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Chapter Text

           Apollo sat back in his throne, waiting for Zeus to see it fit to call the council to order. It was the first Winter Solstice after he had become a god again, and he hoped that this was when he’d finally convince the rest of his family to see reason. Countless meetings he’d called before, and even more conversations he’d had by pestering the other gods hadn’t worked. The Winter Solstice Council was the most important day of the year for making decisions, and it was Apollo’s last hope. Not that he’d stop trying either way.

           “Silence!” Zeus boomed with a loud thunderclap to add to the dramatic effect. “The Council of the Gods will now begin!” He was nothing if not an overdramatic theatre kid. Hermes smirked at Apollo, obviously thinking along the same lines.

           “Does anyone have anything to begin with?” Hera asked.

           “I do,” Apollo said into the brief silence before anyone else could cut in with something else. The rest of the gods seemed to deflate, knowing exactly what he’d say next. Apollo locked eyes with Hestia, who was sitting near the hearth, and she gave him a slight nod. She was the only one who’d always been in complete agreement with his proposal. “I propose we should change the Ancient Laws.” The silence was deafening.

           “Apollo,” Zeus rumbled. “We’ve discussed this matter before.” There was a warning in his tone, one that promised consequences if he didn’t stop, and normally even Apollo would stop pushing. But he couldn’t. His godly-perfect skin may not show any traces of his time as a mortal, but he could see the scars on it that no one else could. Remember, Jason’s voice range through his head.

           “We haven’t discussed it in the Winter Solstice Council yet, have we?” Artemis put in before her twin could say anything. Zeus huffed, but assented the topic to be discussed.

           “Thank you, sister,” Apollo flashed her a smile. “The Ancient Laws state that we shouldn’t meddle in mortal affairs,” He began.

           “For good reason,” Ares argued.

           “Allow me to finish,” Apollo said, eyes flashing. “Whatever the reasons behind them were, they clearly do not apply any longer. The last two wars were drastically worse than they should have been because we didn’t want to ‘meddle’”

           “Do you propose that we should be at the beck and call of half-bloods?” Hera asked derisively. “Make sure every one of their slightest inconveniences disappear immediately?”

           “If you’d bothered to listen, you would notice that I mentioned wars, not slight inconveniences.” Apollo retorted. “And besides, that’s we expect of them anyway, regardless of the fact that they are infinitely less powerful and more easily wounded.”

           “And the fact that they are children,” Hestia added. All the gods turned to her. Hestia never spoke up at councils, and never sounded this angry about anything. “And not just any children, they’re your children. Even if you didn’t solve their problems, you could at least be there for them.”

           “Come on, Hestia, you can’t expect us to be at every soccer game every single child of ours wants us to be at,” Athena dismissed.

           “It’s not practical,” Hermes agreed.

           “Not practical? Need I remind you that you can split your conscience and be in multiple places at once?” Hestia bit back.

           “If you have time to be making them, I think you should have time to be there for them when they need it,” Artemis added.

           “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, dear, you’ll just embarrass yourself,” Aphrodite said, waving a hand at her.

           “I don’t understand?” Artemis glowered. “Have you forgotten the reason that most of your kids stay at camp year-round, or the reason they join my Hunt or the Amazons? I am the protector of children for a reason, and I take my job seriously.”

           “It’s hardly our fault monsters seek out demigods,” Ares said.

           “Not all monsters wear scary faces. Some are still human,” Artemis said darkly.

           “Even so, it’s hardly a reason to abolish the Ancient Laws,” Zeus grumbled.

           “I said we should change the Ancient Laws, not abolish them.” Even to himself, Apollo sounded wholly exhausted. Di immortales…the night had barely even started, and he already wanted to fling himself off of the mountain.

           “What is it you propose we change them to then?” Athena asked.

           “We cannot solve all their problems for them,” Apollo assented. “But like Hestia said, we can still be there for them. As parents. The Ancient Laws forbid us from even spending time with them. We should still be able to help them on quests.” He saw several others looking ready to argue with him on this, but he ignored them and continued. “We’ve helped heroes in the past, I don’t see why we can’t continue to do it now. So many of our own children turned against us in the Second Titan War because they felt unloved. We made them our downfall.” Hermes looked crestfallen, and Apollo felt a pang of guilt. But they all needed to hear this.

           “We cannot become too familiar with demigods,” Zeus argued. “They are still mortals. We are gods. They must respect us.”

           “They’re not just any mortals, though,” Hermes said softly. Apollo thought his spiel about the Titan War must have finally knocked some sense into him. “They are our children. We are gods, but we’re parents too. Pushing them away won’t solve anything.” Pain flashed across Dionysus’s face. Apollo felt a rush of pity. Despite his constant sourness to the demigods, he knew he cared about them. The demigods who’ve been around for longer knew it too. Dionysus had it worse than anyone, considering he had to watch them grow and watch them die. He didn’t have the luxury of pushing them away, no matter how hard he tried.

           Apollo could feel the change in the room. Maybe there were varying degrees of agreement, but none of them could see anything wrong with the proposals. Zeus must have felt it too, because he glowered at all of them.

           “We cannot change the Ancient Laws!” He thundered. “The Fates will never allow it.”

           “Why don’t you ask them, then?” Hestia challenged. Zeus seemed dumbstruck.

           “I – I can’t do that.”

           “Why not?” Apollo pressed. Zeus glared at him, and opened his mouth to snap at him, but thankfully, Artemis interrupted.

           “We should at least try asking them. We don’t lose anything if we tried.” Having a sister who was both on his side and had Zeus’s favor was always helpful, Apollo thought. Evidently at a loss for what to do in this situation, no one argued with her.

           “Great and Powerful Fates!” Zeus began. He seemed unsure about how to proceed but covered it with a show of bravado. “We must know if any being can change the Ancient Laws, which have been set in stone for ages!” Personally, Apollo thought that was a bit overkill. There was a pause, and then the Moirai themselves appeared in the middle of the throne room. Everyone in the throne room were in shock. None of them, not even Hestia, who had suggested it, had expected it to actually work.

