Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Poseidon's POV

It’s just Poseidon’s luck that the one time he went to visit his daughter for something other than business, there was A Situation happening.

He smiled charmingly at Sally who, as always, looked radiant and beautiful. He hadn’t had time to visit her in a while. Perhaps he’d have more time to do that once everything with the second, and hopefully the last, war ended. 

“I’m not here about a quest, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Poseidon told her when the silence continued to stretch on. Sally smiled like he amused her, glancing at the small, carefully wrapped gift in his hands. There was something edged and tired in her smile, and a modicum of worry wormed its way into his chest. Poseidon clenched his jaw, shoving it down and hiding any signs of it from his expression. She’d always made him feel so sickeningly mortal.

“She won’t come out of her room,” Sally told him softly. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “I don’t- I don’t know what’s wrong. She won’t answer. I just thought—”

She paused, blinking repeatedly. It took everything in him to not try and comfort her. That wasn’t something he could do now. Maybe before, when she wasn’t married but he wouldn’t dare to try it now.

“Poseidon, I think it’s about her soulmark.” she finally finished, clearing her throat when her voice cracked. 

Poseidon’s lips thinned and he jerked his chin towards the inside of the new apartment. Sally and Paul, with their combined incomes, managed to buy a nicer one for the three of them. It was decked out in cheerful party decorations, but the entire place seemed desolate and empty with the thick tension that filled the home. 

He placed Percy’s gift on the kitchen counter, turning back to Sally with a silent shrug. He didn’t have anything to say to that. As much as he wished he did, he didn’t know Percy nearly as well as Sally, or even Paul did. His input in the situation probably wouldn’t be very helpful.

“I already tried talking to her,” Sally began again, closing the door silently behind her. She hugged her arms, worrying her lip as she neared him and sat at the counter. “She’s ignoring me, and I- I don’t know what’s wrong. She never acts like this. It’s just unlike her.”

Poseidon listened quietly, letting Sally talk and talk and talk. He assumed her husband wasn’t home yet, or maybe he went out to do an errand.

“Will you talk to her?” Sally asked suddenly, looking up at him. Poseidon forced himself not to cringe.

“Sally, you know her better than I do,” Poseidon replied, ignoring the disappointment on her face. 

“You still might be able to get through to her,” Sally said insistently, “You’re the only other person that might be able to understand.” Poseidon went quiet. His skin paled, and a deep heaviness settled in his gut. Sally grimaced, and he realized why she was so solemn.

“You think–”

Poseidon cut himself off, staring at her. Sally bit her lip, giving him one last pleading look. Poseidon shook his head, clenching his jaw before finally heading towards her room.

He knocked awkwardly, the beginnings of regret about coming here worming its way inside his mind. He snapped his fingers, and her birthday gift appeared in his hand. He might as well give it to her now instead of later. Maybe it’ll help cheer her up.

The hall remained silent, and he leaned against the doorway, tilting his head as he listened through the door. It was only his powers as a god that allowed him to hear the quiet sniffles and muffled crying coming from inside the room.

His heart clenched, and he sighed. This was not, and never had been, something he was very good at.

“Percy,” he started quietly. The crying stopped abruptly, and he could hear his daughter’s heart speed up as she panicked and stumbled through her room. The door was locked, but he could’ve opened it anyway. Then again, Poseidon doubted Percy would be very happy about that. He may not have much experience in this part of parenting, but he at least had some tact.

Percy took a few steps towards the door, her gait hesitant and uncertain. Poseidon was sure that the only reason she was considering it in the first place was that she felt obligated to. He held back another sigh, waiting patiently for her to open the door.

Her movements were still for a couple of minutes, her breathing erratic. After a while, she seemed to grow more comfortable and her footsteps retreated. The bed creaked quietly as she flopped back onto it. Poseidon really wanted to open the door, but he held back, leaning more against the doorway.

“I’m still here,” Poseidon said softly, listening to her shuffle and stumble throughout her room again. It took a few more moments, then the door swung open.

Her eyes were puffy from crying, and blotches of red and pink settled high on her angular face. Inky, black hair hung low, covering part of her face like a curtain, and she held the door so tightly that it shook slightly from the force of her grip. Poseidon’s head tilted to the side, and he gestured silently into the room. Percy hesitated for a moment before reluctantly opening it wider, allowing him inside.

Percy rocked back and forth on her heels, keeping her gaze down as he leaned against the wall of her room, observing her quietly.

“Happy birthday,” Poseidon said lightly, placing the gift box delicately on her nightstand. Percy’s gaze darted to it before going back to the floor almost immediately. Poseidon rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out the window and glowering silently at the clouds for a moment. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that Zeus was mocking him.

“Is that all you’re here for?” Percy asked. Poseidon decided to pretend he didn’t hear the hope in her tone.

“Did something so particularly horrific happen that you’re avoiding your mother because of it on your eighteenth birthday?” Poseidon asked, raising an eyebrow. Percy’s hands fisted her shirt, and she didn’t answer. Instead, she glowered at the ground, ignoring his piercing stare and expectant gaze. Poseidon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Teenagers were so annoying sometimes. “Percy––”

“It’s none of your business!” she snapped, looking up to turn her glare to him. Poseidon’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened. Percy stared at him dead-on, a challenge glinting in her eyes that reminded him eerily of the way she looked at many of the other gods, defensive and ready for a fight.

Frustration rose up in him like a tidal wave, and Poseidon clenched his jaw, forcing it down, down, down . He softened his tone, smoothing the harsh lines of his face and pulling back the anger that glinted in his features. Percy hesitated, only barely, watching him closely as he rubbed a hand down his face.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he said reasonably, “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.” Percy’s scowl lightened, but her body still turned away from him, closed off and skeptical. Poseidon glanced at the ceiling. For a moment, he looked back on the simpler times of when he hadn’t had a daughter in nearly a millennium and never had to worry about such things like this.

Poseidon blinked, fluttering his eyes open when he heard the sound of crinkling paper. Percy fiddled with the wrapped box holding her gift from him.

“Happy birthday,” Poseidon said, his voice a touch dry. He’d meant to give it to her on his own, but he should’ve anticipated that she’d swipe it when he wasn’t looking. Percy jumped, her gaze going up to him.

“This is for me, right?” she asked uncertainly. His brows raised in confirmation, and she went back to slowly unwrapping the shiny paper from the box. “It’s heavy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. When she took off the wrapping paper, it revealed a jewelry box with meticulous carvings that shimmered in the sunlight. Perfect’s eyes widened, and her hand tightened on the box.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, ducking her head. Poseidon’s lips twitched.

“The gift is inside the box,” he said. She pursed her lips sheepishly and her cheeks darkened with a blush. She opened the jewelry box as if it were about to shatter in her hands.

An abundantly decorated hairpin sparkled as she opened the box. Pearls of all kinds lay on the silver hairpin. Diamonds gleamed on the main part of the pin, and the accessory shimmered of so many colors that it looked like a rainbow in her hands.

Percy was so surprised that she nearly dropped it. Her face shifted through numerous emotions; surprise, confusion, panic, uncertainty, bewilderment. Not necessarily in that order though.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“It’ll allow you to be teleported to the closest body of water,” Poseidon explained. Percy lowered the gift, staring at him in disbelief.

“This would’ve been really useful to have earlier, you know,” Percy commented, trying and failing to keep the snark out of her tone.

Poseidon shrugged unapologetically. “It can only take one person at a time, and it’s a new design. Took me forever to be able to get them manufactured in the first place, and they’re very hard to create since it needs to be compatible with every body of water in the world for it to function correctly. Not to mention all the testing it had to go through to make sure it actually functioned right––”

“I get it,” Percy interrupted. She cleared her throat, looking back down at the hairpin. She lifted it delicately, spinning it into her hair. The scent of the ocean filled the room as magic fastened it to her long, inky black hair, keeping it in place. Curiously, she shook the bun and grinned when it held strong. “Thank you,” she said, a raspiness to her voice that he decided to ignore, perhaps for both their sakes.

Silence reigned for minutes after. Poseidon scratched the back of his neck, getting up from the bed and smiling lightly at his daughter. He opened the door to the bedroom, pausing when Percy’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Dad,” she began, her body a flurry of little movements that gave away her anxiety. “I- can I talk to you for a second?” Her breath caught with every word as if it was hard to gather air. Poseidon paused, slowly shutting the door and leaning against the wall expectantly. He opted to stay quiet, waiting for her to explain.

“Can anyone hear us?” she asked instead. He squinted at her, momentarily caught off guard. If she was wondering about Sally, her mother was still in the kitchen, pacing anxiously for the two of them to come out so her worries could finally be alleviated. Judging by the way her eyes skittered up and around her room –– specifically the top of it –– he took a wild guess and assumed she meant the other gods.

He waved a hand and a cloak of thick, suffocating power choked the space around the room. It’d alert the gods that something was happening, but they wouldn’t be able to figure out what it was nor listen in to whatever this was without asking him.

“Now they can’t,” he answered, tilting his head to the side. Percy nodded, rocking back and forth on her heels. He had a feeling she was stalling. “Is this about your soulmark?” he asked. Percy flinched. His stomach sunk. Well, that explained things.

“How’d you guess?” she laughed nervously, scratching her lower back. 

“Does it matter?” Percy tugged at a loose thread on her comforter.

“If I show you, are you going to tell my mom?” Percy looked up at him. His eyes narrowed.

“I won’t tell your mother if you promise to tell her eventually,” he countered. Percy hesitated before nodding reluctantly. She paused, looking up at Poseidon and he gestured for her to show him. She made to move her hair before remembering it was in the hairpin and turned around, lifting her shirt above her lower back. Poseidon leaned closer, reading the name scrawled in intricate handwriting on her lower back.

He blinked and read it again. And again. And again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered after he finally accepted that this was reality. Yup, this was his life. Dealing with the first daughter he’s ever had in a millennium now apparently being the soulmate of Phoebus Apollo and, judging by how she’d been acting the entire morning, he doubted she was very happy about it, which didn’t make this situation any easier for anyone involved.

Percy lowered her shirt, turning back to face him. She worried her lip the same way Sally did, tugging at her shirt and twirling with her hair. She scratched the nape of her neck and toed at the carpeted ground. Poseidon rubbed his hands down his face tiredly, tilting his head up towards the ceiling.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asked, a strange note in his voice. He cleared his throat, looking back at her. Percy didn’t answer him. He couldn’t blame her. She probably didn’t know yet. He knew the two weren’t very close compared to, say, Percy and Hermes –– and even that was a stretch. After the two wars, Percy had done her best to steer clear of any gods, finishing her last years of high school in relative peace. As far as Poseidon knew, she hadn’t talked to any of them in a while.

“Has this- has anything like this ever happened before?” she said, tugging at a lock of her hair, focusing on that instead of him.

Poseidon winced. The situations of gods and mortals being soulmates have only ever had two types of outcomes: amazing endings that lasted the ages or tragic ones that razed the world… usually. There was never anything in between. Sometimes, the mortals might’ve tried to settle for something between the two but the gods… none of them had ever been very good at compromise.

“It’s rare, but it has happened before,” he answered. Percy perked up, looking at him eagerly. “Hermes, Dionysus, and Apollo all have mortal soulmates. Dionysus already met her. Apollo’s is… well, yeah. Hermes, I’m not so sure about. I don’t think he’s met his soulmate, but I could be wrong. I haven’t involved myself in that kind of gossip in a couple decades.”

Percy nodded, almost absent-mindedly. “What if I just… you know, rejected it? The bond, I mean.”

Poseidon’s lips pursed. He already knew the answer but… “You don’t want to at least give him a chance?” Percy shook her head so fast that her hair rocked in its bun.

“No. No way. I’m not dating a god. It’s just a disaster waiting to happen,” she said vehemently.

“Then I don’t know,” Poseidon said, throwing his hands up in an ‘oh well’ kind of gesture. “You can’t just reject a bond with a god, especially not when you’re the mortal in this situation. Even if you were able to, the only possible way I can think of requires either the consent of both parties or the approval of the Olympian Council. No matter what you’ve done in the past, there’s no way you’re going to get a majority vote over Apollo . Plus,” Poseidon winced. “He was predictable in ancient times when morals weren’t as, well, strict. I don’t know about now though. Sometimes, it seems like he never changed. Other times, it’s like he’s a completely different person. His reaction would be easier to predict if it was any other situation except one involving his soulmate.”

Percy’s face fell. “There really isn’t any other way?”

Poseidon paused. He squinted, wracking his memory for the clause…

“There is one way,” he said thoughtfully, “A quest that can be performed to take something directly to the Council of the Fates and overturn any decisions made by the Olympian Council. It’s a difficult quest though. Harder than most other things you’ve ever done.”

“I’ve literally been to Tartarus,” Percy said as if he needed to be reminded. Poseidon was sure that he’d aged more in the span of time she’d been in the Pit than he had in millennia. She didn’t need to know that though.

“You had help,” he countered, “And this quest has to be done solo or it doesn’t count. There’s a lot of logistics to it that were added over time by the Olympians to make it more difficult. They can’t actually ban the quest and there were limitations to the types of things they could add, but many of us tried our damndest to make the quest impossible for most heroes.”

“I’m not most heroes,” she replied, crossing her arms. His lips quirked into a smile.

“So I’ve noticed,” he said drily.

“How does this quest work exactly?” Percy asked, getting up from the bed and pacing around her room. She reached behind her to scratch her back occasionally, digging her nails into the skin of her lower back like she thought she could scratch the mark off her skin if she tried hard enough. Poseidon doubted she actually could, but it’d definitely be interesting to watch her try.

“Before the quest can even begin, you’d need the approval of at least two gods for the quest to be legitimate since it won’t be in the eyes of the Olympians,” he began to explain, “The more gods whose approval you have, the more protection you’ll have from the rest of the Council if they try to prevent your success. As this quest involves divine law itself, the Ancient Laws won’t be able to protect you and the only protection you'll have is from the gods who side with you. The Fates won’t intervene until you either succeed or fail.”

“What will happen if I succeed?”

Poseidon shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Everyone that’s attempted the quest never made it to that part.” If he didn’t know better, Poseidon would’ve been concerned at how little that comment seemed to worry Percy. Except that he did know better, and he’d wait for her to start worrying once he listed what the quest actually entailed.

“The overall quest is going to be even more difficult because of the secrecy factor you’re trying to add in,” he pointed out before continuing, “Especially since you’ll need to seek a meeting with the Fates so they can assign the quest to you and frankly, achieving that without any of my fellow Olympians noticing will probably be more difficult than the actual quest.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Your best bet would be to just scrap that entire factor,” Poseidon said with a sigh. “It adds too many complications and extra risks you’ll need to take. If they find out after the quest has already begun, they’ll be even angrier and you still have the rest of your life after all this is over to worry about if you succeed.”

“Could I pretend it’s another god?” Percy asked. 

“You’ll have to ask the other god.”

“No, like keep it ambiguous. Just let them guess and never confirm it,” Percy suggested. Poseidon’s lips pursed.

“It could work, but then they’ll be even more curious and you’ll have the media on your back too,” Poseidon’s eyes narrowed then as an idea popped into his head. They could always ask…

“I don’t like that face,” Percy told him warily. He rolled his eyes. She acted like she didn’t make the exact same face when she wanted to do something recklessly stupid. Of course, his ideas weren’t recklessly stupid. It was just the expression that he’d passed on, not the actual meaning for it. Yeah. That’s right.

Totally.

“Has Thanatos ever repaid you for saving him during the Giant War?” 

Percy stared. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like where this was going. 

Despite that, she confirmed it and he smiled, triumphant. “Then he owes you a favor, and no one knows who Thanatos’ soulmate is. The only person who does is Eros and he’s not gonna snitch if it risks benefiting Apollo.”

Percy stared.

“You think I should ask Thanatos to pretend to be my soulmate,” Percy deadpanned. He nodded, completely serious because of course he was. Percy looked up at the ceiling, flopping back down on her bed. “This quest is going to have so many moving parts. How am I supposed to keep track of it all?”

“Well, for starters, you should probably decide how you’re going to start the quest first,” Poseidon retorted.

Percy nodded, looking seconds away from fainting. At least she was sitting on her bed. “Right. We’ll um… we’ll go with your idea of asking Thanatos. If that doesn’t work, we’ll go with mine on keeping it ambiguous. For the gods part, you’re one god and––”

“And Triton’s another,” Poseidon finished.

“Triton hates me.”

“I don’t care. I’ll make him do it or he’s grounded. End of story.”

“Okay,” Percy said slowly, “That’s taken care of. Now, the actual quest?”

“Maybe you should get the other parts taken care of before worrying about the actual quest,” Poseidon said gently. Percy hesitated before nodding. She looked exhausted, and it was supposed to be her birthday. She and her mom had an entire day planned, last he’d checked. His eyes softened and he said, “How about this: I’ll talk to Thanatos and Triton. You go enjoy your eighteenth birthday. The day’s still young. You have plenty of time. Enjoy. Relax. Have fun. We’ll worry about this whole thing tomorrow, and I’ll do what I can to keep the other gods off your back.”

Percy’s shoulders slumped and she nodded, toeing the ground again. “Yeah, that works,” she mumbled, swallowing thickly. Poseidon got up to leave, feeling far too tired for someone who wasn’t supposed to be able to get tired. It was the Jacksons. Being around them probably wasn't healthy. 

“Thanks, dad,” she whispered just as he opened the door. Poseidon paused, turning back to look at her. 

Percy’s gaze was planted firmly on the wall adjacent to her. He nodded quietly, leaving and shutting the door behind him.

He sighed, resting his head against the wall next to her bedroom door. He snapped his fingers and blurred her soulmark from view so none of the other gods would be able to see it. What a day it had been, and it was only going to get worse from here.

Chapter Text

Percy's POV

After Poseidon left, Percy spent some time alone, staring at the blank wall of her comfortable bedroom. She left eventually, greeting her worried mother and stepfather with a smile and an apology. 

Sally didn’t try to press for more information, but she wouldn’t stop giving her worried glances.

Throughout the rest of the morning, the three of them played board games, watched a movie, ate blue cake, and opened presents from Sally, Paul, and Paul’s relatives. After, Paul left to do some errands, and Sally took her to Camp Half-Blood.

The car drive held an air of tension to it. Percy knew her mom wanted to say something, but she kept silent the entire ride. When they got to camp, Percy gave Sally a kiss on the cheek and a soft goodbye. Just before she headed to the border of the camp, Sally stepped out, her eyes glistening with tears.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she began, coming closer and pulling Percy into a tight hug. “But I’m here whenever you need me, alright?” 

Percy nodded silently, blinking against the sting of tears behind her eyes, and swallowed hard when a lump formed in her throat. She wasn’t about to cry. She wouldn’t.

“Yeah, I know,” she said softly, forcing a smile onto her face and hugging her mom back. Sally left after that, bidding Percy goodbye and making her promise to have fun.

When her car drove away, Percy let out a sigh. A tear spilled over her eyes, traced down her cheek, and fell to the grass beneath her feet. It was a warm day today, and she smiled as the sun kissed her tanned skin, falling over her shoulders. 

Percy wiped her face dry and as if on reflex, touched the lower part of her back where her Achilles’ Heel had once been.

Where the sign of her soulmate now laid, where Phoebus Apollo was inscribed on her back in a golden script over what had once been her only mortal point in a body of iron skin.

Percy pulled back her shoulders, put a relaxed smile on her face, and trudged up the hill past Thalia’s trees and through the borders of Camp Half-Blood.

“SURPRISE!”

The campers’ screams and cheers startled Percy so badly that she let out a shriek. When her eyes landed on the chaotic decorations that covered the camp in all the colors of the rainbow, that shriek turned into a laugh that bubbled out of her chest and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her tears dried, and a large grin broke across her face.

Her friends swarmed her, chattering loudly and congratulating her on making it to eighteen. All kinds of jokes spread amongst them. Excited faces popped up out of nowhere to congratulate her and tell her all kinds of things that’d happened while Percy had been gone.

Annabeth ran up to her then and grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“Finally an adult, huh?” she said, dragging Percy away from the crowd of demigods. “And if you’re looking for the others, don’t worry. They’re on their way here now. Reyna IMed me a little while ago and said they were headed here. If I’m right, they’ll be here in an hour tops. Oh, and did I tell you about–”

Percy nodded along to all the other inane things Annabeth talked about, going on and on about what she’d missed. She’d been right about the Romans getting there soon. So while everyone was getting settled and preparing for games, Reyna, Jason, Frank, and the others all got here. They greeted her with a cheerful happy birthday and placed wrapped gifts on a large pile that was consistently getting larger. 

For her birthday, they did all kinds of fun things. They had karaoke around the fire, Capture the Flag, and races with the nymphs. It was so nostalgic and heartwarming that Percy had almost forgotten about her soulmark by the time sunset rolled around. 

After everything had settled, Percy opened presents she got from all her friends — a massive pile of gifts that stacked up to her chin from the ground. It seemed as if every kid in camp had gotten her something, which did actually seem to be the case after opening many from campers she’d barely said a word to the entire summer before.

“Percy!” a voice shouted from behind her. She’d just finished opening all her gifts, and Jason and Frank helped her transport them all into her cabin. Frank leaned against the outer wall of the Poseidon cabin, telling her about things that were currently going on in Camp Jupiter. Jason had gone back to make sure none of the campers had stirred up too much trouble.

Percy turned around. Her grin froze on her face, and she could’ve sworn she felt a twinge in her lower back, right where her soulmark was.

“Will!” she said, her voice slightly too cheerful compared to how she usually talked. Silently, Percy cringed to herself. She’d never been very good at lying, especially not with things this personal. It always made her feel bad, and that tended to be an obvious giveaway when trying to lie to someone. “Hey…” she started, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm her rushing heart. From the side of her vision, she saw Frank give her a weird look.

“Hey,” Will said with a bright, dazzling grin. “I’m busy today, but I wanted to stop by and wish you a happy birthday.”

“Cool,” Percy said, nodding hurriedly. Frank’s brows had raised above the fringe of his hair, and he glanced suspiciously between Will and Percy. Will, thankfully, did not seem to notice. “Cool. I- I was just going to say hello to Rachel since I haven’t seen her in a while.” Percy nodded to herself again. Will’s brows furrowed.

“Um… Percy? Are you alright? You seem a bit… pale,” he concluded, taking a step forward towards her.

Percy’s heart stuttered in her throat, and panic struck up like a bolt of electricity. Nope. No way was she dealing with this right now.

“You know what, Will? I’ve gotta go. It was nice seeing you, but I’m going to go find Rachel,” she said, rushing away from him and Frank as fast as she could go without looking suspicious to the other campers. Her feet brought her through the camp to Rachel’s cave. The redhead had retreated after the sun started going down to paint in the quiet.

Percy collapsed on one of the fluffy, soft sitting areas in her cave, resting her head against pillows and letting out a sigh.

“Well, hello to you too,” Rachel said suddenly, jarring Percy out of her rest. She shot up, giving Rachel a sheepish smile when she raised an eyebrow at her. Paint splattered across her clothes, and her arms were crossed over her chest. She didn’t look very impressed.

“I can explain,” Percy began, but Rachel shook her head.

“Considering how things usually go with you, Perce, I probably don’t want to know,” she said with a laugh. Percy mock-scowled at her, rolling her eyes and flopping back down on the pillows. For a bit, everything was peaceful and silent. Rachel hummed as she painted, her lips pursed in concentration and eyes narrowed at the canvas.

Soon enough, Percy got bored of the silence and convinced Rachel to show her some of her latest work. Rachel had a couple others pieces she’d done — nothing prophecy-related, thankfully — that were all vivid with color. Some seemed to be duller though. Like she’d had artists’ block with them and couldn’t figure out how to add that special touch to it. Percy didn’t comment on it, instead pointing out different things she liked.

They continued like that for a while, chatting about inane things that neither of them actually cared about. Percy enjoyed it anyway, being able to just relax and spend time with her friend.

Then, of course, Rachel’s body went limp, her eyes and mouth opened, and green smoke poured out of them like water from a vase, spreading all over the cave floor.

Percy startled, but before she could do anything, the distorted voice of the Oracle of Delphi filtered into the cave.

The home of the ancient Fates, you will find

Then, retrieve the fruit of love’s dear bind

Beware the goddess and her games of love

After, head southeast for the python above

Return to the home of gods and find what you seek

There, truths still buried will finally speak

But heed this warning, daughter of sea

Fate always wins; that is a guarantee

Rachel’s body slumped against the cave wall, and Percy rushed to prop her up. Her heart beat erratically in her chest. Her breathing stuttered, and she clutched at the roots of her hair in panic. What was she supposed to do now? Tell someone? Tell who? The only person who knew about her soulmark was her dad, but she had no idea how to contact him, let alone if he’d even answer.

Before Percy could even think, her feet took her out of the cave, fleeing to the border of the camp. She needed to get to the water, find a way to contact her father, just get out of here—

Percy skidded to a halt, sand making its way into her shoes. She frowned, looking at the ocean of water that surrounded her. Her feet dug into the sand of the beach. How had she even…

A faint glow appeared at the top of her peripheral vision. Percy’s hand reached up towards the clip holding her bun together. She remembered the gift from her dad suddenly, the one that gave her the ability to teleport to the closest body of water. She smiled suddenly, almost involuntarily from the twitch of her lips and the pull of her cheeks. It turned into a stupid, relieved grin. 

“Thanks, dad,” she whispered softly and dove into the sea without another moment’s notice.

When Percy opened her eyes, the face of a beautiful nereid stared back at her. She looked as if she were made of wet, compacted sand. 

She startled, a silent scream slipping past her lips as she stumbled backward. The cool water brushed her skin, a soft caress that had always comforted her since the first time she’d ever stepped in the ocean.

The nereid stuck out her hand, silently beckoning her forward. Hesitantly, Percy reached out. Her first assumption was that the nereid had been sent by her father. Her clothing was vaguely familiar, in the style of the uniforms, Percy had seen some of Poseidon’s subjects wearing when she first arrived at Atlantis.

Percy slipped her hand into the nereid’s. There was a tug in her gut, so harsh it knocked the air out of her lungs. Percy gasped in surprise. The world whirred out of view around her. Nausea rolled in her stomach. Then—

Her feet tripped over air. Percy stumbled, reaching blindly for the arm of the nereid who’d brought her — only to find that she was gone.

Percy looked around. She was still underwater — in Atlantis if her assumptions were correct. She peeked through the window and saw construction near her, building another wing of the new palace. She was in a hall; in front of her were tall, grand doors decorated with ornate images of brief tales. One of them was just barely open, enough to let light from the other room filter into the hall Percy stood in. Soft, muffled voices came from the other side of the doors. 

Curiosity rose in her chest. Percy inched closer to the door, listening for the words coming from the voices.

“—is madness, father! No one’s ever succeeded in this quest before. And the other Olympians! They’d—”

“Perseas,” a familiar voice greeted warmly, cutting off whoever it was that had been speaking. Percy startled, sheepishly poking her head through the door that led into what appeared to be a throne room.

The room had gone silent. Inside, her father lounged on a grand throne. On his left was a sleeker, smaller one where his wife, Amphitrite, sat. Another throne was on his other side, decorated as a mix of Poseidon’s and Amphitrite’s. Percy assumed it belonged to Triton. He stood off to the side, near Thanatos and Eros.

Triton, she noticed, didn’t appear all that happy to see her. A bitter scowl lay on his face and a sharp glower directed at her. Percy decided it’d be best to ignore him.

Eros’ face took on a bored smile, a turbulent look hidden behind the blood red of his irises. Percy nodded at him, ignoring the sweat on her palms. She’d only met Eros once before, and she hadn’t ever wanted to after that. Eros just tended to seem a bit… unnerving.

Percy’s gaze slid to Poseidon’s expectant look. She entered the room fully, trying to keep still as she greeted her father. Poseidon smiled in return. His expression seemed lighter, far less stressed than it’d been when he’d come to her apartment to wish her a happy birthday earlier that day.

“So which god are we putting our lives on the line to hide you from?” Triton asked loudly, his stare piercing and suspicious. Poseidon’s hand tightened on one of the arms of his throne like this was something that had been happening before she came here.

