Too close, too close, Percy’s brain screamed. All he could register was the Giant’s footsteps, shaking the earth, getting faster and faster. 

He didn’t even bother with the stairs, instead throwing out an arm. Water flooded down the marble, freezing in place. Percy resisted the impulse to look behind him, to see how much ground he was losing between them. Instead, he just dove for the now frozen stairs, bending his knees as his sneakers hit the ice. He slid down at a truly terrifying speed, Porphyrion hot on his heels. 

For once, luck was on his side. It just so happened that, for some odd reason, the King of the Giants didn’t have experience with this---like sliding down a hill on a serving tray while unkillable Gorgons chased after him. Weird.

The Giant stumbled as he went after Percy, the ice groaning under his monstrous feet. Percy hit the ground with a tuck and roll, up in one smooth motion. He was off like a shot, lungs heaving. 

He was so close . 

Percy darted under tree branches, weaving around rubble and debris. Every breath was ragged, pulling tightly in his chest. He leapt over a boulder, back to the shin-deep water. It had been weeks, but in this moment, Percy was back down in The Pit, where gaining distance was the only thing that mattered. Where he ran through poisonous air and jagged-glass ground, the only thing between him and eternal damnation was a river of fire and his own damaged legs. 

Porphyrion roared, sending birds scattering. Next to Percy, tiny pebbles jumped up and down with the vibrations of his pursuit. Percy turned a sharp corner, and---

A dead end. The city of modern Athens sprawled out below him, below the jagged cliffs. Percy was pretty sure he was shaking, bent over, hands on his knees. Porphyrion’s shadow encompassed him completely as the Giant finally caught up. 

Percy didn’t even move as the King loomed over him. His laugh made the demigod’s skin crawl. “A good attempt, Perseus Jackson. But there is no stopping this. It is done. The Earth Mother is awake.” 

Percy did his best to stand up straight, though he felt like he was throwing up. He remembered when he used to be able to run, racing Travis and Connor through the strawberry fields, the sun warm on their skin. Annabeth would always sit and wait for him by the finishing line, nose buried in a book. 

Now, soaked to the bone with freezing water, covered in his own blood, Percy didn’t think he had ever remembered anything so fondly. He couldn’t run like he used to---Tartarus’s toxicity had ensured that. Oh, and the gaping wound he was barely holding together in his gut. 

Porphyrion took a few slow steps forward, like he had all the time in the world. In a way, Percy supposed he did. 

He closed his eyes, one last check. Thoon was down, the Fates now disappeared to...wherever the went. Athena was supporting Hazel, who was limping a little, but fine. Frank and Ares struck down Otis, Ephilates already dead. Periboia was staggering back against Piper and Aphrodite, but the two were merciless. It is unclear if a sword or razor sharp nails slit the Giant’s throat, but either way, Percy felt her hit the ground. Jason and Zeus finished off Enceladus with a boom, the air, even from where Percy stood smelling overwhelmingly like ozone. 

None of that mattered, though, because Percy was almost a thousand feet away from them, but only a meter away from the King. 

Porphyrion hefted his spear, smiling. “Do you wish to go back, Perseus? My brethren certainly enjoyed your time down there.” His eyes moved down the open wound, frozen in time, right through Percy’s body. “After all, you are just another creature of The Pit, are you not? Quite the display.” He took another step closer, and Percy took another step back. His heel hit the edge, displacing a few pebbles. Nowhere to go.

“Using your own powers for something so twisted...it’s almost admirable. Tartarus shapes all of us, dosen’t it?” He gave Percy one last look. “Making yourself a walking dead man…” he mused. “What would she think? Annabeth?” He smiled at Percy. “Her name was Annabeth, right?” 

Everything went quiet. The wind stopped, the rain seemed to scramble back, away from the son of Poseidon. Percy couldn’t hear anything over the roar of blood in his ears, not even as the King continued to gloat. His hands were shaking, his breathing leveling out. 

Her name was Annabeth, right?

“You don’t deserve to say her name,” Percy snarled. 

Porphyrion smiled lazily. “It is of no matter, all of you will be forgotten soon enough.” 

Her name

Percy raised Riptide with both hands, pulling himself up. 

was Annabeth,

The Giant raised a thick brow. “You still try to fight, Perseus?” He shook his head. “Demigods. They never know when to cut their losses.”

right? 

He gestured grandly around him. “You see this, son of Poseidon? The beginning of the new world---my world. My brethren will rise once more, in the arms of the Earth Mother. Your cause is lost.” 

“No throne for you.” Percy snarled. “Not ever .” 

“There’s nowhere for you to go.” The Giant took another step forward. Percy’s other foot hit the edge, the wind to his back. “You’re right.” He admitted. Then, Percy’s lips curled into a smile. “There’s nowhere for you to go, either.” 

Percy threw his arms out, then pulled. The water surged off the ground, wrapping around the Giant’s ankles and knees, his torso, his wrists and shoulders. In one sharp motion, it was yanking him forward. The King of the Giant’s went over the edge of the Acropolis, taking Percy with him.

Poseidon watched as his son sprinted for his life across the cobblestone, the air being raggedly brought in and out of his lungs. The King trampled after him at an alarming speed, a bloodthirsty look on his face. 

Perseus made zig-zags, under branches and over rocks, dodging chunks of fallen marble and other debris. The destruction had not reached the entire Acropolis, but the Parthenon and surrounding areas were completely trashed. Poseidon would’ve felt a little bad if, technically, the Parthenon didn’t belong to them anyways. The mortals had done a good job preserving it, though. It looked just as he remembered. 

Perseus rounded a sharp corner, Porphyrion gaining on him every second. Poseidon forced himself to wait, to not intervene as his son was cornered, backed up against the cliff’s edge. The Giant gloated, too busy on the high of his impending victory to notice the water piling up behind him. 

Poseidon dared to drift closer, every cell in his body tense. 

“-Her name was Annabeth, right?”

Oh, no. The God watched as Percy’s face, furious and defiant, went terrifyingly blank, as frozen as the blood in his veins. It was then he saw himself, more than ever, in his son. The perfect calm, the easy motions, right before the clashing of the storm. 

“No throne for you.” Perseus said, sword raised. “Not ever .” 

His words were snarled, lips pulled back to display sharp teeth. Poseidon couldn’t help but notice, then, how his son looked every inch the Warrior-Prince he was born as, hailing from one of the strongest lines in history. (And Poseidon’s, too.) His eyes, even in an almost certain death, were glowing bright, storms swirling in his irises. 

“There’s nowhere for you to go.” Porphyrion was nearing Perseus, and Poseidon dug his nails into his palms as his son’s feet his the edge.

The words were quiet, but spoken with a grin. “There’s nowhere for you to go, either.” 

Then, the two of them went over the cliff. And this time, Poseidon would be there as his son fell. 

The air whipping at his hair, his clothes, drowning out all sounds except for the wind, was disgustingly familiar in a way that made him want to cry and throw up at the same time. This time, though, he could feel the sea breeze around him, warm and strong.

Even mid-air, Porphyrion bellowed with rage, grappling with the demigod. Percy used his size to his advantage, holding on for dear life onto the back of the Giant’s breastplate. 

Then, suddenly, there was a strong arm around Percy’s torso, and he let go of the expertly forged celestial bronze. His dad’s grip on him didn’t falter as Percy swung his leg over the pegasus’s back. 

Good to see you again, boss!

Percy let out a strangled laugh. “Right back at you, Blackjack.” 

The pegasus tucked his wings in and dove down, a black blur. He landed next to the large pipes protruding from the ground, hooves squishing in the flooded grass. Percy leapt off, Riptide in his hand. His father slid off behind him, sighing. 

“You make me grow grey, Perseus. Thousands of years, and I have never gone grey.” 

Percy grinned. “We match, then. And you got the plan---that’s all that matters.” 

His dad shook his head, but followed him nonetheless. 

Porphyrion didn’t have either a dad used to his borderline suicidal plans, or a cool pegasus, so he wasn’t as lucky. The Giant’s broken body laid on the grass, in a crater with water trickling down the sides. 

The King was still breathing, though, because of course he was. Slowly, he pushed himself up. Percy noted the way his knees buckled under him, how his breathing was all wrong. The Giant’s spear arm was still good, though, and he held the Celestial Bronze with a new vengeance. “I was going to offer you the mercy of a quick death, son of Poseidon.” He snarled. His teeth were bloodied. “I rescind my offer.” 

Percy just narrowed his eyes, giving Riptide a twirl. “You should’ve brought up Annabeth.” He said lowly. 

Poseidon had the good sense to take a few steps back as the two clashed. 

Percy fought with a new fevor, his strikes the harsh and unforgiving ones of a grieving man. He let himself slip into that headspace, where he felt the tense of each of Porphyrion’s muscles, how his blood sluggishly leaked out, where he shifted his weight right before he struck. 

It was ruthless.

“You,” Porphyrion gasped out, lashing forward. “The very Earth is behind me, boy. A little puddle won’t change anything.” 

He brought his spear down. Sluggish, full of rage and not much else, Percy noted. Well, back to the basics, he supposed. Percy jumped to the side, and brought his leg up. 

The spear snapped right in half, clean down the middle.

(Back at Camp, Clarisse narrowed her eyes.)

With a clench of his fists, gallons of water streamed towards him. Poseidon came forward, trident at the ready. 

“It’s called an aqueduct, dumbass.” Percy snapped. Then, with a single move of his hand, the force of an Olympic sized swimming pool slammed into the Giant, surging forward and trapping him against the cliffside. His dad threw the trident, so fast that, even if he could see, he would’ve missed it. It buried itself in the rock, through one side of Porphyrion’s gut and out the other, the mirror image to Percy’s own injury.

The two stalked forward, closing in on the struggling Giant. Poseidon got there first. He slowly pulled on the hilt of his weapon, face twisted in a snarl. “You really shouldn’t have hurt my son.” He said slowly, right next to the Giant’s ear.

The God stepped back as Percy moved next to him. The demigod stood there for a moment, eyes blank and unseeing, but feeling the life drain out of the King. 

“Pathetic.”

The Giant’s breathing was ragged. “You cannot stop us!” He yelled. “It is done! The Earth Mother is awake! Your cause is lost, even if you defeat me, I will be revived by Mother Gaea!”

Poseidon shrugged. “Then perhaps, you should not die in her embrace. Percy, would you do the honors?” 

Percy put the cap back on Riptide. He held his hands out, taking control of the water once more, pulling it up, up, up. It snaked up Porphyrion’s scaly skin, then up his breastplate, his neck, sliding over his mouth and nose. It about reached his ears, when Percy spoke.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “All of you will be forgotten soon enough.” 

Porphyrion’s scream of outrage was muffled as water was shoved down his throat, filling his lungs. Poseidon didn’t move to help again---this was Percy’s kill.

He stood and watched, leaning on his trident, as his son drowned the King of Giants.

Chapter Text

Frank felt a little bit like he was going to pass out. 

Watching Percy go down was one of the most terrifying moments of his life. Truthfully, even though Percy was only a little bit older than him, Frank had formed something of a small hero worship for the guy. How could he not? The first time they met, Percy had effortlessly crushed a Gorgan with a river.

He heard Hazel’s scream, then the clatter of Riptide as is slipped out of Percy’s fingers.

Then the Gods came, and he and Piper followed Jason into battle. Frank fought with a fervor, blood pounding in his ears. He knew there was nothing he could do to help Percy now---He just hoped Hazel and Lord Neptune could. 

Fighting with his father was a whole other thing. Ares was nothing like Mars was, fighting with a bloody glee instead of a vicious precision. He figured both were similarly effective, though, and equally terrifying. Having a laughing God of War bear down on you with a blood-tipped spear was not something you just walked away from.

Frank shifted from form to form, a similar feeling rippling under his skin. It was almost calming, summoning new skins to wear. One second, he was a bear, swiping a heavy hand at Otis. Lady Athena was there now, too, Aegis held high. Frank never looked directly at the shield---just being near it made him shiver. 

He jumped up, shifting to a falcon, tearing into Ephilates’s face. His sharp eyes scanned the battlefield, checking for everyone. 

Jason stood proudly by his father, forcing Enceladus back with white-hot lightning. The scent of it burned Frank’s nose, made his feathers stand on end. Hazel had reunited with Arion, and was sprinting across the battlefield, driving her spatha into whoever was unlucky enough to be close. Thoon was getting his ass kicked by the Fates, a scene Frank would never forget. Periboia shared a similar fate. Aphrodite was chillingly vicious with Piper by her side, never giving the Giantess a moment of rest. He could see Leo with his father up on the Argo, dropping things on Giant’s heads and lighting them on fire. 

Percy was standing now, too. Though he only had a second to look, Frank couldn't help but be astonished by how similar he looked to his father. Poseidon’s trident gleamed in the light, the same glowing bronze as Riptide. Together, they worked as a unit, one striking forward while one dodged back. 

Frank swooped back down, hitting the ground as a basilisk---something he, unfortunately, had plenty of time to study these last couple months. He sank his fangs into Otis’s ankle, then darted away. 

He could hear Porphyrion roaring as the winds picked up, the rain coming down harder. Frank stepped back as Athena took on Ephilates and Ares charged Otis. He pulled his bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow. 

When either of the Giant’s got to close, he let an arrow loose. He took out an eye, shot through a wrist. An exploding arrow saved his father from a swing of a club, and the God shot him a thumbs up. It made Frank happier than he’d like to admit. 

He almost fell over when the footsteps started. Great booming footsteps, shaking the ground. He stumbled, then caught himself, looking around wildly. 

Porphyrion’s spear was hefted as he charged across the Parthenon. Not at any of them, though. Frank could make out Percy’s familiar silhouette, sprinting across the marble grounds. His sneakers splashed in puddles, kicking up the ankle-deep water. Percy was fast, that was for sure, but Porphrion’s single strides were the size of a double-decked bus. Frank wanted to go, to run to him, but Otis was running at him before he could make a choice. 

Periboia fell easily. Almost too easily, if you asked Piper. But she would take it. For once, she would take easy . Her mother was lounging on a little pink cloud, looking perfectly calm like she hadn’t just gouged a Giantess’s eyes out. Piper hide a smile, then slowly approached. The cloud held a distant smell of vanilla and strawberries.

Aphrodite looked up from her nails, flicking ichor off the perfect french tips. “Piper, darling.” She cooed. And, to Piper’s surprise, she hopped off the cloud, heels clacking against the marble, and pulled her into a hug. Piper stayed frozen for a second before hugging her back. She pulled back after a second, but her mother kept her hands on the shoulders of Piper’s torn up jacket. 

The Goddess gave her a once-over, lips pursed. “Your hair,” she tutted. “Clearly, I have not done my job well enough if you don’t know a braid that can withstand Giant-slaying.” 

Piper just dipped her head and let out a breathy laugh. Her mother admitting a fault in herself, however offhandedly, was improvement in her books. So she let the Goddess spin her around, let her neatly re-do her hair. She normally wouldn’t have taken the time, mother or not, and ran to help all the others. She did a quick headcount, though, and decided it was better off to not interfere. All of them fought with a zeal previously unseen, emboldened by their parents by their side. 

When the ground started shaking, the only thing that kept her from falling face-first onto the marble was her mother’s strong grip. A steady boom, boom, boom was the only thing she could hear, even as Frank, Ares and Athena cut down the twins, as Jason blasted Enceladus into oblivion, as Thoon met his end to three angry old ladies. The noise was deafening, rattling her bones.

Piper looked around wildly, the half-finished brain whipping around. Aphrodite’s hands were still on her shoulders, and Piper gripped her mom’s forearm. “What is that?” She yelled over the steady beat. It was getting faster. The Love Goddess didn’t answer, looking around at her fellow Olympians. Her brow was even furrowed---that’s how Piper knew it was serious. She could almost hear Drew’s shrill voice, yelling that brooding gave wrinkles. 

Boom, boom, boom, boom---

It was Hazel that came over first. In a blur, Arion was standing a foot away, Hazel sliding off of him. Frank stumbled over next, Jason not far behind him. Their parents, plus the rest of the Gods, having finished with monster and minor Giant disposal, trailed after. Piper could only name a few of them, their faces and weapons unfamiliar to her. Everyone was looking around, some covering their ears.

Boom, boom, boom, boom---

One of the few familiar ones was missing, as was his teenage clone. Hazel picked up on her panic first. “Percy.” She murmured. Piper wouldn’t have known she was speaking at all if she couldn’t read the girl’s lips. Then, louder, “Where are they?”

The assembled crowd shared uneasy looks, a few hushed murmurs. The noise was getting quieter and quieter, further away. 

Boom, boom, boom, boom---

All the air left Piper’s lungs. “Footsteps.” She breathed. And she met the gaze of all of her friends, making sure they had came to the same conclusion. That Percy Jackson, for some damned reason, had decided to test his luck in a race against the Giant King. 

Then, suddenly, it was quiet. Too quiet. It was like the world had been put on mute, leaving Piper locking her jaw to try and pop her ears. Everything was deathly still---the only stimulus coming from the distant crackling of the fires set during the battle, the minute shifting of rubble, the painful sounds of their own breathing. Ash had stopped falling like snow, and now swirled around their ankles like silt, turning the few inches of water a grimy gray. 

Piper flinched when a roar echoed up to them. It came from across the Acropolis, thousands of feet away. She couldn't even see its origin, blocked by the rubble of the Parthenon and the other preserved buildings. But there was no doubt---it was Porphyrion. The chase had ended, and they had no way of knowing who had been caught. 

She didn’t even realize she was running until she heard footsteps behind her. Frank, Jason, and Hazel were all behind her, shedding armor as they sprinted across the flooded marble. Frank abandoned his bow and quiver, Hazel ditched her helmet, Jason tucked his golden coin into his pocket. The less deadweight, the better. 

They reached the stairs---iced over, almost like a perfect ramp. Piper didn’t even hesitate to tuck in her shoulders and jump down, ignoring the fact that her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Percy was close, he had done this. And they needed to find him---

The moment her feet were on cobblestone, she was off like a shot. She could see the destruction the Giant King had wrought; trees bludgeoned from the width of his shoulders, ground cracked where his enormous feet hit, crumbled pieces of architecture were she could only assume he had tried to grab Percy. The only comfort was a small one---the trail kept going, so he hadn’t caught Percy yet. 

Then they heard the crash. 

Piper skidded to a stop so fast Frank almost ran into her back. Her eyes scanned the trail of destruction, ears searching. She pointed north, where she could see the distant cliff edge. “There!” She croaked. 

Jason led the charge, now, jumping over pieces of overturned cobblestone and side-stepping cracks and craters. She could see blood, now, drops and splatters as they got closer to the edge. Dark red, bringing a cold curl of dread to her gut. The drop was sharp, overlooking modern-day Athens, deceptively calm. 

Hoofbeats, behind her as they neared the edge. Jason didn't think twice about leaping over the edge, a frantic look on his face that she knew was echoed on her own. Percy fell without them once, it didn’t need to happen twice. Hazel sped past her on Arion, not even stopping as she extended a hand. Piper grabbed it, still in motion, and Hazel hauled her up onto the horse’s back. Frank went dove over the edge next, a sleek peregrine falcon. Piper held on for dear life as Arion descended the craggly rock. She didn’t open her eyes until she heard hooves hitting water-logged grass---not a very long wait. 

She blinked a couple times to make sure she was seeing the scene in front of her correctly. A black pegasus stood casually off to the side, not even sparing them a look. Hazel smoothly slid off of her mount, offering Piper an arm. She gladly took it, legs feeling like jelly How Hazel did that all the time, she would never know. 

Poseidon stood a few meters away, not facing them, leaning on his trident. Ichor dripped from the prongs. He didn’t seem to mind. Percy was crouched a few feet away, inspecting the broken body of Porphyrion. As the four demigods neared, Frank once again human, the damage became more obvious. She was fairly sure there was a dent in the back of the King’s head. A gaping wound in his gut, leaking the ichor that had partially dried onto Poseidon’s trident, had gone all the way through. Piper couldn’t help but notice the similarity to Percy’s own wound. Her eyes flicked to the Sea God, the stormy expression on his face. Yeah, that was definitely no accident. 

What was most interesting was the water leaking out of Porphrion’s open mouth. Percy sighed and dusted off his pants, rising to his full height. There wasn’t a splotch of ichor on him, excluding the dried splatters from the initial fights at the Parthenon. 

“The aquaducts.” She noted as he joined the group. “Smart.” 

He gave her a little smile, the same lopsided grin she had began to associate with him. It was a strange thing, a soft smile in return to a small compliment. That itself wasn’t odd, really. Any passerby would keep walking, not even recalling the two teens the next day. But the fact that Piper had been complementing him on his murder strategy, and that he had looked completely innocent after drowning the immortal Giant King, might’ve turned a few heads. 

To their left, a series of soft pops filled the air. The rain had died down, the wind barely a breeze as the Olympian Council joined them. Hera cast a distasteful look down at the ankle-deep mud. Piper barely suppressed an eye roll. The Argo was still aloft, now anchored at the top of the cliff. Half the ship’s oars were snapped off or tangled, and smoke streamed from several large splits in the hull. The sails were peppered with burning holes. 

When Hephestus poofed into view, she could see Leo didn’t look much better. His clothes were torn and burned, streaked with grease and soot. But he looked at ease, standing next to his father, if a tad fidgety. He gave Hephestus a glance, then broke away to join the five demigods. Jason wrapped him in a one armed hug, and Piper nudged him with her elbow. Percy flashed him a thumbs up. In return, Leo gave an appreciative whistle at Porphyrions’s crumpled body. 

The Council fanned out into a loose semicircle. None of them looked particularly happy about their victory, save for Ares, who looked quite glad to be soaked in ichor. Poseidon and Percy shared a few hushed words, and a short hug before the God unhappily split from his son. 

