Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Step into the sun. Fly with me, my Icarus. There is nowhere to go except up."

"Why fly to the Heavens when we are happy and safe here?” asked Icarus.

"My passion leaves no room for 'safe,' my love, because with you, I'd rather burn up in hot, fiery heat."

There, he stood before his lover. The worn tunic opened his back to tropical sunny air. His turquoise eyes danced with dashing amusement as he watched Icarus; many emotions battled on his lover’s face.

Percy could barely contain the quirk of his lips; it was contagious as a slow mischievous smile came over Icarus. The scar on his lip made it look ever sinister. Suddenly, Icarus grabbed him by the hand, tangling Percy’s weathered fingers with his own. His other arm trailed up his back, slowly, as he traced deliciously familiar terrain, memorizing Percy’s sunkissed skin with touch alone. His fingers brushed the feathery wings attached to Percy and Icarus gave his hand a squeeze.

“Fly with me,” Icarus whispered against his cheek as they fell, tumbling out of the tower in a blur of feather and flesh.

Percy Jackson gasped and bolted upright. His chest heaved with the effort of breathing. A moment ago he could've sworn he was falling...

Was that a dream? It was far too vivid, and his actions weren’t his own. It felt like a flashback. 

Panic seized his mind as tunnel vision settled in. The room was compressing and he felt his breaths come in quicker successions. Uncontrollable fear pressed down like the weight of the sky. It was like he’d taken Atlas’ punishment to hold up the heavens all over again. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it just made the darkness more absolute, driving home hot, rabid  terror. The ground was shaking, or maybe it was the blood pressure pounding in his ear. 

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck… not again.’ He thought to himself, clutching the sheets to prevent his nails from drawing blood.

Percy forced his eyes open, straining against a dimness that was pressed in by deafening silence. He was alone in an empty room with silhouettes of four empty cots. The walls had ocean décor wallpaper, and seashell wind chimes hung from the ceiling. 

‘Anything, think of anything else.’ 

Counting the number of starfish on the wallpaper seemed to help. After moments passed, intense panic subsided for lethargy. He wiped away hot tears and exhaled shakily. The sky felt a bit easier to carry, so to speak. 

Cabin Three, his second home built in homage to his father, Poseidon, had tall marble columns and a grandiose exterior that was supposed to reflect the 'might of the sea.'

Much to Percy’s misfortune, his ego-maniacal father has ball sacks for brains, and loved big, tacky things. A 10-foot statue of a well-endowed Poseidon stood naked the centre of the room.

So to counteract the insanity, he liked to keep furnishings sparse. Storage chests at the foot of each bed, with a simple nightstand and identical lamps. The only stand-out piece he added was an antique fountain in the back corner of the room. There were no bunk beds that grazed the ceiling like in Cabin Eleven.

He was glad about that, otherwise he would've felt claustrophobic. A perk living long enough to gain 'unc status', you get to do whatever the hell you want.

The wooden bed frame creaked under his movements, “It’s freezing in here.”

Percy untangled himself from the sheets and got up to shut the window. It felt like Camp Half Blood's weather control team forgot to check the magical thermostat. He had goosebumps on his arm.

Rover stirred from his sleep and greeted the green-eyed demigod. A smile softly played at Percy's lips as he reached down to pet his dog.

Percy laid in bed, awake for a long while. He had hoped that the trickle of the fountain could lull him back to sleep but it never came.

Each time he closed his eyes, flashes of that man from his dream— Icarus —appeared in the darks of his eyelids like a movie screen. He phased in and out of consciousness, until Hylos kindly let him drift away for a dreamy walk down memory lane.

—“—

There were nights in the Second Giant War where there simply wasn’t room for rest.

Percy spent many of them standing guard on the deck of the Argo II. Where watching swirling clouds fly below and constellations above was the only thing to do for hours. He enjoyed it, being away from land and sea was rare for the Son of Poseidon.

Zeus didn't fancy Percy in his domain for his own reasons. However, a splitting headache that gave the gods Borderline Personality Disorder meant their priorities were elsewhere.

One particular night, Percy went below deck into the kitchen for a cup of water. 

Jason had his long legs crammed under the humble dining table, whittling at an old paperback. 

When he noticed Percy, Jason complained without looking up, “Why the fuck did Leo build the tables so short? He knows there are people taller than his 3-foot ass on this ship, right?”

Percy laughed and laughed, while Jason poorly hid his own wry smile.

The two young men went on for hours drinking hot cocoa, talking and laughing. Percy’s duties were long forgotten.

Annabeth was a light sleeper, and always visited the pantry to get snacks in the dead hours of the night.

Jason had asked her, “Why are you up late?”

She took a swig of Percy’s cocoa, much to his complaint, “Too many things in happening during the day, plus I like the quiet at night, it lets me design in peace.”

She gave Percy a gentle head rub and left shortly after.

Afterwards, Percy noted the puzzled look on Jason’s face, “She wants to be an architect and go to university when this is all over so she’s studying hard.”

Jason smiled lightly, amusement teased his lips like he heard a joke.

“What?” Percy probed.

“I thought you’re supposed to go to university to learn things there? It’d be pretty useless if she studied everything now.” Jason’s smile never went away, even as he took a bite of a brownie.

Percy shook his head, “University will be tough if she doesn’t put in the effort now. Annabeth doesn’t have time to get good at tests, or function in a normal school. I mean, we’re fighting in a mythical world war so not much studying happening. Only surviving.” 

Jason’s smile was replaced for a wistful frown, “I’ll admit. You can be smart when you want to be, Percy Jackson.”

As the night wore on, Jason asked a blindingly obvious question: “Percy, what do you want to do after this?”

Percy kept his features carefully neutral. He didn’t want to give away how panicked the question made him feel. In truth, he hasn’t put much thought into the future. He was a 17 years-old, half-god soldier, who didn’t know if he’d be alive next week.  

As for a future…? His immediate concern was (hopefully) surviving this stupid Giant War.

“My plan? Don’t know, to be honest, but I’m hoping to one day settle down with Annabeth.  Maybe, live on the west coast and run a small surf shop,” He rubbed his hands wearily, but a spark of hope twinkled behind his sea-green eyes. 

Then, Percy let out a dry laugh, “Who am I kidding? I’ll probably pick up a job in New York to help my family make ends meet. Working at Camp Half-Blood as a trainer.” 

Jason regarded Percy with a wise look. A glint in his eye showed wisdom that was far more than a 16 year-old could possess.

Jason leaned over the counter, his voice low and gruff with fatigue, “It’s alright, Percy, to have your own ambitions too. I know we’re pawns for the gods and shit, but that doesn’t mean you've got to follow everyone else’s plan.”

Percy could smell the heat and the chocolate on Jason’s breath. Their proximity made his skin tingle. He found himself unable to move away as something stirred in his mind.

Jason was right, and Percy felt his words settle deep in his gut. His eyes flickered up to Jason’s electric blue ones, and they shared a moment of understanding. 

The most challenging trials Percy had faced up to that point occurred in the Giant War, however those simple late night talks were one of the few things that got him through.

—“—

The Second Giant War happened 7 years ago. Everyone thought they’d live happy peaceful lives afterwards. 

But then, they lost Jason, who died defending Apollo and Meg so they could escape from Medea. It’s ironic, hero of the Argo died at the hands of his namesake’s lover. 

Percy, now 24 years old, was a director at Camp Half-Blood, like Mr. D and Chiron. His friends had moved on to lead happy lives, most were settled with jobs and families.

Hazel and Frank had two daughters, and moved up to Calgary. Leo was trying to start up a celestial bronze mine, last he heard. It had been a while since Percy talked to anyone. 

Annabeth got a degree in architecture and worked in a comfortable corporate job while doing part-time designing for Olympus.

She lives in New Rome.

… Percy doesn’t.

He and Annabeth broke up.

Now. It wasn’t easy. Long story short. A broken engagement, custody battle over Rover, the dog (which Percy won) and complicated “adult” feelings. Mainly, the grief of mundane artifacts sending Percy into an emotional rage because… they reminded him of Annabeth.

Yeah. Life’s frigg-ing fantastic (Not)!

Still, both Annabeth and Percy knew it was something that needed to happen. There were too many directions they couldn’t agree to take. Which, in Percy’s case, was a lack of direction.

Annabeth was a very ambitious woman; ready to get her life started and move up in the world while he needed time to find himself. They finished senior year, stayed that summer at camp but Percy wasn’t interested in college anymore.

She moved to New Rome soon after while he stayed at his mom’s place with Paul and his little sister, Estelle.

Then… it all fell apart from there. 

Percy stared at the ceiling, night was still fully dark. He knew another existential spiral was coming soon, which meant he needed to go do something.

ADHD, nerves, stupid flashbacks and an inner darkness that threatened to consume everything meant he spent a lot of time in his head.

He put on a shirt and sweatpants blindly then charged into the night, giving caution to the wind. Harpies, be damned.

Funny how some things never change.

Chapter Text

A cool breeze cut through Percy's shirt like tiny annoying little daggers. The goosebumps on his arms probably read FREEZING in braille. It was late September and the evenings grew quite cold, a threat of snow hung in the air. The school year was freshly underway which left Camp Half-Blood mostly empty, save the year-rounders who were fast asleep by now.

Gods, he could even see his breath. Percy went straight for Long Island Sound because at least in the water, temperature didn’t bother him too much. A neat quirk he recently found out after swimming off the coast of Newfoundland last spring. Everyone else at Hazel and Frank’s wedding was near hypothermic while Percy was just dandy. He even climbed up an iceberg!

