Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson was used to feeling out of place.

It wasn’t just because he had dyslexia, or ADHD, or the fact that he'd never fit in at any of the half-dozen schools he’d been to. It wasn’t just that trouble seemed to follow him, like that time he’d accidentally made the bus explode—or the constant feeling that something bigger than him, something darker, was always just out of sight, lurking.

No, there was something else, something deeper. Something that had always been there, quietly tugging at the edges of his awareness, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

He stared into the bathroom mirror of the Yancy Academy dorms, his reflection blurred slightly by the steam rising from the sink. His sea-green eyes looked back at him, and his dark hair clung messily to his forehead. He could hear his roommate, Grover, snoring in the next room, but otherwise, the world was silent. It was late, and Percy should have been sleeping, too. Instead, he was standing here, face to face with himself—or at least, that’s what he was supposed to see.

But the boy staring back at him felt distant, like a version of himself he was slowly growing detached from. It wasn’t the way his face looked, exactly—it was more how he *felt* in his own skin, as if his body didn’t quite fit, as though he were trapped in someone else’s reflection. It was a weird, shapeless discomfort that Percy didn’t have a name for, but it was becoming harder to ignore.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt this way. In fact, it had been happening more often over the past few years. There were mornings he woke up and didn’t feel like himself at all. Some days he’d glance in the mirror and feel like the person staring back should have looked… different. On other days, he felt fine—or as fine as Percy Jackson ever felt, given his chaotic life. But recently, the feeling had been more intense, more persistent.

Percy splashed cold water on his face, hoping the sensation would dissolve with the droplets. The cold shock on his skin was welcome, but the discomfort lingered, just beneath the surface.

He tried to shake it off. He had other things to worry about. Like the fact that his grades were slipping—again—and his teachers seemed to expect him to either flunk out or cause another “incident” that would lead to his expulsion. Or the fact that the other kids at Yancy didn’t exactly make things easy for him.

And then there was Nancy Bobofit.

That morning, she had cornered him outside homeroom. Percy hadn’t even said anything to her—he’d just been minding his own business, trying to get through the day without a headache. But Nancy had a way of zeroing in on Percy’s worst moods, as if she had a radar for when he was feeling particularly low.

“Hey, Jackson,” she’d sneered, leaning in close while her gang of friends stood nearby, snickering. “What’s wrong? You look even more pathetic than usual. Is it the ADHD today, or is it your *other* problem?”

Percy had stiffened at the sound of her voice, clenching his fists inside the pockets of his worn-out jacket. He didn’t even know what Nancy meant by his “other problem.” He wasn’t even sure *he* knew what that meant. But she was always good at making him feel like something was inherently wrong with him, like he was different in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, but could definitely exploit.

When he didn’t respond, she shoved him lightly. “What’s the matter, freak? Cat got your tongue?” Her friends laughed, egging her on.

Percy had wanted to shove her back. He wanted to tell her off, to give her some snarky retort that would make her leave him alone. But the truth was, Nancy’s words hit too close to home. There *was* something different about him, and it wasn’t just the ADHD or the dyslexia. There was something else that made him feel out of place—something he hadn’t figured out yet.

Instead of responding, he had walked away, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. That was hours ago, but Nancy’s words were still buzzing in his mind like an annoying fly that wouldn’t go away.

He turned away from the mirror and sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the wall. He could hear Grover shifting in his sleep on the other side of the room, and Percy wished he could just tell Grover what was bothering him. Grover was a good friend. He probably wouldn’t judge. But how could Percy explain something that he didn’t even understand?

That vague sense of discomfort had been growing for a long time now, and Percy was getting tired of pretending it wasn’t there. It was like a wave of unease that would crash over him, leaving him drenched in confusion about who he was. He didn’t have the language to describe it—not yet. But he knew it had something to do with how he felt about himself. Some days, when he woke up, he felt… *off*, like his body didn’t match how he felt inside. Other days, he felt okay, like himself, but those days were becoming fewer and farther between.

He had started paying more attention to how he felt around other people, too. Sometimes, he felt fine being “one of the guys” with Grover and the other boys at school. But other times—like when he caught himself staring at the way other girls moved, or how they dressed, or the way they seemed so comfortable in their skin—he felt a pang of something he didn’t understand. Jealousy? Admiration? It was hard to say.

All Percy knew was that there were times when the idea of being seen as just another boy didn’t sit right with him. But he didn’t know what to do with those feelings, and he certainly didn’t know how to talk about them.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after another sleepless night, that Percy started searching for answers.

He had crept down to the Yancy Academy computer lab long after lights out, the glow of the monitor casting a pale light over his face as he sat hunched over the keyboard. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for at first—he just knew he needed to understand why he felt the way he did. Why some days, being Percy Jackson felt fine, and other days, it felt like wearing clothes that didn’t fit.

He typed in a few vague search terms at first, trying to describe the feeling. “Uncomfortable in my body.” “Don’t feel like a boy all the time.” “Gender confusion.”

The results were a mess of medical terms and personal stories, some of which made no sense, and others that hit too close to home. But after clicking through a few links, Percy stumbled onto something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Genderfluid: A term used to describe someone whose gender identity isn’t fixed, and can shift over time or depending on the situation.”

Percy blinked at the screen, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked on the link and read further.

“People who are genderfluid may feel more like one gender at certain times and more like another gender at other times. They may shift between feeling masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between.”

Percy’s mind raced as he read the words over and over again. Could that be what he was feeling? The constant shifting between feeling comfortable in his skin one day and completely out of place the next? The way some days he felt perfectly fine being seen as a boy, and other days… he wasn’t so sure?

He wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but something about the term “genderfluid” felt like a piece of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he was trying to solve. He felt a strange sense of relief wash over him as he stared at the screen, like he was finally starting to understand something about himself that had been lurking in the back of his mind for years.

But with that relief came a flood of new questions. What did this mean for him? Was he supposed to tell people? Would they even understand? He thought of Nancy Bobofit and the way she always seemed to pick up on his discomfort, like a predator sniffing out weakness. If she knew about this—if anyone knew—Percy was sure they’d never let him hear the end of it.

He glanced around the empty computer lab, the silence of the night pressing in on him. This wasn’t something he could share with just anyone. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to make sense of it himself.

But at least now, he had a word for it. A starting point.

Percy shut off the computer and slipped back to his dorm room, his mind buzzing with everything he’d just learned. As he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he felt a little less lost than before. There was still a lot he didn’t understand, but for the first time, Percy felt like he was starting to find himself—or at least, the version of himself he’d been searching for.

He didn’t know what the future held, but maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to figure it all out right away. Maybe it was okay to be fluid, to shift and change, like the waves of the sea.

And as he drifted off to sleep, Percy found a strange sense of peace in that thought.

Chapter Text

It was well past midnight, but Percy Jackson sat in the glow of the computer screen in the Yancy Academy library, his heart racing, his hands slightly shaking as they hovered over the keyboard. Everyone else in the dorms was asleep, including Grover, who had passed out hours ago, completely unaware that Percy had slipped out of the room and made his way down to the library. 

He’d been restless for days—weeks, really—ever since he first stumbled across the idea of being genderfluid. The word had caught him off guard. It was like seeing his reflection in the water for the first time and realizing there was more depth than he had ever noticed. The idea that someone’s identity could shift, change like the tides, had been sitting in the back of his mind, refusing to let go.

Percy didn’t fully understand it yet, but something about the concept resonated deep within him. It was like someone had finally given him a map to a part of himself he hadn’t known how to navigate. And now that he had a map, he wasn’t sure where the journey would lead. But he needed to know.

Tonight, he’d decided to dive deeper. He had been careful not to make too much noise as he opened the door to the library, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. After making sure no one was around, Percy had settled in front of one of the old, clunky computers in the back of the room, his fingers shaking as he typed “genderfluid” into the search bar.

The page that loaded was filled with blogs, articles, and forums, all discussing different aspects of gender fluidity. Some talked about how their identity shifted daily or weekly; others mentioned that it was less predictable—sometimes they felt more feminine, other times more masculine, and sometimes they didn’t feel like either.

As Percy scrolled, he found himself nodding slowly. It was like he was reading parts of his own story, only written by strangers who had already gone through the same journey. There were descriptions of people feeling discomfort in their bodies on some days, while on others, they felt perfectly at home. People talked about experimenting with their clothes, their pronouns, and their names.

The more he read, the more Percy felt his heart settle. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t drowning in confusion. The words in front of him offered a sense of understanding, like the waves pulling back to reveal the shoreline. This… this made sense.

But there were still so many questions. Was this really him? Was he… genderfluid? Or was this just something he was imagining? Percy closed his eyes for a moment, trying to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. What did being genderfluid even mean for someone like him? He was already struggling with his ADHD and dyslexia. How could he even begin to think about something as complicated as gender identity?

His thoughts drifted back to the way he’d been feeling over the past year. How some days, he woke up and felt… wrong. He hadn’t known how to explain it before. It wasn’t like he hated his body, but it didn’t always feel like it fit him. Some mornings, he’d look in the mirror and feel disconnected from the boy staring back at him. Other days, he felt fine—more than fine, even. Like he could take on the world. But there were times when “being Percy Jackson” felt like an outfit he didn’t want to wear. 

He remembered watching the girls in his class at Yancy, not in the way the other boys did, but with a strange sense of longing that he hadn’t been able to understand. He wanted to wear what they wore, move the way they moved, but he had buried that feeling deep down, afraid to confront it. It wasn’t until now that he realized those feelings had been a part of him all along, bubbling beneath the surface.

Percy scrolled down the page, his eyes scanning over a section titled, “Experimenting with Gender Expression.” The article talked about how people who were genderfluid often tried different ways of presenting themselves, whether it was wearing more masculine or feminine clothing, or using different pronouns depending on how they felt on any given day.

That’s when Percy knew what he had to do. He wasn’t sure how it would feel, but he had to try. He had to experiment, to see if shifting his appearance or using different pronouns could help him understand what was going on inside.

The next morning, Percy stood in front of the mirror again, this time with a plan. He had pulled on a pair of jeans that were a little slimmer than he usually wore and borrowed one of Grover’s more fitted t-shirts. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a small shift—enough to test the waters without drawing too much attention.

He turned from side to side, examining his reflection. It wasn’t perfect—he still felt like the same old Percy in a lot of ways—but there was a subtle difference. He felt lighter, more at ease, like he had taken a small step toward something that made sense. There was a hint of satisfaction, of relief, even if it wasn’t overwhelming. 

As he walked through the halls of Yancy that day, Percy felt a mix of emotions. On the one hand, there was an undeniable sense of liberation in allowing himself to experiment. On the other hand, there was a constant undercurrent of anxiety, a voice in the back of his mind wondering if people would notice. If they did, what would they think?

Nancy Bobofit didn’t make it easy, of course. She had found a new way to annoy Percy that week, throwing food at him in the cafeteria and then playing innocent when the teachers asked about it. Percy’s usual anger flared up, but this time, there was something else. A gnawing worry that maybe, just maybe, she would sense that something was different about him. That maybe she would pick up on the changes he was making, subtle as they were, and use them against him.

But nothing happened. At least, nothing noticeable. His classmates didn’t seem to care, or if they did, they kept it to themselves. It was a strange relief, and yet, Percy couldn’t help but feel like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Back in his dorm room that evening, Percy sat on his bed, staring at his reflection in the small mirror on his nightstand. Grover was out, so Percy had some time alone, which was a rare luxury. He stared at his reflection for a long time, longer than he ever had before, trying to decide how he felt.

After a while, he snuck out into the library and started looking up more information on one of the computers. He found stories of other people who were genderfluid—how they experienced their identities in ways that shifted like the ocean tides, sometimes feeling more connected to one gender, sometimes to another, and sometimes to neither. There were stories of people who used different pronouns depending on how they felt, and others who didn’t bother with pronouns at all, using their name instead.

Percy thought about that. Pronouns. He’d always been “he” to everyone—his mom, his teachers, Grover. It was just… normal. But now, he wondered what it would be like to think of himself as “she” sometimes. Or even “they.” He tried it out in his head, switching the words around in his mind.

*"She walks through the hallways of Yancy, keeping her head down."*

*"They walk through the park, their feet kicking up leaves as they move."*

It felt strange at first, but not in a bad way. It was more like trying on a new pair of shoes—unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the way the words shifted around him, like he wasn’t confined to just one thing. He didn’t have to be Percy the Boy all the time. He could be Percy, whoever that was, in whatever way felt right.

But with that realization came a flicker of fear. What would Grover say if Percy told him? Or worse, what would his mom think?

Sally Jackson had always been Percy’s rock. She was the one person in his life who made him feel safe, no matter what. But this… this was different. This wasn’t like telling her about his ADHD or his struggles at school. This was something deeper, something that might change the way she saw him. Percy didn’t know if he was ready for that. 

He thought about calling her, just to hear her voice, but then decided against it. He wasn’t ready to explain any of this yet. Not until he understood it better himself. 

The next few weeks passed in a blur of small experiments and internal adjustments. Percy started making more subtle changes to his appearance—sometimes tucking his hair behind his ears in a way that felt more feminine, other times wearing clothes that felt more neutral. He tried out different pronouns in his head, shifting between “he,” “she,” and “they” depending on how he felt that day. Some days were easier than others. On certain mornings, he felt more connected to one identity, like the world made sense in that moment. Other days, the discomfort returned, leaving him unsure of who he was supposed to be.

One afternoon, Percy found himself in the library again, this time browsing through fashion blogs and gender identity forums. Maybe that would help on the days when he felt disconnected from his appearance.

Chapter Text

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Grover Underwood set out on their quest. The morning mist hung low over Camp Half-Blood, the air charged with the promise of adventure—and the tension of uncertainty. Percy’s mission was clear: find Zeus' stolen lightning bolt and return it to its rightful owner before the gods' anger led to a full-scale war.

Yet, beneath the surface of this seemingly straightforward quest, Percy was grappling with doubts that had nothing to do with the stolen bolt and everything to do with who he was. He had been experimenting with his gender identity in small, subtle ways, and the journey ahead felt like a test of his ability to assert this newfound fluidity in a world that often didn’t understand or accept anything beyond traditional norms.

As they traveled towards their first destination, a dilapidated diner on the outskirts of New Jersey, Percy shifted between feeling more masculine and feminine, sometimes using “he” and sometimes “they” in his own thoughts. The discomfort he had experienced before seemed to ebb and flow with the challenges of their journey. But this wasn’t just about fitting in with his companions; it was about finding the courage to express himself authentically in the face of forces that demanded conformity.

Annabeth was perceptive, as always. She noticed the subtle changes in Percy’s demeanor and clothing, but she didn’t say anything. 

Grover, on the other hand, was less attuned to these nuances. His primary concern was the quest and the safety of his friends. But Percy appreciated his steadfastness, even if Grover didn’t fully grasp the shifts in Percy’s identity.

As they walked, the conversation turned to their next steps. They had learned that the lightning bolt was hidden in a place where it would be difficult for anyone to find—a godly vault in the heart of New York City. It was a daunting task, but Percy was determined to see it through.

“Are we sure about this diner?” Percy asked, glancing at the faded sign above the entrance. “It doesn’t exactly scream ‘important information.’”

“It’s a lead,” Annabeth replied, consulting her notebook. “According to the information I’ve gathered, it’s supposed to be a front for something much bigger. We need to find out if there’s any truth to that.”

“Right,” Percy said, nodding. He adjusted his jacket, pulling it closer around him. He had opted for a more neutral look that day, one that didn’t lean heavily toward masculine or feminine presentation. It was an attempt to find balance, but the fluidity of his identity still felt precarious.

As they stepped into the diner, the clatter of cutlery and the murmur of conversations created a backdrop of normalcy. Percy slid into a booth, with Annabeth and Grover following suit. The diner’s old-fashioned charm did little to ease Percy’s nerves. The cloying smell of coffee and the hum of an old jukebox made it clear that they were far from the magical realm of Camp Half-Blood.

They ordered their food and settled into a tense silence. Percy’s mind raced, not only with thoughts of the quest but also with the anxiety of being true to himself in a place where he felt out of sync. He fidgeted with his menu, feeling the tug-of-war between how he wanted to present himself and how he feared others would perceive him.

The door to the diner jingled, and Percy’s gaze shot toward the entrance. A tall, imposing figure walked in, clad in leather and exuding an aura of raw power. Ares, the god of war, was not someone Percy had expected to encounter in a dingy diner. His presence was larger than life, and the way he carried himself—confident, aggressive—was a stark contrast to Percy’s own tentative steps toward understanding his identity.

Ares’ eyes swept over the diner, landing on Percy, Annabeth, and Grover with a smirk. He strode over to their table, and the sense of foreboding that accompanied him was palpable.

“Well, well, well,” Ares said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and disdain. “If it isn’t the hero on a quest. And look at you—Percy Jackson. Not quite fitting in with the usual mold, are you?”

Percy’s heart skipped a beat. He knew that Ares was notorious for his intimidation tactics, and the god’s words felt like a direct jab at his efforts to navigate his fluid identity. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but he couldn’t back down. Not now.

“Just here for information,” Percy replied, his voice steady despite the tremor of anxiety. “We’re looking for the lightning bolt.”

Ares raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Percy. “Information, huh? I suppose that’s one way to put it. You know, kid, there’s a lot more to being a hero than just finding stolen bolts. Sometimes, it’s about knowing who you are and what you stand for.”

Percy clenched his fists under the table, struggling to keep his composure. Ares’ words seemed to cut right through his insecurities, amplifying the doubts he already had. What did it mean to “stand for” anything when he wasn’t even sure who he was? How could he assert his identity when he was still trying to understand it himself?

Annabeth, sensing the growing tension, spoke up. “We don’t need a lecture, Ares. We’re here to find out what you know about the bolt. If you have any information, we’d appreciate it.”

Ares chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, I’ve got information. But before I share it, let me ask you something, Percy. You’re out here on this grand adventure, trying to prove yourself. But do you even know who you’re trying to prove yourself to? Yourself, or everyone else?”

Percy hesitated. Ares’ question cut to the heart of his struggles. Who was he really trying to impress? Was he seeking validation from others, or was he trying to find a sense of self-worth from within?

“I’m trying to find the bolt,” Percy said finally, his voice firm. “If you have any information, I’d like to hear it.”

Ares’ gaze softened slightly, but only just. He seemed to take Percy’s resolve as a sign of genuine determination, and his tone shifted.

“Alright, alright,” Ares said, sliding into the booth opposite them. “I’ll give you what I know. But first, you need to understand something. Power—real power—comes from knowing who you are. You can’t let others dictate your worth or tell you what you should be.”

Percy swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and discomfort. Ares’ words seemed both a challenge and an insight. It was as if the god was pushing him to confront his own uncertainties about identity while simultaneously offering a begrudging piece of advice.

As Ares shared his information—leading them to a location where they might find more clues about the bolt—Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that the god’s words had struck a deeper chord. The idea of asserting one’s identity, of being true to oneself even when faced with opposition, resonated with Percy. It wasn’t just about finding the bolt; it was about finding himself along the way.

After Ares left, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover gathered their things and prepared to head out. Percy took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. The encounter with Ares had been unsettling, but it had also given him a newfound determination.

As they walked back toward their next destination, Annabeth and Grover fell into conversation about their findings. Percy lagged behind, lost in thought. He could feel the tension in his chest slowly easing, replaced by a quiet resolve.

Annabeth fell back to walk beside him. “You did well in there, Percy. It’s not easy to face someone like Ares and hold your ground.”

“Thanks,” Percy said, offering her a small smile. “He definitely knows how to push buttons.”

Annabeth nodded. “I’m not sure what's going on up in that kelpy head of yours but whatever it is just remember that you’re not alone in this. We’re here for you, no matter what. If what is going on with you is what I'm thinking just know that it’s about being true to who you are, not who others expect you to be.”

Percy appreciated her words more than she could know. They gave him the strength to keep moving forward, to continue experimenting with his identity in ways that felt right for him. He was beginning to understand that his journey wasn’t just about finding a stolen bolt; it was about discovering and accepting the fluidity within himself.

Grover caught up with them and looked at Percy with a hint of concern. “Hey, you alright? You seemed a bit off back there.”

“I’m fine,” Percy said, giving Grover a reassuring nod. “Just thinking about things.”

Grover didn’t press further, but he gave Percy a supportive pat on the back. The gesture was simple but meant a lot. It was another reminder that, even if the world around him was often confusing and unaccepting, he had friends who would stand by him.

As they continued their journey, Percy found a quiet strength in the knowledge that he didn’t have to conform to anyone’s expectations but his own. He could be fluid, shifting between identities and expressions, as long as he stayed true to himself. It was a small but significant victory, a step towards understanding the complex, multifaceted person he was becoming.

The quest for the lightning bolt continued, but Percy knew that this journey was more than just a physical one. It was a quest for self-discovery, a journey through the tumultuous seas of identity, and he was ready to navigate it with the support of his friends and the courage he was beginning to find within himself.

As the city skyline came into view, Percy took a deep breath and embraced the uncertainty of what lay ahead. He was ready to face the challenges, both external and internal, with a renewed sense of purpose. After all, he was not just on a quest to retrieve a stolen bolt; he was on a quest to find and assert the truth of who he was.

Chapter Text

The neon lights of the city flickered ominously against the night sky as Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Grover Underwood made their way through the labyrinth of city streets. The excitement of their recent encounter with Ares had faded, replaced by a gnawing tension. The closer they got to their destination, the more the weight of the prophecy seemed to press down on Percy’s shoulders.

It had been days since their meeting with Ares, and Percy’s mind had been a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions. The prophecy loomed large, a cloud of uncertainty and foreboding. And now, as they approached the entrance to the Underworld, Percy felt the burden of it more than ever.

They had paused in a small park to regroup and review their plan before venturing into the darkness of the underworld. Percy sat on a bench, staring off into the distance, trying to calm the turmoil within him. The city’s hustle and bustle seemed far removed from the quiet, inner storm he was facing.

Annabeth sat beside him, her eyes thoughtful. “You okay?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Percy’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I mean, I thought I was doing okay, but now… I can’t stop thinking about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nodded. “It’s a lot to take in. And with everything going on—”

“Yeah, with everything going on,” Percy interrupted, “it’s hard to focus on anything else. I keep feeling like I’m supposed to be something I’m not.”

Annabeth’s expression softened. “What do you mean?”

Percy hesitated, trying to find the right words. “It’s like... I’m trying to be a hero, you know? And I’m still figuring out who I am, what I am. Sometimes I feel like the world expects me to fit into this strict mold—strong, masculine, unwavering. But I don’t always feel like that. Sometimes I feel fluid, like I’m not one thing or another. And I don’t know if that makes me less of a hero.”

Annabeth took a deep breath, her gaze steady. “Percy, being a hero isn’t about fitting into a mold. It’s about being true to yourself and doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. You’re already proving that you’re a hero by facing these challenges head-on, even when you’re unsure.”

Grover, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “You know, Percy, you’re not alone in this. We all have our struggles and doubts. You’ve been brave in ways that go beyond just physical strength. It takes courage to question yourself and to keep moving forward despite the confusion.”

Percy looked at his friends, their words providing a small comfort amidst the storm of his emotions. But just as he started to feel a glimmer of relief, a wave of dysphoria hit him like a crashing wave. It was sudden and overwhelming—a profound sense of discomfort with his own reflection and identity.

He stood abruptly, feeling trapped in his own skin. “I need to go,” he said, his voice strained. “I need some air.”

Annabeth and Grover exchanged concerned glances but followed him as he walked away from the park. They kept a respectful distance, sensing that Percy needed space to process his emotions.

Percy wandered through the city streets, his mind racing. The feeling of being misaligned with his own identity was suffocating. The clothes he wore, the way he looked—everything seemed to mock him, reminding him of how different he felt inside compared to the expectations of the world around him. It was as if his gender fluidity was a heavy cloak he couldn’t shed, and every step he took felt like a struggle against a weight he couldn’t escape.

He found himself in a quiet alley, away from the chaos of the city. Leaning against a brick wall, he tried to catch his breath, his heart pounding. The familiar feeling of being out of place, of not fitting into the roles expected of him, was overwhelming.

In the stillness of the alley, Percy let the tears flow. He had tried so hard to navigate his quest and his identity, to be the hero everyone needed. But in this moment, he felt utterly lost, torn between the expectations of being a hero and the reality of his fluid self.

Percy took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He knew he needed to return to his friends, to face them and the reality of his situation. But he also needed to understand that his struggles were part of what made him who he was—a unique, multifaceted individual with the capacity for great leadership and bravery.

With renewed determination, Percy made his way back to the park where Annabeth and Grover were waiting. They looked up as he approached, their expressions a mix of relief and concern.

“Hey,” Percy said quietly, “I’m sorry. I just... needed to process everything.”

Annabeth stepped forward, her eyes full of empathy. “It’s okay, Percy. We understand. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. The prophecy is daunting, but we believe in you. We believe in the person you are, no matter how you present yourself.”

Grover nodded in agreement. “Yeah, Percy. You’ve shown incredible strength and courage. It doesn’t matter if you’re feeling more masculine or feminine or somewhere in between. What matters is that you’re true to yourself and that you keep fighting for what’s right.”

Percy felt a swell of gratitude for his friends. Their support meant more than he could put into words. The reassurance they offered was a lifeline, helping him navigate the turbulent waters of his emotions and identity.