“Bretheren,” Zeus began, “we are healed, thanks to the work of these demigods. The Athena Parthenos, which once stood at this temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It had united our offspring, and thus our own essences.” He spoke grandly, but the God King kept giving Percy narrowed eyed looks. Either the demigod didn’t know, or somehow did but didn’t care. He just crossed his arms impatiently. “Is Nico alright? Reyna, Hedge?”

Zeus knit hit cloud-colored eyebrows. “They succeeded in their mission. They are alive.” He said flatly. Percy narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, when Hera interrupted. 

“There is work to be done,” The Queen said, spreading her arms like she wanted a group hug. “But my heroes… you have triumphed over the Giants as I knew you would. My plan succeeded beautifully.” At this moment, Piper knew Hazel and Jason’s hand on each of Percy’s elbows were the only thing keeping himself for lunging at the Goddess. Athena, however, had no such limits. 

She whirled on the Queen with such ferocity it made Hermes and Demeter, standing next to her, take a few steps back. “Your plan ,” she spat, “got my daughter killed.” The Goddess was trembling, knuckles white around the hilt of her spear. Her gray eyes were dark. 

Hera blanched. “Surely, you see, Athena. This was the only way.”

“There is never only one way!” Athena bellowed. “That is why there are three Fates, not one. Your meddling has cost my daughter’s like, and you will pay for it.” 

Zeus held up a hand. “ Silence !” Thunder clapped with his statement. “Wife, you have disobeyed my direct orders. Nevertheless… I recognize that you acted with honest intentions. The valor of these heroes has proven you were not entirely without wisdom.” 

Athena scoffed. “Wisdom? She would not know wisdom if she married it. Annabeth’s,” Her voice cracked on the name. “Annabeth’s death was unnecessary. It was not prohpesized.” Hera snarled. Zeus worked his jaw.

“Apollo,” he called. “Come here.” He glared into the shadows where the twins were standing. The God inched forward like he was walking the plank. He looked so much like a teenage demigod with was unnerving. No more than seventeen, wearing jeans and a tee, a bow slung over his shoulder. With his tousled blond hair and blue eyes, he might’ve been Jason’s full-blooded brother, not just on the Godly side. 

Piper couldn’t help the swell of pity in her chest. While the form he wore wasn’t real, the fear in his eyes looked certainly real, and also very much human. The Fates gathered around the God, circling him, but keeping their distance. 

“Twice you have defied me.” Zeus stated.

Apollo kept his attention on the ground. “I---My Lord---” He started.

“You neglected your duties. You succumbed to flattery and vanity. You allowed your descendant Octavian to follow his dangerous path,---” 

Percy let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. Zeus cut off, slowly turning to the demigod. Piper could’ve sworn Hermes hid a smile into his shoulder. “Yes?” Zeus said, dangerously slow. The tone made all of the hair on Piper’s neck stand up, like the second before Jason summoned a bolt of lighting. She suppressed a shiver. 

Percy, however, just looked annoyed. Probably because he was insane. “So,” He drawled, because he has a deathwish, “All your inaction can be excused because you were split between personalities, but not Apollo’s?” He crossed his arms. “And do you really have to do this now ? Read the room, dude.” 

Hermes was smiling, for sure. Demeter was biting the inside of her cheek. Artemis and Aphrodite were both determinedly not making eye contact, shoulders shaking. Piper could’ve sworn even Hades’s mouth twitched. Poseidon was smirking openly, a distinctly proud look on his face. 

“What did you just say to me?” Zeus glowered. Percy, even blind, managed to pin him with a distinctly unimpressed look. He pointed to Apollo, who looked like he was ready to give Percy the sun itself if he so asked. “God of Healing,” he said slowly, as if Zeus was a particularly slow second grader. Then he gestured down at himself. “Swiss cheese body.” 

Zeus’s rage was quickly overcome by a vague horror-filled disgust. And maybe Piper was wrong, but she was pretty sure she caught a twinge of fear on his face. Behind her, Frank and Jason both let out relieved breaths. 

“I’d really like to stop feeling the warm summer freeze through my large intestine, thanks.” Percy continued, undeterred. Zeus stared for a moment longer, then numbly waved Apollo forward. The God didn’t even hesitate, dashing to Percy’s side. He gently tugged the demigod to one of the fallen columns. Percy begrudgingly sat on it, looking almost bored. Before Piper turned her attention back to the Council, she saw Apollo’s murmured thanks as he pulled up the tattered remains of Percy’s shirt, and the soft smile and nod Percy gave in return. 

Poseidon kept an eye on the two, even as Zeus began speaking again. “We have others concerns to address.” A heavy weight settled over the group. Jason cleared his throat. If there was any time to be bold, it would be know. “Kymopoleia wants a shrine.” He tossed out. “So do all of the other minor Gods. At Camp.” 

Zeus scowled. “That… That’s fine.” He blinked. “But Kym who?"

Poseidon coughed into his fist. “She’s one of mine.” 

From the back, still seated on the overturned column, Percy---who apparently had the ears of a bat---pointed an accusing finger at the approximate area where his father was. “We will be having words about that, old man!” He yelled. Apollo smacked his hand down, with a hissed “Stay still .” Percy made a face at him. 

Poseidon winced a little, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. 

“My point is,” Jason said loudly. “They all deserve recognition. Dividing them up like this will only cause problems. Blaming each other won’t solve anything. It’s how the Romans and the Greeks got split up in the first place.” 

The air around them got dangerously ionized. Piper’s first instinct was to step away, to put some distance between her and Jason. But she took a deep breath, straightened her spine and squared her shoulders to match Jason’s. The other three did the same. A strong, united front. 

“Putting the blame on each other now, when we have bigger things to worry about is… unwise . ” 

“Unwise.” Zeus’s voice was almost a whisper. “In front of my Council, you would call me unwise .” 

Jason swallowed, but didn’t break eye contact. The air was getting staticy, and Piper’s nails bit into her palm. Frank’s hand intertwined with Hazel’s. Leo clenched and unclenched his fist. 

“You are kinda a dumbass, dude,” Percy called from the back. And just like that, the air pressure around the five of them returned to normal. The God King’s rage redirected itself to Percy, still sitting, relaxed, as Apollo knelt in front of him, hands pressed on his stomach. The blond God kept wisely silent. Piper sucked in a sharp breath. Even Poseidon looked worried. 

Gods, what on earth possesed Percy to say something like that? She was starting to suspect he truly was insane. 

“We’re gearing up to fight the literal Earth. Save your pissing contest for later. How are we getting back to Camp?” Percy said bluntly. 

Artemis swooped in. “Gaea is fully awakened, Father.” She murmured. Then, to the assembled group of demigods. “You must move quickly. We don’t have much time.” Athena nodded, shouldering Aegis. “There is no time for hesitation.” She said swiftly. 

Frank tapped a finger on his bow. “Can’t you Gods just… pop over there with us? You’ve got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot.” 

Hazel nodded. “Yes! We defeated the Giants here, let’s all go---”

“No,” Zeus said flatly. 

Hazel blinked, taken aback. Jason raised a silent brow. 

“That’s the problem with prophecies.” Zeus growled. “When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Seven to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it only had so many outcomes, so many solutions. You six, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaea. We, the Gods, cannot .”

At the word six, Piper’s chest panged. 

She barely caught Percy’s muttered “ C’mon, dude ,” and then Apollo’s quiet “Sorry.” She couldn’t help the small smile. 

“What’s the point of being Gods if you have to rely on us to do your bidding?” 

All the Gods exchanged dark looks. Aphrodite, however, laughed gently and made her way towards Piper. The Goddess’s hands found their way back to Piper’s hair, completing the long-forgotten braid. “My dear Piper, don’t you think we’ve been asking ourselves that question for thousands of years? But it is what binds us together, keeps us eternal. We need you mortals as much as you need us. Annoying as that may be, it’s the truth.” 

Frank shifted uncomfortably, like he missed being an elephant. “So how could we possibly get back to Camp Half-Blood in time? It took us months to get to Greece.”

Jason looked up. “The winds. Father, can’t you unleash the winds to send our ship back?” Zeus glowered. “I could slap you back to Long Island.” 

(Apollo barely held Percy down after that one.)

Jason blinked. “Um, was that a joke, or… a threat, or---”

“No,” Zeus said. “I mean it quite literally. I could slap your ship back to Camp Half-Blood, but the force involved…” Near the edge of the semicircle, the grungy God in the mechanic’s uniform shook his head. “My boy Leo built a good ship, but it won’t sustain that kind of stress. It would break apart as soon as it arrived, maybe sooner.” 

Leo straightened both his shoulders and his tool belt. “The Argo 2 can make it. It only had to stay in one piece long enough to get us back home. Once there, we can abandon ship.”

“Dangerous,” warned Hephestus. “Perhaps fatal.”

Nike twirled a laurel wreath on her finger. “Victory is always dangerous. And it often requires sacrifice. Something the six of you know well.” Percy stiffened in the back, his eyes widening. His lips parted in a silent gasp. Apollo shot him a concerned look, but Percy waved him off, shaking his head. 

A feeling of dread settled over Piper. But she didn’t object when Jason spoke. 

“Leo’s right. All aboard for one last trip.”

Chapter Text

The next few minutes were a fantastic reminder of why Percy hated flying. 

He had the good sense to strap himself in before Zeus, 100 feet tall, spiked the Argo like a volleyball across the Atlantic. 

The ship rattled and creaked under his sneakers, the deck crackling like thin, brittle ice. With a sonic boom that almost made him black out, the Argo hurtled out of the clouds. Percy instantly clapped his hands over his furiously ringing ears. 

Leo was shouting, he was fairly sure. The mechanic was lashed to the control console, desperately trying to right the ship’s course as they spiraled downward in a freefall. Festus was creaking in alarm. A catapult peeled off the deck and lifted into the air. Centrifugal forces sent the shields flying off the railings like metal frisbees. 

Everything was moving so fast; it was Percy’s personal Hell. For fucks sake, at least in the Pit, he could  see.  (Or, well, his definition of seeing.) Everything was moving so fast it disoriented him, making it impossible to get an accurate picture of the area around him. The ground was there and then suddenly it wasn’t. As soon as he noticed there was water nearby, they were thousands of miles past it. He worked his jaw a couple of times, trying to pop his ringing ears. 

He barely caught the end of Leo’s voice. “-on! Jason!” He was yelling over the wind. “Hurry!” 

Jason clumsily unbuckled himself from his own harness, stumbling across the cracking deck. 

The hatch burst open. Hazel, Frank, and Piper tripped their way out, pulling on the guide rope they’d attached to the mast. “Go!” Leo screamed. “Go, go, go!” 

For once, his tone was deadly serious. 

They’d talked through their evacuation plan, but that slap across the world made his mind slow and sluggish. Judging from the uneasy steps of the others, they felt the same. Across the deck, Buford the table was bellowing at them to  GET MOVING  and  CUT THAT OUT!  Then, his tabletop split into three helicopter blades, and Buford buzzed away. 

Frank shifted form. Instead of a dazed demigod, he stood as a dazed grey dragon. Hazel climbed onto his neck, Piper not far behind her. Jason was the one who stumbled over to Percy, distantly calling his name. Percy squinted, still rubbing at his probably busted eardrums. He knew, logically, that he’d always had better ears than the others; in his early days, he always noticed things Annabeth never did, sometimes even Grover didn’t. 

(Gods above, he missed Grover.)

The others just didn’t seem as affected by the sonic boom they had created. It made Percy feel woozy, off-kilter, both blind and mostly deaf. 

Jason seemed to hesitate, before grabbing Percy around the waist and harnessing the winds to pull them up into the sky. Percy let himself be pulled, putting his faith in Jason’s hands. Removed completely from the vibrations of the ground, barely any moisture in the air, all he could feel was Jason’s heart pumping blood next to him. 

Percy wasn’t going to lie; it was terrifying. Being next to really, absolutely, 100% blind. 

The Argo had been their home for so long. He felt Jason turn towards it, one last look at the splintering ship. Abandoning it for good—and leaving Leo behind. Percy and Leo had never been close, that was the truth. There was probably a treasure trove of unresolved issues there, revolving around the firing on New Rome and Calypso, but Percy wasn’t willing to dwell on that. He liked Leo, he did. In a strange way, he reminded Percy of himself. Himself before he left Beckendorf on that ship, before he watched the life leave Silena’s eyes, and he handed Luke that knife. Before he let go of that ledge, let himself fall into that Pit. 

But he had felt the surety beat true in Leo’s heart when he told them he had a plan. Percy knew, better than everybody, that this was something Leo needed to do. Not just for them, but himself as well. So he just gave the mechanic a firm nod and didn’t argue. 

Jason couldn’t get them to the ground fast enough. As soon as Percy’s feet hit ground, sweet, sweet,  familiar  ground, he almost cried. He had never sensed Camp like this before, previously only taking it in with his sight. But now he could feel the sprawling life of the strawberry fields, the canoe lake to the west, the circle of cabins. It was heartbreakingly familiar he just stood there for a moment, taking in slow, measured breaths. 

Jason’s feet touched down lightly next to him, his cousin’s hand on his shoulder. “You alright?” 

Percy popped his ears a few more times, wincing. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Sensitive ears.” He was fairly sure Jason was giving him a strange look, but the son of Jupiter nodded anyway. “You haven’t been here in like a year, huh?” Jason mused. Percy nodded distractedly. “About 13 months, yeah.” He said softly. 

13 months. Since he had been in his cabin, since he had talked to Chiron, since he and Clarrise had sparred, since Annabeth had snuck into his Cabin to watch pirated movies on Daedalus's laptop. 

Embarrassingly, he suddenly found himself fighting back tears. 

Jason didn’t say anything as Percy wiped at his eyes. The demigod pulled himself out of his head, instead scanning the field. There were some monsters even Percy hadn’t faced before, mixed in with some familiar ones. The vast army spread across the hills— Cynocephali , two-headed men, wild Centaurs, ogres, and others he couldn’t even name—all surrounding a tiny island of demigods. 

The sight was familiar to Percy. He swallowed and had to push the phantom echo of Kronos’s laugh in Luke’s body, the cruel smile cut by the rippling scar. At the crest of Half-Blood Hill, gathered at the feet of the Athena Parthenos, was the main force of Camp Half-Blood along with the First and Fifth Cohorts, rallied around the golden eagle of the legion. The other three Roman cohorts were in a defensive formation several hundred yards away and seemed to be taking the brunt of the attack.

Frank the gray dragon flew alongside with his passengers. “Here!” Jason yelled. “Those three cohorts are in trouble! If they don’t merge with the rest of the demigods—”

“On it!” Hazel yelled. “Go, Frank!” Dragon Frank veered to the left, swooping down towards the cohorts. 

Percy rolled his shoulders, fingers closing around Riptide in his pocket. His stomach itched; Apollo had healed it almost completely. It was barely a surface wound, now. Not that the others needed to know that, though. His hearing was back, now, up to the usual standard. The ringing vanished, and he could hear the clash of the battle even from where he was standing. 

Jason ran his thumb over the face of his gold coin. “What now?” 

Percy uncapped Riptide. “Now,” he murmured, “We make those bastards regret even  looking  at Camp.” 

Jason’s heart sped up; Percy wasn’t sure if it was in slight fear of his tone or anticipation of the fight. Either way, his cousin let out a huff of a laugh. “Right. Shall we?” 

He received a shark-like grin. “We shall.” 

Most of the tension fell away from Percy’s shoulders when he felt Nico’s familiar steps, the tones of his voice as he slashed his way through a group of monsters, right on the front lines of the Greek army. A few feet away, Reyna sat astride a pegasus, sword drawn. She shouted orders at the legion and the Romans obeyed without question, as if she’d never been gone. 

Percy didn’t sense Octavian anywhere. Good. If he had, Gaea probably could’ve risen and he wouldn’t have noticed, too busy beating that twerp into the ground. Speaking of colossal Earth goddesses, Percy didn’t notice one anywhere. Perhaps she had already risen, took one look at the modern world, and decided to go back to sleep. Percy blew out a puff of air. If only he could be that lucky. 

When he crested the hill, he was met with a loud cheer. Nico lobbed off an ogre's head, then crashed into Percy, arms tight around his torso. The hug was short, but Percy felt more centered than ever. Nico had made it; whole, unhurt. Percy twirled his sword in his hand, smiling for what felt like the first time in forever.

---

When the Greeks started screaming like banshees, Reyna risked a look near her back. Percy Jackson strolled up the grassy slope, wearing leather armor over ichor and blood-stained clothes. Truthfully, he looked like hell; bruised and scraped, but the grin on his face lit up the battleground. For someone who had just fought a bunch of Giants, he seemed in a pretty chipper mood. 

She was infinitely more surprised when Nico di Angelo broke away from the front line to slam into the taller demigod with an embrace. Percy gave that bronze sword of his an expert spin, making his way to the front line amongst the loud cheers and yells of  It’s   Percy !  Percy’s back!

Two fox-faced children of Mercury—er, Hermes, she supposed, gave him identical grins and clapped him on the back. A burly daughter of Ares elbowed him roughly in the ribs, smiling. A Demeter girl let out a surprised laugh when she saw him, a grin splitting her face in half. The Greeks seemed to rally around him, invigorated by his mere presence. 

Like a leader, Reyna realized. There was a reason he had done so well in New Rome. 

Once he was by her side, he tossed her pegasus a casual nod. The pegasus nodded back. Then Percy smiled at her. Red, shiny scars twisted around his eyes and temples, previously masked by grime and dirt the last time she saw him. Reyna raised a brow but chose not to comment. Nobody covered by that much ichor would let something like blindness slow them down. 

“Campers!” When he bellowed, it echoed across the hill and valley, coming low and deep from his chest. In a second, every single one of those unruly, uncontrollable Greeks snapped to attention like legion veterans. “On me!” 

In seconds, Percy was surrounded by a sea of mismatched armor and neon orange shirts. The first thing he said, with an easy smile, was, “Good to see you all.” It brought out a smattering of wondrous laughs, open joy on all the Greeks’ faces. It made sense, Reyna supposed. There weren’t many of them; likely they all knew Percy personally. Had fought with him for years, lived and spent almost every day with and near him.

“These monsters,” he called. “They invade our Camp! Did they not learn their lesson the first time?” He was met with a chorus of loud yells of agreement. “They think they can just waltz in here and take what’s ours!” The campers  booed  in response, somehow enthusiastic and angry at the same time. 

 “I say we show them just how wrong they are!”

Reyna was slightly blown away at how loud the Greeks screamed in agreement. She wasn’t sure the legion itself had never been that loud, despite being almost five times their personnel. They rallied behind Percy, looking to him to make the first move. Nico was at his right, the Ares girl at his left. 

“Where’s Annabeth?” 

The voice was quiet, but everything else went so silent it didn’t matter. Percy’s face closed off for a second, looking down. He took a deep breath, and when his eyes met the Camper’s his expression was hard, full of fury. 

“She fought to the end,” he spoke clearly, swallowing down a wave of grief. Shock filtered across the Greek’s faces, some of them blinking back tears. “She’s—” The taller Hermes boy broke off. Percy gave a single, jerky nod. 

The Ares girl gave a soft sniff, then nodded. “You know what she would say to you idiots if she were here?” She summoned a shaky smile. Then, louder, “She would tell us to beat their asses!” Percy grinned. Then, the raised Riptide. “For Annabeth!” He yelled. 

The rest of the campers took up the battle cry, raising swords and spears and bows and knives in the air. It was that instant Reyna knew that, no matter what Gaea had to throw at them, these demigods weren’t going down. Not unless she went down with them. 

The sea of orange swooped down the hill, back into battle, clashing into the wave of monsters with a ferocity Reyna had never seen before. The legion was a fine-tuned, well-oiled machine; but the Greeks fought like the Berserkers of old, fought with the terrifying strength of someone willing to fight  dirty.  There was no honor, little order, just individuals fighting their own battle their way. It screamed so very  un-Roman  and Reyna  loved   it .

Some of the Romans wisely stepped back from the front lines, taking a breather as their barbaric reinforcements took their spot. Across the battlefield, landmines and Greek Firebombs went off, trick arrows and zaps of magic thinned the herd. An army of nature spirits and Satyrs stood with the Demeter cabin, tying monsters down with vines and ripping them apart with vicious thorns the size of Reyna’s forearm. Archers with matching golden hair crouched in trees, firing on unsuspecting monsters. Ares kids painted themselves with red war paint, beating hordes down with brute strength. A group of grease-smudged kids operated bronze automatons, ten feet tall and carrying clubs that cleaved off ogre’s jaws with a single strike. 

Fast kids with curly hair and impish smiles darted through the enemy lines, sticking homemade explosives of all sorts to wild centaur’s backs, ducking and rolling into a crouch then plugging their ears as they exploded, manic smiles on their faces. A group of nicely dressed teens blew poisoned, shining glitters into the face of a Laistrygonian Giant, some of them shouting out honeyed words in charmspeak that lead to a surprising amount of violence, others foregoing any attempt at dignity and wrestling with two-headed men in the grass. 

It was complete chaos, and it worked to their advantage. “ Eiaculare flammas!”  She yelled. A wave of flaming arrows arced over the legion’s shield wall, destroying a platoon of ogres. The Roman ranks moved forward, impaling centaurs and trampling wounded ogres in their bronze-ripped boots. Somewhere downhill, Frank Zhang let out a call. “ Repellere equites!” 

A massive herd of centaurs parted in a panic as the legion’s other three cohorts plowed through in perfect formation, their spears bright with monster blood. Frank marched before them. On the left flank, riding Arion, Hazel beamed with pride. The three new legions took a look at the Greeks and balked, halting. 

Percy stood in front of them. He gave Frank a thumbs up as a giant hand made of water smacked a Laistrygonian Giant man right off of Long Island. Frank blinked a couple of times, then shook his head, though he was smiling the whole time. 