           “Gods of Olympus,” Clotho began. “The Loom of Fate holds many threads, and your existence is but one of these. The Ancient Laws were set by you, and may be changed by you. Only meddling with prophesies will set you against us.”

           “But meddle you have done,” Lachesis continued. “You have meddled by trying to control Fate, which cannot be done by even those as powerful as you. You have meddled with what you call the Great Prophesy trying to control the outcome.” She looked at Hera when she said the last part. Hera swallowed, clearly nervous at being singled out.

           “It was the only way to connect the Greeks and Romans, my lady,” she said.

           “There is never only one way. We are three Fates for a reason,” Atropos stated. “This was but one of the many ways the Great Prophesy may have turned out.”

           “So, we can change the Ancient Laws as I wished them to be?” Apollo asked hesitantly. The Moirai unnerved him. They gave no expression, showed no emotion.

           “Yes, you may,” Clotho answered blandly.

           “When you said there are many threads and our existence is only one, does that mean other parallel universes exist?” Athena asked. Most of the other gods blinked in surprise. Who knew even gods could get existential crises?

           “Yes, they do,” Lachesis said, and Apollo swore he could see the faintest glimmer of a smile on her face. She wanted them to ask about this.

           “Does that mean there is a universe where things could have been done differently? Where the wars were resolved easier than the last?”

           “Time is a fickle thing,” Atropos said, instead of answering him outright. “When you change one thing, something unexpected comes up. No one can truly control Fate but us. Not even the Oracles, who simply speak our will to mortals and immortals alike.”

           “Your Ancient Laws that told you not to meddle never stopped you from meddling where it caused the most damage, and made your lives much more difficult than they would have been already. In another life, perhaps it could have been different.”

           “What are you proposing?” Hera asked them.

           “You have pushed the heroes too far away from you. In not wanting to become too familiar, you have become too dispassionate. This cannot be fixed by any of your divine interventions.”

           “What about by your divine interventions?” Apollo pressed.

           “Very good.” Yes, there was definitely a smile on her face this time. “In this timeline, nothing you can do will fix your relationship with the heroes. It will be easy to push them over the edge, and the next time there is a threat, they may not be there to carry you.”

           “Are you proposing we travel back in time?” Athena asked.

           “Something like that. If you travel back in time, you are really only creating a new timeline with a new reality. You will not change anything in your present.”

           “What good is that, then?” Zeus questioned.

           “The good comes in you changing yourselves. Allow the heroes to travel to the council of gods in the past. We will provide them with books that detail their stories, so that the gods of that time can prevent themselves from making the same mistakes you did, and change their flawed mindsets. The heroes can have the chance of a fresh start with their parents.”

           “But that won’t change our relationship with them. And they’ll need to come back here when they’re done,” Hephaestus pointed out.

           “You are gods, but as the Fates we have powers you cannot dream of. You already know what these heroes have gone through, but you are clouded with bias. If you read these books with them, it may end in bloodshed instead of understanding. This is more for the sake of the heroes than for you. You will feel the same thoughts as the past versions of yourself, as for the entirety of the reading, time will stand still. You may not know what exactly comes to pass, but your mindsets will be changed as your past selves change theirs.”

           “Because in that moment of time, the timelines will not have diverged yet?” Apollo asked.

           “That is correct.”

           “But even if they are prevented from making the same mistakes we did, will they not still face other unforeseen problems?” Athena asked.

           “They will indeed. However, we can hope that certain catastrophes can be avoided, like the fall of the demigods into Tartarus. Mortals do not belong in such a place, which even immortals fear to venture near. Chaos is even older than us Fates and mortal lives are never meant to go so near to it.” Apollo remembered his own time hanging over the pit of Chaos and shuddered. It was definitely not meant for mortals or gods.

           “Who will go to the past then?” Demeter asked.

           “The demigods who must go will be sent there by us. From your Council, Lord Apollo will go as well as Lady Hestia, as his adventures are just as important a tale to tell.” Apollo swallowed drily, but nodded in agreement.

           “Why must Hestia go?” Hades asked. He had remained silent for most of the meeting, simply observing but not offering any input.

           “The demigods will need a kind and familiar person who they trust explicitly, especially with what they have already gone through. The task will not be as simple as reading a book. You have asked for help from the Fates, and such big interference as this will have consequences.”

           “What kind of consequences?” Poseidon asked. His son would definitely be there, and as protective as he was, Apollo could tell why he sounded worried. Percy had pretty terrible luck.

           “It will be made clear in time. We, the Fates, do not give our help freely, or at all, but in this case, help must be given. This is not simply to humor your questions about the Ancient Laws. If you carry on in this way, Olympus will not survive the next threat, as soon enough, you will push the heroes over the point of no return.”

           Apollo knew this was true in his heart, but many others seemed stricken at the thought. They assumed that loyalty to Olympus and themselves was a given, but he knew better. From the glance he exchanged with Dionysus, clearly, he knew better as well. The demigods were loyal to each other, first and foremost, and if one of them was threatened or endangered in any way, none of them would hesitate to burn Olympus to the ground if it would help.

           “Will the demigods not get any warning?” Apollo asked. The Fates frowned. Clearly, they had not thought of that. All knowing beings can be a bit too far sighted at times that they lose sight of what’s closer. Which is exactly what the gods had done.

           “We will collect those meant to travel to the past in one place, and you may enlighten them as you see fit, and we will then send you to the past.”

           Before anyone could even form another thought, the Moirai had disappeared. And so had the rest of the throne room. Apollo found himself standing next to Hestia in a room full of his demigod friends. The next moment, the Fates were in the room as well.

           “Heroes,” Clotho intoned. “You have been gathered here for a task that is to the benefit of yourself, your future, and the future of another timeline. Lord Apollo and Lady Hestia will inform you of the details. For the sake of this task, we will need to bring another hero you may not expect.” With that, the three of them disappeared again, but standing in their place was a face Apollo could never forget.

           “Jason,” he choked out, rushing forward to hug his brother. He was vaguely aware of other people joining him in crushing the newly gained life out of Jason. He thought someone was sobbing. It was probably him. But it could have been more than one person too, he supposed.