As they prepared to head towards the entrance of the Underworld, Percy took a moment to reflect on the journey so far. The prophecy, the quest, the struggle with his own identity—it was all part of a larger picture. And while it was difficult, he realized that his fluidity was not a weakness but a strength. It was a testament to his ability to adapt, to embrace different aspects of himself, and to lead with empathy and understanding.

When they arrived at the entrance to the Underworld, the air felt heavy with the weight of impending challenges. The entrance was dark and foreboding, a stark contrast to the vibrant city they had just left behind. Percy took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.

He turned to Annabeth and Grover, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s do this.”

Annabeth and Grover exchanged a supportive glance before nodding in agreement. They descended into the darkness together, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous passages of the Underworld.

As they ventured deeper into the realm of the dead, Percy felt a sense of calm wash over him. The challenges they faced would be formidable, but he knew that he could face them with the strength he had found within himself. His fluidity, his journey of self-discovery—it was all part of what made him a great leader and hero.

The path ahead was uncertain, but Percy was ready to confront it with the courage and authenticity that defined him. The prophecy, the quest, and his own identity were intertwined, and he was prepared to face them all with the support of his friends and the strength he had discovered within himself.

The Underworld loomed before them, dark and daunting. But as Percy stepped into the shadows, he did so with a sense of clarity and purpose, ready to embrace whatever challenges lay ahead. He was not just a hero; he was Percy Jackson—fluid, resilient, and unapologetically himself.

Chapter Text

The ocean had always been a place of comfort for Percy Jackson—a vast, untamable force that felt like home in a way nothing else did. The water was a mirror of who they were: constantly shifting, flowing from one state to another, never the same two days in a row. It was in the ocean's depths that Percy found solace, a place where the rest of the world’s rules didn’t apply.

Now, as they sailed across the Sea of Monsters aboard the CSS Birmingham , Percy found themself thinking more and more about that comparison. The sea, with its unpredictable tides and ceaseless changes, reflected the way Percy experienced their own gender. Some days, they felt more comfortable in their masculine presentation, but other days—like today—Percy felt a pull toward something different, a femininity that was just as much a part of them as anything else.

The soft breeze ruffled their hair as they stood at the ship’s railing, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The others were below deck, making plans and gathering supplies for the next part of their journey to find the Golden Fleece, but Percy had needed a moment alone. The constant internal shifting—the way they felt in their own skin—was something they were still figuring out, and the vast, open sea seemed like the only place big enough to hold all those thoughts.

They ran a hand through their dark hair, feeling the weight of it against their neck. Today, they had chosen to wear one of Annabeth’s hair ties, pulling it into a loose ponytail that gave them a sense of lightness. Their attire, too, was different from what they’d typically worn on quests. Instead of their usual camp T-shirt and jeans, Percy had opted for something a little softer—a loose-fitting top they’d found in the ship’s storage, paired with comfortable pants that didn’t feel as rigid.

It wasn’t about trying to look a certain way for anyone else. It was about how they felt inside, how the clothes seemed to match the flow of their emotions that day.

The door to the deck creaked open, and Percy turned to see Annabeth walking toward them. She gave them a small smile, her expression always perceptive, as if she could sense what Percy was thinking without them saying a word.

“Hey,” she said, leaning on the railing beside them. “You’ve been up here for a while. You okay?”

Percy nodded, though the knot of unease in their chest hadn’t quite loosened. “Yeah. I just needed to clear my head. The sea helps.”

Annabeth studied them for a moment, her gray eyes sharp and thoughtful. She was one of the few people Percy felt comfortable being fully open with about their gender. Ever since they’d come out to her back at camp, Annabeth had been nothing but supportive, offering them the space to explore who they were without judgment.

“You look good,” Annabeth said, nodding toward Percy’s new outfit. “It suits you.”

A small smile tugged at Percy’s lips. “Thanks.”

Annabeth shifted her weight slightly, her tone turning more serious. “You know, if you ever need to talk about... well, about how you’re feeling with all of this, I’m here.”

Percy glanced at her, appreciating the offer. “I know. It’s just... I don’t always know what to say. Some days, everything feels really clear, like I know exactly who I am and how I feel. But other days, it’s like the water out there—always changing, hard to pin down.”

Annabeth nodded, her gaze drifting out to the horizon. “Fluidity, like the sea, right?”

“Yeah.” Percy exhaled slowly. “Exactly.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the waves crash against the ship’s hull. There was something about the rhythm of the ocean that calmed Percy, even when their thoughts felt as turbulent as a storm. The sea understood them in a way that was hard to explain.

“Does it ever feel overwhelming?” Annabeth asked softly. “Trying to balance everything—the quest, your identity, and all the expectations from camp, from the gods?”

Percy’s shoulders slumped slightly. “All the time. It feels like the world expects me to be one thing—this hero, this guy who saves the day. But sometimes that’s not who I am, you know? And it’s hard because I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to let you down.”

Annabeth reached out and gently placed a hand on Percy’s arm. “Percy, you’ve never let me down. And you’re not just a hero because of what you do—you’re a hero because of who you are. However you present, whatever pronouns you use, that’s still you. And that’s what matters.”

Percy felt a lump form in their throat, the familiar mix of gratitude and fear that always came when they talked about this. “Thanks, Annabeth. That means a lot.”

Annabeth squeezed their arm once before letting go. “Come on. Let’s head back inside. I’ve been making all sorts of plans for what we’ll do once we find the Fleece.”

As they walked back toward the door, Percy felt a little lighter, as if the weight of the sea wasn’t quite as heavy as before. Annabeth’s words had sunk in deeper than they’d expected. Maybe it was okay to let themselves be like the ocean—to embrace the fluidity, the constant shifting, and to trust that the people who cared about them would understand.

The next few days aboard the CSS Birmingham were a blur of preparation and peril. Percy and Annabeth spent hours strategizing about how they would reach Polyphemus’ lair and retrieve the Golden Fleece. But even as they focused on the quest, Percy’s thoughts about their identity kept bubbling up, no longer something they could shove to the back of their mind.

It didn’t help that the ship was filled with strange, often judgmental characters. Clarisse’s crew of dead sailors were old fashioned to say the least, they filled the ship’s decks with their whispers and stares. Every time Percy passed by them, they could feel the weight of those looks, the unspoken questions and judgments. They wondered how many of them noticed the subtle changes in their appearance—the way they sometimes tied their shirt at the waist, or how they alternated between masculine and neutral pronouns depending on how they felt that day.

One afternoon, as Percy was heading down to the galley, they ran into a group of these sailors standing in the narrow hallway. One of them, a man with close-cropped blonde hair, sneered as Percy approached.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Jackson,” the boy said, his tone dripping with disdain. “Or should I say... something else? You seem to be having some trouble deciding.”

The other sailors snickered, their eyes flicking over Percy’s outfit—a loose top and cargo pants, a far cry from the more traditionally masculine clothes they’d worn on previous quests.

Percy’s heart pounded in their chest, the familiar sensation of dysphoria creeping up. They had faced monsters, gods, and near-death experiences, but moments like this—when they were confronted with people who questioned or mocked their identity—felt like a different kind of battle.

Before Percy could respond, a voice came from behind them.

“Is there a problem here?”

Annabeth appeared at Percy’s side, her gaze steely as she looked at the group of demigods. Her presence was enough to make the sneers fade from their faces, and the blonde sailor  shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

“No problem,” he muttered, before slinking away with the others in tow.

Percy let out a breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. “Thanks,” they said, their voice quiet.

Annabeth glanced at them, her expression softening. “You don’t need to thank me. I’ve got your back.”

Percy smiled, but it didn’t quite reach their eyes. “It’s just... it’s hard, you know? I didn’t expect it to be easy, but sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, people are always going to judge me for how I am.”

Annabeth crossed her arms, her voice firm but kind. “People are going to judge you no matter what, Percy. Whether it’s because you’re a demigod, because of who your dad is, or because of your gender. But the people who matter—the ones who care about you—they see you for who you really are. And that’s what counts.”

Percy nodded, grateful for her words, even if the weight of the encounter still clung to them. “I know. It’s just... I wish it didn’t feel like I had to prove myself all the time.”

“You don’t,” Annabeth said simply. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.”

Chapter Text

Percy sat at the edge of the small lifeboat, her hands gripping the wooden sides as she stared out into the seemingly endless sea. The wind tugged at her dark hair, tangling it with the salty air. It had been hours since she and Annabeth had escaped the wreckage of the CSS Birmingham, and now they found themselves drifting on the open water, unsure of what lay ahead.

Percy had barely spoken since the incident, sitting at the stern of the boat, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Annabeth, meanwhile, was rifling through the supplies they’d managed to gather before abandoning ship. Percy felt the weight of everything on her shoulders—the quest,the fate of Camp Half-Blood. But more than that, there was the weight of something deeper, something she’d been grappling with for what felt like forever.

Her identity.

Some days it was easy to ignore. She could lose herself in the thrill of battle, the rush of adrenaline as she fought monsters and navigated quests. But today, with nothing but the lapping of the waves and the quiet hum of the sea, there was no escaping the constant shifting within her. Today, she felt more like herself in a way she couldn’t fully explain—more like Percy, a girl who didn’t always fit into the expectations the world had for her. She wore her loose, salt-stained shirt and a pair of cargo pants, clothes that made her feel comfortable, freer. She’d noticed Annabeth occasionally glancing at her, but her friend hadn’t said anything, for which Percy was grateful.

Still, the questions lingered. How could she be a hero if she wasn’t even sure who she was? What if the others thought less of her for feeling the way she did? Could she still live up to everyone’s expectations?

“Land,” Annabeth’s voice cut through Percy’s thoughts.

Percy blinked and followed her gaze. In the distance, a small island was coming into view, its shores lined with golden sands and lush greenery. There was something strange about the way the island shimmered in the sunlight, almost too perfect, like a mirage.

“I don’t like the look of it,” She muttered from the back of the boat, her arms crossed over her chest.

Annabeth frowned. “We don’t have much of a choice. We’re low on supplies, and we need a place to rest.”

Reluctantly Percy nodded in agreement, though unease settled in her stomach. As they drew closer, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about this island was off. But they were exhausted, hungry, and in desperate need of shelter.

Once they reached the shore, Percy and Annabeth dragged the boat onto the sand. The island was quiet, save for the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Birds sang from the trees, and the air smelled sweet, almost intoxicatingly so.

“This place is too nice,” Annabeth muttered, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger. “It’s like it’s trying to be inviting.”

Percy glanced at the dense foliage just beyond the beach. “Maybe it’s one of those enchanted islands, like in the myths?”

Annabeth’s eyes darkened. “Let’s hope not.”

They ventured further inland, moving cautiously through the thick greenery. The path they followed was lined with vibrant flowers, and the air grew even heavier with the scent of perfume. Percy’s skin prickled, and she glanced at Annabeth, who was scanning the surroundings with sharp, calculating eyes.

Then, ahead of them, a clearing opened up. In the center of the clearing stood a large, ornate building, almost like a villa from Ancient Greece. White columns lined the entrance, and the structure gleamed in the sunlight.

“I don’t like this,” Percy said softly, her heart thudding in her chest.

Annabeth nodded. “Stay close.”

They approached the villa cautiously, but before they could reach the steps, a figure appeared at the entrance. A woman, tall and impossibly beautiful, with long flowing hair the color of honey and eyes that glittered like gold. She wore a robe that shimmered in the sunlight, and her presence radiated an aura of power and command.

“Welcome, travelers,” the woman said, her voice melodic and sweet. “I am Circe.”

Percy’s stomach dropped. She recognized the name immediately—Circe, the enchantress known for her ability to transform mortals, the one who had turned men into animals in ancient myths. Alarm bells rang in her head, but it was too late to turn back.

“You look tired,” Circe continued, her smile warm and inviting. “Please, come inside. Rest. You must be weary after your long journey.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, clearly suspicious, but before Percy could say anything, Circe’s gaze locked onto her. For a moment, Percy felt frozen under the weight of the woman’s stare.

“Ah,” Circe said softly, a strange glint in her eyes. “I see something special in you.”

Percy’s breath hitched, unease tightening her chest. She could feel Circe’s gaze lingering, like the goddess was seeing through her, into the depths of her soul. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, to get away from this place, but she couldn’t move.

“Come,” Circe urged, stepping aside to welcome them into the villa. “There’s no need to be afraid. I offer only hospitality.”

Annabeth hesitated, but Percy found herself stepping forward, almost against her will. There was something compelling about Circe, something that drew her in, even as every fiber of her being told her to run.

They entered the villa, and Percy couldn’t help but marvel at the interior. It was beautiful, filled with plush furniture, glittering chandeliers, and tapestries depicting various scenes of transformation. Despite the luxury, though, there was an unsettling feeling in the air, a sense of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

“Hylla!” Circe called out, a girl who looked a few years older than Percy appeared from around the corner 

“Yes ma’am” Hylla addressed.  

“Take Annabeth here, over to get her hair done” Hylla nodded and gestured for Annabeth to follow her. 

Annabeth looked worried and skepitical but still followed along. 

Circe gestured for her to sit, and servants—elegant women with flowing robes—appeared, offering them refreshments. Percy hesitated but accepted a drink, her throat dry from the journey. As she sipped the sweet liquid, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Circe’s eyes were still on her, studying her closely.

“You’re different, aren’t you?” Circe’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Percy looked up, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

Circe’s smile was calm, but her eyes were cold. “You wear the guise of a hero, but there’s something else beneath the surface. You’re not what you seem.”

Percy wanted to say something, to pull out Riptide and attack Circe, but she felt rooted to the spot, her pulse quickening.

“What are you talking about?” Percy asked, though she already had a sinking feeling she knew.

Circe’s gaze sharpened. “You can’t hide from me, child. You may play at being something else, but I see the truth. You were born a boy, and you are a boy. That is the way of things. Trying to change that—trying to pretend otherwise—is unnatural.”

The words hit Percy like a punch to the gut. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. She felt the world tilt beneath her, the weight of Circe’s judgment pressing down on her like a crushing wave.

“I—” Percy stammered, trying to find her voice. “I’m not pretending. I—I’m—”

“You’re confused,” Circe said dismissively, her voice cold and sharp. “But that’s to be expected. Mortals often are. Let me help you see the truth.”

Before Percy could react, Circe raised her hand, and a wave of magic washed over her. It was unlike anything Percy had ever felt before—a surge of energy that gripped her, twisted her, reshaped her. Pain flared through her body as her form began to change.

She tried to scream, but the sound that came out wasn’t her voice. It was a squeak—a high-pitched, panicked squeal.

Percy’s vision blurred, and when she looked down at herself, she was no longer human. She was small, furry, her limbs tiny and stubby. She was a guinea pig.

Circe’s laughter echoed in her ears, cruel and mocking. “You see? Transformation is my gift. And now you are as you were meant to be—nothing more than a confused little creature.”

Panic surged through Percy’s tiny body. She tried to move, but her legs wobbled beneath her, unsteady in her new form. She felt trapped, helpless, her mind spinning as she tried to process what had just happened.

-- 

Magic enveloped Percy again as she had a nibble of hermes vitamin gummies, and the world around her blurred. For a brief, terrifying moment, she thought she might be stuck as a guinea pig forever. But then, with a jolt, her body shifted back, and she found herself human again, gasping for breath as she collapsed onto the floor.

Annabeth was at her side in an instant, helping her to her feet. “Percy, are you okay?”

Percy nodded shakily, though her heart still raced, her mind spinning with everything that had just happened. She could feel the lingering effects of Circe’s magic, the weight of her words pressing down on her like a heavy stone.

Annabeth didn’t waste any more time. She grabbed Percy’s hand and pulled her toward the exit. They bolted from the villa, not looking back as they ran through the lush greenery and back to the beach. 

They shoved the boat back into the water and scrambled aboard, pushing off from the shore as quickly as they could. The island grew smaller in the distance, but Percy’s heart didn’t calm. Circe’s words echoed in her mind, cruel and biting.

She could still feel the weight of the transformation—the feeling of being trapped in a form that didn’t fit, that wasn’t hers. And yet, even now, she couldn’t shake the doubt. What if Circe was right? What if she was wrong for feeling the way she did, for believing she could be something other than what she was born as?

The thoughts swirled in her mind, growing louder and louder until they became unbearable.

As the island disappeared from view, Percy felt her breath catch in her throat, and before she could stop herself, she was shaking, her chest heaving with the onset of a panic attack.

--

Chapter Text

The boat bobbed gently on the waves as Percy sat huddled at the stern, her fingers clutching the sides of the vessel as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. The rhythmic sound of the sea and the splash of the oars in the water did little to calm her racing heart. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her chest tight as if gripped by an invisible hand. She tried to focus on the horizon, but the world felt like it was spinning out of control.

Circe’s words echoed in her mind, cruel and mocking. “You are as you were meant to be—nothing more than a confused little creature.” Every time she tried to push them away, they came back stronger, more insistent. Percy’s mind felt like a stormy sea, tossing her around with no land in sight.

Annabeth was at the front of the boat, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger, but Percy could sense her friend’s worried glances. Annabeth was silent, respecting Percy’s need for space, but the silence only deepened her isolation.

Percy’s breaths came in short bursts, her hands trembling as she clutched the side of the boat. Every now and then, she could feel the panic building inside her, like a wave crashing against the shore, relentless and unforgiving. She felt as though she was drowning in her own emotions, the weight of Circe’s judgment pressing down on her shoulders like a heavy anchor.

“It’s going to be okay,” Annabeth’s voice broke through the haze of Percy’s thoughts. She scooted back to where Percy was sitting, her expression soft and filled with concern. “We’re almost out of here. Just keep breathing.”

Percy tried to focus on Annabeth’s words, but the panic was overwhelming. She nodded, though the movement felt jerky and uncoordinated. She tried to take deep breaths, but they came in shallow, uneven gasps. Her vision was starting to blur, and she felt dizzy.

“Percy, look at me,” Annabeth said gently, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Just look at me and breathe. In and out, okay?”

Percy tried to follow the instructions, but her chest felt like it was closing up, making it hard to draw in a full breath. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts and fears, and she struggled to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm.

Annabeth kept her hand steady on Percy’s shoulder, her presence a small anchor in the tumultuous sea of Percy’s emotions. She spoke softly, soothingly, her voice a steady rhythm that Percy tried to cling to. “Percy, you’re not alone. We’re here with you. We’re going to get through this.”

Percy wanted to believe her friend’s words, wanted to hold on to the reassurance, but the anxiety felt all-consuming. She could still see Circe’s scornful smile, hear her dismissive words, feel the sting of her judgment. It was as if Circe’s magic had not only transformed her physically but had also seeped into her very soul, casting shadows that were hard to dispel.

Annabeth’s hand was warm and comforting, and Percy tried to focus on that warmth, using it as a point of reference in the midst of her turmoil. She concentrated on Annabeth’s voice, using it to anchor herself to the present moment.

“Percy,” Annabeth said softly, her voice carrying a sense of urgency mixed with compassion. “You’re not defined by what Circe said. You’re not defined by how you look or what someone else thinks you should be. You’re defined by who you are inside. Your heart, your bravery, your kindness—those are the things that matter.”

Percy’s breath hitched, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She wanted to be strong, to be the hero she’d always aspired to be, but the weight of Circe’s words and the physical sensation of the panic were too much to bear.

Annabeth shifted closer, her hand still on Percy’s shoulder. “You are not an impostor. You are not a confused little creature. You are Percy Jackson, and you are amazing just as you are. Your identity is valid, and you have every right to be who you are.”

Percy tried to nod, but her head felt heavy, and her tears started to flow freely. She wiped at her face, her hands trembling. The relief of Annabeth’s support was overwhelming, but it was mixed with the residual fear and shame that Circe had inflicted upon her.

“Thank you,” Percy managed to whisper between breaths, her voice hoarse and broken. “I—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Annabeth’s expression softened even more, and she squeezed Percy’s shoulder gently. “You don’t have to do anything alone. We’re a team, Percy. We’ve been through so much together, and we’ll get through this too.”

 She was starting to see that while Circe’s words had hurt deeply, they didn’t define her. She was more than the sum of others’ judgments or perceptions.

“I—I’m sorry,” Percy said, her voice shaky but filled with a flicker of hope. “I didn’t mean to—I just—”

Annabeth shook her head, cutting off Percy’s apology. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We’re here to help you, remember? We’ll get through this, just like we always do.”

Percy took a few more deep breaths, focusing on the steady rhythm of Annabeth’s voice and the comforting presence of her. The panic attack slowly began to recede, though the remnants of anxiety still lingered in her chest. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and took another deep breath, feeling slightly steadier.

As the boat continued to drift away from Circe’s island, Percy tried to steady her breathing, to calm the storm inside her. She felt vulnerable, exposed, but she also felt a renewed sense of determination. She had faced countless challenges before, and while this one was particularly personal, she knew she wasn’t alone.

Annabeth remained close, her hand still on Percy’s shoulder, providing a steady anchor. Her presence a comforting reminder of their shared struggles and victories. Together, they formed a support system that Percy clung to as she fought to regain her composure.

The boat moved steadily through the water, and as the island became a distant memory, Percy’s breathing gradually returned to normal. The storm within her was still there, but the sea of her emotions had calmed, if only slightly. She was starting to feel a sense of control returning, though the pain of Circe’s words still lingered.

Annabeth turned to Percy, her eyes filled with compassion. “We’re going to get through this. We’ve faced monsters, gods, and so much more. We’ll face this too.”

Percy nodded, her voice soft but steady. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to find out,” Annabeth said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The boat drifted on, and as Percy looked out over the endless expanse of the sea, she tried to focus on the horizon, on the future that lay ahead. The journey was far from over, and there would be more challenges to face. But with Annabeth by her side, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Chapter Text

Act 4: Part 1: The Weight of the Tide

Percy Jackson had been standing at the edge of cliffs all her life. Figuratively, of course. Sometimes she felt like she lived with one foot dangling over the precipice, constantly on the edge of something—danger, battle, loss, or even self-discovery. But right now, as she stood at the literal edge of a snow-covered cliff, the icy wind biting at her cheeks, she felt that familiar sense of impending doom tighten in her chest.

Westover Hall loomed in the distance, dark and ominous under the setting winter sun. The place already had an air of foreboding, but nothing matched the dread Percy felt as she watched the Manticore crouch at the cliff’s edge, poised to strike. A few feet away from her, Annabeth was desperately trying to hold her ground, fighting off the Manticore with everything she had.

"Annabeth!" Percy shouted, heart pounding as she sprinted toward the battle.

Her feet crunched in the snow, but the world seemed muffled, like the air had thickened. Annabeth was in trouble, and Percy felt that old, familiar panic rise inside her, threatening to pull her under. It was the same panic she’d felt every time Annabeth was in danger—the same panic she tried so hard to shove down because the truth was, Percy wasn’t sure how to deal with these feelings. They weren't just the feelings of a friend worried about a friend.

No, these were different, and they scared her.

For years, Percy had danced around her feelings for Annabeth Chase, the daughter of Athena, the girl who had been her partner in every quest and challenge they had faced together. Annabeth was sharp and brave, everything Percy admired. But the truth was, Percy’s admiration ran deeper than just friendship, and it was growing harder to ignore.

But now, as she raced toward the scene unfolding before her, the fear of losing Annabeth overwhelmed everything else. She pushed harder, her legs burning with the effort, but no matter how fast she moved, the Manticore was faster.

Annabeth fought valiantly, her knife gleaming in the dim light as she slashed at the Manticore’s side. But the monster barely flinched, its enormous scorpion tail flicking out in response. Annabeth ducked and rolled, but the Manticore was relentless, pressing her toward the cliff’s edge.

"Get away from her!" Percy screamed, 

Annabeth turned toward Percy, their eyes locking for a fleeting second. Percy saw the determination in Annabeth’s gaze, but also the vulnerability—the acknowledgment that they were in over their heads.

"Percy, get back!" Annabeth shouted, though her voice trembled, betraying the fear beneath her cool exterior.

Percy’s heart lurched. She knew Annabeth was strong, stronger than anyone she knew, but there was something about seeing her like this—on the edge of danger, outmatched—that made Percy want to tear the world apart just to keep her safe.

But before Percy could react, Annabeth tackled the manticore.

"Annabeth!" Percy screamed again, her voice cracking as she sprinted toward her.

It was like everything slowed down in that moment. Percy saw the exact second when Annabeth’s foot slipped, saw the sheer panic in Annabeth’s eyes as she realized she was falling. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, Annabeth disappeared over the edge of the cliff.

For a split second, Percy couldn’t breathe.

No. No, no, no.

Everything around her felt muffled, like she was underwater. She could see Grover and Thalia trying to calm Bianca and Nico, could hear the distant shouts of the Hunters of Artemis, but it was all white noise. The only thing that mattered was the gaping emptiness where Annabeth had been.

The cliff.

Without thinking, Percy lunged toward the edge, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out desperately, her hand grasping for something, anything—but there was nothing. Just the cold wind and the empty drop below.

"Annabeth!" Percy yelled again, but her voice was swallowed by the wind.

She stared down over the edge, her vision blurring as her mind scrambled to catch up with what had just happened. Annabeth had fallen. Annabeth was gone. And Percy hadn’t been able to save her.

A wave of nausea hit her, and Percy staggered back from the edge, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It felt like something inside her had shattered, and the panic that had been simmering beneath the surface now exploded, consuming her entirely.

"Percy!" Grover’s voice cut through the haze, and he appeared at her side, gripping her arm. "We have to go!"