“ Ave,  Preator Zhang!” Reyna called to him. Frank looked up at her. “ Ave,  Preator Ramirez-Arellano! Let’s do this, Legion,  CLOSE RANKS!”  Skirting around the suddenly intimidating Greeks, a cheer went up among the five cohorts as they melded into one massive killing machine. Frank pointed his sword forward, and from the golden eagle standard, tendrils of lightning swept across the enemy, turning several hundred monsters to toast. 

“Legion,  cuneum formate!  Advance!” 

The legion hefted their spears. In response, the Greeks let out a whooping, barking war cry, and charged once more. 

Frank let out an amused huff. Reyna eyed him out of the corner of her eye. “Are they always like this?” She muttered. Frank grinned. “Yep. And with Percy leading the charge?” He shook his head. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.” 

Then, the two Preators charged in together, their legion behind them. 

--

Jason melded into the Greeks surprisingly well. Their grins were infectious as he ran a centaur through, lightning sparking off his skin. Percy was in his element; all the familiar faces around him, grown comfortable together as they grew older. There were only about fifty of them, but they worked as well as any cohort. Jason had never seen such a variety of abilities used before; usually, Roman demigods stuck to the standard weapons and formations. But here, they couldn’t rely on numbers. 

But, dear Gods, they adapted. All the demigods took steps back when a daughter of Hecate tossed what looked like a bath bomb forward. It turned all the monsters surrounding it into pigs. They grabbed onto each other when Percy brought a massive wave forward from the beach, instinctively ducked over thorned vines, plugged their ears when Aphrodite kids spoke. The tactics they used were fascinating; sneak attacks and dirty, underhanded moves. 

Archers and swordsmen perched in trees and bushes in the forest, they planted landmines and bombs and tripwires, and, at one point, Percy grabbed Jason by the elbow and dragged him up the hill. “Dude, what—” Jason started.

Percy just pointed. A few meters away, a large ground of Hephestus kids tipped over a vat of what looked like—holy fucking shit,  boiling tar.  Kids, no more than 17, cheered and laughed as it sludged down the hill and a platoon of monsters met a horrible end. Jason gave Percy an incredulous, slightly horrified look, but the son of Poseidon just shrugged. “Harley’s pet project.” He ignored Jason’s yell of  the nine-year-old?!

But they didn’t question when Jason yelled to hit the deck, dropping to the grass as lightning arced overhead. That was pretty nice. So yeah, Jason was feeling pretty good about the battle. Except for two big questions. 

Where was Gaea? And where was Leo? 

It was killing him, to not be able to go search for his friend. He just had to stand there when the Argo 2 streaked across the sky in a ball of fire, shedding chunks of mast, hall, and armament. Jason didn’t see how even fireproof Leo could survive in that inferno, but he had to hope. 

Instead, he put all his focus ahead. 

More monsters kept appearing— karpoi  grain spirits swirling out of the grass, gryphons diving from the sky, lumpy clay humanoids that made Jason think of evil Play-Doh men. “They’re ghosts with earthen shells!” Nico warned. “Don’t let them hit you!” Jason fought back an annoyed sigh. Obviously, Gaea had kept some surprises in reserve. 

At one point, Will Solace, the lead camper for Apollo, ran up to Nico and said something in his ear. Over the yelling and clashing of blades, Jason couldn’t hear the words. Percy did, though, and turned to the pair. 

“Percy, I have to go!” The son of Hades yelled over the fight. 

Jason didn’t understand, but, for some reason, Percy nodded and winked, a smug smile on his face. It might have been the exertion of the battle, but Jason could’ve sword Nico was blushing as he dashed off into the fray with Will. 

A moment later, a squad of Hermes campers gathered around Jason for no apparent reason. Connor Stoll grinned. “What’s up, Grace?”

Jason shrugged, spearing a goblin-looking karpoi. “I’m good, you?”

Connor dodged an ogre club and stabbed another grain spirit, which exploded in a cloud of wheat. “Yeah, can’t complain. Nice day for it.” A few feet away, Percy, who was busy turning two-headed men into no-headed men, nodded in agreement. “Feels like rain.” He added conversationally. Connor hummed.

Despite their casual attitude, all of them were tense as a spring. Gaea was coming; no doubt about it. The real question was just a matter of  when . 

It was silent for a few long moments, only broken by the cries of disintegrating monsters. Percy fought like the whirlwinds he controlled, Riptide just a blurry bronze arc that promised death to anyone who got near it. At first, there didn’t seem to be a pattern to where Percy went, how he fought in the same place for a few minutes then suddenly dashed across the field. 

Jason followed him, though. He trusted Percy’s judgment; he knew Camp better than Jason did. 

They had been holding the line against a herd of centaurs for almost five minutes when Percy dropped. He slid across the grass, under a Centaur’s legs, smoothly rolling once, and then he was back on his feet. He dodged clubs and ducked under talons, not even bothering to fight the monsters surrounding him. 

Jason yanked himself up with the winds, pushing towards Percy until he was dropped next to his cousin. Jason didn’t even wait to be fully on the ground before breaking into a sprint to keep up. Gods above, Percy was fast. 

The dark-haired demigod skidded to a stop near the climbing wall. A squad of gryphons circled a young girl on the grass, a cut on her forehead, blood streaming into her eyes. Percy didn’t hesitate; he grabbed her by the back of her orange collar, hauled her up, and then moved her behind him. She stumbled, and Jason reached out to steady her. She couldn’t have been more than 14. 

They were surrounded; they’d have to fight their way out. Normally not a problem, especially with how pissed off they all were. But blood was gushing down the girl’s face, soaking her clothes. She needed a medic, fast. One of the gryphons lunged forward, talons outstretched. 

Percy snarled, baring his teeth. The gryphon was gone before it even knew what happened. Percy did that little head tilt that Jason knew meant he was feeling around, taking in the movements of the ground. It was still amazing to him, no matter how many times he saw Percy do it. When his cousin’s face scrunched up, Jason knew that he had reached the same conclusion. They needed time they didn’t have. 

Jason fried a gryphon who got too close to him and the injured Camper. Percy didn’t turn back to Jason when he spoke. “Can you fly?” Jason nodded. And of course, Percy knew what he did. “Cool. Get her out of here. I got this.” 

Jason didn’t question him. He just wrapped an arm around the Camper’s torso and commanded the winds to pull them up, away, behind the lines to the medics. He didn’t look behind him, but he could hear the flapping wings as the gryphons gave chase. Jason pushed himself faster.  Come on, Percy,  he urged internally. A talon barely avoided scraping his leg. 

And then, suddenly, every single gryphon was yanked back by a seemingly invisible force. Still, Jason didn’t turn, kept his eye on the white tent set up by the Apollo campers. As soon as he touched down onto the grass, the girl he was holding on to was ushered in, voices overlapping as Austin wiped the blood off her face. Kayla tore herself away from her search of bandages to give Jason a thumbs up, then made a shooing motion.  We’ve got this, Grace. 

Once again, the son of Jupiter pushed himself into the air. The first thing he spotted was Percy; it was impossible not to. Jason had never noticed, while darting around the battlefield, putting himself in between monsters and downed demigods, Percy had been slowly inching towards the beach. Now he stood, ankle-deep in the surf, arms outstretched. The saltwater moved as an extension of his own body, tendrils longer than a bus slicing through the air like whips. Anything that got close was cut right in half. 

Except for Jason, he hoped. Being this close to the ocean set him on edge, but Percy and he fought better together. The son of Poseidon just gave him a nod when he took his place to Percy’s left. 

Winds picked up around them, the sky around the beach darkening. The air seemed to crackle with unreleased energy, the scent of ozone filling Jason’s nose. He breathed it in greedily; it was comforting, familiar. Air currents worked with those of the water, plucking monsters off the ground and out of the sky, tossing them to the eager waters. They were pulled down to the depths before they would even scream. 

It was going  well ; so obviously that’s when shit hit the fan.

Percy stilled suddenly, his head snapping around wildly, searching for something. If Jason hadn’t caught him by the shoulder, he probably would’ve ended up face-first in the sand. “What?” Jason asked frantically. “What is it?” 

Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Jason felt it. Under his feet, the very earth rippled as if Camp Half-Blood had become a giant water mattress. Demigods fell. Ogres slipped. Centaurs charged forward into the grass. 

“AWAKE,”  a voice boomed all around them. 

A hundred yards away at the crest of the next hill, the grass and dirt swirled upward like the point of a massive drill. The column of earth thickened into the twenty-foot-tall figure of a woman—her dress moved from blades of grass, her skin as dark as the earth, her hair brown and tangled like tree roots. 

“Little fools,”  Gaea the Earth Mother opened her pure green eyes.  “The paltry magic of your statue cannot contain me.”

As she said it, Jason realized why Gaea hadn’t appeared until now. The Athena Parthenos had been protecting the demigods, holding back the wrath of the earth, but even Athena’s might could only last so long against a Primordial Goddess. 

Fear as palpable as a cold front washed over the demigod army. Percy was as stiff as a board next to him. Jason wondered what this all looked like to Percy; if feeling the true scope of Gaea’s movements made it seem like any monster, or infinitely more terrifying. 

“Stand fast!” Piper shouted, her charmspeak clear and loud. “Romans and Greeks, we can fight her together!”

Gaea laughed. She spread her arms and the earth bent towards her—trees tilting, bedrock groaning, soil rippling in waves. Fast as lightning, Percy’s hand wrapped around Jason’s elbow and yanked him roughly backward, shin-deep into the water. All around them, demigods and monsters alike began to sink into the ground. One of Octavian’s onagers capsized and disappeared into the side of the hill. Jason quietly thanked the Fates for Percy’s weird version of sight and crazy fast reflexes. 

“The whole earth is my body,”  Gaea boomed.  “How would you fight the goddess of—”

FOOOOMP!

In a flash of bronze, Gaea was swept off the hillside, snarled in the claws of a fifty-ton metal dragon. 

Festus, reborn, rose into the sky on gleaming wings, spewing fire from his maw triumphantly. As he ascended, the rider on his back got smaller and more difficult to discern, but Leo’s grin was unmistakable. 

“Hey, guys!” he shouted down. “You coming? The fight is up here!”

Chapter Text

Percy would always remember where he was standing when it happened.

The shifting sand under his feet, the surf soaking through the canvas of his shoes and his thin socks. It was ice cold, a pleasant shock to his system. The day was coming to an end, the air cooling and the breeze picking up. It ruffled at his hair, his torn shirt, prickling at his skin and eyes.

Jason’s shoulder was still under his hand, his cousin giving a shudder that Percy felt reverberate through the seawater. He was staring up at something, mouth agape. 

Trying to curb his frustration, Percy scrunched his brow. He could hear what was undoubtedly the creaking of Festus. The sounds were achingly familiar to the demigod. He could almost hear Beckendorf laughing along with the dragon, the familiar low tones of his voice. It occurred to Percy then that he didn’t remember exactly what Beckendorf’s face looked like. 

He blinked. 

He could remember the wide set of his shoulders, the dark of his eyes, the crooked angle of his nose. But all together, it didn’t put a face together. Just a vague memory and the ghost of his strong hands and arms as he pulled Percy in for a rare hug. 

Percy shook his head, as if he could physically dispel the echo of his friend. 

He could hear Leo, too. The son of Hephestus yelled taunts at the Earth Primordial, and Percy could almost picture the impish grin on his face. That was about it, though. Gaea was snatched off the ground like an unfortunate baby turtle, severing any connection Percy could use to see her. He frowned. He couldn’t even feel any sort of blood inside her, ichor or otherwise. 

“What?” His voice held a tinge of panic. “What’s going on?” Percy demanded. 

Jason shook himself out of his shocked state. “Leo. He rebuilt Festus, and just… grabbed her. He’s taking her up. Like, really far up. Can’t even see him.” 

“Wonder what that’s like.”

Jason’s weary sigh was one Percy would always remember. 

Slowly, the shorter of the two stepped forward, out of the safety of the ocean. As soon as Gaea had achieved liftoff, the ground had solidified. Demigods stopped sinking, though many were still buried up to their waists. And, because that’s how their luck went, the monsters seemed to be digging themselves out far more quickly. They charged at the Greek and Roman ranks, taking advantage of the demigod’s disorganization. 

Percy made a split second decision. “Go help Leo. I can get the Campers out.” 

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.

Jason’s voice was extremely hesitant. “Are you sure?”

To storm or fire, the world must fall

He breathed out through his nose. “Positive. Go. Find Piper.” 

The son of Jupiter gave him one last look, then launched himself off the ground, cutting cleanly through the air in search of a certain charmspeaker. 

Percy didn’t waste any time. He broke into a sprint, the sand offering little resistance as it usually would a normal human. He could feel his allies struggling in their entombment, needlessly wiggling. The few that escaped the trap were digging the others out, but with the monsters bearing down on them, not much was getting done. 

He made it to Reyna first. 

With a vicious slice of his palm, the ground around her split in half. Percy wordlessly offered a hand to her. She took it, grip strong as he hauled her out from the crater. The Preator dusted herself off. 

“Didn’t know you could do that.” 

He shrugged. “It's new.” 

Reyna huffed, her lips curling into a tiny smile. “Right.” She turned, eyes assessing every corner of the battle. She tilted her head up to look at the dragon, bringing a hand to shade her eyes from the sun, weak as it might be. “Gods above.” She muttered. “This is it, huh?” 

Percy slipped a hand in his pocket. “Seems so.” He agreed. 

She nodded. “Nice fighting with you, Jackson.” 

“You too, Rey.”

Reyna swung herself over the saddle, running a soothing hand over Guido’s neck. Percy gave the pegasus an acknowledging nodd, which he returned. Then without a word, Reyna was off, her spatha in hand.

Both of them knew better than to say see you after . No promises were made in a time like this.

Percy rolled his shoulders, then stretched out his interlocked hands, cracking his knuckles. 

Then, he got to work. 

Every single demigod he freed with a quick strike of his hand, a short stomp of his foot. And after, every single one gave him a short thanks, not even waiting to finish adjusting their armor as they ran to rejoin the front lines. 

It was tedious work, though it didn’t take long. 

Before, he never could have imagined doing something like this. Earth was supposed to be a Hades thing, after all. But after spending time with Hazel and Jason, Percy began to appreciate that the lines could be blurred a little. 

Earthshaker held some merit, after all. 

The last one he freed was all the way near the Big House, on the grassy slope of Half-Blood Hill. A son of Ares, who gave him a quick appreciative thump on the shoulder, picked his spear up off the ground, and barreled down towards an unfortunate centaur. 

Their lines were holding their own against the monsters, now. Percy could feel the tides turning. Well, on the ground, at least. 

Jason had found Piper by now, he was sure of it. He couldn’t feel Piper’s familiar heart rate anywhere on the battleground, nor could he hear Jason anywhere near. It was moments like this that, despite everything he had done, Percy couldn’t help but feel helpless. He was out of his element, here. He wasn’t much use in the sky. 

Out of his element. 

Could it really be that simple, Percy mused as he climbed up the hill. Would she fall just as her sons did? Thalia’s Pine was standing as strong as ever, the Fleece thrumming with magic in it’s branches. 

The demigod let out a weary sigh, leaning against the trunk. 

Using his powers to this extent had taken its toll, that was for sure. He pressed his palm against the bark, the rough texture familiar. 

“I remember when you first stepped over the boundary.” 

The voice was sudden, startling, but Percy didn’t flinch. 

“Dad.” 

Poseidon stepped up next to his son, looking down at the chaos in the valley below. “You were so small. ” He murmured. “I wasn’t sure you would make it.” Percy tilted his face towards his father. 

“Watching you struggle like that… When the Minatour first found you on the beach, I wanted nothing more than to bring you into the waves, where I could protect you.” He continued, voice soft. “But I knew that if I did... Zeus would be apoplectic. A war would be started, surely.” 

Percy nodded along. He knew the story, had pieced it together over the long years. Ancient laws that the King only enforced when he felt like it and it caused his brothers misery, threatening children, yadda yadda yadda. 

“I didn’t care.” 

This brought Percy up short. He whipped his head towards his father, face incredulous. 

Poseidon chuckled, not an ounce of humor in it. “It is a testament to my parenting that you are surprised by that.” Percy winced a little, but the God continued. “I do not have children often. You are the first in almost a century. Before that, almost two centuries. Rest assured, Perseus,” He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “When I do sire children, I love them with everything in my heart.” 

“I was prepared to start that war, if only to see you live.” Poseidon shook his head, a wry smile on his lips. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you snap the beast’s horn right off its head.” 

Percy’s ears pinked a little. 

“Your uncanny abilities are besides the point, though.” 

“What is the point, dad?” 

Poseidon’s grip on his shoulder tightened. Not enough to hurt, just enough to reassure Percy. “The point is that, though I may not always seem like it, I would do anything to help my children. To help you, Perseus.” The God sighed. He sounded so weary, so deeply tired that Percy frowned. 

“I cannot enter the battle myself, as much as it pains me. The Fate’s consequences would be much more severe than any other outcome. But, if I could, I would do it a thousand times if it meant sparing you the pain of doing it once.” 

Percy found himself blinking away damp eyes, his voice suddenly thick. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he just leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his father. 

Every time he hugged Poseidon, he felt like that angry twelve-year-old again, the Master Bolt in his bag and a heavy weight on his shoulders. Though, Percy supposed not much had changed. He was still angry, still carrying the world on his back. His father’s arms tight around him, Percy let himself forget about that, even if just for a second. Despite all their problems, Percy treasured the time he got to spend with his father. 

The God pulled back, but kept his hands firmly on Percy’s shoulders, face searching. Poseidon pushed down the twinge of pain when his son didn’t meet his eyeline, blank gaze instead focused somewhere off center, to the right. Perseus would adapt. He had to. 

“And I refuse to send you into that battle empty handed. You know what you have to do?”

Percy opened his mouth to argue, to dispute that no, he had zero idea, actually, when it all hit him like a ton of bricks.

No… 

A raw, strangled sound escaped his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut to block the sudden onslaught of tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. 

“Yeah.” The most condemning word he had ever uttered. “Yeah, I get it now.” 

“I’m sorry.” Poseidon’s voice was sorrowful. “Truly.” 

He took in a few rapid, shaky breaths, nodding quickly. Percy reached up and wiped his palms across his eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He whispered. 

“Most never see it at all.” Was the mournful reply. 

Percy shook his head. “Alright. Okay.” He murmured. Out of habit alone, he turned his head back towards the valley. Remembering Reyna’s words from earlier,  “This is it, huh?”

“So it seems. Which is why you need this.” 

The instant the cool metal touched Percy’s fingertips, he jerked back. The power radiating off it was impossible to ignore, a steady thrum that soothed him and set him on edge at the same time. Poseidon folded his hand over Percy’s, closing his frozen fingers over the hilt. 

“Dad,” Percy breathed. “I—I can’t take this.” He hissed. 

Poseidon shrugged. “I said I would help you in any way possible. Someone needs to put it to good use.” 

Slowly, the demigod tightened his grip around the shining surface. “Are… Are you sure?”

His father’s heartbeat didn’t falter. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been more certain of anything, quite truthfully.” The God winked. “I’d like it returned to me in one piece, please.” He pressed a quick kiss to the stunned demigod’s forehead, and then he was gone. The only sign he was ever there was the scent of the sea breeze floating through the breeze, and the weapon Percy so reverently held. 

Overhead, a loud crash sounded. Right. A job to do. 

Percy shook a little, loosening up his tight muscles. Any trace of his fatigue had disappeared as soon as he had come into contact with his father’s gift. The fight at the Acropolis, including his desperate sprint for his life, had taken almost two hours in its entirety. Then the cross-continent trip, which was everything but relaxing. Followed by rallying the Greek troops, running around the battle with Jason and rescuing fallen Campers, and now this? Percy should have felt dead on his feet, but he wasn’t sure he had ever felt better. 

The son of Poseidon drifted to the edge of the hill. The sun was lowering, now, dipping behind his back. He let out a few slow breaths, and then hefted the weapon in his hand. 

Percy gave his father’s trident a few cursory twirls.

And then he made his way to the beach. 

It was that moment, right then, that would never be forgotten. A single minute in which would be immortalized forever, like the greatest heroes of old. 

Percy Jackson, seventeen years old and fresh out of Hell, standing atop the hill, Thalia’s pine to his side. The sun’s orangey glow behind him illuminates his figure; the shaggy hair and bloodstained armor, pen in his pocket and long stripes of war pain stretching down his face. He holds a trident, almost as tall as he is, feet planted. 

In the soft lighting, the prongs of the trident gleam, wicked sharp. Bated breath is held across the field, monster and demigod alike. The power surrounding it is enough to choke on, thick and heavy. Percy pays the passersby little mind as he moves to the beach, crowds parting around him like the Red Sea. 

The real fight is up above. 

Festus creaks and groans, blasting plumes of fire as long as a school bus. Jason floats next to the machine and its rider, the wind ruffling his hair and clothes. His arm is around Piper, the girl’s dagger long forgotten. Gaea roars and writhes in the dragon’s claws, but the hold does not budge. 

Gaea fought back. When she wasn’t disintegrating, she lashed out with shrapnel blasts of stone and soil that Jason barely deflected. Stoking the storm, containing Gaea, and keeping Piper aloft, she could tell it was taking a toll on him. She doubted he had ever had to extend himself as far as he was now. 

The worst part of it all was that it didn’t seem to be working. 

The Primordial seemed a little woozy, but weakened was a stretch. 

Jason summoned venti to swarm around the Goddess, keeping her continued when she turned into loose, white sand. 

She could feel lightning as it burned and crackled under his skin, thunder rattling her teeth. Right in the eye of the storm Jason had called, that had responded with frightening speed. It was like the air itself was supercharged with restless, potential energy. Though her powers couldn’t be more different from Jason’s, Piper could still feel it. 