He tentatively waved at the bird-human monster that stood in the field clawing the ground viciously looking for worms (probably, he had no clue). She didn’t care that he was outside of his cabin after hours, even briefly turning to snort at him; luckily being Camp Director meant the harpies didn’t give a crap about you! 

Percy followed the beaten trail to the ocean, where he took off his shoes to feel the sand between his toes; the waves welcomed him by lapping his ankles in icy water. The demigod waded through the tides, breathing in the salt air happily. The ocean was his home. He swam in lazy circles on the surface while half-listening to the chatter of some marine creatures. A gaggle of Atlantic cod mainly talked about shellfish; which one tasted the best and where to find them, depending on the time of year. There was a colony of black sea bass apparently eating all of the invertebrates. 

Fish are amazingly talkative creatures. He had always wondered if different species could talk to each other. He didn’t completely understand how fish communicate since he spoke to marine creatures via telepathy. It was a strange and unexplored realm that he probably could've done a master's thesis on.

He hadn’t tested out the full range of his abilities either. For example, Percy wasn’t sure if he could talk to a marine flatworm or a clam, even though both of them have brains. 

The water itself felt alive as it nudged Percy this way and that. All his aches and worries melted away. Here, it was as if they couldn’t follow him, like the inner darkness was kept at bay by the sea.

After a while, Percy willed the water to let him sink, all the way down to the seafloor.

“Hello, Perseus.” said a mysterious figure as they drew up beside him.

Percy was barely able to contain an indignant-- (I mean), a VERY manly yelp, “Hey! What the hell?”

Bright laughter erupted beside him, which made him grumble like an old man.

“Calm yourself, hero. I bring no harm to you.”

Suddenly, the whole space flooded with iridescent light. The kelp that pressed the darkness in suddenly shone neon green. Percy went to touch one and it wiggled under his finger, sort of like it was ticklish.

“What brings you to these waters, Perseus?”

He turned to look; sitting next to him was a youthful woman. Her skin was a dark shade of blue that reflected teal light like a saffire. She was dressed in flowing white garments with a platted fishing net draped over her shoulders. Her black hair was done up into a loose updo, held together by pearl pins. She was a fair lady with a welcoming, warm aura.

However, Percy had many years of experience in dealing with the divine, so he sensed this bode more than just a casual visit.

“Just a late night swim, M’lady,” he replied.

Her lithe features accentuated the beauty of an easy smile. She carried African descent with her wide lips and big eyes. Strangely, her allure didn’t feel godlike. Instead, it was divine; like her power came from dignity, rather than sheer might. It was pleasant seeing a deity with a more human-esque form that didn’t end at the physical level.

“M’lady. May I be graced with whom I am in the presence of?”

Percy was careful with his words, using a formal dialect reserved for powerful deities (and no, he didn’t talk to Old Thundercuck like this.) 

Percy mentally sifted through every half-relative and monster he ever met. He didn’t have a sweet clue who this woman was. Yet, he knew better than to assume she was “some naiad” because despite her charm, she felt… ancient. The power she radiated felt older than any titan or god he had ever come across.

“I am Clymene, dear hero. I do not come bearing bad news, this is only a social call. It’s been many eons since I have had such a prolific mortal enter my realm.”

She paused for a moment as her smile grew wider.”Also, I had a particular interest in meeting you.”

“Clymene… Mother of Prometheus, Atlas and Epitheus. It’s an honor.” He paused, trying to hide his growing puzzlement. Another name came to his mind as he recalled little of what he knew of her, alas it dodged his memory. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She let out a knowing chuckle, “You must be wondering why a being such as I, who was alive in the Age of Titans would be inclined to wake for such a fleeting creature.”

Percy nodded slowly.

Clymene returned the gesture, albeit, more elegantly, “You are, eh. What do you mortals say these days, a living legend? It is actually an honor of mine to meet you, Perseus. For all, despite having such influential sons, my name is one seldom remembered. I am the grandmother of all mortals, yet few know who I am.” 

She seemed easy-going, which made Percy feel slightly more relaxed.

His eyes eased gratefully as he gave Clymene a small bow. It was truly flattering to have such an ancient and powerful figure call you a legend.

 Percy reminded himself that titans didn’t interact with mortals unless they needed something. She was a titan, hiding in Long Island Sound, and the Titan War ended ages ago. A question plagued his mind, “M’lady Clymene. Why are you here?”

A glint appeared in her eyes as she drew her lips thin. She didn’t speak for a few moments. which she spent just watching Percy. A great sadness ghosted her features as she seemed to be searching for something inside him. 

Percy didn’t waver. He was used to being looked at, subjected to so many eyes as a spectacle. However, hers seemed to pry his deepest secrets through the windows of his soul.

Was it something I said? He thought.

“My husband fought alongside Lord Kronos in the war. As did the rest of my family.” Clymene began slowly.

“I also believed reform was necessary. Eternity in Tartarus simply was an unjust punishment for all of us. However, I did not agree with the methods that Kronos had proposed. Henceforth, I declared not to play any part, not for the titans nor the gods. 

“I was disappointed to see my husband, Iaputus, pledge undying allegiance to a flawed cause once in the old world. Naively, I thought it would’ve taught him a lesson,” Clymene scowled as she recalled a collection of unpleasant memories. Then, she sighed and let it clear away like a passing storm.

“Alas, here we are. Twice now, I watched from the sidelines as they fought valiantly. I hid while my family suffered and perished. It seems that we are forever doomed to be defeated by the gods,” Clymene leveled Percy with a calculating look as she left a subtle pause, "I believe you are quite well acquainted with my Iapetus.”

Iapetus. Bob. Dear gods… He was talking to his wife.

Percy’s mood shifted, something like remorse flashed over his face. 

Clymene paid him no mind, “Kronos freed Iapetus to fight for him, but he wouldn’t leave Tartarus without me. I was told to hide here since stronger beings mask my presence in these waters. I have been here ever since, waiting for my husband to return,” 

She fell silent, letting the silence cast heavy accusations. 

Percy met it with an uneasy expression, opting for silence as this was a story he needn’t interrupt.

“The waves carry secrets and I hear things even as I slumber.” Her eyes grew misty and she dabbed them with her sleeve, “I am afraid he will not be able to come find me, will he, Perseus?”

Percy’s heart bled for Clymene. The titan would not be able to reform for a long time. Even when he did, his memories were washed away when Percy drenched him with the River Lithe. There was nothing left of his previous self. Her Iapetus was gone, forever. 

Percy had to look away as tears threatened him too. Clymene placed a hand on his shoulder; he tried hard not to push her away. “My young hero. I emphasize with you. For the actions you had to take were pushed upon you by Fate.”

 “I only harbor resentment towards the forces controlling you, and so did Iapetus. I know, young hero, that you believe we were substituting one evil for another, but the Titans were determined to do better this time. That is the reason he agreed to fight. Iapetus couldn’t bear to see his children suffer any longer.” Clymene spoke with the determination and vigour of a preacher. 

Percy felt heartbroken for Clymene, but he couldn’t accept her reality. How could he forget the friends he lost over a struggle of power that had nothing to do with his people? The irony was maddening. 

Demigods were miserable lap dogs for their parents, forced to run errands and fight wars in an immortal cycle. Too many conflicts in which they paid the heaviest price, while the Gods just get to keep on living. 

As Percy grew older, he felt that Luke’s radical thinking was right. The reality was that there were no good options for demigods, Titans or Gods. All-powerful beings cannot be expected to rule fairly when they’re blindsided by power. 

However, one fatal flaw stopped him from pursuing complete anarchy: he had sacrificed too much to turn against the world order. 

“My husband followed Kronos’s grand plan. as many others did. I think if we had the chance, we could’ve made things better for your kind. It is just unfortunate that Kronos had more formidable foes than he realized.”

Luke. Selina. Ethan. They all believed in Kronos’ dream. Look where they ended up. All their faces flashed painfully across Percy’s mind. Silently, tears fell.

She shot a look to the heavens, in a silent prayer or a bitter curse. Either way– the sky rumbled, “I do not blame the young child you were when Iapetus came across your path.”

Percy clenched his eyes shut as he heard her voice crack, “That was Fate, and it can be abhorrently cruel.” 

Clymene’s hands were warm as she cupped his face. Guilt rained down like a monsoon hurricane and it made Percy’s skin feel feverish. 

“I am a daughter of Oceanus, and as an Oceanids, it is my duty to protect the children of the gods. Our oath has been long abandoned in our current world as my kin no longer roam this χώμα.” She gave him a smile so full of kindness that Percy forgot why he was crying for a moment.

Clearly, this is what Gods were supposed to be; forgiving, pure and compassionate to a level that far and few could uphold. 

Percy wondered how peaceful the world could be if Oceanids were there to protect demigods. Instead, they needed to train constantly just to have a chance to survive. He thought about the endless hours he spent questioning if he'd done enough for those kids. His efforts felt fruitless because too many demigods met horrible demise. It made nothing he did feel enough.

Thunder roared loud like the billowing of a lion. Percy could hear it clear as day, despite being two hundred feet below sea level. 

Percy could barely think through a wallow of pain and grief.

Clymene let her hands drop into her lap. She worriedly glanced at the sky, “Let me leave you with a gift, and a blessing.” She brushed the sand aside to reveal a small mahogany chest the size of an old tinderbox. 