           “How - you’re, aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Leo choked out. Jason smiled wanly.

           “Not yet.” Remembering the conversation in the throne room, Apollo realized what had happened.

           “When are you from?” He asked, in a voice that only cracked a little.

           “I was fighting Caligula on the ship,” he replied. Just about to die, Apollo filled in. “The Fates told me what we need to do. When they send the rest of you back to your time, they’ll send me back there.”

           Piper let out a broken sob at the thought of having to lose him again. Apollo felt the same, but he understood why they would do this. If Apollo was going because his tale was important, it made sense that Jason’s would be important too. Jason was pretty important even in Apollo’s story. Perhaps they could even get some closure.

           Taking a deep breath, Apollo told his friends everything that had transpired so far. He assured them that they would be back in the very moment they left. Hestia added helpful comments when he forgot something. He could see the weariness on their faces, but he knew they understood. They knew how dangerous it was for the fate of Olympus if the demigods kept getting more bitter. There’s only one way that story would end.

           Apollo took on the form of Lester Papadopoulos once more. He spent most of his time outside the throne room like this. It was comforting and familiar, and the scars on his body were a part of him. A part of him that showed he had grown and showed he had survived. He lacked the acne and flab, of course, because there really was only so much a vain god could take.

           Once they had all deemed themselves psyched up enough, a door appeared in the otherwise empty room. It’s meaning was clear. Apollo took a deep breath and led his friends through the door to their next adventure.

Chapter Text

           The Olympians sitting in the throne room looked almost exactly identical to the throne room Apollo had just left. Immortals really didn’t change. At second glance, however, Apollo noticed there were some big differences. Clearly, the Fates had already prepared them. Most noticeable was that instead of thrones, the gods were sitting in a circle of couches and chairs around the hearth like a giant living room. Half the space was empty, presumably for Apollo and his friends.

           There were more gods than normal too. He recognized Ariadne sitting beside Dionysus, Persephone and Amphitrite also sitting beside their husbands, as well as Triton, Kymopoleia, Rhode and most surprisingly, Rhea sitting beside Hestia from the past at the hearth.

           The door behind them disappeared as the last of them walked through, confirming Apollo’s theory that the room they were in before was more of an intermediate space than a real place that existed in the space time continuum. He decided to put that thought out of his mind until he was more mentally suited to deal with an existential crisis.

           “Welcome travelers,” Zeus intoned. “The Moirai have informed us of your purpose here and the importance of our task. They gave us fifteen books to read. Introduce yourselves and tell us any other relevant information.” It wasn’t even disguised as a request. Apollo didn’t know what he’d expected. His father would be the same as he ever had been.

           They all exchanged glances and Annabeth stepped forward by a silent and unanimous decision.

           “Gods of Olympus,” she addressed. “We have been sent here from the future by the Moirai, as you have heard. They have also informed us that reading the books they will provide will have certain consequences.”

           “And what are these consequences?” Hera asked disdainfully. Annabeth barely repressed glaring at her.

           “We do not know,” she said shortly.

           “The Fates also told us that we may not ask any questions that refer to the future in the books. Do you know of this?” Athena asked.

           “We were not made aware of this, but it would make sense. Telling you what is to come makes reading the books redundant.” Apollo said at Annabeth’s glance.

           “If that is all, we will begin introductions.” Her tone left no room for more questions, saying something along the lines of this better be all, or else. No wonder everyone chose her to speak. “In the spirit of not revealing too much of the future beforehand, we will not tell you who are immortal parents are.”

           “Is knowing about your godly parents really that important?” Ares asked.

           “Yes.” Athena seemed like she was about to ask another question, but Annabeth pretended not to notice and continued. “I am Annabeth Chase.” The others followed, just saying their names.

           “Percy Jackson.”

           “Jason Grace.”

           “Leo Valdez.”

           “Piper Mclean.”

           “Frank Zhang.”

           “Hazel Levesque.”

           “Nico di Angelo.”

           “Will Solace.”

           “Thalia.”

           “Reyna Ramirez-Arellano.”

           “Grover Underwood.”

           “Rachel Elizabeth Dare.”

           “Hestia.”

           “Meg McCaffrey.”

           “Lester Papadopoulos.” He saw Jason smile at the name, and he couldn’t help but feel a little happy, despite the fact that he couldn’t exactly call himself Apollo. That would raise some questions. Nico was smirking at him too, but for a much less wholesome reason. Apollo glared at him.

           “Sit down, heroes,” Hestia from the past smiled at them, giving a slightly weirded out look to herself from the future. He didn’t blame her, but he was still happy Hestia came back with them. He wasn’t sure how detailed these books would be, but as nice as Hestia of any time would be, a Hestia who knew what they had gone through would be much more helpful.

           As they all sat down with only a little fuss (most of them were extremely ADHD, and also assholes), Apollo noticed the gods looking at them with a lot of confusion. He’d noticed a lot of weird looks when the Romans introduced themselves, like they should have recognized them, but didn’t. Apollo thought the Fates must have something to do with that, perhaps dampening their Roman memories. That means they’ve been sent to a time when all the demigods were born at least. Or they were sent to a time before the demigods were born, but the Roman aspect of them seemed strangely familiar to the gods. He should probably find out a more specific time.

           “What is the year now?” Apollo asked to no one in particular. He found himself extremely weirded out when the past version of himself answered.

           “It’s 1945. The day of the Winter Solstice. The Big Three were just about to take the oath when the Fates appeared.”

           He nodded in understanding. It was well before any of the demigods were born, and the oath was one of the most important events of the Great Prophecy. He knew the past him was trying to figure who everyone was, considering he didn’t know any of the demigods there. He couldn’t help but notice the small differences and similarities in himself, analyzing every tick and trying to decipher every look until Meg nudged him.

           “Hey. Cut it out.” Apollo smiled in spite of himself.

           “You can’t order me around anymore.” He said.

           “Can’t I?” She elbowed him hard just because she could, and slouched as much as a person could slouch on a couch. He smiled internally at the rhyme. God of Poetry who? Oh wait, it’s him.