Percy shook her head, barely registering his words. How could they go? How could they just leave when Annabeth was—

"Percy, we have to go!" Thalia shouted, her voice urgent. "It’s not safe here!"

But Percy couldn’t think, couldn’t process what they were saying. All she could see was the empty space where Annabeth had been, the sight of her falling over the edge playing on an endless loop in her mind.

"I—I have to find her," Percy whispered, her voice barely audible.

Grover’s eyes were wide with fear, but he tightened his grip on Percy’s arm. "We will. But not now. We need to regroup."

Percy shook her head again, her mind racing. This couldn’t be happening. Annabeth couldn’t be gone. Not her. Not the girl who had been there through everything, who had fought by Percy’s side, who Percy—

Percy’s breath hitched as a realization slammed into her, more powerful than any wave she had ever summoned.

She loved Annabeth.

Not just as a friend. Not just as someone she admired. But as something more. It was a truth Percy had been avoiding for so long, afraid to confront it, afraid of what it might mean. But now, standing on the edge of this cliff, with Annabeth’s life hanging in the balance, Percy couldn’t deny it anymore.

She loved her. She loved Annabeth Chase, and now she might never get the chance to tell her.

The thought hit Percy like a physical blow, and for a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She had spent so long trying to figure out who she was—her fluid identity, her place in the world—but none of that mattered now if Annabeth was gone.

A deep, bone-deep terror gripped Percy’s heart, and she felt like she was drowning in it. The world around her blurred, the snow, the wind, the monsters—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was the empty space where Annabeth had been, and the gnawing fear that she might never see her again.

"Percy!" Thalia’s voice was sharp, cutting through the fog in Percy’s mind. "We can’t stay here! We need to move, now!"

Percy forced herself to blink, to breathe. The panic clawing at her throat wouldn’t go away, but she knew Thalia was right. 

"We’ll find her," Grover said, his voice steady but filled with urgency. "We will. But we have to go."

Percy swallowed hard, her throat dry, and nodded numbly. She didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to turn her back on the cliff where Annabeth had fallen, but she had no choice. They were outmatched, outnumbered. They had to retreat.

As they began to pull back, Percy’s mind raced. Annabeth had fallen into the ravine below, but she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. Annabeth was too strong, too smart to let that happen. Percy clung to that thought like a lifeline, forcing herself to believe it, even as the weight of doubt pressed down on her chest.

She had to find her. She had to.

As they retreated into the woods, Percy’s thoughts spiraled. Annabeth’s fall had shaken her to the core, not just because of the danger, but because of what it had forced Percy to confront within herself. The feelings she’d tried so hard to bury were now out in the open, raw and exposed.

Percy’s heart ached with the weight of it all. She had spent so much time grappling with her identity—her genderfluidity, her place in the world as the child of a god—but none of that had prepared her for this. Loving Annabeth felt like diving into the deep end of the ocean, terrifying and exhilarating all at once. And now, with Annabeth’s fate uncertain, Percy realized just how much that love had grown.

But what did it mean? What would happen if Annabeth survived? Could Percy even bring herself to confess these feelings? Would Annabeth even feel the same way?

The questions swirled in Percy’s mind, overwhelming her. She had always been good at handling danger, at facing down monsters and gods alike, but this—this was different. This was her heart on the line, and she had no idea what to do.

By the time they reached the relative safety of the woods

Percy’s mind was racing so fast that she could hardly focus. Grover and Thalia were talking, strategizing their next move, but Percy barely heard them. All she could think about was Annabeth.

"I’m going back," Percy said suddenly, her voice shaky but determined.

Thalia turned to her, eyes wide. "What? No, Percy, we can’t—"

"I have to find her," Percy interrupted, her heart pounding in her chest. "I can’t just leave her out there."

Thalia looked torn, her gaze shifting between Percy and the path ahead. "Percy, I get it. I do. But Artemis wants us to be here."

Percy clenched her fists, frustration bubbling inside her. "She’s out there, Thalia. I can’t just—"

"We will find her," Grover said gently, stepping forward and placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. "But we can’t do it alone. We need help."

Percy wanted to argue, wanted to run back to the cliff and search for Annabeth herself, but deep down, she knew Grover was right. Charging in blindly wouldn’t help anyone.

Chapter Text

Act 4: Part 2: Understanding the Waves Within

Percy had never felt so on edge. Everything was a blur after the fight with the Manticore, and her heart still raced at the thought of Annabeth falling off the cliff. Even now, as she trudged through the snow with the Hunters of Artemis, Thalia, and Nico, the cold biting at her skin, all she could think about was the fear that had gripped her in that moment—the feeling of helplessness, the sound of her own voice screaming Annabeth’s name as it echoed off the mountainside.

Annabeth wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. Percy told herself that over and over again, even though the doubt continued to gnaw at her insides. They had to find her, and Percy wasn’t going to rest until they did.

But despite the growing pit in her stomach, she had to focus on the present. Right now, they were heading toward the safety of a nearby outpost. The Hunters led the way, their bows and arrows ready, Artemis walking ahead with the silent confidence of a goddess. Percy had always admired Artemis in a distant way, understanding that the goddess lived by her own code. But now, with the Hunters around her, Percy felt out of place. She was still shaken from the events at the cliff, and the Hunters' rigid views on gender and identity only served to heighten her anxiety.

The Hunters of Artemis had always been a mystery to Percy. Their commitment to rejecting relationships with men and embracing a sisterhood of eternal youth and strength was admirable, but it left Percy feeling conflicted. She had always seen herself as existing somewhere in the middle of things—her gender fluid, her emotions a shifting sea, and her sense of self always fluctuating. The rigid roles of the Hunters felt like walls closing in on her, reminding her of the pressure to fit into one box or another.

“Percy?” Nico’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her attention back to the present. The younger boy had been quiet for most of their journey, clearly processing everything that had happened, but now he walked closer to her, his eyes full of curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Nico. What’s up?” Percy replied, trying to keep her voice steady. Despite the cold air, she felt warm whenever Nico looked up to her. There was something innocent and earnest in his questions, a sharp contrast to the chaos around them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Nico began, hesitating a little before continuing. “Earlier, I heard you say something about being… fluid? Like, genderfluid. What does that mean?”

Percy blinked, surprised by the question. She hadn’t expected Nico to ask about something so personal, but she wasn’t upset. If anything, Nico’s curiosity felt like an opportunity—a chance to share a part of herself with someone who, like her, didn’t quite fit the typical mold.

“Well…” Percy started, choosing her words carefully. “Being genderfluid means that my sense of gender can shift. Some days, I feel more like a boy, and other days, I feel more like a girl. And sometimes, I don’t feel like either. It’s like… the tide. It’s always moving, and I just go with it.”

Nico’s brow furrowed as he processed her explanation. “So… you can feel like different things at different times? How do you know?”

Percy smiled softly, appreciating Nico’s genuine curiosity. “It’s kind of hard to explain. But you know how sometimes you just feel… off? Like, things don’t fit right, and you don’t know why? That’s how I felt for a long time. But then I realized it’s because I don’t always fit into one thing. I’m not just a boy or just a girl. I’m me, and that means I change.”

Nico nodded slowly, his dark eyes reflecting the depth of his thoughts. “That’s… kind of cool, actually. I mean, you get to be all of that.”

Percy chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I guess it is. But it can be confusing too. The world likes to put people in boxes, and sometimes I don’t fit into any of them. It makes things… complicated.”

Nico was quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “I think I get it,” he said finally. “Thanks for explaining, Percy.”

“Anytime, Nico,” Percy said with a reassuring smile.

The conversation left Percy feeling lighter, as if talking about her identity openly was another step toward embracing it fully. She had always struggled with how others might perceive her, especially in the world of demigods, where the lines between power, legacy, and expectation were so rigidly drawn. But Nico’s openness gave her hope that she could continue to be herself, even if that self was always shifting.

---

The following hours were a whirlwind. They traveled through snow-covered forests, their breath visible in the freezing air. The Hunters of Artemis moved with a grace and precision that Percy admired, but she also felt their unspoken judgments hanging in the air. Artemis herself was distant, but not unfriendly. Still, there was an awkwardness in the way the goddess interacted with Percy.

As they set up camp, Percy found herself sitting alone by the fire. Thalia, Grover and Nico were playing a game of mythomagic, while the Hunters prepared for the night. Percy stared into the flames, her thoughts drifting back to Annabeth. She missed her so much it hurt, and that emptiness gnawed at her every moment. She hadn’t had time to process her feelings properly, but now that they had a brief moment of calm, the weight of it all settled on her shoulders.

The fire crackled softly, and Percy felt a presence beside her. She glanced up to see Artemis standing there, her silver cloak reflecting the firelight.

“May I sit with you?” Artemis asked, her voice calm but distant.

Percy nodded, unsure of what to say. She had always respected Artemis, but the goddess’s strict views on gender and relationships made Percy feel uneasy, especially now that she was growing more confident in her own fluid identity.

Artemis sat gracefully, her silver eyes gazing into the flames. For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation unspoken.

“You have faced much recently,” Artemis said quietly, her voice thoughtful. “Your friend Annabeth… I can see her loss weighs heavily on your heart.”

Percy swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I… I don’t know if she’s okay.”

Artemis glanced at Percy, her expression unreadable. “You care for her deeply.”

It wasn’t a question, but Percy nodded anyway, her throat tightening.

“Love is a complicated thing,” Artemis said, her voice almost distant, as if she were speaking more to herself than to Percy. “And so is identity.”

Percy glanced at Artemis, unsure of where this conversation was going. “Yeah, it is,” she agreed cautiously.

Artemis’s gaze shifted back to the fire. “I am aware that your identity is… fluid. It is not something I fully understand, but I recognize that it is a part of who you are.”

Percy blinked, surprised by Artemis’s directness. “Oh. Uh, thanks, I guess?”

The goddess was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “I do not mean to offend, but your fluidity—your shifting sense of self—it is foreign to me. I have lived for millennia, and my understanding of the world is shaped by the constancy of my own nature.”

Percy frowned slightly. “I get that. But for me, it’s like… it’s not about being one thing all the time. It’s about being true to how I feel in the moment. And that can change.”

Artemis nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I see. The sea is ever-changing, and so, too, is your father’s domain. Perhaps your fluidity is an extension of that—of the tides and the waves, always in motion.”

Percy smiled faintly. “Maybe. I never really thought about it like that.”

Artemis stood, her silver cloak billowing behind her as she gazed up at the night sky. “Your path is your own, Percy Jackson. And while I may not fully understand it, I respect it.”

Percy’s heart warmed at the goddess’s words, and for the first time in days, she felt a sense of acceptance. Maybe Artemis didn’t fully get it, but she didn’t have to. Percy was learning that her identity didn’t need to be understood by everyone; it just needed to be accepted.

---

Days later, during the capture the flag game Percy’s emotions were a mess—her anxiety over Annabeth, her ever-present doubts about her place in the world, and her fluctuating sense of self all collided in a whirlwind of confusion.

Thalia and Percy had always had a somewhat rocky relationship, their personalities clashing more often than not. Thalia was strong-willed and fierce, and Percy admired that, but sometimes it felt like Thalia didn’t fully get her.

It all came to a head when Percy had decided to ditch the plan and go for the flag herself. Tension simmering just beneath the surface. The air was cold, and the snow crunched beneath their boots as they circled each other, swords in hand.

“You’re holding back, Jackson,” Thalia said, her eyes narrowing as she swung her spear toward Percy. “Thought you would put up a better fight, or do you realise that i was right and you should have stuck with the plan?” 

Percy blocked the blow easily, her muscles tensing. “I’m not holding back. Just making it easier for you” she teased, though her heart wasn’t in it.

Thalia growled in frustration, lunging forward again, but this time her strike was more aggressive. “You’re distracted! Your not even thinking about how you ruined the whole plan”

Percy’s temper flared. “I am focused!” she snapped, parrying Thalia’s next attack.

“No, you’re not,” Thalia said, stepping back and lowering her sword. “You’ve been off ever since Annabeth… since she fell. You’re not yourself.”

Percy’s chest tightened, anger bubbling up inside her. “Of course I’m not myself! Annabeth is missing, and I’m—”

“And you’re what?” Thalia interrupted, her voice sharp. “You’re supposed to be a leader, Percy. But right now, you’re acting like—”

“Like what?” Percy snapped, her hands trembling as she gripped her sword.

“Like a girl who doesn’t know who she is,” Thalia said without thinking.

The words hit Percy like a punch to the gut. Her entire body went cold, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her heart pounded in her chest, her emotions swirling into a storm of confusion and hurt.

“What did you just say?” Percy whispered, her voice barely audible.

Thalia’s eyes widened as she realised what she had said. “Percy, I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t know who I am?” Percy’s voice trembled with anger, tears stinging her eyes. “You think I’m just… confused?”

Thalia stepped forward, her expression apologetic. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just—”

“Forget it,” Percy said, turning away from Thalia, her chest heaving with emotion. “I’m done.”

Thalia reached out, but Percy walked away from her when she saw something coming into the forest

Chapter Text

Percy hadn’t spoken to Thalia since their fight. Every time Thalia tried to apologize, Percy pretended not to hear, focusing instead on their mission: finding Artemis and rescuing Annabeth. It was easier to focus on the quest than to confront the knot of emotions that had been building inside Percy since that night.

The snow crunched beneath their boots as they continued their trek through the forest, the cold air biting at Percy’s skin. Their heart still ached every time they thought about Annabeth. The memory of her falling from the cliff haunted Percy’s thoughts, a constant reminder of how helpless they had felt in that moment. But there was something else gnawing at Percy now—Thalia’s words.

*“You’re acting like a girl who doesn’t know who she is.”*

Those words stung more than Percy had expected. Thalia hadn’t meant to hurt them—Percy knew that much—but it didn’t make the pain any less real. The truth was, Percy didn’t know who they were, not fully. And the constant shifting of their identity, the way they felt more comfortable some days using she/her pronouns and other days feeling drawn to something different, made everything feel so much harder.

Now, Percy was using they/them pronouns, but they hadn’t told anyone. They weren’t ready to explain it again, not after everything that had happened. The fight with Thalia had left them feeling more unsure than ever. What if Thalia was right? What if Percy really didn’t know who they were?

But even with the doubts swirling in their mind, Percy pressed on. The quest was too important to let their personal issues get in the way. Artemis needed to be saved. Annabeth needed to be saved. There was no time for anything else.

---

The air was thick with tension as they arrived at the junkyard of the gods. It was an eerie place, littered with discarded treasures and relics from the past. Bianca was with them, her determination growing with every step they took. She had just joined the Hunters, and though Percy hadn’t known her for long, they could tell she was brave. But there was something about the way she carried herself, the way she tried to prove she belonged, that made Percy nervous. They couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

The mission was simple enough—sneak through the junkyard without disturbing any of the gods' discarded treasures. But of course, things didn’t go as planned.

Bianca, trying to help the group, climbed inside an old mechanical giant—Talos. At first, everything seemed fine. But then the giant came to life, and all hell broke loose.

Percy shouted for Bianca to get out, but it was too late. Talos was rampaging, swinging its massive arms and crushing everything in its path. Percy and the others fought desperately to bring it down, but the giant was too strong. In the chaos, Bianca was trapped inside.

“Bianca!” Percy screamed, their voice cracking with fear.

They rushed forward, trying to get to her, but Talos was too fast. Talos walked straight into the power line
“Percy!” Grover called out, but Percy couldn’t respond. All they could think about was Bianca.

Talos collapsed. The dust settled, and the world fell into a terrible silence.

Percy scrambled to their feet, their heart pounding. “Bianca!”

They ran toward the fallen giant, their hands trembling as they began searching through the debris. The others were calling out to them, but Percy couldn’t hear anything over the roar of their own heartbeat. They had to find her. They had to.

Hours passed as Percy frantically searched for Bianca. They dug through the rubble, their fingers raw and bleeding, tears streaming down their face.

“Please… please, Bianca, be okay…” Percy whispered, their voice shaking with desperation.

But there was no sign of her.

As the night wore on, Percy’s hope began to fade. Their hands trembled as they pushed aside another piece of debris, only to find more emptiness beneath it. Bianca was gone.

The reality of it hit Percy like a tidal wave, and they collapsed to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably. They had failed. First Annabeth, and now Bianca. Percy felt like they were drowning, the weight of their guilt and grief dragging them under.

They weren’t sure how long they stayed there, crying in the wreckage, but eventually, they felt a hand on their shoulder. It was Thalia.

“Percy…” Thalia’s voice was soft, full of regret and understanding. “Come on. We have to go.”

Percy shook their head, their tears blurring their vision. “I… I can’t leave her here. I can’t just—”

“I know,” Thalia whispered, her voice breaking. “But she’s gone, Percy. We have to keep moving.”

Percy’s chest tightened, their breath coming in short gasps. They couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t think. All they could feel was the crushing weight of failure.

Thalia crouched beside them, gently pulling Percy into a hug. At first, Percy resisted, but then they broke down completely, sobbing into Thalia’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Percy choked out, their voice muffled by their tears. “I’m sorry… I should’ve saved her…”

“It’s not your fault,” Thalia said, her voice firm but gentle. “You did everything you could.”

For a long time, they stayed like that, Percy crying and Thalia holding them. Eventually, the sobs began to subside, though the pain in Percy’s chest remained. Slowly, they pulled away, wiping their eyes with the back of their hand.

“I just… I don’t know who I am anymore,” Percy admitted, their voice barely above a whisper.

Thalia’s expression softened. “Percy, I’m sorry. About what I said before. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Percy stared at the ground, their heart heavy with the weight of everything they hadn’t said. “You said I don’t know who I am. And maybe you’re right. I don’t know. I feel like… like I’m always changing. And I don’t know how to make people understand.”

Thalia sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking. But I don’t think you’re confused, Percy. I think you’re figuring things out, and that’s okay. We all are.”

Percy looked up at Thalia, their eyes filled with uncertainty. “But what if I never figure it out? What if I’m always… in between?”

Thalia smiled softly, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “That doesn’t make you any less of a person, Percy. You don’t have to fit into anyone’s box. You’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re a hero. None of that changes just because you’re still figuring out who you are.”

Percy felt a lump rise in their throat, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming sense of relief that came with Thalia’s words. Maybe Thalia was right. Maybe it was okay to still be figuring things out.

“Thanks,” Percy whispered, their voice trembling with emotion.

Thalia pulled them into another hug, and this time, Percy let themselves relax into it, feeling the weight of their guilt and fear slowly begin to lift. They still didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in a long time, they didn’t feel so lost.

---

The next few days were difficult. The loss of Bianca weighed heavily on all of them, but Percy felt it most acutely. They had promised Nico that they would keep Bianca safe, and now they had to face the reality that they had failed.

But through it all, Thalia was there for them. She stayed close, offering quiet support when Percy needed it most. Their relationship, strained as it had been, was slowly beginning to heal. And though Percy still struggled with their identity, they no longer felt quite so alone.

As they continued their journey to save Artemis and Annabeth, Percy began to embrace their fluidity once again. They hadn’t told anyone about the shift to using they/them pronouns, but they no longer felt the need to hide who they were. They were still scared—scared of how people would react, scared of being misunderstood—but they were also starting to realize that their fluidity was a part of what made them strong.

Chapter Text

The morning air was still cool as Percy stood outside the gates of Goode High School, staring up at the imposing brick building. It was her first day of orientation, and nerves bubbled in her stomach like a pot about to boil over. She tugged at the hem of her skirt, smoothing the fabric over her legs as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t the skirt that was making her nervous—it was everything else.

This was a fresh start, a chance to be herself. But there was always that little voice in the back of her head, whispering doubts, reminding her of all the stares and whispers that would inevitably follow. People didn’t always understand, and Percy wasn’t sure if she was ready to explain herself again.

But she had to try. After all, she had saved the world a few times—surely she could handle high school.

Percy took a deep breath and pushed through the doors, stepping into the bustling hallway filled with students who were already chattering about classes, summer vacations, and everything in between. She caught a few people glancing at her, their eyes flicking down to her skirt before quickly looking away. Percy clenched her jaw and kept walking, determined to focus on the day ahead.

She knew she looked different. The soft pastel skirt she was wearing wasn’t something she had worn before in front of most people, and the light makeup she had applied that morning was new, too. Today, she felt more comfortable in her femininity, and she wanted to express that part of herself. But she also knew that not everyone would get it.

As Percy walked down the hallway, her mind drifted to Annabeth. They had agreed to meet up after school to grab some food, and Percy had been counting down the hours all morning. But thinking about Annabeth brought a fresh wave of awkwardness. There were things between them now—feelings Percy hadn’t quite figured out how to handle. She wasn’t sure if Annabeth felt the same way, but the thought of seeing her later made Percy’s heart race in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Percy was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice Rachel Elizabeth Dare until the redhead was standing right in front of her, a bright smile on her face.

“Percy! Your that guy who tried to cut me in half at the Hoover Dam!” Rachel said, her green eyes lighting up 

Rachel Elizabeth Dare right?,” Percy greeted,She tried for a smile although it probably looked more like a grimace. She didn’t let Rachel calling her a guy hurt her though, Rachel wasn’t aware of her pronouns anyway. 

“Yep! what was your last name though, you never got to telling me.I didn’t know you were going to Goode!” Rachel continued, falling into step beside Percy as they made their way down the hallway. “This is going to be so much fun. I can already tell.”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, definitely something, i didn’t think someone who i tried to cut in half would want to be friends” Percy said, glancing around at the sea of unfamiliar faces. She hadn’t seen anyone from her old school, which was both a blessing and a curse.

As they walked, Rachel’s eyes traveled over Percy’s outfit, and her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. “I like your skirt, by the way. You look great.”

Percy’s heart skipped a beat at the compliment, but she could sense that Rachel had more to say.

“Thanks,” Percy said cautiously, waiting for the inevitable question.

Rachel didn’t disappoint. “So, I’ve gotta ask i saw you in like, jeans and T-shirts before. Is there, like, a special occasion or something?”

Percy bit her lip, trying to figure out the best way to explain. Hopefully Rachel was open minded and so far it was seeming like she was—but explaining gender fluidity wasn’t always easy.

“Well… it’s kind of hard to explain,” Percy began, glancing at Rachel to gauge her reaction. “I’m genderfluid. It means that my gender identity shifts. Some days I feel more like a girl, and other days I feel more like a boy, or something in between.”

Rachel’s eyes widened slightly, but her expression was more curious than surprised. “Oh. Wow, okay. That’s actually really cool. So, today you’re feeling more feminine, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Percy nodded, feeling a small wave of relief that Rachel wasn’t reacting negatively. “I’ve always felt like I didn’t quite fit into just being a boy or just being a girl, and it took me a while to figure out what that meant. But being genderfluid just… fits. Some days I’ll dress more like a guy, and other days, like today, I’ll feel more comfortable like this.”

Rachel grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “That makes total sense! Thanks for explaining that. I didn’t want to assume anything, you know?”

Percy smiled back, her shoulders relaxing a little. It felt good to talk about it with someone who didn’t make it weird. “Yeah, I appreciate that. It can be kind of awkward sometimes, but it’s who I am.”

— 

“Percy… I think we should run” Rachel whispered as they were sitting in the auditorium. 

“Huh?” She responded 

Rachel pointed to the two cheerleaders who had greeted Percy when she came in 

“Why do they look like some vampire, goat and robot hybrid” Rachel whispered 

Percy focused on the cheerleaders again and saw there appearance shift “empousa” She whispered back to Rachel 

“empo- what?!” Rachel whispered screamed 

Percy got out of her seat and started to leave the auditorium with Rachel. Maybe she could get away from them without making a mess. 

Of course, her luck was never that good. 

— 

“Well, look who it is—Little Miss Jackson.”

Percy tensed, she turned to see Kelli, one of the empousa. Kelli’s lips curled into a mocking smile as she sauntered toward Percy and Rachel, her eyes narrowing as she took in Percy’s outfit.

“Cute skirt, Jackson,” Kelli sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t know you were into dressing like a girl now.”

Percy clenched her fists, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to keep her expression neutral, not wanting to give Kelli the satisfaction of seeing her upset.

Rachel, however, wasn’t as subtle. “Back off,” she said sharply, stepping closer to Percy. “No one cares what you think.”

Kelli let out a low, mocking laugh. “Oh, I’m not judging. Just making an observation. It’s kind of funny, though. Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, wearing a skirt. Who would’ve thought?”

Percy swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. She didn’t want to let Kelli get under her skin, but it was hard. Her words were like tiny daggers, each one cutting a little deeper.

But before Percy could respond, Kelli attacked. 

— 

Percy and Rachel had ran out of the school  muttering something under her breath, “What a bitch ugh, I hate people like that.”

Percy let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension in her body slowly start to ease. “Yeah, me too.”

“Don’t let her get to you,” Rachel said, turning to Percy with a reassuring smile. “You look awesome, and anyone who can’t see that is just a jerk.”

Percy smiled weakly, though the encounter still left a sour taste in her mouth. “Thanks, Rachel. I’m trying not to let it bother me.”

“Don’t forget to call me!” Rachel called out as she raced away 

---

Percy waited for the crowd to thin out before she started looking for Annabeth, hopefully they would still get to hang out.

Her heart skipped a beat when she finally spotted her. Annabeth was leaning against the side of the school building, her blonde curls framing her face, and her gray eyes bright as she looked up from the book she was reading.