Percy forced a smile on her face, swallowing thickly. Her gaze slid to her father’s, silently asking what she was supposed to say. Triton scoffed in the background.

“Triton and I have agreed to help protect you on this rather ambitious quest of yours, Perseas,” Amphitrite spoke up, ignoring the distasteful expression on her son’s face. “Even if we do have a few concerns due to the vagueness of Poseidon’s proposition.” Her face contorted in a way that said everything Percy needed to know about how she actually felt about this quest.

“Thank you, Lady Amphitrite,” Percy said quietly. She’d never been one for titles, especially considering the first impression she’d gotten with Amphitrite and Triton. Still, she decided to putting her pride aside for the situation at hand was probably the best thing to do at the moment.

“I, too, will offer up my protection in exchange for a favor,” Eros announced, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. Apprehension rose up in her stomach. She smiled warily.

“What kind of favor?” Percy asked, shifting awkwardly on her feet. Eros shrugged.

“I’ll decide that when the time comes,” he said vaguely. It didn’t make Percy feel any better. “And, of course, I won’t tell anyone who Thanatos’ true soulmate is,” he added like it was an afterthought. Eros winked at Thanatos, a conspiratorial grin curling on his lips. Percy laughed nervously.

“Great,” she said, nodding quickly. 

The room was silent for a moment, expecting. Thanatos didn’t say anything, instead choosing to direct his gaze to Poseidon. 

“After we’ve settled everything, we should talk later so we can get everything settled before you set off,” Poseidon explained. Percy nodded again, feeling slightly like a bobblehead with how utterly useless her contributions to the conversation were at the moment.

The prophecy Rachel told swirled in the back of her mind, the words mixing and blurring together to the point that she almost couldn’t remember it. And yet, every time she thought back to the words, they formed into the exact prophecy, as if the Fates were forcing her to remember it. She swallowed, taking a shuddering breath.

Fate always wins , the oracle had said. The prophecy hadn’t even read like a prophecy. Instead, it read more like a message.

But heed this warning .

Or that — a warning. The prophecy didn’t read like a prophecy. Instead, it read like a warning.

Percy clenched her fists. The water around her seemed to grow restless as if responding to her tumultuous emotions. Nausea curled in her gut. She was sure that if these unanswered questions with no plan went on for any longer, she might throw up.

Every other quest had never been like this, had never been so… still . They’d all been sewn with adrenaline, never enough time for a break, never enough time for her thoughts to whir until she felt like her head was about to explode.

Even on the Argo, there’d never been a truly dull moment. Always, she’d had something to busy herself with instead of worrying over what was going to happen next, what they were going to do, how they were going to do it, how little they knew—

“Percy? Did you hear anything I just said?” Poseidon asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Percy’s head snapped up in surprise. She had wrapped her arms around herself like a shield, nails digging into her forearms as she tried to breathe, breathe, breathe. Everyone was staring at her. Even Triton seemed mildly concerned, his brows furrowed, and his body leaned in her direction like he thought she was about to drop unconscious at any given moment.

“Yeah- no,” Percy answered, her voice slightly breathless. She hadn’t even realized he’d been talking. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Are you alright?” Poseidon asked instead of answering, a frown marring his features. “Did something happen while I was gone?”

Percy winced. That didn’t seem to calm Poseidon’s nerves at all. If anything, he only seemed to grow more alarmed.

“There was… um- Rachel — the Oracle, you know who I’m talking about — she gave a prophecy… sort of,” Percy mumbled. Triton blanched, and Poseidon cursed quietly under his breath. Percy winced, fiddling with her fingers sheepishly.

“You didn’t think to bring this up earlier?” Eros demanded, a blazing light making his eyes glow like two blood moons. Percy stiffened, scowling defensively.

“Well, I got a little sidetracked, okay?” she snapped, glowering at him. Eros glared back, unperturbed. 

Before Eros could spit out another retort, Amphitrite raised her hand and calmly asked, “What did the prophecy say, Perseas?”

Percy shifted on her feet. She swallowed and repeated the prophecy, word for word what Rachel had said earlier. And again, she got that same feeling that the “prophecy” wasn’t really a prophecy but a warning.

The expressions of the gods around her were troubled, uneasy as they took in the prophecy.

Triton frowned at Percy, his eyes stormy with an indecipherable look. “Is it just me, or did that prophecy sound a lot like—”

“—a warning?” Percy finished for him, her eyes bright. Triton nodded, though her confirmation didn’t seem to comfort him. “That’s what I was thinking. I just… wasn’t sure what it was trying to warn me of.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eros interjected, “ ‘Fates always wins’ ? They’re saying your quest is futile, Jackson. You’ll fail.”

“Prophecies are never obvious,” Thanatos argued, “For all we know, it could be referring to the eventual conversation Perseus will have to have with the Fates soon if she wants to be assigned the quest at all. We don’t know what they’ll say. The prophecy might be referring to whatever they’ll tell her.”

“Or it could be saying that she’ll fail,” Triton said, crossing his arms over his chest. “That is the most obvious answer.”

“When do prophecies ever imply the most obvious answer?” Poseidon challenged, leaning forward on his throne.

“If we keep arguing about this, we’re just going to go in circles,” Amphitrite snapped, “We don’t even know what half of those lines mean. Worrying about them right now is useless. Perseas doesn’t even know the requirements of the quest she’s so determined to go on. Why don’t we start with getting her that information before stressing over the prophecy?”

Triton grumbled something under his breath but otherwise, there were no other protests as Poseidon turned to Percy, his expression solemn and serious. She picked at her nails, trying to ignore the curl of apprehension in her belly. Was the quest truly that dangerous?

“Are you familiar with the Labors of Hercules, Percy? The quest is a bit like that, but with three parts instead of twelve — usually. It depends on the Fates’ mood, and how quickly the Olympian Council can change the requirements after they catch wind of a hero trying to go through with the quest,” Poseidon explained. Percy nodded. That didn’t sound too bad. 

“These requirements aren’t like what you know of from Hercules’ labors, Percy,” Poseidon warned, “The last time someone tried this quest, they were required to defeat an Olympian god.”

“I’ve defeated an Olympian god,” Percy said in a slightly petulant voice. Triton rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t defeat an Olympian god. You stabbed an Olympian god in the foot while he was being half-mind-controlled, severely underestimating you while you two fought in your own damn territory, and you miraculously had a massive stroke of luck that got you that ‘win’,” Triton pointed out with a scoff. Percy scowled at him.

“I was talking about the other time,” she grumbled. The room went silent.

“ What other time?” Poseidon asked behind a mask of thin patience. Percy winced.

“Well- I mean, Hades doesn’t actually count. He wasn’t technically on the Council when I fought him…” she trailed off. Her expression turned sheepish when Poseidon put his head in his hands and muttered every curse in Ancient Greek that Percy could recognize — and then some.

“Remind me again how you’re still alive?” Eros asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Percy found that she did not have an answer to that question.

“We’re getting sidetracked again,” Thanatos said lightly. He didn’t seem to have much of a reaction to her admission. Realistically, he had probably already known it happened.

Poseidon was still ignoring them in favor of regretting every decision he’d ever had that remotely related to the Jacksons as he wallowed in his own misery. 

Amphitrite was the one who spoke up instead, her eyes gleaming with a newfound interest in Percy as she spoke, “Though the details of the quest have always been decided by the Fates, yours will probably be include something to represent Hera, goddess of marriage and the soulbond. Two, something to represent Zeus, god of fate and destiny. Or perhaps, Aphrodite, goddess of love. Three, something to represent the specific intent of the quest. For you, it will most likely be something representing whoever your soulmate is. There’s different levels to the quest, different requirements depending on what the intent of the quest is, who’s doing it, and a whole host of other things.”

“Python,” Triton blurted out suddenly, a burning realization filling his eyes as he straightened. Percy’s stomach sunk. He wheeled towards Percy, all manner of distaste towards her forgotten as he stared with wide, disbelieving eyes. “ Python ,” he repeated again, the realization turning to a statement of utter pity and sympathy. 

Percy looked down, staring at her hands. Again, the water curled around her skin like a soft caress, comforting her as anxiety rose in her throat.

“Dear gods,” Eros muttered, rubbing his hands down his face. “Now, I understand why you’re going through all this to break the bond. I wouldn’t want to be his soulmate either– OW! I was just kidding,” Eros said indignantly, rubbing his side where Triton had elbowed him.

Percy couldn’t even bring herself to smile. Her mood had dropped, the secret revealed making her feel vulnerable and exposed. She just wanted the bond gone as soon as possible so she could move on with her life without any more involvement or meddling from immortal deities.

“How are you going to deal with such backlash after he eventually finds out?” Amphitrite asked, tilting his head to the side. Percy bit her lip nervously. She hadn’t considered that part.

You still have the rest of your life after all this is over to worry about if you succeed, Poseidon had warned earlier that day. She hadn’t taken the comment to heart, but now it seemed to weigh on her like an added chain, tying her down just like the stupid soulbond. 

“Perseas?” Thanatos said, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you open to walking with me for a bit? We could all use a quick breather. Afterward, we can go back to planning for our next move on this.”

Our , Percy couldn’t help but notice. He said it like this was a burden they’d all bear. Despite everything, she had to purse her lips to hide the small smile of relief that wanted to bloom at that thought.

Poseidon frowned at Thanatos but didn’t say anything as Percy and he left the throne room for the undersea garden outside.

The garden was filled with coral of all colors, brightening up the dark area with bright rainbows of light. Bioluminescence glowed off the rocks that bordered the path they walked. Tall plants climbed up the garden, so far up that Percy could barely see the end of it. Little fish swam in between the coral and throughout the garden. At first, Percy was worried they’d eavesdrop on whatever Thanatos wanted to talk about, but they left the garden as soon as the pair neared them on the path, giving them a wide amount of room.

“How well do you know Apollo?” he asked, surprising her out of her thoughts. “I know you are on friendly terms with Hermes. Was it similar with him?” Percy tensed, glancing nervously above. Thanatos smiled. “They can’t hear us down here nor will they know of us speaking their names. Your father’s power prevents that.”

Percy nodded, but nervousness still settled inside her as they continued to walk.

“I’ve only spoken to him a couple times,” she answered. Where this conversation was going, she didn’t quite know. Percy just hoped it’d convince him to help her.

“Do you know anything of Apollo’s nature? His personality? What is your reason for not wanting to give him a chance? Do you love someone else?” he asked — rather bluntly, in Percy’s opinion. The questions were so abrupt and out of the blue that she almost got whiplash while registering all of them.

Her cheeks heated, and she shuffled on her feet. Words didn’t seem to come to her, didn’t seem to want to. Percy knew how she felt. Articulating it was what she struggled with.

“I just- no, I don’t know Apollo well enough to know how he acts. And I don’t love someone else,” Percy answered, her voice turning feeble near the end. There had never been someone. Not really, anyway. With everything that happened in her life, she supposed it had just never been the right time.

Thanatos’ head tilted to the side like he was trying to read between the lines of what she said and what she didn’t say at all.

Percy fiddled with her fingers. It felt as if ants crawled along her skin, goosebumps left in their wake.

“Then why exactly do you hesitate in giving him a chance?” Thanatos asked, his voice soft in the quiet of the garden. Gentle, as if he didn’t want to disturb the tenuous peace in the room. 

“It’s complicated,” she answered. A flimsy excuse at best. But yet again, Percy found herself unable to force the words out, trapped in her throat. 

Thanatos didn’t answer back, waiting expectantly for more, and Percy wasn’t an idiot. She knew that, despite whatever debt Thanatos may owe her, crossing Apollo of all gods wasn’t the best idea. If she wanted to convince him, she needed a better excuse than the one she’d given.

“It’s just that…” she mumbled, a tumble of words pouring through her mind, articulating what she plainly refused to say.

It was just that Percy wanted a life with no meddling. She enjoyed having nothing and no one to tie her down, to prevent her from living the life she wanted to live. Perhaps she didn’t know what that life was yet, but she knew she wanted to be able to live it without fear of intervention or meddling from nosy, too-powerful-for-their-own-good gods. She didn’t want to suffer or be weak in the face of people she couldn’t fight.

What Percy truly wanted was to be free. Free from gods, from responsibility she wasn’t sure she knew how to bear, from people who only sought to control her.

And it didn’t matter how charming Apollo was, or how pretty his smile was, or how pure sunlight seemed to burn in his veins. If there was one thing she knew, it was that nothing good came from dating — let alone marrying — a god.

That freedom? That life without chains tying her down? Those things that Percy so desired, they’d all be washed away the moment she gave in to a life with him.

Percy opened her mouth to explain that, but the words still refused to leave her mouth.

“I see,” Thanatos said suddenly, jarring her out of that haze of thoughts that seemed to have overtaken her mind for a moment. “You don’t have to explain further, Perseas,” he said with a vague smile. Percy opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head.

“The sea does not like to be restrained, Perseas. I should have remembered that,” he looked towards her with that same vague smile and commented, “And as I still owe you a debt, I will help you break your soulbond.”

Chapter Text

Apollo's POV

On his desk was a shiny, rolled-up installment of The Hero Chronicles , a popular tabloid media in the Greek pantheon that released the latest so-called news on the demigods, heroes, and gods. Apollo frowned, picking it up and unrolling the magazine. Most tabloids stuck to releasing their news through electronic methods, but The Hero Chronicles had managed to keep their physical news methods relevant through additions in their magazines such as scents, magicked videos, and the like.

Though Apollo had always been one to gossip — I mean, could you blame him? He had to find something to talk about on the duller days of his immortal life — he didn’t often get his information through tabloids such as the one in his hands. He preferred getting his news directly and spreading the gossip himself. In Apollo’s personal opinion, that was much more entertaining.

Apollo tilted his head, reading the front page news printed in large, loud fonts with a peculiar image of Perseas Jackson and Thanatos blown up on the cover.

PERSEAS JACKSON WILL REPORTEDLY SET OUT ON INFAMOUS FATES’ QUEST TO BREAK BOND WITH SOULMATE, THANATOS

Apollo froze, his hands tightening on the magazine. Wandered around his office in his home on Olympus, he found the cushioned chair and sat down. His gaze flew across the front page, finding the page number it directed the full article to.

Perseas Jackson, daughter of Poseidon and twice-savior of Olympus, has recently turned eighteen and discovered the identity of her long-anticipated soulmate. In a case of severe irony, the notorious hero famous for her contempt of the gods ended up with one as her soulmate. More specifically, Perseas’ fated love is the god of death himself, Thanatos.

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, our trusted sources claim to have seen Perseas’ father, Poseidon, informing his daughter of the infamous Fates’ Quest, as confirmed by Poseidon’s heir himself. 

A long-forgotten quest, this is. Because of the power it risked stripping from the Olympians, even temporarily and only for one instance, the Council has sought throughout the years to make the quest more and more difficult. For those who don’t remember, this quest is one in which a hero can seek direct council with the Fates, effectively overriding any decision made by the Olympian Council on whatever topic they seek council for. 

According to the information reported by Prince Triton, Perseas intends to use the quest to break the soulbond between her and Thanatos.

The article went on into more inane, useless details about the previous relationship between Thanatos and Perseas, waxing poetic and overdramatizing things that had happened in the brief history between them. Perseas had practically swooned when she saw him the first time, the article read. He’d been cloaked in darkness with chains around his wrists and ankles, rippling muscles on display and an air of charming mystery to him…

Apollo snorted, throwing the magazine back onto his desk. He let the amusement pass through him, rolling his neck with a sigh. Emotions warred within him, and Apollo sat there, unsure what he was feeling.

Perseas’ fated love is the god of death himself, Thanatos.

The words kept repeating over and over in his head. He didn’t know quite how he felt about it, if he cared at all. Throughout the years since Perseas’ identity had been revealed to the pantheon, Apollo had his own suspicions about her soulmate.

Whether she was his, to be specific.

As if on instinct, his hand strayed to the words imprinted on his chest, below his heart, tracing the left breast.

Loyalty above all. Forever loyal. Loyalty without condition. Faithful under every circumstance.

It translated to many things in any language, but it all narrowed down to the same theme: loyalty. 

And of course, Perseas’ fatal flaw was personal loyalty. So, he had just thought—

Not thought, but hoped. He had hoped against every other odd that he finally found his soulmate, that he had found the person that would fill the dark, empty hollowness inside him.

Apollo’s eyes drifted to the magazine once more, the front page cover, the efforts Perseas would put forth if it meant she’d be rid of the soulbond, of any possible connection so personal and intimate with a god. His lips quirked.

He shoved down the ache at another lost lead. A surge of pity for Thanatos rose in him. The god had always been rather peculiar and a bit of an outcast in most situations, similar to that of his master, but he was fair above all, and he was understanding when many wouldn’t be.

But most of all, there was relief. A bone-deep relief that he didn’t have Perseas as his soulmate, not when she’d go to such great lengths to break the bond. Not ignore it, not move on without dealing with it, but break it, severing any possibility of a love blessed by Fate, protected by the purest of divine magic.

Apollo shuddered at the thought. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was in Thanatos’ shoes. If he’d let her go on this quest or if he’d intervene, shackle her to him and never let her go. If he’d let the perpetual ache inside him that never left get the best of him, let sheer desperation take over and return to methods he’d sworn he’d never resort to again.

He pitied Thanatos. He really did. But his relief at it not being him was what made him stand up, made him cast a dismissive glance at the magazine on his desk. It was his stark relief that made him leave his office and go on with his day, utterly uncaring once more.

All throughout the heart of Olympus where Apollo had chosen to spend his day, everyone was talking about Perseas, Thanatos, and the quest she seemed determined to go on. Apollo was dragged into many conversations about it; people wanted to know what he thought, wanted to know what he knew about it. 

In truth, Apollo knew next to nothing about Perseas, nothing that one of his forms hadn’t witnessed with their own eyes. Poseidon, overbearing and protective of his only mortal child (loath as the sea god was to admit it), had used thick magic to block her from godly sight once she began growing more prominent in her quests to the point that only Zeus, Hades, and a select few other gods could actually see her other than Poseidon himself.

It irritated him more than he cared to admit. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. Hades’ and Poseidon’s mortal children were commonly blocked from his Sight unless in the most dire of situations, but that didn’t mean he didn’t dislike it. The very thought that there was some knowledge, no matter how inane, blocked from him when knowledge was his very domain dragged up old rage in him, a festering thing dulled by years of exposure to it.

Apollo shook his head, trying to force the intrusive thoughts about her from his mind. And yet, he kept straying back to the topic, mind rushing with information that he’d amassed over the years as he tried to put the puzzle pieces together since he couldn’t just know it like he usually could.

Expect the pieces didn’t all fit together. It didn’t all fall into place like it should. Everything had an explanation. Everything had a reason. Everything was connected in some way or another. 

But this wasn’t. It didn’t all make sense like it should’ve.

Why wouldn’t she just take it straight to the Olympian Council? For all their faults, soulbonds between gods and mortals have always been judged fairly and with as little bias as possible. And they were all judged, all debated on. The only ones possibly exempt from the judgment were soulbonds between an Olympian and a mortal because of inherent biases that most wouldn’t be able to shake, but if her soulmate was Thanatos then why would she feel the need to go on this quest in the first place?

His mind rushed with explanations, but with every explanation came another counter-argument.

It could be her contempt of the Olympians, but if her father was willing to tell her of such a dangerous quest then why wouldn’t he tell her of her chances of being able to bring it before the Council and be done with it?

More and more explanations rushed into his mind. With every since one came another argument against it.

By the time he reached the cafe Hermes had decided they’d meet at, Apollo’s head had begun to hurt with all the holes in the story given from The Hero Chronicles . Of course, there was the condition that it was still a tabloid that all his information was coming from so he didn’t actually know if his information was 100% accurate.

Hermes sat at one of the tables outside the cafe, fenced in by a shimmering, translucent half-wall and a glittering gate. 

There was a giggling nymph sitting on his lap, toying with locks of his dirty blonde hair. She flushed when Hermes traced down her jaw and to her collarbone with the tip of his nose and a featherlight touch of his lips, planting a light kiss there. Apollo raised his eyebrows, reaching the table and plopping down in the seat across from them. Loudly.

The nymph’s eyes widened, and her face burned at the suggestive glance Apollo threw their way. Hermes scowled at him, but whispered something in her ear and shooed her off. She fled quickly after that, her face so red with embarrassment that Apollo almost felt bad.

Hermes leaned back in his seat, languishing across it like a lazy cat, and glowered at him. “Was that necessary?” he asked, leaning his head back and stretching out his long limbs. Apollo smirked at him. He craned his neck and saw the pretty nymph watching them from behind a bush. Apollo winked at her. 

A dull pain shot up his ankle and jerked, turning to glare at Hermes. 

“I was just looking,” he grumbled, rubbing his ankle. Hermes rolled his eyes, leaning back. 

“What’s up with you?” Hermes asked then, taking a sip of his drink. “You looked completely out of it coming here. Someone reject you?” he said, mock-pouting at Apollo.

He flipped him off, rubbing a hand down his face. Apollo didn’t answer at first, trying to think of how he’d explain it.

Eventually, his curiosity and confusion grew until it consumed his entire expression. He blurted out, “Why wouldn’t she just take the case straight to the Council? It doesn’t add up.”

For a moment, all Hermes did was stare. Then he nodded slowly and placed his drink down on the table between them. The teasing look was gone from his face. The subject shouldn’t have been as serious as his reaction suggested it to be though.

There was a gleam in his eyes, assessing and calculating. Even though Hermes’ relationship with Perseas could be described as friendly acquaintances at best, he still knew her better than most other gods.

“She’s not exactly fond of most of the Olympians, and frankly, the feeling’s quite mutual among them,” Hermes said, flicking a piece of invisible lint off his shoulder. Apollo felt his irritation flare. He knew that, but he’d already ruled that possibility out.

Apollo expressed as much to his brother, feeling his mood sour. The more time he spent thinking about it, the more he kept going over and over in his head about how little sense it made.

“I think you’re overthinking it,” Hermes drawled, his voice slightly amused. “And besides, does it really matter at this point? She’s about to go on a quest that’s doomed from all sides, a quest she’s bound to die on. Is that not the more pressing matter?”

“Let Poseidon fret over that,” Apollo said dismissively. He was more concerned with what they were hiding than the quest itself, not so much the wellbeing of the woman who’d carried the sky on her back, defeated the Titan Lord, walked through Tartarus and somehow emerged sane. If there was anyone who could survive such a quest as the one she was about to go on, it was Perseas Jackson.

Of course, that wouldn’t actually matter to Hermes because his fool of a brother was unnecessarily fond of her.

“I just hope she knows what she’s getting into,” Hermes said with a frown, swiftly ignoring the unimpressed look Apollo threw his way. “Thanatos hasn’t ever been one to meddle, but Eros loves doing it and takes any excuse he can to do so. These kinds of quests usually regard spoils as requirements, and you know how tricky those can get. If Eros ever tried to ‘help’ her, he might land the killing blow on whatever monster they task her with and claim the spoil for himself—”

“Did you really ask to meet so you could waste my time fretting over Jackson?” Apollo said, swallowing a groan. “Why did you ask to meet me here, Hermes? You’re so swamped with work that I find it a miracle you were able to make time for this at all.”

Hermes shrugged. His posture was relaxed as ever, but Apollo knew him well enough that he could tell something was bothering him. What it was, he still wasn’t sure.

“Apollo, no one has ever succeeded in this quest before, you realize that? No one’s ever even survived it.”

“You called me here to vent about your concerns regarding Perseas’ quest?” Apollo deadpanned. Normally, he wouldn’t be so brash, especially when it came to situations such as these, but his mood was sour and his patience was short today. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take regarding Perseas and her ridiculous quest.

“I called you here to ask you a favor,” Hermes corrected with a roll of his eyes, and Apollo’s stomach sank. The dots connected immediately after that. He scoffed, looking away.

“No,” he snapped, “I refuse. I’m not dealing with that, not with everything else I have on my plate.”

All of the Olympians had been swamped with extra work because of the damage caused by the two wars. Hermes had been hit the hardest. Apollo was sure that, in the last year, Hermes hadn’t gotten a single break until now. Looking closer at his brother, he looked genuinely exhausted, something that was usually rare for gods.

“Apollo,” Hermes began, and he hated how much it sounded like his brother was pleading. “I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking that you pop down to wherever she is on her quest every so often to make sure she’s still alive and guide her along the way. You know I’d do it myself if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been spreading myself so thin these last few years that Father almost had to drag me back himself once.”

Apollo winced at the memory, the sheer panic that had spread because of it. Hermes split himself into so many different versions to get his work done on time that he’d almost lost the tether to himself entirely. It wasn’t too serious most of the time, but after the two wars, their issue with their split personalities, and still healing from both wars, it could’ve turned into something worse.

Zeus had been livid after it happened and had assigned so many assistants to Hermes that his brother practically had his own small army, much to Hermes’ utter glee. And yet, it still wasn’t enough to prevent him from having to work constantly.

Apollo thought more about what Hermes was asking. It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious about what was really going on with this quest and the situation surrounding it. And it couldn’t hurt, realistically. He’d just check in on her every so often on her quest to make sure she was still breathing and get personal insight on what was really going on.

Apollo let out a loud sigh. Hermes smothered his elated grin, relaxing his features until they were a small smile, careful not to ruin his image. Apollo rolled his eyes but found himself smiling back.

Eventually, the two split and Apollo bid Hermes a swift goodbye. He had split himself so other versions were completing his duties. Apollo decided that, without anything to do, he’d pay a visit to his youngest son in Camp Half-Blood, to wish him a happy birthday.

And perhaps, it was also because Apollo was just a tad curious about Perseas’ feelings on the whole… debacle getting out.

Apollo rolled his neck, sighing through his nose as he let a tendril of his power curl around his body. Light burned against his closed eyelids as he landed right outside the camp’s borders.

Even outside the magic border, Apollo could sense a thick tension within the camp. It seemed quieter than it usually was, like the camp was holding its breath. He frowned, allowing light to bend through and around his body until it cloaked him from sight, completely invisible. 

The ground crunched below his feet as he wandered into the camp, careful of the large Peleus and the watchful guards patrolling the border. With a twitch of his fingers, the sounds of his footsteps dulled until they were completely muted, unnaturally so.

There were many perks that came with being able to wield sound and silence to your will.

As Apollo neared the hearth of the camp, he felt the warmth and comfort from Hestia’s divine power, wrapping around him like a hug. He relaxed his limbs, slowly allowing himself to shift into a different form, into sunlight that beat down over the vast camp. His power spread so thin that neither Hestia or Dionysus could sense him instinctively.

Apollo found that similar to Olympus, everyone was talking about Perseas’ quest and her soulbond to Thanatos. 

With a quick sweep of his power, Apollo figured out rather quickly that Perseas was not currently at the camp. Realistically, she could’ve been with her father, but she was more likely at home with her mother, breaking the news to her.

Talk of Perseas’ quest didn’t stop no matter where he went, where he looked. It seemed they’d gotten most of their news from tabloids, similar to everyone on Olympus as well. After the wars, the tabloids started being delivered to the camps as well to increase revenue. It became so profitable that most companies marketed to the demigods as well as the main kingdoms.

After concluding that the demigods had no more knowledge on the situation than he did, Apollo headed silently for his cabin where he found his youngest son. A quick happy birthday and a small gift later, Apollo headed for the Big House. Chiron and perhaps Dionysus would surely have more insight on the situation than he did.

They did not, in fact, seem to have any more insight than Apollo. On the contrary, they seemed to have less.

“—no way she’ll make it out alive,” Chiron said, rubbing his temples. Stress pulled his features taut as he spoke animatedly to a bored Dionysus. “She should’ve at least come to me with the quest first so I could prepare her! When is she even leaving? Soon, most likely. If she wants to get ahead of her soulmate, she’ll need to leave as soon as possible, but what if—”

“Who cares about those details?” Dionysus interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “The girl is a fool for even considering it. Might as well tell the campers to begin preparing and decorating her burial shroud for when her father returns with her corpse.”

Chiron glowered at Dionysus, going back to his loud pacing and anxious muttering, so quiet that Apollo wasn’t sure Dionysus could even hear what he was saying.

Shouting erupted outside. Apollo whipped around, heading for the commotion. 