           Once they were all mostly settled (or once her patience wore out), Athena cleared her throat. “The Fates have told us that the books cannot be damaged in any way, and we cannot skip parts or read ahead individually. They can only be read when all of us are here together. We can take turns reading. I will begin.” No one argued with her on that.

           “I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher.” Athena began. Percy groaned and buried his face in Grover’s shoulder. Annabeth’s shoulders shook with muffled laughter.

           “How do you accidentally vaporize someone?” Hazel asked.

           “I dunno, I’ve done it a few times myself,” Leo said.

           “That’s not funny,” Piper said, punching him.

           “Ow, Jesus Christ that fucking hurts.”

           “That poser has no place here,” Percy, Annabeth, Nico and Will chorused gleefully. Dionysus smirked, and a few others snorted in amusement.

           “If you’d allow me to get past one sentence. That was only the chapter title.” Athena muttered the last bit exasperatedly.

           “Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

           “Who does?”

           “If you’re reading this … Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

           “Well, that’s…certainly something.” Hermes said awkwardly.

           “He’s not wrong,” Thalia muttered. The gods seemed to understand she was speaking from experience when the other demigods nodded in agreement and wisely didn’t say any more.

           “Why does it sound like you’ve narrated it firsthand?” Rachel asked Percy. He just shrugged.

           “Wait,” Percy had paled considerably. “Does this mean the whole book will be from my perspective?” Grover eyed him with concern. Apollo knew what he was thinking. Considering the things Percy said out loud, what he didn’t say must be so much worse.

           “Well, considering what the chapter title says, this book will probably be about our first quest, so, yes, I think it’ll be from your perspective,” Annabeth told him.

           “What about the rest?” He looked pretty worried, and Apollo could hardly blame him. Having to relive everything they’d gone through was one thing, but having to relive it from your perspective would be excruciating. He eyed the stack of books nervously.

           “I don’t know,” Annabeth said nervously, having thought it over. “Lester?” She asked, turning to him. He mulled it over a little before answering.

           “I think you’re right about it being your first quest. And considering the books don’t have titles,” he glanced at Athena for confirmation and she nodded. “There are fifteen books, right? If the first one is your first quest, then the next four will also probably be from your perspective.”

           “Which would get us through the next few years to just before I met Jason,” Annabeth finished for him, catching his drift.

           “Give or take a few months,” Apollo agreed. “And the next five books will probably be your meeting with Jason,” he used the same words she did to get the point across without saying anything incriminating, “and through that summer.”

           “Hold on,” Apollo cut in. “By your estimate the first five books would take us through years, and the next five, which are bigger by the way, would all just be one single summer? That doesn’t add up.”

           “It was a very eventful summer,” Reyna said drily. Nico snorted.

           “You could say that again.”

           “What do you think the next five will be about then?” Hestia asked. She must have noticed that everyone who knew who he was readily accepted his assumptions.  He looked at the 13^th book with a sense of dread. He may not know all the Fates’ designs, but he was still the God of Prophecy. And he had the benefit of knowing all the events that they’d read about. Looking at that book filled him with such dread that it could only be about one thing. He shot a quick glance at Jason.

           “Those will probably be about me.”

           “Self-centred much?” Meg asked with a snort. He gave her an affronted look.

           “I assure you; I am not. Reyna saw to that very well.” Reyna smiled widely at him.

           “I did, didn’t I?”

           “Don’t sound so smug about it,” Apollo grumbled.

           “You had it coming,” Meg said in a teasing voice.

           “Let’s continue,” Apollo said loudly to Athena. She obliged, looking seconds away from smiting somebody for interrupting her for too long.

           “My name is Percy Jackson. … Am I a troubled kid?”

           A loud chorus of “Yes” ran through the room. Percy shook his head at them, but there was a small smile on his face.

           “I could start at any point … Most Yancy field trips were.”

           “That sounds pretty interesting actually,” Piper said. Leo nodded.

           “Objectively, yes, but I have pretty bad luck with field trips.” Percy told them.

           “I can imagine.” Thalia smirked at him. Percy stuck his tongue out in retaliation as Athena started reading again.

           “But Mr Brunner, … put me to sleep.”

           “That’s Chiron, isn’t it?” Will asked.

           “Yep,” Percy nodded.

           “Man, I wish I had Chiron as a teacher,” Leo said.

           “Don’t we all?” Piper sighed wistfully.

           “I hoped the trip would be … Boy, was I wrong.”

           “Duh. You just broke the First Rule of Percy Jackson,” Meg told him.

           “I’m sorry, the what rule?” Annabeth asked.

           “You know, not say something would be ok or fine or stuff,” Meg said eloquently.

           “She means to not jinx yourself,” Apollo offered helpfully.

           “Oh, yeah, I did tell you that, didn’t I?” Percy said, smiling. “I don’t recall naming it though.”

           “She’s right, Percy. You totally jinxed yourself. That’s why everything went wrong.” Grover said.

           “Ok, some of the blame has to go to me just having shitty luck in general,” Percy argued.

           “I don’t think so. You should never jinx yourself. I learned that the hard way.” Piper shuddered lightly at the memory.

           “You mean you learned that by almost getting your nose pierced the hard way,” Leo corrected.

           “That was terrifying,” Frank added.

           “Was that when we …?” Annabeth trailed off meaningfully. Jason nodded.

           “See, bad things happen to me on field trips. … This trip, I was determined to be good.”

           “Oh gods, this kid is priceless,” Hermes wheezed with Apollo and Dionysus. Artemis and Athena rolled their eyes at them.

           “Why was the cannon even loaded?” Reyna wondered.

           “Yeah, they were asking for it at that point. Why would anyone trust kids around a loaded cannon?” Rachel asked rhetorically.

           “All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit … peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.”

           “Ugh,” Aphrodite wrinkled her nose in disgust.

           “What a bitch,” Thalia growled.

           “Grover was an easy target … enchilada day in the cafeteria.”

           “Gee, Percy, you’d almost think I was your best friend with such a flattering description,” Grover said sarcastically. Percy snickered.