Percy’s breath caught in her throat for a moment. She had been trying so hard to figure out how she felt about Annabeth, but every time she saw her, it became harder to deny the truth. She liked Annabeth—a lot. But the thought of admitting that to herself, let alone to Annabeth, made Percy’s stomach flip.

Annabeth glanced up and smiled when she saw Percy approaching. “Hey, Seaweed Brain.What was all that crazy stuff about?”

Percy shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You know…Empousa, set fire to the band room.”

Annabeth chuckled, tucking her book into her bag. “Sounds about right. Ready to grab some food?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, her heart racing again. They had done this plenty of times before—hanging out, grabbing food, talking about life. But now, everything felt different.

As they walked side by side, an awkward silence settled between them. Percy couldn’t stop glancing at Annabeth, and every time their hands brushed together as they walked, Percy’s heart jumped. She wasn’t sure if Annabeth noticed, but the tension between them was undeniable.

Finally, Annabeth broke the silence. “So… you look different today.”

Percy’s heart skipped a beat. “Uh, yeah. I, um, I’ve been trying out some new things.”

Annabeth smiled, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “I like it. You look… really nice.”

Percy felt her face flush, and she quickly looked away, hoping Annabeth wouldn’t notice. “Thanks.”

They walked in silence for a little longer, both of them clearly dancing around something neither of them wanted to say out loud. Percy could feel the weight of the unsaid words between them, but she didn’t know how to break the tension.

Finally, they reached the small café they had planned to eat at. They sat down at one of the outdoor tables, and for a moment, it felt like things were normal again. They talked about quests, about school, about anything but the feelings that were simmering just beneath the surface.

But as the conversation wore on, Percy couldn’t help but feel that something had changed. She wasn’t sure if Annabeth felt it too, but the awkwardness between them was impossible to ignore.

As they finished their meal, Percy hesitated, glancing at Annabeth. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say them. She wasn’t ready—at least, not yet.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Percy said instead, forcing a smile. “I know I’ve been kind of… weird lately.”

Annabeth tilted her head, her eyes softening as she looked at Percy. “You haven’t been weird. You’ve been… figuring things out. And that’s okay.”

Percy swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah. I guess I’m still working on that.”

Annabeth reached across the table, her hand brushing against Percy’s. “You’ll figure it out, Seaweed Brain. You always do.”

Percy smiled, though her heart was still racing. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but for now, it was enough to know that Annabeth was there with her, even if neither of them was ready to say what they were both feeling.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The labyrinth was as oppressive and confusing as always, its twisting corridors and seemingly endless turns making Percy feel disoriented. The walls shifted and morphed without warning, and despite Annabeth’s best efforts to navigate them, Percy could feel the strain wearing on her. For the first time in a while, though, Percy felt something else—the growing sense of comfort with who they were. It was an odd feeling, settling into the heart of their identity like the calming waves of the ocean.

For years, Percy had felt disconnected, as though they were trying to fit into a mold that just didn’t suit them. But after everything—defeating monsters, rescuing friends, and enduring the weight of prophecies—it seemed absurd to keep denying something so fundamental. 

Percy glanced at Annabeth as they walked, her face illuminated by the faint glow of Riptide which they were holding out in front of them as a light source.She looked focused, her brow furrowed as she traced her fingers along the markings on the labyrinth walls, searching for Hephaestus’s forge. But beneath that determined exterior, Percy knew there was something deeper. There always was with Annabeth.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Percy felt the need to speak. It was now or never. They had spent enough time running from this conversation, just like they had run from so many of their feelings before. 

“Annabeth?” Percy’s voice echoed softly in the stone tunnel.

“Hmm?” Annabeth replied without looking up, still studying the walls.

“I’ve been thinking… about some stuff,” Percy began, feeling their heart pick up pace. They could face monsters, gods, and the threat of the end of the world without flinching, but this? This was terrifying. “You know, about me. About who I am.”

That made Annabeth pause. She turned to look at Percy, her gray eyes studying them carefully. “What kind of stuff?”

Percy hesitated, running a hand through their hair. “I guess... I’ve just started feeling more comfortable. With my identity, I mean.”

Annabeth’s face softened. She didn’t say anything right away, which was one of the things Percy appreciated about her. She always gave them space to find the right words.

“I’m starting to realize that... I’m not just one thing. I don’t always feel like a guy, but I don’t always feel like a girl either. It’s like… I’m somewhere in between, or sometimes neither. I’ve been using they/them pronouns more, and it feels right, you know? Like it fits.”

Annabeth nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “That makes sense,” she said after a moment. “I’ve noticed you’ve been more yourself lately. You seem... freer.”

Percy exhaled, relieved that Annabeth was taking it so well. They shouldn’t have expected anything less from her, but still, it felt good to hear. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I feel like I’m finally figuring out who I am, and it’s not as scary as I thought it would be.”

Annabeth smiled, that small, knowing smile that always made Percy’s heart skip a beat. “I’m glad. I’m really glad you’re starting to feel that way.”

Percy smiled back, a weight lifting off their shoulders. But as they continued walking, the warmth of the conversation was soon replaced by a creeping unease. They were getting closer to Hephaestus’s forge.

—

The tunnels of the labyrinth grew hotter as they approached the entrance to Hephaestus’s forge, the air thick with the scent of burning metal and molten rock. Percy could feel the ground trembling slightly beneath their feet, a sign that the volcano was active and volatile. Annabeth was focused, her brow furrowed as they made their way toward the source of the heat.

But there was an undercurrent of tension between them, something unspoken that had lingered since their earlier conversation. Percy could feel it, a pull between them that had only grown stronger as they navigated the labyrinth together. They had been through so much, and now, here they were again—facing yet another danger, yet another challenge. But this time, there was something more. 

As they neared the entrance to the forge, Percy’s heart began to race for an entirely different reason. The air was thick with heat, the sound of bubbling lava growing louder with each step. Then they spotted the weird dog headed creatures. “Telkhines” Annabeth whispered. But before they could face whatever lay ahead, Percy felt a need to say something.

“Annabeth,” Percy began, their voice hoarse from the heat. “If something happens—”

“Don’t say that,” Annabeth interrupted, her voice firm. “We’re going to be fine. We always are.”

“I know, but… just in case,” Percy insisted, their heart pounding in their chest. “I want you to know that I—”

Before Percy could finish, the Telkhines started to approach, they tried to look over at Annabeth but she had vanished.

Percy looked around a saw a cart full of scrap metal, they jumped in and covered themself with the tarp.

But just as they had hidden the cart began to get pushed by the telkhines. 

— 

“Put your cap back on,” Percy said “Get out” 

“What?” Annabeth shrieked. “No! I’m not leaving you.” 

“I’ve got a plan. I’ll distract them. You can use the metal spider- maybe it’ll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what’s going on.” 

“But you’ll be killed!” 

“I’ll be fine. Besides, we’ve got no choice.” 

Annabeth glared at them before spinning on her heel and beginning to walk away. 

And then, without warning, Annabeth turned and ran toward them. Before Percy could stop her, she leaned in and pressed her lips to Percy’s in a kiss that took them completely by surprise.

It was quick—too quick. But it was enough to send Percy’s heart racing, their mind reeling. For a moment, everything else faded away—the heat, the danger, the looming eruption. It was just them and Annabeth, and the realization that everything had changed.

But before Percy could fully process what had happened,the telkhines had begun there attack..

—-

When Percy opened their eyes, they were lying on a beach, the soft sound of waves lapping a ok t the shore. The sky above was a clear, deep blue, and the air was filled with the scent of saltwater and flowers. For a moment, Percy thought they were back at Camp Half-Blood, but the unfamiliar landscape told them otherwise.

They sat up slowly, their body aching from the impact of the fall. How had they survived? Where were they?

A soft voice interrupted their thoughts. “You’re awake.”

Percy turned to see a girl standing nearby, her long dark hair flowing in the breeze. She was beautiful, with delicate features and an air of grace that reminded Percy of the gods. But there was something off about her—something that made Percy uneasy.

“Where am I?” Percy asked, their voice hoarse.

“You’re on my island,” the girl said, her tone calm and soothing. “Ogygia. I’m Calypso.”

Ogygia. Percy had heard stories about this place, though they had never thought they would end up here. It was an island where time stood still, a place where heroes were sent to rest and recover. But there was something else about this place, something that made Percy’s skin crawl.

Calypso watched Percy carefully, her eyes scanning them from head to toe. “You’re different,” she said softly. “You don’t belong here.”

Percy frowned, unsure of what she meant. “What do you mean?”

Calypso’s gaze lingered on Percy’s clothes— and the worn skirt they where wearing. Her lips twisted slightly, as if she were trying to make sense of something that didn’t fit.

“You’re a hero,” she said finally. “But you’re... not like the others. I can feel it.”

Percy’s heart skipped a beat. Did she know? Could she tell that they were genderfluid? But before they could say anything, Calypso spoke again.

“It’s strange,” she continued, her tone almost curious. “You’re... you don’t seem right. There’s something off about you.”

Percy clenched their fists, anger bubbling up inside them. They had dealt with this kind of judgment before, but it still stung. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Calypso shrugged, her expression indifferent. “You’re a boy, aren’t you? But you don’t act like one.”

Percy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not just a boy. I’m genderfluid. Sometimes I feel more like a girl, sometimes I feel like neither. It’s who I am.”

Calypso’s brow furrowed, clearly confused. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense to you,” Percy snapped, their voice sharp. “It’s my identity. You don’t have to understand it.”

Calypso was silent for a moment, her eyes studying Percy with a mixture of confusion and skepticism. “I’ve never heard of such a thing,” she said finally. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re here now, and you won’t be leaving.”

Percy’s heart sank. They had heard the stories—heroes who ended up on Ogygia that Calypso had fallen in love with. Oh, thats what Calypso meant by they dont belong here, all the heroes that had washed up here had been men.

But still, Calypso wanted to keep her on the island. But Percy couldn’t accept that. They had to get back to Annabeth, to their friends, to the fight against Kronos.

“I have to leave,” Percy said firmly. “I have a quest to finish.”

Calypso shook her head, her expression sad. “No i won’t let you leave, not another one.”

But Percy wasn’t going to accept that. They were a hero—a demigod. They had faced worse than this before, and they weren’t going to let some island trap them here forever.

“I’ll find a way,” Percy muttered under their breath, determination flooding their veins.

Calypso watched them with a mixture of pity and resignation. “Of course you will,” she said softly. “They all leave.”

Percy should have felt bad but they had come too far, faced too much, to give up now. They would find a way off this island, no matter what it took.

Chapter Text

Two weeks felt like an eternity to Percy as they sat on the shore of Ogygia, staring out at the endless horizon. Time had always been a slippery thing on the island, bending and twisting, but Percy knew they couldn't stay forever. They had a mission, a responsibility—to their friends, to Camp Half-Blood, and most of all, to Annabeth. The memory of their last kiss haunted Percy like a phantom, ever-present, but impossible to grasp. 

Calypso had been kind in her own way, but Percy knew they couldn't stay. It wasn't home. It wasn't where they belonged. 

And so, after two long weeks of contemplation and internal struggle, the gods—or perhaps fate—had decided to grant them a way out. A raft had appeared on the shore one morning, its wooden frame beckoning Percy to return to the world they had left behind. Without hesitation, Percy had climbed aboard, clutching at the hope that they could return in time to make a difference, to save their friends, and to confront the confusing tangle of emotions that awaited them.

The journey back had been swift, the gods’ way of propelling Percy toward their destiny. But as the raft neared the familiar shores of Camp Half-Blood, Percy’s stomach twisted with apprehension. What had happened in their absence? Had they been gone for too long?

The moment Percy set foot on the beach, they knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, and the normally bustling camp was eerily quiet. No one was training in the arena. The archery field was deserted. Even the campfire pit, usually filled with laughter and chatter, was cold and empty.

Their heart sank. Something was very, very wrong.

Percy made their way toward the center of camp, the pit in their stomach growing with each step. It wasn’t until they reached the amphitheater that they understood what was happening.

A funeral.

Their funeral.

Percy’s breath hitched in their throat as they took in the sight before them. The campers were gathered, dressed in somber black and muted colors. A pyre had been erected in the center, adorned with offerings and mementos. 

Percy’s heart pounded in their chest. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. They were alive—standing here, right in front of everyone—and yet, they were being mourned.

Annabeth was at the front of the gathering, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, her expression distant as she stood to speak.

“Percy was... is the bravest person I’ve ever known,” Annabeth began, her voice wavering slightly. “They saved me more times than I can count. They saved all of us.”

Percy swallowed hard, their throat dry as they watched her struggle to keep her composure.

“They were always so selfless, always putting others first. Even when they didn’t know what they wanted for themselves, they always knew what was right.” Annabeth’s voice cracked, and she blinked back tears. “I wish I could have told them how much they meant to me.”

Percy’s heart clenched painfully in their chest. Hearing Annabeth speak about them like this, seeing her so vulnerable, made everything feel so much more real. The weight of the past few weeks—the confusion, the fear, the loneliness—crashed over them like a tidal wave. 

Before Percy could stop themselves, they stepped forward, their voice breaking through the silence. “I’m right here.”

The entire amphitheater went still.

Annabeth froze mid-sentence, her head snapping toward the source of the voice. Her gray eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at Percy, standing at the edge of the gathering, very much alive.

The other campers gasped, murmurs spreading through the crowd like wildfire. Some of the younger demigods looked as if they’d seen a ghost, while others simply stood there, mouths agape.

Annabeth, however, didn’t move. She didn’t say a word. She just stared at Percy, her hands trembling at her sides.

“Annabeth,” Percy said, taking a tentative step forward, their voice gentle. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

It was as if Annabeth couldn’t process it, couldn’t believe that Percy was really standing there in front of her. For a long, agonizing moment, no one moved.

Then, finally, Annabeth’s face twisted with a mixture of shock, relief, and—was that anger? “You... you’re alive?”

Percy nodded, their eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah. I made it back.”

Annabeth blinked, her expression unreadable. “How?”

“It’s... a long story,” Percy said, rubbing the back of their neck. “I was on an island. Calypso’s island. She... helped me, and then I found a way back.”

“Calypso?” Annabeth’s voice was sharp, almost accusing. “You were with Calypso?”

Percy winced at the edge in her tone. “Yeah, but I didn’t want to stay. I had to come back. I had to—”

“You had to what, Percy?” Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, and Percy could see the hurt and frustration building behind them. “You just disappeared! For weeks! We thought you were dead! I thought...”

Her voice broke, and she turned away, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Percy could see the way her shoulders tensed, the way her fists clenched at her sides.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Percy said softly. “I didn’t know how to get back right away. I would’ve come back sooner if I could.”

Annabeth didn’t respond. She stood there, her back to Percy, her head bowed. The silence between them was heavy, thick with everything left unsaid.

Percy took a deep breath, knowing they had to explain, had to make things right. “Annabeth, I need your help. We need to find Daedalus’s workshop, and I can’t do it alone. We need someone who’s clear-sighted. Someone who can see through the Labyrinth’s tricks.”

Annabeth turned to face Percy again, her expression guarded. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we need Rachel. Rachel Dare. She can guide us through the Labyrinth.”

Annabeth’s eyes flashed, and Percy could see the jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. “Rachel Dare? The mortal girl? The one at the orientation?”

Percy sighed, rubbing their temples. This wasn’t what they had wanted. “It’s not like that, Annabeth. Rachel’s the only one who can help us. It’s not about her—it’s about the quest.”

But Annabeth wasn’t listening. Percy could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she recoiled at the mention of Rachel’s name. “And what about me, Percy? Am I just supposed to stand by and watch while you run off with some mortal girl? After everything we’ve been through?”

Percy’s heart clenched. This wasn’t how they had wanted things to go. They hadn’t meant for Annabeth to feel this way, to feel like they were choosing someone else over her. 

“I’m not running off with anyone,” Percy said firmly. “You’re still my best friend, Annabeth. But this quest... we need Rachel. I need you to trust me.”

Annabeth stared at them for a long moment, her jaw clenched tightly. Percy could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she was struggling to hold back her emotions. 

Finally, she exhaled, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. If you think Rachel’s the key to getting us through the Labyrinth, then we’ll bring her. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Percy nodded, grateful that Annabeth was at least willing to listen. “Thank you.”

The tension between them didn’t dissipate, though. If anything, it seemed to settle into the air like an invisible weight, pressing down on them as they stood in awkward silence. Neither of them mentioned the kiss at Mount St. Helens. It was a subject too raw, too complicated to confront right now.

Before either of them could say anything else, Chiron stepped forward, his face pale and drawn. “Percy,” he said quietly. “I think we should continue this conversation elsewhere.”

Percy nodded, realizing that the entire camp was still watching them. They had almost forgotten that they were in the middle of their own funeral. 

***

The meeting in Chiron’s office was tense. Annabeth sat stiffly in one of the chairs, her arms crossed over her chest. Percy stood by the window, looking out over the camp. They could see the pyre still burning in the distance, the smoke curling up into the sky.

Chiron cleared his throat, trying to break the silence. “Percy, we’re all relieved to see you alive and well. But we need to know what happened. How did you end up on Calypso’s island?”

Percy explained as best they could, recounting the events at Mount St. Helens and how they had been thrown into the sea of lava, only to wake up on Ogygia. They told Chiron about Calypso, about how she had taken care of them but ultimately offered them a way home.

Chiron listened carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. “Calypso... I see. It’s rare for someone to find her island, but it seems the Fates have their own plans for you.”

Percy shifted uncomfortably,not entirely sure what the Fates had in mind for them. All they knew was that they had been given a second chance, and they weren’t going to waste it.

“I have to finish the quest,” Percy said, their voice steady. “We have to find Daedalus and stop Luke from using the Labyrinth to invade Camp.”

Chiron nodded, his expression grave. “I agree. Time is of the essence. But we’ll need to plan carefully. The Labyrinth is dangerous, even with a guide.”

Percy glanced at Annabeth, hoping to find some sign of reassurance in her eyes. But she still looked distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Annabeth?” Percy ventured. “You okay?”

She looked up at them, her expression softening slightly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

But Percy knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t fine. Not really. There was too much left unsaid between them, too much they hadn’t talked about.

And as much as Percy wanted to fix things, they knew it would take time. Time they might not have.

For now, all they could do was focus on the quest

Chapter Text

The Labyrinth was relentless, its twisting passages winding deeper and deeper, leaving Percy, Annabeth, and Rachel mentally and physically exhausted. Each step seemed to bring them closer to some unknown peril, yet no closer to Daedalus's workshop. Every corner they turned revealed new threats, every wrong step felt like it could be their last. But they pressed on. They had no other choice.

Percy was trying to keep their mind sharp, but the weight of their own identity hung heavily on their shoulders. The memories of everything that had transpired since the beginning of the quest—Annabeth’s kiss, Calypso’s island, the mounting tension with Luke—rattled in their mind, refusing to be silenced. It was like walking through a fog, constantly feeling unsettled and out of place.

Rachel led the way with her clear sight, able to spot traps and false paths that even Annabeth sometimes missed. Annabeth, meanwhile, was focused on navigating, keeping an eye on her magical compass and the architecture of the Labyrinth itself. It was Percy's job to stay alert, sword in hand, ready for whatever new horror the Labyrinth threw at them.

But there was something else gnawing at Percy, something more personal that had started to take root the moment they had heard about Luke’s involvement in the Labyrinth plot. Luke had once been their mentor, their ally—someone who understood Percy better than anyone. Before his betrayal, Luke had been one of the few people who had supported Percy as they navigated their gender identity. He had listened without judgment, offering advice and understanding that had helped Percy find a sense of clarity during those confusing times.

Now, everything felt tainted by his betrayal. The thought of Luke mocking them, turning all that support into cruelty, made Percy feel sick to their stomach.

And then, as if the Labyrinth itself was responding to Percy’s inner turmoil, they found themselves in an enormous chamber that resembled a gladiator arena. The air smelled of sweat, dust, and old blood. Rows of empty stone seats surrounded the center of the arena, and high above, a throne made of bones sat ominously.

"Stay close," Annabeth whispered, her voice tight with apprehension.

Before Percy could respond, the doors to the arena slammed shut behind them, locking them in. Percy’s heart raced, and they instinctively raised their sword. The hairs on the back of their neck stood up. They were not alone.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the far side of the arena, and from the shadows emerged Antaeus, the giant son of Gaia and Poseidon. His massive form towered over them, and a sickening smile stretched across his face as he cracked his knuckles.

"Welcome to my arena," Antaeus boomed, his voice echoing off the walls. "You’ve come just in time for the entertainment."

Before Percy could respond, Luke appeared beside Antaeus, stepping out from the shadows with that familiar, self-assured swagger. His eyes gleamed with malice, and his lips curled into a sneer.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Percy Jackson,” Luke said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Still playing the hero, I see.”

Percy clenched their fists, trying to ignore the pit forming in their stomach. They had known they would face Luke eventually, but they hadn’t expected it to be like this. The sight of him standing there—so familiar, yet so changed—filled Percy with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“You always were too stubborn for your own good,” Luke continued, his gaze raking over Percy with disdain. “You think you can stop Kronos? You can barely keep yourself together.”

Percy’s throat tightened as Luke’s words hit harder than any sword strike. His cruelty wasn’t just aimed at their failures as a demigod—it was personal.

“I’m surprised you’ve even made it this far,” Luke said, stepping closer. “Still trying to figure out who you are? Or what you are? You’ve always been confused, Percy. Lost. And now look at you—pretending like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Percy’s chest felt like it was caving in, every word cutting deeper. Luke’s taunts stung not just because they were cruel, but because of the history they shared. Luke had once been someone Percy trusted, someone who had helped them navigate their identity. Hearing him turn those memories into weapons felt like a betrayal all over again.

“Shut up,” Rachel snapped, her eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t know anything about Percy.”

“Oh, but I do,” Luke said with a mocking smile. “I know exactly who Percy is. Or at least, who they used to be. Before they started pretending to be something they’re not.”

“Stop it,” Percy whispered, their voice barely audible. But Luke didn’t stop.

“You think you can lead? You think you can be a hero? You’re not a hero, Percy. You’re just a confused kid playing dress-up, trying to fit into a world that doesn’t want you.”

Percy’s vision blurred, their heart pounding in their chest. They could feel the ground slipping away beneath them, the walls of the arena closing in. Luke’s words echoed in their mind, louder and louder, until it felt like they were suffocating.

But there was no time to process any of it, no time to break down. Antaeus roared and lunged forward, forcing Percy to snap back to the present. Instinctively, they raised Riptide, meeting the giant’s attack head-on. The force of the blow sent a shockwave up Percy’s arm, but they gritted their teeth and held their ground.

The fight was brutal. Every swing of Antaeus’s fists felt like an earthquake, and every time Percy dodged or countered, it felt like they were fighting against their own mind as much as the giant. Luke’s words echoed in their head, distracting them, weakening their resolve.

“You’re nothing, Percy.”

“You’ll never be enough.”

“You don’t even know who you are.”

But Percy fought. They fought because they had to. For their friends. For Annabeth. For themselves.

-- 

The arena was silent as Antaeus crumbled to dust. Percy stood there, panting, their body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. But the victory felt hollow. Luke’s words still lingered in the air, poisoning everything.

Without another word, Percy turned and led Annabeth and Rachel out of the arena, their heart heavy with shame and self-doubt.

---

That night, they set up camp in a small clearing, the flickering light of the campfire casting long shadows over the walls of the Labyrinth. Annabeth and Rachel were talking quietly by the fire, discussing their next move, but Percy sat off to the side, their knees pulled up to their chest. They couldn’t shake the weight of Luke’s words. Every cruel remark replayed in their mind, over and over, like a never-ending loop.

“You’re just a confused kid playing dress-up.”

Percy’s breathing grew shallow, their chest tightening with panic. They had spent so long trying to understand who they were, trying to embrace their fluidity and accept themselves for who they were meant to be. But Luke’s words had shattered that fragile confidence. What if he was right? What if they were just confused, just pretending? What if they would never be enough—not as a hero, not as a leader, not as anything?

The panic built inside them, growing worse with each passing second. They tried to steady their breathing, tried to focus on something—anything—but it was no use. The world felt like it was closing in on them, suffocating them. They could barely breathe.

Percy’s hands trembled as they dug their fingers into the dirt, trying to ground themselves, trying to hold on to something real. But it wasn’t working. The panic was too much. It was too loud, too overwhelming. They felt like they were drowning.

No one noticed. Annabeth and Rachel were still talking, oblivious to the silent breakdown happening just a few feet away.

Percy pressed their hands to their head, squeezing their eyes shut as tears threatened to spill over. They didn’t want to cry. They didn’t want to be weak. But they couldn’t stop it.

“You’re nothing, Percy.”

The tears came, hot and fast, and Percy couldn’t hold them back anymore. They broke down, sobbing quietly into their hands, their entire body shaking with the weight of everything they had been holding in.

It wasn’t until much later that Rachel finally noticed something was wrong. She had turned to ask Percy a question, only to find them curled up, shaking with silent sobs.

“Percy?” Rachel’s voice was soft, but filled with concern. She quickly moved to their side, gently placing a hand on their shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Percy didn’t respond. They couldn’t. The panic was still too overwhelming, too all-consuming.

Rachel called out to Annabeth, who immediately rushed over, her eyes widening with alarm when she saw the state Percy was in. “Percy? Percy, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

But Percy couldn’t answer. They just shook their head, tears streaming down their face as they tried to catch their breath.