It was like her throat burned and itched, but somehow it felt pleasant. Magic moistened her lips, an unleashed power waiting atop her tongue. 

They just needed the shot to use it. 

And as Piper risked a look down, spotting a very familiar figure stalking to the beach, she realized that it was coming sooner rather than later. 

Jason’s storm was crisp and sharp, bundled with static and clouds. Every molecule vibrated, tinged with the same rolling waves of power Percy felt.  

He could feel where Jason’s storm ended, and where his own would begin. Percy slammed the trident into the ground, the tip of the hilt lodging itself deep into the sand. He kept a firm grip on the weapon, like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. It was electrifying, intoxicating, holding his father’s weapon. It was a taste of Godhood, fight in his grip. 

He could feel every inch of water, from Long Island to the Caspian Sea. The earth shifting and groaning, deep into the core of the planet. It was like nothing Percy had ever experienced, the raw power like molten rock under his skin, churning and bubbling, ready to come out. 

And now, he could feel Gaea. 

It was like every single one of his senses was heightened, down to feeling the minute changes in air pressure on the tip of his nose. Piper yelled his name, bringing his dark form to Jason’s attention. 

With a deep feeling in his core, Percy knew they would have to act fast. The element of surprise had put the Primordial out of commission for a precious few minutes, but it could not, would not, last forever. 

They needed to keep Gaea off the ground. 

That was the secret Kym had hinted at when they spoke at the bottom of the sea. It was right there , how Ouranos the Sky God had been tricked down to the earth by Gaea and the Titans. They’d held him on the ground so he couldn’t escape and, with his powers weakened from being so far apart from his home territory, they’d been able to cut him apart. 

Now, they just had to reverse that scenario. 

But Gaea had been a Primordial herself, a team of Titans on her side. Percy and his friends had neither of those advantages.

He didn’t realize it now, but he had been preparing for this for a long time. Even since the Labyrinth and Antaeus, with the ever-healing Earth. Maybe that had been a test from the Goddess, to see if Percy could figure it out, if he was worthy to have his blood bring her back. Not that it would have mattered to Gaea if he figured it out; he was supposed to be dead by now, sacrificed at the Acropolis, anyways. 

But somewhere along the lines, she had miscalculated. Maybe somewhere along that Pit, Percy had done the unexpected. And now, he stood here, the weapon of the Seas in his hand, the secret to defeating her shining in his eyes. 

They didn’t have a team of Titans to back them up; the sky wouldn’t be enough. 

(He could hear her voice, feel the grip of her hand in his, dangling above the chasm. "We're staying together," he had promised. "You're not getting away from me. Never again."

A one-way trip. 

"As long as we're together," she had whispered

Then Percy let go of his ledge, and together, holding hands, he and Annabeth fell, down, down down—.)

Percy gave the trident an experimental twirl, kicking up thin whips of water. 

The seas would have to give an assist. 

An oath to keep with a final breath.

Chapter Text

Percy had always known he had the seas in his veins. Ever before he knew who his father was, Percy had always known, on some deep level, that he belonged to the oceans. An idea reinforced every time he used his powers. 

Annie had asked what it felt like, once. When they were young and dumb and hopeful, walking to the arts and crafts pavilion. 

He had been silent for a few strides, then shrugged. “It feels like…” He grasped for words. “Like moving a limb. That feeling when you stretch and, like, pop your spine after sitting down for a while. Feels like that, kinda.”

She’d hummed. “Sounds nice.” 

 “It is.” 

Now, it was like stretching out a new limb he didn’t even know he had. Opening an entire realm of possibilities, shattering the ceiling of his power limit. Grasping the trident, standing in the surf, felt like the most natural thing in the world. It felt, despite it all, right. 

Was this how Gods felt? 

It was an easy thought to have. So, so easy. The entire world at his fingertips. When he took in a deep breath, his face tilted up, he could’ve sworn the Earth itself smelled different. 

Festus’s roar shook him out of it. 

Percy blinked a couple times, listening to the creaking of the dragon. Piper’s soft, crooning voice was still audible to him, even through Gaea’s booming yells. He kept his grip tight on the hilt of the trident, driving it down, deeper into the earth. 

He felt for that phantom limb, the power pulsing from the trident like blood beating from his heart. Percy let his eyes flutter shut as the water began to churn and swirl erratically. With a small grunt, he pushed the hilt even further down. 

That was when the earth began to shake. 

The first quake was small; making leaves on branches rustle. Barely anyone even batted an eye. 

The second made small things tip over, clatter off desks and roll a few inches away.

By the time the sixth came, campers and monsters alike were falling over, the few unharmed cabins swaying dangerously. But, most importantly, it caught Gaea’s attention. Her domain was unstable, shaking with an outside force. 

The primordial zeroed in on Percy’s lone form. 

She was fighting again, not for her release from Festus’s bronze claws, but pulling down from the sky, towards Percy. 

Jason’s rain was ice cold. It sent tiny electric shocks down to his bones, sparking his nerves. The son of Jupiter’s storm was as erratic as the lightning it summoned; it was the sharp tang of ozone and wild strikes. 

Percy’s was the opposite. Instead of the zigzag of lightning, it was the rolling of waves. The steady wind, patient and unrelenting. There were no wild strikes; it was pushing forward, unshakable. 

Naturally, where these two storms met, it was like pouring gasoline on a campfire. And, lucky for them, Gaea was heading right for that zone. 

Leo was shaken for a moment, then he went along with it. Festus engaged in a stomach-dropping swoop towards the surf, the primordial still clutched in his claws. Jason and Piper flew next to him, keeping just enough distance to not get impaled. Gaea was still shrieking, though now at Percy.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN SEIZE MY DOMAIN, BOY?” She roared. 

Unflinchingly, Percy threw himself deeper into the quake. He was so close. 

The waves licked upwards, as tall as an apartment building and strong enough to take one down. They crashed over Percy’s back and shoulders with enough force to kill anyone else, but he didn’t even blink. Camp was still visible to Gaea, the beach only a dozen yards away. 

It was when they were but a few feet above the reach of the water did Festus stop. The primordial hung in his grip, all her fury bundled around her. Jason wrapped his arm tighter around Piper; where the two storms met was easily the most volatile area in the entire war zone. And that was saying a lot. 

Gaea was reaching out, with her hands and giant pieces of rock and chunks of ripped up trees, to pull Percy away from the trident. Every time a piece of rubble got near him, it was pushed back by Jason, keeping a vigilant watch. Furied air currents or white-hot lightning destroyed anything that got close to Percy. 

Leo and Festus kept their grip tight on her, barely holding her back. 

“You are so weary,” Piper said softly. “Aren’t you?” 

Her voice was but a whisper, but it echoed with a strange ring, over the clashing storm and screaming Goddess. Gaea screamed. A boulder the size of a car swept right at Percy’s head. Jason barely deflected it from his cousin. 

The quake was still going. Stronger, now. Percy could feel it gaining momentum every second, shifting under his feet. 

“Eons of pain and disappointment weigh on you.” The tones of her charmspeak made Percy shudder. Her voice, above all things, sounded kind. Sympathetic. Like she really did feel for the homicidal Goddess. 

“SILENCE!” The force of her anger was so great that Jason momentarily lost control of the winds, catching himself and Piper barely a second after they had fallen. Amazingly, Piper kept her focus, even as the Goddess went on. “STOP IT! STOP THIS!” 

It was unclear if she was talking to Percy, Piper, or even Festus. It became very apparent, though, when she lunged forward in the dragon’s grip, gaining the few feet of wiggle room she needed. 

A giant hand closed around Percy’s middle. 

Her fingers, like the rest of her, were made of solid dirt, cold and hard. Jason yelled in alarm as she reached further down, fingers clenched around Percy’s ribs like he was a child’s doll. And when she yanked back, he really felt like one. 

The son of Poseidon kept his grip firm on the trident, embedded in the sea floor. Her grip was bruising to begin with, but now it felt like she was going to crush him. Breath came with a struggle, ripped out of him. 

Piper was shaking, but her voice was steady. “This isn't what you want!” She beseeched. “Doing this won’t help!” 

Gaea didn’t listen. Her grip tightened. Percy heard the distinct snap more than he felt it. Everything went white-hot, and he screamed. It was a guttural sound, earth-shaking both literally and figuratively. With his pain, the ground quivered. 

Three horrified screams came from above to match his own. Even Festus made a concerned creaking sound. 

“...back…” He gasped out. 

“Please! Stop!” Piper cried. Leo was trying to pull Festus back, up, away from Percy. But neither Gaea’s grip on him, not his grip on the trident, gave. Jason kept Piper and him afloat, but barely. Fury crackled in his eyes. In that moment, the only thing stopping him from attacking the Primordial head-on was that he would have to drop Piper to do it. 

Percy clenched his eyes shut. Tears welled up, down his cheeks, dropping into fellow saltwater swirling around him. Everything felt light, almost floaty. 

“Go back.” He managed out. 

It took a moment for it to click. But when it did, Leo didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, Festus stopped pulling up. Instead, he went full throttle backwards, away from Camp. With him Gaea, and with her, Percy. 

For a second, her grip slacked in shock, and Percy greedily sucked in some much-needed oxygen. He was gasping and heaving, every movement pure agony. His arms were trembling, fingers cramped around the hilt. 

It must have been quite the sight. A boy on fire, mounted a bronze dragon, dragging a screaming Primordial away from the beach as she held onto a boy with a trident, as a record-breaking storm and earthquake hit the coast on Long Island. 

Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing Percy had been involved in. 

The pop that came from Percy’s ribs was sickening. 

Piper’s scream broke out of her throat involuntarily, breaking her calm demeanor. Percy was waist deep in the water, his entire body scrunched in pain. Gaea’s unforgiving hand was a fist around his middle, large enough to cover him from shoulder blade to hip. 

Piper shivered.

She was trying to pull him up, away from his safe haven of the waves. Piper squinted. He was holding onto something, arms outstretched, his knuckles white. It… looked almost like the hilt of a spear? Or… 

A fuckin’ trident. 

Not a trident. The Trident. 

Percy had driven his father’s trident into the sea floor, and now it was being dragged back with him. Momentarily tongue-tied, she watched Festus pulled away from Camp.

At first, it didn’t work. But slowly, ever so slowly, the trident began to cut straight through the seafloor, making a thin but deep gouge in the rock. It made a horrible screeching noise, loud enough to be audible over the storm. Piper clapped her hands over her ears. 

She shivered again. When had it gotten so cold? Jason’s rainwater had been barely above freezing, she knew, but the surrounding venti had kept it away from them. 

And what the hell was Percy trying to achieve here? Gaea’s destruction was being focused away from Camp, but she looked like she was about to kill him. 

When the Goddess had suddenly set her sights on Percy, down below, Piper had been confused. Then she had looked around, and saw the destruction Percy had been creating. She wasn’t going to lie; she was a little fascinated. She had never really seen him make use of the Earthshaker epithet. She had thought it was more of a Hades-Pluto domain. 

Now, he looked like he was barely biting back a scream. Gaea barely skimmed the top of the water, but that was rapidly changing as they went further out to sea. The water went up to his chest, then his shoulders. 

He was gasping and choking as pressure was applied around him like a vice, but through an impressive display of will, he didn’t relent on his hold of the trident. He forced it down, cutting further down in the sea floor. 

Piper chewed on her lip. Jason was frantically trying to relieve her grip on his cousin, bending the winds and lightning around them to hit her right in the face. At best, it made the Primordial falter every now and then. But it gave Percy a few precious seconds to breathe, though it must have been pure agony. 

There had to be a plan here, somewhere. People didn’t look so determined unless they had a plan. 

She took a long look at the water. Some of the actual ocean was frozen, she realized. Small chunks of ice churned in the waves. When Piper breathed, she could see her own breath cloud. 

“THIS IS FUTILE, BOY!” The Goddess somehow managed to look intimidating even as she was being dragged across the top of the water like a jetski. 

Percy didn’t respond. Still, further they went out, Jason tailing Festus. Out to—

She couldn’t help the small gasp. 

Percy Jackson, you fucking genius. 

Piper lifted her chin. She licked her lips, and found her voice. “Gaea,” She crooned. “You look tired.” Humming consideringly, Piper gave the Goddess a look, ignoring the roaring storm around her. Gaea would hear her, she was sure of it. “Yes, so tired.” 

The Goddess roared. Percy was getting pulled under, now, the water almost up to his eyes. Her fist still clenched around him. 

Piper leaned into Jason. “Closer.” She murmured into his ear. He gave her a bewildered look, but obliged. Louder, Piper continued. “So weary. Millenia of sorrow. Your husband Ouranous was abusive. Your grandchildren, the Gods, overthrew your beloved Titans. Your other children were thrown into Tartarus. You are so tired of the heartbreak.” 

“LIES!” Gaea screamed. 

She didn’t even notice how slowly she was being pulled under the waves. How, digit by digit, Festus loosened his grip, ready to drop her down into the ocean. Nor how Jason and Piper slowly touched down, just a few inches shy of the water’s surface. 

“I understand. What you want, more than victory, is rest.” Piper whispered. 

“I WILL DESTROY YOU!”

“You just want this all to be over.” 

“NO!” 

Piper seized her chance. Gaea, expression of pure fury, turned her focus on the flying duo. Her grip slackened on the son of Poseidon, and he sunk down into the freezing waves. 

“It’s true. I can see it.” 

“PATHETIC! YOU CANNOT—”

WHOOOM!

Festus dropped Gaea into the water with one of the loudest splashes Piper had ever heard. The Primordial sank like a rock. 

Suddenly, everything was quiet. Just for a second. The howling winds seemed to falter, the rain going soft. “Well, what are we waiting for? Go in after her!” Piper commanded. And without an ounce of charmspeak in her voice, Jason didn’t hesitate. Blind trust, he rocketed down into the waves. 

It was fucking freezing . Piper didn’t know what she expected, truthfully. But Gods above, she wasn’t even getting wet, but the shock alone almost made her pass out on impact. Jason seemed to be the same; he swayed there for a second, before suddenly a warm gust of wind filled the air bubble surrounding them. 

They didn’t have to guess where to go in the pitch black water. The currents grabbed hold of them, tugging them along at breakneck speeds. Somehow, though, Piper wasn’t scared. Not of the water, at least. 

Could water be friendly? This water felt friendly. 

As they got closer, the only thing lighting up the dark water was a pair of glowing eyes. Very familiar, sea green, eyes. It gave Percy’s face an almost eerie quality, illuminating the scars across his eyes and up his jaw and brow. 

He didn’t waste any time. With a final tug of the water, Jason and Piper floated next to him, in what looked like a giant air bubble. It was one of the strangest things Piper had ever felt; when they weren’t in a life or death situation, she would have to ask Percy to do it again. It was like she was swimming; her hair and clothes floated around her, but she wasn’t wet. She felt the icy water, but not really. 

Then, she saw Gaea.

The Goddess was but a few yards away from them, hair splayed around her as she fought to stay awake. Her eyes, that pulsing, rich green, seemed to flicker. Percy rested the trident across his shoulders, and nudged Piper with an elbow. 

Cautiously, she swam a few strokes forward. “It’s nice down here, isn’t it?” She ventured. “Quiet.” 

Gaea squinted at her. 

“It could be like this all the time, you know. Where you don’t have to worry about anything.” 

The Primordial opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She seemed confused, almost dazed. Piper barreled forward. It was now or nothing; in the water, far from the land, with Percy and Jason at her back. 

“You are so weary, so tired of the ungrateful mortals and immortals. Deep down, this is where you want to stay.” 

“This, ” Gaea slurred. “Not… mine.” 

Piper furrowed her brow. What did she mean? How should she respond to that? 

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She didn’t have to look to see it was Percy; only one person down here wasn’t freezing their ass off. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a soft, low quality to it. It was… nice. Yeah. Nice. 

“The sea takes anyone who wishes it.” He encouraged. “You do not have to struggle anymore.”  

Gaea’s head rolled to the side. Through unfocused eyes, she looked at Percy for a long moment. “It is always a struggle, my son.” She whispered. “But I am tired, Kronos.” 

Percy reared back like he had been slapped.

Jason and Piper exchanged wide-eyed looks, panic evident. 

Their friend's face took on a pained look, something flashing in his eyes. He looked like, for all intents and purposes, Gaea had hit him. It was a few precious seconds before he shook his head and spoke. "It does not have to be."

He cleared his throat. “I understand better than most, what you feel. You want it all to be over so bad, but you know it cannot be.” He blinked rapidly, looking down. “You’re tired. So, so tired of fighting.” His voice broke. “But your time is over. It’s alright.” 

His voice got gradually quieter as he spoke. Piper took over. “You want permission to close your eyes and forget your troubles. You want to stop fighting for everyone. And that is okay. It’s… it’s okay to drift away, now.” 

Though Piper spoke, Gaea’s eyes didn’t leave Percy. Searchingly, she looked at him. 

Percy’s voice caught in his throat. So he just nodded. 

In a single second, Gaea solidified into a small, human form. Her head lolled, her eyes closed, and she went limp. It was then that she looked like a normal human woman. In a simple brown dress, her hair in a dark halo around her head.

Still, without a word, Percy swam forward. He caught the Earth Mother around the shoulders, and, with a single arm, swam down to the ocean floor. The son of Poseidon dug the trident down into the gouge he had made, and twisted. 

It was like the earth itself cracked in two. The sound, even muffled under the water, left Piper’s ears ringing. What was originally a thin scratch from a single weapon turned into a great underwater gorge, running across the sea floor. And slowly, the currents pulled Gaea’s limp body down into the gorge, sinking down beneath the ocean floor.

Chapter Text

The Gods were waiting for them when they got back to shore. 

The currents carried them back to the sand. As gently as possible, the water deposited them right where the ocean began, the waves lapping at their skin. 

Piper was the first to stand, stumbling to her feet. She brushed sand off, crusted to her thighs and the back of her shirt. If she hadn’t seen Gaea down herself, she would have thought the Primordial was still shifting the earth. The ground below her feet was tilting on its axis, sinking down and then rising up with the bile in her throat. 

She teetered over to the side, fell to her knees, and started throwing up her lunch 

Her palms pushed into the sand, grating at her skin. Once there was nothing left in her stomach, she was reduced to dry, heaving retching. Her ears were ringing, her vision was spotty. 

There was hands on her shoulders, arms around her, pulling her up. Piper didn’t fight, she just let herself be moved. She could hear a voice, distantly, yelling her name.

Her throat felt like fire ants were crawling up to her tongue. She had never used her charmspeak like that, never put so much raw power into it. Piper knew, on some level, that demigods had a certain cap on their powers. With little first hand experience, though. Annabeth had been the one to tell her, actually. 

With a painful twist in her gut completely unrelated to her current state, Piper remembered it hazily. Leo and the Hephestus cabin had been putting some of the last touches on the new Argo, and they were set to sail any day now. Piper had found Annabeth by the lake, sitting on the edge of the docks. She seemed to spend a lot of time there, these days. 

Piper didn’t say a word when she had lowered herself down to sit next to Annabeth. The blonde girl broke the silence first. Idle conversation; snippets of gossip threading around camp, a new Ares kid, the building of new cabins. It was awkward; a first for the two of them. 

When Annabeth started telling her about Percy, Piper settled in to listen. 

Despite how much she missed him, Annabeth didn’t actually talk about him much. For someone who was so friendly, she was actually a very private person. 

She told Piper about his smile, the dumb jokes he made, the freckles dotting his face and how his eyes shifted with the bodies of water around him. His troubles with school, the unlikely friends he made, his family—who were, at this point, Annabeth’s family, too—about things he had done and everything she loved about him.

It was a lot of things. 

It was the most Piper had heard Annabeth talk since the day the pair had met. The best part, by far, was the soft look on Annabeth’s face when she spoke. Her lips unconsciously curled up, her eyes shining, her cheeks pinking. Piper had held down an adoring squeal—whatever the famed Percy Jackson was like, he and Annabeth were clearly made for each other. 

“He took a dip in the Styx, you know.” 

Piper blinked. “Excuse me?”

Annabeth sighed. “Yeah. To prepare for the Titan War. We needed every advantage we could get, you know?” The air suddenly turned somber between them. 

It was silent for a long moment, before she shook it off. “It was the cutest thing, though. He always got so tired after a fight. He overused his powers a lot, the dumbass.” She said wistfully. “He’d just collapse on the nearest horizontal surface. No joke, once I came to his cabin after he trained, and he was asleep on the floor in the entry way.” 

Barking out a sudden laugh, Piper leaned forward. “Really?” 

“Yes, really!” Annabeth threw her head back and laughed, exposing the column of her throat. “Percy’s a pretty easy going guy, but I swear to the Gods, you try to wake him up, and he’s a completely new person.” 

“Did it happen often? Overusing his powers, I mean.” 

Annabeth shrugged. “He pushed himself too hard. He had a lot of pressure on him, you know? It… it got bad sometimes.” She shook her head, as if trying to physically shake away the thought.The daughter of Athena then straightened her spine, entering into what Piper called Professor Mode(™). “When demigods, especially powerful ones, use their powers too intensely for too long, it’s almost like an injury sometimes. Some of our Apollo healers got migraines, or some Demeter kids got tremors in their hands that lasted weeks. But Percy? He got sick.”

She slouched forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I, uh, after the war itself was over, Rachel and I snuck into the Aprhodite cabin and stole a bunch of little barettes and hair clips because we were tired of having to push his bangs back when he threw up.” 

Her eyes were distant. “The two of us and his little brother, Tyson, all took turns clipping his hair back. He looked ridiculous, but he let us do it because it made us laugh. There were these little flower ones that Rachel always said complimented his eyes.” She smiled softly. “They really did.” She pointed a mock threatening finger at Piper. “Not that he’ll ever know I said that, though.” 

Piper put her hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.” She had vowed. 