He knew what a tinderbox was because the Athena Cabin was fond of them. Children of the Wisdom Goddess often burned notes to send between siblings; it was a secret form of communication that Percy was only privy to because he’d seen Annabeth use it a few times.

Clymene placed the delicate box in his hand, “This is the last piece of clay made by my son, Prometheus. I have a feeling you’ll have better use of it than me. It can be used to make a new human. You can use this to revive a soul that has not passed on to the underworld by binding their soul to it.’

“Simply cover an important possession of the deceased soul with the clay, and bury it deep underground. After two nights, they will be reborn, as the age their soul is, not the age they died; so be wary of resurrecting ancient mortals. They will crumble away instantly. In the natural world– physically and spiritually– humans are not made to withstand the test of time.”

Percy was in such a state of shock, all he could do was stare at the Oceanid in complete awe and horror. He thanked her profusely until he was hushed by the singe of electricity gathering around them. It was then Percy knew that he was in some serious trouble.

Metal flooded his taste buds. It was a matter of moments before he was going to be electrocuted. Everything in a mile radius was going to fry harder than a carnival grease burger, including him. He was underwater, so there was no way Zeus wasn’t going to stop his heart.

Percy began to panic and shook Clymene by the shoulders, "We need to get out of here."

She gave him a sad smile, "There is nowhere for me to go, dear child, but I can give you the power to escape."

Clymene channeled her divinity; eyes began to glow milky white as her voice boomed dramatically in volume. It sounded like she entered an amphitheater, “Upon you, O demigod, I bless the power to manifest.”

A rush of strength surged through Percy. Like he got Redbull directly injected through his veins. His blood ran so hot that it made him double over in pain. Clymene placed her hand on his forehead and it cooled to a bearable temperature. Still, it felt like he was wearing a blanket next to an intense fire, “Your ichor already runs thick, thankfully my blessing wasn’t enough to burst your body into flames.”

Boiled AND fried to a crisp! Perfect, just what he needed, "You weren't sure of that beforehand?"

Clymene still had the nerve to laugh, "You would've perished either way. Now, Perseus, think of a body of water to appear in and you will materialize there. You will most surely not escape otherwise,” 

She looked around like the waters surrounding were her enemy, “I fear the gods have finally found me.”

Percy’s mind was muddled and his stomach felt queasy, but he’s been in enough life or death situations to know he needed to act fast. He tried to focus on the image of the canoe lake at camp and asked his mind to take him there. 

Suddenly, his skin began to tingle; he looked down at his body and found his arms evaporating into bubbles. The sensation was extremely bizarre, like his body was deconstructing atom by atom before his eyes. His mind escaped from under him and chose that moment to remember Annabeth's lecture of superposition in Quantum Physics. 

He had no idea where any of this was coming from. Perhaps, the ichor had killed the last of his brain cells and this was a lucid dream where he slowly loses his mind.

Clymene’s voice sounded distant, growing more watery the second, “Even if I don’t get to spend my time with my husband, at least I will go back to a place where we can be close.”

Just as he transformed, a ground-splitting arch of lightning hit Clymene.

Then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

The sky shook and thundered overhead. Percy was leaned against a cool stone wall. Someone was laid next to him on the floor, with their head resting in his lap. He felt cold and damp, but also feverishly warm. So did the other person, who Percy recognized as Icarus, the man from his last dream. Only, he was younger and in a much more vulnerable state.

Icarus' breath faltered slightly, then he groaned, “How much longer do you think the storm will go on, papa?”

Percy shrugged, but it was as if his body did it on its own. His lips didn’t even move when he tried to talk. He felt like a fly trapped in a spider's web, awake but paralyzed as a demon sits beside his bed.

The boy had called him "papa." Maybe that meant his mind had been transported into someone else. It would explain why he had no control of his actions. He supposed he was only meant to watch and play it out as a memory.

It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but he recalled it was very spacious and crafted beautifully in the architecture. Information about the residence flowed into his mind where it hadn't been before.

The grand living quarters were open to the rain as it had no sealed doorways or windows, save for a set of large double wooden doors where food and supplies were delivered. They were locked otherwise.

It was originally designed by Daedalus to be one of King Midas’ summer residences. Made to withstand fire, monsters and earthquakes. The castle was constructed out of the finest materials and architectural designs of Ancient Greece.

The entire Kingdom of Crete could be seen from anywhere as it was built atop the tallest point on the island, Mount Ida. It was the perfect fortress, fit for a mighty king; luxurious enough that no one will pose a question, but isolated enough that any “guests” could easily be kept out of sight.

The marble floors glistened with moisture and puddles formed around the few pieces of embellishment that were placed sparingly throughout the room. They cast long shadows, broken occasionally by lightning.

The father and son found a sanctum from the storm opposite the window walls, tucked beneath the stairwell leading to the bathing rooms.

He felt a little nudge on his arm. Percy didn’t realize his mind had wandered, “Are you off in your own little world again?” Icarus asked lightly. The boy rolled over onto his belly and propped his elbows on Percy’s knees— to his discomfort, The body didn't move.

Lightning flashed right then, and Percy caught a glimpse of Icarus’ wide smile. A faint crescent dented his top lip slightly upward, close to the left corner. He was well-sculpted for a boy, lean and fit like a gymnast and his long legs showed signs of a very recent growth spurt. He had a sharp jawline and long lashes that danced a deceptive caper between the lines of masculinity and femininity.

Judging from his elevated features, he would guess Icarus to be only at the cusp of manhood- 16 or 17 years old. Strangely, the boy had an uncanny resemblance to Jason… before he died.

He blinked, praying to the gods that it was just a trick of the light. The rain drummed harder and furniture shifted with the force of the wind. He was vaguely aware of saying something as his lips mimed the words that were spoken.

His voice didn't sound like his own.  His hand moved to stroke Icarus' thick golden hair; it was coarse but full and fluffy to the touch. Then, quietly as the trickle of a breeze, he heard himself whisper, "My dear Icarus, if only you were free." 

Icarus didn't seem to hear Daedalus. His gaze was distant, looking outside the window into the turbulent angry night. Percy knew the terrible fate that awaited him, yet he could understand the longing held in the boy's eyes.

Perhaps because he felt it too. 

“Is that Percy…?”

5 more minutes, please, he said to himself.

“Oh, shit. That’s him.” 

Piss off, I was literally electrocuted like, 2 seconds ago. 

“PERCY!” 

Jeez, give a guy a break? 

“Frigg’s sake. Magnus, how are you sure this drengr is still alive?!” 

He heard a slap, then a laugh followed. 

Percy groaned in pain, “What do you want?” 

Somewhere off to the side, came a deep sigh of relief. Percy felt hands grab him to hoist him up out of the water. Immediately, pain flared up his right arm as he was dragged upshore and placed against a slab of concrete. His eyes were closed because his exhaustion threatened to take him under at any moment. The smell of the water was foul, his mouth tasted like sewage and his organs didn’t feel like they were put back the right way. 0/10. Never teleporting again.

The sound of traffic whizzing by clearly meant he was no longer in Camp Half-Blood. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he’d made a mental GPS error. One problem at a time.

Percy hissed and clutched his arm, ol’ Thundercuck really messed him up. 

He heard shuffling uncomfortably close to his face, then he felt a poke on his cheek. Percy weakly shooed them away, “Duud! Juss eet wee way here.” 

(For our audience: “Dude! Just let me lay here.”)

Someone crouched down beside him, “Maybe we should let him freeze, Boston weather is no joke.”

“Relax, Alex,” Wait. That voice… Magnus? 

Magnus Chase! 

Percy finally opened his eyes, and had to stifle a gasp. 

“The Sea Prince awakes from his beauty sleep!” Magnus jeered, sarcastically, of course. Percy had to squint because his vision showed double Magnuses side-by-side. He looked exactly the same when Percy trained him so many years ago. Magnus still has his signature wavy mid length cut you can find surfer bros rock, except on him it made him look like a rugged young celebrity.

Percy remembered seeing pictures of the band-lead his mom was absolutely in love with. Ah! Kurt Cobain— that’s who he looked like. A wisp of blonde hair that barely passed as a moustache framed his mischievous lopsided grin. The expression wasn’t enough to mask the confusion apparent in his eyes. There was a silent question that hung in the air and he didn’t have to ask out loud. 

“What’s this guy doing here?” questioned someone out of view. 

Percy shook his head, “No questions, ood.” 

(Food.)

His eyes lulled into the back of his head as the strength keeping him faded away. Sleep took him once again . 

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, Percy slept soundly. 

No weird memory-dreams. 

No night terrors. 

Just a black movie screen and silence. 

It was the best goddamn feeling in the whole world!

In fact, he didn’t notice he was drooling from the smell of roasting falafel. “Yum…” he muttered. 

The aroma of juicy chickpeas frying in delicious herbs created a warm atmosphere. His mind awoke before the rest of his body and slowly, Percy opened his eyes. He was thankful to be greeted by soft light, shining from the windows across the room. There were people beside him engaged in conversation, their voices kept hushed to let Percy rest. 

The Boston landscape cut Apollo’s light into thin slices of butter whilst tinted glass from skyscrapers reflected the light into a pale happy glow.

They must’ve been in a restaurant because Percy could hear a kitchen ventilator nearby, wheezing steadily as the vents rattled under age and pressure.

The interior had a distinct Middle Eastern from the decor choices. The walls in front of him were painted a rich sunny yellow. Percy turned his head, and noted that the other walls had a rustic clay colour. Arabic mandalas framed the store-front windows that ran from floor to ceiling. They looked like the world’s most amazing colouring book.