Annabeth knelt beside them, her expression full of guilt and worry. “I’m so sorry, Percy. I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Eventually, with the combined efforts of Rachel and Annabeth, Percy’s breathing began to slow, the panic slowly receding. But the emotional wounds were still fresh, still raw.

When it was finally over, Percy sat there, exhausted and drained, staring blankly at the ground. Annabeth and Rachel exchanged a worried glance, but neither of them said anything. They didn’t know what to say.

Percy wiped at their eyes, their voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth shook her head, her expression softening. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

But Percy couldn’t help but feel like it was. Everything felt wrong, like they were falling apart at the seams, and they didn’t know how to put themselves back together.

As they sat there in the dim light of the campfire, Percy realized that it wasn’t just Luke’s words that had broken them—it was everything. The weight of the quest, the pressure to be a hero, the confusion about their own identity. It was all too much.

And they didn’t know how to fix it.

For now, all they could do was keep moving forward, even if it felt like they were stumbling in the dark.

Chapter Text

Percy stood on the small balcony of her mom’s apartment, the cool evening breeze brushing her face as she looked out over the city. The sounds of New York hummed in the background, distant and soothing. The streets below were alive with their usual chaos—honking cars, people rushing to and from wherever they needed to be—but up here, it was quieter. She took a deep breath, trying to let the calm wash over her, but it was difficult to shake the heaviness that had been growing inside her for weeks.

Her 15th birthday. It didn’t feel like much of a celebration. Instead, the looming presence of her 16th birthday hung over her like a dark cloud, filling her with dread she couldn’t quite put into words. There had always been something ominous about turning 16. She could feel it in her bones.

Inside the apartment, laughter and the sound of clinking dishes filtered through the open window. Her mom, Sally, was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on Percy’s favorite blue cake. Tyson, her half-brother, was sitting on the couch, his large form hunched over as he excitedly talked to Paul Blofis, Percy’s mom’s boyfriend. Paul was a good guy—kind, caring, and always respectful of her and Sally. But despite the warmth inside, Percy couldn’t bring herself to fully enjoy the moment. It all felt too normal, too peaceful, like the calm before a storm.

The events of the Labyrinth quest were still fresh in her mind—facing Luke, the constant fear of being lost forever, and the weight of everything she had gone through with Annabeth and Rachel. It had been emotionally exhausting, and now that she was home, the contrast between the normalcy of her life here and the chaos of the world she was part of felt disorienting.

Her mom’s voice called out to her. “Percy, sweetie, come inside. We’re about to cut the cake.”

Percy forced a smile, stepping back into the apartment and closing the balcony door behind her. She couldn’t let her mom see how she was really feeling. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, after all.

“Coming,” Percy said, her voice lighter than she felt.

Sally smiled warmly at her from the kitchen as Percy joined them in the living room. Tyson’s face lit up when he saw her. “Percy! Cake!”

She chuckled, ruffling Tyson’s hair affectionately as she sat down on the couch next to him. “Yeah, buddy, cake.”

Paul gave her a nod and a smile from across the room. “Happy birthday, Percy.”

Percy nodded back, grateful for the gesture but still feeling disconnected. She wished she could just let go and enjoy the moment, but the weight of what was coming—the prophecy, the war, her own doubts about herself—was too much to ignore.

As Sally brought the cake to the table, the warm glow of candles illuminating her face, Percy couldn’t help but notice how happy her mom seemed. She looked at Paul with such love in her eyes, and for a moment, Percy wondered if maybe things could be that simple for her someday—if she could ever have something so ordinary, so peaceful.

“Make a wish,” her mom said softly, as they all gathered around the cake.

Percy hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. But finally, she closed her eyes and made her wish, blowing out the candles.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and cake, Tyson’s enthusiasm contagious as he devoured nearly half of the cake himself. Percy tried to relax, tried to let herself enjoy it, but there was still that nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something wasn’t quite right.

After a while, as the evening started to wind down, Paul cleared his throat and stood up from the table. “Percy, do you think we could talk for a minute? Just the two of us?”

Percy blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “Uh, sure,” she said, trying not to sound too nervous. She glanced at her mom, who gave her a reassuring smile, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, like she already knew what this was about.

Paul led her out to the balcony, closing the door behind them. The air was cooler now, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Percy leaned against the railing, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“So,” Paul began, his voice steady but with a hint of hesitation. “I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

Percy nodded, unsure of where this was going.

Paul rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before looking her in the eyes. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your mom and me, about our future together. And, well… I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t talk to you first, man to man.”

Percy’s heart skipped again, but this time it wasn’t just nerves—it was something deeper. A discomfort that had been building for a while. She had always liked Paul, but this moment—this phrase—struck her differently than it would have a year ago. The words “man to man” felt off, like they didn’t belong to her.

She took a deep breath, her pulse quickening. She had been thinking about this for so long—about coming out to someone other than her mom and friends. The idea had scared her, but it was also something she knew she needed to do. And now, standing here with Paul, she realized this might be her chance.

“Paul,” she started, her voice a little shaky. “Before you say anything else, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Paul’s expression softened, his brow furrowing slightly. “What is it, Percy?”

She took another deep breath, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. “I’m not… I’m not a boy. Not really. I mean, I was born a boy, but I don’t always feel like one. Sometimes, I feel more like a girl. Other times… it’s kind of in between. It’s complicated.”

Paul blinked, clearly taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something but then stopped, his face thoughtful. Percy’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for his reaction, every second stretching out longer than the last.

“I… I didn’t know that,” Paul said slowly. “I guess I’m a little surprised. But… I think I understand.”

Percy let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, but I wasn’t sure how. And with everything that’s going on, it just… it hasn’t been easy.”

Paul nodded, his expression softening even more. “I can imagine. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s okay,” Percy said quickly. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just… hard sometimes, figuring out how to explain all of this.”

Paul smiled gently. “You don’t have to explain everything right now. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Percy. However you identify, however you feel—I’m not going anywhere.”

Percy felt a wave of relief wash over her, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “Thanks, Paul. That means a lot.”

Paul hesitated for a moment before asking, “Does your mom know?”

Percy nodded. “Yeah, she does. She’s been really supportive.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Paul said, his smile widening. “Sally’s a good woman. And for what it’s worth, I’m still planning on asking her to marry me. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t talk to you first, though—about everything.”

Percy felt a warmth spread through her chest, despite the heaviness that still lingered there. “I’m happy for you guys,” she said softly. “Really.”

Paul placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re a good kid, Percy. And no matter what, you’re part of this family.”

Percy smiled, feeling a little lighter for the first time in days. “Thanks, Paul.”

---

A little later, Percy was still thinking about her conversation with Paul when she heard the doorbell ring “I’ve got it!” Her mom called out, She opened the door and her jaw dropped. 

“Hello Sally” The man greeted, Her Mom moved to the side to let him in  

“Percy,” The man said, his voice deep and commanding, but with a hint of warmth that only she could sense.

“Dad,” Percy breathed, standing up from the couch.

Paul looked between Percy and Poseidon and seemed to make the connection. The sight of Poseidon, with his sea-green eyes and weathered face, always filled Percy with a mix of awe and comfort.

Before Percy could say anything Paul stepped in between and introduced himself to Poseidon. 

Tyson looked up from where he was sitting and shouted out “DADDY!” 

Poseidon gave him a small smile and wave. 

“Not mine” Percy heard her mom whisper to a bewildered-looking paul 

“Now, none of you would mind if I borrowed Percy for a few minutes?”

Percy walked into her room her father trailing behind her. 

Poseidon gave her a small, knowing smile. “It’s good to see you, Percy.”

“You too,” she said, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that his visit wasn’t just for a friendly chat.

Poseidon crossed the room, his footsteps nearly silent. He looked down at her with an intensity that made Percy’s heart race. “I’ve come to talk to you about what’s ahead,” he said, his tone serious.

Percy nodded, already sensing where this was going. “The war.”

“Yes,” Poseidon confirmed. “The prophecy. Kronos. Everything you’ve been preparing for is coming to a head.”

Percy swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing down on her again. “I know.”

Poseidon studied her for a moment, his eyes softening. “I also know you’ve been struggling with more than just the prophecy.”

Percy blinked in surprise. “You do?”

“I’m a god of the sea, Percy,” Poseidon said with a small smile. “I understand fluidity. The tides, the currents—they’re always changing, always shifting. And so are you. It’s part of your nature.”

Percy’s chest tightened, her eyes stinging. “It’s just… hard sometimes. People expect me to be one thing, but I don’t always feel like that. I don’t know how to make them understand.”

Poseidon stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to make them understand. You are who you are, Percy. And you shouldn’t change just because other people expect you to.”

Tears welled up in Percy’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “But what if… what if I can’t be the hero everyone wants me to be?”

Poseidon’s expression softened even more. “You already are a hero, Percy. Not because of what you are, but because of who you are. You’re my child, and I’m proud of you—exactly as you are.”

Percy felt a lump rise in her throat, her vision blurring with tears. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words until now.

“I’m your favorite, right?” Percy managed to joke through her tears.

Poseidon chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t tell the others, but yes. You are.”

Percy laughed softly, wiping her eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

Poseidon gave her shoulder one final squeeze before stepping back. “The time is coming, Percy. Be ready. But never forget—you don’t have to face it alone.”

Percy nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of determination and fear. She knew the war was coming, and she knew the challenges ahead would be unlike anything she had ever faced. But for the first time in a while, she felt a little more sure of herself—sure of who she was, and of the people who stood by her side.

“Happy birthday, Percy,” Poseidon said, his voice softening as he disappeared into the sea breeze.

Percy sat there for a long time after he was gone, the weight of his words settling deep in her chest. She didn’t know what the future held, but for now, she was ready to face it—one step at a time.

Chapter Text

The hallways of Goode High School were buzzing with the usual lunchtime chaos. Students shuffled between classes, lockers slammed shut, and conversations overlapped into a blur of sound. Percy Jackson squeezed his way through the crowd, clutching his books against his chest as he made his way toward English class. He had only been at Goode for a couple of weeks, but it still felt strange to him—trying to live a normal life after everything he had been through.

He had a lot on his mind lately: the looming war with Kronos, the prophecy that seemed to follow him everywhere, and the never-ending pressure of being a demigod. But for now, he was just trying to focus on not being late to Paul Blofis’ class. Paul, his mom’s boyfriend, had gotten him into Goode High in the first place, and Percy was grateful for the fresh start. He liked Paul, even if things were still a little awkward between them.

Just as Percy rounded the corner toward the classroom, a strange chill ran down his spine—a familiar sensation, one that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His instincts kicked in immediately, a deep sense of unease settling in his gut. Something was wrong.

He slowed his pace, eyes scanning the hallway. The fluorescent lights flickered for a split second, and the noise around him seemed to fade into the background. That’s when he saw it—a shadowy figure lurking at the end of the hall, its form shifting and flickering like it wasn’t fully solid. Percy’s grip on his books tightened as he recognized what he was seeing. A monster.

“Not here,” Percy muttered under his breath, his heart rate spiking. He glanced around, hoping none of the other students had noticed, but everyone else seemed oblivious to the danger. The thing was moving closer, its form becoming more defined as it slithered toward him. Percy could now make out its grotesque, serpentine body—part lizard, part human, with gleaming fangs and glowing yellow eyes. A Laistrygonian giant.

Percy didn’t have time to think. He dropped his books, reaching instinctively for Riptide, the pen-sword that was always in his pocket. As soon as he uncapped it, the celestial bronze blade shimmered into existence, its weight familiar in his hand.

The giant lunged.

Percy ducked out of the way just in time, rolling across the hallway and coming to his feet in a defensive stance. The monster hissed, its eyes narrowing as it realized its prey wasn’t going down easily. Percy took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He had fought worse than this before, but the stakes were higher now—he was in a school full of innocent kids. He couldn’t let this thing hurt anyone.

The monster lunged again, swiping at him with claws the size of kitchen knives. Percy parried the blow with Riptide, the clash of celestial bronze against claws echoing through the now-quiet hallway. His muscles tensed as he pushed back against the force of the attack, but the monster was strong—stronger than he had anticipated.

In the heat of the fight, Percy didn’t notice Paul Blofis stepping out of his classroom down the hall. Paul had likely come out to check on the noise and found himself staring at something he couldn’t quite comprehend—a giant monster and Percy, sword in hand, fending it off.

“Percy?” Paul called out, his voice filled with confusion and concern.

Percy cursed under his breath. This was the last thing he needed. He glanced over his shoulder at Paul, their eyes meeting for a split second. Paul’s expression was a mix of shock and disbelief, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t see the monster for what it was—Paul wasn’t clear-sighted like some mortals were. To him, Percy was probably just swinging a sword at thin air, fighting off nothing.

“Stay back!” Percy shouted, turning his attention back to the giant.

The monster roared, lunging again, but this time Percy was ready. With a swift movement, he sidestepped the attack and drove Riptide into the creature’s side. The giant let out a gurgling hiss before dissolving into a pile of golden dust. Percy stood there for a moment, panting, as the dust settled onto the linoleum floor.

Paul was still frozen in place, staring at Percy like he had just grown another head.

“What… what was that?” Paul stammered, his eyes wide.

Percy quickly capped Riptide, the sword shrinking back into a harmless-looking pen, and slipped it into his pocket. He bent down to gather his books, trying to play it cool, even though his heart was still pounding in his chest.

“Uh… nothing,” Percy said, but he knew it sounded lame.

Paul walked over, his brow furrowed. “That didn’t look like nothing. You were fighting… something.”

Percy sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this without explaining something. “Look, it’s kind of hard to explain. Can we—can we just talk about it later?”

Paul hesitated but then nodded. “Okay. But we will talk about it.”

Percy gave him a grateful nod and hurried into the classroom before anyone else could ask questions. His mind raced as he sat down at his desk. He knew he couldn’t keep dodging this conversation forever. Paul deserved to know the truth, and it wasn’t fair to keep him in the dark any longer. But Percy wasn’t sure how to explain everything—how to make someone who wasn’t part of the world of gods and monsters understand what his life was really like.

---

That evening, after the school day had ended, Percy returned home with a heavy feeling in his chest. He knew what was coming—the conversation with Paul. He had promised they would talk, and Percy couldn’t keep putting it off. But as he opened the door to the apartment, he was surprised to see both his mom and Paul sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

“Hey, Percy,” his mom greeted him warmly, though there was a hint of concern in her eyes. “Paul told me something happened at school today.”

Percy sighed, dropping his bag by the door and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Something happened.”

Paul stood up, crossing his arms. “Percy, I don’t know what I saw today, but… it wasn’t normal. You were fighting something, and I couldn’t see it. I need to know what’s going on.”

Percy swallowed hard, glancing at his mom. She gave him an encouraging nod, and he knew she would back him up no matter what. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“Okay,” Percy said, sitting down across from them. “I guess it’s time I tell you everything.”

He took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. It wasn’t easy to explain the kind of life he led, especially to someone like Paul, who had no idea that the world of mythology wasn’t just stories—it was real.

“You’ve heard of Greek mythology, right?” Percy began, trying to keep his tone as casual as possible.

Paul nodded, frowning slightly. “Of course. The gods, the monsters, all that.”

“Well… it’s all real,” Percy said, watching Paul’s reaction carefully.

Paul blinked, clearly not sure if Percy was joking or not. “Real?”

“Yeah,” Percy said. “The gods, the monsters, everything. And I’m… I’m a demigod. My dad is Poseidon, the god of the sea.”

Paul stared at him for a long moment, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. “Poseidon,” he repeated slowly, as if testing the word.

Percy nodded. “Yeah. And because I’m a demigod, monsters tend to, well… try to kill me. A lot.”

Sally spoke up then, her voice gentle but firm. “Paul, I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s true. Percy’s been dealing with this since he was a kid.”

Paul ran a hand through his hair, still trying to process what he was hearing. “So… that thing you were fighting at school—”

“A monster,” Percy confirmed. “A Laistrygonian giant, to be exact. They’re always trying to get to me because I’m the son of a god. And usually, mortals like you can’t see them for what they really are. That’s why it probably looked like I was fighting thin air.”

Paul sat back down on the couch, rubbing his temples. “This is… a lot.”

“I know,” Percy said quietly. “But I couldn’t keep it from you any longer. Especially not after what happened today.”

Paul was silent for a moment, processing everything. Then, he looked up at Percy, his expression softening. “I guess… I guess this explains a lot. Why you’ve always been different. Why things always seem to happen around you.”

Percy chuckled softly. “Yeah. It’s not exactly the kind of life I wanted, but… it’s what I’ve got.”

Paul leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And these… quests you go on? Your mom mentioned them before, but I never understood what she meant.”

Percy glanced at his mom, who gave him a reassuring nod. “Yeah. I’ve been on a few quests. To the Underworld, the Sea of Monsters, and the Labyrinth, just to name a few. It’s not exactly summer camp, but… someone’s gotta do it.”

Paul’s eyes widened slightly. “The Underworld? As in, Hades?”

“Yep,” Percy said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’ve met him. He’s not as bad as people think. Mostly.”

Paul shook his head, clearly overwhelmed but still trying to process everything. “And… you’re okay with all of this? Being a demigod, fighting monsters, going on quests?”

Percy hesitated, thinking about all the times he had wished for a normal life, free of monsters and prophecies. But at the same time, he knew he couldn’t change who he was. He had accepted that a long time ago.

“I don’t always like it,” Percy admitted. “But it’s who I am. And I’ve got people who help me—my friends, my mom, and now you.”

Paul’s expression softened, and he gave Percy a small smile. “Well, I guess if you can handle all that, I can handle knowing about it.”

Percy smiled, relieved. “Thanks, Paul.”

Paul stood up, walking over to where Percy sat and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I don’t know how you’ve managed to deal with all of this, but… I’m proud of you.”

Percy’s heart swelled at the words, and he couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. Paul might not understand everything about his life, but he was trying, and that meant the world to Percy.

Chapter Text

Percy stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of her shirt and trying to decide if it was too much. The light fabric clung slightly to her frame, and today, she felt more in touch with her feminine side—her hair was down it was getting long enough to almost touch her shoulders now! (She had been growing it out for a while and usually tied it up when she was feeling more masculine). She sighed, pulling at the collar nervously. Even though her mom had assured her she looked great before she left the house, the mirror wasn’t as kind.

It was hard enough trying to navigate Goode High with her ADHD and dyslexia, always feeling like her brain was working against her. Add on top of that the shifting sense of self that came with being genderfluid, and some days, it felt like she was swimming against the current in a sea of confusion. She didn’t just worry about what she felt on the inside but also how she was perceived on the outside.

School hadn’t been easy lately. For some reason, Cole and his group of friends had decided to target Percy. She didn’t know when or why it had started, but once they had honed in on her, it felt like she had a giant bullseye painted on her back. Maybe it was her clothes, or maybe they had overheard her talking to Rachel about her identity. Either way, their harassment had become relentless.

Taking one last glance at the mirror, Percy grabbed her backpack and headed out the door. She didn’t know what today would bring, but she could only hope that it would be different from the previous ones.

---

As Percy walked into the main hallway of Goode High, she immediately spotted Rachel waiting by her locker. The vibrant redhead stood out in any crowd, always unapologetically herself. Percy admired that about Rachel—her confidence, the way she didn’t care about what anyone thought, her ability to take up space without hesitation.

"Hey, Percy!" Rachel called out, waving her over with a bright smile. "You ready for another thrilling day of educational torture?"

Percy chuckled, her mood lifting slightly just by seeing her friend. "As ready as I'll ever be," she replied, though the weight of her words hung between them. She hadn't mentioned the bullying to Rachel yet, not fully. Rachel knew something was wrong, of course—she wasn’t oblivious—but Percy hadn’t been able to bring herself to talk about just how bad it had gotten. She didn’t want to burden her friend.

Rachel tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in concern. "You good? You seem kind of... off."

Percy shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Just tired. You know how it is."

Before Rachel could probe any further, the warning bell rang, signaling that they needed to head to class. Percy felt a brief sense of relief. Maybe today would be better. Maybe if she stuck close to Rachel, Cole and his friends would leave her alone. But deep down, Percy knew that wasn’t likely.

---

The first few periods of the day passed without incident. Percy focused as best as she could in her classes, though the constant blur of letters and words made it difficult to keep up. Her ADHD made it hard to sit still, her mind always wandering even when she desperately tried to concentrate. The noise of the classroom, the ticking of the clock, the shuffling of papers—everything seemed louder and more distracting than it should be.

By lunchtime, Percy’s nerves were already frayed, but she was holding it together. She found Rachel in the cafeteria, and they grabbed seats at their usual spot, tucked away in the corner where fewer people would bother them.

Just as they started eating, Percy noticed Cole and his group of friends enter the cafeteria. Her stomach sank. Cole was tall, broad-shouldered, with a perpetual smirk that made Percy want to disappear whenever he was nearby. His friends, a couple of guys from the football team, followed him like loyal minions, always eager to back him up.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Rachel muttered under her breath, noticing Percy’s discomfort. She reached over and squeezed Percy’s hand. “They’re just jerks. You’re better than them.”

Percy nodded, but it was hard to believe that in the moment. Cole caught her eye from across the room, and his smirk widened into something more sinister. Percy’s heart began to race, her palms growing sweaty. She wanted to believe that today would be different, that maybe he would leave her alone, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Cole and his buddies sauntered over to their table, clearly spoiling for a confrontation.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the freak show,” Cole sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. His gaze raked over Percy, lingering on her clothes. “Nice outfit. Trying to figure out if you’re a girl today, or what?”

Percy felt the familiar heat rise to her cheeks. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in her throat. She could feel the stares of everyone around them—students watching the exchange like it was some kind of sick entertainment.

“Leave her alone, Cole,” Rachel said sharply, standing up and facing him. Her fiery confidence was admirable, but Percy could tell it wasn’t going to deter him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cole mocked, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t realize the freak had a bodyguard now. What’s the deal, Jackson? Can’t fight your own battles?”

Percy clenched her fists under the table, trying to hold back the rising tide of anger and humiliation. She could feel the eyes of half the cafeteria on her, and it made her skin crawl. She wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and escape the crushing weight of the judgment that hung in the air.

“I said leave her alone,” Rachel repeated, stepping forward, her voice steady but firm. “You don’t know anything about Percy.”

Cole’s smirk didn’t falter. “I know enough,” he said, leaning in closer to Percy. “I know she doesn’t even know what she is. One day she’s a girl, the next day she’s... who knows what. It’s pathetic.”

The words hit Percy like a punch to the gut. She felt the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously, refusing to let Cole see how much he was getting to her. She couldn’t show weakness—not here, not in front of everyone.

Cole laughed, clearly enjoying the reaction he was provoking. “Come on, Jackson. Say something. Or are you just going to let your girlfriend here fight all your battles?”

Percy felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her—students whispering, watching, waiting to see what she would do. The cafeteria felt like it was closing in on her, the walls pressing in from all sides. She couldn’t breathe.

Rachel’s voice cut through the haze of panic. “You’re just jealous because Percy’s twice the person you’ll ever be,” she snapped.

Cole laughed, but it was sharp and mean. “Twice the person? Please. She’s barely half.”

The cafeteria erupted into laughter, and that was it. Percy couldn’t take it anymore.

She shoved her chair back, standing abruptly and knocking over her tray in the process. Without looking back, she turned and bolted for the doors, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She could hear Rachel calling after her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She just needed to get away.

---

Percy ran down the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to escape. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her legs burned as she pushed herself to keep running, her sneakers slapping against the tile floor.

She flew past the lockers, past students who were lingering in the halls, past everything. All she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears, drowning out the world around her.

She didn’t stop until she reached the main office, her hands trembling as she shoved open the door. The receptionist looked up in surprise as Percy stumbled inside, gasping for breath, her face red and tear-streaked.

“I—” Percy’s voice cracked as she tried to speak. “I need to call my mom.”

The receptionist blinked, clearly taken aback by Percy’s state, but nodded and handed her the office phone without a word. Percy’s fingers shook as she dialed her mom’s number, barely able to see the buttons through the blur of tears.

The phone rang twice before Sally picked up. “Percy? Sweetie, is everything okay?”

At the sound of her mother’s voice, Percy’s composure crumbled. She let out a choked sob, gripping the phone tightly. “Mom,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Can you—can you pick me up? Please? I can’t—I can’t stay here.”

Sally’s voice was immediately filled with concern. “Of course, honey. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hang tight, okay?”

Percy nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see her. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please hurry.”

---

Sally arrived at Goode High within fifteen minutes, but it felt like an eternity to Percy as she sat in the office, staring at the floor and trying to stop the flood of tears that kept spilling over. She couldn’t believe how quickly everything had spiraled out of control. She had thought she could handle it—that she could just ignore Cole and his friends and keep going. But today had been too much.

When Sally walked into the office, her eyes immediately found Percy, and without a word, she rushed over and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. Percy clung to her, burying her face in her mom’s shoulder as fresh tears spilled over.

“Oh, Percy,” Sally murmured, stroking her hair gently. “I’ve got you baby.”

They didn’t say much else as Sally guided Percy out of the school and into the car. Percy felt numb, her mind spinning in a thousand different directions. She hadn’t expected it to get this bad. She hadn’t expected to feel so… powerless.

Once they were on the road, Sally glanced over at Percy with a soft, worried expression. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Percy hesitated, her throat tightening. She didn’t want to relive the humiliation, the cruelty. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore.