Along the border of the camp, a group of demigods were surrounding a tall figure. Apollo didn’t have to reach out with his power to know who it was.

Closer, he went to see just what the demigods would say to Perseas now that she’d returned from wherever she had gone off to.

“—believe we’re only finding out about this now! It’s been what? Two days since your birthday? You should’ve said something sooner!” he heard one of them say — Annabeth Chase, he recognized from her voice.

“I had to take care of some things—”

“I can’t believe you spent hours with us on your birthday and never once thought to mention it—”

“Well, I just—”

“OKAY,” Jason Grace said loudly, startling the group. He spread his arms out, pushing campers out of the way and trying to clear space for Perseas. “Why don’t we let her breathe, alright? You guys can interrogate her later.”

Perseas gave him a grateful smile, sticking close as Jupiter’s son led her to the Big House. Annabeth Chase and the rest of the Seven soon followed. Anyone else that tried to follow was given a sharp glare until they backed off.

Apollo watched as the group piled into the Big House, keeping a careful distance lest Dionysus or Chiron sense his presence.

The moment Perseas entered the Big House, all chatter ceased, and Chiron straightened, moving towards them. He opened his mouth to say something when Dionysus interrupted, drawling, “You’re a damned fool, Persephone Jackson.”

For a moment, Perseas’ expression turned incredulous. Then, she stuttered out, “ Persephone? How does that even make sen– you know what? I don’t even care anymore.”

Apollo’s lips twitched, and he chuckled to himself, prowling just a tad closer as Chiron stood up, a pointed look directed at Perseas. She cringed, giving him a sheepish smile. Chiron sighed and said, “I imagine it’s been a busy couple of days for you, Percy. We can speak of this later, but we will talk later.”

Perseas nodded hurriedly, giving him a grateful smile as Annabeth dragged her off to a living room area away from where Chiron and Dionysus lounged. The Seven piled into couches and sofas, and Perseas took a seat noticeably separate from the rest of the group. 

There was a loud, sudden chop chop chop of the hooves of a satyr as Grover Underwood burst into the room then. Perseas startled, turning wide eyes to the panting satyr. She swallowed thickly, shifting in her seat as Grover rambled on and on. He took a seat next to Annabeth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything earlier. I can’t believe your soulmate is- is Thanatos of all people. They couldn’t at least pick a mortal—”

He stopped suddenly, a peculiar frown gracing his face.

“Percy?” he began hesitantly. She looked up, biting her lip nervously. “Did something happen to the empath link? Because I- I can’t feel you at all—”

“What?” Annabeth said, her head whipping towards Perseas. The demigod cringed, curling in on herself as Annabeth’s eyes narrowed with a suspicious glare. Apollo frowned, reaching out with his powers to enter her mind—

And hit a vast wall of nothing.

That was odd. Even with the blocks that Poseidon had placed on his daughter to keep Apollo from watching her, he’d still been able to read her thoughts. The fact that he’d amped up the blocks to include even reading her thoughts only cemented his theory that something else was at play here.

As Perseas went on to explain what had happened over the last couple of days, he couldn’t tell if she was lying or telling the truth. He couldn’t even tell what she was feeling. It was as if she didn’t even exist.

“That morning, I spent a while talking to my dad. He helped me plan out this quest, and after the party ended later that afternoon, I went to go see him again below the sea—”

“You got to go to your father’s palace?” Jason said, and Apollo winced at the hint of envy in his voice. Perhaps if it was Zeus, he might’ve had the opportunity. Not with Jupiter though. Excellent king, Jupiter was. Not so much when it came to parenting.

Perseas nodded, toying with a stray thread on her couch. “Yeah… it wasn’t for anything fun though. I probably wouldn’t have been able to go if it weren’t for this whole soulmate thing.”

“Can we talk about that later?” Annabeth interrupted impatiently, gesturing for Percy to continue with her story.

Scrambling, Percy nodded and cleared her throat. “Right… well, not much after that. He got Triton to release the news of the quest to the press and sent me on my way. I’ve been with my mom ever since, trying to- um- comfort her.” 

The room went silent after that. In the Hero Chronicles article, it had mentioned that the quest hasn’t even once been achieved. Not once. Not a single time in history. Apollo winced at the reminder of how risky the quest was.

Hazel Levesque shifted in her seat and said, “Percy—”

“Don’t,” Perseas interrupted, her voice sharp and trembling. “I- I came here to give you guys an explanation, not for you to lecture me.”

“Is it worth the risk though?” Frank argued, getting up to pace the room. “You’ve been through enough, Percy. Can’t you get your father to make sure he doesn’t bother you?” She shrugged, looking down at her lap.

“It might not be enough,” she said quietly, “And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life shackled to some god. I- I can’t live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”

“What makes you think he won’t come after you even if you do succeed though?” Annabeth interjected. Apollo almost pitied the girl. Desperation leaked into her voice, and she sat at the edge of her seat, her fists clenched in her lap.

“We’ve already accounted for that,” Perseas said, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. “If I succeed, I can use part of my request to have the Fates use their power to prevent him from coming near me.” Apollo cringed. He couldn’t help but pity Thanatos after hearing Perseas’ solution, her resolve to succeed in this quest.

Jason rubbed a hand down his face. He seemed to come to the same conclusion as Apollo. “There’s really nothing we can do to change your mind?”

Perseas shook her head, straightening. He sighed.

“Alright,” Jason said, “Then when do you leave?”

“Tomorrow,” Perseas answered, much to her friends’ dismay. “I’ll be heading to the Underworld to seek the Fates’ council and request the quest. After that, I’ll be off.” Hazel looked away, blinking harshly. Apollo prowled closer, tilting his head as Perseas explained her plan.

Suddenly, the demigod froze, and her eyes widened. Perseas’ posture turned jittery, and her gaze darted around the room before—

Landing straight on Apollo.

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing as her face paled. Her hands trembled with the force she used to clench them. Annabeth leaned closer, concern etched on her tan face.

“Percy?” she said uncertainly. “Is there something wrong?”

But Perseas didn’t answer her. She only continued to stare at Apollo, but not quite. As if she knew he was there but couldn’t quite see him. Warily, Apollo backed up and spread his aura further. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as her fear turned to confusion, and she looked around the room again.

Perseas slumped in her seat, muttering an apology to her friends.

Apollo frowned. It wasn’t necessarily impossible that she could sense him. Her father might’ve gifted her the ability as an extra bit of protection before she went on the quest. Or perhaps her powers were just growing?

Whatever it was, it only made Apollo’s suspicions rise, and his resolve to find out just what Perseas was hiding about this quest grew stronger.

With a careful gait, Apollo left the Big House to check on his children, but he wasn’t quite focused on them, his mind continuing to stray to Perseas.

He would do as Hermes had requested, but he’d look closer, deeper. If only to satiate his curiosity.

Chapter Text

Bonus Scene

“She looks different,” Eros commented the moment the doors closed behind Thanatos and Perseas.

Poseidon didn’t say anything in response, his expression tired and contemplative. Amphitrite placed a hand over his, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. The sea god showed no outward reaction, but the turbulence of the water around them seemed to settle.

“I thought I was the only one who noticed,” Triton drawled, sprawling over his throne. He rubbed a hand down his face, staring at the doors. “She looks like—”

“An immortal?” Eros finished, a roguish grin tilting on his lips. His eyes gleamed like fresh blood, and a dark intrigue welled in his voice. 

No one agreed, but no one objected to the statement either. 

Poseidon, silent as ever, didn’t take the bait. He too agreed with Eros’ description, but he wasn’t about to say that to the group, especially not when he still wasn’t sure just what Eros’ intentions were. 

Poseidon had felt Perseas’ powers growing for a while now. He’d never dared comment on it, lest he attract the attention of the other gods to his daughter once more, but she always had to actively suppress it.

Sometimes, when rain poured down over New York, a dry ring would form around her, and the rain droplets would avoid her completely. 

Sometimes, the beach shore miles away would calm and rage with her emotions. 

Sometimes, storm clouds formed on a sunny day and faded on a rainy one depending on her mood. 

Sometimes, plants and animals would be drawn to her as if she were one of the forces of nature themselves, and they’d bring her little gifts in exchange for her soft smiles and cooing comments. 

Sometimes, people stared at her as she passed them, unable to pull their gazes away until she was out of view.

Most of the time, Perseas wasn’t even aware it was happening.

Poseidon hadn’t truly realized how much her powers had grown until he’d seen her in person. Her essence and aura reminded him of Persephone a bit in how the goddess lived. His precious daughter was a woman of earth and sea, shrouded in the embrace of Tartarus.

After millennia of siring mortal children, Poseidon had been confident that he could predict the paths the Fates would direct them on. 

But Perseas was divine power wrapped in mortal skin, ready to burst at any waking moment. Yet she was stubborn and loyal and passionate and so very human. Everything about her contradicted itself. Every time Poseidon thought he had figured out what her life’s path would be, it changed to something else. 

Now, with Apollo as her soulmate, Poseidon hadn’t the slightest clue what the Fates had planned for her.

All he could do was pray that her story didn’t end in tragedy like that of so many heroes before her.

A Deal With The Devil

Percy's POV

Percy would be leaving for the Underworld in a matter of hours.

She packed her things in a daze, grabbing random clothes and shoving them into a magicked bag that (hopefully) wouldn’t be lost throughout the quest. Her fingers stumbled over the cheap fabrics of her clothes, the routine she went through before every quest disarrayed and scatterbrained. 

Behind her, a flash of warmth hit her back. Percy stiffened, Riptide curled in her fingers not a moment later. Footsteps hit against her bedroom floor, uncaring and unbothered about at least trying to be subtle. Her skin pricked. It felt like her nerves were fraying as the figure neared.

She didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

It was like Camp Half-Blood yesterday; the feeling of an ancient ache in her chest, this sick hope that lodged in her throat and made it difficult to breathe, a longing that stuttered in her heart. Only now, the feeling was magnified to the point that it felt almost hard to breathe.

Percy’s hands clenched into fists, and she took a deep, calming breath. Again, again, again until her heart slowed and her vision stopped blurring and darkening with her increasing panic.

In. Out. In. Out.

“Perseas,” came the drawling sound of Apollo’s voice.

Gods, his voice . 

She didn’t remember it being so musical. Enchanting, almost. It reminded her uncannily of Piper’s charmspeak, but without that underlying instinct telling her something wasn’t right. If Apollo, who probably didn’t even have the ability, sounded like that, she dreaded the day she ever came face to face with Aphrodite and her charmspeak.

Percy tensed against the shiver that crawled down her spine. Then she nearly rolled her eyes because gods, could she be any more pathetic right now?

Forcing a casualness she didn’t feel into her voice, Percy deadpanned without turning around, “Apollo, is there a reason you’re in my bedroom, or are you just a creep?”

She swore she could hear his answering grin, and his deep chuckle that made her clench her fists tighter, repeating it’s just the soulbond, it’s just the soulbond over and over in her head. 

Percy has faced down gods, titans, giants, and even primordials. She would not be felled by some superficial soulbond created and cultivated by the damned Fates, not after everything they’ve put her through.

Somewhere, in the air around her and the sky above her, Percy could’ve sworn she heard a woman's enchanting laugh as her thoughts pushed her into motion, wheeling around with a look of intense dislike directed at—

Her mouth dried up, and when she opened her mouth to speak, no sound came out. Percy’s mind felt like it was in a daze, something now clouded her thoughts, and all she could think of, all she could focus on was Apollo.

Percy didn’t have an amazing memory, but she could recall perfectly well that Apollo had not seemed like… like this when she first met him, nor the few other times she saw him. Something about him was intense this time, but it was difficult to explain or put into words. 

Apollo was the sun personified, a million melodies crafting his voice and the knowledge of the world shaping the twisted blues of his eyes. His hair could’ve been woven from strands of pure gold. He looked carved from marble or forged from ancient flames.

“Uh,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely more than a sigh, unable to get anything else out. Something had gripped her heart and now squeezed it tight, held the most vulnerable, shadowed parts of her in a vice grip as Apollo, utterly unimpressed, raised an eyebrow at her.

“Alright, Perseas?” he asked in a humiliatingly amused voice. Percy swallowed, forcing some moisture back into her mouth. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she ducked her head, tried to reorganize her thoughts, forced her brain back into focus.

…what had she been focused on again?

Percy glanced around the room, a frown on her face. Then her gaze landed on the bag on her bed, clothes spread out around it.

Right.

That’s what she’d been doing.

“You look dazed,” Apollo spoke up again, taking a step closer. Instinctively, Percy took a step back. The backs of her legs hit her bed, and she gripped Riptide so tight that she could feel every ridge and curve of the pen.

Percy wasn’t afraid of Apollo. She really wasn’t, but being face to face with him while knowing the secret she bore… it dragged icy fear through her chest. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to prevent it from bubbling onto her face.

“What do you want?” she snapped. Her voice came out blessedly strong, impatience tinging it instead of anxiety.

Even then, Apollo could easily tell what she was feeling. His gaze traced every line of her face, her jaw, her neck, and back up. His lips quirked in a smirk like he knew what she was thinking.

Of course, Percy knew he didn’t actually know what she was thinking. He couldn’t. Poseidon had made sure of it.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t guess, but Percy hoped it’d take him a while to figure it out. Preferably when the quest was over, and she was free.

Apollo’s head tilted to the side. His eyes gleamed with curiosity and intrigue. There was this sort of hunger in his expression, an insatiable need for… what? Could he be feeling the same thing she was feeling? Or was it curiosity, a hunger for knowledge he felt entitled to?

“Your father and his companions may’ve chosen against it since they didn’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s common amongst the gods that we shift our appearances depending on the ages of who is looking upon us,” he said in a soft, almost sympathetic voice. “Youth have difficulty comprehending the fuller scale of our forms so we try to go for less intense versions. The demigods, as they grow older, see us enough that they don’t always notice the gradual change in our appearances, but I’d imagine that you would, considering your stark avoidance of us these past few years.”

An explanation, out of pity or a truce offer, for the emotions warring in her chest. Percy wondered if he realized that this… habit of the gods was most certainly not the only thing causing her reaction.

Still, she nodded, not quite looking at him. Her mouth was terribly dry, and she longed for some water. Percy didn’t want to give him that satisfaction though.

When she continued to stay silent, Apollo moved on, flitting around her room and trailing his fingers across various objects like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Her mirror, with photos of her friends, stuck on the edges. The old duffel bag that she used for swimming. Old things. Useless things, really. Percy didn’t see what was so interesting about them.

“My condolences,” he said in that same soft voice, as gentle as a lullaby. “For your unfortunate circumstances, Perseas, confusing as they are.”

Percy’s nervous jittering stilled, and a quiet panic overtook her mind. If it weren’t for his choice of words, she might’ve felt shame for snapping at him earlier, even if he had literally broken into her bedroom. It was just the way he spoke, diplomatic and understanding in a way that made her feel like she’d been overly emotional. He probably did it on purpose, knowing him

Still, she was mercifully able to keep that same bored quality to her voice as she said, “As much as I appreciate it, Apollo, I doubt that’s the only reason you’re here.”

In the back of her mind, there was already an inkling of what his true intentions were, but Percy wasn’t about to be the first to say them and give away her hand.

Apollo continued across the room, blandly curious as he picked up and put down every little knick-knack in her room. Percy’s heart was beating so fast that she knew her voice would come out breathless if she spoke again. That fact alone was the only reason she kept her tongue between her teeth and didn’t snap at him.

“It’s just odd. The framing of this quest is so peculiar,” Apollo went on, tilting his head to the side with a coaxing, enchanting smile. “Care to explain, Pereas?”

His voice had lowered to a sultry tone that did things to her heart that Percy did not appreciate. Apollo seemed to know exactly what kind of effect he was having on her, pushing off the wall he’d leaned on and prowling closer to her. Like she was prey.

Percy straightened her shoulders and looked the god of the sun dead in the eyes, deadpanning, “You can theorize all you want, Apollo. I’m not going to accommodate your boredom.”

There was a terrible glee that lit up his face then. Her refusal was the most amusing thing in the world to him, like he was a cat and she was a feather on a string for him to catch.

“Boredom?” he asked, leaning so close that she could see the hues and varied blues of his eyes. They weren’t one solid color, but a storm of the shade. “Am I not entitled to such knowledge?”

…and there it was.

“You’re not entitled to information about my personal life,” she snapped, her anger-tipped impatience clearing her mind as she turned her back on him once more.

“I’m the god of knowledge,” he pointed out. His breath felt hot against the nape of her neck. Percy hated with a burning passion how much her heart quickened, how much her breath hitched at the feeling of his closeness. In all fairness, she was pretty sure that was just because Apollo was really, really attractive.

Percy only scoffed in response, going back to her packing.

Apollo was quiet for a while, just watching her as if she was the most interesting thing in the world.

“How about I make you a deal then?” he said softly, and damn her but she really wanted to know what he meant by that. “If you answer three of my questions, I’ll get you a ride to the Underworld.”

“I already have one.”

Apollo’s eyebrows raised, but that was the only sign of a reaction on his part. His head tilted as his thoughts ran wild. She could see the way that calculating gleam burned in his eyes, threaded gold through the hues of blue there.

“Your audience with the Fates,” he said suddenly, lounging on her bed. He suddenly looked much smugger than he had a moment ago. Percy wanted to tell him to get off, but she was only willing to push a god so far before even her self-preservation made her shut up. “I can get it for you.”

Percy stilled, and against her better judgment she blurted out, “What do you mean?”

Apollo’s smile was one of victory as he let his head fall against her pillows. His eyes fluttered closed. Silent. He was going to stay silent. Percy’s jaw clenched as irritation flared inside her. So this was how it was going to be then?

Apollo clearly knew more about this quest than she did, and he wasn’t going to give up this information now that she’d revealed that she didn’t know as much as she let on. Percy was hoping this was a situation of Apollo simply being the god of knowledge and not Poseidon purposely letting her go on this quest without everything she needed to know.

“One question,” she said, the edges of desperation clawing at her heart. “One question in exchange for what you know about this quest.”

The god hummed consideringly. He reminded Percy starkly of a cat playing with its food then.

“‘Sure you don’t want to take my original offer of three questions? I’ll get you that audience with the Fates if you do.”

Her jaw clenched, and she raised her chin, looking him dead in the eyes.

“One question,” she said, more firmly this time. “Maybe I’ll reconsider after you’ve given me what I want.”

Apollo shrugged. There was still that stupid smile on his face. It took everything in her to not wipe it right off.

“Did you think you were going to get a meeting with the Fates simply because you traveled to the Underworld?” he asked innocently. Percy’s stomach sank, but she didn’t bother to interrupt him this time. “There have been countless heroes who traveled all the way there, only to be refused by the Fates when they got there. That, quite honestly, happens more often than the quest itself.”

“Thanks for the information,” she deadpanned, “Is there a reason that I can’t ask another god to get me that meeting, or did you just reveal your only hand?”

Apollo grinned like a shark, confident and untouchable as ever. “Now, why would I tell you that?”

He could’ve been bluffing. He probably was bluffing.

“Alright,” she said, more boldly than she felt. “Then don’t. I’ll contact my father and ask him to get me the meeting.” She made to get up when Apollo spoke again, sounding a little irritated.

“Did you honestly forget, girl?” he snarled impatiently, “Other gods aren’t allowed in another’s domain without their permission. And your father would never be allowed into the Underworld when the person whose heart you’re about to break is Hades’ heir. He’d never allow it.”

“Then I’ll ask Hermes.”

“Hermes is far too busy to waste his time helping you of all people.”

“Triton then. He’s the sea’s messenger. ‘Probably has similar privileges of traveling across all domains that Hermes has.”

“Not to the Underworld, he doesn’t.”

Percy didn’t bother to reply after that. He had her there, and she couldn’t think of anything else to argue. Apollo obviously knew more about this quest than her and Poseidon, and if the others knew more than the two of them, they hadn’t bothered to let on. Plus, he probably did have the most influence with the Fates out of anyone other than Zeus himself. Her best bet right now was to take what he offered before he increased his price.

“Three questions,” Percy said reluctantly, a sinking feeling of dread in her belly as she spoke. She was going to regret this. There was the very likely chance that he’d ask what she was hiding about the quest. What would she do when that happened? Could she just give a vague answer? 

Well, she could, but he’d probably incinerate her.

Apollo’s smirk set something off inside her, and it took all her self-control to not wipe it off his face as he sauntered closer. Gods, he was becoming more and more unlikable by the second. 

“Swear it,” he said, looking down at her. His smug smile was gone from his face. The air around them felt electric. Every time she took a breath, it hurt. The hairs on her arms stood on end as goosebumps trailed down her skin. Percy swallowed thickly.

If Percy didn’t figure out a way to stop getting flustered every time Apollo looked at her then she might as well tell him the truth right now.

“I- I swear on the River Styx that,” Percy paused, giving herself that one opportunity to back out. She wasn’t going to use it though. She needed to win this quest. She needed to keep her freedom. Besides, even if Apollo did find out, she could outrun him.

Maybe. Probably not. This was a bad idea. She really shouldn’t do it—

“I swear on the River Styx to answer your three questions if you tell me what you know about the quest and get me an audience with the Fates.”

Apollo’s smile was triumphant, and the gleam in his eyes settled the churning anxiety inside her as an idea wove its way through her mind. 

“The information first,” Percy said, crossing her arms over her chest. At ease, Apollo nodded with a light smile. The intensity that came from him earlier was completely gone. He seemed relieved, in fact.

“Well, as you now know, the Fates won’t give an audience to just anybody. Even the great heroes. Of course, you’re a favorite of theirs so they might be more lenient with you, but it usually takes a request from me or my father to get that audience.”

“So why didn’t my father know this?”

“Unless he was the parent of a hero going to the Fates, which he’s never been until now, none of the gods would have any interest in looking into why a mortal hero was seeking the help of a god. ‘Not like it’s uncommon anyway.”

“What about the parameters for what counts as help on the quest? Why are you able to help me get an audience with the Fates, but I can’t take any of my friends on the quest?”

“Well, for one, the quest hasn’t started yet so any help I give you until you get your audience is completely allowed. Second, it’s just the demigods that aren’t allowed to help. And of course, the others like them. The mortals, the legacies, etc. etc. Gods, on the other hand, can offer assistance. What do you think your father and his little minions are going to do?”

Percy’s stomach flipped, but she’d been part of this pantheon long enough to know there was always a catch. “If they’re allowed to help, are they also able to sabotage the quest?”

Apollo grinned. “You’re getting better at this,” he cooed, prowling closer.

“That’s what the protection is for,” Percy finished, swallowing. Well, it looked like this quest would be more challenging than she’d originally assumed.

Apollo hummed a confirmation, picking his nails. “If there is one thing you should always remember when it comes to our world, Perseas, it’s that our king is also the god of balance. When all else fails, remember that there’s always a counter to things established.”

Percy didn’t respond to that, but she tucked the knowledge away. It could come in handy later on.

“The Fates and their conditions are really quite simple,” Apollo went on to say. “The person who does the quest must be the one who delivers the metaphorical killing blow. If there is a monster to kill, they must make the blow that kills it. If there is an item to retrieve, they must be the one to grab it. Gods can help the journey, but the final moments of each victory lie on the person who takes on the quest.”

Percy nodded. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t sound so bad until you find out all the conditions the Olympians added. We can’t directly override a condition set by the Fates, but we can restrict it straight to Hades.”

“Great,” Percy muttered, rubbing a hand down her face. “That’s just peachy .”

“Speaking of Hades, you’d better be careful of him and his little lackeys too,” Apollo added with a smirk. “He won’t be happy that you’re breaking his poor heir’s heart.”

Percy’s head shot up and her eyes widened in panic. “But I have to go to the Underworld—”

“Exactly,” he interrupted cheerfully, “That’s why I’m telling you to be careful. You’ll have to find a way to get in unnoticed, which will be challenging considering it’s his domain.”

“How do I do that?”

Apollo looked down at her with a smirk. Percy resisted the urge to glare at him. He probably enjoyed knowing she hung on his every word, desperate for every little edge she could get on this quest.

“You’ll need to cut a deal with another Underworld god to get them to cover for you. Persephone, maybe. She always likes stirring up drama every now and then. There’s Hecate too, but she and Hades get along quite well now. Or—”

“I’ve got that part covered,” Percy said dismissively. She could just ask Thanatos to cover for her. Hopefully, Apollo wouldn’t find out. She’d have to find a way to meet with him and her father so she could get all this information to them.

“Alright,” Apollo said slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Percy waited for him to say more, but he seemed to be done. She frowned. “That’s it?”

“You never said I had to give it all to you now.” He smirked. If Percy wasn’t playing the same game with him, she would’ve punched him, power-to-incinerate-her be damned.

The room was quiet. Now, Apollo would be able to ask her whatever question he’d like. If she looked closely at him, she could just imagine all the possible questions running through his head. However annoying she found Apollo to be, he was no fool. 

Considering how Percy had reacted to him earlier, she assumed that the soulbond tended to make both sides more emotional around each other until they secured the bond. Even with Percy knowing about it and being able to reorient herself quickly, her reaction to him would still drum up suspicion were it not for the conclusion Apollo had drawn on his own.

With all that in mind, Percy doubted he was going easy on her. If anything, if he was feeling something remotely alike to what she was feeling, the likely conclusion was that Apollo was being sloppy because of the soulbond muddling his mind.

This… thing that the two of them had between them would make her quest a million times more difficult. The feelings that the soulbond invoked might be her only advantage right now, but she’d find a way to secure more as the quest went on.

Apollo’s head tilted slightly as he observed her. Every moment with his gaze on her lit up an indescribable heat beneath her skin. It was euphoric and set her heart thrashing against her ribcage, adrenaline coursing through her, passion and mystery tempting her dangerously.

When Apollo finally opened his mouth, his first question wasn’t at all what she was expecting.

“Are you lying about who your soulmate is?”

For one terrible moment, everything inside of her froze up. Her mind turned blank, and the word yes hung on the tip of her tongue. Percy looked at him and wanted nothing more than to spill her secret, to allow that ball of anxiety inside her to finally release as the truth was laid bare for both of them.

Then she came back to her senses. The moment lasted barely a second. Percy remembered the oath she’d sworn and thought of her exact words.

She never did swear to answer truthfully, did she?

Percy looked at the god of truth. Something inside of her shifted, and she couldn’t help the guilt that settled in her gut. Percy opened her mouth and lied, “No.”

Something between them broke then. The passive-aggressiveness lacing every one of Apollo’s actions, the fear within her own… it shattered with that one word.

Relief flooded her chest as Apollo believed it. And yet, there was something about his expression. Disappointment? It couldn’t have been that.

But as the smile he forced on his face filled his expression with something sharp and edged with an ancient longing, Percy couldn’t help but feel guilty for lying to him. 

She had no fondness for the gods but even when she first came to Camp Half-Blood, Apollo’s cabin had always been one of the largest because he had actually claimed his children. The few times she’d encountered Apollo, all he had done was help (or pester) her. During the meeting after the quest to save Artemis, he had voted to save her life. 

He had a lot to make up for with his children, who have still suffered because of his negligence.

But Apollo was still far from bad . Not cruel, or evil, or heartless. Self-absorbed, definitely. And selfish, vain, but good in more ways than most others like him. 

Apollo was no angel. He probably wasn’t even a good person, but he was far from hopeless in that department. 

His chest fell with a quiet sigh through his nose. Apollo cast his eyes downwards, away from Percy. If she wasn’t lying to him, Percy would’ve tried to comfort him in some way. 

“You know,” Apollo murmured sadly, breaking the silence at last. There was a visceral disappointment in his expression. Loneliness. Grief. Loss. 

Her breath hitched as his hand traced a burning trail down her cheek. The gesture felt mournful in the tense silence. “I could’ve sworn you were meant to be mine.”

Mine.

“I- I’m sorry,” Percy stammered, feeling more lame than ever. Sorry? She was lying to his face. She wasn’t sorry.

That was a lie. She was. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but flicker back to her newly sixteen-year-old self. The girl who had been filled with so much hope, who had been angry at the gods but so confident that they could change, that they could be better.

(“After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?”)

(“Yeah, I do.”)