Embroidered twain wall art lavishly decorated the space behind the sale counter. As for the counter itself, it had a mosaic of complex hooks weaved into dangling rings.

A purple silk curtain separated the dining room from the kitchen. Stock-photo prints depicting deserts and market scenes were hung in golden frames.

The photos felt a little stereotypical, but they were a dead giveaway for a chain restaurant. The furniture was worn and generic looking, shades of pasty green and diner booths, but the restaurant was very clean by New York standards. 

A lovely looking Middle-Eastern woman sat across from him, wearing a green Hijab and a simple cream turtleneck. She was engaged in a heated discussion with a teenager who sat beside her.

The teenage girl looked very familiar but he couldn’t recall her name. She was certainly a fascinating character to look at. Seaweed green hair, glossy pink lips and a rather dressy pink button down, frilled from shoulder to cuff. 

“Why did you tell me to wear this? I feel so embarrassed,” the girl hissed with a frown, “It was just a simple walk in the park. It wasn’t even a date since you were there!”

Percy watched her nail run in a line over and over again on the wooden table while her other hand was busy unraveling all the cutlery from the napkins. She could be a demigod because that behaviour was ADHD at its finest.

The woman, who looked around the same age as him, gently placed a hand over the teenager's restless arm. When her finger kept moving, the woman slapped the girl’s hand. “Stop that, you know Amir doesn’t like people wrecking his furniture.”

Obediently, the girl moved her hand away in favour of picking at the frills on the shirt.

The green-hijab lady was in the midst of hiding a smile, “You look fantastic, I can't fathom why you’d feel self-conscious in anything. You’re like, the most confident person I know.” 

The green-haired girl threw up her hands in an exaggerated display of annoyance, “I know I look great, but this—“ She wildly gestured at the sleeves, “—is too flaunty, even for me.”

The girl noticed the woman covering her smile and proceeded to swat her hand away. “And don’t hide your smile, you’re beautiful.” 

The woman merely rolled her eyes, “Uh huh.” 

She rubbed the girl’s wild green locks in circles. “Alex, listen, Magnus loves you. You’ve been together for 10 years, do you think he cares about how you look?”

Despite having met both of them before, he finally learned their names. The girl—Alex— shook her head in response. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Just then, a blond haired figure walked over to their table.

“Did you miss me?” Magnus!  

Just as the woman- Sammy? Sam? -predicted, a bright blush crept up Magnus’ face when he saw Alex. Magnus went around the table to stand behind her. He kissed the top of her head and burrowed into Alex’s hair in hopes to hide his embarrassment, “You look beautiful,” He whispered quietly.

Sam squealed while Alex playfully shushed her, “Aw, c’mere baby.” The green-haired girl sweetly nudged Magnus’ chin then tilted her head back to meet his lips in a kiss.

Percy wanted to get up to go to the bathroom, but didn’t realize how uncooperative his body was. A wave of vertigo hit and suddenly, he was falling. Someone grabbed him before he toppled over.

Magnus patted Percy’s shoulder, carefully leaning him back into his chair, “Morning again, sleepy head. I’m right here,” The mood sobered once everyone else realized Percy was awake. Sam, who sat opposite of Percy, regarded him with a serious look.

Magnus took up a chair next to Percy and spent his time twiddling with a piece of loose string from his sweater. Suddenly, he let out a yelp, “Hey! That frigg-ing hurt.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, challenging him to do something about it. He just grumbled while rubbing his ankle beneath the table.

“Sam, this is Percy. He’s my… uh, friend. Alex, you’ve met him at our wedding. Say hello.” Percy waved but didn’t say a word, Alex nodded in greeting and Sam gave a small smile.

The way Magnus hesitated when he called him a friend felt… awkward, and it bothered him. He recognized that pause.

At one point, Percy and Magnus were nearly family. He could understand why Magnus didn’t know what to call his *almost* cousin-in-law. Perhaps Annabeth and him breaking up didn’t occur to many people.

Alex and Sam shared the same stern look, taking turns to glare at Magnus and Percy. 

‘A little creepy, they must be siblings.’ Percy thought.

Alex crossed her arms. “So tell us, Percy. Why did we pull you out in one of the most polluted rivers in America; head down, with lightning scars, looking like a bloated corpse?” 

Percy could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from her words like charmspeak.

“Those are technically lichtenberg figures, they’ll disappear in a day or two,” Magnus pipped excitedly, as if it was one of their areas of expertise.

Percy shot Magnus a quizzical look. ‘How in Hades did he know that?’ He recalled Magnus being homeless for a time, maybe he picked up some books in a public library while looking for a warm place to stay. It still was something random to know though.

“Thank you, Magnus!” said Alex and Sam at the exact same time.

‘Yup. Siblings, definitely.’

Magnus flicked his wrist to dismiss them. He made a dramatic show of pretending to feel hurt, after they clearly didn’t appreciate his expertise on lichtenberg figures.

A silent standoff occurred between the two siblings, laughter danced behind their eyes like they were sharing a joke. Percy could see the years of friendship built into their unyielding bond.

Soon after, Percy caught Sam letting out a heavy sigh and pinching her nose bridge. Magnus shifted in his seat while Alex fiddled with her sleeves.

The three were clearly uncomfortable by Percy’s strange arrival. The circumstances under how he showed up were suspicious, even by demigod standards. Strange events that brought two mythological worlds together are rarely coincidences. 

“Have any of you noticed any bad omens lately?” Percy croaked weakly, everyone suddenly looked at Percy like he was crazy. He wondered if he sounded as bad as he felt.

Percy could sleep for a million years, his body felt completely drained. His blood ran akin to solid lead, which weighed him down like dumbbells; even his throat felt like it got licked by a cat before viciously getting scrubbed with sandpaper.

However, at least he was warm and dry.

(But also in desperate need of a wardrobe change. Polluted water and grime was so medieval peasant chic.)

There were other people in the restaurant. He had felt their judgmental stares following him since he’d woken up. Truthfully, it pissed him the fuck off.

Percy wondered what they saw when they looked at him. His eyes were unnaturally green to the point of glowing. Mortals weren’t always fooled by the Mist. Most of the time it was as useful as a poorly-placed greenscreen. It didn’t change the fact that those weird looks made his skin crawl, but being a demigod always meant people thought you were on some strange shit.

He wanted to up to all those gawking people, ask them if they’ve ever seen a guy who’s gone through an electrical storm. Except, he was pretty sure he couldn’t hold up his head for more than 30 seconds.

Percy wished for everyone to stop looking at him for once. Their eyes made him feel alien. 

A curly-haired man dressed in a white greasy apron carrying plates of falafel stopped at their table. Sam’s whole face lit up when she saw him. 

“Bad omens. Eh? Well, our deliveries this morning were delayed by thunderstorms happening out west. The trucker who stopped by said the supply chain is going to be backed up pretty badly.” said the man.

Sam grinned sweetly, “Do you think our meal is on the house, my dear chef?” 

“Bebê, it’s nice to see you,” He flashed her a brilliant smile, playfully avoiding the question.

The man set a plate each in front of everyone before pulling up a chair at their table. “Everyone, enjoy. Magnus is paying for your orders today.”

He had a light Arabic accent that complimented his easy charm. He was built strong like an ox who did hard labor every day, acquired from years of serving many loyal customers. 

Magnus squawked in disbelief, drawing a rich chuckle from the curly-haired man, "I'm only joking."

'He must be the owner', Percy realized.

“Your cooking never fails, Amir. I can’t believe you don’t have restaurants across the world!” cheered Alex. 

Amir was a handsome man, made even more so by a grin that spreaded from ear to ear.

“Percy, this is my husband.” Sam said as she patted her husband’s arm, “Amir, this is Magnus’ friend I spoke about over the phone.”

Amir regarded Percy with a curt nod, “Nice to meet you, Percy. Please go ahead and eat.” 

Percy, still disoriented, noticed a blush warm Sam’s dark caramel skin and thought she was catching a fever.

Alex quaintly pecked at the falafel, offering an explanation that she wasn’t very hungry.

On the other hand, Magnus had forsaken utensils and took up to demolishing his food freestyle. It resulted in him feeding the table more than himself.

Percy almost face-planted into the food from ravenous hunger. Yet, he quickly remembered where he was and exercised restraint by picking up a fork.

They all ate in silence, tensions were high until someone said,“You didn’t answer the question, Percy.”

Percy picked up a napkin and wiped his face, hoping it also hid a grimace. He recounted the events that led him there as briefly as he could, although he left out the part about Clymene’s gift. They didn’t need to know that. 

Afterwards, everyone had grim faces and the meal was forgotten.

“So you narrowly avoided being smited, correct? Do you know how serious this is?” Sam asked solemnly, though bewilderment was plastered on her face. She had turned so pale that she looked sick. 

Amir’s knuckles were white on his Sam’s shoulder, he looked scared too.

His wife whispered with a small laugh, “Habib abi, you’re hurting me.”

Amir flinched and released his hand. Then, he smoothed her arm apologetically. 

“I’ve almost died plenty of times. What’s one more?” Percy shot back. 

Magnus shook his head in exasperation. He spoke. Every. Single. Word. Enunciated, as if he was speaking to a child, “Dude! Zeus is like King Daddy in your world. If he wanted to strike that titan lady, Clementine, or whatever. Then he could’ve when you were gone. Instead, he did it while you were still there, which only means he’s pissed at you too!” 