Truthfully, at the time, Piper didn’t really think that was something that could happen to her. Getting sick was something that happened after you healed three crushed bones and called upon a skeleton army. Not convince a Goddess to go to sleep. She hadn’t even thought about it.

A choice she sorely regretted now. 

“—per! Piper, sweetie!” 

A pair of finely manicured hands swiped the hair away from her forehead, nails lightly scratching against her scalp. Piper groaned, letting her head fall back. Blinking furiously against the spots in her vision, she squinted. 

Aphrodite was on her knees, in the sand, supporting Piper with an arm around her shoulders. Despite how much it caused wrinkled, the Goddess’s brow was furrowed, lowered while her eyes went wider. “He-ey, Mom.” Piper slurred. 

The Goddess let out a relieved huff. “Darling. You’re a mess.” She murmured. 

Piper gave a weak shrug, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot between her eyes. 

The inside of her brain felt fuzzy, like it had grown mold. Opening her eyes minimally led to a sharp burst of pain in her head that almost made her fall over, even sitting down. “Th’ boys,” She gasped out. “Wh’re are P’rcy ‘n Jas’n?”

Aphrodite ran a soothing hand up and down her daughter’s back. “Your boy’s feeling a little sick, baby. Practically feel asleep standing up, poor thing. He’s on his way to the little infirmary they have here.” 

Piper nodded distractedly. Jason probably had the right idea. Sleep sounded great right now. “Percy?” Shit, talking really hurt.

Momentarily, her mother’s movement stilled. The Goddess sighed. “Poseidon took him. He’s… he was unconscious when we found him.” She shook her head. “Honestly,” she tutted. “I don’t know what that man was thinking, giving his trident to a young boy.” 

“He could handle it. It—his plan worked, Mom.” Piper felt the sudden need to defend her friend. The sigh she received was understanding. 

“I know. But he shouldn’t have had to, baby. I’ve known that boy since he went up to my ribs. Watching him grow up had been both a privilege and a heavy weight on my shoulders.” Aphrodite stared intently at the sand below them, the silence settling like a blanket of snow. 

So suddenly it made Piper’s stomach roll, she hefted an arm under Piper’s armpits, pulling her to her feet. The demigod stumbled, pitching forward. Familiar spots began to cloud her vision. 

She passed out before she hit the sand. 

The last few days had been quiet. Leo hated the quiet. 

He had been sitting up on Festus for almost an hour since Piper and Jason had gone under the waved after Gaea and Percy. Only when the storm stopped completely, when the silence had begun to echo in his ears, did he turn back to camp. 

Which brought him here. 

The infirmary was far too crowded. Leo had done his best to make himself useful—being able to light on fire with a thought was actually more helpful than he thought it would be. Frank and Hazel had been flitting in and out as often as they could. But between Centurion and Preator duties, they had been swamped. 

Piper and Jason had been put next to each other by their respective parents. Both of their complexions were drained, eyes fluttering shut. Leo was fairly sure his heart stopped, he hadn’t even spared the two Olympians a look, moving straight to his friends.  

He had spent most of his time in a seat he pulled up, right inbetween their beds. Third wheeling even in semi-comatose states. Great. 

Jason had been the first to wake, almost three hours after he had been dropped off. The first the he had done was go back to sleep. The second time he woke up, an hour later, he had muttered something about it being too bright and having the mother of all migraines. The number of patients had begun to dwindle, the only ones left either asleep, or being checked out, so Leo had obligingly closed the blinds next to Jason’s bed. 

For the next hour, Leo retold the events Jason had missed since Gaea’s defeat in an abnormally hushed voice. The son of Jupiter listened the best he could, though his face was tense with pain. Ambrosia didn’t do much for power-overuse induced migraines. Lucky them. 

When he was little, his mom would always give him the best head scratches when he had headaches. Though the circumstances couldn’t be more different, Jason’s face had easily smoothed out once Leo started lightly moving his hands through his friend’s hair. 

Piper woke soon after. As soon as she did, her hands went to her throat, mouth forming words that never quite made it out. She sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Leo fumbled around for a pen and notepad, which she accepted with a smile. 

How are you two?

Jason stuck up a tired thumbs-up. Leo just shrugged and gestured to the two of them. 

Have you seen the others?

Leo pulled a face. “Hazel and Frank have responsibilities or something. Ridiculous, really. They came in while the two of you were out. Very tender. Frank professed his undying love for both of you. Poetry was read. Tears were involved. Tragic you weren’t awake for it.” He received a pair of eyerolls matched with smiles that were so identical, it was almost scary. 

Piper looked around the infirmary, then back to Leo. 

Percy?

He shrugged helplessly. “Poseidon took him. Wherever he is, it’s probably a couple thousand feet below sea level. Can’t really blame the guy, though. I mean, if my kid used my all-mighty weapon to beef with a Primordial, I’d probably want to keep an eye on him too.” Jason frowned a little. When he spoke, his voice was raspy. “Did you see him at all?” 

Leo shook his head. “Sorry.” 

Piper reached over and pat his arm. No fault of yours. 

Will Solace had been having a rough couple of days. The constant throb in his temples might have been from using his abilities too often, but he doubted it.

“Add there’s no sign of Octavian anywhere?” Michael pressed.

Yeah, this seemed like a much more likely cause for his headache.

 The head of the Apollo cabin sighed. “For the last time, no. We’ve covered the fields, the beaches, the nymphs even checked the forest.”

One of the other Centurions, whose name Will didn’t know, crossed his arms. “Escape would have been ridiculously easy. You have unguarded borders out to a highway, the ocean, and a labyrinth entrance in the center of your own camp.” His voice was coated with derision. 

Will bit back a retort.

“Hey, asshole. Not everyone gets gifted some magic land to build a city on from mommy and daddy, alright? Watch your tone.” 

Nico held no such qualms. He had also been clearly been spending too much time with Percy.

The Centurion bristled, but held his tongue. A wise choice, really. The Romans had always been weary of the son of Hades, but now, having seen him in battle, it had increased to a bold undercurrent of fear. 

“If he did make it into the city, we have saytrs and Mrs. O’Leary on the streets. They’ll catch his scent if he’s anywhere remotely near there. If he made it to the beach…” Nico’s lips curved into a smile. Centurion Gwen shivered. “Poseidon won’t take kindly to him.” 

Reyna frowned. “And the labyrinth?” As always, when it was brought up, the congregated Romans exchanged uneasy glances. When Will had first mentioned it, the shock in their eyes was photo-worthy. Here, Nico’s hands balled into fists. “He won’t make it in there. Trust me on that one. It’s a death trap.” 

Gwen pursed her lips. “What’s most likely to happen to him? How do we know he can’t just find his way back?”

The son of Hades worked his jaw. “Something people don’t seem to get is that the maze itself is alive. It’s constantly moving and shifting. By the time you get in there, there isn’t a way back.” He didn’t seem to notice the way his words affected the assembled council, eyes turning distant. “ Monsters and traps at every turn, just waiting for a chance to come at you. And Octavian’s no fighter. If he’s not monster chow by sundown…” 

Will took over. “He’ll go insane. People who spend too much time in there have some sort of psychotic break.” Reyna raised an eyebrow. Will looked down, teeth capturing the inside of his cheek. “Trust us on that one.” 

The Romans dropped the subject.

Percy woke up with a start. 

He jolted violently into a sitting position—an instinct he sorely regretted. 

Every muscle in his body was screaming, his joints felt like barbed needles were being twisted into them. His head was pounding, his ribs were on fire, and he his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Not even a second of being awake, he gagged and swallowed down bile. 

Instantly, there was someone by his side, hands on his shoulders, trying to push him down. 

Percy fought like a wild animal. Pushing away at the hands, kicking the blankets off of his legs. He lunged forward, trying to get off the bed, away from the arms grabbing at him, and he didn’t know where he was—

He could almost smell the Pit now. It burned his nose, his mouth, his skin and his eyes—

His screams made his throat raw.

Where was Riptide? Shit, he needed his sword. If he didn’t have it, he would have to use his powers, and he didn’t want to keep killing like that—

He distantly registered someone running into the room. He struggled harder, off the bed, he needed his back against a wall so nobody could sneak up on him—

“—seus! Stop!”

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Percy’s chest, tugging him back against a body. One move, and arms would be around his neck—

He struggled, clawing at the forearms and driving his elbows backwards. 

“—fe! You’re safe, son!”

His breathing was ragged, and fuck everything hurt so bad. He was pretty sure he was crying, shoulders shaking. No, no, he wasn’t safe, he needed to get out—

A warm, calloused fingertip touched his temple, and everything went dark.

“My lord!” 

Poseidon turned his head. “Yes, Chei?” 

Despite the irrationality of it, Poseidon’s worry upon seeing the healer was instant. When they had brought Perseus here, he had not been in good shape. His wound from Porphyrion had not yet fully healed, and he was covered in smaller ones from the battle at the Camp. He was magically exhausted, and Poseidon knew it would bring about an ugly sickness.

Worst of all, though, were his ribs. They had been almost completely crushed; it was a miracle his spine remained undamaged. He had even punctured a lung. Until that moment, Poseidon was unaware that was even something that could happen to mortals. Thank the Fates he had spent some time in the seas right after it happened, or the result would have been much worse. Poseidon shuddered to even think of it.

The boy had not even fully healed from his time in the Pit, yet. But the royal healers were some of the best to ever live; he was confident they could take good care of his son.

The young healer nervously wrung their hands. “The young prince, he—he is awake, but he appears to be having some sort of episode. We can’t get near him.” 

The God was up in less than a second. “Lead the way.” He commanded. 

Servants, guards, and members of the court all parted for the two without a word, the look on Poseidon’s face reason enough. 

The God slammed the door open with such a force that, if he hadn’t been moving as fast as he was, it probably would have bounced back and hit him. 

Perseus was struggling against two of their best healers, his face twisted with pain. His eyes were open wide, terrified and shining with unshed tears. He was kicking wildly as the Head Healer tried to push him back down onto the bed, and he was screaming. 

Poseidon felt something in him break at the sight. 

It was hard, sometimes, to remember that for all his son had accomplished, he was not even a man yet. His face not weathered by the sun, free from worry lines and creases, but holding scars that no child had any business having. 

“Out!” He ordered. “Everyone!” 

The healers couldn’t leave fast enough. 

Perseus lunged, throwing himself off of the bed, backing himself up into a corner. He was dangerously close to hyperventilating, his arms clutched tightly around his sides.

“Perseus,” Poseidon said slowly. “You need to go back to bed. You are hurt.” 

His son didn’t even seem to understand him, instead shoving himself further into the corner. His head was whipping around, trying to pinpoint noises that Poseidon was sure weren’t really there.

The God moved forward. The demigod’s grip on his own forearms was so tight that his nails were making red indents in his skin. “Perseus!” He exclaimed. “Stop! You are hurting yourself!” 

Perseus raked his nails up, making deep gouges in his own skin. Blood dripped onto the tile. Poseidon lunged forward, grabbing ahold of his wrists, and pulled his son against his chest. “Everything is fine! You are safe, my son!” He yelled. Perseus fought harder, driving his elbow into the God’s sternum.

Poseidon wasn’t sure whether or not to be proud of the fact that it knocked the wind out of him. The boy was screaming bloody murder again, tears running freely down his face, pushing away from Poseidon. 

“I’m sorry,” The God spoke so quietly that it went unheard. He reached up, and, as gently as he could, touched the pad of his finger to Perseus’s temple. 

In an instant, all the fight drained out of his body. Poseidon held his son tighter as he went limp in his arms, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Chapter Text

Percy didn’t dream anymore. 

Whenever he went to sleep, it was just silence, a deafening, mind-numbing static. As a child he had always wished for silent nights, one where he wasn’t constantly bombarded by terrors and prophetic scenes he didn’t want to see. 

Somehow, this was worse. 

Every night, he was consumed by it; the empty darkness, not a single living thing inside his mind. Just him. Alone. 

Maybe that was the next prophecy. 

He wouldn’t be surprised, truthfully. 

Over the next few days, his skin and bones knitted themselves back together, slowed only by his own never-ending exhaustion. 

His father had barely let him out of his sight since the first time he woke up. Percy didn’t remember much of what had happened; only that when he was roused from his too calm sleep, everything was new and weird and he had no idea where he was— 

He had also apparently severely bruised the King of the Sea’s sternum. 

The healers didn’t speak to him much, at first. Percy wasn’t very surprised. His first impression, after all, had been anything but positive. But that didn’t stop his heart from clenching every time one of them wouldn’t make eye contact. 

They were scared of him. Terrified, really. 

He’d rather have their contempt than their fear. He wished that they looked down upon him like Triton and Amphitrite did, that they spoke about him behind his back—anything but this. 

Percy had never considered himself someone to be feared. He was just some kid from Manhattan who got pulled into a life he never wanted. 

He leaned over the side of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. The palace held a constant chill; just enough to make him uncomfortable. Odd, considering he had taken dips on the Arctic before without a single patch of gooseflesh. He drew his shoulder in. Maybe this was just what he felt like, now. The chill from the storm that felled Gaea, embedded in his bones.
 

Slowly, he ran a hand down his face, the feeling of his fingertips dulled by years of calluses. Around his eyes, skin stretched, shiny and too smooth, knotted and bumpy and rough at the same time. Patches of eyelashes missing, even a small part of his left eyebrow. 

Next, he found the corner of his jaw. He knew the scar stretched up his face, all the way up to his brow. Years of experience had let him know what kind of injuries would scar permanently—parts of it were shallow, and would certainly fade. Good. 

It is always a struggle, my son.

The words had never left his mind. Not for long. 

But I am tired, Kronos.

In the white noise of his dreams, he swore that, if he listened hard enough, he could hear her. My son, she would call. 

Percy would scream, sometimes. I am no son of yours, he would roar. Maybe she never heard him; maybe she just never listened. Maybe she just didn’t believe him. 

As bleak as it sounded, Percy had never really thought about what his life would be like now. Blind. To be that one kid everyone walked on eggshells around at school, to never be able to drive again, to not see the colors of his friends eyes, the kindness etched into his mother’s expression. 

To never see his own face; to see if he still looked like his father’s mirror image, to know if he still carried his mother’s kind smile and the constellations of her freckles. To know what the burn stretched over his eyes looked like, to see the mark scraping up his jaw, his cheek, to the beginning of his forehead.

To see if he truly did look like Luke, now. Like Kronos, during his last year alive.

Everyone was getting restless.

It had been almost a week since Lord Poseidon had taken Percy. Not a word from nor about their missing friend. 

Nico assured them that his soul had not come closer to entering the Underworld. ( Closer. He used the word closer like he had been so, so near—)

In the meantime, nobody had gotten any rest.

Reinforcing Camp’s boundaries, rebuilding cabins, cleaning up the fields and repairing the forests of damage. The satyrs and nymphs had done most of the legwork on the last two, to Frank’s amazement. Their local dryads had never showed themselves, only occasionally to the Preators when necessary. And the fauns were pretty much as different as could be from the satyrs. Particularly one Grover Underwood. 

He had introduced himself as Percy’s best friend, since they were in the sixth grade. Normally, Frank would have loved to talk to him, but the heavy weight on Grover’s shoulders and the perpetual dullness in his eyes was a blaring reminder that it hadn’t just been PercyandGrover, the dynamic duo, but PercyandGroverandAnnabeth, who completed quest after quest in threes. 

No funerals had taken place yet. Shrouds had to be made, the amphitheater and firepit be slowly pieced back together. 

The third, unspoken reason, though; when they did funerals, they did them all at once, for everyone. Including those whose bodies could not be recovered. And nobody should burn Annabeth’s shroud but Percy. 

The mood around the remaining five (because that’s what they were, now, five ) was heavy. Annabeth and Percy, out of all of them, were the ones that were supposed to make it. Yes, Jason had been at New Rome since before he could walk, and Hazel had defeated her first foe in the ‘40s, but it was always Annabeth and Percy. 

The two that had held the sky, matching gray patches to show for it, who had led a couple dozen teenagers in a desperate last attempt to hold off an immortal army, who had found each other through hell and high water. 

When Frank had first met Percy, he was in a constant state of awe. Percy was a personified storm of a man, his eyes bright and quick, sword but an extension of his hand. With nothing to his consciousness but a name and the thought of someone he loved, he had still walked with the confidence of a champion. 

It wasn’t until a long time later did Frank realize how fluid his perception of Percy was. Yes, Percy was a storm who held Riptide like he was born to, but he was still human. More importantly, he was only just seventeen. 

Frank thumbed the shaft of the arrow he was fletching. How utterly sad was it that a seventeen year old was considered a veteran amongst their ranks?

Especially amongst the Greeks. They did not have legacies here. At first, Frank had thought it was simply just because they were not allowed; Chiron trained demigods, not their children. The realization that it was just because no Greek ever lived long enough to have a legacy was like rising bile in his throat. 

Frank fletched the rest of his arrows. 

Jason had been the one to find Nico first. 

Recently, the son of Jupiter had been keeping a close eye on him. While Nico appreciated the thought (because it's what Percy would have wanted Jason to do) , it sometimes got stifling. Because where Jason was, inevitably, someone else was too. A cluster of Romans and a few Greeks drifted behind the former Preator, some out of old friendships, others out of something Nico couldn’t describe. 

Wandering here hadn’t been a conscious decision, but it called to him all the same. 

The low ceiling, rough walls studded with seashells, the windows that faced the sea. Percy had always cracked them open, no matter the weather, letting the distant sea breeze waft into the room. It was dark when Nico wandered in, but the walls themselves glowed softly like abalone, opaque rainbow shades gleaming off of them. 

Numbly, Nico sat himself on the edge of one of the unclaimed bunks. Tyson’s bronze hippocampi gleamed in the soft light, stretching across the ceiling. In the corner, the gray-stone fountain sits, the drachmas in an untouched pile. Nico stared at the fountain for a long minute. 

Eventually, once the first war was over, in those precious few months of peace before Percy disappeared, he had shown it to Nico. And, eventually, held him when Nico broke down after the son of Poseidon told him about Bianca’s messages, how she showed Percy where her brother was. Protecting him even in death. 

That long crack from where Nico’s powers had affected it, and Percy had to sever the connection, was stark and deep. Neither of them had made any attempt to fix it since it happened. A deep scar to match both of theirs. 

Nico wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, head bowed, palms down on the unused mattress. 

When Jason had peeked inside, he hadn’t said a word. Just took a long look around the cabin, then stepped over the threshold, quietly shutting the door behind him. There was no fear here, unlike in some of the other cabins; the way Hades’s made everyone but Nico and Hazel’s hair stand on end, how nobody could look the great statue of Zeus in the eyes, how not a soul ever dared to go near Hera’s. 

Not Poseidon’s cabin, because nobody really saw it as Poseidon’s cabin. It was just Percy’s. The entire place, though it had been untouched by its sole occupant for more than a year, still smelled like him. A gentle sea breeze, lavender, and a crisp, fresh laundry detergent. 

It was nice. 

Jason sat down next to Nico, but went back further on the bed, bracing his back against the wall. The walls reflected off the bronze of his glasses, the electric glow in his eyes that only seemed to really be visible in the low light. Said eyes were focused on the space above Percy’s bed, where the Minatour’s horn hung proudly, still wicked sharp after all these years. Next to it, the shield Tyson had hammered out, again and again, repairing damage almost every time he came to visit. 

Percy didn’t have anything to shield himself with when he was taken. 

Nico had no idea why the thought bothered him so much. A shield was probably the least of Percy’s issues at the time, but he couldn't shake it.  

Piper was the next one to come in. Her mouth was open to speak, but closed it with a soft click  once she saw the two of them. Like Jason, she took a lengthy glance around the cabin, admiring the details she had never before seen. She sat next to Jason. 

Hazel was next. She dropped down on Nico’s other side. 

Then Frank. With a soft breath, a bulldog curled up against Hazel’s side. 

Leo was last. He squished in next to Piper. 

All five of them, curled up on a single bunk together in the partial darkness. And if they left an empty space for two more, none of them brought it to attention. 

When Nesryn knocked on the door to the prince’s chambers, her hand was shaking. 

She, out of all the healers, had been given the duty to go check up on him. She was young, inexperienced, having completed her training but a few years ago. For that exact reason, she had yet to see the demigod. When the King had brought him in a bright flash of light to the palace infirmary, only the old, seasoned healers had been let within twenty feet of him.

The Head Healer, wizened, ancient Hafize, had been the one to assign Nesryn to follow up with the demigod. In their words, any healer worth their salt would be able to deal with patients on their own, no matter who they were or what bloodline they hailed from. 

And Killorn, stupid, smug Killorn, had watched out of the corner of his eye, waiting for Nesryn to stammer out an excuse, to beg Hafize to pass the job onto another. 

Nesryn’s mother had always said she was too proud. 

She rapped her knuckles softly on the door, knuckles of her other hand white on the clipboard.

And it seemed like it was finally back to bite her in the ass. 

Nesryn waited a long moment for a reply. Perhaps he was asleep? Hafize said that was something he would need a lot of; but over the last week, he had slept through the majority of his stay so far. 

(Rumor was that he had split the seabed itself to take down the Earth Mother in a quest for bloody vengeance. But Nesryn had learned the hard way to not take anything Mira said at face value. There wasn’t even a kernel of truth in that, most likely. That seemed like a feat even the King could not pull off. (Her self-assurance didn’t help the shake in her knees.))

Her fins gave an anxious flick. Did she attempt to rouse him? She’d heard what happened last time he got woken up by an unfamiliar. Killorn had told her that it’d taken Hafize, her assistants, three guards, and finally the King himself to send him back to a deep slumber. She swallowed dryly. 

Come on, Cilnor, he’s just a boy, she berated herself. Tough up.