Hope sparked in her chest; a match in a gasoline-filled haze. It was such a horrible time, but Percy couldn’t help but think of herself during the Titan War.

But then there was the Giant War; the gods playing them as if they were pawns. Because they didn’t care. How could they change if they didn’t even care?

Logic didn’t seem to sway her heart though, for the hope had spread so fast it was dizzying. Percy needed to separate herself from Apollo and his warmth, the way nature held its breath as he observed her, as the breeze stilled and the sun was a comfort against her skin.

There was something so tempting about the gods, about the glimpses of humanity they shoved beneath the surface of their immortality.

A knock sounded on the door. Apollo blinked, looking up at the door with a frown. Percy smothered a gasp as reality came crashing down.

“Percy? Are you ready? Your father’s here.”

Her mom was outside. Poseidon was waiting somewhere in the living room. Just the reminder of the two of them broke her from her emotion-filled haze. Percy stumbled backwards, shoving air down her throat as Apollo pulled away.

“You’ll get your audience, Perseas.” His voice was colder, blander. Like he was bored. Like he had lost all interest in her. “For now, get yourself to the Underworld. I’ll see you there.”

Just as Apollo flashed away, the door that was supposed to be locked burst open. Poseidon, utterly furious, stalked into the room, his trident glowing fiercely, the same color as the depths of the ocean’s deepest trenches.

“Dad,” Percy blurted out, “He’s gone. He’s gone.”

Poseidon’s eyes faded from the glow that had overtaken them. “What was he doing here?”

Percy opened her mouth to answer but found herself drawing blank. What had he been doing here?  To ask about the quest? To make a deal with her? Why?

What was Apollo up to?

Poseidon sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. You can fill me in later. Right now, you need to get to the sea. Use my gift. Set off to California the moment you get there.”

Percy nodded. After her talk with Apollo, going back to the quest felt daunting. Everything was mounting on her at the same time. So much to do, so much to get done, so much to prevent.

She raised her chin, drawing strength from the determination inside her. She could do this.

She had to.

Chapter Text

Poseidon’s POV

One of Hermes’ stupid little sidekicks was pestering him again, and if they didn’t stop talking he was going to eviscerate him.

And it would be so terribly inconvenient to deal with Hermes’ whining about Poseidon hurting one of his favorite pets. He could imagine the complaints in his head, the only encouragement against turning him into sea salt.

“If that’s everything, m’Lord—”

“Yes, it is. Go,” he said dismissively, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

It’s been a full day since Percy embarked on her quest. On her own with more experience and a driver’s license, she could move much faster, not to mention his gift to her for her birthday. Last he checked, she was a few states away from California.

It wouldn’t be long now.

There wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t want to stop her from going on this quest, but every rational part of him knew not to, knew that she would never be shackled to something she didn’t want to do. Whether she’d gotten it from him or her mother, Poseidon didn’t know.

With a sigh, Poseidon got up from his throne, taking a moment to appreciate the wonder and the ease of being in his oceans. The salt water grazed over his roughened skin, and the quiet hum of the sea lulled his irritable mood until he was relaxed enough to socialize.

There was a meeting on Olympus in ten minutes — the first one since Percy’s quest was announced. Triton had given him a warning that it had been changed. Zeus extended an invite to Hades and his entourage, allowing Poseidon to bring his own as well.

Most of their meetings tended to be on mundane things, catching up on what was going on in their realms, filling everyone in on the latest issues, and the like. It was a chore quite often, with most interesting gossip being deemed too ‘undignified’ for the Olympian throne room.

(Even if they did end up talking about the gossip anyway — during their more private meetings, of course.)

Poseidon wasn’t so foolish to think it was anything other than the news of his daughter’s soulmate. Other than a little gossip, the Olympians wouldn’t usually care who she ended up with, but it was a different story now that everyone knew she was bonded to a god, even more so since she’s trying to break it.

He was just glad they didn’t know it was Apollo. They’d already be planning the wedding if they did, he knew that for certain.

Amphitrite entered the throne room then, smiling commiseratingly at Poseidon. She took great joy from his current predicament, but there’d be no fooling around when they walked into this meeting. There’d be no chatter of the latest bills introduced, or the new complaints from the lords of insignificant territories.

No, they were about to walk into a meeting that could end with war if they weren’t careful.

“Ready?” Triton said, swimming into the throne room and transforming his tails into human legs. 

“Do I have a choice?” he retorted, trying not to sound like he was grumbling. Triton smirked, so he must’ve failed.

With one last longing look at his comfortable, quiet palace, Poseidon whisked the three of them off to Olympus where his family would be waiting.

Olympus was full of chatter and gossip when they arrived, and everyone stopped to stare at them as they followed the path leading to the throne room in the center of the main city. Wide-eyed nymphs followed indiscreetly after them, trying to listen for anything they might be saying. Minor gods hung around the entrance to the throne room. They weren’t allowed inside, but they had other ways to listen in on the Olympians’ meetings when they were restricted from access.

The doors to the throne room burst wide open, and Poseidon took his seat next to his younger brother, with Amphitrite and Triton sitting beside him. During meetings when Zeus allowed for Poseidon and Hades to bring their own families, the thrones were rearranged into three groups. Poseidon and his family along with the rest of the Atlantian royal court sat in thrones and seats on one side of the room. Hades and his entourage sat in another. The rest of the Olympians — or Zeus’ entourage, however one might say it — sat in the other.

The throne room went dead silent, everyone turning to stare at Poseidon like it was his fault his daughter ended up bonded to a freaking god.

Frankly, he didn’t understand why Aphrodite wasn’t getting more slack for this. She was the one who formed all the soulbonds in the first place—

Oh, fuck.

Does Aphrodite know we’re lying about my daughter’s soulmate? Poseidon sent the thought towards his wife and heir, waiting for their responses. From the way Triton’s shoulders stiffened, he interpreted that as a I-didn’t-think-of-that expression.

Aphrodite never openly spoke about that fact, about her unrestricted control over soulbonds. Most probably didn’t even remember that she controlled them, assuming that control over them had been transferred to the Fates. Even Poseidon forgot at times. He’d forgotten until now. 

It was a constant gripe between her and the Fates, since her soulbonds came before their existence, so they technically had no jurisdiction to control them.

Poseidon nearly shuddered as he thought of all the chaos that ensued in the past millennia or two because of soulbonds, how the Fates’ few direct interventions have almost always come because of the meddlesome trouble the soulbonds caused.

What do we do? Triton’s thought filled his mind, and Poseidon’s lips pursed.

They’d play it off for now. If Aphrodite wanted to tell Apollo the truth without an alternative motive, she would’ve done it ages ago. Hell, she probably would’ve told him the day Percy walked into Camp Half-Blood if that was her intention.

Play it off. If she wanted Apollo to know the truth, she would’ve told him by now.

What makes you think he doesn’t already know? Amphitrite’s panicked response sent his heart galloping. Was that possible? That Apollo perhaps knew the truth and was just pretending for some grand plan he had saved away?

Maybe that was why he’d visited Percy the day she set off for her quest. Maybe it hadn’t truly been to strike a deal but to—

“How are things in Atlantis, Poseidon?”

Hades’ voice rang through his panicked thoughts, and he looked up, the picture of ease as he raised an eyebrow at his older brother. He’d known Hades long enough that his tone sent warning bells off in his head. Hades didn’t know the truth, and to him the truth was that Percy was about to reject the soulbond of Thanatos — Hades’ heir — and bind him to an eternity without fated love.

His brother’s lips curled into a bland, bored smile, the one he made when he wanted everyone to know he was feeling the exact opposite of ‘bored’. Anticipation, excitement. Or perhaps rage; hateful, sneering rage.

Poseidon smiled boredly. “Running smoothly, as per usual,” he answered, trying to ignore the migraine that began to pound in his head. Thoughts burned in his mind, and he could feel everyone’s stares on him. This was why Poseidon hated coming to these meetings.

Hades didn’t speak for a while. Neither did anyone else. His expression was drawn in a carefully neutral face, meticulous in a way like it took every inch of his being to keep his mouth from curling into a sneer, to keep his eyes from narrowing into that glare that always made people shrink away in abject fear.

Even though it probably wasn’t great for him, Poseidon couldn’t help but be relieved when Hades got straight to the point after that.

“Has your daughter reached my kingdom yet?”

“She’ll be there soon enough.”

“Not if I kill her before she gets the chance.”

“That would be a bit counterproductive, no?”

Hades’ answering smile gave him all the information he needed. No. No, it would not be counterproductive. After all, Hades could control spirits like they were puppets on strings. Rage sparked in his chest. The very audacity of his brother to suggest doing such a thing to his daughter right in front of him—

Poseidon’s chest heaved with the adrenaline coursing through him, the near-blinding rage that only his brothers seemed capable of dragging out of him. This red, hot feeling that burned and burned and burned until it sapped all his energy. Fighting with them was so tiring.

His hands almost trembled, face almost contorted, lips curling, throat aching with the desire to scream. The only reason he didn’t react to the sheer rage he felt, the desire to wrap his hands around Hades’ throat and squeeze was because of millennia of carefully conducted control he managed over his own body.

To him, the rage inside his chest was a monster so vast and so powerful that it could drown the Earth.

To everyone else, he couldn’t have cared less about the comment, seemed amused by it, even.

Not to Hades though. Hades knew him in a way that, perhaps, none of them did. And when he looked in Poseidon’s eyes, he grinned and grinned and grinned because he knew he’d won this one.

The worst part was, this wasn’t even Hades’ fight. It wasn’t Hades’ heir that would be screwed over in the end. It didn’t have anything to do with him at all.

It was Zeus that’d be angered, Zeus that would rain down all hell when he discovered the truth.

But that was a bridge he’d burn when he came to it.

The other Olympians watched them like this was a tennis match, their eyes darting back and forth between the two brothers. Zeus looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Will you two quit your bickering?” Hera snapped before Poseidon could open his mouth to retort at Hades. “This is bigger than your little stare-off. That quest has been buried in obscurity for centuries. With the growing ire of the two camps, what is our plan for if they try to take it on as well?”

“It’s the most difficult quest around for a reason,” Artemis said dryly, sharpening one of her hunting daggers. “If they try it, they try it. The hype will die down when they realize that Perseas is, perhaps, the only demigod alive that stands a chance of accomplishing it.”

Poseidon would’ve laughed at the irony, but Artemis’ faith in Percy impressed even him. He knew that Artemis offered a spot with the Hunters to Percy, that she’d been declined. Even so, Percy never lost the goddess’ favor, and Artemis has been one of her steady supporters since they first met.

“That’s if she makes it at all,” and Poseidon couldn’t help but be surprised when he realized it was Hermes who said it. The expression on the messenger god’s face was solemn, the grip on his throne white-knucled.

“She won’t,” Aphrodite said in a sing-song voice, and Poseidon’s heart stuttered in his chest. “It’s never been done before.”

“Neither has a lot of things Perseas has done,” Artemis said, crossing her arms. 

“Are we really going to spend this meeting gossiping?” Hera snapped, “Like I said, there’s an important bit of information we’re not talking about. Maybe the girl succeeds. Maybe she doesn’t. What’s to stop her from doing the quest again if she does? What’s to stop her from using it to truly override our power and authority?” 

“You never should’ve told your daughter about that damned quest, Poseidon,” Hera hissed, leaning forward in her throne.

“Why did you tell her about the quest?” Athena spoke up. She turned her scrutinizing eyes on Poseidon, and he resisted the urge to glare back at her. To his amusement, Triton didn’t bother to hide his dislike of the goddess, letting out a near-snarl when he caught her expression like she’d uncovered something. “What makes you think we wouldn’t have broken it for her?”

“Nice to see how valued my kingdom’s spot is in your little council,” Hades drawled, but Athena ignored him, her eyes full of this hungry light they got when she thought she’d found a way to one-up her rival.

“Have you been vacationing for the last five years?” Poseidon said, ignoring Hades’ gripe. “Or did it simply slip your mind that over half the Olympian Council despises the ground my daughter walks on?”

Before Athena could retort, Triton joined the argument. “I think it’s time you think out your accusations before spitting them at people,” he said smoothly, a glint in his eyes as Athena turned a hateful glower on him.

Ares muffled a snicker into his hand, raising a challenging brow at Athena when she turned to him. Proud as all hell, the goddess nearly rose to her feet before Artemis tugged her down, shaking her head silently.

“You lot act like children,” Demeter said, pinching the bridge of her nose. From the center of the throne room, where their grandly decorated hearth sat, a soft voice let out a laugh that almost instinctively calmed the tensions rising high in the room

Even Athena couldn’t hide her smile. In the end, everyone in this room was family.

But that didn’t matter to Poseidon right now. Few grudges last forever when you’re immortal, but his daughter had precious few years left in her compared to the ones sitting in this throne room. In that moment, he would’ve drowned the entire Empire State Building if they decided to move against his daughter.

Mortals die moments after they live. Their lives are short and fleeting, and most of them are worthless in the grand scheme of the universe. In the end, his family would forgive him for any crimes he committed for Percy. Hating him for longer than a couple centuries would be too exhausting for most of them. Frankly, Poseidon didn’t know how Hades managed it.

But his daughter — his daughter could bottle up that grudge for the rest of her life, and it’d be the easiest thing in the world because she was mortal. The rest of her life wasn’t much longer.

Poseidon would rather his daughter die with at least a semi-positive image of him in her mind than stay consistently, infinitely loyal to a family that’s stabbed each other in the backs so many times that he was surprised they could all still walk.

Hades didn’t laugh along with the rest of the, continuing to stare balefully at Poseidon. Thanatos, standing off to the edge, had a stiff back and strained wings, the expression on his face so blank that he looked dead. 

“I won’t let this go, brother.” Hades’ voice was soft and quiet, and there was a stirring fury, resentment there. “I won’t see such an offense inflicted on my own heir.”

“I think we both know it’s not Thanatos that you’re doing this for,” Poseidon said with an aloof smile, taking a sick sort of joy in the way Hades’ eyes flashed with this dark, hateful rage — a thing that’s always there, always waiting to be set off. All it takes is pushing the right buttons and Hades’ anger bubbles up, ready to swallow up anyone in his way.

“Forgive me if I’m passionate about these fickle soulbonds,” Hades said softly, his eyes half-lidded and a tight, trembling grasp on the arms of his throne. “I’d think you’d understand considering your own predicament, brother. How is that one anyway? Has she been offed by a monster yet? I’d hate for her soul to just slip— “

Poseidon was up in moments, his trident filling the room with an eerie glow. Something dark and old and ancient swelled in his chest. It poisoned that crack in his chest that was nestled in his heart, tucked away for years and hidden away in the most vulnerable, ruined parts of his immortal soul.

Incandescent, blinding rage threw the sea into harsh and towering waves, slamming against their shores as storms clouded the clear skies. An ominous rumble shook through the throne room.

His hands trembled now. His face contorted now. His lips curled into that sneer now. His throat burned and burned and burned.

There were many things he could put up with, many things he could hold his anger for.

But this — his soulmate , that wasn’t one of those things.

Hades shouldn’t even know. The only reason he did was because of his very nerve to—

There was a warm hand on his shoulder, consoling and calming. The seas when the sun shone and the winds were cool and when everything was good, happy, okay. 

His anger didn’t abate. It didn’t cool or soften around its sharp edges.

But he couldn’t fall to his brother’s taunts now. Even when the other Olympians watched them with too sharp eyes, their minds rolling over the information Hades had divulged, a secret — a mere rumor — that he’d kept for so long.

Rarely did he ever let his family get to him that way. After so long of it, Poseidon had gotten a close reign on his anger.

Until now.

Staring into his brother’s eyes, reckless or not, he’d drown the Underworld if Hades so much as lifted a finger to hurt her.

“This meeting is adjourned,” Zeus said before anyone could speak up. “The last thing I need is a fight to clean up.” He waved a hand dismissively, rolling his eyes as he massaged his forehead.

“He’s not worth it,” Amphitrite hissed, “Focus on what’s important, Poseidon. He’s just trying to rile you. Angry or not, your brother would never hurt her.”

But he would. Poseidon knew he would. Because however many tantrums Zeus may throw, there were some lines his little brother would never cross.

The same couldn’t be said about Hades; vindictive, righteous, grudging Hades. One reason was all it took these days, with him so much more involved, so much more outright spiteful.

“Triton,” Poseidon said as they exited the throne room, side-eyeing Thanatos. “Alert my daughter of Hades’ ire. She needs to be on alert, lest he stops her before she can ever begin the quest.”

“It’s already been done.”

Poseidon stiffened, tightening his grip on his trident as he turned around, coming face to face with his nephew.

Apollo smiled cockily, removing his shades and throwing Poseidon’s son a gaudy wink. Triton nearly gagged, sneering at Apollo and stalking off with Amphitrite to leave the two alone.

“Has it?” Poseidon drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“I warned her when I went to see her,” he said cryptically, like he was holding back a smile.

“And why would you do that?” Poseidon said in that soft, wispy voice he made whenever he was holding back a tired sigh.

“I asked him to.”

Poseidon’s jaw clenched. Those two never could seem to stop nosing around in his business.

He looked at Hermes. Pain sparked in his jaw from how tightly he’d clenched it. Hermes, untouchable as ever, smiled benignly.

“Feeling better, Uncle?” he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?”

“Enough that you should know by now that I’m not going to.”

There was no point arguing with these two, especially when they were together. They always had something to say, something to retort with. Arguing with them without some sort of leverage was pointless. It was like arguing with a wall.

Hermes watched him carefully. “I don’t mean any harm, Uncle.” His voice was soft, sincere in that way that it rarely ever was. Hermes, cunning and secretive, always have some ulterior motive, some reason behind his words.

Not this time though. This was Percy they were talking about. And if there was one thing Poseidon could trust about Hermes, it was how much he cared about Percy.

That didn’t mean Poseidon trusted him, per se. If Hermes ever discovered the truth about Percy’s soulbond, his priorities would completely change. No matter how fond he was of his daughter, he’d never put her before Apollo.

Poseidon let out a breath through his nose, forcing his ire to go with it. “As much as I appreciate the concern you have for my daughter, Hermes, I think it’d be best that you keep your nose out of this quest. That goes for you too, Apollo.”

He leveled them with a blasé stare. The less gods poking their nose into this, the better.

“Of course,” Hermes said with a smile. In other words, he was going to continue to poke his nose into Percy’s quest, and all the oceans in all the worlds wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing so.

Poseidon’s eye twitched. Sometimes — only sometimes, when it wasn’t convenient for him — he despised his nephews.

The three departed ways, and Poseidon rushed towards where his lieutenant was waiting.

“I want spies on those two as soon as possible.”

Delphin gave him an incredulous stare.

“You can’t spy on Apollo and Hermes. Those are probably the only two Olympians that are impossible to spy on.”

“If I can hide Apollo’s own soulmate from him, I can damn well get a spy on him too,” Poseidon said, narrowing his eyes. “Now, Delphin.”

Delphin, in his human form currently, nodded with tight shoulders, leaving in a wisp of sea spray. He didn’t look happy about it though.

This shouldn’t be as difficult as it was. There shouldn’t be so many factors coming into play, so many gods trying to weigh in on something that wasn’t any of their business.

“They’ve gotten bored now that the wars are over,” Poseidon grumbled to himself as he stalked off. As appealing as Atlantis was, hiding out in his kingdom was only going to attract more suspicion. He’d be able to cool everyone off for a little while if he mingled, played nice with the Olympus locals.

Boutiques were gold and gleaming as he walked the marble white streets, a warm sunlight basking down on the kingdom. Nymphs and satyrs went about their duties, and he noticed Hebe flirting with some poor busboy she’d cornered during his break.

Speaking of, when was the last time he had a break? Probably not since Percy was born. That was too long, even for an old god like him.

This quest alone was causing him more stress than he could afford — usually, this kind of worrying was reserved for wars and world-toppling-pantheon-destroying-new-game-room-wrecking kind of threats.

Not this .

“Don’t try to fool me.”

It was expected, of course, that she’d approach him eventually. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been hoping for otherwise.

His face twitched. Aphrodite watched the movement with her beady little eyes and hungry expression.

Gods, he wanted to strangle her.

“I don’t have the energy for this conversation,” he deadpanned, trying to force strength he didn’t feel into his voice as he finally looked at her. It’s been long enough that Poseidon’s grown accustomed to Aphrodite's beauty, but that didn’t stop her from trying every now and again. It was only sheer spite that kept him from falling for the ruses now.

Her hair was long, a warm brown that cascaded down her back in soft waves. Smooth, tan skin and eyes a light blue, an innocent smile and—

He scowled. 

“Poseidon—”

“What precisely do you propose I’m fooling you with, ‘Dite? Please, share with the class.” This time, he didn’t bother keeping the snark out of his voice, straightening to his full height to glower down at her.

Aphrodite’s eyes sparked, and that smile on her face curled into a sneer. Rarely was she ever angry, even less did she show it. Poseidon knew what this was about, but he’d drag Olympus down under the sea before he ever admitted it first.

“Your brat’s little quest? You think I don’t know the truth?” she hissed. The air grew heated, and her eyes glowed the color of blood.

Poseidon stared down at her, unrepentant. Let her try to shake him down. He wasn’t one of the pantheon’s most feared gods for nothing.

“What makes you think I won’t take this straight to Apollo?”

“And why would you do that?”

Aphrodite’s eyes narrowed. This was ridiculous. Poseidon sighed, pinching his nose. He never had been known for his patience anyway.

“What do you want, Aphrodite?”

“I want this to go how it’s supposed to, Poseidon . You don’t mess with soulbonds. No one does.”

Poseidon rolled his eyes. “You say that like people haven’t done it before.”

Aphrodite’s eyes blazed. “You inept ba—”

“Hold your tongue, Aphrodite,” he snarled, taking a step closer to her. “I’m not in the mood to deal with your temper tantrums.”

So capricious, this goddess was. Audacious and ballsy, thinking she could talk down to him about soulbonds, their importance—

“You’ve no idea what you’re walking into,” she snapped.

She was so dramatic. Whenever someone inconvenienced her, she thought she could just flutter her eyelashes and get what she wanted. When they said no, it was the end of the gods-damned world. He was so tired of it.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Poseidon scoffed, turning on his heel.

“POSEIDON—”

She shrieked in that shrill voice, piercing and painful. With a wince, Poseidon flashed away, back to his palace in Atlantis. He never should’ve hung around in the first place.

Chapter Text

Percy’s POV

The trip to California was so easy that it almost felt offensive to her first quest, traveling across the country in a race against time (quite literally too). 

The gift from Poseidon allowed her to travel across the country quickly and cleanly, avoiding any monsters that neared her.

Using it too much gave her a headache though, and Percy had to keep from wincing as she fiddled with Riptide between her fingers.

Up ahead, DOA Studios sat before her in all its glory. It was daytime in California, though Percy was still a bit tired from all the traveling. She would’ve liked to rest a bit, but she didn’t want to risk being ambushed by a malicious god or whatnot in her sleep.

Thankfully, Apollo hasn’t bothered her since their last meeting. A small part of her couldn’t help being disappointed, but that quickly went away when she reminded herself just who Apollo was.

A neglectful, narcissistic man-child who only got away with the things he did because he was simply too powerful for his own good.

Percy rolled her eyes.

Remember when she used to think the gods could be better?

Something moved in the corner of her vision — a shadow too dark for the light that beamed down around the studio. Percy frowned, tensing. Was she just seeing things? Cars zoomed past her along the road, people jogging, bikers riding.

Maybe she was just being paranoid.

Then again, better paranoid than dead.

She fingered Riptide in her hand, clutching it tightly. She kept her stance light but stable, able to jump away at a moment’s notice. The other people milling about probably thought she looked ridiculous, crouched down, glancing tensely around the bushes in front of a random studio.

Nothing came out.

Eventually, even Percy knew a monster wasn’t that patient. Straightening, she shrugged lightly and turned back towards the studio.

A bag of drachmas rattled in her palm as she precariously opened the door. Hades was still out for her head. The last thing she needed was to be destroyed the moment she entered.

Sure enough, Charon was waiting for her when she went inside. Percy raised her chin, determined to walk into this fearlessly. Even as anxiety filled her gut, Percy dropped the bag of drachmas on his desk, not bothering with pleasantries.

They both knew what she was here for.

Silently, Charon smiled and took the bag, the small jingle of the coins swallowed up by the spirits and their whispers. Percy forced down her shudder. No matter what she saw or what she did, the Underworld would never fail to give her the creeps.

Charon didn’t speak as he let her into the elevator, only making little grunting sounds as he forced the other spirits outside. Percy didn’t say anything either, not daring to press her luck.

It was probably a trap, but what else was she supposed to do?

The ride through the elevator was silent too — a tenseness in the air that put her on edge. It wasn’t that Charon looked hostile, or even annoyed.

He looked anxious.

The elevator doors dinged open. The ferry came. Charon stepped on. Percy did too.

They went through the motions almost mindlessly, the fear overtaking her mind and spreading a numbness through her limbs. The Styx surrounded them, a blackish water dripping down from the stalactites above, glittering like onyx.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Percy swallowed.

She stepped off the ferry.

“He’s waiting for you.”

It was the first thing Charon had said to her since she arrived in DOA Studios. Percy stiffened, not bothering to turn around. The sounds of Charon preparing to leave filled her ears.

“What do you mean?” she rasped, clutching Riptide like a lifeline.

For a moment, Charon didn’t respond.

“He’s got his worst ready for you.”

This time, Percy did turn around. She’d always thought she had already faced his worst. Hell, she’d faced down Hades himself and won. Albeit, she’d had the Achilles’ Curse then, but still.

What could Charon be talking about?

She asked as much, but Charon only chuckled.

“If you think the worst the Underworld has to offer is a couple monsters, then you’re more foolish than I thought.”

Charon didn’t wait for a response after. He pushed off the docks and without another word, the ferry left for the studio above.

One fleeting second passed by. Percy didn’t move, didn’t even dare to breathe.

Nothing else seemed to either. It had been so much louder, so much more bustling the first time she’d come to the Underworld. This… this silence was entirely new to her.

She had faced down an embittered Hades, one who had lost his symbol of power — the very thing that represented him — and she had walked out of his own kingdom with her head still on her shoulders.

What was so different now? Why did he seem so much angrier now?

It couldn’t possibly be just Thanatos, could it?

But what else was there?

What was she missing?

Percy sighed through her nose. There was no time to worry about that right now. Spirits began to pass her by, whispering her name as a chill crawled down her skin when they floated by. Even as she walked up to the gates, Cerberus didn’t protest, didn’t so much as snarl or even glare at her as she entered the kingdom.

It only made her more nervous.

She was in the heart of Hades’ territory now, completely and utterly at his mercy.

This has happened before. She’s done this before. In the very heart of Tartarus, staring down the primordial himself, she had walked away with a beating heart. She had faced down Nyx and the goddess Gaea.

For fuck’s sake, she could beat some pissed off Underworld king.

Steeling herself, Percy kept walking.

The halls seemed narrower than they used to. Maybe it’s just because she’s grown since the last time she came here.

Still, something seemed off.

Was it just her, or were there less forks in the paths than there’d been before?

The Underworld was silent, unnervingly so.

It was waiting for something.

A scream threatened her throat, begging to be released from sheer frustration. What was she doing? Where was she going? Her feet moved on their own, traveled across the Underworld like she’d done it a million times before.

The walls around her were black marble, swirling onyx and bits of white breaking up the space in the shadows. Whispers filled her ears, just enough that it felt like the spirits were right beside her.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

She couldn’t stop moving though. Something was following her. Its footsteps shook the entire hallway, loud and huge.

Fear clouded her vision.

Percy picked up the pace.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t know where she had turned.

All she knew was that the footsteps behind her didn’t exist, because when she turned around nothing was there except the laughing whispers in her ears.

Like the spirits had played a practical joke.

And when she turned around, Percy froze, bone-chilling fear striking down her body.

Before her lay the Fields of Punishment.

Suddenly, abruptly, the whispers grew louder, hungrier, greedier. Begging, begging, begging for fresh meat. For a glittering, gleaming soul to tear to shreds with their teeth.

Percy gasped, unsheathing Riptide, but she might as well have been trying to fight the air.