“It’s Cole,” Percy whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s been… bullying me. Him and his friends. It’s been going on for a while now.”

Sally’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “How long?”

Percy swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall again. “Since... since I started wearing different clothes. Since I told Rachel about... me being genderfluid.”

Sally’s eyes softened, and she reached over to gently squeeze Percy’s hand. “I’m so sorry you’ve been going through this, Percy. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“I just… I don’t understand why they hate me so much,” Percy choked out, her voice trembling. “I don’t even do anything to them. I just want to be me, and they make me feel like... like that’s wrong.”

Sally pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face Percy fully. Her eyes were filled with a fierce protectiveness and love. “Percy, there is nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Those boys are the ones who are wrong, not you.”

“But it feels like it’s my fault,” Percy whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Like if I could just... be normal, they’d leave me alone.”

Sally reached out and cupped Percy’s face in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. “You are normal, Percy. You’re you, and that’s more than enough. You’re brave, and strong, and you should never feel like you have to change for anyone else.”

Percy nodded, though the doubts still lingered in her mind. 

After Sally and Percy finished their conversation in the car, they eventually arrived home. Percy stepped out of the vehicle, her body heavy with exhaustion, her emotions drained. Sally had tried to offer more comforting words, but Percy had already started to retreat into herself, her mind clouded with the weight of the day's events. Without a word, she trudged inside, barely acknowledging her mom's worried glance as she made her way to her room.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, Percy leaned against it, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She wanted to cry again, to scream, to do something—anything—that could make the turmoil inside her head stop. But instead, she just felt numb. It was as if all her emotions had been drained out, leaving only a hollow ache in her chest.

She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed, pulling the blankets up around her as though they could shield her from the world. The events of the day played on an endless loop in her mind: Cole's cruel words, the laughter of the cafeteria, the stares, the suffocating feeling of being singled out. No matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they refused to leave her alone.

For the rest of the evening, Percy stayed locked in her room. She didn’t come out for dinner, despite Sally’s gentle knock on the door and offer of food. She didn’t speak to anyone, not even Tyson when he came home and knocked on her door in his usual cheery way. Percy couldn’t bring herself to face anyone. It was like all the fight had drained out of her, leaving her too exhausted to do anything but lie there, staring at the ceiling.

That night, Percy barely slept. Her mind refused to quiet down, replaying the humiliation she had faced, the feeling of helplessness as Cole’s words cut deeper than any sword. She tossed and turned, her heart heavy, her thoughts racing. When she did manage to drift off, her sleep was restless and filled with nightmares. By the time morning came, she felt like she had barely closed her eyes at all.

---

The next day at school, Percy was quiet. She stuck close to Rachel during classes, but even her friend noticed how subdued she was. Normally, Percy would laugh at Rachel’s jokes, even on tough days, but today, she couldn’t muster more than a weak smile. Rachel kept casting concerned glances her way, but Percy didn’t offer much in terms of explanation.

She just felt... tired. Tired of the bullying, tired of feeling like an outsider, tired of constantly having to defend who she was. It weighed on her, making her feel smaller, like she was shrinking into herself.

For a few days, things seemed to settle. Cole and his group hadn’t approached her again since the incident in the cafeteria, and Percy hoped that maybe—just maybe—they had decided to leave her alone. But it didn’t last.

---

A few days later, Percy was walking down the hallway, heading to class, when she spotted Cole and his friends lingering by the lockers. Her heart sank as soon as she saw them, and she instinctively looked around for Rachel, but her friend was nowhere in sight.

"Well, if it isn’t the freak," Cole sneered as Percy approached, blocking her path with his broad shoulders. His friends flanked him, all smirking as though they were in on some joke. "Where’s your little bodyguard today, huh? Thought you’d try walking the halls by yourself for once?"

Percy felt her pulse quicken, the familiar dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She tried to push past them, but Cole stepped in her way, refusing to let her through. "Come on, Jackson. Say something. Or are you just going to run away crying again?"

His words dripped with malice, and Percy could feel the stares of passing students. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the humiliation creeping up her spine. The whispers around her grew louder, students watching the confrontation like it was some kind of show.

"Just leave me alone," Percy muttered, trying to keep her voice steady, but the trembling in her hands betrayed her.

"Leave you alone?" Cole laughed, his eyes gleaming with cruelty. "Why? You make it so easy. I mean, look at you. You don’t even know what you are, do you? It’s pathetic."

Something snapped inside Percy. The humiliation, the anger, the fear—it all boiled over in an instant. She wasn’t thinking anymore. All she knew was that she couldn’t take it any longer. 

Before she even realized what she was doing, her fist shot out, connecting squarely with Cole’s face. There was a sickening crack, and Cole stumbled back, clutching his nose as blood began to trickle down his lip. His eyes widened in shock, and for a split second, the hallway fell deathly silent. 

Percy’s hand throbbed with pain, but she didn’t care. The satisfaction of seeing Cole’s stunned expression—the way he faltered, no longer smirking or taunting—was worth it.

"You—" Cole sputtered, still clutching his nose, his friends standing around him in stunned silence. "You’re going to regret that."

But for once, Percy didn’t feel scared. She didn’t feel small. She felt powerful. 

---

The next thing Percy knew, she was sitting in the principal’s office, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the fight. Rachel sat beside her, her expression a mixture of disbelief and pride. 

Rachel highfived Percy “I knew you had it in you,” Rachel whispered “you looked like a total badass.”

Percy had to stifle a laugh at that, but didn’t answer, still replaying the moment over and over in her mind—the look on Cole’s face, the feeling of her fist connecting with his nose. She knew she’d probably get in trouble for hitting him, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t care. It felt like she had finally taken control of something, even if only for a moment.

The principal called them both in, and they were both given detentions—Rachel for being "involved" in the altercation and Percy for throwing the punch. To Percy’s frustration, Cole didn’t get in trouble at all, despite the months of bullying she had endured. It felt unfair, but at the same time, Percy couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction.

She had hit him. She had fought back.

---

The next day, Percy walked into school, her head held a little higher than usual. She wasn’t expecting the students to stop whispering, and she wasn’t expecting Cole to completely leave her alone, but when she saw him in the hallway, something had changed. 

Cole’s face was bruised—his nose clearly swollen from where Percy had hit him. He shot her a dirty look as she passed by, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to stop her, didn’t taunt her or mock her. He just watched her with narrowed eyes, his friends hanging back, clearly uncertain. So naturally Percy flipped him off. 

It wasn’t a victory, not entirely. But it was something. 

For the first time in weeks, Percy felt like she had reclaimed a little bit of power in her own life. The bullying wasn’t over, but Cole’s avoidance made the halls feel just a little less suffocating. He was still there, still sending her dirty looks when he thought no one was watching, but he didn’t try to confront her again. 

And that, Percy thought, was enough for now.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the windows of the Jackson apartment, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. Percy sat at the breakfast table, swirling a spoon around her cereal bowl absentmindedly. The familiar clatter of dishes and the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, but her mind was elsewhere. Today, she felt different—more defined in a way that she couldn’t quite describe yet.

Across the table, her mother, Sally Jackson, was bustling about, making sure everything was in order for the day. Her blue eyes, always soft and full of warmth, glanced over at Percy from time to time. She had noticed these quiet moments more often lately, when Percy seemed lost in thought, navigating the ever-shifting waters of her identity.

Sally wasn’t new to this, but there was still a lot she didn’t understand. Percy had come out to her as genderfluid some time ago, and while Sally was wholly supportive, she often found herself grappling with the nuances. Every morning could be a different day for Percy—sometimes she felt more masculine, sometimes more feminine, and other times somewhere in between or entirely outside that spectrum. Today, Percy had that particular look in her eyes, a kind of distant reflection that Sally had come to recognize.

Sally set down a mug of coffee in front of Percy and sat down across from her, gently folding her hands in her lap. “How are you feeling this morning, sweetie?” she asked, her voice as soft as the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Percy blinked, snapping out of her reverie. She looked up at her mother, offering a small smile. “I’m okay,” she said, though her tone hinted at something deeper. She hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “I think… I’m feeling more feminine today.”

Sally nodded, taking in the words and processing them. “Thank you for telling me,” she said sincerely, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Percy’s. “What does that mean for you today? How do you want to express that?”

Percy exhaled, relieved that her mom was still so open and willing to have these conversations, even if they could be difficult sometimes. She shrugged a little, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her cereal bowl. “I’m not really sure,” she admitted. “Sometimes it’s just a feeling, like this… sense of being more in tune with a certain part of myself. But it can be hard to figure out how to show it, you know? Like, how to be comfortable with it.”

Sally smiled gently. “I can only imagine,” she said. She took a moment, clearly wanting to ask something but trying to find the right way to say it. “If it’s okay for me to ask… how do you know when you’re feeling more feminine or masculine? Or something else entirely? I want to understand more about how this works for you.”

Percy appreciated the genuine curiosity in her mom’s voice, even if the question itself was hard to answer. She thought about it for a minute before replying. “It’s not really something I can explain perfectly,” she said slowly, trying to articulate feelings that often felt abstract. “It’s more like… waking up and just knowing. Like how you can wake up one day and feel really confident and outgoing, and the next day you just want to be quiet and keep to yourself. It’s kind of like that, but with my gender.”

She paused, searching for more words. “Some days, I feel like wearing clothes that are more traditionally masculine—you know, jeans and a t-shirt, nothing too fancy. Other days, I feel like I want to be more feminine. It’s not about following specific rules for ‘how to be a girl’ or ‘how to be a boy’—it’s just about what feels right at that moment.”

Sally listened intently, nodding along. “So it’s less about fitting into a box and more about just… being you, no matter what that looks like day to day?”

“Exactly,” Percy said, her smile widening slightly. “It’s like I’m always me, but the way I want to express that me changes.”

Sally squeezed Percy’s hand gently. “That makes a lot of sense. I know I can’t fully understand what it’s like, but I want you to know that I’m always here to support you, no matter what you feel or how you choose to express yourself.”

The sincerity in her mom’s voice warmed Percy’s heart. She nodded, grateful for the unconditional support. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly.

There was a brief pause, and then Sally perked up as if an idea had struck her. “You know,” she began, “we haven’t done any shopping in a while. Maybe we could go to the mall today? Pick out some clothes that make you feel comfortable and confident.”

Percy hesitated, chewing her lip. “I don’t know…”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “Come on, we could use a break from everything that’s been happening. Plus, it’s not just about the clothes, it’ll be fun. 

Percy considered it. Her mom was right; it had been a while since they had gone shopping together, and after everything, a break might be exactly what she needed. Besides, the idea of exploring her identity more through clothing was something that intrigued her, even if it made her nervous.

“Okay,” Percy finally agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s go shopping.”

---

The mall was bustling with life when they arrived, the usual weekend crowds milling about, shopping bags in hand, and the steady hum of conversation filling the air. Percy stuck close to her mom as they wandered from store to store, browsing racks of clothes. It was fun, in a way, but also a little overwhelming.

She kept catching glimpses of herself in the mirrors, trying to figure out how she felt about certain outfits. Today was one of those days when she felt distinctly feminine, but there was still that gnawing feeling of self-doubt in the back of her mind. What would people think? Would they judge her for how she dressed, for the way she expressed herself?

The weight of those thoughts dragged her down as she recalled the bullying she’d been facing at Goode High. It wasn’t just the whispers or the mocking laughter when she walked down the halls — it was the pointed remarks, the sneers, the way some kids would stare at her like she was a walking spectacle. Cole and his friends were the worst, always finding a new way to make Percy feel out of place. 

She remembered one incident not long ago when she had worn a more feminine outfit to school. Rachel had been so supportive, walking by her side and telling her how great she looked, but even Rachel couldn’t stop the snide comments. Cole had made it his mission to humiliate Percy, mocking her appearance loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Nice skirt, Jackson,” Cole had sneered as Percy walked by. “Trying to figure out what you are today? Or are you just going for ‘freak’?”

Rachel had stepped in, of course, standing up for Percy and calling Cole out, but the damage had been done. Percy had felt the sting of Cole words long after the exchange ended, and it had taken everything in her not to bolt from the hallway right then and there.

Even with Rachel’s support, Percy couldn’t shake the fear of being judged — not just by Cole and his cronies, but by everyone. It was like walking on a tightrope, always trying to balance between who she was and what the world expected her to be.

As they wandered through the stores, Percy couldn’t help but glance around, half-expecting to see someone from school lurking in the background, ready to make a comment. Her heart raced a little faster with each passing minute, the anxiety building up.

After wandering through a few stores without finding anything that really clicked, they stepped into a small boutique. It was cozy and well-organized, with racks of dresses, skirts, blouses, and all sorts of accessories lining the walls. Percy wasn’t really looking for anything in particular—just something that felt right.

And then she saw it.

It was a dress, hanging on the wall, illuminated by soft lights. The fabric was a deep shade of blue, flowing and elegant, with delicate straps and a skirt that would fall just above her knees. It wasn’t too flashy or too formal, but there was something about it that drew her in. Percy’s heart skipped a beat.

She stared at it for a moment, and a part of her immediately wanted to try it on. But just as quickly, doubt crept in. What if people thought she was weird for wearing a dress? What if it didn’t feel right after all? What if… what if she didn’t look good in it?

Sally noticed the way Percy had stopped in her tracks and followed her gaze to the dress. She smiled softly, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “You like that one, don’t you?”

Percy hesitated, not sure how to answer. “I… I do,” she admitted. “But… I don’t know if I should get it.”

Sally frowned gently, tilting her head. “Why not?”

Percy sighed, her eyes still fixed on the dress. “I don’t know… I just—what if people judge me for it? What if I don’t look right in it? What if—”

“Sweetie,” Sally interrupted, her voice calm and reassuring. “The only thing that matters is how you feel in it. If you like it, if it makes you feel good, then that’s all that should matter.”

Percy bit her lip, the uncertainty still gnawing at her. “But what if people think I’m trying too hard? What if they make fun of me, like at school?”

Sally’s expression softened, and she gently turned Percy to face her. “Percy, I know things have been hard at school, and I hate that you have to deal with that kind of cruelty. But you can’t let other people’s judgment dictate how you express yourself. You deserve to feel comfortable and happy in your own skin, no matter what anyone else says.”

Percy’s eyes welled up with emotion as her mom’s words sank in. She wanted to believe them, wanted to feel confident enough to brush off the bullying and the judgment. But it was hard. So hard.

Sally smiled gently, wiping away a tear that had slipped down Percy’s cheek. “You’re strong, Percy. Stronger than you know. And I’ll always be here to remind you of that, no matter what.”

Percy nodded, taking a deep breath. She glanced back at the dress one more time, and this time, the desire to try it on outweighed the doubt. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll try it on.”

---

When Percy stepped out of the dressing room wearing the blue dress, she felt a mix of emotions—nervousness, excitement, fear, and a small spark of confidence. The fabric felt light and soft against her skin, and the way the skirt swayed when she moved made her feel graceful, almost like the ocean itself.

Sally’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes lit up, and a wide smile spread across her face. “Percy, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Percy’s heart swelled with gratitude and relief. She turned to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. For the first time in a long time, she felt… right. The dress didn’t just look good—it made her feel like she was finally starting to embrace the parts of herself she had been afraid to show.

But there was still a flicker of doubt, the voice in the back of her mind reminding her of Cole and the bullies at school. They would laugh, they would mock her. It would hurt.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Sally stepped up behind Percy and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “You look incredible, Percy. And don’t let anyone else’s opinion take that away from you.”

Percy smiled, her eyes meeting her mom’s in the mirror. “Thanks, Mom.”

---

The ride home was filled with light conversation, and by the time they arrived at the apartment, Percy felt lighter. They spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking the clothes they had bought, laughing about some of the sillier pieces they had tried on in the stores.

Later that evening, as they settled onto the couch with hot chocolate, Percy felt a sense of peace wash over her. She wasn’t sure what the next day at school would bring—there would probably still be bullies like Cole, and there would still be days when she struggled with her identity. But today, she had taken a step forward.

As they sipped their hot chocolate, Sally turned to Percy with a thoughtful expression. “You know, no matter what happens, you’re always going to be my Percy. Whether you’re in jeans or a dress, whether you feel more masculine or feminine… you’re always you. And that’s the most important thing.”

Percy smiled, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

Sally reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you, Percy. For being brave enough to figure out who you are, even when it’s not easy.”

Percy leaned into her mom’s embrace, feeling the warmth of her words wrap around her like a comforting blanket. In that moment, she knew she wasn’t alone in this journey. And as long as she had her mom by her side, she could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson sat on the edge of her bed in Poseidon’s cabin, the weight of the Great Prophecy pressing down on her chest like a leaden burden. Her mind was spinning with thoughts she couldn’t fully grasp, and her body was frozen in place as though the air around her had turned to ice. Her 16th birthday was less than a week away, and the prophecy had made one thing agonizingly clear: she was going to die.

The cabin felt eerily quiet, the sounds of Camp Half-Blood muffled in the distance. Normally, the sea breeze through the open windows would be comforting, but today it offered no solace. Percy felt disconnected from everything she had ever known, as though the very ocean she drew strength from was receding, leaving her stranded on a desolate shore. She clutched the edge of her bed, trying to hold on to something, anything, but it all felt like it was slipping away.

The words echoed in her head over and over again, like a cruel chant that she couldn’t escape:

A half-blood of the 3 eldest gods…

The truth felt suffocating. She had always known something big was coming. She had fought monsters, gods, and titans. She had faced death more times than she could count, but this was different. This wasn’t a battle she could win with a sword or clever tactics. This was fate, and fate was unyielding.

For the first time in a long time, Percy Jackson was truly terrified.

-- 

The door to her cabin creaked open, but Percy didn’t look up. She barely registered the sound of footsteps until Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and one of her closest friends, stepped into view.

“Percy,” Thalia said gently, her voice full of concern.

Percy still didn’t move. She was too lost in the storm of emotions that raged inside her. Fear, dread, helplessness — they crashed over her like tidal waves, threatening to pull her under.

Thalia, always direct and strong, didn’t push her. She simply walked over to Percy and sat down beside her on the bed. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Thalia knew something was wrong — she could feel it in the air. But she also knew Percy needed time to speak, to process whatever was going on.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Percy whispered, her voice barely audible, “I’m going to die.”

Thalia turned her head sharply to look at Percy. “What? No. Percy, you’re not—”

Percy cut her off, her voice shaky, “The prophecy… It says I’m going to die when I turn sixteen. That’s in less than a week, Thalia.”

Thalia’s heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in Percy’s voice. She had never seen her friend like this. Percy, who always seemed so strong, so capable, was unraveling right in front of her.

“Come on, Percy, you’ve faced worse odds than this,” Thalia said, trying to inject some hope into her words. But even she knew it sounded hollow. The prophecy was no ordinary threat, and they both knew it.

Percy shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m scared, Thalia. I don’t want to die.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Percy’s body trembled as she started to cry, the tears falling silently at first but then more and more as her grief and fear became too much to contain. Thalia, not one for emotional moments, found herself at a loss for words. All she could do was wrap her arms around Percy and hold her tight as she sobbed.

“I’m so scared,” Percy whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to leave my mom. I don’t want to let anyone down. I’m supposed to be a hero, but what if I can’t do it? What if I fail?”

Thalia’s grip on Percy tightened as she pulled her closer. She had no idea how to comfort Percy. She wanted to promise her that everything would be okay, that they would find a way to beat the prophecy, but how could she make a promise like that? The prophecy was ancient, powerful, and they had both seen firsthand how dangerous the whims of the gods could be.

But there was one thing Thalia knew for sure — Percy wasn’t alone in this.

“You’re not going to let anyone down,” Thalia said softly, resting her chin on top of Percy’s head. “You’ve done more for the camp, for your friends, for everyone than you even realize. You’re the

strongest person I know, Percy, and I don’t say that lightly.”

Percy sniffled, her tears subsiding just a little. Thalia’s words were helping, if only because it felt good to be reminded that she wasn’t completely alone. But the fear was still there, a gnawing dread that wouldn’t go away.

“I don’t feel strong,” Percy murmured. “I feel… lost. Like everything I thought I knew is falling apart.”

Thalia leaned back slightly, pulling away just enough to look Percy in the eye. “That’s okay,” she said, her voice steady. “You don’t always have to be strong. You’re allowed to be scared. But just remember, whatever happens, you’re not in this alone. I’ve got your back, Percy. We all do.”

Percy swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. She wanted to believe Thalia, but the prophecy loomed over her like a dark cloud, casting doubt on everything.

“Do you really think I can do this?” Percy asked, her voice small, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

Thalia smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I know you can. You’re Percy Jackson. If anyone can defy the odds, it’s you.”

-- 

They stayed like that for a while, sitting together on the bed, the weight of the prophecy still heavy but somehow more bearable with Thalia by her side. Eventually, Percy’s tears slowed, and her breathing steadied. She didn’t feel entirely better, but she felt a little less alone, and that was something.

“I wish I could be as sure as you are,” Percy admitted, her voice quiet.

Thalia shrugged, offering a wry smile. “You don’t have to be sure right now. Just take it one step at a time. And if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.”

Percy nodded, grateful for Thalia’s support. It was one thing to know intellectually that her friends were there for her, but it was another thing to feel it in moments like this, when the world seemed to be crumbling around her.

“Thanks, Thalia,” Percy said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Thalia smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Probably get eaten by a monster or something.”

Percy managed a small laugh, despite herself. “Yeah, probably.”

For the first time in hours, the tension in Percy’s chest loosened just a little. The fear was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but it no longer felt quite so overwhelming.

Chapter Text

The chaos of the Battle of Manhattan raged on around Percy, but all they could focus on was the blood. Annabeth’s blood, soaking through her shirt where Ethan Nakamura had stabbed her. The sounds of fighting faded into the background as Percy knelt beside her, their heart pounding in their chest. Annabeth’s breaths were shallow, her face pale, and Percy had never felt more helpless.

"Annabeth, stay with me,” Percy said, their voice tight with panic as they pressed down on her wound. They weren’t sure if they were trying to stop the bleeding or if it was just an instinct to keep her here, keep her alive.

Annabeth’s eyelids fluttered, and she tried to give Percy a reassuring smile, though it was weak and didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Just a scratch…”

“That’s not funny,” Percy muttered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. They couldn’t afford to lose her. Not now. Not ever.

The rest of the world continued to blur as Percy focused solely on Annabeth. Her body was limp against the cold, unforgiving steel of the Williamsburg Bridge, and they could feel her trembling beneath their hands. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and Percy was acutely aware of the ticking clock of the battle around them, knowing they needed to be out there fighting, but how could they leave Annabeth like this?

The battle seemed distant now — the sounds of clashing swords and the roars of monsters muted. All Percy could hear was Annabeth’s labored breathing and the frantic pounding of their own heart.

"Help’s coming," Percy said, though they didn’t know if that was true. “You’re gonna be okay.”

It was a promise Percy wasn’t sure they could keep, and it terrified them. What if they failed? What if she didn’t make it? The thought was unbearable.

Percy wasn’t used to this kind of fear — the fear of losing someone they loved. They had faced monsters, gods, and even titans, but this? Watching Annabeth, the girl they cared about more than anything in the world, struggle to stay conscious — it was a different kind of terror.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth whispered, her voice so faint Percy had to lean closer to hear her.

“Sorry for what?” Percy asked, bewildered.

“For slowing you down,” she said, a flicker of guilt crossing her face.

Percy’s heart ached. “You’re not slowing me down,” they insisted, their voice firm, but the desperation in their eyes betrayed their fear. “You’re the reason I’m still fighting.”

Annabeth’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and Percy’s heart clenched in fear. “Hey, stay with me. Don’t you dare pass out,” they pleaded, shaking her gently.

“I’m… I’m trying,” she mumbled, her hand weakly gripping Percy’s wrist.

Finally, Will Solace and some other demigods appeared, rushing over to take Annabeth to safety. Percy resisted the urge to cling to her, to refuse to let her go, but they knew they had no choice. They had to trust Will to take care of her.

“We’ll get her to somewhere safe,” Will promised as he helped lift Annabeth onto a makeshift stretcher. “She’ll be okay, Percy.”

Percy nodded, their throat too tight to respond. They watched as Will and the others hurried away, taking Annabeth with them, leaving Percy standing on the bridge, alone.

For a moment, Percy couldn’t move. The battle continued to rage around them, but all they could think about was Annabeth. They wanted to follow her, to make sure she was really okay, but they knew they couldn’t. There was a war going on, and they had a job to do.

Percy took a deep breath, steeling themselves. Annabeth would want them to keep fighting. She wouldn’t want them to abandon the battle for her sake.

But gods, it was hard.

---

As Percy plunged back into the thick of the battle, their mind kept drifting back to Annabeth. Every swing of their sword, every strike they parried, it was all automatic. They weren’t fully present, their thoughts always circling back to the image of Annabeth lying pale and bleeding on that bridge.

Luke had turned the Titans on Manhattan. Kronos was inside Luke’s body, leading the assault, and Percy knew the fate of the world rested on this fight. But right now, the fate of the world felt insignificant compared to the thought of Annabeth suffering.

Percy tore through monsters with a desperation that bordered on reckless. Each strike of their blade was filled with anger, frustration, and fear. They needed to get back to Annabeth, but every step they took seemed to lead them deeper into the fray.