           “Sorry, G-Man,” he said, not sounding particularly sorry.

           “Of all the things to break your cover for, enchiladas, really?” Dionysus asked.

           “Hey, man, enchiladas are always worth it,” Leo protested. “Only one type of enchiladas suck,” he added as an afterthought, grinning at Piper, who shoved a pillow in his face.

           “Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich … ‘I’m going to kill her,’ I mumbled.”

           “Do it,” Thalia and Annabeth muttered in unison.

           “Grover tried to calm me down. ‘It’s okay. I like peanut butter.’”

           “Don’t listen to him, Percy, you should have just decked her,” Thalia complained. Annabeth nodded furiously.

           “I should have,” Percy agreed. Grover blushed to the roots of his hair.

           “It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he protested.

           “Shut up, Goat Boy.”

           “He dodged another piece … mess I was about to get myself into.”

           “Ooooh, that’s ominous. I love the foreshadowing,” Apollo gushed.

           “Shoulda just decked the girl, Perce,” Piper said, shaking her disappointedly.

           “I, unfortunately didn’t have the incredible storytelling skills of the Fates at the time, and didn’t know anything was being foreshadowed,” Percy said.

           “Mr Brunner led the museum tour … had a nervous breakdown.”

           “She’s a monster, isn’t she?” Frank asked, resigned.

           “Were you the cause of the nervous breakdown?” Leo asked impishly. Percy flipped him off in reply.

           “I think she was the cause of the nervous breakdown,” Nico muttered.

           “Wait, you know who she is?” Will asked. Nico nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

           “From her first day, Mrs Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit … ‘You’re absolutely right.’”

           “Seriously?” Dionysus asked exasperatedly. “Please tell me you’ve gotten better.” Grover blushed bright red.

           “He really has gotten better,” Annabeth assured him.

           “Impossibly good. Most talented goat boy I know,” Percy added. Grover looked ready to combust.
           “Let’s just continue,” he pleaded.

           “Mr Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art … Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?’”

           “Ugh, that Nancy girl is so annoying,” Piper complained. Thalia nodded in agreement.

           “Wanna bet what the picture is?” Ares asked.

           “That’s a fool’s bet. It’s definitely gonna be Kronos.” Hermes said tiredly.

           “You don’t know that.” Ares argued.

           “It’s always that,” Hephaestus said.

           “I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief … eating his kids, right?’”

           “Told you,” Hermes said smugly, high-fiving Hephaestus.

           Rhea looked a bit pained and Hestia squeezed her hand comfortingly. Rhea offered her eldest daughter a small smile at that.

           “‘Yes,’ Mr Brunner said … and the gods won.’”

           “‘And the gods won’? Really?” Athena asked, interrupting herself.

           Percy shrugged. “I was right.”

           “A bit of an understatement,” Annabeth muttered.

           “More than a bit,” Jason agreed.

           “I am qualified to make that understatement,” Percy said, quietly enough that none of the gods from the past could hear him.

           “Some snickers from the group. … ‘I don’t know, sir.’”

           “What did he expect me to say, anyway? I didn’t know the gods were even real at that point,” Percy asked petulantly.

           “Probably something about why mortals think mythology is relevant,” Rachel offered.

           “Yes, he was probably expecting something about the morals of the myths and what mortals themselves could take away from it.” Apollo said.

           “Don’t be a cannibal?” Meg offered.

           “Or don’t be a Canadian,” Hazel said, smirking slyly at Frank. Percy and Annabeth snickered.

           “Maybe something more along the lines of ‘don’t try to thwart fate’ or ‘don’t be power hungry’,” Annabeth said.

           “‘I see.’ Mr Brunner looked disappointed. … remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.”

           A shudder ran through the group at the mention of Tartarus. Apollo slung an arm around Will’s shoulder, who was conveniently sitting next to him, and Nico squeezed his hand. Apollo noticed Percy and Annabeth gripping each other’s hands tightly too, as Percy muttered something in Annabeth’s ear. She paled significantly at whatever it was he said, and Apollo turned away from their whispered conversation, deciding he didn’t want to hear about it.

           “On that happy note, … I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.”

           “Well, it did work,” Nico offered. Percy smiled.

           “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know what I was working for then, did I?”

           “Fair enough.”

           “I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, … He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.”

           “Ok, now I definitely want him as my teacher,” Leo said.

           “Don’t we all?” Apollo muttered.

           “The class gathered on the front steps … this was a hurricane blowing in.”

           “A hurricane in May?” Piper asked.

           “Yeah, the weather was really crazy,” Percy confirmed.

           “Since Christmas? Does that mean something happened in the Winter Solstice?” Demeter asked shrewdly.

           “Wait, was it this Winter Solstice?” Hephaestus asked.

           “No, this was in 2005,” Percy told him. “I don’t think I’m supposed to confirm or deny your question,” Percy said to Demeter, who nodded.

           “You and your brother are fighting over something again, aren’t you?” Hera asked Zeus.

           “It must be, I can’t think of anything else that would make this happen.”

           “For that long?” Rhea asked.

           “Well, we are seeing this from the perspective of a mortal,” Amphitrite said. “A few months for one of their spats is, unfortunately, pretty normal.”

           “Nobody else seemed to notice … loser freaks who couldn’t make it elsewhere.”

           “Loser freaks?” Triton questioned.

           “Some of those kids were pretty…questionable, to say the least,” Grover said.

           “I mean, it was called a school for troubled kids. ‘Troubled’ is usually just a nice way of putting ‘we don’t want you, but no one else does either’,” Percy said bitterly.

           “Don’t I know it,” Leo muttered. Piper nodded in agreement. Some of the gods looked pretty concerned at that, but wisely kept quiet about it for now. Really, they should have known. Nine times out of ten, a demigod in a school got nothing but a shitload of trouble.

           “‘Detention?’ Grover asked. … appetite, so I let him take it.”

           Grover blushed again and covered his face with a throw pillow. There were some snickers at his expense.

           “I watched the stream of cabs … stand that sad look she’d give me.”