Riptide slashed uselessly through the now-visible spirits that lunged for her, pulling and tugging at her arms and legs. Her knees buckled beneath her, and the harsh ground of the Fields of Punishments stabbed into her skin.

They laughed, and they laughed, and they laughed.

Pain ricocheted through her arm. One had scratched her, and the blood dripped down her skin onto the floor below.

The spirit lapped it up like a dog, shrieking with unbridled joy. Percy stumbled back, swinging Riptide blindly through the air. The spirits continued to laugh, continued to scratch at her and bring her down, stumbling every time she got up for just a moment.

Riptide clattered out of her hand. The spirits tugged at her hair. They mocked her, whispered her most humiliating memories into her ears until tears sprung in her eyes.

Foolish , they called her. Naive . How could she ever be so stupid to have once believed in the gods, believed that they could change?

(“After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?”)

(“Yeah, I do.”)

Fool , they chanted in her ears. Over and over and over again.

Foolfoolfoolfoolfoolfoolfool—

“STOP!” she screamed, her voice ragged and heaving. A wisp flew under her nose, and the air disappeared from her lungs. She gasped, choking on nothing, clawing at her throat in vain, but it didn’t stop.

Someone — something — cackled, right by her ear. Percy reared back, stumbling as her head grew light and dizzy from a lack of oxygen. Strength seeped out of her skin, leaving her completely as she hit the ground, incapable of getting up again.

Desperation curdled in her gut. This wouldn’t be how she died. She refused.

For she had faced down gods, titans, giants, and the gods-damned primordials themselves. She had done all of that, and she had walked away. 

Percy would not die by the hands of a god.

Especially not one of the Olympians.

Adrenaline swarmed her, hands shaking from the energy that suddenly filled her body.

Unwittingly, her power reached out across the horizon, stretching farther and farther until it caught something like a fish on a hook.

With a silent, furious scream, Percy pulled .

The blackened waters of the Styx rose up in her defense.

Her hands pressed together and split, tensed and nimble. The Styx water split into ropes of oil-dark liquid, slashing out at the spirits like whips. 

The spirits shrieked in terror, distracted and defenseless.

Air filled her lungs, rejuvenated her with an unparalleled strength as her fury came to her in full force.

Percy grinned — a predator nailing down its prey — and sent her power flinging outwards. Screams filled her ears as the Styx burned the spirits that came near. Shrieks overwhelmed the torture and torment that filled the Fields of Punishment, and most of the spirits ran with their tails between their legs.

That tug in her gut nearly made her double over, but the victory and the triumph that welled in her veins made that pain a blessing, a reminder of the power at her fingertips.

She was not weak. She was not a puppet on a string, not a toy for the gods to play with and laugh at as she stumbled through life.

Percy would rip her freedom from the jaws of the Olympians’ power. She’d tear down the home of the gods before she’d ever let them toy with her again. There’d been a time when she had been foolish, when she had believed they were her family and that they would change.

There had been a time when she had thought they cared .

She was wrong. She knew that now, but it didn’t matter.

This was her chance to finally be free.

Of the gods, of this life of looking over her shoulder.

Percy screamed, forcing all the rage and grief and betrayal that she had bottled up for years out with it. The Styx bent to her will and splayed across the Fields of Punishment like poisoned rain, searing burns into its unsuspecting victims.

Frightened, the spirits split as she ran, desperately evading the Styx water that trailed her.

Percy grinned, laughed.

She’d win this quest. She’d break any and all of her connections to Apollo.

For once in her life, Percy would well and truly win .

“Looks like you had that taken care of.”

Percy spun around, pointing Riptide instinctively at the figure in the shadows, even if she knew who it was.

It hadn’t taken her long to figure it out after she’d gotten a moment to rest. The Kindly Ones were looking for her. She could hear their screeches growing louder and softer as she traipsed the Underworld. Percy didn’t know why Hades hadn’t come after her himself yet, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Hades had always kept his secrets close to his chest, treasured them like they were worth all the precious jewels in his vast collection. There’d be no use trying to find out what he was planning, not when she was right in the middle of his territory.

“Nico,” she said warmly, if only slightly wary. She didn’t know the powers of the Underworld gods. For all she knew, this wasn’t actually Nico.

He stepped out of the shadows. The usual gauntness of his face seemed to have lessened in the years since the Giant War. He’d gotten taller, leaner, and the slightest touch of a tan now warmed his features. 

He greeted her softly, meeting her in the middle. “Need a hand?” he asked, crooking an eyebrow at her.

Percy didn’t bother to ask whether he knew what she was doing in the Underworld. Knowing Nico, he’d probably known before anyone else at the camps. That blur in the bushes from before must’ve been him trailing her, making sure she walked out of the Underworld alive.

She looked around sheepishly, nodding. Admittedly, she hadn’t really thought of how she’d find the Fates by the time she got into the Underworld. A part of Percy had been sure she wouldn’t even get this far, that perhaps death by Hades’ hand was a better fate than being shackled to one of the Olympians for who knew how long.

Nico led her through the Underworld, turning its halls like he’d done it a million times before. No matter how much she hated Hades, one thing she could respect about him was his openness to allowing his children to reside in his realm. Percy had never bothered to find out whether she had the same privileges with her own father, but she wasn’t sure she’d even take up the offer of traveling there if he said yes.

There’d been a time when seeing Atlantis had been so appealing, like a dream come true.

Now, it seemed distant and unneeded, a reckless decision that would only further entrench her into the gods and their problems.

Thankfully, Nico didn’t question her on the whole situation regarding her soulbond. She knew he was suspicious though, could feel his eyes on her every once in a while. Percy never looked back at him, following the movements of his feet to reach the Fates.

“I heard what they were saying back there.”

Percy stiffened, feigning casualness. She didn’t respond, glancing around at the ornate walls. They came up to another fork in the halls. She waited for Nico to pick one, but he stopped before they could.

She clenched her hands and kept moving. There was no rhyme or reason to the direction they were heading. Percy couldn’t feel any sort of change in the power in the air, which usually happened when they neared a god’s home.

So she rolled her neck and chose the hallway on the right. Nico didn’t follow her.

“It’s the other one,” he called, his footsteps sounding as he went ahead. Under her breath, Percy cursed him as she jogged ahead to catch up.

Nico shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He’d never been one for sentimentality — at least, not with her. Not for a while. Honestly, Percy was surprised he was even saying anything in the first place. 

“It’s not your fault, y’know.”

“I never said it was,” Percy grumbled. And she hadn’t. Percy stopped blaming herself for the reason her dad had left a long time ago. She had stopped feeling responsible for the gods’ actions a long time ago.

She just wished she had realized they’d never change sooner.

Nico looked like he wanted to say more, but Percy walked ahead of him. Thankfully, he took the hint and shut up.

They were silent for a while after that. The Underworld seemed unnervingly quiet. Even the screeches of the Furies that always echoed throughout the kingdom had gone silent.

Percy wasn’t sure if it was because they were nearing the home of the Fates, or if it was because this was simply the calm before the storm.

In an attempt to fill the tense silence, Nico spoke up again.

“My father’s furious with you, y’know.”

Percy let out a sardonic chuckle, the tell-tale screech of the Furies from before echoing in her mind. “I figured.”

Nico’s hands tightened into fists at his side, and his movements grew more jerky.

“It’s not something to take lightly.”

“It’s never something to take lightly.” Percy rolled her eyes as she said it, her lips quirking up in a smirk.

“I’m serious, Percy!”

She froze, stiffening. There was a deep fear in Nico’s voice, a tremble that sent another wave of that same feeling from before.

That she was missing something, that this quest was more than just her own goals.

That, once again, the gods were sticking their noses where it didn’t belong.

“I’ve never seen him this angry before,” Nico whispered hoarsely, “Even my stepmother’s worried, Percy. My stepmother! There’s something seriously off about how restless he is over this quest. No matter how much he cares about Thanatos, he’d never go this far.”

“What do you mean?” Percy swallowed, unable to stop the tremor in her voice.

Nico faltered, crossing his arms.

But before he could say anything, the ground split open between them.

Percy dove for cover, unsheathing Riptide as hoards of skeletons crawled out of the fissure in the ground.

She raised her chin, brandishing her sword. Once again, Riptide would be useless against these things, but the weight of her sword in her hand provided her comfort as she clenched her left fist, silently summoning Styx water.

Nico barely glanced at Percy, brandishing his own sword too. Percy had been half-hoping that Nico might be able to order them back, but they must’ve been going specifically at Hades’ order because the skeletons paid him no mind, going so far as to charge for him as well.

Percy slashed down with Riptide.

A wave of Styx water came down with her.

The skeletons backed up, avoiding the gleaming black liquid. Even Nico backed up as well, watching her warily. Percy couldn’t blame him. Exhaustion clung to her shoulders like a heavy cape, dragging her down and decreasing her precision. One wrong move on his part, and her powers could kill him.

Nico backed up farther, twirling his sword adeptly in his hand. Something glinted in his eyes — an idea. Percy glanced at him.

They smiled.

Without another word, Nico struck the marble ground with his sword. Percy winced at the horrid sound that came as a result, but he clenched his jaw, forcing the forming fissure to grow wider and wider.

Percy swung Riptide outwards, driving the skeletons further and further towards the crack in the ground. 

The jaws of the soldiers clacked together as they swung back at her. Percy parried them with ease, the pain in her gut spreading throughout her torso and up her chest. Her hand trembled, the pain weakening her, but Percy pushed on.

With one final shout, Percy spread two walls of Styx water and pushed them together, cornering the skeleton soldiers until they were forced to flee into the fissure. Shadows filled the crack until the ground beneath their feet trembled, and it closed completely.

Percy panted, resting her hands on her knees. She wasn’t usually so winded, but using water that belonged to the Underworld took a lot out of her.

Nico straightened, sheathing his sword.

“I forgot you could do that,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. His powers usually took a lot out of him, but being in the Underworld had clearly strengthened him because he didn’t even look winded.

“Hurry up!” he called after her, sounding suspiciously like he was laughing at her.

Percy scowled and jogged ahead.

They didn’t run into anything else afterwards. There was the occasional hellhound, but Percy summoned up Styx water whenever she got wary, and Nico always had his sword ready so the monsters backed off before trying their luck.

Still, for some reason, Percy just had to get cocky and murmur, “You’d think your dad would send more monsters after me if he wants to stop this quest so bad—”

Something — she didn’t know what, and she didn’t want to know — roared behind them so loud that it shook the walls. Little bits of the ceiling above shook onto their heads.

Nico glared at her, dragging her along.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he hissed, running faster. “The Fates’ home is up ahead. Just keep running straight, and you’ll reach it.”

“Nico—”

“GO! I’ll hold it off.”

The beast roared again. What was that?

“My dad’s not going to kill me. He’ll call it off before it can do anything more than seriously maim me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Nico clenched his jaw, glancing behind them. Its thundering footsteps were getting louder.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said you’ve angered my dad, Percy. It took a lot of pressuring from Lord Poseidon to get him to back off. Even then, it took Thanatos stepping in to keep my dad from letting you leave the Fields of Punishment, let alone the Underworld.”

That was why Nico had been so suspicious. If Thanatos was her soulmate, it’d certainly be confusing as to why he was helping Percy break their soulbond.

Nico didn’t spare her another glance, turning around and heading down the hallway.

Percy clenched her fists, glancing back at him. Nico was right. No matter how angry Hades was, he wouldn’t kill his own son.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

The ground trembled.

Cursing under her breath, Percy broke into a sprint towards the home of the Fates.

The halls of the Underworld all looked the exact same, and Percy struggled not to get a headache as she passed them all.

Percy didn’t know how long she spent running, but her lungs felt like they were about to collapse by the time she found it.

The Fates lived in a humble little cottage, surrounded by towering trees that looked like their leaves were made of yarn. That same yarn and wool and string was spread around the entire estate, obscured by a thick coat of power that was almost suffocating to walk through.

Percy traipsed across the land, closer and closer towards the cottage. Her heart slammed in her chest, hands trembling at her sides.

There was no turning back now. If she went in there, she’d be changing things forever.

Percy expected to feel fear, apprehension.

All she felt was anticipation.

Just a few more steps, and she’d have a true, real chance at freedom.

Percy reached the cottage door.

She placed her hand on the doorknob.

And turned.

Poseidon’s POV

Poseidon rubbed his temples, his brows furrowed as he sat down on his throne. The sea brought a renewed strength back into his limbs, but no amount of salt water would take away the migraine his older brother somehow managed to give him every time they saw each other.

“I’m assuming it went well?” his wife asked, sitting beside him. She hadn’t been happy about having to help out his bastard child — not that he could blame her, of course — but Poseidon knew she had seen the desperation in his eyes where no one could, knew that was what had gotten her agreement more than anything else.

“Barely,” Poseidon muttered, “It took threatening to drown California and flood the entrance to his precious kingdom to get him to so much as consider backing off. It was Thanatos that reeled him back, not me.”

Amphitrite frowned. “Surely, that will drag attention to us.”

Poseidon sighed. “Of course, it will, but after seeing my brother today, I doubt he cares.”

Something about Hades’ anger, his restlessness had set Poseidon on edge. His brother knew something. What it was, Poseidon didn’t know, but he had a feeling it’d change everything.

Chapter Text

Percy’s POV

If Percy had thought the outside of the Fates’ home was hectic, the inside looked as though a tornado had gone through a knitting room and wrecked the place.

All across the small home were colors of all kinds, some glowing but most deadened and fraying. Misshapen, unfinished sewing and knitting project lay about, strewn across the otherwise comfortable living room. A hearth was alight in the center of the room. Sure enough, sitting around it were—

A force knocked her backwards, tearing all the air from her chest. Percy let out a breathless gasp before darkness swallowed her whole.

Percy felt bodiless, a feeling that was far too familiar to be healthy.

Demigod dreams were a norm for Percy Jackson.

But typically, they happened while she was sleeping.

Frowning, Percy stared around the blackened area. Trees as tall as skyscrapers surrounded her, preventing the sun from shining through. Wet grass tickled her feet, and the air hummed with raw divinity. Even the plants at her feet seemed to vibrate with godly power.

She tried not to think too hard on where she was, closing her eyes. No prophecies, no wars, nothing. This wasn’t her problem anymore. Gods couldn’t send these to her as if that would spur her into action. She had retired, leaving the Greek world behind her. It was just this quest, for her freedom and her own damn peace of mind. After that, she’d never have to lay eyes on another god until her soul departed for the Underworld.

Something struck the earth then, the ground shaking beneath her feet. A yelp snapped out of her throat, and Percy pressed her hand against her lips to muffle the sound — albeit futilely.

Somehow, someway, the powerful figure didn’t notice though. Usually, gods eventually sensed when she was spying on them in a dream — which Percy quickly deduced was going on when she witnessed the circle of gods in a clearing in the forest. She ducked under a tree, peering out with narrowed eyes.

Who were they?

“We have done you a great favor, sky god.”

Three voices, hissing like snakes with just as much venom. There was a special kind of divinity in their voices. Nothing like what Percy had seen before. And she’s seen a lot.

More powerful than gods, even Titans. Not quite primordial-level power… but not less than. Just… different.

The three Fates faced away from Percy, their backs to her. They stood tall in the face of the figure before them. There were multiple. Not twelve, so not the Olympians.

Or, at least, not all of them.

The figures facing the Fates stepped into the clearing, the light forcing its way through the thick leaves illuminating their faces. Percy swallowed, pressing her back against the tree bark until it stung.

Zeus, Hades, Poseidon. The Big Three.

Hera, Demeter, Hestia. 

Demeter’s hands were raised to be level with her chest, an ethereal glow emitting from them. It was then that Percy finally realized why the forest itself was embedded with divine power.

Demeter was creating the forest. She was summoning forth nature itself and surrounding them with it.

But why? What was the purpose? Was she just doing it as a show of strength?

To who? Who would she need to flaunt her power over?

The middle Fate snarled. Percy sucked in a gasp of air, but it was as though all the oxygen had been condensed. The Fates’ power swallowed whole anything and everything in its path, and currently it was grasping at Demeter’s divinity. As though trying to strangle it.

Demeter’s hands clenched, and her jaw followed as her eyes glowed with stubborn will. The forests trembled but held firm.

The Fates, Percy realized with a swallowed gasp. The Olympians were fighting off with the Fates. They’d been enemies once, they must’ve. And Demeter was using her powers to surround them, encircle them with the strength of the first Olympians.

“Enough, sister.”

Hades’ voice rumbled through the forest, the pure darkness enshrining the life surrounding them. Percy shuddered against the cold of his divinity. The forest trembled under the force of these warring powers, wind roaring in her ears. 

“Our terms are fair.”

The Fates spoke in unison, their voices a discordant harmony that seemed to bend against nature itself. They had never been like this before, not any other time Percy had seen them. So much raw power, raging dominance and strength. 

Perhaps they had not needed to, not for a long time.

“Your terms are tyrannical,” another voice growled, and Percy realized with a start that it was her father’s. She peeked out from the tree she’d been hiding behind. Poseidon’s expression was stormy. It was almost difficult to breathe in the face of so many divine beings. At least when before the Olympian Council, they had gone out of their way to limit the strength they projected. Here, they didn’t seem to care.

“If you are to lead this world, you will need to establish order.”

Percy cringed at the sound of their combined voices. It was like nails on chalkboard, a cacophony of disruptive noise that made her want to claw her ears out. 

“And we can do that just fine on our own,” Hades rumbled, his eyes narrowed.

The middle Fate stepped forward — Clotho. With eyes glowing as white as a full moon, she turned towards the king of the gods.

“We had a deal, Zeus,” said Clotho softly, “You do not turn back on deals with the Fates.”

So far, Zeus had stayed silent throughout the whole ordeal. Even now, he didn’t speak as the Fates bickered back and forth with the other gods.

“You will serve for the good of Olympus.” Zeus raised his chin, staring down imperiously at the Fates. “If you are to maintain order, it will be for the preservation of the gods.”

“No,” Clotho replied, “We will aim to preserve the Iron Age, to protect and preserve the new age of man and with it, the current rule of the Greek pantheon. If it turns out that the gods are not in the best interest of the Iron Age, it is our duty to snuff you out as well.”

Poseidon snarled, stepping forward. 

“I accept your terms,” Zeus said, preventing any of his siblings from striking back. “Allow this prophecy to face its end, and I will grant you what you ask for.”

For once, no one else said anything.

All the Fates looked at him.

“Done.”

The Fate on the left, Atropos, raised a waiting hand. She who cannot be turned, Percy remembered Annabeth telling her. Atropos was the one who ended life, who snipped every thread.

Lakhesis, Apportioner of Lots , the one who decided each human’s fate, raised her delicate hands and twirled her fingers around each other. With every spin, a glittering thread began to flicker into existence. Second by second, moment by moment.

Until a long thread lay bound around her fingers, resting at her thin wrist. She outstretched her hands towards Atropos, and the thread trailed through the air into her waiting hands.

Something hit her then, what that thread meant.

Millennia ago, when the gods first ruled, Zeus heard a prophecy about the son he’d have with Metis, his first wife. The son would grow to be more powerful than his father and eventually overthrow Zeus. To prevent this, Zeus swallowed Metis — and with her, the baby. In Zeus’ belly, Metis had a daughter, Athena. She came from Zeus’ skull, split open by Hephaestus.

That must’ve been the deal the Fates had made with Zeus. They would circumvent the prophecy foretelling his demise if he granted them power over the realm. 

But the Fates were born with the power they had, weren’t they? Why would they have to be granted access to what they’d always had?

Percy expected a pair of shears, like she’d seen before. But that’s not what happened.

The thread balled up between her hands, and it began to tremble and shake. With every moment, it glowed bright and brighter. It shined so much that Percy had to look away, pain searing her eyes.

The next time she looked at the scene before her, the thread was gone.

And so were the Fates.

But in that moment, Percy felt something irrevocably changed. Like a shift in power, in authority.

The gods had formed a reluctant circle around the space the Fates had occupied a moment before. Demeter raised her hands and, in one quick swoop, dropped them. 

Percy startled as the ground began to tremble, and before her very eyes the trees sank into the ground like they were stuck in nightmarish quicksand, so fast and so sudden that she worried she’d be sucked down with them. 

A tense silence had overtaken the Olympian, and in the vast expanse of nothingness they now stood in, they seemed larger than life itself. Their rage was a thing of unnatural strength, the very emotions in their heartless chests reflected back in the world they now ruled.

Poseidon glowered at his younger brother, clearly displeased.

“You may choose to hand your domain over to the control-hungry Fates, brother, but I do not.”

Demeter raised her chin, lips pursed and power sparking along her arms and across her fingers as she, too, gave Zeus a furious glare.

“I did not help you pry the world’s power from our father’s greed, just so you could hand it over to glorified tyrants,” Hades snarled, shadows trailing up his pale skin and squirming along his face like veins. Cold crawled up her arms, and Percy backed away from the scene, resisting the urge to shiver in the face of his anger.

So she’d been wrong then. The Fates clearly had some sort of power, but they must’ve needed permission from the elder Olympians to access their domains so they could fully influence the world.

Zeus showed no reaction to his siblings’ ire, his expression infuriatingly calm. Unlike the other Olympians, whose rage was reflected in the state of the nature around them — the storm clouds above, the roaring waves, the darkening sky, shadows at their feet, wilting plant life — Zeus was entirely unworried. 

“Perhaps you should let him speak first, Hades,” Hera snapped, speaking for the first time since the entire debacle. There was no expression on her face giving away what she thought, but Percy had a feeling Hera didn’t like this deal with the Fates either, even if she was siding with Zeus.

Hades’ eyes flashed, and he was about to say something back when Zeus spoke:

“Like it or not, having people maintain order in the realm of mortals will benefit us in the long run. We are gods, but we are not all-knowing, nor is our power infinite. We will always have our disagreements, and having people who will act in the best interest of the bigger picture regardless is imperative to a long, hopefully eternal rule.”

Where was this Zeus when the Great Prophecy was told? Percy thought to herself, resentment curling in her chest. He seemed so rational here, humble and well-spoken with a clear image of what he envisioned for the world ahead. Now, he was so… different. It was like all the good parts of Zeus had been completely drained from the god she knew in her own life.

“Will these benefits come before or after they weave the threads of our downfall?” Poseidon snapped. Hades’ lips twitched, his eyes darting towards his brother with an almost approving smile.

“If our downfall comes at their influence, it is something we almost certainly deserved,” Zeus replied evenly. Poseidon scoffed, turning away from Zeus with disgust. As if he were so disgusted by his brother’s humility that he couldn’t even look at him. 

“The Fates do not control the world like puppets on strings,” Hestia said softly, raising a hand before any of her siblings could speak. “They influence the world, in the same way we do. We are gods of nature and the inanimate, not humans themselves. We do not have to give them control of everything we have, but granting them access into our domains will allow them to continue humanity’s progression on an individual level. 

“They will not control us . They may control circumstances, but they do not control us. They do not remove free will from the gods nor those created in our image. Think of them less as tyrants and more like… guides.”

“Guides,” Poseidon scoffed derivatively, but he did not retort again. The chasm between him and his siblings had already widened enough today. At first, when Zeus had first saved them from their father’s imprisonment, it had been different. They had been joined under a common cause.

Now, it seemed, all they knew how to do was disagree.

It was him and Hades, Demeter and occasionally Hera against Zeus with Hestia as the rare voice of reason. But even Hera was faltering, her loyalty and trust in Zeus growing by the day, meanwhile the rest of them all scorned their youngest brother.

If it weren’t for everything Zeus has done to Percy in the past, she might’ve pitied him. In the early years after Kronos’ fall, it would’ve been all his siblings’ years together versus the isolation Zeus had experienced during his childhood. They knew each other far better than they knew him, and Zeus had been all but an only child growing up. Those differences, in that moment, were louder than ever.

“They are waiting,” Zeus said tiredly, the energy sapped from him. His eyes lit with the snapping of electricity, and Percy’s hairs stood on end as that raw energy crackled down his arm, forming a ball of pure lightning and thunder — the raging skies in the palm of his hand.

Percy watched the display aptly, unable to tear her eyes away. From the way the Fates ruled, it had always made sense that they had been born with their power over the world. Percy hadn’t ever realized they had needed the permission of the gods to handle the workings of fate, though it made sense now that she thought about it. If the Fates truly didn’t control everything directly, instead influencing people to do as they wished, they would need the Olympians’ domains to achieve that. Weather, habitat, homes, food, family — all of it was ruled by the Olympians. For them to lead in the way they do, they’d have needed that access.

Hera followed first, something akin to starlight and nebulas pouring from her heart and into her hands. It joined with Zeus’ power, forming above all of them in a condensed form of their divinity.

Hestia, smiling warmly, joined them. Fire and warmth exuded from her, and she raised her arms to the power rising above them, allowing some of hers to join it.

It must’ve been some sort of ritual, a way to hand over permission into their domains. Percy wondered if the Fates were waiting somewhere near, ready to snatch up the power Zeus and his allies now granted so freely.

It was only Poseidon, Hades, and Demeter left. None seemed all that willing to join in, even with Hestia’s reassurances.

It was Hades who caved first.

He sighed loudly and muttered, “Mark my words, Zeus, we’re going to regret this one day.”

Shadows swarmed him, spirits hissing like snakes as they burst from the ground in a swirling tornado that finally joined in his nimble hand. Graceful as ever, Hades flicked his fingers, and the mass of shadows and spirits joined his other siblings.

Expectantly, the four turned to Poseidon and Demeter. If anything, the peer pressure from their siblings only made the two even more stubborn. 

The Olympians argued back and forth with each other, their voices rising with each passing moment. The air crackled as their tempers flared, winds howling and ground trembling.

“Do you really care about what happens to the humans, Demeter? They’re irrelevant to us. Let the Fates handle them,” Hera insisted, only for Demeter’s voice to sharpen indignantly.

“It’s not about the humans!” she snapped furiously, “It’s about this infringement upon my domain. I won’t have it!”

“Demeter—”

Poseidon interrupted before Zeus could finish, his voice cold and firm: “I will not live under anyone’s thumb, not again. If the Fates want my submission, they will have to get it by force.”

Percy leaned forward, her neck straining as she tried to make out what would happen next.

But the world had begun to blur, and the voices blended together in the powerful winds that battered at her forcefully. They tugged her backwards, the ground rippling like harsh waves crashing against the sandy shore. Insistent — someone was controlling them, manipulating the memory.

Before she could so much as make a sound of protest, the world around her went black.

Percy shot upwards, her breath catching in her lungs. She lay on a small cot, the rough blankets scratching against her skin. Something was burning, hot and angry against her back. Pressing her hand against the heat, she frowned at the feeling of the skin there, at the burning that lined her soulbond. Did they do that often? 

Nothing else felt inflamed. In fact, most of her body was cold to the touch. It was odd. Did it have something to do with the vision she’d just gotten?

The memory of the vision rose to the front of her mind. Percy shuddered just thinking about it.

She couldn’t help her puzzlement as she thought back on her own experiences with the Fates, both direct and indirect. They were so… all-powerful now, their rule absolute and unquestionable. The so-called “influence” they held over the world seemed less like pushing people in the desired direction, and more like forcing them into placements and moving them around on a chess board. Even with how Hestia explained it, the gods should’ve had power over them.

And yet, here she was, running to the Fates for mercy from her own soulbond, comfortable in the knowledge that, if nothing else, they would always be more powerful than the Olympians.

What changed?

When did it change?

And how—

“Perseas.”

Percy let out a muffled curse, Riptide out of its cap and pointed at the voice in an instant.

Or, to be specific, voice s.

The Fates looked simultaneously nothing and everything alike to the goddesses she’d seen in that vision. Older, more wrinkly, but the same careful temperament. Like one wrong move, and they’d blow up everything with a one-mile radius of the focus of their anger.

But their power… it was definitely more suffocating now. Not like the gods, whose divinity was hard to be around simply because of how strong they were, but more overbearing.

Controlling.

Percy gulped. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

She took a hesitant step back, only for her legs to hit the cot behind her. It hadn’t been there when she first entered the cottage. The Fates must’ve summoned it when…

What happened?

Had she just collapsed? From what? Why did she get that vision the moment she entered the cottage?