She moved to knock again, but the door swung open before she could do so. At the sudden loss of the door, she stumbled forward. A firm hand shot out, faster than she could track, to steady her. 

Nesryn blinked a couple times, shifting to regain her balance. She looked up.

And found herself almost face to face with the prince. 

The first thing she noticed was that he was taller than she expected. Obviously strong, too, the leanness of his frame set off by the firm grip of his hand on her arm. He was still dressed in clothes provided to him by the infirmary; simple loose pants with a drawstring at the waist and a plain shirt with long sleeves. His feet were bare on the cold floors. 

The second thing that caught her attention was just how much he looked like the king. By far more than any of his other children, including Lord Triton. The same curve of his nose, the sharpness of his jaw, the regal tones of his cheekbones. The same dark, unruly hair, and the ever changing eyes that seemed to hold the might of the oceans within. 

The third and final thing should have been the first, really. Just how worn out he looked. Dark, bruise-like circles hung under his eyes, and his face was just a little bit too thin. Mottled burns, unlike those of anything she had ever seen, twisted around his eyes. A long scar, still bright and healing, went up from his jaw to above his brow. His lip was split. She could see the bulk of the bandages wrapping his middle under his shirt, plus the one around his lower stomach. He held himself unevenly, though he was doing a truly fantastic job at concealing it. 

He looked every inch the warrior she had heard of. Even bloodied and battered, his shoulders were squared and his spine straight. 

“You should not be standing up.” Was the first thing she blurted. Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth. The prince blinked at her a couple times, opening his mouth, then closing it. Gods above, nobody had ever been so disrespectful to him that he was stunned silent. Oh, hell. She was going to lose her job. Maybe her head, if he was truly as wild as they said. 

“Sorry.” 

Nesryn dropped into a bow. “My deepest apologies, I did not mean to—” A pause. “What?” 

He dipped his chin downwards. “I got up to open the door. Didn’t mean to startle you. Um, I’ll go sit down.” 

And true to his word, he took a few slow steps back, then turned around and gingerly sat down on the edge of his bed. Nesryn stood frozen in the doorway for a long minute. 

That was it? He apologized to her? That didn’t track with what she’d heard, at all. Where was the demigod champion who had taken down the Minotaur with his own bare hands? Perhaps this was some elaborate joke? Was he toying with her? A sudden wariness entered her bones. Maybe this prince was the type to play with his food.

Nesryn stared at him. He was hunched forward, arms braced on his knees, shoulders heavy. His hair was long, brushing his collar, hanging in front of his face. Right in the front, there was a startling streak of a dull gray, like the life had been drained out of him. 

Suddenly, he didn’t seem like the brutal demigod she’d been told of. He just seemed tired. 

She shook herself out of her daze, moving into the room and closing the door gently behind her. “My name is Nesryn Cilnor,” she said softly. “I—I’m a healer. Is now a good time to speak?” 

He tilted his head, blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.” 

She gave a valiant attempt at a smile, which he didn’t even acknowledge. She withheld a huff. All right, then. There was already a chair by the side of his bed, likely from the King’s vigils over his son’s bedside. Nesryn pulled it back a foot or so, then sat down, directly across from the prince. He didn’t look up at her. 

“I need to ask you some questions, first, if that’s alright.” 

The barest hint of a nod. 

She bit her lip, looked down at her clipboard, then back up at him. There was a lot to cover here. “If I may be so bold,” she began, “why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

Here, he tilted his face up towards her a little. He wasn’t looking at her, rather somewhere over her shoulder, but she could see the humorless smile on his face. “Starting when?” Nesryn held back a wince. Right, probably a dumb question. Hafize always said to be adaptable; she could roll with this. 

“Do you have any head pain? Do you feel sick; nauseous, like your stomach is unsettled?” 

“Not so much anymore.” 

“But you did before?”

“Every time I overuse my powers. I get sick to my stomach.”

Nesryn couldn't help the surprised noise. Then, once again, clamped her mouth shut. Gods, the last thing she should do was make him feel like a curiosity. Shit, she was horrible at this. While the royal family was kind, everyone knew better than to try their patience. 

The prince just looked slightly amused, of all things. She plowed on. 

“How’s your vision? Is it spotty at all, or periodically go out of focus?”

And she must have fucked up, because he went as still as the dead. And here, his face went still, all traces of humor gone. Her heart hammered in her chest, threatening to burst out. The prince was as stiff as a board, muscles coiled like loaded springs. 

Then, like it had been all drained out of him, he sighed, far too heavy for someone of his age. He leaned back on his palms, face tilted towards the ceiling. “I’m blind.” 

First day of the healing academy, every single student was handed a list of things a healer absolutely should never do. Nesryn was pretty sure she had already broken points one through seven. Hell, she might have invented a whole new section on stupid and insensitive questions. 

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I—Please forgive me.” She begged. 

He just waved a loose hand. “If you didn’t notice, it was on purpose.”

Nesryn nodded hurriedly. “Right. Um,” She faltered, uncertain.

The prince snorted softly. Then, as if he could read her mind, “A curse. From killing an Arai. Acid. I… no more than four months ago, I’d say. Time is… difficult, in some places. No improvement. Complete vision loss.” 

What in Poseidon’s seven seas an Arai was, Nesryn had no idea. But she wrote it all down, vowing to research it later. 

“You—You have wrappings on your torso. What happened there?” 

After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his shirt. Most of his skin was covered by bandages, thick and bound tightly around his ribs. There was also a large patch on his stomach. Whoever had done them had steady hands, all right. Most likely Hafize. 

The prince pointed to the lower section. “Porphyrion ran me through with his spear.” He said flatly. “Apollo healed it most of the way, but we ran out of time.” Then, to his ribs. “Gaea grabbed me and squeezed like a stress ball.” Then let go of his shirt, casually letting it fall back into place, as if he hadn’t just said one of the most insane things Nesryn had ever heard. 

“Porphyrion?” She spluttered. “The Giant King himself?” She wasn’t even going to touch the Gaea statement. 

He hummed. “Yes. Narrowly missed my spine. I was able to hold my organs in until the fight was over.” 

…The prince may not have been cruel and sharp like she was expecting him to be, but he was certainly his own brand of terrifying. “Right.” She said softly. “You held them in.” He nodded. 

Nesryn slumped forward, rubbing her hand across her forehead. 

The prince looked concerned, biting on his lower lip. “I’m sorry.” He offered. “I don’t mean to be difficult, it’s just…” He shook his head. “It’s been a lot, you know? Didn’t really expect to wake up here instead of Camp.” She certainly did not know, but she nodded anyway. 

This wasn’t quite what she expected either. In the span of less than ten minutes, Nesryn would have given any other royal incentive to have her exiled five times over. In less than ten minutes, the prince had apologized to her not once, but twice.

“That couldn’t have been easy,” she murmured. “I—this may be inappropriate, but I think I’ve long since crossed the line of professionalism.” Nesryn fiddled with her pen. She swallowed, looked down, then up at him.“Thank you. The Earth Mother would not have spared any of us, no matter where we hailed from. I…you did all of us here a great service, one we will never be able to repay, Your Highness. You have our eternal gratitude.”

He looked momentarily stunned, brows high. Nesryn felt a heavy heat crawl over her face. 

But then his face smoothed out into a smile. The first one she had seen from him. He had dimples, she noticed. “I’m honored.” He ducked his head, then added, “My name is Percy, by the way. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be called that.” 

He stuck out a hand towards her. She frowned, uncertain. 

The prince tilted his head, then let out a soft laugh. “Oh!” The tips of his ears turned pink. “It’s a mortal thing. A handshake. You just stick your hand out, and,” He took her free hand in his own and shook it, three times. “It’s what people do when they introduce themselves, usually.” 

Nesryn couldn’t help it. “Fascinating.” She breathed. 

The prince, Percy, laughed once more. It was a nice sound; soft, sweet. Nesryn found herself laughing with him.

The rest of her checkup was one of the strangest yet best things she had ever experienced. Percy, as he insisted he be called (and holy shit she was on a first name basis with a prince ) was a good patient. Nesryn had looked over soldiers before, in her lifetime; old veterans with an ancient war pain. Percy was different. Scars were still healing across his skin, bruises still fading. 

Every inch of his flesh told a story. He told her, when she asked. Scars on his hands from learning to use a sword for the first time, an arrow wound from a wild centaur, a small burn on his shoulder from the Hydra. There were some she didn’t ask more about; a sting on his palm, the streak of gray in his hair, and the dozen healing wounds across his body. The slight wheezing of his lungs like he breathed in something corrosive, low level but for a long time. Why he rapidly lost weight in the last month or so, and the way he rubbed the small of his back when he got lost in thought. 

When she was finished, she sternly told him to take a nap, which he put up little resistance to.  Percy smiled at her and bid her goodbye as he laid down. She waved back and said she’d see him the day after tomorrow. 

Nesryn walked out of the room with her chin held high, a bounce in her step. 

She had walked here trembling, and left with a prince calling her a friend.

Killorn could suck it.

Chapter Text

He could tell that his father was worried. 

It was at the bottom of a very long list of things Percy could no longer deny. Sometimes, on long days that were followed by longer nights, he would recite that list to himself. Sometimes out loud, but usually not. Instead of best to worst, it went from least painful to most. 

Poseidon’s hovering was at the bottom. The sea God seemed at a loss when he approached his son. Sometimes, Percy couldn’t help but feel like his dad thought him a stranger. 

Above that; Percy missed his friends. Waking up in the palace had been a stressful ideal in general, but the lack of a familiar face made it much worse. Er, familiar voice, he supposed. 

That brought him to his next point. After a few hours with Nesryn, it was certain. Percy’s vision would never come back. His life as he knew it would never be the same. Blind. Permanently. 

And, ever present above his head, was the top of the list. 

Annabeth. 

Gods, Annabeth. Who he’d never be able to hold again, to smile with and kiss, who was supposed to have a life with him. They were going to graduate from New Rome together and share an apartment. 

He’d like to think he’d always remember her voice, the slight Californian accent she always hated, the hue of her eyes and the slope of her lips, the strength in her shoulders and the calluses of her hands. 

But Percy knew better. He knew, sometimes, that he had trouble remembering the exact shade of Selina’s eyes, or just how tall Beckendorf was. How exactly Zoe spoke and what Bianca looked like when she smiled. 

He knew he would forget her eventually, and it made him want to scream. 

Nesryn was really the only highlight here. Behind her anxious, shy demeanor, she was sharp-witted and kind. On days where Percy’s brain was just too fast too loud , she told him stories. Usually about the people she knew, her fellow healers, mostly. A lot about his dad’s kingdom, too. The people, which, technically Percy’s people, he supposed. At least, half his people. 

Within the seventh day, though, he was still antsy. 

“Stop fidgeting!” She hissed. 

Percy sighed, letting his shoulders slump. “Sorry,” He murmured. Her hands were surprisingly warm, retying his bandages. At first, he had said he could do it himself. Insisted on it, really. Hadn’t let her near him with the gauze roll, until her soft the King will have my head if you do this yourself, met his ears. 

Nesryn sighed. “I—” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t mean to snap. Apologies.” 

He waved her off without a second thought. “What’s eating at you?”

She did that little head tilt thing that he had come to associate with confusion. His lips twitched. “Uh, it’s a mortal saying. People use it to ask what’s bothering somebody.” 

With a considering hum, she closed her medkit. “Nothing.” 

He really hoped his doubtful look was actually directed at her. Based on her soft huff, it seemed to get at least close. 

Percy rested his elbows on his knees. “Killorn?” 

Her silence was telling. 

“I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Nesryn choked. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean, only if you want me to.” 

“I’m looking at you like you're insane.” She helpfully narrated. Percy leaned back. “Thank you. I’ve gotten worse.” She snorted. “Right. Under no circumstances are you to go beat the—what was the word you used?” 

“Shit.”

“Right. Do not go beat the shit out of him.”

“...I’ll teach you how to beat the shit out of him?”

“ … ”

Now, he was fairly sure she was smiling. 

Amphitrite was not a fan of her husband's mortal spawn. She never was. But, unlike some people ( *cough*Hera*cough) she knew how to be civilized. It was not the boy’s fault he was born of infidelity, and he had done a great deal of good to their kingdom, and world in general. 

However, this did not mean she had any intention of getting close to the boy. 

While Poseidon sat his vigil, she took over his duties. That was the extent of it. Today was actually the first time she had seen the child since the war for Atlantis against Oceanus. 

His appearance was startling, to say the least. First of all was the fact that she expected him to still be bedridden; he had wielded her husband’s trident and took down the Earth Mother, after all. When he strode into the throne room, towards her father, she barely hid the shock. Next to her, Triton made a noise in the back of his throat. 

Second of all was… well, everything else. Still dressed in the clothes the infirmary had given him, his hair long enough to touch the back of his collar and unkept, his body still held in that awkward way that showed he was in the midst of a growth spurt. It was hard not to look at him and see Poseidon. A younger version of him, one that had not been in her mind in millenia. 

The scars littering his dark skin were a snap back to reality. Unless given by a more powerful being, Gods did not get scars. They had no use for them. It was strange to think that the boy across the throne room would never be rid of them. The ones on his face were most prominent, up his jaw and burns splattered across his eyes. But there were others, too. Criss-crossed across his forearms and the back of his hands, one or two visible on his neck. Almost every manner of injury was present to her wizened eyes; swords and spears and fire and arrows and so many others. 

The one she found herself fixating on the most, though, was the bold streak of grey coming from his scalp. So much so that she missed the first half of the conversation. 

“I said no, Perseus.” Her husband said firmly.

“And I said bite me, Dad.” The boy snapped. 

Her hand on Triton’s arm was the only thing keeping him from lunging across the room at his half-brother. 

“Perseus, you are injured. Staying here is in your own best interest.” 

The boy was getting increasingly agitated, Amphitrite noted. His face had dropped into that low scowl she often saw on her husband’s face after the solstices. 

“For fucks sake, dad,” He snapped. “I’ve fought through Hell with broken bones and killed the Giant King while holding my own intestines together. You can’t pick and choose when to care about my physical state. I need to see my friends, now. I need to help rebuild Camp, I have to help pick through the Argo rubble, I need to see my mom, we need to burn Annabeth’s shroud, dad, and I need to go talk to her family—” He choked off. 

Perseus shook his head. Then, tilting his chin up with more defiance than Amphitrite thought possible for a mortal, he went on. “I get you want to keep me safe, but I’ll never be safe. That’s life. My life. The one you bestowed upon me. So if you try to keep me here longer, I swear to God I’ll lose my fucking mind.” 

The throne room was so silent, even to her ears, that it was almost dizzying. Triton struggled against her iron grip, a furious snarl twisted onto his face. Perseus did not even budge. 

Amphitrite watched her husband seem to deflate a little. “You, as always, have a point. I’m sorry, Perseus, truly. You know if I had it my way, you would stay in the safety of the palace forever.” He took a step forward, putting a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “But, as I am learning, I will not always get my way.” 

Perseus’s mouth twitched upwards. “Welcome to parenting a teenager, dad.” 

Poseidon paled slightly. “Heavens forbid.” He whispered. 

Here, the boy full out grinned. Watching him smile, Amphritrite couldn’t help but feel that it wouldn’t last. 

Frank was clearing rubble in the volleyball courts when he showed up. 

He was crouched down, trying to get leverage on a particularly unwieldy piece of concrete, ripped up from the ground by a ground of ogres. After a few minutes of struggling, he gave in and decided that he was going to have to choose between calling for help or turning into an elephant. 

More likely the first option. He was still recovering from the battles at Camp and the Parthenon, and Will had very strongly suggested that he ease off using his powers for a while. Frank had no plans on fighting the medic on it; shifting too much always made him feel weird afterwards. 

He had tried to describe it to Hazel, once. The best way he could put it into words was that, once he shifted back to himself, it just didn’t feel like it was actually him. Like he was still wearing someone else’s skin. He always had to clamp down on the urge to shift again, to try and find what actually felt right. 

Sometimes, on particularly sleepless nights, when he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, he thought about what would happen if he never rooted himself like that. If he just kept going, until maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t even remember what skin had been originally his. Until he just couldn’t remember who Frank was and just what exactly he looked like. 

If he ever forgot the slope of his eyes, the angle of his jaw, the width of his shoulders and the curve of his own smile. 

“Here, I can help.” 

Frank looked up. “Oh, thanks, dude.” 

Together the two of them, on opposite ends of the concrete chunk, lifted it a foot off the ground. Jupiter’s beard, Percy was strong. 

“Where we takin’ this?”

“Just right over there.” 

Percy tilted his head. 

“Oh, uh, about ten feet backwards and five to the left.” Frank amended. (After a couple months, he had finally given in and learned Metric system, if only to appease all his American crewmates.)

“Sick.” 

They moved it most of the way before Frank choked and almost dropped his end on his toes. “Dude!” 

Percy smiled. It seemed a bit dimmer than the ones Frank was used to. “Hey.” 

Frank practically tossed it the rest of the way in favor of tackling his friend in a bear hug. “Oh my Gods! You’re here! Holy shit you’re here!” He pulled back from him for a second, giving Percy a scrutinizing once-over. “Are you alright?” 

The son of Poseidon just shrugged. “I’m not going to keel over any time soon, if that’s what you mean.” 

Frank opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. That was fair. “Shit, I gotta take you to the others. C’mon, man.” He, gently, draped an arm of Percy’s shoulders. “Everyone was getting kinda stir crazy without you.” Percy ducked his head, and this time, his smile seemed a touch more genuine. 

Their reunion was a tearful one. 

They were in the ampitheater when Percy got there. He wasn’t exactly sure how many times he was hugged, but every single one was cautious. Especially Piper and Jason’s; he couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t like Percy was going to forget the roaring snap of his ribs. 

At first, everyone filled the empty space by telling him about Camp. The rebuilding was going nicely—completion estimated in about a week or two. Mrs. O’Leary missed him; she had been staying with Nico in the meantime. 

However, they could only go so long before the topics turned sour. 

Casualties. Fourteen dead. Five Greek, nine Roman. 

They had waited to do the funerals. Waited for Percy. Though they didn’t say it aloud, he knew why. 

Annabeth. 

He knew he would probably be expected to speak when they burned her shroud. But what would he say? How the hell was he supposed to do her justice with just a few words? She was the smart one, the Wise Girl. She was always better with words than him, anyways. 

When he excused himself, none of them tried to stop them. But he could feel their heads turning, watching him as he left. 

He ended up in the forest. 

He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but it was just where he ended up walking to. Some of the dryads waved to him, and he nodded back. But mostly, he kept his head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

The heaviest weight, though, wasn’t the one on his shoulders. But the one resting in his pocket. A leather cord, ten clay beads, a college ring, and a red coral pendant. 

He needed some time to think. That’s what he told himself. 

But the undeniable truth was that Percy wanted to do anything but think. 

The funeral was held the same day, as Apollo began to pull the chariot down, across the sky. As Percy felt the warmth leave his skin, he couldn’t think of a better time for a funeral. 

One by one, people approached the bonfire. With a gentleness only something like this could bring, they lowered shrouded bodies into the blaze. People spoke. Many cried. Percy knew most of these people, had fought with them, eaten with them, even shared barracks with one of the Romans. 

It took a moment for Percy to recognize Malcom when he came to stand next to him. The son of Athena was holding her shroud. His hands were shaking and he sniffed wetly, but he held himself straight and his chin high when he passed it to Percy.

The material was soft, just like he remembered it. Did it look like he remembered? When they burned that first one, all those years ago? 

It’s real pretty, he had said. Shame we didn’t get to use it.

Annabeth had rolled her eyes and elbowed him when he had first said it. Then the two of them had laughed, relishing in burning his own shroud next. 

Six years later and they were burning another empty shroud of hers. Only this time, it was because there was no body. 

Percy went last. When he took a single step towards the bonfire, it was like the whole world went silent. Nobody spoke. It only made his words louder. 

“Annabeth loved reading.” He began softly. “Sometimes, when neither of us could sleep, she would find her favorite passages and read them out loud. She…” He swallowed. “W.S. Gilbert was never one of her favorites, but she did like one bit from him. It’s love that makes the world go ‘round. And if that’s true, is spins a little slower now.” 

From his left, he heard Piper choke back a sob. Jason was shaking. 

He tilted his head down. “Annabeth was my best friend since I was twelve. Every step of the way that I took to get here, she was with me. And…and for the first time since I got to Camp, I’m going to be walking that without her.”

He thumbed at the corner of his eye. “Who Annabeth was is who we should all try to be. She was a warrior, a strategist, a leader,  my…” He took in a shaky breath. “My mortal point, but most importantly she was one of the most loving people I have ever met.” 

“Sometimes I ask myself when I fell in love with her. Only now do I realize that dosen’t matter. What matters is that I did . What matters is that loving Annabeth Chase was the greatest gift the Fates have ever given me.”

He didn’t bother trying to wipe away the wetness coating his lashes. “And I know that now, she rests easy in Elysium. And until the day that I will be with her again, I will never forget her. None of us will.” 

His shoulders shook. “They say a hero’s death is the best thing a demigod can ask for. Now more than ever, I beg to differ.” He shook his head. “But begging never got us anywhere. Certainly not here.” He murmured. 

Percy straightened his chin. “Like all of us, Annabeth lived a life full of pain. But she never let that define her. She was never given happiness, but she managed to make it regardless. That is what she will be remembered for. Not her death,” he managed. “But her life.” 

His hands tightened around the silky grey fabric. And then, his tears making dark spots on it, he tossed it into the fire. 

They gave Percy space after the funeral.

He appreciated it. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he could handle being around the others right now. They just kept looking at him, like he couldn’t hear their concerned murmurs, like he didn’t notice their shared glances. Percy didn’t think he could really stand the way they skirted around him anymore. 