           “Mama’s boy,” Ares muttered disdainfully. He seemed to dislike Percy already, and Apollo didn’t think he’d take it very well when they got to his fight with Percy. It was pretty amazing. It had so many reruns on Hephaestus TV over the years.

           “Duh,” Meg said. “You’ve clearly never met her.”

           “Who wouldn’t be?” Frank asked. Leo nodded in agreement.

           “If only I had a mother like her…” Thalia trailed off wistfully. Most of the other demigods nodded in agreement with her.

           “She’s the best,” Percy agreed with a smile. Ares looked discomfited that his insult had the opposite effect of what he intended.

           “Wait, six schools in six years?” Hermes asked. “I don’t think that’s very normal for mortals.”

           “We’re demigods,” Annabeth deadpanned. “Nothing about us is normal.”

           “I mean, yeah, but I just have worse luck than anyone else I’ve met,” Percy said.

           “Truer words have never been said,” Jason agreed solemnly.

           “You’ve been to one school in your life, and you didn’t even finish the year,” Piper pointed out.

           “Piper!” Apollo cried, aghast.

           “It’s cool, Lester,” Jason snickered. None of the other demigods looked perturbed at joking about something so morbid. He’d admit he had a morbid sense of humour himself, but joking about something that actually caused him pain?

           “It’s the demigod way, Lesteropoulos,” Leo said sagely. The other demigods nodded in agreement.

           “Mr Brunner parked his wheelchair … motorized café table.”

           “That sounds so cool,” Leo muttered, fiddling with something in his hands as he usually did.

           “I was about to unwrap my sandwich … spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.”

           Aphrodite wrinkled her nose at the description.

           “Ugh, what a bitch,” Thalia grumbled. There were many nods of agreement.

           “I tried to stay cool. … I was in trouble again.”

           Apollo noticed that Percy looked pretty angry here too. A little too angry for it to just be past anger, even though he did a pretty good job of masking it.

           “I’m sorry, did you just control water?” Hermes asked incredulously.

           “Umm, maybe?” Percy said, unsure.

           “Does this mean you’re my son?” Poseidon asked eagerly. Hades glared at him.

           “He could just be a child of some minor water god,” Triton pointed out before anyone had a chance to say anything.

           “Look, you’ll all just have to wait and find out with Book Percy,” Annabeth said.

           “As soon as Mrs Dodds was sure … That wasn’t the right thing to say.”

           “You’re never supposed to guess the punishment,” Hermes groaned.

           “It always makes it worse,” Leo agreed.

           “‘Come with me,’ Mrs Dodds … ‘Thanks for trying.’”

           “Aww, Grover that’s so sweet of you,” Piper gushed.

           “I should have tried harder,” Grover muttered.

           “It’s fine. All’s well that ends well, right?” Percy whispered back.

           “‘Honey,’ Mrs Dodds barked … my deluxe I’ll-kill-you-later stare.”

           The demigods shuddered.

           “I’m surprised she didn’t disintegrate on the spot,” Frank said.

           “Please, this kid can’t be that terrifying,” Ares dismissed.

           “For once I think I agree with him,” Percy said.

           “For once?!” Ares exclaimed.

           “I’ve seen that glare of yours, Perce, and it literally made all my hair stand up like lightning or something,” Leo told him.

           “Like a spidey-sense,” Piper added solemnly.

           “He’s right. Even I’ve been terrified of that look,” Apollo added.

           “You’re terrified of everything,” Meg informed him.

           “Yes, but this is different.” Apollo briefly heard one of the gods mutter What does he mean even him? But he wisely ignored them.

           “Alright, let’s move on,” Percy pleaded desperately.

           “I then turned to face Mrs Dodds, … I wasn’t so sure.”

           “Of course they want you to think that. Most of them are monsters,” Apollo said.

           “Wait really?” Meg asked.

           “Most authority figures you meet are probably monsters. Especially ones that work with children,” Annabeth told her.

           “And that’s not worrying at all,” Frank muttered.

           “I went after Mrs Dodds. … was absorbed in his novel.”

           “Why isn’t he noticing?” Ariadne asked worriedly.

           “He probably did,” Dionysus dismissed. “He wouldn’t want the monster to know that he noticed.”

           “What monster is it?” Thalia asked, frowning. She seemed to think the monster was pretty familiar.

           “No spoilers!” Meg sang before Percy or Grover could say anything.

           “You heard her,” Percy shrugged.

           “I looked back up. … Except for us, the gallery was empty.”

           “That’s not concerning,” Rachel muttered.

           “Mrs Dodds stood with her arms crossed … as if she wanted to pulverize it…”

           “That’s definitely concerning.”

           “‘You’ve been giving us problems, honey,’ … ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

           “You? You did the safe thing?” Reyna asked incredulously.

           “The first and last time he ever did,” Annabeth muttered.

           “I’m pretty sure I’ve done the safe thing a few other times,” Percy protested.

           “No, you haven’t,” Grover told him. Percy pouted exaggeratedly.

           “Everybody’s a hater,” He sighed.

           “She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. … Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.”

           “I like this kid,” Hermes laughed.

           “The horror of reading!” Leo exclaimed dramatically.

           “The worst thing invented since pineapple pizza,” Piper agreed.

           “Truly the worst torture imaginable,” Annabeth snickered.

           “‘Well?’ she demanded. … slice me to ribbons.”

           “A Fury?” Hades asked incredulously. “Why would I send a Fury after a child?” Thalia glared at him.

           “This just proves that he’s my son,” Poseidon insisted. “Why else would you hate a child enough to send a Fury after them?”

           “Hold on, your first monster was a Fury?” Will asked. “I thought it was the other thing.”

           “Nah, that was the second,” Percy told him.

           “How are you even alive?” Will shook his head.

           “A lot of luck mostly,” Percy admitted.

           “And me,” Annabeth pointed out.

           “And you.” He kissed her cheek.

           “Then things got even stranger.”

           “Literally, how?” Piper asked.

           “There should be some sort of strangeness limit,” Leo mused.

           “Mr Brunner, who’d been out in front … I was alone.”