“That’s not her-” 

Percy caught Alex’s deadly look from the corner of his eye: That’s not the point, and you know it. 

He gulped. 

Percy ran his hands through his hair before testing his weight on his legs,

“Well, thanks for the meal. I’m feeling a lot better now—“ To his luck, they held. “—Don’t worry, I can find my way back to New York.”

Percy stretched his arms to prove his point, pain bloomed his right arm as the wounds rubbed against his tattered shirt. He prayed his face didn’t give it away. 

He moved stiffly like a rusty automaton. He put one foot in front of the other and nearly cried in relief when he made it to the entrance.

Magnus, Alex, Sam, Amir and every mortal in the restaurant stared at him like he went mad. 

“What else was new?” Percy scoffed under his breath.

Percy pushed open the door and stepped into crisp Boston air. Immediately, he started shivering from the cold. Blasted barnacles! He was too stubborn to step back inside. The demigod pushed onwards in hopes to find a cab.

Just as he walked out of the restaurant, a can whizzed over flying traffic and whacked Percy in the head. His reflexes decided to kick in and caught the can before it hit the ground. 

Percy dropped to his knees and cradled his head. He let out a groan so loud that everyone else hustled to cross the sidewalk.

Bostonians weren’t fond of a grown man crying in the street. with a head injury, interrupting their stressful commute. A gust of wind suddenly flew past, carrying the faint smell of grapes.

Percy glared at the sky.

Positive thoughts, like his therapist said. At least he got a free drink out of it. 

Wait, but his therapist was an empusa trying to kill him. They were definitely a great help for his trust issues…

The can popped open with a satisfying shhh . Percy eagerly took a swig since he couldn’t ask Amir for a drink earlier, but alas, he was disappointed.

“Ew, diet coke.” The weird tangy taste did nothing for him except quench his thirst. He had no place to be picky so he downed it all.

The demigod wiped his tongue on the back of his hand. He read the text printed beside the label: 

“Ditch Boston.

We need to talk.” 

If Percy didn’t know which divine asshole chucked a can at his head, he did now from the address written below: 

Westport Rivers Winery

417 Hixbridge Road

Westport , MA 02790

508-636-3423 

“Percy, wait!” He heard the bells on the door jingle as Magnus busted out of the restaurant. 

Percy got up and kept walking.

Magnus ran down the sidewalk after Percy, screaming the man’s name.

Up ahead, he spotted a huddle of cabbies hollering at the passing rush. Percy sped up and rounded the corner. He couldn’t help but grin, finally, lady luck finally chose to give him a break.

Magnus stood at the end of the street hunched over his knees, feeling like death, “Hold your fucking horses, you overgrown bairn.” He wheezed as he clasped his hands in a prayer for patience. Then, resumed a light jog to keep up with Percy’s hobbling pace. It was a miracle how far Percy made it while moving slower than an old man in a buffet line. 

Percy yelled at Magnus without looking back.  “Leave me alone, I’m a big boy who can take care of himself.”

“Muspelheim must’ve frozen over if I’m living to see the day you lose your mind! Percy Jackson, where are you going?” Magnus caught up to Percy and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“It is the art of not thinking, Magnus Chase, that leads my feet.” Percy muttered in a Jack Sparrow accent, wagging his finger to prove a point. 

Seconds stretched by as Magnus stared at Percy’s stupidly smug face, searching for a hint of sanity. “I can’t believe what Annabeth saw in you.” 

It would’ve hurt less if Magnus had slapped him.

Percy shoved the immortal son of Frey away, “What’s your deal, punk?”

Fatigue did nothing to shave off the tidal wave of anger that crashed over him as the Sea Prince regarded the boy with wild eyes.  

The entire street was a ghost town, silence punctured by the occasional car whizzing by or sirens in the distance. 

A twinge of regret flashed across Magnus’ face. He chose his next words carefully, “Percy, you and Annabeth were literally two peas in a pod.”

“It was as if every part of your personalities complimented each other. After I was able to get back in touch with Annabeth and her dad, you—besides architecture —was the only damn thing she talked about.”

Percy scoffed and shrugged his shoulders.

Magnus grew exasperated, “Odin’s eye, you and her were inseparable since you two met. Both of you, destined for greatness, but how did she become a great architect and you ended up… like this?” 

Percy was quiet for a long time. Rage hammered against his chest as tears threatened to fall.  

He swiped his eyes with a viciousness that left his face raw, “Mind your fucking business, kid. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I’m not some deadbeat or hazbin, like you think I am. I’ve trained a lot of good kids at Camp; I make sure no demigod goes out into the world unprepared! We’re not like you special einherjar, where we can respawn anytime we like. ” 

Magnus threw his hands up, “You cut everyone off, Percy! Annabeth told me that whenever she volunteers to help with training, you’d turn her down. Whenever any of your friends visit, you just ignore them. You’re too busy to live your own fucking life.” 

 “Christ’s sake, Annabeth hasn’t heard from you in years! FRIENDS ARE FAMILY IN OUR LINE OF WORK, SOME OF US HAVE NO ONE ELSE. FUCK, LOOK AT ME!”

Magnus was shouting now, emotion filled his voice, “Only the lucky ones live, Percy. You’re family, man… Don’t just keep pushing us away. We care about you. Annabeth still cares about you, too.” 

Something broke in him. Percy felt hollow and scathed. 

‘I didn’t distance himself that much?’ He thought.

Yeah, he ignored some Iris messages after Annabeth and him broke up. He vaguely remembered Iris showing up one day at his door to ask if he no longer wanted to receive calls. Did he really let it go to magical voicemail THAT many times? 

How many of those calls were from Annabeth? From Nico? From Grover or his other friends? 

It’s true that Percy would hole himself up in the Poseidon cabin while trying to decipher the next prophecy. His friends were always in town during an inconvenient time… He only missed them once or twice. 

‘I just need to focus.’ That’s what Percy told his friends when he turned them away. 

Even when his friends showed up at his door on his birthday with his favorite blue raspberry cake. Annabeth, Nico and Will were devastated, but he couldn't see the sadness in their eyes. He was too busy.

After that, they gave Percy the space he wanted. Did everyone start to think he hated them? 

It’s unfair for them to be angry at him though. He was so busy managing Camp Half-Blood that they fell out of touch, right? What’s missing a few birthdays, weddings, baby showers…? 

Right? 

Percy wanted to get mad and scream like Magnus; he wanted to tell the other demigod that it wasn’t true.

He knew he’d be lying.

Magnus looked everywhere, except at the man in front of him. The whole ordeal was making him very tired. 

Alex approached the pair, her eyes flickering between them worriedly. 

Sam was right on her tail. The two women came up to Magnus, Alex pulled him into a hug. 

Percy watched helplessly as the boy shook silently, tucking his face into Alex’s pink shirt.

Sam pointedly avoided Percy’s gaze, however, she said, “You’re not a soldier anymore, Percy. Your war is over.” 

She added, “ It's time you start living for yourself. Sentient beings who don’t care about you cannot be your whole world. I believe those kids at camp will be fine without you.” 

“DON’T say that.”  Percy spat weakly. “You don’t know how hard those kids have it. They need a mentor.” 

All his rage was gone, drained out of him like a receding pool; all it left was bitterness. 

Sam's expression softened with sympathy. 

Percy didn’t realize Riptide was in his hand, until his own bruising force snapped his thumb. A small whimper escaped and he covered up with a cough. The sword-pen was capped and he concealed his thumb in a fist. 

“You need to learn that you can’t save everyone.” Sam replied, eyes heavy with sorrowful. 

She came up to Percy and offered him a green plastic bag. “Valhalla isn’t safe for you tonight due to some internal… canine issues. There should be enough money for you to spend the night at a good hotel. Also, take advantage of the change of clothes.” 

Percy’s response was a simple smile and he thanked her with a nod. 

Sam placed her hand over her heart, in a gesture of respect and love. “I would like to hug you, but it would be against my faith.” 

Magnus sniffed from his place in Alex’s arms. He didn’t look at Percy.

“Take care of yourself, ya bastard.” Alex called to Percy. “Stay in touch! For his sake.” 

There was a slap, then laughter followed.

Chapter Text

Percy flagged down a cabbie and spent the whole afternoon roaming Beacon Hill, located at the west riverfront of the Charles River. 

Beacon Hill had streets lined with antique lanterns that gave the place a subtle charm. There were people everywhere despite the autumn chill. The area drew in droves of tourists with its rustic brick row houses that were segmented by narrow streets following the curve of the hill. 

Buildings at the higher altitude were noticeably shorter than in the valley. The rolling landscape sloped more gently, the further he went East. Skyscrapers rose in place of squat townhouses once he got closer Downtown.

Annabeth had brought him along to Boston once, for Alex and Magnus’ wedding, err– rather a promise ceremony. They couldn’t legally get married since both were immortally sixteen. Right then, Percy wanted to see everything; from artisan shops to grocery stores. Even after traveling the world, as he looked around; he realized there was so much he hadn’t seen yet.

The argument earlier left him weirdly buzzing with energy. He had a sudden wanderlust craving to be satisfied. At one point, he’d jumped out the cab, handed the driver a fifty, and gone into a gas station to change just so he could go inside shops. 

The sun had set by the time Percy found a hotel. The Sea Prince asked the front desk for a single bed with a nice view. There was a little less than one hundred dollars left over. 