Luke had always been a shadow over their lives, someone Percy had once admired and now loathed. But for some reason, that hatred was intertwined with a deep sadness. Luke had been the first to really believe in them when Percy was new to Camp Half-Blood. He’d supported them when no one else did, helped Percy navigate the confusing world of gods and monsters, and even helped them work through their struggles with their identity.

But now? Luke had betrayed them all. He had betrayed Annabeth. And worse, he had become Kronos.

The memory of his betrayal weighed heavy on Percy’s heart as they fought. It wasn’t just Annabeth’s injury that shook them — it was everything they had lost. Luke had once been someone they looked up to, and now he was the enemy. Percy couldn’t help but wonder if things could have been different. Could they have stopped him? Could they have saved him?

But there was no time for second-guessing now. Percy had to focus, even though their mind kept wandering to Annabeth, lying back at camp with a stab wound, possibly dying.

A Hellhound lunged at Percy, snapping its jaws inches from their face, but they blocked it with Riptide, the celestial bronze blade cutting cleanly through the monster’s throat. The beast dissolved into golden dust, but before Percy could even catch their breath, another monster took its place.

The fight felt endless, a blur of violence and chaos. Percy’s muscles ached, and their chest burned with exhaustion, but they refused to stop. They had to keep going. They had to win this.

---

Hours passed in a haze of battle. Percy lost track of how many monsters they had fought, how many times they had come close to being overwhelmed. But all the while, one thought kept them going: they had to survive. Not for the prophecy. Not for the gods. But for Annabeth.

The sun had dipped low in the sky by the time Percy found a moment’s respite. They were covered in sweat and dirt, their body aching from head to toe. But they couldn’t stop. Not yet.

They looked around the battlefield, trying to spot any sign of Annabeth, but of course, she wasn’t here. She was safe — or at least, Percy hoped she was safe. 

Percy’s heart twisted in their chest. They had been so focused on the battle, on keeping their friends alive, that they hadn’t even had time to check on her. The worry gnawed at them, and it was becoming harder and harder to push it down.

“You okay, Jackson?” someone asked, breaking through Percy’s thoughts.

They turned to see Clarisse La Rue, her face streaked with blood and her armor dented from the fight. She looked exhausted but still ready for more.

“Yeah,” Percy lied, wiping the sweat from their brow. “Just… tired.”

Clarisse raised an eyebrow. “Tired? You? Please. You’re like a machine out here.”

Percy forced a weak smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “Just trying to keep up.”

Clarisse gave them a skeptical look, but she didn’t push it. “Well, don’t burn out on us now. We still need you.”

Percy nodded, but their mind was already wandering back to Annabeth. They couldn’t stop picturing her lying in that stretcher, bleeding and weak. What if she didn’t make it? What if Percy never got to tell her how they really felt?

They loved her.

---

Percy didn’t know when it had happened, when the feelings had shifted from friendship to something deeper. Maybe it had been there all along, buried under layers of denial and fear. But now, with Annabeth’s life hanging in the balance, it was impossible to ignore.

The realization scared them more than anything else. Percy wasn’t used to feeling this way — vulnerable, uncertain. They were always the one to take charge, to dive headfirst into danger without hesitation. But this? Loving Annabeth? It made them feel exposed in a way they weren’t prepared for.

And what if it was too late?

The thought sent a jolt of panic through Percy, and they clenched their fists, trying to steady their breathing. They couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now. Annabeth was strong. She would survive. She had to.

But that didn’t stop the fear from gnawing at them.

Percy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. They looked up to see Grover running toward them, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear.

“Percy!” Grover panted, out of breath. “We need you. There’s a problem—”

Percy didn’t need to hear the rest. They were already running.

---

The rest of the battle passed in a blur. Percy fought with everything they had, pushing themselves to the brink of exhaustion. They didn’t know how much longer they could keep going, but they didn’t have a choice.

When it was finally over, when the monsters were defeated and the city was safe (for now), Percy collapsed to the ground, their body trembling with exhaustion.

They were alive. They had won. But all Percy could think about was Annabeth.

Without a word, they got to their feet and began the long, painful walk to the makeshift infirmary 

---

By the time Percy arrived at the makeshift infimary, their legs felt like lead and their body was screaming in protest. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was seeing Annabeth.

They rushed to the infirmary, their heart pounding in their chest. As soon as they stepped inside, their eyes scanned the room, searching for her.

And there she was.

Annabeth was lying in one of the beds, her face still pale but her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Will Solace was hovering nearby, checking her vitals, but when he saw Percy, he stepped aside with a knowing look.

“She’s stable,” Will said quietly. “She’ll be okay.”

Percy felt a wave of relief wash over them, and they nodded, too choked up to speak.

They moved to Annabeth’s bedside, sinking into the chair next to her. For the first time since the battle began, Percy allowed themselves to breathe.

Annabeth was okay.

She was alive.

And Percy? They would make sure it stayed that way.

Chapter Text

The Battle of Manhattan was over, but the chaos it left behind lingered in the air like a thick fog. Percy glanced around at the wreckage of what had once been her home city — the once bustling streets of Manhattan were littered with debris, broken weapons, and the remains of monsters that had turned to dust.

They had won.

The relief that should have washed over her was dulled by exhaustion. Percy’s body ached, and her mind was a jumbled mess of fatigue and disbelief. They had won, but at what cost? The city was in ruins. So many demigods had been lost. And Luke... Luke had sacrificed himself in the end to defeat Kronos.

Percy’s chest tightened. She had mixed feelings about Luke. His betrayal still stung, but in his last moments, he had chosen to do the right thing. The prophecy had been fulfilled, and the world had been saved, but Percy couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t truly over.

But then her thoughts turned to Annabeth.

She looked over her shoulder, searching the battlefield until her eyes found her. Annabeth was standing a few feet away, her face streaked with dirt and exhaustion, but she was alive. The sight of her filled Percy with a sense of calm that she hadn’t felt since the battle began. Annabeth caught Percy’s eye and gave her a tired but triumphant smile.

Percy’s heart leapt in her chest, and she felt a surge of emotion that was different from the adrenaline of battle. She had always known she cared deeply for Annabeth, but now, standing here in the aftermath of war, she realized it was more than that.

It had always been more.

Annabeth stepped forward, her eyes scanning the sky as if searching for something — or someone. Percy knew who it was. She was thinking of Luke, of the friend she had lost long before he became their enemy.

“We did it,” Annabeth said “We saved the world.”

Percy nodded, but the words felt hollow. The world was safe, yes, but she couldn’t help but think about everything they had lost.

Percy moved to stand next to Annabeth, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

Annabeth didn’t answer at first. She took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself, and then turned to look at Percy. “I think so,” she said, though her voice wavered slightly. “I just... I can’t believe it’s over.”

Percy nodded, understanding completely. “Me neither.”

They stood there in silence for a while, watching as the remaining demigods and satyrs worked to clear the battlefield and tend to the wounded. It was a somber scene, but there was also a sense of hope that hung in the air. They had survived, and now they had a chance to rebuild.

-- 

Percy sat at the poseidon 

Annabeth took a step closer, her gray eyes locking onto Percy’s. “I don’t want to lose you, Percy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve lost so many people, and I don’t think I could handle losing you too.”

Percy’s breath hitched. She had faced gods and titans, fought monsters and survived countless battles, but nothing had ever made her feel as vulnerable as Annabeth’s words did in that moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Percy said, her voice soft but firm. “I promise.”

Annabeth smiled, a small, tentative smile, but it was enough to make Percy’s heart swell. For a moment, the exhaustion of the battle faded, and all Percy could focus on was Annabeth — the way her hair fell in loose curls around her face, the determination in her eyes, and the way her presence always seemed to ground Percy, no matter what chaos surrounded them.

“I... I care about you, Annabeth,” Percy admitted, her voice trembling slightly as she finally put words to the feelings she had been grappling with for so long. “I think I always have.”

Annabeth’s smile grew, and Percy felt a rush of warmth spread through her chest. “I care about you too, Percy,” she said softly. “More than you know.”

They stood there, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally lifting, and for the first time since the battle began, Percy felt like everything might actually be okay.

Before Percy could say anything else, Annabeth leaned in, her lips brushing against Percy’s in a soft, tentative kiss. Percy froze for a moment, her mind going blank, but then she kissed her back, her heart pounding in her chest.

The kiss was brief, but it was enough to send Percy’s thoughts spinning. When they pulled apart, Annabeth’s cheeks were flushed, and Percy was sure her own face was just as red.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” Annabeth said, her voice breathless.

Percy chuckled, though it came out a little shaky. “Yeah. Me too.”

They stood there for a moment longer, just looking at each other, before Annabeth took Percy’s hand in hers. “Come on,” she said, tugging her gently. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

The walk back to Camp Half-Blood was quiet, both Percy and Annabeth too exhausted to talk much, but there was a new kind of understanding between them. A closeness that hadn’t been there before, even after everything they had been through.

When they arrived at camp, they were greeted with cheers and applause from the other campers. The celebration was already in full swing, with bonfires roaring and food being passed around. But Percy barely noticed. All she could think about was Annabeth, and the way her hand still held onto Percy’s, as if she was afraid to let go.

Chiron approached them, his expression a mix of pride and relief. “You’ve done it,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve saved Olympus.”

Percy nodded, but the weight of the victory hadn’t fully sunk in yet. She still felt like she was in a daze, her mind struggling to process everything that had happened. But when she looked at Annabeth, standing by her side, she felt a sense of clarity.

“We did it together,” Percy said, her voice quiet but resolute.

Chiron smiled warmly. “Indeed you did.”

As the night wore on, the celebration continued, but Percy and Annabeth found a quiet spot by the edge of the camp, away from the noise and the chaos. They sat together, leaning against the trunk of a tree, their hands still intertwined.

The stars were bright overhead, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Percy felt a sense of peace. The war was over. They had won. And for the first time, Percy allowed herself to think about the future — a future where she didn’t have to fight for her life every day. A future where she could be with Annabeth, without the weight of the world hanging over her.

“Do you think it’s really over?” Annabeth asked, her voice soft as she rested her head on Percy’s shoulder.

Percy thought about it for a moment before answering. “I think so,” she said. “At least, for now.”

Annabeth nodded, her fingers tracing patterns on the back of Percy’s hand. “Good,” she said. “Because I’m tired of fighting.”

Percy smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the girl beside her. “Me too.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the stars and listening to the distant sounds of the campfire. The world felt still, as if it was finally giving them a moment to breathe.

But even in the stillness, Percy couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened. The prophecy had been fulfilled, but the cost had been high. So many lives had been lost, and Percy knew that things would never be the same again.

But at the same time, she felt hopeful. For the first time in a long time, she felt like there was a future worth fighting for. And that future, she realized, included Annabeth.

“I love you,” Percy blurted out before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Percy panicked, wondering if she had said too much, too soon.

But then Annabeth smiled, her gray eyes

 soft and full of affection. “I love you too, Seaweed Brain,” she said, her voice teasing but full of warmth.

Percy’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Took you long enough to say it.”

Annabeth laughed, and the sound was like music to Percy’s ears. “Well, I had to make sure you were worth it.”

Percy rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “I guess I’ll just have to keep proving it to you.”

Annabeth leaned in, her lips brushing against Percy’s once more, and Percy felt her heart soar. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

And as they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, Percy knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The war was over, but their journey had just begun. And Percy wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

After the war, Percy Jackson had expected relief to wash over him. The Second Titan War was over. Kronos was defeated. Olympus was saved. But victory didn’t bring the peace Percy had hoped for. Instead, it left him with a crushing burden—grief and guilt. Faces haunted his dreams—Beckendorf, Silena, Michael Yew—friends who had fought bravely and paid the ultimate price. 

And Percy blamed himself. 

He blamed himself for their deaths, and no one could convince him otherwise. The nightmares had started almost immediately after the war ended, followed closely by panic attacks that made it impossible to focus or breathe. But Percy kept it all to himself. He didn’t want to seem weak. Heroes weren’t supposed to crumble after the fight was over.

---

School was torture. Returning to Goode High was harder than Percy had imagined. On the surface, he was just a normal teenager again, trying to get through classes, homework, and everyday life. But nothing felt normal. Every step through the hallways was heavy, his mind lost in a fog of sleepless nights and the haunting memories of the war.

The bullies—Cole and his friends—had sensed the change in him. Percy didn’t talk much anymore, didn’t fight back when they shoved him into lockers or called him names. He didn’t have the energy. Between his ADHD, dyslexia, and the grief that gnawed at him, school had become unbearable. And sleep... sleep was impossible. The nightmares wouldn’t let him rest.

---

One particularly bad day started with a nightmare. Beckendorf was in it again, his face streaked with soot, his eyes pleading as the explosion consumed him on the Princess Andromeda. Then Silena appeared, her voice trembling as she confessed her betrayal. Percy saw her face, twisted in guilt and sorrow, before she was gone. Finally, Michael Yew fell from the bridge, his scream echoing in Percy’s ears as he plummeted toward the dark waters below.

Percy jolted awake, his chest heaving. Sweat soaked his sheets, and his heart raced like it was trying to escape his body. He gasped for air, but no matter how deeply he breathed, it didn’t feel like enough. The room spun. He gripped the edge of his bed, trying to ground himself, but the terror had him in its grip.

Not again. Not now.

He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on his face. The cold shock helped, but only for a moment. His reflection stared back at him, pale and trembling. 

“Get it together,” he whispered to himself, but his voice shook. He leaned against the sink, pressing his palms into the cold ceramic, trying to focus on the sensation. Deep breaths. Just breathe. 

---

By the time Percy arrived at school, he was already drained. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, his mind foggy from the lack of sleep. He could barely concentrate in his classes, his thoughts drifting back to the war, to the faces of his fallen friends. 

Lunchtime was no better. Percy sat alone, picking at his food, lost in his thoughts. His stomach twisted with anxiety—anxiety that hadn’t left him since he woke up. His heart still raced in his chest, a constant reminder that something wasn’t right. 

Rachel usually sat with him, but today she was running late. Percy didn’t mind; he preferred being alone right now. He didn’t have the energy to keep up a conversation, not even with Rachel, who was usually a bright spot in his day.

As Percy stared at his tray, his thoughts drifted again. He saw Beckendorf’s face, Silena’s dying confession, Michael Yew’s body falling into the abyss. The cafeteria noise became distant, muffled, like it was coming from underwater. His chest tightened. 

Not again.

He clenched his fists, his breathing growing shallow. His vision blurred, and the edges of his world started to close in. He couldn’t breathe. His heart pounded in his ears, louder and louder, until it was the only thing he could hear.

Panic attack.

He needed to get out of there. Now.

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process, and rushed out of the cafeteria. He didn’t care if people were staring. He just needed to get away. His feet moved on autopilot, carrying him to the nearest bathroom. He burst through the door and locked himself in a stall, his back pressed against the cold tile wall as he slid down to the floor.

His breaths came in rapid, shallow gasps. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get enough air. His chest felt like it was caving in, like someone had wrapped a chain around his lungs and was pulling tighter and tighter. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and his entire body shook as the panic attack consumed him.

*I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.*

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his knees as he rocked back and forth. He had to focus. He had to get through this. But the images of his friends—Beckendorf, Silena, Michael—kept flashing in his mind, fueling the panic, making it worse.

The war. The deaths. The guilt.

Why hadn’t he saved them? Why wasn’t he fast enough? Strong enough? He was supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to protect them. But he had failed.

A sob escaped his throat, and then another. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The weight of everything—the war, the deaths, the nightmares—was too much. He felt like he was drowning, and there was no one to pull him out.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, curled up on the bathroom floor, his body wracked with sobs. Minutes passed, maybe longer. His head pounded, his chest ached, and his breath came in short, ragged gasps. But eventually, the panic began to subside. The tightness in his chest loosened, and his breathing, though still shaky, began to even out.

Percy leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tried to collect himself. He felt hollow, like the panic attack had drained him of everything he had left. He wiped at his eyes, trying to get rid of the evidence of his breakdown, though he knew he still looked a mess.

---

When Percy finally left the bathroom, he kept his head down, hoping no one had noticed his absence. The hallways were mostly empty, and he was thankful for that. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

He somehow made it through the rest of the day, though he didn’t remember much of it. His mind was still foggy from the panic attack, and his body felt like it was moving through molasses. He barely heard his teachers, barely registered the assignments being given. He was just trying to get through the day without breaking again.

---

When Percy got home that evening, Sally was waiting for him, as always. She greeted him with a warm smile, but Percy could see the worry in her eyes. She had noticed the change in him ever since the war ended—the way he was quieter, more withdrawn, the way his shoulders seemed to carry a weight too heavy for someone his age.

“How was school, sweetie?” she asked, her voice gentle as she handed him a plate of cookies.

“It was fine,” Percy lied, not meeting her gaze as he took a cookie and headed toward his room.

Sally watched him go, her heart heavy with concern. She had tried to give him space, to let him process everything in his own time, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that something was wrong. Percy was hurting, and she didn’t know how to help him.

Later that evening, as they sat down for dinner, Sally gently brought it up again.

“Honey, you’ve been really quiet lately,” she said, her voice soft but filled with concern. “Is everything okay at school? With… everything?”

Percy hesitated, pushing his food around on his plate. He didn’t want to worry his mom. She had been through enough already. But the truth was, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending everything was fine.

“I’m just… tired,” Percy finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sally reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’ve been through a lot, Percy. It’s okay to not be okay.”

Percy swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat. He wanted to tell her everything—the nightmares, the panic attacks, the guilt that was eating him alive—but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to break down in front of her, didn’t want her to see just how messed up he was.

“I’ll be okay,” Percy said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I promise.”

But deep down, Percy wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore. 

---

That night, the nightmares returned. The same faces, the same guilt. Beckendorf, Silena, Michael—all of them asking why he hadn’t saved them. Percy woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his body trembling. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with guilt and grief.

Sleep didn’t come easily anymore. And neither did peace.

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson wasn’t used to “normal” days. Their life had always been a chaotic mix of battling monsters, navigating prophecies, and trying to keep the world from ending. But today was different. Today, they had a date with Annabeth Chase. A normal date in Manhattan, where there were no prophecies to worry about and no monsters lurking in the shadows. Just them, Annabeth, and the city.

Percy had to admit they were nervous. They had faced gods, Titans, and all kinds of mythical creatures, but something about spending a whole day with Annabeth—just the two of them—made their heart race in a different way. It wasn’t that they hadn’t spent time together before; they’d been through life-and-death situations countless times. But this was different. This was real, and it felt important.

Manhattan was buzzing with life as always, but for Percy, everything seemed to move in slow motion. The sounds of the city—the honking cars, distant chatter, the hum of activity—were all background noise. Today, their focus was entirely on Annabeth.

They had agreed to meet by the Met, a fitting place for a daughter of Athena. Annabeth was already there when Percy arrived, sitting on the steps, her gray eyes scanning the street as if she were planning some grand architecture project. When she spotted Percy, a smile lit up her face, and Percy’s heart did a little flip.

“There you are,” Annabeth said, standing up and dusting off her jeans. She looked effortlessly beautiful, as always. Her curly blonde hair was tied back, but a few strands framed her face. Percy felt their breath hitch as she gave them a once-over, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You clean up nice.”

Percy smiled, tugging at the hem of their shirt. “Thanks. I tried not to look like I just came back from fighting a Minotaur.”

Annabeth laughed, and the sound was like music to Percy’s ears. “Well, you succeeded. Ready for a normal day, Seaweed Brain?”

They nodded, their nerves settling as Annabeth slipped her hand into theirs. The warmth of her touch made everything feel right. This was it—their chance to enjoy something simple, something just for them.

---

Their first stop was the park. Central Park was bustling with people enjoying the sunshine. They strolled along the winding paths, hand in hand, the gentle breeze tugging at their clothes. Annabeth’s eyes were constantly on the lookout for interesting architecture, while Percy tried to focus on the moment. It was hard not to let their mind drift to thoughts of danger, of what was next in their lives as demigods, but Annabeth had a way of grounding them.

“You ever wonder what it would be like if we were just normal?” Percy asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. They glanced at Annabeth, who was admiring a statue they passed.

She turned her head slightly, giving the question some thought. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But then I think… normal would be boring, right?”

Percy chuckled. “Boring sounds kinda nice after everything.”

Annabeth grinned, nudging Percy’s shoulder with hers. “Maybe. But I don’t think we’d know what to do with ourselves.”

They walked on, the conversation flowing easily between them. They talked about their memories from camp, laughing at the absurdity of their quests, and reminiscing about their friends. The worries of the world seemed to fade away as they enjoyed each other’s company.

Eventually, they found themselves at a cozy café just off the park, the kind of place that felt like a hidden gem in the middle of the bustling city. They ordered sandwiches and sat outside, the city stretching out before them like it was theirs alone.

Percy took a sip of their iced tea, watching as Annabeth took a bite of her sandwich. They loved seeing her like this, relaxed and at ease. It was a side of her they didn’t get to see often—when she wasn’t in battle mode, planning every step like they were in the middle of a labyrinth. Here, she was just Annabeth.

“You’re staring,” Annabeth said, raising an eyebrow, but there was a soft smile playing on her lips.

Percy felt their face flush. “Sorry, I just… I like seeing you like this.”

Annabeth’s smile grew, and she reached across the table to squeeze Percy’s hand. “I like seeing you like this too.”

For a while, they just sat there, enjoying their food and the easy conversation. It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. But Percy held onto it, letting themselves get lost in the moment.

---

Later that afternoon, they found themselves in Times Square. Percy had always found the place overwhelming—too many people, too many lights—but with Annabeth by their side, it didn’t feel so bad. They wandered through the crowds, stopping at stores and window shopping. Annabeth dragged Percy into a bookstore, where they spent a good hour browsing shelves. Percy wasn’t much of a reader, but they liked the way Annabeth’s eyes lit up whenever she found something interesting.

At some point, they ended up talking about music. Annabeth mentioned a song she’d been obsessed with recently—“Naked in Manhattan” by Chappell Roan.

“It’s a fun song,” Annabeth said with a grin. “It’s got this wild, carefree energy. You’d like it.”

Percy smirked. “You think I’d like a song called *Naked in Manhattan*?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes but laughed. “You would. It’s about living in the moment, being free—kind of like what we’re doing today.”

Percy couldn’t help but smile at that. Living in the moment. It wasn’t something they were used to. Life as a demigod didn’t exactly allow for carefree days. But today, with Annabeth, it felt possible.

“I’ll have to listen to it when we get home,” Percy said.

“You better. It’s a date.”

---

As the evening rolled in, the city transformed, the lights of Manhattan flickering on one by one like stars in the night sky. Percy and Annabeth walked along the Hudson River, the cool breeze ruffling their clothes. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“Thanks for today,” Percy said softly. “I really needed this.”

Annabeth glanced at them, her expression softening. “I needed it too.”

They stopped at the edge of the pier, leaning against the railing as they watched the boats go by. The city lights reflected off the water, creating a shimmering canvas before them. Percy’s heart was full, and for the first time in a long while, they felt truly at peace.

Annabeth moved closer to Percy, her shoulder brushing against theirs. “You know,” she said quietly, “you belong here.”

Percy turned to her, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Annabeth looked out at the city, her eyes taking in the skyline. “I mean… here. In Manhattan. In the mortal world. You belong in both worlds, Percy. You’ve always managed to bridge the gap between them, even when it seemed impossible.”

Percy swallowed, their throat tightening at her words. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”

Annabeth turned to face them, her gray eyes searching theirs. “You do. And you’re strong enough to handle whatever comes next. You’ve proven that over and over again.”

There was a moment of silence between them, the weight of her words settling in. Percy wanted to believe her, wanted to trust that they could handle everything. But sometimes the weight of their responsibilities felt too heavy, too overwhelming.

Annabeth must have sensed their hesitation because she reached up, gently cupping Percy’s cheek. “You’ve got this, Seaweed Brain,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with conviction. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

Percy’s heart swelled, and before they could say anything, Annabeth leaned in and kissed them. It wasn’t their first kiss, but it felt just as magical as the first time. The world around them seemed to fade away, and for a moment, it was just them—Percy and Annabeth—lost in each other.

When they finally pulled apart, Percy felt breathless, their heart racing in their chest. Annabeth smiled up at them, and Percy couldn’t help but grin back.

“Okay,” Percy said, their voice a little shaky but full of warmth. “I believe you.”

---

The night ended with the two of them back at Percy’s apartment. Sally was out for the evening, giving them the place to themselves. They sprawled out on the couch, exhausted but content, the events of the day replaying in their minds.

Percy grabbed their mp3 player and pulled up the song Annabeth had mentioned earlier ‘Naked in Manhattan”. As the upbeat melody filled the room, Annabeth laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Told you it’s a good song,” she said, nudging Percy playfully.

Percy chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “Yeah, you were right. It’s pretty great.”

As the song played, they both closed their eyes, letting the music wash over them. It was the perfect way to end a perfect day.

For once, there were no monsters to fight, no prophecies to worry about. It was just them, the city, and the feeling of being free.

And for Percy, that was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson was used to feeling lost. It kind of came with the territory when you were a demigod—half mortal, half god, constantly caught between two worlds. But this? This was a different kind of lost.

When Percy first woke up in the wilderness of Northern California, memories were scattered like leaves in a storm. He remembered nothing except one thing: Annabeth. Her name was the only thing that anchored him, like a beacon in a sea of confusion. Everything else about his life was blank.

As Percy made his way south, through forests and across rivers, an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t remember who he was or where he came from. It was deeper than that—like something was missing from him, a piece of himself that had been carved away.