           “What the fuck?” Jason asked.

           “Swinging a sword is your first instinct?” Frank asked. Percy shrugged.

           “I guess, yeah.”

           “You killed a Fury in one hit on your first time ever swinging a sword at a monster.” Reyna noted.

           “What the fuck.” Jason said more insistently. Apollo agreed wholeheartedly.

           “No wonder she still hates your guts,” Nico said.

           “Oh, this is just the beginning of why she hates him,” Grover assured.

           “That’s not reassuring.”

           “Your hands are still shaking,” Apollo told Percy. Everyone turned to look.

           “A bad memory?” Percy asked. He sounded doubtful. And also terrified. Apollo prayed that he was wrong about this.

           “You seemed pretty terrified when she was reading this.” Annabeth sounded like she hated every word she was saying.

           “And you did look pretty angry when Athena read about you being angry at Nancy,” Grover said apologetically.

           “I,” Percy sighed, resigned. “I did feel it. I was hoping it was nothing, but I felt exactly how I did back then.”

           “You mean we’re gonna feel everything we felt before?” Leo asked. For once, there wasn’t a trace of a joking tone in his voice.

           “No,” Nico said, shaking his head. “That’s not fair.” Will gave his hand a squeeze.

All the demigods turned to him. Apollo looked at the stack of books again. Please let me be wrong he prayed again as he tried to feel what the Fates meant by this.

           Apollo buried his face in his hands with a muffled whimper.

           “From what I can glean from the Fates, this is the ‘consequence’ that they spoke of. You will feel everything your book self feels.” Apollo said. The demigods looked as hopeless as Apollo felt.

           “Is it really that bad?” Triton asked. It didn’t sound malicious, more like gauging just how bad this was going to get. Percy and Annabeth exchanged a loaded glance.

           “However bad you think it is,” Percy began, his arm wrapped around Annabeth’s shoulders.

           “It’s so much worse,” she finished, resting her head on his shoulder.

           “Let’s just move on,” Will said in a strained voice. “We’ll deal with the bad things when we get there.” Pushing the problem away sounded very tempting, so that’s what they all did.

           “There was a ballpoint pen in my hand. … ‘Our teacher. Duh!’”

           “That’s the mist, isn’t it?” Hazel asked. Grover nodded.

           “I blinked. We had no teacher … ‘This is serious.’”

           “I was really bad at lying back then,” Grover groaned.

           “You’re much better now,” Annabeth assured.

           “It’s not like I could have gotten worse.”

           “Sure you could have,” Meg said. “You could have been like this idiot here.” She jabbed her thumb at Apollo, who glared at her.

           I’m the god of truth, he wanted to point out. But he couldn’t say that. Meg seemed to get his point though, and giggled at his affronted look.

           “Thunder boomed overhead. … Are you feeling all right?’”

           “Harsh, man,” Piper said.

           “That’s the end of the chapter,” Athena said.

           “Should we continue?” Hestia asked.

           “Sure,” Percy shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

           “I’ll read next,” Amphitrite offered.

Chapter Text

           “Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death,” Amphitrite read out. Percy and Grover exchanged a guilty look. Apollo thought that this sounded worryingly like the Fates, but surely not…

           “What does that mean?” Annabeth asked, eyes narrowed.

           “I, um, I guess you’ll find out?” Percy looked understandably nervous under Annabeth’s gaze. She let it go with a disgruntled ‘hmph’.

           “I was used to the occasional weird experience … I almost believed them – Mrs Dodds had never existed. Almost.”

           “It was me, wasn’t it?” Grover asked, resigned.

           “Of course it was,” Thalia snickered.

           “But Grover couldn’t fool me… Something had happened at the museum.”

           “No shit, man,” Leo muttered.

           “I didn’t have much time to think about it…I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.”

           “Are you being affected by the fight?” Athena asked shrewdly.

           “I never actually considered that,” Percy said, shrugging.

           “Finally, when our English teacher, Mr Nicoll…I wasn’t even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.”

           “An old sot is basically an old drunk,” Apollo offered helpfully.

           “Dionysus, basically,” Hermes put in, snickering. Dionysus glared, but didn’t respond.

           “The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week…put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties.”

           Meg frowned. “Your stepfather seemed pretty cool to me.”

           “This was before my mom married Paul,” Percy said, looking uncomfortable. Grover patted his arm in sympathy.

           “And yet… there were things I’d miss at Yancy…I worried how he’d survive next year without me.”

           “I wouldn’t have gone back, thankfully,” Grover said with a shudder. “I hate middle school.” The demigods nodded in agreement.

           “I’d miss Latin class, too…but I’d started to believe him…Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.”

           “You remember now, don’t you?” Annabeth snickered.

           “Well, I still don’t know how to spell them,” Percy said with a laugh.

           “I paced the room…try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to an adult.”

           “I really don’t think you can say the not usually an eavesdropper,” Thalia said. “You really know way more than you should.”

           “I can’t help eavesdropping in dreams,” Percy protested.

           “I inched closer…book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.”

           “You definitely didn’t fail the first time either,” Thalia told Grover firmly. He looked like he didn’t fully believe her, but he didn’t argue.

           “Mr Brunner went silent…‘My nerves haven’t been right since the winter solstice.’ …‘But I could have sworn…’”

           “So whatever went wrong did happen on the Winter Solstice,” Athena said happily.

           “And something else will happen on the Summer Solstice,” Apollo added. “An ultimatum between Zeus and Poseidon?”

           “Something like that,” Annabeth said hesitantly.

           “‘Go back to the dorm,’…‘Don’t remind me.’”

           “Did you really have to write all the tests every time you went undercover?” Frank asked.

           “Unfortunately,” Grover said.

           “You satyrs really are the real heroes,” Rachel said.

           “The lights went out…there all night.”

           “At least you can act,” Hermes muttered, still a little hung up on Grover’s bad lying.

           “‘Hey,’ he said, bleary-eyed…They thought I was in some kind of danger.”

           “Keeping him in the dark would not work if he knew something was wrong,” Ariadne pointed out.