As soon as he was inside the room, he hit the showers. The water rejuvenated Percy’s body wonderfully. He popped open the bottle of soap Sam gave him, and scrubbed religiously at his taunt muscle. Lukewarm water cleared away grime and pollution.

 Many years training, going on quests and lifting unconscious kids from the sparring arena had sculpted his body into a healthy build.

(Ha! He’s buff.)

Percy felt his thumb pop back into place, only leaving a faint soreness. The scorch marks on his right arm faded into a red patch, but the lightning figures were still stark on his tanned skin.

He waited until the water ran cold. Then, slipped out and patted dry with a flurry white towel.

Percy checked his face in a wall-mounted mirror. There was some stubble but he didn’t have a razor. 

Percy would never admit it, but the raggedness took nothing away from his handsome appearance. He had bright emerald pools that stood out against wild raven locks, a deep tan akin to the shade of celestial bronze, and an easy smile that accompanied a killer jawline. 

Once puberty was through with him, Percy became a total heartthrob. Like, mortals-stopped-to-stare handsome. However, he was either at Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, so most of the people that were into him were way too young.  

He exited the bathroom and plopped onto the bed. A pamphlet placed on the nightstand caught his attention so he began flipping through it. No smoking, Cable was free, some channels had to be borught, such as: The… 

You know which ones. 

A picture of mashed potatoes and gravy made Percy’s stomach growl. There was a hotel restaurant in the lobby called “Bjorn To Be Wilde. Restaurant & Pub.” He had to laugh because the name sounded cliche. 

All and all, who could complain at the promise of food.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Percy set off the next day riding a Greyhound south of Boston to Westport. From the station, he took a forty minute taxi ride out of town.

Soon afterwards, he paid the cabbie and made his way. The demigod found himself standing in front of a wide vineyard, broken by a beaten path that led to a quaint log cabin.

When he went inside, Percy was met with hundreds of bottles stacked to the ceiling in honeycomb shelves. A stout man wearing an abrasive leopard shirt was sitting in a lounge chair, glaring straight at the Sea Prince.

“Mr. D,” Percy offered a curt nod.

Dionysus snorted, then acknowledged Percy with a raise of his drink, “Perry Johnson, you made it.” 

A half-smirk graced his pudgy features, but there was an anxious look in his eye. His foot bounced nervously on the wooden floor. Even the air hummed strangely. 

Percy noticed the goosebumps on his arms. He realized they were being watched. 

Mr. D shouldn’t have come so close to the domain of other gods.

“I didn’t think you’d find your way here,” Dionysus muttered.

Percy took out the can of Dionysus’ signature diet Coke, “I keep my trash until I find recycling.”

 He stuffed it back into Sam’s green plastic bag, where he felt the little box brush against his hand. Quietly, he let out a sigh of relief.

“What the hell were you thinking, dumbass?” Mr. D asked, exasperated. 

Dionysus pressed the back of his hands to his forehead. Years seemed to pass on his face in seconds, “Out of all the demigods I’ve met, you’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

Percy hummed in agreement, though right now, he didn’t know what Mr. D was referring to.

“My father is mad at you, Zeus found you with that wench and wants to know what she said.”

Percy pursed his lips. He wasn’t in a mood for sharing information, ““Nothing really,”  He fished out the chest and held it in his palm, “She gave me this, however.”

Mr. D plucked it from Percy’s hand and opened it. As soon as he did, plain horror flashed on his face. Dionysus was already on edge, but this sent him hunching in the seat.

 “This is magic older than me. I can’t believe there’s still some of Prometheus’ clay left over. Guard this,” The little chest seemed to burn in his palm because he shoved back at Percy.

The god stood up and motioned Percy to follow him, “We can’t stay any longer or I risk angering the gods here. My presence has alerted them, and the Norse don’t like trespassers.”

 A crow cawed almost like to express agreement. It’s beady eyes followed the two as they found a secluded area outside, where Mr. D summoned his staff. A long wooden shaft wrapped elegantly in vines, and topped with a pinecone.

 “I’ve been tasked with taking you back to New York. Olympus has summoned you.” Dionysus said snarky.

Polytheistic gods that settled in America were specially territorial. So if the Norse gods were sending scouts, they probably didn’t like Dionysus paying a visit, “So you just gonna–”

“Yup.” The god gave him no chance to reply. With a simple swish of his staff, they were gone.

Olympus is terrible for walking.

The Pantheon had a ceiling made of night-sky that added a beautiful outdoorsy feel. Tall embellished Greek columns replaced walls in framing a ballroom-sized hallway, but grandiose got old fast. It just meant Percy had to take more steps to get from the entrance to the throne room.

Acres of lusciously green fields surrounded the great hall. If Percy had to guess, that's probably where half of New York City's water supply went. 

The floors were marble, with not a single speck of dust to be found. Similar material was used to immortalize the glory of the Olympians’ in spectacular statues. It was an orgy of egos. 

There were figures twisted in elaborate poses, masculine gods resembling immaculate bodybuilders from a 1950's sailor magazine. The only difference being that they were dressed in flowing chitons and laurel wreaths. Percy loved how unintentionally camp everything looked. He could admire beauty in that, at least. 

Apollo was sculpted as a lounging young man, wearing a garment short in all the right places. The other statues were rather unremarkable. 

The thrones– still terribly far away –were arranged in a semicircle, at the end of a plush red carpet.

Percy gazed admiringly.

Every throne was designed at painstaking lengths to showcase the domains of each individual. The craftsmanship alone was intended for gods. 

Dionysus had a throne made from a real mahogany teak tree that was somehow grown into a chair. Grape vines artifully tangled themselves in intricate swirling designs and small yellow flowers looped into a crown-halo above the headrest. Percy was so jealous, there were even cupholders in the armrests. 

Ol’ Thundercuck sat on his throne glowering down at Percy in his ten-foot form. If he didn’t know any better, Zeus was trying to incinerate him with his eyes. 

His footsteps made no sound as they walked, leaving the room uncomfortably silent. 

Zeus deadpanned, “Why do you always have to be a thorn in my side?”

"No, hi? How are you? How's you day?" Percy replied, sweet as honey. 

The god snorted, "Niceties are only for gods I have to pretend to like." 

A soothing voice spoke out of the shadows, “Don't tease my brother too much, Perseus. He'll get cranky.”

Dionysus’ gaze darted to the God of the Underworld. None of them heard Hades come in.

Dionysus chose that moment to cough, and when Zeus and Hades looked at him, unimpressed, he gave a meek bow. Then, like a sulking child, slunk to his throne beside Demeter’s. 

Percy followed the silent exchange with a poorly concealed smile. It was therepedic to see Mr. D knocked down a peg every once in a while.

Hades stood beside the demigod, but it was more like looming because Hades cleared Percy's height twice over. 

The God of the Underworld wore a black satin shirt that had clouds of swirling dead faces, paired with matte black dress pants and wavy black hair. Percy thought he looked like a fancy chaffer. 

Zeus pointed at a folding chair near one end of the crown of thrones. “Take a seat, brother.”

The craftsmanship alone was intended for gods Olympians.

Hades bared his teeth, “You love to humiliate me, brother. Back in Greece, it was that stupid stool with a loose leg. Now, it’s this office boardroom piece that belongs in a cesspool of broken dreams.”

The God of the Sky felt his smirk melt into a grin, “Dear brother, the Styx is no place to store your things,” 

Percy remembered flashes of the oily black river, filled with trophies, diplomas and divorces and it sent a shiver down his spine. Dionysus laughed, only to cover it with a coughing fit.

Hades’ shoulders rose and fell harshly, but his face remained completely serene. Deep frowns were etched into the souls swimming in his clothes. 

Through gritted teeth, Hades spoke, “Kindly, I’d prefer to stand.”

Percy didn’t like that. Hades was seething so much that Percy could practically feel the god sapping the life out of him.

“Your job is done so make yourself scarce, Dionysus. This discussion doesn’t require you.” Zeus waved his hand to shoo him away. 

Dionysus looked disappointed, but he was quick to hide it with a tight-lipped smile. The God of Madness slid his Diet-Coke out of its holder and disappeared with a pop.

“So tell me, demigod,” Zeus spoke, now casually lounging on his marble throne. “Are you plotting to overthrow the gods like that Hermes boy?”

“No.” Percy rushed, “I was just going for a swim, and Clymene came up to me.”

Hades chuckled, a sound Percy did not expect to hear in his lifetime, “A titan just swam up to you? You must’ve summoned her.”

“I didn’t.” The demigod– flustered by the accusations of anarchy –replied hastily. He took the box out of his pocket to show it to them. “She gave me this.”

The gods were all but frozen at the sight. “It can’t be…” Zeus trailed.

“That is ancient powerful magic.” Hades bristled and leaned away, “Is that why you called me here, brother, without a council?”

Zeus nodded grimly, “You’re the expert and I don’t want others learning of this. Once they find out, all Hades would break loose.” He sat up in his chair as his stormy eyes grew cool, “How did Clymene tell you to use the Clay of Prometheus?”

“She told me that, in order to revive a soul, I must take the clay, wrap it in an important possession of the person and bury it for two days.” The ease of it all unsettled Zeus and Hades. 

Percy was prompted to continue, “There are some limitations, however. The soul cannot have already passed into the underworld and they will not be revived the age they died, rather the age they will be currently.”

Hades’ frown was replaced by an arrogant pout, “Please, most souls are already in the underworld. The ones still on the surface are bound here by powerful old magic, which means they’ve been around for a millennia! That hunk of dirt is practically useless.” 

The god puffed his chest while Percy had to stifle an eyeroll.