It was really settling in, now. Now that they were off the Argo, now that he was home. He had been focusing so hard on the mission, on going full steam ahead, that Percy hadn’t given himself time to sit down and just be. Maybe that was on purpose, he really didn’t know. It was easy to avoid it, to distract himself with pounding Polybotes’s face in, instead of… 

Gods, he could barely even get himself to think it. But that didn’t change anything.

Annabeth was dead. 

His Annie, his Wise Girl. 

As soon as he had stepped into his cabin after the burning, it had just hit him with the force of a thousand tonnes. The door was barely shut behind him when Percy just dropped. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed there, curled up on the dusty floor of Cabin #3, his knees drawn up to his chest, arms around his legs. How long his shoulders shook, how long he cried. The tears were a constant stream running down his sunken cheeks, hair covering his face. 

Percy was no stranger to grief. But Gods above, this. He had never felt like this before. 

It was like a chunk of his soul had been torn away, leaving him bloody and raw. Exposed . It was a physical ache in his gut, a heavy weight like a ton of bricks. 

He cried himself hoarse, until his breath hitched and his entire body was trembling. 

It was Annabeth . 

Percy grieved in the quiet, the dark, the musty, unlived air of his cabin. And by the time he had cried himself out, had depleted his body of all the tears it could muster, all he could feel was numb. 

The days passed in a blur. 

Percy didn’t sleep much. At least, he didn’t think he did. 

Meals were inconsistent at best. Sometimes the others would bring him something, leftovers from dinner or lunch or breakfast. He could never really tell. Everything was bland mush.

None of them stuck around. He didn’t really want them to. 

All of them were close to Annabeth. It was hard not to be close to somebody when you were on a cross-continental suicide mission. All of them needed their separate time to grieve, to come to terms with what had happened. Percy hadn’t exchanged a word with the other five since the funeral. Everyone was fine with that. They all preferred the silence, at this point. 

Chiron had let all of them be as well. The old centaur understood better than most would, really. 

The Argo was reduced to rubble. Their home for the last few months, all the memories on it. Percy’s eyes had stung when they had approached the crash site. It had been Frank’s idea, actually, to comb over the splintered remains to look for anything remaining. 

Percy had gotten within a few meters of what used to be Annabeth's room before excusing himself. That was a few days ago. He hadn’t left his cabin since. 

Everything she owned, everything she cared about, was in that room. Her life's work; pads full of sketches, notes shoved in the margins. Her Yankees cap, all her favorite books, loose blueprints… Gods, even the hoodie she had stolen from Percy when they were fifteen. She had always told him she would give it back next time she saw him. He had always known that he would never get that back, but he had never really considered that this would be the reason why. 

It wasn’t supposed to be Annabeth. 

It just wasn’t. 

Demigod lives were dangerous. He knew it, had it carved into his skin and his soul. But it was always him and Annabeth against the world. That’s how it was supposed to be. 

And now he was just alone. 

Nico was the first person who seeked him out. 

The door creaked and groaned like it always did, so achingly familiar. Right then and there, Percy almost looked up. Because that would be Annabeth, her laptop in her arms, eyes bright and hair all messed up. She would have dark circles under her eyes and her clothes would be wrinkled, but she would still be absolutely beautiful because it was Annabeth, and everything she did was one of the prettiest things Percy had ever seen. 

He would scooch over in his bed, and she could swing her legs over the side to curl up against him. The soft blue light would illuminate her face, and Percy would spend more time looking at her than the designs in her computer, but it was alright because when she asked for his opinion, he would always whisper beautiful, and her face would pink because neither of them were sure if he was talking about the blueprints or not. 

But he didn’t move, because he knew it wasn’t her, that it would never be her, and even if it was, he would never be able to look at her again. 

Nico didn’t say a word. He just silently padded over to the bed and sat down on the mattress. Percy didn’t object. He stayed in his spot, hands folded under his head, staring up at the dark ceiling but seeing nothing. 

Had anybody told Mr. Chase? What about Bobby and Matthew? 

The thought made him sick. Since he was twelve, he had always had this recurring dream. It always started the same. Walking down the street, to the worse parts of Manhattan. A forceful push to the rusty door to his apartment building, then up the worn stairs. Then finally to a door with a scratched up peephole, a broken doorknob. They always hesitated there for a moment, hand weighing a million pounds as their knuckles hovered a few inches away from the door. 

The knock that always followed was like the beating of a war drum.

Sally Jackson would always open that door, her face hopeful, open, searching for news. 

But she would take one look at the newcomer’s face, and it would be like she came apart.

Sometimes it was Chiron at the door. Sometimes it was his father, sometimes Annabeth, Grover, Rachel, Nico, even Luke, when he was younger. But no matter who it was, they would always stand frozen on the spot for a second, before softly asking if they could come inside.

Percy always expected to be the one to die first. He had been ready for it, thought it was his prophesied fate. Percy had made his peace with all of that. But it wasn’t supposed to be somebody else. It was supposed to be Percy being wrapped in a burial shroud, lowered into the fire. 

Not Annabeth. Never Annabeth.

Percy never thought he would be the one knocking at that door. Never envisioned the pastel blue door of the tall San Francisco modern, plants bursting from the windows and bikes and footballs laying on the lawn out front. It was never a smooth driveway and a door with a polished brass knocker. 

It was never the pure devastation on Dr. Chase’s face, the panicked confusion on Annabeth’s little brothers, the heavy shock on her step-mom’s. 

But Percy knew it was going to have to be him, who would tell them. It had to be. 

“Sometimes I don’t really believe she’s gone.” 

Nico’s voice was scratchy, rough. Like Percy’s own. Neither of them had done much speaking recently. Slowly, the older demigod pushed himself into a sitting position, drawing his knees closer to his chest. 

“I, I’ll wake up, and go outside, and I’ll walk to the mess hall or the archery range or the arts and crafts tables and start looking for her but then it just hits me all at once, and then I’m running back to my cabin fucking crying—” Nico’s breathy, rushed ramble came out in waves, jumbled words shoving themselves together. 

He could feel them. Nico’s eyes getting moist, then silent tears begin to roll. 

Salt water. Percy was always better at sensing salt water. 

He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Not yet. There was nothing he could say. Instead, he just robotically shifted to the side, making room. Nico accepted the silent invitation. Percy didn’t even think about wrapping an arm around his cousin’s thin shoulders. 

Nico was too boney. Shadow travel took too much out of him. Though Percy supposed he wasn’t really one to talk. Tartarus had carved him out, left his ribs jutting his cheekbones too sharp. It had been weeks, but his face still hadn’t lost that gaunt quality, the dark eyes and empty expression. But his arms were stronger than ever, the result of never being able to put down a sword. His palms and pads of his fingers were tough and calloused, rough like sandpaper. 

But Nico didn’t seem to mind when Percy ran his thumb up and down the younger boy’s arm, comforting in two parts. That Percy was still alive, that he had made it out of that Pit, that Nico hadn’t just imagined the whole thing. And for Percy, that Nico was still here, solid and present. Reyna had told him about the toll the shadow traveling had taken on him; the almost translucent quality of his skin, the way she would sometimes look over at him, and see right through his body.

Time still held that strange, floaty quality to it, like when Kronos was near. If Percy had any energy, any will, it probably would have made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that, just leaning into each other, trying to stave off the cold. 

For the first time in more than a week, Percy spoke. 

“That last thing I saw was her.”

His own voice sounded foreign to his ears. The low, rumbling qualities deep in his throat. 

Nico turned towards him, his eyes round and shiny. The younger demigod blinked a couple times, opening and closing his mouth a couple times, as if the words were physically unable to be grasped. Eventually, he just settled on silence, giving Percy an indiscernible stare.

Percy wetted his cracked lips, a painful swallow making its way down his throat. 

“Every time I close my eyes. It's her. The last thing I remember, it was—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Every time.” He breathed out. 

His cabin, eventually, got claustrophobic. Too many times he had sat up, expecting her to be on the edge of the bunk, quietly working on a design. 

He wandered, most of the time. Sometimes up to Thalia’s pine, others to the strawberry fields. Most often, though, he would let himself sink to the bottom of the lake, where everything was nice and quiet. 

The water helped calm his shaking hands, the full body flinches he made every time he heard footsteps. Everything should have been better. They had won, Percy was out of that stupid Pit. But he couldn’t help the instincts hammered into him. Every time somebody spoke to suddenly, or touched him when he wasn’t paying attention, he was on his feet in a second. Riptide in hand, a snarl working its way out of his throat. 

You can take the demigod out of the Pit, but not the Pit out of the demigod, he supposed. 

He hadn’t been around a good source of water in so long. Water was meant for life—a universal need. It was everywhere. But not in Tartarus. Down there, life didn’t matter. 

Even thinking the name brought shivers down his spine. 

But the lake was nice. It instilled a sense of control, a soothing, familiar feeling. Being able to breathe without the air burning your nose, making you hack up blood-spotted bile. He could see better in the water. Well, ‘see’. Percy knew his eyes would never fully work again; he wasn’t interested in the business of lying to himself. 

But down there, he got to understand the shambling, dragging noises of footsteps, the steady vibrations it shook through the ground. He learned to pinpoint locations off of breathing, scent, the thrum of hearts and the shifting of muscle. But in the water, it was like everything was a tactile map, like he could reach out and feel every single move of the current, sway of the plants in the lake floor. 

It was strange, when he first felt the bare feet swinging in the water up on the surface. The campers had been avoiding the lake; none of them wanted to intrude on Percy’s grieving. Nobody really felt like challenging other cabins to canoe races, anyway. 

“Hey, Percy.” 

Piper’s voice was soft, wavering and unsure. 

“I… Truthfully, I don’t know if you can really hear me. Or, uh, if you are actually down here. But, I, uh, hope I’m not just sitting here talking to a lake.” She gave a nervous, unhappy laugh. 

“If you can hear me, though, I just wanted to tell you that all the cabins are almost fixed. Same with the dining pavilion.” Piper cleared her throat. “Just, ah, figured you’d want to know.” 

Percy didn’t rise to the surface to greet her. He did move up from the bottom, though, just floating at the halfway point, his dark hair a murky halo around his face. 

The daughter of Aphrodite suddenly let out a ragged sigh, her whole body sagging forward like a puppet with its strings cut. She was silent for a long minute—Percy almost thought she had gotten up and left. Then, he felt the droplets of hot saltwater hitting the lake’s cool surface. 

Piper startled a little when he appeared next to her, perfectly dry. She was trembling like a leaf, despite the warm summer weather. Tears smudged down her face from cheeks to chin, dripping onto her collar and onto her exposed legs. He sat down, gingerly, next to her, a gentle nudge of his elbow. Piper turned into him, burying her face in his collar. 

On autopilot, his arm looped around her shoulders. 

Percy turned his face up to the sun, letting it fall on his face. He tried his best to soak up the warmth, anything to stave off the numbing cold in his gut. 

He went back to the wreckage site in the middle of the night. 

It was dark, but things like that didn’t bother him anymore. Percy had since long gotten over his fear of the night. 

The Argo was left on the northernmost part of the beach. The tides hadn’t even touched it. Percy didn’t dwell for long on why that was.

At first, he didn’t touch any of it. Didn’t go near it. Just stood by, taking in deep, measured breaths, and feeling. 

Piles of ruined wood and metal, sails turned to ashes and most of their belonging obliterated. Everything Annabeth, gone. Not even her knife remained. It was down there, lost in that fucking Pit along with her and any remnants of the boy Percy used to be. 

But still, still, he found himself moving planks and twisted hunks of metal, climbing over piles and sifting through burned pieces of fabric. As he got closer to the center, everything got warmer, still smoldering, despite the days spent on the beach. 

Sweat started to bead on his forehead, but he didn’t stop. The heat tingled on his fingertips, but never enough to burn him. He doubted anything could burn him anymore. 

When he found something cold, he almost jumped back. He was shocked still for a second, before bending back over, clawing through the rubble almost frantically, until he unearthed it. Percy brushed cinders off of the cool surface, perfectly rectangular with rounded corner. He ran his fingertips across it, and almost wept. 

Right in the middle, there was a raised delta. 

Annabeth’s laptop. 

Percy tilted his head up towards the sky. He couldn’t see the stars anymore, but he could imagine. Imagine Zoe, watching down over them all, immortilized in the sky. 

He had taken a few steps away from the rubble, back onto the cool sand, when he turned back.

“Bob,” He whispered. “Bob says hello.” 

Peleus didn’t mind him sitting against Thalia’s pine. 

Percy gave the ancient dragon an absent-minded scratch, reveling in the warmth of the rising sun. He had hiked up the hill when it was still dark outside. Partially because he couldn’t sleep, partially because he knew nobody else would be up. 

He soaked in the silence for almost half an hour before he heard the footsteps. 

Heavy but even, in a way that spoke of wide shoulders and strong limbs. 

“Jackson.” 

She came to stand next to him. 

“La Rue.” He murmured. 

She let out a heavy breath before dropping down next to him. “Is it true?” She kept her face straight ahead, to the rising sun. 

“Is what?”

Clarisse hesitated, then worked her jaw. “You really went blind down there?” 

He nodded. 

She leaned her head back against the trunk, matching his posture. “Well,” she hummed. “At least you won’t have to see your ugly ass in the mirror ever again.” 

Percy blinked a couple times. Her heart rate sped up after a second, and she opened her mouth again. Maybe to apologize, to say she didn’t mean it. 

Before she could, Percy laughed. A loud one, more genuine than he had in a long time. “Shut up, Clarisse.” Her lips curved upwards and she elbowed him in the arm. 

He scoffed, but didn’t retaliate. 

The two of them stayed there, just like that, leaning against the pine’s thick trunk, Peleus slowly falling asleep under Percy’s hand, staring straight forward. Both their breathing leveled out, slowly coming to rest. 

Percy took in a slow inhale, then turned to face Clarisse. Mirroring her earlier question, he broke the silence. “Is it true?” 

Slowly, she shifted towards him, their knees bumping together. “Is what?” She parroted. 

“Do I look like him?” The pads of his fingers found that scar, the one going from brow to chin. “Do I look like Luke?” 

Clarisse’s sharp exhale was painfully easy to read. But when she spoke, her heartbeat was steady. “No,” she denied in an instant. “You don’t. And you never will.” 

His hesitance must have showed, because she went on. “Not going to lie, you can look like a mean bastard, but…” She frowned. “Luke…sometimes you could see it on his face. That there was something off about him. The way he smiled, maybe. You…you don’t have that. I don’t think you can.” Clarisse shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Besides, if it’s the cut you’re worried about, it’s already healing. Most of it doesn’t even look like it’ll scar. Maybe the ends, but not the middle.” 

Percy didn’t try to hide the relief that swept through him. “Okay.” He whispered. “I—” He paused. “Thank you, Clarisse.” 

She nodded. “Any time, Percy.” She narrowed her eyes. “As long as you don’t go telling anyone about this, of course. I do have a reputation.” Her tone was sharp, but Percy just smiled. 

That was the first time she had actually used his first name. 

Mrs. O’Leary was waiting for him on his bed. 

When Percy shut the door behind him, he just stood there for a second. Then, the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, a fully grown Hellhound on top of him. He ignored the sharp pain in his side, instead smiling at his dog. She pinned his chest down with her paws and excitedly licked his face. 

He laughed, turning his head to the side. “Hi, girl, I missed you too!” He laughed. Pulling an arm free, he wrapped it around her neck, peppering kisses across her snout. 

Eventually, she got off of him, content to lean against his side. Percy gave a content sigh, burying his face in her fur. “I really missed you.”

This time, he sought Piper out. It wasn’t hard to find her. Now that he actually had time, he was learning to pick familiar heart beats out from a mile away. 

She was with Jason, this time, the two of them leaning against each other. As Percy walked towards them, the uncut grass swayed against his ankles. It was barely breezy out, the warm summer’s air sticky and humid and filled with the scent of strawberries. Mrs. O’Leary sniffed the air with a curious face.

Piper saw him first. She turned to him, a surprised smile on her face. “Hey!” She greeted. Jason looked a little surprised as well, but happily scooched to the side to make room for the welcome intrusion. 

Percy gave her a small nod. “Hey.” 

Carefully, he sat down next to them, hand drifting through the grass, Mrs. O’Leary curling up next to him. They both watched him for a long minute before Piper spoke up. 

“How are you healing up?” 

Percy snorted. “My ribs are no longer dust, if that’s what you mean.” Jason made a wounded noise in the back of his throat. Piper winced, but went on. “Your stomach?” She pressed. 

He shrugged. “My dad’s healers supposedly had a field day over it. The Head Healer said, and I quote, it was ‘the most horrific thing she’s ever seen’.” Percy couldn’t repress the eyeroll. Jason made an even more concerned noise. “Wait, how bad was it when you went down there?” 

Percy bit his lip. Piper leaned forward, holding up a menacing finger. “Percy Jackson, did Apollo not fully heal it?” 

“…”

She inhaled sharply. “You idiot, you fought Gaea with a fucking hole in your stomach?” 

He winced. “A small one?” He tried. “We didn’t have much time, anyways. I needed to get out there.” 

Percy was pretty sure she was glaring at him. Jason, on the other hand, stuck to horrified silence. None of them seemed particularly eager to address the war elephant in the room; just what exactly had happened with Gaea. 

Jason idly plucked a few blades of grass up from the ground. His brow was furrowed, staring down. Piper’s eyes flickered from him to Percy, lips thin. 

Surprisingly, Jason spoke up first. “And…” he said softly, “what exactly did happen?”

Both of them, so in sync it was almost creepy, turned to look directly at him, expectant. Percy sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“It…” His voice was heavy. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“We’re in no hurry.” Piper said blandly. 

“Right.” He muttered. “It started when…when we first fell.” Both their heartbeats quickened. “We were both certain we were going to die. I don’t know just how long we fell, it was so dark. A—Annabeth noticed the light first. At the bottom. Both of us braced for impact, but we knew it wouldn’t do any good.” 

Slowly, Jason reached over and set a comforting hand on Percy’s knee. 

“Then, I noticed a river. A river , guys. I thought…” He shook his head. “I grabbed hold of it. I didn’t notice it didn’t feel right until it was too late.” Percy raised a brow. “You guys know what kind of water is inside Tartarus?” 

Mutely, he received two head shakes. 

“Exactly. There isn’t any water. At all. It looked like water, it almost felt like it, but…It was just off.” 

Piper swallowed audibly. This was the first time Percy had actually mentioned anything that happened in the Pit, at all. A fair reaction, he supposed. 

“It was so cold.” He whispered. “Cold water never bothered me. Ever. Didn’t matter if it was below freezing. Guess that should’ve been my first clue, huh?” Percy shook his head. “We both went into shock. Then…then we started hearing the voices.” 

“Voices?” Jason echoed hoarsely.

Percy nodded. “Voices. People crying out, hundreds of thousands of miserable voices. Telling us how hopeless it was, how it was better to just… give up. To let the river sweep us away. It would be better that way.” His voice was sharp. 

“It was like every single hopeless thought, every miserable thing that had ever happened to you was just right there. For me, it smelled like my asshole of an ex-stepdad. I’ve faced shit made of pure nightmares, but nothing ever made me feel as small as Gabe did.”

His voice dropped to a barely audible level. “Annabeth had to drag me out.” 

Piper’s hands went up to cover her mouth. “You were gonna…” 

“Yeah.” Percy agreed. “I really thought about it.” 

Jason let out a shaky breath, his fist clenching in the grass. “The Cocytus?” He whispered.

Percy nodded. “Yeah. Also called the The River of Lamentation or The River of Wailing . Fitting, isn’t it?”

“Even after, after Annie…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How close I was to just giving up.” He breathed. “I saw things, down there. Things that changed the way I saw everything. Well,” a bitter smile crept up on his face. “That it, metaphorically, of course.” 

Jason and Piper did not seem to find this as funny as he did. Losers. 

“So when my dad gave me his trident, I had a plan. To put her to sleep.” His fist curled. “Permanently. So I got her to notice me. I made a big ass trench in the ocean floor that my dad is still a little bit pissed about. And when she grabbed me, I started cooling everything down.” 

His mouth twitched upwards. “Even Primordials aren’t immune to the cold. When she hit the water, it was way below freezing. Enough to send her into shock. She was…suggestable. And so I talked to her like the river talked to me. Combine that with your charmspeak, I knew she would just… give up. She didn’t have anyone to pull her out. Not like I did.” 

“Hell, Percy.” Piper breathed. “That’s…” Genius? Cruel? Just? She didn’t even know where to start. “Smart.” She finished. Because it was. Ruthless, sure. But it worked. “Where did she go, after?”

Percy shrugged. “Wherever immortals go once they’ve faded, I suppose.” 

Jason choked. “Wait, faded? ”

He received a nod. “You know, Gods really aren’t as all-powerful as you think.” Percy rested his chin on his palm. “In my lifetime, I’ve seen immortals die. The first…she was wounded. Killed by the great Titan general Atlas. But the second was really what got me thinking.” Percy sighed. “Pan. Overtime, his link to the the world weakened. But it was only when he truly gave up that he was gone.” 

When he straightened, Piper saw a new, steely expression settle on his face. “I made sure that she gave up.” 

Jason’s eyes widened. “So she just…died?” 

Percy shrugged. “Once I sent her down that ravine…it only got colder as she went down. All things considered, hypothermia is a really pleasant way to die. The cold just kind of…put you to sleep. Slows everything down. By the time your heart stops, you’re already long gone.” 

Piper leaned back, slowly drinking it all in. “It was kind. Too kind, for her.” 

Percy just shrugged once more. 

His reunion with Grover was long overdue. 

The saytr let out a loud bleat as he wrapped Percy in a tight hug. “Du-de , never do that to me again!” 

Percy leaned into the embrace. “Not planning on it.” He assured. 

Grover gave him an assessing look. “Aw, man. I think you’re taller than me!” He lamented after a long pause. “Since when? I was always the tall one!” Percy snorted. It was true; he’d gained a least an inch or two on his friend. “Sorry?” 