“Did you give me that vision?” Percy whispered, her voice hoarse from lack of use. She cleared her throat, swallowing and pressing her hands into her abdomen in an attempt to get rid of the nervous energy trembling through her veins.

The Fates moved like mirrors of each other, branching out so Lakhesis was on her right, Atropos on her left, and Clotho in front of her. Percy forced herself not to twitch, her fingers shaking. She clenched her hands into fists and stared at Clotho, hoping her face looked more bold than scared.

“We know what you’re here for.”

Percy winced, her ears ringing. They spoke softly, but something about the way their voices traveled made her cringe. 

“I—”

“You ask for a quest,” Clotho said, speaking alone for the first time since Percy arrived. 

“What happened when I entered the cottage?” She hated the way her voice shook.

Percy’s heart slammed against her ribcage, so hard and fast that it was hard to breathe. Her vision blurred at the edges, strongly alike to how she’d felt before she collapsed at the threshold of the cottage. 

It was like whatever triggered the vision was trying to pull her back under.

“You collapsed,” said Atropos.

“But don’t worry, you were only unconscious for ten minutes,” intoned Lakhesis.

Percy nodded, swallowing hard. Her throat dried, but she forced herself to speak.

“You know why I’m here,” she said, thankful her voice didn’t shake this time. “My soulbond– I can’t be tied to him. To– to Apollo.”

Her body spasmed when she said his name, like just uttering the word would summon him before her.

“We have given many chances to many people, Perseas.”

Speaking in unison again. Yay.

“All have tried.”

They took a step towards her, cornering Percy against the cot. Her legs burned as she pressed backwards, trying to get away from them.

“None have succeeded.”

Percy raised her chin, summoning all the confidence she’d ever felt to her then.

She’s walked through Tartarus itself, battled Olympians, challenged Titans and Giants alike. 

Percy has seen Primordials and reduced the goddess of misery herself to tears.

That had to mean something. After everything she’s been through, Percy had to believe she could achieve this quest.

“I can do it,” she said firmly, “I have done what few others have. I can do it. ”

It felt like an oath, like she was making a promise.

The air hummed with power, and Percy swore the Fates looked satisfied.

“We admire your determination, Perseas.” Clothos’ eyes gleamed, expression steady. “For all of humanity’s faults, mortals have always been remarkably determined to achieve the impossible.”

“Even when they fail,” Lakhesis murmured. Percy glanced at her. The goddess’ expression was unreadable, and she appeared endlessly old then. 

Percy tried not to let it get to her.

“You’ve heard the prophecy,” said Atropos, stealing Percy’s attention from Lakhesis. “You have some idea of what we shall ask of you.”

Specifics would be nice though, Percy thought to herself, but she decided not to say that.

“There are three parts to your quest,” Clotho said, holding out a hand. Following her were her sisters, and their outstretched hands glowed until they blinded her vision and clouded everything else in sight. Percy squinted through the onslaught, only to find a scene unfolding around her in its place.

“What you want to stop,” murmured Atropos. Before her, the world bent and twisted until Percy was looking at a painfully familiar tree of golden apples, with that very same dragon. An apple trembled on the branches and began to fall. The scene disappeared, and the gleaming gold rolled into Atropos’ bony fingers.

Percy let out a gasp as the gold reformed, as though melting right before her eyes, into a beautiful wedding ring. Her stomach lurched at the sight, and Percy looked away with a grimace. Images filled her head, as though beckoned by the sight, and she could’ve sworn her soulbond burned with longing.

A bonding ceremony , Percy thought to herself. It was essentially the same as a wedding, but it utilized the soulmate bonds as well. Connecting the two bonds through special rings was the main part of the ceremony, and it was usually combined with a wedding — at least, it was in the human world.

Since Hera was the goddess of soulbonds and marriage, the first goal must’ve been to retrieve one of her golden apples from the Garden of Hesperides.

Percy shuddered at the thought. Going back there was the last thing she ever wanted to do.

But if going back there meant her freedom, Percy would steal every apple from that tree if she had to.

“What caused it,” Clotho intoned coldly, and her hands splayed out before her. The blackness of the world around her was suddenly swallowed by a greying light, strong winds battering her around until Percy planted her feet to keep from stumbling. Whisps of breathy smoke overwhelmed her, circling around and around each other.

Souls, she realized then, watching them split into pairs and thread around each other. Clotho brought her hands together, splayed fingers joining perfectly. With them, the souls combined and formed a figure, its details coming into clearer view with every passing moment. Percy squinted, trying to make them out, only for the illusion to clear completely.

Aphrodite.

Percy startled, her eyes widening. “What—”

But the Fates didn’t give her time to finish. Abruptly, Clotho spread her hands out and the vision disappeared with the crack of thunder. Was that another sign?

Percy didn’t know, but she just had to hope it’d become obvious later on, because this part of the quest seemed painfully unclear. Maybe she could ask Annabeth or one of the Aphrodite kids what it meant. Considering it was about their mom and all.

“What drives you,” said Lakhesis, her delicate, frail hands twirling gracefully over each other. A ball of light formed in the space between her twisting fingers, and she pushed it outwards until it was right in front of Percy.

After, head southeast for the python above. The words of the prophecy rang in her head, and Percy readied herself to see one of the great monsters of ancient Greece, a horror so terrible that it had to have been defeated by a god.

But that’s not what appeared.

First, it was the sea. Waves so tall and powerful that Percy backed up instinctually, terror rising in her throat at the sight. She had never cowered before the ocean, which was practically another home to her, but it seemed different here. More wild.

Free , she realized, but Percy wasn’t able to dwell on the thought before it changed again, rising up into the horizon above the furious waves.

A full moon, glowing pearly white, lit up the black sky. 

“Artemis,” Percy murmured, ignoring the well of worry in her gut. If she had to face Artemis as the last part of her quest… it was sure to go badly. 

But it made sense, didn’t it? Goddess of the wild; what was more free than that?

Winds began to pick up around her, spinning and spinning like a tornado. Percy planted her feet against the ground, trying to keep herself from falling as the winds slammed into her from all sides. But her efforts were futile.

A crack of raging thunder lit up the midnight sky, and Percy slammed her hands over her ears as the sound rang in her head. 

Zeus? she thought to herself, unable to hide her bewilderment.

Except that she never got to finish.

The scenes before her were overwhelming, constantly shifting and changing. At first, it was still gods, but then it continued to change, diverting until they became more and more odd.

To her old high school, to her graduation, to the acceptance letter from New Rome University, to the sea spray in her face and the scent of its salty waters surrounding her. Everything and nothing, going from the gods to monsters to her own experiences to the darkest parts of her soul.

To Tartarus, to the primordials she had tried to hard not to think about.

To Smelly Gabe, his lurid looks and the fear she felt everytime she came home to find him playing poker with his disgusting friends.

To—

“STOP!” Percy screamed, covering her vision with her arms in the hopes of blocking out everything she had seen. Heart battering against her ribcage, desperation coating her tongue, the terror and fear and humiliation getting to her. 

The world went silent.

The next time she found the nerve to open her eyes, she was back in the cottage with the Fates, their expressions displeased.

“What do you want, Perseas Jackson?” they said together, eyes sharp as daggers.

“What drives you?” Lakhesis murmured, tilting her head to the side.

Percy’s chest rose and fell, and she panted, “Well, you– you’re supposed to tell me, right? I mean, that’s why I came to you. You’re supposed to tell me what the last part of the quest is.”

Lakhesis threw her head back and laughed. Like that was an amusing thing for Percy to say.

“What?” Percy demanded, trying to reign in her burgeoning anger. “What’s so funny?”

Soon, all three Fates were laughing, and Percy still had no idea why.

Percy hated that condescension, that look adults used to give her, always acting like she was such an idiot.

“You have your quest, Perseas,” Clotho said, still chuckling to herself. “Now… go. ”

“Wait—”

Clotho pushed a hand outwards, and a force slammed her backwards. Percy prepared for impact against the cottage wall.

But it didn’t happen like that.

She kept flying backwards for what could’ve been hours. Percy struggled against the force, trying to summon her powers, trying to grab Riptide, but nothing worked.

Energy seeped from her, and before Percy knew it her eyes were fluttering closed, and sleep claimed her completely.

—ercy… Percy… Perc—

“PERCY!”

Nico’s voice filled her ears, and Percy shot up with a gasp.

“Wha…” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. What happened?

“You must’ve blacked out for a second. I told you to cover your nose so you don’t breathe in the pollen,” Nico snapped, eyes darting around. His sword was clenched in his hand, and shadows balled in his other fist. “We got caught in one of my step-mother’s gardens. Most likely one of those sleeping pollens. She uses them whenever people get loose around the Underworld to help out my father.”

Percy blinked. What? That didn’t make any sense. She’d just been with the Fates.

She said as much, looking at Nico expectantly.

He gave her a weird look.

“Percy…” he said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “We’ve been wandering the halls of the Underworld for over three hours, ever since running into those soldiers that ambushed us.”

“No,” Percy said, shaking her head insistently. “There was– there was some sort of big monster-thing. I– I don’t know what it was, but you told me to run and—”

“Are you okay?” Nico said, his brows furrowed. “Maybe those spirits did something to you in the Fields of Punishment. I knew I should’ve checked first.”

“I’m fine— ”

The plants rose up around them like vines, and Percy and Nico both jumped up in surprise, unsheating their swords and moving until they were back to back. The vine-like flowers circled them hungrily. Percy lashed out with Riptide at the base of one—

“PERCY, DON’T!”

But she wasn’t able to head Nico’s warning in time before she slashed at the base of one of the flowers.

In seconds, some sort of smoke burst from its base and flew into her face.

Percy only heard a few muttered curses from Nico before her vision went black, and she lost consciousness completely.

Percy groaned, wincing at her pounding headache. She tugged on her aching arms, only to realize—

Something was keeping her hands chained to the wall behind her.

This all felt horribly familiar.

A cold, nimble hand brushed against her neck and tilted her chin upwards. Percy squinted through the evidence of her unconsciousness, her vision blurred and disoriented, but she didn’t have to see the god before her to know who it was.

Hades smirked down at Percy, gripping her chin so tightly that she grimaced and tried — albeit futilely — to pull herself away.

“This time,” he murmured softly, “you won’t be getting out so easily.”

Chapter Text

Apollo’s POV

“This feels like an egregious exaggeration,” Aphrodite said dismissively, lounging in her throne. Poseidon pinched the bridge of his nose, tapping his fingers impatiently against his throne.

“I agree,” Apollo piped up, if only to get this meeting to end. The deal he’d made with Perseas buzzed against his skin, the branding of that oath setting him on edge. He couldn’t fulfill his end of the deal and get Perseas her meeting with the Fates if he had to deal with another one of Hades’ temper tantrums. Now that he was an Olympian, he really was milking it for all it was worth.

Apollo’s eyes strayed downwards, and he closed his eyes as he tried to locate Perseas. With his own power, he couldn’t look at her, but Olympus’ central power would’ve allowed him to track her whereabouts if she was on Earth. Considering that he couldn’t locate her anywhere, she was in one of two places: her father’s domain or the Underworld.

His jaw clenched, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Considering where she’d been headed the last few days, he doubted she’d taken a detour to Atlantis. 

The longer Perseas spent in the Underworld, the worse off she was. Even she could only fight off Hades’ minions in his own territory for so long, and it’d all be for nought in the end if he couldn’t even get her the audience she needed. 

Hopefully she’d get out before Hades ended this meeting. The only good thing to come out of this whole situation was that Hades’ attention was diverted, meaning Percy could get out in time once she realized he wasn’t coming to her rescue after all.

Hades sneered. Sometimes, the passionate rage in the god’s eyes set Apollo on edge, but he’d long since learned to ignore it. Hades was a temperamental god, but he wouldn’t needlessly attack people for the sake of being petty.

“One would think you’d be stricter when it comes to the Ancient Laws, Apollo,” Hades said softly. Apollo stiffened, and his eyes flared. “Considering your status as an Enforcer and all.”

Apollo’s mouth twisted, and he let out a snarl. Just because Hades didn’t attack people out of pettiness didn’t mean Apollo wouldn’t stoop so low.

“That’s enough!” Zeus snapped, slamming a hand down on his throne. The bang resounded around the throne room, an eerie ringing reverberating through the room. “Brother, you have brought us here on account of an invasion into your domain. Do you have suspicions as to who did it?”

“I already know who did it,” Hades said icily, his coal-black eyes turned on Aphrodite. The goddess lounged in her throne, bored as ever, and raised a single challenging brow at Hades. At that moment, Apollo knew she had done it. Utterly shameless, it seemed, as she straightened on her throne and faced the Council’s scrutinizing looks.

“What?” she said innocently, batting her lashes at Zeus. His jaw clenched, and Apollo nearly scoffed. After all this time, Aphrodite’s beauty still affected his father so thoroughly. It was almost pathetic.

No, scratch that. It was pathetic.

The Council descended into chaos, as it was split between gods chewing her out, others expressing their disbelief and irritation, and the rest all arguing amongst themselves. Apollo’s eyes narrowed, though he stayed silent amongst the bickering of his family. Why would Aphrodite invade Hades’ domain? Despite popular belief, she wasn’t the type to violate such laws and make an enemy of other gods. 

Most of the time.

“It’s not like I went in there myself,” Aphrodite said with a shrug, amid the arguing. Hades snarled and nearly rose out of his seat, stopped only by a warning look from Zeus. “I just sent pretty Perseas down there an eensy little vision. Perfectly harmless.”

Hades’ lips curled. “Why, you—”

“ What vision?” Poseidon interrupted, his eyes now alight with that merciless fury. He despised when anyone interfered with his precious daughter, especially now when she was on this quest. To Poseidon’s credit, he took protecting her from the gods’ interference very seriously.

Apollo’s lips thinned. A vision? For what reason would Aphrodite give Perseas a vision? Now, of all times, as well. He understood that Aphrodite would be offended by Perseas’ determination to end something of her creation, but to intervene in such a way that broke the Ancient Laws was…

It was desperate, even for her.

Apollo’s eyes trailed across the room to the stiff-backed Thanatos. What importance did the former demon-turned god have to her? What about his soulbond was so important?

It wasn’t his that mattered, Apollo realized then. 

It was Perseas’ soulbond that mattered. It was her bond that would change things irrevocably, her bond that was so vital and important to Aphrodite that she had to intervene.

“Personally,” she began, examining her nails. “I think you should be thanking me, Poseidon. I’ve done you a favor, after all.”

Poseidon’s trident was summoned to his hand in a rush of water, like a wave crashing against the shore or a hurricane whipping across a forest. He gripped it in a white-knuckled hand, jaw clenched.

“What did you say?” he snarled, tilting the trident ever so slightly in her direction. Hades’ eyes gleamed in satisfaction, watching the fight unfold.

“What is it with you gods and your desperate power plays?” Demeter grumbled. Apollo would’ve chuckled if he hadn’t still been silently seething from Hades’ earlier comment.

Considering your status as an Enforcer and all.

It was taboo on Olympus to ever bring up the roles of an Enforcer. The job was one assigned to a select few gods, and Apollo was the only one of those gods that was on the Olympian Council. It was also one of the reasons why he was heir to Olympus. Another way to appease the Fates by making one of their Enforcers so powerful, both physically and through title.

Enforcers enacted the Fates’ desires and goals in their web of power. They had their own brand of influence by altering the domains of the six original Olympians — changing the weather, affecting food supply, shifting the seasons, bruising marriages and fertility, anything that would steer mortals in the direction they desired — but they themselves couldn’t truly control humans. Free will was a real and very powerful thing, and only mortals were ever offered such a true luxury. 

The gods, on the other hand, were bound to the Ancient Laws. Courtesy of the deal the original six Olympians had struck with the Fates all those millennia ago, every god born after it had been bound to their whims.

Same with the monsters and any other beings formed truly and fully from the Greek pantheon. It was why demigods didn’t have to abide by them as well. They were part mortal, so they had the same privileges as them. Demigods were the only loophole in the Ancient Laws, and it was one that had been used vigorously before Perseas’ little stunt at the end of the Second Titanomachy.

All gods had to abide by the Fates’ wishes, save a few exceptions ( cough Poseidon cough ), but only Enforcers were actively involved in their plans.

Apollo, as the god of a vast number of domains, was one of them. Many of those domains were ones he’d gotten through being their Enforcer, domains given to him that weren’t managed by other gods or were controlled by deities that had since faded.

Hermes was another god with many, many domains. His were particularly relevant in the modern age as well, but he’d always refused the offers by the Fates to be an Enforcer. 

Enforcers were, in the eyes of most, a painful necessity. No one liked that the job existed, nor that there were a select few gods whose loyalty remained with anyone but Olympus, Atlantis, and the Underworld. But it was rarely ever mentioned. The Enforcers did their job quietly and cleanly, and kept out of the way of any meddling immortals.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

Aside from the staring match that had now begun between Poseidon and Aphrodite, there was another fraught tension in the air between Apollo and Hades. Discomfort flitted across the room, and the other Olympians avoided Apollo’s piercing gaze, even his own sister. Especially now, with Perseas’ quest, Apollo’s role as an Enforcer was more disliked than ever.

Suddenly, amidst the rising arguments that were taking part in the throne room, Hades straightened, and his eyes flashed an onyx black.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hades snapped, his expression abruptly shifting to annoyance. Apollo’s eyes narrowed, and he stretched his power across the Earth to figure out just what had caused the sudden shift…

It was a signal, a message from the Underworld. He couldn’t breach the border into the Underworld with his power, but Apollo would’ve recognized the Underworld queen from a mile away. To his side, Hermes made eye contact with him. He’d felt it too.

Before anyone could comment, Hades had flashed away, leaving them stranded in a meeting he called. Zeus seethed, muttering a string of curses towards his eldest brother before sharply ending the meeting there. The moment Olympus’ doors burst open, and before Apollo could stop him, Hermes was zipping out of there to catch up on the rest of the work he was still swamped with.

One by one, his family flashed out of the throne room until only Apollo, Poseidon, and Aphrodite remained. Poseidon and Aphrodite were still bickering, the scent of a looming hurricane thick in the air as Poseidon’s temper rose. A part of Apollo wanted to stay behind, see the fight take place firsthand, but he’d know what happened regardless of whether he himself saw it or not. Shrugging, Apollo left the two Olympians to their squabbling and flashed down to Earth.

Perseas would be out of the Underworld soon enough. Hopefully, Hades’ stint with the meeting would give her enough time to flee before he could enact his revenge on her for hurting his precious heir. Apollo smirked, a sadistic thrill running down his spine. The thought of Hades not getting what he wanted was more than a little satisfying.

Distantly, Apollo sent off alternates of himself to perform his other tasks, humming against the gradual drain of his power as he split his consciousness into multiple versions of himself. Most gods had at least three or four versions of themselves working at once. Other than in the privacy of their own homes and temples, the only time gods were fully formed was when they went into their true form, recollecting the entirety of their strength.

After what happened in the meeting, there was no way Hades would allow Apollo to enter his territory. Unlike Hermes, Iris, Triton, and Thanatos, who were the respective messengers of Olympus, Atlantis, and the Underworld (while Hermes presided over the overall domain of messengers), he couldn’t enter other domains unannounced. Even the three messengers were only allowed to enter other domains with the intention of delivering messages. Only Hermes had complete immunity.

Twenty minutes passed by in a slow, tedious crawl. Apollo grumbled to himself, trying to ignore his flash of irritation. While Perseas was being protected by her father, he couldn’t glimpse into her future to figure out how long it’d take her to surface from the Underworld — if she’d surface at all. He couldn’t even see her while she was on Earth. It was insulting, to say the least. 

Apollo spread his power across the world, blanketing it in his divinity until he’d searched every corner, nook, and cranny for anyone who might know what was taking her so long. He was invested now. There was something so peculiar about Perseas Jackson. She was hiding a big secret, and he wanted to know what it was. How was he supposed to figure that out if she wasn’t even on Earth?

That was when he felt it.

The familiar darkness of Hades’ power, wrapped up in a mortal body heavy with exhaustion. Nico di Angelo’s thoughts filled Apollo’s head in an instant, and he finally understood what had gone wrong.

They’d spent hours running from Hades’ beasts until they got stuck in one of Persephone’s gardens. Perseas was taken, and Nico barely escaped the Underworld before his father found him. From the child’s memories, the two had made no progress towards the Fates, and the Fates hadn’t responded to Perseas either.

It wasn’t surprising, as the Fates rarely ever came out of hiding for a mere mortal, but he couldn’t believe Perseas hadn’t realized that upon entering the Underworld.

Hades calling that meeting on Olympus should’ve given her enough time to flee the Underworld. No doubt, the di Angelo boy had just dropped her off somewhere, perhaps to Camp Jupiter, and gone off on his own. 

Apollo rolled his neck, spreading his power across the Earth and using his Sight to scan the horizons. Once he located Perseas, he’d listen to her plan for her second course across the Underworld to find the Fates — because surely, she must have one; she wasn’t so stupid as to simply wing it — and come up with a way to convince the Fates to meet with her. Even though they didn’t particularly care enough to seek her out, the Fates liked Perseas enough that they’d certainly help her at his request—

Perseas wasn’t out of the Underworld.

Apollo used his Sight to scan the Earth once more, but just as he’d guessed the first time, she still hadn’t resurfaced. He clenched his fists. She’d had plenty of time — hours, even — to get out of the Underworld while Hades had been dragging them through that ridiculous meeting. So why hadn’t she left yet? Why, in the duration that she and Hades’ boy had spent in the Underworld, had they not fled using his shadowtravel that Apollo knew he had?

What was he missing?

Something had distracted them, had held them up for so long that they couldn’t escape the Underworld until only now. And whatever had distracted them for that long had, no doubt, caused Perseas’ capture. Since Hades had returned to the Underworld in such a hurry, that irritating Queen of his must’ve taken Perseas for him and reported such news. That was the message, what had caused him to leave—

Apollo growled under his breath. 

“No matter,” he muttered to himself. If he wanted something done well, he’d just have to do it himself.

With that thought in mind, Apollo took a breath in and let it out in a sharp rush, forcing his power out in a flurry of light. He could See his other forms of himself flickering as he temporarily drew all of his divine power to himself, away from them, in order to flash away, to teleport down to where the one and only Nico di Angelo was located.

Di Angelo let out a curse when Apollo flashed behind him, squinting when he finally turned to face him. The boy’s face was set in a troubled frown, said expression only worsening when he saw who had come to find him.

“Lord Apollo,” di Angelo greeted warily. In the time from when he’d first sensed a god flashing to his location and when Apollo’s divine power had dispersed itself once more, di Angelo had found the time to unsheath that sword of black adamant and Stygian iron. When he saw Apollo, he lowered it, but not fully. His sword pointed gradually to the ground, but his wrist never relaxed on its hold, like that sword would be enough to wound him — an Olympian god.

If Apollo hadn’t been so annoyed, he might’ve laughed.

Instead, he went straight to the point:

“Where’s Perseas?”

He hadn’t realized the words came out a growl until they did, and was almost surprised by his own frustration. Perseas could take care of herself. She’d fought Hades before; multiple times, in fact, and she’d escaped the Underworld a time or two in the past. She’d be fine , and if she wasn’t, her father would come to her aid now that the quest had officially begun and no Ancient Laws were holding him back from helping his precious daughter.

But the Underworld was part of di Angelo. The boy could shadowtravel , for Hades’ sake! And still, he hadn’t saved Perseas after she was taken. He had just— and she could’ve gotten hurt—

Nico di Angelo had taken several steps back from Apollo, no doubt seeing the anger that now swelled in his eyes, the annoyance and the frustration. Apollo’s shoulders rose up, his jaw clenched and hands tightened into fists as he tried futilely to reign in his divine power. The last thing he needed was to piss off Hades even more by accidentally scorching his only mortal son.

“Why do you want to know?” di Angelo asked back, the words calculated and delicate when they slipped from his mouth. Apollo pretended not to notice the way the Stygian sword raised up slightly,

Apollo rolled his eyes. “To get her out, of course.”

The boy frowned, clearly dubious. Apollo was starting to get tired of people constantly challenging his honesty. For one, he was the god of truths, and he wasn’t a trickster god! He had no need for meddling with mortals when they hadn’t instigated it. A busy god, he was — one that had more important things to do than toy with children.

Di Angelo was still suspicious, and gave an answer that was such a wonderfully crafted deflection — spoken like a true politician — that surely, his father must’ve taught him that. 

Sighing, Apollo prodded further, but let his consciousness swell outwards, forming an arrow that stabbed into the demigod’s mind. While di Angelo once again deflected, his sword raised further, Apollo got all that he needed from his memories.

I was with the Fates, she’d insisted when the two spoke. Di Angelo had shaken his head, frowning at her. The pollen must’ve messed with her head, made her craft up a dream where she’d reached the Fates and they’d given her their audience. It wasn’t an uncommon distraction technique; leave her disoriented and confused.

Now, di Angelo had fled the Underworld. He intended to find the Romans, form a group to go on a quest to get her out. After the last time he’d broken her out of the Underworld during the Second Titanomachy, Hades wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving her unguarded.

“There is no need for that,” Apollo said dismissively, a plan starting to form in his mind.

At first, the demigod frowned at him, confused. Then his eyes widened, filling with that horrified, violated realization mortals always got when they figured out their minds had just exposed their memories to a god. Apollo couldn’t care less; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d read a demigod’s mind without their permission, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Did you—”

“Yes,” Apollo said, waving a hand dismissively. “But that is irrelevant right now. You need help getting her out of the Underworld, and I can give you that assistance.”

Di Angelo’s onyx-black eyes narrowed suspiciously, glinting darkly in the heat of Apollo’s sun. “Why?” he asked, toying with the grip on his sword as he waited for Apollo’s answer. 

Apollo shrugged, letting a smirk dance across the edges of his lips. A demigod like di Angelo would’ve sneered at Apollo’s answer, not understanding the utter lack of care that came with being immortal, the sheer boredom. It was difficult to care about anything that wasn’t at least a little entertaining, having seen more human horrors than any mortal could ever dream of.

And Perseas Jackson — well , she was one of the most entertaining things to grace this wretched planet in millenia. A puzzle he couldn’t figure out, one he would greatly enjoy picking apart to discover its inner-workings, the cogs in the machine that was her mind and the core of her power.

Apollo smiled, utterly unashamed as he said, “Because she’s not as entertaining, all locked up in your father’s prison.”

Di Angelo’s eyes shuddered, the darkness of them giving away his disdain. Apollo smiled easily, all teeth and too-sharp lines, and took a vicious pleasure in the stiffening of di Angelo’s shoulders, prepared and ready for a fight.

“How can you help?” Nico finally said, the words slow and drawn out as he scanned Apollo warily. The boy still wasn’t very comfortable around him, that much was clear. Apollo couldn’t say he blamed him — nor that he took offense; quite the contrary, in fact. 

He didn’t miss the accusation there either, the belief that Apollo couldn’t help, that he wasn’t capable. He let the smile on his face widen, let it sharpen further into the reflection of a dagger, and relished in the way the shadows tightened protectively around Hades’ boy, as though they could shield him from Apollo’s eternal light.

“Information, of course,” Apollo said, waving a hand dismissively. “Your father’s learned from his mistakes; he knows how to contain her now. You’ll need something entirely new if you want to slip out from under him this time.”

Di Angelo shifted anxiously, those shadows blackening further as his patience edged to its end. Apollo smirked. This was the best part of being who he was. He knew more than everyone else.

And they all knew it.

“For every god that despises Perseas, there’s another that is firmly on her side,” Apollo drawled, “Particularly one god that can get in and out of the Underworld undetected.”

For what it was worth, the boy was cleverer than Apollo had given him credit for. It took him only a precious few seconds before he was saying, “Lord Hermes.”

“Smart boy,” Apollo purred, taking a wicked delight from the sneer that curled on di Angelo’s lips. 

“Get to the point,” he hissed, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Apollo shrugged. He’d let it slide, only because he was in a bit of a hurry too. Sometimes, it was just fun to toy with mortals.