           “We didn’t know he knew so much,” Grover replied. “And even if we did, given the problems we had, it was better for him to know as little as possible till summer.”

           “And I suppose you can’t tell use about these problems,” Rhode stated with a sigh. Grover nodded.

           “The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam …‘Don’t be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It’s… it’s for the best.’”

           Apollo sighed in exasperation. He knew Chiron meant well, but his old friend had not improved in motivational speeches in millennia.

           “Please don’t,” Annabeth muttered, evidently thinking along the same lines. At the confused looks the other demigods gave, she elaborated. “Chiron is terrible at motivational speeches.”

           “Even Mr. D is better,” Will agreed.

           “I’ve heard him tell young campers to ‘grow a spine and stop whining’ about burns from the lava wall,” Reyna noted with a raised eyebrow.

           “Exactly,” Nico nodded. “Motivation.”

           “His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me…But I was already gone.”

           “He shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Dionysus said, smirking.

           “I know you guys said he was bad, but I didn’t think it would be that bad,” Hazel said.

           “On the last day of the term … from a family of nobodies.”

           “There’s only one Nobody in this family,” Annabeth said, dissolving into giggles with Percy. Grover rolled his eyes at them, but a smile tugged at his lips.

           “They asked me what I’d be doing this summer…as if I’d never existed.”

           “Rude,” Rachel said.

           “The only person I dreaded saying goodbye…‘Looking for Kindly Ones?’”

           “You’re really not subtle at all, are you?” Triton shook his head.

           “Way to give him a heart attack,” Thalia cackled.

           “I almost jumped out of my skin,” Grover complained.

           “It’s best to just rip off the band aid,” Percy said, shrugging.

           “Grover nearly jumped out of his seat…‘Grover, you’re a really, really bad liar.’”

           “He’s right,” Meg said. “You’re as bad as Lester.”

           “Hey!” Apollo protested, crossing his arms and glaring at her. She just stuck out her tongue in a Meg-like response.

           “His ears turned pink…Long Island, New York (800)009-0009.”

           “Of course it’s in fancy script,” Hestia said, shaking her head.

           “I have to have some fun,” Dionysus protested. “It’s not like they really need to read the cards anyway.”

           “I didn’t even know we had business cards,” Piper said. Dionysus looked at Hestia triumphantly.

           “‘What’s Half –’ …‘Why would I need you?’”

           “That’s harsh,” Rachel said.

           “I didn’t mean it like that!” Percy protested.

           “It’s fine, Perce, it’s not your fault you always put your foot in your mouth,” Grover said, patting his head patronizingly. Percy glared at him.

           “It came out harsher than I meant…‘what exactly are you protecting me from?’”

           “Nothing much, just two major gods and a horde of monsters,” Annabeth muttered, quietly enough that the gods didn’t hear.

           “There was a huge grinding noise…knitting the biggest pair of socks I’d ever seen.”

           Di immortals it was the Fates, just as he had suspected. Everyone else seemed to make the connection too, and waited with bated breath to hear what happened.

           “I mean these socks were the size of sweaters…leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for – Sasquatch or Godzilla.”

           Annabeth squeezed Percy’s hand tightly. “You never told me about that!”

           “It didn’t come up, I guess?” He said hesitantly.

           “How are you still alive?” Reyna asked. Percy exchanged a glance with Apollo. Suddenly he understood why Percy seemed unconcerned.

           “Sometimes the Fates show a hero the fate of another,” Rachel said. The gods looked at her appraisingly, wondering how she knew so much despite being a mortal.

           “She’s correct,” Apollo said. “If the other hero’s fate is tied with yours, the Fates may show it. It is very uncommon though.”

           “I think it may come up in another book,” Percy said, eyeing the stack of books. Annabeth’s eyes widened.

           “Is it…?” she asked quietly. Percy nodded.

           “How do you know of this?” Hera asked Rachel.

           “I can’t tell you,” Rachel shrugged. Hera pursed her lips but didn’t press. Apollo remembered Rachel telling him about the line of prophecy she told Percy, which was the reason she came to New York in the middle of the war. Perseus, you are not the hero. The Fates must have been showing him that, as a sign that the Great Prophecy was beginning. Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Rachel seemed to have some of the same understanding, but the others were as confused as ever.

           Meg nudged him, obviously curious to what he’d figured out. He shook his head at her, and whispered “No spoilers” with a cheeky smile, parroting her own words back at her. She turned back to Amphitrite with a disgruntled huff.

           “At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal…as if I’d caught the flu…He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.” Percy and Grover in the present reacted the same way.

           “Why are they so affected if the string wasn’t about them?” Hazel asked.

           “Seeing the Fates always has some sort of affect on mortals,” Rhea replied.

           “How come none of us felt like that this time?” Frank asked.

           “Nothing about this situation is normal,” Hades said drily.

           “‘Grover?’…‘What last time?’”

           “You’re definitely freaking him out,” Thalia said.

           “‘Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth.’…he was already picking the kind of flowers I’d like best on my coffin.”

           “He’s gonna ditch you,” Leo stated.

           “How could you know that?” Frank asked.

           “Because he’s acting weird and freaking Percy out,” Piper said.

           “You’re not very good at this,” Dionysus said.

           “Grover is great at his job,” Percy protested.

           “I don’t blame him for freaking out,” Annabeth added. “With the Kindly One and then the Fates, it’s shaping up a lot like the first time.”

           “It was a lot worse the first time,” Thalia said. “They’re not followed by a horde of monsters.”

           “The Fates never showed up the first time,” Grover countered. “It felt like there was no hope after that.”

           “Are any of you gonna tell us what this mysterious ‘first time’ was?” Meg asked.

           “You did say no spoilers,” Will told her. Apollo smiled at his son as Meg flopped back on the couch, disappointed.

           “The Fates act in mysterious ways,” Apollo said. “We can never truly know what they mean until it comes to pass.”

           “That’s not as comforting as you think it is,” Kym said with a snort.

           “That’s the end of the chapter,” Amphitrite cut in. “Who will continue?”

           “I will,” Hermes offered.