The saytr huffed. “That fixes nothing.” But he was smiling. 

“So,” Percy prodded. “How’ve you been? How’s Juniper?” 

Grover’s face lit up like Apollo’s Maserati. 

It was only once they circled around Camp a couple times did Grover run out of things to say about her. Not that Percy minded, of course. He loved hearing how happy his friend was. If anybody deserved it, it was Grover. 

“The empathy link. It’s gone.” Grover said in an uncharacteristic moment of bluntness. 

Percy’s shoulders curled in. “I…yeah. I think it just…severed, I guess. When I fell. Nico said he couldn’t feel either of us when we were down there; not alive, but not in the Underworld either.” 

Grover looked pained. “I…” He seemed at a loss for words. Instead, he just pulled Percy in for another hug. It was then that he looked down at Percy’s feet. 

“Dude…are those…?”

Percy, on instinct, looked down. “Oh,” He muttered. “I…should probably tell you something.” 

His friend gave him a concerned look. Percy shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s…do you know what happens to mortals who die in Tartarus?”

Grover shook his head cautiously. 

Percy huffed out a humorless laugh. “Up until a couple months ago, neither did I. It was Ahkyls who told me, actually. Yeah, as in the Goddess, Ahklys.” He added on when Grover’s heart started to race. “It just stays down there. Forever. They don’t go to the Underworld.” 

“No…” Grover whispered, horrified. “Don’t…she isn’t—”

Percy shook his head. “We…Gods above, we were lucky. ” He spat. “She was my mortal point in the Styx. Our souls were bound to each other, in a way. So if I got out of there alive,” He swallowed. “She would be able to go to Elysium.” 

“Fuck,” Grover whispered. Percy couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. Grover never swore. Like, ever.

“Yeah, that about sums it up. Right then, right there, I decided I would do anything to get out of that Pit. But I was in pretty bad shape, dude. The ground was like broken glass. Tore through everything that touched it. Took the soles of my feet weeks to heal.”

Absentmindedly, he toed at the ground. “I found these near an old altar that had fallen in at some point. Sure, the memories were shitty, but they’re magic shoes that won’t wear out no matter what I walk in. I’d be an idiot to not take ‘em.” 

Grover conceded. “Point. But…Are you sure they won’t try and drag you back in?” 

“I thought about that. A lot, actually. I actually ended up talking to Apollo after the battle at the Parthenon. He said that Luke only cursed them to go to Tartarus. Never said how many times. Guess he didn’t really expect someone to take them out of the Pit, oddly enough.”

“You’re sure? ” 

“Very.” 

“...Do they still fly?”

“Thank the Gods, no.” 

Grover laughed.

Rachel finds him, eventually. 

She breaks down in his arms. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve seen it.” She repeats. 

He doesn't tell her that it was going to happen, no matter what. Seven half-bloods went on a quest. To storm or fire, the world must fall. 

They thought that meant Gaea. But Percy knew better. If it was, they would call her the Earth. No, every word in prophecies were chosen carefully. Because Percy was the storm, and Annabeth was his whole world. 

An oath to keep with a final breath. 

“As long as we’re together,” she’d promised. And they were. He stayed with her until she stopped breathing. 

The Doors of Death didn’t stand a chance. 

He doesn't tell her any of that. What he does say, though is that it wasn’t her fault.

Calling his mom was probably the first thing he should have done. Percy only felt a little insanely guilty that he was just doing it now. 

He debated an Iris Message, but decided that his newly messed up face was not the first thing his mother should see when he was trying to convince her that he was alright.

The phone was Connor Stoll’s, actually. He hadn’t even bothered to deny that he had one when Percy asked if he could borrow it. Mrs. O’Leary curled up against his hip on his bunk, resting her chin on his thigh. He sighed, running his thumb across the space between her eyes. 

He had gotten Frank to dial the number earlier. All he had to do was press call. His thumb hovered over the button, unmoving. 

Percy let out a slow breath, tilting his face up towards the ceiling. Come on, Jackson. He urged himself. She’s your mom. 

He closed his eyes tightly, and pressed call. 

He didn’t need to put it on speaker to hear the ringing. Once, twice, until she answered. 

“Hello?” His mother’s voice came over the line. Percy’s fist flew up, pressing it to his mouth. He blinked quickly, trying to stave off a sudden shine to his eyes. 

“Mom,” He croaked. 

“...Percy? Percy, meu anjo , is that you?” 

“Yeah, mom.” He whispered. “It’s me.” 

Her sobs were crackly over the line. “Are you done? It is over?”

He wiped at his eyes. “Yeah, mom. I’m done. I’m coming home.” 

He said his goodbyes to everyone before he left. First, to Grover, Piper, Hazel, Frank, Jason, and Leo. Then to the Stolls, Clarisse, Katie Gardener, Reyna, and all his other friends. Then Chiron. Nico was last, but the son of Hades promised to come visit. “I’ll bring Thalia, too, once she has a break.” He mumbled into Percy’s chest as the two of them embraced. 

Mrs. O’Leary, decidedly, was coming with. Thankfully, with a little magic, she was about the size of a normal dog. A decidedly large one, yes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Blackjack was staying at camp as well, but Percy promised to bring donuts the next time he visited. 

Percy didn’t have much in the way of possessions. He’d outgrown most of the stuff he’d had in his cabin before Hera took him, but there were a few things that still fit. Everything he was taking with him fit in a backpack from the Camp store. This seemed to make the others sad, but Percy just shrugged them off. He’d been kidnapped some time in September, and been asleep all the way into March. The next month and a half had been with Lupa, and the month and a half after that he had been on the run from immortal monsters. Add in a lifetime of quests, and he was used to traveling light, is the point. 

A few pairs of clothes, Annabeth’s laptop, a shit ton of drachmas his friends shoved into his pockets, along with threats that he better call them, or else. Riptide, some bandages and gauze in case he needed to rewrap his wounds, and a few of Annabeth’s other things that were left in her cabin. And in the side pocket, her Camp necklace. Aside from the clothes on his back and the dog at his side, that’s all he took with him when he ran down the hill into his mother’s arms. 

Even after all these years, she still smelled like a candy shop. 

She was crying. Percy had no doubt that he was as well. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs swiping the tears off of his cheeks. “You’ve gotten so tall,” she murmured. “And look at you, all grown up, you’ve got stubble.” Percy let out a wet laugh. 

It was then she looked at his eyes. His scarred, unfocused eyes.“Oh, baby.” She whispered. “What have they done to you?” 

Percy let his forehead thunk against her shoulder. “It’s a long story, mom.” He whispered. “A really, really long story.” 

Her arms still around him, she nodded. “Why don’t you tell me at home?” 

He nodded, sniffing. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.” 

Paul cried too, when he saw Percy. The three of them just stood there in one big embrace for what felt like the longest time, not speaking, just leaning into each other. 

Percy told them what he could. Barely anything about the Pit, because his mother didn’t deserve to worry about that, too. But waking up in the Wolf House, Lupa, Camp Jupiter, about Reyna and Frank and Hazel, the glacier and Alaska and the new prophecy, then the Argo and Leo and Jason and Piper. About seeing Annabeth again, sailing to the Ancient Lands, the Giants, the Athena Parthenos. 

About Annabeth dying, and how he would never be able to see again. 

At the end of it, all the two of them could do was hug him. 

The learning curve was sharp. With a bit of struggle and some light Mist, Mrs. O’Leary was officially registered as Percy’s service dog. He didn’t go back to school in person. It was too risky and far too difficult to explain. 

His mom and Paul were worried about attracting monsters. Percy introduced them to the beauty of of what used to be Deadalus’s laptop. 

(At first, he didn’t even consider finishing school. But then he remembered how Annabeth’s eyes had shined when he had told her he was going to finish school. To get his GED, at least.)

(He hoped she would be proud.)

His mom found out she was pregnant a week before he turned eighteen. They all cried. But this time, happy tears. Even more so when she asked if he thought Annabeth would be a good middle name. 

Percy learned to read braille. He started wearing sunglasses to cover up the scars. One thing he refused to do was use a cane. He figured people had enough reasons to see him as an oddity. He wasn’t going to give them another. 

Clarisse was right. Most of the long scar on his face faded. The one on his stomach from Porphyrion healed into a hideous, knotted thing. 

Percy visited the Chase house. 

As soon as Dr. Chase saw him at the door, shoulders low, head lower, the man broke down. 

It was just as Percy imagined, only worse. 

They asked how she died. Percy lied. He said it was quick. 

He trained. His powers, sometimes. But mostly, it was the subtle things. How to trick people into thinking he was looking at them, how to react properly when they pointed at something. How to lie. 

And slowly, so, so slowly, part of his vision comes back. Not enough to be helpful, to distinguish one face from another. Everything is incredibly blurry and spotty and depth perception is completely out of the question, but sometimes, if he holds something close to his face, he can see colors again.

Percy is completely unashamed to say that he cried.

Life goes on.

Tony Stark testifies at the Senate. Pepper Potts becomes the CEO of SI. Thor comes to Earth. The Stark Expo is a disaster. Percy overhears a conversation in a bar between a General Ross and Tony Stark, about starting some sort of special team. He leaves that bar and never goes back. Matthew Ellis got elected as president. Construction on Stark Tower began. Percy gets his GED. 

Then, in the middle of winter, Estelle Annabeth Jackson is born. 

Percy holds his sister for the first time. He’ll never know what she looks like, but he can hear the strength of her little heartbeat, the softness of her fingertips as she reaches up and gently touches his face.

His own hands are calloused, burned, and scared. Right then and there, he vows that she will never be like him.

There is a new division of the WSC that oversees search and rescue teams. Percy doesn't have anything better to do. He applies. 

He destroys all of the tests, physical and written. His learning disabilities are still on file, so he takes the tests orally. He makes it onto a special team; the HSRD. Hazardous Search and Rescue Division. They go where most won’t, can’t. 

Part of the uniform is a pair of heavy duty safety goggles. They’re tinted, to protect from all sorts of weather. People can’t see his eyes. He likes it better that way. Before his first mission, Thalia dyes the grey stripe in his hair black. A part of him feels like he’s leaving Annabeth behind. 

He moves out. On a whim, with Nico and Hazel egging him on, he buys his old apartment. Everyone comes over. They wash out the cigarette stink, get rid of old stains. They take that miserable old table where Gabe played poker and replace it with a horrendously bright blue one. Hazel paints flowers on the walls. Miranda and Katie bring over giant ferns. Frank and Jason help put up bookshelves. Leo, for some reason, makes Mrs. O’Leary an automatic feeder that looks like a dragon. Percy plants rows of glowing moonlace in the window. At this point, he doesn't think of Calypso and her curse when he smells them. No, he thinks of his mom. Nico puts a big cushy armchair in the spot where Gabe was murdered. It’s his favorite chair, now.

Everyone hangs up photos on the wall. At Percy’s raised brow, Piper just grins and slings an arm around his shoulder. (It’s getting difficult, now. He’s grown another two inches in the last few months.) “Your apartment is our apartment, buddy. We’re already dividing up the spare room.” 

Percy rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother to hide the wide smile. 

He isn’t home as often as he’d like to be. But when he does come back, Mrs. O’Leary, now his proud K9 partner, at his side, somebody is usually waiting for him. Usually more than one person. Percy ends up stocking a full medical kit and has Hazel put a label on the cabinet for anyone looking for it. 

He helps clean up a spot near the Pakistani border into India that looks like it got hit by a wrecking ball. The others can’t see it, but he can. It rains, barely, and he gets a clear image of the area. 

The craters are shaped like big, hulking fists. 

Some people in suits come to investigate. They introduce themselves as FBI, at first. Percy holds back a scoff. Their heart beats skip when they tell a lie. They think they’re far away enough to talk in private amongst themselves. Normally, they would be. They don’t account for Percy.

He hears them talk about a runaway scientist. 

Annabeth mentioned Dr. Banner a few times. Wherever the poor bastard is, Percy offers a sacrifice to Hermes for safe travels, Soteria for preservation from harm, and Hestia so that the man may one day return to his hearth. But mostly, he hopes that whatever the guy is trying to outrun, he makes it.

Another man, this one…different, somehow, comes up to Percy. He introduces himself as Agent Coulson of SHIELD. Percy remains unimpressed. Even more so when the man offers him a job. He makes the hairs on the back of Percy’s neck stand up. 

“Thank you, but I’m content where I am.” 

Coulson seems a bit surprised. He hides it well. 

Percy comes home again. He babysits Estelle and is there when she takes her first steps. Her first word is Percy. When her first birthday comes around, he and Hazel bake a cake. Almost two dozen demigods drop gifts off. Reyna almost stabs Connor Stoll when he tries to get her to relinquish Estelle from her arms. 

Annabeth died a year ago today. 

Him, what’s left of the seven, Nico, Thalia, Grover, Rachel, and Reyna get together. They drink for the first time. A lot more than they should. It doesn't really affect him like the rest of them. Maybe it’s the Atlantean in him, maybe it’s his powers. It does make his head fuzzy, though, enough to disorient him. 

He isn’t paying attention, and Frank puts a hand on his shoulder. 

A pipe explodes and Leo and Hazel barely dodge the shrapnel. 

He sits with everyone the next morning, holding back hair while they throw up, and decides to never drink again.

Rachel is the last one to leave. She lounges across his couch while he’s at the kitchen table. In his hand, Annabeth’s Camp necklace sits. Like most things, Rachel sees it. She takes a long look at the coral pendant. 

“You know,” She hums. “I’ve been learning how to do stick ‘n pokes.” 

Maybe it’s the slight hangover or maybe it’s the grief, but he agrees. 

She tattoos a bright red piece of coral in the small of his back. 

In October, he goes to Arkhangelsk Oblast, Russia. An avalanche caused by something strange in the Solovetsky Islands. He takes a dip in the Artic. A seal tells him about the strange mass in a glacier. When he swims over to it, he has no doubt in his mind it’s a plane.

He dries himself off and goes to his Team Lead. He feels bad using the Mist, but something about that ship sets him off. He tells the woman that a Russian oil team called it in. She believes him. Later, she asks one of the HSRD team members to stay behind to help out with the excavation. 

Percy is the only one who volunteers. The others think it’s too cold up there. The team is comprised of ten people, and between them they speak nineteen languages. (Well, twenty-one, but Percy didn’t feel like tossing Mycanean Greek and Latin in there.) None of those are Russian, though. 

He only spends a few weeks in Russia, but he finds that he really likes the way Russian sounds. 

He decides, one day, while listening to two construction workers yell at each other, that he may not be able to read or write like most people. But that doesn't mean he can’t have a talent for languages. He starts with Russian. 

Later that week, Captain Johnson shows up. 

Percy decides he rather likes her.

The two descend into The Valkryie and find Steve Rogers encased in ice. SHIELD shows up. Coulson offers Percy a job again. Percy declines again.

"I'm not looking to save the world, Agent." He says, shoving clothes and gear into his duffel.

His old Team Lead quits. Percy gets the job. At nineteen years old, he makes history as the youngest ever. 

Percy drops his bag in his apartment and feeds Mrs. O’Leary. After that, he starts learning. 

He very much doubted there would be an oppertunity to read Russian braille, so he just sticks to speaking and listening. And he surprises himself with how… well, not easy, but not difficult, either, it is.

Percy decides right then that he may not be the smartest person in the world, but he can do languages.

He grew up speaking Portuguese and Hawaiian and English. His old neighbors spoke Spanish, and when he and his mom moved, the news ones spoke Italian. Sometimes he babysat the couple’s little nephew. He remembered some of the things they would say. Ancient and Modern Greek and Latin engraved themselves into his brain, and he finds himself speaking it without trying. 

So he does Russian next. Then reunites with Spanish with Leo and Reyna. He speaks Italian with Nico and a little bit of French with Hazel and Frank. One day, Piper shows up and asks if he wants to learn Japanese. He shrugs, and says he sees no reason not to. He does Arabic on his own, next. 

Everything is good. It’s great, really. 

Then a giant wormhole opens over New York and his life changes forever. 

He’s knee deep in cleanup in Stuggart when it happens. By the time he gets back, the city is rubble and the news won’t stop talking about the Avengers . 

Estelle is two years old and babbles about how a man made of iron saved them.

Percy pays more attention the next time his mom turns on the TV. He knows about Tony Stark; how could he not, these days? And quite honestly, Percy didn’t have much a high opinion of the guy. Nothing personal, Percy just tended to have a slight grudge against any rich person. 

He supports the clean energy initiative, but also listens to Stark give drunken speeches on national television. And while it was beyond impressive that the man could lecture on thermonuclear physics while absolutely smashed, Percy has never been a fan of heavy drinkers.

His opinion doesn't get much higher when he and his team spend the next three months pulling bodies out of rubble in biohazard gear, bagging alien material and shipping it off to Gods know where. 

Foolishly, he thought it was over. That once Gaea was gone, that he would be able to live in peace. That the world had taken enough from him. 

He was wrong. 

The next few weeks, he dreams of what would have happened if Iron Man hadn’t been there. His family's screams echo in his ears for hours afterwards. 

Percy is far from naive. He knows there will not, cannot, always be an Iron Man to catch the rubble. He knows that when something like aliens attacking New York happens, it will most definitely happen again.

Coulson comes up to him with a job offer. 

Percy ignores the feeling prickling down his spine when he shakes his hand. 

SHIELD basic training reminds him a lot of the Legions. Maybe that’s why he does so well. Maybe it's the decade of experience and Godly blood. But he likes to think it’s the effort he puts in. 

He walks around with a cloud of Mist, making sure nobody thinks a bit too hard about why the new guy never looks anyone in the eyes.

As he turns 20, Percy gets marked as one of the most promising new recruits. He’s fluent in half a dozen languages and passable in a few more. He’s a quick thinker and an even quicker fighter. He’s brave but not rash, and most importantly, Percy Jackson is filled with a sort of steely determination that is usually only seen in the SHIELD veterans. 

Whispers start to circulate about a man named Deathstroke.

By the time the new year begins, he’s a Level 5. 

He goes on a mission to Veracruz with Clint Barton. It’s a wild success. 

He kills a man. It never leaves him. 

He's offering counseling, at some point. He declines. They don't know he's already been a murderer for a long time. 

He’s a Level 6. 

He keeps in touch with Captain Johnson, with his extended family members. Percy doesn't make any new friends. He can’t risk that. Not when he has so much to hide. He’s friendly with his coworkers, but if pressed, none of them will be able to tell you a single personal detail about Percy Jackson. 

He hits his twenty-first birthday. He doesn't go out drinking like most people his age do. Instead, he’s taking out a human trafficking ring in Tajikistan. 

He leaves three bodies behind him. Percy doesn't feel bad. He heard the screams of those children.

He’s a Level 7.

By the time the next April rolls around, he gets introduced to the infamous Black Widow. He doesn't trust her. Not really.

They go to Istanbul. Then Korea. He stands guard while she assassinates two dirty senators.

This time, they leave a small massacre of eleven. Some of them didn’t commit the heinous crimes of their compatriots, if they had been taken to prison, would have gotten a few years at most. He feels like a bad person. 

He’s a Level 8.

He turns twenty-two. He thinks there is something deeply, deeply wrong with SHIELD. 

Nobody listens to him.

He leaves.

Percy spends Christmas with his family. 

It’s early January, Estelle is a few months shy of five years old. She asked to come with him when he walked Mrs. O’Leary. He can never say no to her, so he does her hair in two pigtails and stuffs her into her coat. 

They’re walking along the street when the shooting starts.

He doesn't even think about it. He grabs his sister and covers her with his body. People are screaming, running. It overwhelms his senses, makes him dizzy. By the time he gets everything into focus, an SUV is tipped over and a man with a metal arm jumps off the overpass and murders Nick Fury.

And for a second, Percy swears the assassin looks at him. 

The Triskelion is destroyed three days later. All of SHIELD’s files are dumped on the internet. 

Nico and Hazel do him a favor and stay with his family for the time being. Just in case. Percy locks his doors and stays in his apartment.

At three in the morning, he gets woken up by soft footsteps climbing the stairwell of his building. 

He pulls out a knife and waits. 

It’s two people. They knock. They’re injured. 

He moves closer to the door. The voice on the other side is soft. “Agent Jackson? My name is Lee. If you’re in there, we really need your help.”

He lets them in. 

The girl’s name is Lee and the boy is Daniel. They’re young. Scouted fresh out of high school. Hydra had targeted them not even an hour after the file dump. 

Percy lends Dan his laptop. The tech analyst deletes everything on the three of them from the files. “It means nobody else can download it,” Daniel sighs, “But it doesn't erase what people already have.” 

Percy reaches out to a retired Legionnare who lives in California. She and her wife agree to help hide the two young agents.

He gets an Iris Message from Hazel. Two armed men tried to break into the apartment. Nico dealt with them. Estelle didn’t even wake up from her nap.

Before they leave, Percy asks Daniel for one last favor. 

Sally Jackson is the only family listed on his file. No phone number, no email, no address. It’s a common enough name, there are a thousand of them in New York alone. 

Anybody who downloaded the information wouldn’t be able to find his mom based off of that. But anyone who typed the name into a search engine would eventually find the police and news reports of this kidnapped woman and her twelve year old son. Most of it got taken down a long time ago; he was a minor, after all. But there were still records everywhere of a Sally Jackson and her young, troubled son, his face plastered on wanted posters.

With a final keystroke, all of that is gone. Legally, Sally Jackson only has one child. Her name is Estelle. Sally married a nice teacher named Paul and the three of them live in a decent apartment in Manhattan. They had their first child a few years ago. 

She has no missing delinquent son. Why would anyone think that?

And if she makes monthly donations to the American Foundation for the Blind, well… That’s just out of the kindness of her heart, of course.