“There’s someone I have in mind.” Zeus said slowly, stroking his salt and pepper beard.

Percy had noticed Zeus’ expression growing wistful during Hades’ soliloquy, “I am quite certain one of my sons is still trapped in the Labyrinth. His soul is bound to something, yes?”

Arrogance seemed to slip away from the God of the Underworld, a hint of sorrow ghosted over him, “The roman? Ah, I forgot about him.”

Hades spoke softly, “His soul bound to a sword when he died, Thanatos could do nothing for the boy so he hid his weapon inside the Labyrinth, where it is guarded by the maze itself.”

“And that is where you will go, hero,” Zeus opened his hand like he was holding an imaginary cup and the Lightning Bolt appeared in his hand. In a blink of an eye, his pinstriped suit transformed into a billowing Greek chiton and his gray hair began floating off his shoulders.

“Bring me Jason Grace and I will consider your act of treason forgiven. You say you have no cohorts with our enemies, but your word cannot be easily trusted; after all, you have wronged me before.”

Percy stood there, gobsmacked. Disbelief comically apparent by his hanging jaw. The hamster wheel slowly turned in his head as he tried to register the information. A million colorful phases came to mind, but he wisely chose to say nothing. Percy stiffly took a bow and when he rose, he kept his shoulders squared in hopes to keep them from shaking.

Treason? Is he still on my ass about his Lightning Bolt? I was twelve!

Hades also had changed, now dressed in a black chiton, adorned with gold hoops at the waist; his wavy dark hair now ran past his shoulders and he wore an ivory circlet at his temple. 

Percy didn't understand why they had to do a wardrobe change before assigning a quest. Perhaps it was to accentuate the gravity of the task, but he suspected it was just for dramatic flare.

Gothic Jesus thus spoke, “It’s suspicious you ended up in Aesir territory. Am I to believe that is also a coincidence?”

‘You can’t be serious right now.’ Percy thought to himself. 

He shook his head, “M'lord, only the Fates can tell you.”

Hades made a sound of disapproval, but nevertheless seemed to believe Percy, “I must be off, brother. Lest I am to let my realm fall into chaos.”

The God of the Underworld bowed curtly to Zeus. Then made his way towards the elevators at the end of the hall, which led to the Empire State Building and New York City below. 

The energy in the room thrummed less against Percy’s racing heartbeat. 

Percy turned to Zeus, his chest rose unevenly, “After this quest, M'lord…”

He swallowed before he spoke again, “Can I retire?”

Zeus regarded him with an unreadable gaze, “Depends if the Fates are done with you, demigod.If it’s any consolation, even gods have to adhere to them too.”

Percy wanted to say it was different for him. He wanted to tell Zeus about so much lost time spent worrying, fighting and slaying monsters that’s plagued his life up until this point. 

The whole point of his existence was being the perfect soldier, training other perfect soldiers to take up the sword once he’s gone. Magnus pointed it out, but it’s been so obvious all along, and he was tired of it.

“You’ve had demigods doing your bidding since the dawn of time. I’m gonna save Jason, after that? I’m out for good.”

Zeus clenched his jaw, clearly stung by those words. He seemed to be wrestling with rage underneath a calm facade. Considering their troubled history, Zeus was showing unprecedented restraint. 

“Very well. You are lucky that my brother is your sire, Perseus, but mark my words; this is as far as my generosity extends, cross me again and I will make sure you eat voltage forever.”

The Sea Prince bowed once again, tasting metal in his mouth. He excused himself from Zeus' audience. 

Tension melted away once he was in the elevator. Percy had to stop himself from jumping up and down in excitement. Joy swelled in his chest like a sea sponge about to explode. He couldn't believe it. With his luck, it was too good to be true, but the prospect of retirement was so sweet that he let hope win. No more stupid quests, no more prophecies and no more demigod responsibilities.

Just as soon as he saves Jason Grace.

Chapter Text

It is crazy how so much can happen in one day, but so is the life of a demigod.

Percy rapped at the apartment door. The flights of stairs it took to get to his mother’s place did not aid in the fatigue which plagued his every joint. He was sore all over, and felt incredibly tired and impatient. 

The porch light switched on and flooded the dank hallway with a yellow fluorescent glow. The passage had small boxy windows equipped with burglar bars facing east, whereas the doors to the apartments laid west. 

Years of cigarette smoke and ash made a fair sum of the place look dilapidated. The walls were a hue of sickly beige, pasted with grime. Green carpeted floors carried the smell of moldy dew and pizza. 

Percy saw something scurry away in his peripheral vision and pointedly decided to ignore it, lest he was to have a meltdown then and there. 

All of that washed away when the door creaked open to reveal a sleepy Sally Jackson. 

Her misty blue eyes widened, “Percy, my dear. It’s been so long,” 

The weariness that burdened her shoulders vanished as soon as she saw her son. 

She grappled Percy into a hug. “My baby boy…” whispered Sally into the crook of his neck and held on for dear life. Her hands trembled because she was afraid he would disappear again. 

“Mom, it’s okay.” Percy said quietly. He realized how deeply he had missed his mother once back in her arms. It felt like being a soldier coming home from war. 

Sally felt her son shaking and pulled away just enough to see his face. 

”I’m not going anywhere,” Percy laughed sheepishly, sniffling. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Blue. Now come inside.” Sally pinched her son’s face to prove a point. 

Percy just grinned wider and picked her up in a swirl. Giggles bubbled out of her like a spring fountain. Oh, how he missed her laugh so much. 

“What’s with all this ruckus?” Estelle leaned against the door with a little sleepy hand rubbing away at eye goop. 

She yawned wide like a cat and tears pooled at the corners of her eyes where a halo of brown locks stuck to her face. Estelle’s meek body was engulfed by unicorn pajamas. The pants were so big on her they gathered at the bottom of her feet. 

Percy let out a cheer, wild as a party centaur when he saw his baby sister. Neighbors and noise complaints, be damned. 

He swooped down and took Estelle up in one arm whilst he hoisted his mother in the other. 

Sally cried out in surprise as her hands flew up to cling onto his neck. “Jesus, Percy! When did you get so strong?” 

The muscle mass must’ve been truly impressive for a mortal. Luckily for him, he was only half on one side. 

Percy peppered his sister's cheeks with butterfly kisses, “Hello, baby sister.” 

Estelle backhanded the side of his head, “You’re daft as a donkey, Blue! It’s obscenely oafish to disappear for so long.” 

Sally laughed and so did Percy. Little Estelle sounded so cross and bossy, only in  a way a ten year-old girl could pull off. 

Percy could never take her insults seriously, especially since they were so wordy. 

“Come now, children.” Sally slipped out of Percy’s grasp then beckoned her daughter to do the same. 

“Onward steed!” Estelle cried before unsheathing an imaginary sword. She giggled with devilious rigor as she clicked her heels on Percy’s waist, “This horsie needs a bath, mama.” 

“That, he does,” Percy made a show of sniffing his armpits.

Estelle scrunched her nose and turned her face away, but not before bursting into fit of giggles. 

Paul stood at the end of the hall, half leaned on the doorway and half trying to cower back into the bedroom. The deep bags under his eyes were accentuated by the turmeric lighting cascaded from the hallway. It cast murky shadows into the apartment. 

Clothes, toys and paper were strewn about in a way that resembled a retail store in the calamity of a violent and treacherous windstorm. The scant counter space was dangerously threatened by thick manuscripts stacked high towards the cupboards. 

Slippers and art supplies cluttered the floors, especially in the living room where dinner plates were piled on the coffee table and the TV hummed with indistinct chatter.

A laptop was open on the dining room table, surrounded by heaps of unopened letters and sticky notes. Beside the laptop, laid next a colorful drawing of what seemed to be a black horse skipping over rainbows; which compared to the abstract marker scribbles Estelle used to make, it was a correct step in a new creative direction.

Paul’s ruffled brown hair fell over his askew glasses in tendrils. He wore deep creases on his forehead and a heavy frown. 911 was dialed on the keypad and Percy watched as his finger hovered over the call button. “I heard screaming. Is everything okay?”

Sally’s smile was wide and bright like the sun itself had risen in the room. She drew Paul into a warm embrace and planted an eager peck on his cheek. 

The confusion on his face melted and his bleary eyes gave away to a wide blank stare. Percy stood awkwardly at the door like a vampire waiting to be invited in, his eyes lit up and twinkled when he noticed Paul.

“Yes, we’re okay, Paul. Don't worry your pretty little head,” Sally laughed sheepishly 

Percy put Estelle on the floor, then closed the door. She whined and playfully smacked the crook of his back, luckily the hit was softened by sculpted fleshy muscles. Percy found it particularly annoying that his little sister hit people whenever she didn’t get her way.

Paul let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around Sally to return the hug, “My dear, I thought you were getting kidnapped.”

He beckoned Percy excitedly as he met him with a warm, fatherly smile. The dark seas of coffee eyes held bounds of endless affection for Percy. The raven headed man remained a comfortable distance, admiring his mother basking in a glory of happiness. 

Sally’s eyes were misty as she held out a hand, calling Percy to join their hug. Her eyes still lingered on her son, like she didn’t quite believe he was standing next to her, “It’s been too long, Blue.”

‘Blue’ — a nickname from his childhood that brought flutters to his chest. Memories of sunny Sunday picnics; days where his mother and him sat on a checkered blanket. Drinking the glow of rare golden rays during a time when mundane experiences felt like anything if not an exception. 