“My brother is spread thin as it is, due to the precarious position Olympus has found itself in these past few years,” Apollo explained, shoving down the way his breath longed to hitch and he wanted to stretch out his consciousness, if only to make sure his brother was still there . “But if you can give him a blessing — a good one, not those scraps you half-bloods give us after your meals — then he may be willing to lend you a hand. A cover, of sorts. Hermes can shield you temporarily, mask you so thoroughly in his essence that Hades won’t realize you’re anything more than one of my brother’s lackeys, coming to deliver a package. While you’re masked, you’ll have a small window of time where no one will notice you. With that time, get in the Underworld, break her out, and escape before your father notices she’s missing.”

Over the course of the explanation, di Angelo had perked up, his eyes bright with a plan as he thought it through. It was a decent plan (of course it was; Apollo had been the one to make it), but there were still a few risks involved.

“Perhaps you should try getting a blessing from her father as well,” Apollo said lazily, “If you hadn’t already heard, Perseas’ first escape from the Underworld came from one of her father’s little gifts. Get one of those, and you’ll be out in no time.”

That is , Apollo thought, you’ll be out in no time if your father hasn’t figured out a way to safeguard against his brother’s schemes.

But he didn’t tell di Angelo that. If something went wrong and he couldn’t get a way out himself, he didn’t deserve to escape his father’s wrath. Besides, there was little entertainment value in doing all the work for them.

For a moment, di Angelo still appeared wary. Then his shoulders slackened minutely. He didn’t relax, though the boy never did, but there was something like gratitude, something like genuine thanks in the panes of his face that made Apollo purse his lips and look away. He was far from a benevolent god, and the sooner this demigod — and so many others — got that out of their thick skulls, the safer they’d be.

“Go,” Apollo snapped, thankful his voice came out harsher and sharper than it had mellowed to in his mind. “You don’t have much time.”

Di Angelo ignored the tone, nodded once, and stepped back into the rising shadows, reaching towards him like a clawed hand. The boy had more experience with the gods than most other demigods would have in their entire lifetimes. Of all people, he’d know of a good sacrifice to give to Hermes.

With the knowledge intact that Perseas’ chances of escaping had steadily increased, Apollo hummed lightly to himself and let the light overtake his body. He was a busy god, after all, and still had business to attend to, other than meddling in the affairs of particularly interesting demigods.

Nico’s POV

Nico had no idea what to sacrifice.

Okay, so he had some ideas, but that wasn’t saying much. As Apollo had said, Hermes was a busy god who expended a lot of energy and divine power while trying to finish his tasks. He was doing better at paying attention to his kids — at least, in comparison to some other gods — but even the Stoll brothers had mentioned once that their father seemed frazzled in a way they had never seen him before. 

There was no telling how big of a sacrifice he’d need to convince Hermes to help him. It was no secret that the god was fond of Percy, but Nico also knew what had nearly happened to Hermes after the war ended. Even the mortals were panicking. The imbalance it caused in the pantheon had been so extreme that everyone felt it. Natural disasters everywhere, economies facing temporary crashes, the internet going down… it had been really bad. 

For Hermes to risk it, he’d need something rare, something that the gods didn’t receive very often…

Because the universe hated him (actually, it might’ve just been Iris), that was when he got an IM from Sally Jackson.

Oh, fuck.

Nico hid a wince, trying to pretend his skin wasn’t crawling with nerves when he answered it and greeted, “Hey, Mrs. Jackson.”

He did his best to ignore the cloud of worry in her blue eyes, the way her hands flitted around her body and twitched towards the IM, like she was barely stopping herself from reaching out and shaking Nico’s shoulders, demanding to know what in Olympus’ name had happened to her daughter.

Sally’s shoulders slumped in relief when she saw him, her lips splitting into a relieved smile. “Nico!” she exclaimed, brightening so much that an oily guilt squirmed in his stomach. “I- I heard about what happened. Do you have any updates?”

Nico shifted uncomfortably, trying his best to pretend the flickering hope in her eyes didn’t make him want to run in the opposite direction. The worst part was, Sally wouldn’t even be mad. She’d nod her head, smile in that wobbly sort of way like she was trying not to cry, and blink away the tears in her eyes before softly bidding him goodbye because she didn’t want him to feel bad even though he would anyway.

That was definitely the worst part.

He updated her on what he knew, desperately scrambling for some shred of news he could give her that Percy would be okay. Things were just… different now. Nico couldn’t explain it. Ever since Percy had tried to get her audience with the Fates earlier on, something had shifted in the pantheon. Something big. Like a sheen of Mist no one had sensed before finally cleared, and they could breathe easier, their senses less culled and sharper than ever.

There was a tension in the air now, a feeling like strings had been snapped and chains had been unlocked. Nico doubted most other demigods sensed it that fully, but it didn’t sit right with him. He knew the basic parameters of the Fates’ Quest, that the Ancient Laws would be loosened in regards to Percy, as long as she had this quest. It was worrying. After all, Percy hadn’t even gotten her quest yet.

Besides, why could they sense it when it was only supposed to be about Percy?

Nico shook his head, clenching his hands into fists as he continued on, “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Jackson. I have a new plan to find her though. If I can get a blessing from one of the gods that really like Percy, I might be able to sneak into the Underworld without being sensed by my father. At least, just long enough to break her out.”

Sally brightened significantly, a smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, Nico. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Nico shrugged. “Unless you’ve got a spoil of war I can use for the sacrifice, not really. I’m sure I’ll come up with something though.”

To his surprise, Sally got a thoughtful look on her face. “I might have something. How rare, you think?”

Nico blinked. “Um… pretty rare, but that’s okay. I can come up with something myself.”

Sally’s lips set in a determined line. “No,” she said firmly, “Percy’s my daughter. If I can help, I want to. How long do you think it’d take you to get to my New York? I can give it to you as soon as you get here.”

Nico hesitated. Going from one end of the country to the other and back again would be nothing short of exhausting. It’d probably be easier to just find something himself.

“Right,” he heard Sally mutter, mostly to herself. “You’re in California right now. Is it possible for me to perform the sacrifice and request the help you need?”

Nico nodded. “It should be. Hermes isn’t a very strict god.”

Sally smiled once more, her hands flitting around her again. Not necessarily nervous or anxious. More determined.

The two bid each other goodbye, Sally promising to let him know once the sacrifice had been made. After it ended, Nico was left standing there, wondering idly what she could possibly have to sacrifice. 

Maybe something Percy had attained in a past quest? It was certainly possible. He wondered what it was though…

Nico spent a while waiting for her to finish, trying to come up with a plan in his head. The Underworld had a lot of dungeons, and Percy could be in any one of them. 

He was stronger in the Underworld though. Maybe he could shadowtravel across them, trying to make out her life force amongst the fray of prisoners. It’d take a lot of energy that he might need for getting them out though — who knew what state she’d be in once he found her, after all — and his father might be suspicious of one of Hermes’ lackeys using shadows as a mode of travel.

Before Nico could think of another plan, a buzzing filled his ears. He startled, unsheathing his sword once more and balancing on the balls of his feet, shadows at the ready.

But it was only one of Hermes’ men.

That was fast, Nico has time to think before the man is launching into a long-winded list of warnings, threats, and if you break it, you buy it , which Nico is pretty sure just means I can and will kill you in nicer words.

Before he’s able to open his mouth and ask what in Hades’ name the man is talking about, he begins to take off his shoes with a sullen, almost pouty look. Nico does his best to hide his bewilderment, vaguely remembering the story of the shoes Hermes had given his son; the ones that fly.

The ones that were cursed.

Nico glanced down at the shoes, resolutely ignoring the huffing god and put them on with great reluctance. Hopefully, these ones wouldn’t drag him down to Tartarus the way they had very nearly done to Percy. 

“...Thanks,” he said stiffly, but when he glanced back up after tying the shoes, the god was already gone.

Well, alright then.

Nico took a step forward, ready to step into the shadows already reaching out to him. Something struck upwards into his outstretched foot, like a minor volt of energy when Thalia got particularly snappish with them.

He stumbled, cursing under his breath. A buzzing, jittery energy filled him up to his bones, and Nico resisted the urge to shudder at the feeling. Like something was inside him, something both alive and dead and everything in between.

Was this what immortality felt like? Too much life and yet, not enough of it? Death so close yet so far. He squirmed, clenching his fists at his sides. Nico was the son of Hades, a child of the dead; he was closer to death than a vast number of the living ever would be until their time finally came.

And yet, this feeling… this divine power, it was unnerving, unnatural and yet so in tune with nature that Nico could sense the hum of its power breathing in the world around him. 

Nico pursed his lips and stretched a hand out, drawing the shadows to himself and trying to pretend he didn’t feel so much more powerful, to the point that it was too full inside of him. A ball of energy humming in his gut, trembling in the energy of his newfound strength.

Temporary , Nico reminded himself as the shadows swallowed him whole without tamping an ounce of his strength. This is temporary.

The Underworld was in chaos when he arrived.

Nico hissed out a curse as a throng of soldiers rushed past him, their bones clacking loudly against the marble floors. The Underworld’s tall, oil black walls and floors that chilled to the bone appeared ominous than usual. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Nico hid a smile. Percy had escaped.

Whether she’d gotten out of the Underworld or not though, that was still up in the air.

Resigning himself to his new search, Nico pressed himself deeper into the towering shadows of the Underworld palace and began to reach out his senses to find his friend.

It doesn’t take him long, for what it’s worth. There’s a collection of dark energy near the hall leading to one of the dungeons of the Underworld. Nico’s done this enough that he recognizes it as his father’s soldiers, most likely trying to keep Percy from leaving. Gripping his sword in his hand and drawing shadows into the other, Nico set off running towards the source of the power.

As he ran, he passed various scenes of disarray. Everyone was up in arms, rushing to lock down the Underworld. Nico’s stomach sank, and he pushed himself to run faster. If he didn’t find Percy soon, the Underworld’s walls would be drawn up, and it’d take something far more powerful than a minor god’s Hermes-blessed shoes to get them out alive. 

He couldn’t say he was surprised at the scene though, to be fair. If Percy got out, it would be the third time she’s escaped from his father’s clutches. Nico doubted his father is all that willing to deal with the humiliation of losing to one of Poseidon’s kids for the third time in the last decade.

Thankfully, Nico has been to the Underworld a thousand times over, in various situations both domestic and hostile. He knew this place like the back of his hand, could weave his way through its twisting halls as though he’d been the one to make them. Part of it was also, no doubt, his powers giving him the ability to navigate below the earth, but that didn’t negate the familiarity of this place.

He stumbled further through the palace, the energy growing stronger and stronger. Most people gave him nothing but a momentary glance, if that, too busy in their own lives and the orders of his father to pay attention to one rather frantic, glorified delivery boy.

When he finally arrived at the large fork in the hallway where the fighting was taking place, the sound of clashing swords and shouted orders, yells of pain and lunges to attack filled the cavernous palace. Dimly lit, he could barely make out the bony silhouettes of his father’s men, but Percy stood out amongst them all. Weaving gracefully through her fingers was what must’ve been Styx water — Nico still wasn’t sure how she could control that, anyway — flicking outwards and trailing Riptide like deadly whips. 

Nico clenched his jaw and, without a moment’s hesitation, jumped into the fray.

The skeletal soldiers hesitated for a second when they saw him, unsure whether to attack one of Hades’ own, but after Nico pressed himself against Percy’s back, their bodies moving in tandem to hold off the soldiers, they relented their hesitation and attacked him as well.

He sent his sword down in a deadly arc, gripping the hilt in a firm grip as shadows burst in its wake. He wasn’t as seamless with his powers, not the way Percy was. She could use them without expending as much energy as most other demigods could. While there were some things Nico could do while fighting with his sword, he usually had to dedicate his focus to one or the other when fighting.

“Cover for me,” he hissed to Percy. She barely hesitated before nodding once and pushing off his back, spinning powerfully and sending a wave of Styx water toward the soldiers surrounding them. Nico winced backward, as did the soldiers, who all jumped out of the way. Percy’s control was decent, but when she was manipulating a liquid that could disintegrate someone down to their soul, Nico wasn’t particularly inclined to go near it.

Still, he took a breath, gripped his sword with two hands, and clenched his body tightly at the momentary distraction. Nico’s feet braced against the marble, and with a hissed release of air, he slammed his Stygian iron sword into the ground. A fissure formed, growing steadily deeper as he pushed more and more power into it.

Following his lead, Percy herded the soldiers closer towards the crack until they were falling in, dragging others down with them. Nico took a temporary break from the crack, raising a fist in an upward punch and sending random rocky barbs up into the fray of soldiers. The attack sent them scattering even further, and with Percy’s deft control of the Styx, they were all forced into the fissure. Nico hissed a breath through his nose and forced the fissure deeper, sealing it over before they could get out.

“Won’t your father just break them out?” Percy asked. Nico appreciated that she didn’t even question how he’d gotten there in the first place.

He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’ll give us a head start. He doesn’t like it when I kill too many of his soldiers.”

“Too many,” Percy muttered in a scoff under her breath, and Nico’s lips quirked up. Her eyes met his, and she said in a grateful voice, “Thanks for coming, Nico.”

He nodded, clearing his throat, and hoped the dim light of the hall hid his flush. “Let’s get out of here before we’re found.”

Percy nodded enthusiastically, reaching a hand out for him. Lead the way , that look said, and Nico rolled his shoulders, trudging toward her. They’d have maybe a minute before his father swept across the Underworld for Percy, who wasn’t hidden like he was. He gripped her arm, summoning shadows to himself as fast as he could.

That was when he sensed it.

Nico cursed under his breath and dragged Percy to the shadows.

So.

Not a minute then.

Now .

Nico looked up, feeling more than seeing the overwhelming presence of his furious father. The last thing he saw was the blacker, stronger, faster shadows of the king of the Underworld rushing towards them, missing them by a hair as they fled into the comforting cool of Nico’s power, slipping up, up, up—

And straight into the impenetrable defenses of the Underworld.

Nico and Percy slammed against the invisible wall of divine power and fell back into solid ground in a tumbling heap. He grunted, untangling himself from his groaning friend and unsheathing his sword immediately.

Percy was weakened in the Underworld. Not by much, but enough that her energy was starting to sap from her. There was less water for her to draw from, greater distances she needed to stretch across to get it. Doing so continuously had leeched all the strength from her bones. Her arms trembled as she struggled to get up, but Percy had beat worse enemies with odds more slanted than these. Nico placed his back to her, knowing she’d be back up in the next few minutes.

They were trapped at the impasse between the Underworld and the land of the living. DOA Recording Studios wasn’t his favorite place; filled to the brim, that it was, with half-delirious spirits who had no way of getting to the afterlife. Nico clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to snap at the miserable, bemoaning souls as the tension grew bigger and bigger. Charon rolled his eyes, going back to whatever he’d been doing and resolutely ignoring the pair of demigods.

“Is that Apollo?” Percy hissed. Nico followed her wide-eyed, pale-faced gaze to the tinted windows of the studio’s entrance. To Nico’s severe disbelief, there Apollo was, smirking at them while he waited for them to get out.

“Are you going to help us?” Nico demanded, his heart hammering in his chest. They didn’t have much time. Already, he could feel the soldiers rushing up the elevator, his father’s presence looming nearby.

Apollo shrugged carelessly. “Can’t interfere,” he drawled, his gaze dark with amusement.

“What were you doing before?” he snapped back.

“Nudging,” he quipped, leaning back against a nearby light pole with all the lithe grace of a panther.

“How do we get out of here?” Percy asked, holding her sword in a vice grip. She couldn’t draw water from the outside world, and Nico wasn’t sure if her range could leech through the floors of the studio and into the Underworld down below.

“Unless someone with control over the defenses lets us out, we have to go back,” Nico rushed out, pressing his back against Percy’s as they waited in anticipation for the soldiers to arrive. There was an ominous thump, thump, thump below the studio, signaling the soon-to-be arrival of his father’s men. He didn’t know why his father wasn’t here yet. Something must’ve been holding him back, keeping him from reaching them. “Near the entrance to Tartarus, there’s a hole in the defenses. We’ll need to—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence. One moment, the studio was abuzz with its usual activity. In the next, soldiers were rushing through the elevator with an almost ironic ding of the doors. 

They’re followed by growling hellhounds, teeth bared, and canines at the ready. Without hesitation, Percy launched into the fray, access to her powers or not, and swept gracefully through the monsters, more like a dancer with deadly precision than a fatal fighter.

Nico rushed to join her, and she said to him, her voice a shout over the noise of the fighting, “We can’t go back! It’ll be swarming with monsters, especially near Tartarus.”

He knew that, but Nico also knew with stark, painful clarity that absolutely no one would side with Percy over Thanatos, even the minor gods who now had thrones because of her. Nico was the only one, the only person in the entire Underworld who had chosen Percy over Thanatos. The tension of that decision was a heavy stone in his gut, but Nico stood by it regardless.

“No one will side with us,” Nico gritted out, swinging his sword down in a deadly arc. It sliced into one of the hellhounds, and something tugged at his heart when the hellhound let out a little yelp of pain. He danced away, letting it slowly dissolve into that familiar gold.

Percy was making her way through the throng of monsters, relentlessly slaying each one. She was making a sizable dent in the group, as was Nico, but it wasn’t enough. They just kept coming, and their powers were weakened in the crushing pressure of his father’s divine power. They had to make a choice; fight their way out or hope for the mercy of some god. Nico wasn’t so foolish as to hope for the latter.

“Let’s go,” he snarled, gripping her wrist. Exhaustion settled deep in his bones. He had shadowtraveled too much, to the point that he was weakened severely. Doing it again would render him useless for a while as he regained his strength. Percy would be able to cover for him until he was back up though.

That was when an arrow whizzed past his ear, right into the ribs of one of the skeletal soldiers near them. It embedded itself in the monster’s chest, glowing a fatal red that seeped into the soldier’s bones. Before Nico could register what had happened, the soldier was dissolving into golden sand.

His head shot up. So Apollo had decided to help them? He was surprised, admittedly. He’d never known Apollo as the type of god to be so helpful towards the demigods without any benefit to himself—

But when he looked up, Apollo was still standing there, through the tinted window. He had straightened though, his expression a mask of black, hateful fury as he stared past Nico.

“You’re lucky I kept some of those arrows on me,” a familiar voice drawled behind them. The soldiers had backed away, cowed by the power of the god behind them. Nico’s blood ran cold, and he drew more shadows toward him as he turned.

And met the eyes of Eros.

Nico backed away on trembling legs, and the god smirked giddily, like a predator stalking prey.

Percy’s hand wrapped around his elbow, tugging him farther behind her. The fighting had slowed to a stop, the studio left in a limbo of indecision. It was obvious Eros was helping Percy, and even Charon looked hesitant to cross the temperamental god.

“What– what are you—” Nico choked out, shadows wrapping around his frame. 

“You’re welcome,” Eros snarked. His form glowed the color of blood, and he gave the soldiers a pointed look. “Well?” he began, “don’t tell me you’re going to try your hand at fighting me .” That cocky tone, so sure of himself, so sure of his power… Nico clenched his hands and physically held himself back from punching the god in the face.

Eros held a hand out for Percy like a gentleman asking a lady for a dance, his upper body dipped slightly in a mock of a bow. “Come now, Perseas,” he purred. A curl of disgust slipped into his gut. “Unless you want to face Lord Hades’ fickle wrath, I’d suggest we leave now.”

“You’re not an Underworld god,” Nico said lowly, thanking whatever merciful god had kept his voice from being rendered silent. “You can’t break through the wards.”

Why are you helping us? Nico didn’t say. Thanatos is your counterpart, your closest ally. Why are you helping us?

Eros strolled forward, taking Percy’s hand by force now. She had rooted herself to her spot, frozen in place since she first saw him. She startled, jerking a little like she wanted to tug her hand out of his. At Nico’s back, warmth flooded through the tinted windows, as though Apollo’s wrath had expounded so thoroughly that the sun managed to break through and glare into the studio.

“I have my ways,” Eros said dismissively. Nico’s hand tightened on his sword, and he shook his head when Percy reached her hand out for his.

“No,” Nico said firmly, “I’ll find my way out some other way. My father won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t worry,” Eros cooed, “I don’t bite.”

“Enough,” Percy snapped at him, turning to Nico. “Are you sure?” she said, her voice hushed when she spoke to him.

Nico nodded. “Go,” he said firmly, “You don’t have much time. I can feel my father nearing. Whatever had slowed him down before hasn’t been able to keep it up any longer.”

Percy nodded, her brows pinching together in focus. “Thanks, Nico,” she murmured, “IM me as soon as you can, okay?”

He nodded once at her, smiling despite the roiling in his chest. Eros’ gaze burned a brand into his skin, the memory of his mocking crawling sickly through his body. He would rather stay here, rather face his father’s incandescent wrath than spend another moment near the love god.

Percy nodded at him, a silent goodbye, before turning back to Eros. Nico hid it well, but a surge of gratitude pressed through him when he saw the stony way her features froze over, the curl of her lips — not a sneer, but nearing that. Eros took the expression with practiced ease, his gaze sharpening delightedly before he gripped her hand once more and the two were off.

Not a minute later, his father shadowed into solid form at Nico’s back, the fury radiating off him in waves of raw, divine power.

Nico held in a sigh. Left alone with no one but his father and his lackeys for company, he’d have to do damage control until Percy could safely get away. At his back, he sensed another presence besides his father — Thanatos. Nico pitied him, despite his own feelings regarding the matter. The god was thousands of years old and had probably spent every single one waiting for his soulmate, the one fated to be his forever love. Now, she’d discovered their connection and would go to the ends of the Earth to break it.

No matter , Nico thinks. It wasn’t personal — truly, it wasn’t — but it was Thanatos or Percy, and no amount of loyalty to the Underworld was going to change that Percy was one of his closest friends. When it came down to it, he would help her with this before he would ever side with his father.

Still, that didn’t mean he was all that keen on facing the two gods’ anger, but he couldn’t stall it much longer. They were right behind him, waiting, watching.

Nico rolled his shoulders, pursed his lips, gritted his teeth.

And turned around.

Distantly, in the temples of the Olympians, a gleeful god of messengers held his new war spoil in his hands, careful to keep its deadened gaze far away from his eyes as the hair of snakes bickered with his own.

Chapter Text

Percy's POV

Percy’s mind was still reeling when Eros took her arm in his cold hand, the rustle of his wings barely registering through the haze fuzzing her senses. Vaguely, she recalled Eros’ unusually soft voice, the gentleness of the way he held her as he urged her to close her eyes. She blinked dully, staring at where Nico had been as the world around them grew brighter and brighter, and through the darkness of her eyelids, felt an icy hand rest lightly over her eyes.

That was when the world grew that much brighter in one shocked burst. They landed on a beach, the ocean at her back, the waves lapping softly against the sand. People were scattered across it, families playing with their children on a warm, sunny day. Percy jerked, ducking her head into her elbow instinctually, and Eros’ hand on hers curled tighter, firmer.

It didn’t let up after the brightness faded.

When she saw who was standing there, she understood why.

“Apollo?” she said blearily, squinting through the pounding in her skull. The sun god’s eye twitched, and he took a step forward. Only years of battle-honed reflexes had Percy snapping out of her throbbing confusion, still trying to process what was going on, and had her taking a step back. Eros’ hand followed her, though he stayed rooted in place. It was still tight on her arm, and Percy had to resist the sudden urge to shake him off.

Apollo’s fiery, golden gaze barely glanced at her before landing on Eros’ hand on her arm. Somehow, the fire there flared brighter, and Percy could’ve sworn the sun on her back grew stronger, no longer a welcome warmth but a searing burn.

“Don’t worry,” Eros drawled in a honey-tipped voice, a sharp amusement curling like smoke from his lips as he trailed his eyes up Apollo’s tense form. “I haven’t hurt your favorite entertainment.”

Percy stiffened, finally wrenching herself out of his grip and holding Riptide in her hand. Gods , she reminded herself sternly. These are gods, and to them, you are just a particularly amusing toy.

The thought dunked cold water over her head, leaving her desolate and emptied of the fire that had overtaken her since entering the Underworld. In the last few weeks, Percy has interacted more with the gods than she has in her entire life — which said a lot because she’s interacted with them more than most other demigods. Save Nico, who practically lived in the Underworld, and Annabeth, who was on Olympus regularly for its rebuilding, most demigods were lucky if they saw more than a handful of gods.

Percy wouldn’t call herself lucky for being one of the unfortunate outliers, but that was a story for another time.

Eros’ gaze flickered to hers after she stepped back, his lips pursing slightly.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve sworn a flash of satisfaction passed in Apollo’s eyes.

Over the years, Percy had heard whispers of the rivalry between Apollo and Eros, but it hadn’t ever been important to her and any of her past quests so she’d never bothered to learn more about it. Judging by the way the two watched each other, their bodies tensed and ready for a fight, it was safe to say that rivalry hadn’t faded in the thousands of years since the myths had been written.

She took another step back, her hand drawing up to the pin still in her hair. The sea was at her back, and she was in her element. Here, Percy couldn’t fight off the divinity and power of two very powerful gods, and the realization was so strong that it knocked her off her feet. She shuddered, adrenaline curling through her veins, blending with the fear in her gut. She was quick, even faster with her father’s gift. Maybe, maybe , that would be enough. Maybe she could get away before they lunged for each other.

A sudden desire for her Styx Curse nearly knocked her over. The impulse burned in her throat, desperation so bright and burning that it blurred her vision. Not for the first time, Percy took a moment to rage silently at Hera — or Juno, whoever it had been — for taking the curse from her. After all she’d been through, it had been stolen with a snap of their fingers, like all the pain and torment she went through didn’t matter at all.

“What are you doing here, Eros?” Apollo said lowly, his voice taking on a snarl. His eyes were bright, two small suns of liquid, molten gold, so contrasting with Eros’ blood red. A violent promise sang in the air, humming across her skin. There was a soft thrum in her veins, an ominous pull towards the tensed gods in front of her. Reflex told her to step back, back, back into the sea where she’d be safe. Some core instinct in her gut drew her closer to them, beckoning her in.

Eros shrugged, so fluid and languid that it was inhuman. “Perseas asked for my help,” he explained, something dangerously close to glee making the red of his eyes glow brighter. “I could hardly deny her, now could I?”

The words seemed to set something off in Apollo. His body snapped taut like a string, sunlight curling dangerously around his fingertips. The golden bow strapped to his back gleamed, the arrows sharp and forged of celestial bronze and imperial gold. 

Then the molten gaze, glowing with an unshed fury, slitted to Percy. She straightened, letting the adrenaline thrum through her, acting purely on instinct as she pulled the clip from her hair and felt the familiar tug in her gut as her power drew closer. The chances of being a furious Apollo in a fight were horrifyingly slim, especially without the Ancient Laws leashing him, but Percy had faced down deities far worse than him. Perhaps she couldn’t defeat him, but she’d put up a fight — and she was fast, hopefully enough so to get away.

But when she stared back at him, his lips curled upward in cruel disdain. Sneering, he said, “You’d accept help from him?” Apollo’s chin jerked toward Eros, his gaze cooling furiously. Taut like the string of his bow, tension curled off him so strongly that it buzzed against Percy’s skin. She didn’t say anything in response, even if a million retorts edged on her tongue. 

“You need not worry, Apollo.” Eros’ lips curled tantalizingly, a glee there that instantly set Percy on edge. “You’ll still have your chance to assist her.”

Something about those words set Apollo off. One moment, the sun burned hot against Percy’s back. The next, it was flaring like fire licking against her skin. The world brightened into a searing gold. She barely swallowed her gasp of pain, taking multiple steps back, ready to leave. But something about this conversation beckoned her to stay, and sure enough, the flare of pain ebbed from her until it faded completely.

It was then that Percy realized both gods were looking at her. Apollo’s gaze fell to her shoulders, the sunburnt skin she paid no mind to. The moment she stepped in the water, it’d all heal anyway. Yet, Apollo’s head cocked just slightly in apology, and the lingering pain faded.

Percy swallowed thickly, straying a hand to her now-healed shoulder. She wasn’t about to thank him for healing pains he’d caused, but she felt less on edge knowing he meant her no harm.

“You’ve got your quest,” he said quietly, his body so still that it was inhuman. 

Percy stiffened. She’d almost forgotten about the deal she and Apollo had made; once she entered the Underworld, he’d get her the audience with the Fates. In the end, she hadn’t needed his help. Nor had she needed Thanatos to cover for her while she was there.