The mist had messed with his mind, that much was clear, but there was something else. He couldn’t quite place it. All he knew was that when people called him “he,” or when they assumed things about him, it felt... off. Like putting on a shirt that used to fit but had somehow shrunk without him realizing. But how could that be? He was Percy Jackson, wasn’t he? A son of Poseidon, a hero of Olympus. Yet every time someone treated him as if that was all there was to him, it felt incomplete.

The strangest part was, Percy couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. The feeling was just there, lurking in the back of his mind. It stayed with him like a shadow, growing heavier as he approached Camp Jupiter, the Roman demigod camp. He tried to shake it off, telling himself he was just disoriented from the memory loss, but no matter what, it clung to him.

---

When Percy arrived at Camp Jupiter, he was met with suspicion and wary glances. He understood why—they didn’t know him, and for all he knew, he could be a threat to them. The other demigods watched him carefully, their eyes full of questions he didn’t have answers to.

As he stood in front of Reyna, the Praetor of Camp Jupiter, he felt that same nagging discomfort again. She was strong, serious, and imposing, sizing him up like she wasn’t sure whether to trust him. Percy didn’t blame her. He couldn’t even trust himself at the moment. But every time she addressed him, using “he” and “him” in such a matter-of-fact way, Percy couldn’t help but flinch inwardly.

“You’re a son of Neptune?” Reyna asked, her tone neutral but skeptical. The Roman gods, it seemed, had different names than the Greek ones he vaguely remembered.

“Yeah,” Percy answered, though his voice sounded uncertain to his own ears. “I think so. I mean... yes, Neptune.”

Reyna narrowed her eyes at him, but then nodded. “We’ll see. For now, you’ll be placed with the Fifth Cohort. If you really are a son of Neptune, then you’ll have a part to play here. But don’t expect an easy time.”

Percy didn’t need an easy time—he just needed answers. Who was he? Why did he feel like he was missing something fundamental about himself? And why, even with all the uncertainty swirling in his mind, was the only thing he could remember Annabeth?

As Percy followed Hazel, a friendly but reserved girl who had been assigned to show him around, he noticed something strange. Camp Jupiter was organized, disciplined, and... different. Everything here felt sharper, more rigid than the Camp Half-Blood he barely remembered. The Roman camp had its own traditions, its own rules, and Percy felt like an outsider, even though everyone insisted he belonged.

As they walked, Hazel explained the layout of the camp, pointing out the different barracks, training areas, and mess halls. She spoke with a gentle authority, and Percy appreciated the way she tried to make him feel included. But every time she addressed him, that same uncomfortable itch returned.

“And over there is the Temple of Jupiter,” Hazel said, pointing to a large structure near the center of camp. “If you’re a son of Neptune, that means you’re part of the legion now. You’ll have duties, but we’ll figure that out after you’re settled.”

Percy nodded along, trying to focus on the information she was giving him, but his thoughts kept drifting. His memories were still a blur, but something about the way people talked to him didn’t sit right. It was like they were seeing him as a person he wasn’t. Or maybe... a person he wasn’t sure he was?

“You okay?” Hazel asked, her golden eyes flicking to Percy’s face as they walked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m just... still getting used to all this.”

“Don’t worry,” Hazel said with a reassuring smile. “It’s a lot, but you’ll get the hang of it. Frank and I will help you.”

Percy smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Hazel was nice, but she couldn’t help with the question gnawing at him. Only Percy could figure out what was wrong with him—or at least, what was missing.

---

His friendship with Frank and Hazel was a relief. Frank, a big guy with a heart just as big, was always trying to boost Percy’s spirits. He was awkward at times, but kind, and Percy appreciated that. Hazel was more reserved, but her quiet strength made Percy feel less alone in the camp. She understood what it was like to have pieces of yourself missing—she had her own dark past, though Percy didn’t know all the details yet.

That night, after the war games, Percy sat on his bed in the Fifth Cohort barracks, staring at the ceiling. The Roman architecture loomed above him, imposing and cold, a reminder of the expectations placed on him. The quest he had to go on. 

The other campers were asleep, or at least pretending to be. Percy’s thoughts, though, were racing.

What was it about his identity that felt so wrong? Why did he feel so out of place in his own skin? Who was he supposed to be?

Annabeth had been the only person who understood him before all of this. He was sure of it, he didn’t have many memories, but he did remember that. 

---

Later that night, Percy lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling once again. Sleep wouldn’t come, not with everything weighing on his mind.

What was wrong with him? Why did it feel like no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t fit into the mold everyone seemed to expect him to fill? It wasn’t just the memory loss. It was something deeper—something that had been with him long before he woke up in the wilderness.

Percy closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. But instead of calming down, his mind raced even faster.

Before he knew it, Percy was up and out of bed, heading for the bathroom. He barely registered the cold tiles beneath his feet as he locked the door behind him. His breathing was shallow, too fast, and his heart pounded in his chest. He leaned against the sink, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Why did he feel this way? Why couldn’t he figure out what was wrong with him?

The reflection in the mirror stared back at him, blurry and distorted in the dim light. Percy’s breath hitched, and panic surged through him.

What’s wrong with him?

He couldn’t breathe.

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson’s head spun, his grip tight on the hilt of his sword as he trudged through the rocky landscape with Hazel and Frank by his side. The journey to meet Iris at the Rainbow Organic Foods & Lifestyles (ROFL) store was supposed to be a minor detour, but every step felt like a battle. His body ached, his thoughts were a jumbled mess, and the weight of everything—his lost memories, his uncertain identity, the looming war—bore down on him like a hundred-pound weight.

He had only one clear memory that anchored him to any sense of reality: Annabeth. Her face, her voice, her presence. But lately, even those memories were beginning to blur. The harder Percy tried to hold on to her, the more she slipped through his fingers. And with every fading image, a deeper fear clawed at him—a fear that he was losing himself completely.

Frank and Hazel walked ahead, chatting quietly, but Percy could barely focus on their words. All he knew was that something was wrong with him. It wasn’t just the absence of his memories, it was something deeper, something he couldn’t explain.

He didn't fit into this world. Even as the son of Neptune, he felt like an outsider in Camp Jupiter. The Romans, with their strict order and rigid structure, treated him like a tool, a weapon, nothing more. And every time someone called him a "son" or "he," it felt like nails on a chalkboard. He didn’t know why. That part of him—the part that understood why the words grated against his skin—was locked away with his stolen memories.

But whatever it was, it scared him. Percy could feel the edges of panic creeping into his mind, threatening to spill over.

They reached the store, its colorful sign flashing a bit too cheerily for what Percy was feeling. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, almost soothing, with the gentle hum of water fountains and the scent of flowers filling the air. Percy should have felt relaxed. Instead, the tightness in his chest grew worse.

Hazel led the way to the back where Iris, the rainbow goddess, was said to operate. The place was quirky, full of peace signs and bright murals, but Percy barely registered any of it. His heart was pounding too fast, his skin tingling with that all-too-familiar sense of dread.

Iris stood behind a counter, her brightly colored hair catching the light. Next to her, a woman named Fleecy smiled warmly. But as they exchanged pleasantries, Percy’s world began to narrow. Their voices seemed to blend together, becoming muffled, like he was underwater. He blinked hard, trying to shake the fog clouding his vision.

Suddenly, the room felt too small, too confining. Percy’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as if a vice was squeezing him. His throat constricted, and for a moment, he thought he might choke.

“I... I can’t...” Percy whispered, but his voice didn’t feel like his own. It was too weak, too fragile.

Hazel and Frank both turned toward him, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern.

“Percy?” Hazel stepped closer, her brow furrowed.

But he couldn’t respond. His body wouldn’t cooperate. His hands began to shake uncontrollably, and a wave of nausea rolled over him. His vision blurred, and the colors around him became too bright, too overwhelming. He wanted to scream, to break free of this invisible cage that was closing in on him, but all he could do was stand there, gasping for air.

“Percy, what’s wrong?” Frank asked, moving to his side, but Percy could barely hear him.

He didn’t know what was happening to him. The weight pressing on his chest felt suffocating, as though he was being crushed from the inside. He couldn’t breathe. His hands flew to his chest, clawing at his shirt as if that would help him get air, but it didn’t. His lungs felt like they were on fire.

I’m not just a boy. I don’t fit here. I don’t belong.

The thoughts swirled in his mind, a storm of confusion and fear. He didn’t understand it, couldn’t remember why he felt this way. But it was real. It was tearing him apart.

“Percy!” Hazel’s voice cut through the haze, her hands gently grasping his shoulders. “Look at me. You’re having a panic attack.”

But Percy couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t focus on anything except the overwhelming terror that was consuming him. A panic attack she had said, it sounded familar but he didn’t know what it was, he couldn’t remember, he couldn’t remember anything. 

His stomach lurched, and before he could stop it, he doubled over and vomited into the nearest trash can. The act did nothing to alleviate the pressure in his chest, and tears stung his eyes as he tried to gasp for air.

Hazel and Frank stood helplessly by, clearly unsure of what to do. They exchanged glances, but it was clear neither of them had any idea how to help.

“Breathe, Percy. You have to breathe,” Hazel urged, her voice steady but filled with concern. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

But Percy couldn’t breathe. His entire body was shaking, his heart pounding so fast it felt like it was going to explode. He could feel the world spinning around him, slipping out of his control.

Everything was wrong. His memories, his identity, even the way people saw him—it was all wrong. And the worst part was, he didn’t know how to fix it.

I don’t belong here.

“I... I don’t know who I am,” Percy choked out between gasps. The admission felt like ripping open a wound, exposing the raw, bleeding part of himself he’d been trying to ignore.

Frank stepped closer, awkwardly rubbing Percy’s back, but it didn’t help. The panic was too strong, too overwhelming. Percy felt like he was drowning, and no matter how hard he tried to surface, the water kept pulling him under.

And then, just when Percy thought he couldn’t take it anymore, a new wave of nausea hit him, and he retched again into the trash can, his whole body trembling with the force of it.

Iris and Fleecy had been watching, their expressions shifting from surprise to sympathy. Iris stepped forward, concern etched into her face.

“Percy, listen to me,” Frank said gently. “You’re safe here. But you need to calm down. Breathe.”

“I—I can’t... I can’t—” Percy gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt like he was splintering apart, shattering into pieces that he couldn’t put back together.

The memories of Annabeth—the one thing that had grounded him in all of this—were slipping away. Her face, her voice... everything was fading, just like everything else. And without her, Percy felt like he had nothing left to hold onto.

“Iris,” Percy managed to croak out, his voice trembling with desperation. “Please... help me. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know who I am.”

Tears blurred his vision, and he blinked them away furiously. Percy wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be strong, a hero. But right now, he felt like nothing more than a terrified kid who had lost everything that mattered.

Iris’s face softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that told Percy she couldn’t give him what he was asking for.

“I wish I could help you, Percy,” she said quietly. “But this... this isn’t something I can fix. There are forces at work here that I can’t interfere with. It’s not my place to undo what has been done.”

“Hera’s plan...” Percy whispered bitterly. He knew, deep down, that Hera was the one responsible for his lost memories, for this hollow feeling that gnawed at him every second of every day. She had taken everything from him, and now he was left to pick up the pieces.

Iris nodded solemnly. “Yes. Hera has her reasons, and while I don’t agree with them, I cannot go against them. I’m sorry, Percy.”

Percy’s heart sank. He had been clinging to the hope that Iris could somehow fix this, that she could bring back the missing parts of himself. But now, that hope was gone.

Hazel and Frank exchanged another worried glance, their helplessness palpable. They wanted to help, but how could they when they didn’t even understand what Percy was going through?

“I... I don’t know who I am,” Percy repeated, his voice breaking.

For a long moment, no one said anything. The weight of Percy’s confession hung heavy in the air.

Iris sighed, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on Percy’s shoulder. “You may not know who you are right now, Percy, but you will. Trust in that. You are more than just your memories.”

Percy swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing. But the truth was, he didn’t feel like he was more than his memories. He felt like a hollow shell, drifting through a world that didn’t fit him, with a body that felt all wrong, and an identity that was fractured beyond repair.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands still trembling. The panic had subsided slightly, but the ache in his chest remained. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of something, and he had no idea how to pull himself back.

For now, all he could do was try to hold himself together, even as everything around him crumbled.

Chapter Text

Frank had always been good at reading people. It came with being part of Camp Jupiter—a place where everyone had their role, their part to play, and learning to understand the people around you was as important as learning how to fight. And over the last few weeks, Frank had gotten to know Percy Jackson pretty well. Percy wasn’t the type to let things get to him. He always carried himself with a quiet confidence, even when things were tough.

But today? Today, something was wrong.

Frank could sense it from the moment they set off for Iris’s store. Percy was quieter than usual, his green eyes darting nervously around as if he was expecting something terrible to happen. Hazel had noticed it too. She kept glancing at Percy with concern, her golden eyes filled with worry, but Percy stayed in his own world, lost in thought.

They had been walking for a while now, making their way to the quirky, rainbow-colored store where Iris was said to be. Frank knew this place was supposed to be a small break from their mission, a chance to gather information, maybe get a little help. But as soon as they entered the shop, Frank’s stomach churned with a deep, unsettling feeling.

Percy had gone pale the moment they stepped inside. His breathing quickened, his eyes wide and unfocused. Frank didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it looked like Percy was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Percy?” Hazel asked gently, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You okay?”

Percy didn’t respond.

Frank wasn’t sure what to do. He had seen panic attacks before—demigods at Camp Jupiter who broke down under the pressure, overwhelmed by the constant fear and danger. But this was different. Percy wasn’t the type to break. Yet, here he was, trembling slightly, his face tight with anxiety.

Iris appeared from behind the counter, her bright, multicolored hair catching the light. Her smile was warm and inviting, but Frank could tell that even she sensed something was off.

“Welcome!” she greeted. “How can I—”

But her words trailed off when she saw Percy. Hazel took a step closer to him, but it didn’t seem to help. Percy’s breathing was becoming ragged now, his hands shaking.

Frank instinctively moved to stand next to Percy, offering his presence as a silent support. He didn’t want to overwhelm him, but he also didn’t want Percy to feel alone in whatever was happening. Frank wasn’t the best with words, but he knew the importance of just being there.

Percy’s hands shot to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt like he was trying to hold himself together. His face twisted in pain, and for a moment, Frank thought Percy was going to pass out.

“Percy,” Frank said softly, “it’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Percy shook his head, his voice coming out in gasps. “I—I can’t breathe. I can’t—”

Frank’s heart pounded. He wasn’t sure what to do. He glanced at Hazel, who looked just as worried as he felt, but neither of them knew how to help.

Percy’s whole body was shaking now. His eyes were wild, like he was trapped in his own mind, lost in some internal battle none of them could understand.

And then, without warning, Percy doubled over and vomited into the trash can near the counter. The sound of it made Frank’s stomach lurch, but all he could think about was how scared Percy must be to lose control like this.

“Percy!” Hazel exclaimed, rushing forward to help, but Percy was still gasping for air, his breaths shallow and rapid.

“Come on, Percy,” Frank urged, trying to keep his voice calm. “Breathe with us. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

But Percy wasn’t listening. He was too far gone, too lost in his own panic.

“I—I don’t know who I am!” Percy’s voice cracked, his words coming out in jagged pieces. His face was pale, his eyes filled with tears he was clearly trying to hold back.

Frank felt a pit form in his stomach. He didn’t understand what Percy meant. Percy was the son of Neptune, one of the most powerful demigods Frank had ever met. How could he not know who he was?

“I don’t belong here,” Percy whispered, his voice barely audible now. “Everything feels wrong.”

Frank shared a worried glance with Hazel. She was biting her lip, her hands hovering near Percy like she wanted to help but didn’t know how.

“Percy, you’re not alone,” Hazel said gently, her voice filled with empathy. “We’re here for you.”

But Percy’s panic wasn’t easing. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse. His whole body was trembling violently, and his eyes darted around the room as if looking for a way out.

Iris stepped forward cautiously, her face softening with understanding. “Percy,” she said quietly, “you’re going through something very difficult right now. But this is not the end. You are more than your memories.”

Frank could see the desperation in Percy’s eyes as he looked at Iris. “Please... help me,” he begged, his voice cracking. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Iris’s face was full of sympathy, but she shook her head. “I wish I could help you, Percy. But there are things in motion—things I cannot interfere with. Hera’s plan... it’s not something I can undo.”

Hera. Frank’s blood boiled at the name. She had done this to Percy. She had stolen his memories, his identity, and now Percy was crumbling under the weight of it all.

Percy’s face twisted in anguish. He looked completely broken, like the last thread holding him together had finally snapped. Frank could feel the raw emotion pouring off of him—fear, confusion, pain.

“I don’t know who I am,” Percy repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked so lost, so vulnerable, and it tore at Frank’s heart to see him like this.

Iris stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Percy’s shoulder. “You may not know who you are right now, Percy,” she said softly, “but that doesn’t mean you won’t figure it out. You are more than just your memories. You are still you, even if you don’t feel like it right now.”

Frank wasn’t sure if Percy even heard her. He was still trembling, still gasping for air, his whole body shaking with the force of his panic. Frank had never seen Percy like this before, and it scared him.

Hazel knelt beside Percy, placing a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said quietly. “We’re here with you, Percy.”

For a moment, Percy didn’t respond. He just sat there, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to make himself smaller.

Frank’s heart ached for him. He wished there was something more he could do—some way to take away Percy’s pain, to help him find himself again. But all he could do was be there, standing silently by his side, hoping that Percy knew he wasn’t alone.

Finally, Percy’s breathing began to slow. The shaking subsided, and he leaned back against the wall, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He still looked pale and shaken, but the worst of the panic seemed to have passed.

“I’m sorry,” Percy muttered, his voice hoarse. “I... I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Frank said gently. “You’ve been through a lot, Percy. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”

Percy nodded, but Frank could see the doubt in his eyes. He was still scared, still unsure of himself, and Frank knew that this wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few kind words.

But for now, at least, Percy wasn’t alone.

Chapter Text

The whir of the helicopter’s blades echoed in Percy’s ears as they cut through the clouds, heading back to Camp Jupiter after their hard-fought victory. The battle with Gaea’s forces was over, but the weight of everything that had happened was still pressing down on Percy’s chest. He stared out the window at the endless sky, trying to focus on the vastness of it, hoping it would somehow take away the confusion and the sadness that were swirling inside him.

His memories were coming back—slowly, piece by piece—but each new recollection was like uncovering a wound that had only half-healed. He remembered faces, names, moments, but they came with so many conflicting emotions. There was Annabeth, the strongest presence in his mind, her face clear and full of warmth, but there was also pain and fear attached to those memories. They had been through so much together, and though Percy had always known how much she meant to him, there was something else gnawing at the edges of his mind, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Sitting across from him in the cramped helicopter cabin were Frank and Hazel. They were talking quietly, though Percy couldn’t really focus on their conversation. Their voices were a low hum in the background, almost drowned out by the helicopter’s noise. He could feel their eyes on him from time to time—worried glances, concerned whispers. They knew something was wrong, but Percy hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know how to.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers curling and uncurling around the edge of his seatbelt. His mind felt heavy with thoughts that wouldn’t settle, and his chest felt tight, as if the air inside the helicopter wasn’t enough. He wanted to talk to them, to tell them what was going on inside him, but the words stuck in his throat.

Memories of Camp Half-Blood came flooding back, and with them, the faces of friends he had lost. Beckendorf. Silena. Michael Yew. Each memory was like a punch to the gut, and Percy found it harder and harder to breathe. He could still see their faces, still hear their voices, and the guilt of not being able to save them clawed at his heart.

It wasn’t just the memories of his friends, though. There was something deeper, something more personal that was weighing on him. A part of himself he hadn’t even realized was missing until now. As the memories trickled back in, he felt a growing unease, a sense that something fundamental about who he was had been taken away.

And then, like a jolt of electricity, it hit him.

The memories came rushing back, not in a slow trickle this time, but in a flood. He remembered the conversations, the realizations, the long nights spent lying awake, trying to understand who he was. He remembered telling Annabeth, telling Grover, telling his mom. He remembered how hard it had been, but how freeing it had felt once the words were out.

“I’m genderfluid.”

The thought echoed in his mind, and with it came a wave of emotions so intense that Percy had to close his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. How had he forgotten something so important? How had Hera, in her cruel manipulation, stripped him of not just his memories, but a part of who he was?

Percy’s hands were shaking now, and he clenched them into fists, trying to keep it together. But the truth was, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. How was he supposed to tell Frank and Hazel? Would they understand? Would they still accept him?

He had no idea how long he sat there, lost in thought, before he realized that Hazel was speaking to him. Her voice broke through the fog in his mind, soft and full of concern.

“Percy? Are you okay?”

Percy opened his eyes and saw both Frank and Hazel looking at him with worried expressions. He realized then that he must have been acting off for a while now, and they were starting to notice.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. His heart was pounding in his chest, and for a moment, he thought about not saying anything at all. But he couldn’t keep this inside any longer. He had to be honest, even if it terrified him.

“I... I need to tell you guys something,” Percy said, his voice shaky. His throat felt tight, and his palms were sweating. He looked down at his hands, unable to meet their eyes.

Frank and Hazel exchanged a glance, and Frank leaned forward slightly, his expression soft but serious. “Whatever it is, Percy, you can tell us,” he said gently.

Percy took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “When I lost my memories, it wasn’t just about the quests or the battles. I lost... a part of who I am.”

Hazel frowned, leaning closer. “What do you mean?”

Percy bit his lip, his mind racing. He had come out before, but this felt different. He had lost so much of himself over the past few months, and now he had to reclaim this part of him in front of two people who had no idea what he was going through.

“I... I’m genderfluid,” Percy said, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. He forced himself to look up at Frank and Hazel, searching their faces for any sign of judgment or confusion.

They both blinked, clearly taken aback by the revelation, but there was no disgust, no rejection. Just confusion and a lot of concern.

“I... I don’t really understand,” Frank admitted after a moment, his brow furrowing. “But... does that mean you don’t feel like a guy right now?”

Percy shook his head, feeling a bit of relief that Frank wasn’t outright rejecting him. “It means... I don’t always feel like just one thing. Sometimes I feel like a guy, sometimes I feel like a girl, and sometimes... I don’t know what I feel like. It shifts. It’s fluid.”

Hazel’s eyes softened as she reached out, placing a hand on Percy’s arm. “I think I understand. So... today, how do you feel?”

Percy hesitated. “I think... right now, I don’t really feel like a guy. I’m not really sure what I feel like at the moment, but I think I’d prefer if you could... if you could use they/them pronouns for now.”

Frank nodded slowly, taking in the information. “Okay. That’s... that’s not a problem, Percy.” He smiled awkwardly, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “It’s just new for me. But I’ll do my best.”

Hazel smiled warmly, squeezing Percy’s arm. “Of course, Percy. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Relief flooded Percy’s chest, though it didn’t completely take away the anxiety that had been building up inside. He had been so scared of their reactions, of what they might think. But now that the truth was out, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Thank you,” Percy said, his voice still a little shaky but more steady than before. “I know it’s a lot to process, but I just... I didn’t want to hide it from you.”

“You don’t have to hide anything,” Hazel reassured them. “We’re your friends, Percy. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

Frank nodded in agreement. “Yeah. And, like I said, I’m still learning, but I’ll support you however you need.”

For the first time since Percy’s memories had started to return, they felt a small glimmer of hope. Frank and Hazel didn’t fully understand everything about what it meant to be genderfluid, but they were trying, and that meant the world to Percy.

But even with their support, there was still a lingering sadness in Percy’s chest. The return of their memories had brought back so much more than just their identity. It had brought back the pain of the war, the friends they had lost, the fear of what was coming next.

And worst of all, their memories of Annabeth were slipping away.

That was what scared them the most. Even as the pieces of their past came back to them, the image of Annabeth—the one clear thing that had kept them going—was starting to fade. They could still remember her face, her voice, but the details were blurring, like a dream they were waking up from too soon.

Percy’s heart clenched at the thought. Annabeth had been their anchor, the one constant in the storm of confusion and chaos that had become their life. And now, even that was being taken from them.

They closed their eyes, trying to hold onto the memories of her—her laugh, the way she smiled when she thought no one was watching, the way she looked at them with such intensity, like they were the only person in the world that mattered.

But the more they tried to hold onto it, the more it slipped away.

A wave of panic surged through Percy, their breathing quickening again. They tried to focus on the steady hum of the helicopter, on the presence of Frank and Hazel next to them, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm inside.

“I... I don’t want to forget her,” Percy whispered, their voice breaking.

Frank looked at them with confusion. “Forget who?”

“Annabeth,” Percy said, their throat tight with emotion. “She’s... she’s the only thing I had left. The only thing I could remember, and now... now I feel like I’m losing even that.”

Hazel’s face softened with understanding. “You won’t forget her, Percy. You love her. That’s not something that just disappears.”

But Percy wasn’t so sure. Everything else had been taken from them—why not that too?

Frank shifted in his seat, clearly struggling to find the right words. “We’ll figure this out,” he said finally. “You’re not alone in this, Percy. We’ll help you get through it, whatever happens.”

Percy nodded, though they weren’t sure if they really believed him. But for now, it was enough that they didn’t have to face this alone.

The helicopter continued to hum through the clouds, and Percy leaned back in their seat, closing their eyes. They didn’t know what the future held, but at least, in this moment, they weren’t carrying the weight of it all by themselves