Why?

“So she has,” Eros hummed, his eyes glinting sharply. “No need to worry though. I’m sure Percy will find a fitting time to call upon you during her quest. Your debt to her will be repaid eventually.”

Percy’s grip tightened on Riptide as Apollo’s nostrils flared. Debt? What was Eros talking about?

“I doubt that’s necessary,” Apollo said in a soft snarl. Something was seriously off with this situation, and it grated on Percy’s nerves. Both gods knew more than they were letting on. She had long since become accustomed to people simply not telling her all the information she needed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate her any less.

Could Eros be referring to the Styx deal she’d struck with Apollo earlier on? Technically, Apollo hadn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain. Did that make him indebted to her? The thought was far from comforting. Considering the sun god’s foul mood, she had a feeling he shared a similar sentiment.

“I’d suggest you get going, Perseas,” Eros said with a hum. His lips curled up in an odd, kindly smile as he jerked his chin towards the sea at her back. “You’ve a quest to get on with, after all.”

Percy didn’t want to leave yet, not now. Not when she had so many questions buzzing on the tip of her tongue. Judging by the look on both gods’ faces, she doubted she’d get any answers out of them for the time being. Hopefully, once Percy reached her first destination, she could convince someone to explain to her what was going on with the both of them.

Before Percy could take her leave, Apollo’s voice sounded at her back.

“Stay away from Eros, Perseas.”

Eros let out a derisive scoff, and she saw the ends of his eye roll as she turned around once more. Apollo’s expression had gone unusually grave, his shoulders stiff as he spoke:

“He’s not the person you think he is,” was all Apollo finished with, irritatingly vague.

I know that, she didn’t say, He’s a god. Of course, he’s not a good person.

But there was something about the look in Apollo’s eyes, a thing like genuine concern there. His gaze darted from her, back to Eros, and she watched with a fascinated intensity as a furrow buried between his brows. The raw emotion in that action was mangled by the coldness, the cruelty of the rest of him. Percy felt like she was looking at a puzzle with a piece from another, all the bland, marble uncaring of an immortal in every aspect of the sun god — but that singular, painfully mortal furrow, hinting at an emotion he didn’t dare voice aloud.

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away. It was all a trick, most likely. Some grand game just to fool her, to lure her in and play her like a fiddle. He was an immortal god, had likely practiced such an expression a million times before, crafted to draw in naive mortals with a single frown. 

There wasn’t time to question it though. Her father’s gift was gripped in her hand, the sharpness of the gems imprinting into her skin as she stepped back and back and back. The salt sea of the beckoning waves licked at her heels. Percy didn’t waste another second before letting the water sweep her away — away from these gods, these beings of divinity and immortality who cared little for the lives of the humans that they crushed like ants beneath their feet. There, on that beach, Apollo and Eros would’ve traded blows, regardless of the humans hurt in the process. It was only her presence that stopped them.

Not them , she reminded herself irately, just Apollo . 

The thought was neither helpful nor comforting, but it was the only thing she could think about when she found herself in her new location.

In a park with a small pond, people walked dogs and pushed strollers around her. The simplicity and peace of the scenery settled her nerves enough that she swallowed and sat down at a nearby bench. The sun wafted over her, settling over her skin like a warming breeze. It was like a scene out of a movie.

Percy doesn’t know how long she spent there, draped over the bench with her legs splayed out in front of her, but it was sometime later when a man sat in the space next to her. She didn’t open her eyes, but Percy’s skin lit with tingles and the hairs on her arms stood on end.

A god, she realized with no small amount of resignation. It was always gods these days.

“That was quite an escape back there.”

Percy’s hands clenched, but she still didn’t open her eyes. Apollo’s voice was near like he’d leaned in to say the words. The sound of it shuddered down her spine, a smooth timber that would’ve been calming if she were anyone else but herself.

“No thanks to you,” she muttered, the words escaping before she could convince herself not to say them. Percy had long since stopped caring about whatever punishment the gods desired to mete out for her insolence. After saving their asses a few times over, they had gradually become less and less intimidating in her eyes, even if the power of their divinity still set her on edge.

At her words, Percy opened her eyes though, sitting up straighter and finally settling her gaze on Apollo. If he was going to try something, she’d be more prepared if she paid attention.

The god looked as he usually did, a halo of golden light settling around him. The air was thick with divine power, and her skin warmed as though Apollo himself were a ray of sunlight.

He shrugged carelessly, but she saw the way his eyes lit ablaze at the snide remark. Percy almost wished he’d do something, threaten something, but he didn’t so much as lift a finger against her.

Your debt to her will be repaid eventually.

Eros’ words came back to her. Was that the reason for Apollo’s newfound self-control? Did he owe her in some way, and was now unable to harm her until he’d fulfilled whatever ‘debt’ he now possessed? The very idea seemed absurd to her, but from Apollo’s reaction to Eros’ words earlier… perhaps she wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“Now, now, Perseas.” Apollo shook his head with a click of his tongue like he was scolding a naughty child. “I could hardly disobey the Fates and their laws, now could I?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you need something, Apollo?” She’d long since foregone the use of their formal titles; tacking on ‘Lord’ and ‘Lady’ before the name of every god seemed ridiculous considering how many times she’d saved their very existence.

“Can’t I spend time with my favorite hero?” Far too innocently for the god she knew him to be, he slung an arm over her shoulder and smirked. Percy shrugged him off, taking a few steps back. Mainly because he was getting on her nerves, but also because a burning had settled at the base of her back, and she didn’t want to look too deep into what that was implying.

Percy’s jaw clenched, and she seethed, “Whatever you’re planning—”

Before she could finish that sentence, the ground began to shake and tremble at her feet. Percy stiffened, drawing Riptide before any coherent thought drew from her brain. 

That was when the ground to her side began to split in two.

Hades.

Apollo let out a low curse. A hand wrapped around her wrist, and it took Percy just a second too long to realize it was the sun god’s — a second that he used to tug her in the opposite direction of the splintering ground. His grip was firm and unyielding, and Percy couldn’t help but follow him. He raised a hand to the skies, calling upon something Percy couldn’t see.

Her body chilled like it did on a cloudy day, but when she looked up, the sun was still high and bright in the sky. With Apollo’s arms around her, she should’ve been hotter, so why—

Light burst from between the clouds, shining down so brightly that she had to squint her eyes. The ground was beginning to split apart, the cracks becoming large enough for her to fall into. They were spreading too, getting dangerously close to Percy and Apollo despite their running.

The sea was nearby. If she could just get to the water, maybe Percy could defend herself from whatever her horrible excuse of an uncle had planned—

Great wings, pure white like a star, gusted bursts of wind into her back. Percy stumbled, wheeling around and finally wrenching her grip from Apollo. It didn’t matter though, for he was already swinging his leg up and around, settling on his new ride. The steed he’d summoned was a large, beautiful pegasus with a unicorn horn. An alicorn, she believed Annabeth had told her once. It was a pearlescent white, its feathers shimmering in gleams of blues and purples. 

“Hesitate any longer, and all that work di Angelo went through to get you out of the Underworld will go to waste,” Apollo snapped. Percy’s head shot up. The cracks were spreading. Some had begun to form around her on other sides, surrounding them in gaping maws of black nothingness, a promise of a one-way trip to the Underworld.

As much as Percy wanted to say no, wanted to run and take the risk to reach the shore, she knew it would be too much of a risk. The beach was too far from here. If Hades was truly doing this to capture her, no land would be safe, and he would just keep opening up the earth until she fell into something .

It was this, or death by hellhound. Or whatever other monster Hades decided should have Percy as their meal.

One of the fissures cracked open, splintering farther down the ground. Before Percy could react, it was breaking right at their feet. Apollo’s steed neighed in panic, taking off into the air. She muttered a curse. It was too late. The ground was opening beneath her feet, and Apollo had tired of waiting. Gripping Riptide in one hand, Percy made a run for the coast beyond the horizon of trees, jumping over one fissure and barely managing to stumble over another.

Trees swayed. A great, crashing BOOM! slammed across the park. In the distance, Percy heard a scream. Her heart skipped a beat. If she hadn’t been running for her own life at that moment, she’d have done something, tried to find the person who screamed before they—

A hand wrapped around her waist. Percy let out a panicked shout, kicking and twisting in their grip. 

“Dammit, Perseas, why does everything have to be difficult with you?” Apollo hissed, tightening his grip on her waist. 

I could ask you the same thing, she nearly snarled, but the words caught in her throat when he tugged her upwards and onto the alicorn. Her legs clenched around the body of the steed, Apollo’s arms around her like a vice as the alicorn — his sun chariot, she realized blearily, with its golden eyes and glittering, white coat — took to the skies.

The wind whipped across Percy’s cheeks, a cold bite to the air as they ascended higher. Apollo’s body pressed against her back, and she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he leaned forward, into her, and pushed the steed further toward the sea.

The ground was a distant rumble below, the chaos of Hades’ wrath echoing in her ears. The shore was up ahead. They were so close. Percy tightened her grip on Apollo’s chariot-turned-alicorn and prayed to her father that they made it—

“Perseas Jackson!”

Oh, no.

Percy whipped her head around, nearly falling off the alicorn in the process. Apollo’s voice filled her left ear, muttering a string of curses at her for moving too much. It didn’t matter to her though. 

Because behind them, gaining with every moment they were in the air, were the Furies.

“Once more, you have forsaken the gods!” shrieked Alecto, her sagging expression contorted in vengeful rage. Riptide dug into the skin of her fingers, buzzing with anticipation for a fight. “Disrespected the rule of Aphrodite, shunned the gods of the Underworld! For this, you shall pay the ultimate price.”

“Can I use a coupon? I hear the ultimate price is a little steep.”

Apollo’s incredulous laugh warmed against her neck. The hairs on her skin rose. “How in Ouranus’ name are you still alive?”

For a brief moment, nothing else — not the soulbond, not the Furies at their backs nor the sinkholes and fissures at their feet — mattered. Percy grinned, the familiar adrenaline of being on a quest rushing through her veins. 

“It’s a talent.”

The Fury to their left lunged forward, her wings catching a gust of wind to propel her toward them. The alicorn veered right and down, plunging in a nose dive for the approaching waves.

“Care to tell me what’s going on?” Percy grunted. Why are you helping me? she didn’t say. In all the years she’d been fighting to save their asses, they’d never given her so much help before. 

“Why don’t you worry about that after the Furies can’t reach us?”

Us? Percy frowned. “But—”

The alicorn bucked, letting out a freaked neigh. Apollo’s grip on the steed’s neck slipped, and her heart lodged in her throat as they nearly tumbled off. He righted himself just in time, pressing closer against her and muttering a string of curses at the bucking alicorn. 

Percy’s grip tightened. She whipped her head around, searching for the Furies, but all three had slowed their hunt as Apollo and Percy began to fly directly over the ocean. Even they knew when to not push it.

“What’s going on?” she shouted, nearly stumbling off of the alicorn completely as it bucked again.

“I’m losing control!” Apollo grunted, one of his hands going to her waist again. Percy’s breath hitched. She really wished he’d stop doing that. “On my count, we jump, got it?”

Losing control? It was his sun chariot. What kind of sun god loses control of his chariot?

“One…”

The Furies had decided to risk it, hurtling across the skies for them. They were flying farther and farther out from the shore, searching for somewhere secure.

“Two…”

Alecto was at Percy’s side. She grinned fiercely and wrapped a clawed hand around her forearm. Percy grunted and barely managed to shake her off before shouting:

“THREE!”

Percy didn’t wait for Apollo’s reaction before pushing herself off the alicorn, which was struggling like a mechanical bull ride. Her arms stretched above her head, the water hurtling closer. Riptide lengthened into a full sword. One of the Furies had soared down after her, and Percy turned midair, swiping Riptide at her. It caught on her abdomen, golden ichor rushing out as the Fury reared back in a mixture of pain and rage. 

Neither Percy nor the monsters had time to react before she was plunging into the ocean beneath, Apollo right at her heels.

Percy’s eyes shot open as a hand wrapped around her arm, tugging her closer. Apollo’s cheeks had blown outward, and he glared pointedly at her, gesturing around his head. It took Percy a second to get it. As he was a sky god, not a sea god, Apollo couldn’t breathe underwater like she could. Hurriedly, Percy warped an air bubble that had been rising to the surface and expanded it large enough to fit around his head. Her hand pushed toward him, and Apollo sucked in a relieved breath the moment it did.

Percy frowned. She hadn’t even known the gods needed to breathe. Their human forms were manifestations of their power, but they were ultimately just vessels. Around humans, they’d mimic mortal behaviors like blinking and breathing, warming up their skin, and making sure their ‘hearts’ were beating when interacting with humans, but they never cared as much around demigods. Sometimes, when one of them looked like they weren’t paying attention, Percy would realize how off they looked — like a living version of the Uncanny Valley effect. Their eyes wouldn’t blink, their chests wouldn’t rise and fall with their breathing. Even when they were angry or amused, they might forget to express the emotions on their faces, and the only way any mortal would know how they felt was from the way their domains reacted.

So if that was the case, what was with Apollo’s sudden need for oxygen?

Before she could ask, one of the Furies went hurtling toward them from the air above the water’s surface. Percy shot backward, using her powers to propel her down before they could reach her. She hadn’t taken Apollo with her so he had to make an aborted attempt to lunge out of the way. For a moment, Percy was sure she’d grab him, but then the Fury’s hand dove into the ocean. Percy watched in amazement as her skin, wrinkly and greyish, began to sizzle like the water was acid. Alecto, she recognized, let out a shriek of agony, and flew back up into the sky. Her glare pierced through the water, those beady eyes gazing down hatefully at Percy swimming below.

“What in Poseidon’s name was…” Percy trailed off, muttering to herself as she tried to puzzle out what had caused it. The ocean never repelled monsters before. Was that happening now as her father’s form of fighting back against Hades, protecting her? Despite herself, something in her chest warmed at the thought.

The water rippled beside her, and Apollo appeared in her field of vision. Like a rock sinking into a lake, Percy’s mood dropped at the sight of him.

“Oh,” she muttered, “you’re still here.”

“Yes,” he snapped, his lips curling into a scowl. “I am. Thanks for the help, by the way. I saved you from those sinkholes, and you nearly let me get snatched up by the Furies.”

“I assumed you could handle it!”

“Why would you assume that?”

“Uh… because you’re an Olympian?”

“If it were that simple, why would I run from them?”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Yeah, you seem to do that a lot.”

A furious pain pounded in her temple, and she clenched her jaw, swimming away from him. The light, she noticed, had fully faded from Apollo, the usual shine of divinity leaving him. Without it, he looked more human than any god she’d seen had ever looked.

“Do not run away from me, Perseas!”

I’m not running , she thought petulantly, but even she wasn’t childish enough to say the words aloud.

There was a small cave lower down that she could use for cover until she thought of a plan. Around her, fish and other sea creatures had begun to approach, and their excited chatter was starting to give her a headache.

Sea god or not, Apollo was still a powerful swimmer, and he was at her side again in a few minutes. The fish avoided him like the plague, their disappointed voices fading from her head. It was the one time she’d ever been happy to be in his presence.

“Why are you still here?” she snapped, “Can’t you just flash away or something?”

The two of them reached the mouth of the cave, and Percy settled on the ground, leaning against the rocky wall. Apollo settled opposite from her, clearly determined to become the bane of her existence.

“Don’t you want an explanation for what’s been going on?”

Percy stiffened. She did, but making another deal with him wasn’t something she was all that keen on.

“I’m not making another deal with you,” she warned, eyeing him warily. Apollo let out a scoff.

“Absolutely not,” agreed Apollo vehemently. “You are clearly not someone who sticks to their word—”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“I made a deal with you, and you didn’t stick to it. Is your grasp on English really so slim that you can’t understand such a simple statement?”

“What,” Percy seethed, “is your problem?” The water around her had begun to heat, matching the anger bubbling beneath her skin. She was almost tempted to let the monster snarling in her chest come roaring out. Let Apollo challenge her boiling water with his fiery light. Let the world see which one won; the infinite ocean or the burning sun.

Apollo raised his wrist, waving it around like that was supposed to mean something to her. “Is it not obvious what my problem is?”

Percy stared at him, but nothing clicked. 

“You… you have very nice wrists.” For what it was worth, he did have nice wrists.

“Oh, for the love of— how have you lasted this long?”

Percy’s jaw clenched. “Can’t you just tell me instead of trying to make me guess?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “ Debt , Perseas. Because you didn’t call on me for help once you entered the Underworld, our Styx-sworn deal was not fulfilled. Thus, I am now indebted to you.”

“So… what? You have to help me with my quest?” This was bad. This was really, really bad.

“You know, I figured you were probably a little slow considering your list of idiotic decisions in the past, but this is a little too slow, even for you.”

Something about the condescension in his voice grating at the insecurities deep in her chest. Suddenly, Percy was twelve years old again, her hands fisted in her lap while her teachers with their monstrous eyes and snake-like tongues told her everything that was wrong with her. “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?”

Apollo threw his hands up in the air. “Because I am shackled to an impotent demigod who thinks this petty mortal life is worth more than immortality!”

Percy’s breath caught in her throat.

He knows.

There was water all around them, rendering her practically invincible, and any sea creature she wanted was at her beck and call. God or not, this was Percy’s home field. If Apollo wanted a fight, if he wanted to end this quest before it truly began, she’d put up the fight of a lifetime—

Before she could so much as raise Riptide, Apollo was going on, “Curiosity! That’s all it was! I was just intrigued about the oddity of your motivations, and this is where it got me. Stuck helping an idiot demigod gallivant across the country! Do you know what I could be doing right now, Perseas Jackson? I could be in my temple, reading the latest gossip on The Hero Chronicles about Aphrodite and Ares’ latest affair in Zeus only knows where. Instead, I am here, quite literally chained—” Apollo raised his wrist, waving it around again, “—to you .”

“I– what?” she breathed, not quite understanding what was going on. Was this about the soulbond or not? She’d thought so before, but Apollo seemed less… murder-y than she’d originally anticipated him to be.

He threw his head back with an exasperated groan, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his neck. Percy’s gaze drifted there despite herself.

Apollo pinched the bridge of his nose. His hand lifted, the same one he’d been waving around like a madman earlier, and the Mist bent at his command. Something hardened, materializing in her vision around his wrist. It was…

Shackles. Lengthened into a chain that stretched toward her, wrapping around her wrist.

“Your father’s protections are thicker than you realize,” he said, pursing his lips. “This,” he said with a lifted hand, “is what I see. Normally, I’d be able to give you temporary Sight so you could see it too. With your father’s enchantments, that’s impossible. My powers don’t work on you at all.”

“That’s why you’re here,” she realized aloud. He nodded, his lips pursed.

“I am trapped, helping you on your quest as the debt demands. Until I can work it off fully, you and I are stuck together.”

That’s why Apollo was here, shackled to her, as he had so eloquently put it. He physically couldn’t leave her side until the gods only knew when. For an undetermined amount of time, the two of them were stuck together.

There was a special kind of irony to that. Those chains, had they been around her wrists instead of his, would be a physical manifestation of why she was doing this in the first place. She couldn’t be chained down to this pantheon for the rest of her life, couldn’t be stuck in this cycle while the gods got away with everything for the rest of eternity. 

If Apollo wasn’t who he was, she might’ve felt bad for him.

“Alright,” Percy said, pacing. “If you have to help me on this quest to fulfill your end, then do you think you could get us to Mount Tamalpais? I can’t go on land with Hades turning everywhere I step into a sinkhole, but maybe you could just… drop us off there?”

His jaw clenched. “I can’t.”

He couldn’t be serious. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“Do you remember when I told you that our world is ruled by a balance of all things?” said Apollo. Percy paused, recalling their first conversation since she’d gotten her soulbond.

If there is one thing you should always remember when it comes to our world, Perseas, it’s that our king is also the god of balance. When all else fails, remember that there’s always a counter to things established.

“Yeah,” she murmured thoughtfully, mulling the words over in her head. After he’d left, she had dismissed the notion, busy with trying to plan her way to the Underworld. It hadn’t dawned on her until then how useful the information would truly be.

“Because of my father’s need for balance, while the gods can intervene far more in this quest than they ever could with others, there must be some sort of counter. Dear Uncle Hades can make every step you take on land a death trap, but he—”

“He can what? ”

“ As I was saying ,” Apollo snapped, his lips tilting into a scowl. “He can summon up sinkholes, fissures, and send his entire skeleton army after you, but Hades himself cannot confront you in person. That is why he’s not here, dragging you down to his kingdom with his bare hands. But if a god did want to be here in person, helping or hurting you, it would greatly diminish the power they could draw up. Granted, they’d still be an incredibly formidable foe, but they would have less power.”

“Sounds like sitting in his palace all day while he has his lackeys chasing me around would be easier.”

“You would be correct. Unfortunately for both you and I, the demands of our bargain require me to be here physically. I will, of course, still be a very generous help to you, but not as much as I could’ve been, were it not for Styx’s unusual stipulations.”

Percy rolled her eyes. With the two of them on the same page, things became marginally less tense. Apollo was still in a bad mood over the bargain, even though it was mainly his fault that the deal had happened in the first place, and Percy’s mind was still on her slip-up earlier. He hadn’t seemed to notice that Percy misinterpreted what he meant about the deal, but she couldn’t be sure. 

Without the nerve to ask, their journey through the ocean border of California was relatively silent. Apollo’s incessant talent for annoying people every time he opened his mouth was dampened by his irritation, and Percy certainly wasn’t in the mood to start up any conversation. 

Having someone accompanying her on this quest also slowed Percy down. Usually, she could swim fast enough through the water that she’d have reached San Francisco Bay in less than an hour. With Apollo stuck to her side, it lengthened their journey to multiple hours. She couldn’t even use her father’s gift either. No control over where the clip sent her meant that she could land in some pond surrounded by land and end up swallowed by Hades’ sinkholes before she could fully react, and the gift couldn’t teleport her across the same body of water.

They’d been swimming for over an hour when Apollo insisted they take a break.

His breathing was labored, shoulders hunched inward. Percy’s gaze fell to the angry line of his lips, the way his jaw clenched around his bruised pride. Having so little access to his divinity must’ve been difficult. Until he was fully adjusted, he’d be a liability to her. Percy didn’t know how he’d fare if and when he got injured on this quest, but she didn’t want to take any risks of Zeus zapping her for hurting his precious heir.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her hands twitching at her sides. She tried her best to keep the irritation out of her voice, but some of it slipped through anyway. Apollo let out a frustrated huff.

“You demigods are so impatient.” He got up, gesturing toward the open sea for them to continue. Percy gritted her teeth and wisely decided not to reply, pulling them along. Few sea creatures were bothering her because of Apollo’s presence, something that she couldn’t decide whether she liked or not. On one hand, the silence was nice. On the other, Apollo’s moodiness made up for any calm she might’ve felt from the lack of other voices.

“We don’t have a million years to spare like the gods do,” she muttered under her breath. Percy kicked her feet, spurring ahead of Apollo.

He let out a scoff. “You are the last person who can say that, considering your foolish decision to turn down immortality twice .”

Percy swam faster. Just ignore him, pretend he’s not there. They were almost halfway there, a little longer and they’d find some distraction to shut him up…

“Honestly, how stupid do you have to be, turning down a chance at not just immortality, but divine power as well? First, it’s the war. Then, it’s a chance at true love with Thanatos. It’s beyond me what could have convinced you to think being human is so special—”

Percy doesn’t realize what she did until Apollo is sprawled on the ocean floor, multiple feet in front of her. The water churned around her, hungering for blood, reacting to the anger that warmed in her. The unfairness of it all struck hard and fast, nearly knocking her over.

It was like the universe was laughing at her. These shackles from their bargain felt like some sort of cruel irony. Even on this quest, she could not escape Apollo. Even when she was willing to put everything on the line for her freedom, she was still chained to the gods, trapped in their ways and unable to escape.

“You gods are heartless, selfish beings, and you wouldn’t know true love if it slapped you in the face,” she hissed venomously, “The only difference between you and the monsters of Tartarus is what’s on the outside. On the inside, you’re all the same.”

Apollo had gotten up, and he surged forward until he was right in her face. Percy didn’t care. The water seeped into her skin, strengthening her. She felt like an ocean current, raging, unstoppable, and one with the sea. He could not touch her here, and she would never cower before a man — a god — like him.

“You insolent little brat,” he snarled. Before she could react, his hands were gripping her arms so tightly that she was sure it would bruise. “You think you know anything about us? I will tell you this once, and only once: you know nothing of how we love, and Thanatos should be grateful that he won’t be stuck with you for eternity.”

Percy put both hands on Apollo’s chest and shoved — hard. She’d hoped he’d go sprawling like last time, but he was prepared. The sun god stumbled backward but quickly righted himself, his eyes brightening like two golden suns. A dagger unsheathed, he gripped it in his tan hand and—

“Enough!” shouted a voice to Percy’s left. Apollo stiffened and wheeled toward the voice.

Triton appeared in her view. Like Apollo, he appeared less godly than usual. The halo of power that was often draped over the gods was gone, and his skin had taken on a hue not unlike a Nereid. Still, his trident in hand, he placed himself between Apollo and Percy.

“Triton,” said Percy, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. Apollo’s eyes had narrowed, but he didn’t make a move against the other god.

“Perseas,” he said in that excessively formal voice of his. “I’ve come at Father’s request. Things are hectic above the surface right now, and he wanted me to help you along.”

“Oh,” she mumbled. It shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did, but she still had to fight the pleased smile that wanted to crawl onto her face. “Thanks.”

Triton dismissed the words with a shake of his head, and his expression went from stiff to disapproving in two seconds flat. He glanced between Percy and Apollo as though he found their fight highly uncouth.

“The more you two fight, the more it takes away from your quest. Trust me, Perseas, I know how annoying Apollo can be—”

“Hey!”

“—but squabbling with him is not worth the time you are wasting. The longer this quest takes, the more vulnerable you are to opposing gods.”

Percy looked away from Triton’s piercing gaze, feeling a bit like a chastised child. If she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn his lips twitched as he turned away. He raised an arm, and the water bent to his command in a swift, sweeping current. Faster than Percy could register, two hippocampi were swimming up to them.

“To aid you on your journey, Father has gifted you these two hippocampi. In addition, Blackjack is waiting at San Francisco Bay to fly you and Apollo to Mount Tamalpais. I warn you that Lord Hades has his best coming after you, and they are waiting at the bay, ready to strike.”

Percy shrugged, calming. “I’ve fought his best before.”

Triton shook his head. “Not like this. Our dear uncle is still monitoring the ground so you won’t be able to land. The two of you will have to fight in the air. I urge the both of you to find some sort of plan where you work together on this. There is no greater long-range fighter than Apollo, and even in the air, your sea powers will aid you greatly.”

“Thank you, Triton,” she said quietly, crossing her arms. She smiled at the hippocampi, though they both looked a little skittish in Apollo’s presence.

There’s nothing to fear, she cooed softly to them. I won’t let him harm you.

One of the hippocampi neighed and swam forward, butting his nose against her happily. She grinned, burying her hand in his mane.

Triton cleared his throat, but as Percy looked in his direction, she saw that he was speaking to Apollo. She mounted the hippocampus — Bubbles and Coral, she’d learned — and listened in on what they were saying to each other.

“This seashell necklace will allow you to breathe underwater,” Triton was saying to Apollo. “I’m not sure if or when the two of you will return to the sea, but if Hades continues this kind of hostility, you may have to do all your travel through the oceans.”

Similarly, Apollo had calmed down since Triton’s arrival, though darkness still clouded his expression as he said, “Thank you.”

Triton nodded. “Of course.”

Apollo silently mounted Coral, the other hippocampus, and turned away from them, preparing to ride off. Percy did so right after him, but before she did, she could’ve sworn that Triton’s gaze drifted to Apollo’s back. There was something pitying about the way he looked at the sun god.

Percy looked away before she could let that expression get to her, before she could let the guilt take hold inside and make her second-guess why she was doing this. Apollo had thousands of men and women alike thirsting after him. He didn’t need her to keep him happy after the soulbond was broken. He’d be fine.

Right?