His mother snagged sample candy bags from Sweet on American, which she filled with blue treats: marshmallows, live wire, taffy and Jolly Ranchers. 

Percy was delighted as a child, not only because of the candy. He could finally spend time with his mom and learn of her past. 

Even now, the fondest memories of his childhood always included the brilliance of Sally’s loving smile; the times her beautiful crescent beamed when he fell down to encourage him to get back up, or when she’d fall into stitches as Percy told her corny renditions of his adventures.

All those warm feelings flooded over him as he held Paul, Sally and Estelle tenderly. He nuzzled into the crook of his mom’s neck and wrapped his arm over Paul’s shoulder with a fierce grip.

A torrent of repressed yearning barraged his chest, like a whirlpool precariously tossing a seabed. He felt a sob brew inside, but refused to let the tears drop, even gently burying his free hand in Estelle’s hair to hide how badly they were shaking.

Their storm of emotions finally reached his shores. Percy began to realize how much pain and worry he had caused his family by hiding away at Camp for months, completely radio silent. 

He resented the selfishness that had possessed him to stay away from his family and it made bile rise from his stomach.

He was so scared of the idea that Magnus was right. That he’d wasted time he’ll never get back. 

Percy has carried the world on his shoulders and saved it twice as the child of prophecy.

Genuinely, he thought if he could train demigods, make Camp Half Blood safe and keep the Romans happy that it would save the world for good. 

But no matter how much he took on, nothing seemed to change a world of Gods and Monsters. Everything was stuck in verbatim. 

Deep down, Percy knew one man alone couldn't change the laws of the universe. It didn’t stop him though. He grew more obsessed, ‘work’ became a facade to hide a growing resentment towards everyone else who could move on, seemingly without a care for anybody but themselves. 

While time seemed to march on, he remained the sullen Prince of the Sea, unmoved and anchored to responsibility. 

The weight had been as if Percy accepted godhood at his father’s side, but he did not. Yet, even without immortality, the shackles had been placed to chain his soul to the gods.

His mother patted Percy on the cheek, her baby breath eyes were ringed red and drooping heavily. A kaleidoscope of thoughts swam inside. They were dimmed by fatigue, yet behind them, was a vow to speak more later. 

Paul cleared his throat as he hid his face behind his sleeve, waterworks always came easy to him. 

A pang of envy prickled in the back of Percy’s mind as he marvelled at how uncomplicated his stepfather’s emotions were. It made him sad that men weren’t taught to cry enough in this world.

“We should head to bed. You have to work early, and Estelle has school in the morning,” Sally looped her arm through Paul’s elbow. 

She touched their foreheads together, “Percy can tuck her in tonight.”

She flashed Percy her winning smile, then ushered Paul to their bedroom.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Estelle knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Percy found himself, marvelled, standing there as he watched over his sister. 

Estelle’s breath cycled in steady rhythms. She looked so much like Paul, down to the way her toes were shaped. Hints of their mother were hidden in Estelle’s high, angular cheekbones. 

Percy shut the door behind him and blindly made his way to the living room. The couch cushions greeted his sore muscles kindly as he drifted to the realm of Morpheus.

Chapter Text

—“—

There was a tall slender boy leaning against the railing. His cropped blonde hair rustled in gentle winds. He resembled a marble statue, framed silver in the moonlight but also, in the way his posture was still and guarded. The only movement he made was in his restless fingers, where he fiddled with a gold coin.

Percy came up beside him and offered a simple smile. The boy didn't notice, his thoughts lost in troubled seas. The Sea Prince yawned, remembering how the day had drained him. He considered returning to his room since rest was hard to come by for a demigod.

The lucky ones were sleeping soundly, while the rest were twisting silly in their sleep. Demigods tended to see prophetic dreams that showed bits of the future. They were vivid, incoherent and scary– glimpses of incomplete moments. 

Percy remembered dizzying images of giant snake-legged monsters chasing his friends. The worst part of those dreams was being in the dark, not knowing if any of it would come true.

Percy shook himself. It was hard to stay grounded in reality when so much of it felt insane. 

"Jason," The quiet night carried Percy’s voice louder than he’d intended. The other boy jolted like he'd been startled awake. Wild blue eyes trained onto his green ones.

"Hi," A bit of worry eased from his expression, but his shoulders were taunt and heavy.

Jason's eyes lingered on the other man, almost instinctively, his gaze fell on Percy’s lips. It was a quick lapse in self indulgence, but the Sea Prince noticed. 

Jason rasped, and looked away to the open sky before them. 

The bronze ship flew suspended in the air as the waters were too dangerous to traverse. Wisps of clouds raced against the hull before trailing off in swirls of grey. The moon was a great round disk that teetered on the horizon. Percy thought of it as a milky island they could reach if they sailed far enough.

It was like gazing out into an ocean of mist, dotted above with cosmic flecks that twinkled brightly in the clear sky. There was hardly a difference between sky and sea at night. 

The lands below were lost to darkness; with no telltales to where shores began and ended. 

Lightly, he nudged the other boy with his shoulder, "Jason, it's my turn to take watch."

It warranted a dry chuckle from the fair-headed boy. Jason took one last glance at the gold coin in his palm then tucked it away. He knocked Percy back with his shoulder, "I'll stand guard with you. Just for tonight."

Percy was keenly aware of Jason shifting nearer. Every time the ship moved, he felt their arms brush. 

Jason hoped his small smile was hidden in darkness. 

The green-haired boy gazed thoughtfully at Jason, wondering if there could be something more between them. 

 —“—

The warmth of the memory brought a dewy feel to Percy’s heart. It felt good to finally live through a moment that was his own.

The starry canvas faded into an unending midnight. There was a cool breeze as the curtains drew for intermission. Sleep placed a leaden weight upon his mind. It kept him still and empty in his own Field of Asphodel.

Soon, the orchestra came to life, violins whined their first notes and the curtains gave way to the blank screen. A new film was loaded into the projector.

“Papa! Papa!” said Icarus. 

Before Percy's eyes even opened, he could feel the ecstatic radiance of the boy’s smile, “Its high noon, you never sleep this late.” 

And so, he opened his eyes and was greeted by Icarus standing directly above him.

Percy saw the boy looked younger in this dream, his eyes were bigger and the elvish curve of his nose was less pronounced. His hair was longer with slight curls, layered neatly and trimmed short in the front and long at the back. Wavy bangs obscured the pimples swelling on his forehead; Icarus must've been eleven or twelve years old.

His hand moved to rest on Icarus' golden mane. Outside the birds sang and Eurus, the wind, played her flute of leaves. Icarus giggled softly as he shifted and wiggled like a giddy horse. 

"My boy, move so I may leave the bed," Percy's hand moved from the boy's head to his cheek to pat it lovingly. Icarus complied and stepped aside.

Percy went to the bathroom. He used a tie of thistles dipped in powdered natron to brush his teeth. It tasted carbolic and sharp like baking soda. 

There was a small vanity mirror in front of the basin. He caught a glance of himself. 

Immediately, Percy's mind froze in shock.

It was him, the same bright green eyes and black hair, except he was older; wrinkles framed his eyes where they hadn't before. He also had a beard shot with early signs of greying. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring, until Icarus appeared at the door. 

Icarus said excitedly, "Papa! The flock of ἀετός Διός is returning!" 

Percy paused for a moment, confused. A etos Dios, he thought, Did he mean golden eagles? Eagle of Zeus? He had a hard time figuring out what the boy meant. However, like before, the information was planted into his mind.

It was early May, the start of the migration season when the island’s birds were set to return. The mansion was located in the Rethymno region of Crete. It saw native species such as the golden eagle return for the summer months.

Icarus rolled his eyes at of the blank look Percy must've been giving him, "You'll miss it, come now," 

The boy took him in hand, he tugged the Sea Prince towards the grand arch window seated in the middle of the living room.

There were slender decorative bars bolted onto the windowsills. Percy hadn't noticed during the thunderstorm. His heart sank for Daedalus, truly seeing them now made this place feel like a prison. 

Whistling noises came from the south, random in tonal diction but melodic. It was different from anything Percy had ever heard before. 

Icarus whispered, "Here they come."

Something zipped past the window. Great wings of gold, brown and white carried a large bird with the endurant speed of Philippides. It continued to climb altitude, until it flew well above the tallest peak on the island. The eagle basked in glorious sunlight, greeting Crete’s cerulean skies like an old friend. It encircled the mansion then disappeared from view.

Percy watched dozens more follow the route of the first eagle. Their powerful wings made a cacophony of strong heartbeats. 

Small feathers were attached close to the arm of the bird, and grew in size as the wing branched away from the body. Their wings curved into a loose arch as the eagles pushed air down to go higher. 

Suddenly, an eagle twisted to avoid a tree; its wing tucked as the tail shot to the side. The maneuver propelled the eagle sharply to the right. Once cleared of the hazards, it craned its body down to catch the wind at an angle, then released its wings. They opened with a loud, cracking SHOOP, like linen hung on a clothing line during a windy day. 

Percy was amazed to see such a motion performed with expert fluidity. It was like watching a master of dance. 

His mind was given noteful observations. It was the tails that gave the eagles air control; helping the bird twist, turn, brake and fly upward. The wings were the propeller whilst the tail was the steering. The sleek and cylindrical build of a bird aided flight by balancing the weight centred in its belly. An idea began to whir behind his careful gaze. 

As the last bird flew past the window, a single feather fell out of the sky. Percy reached out through the bars and caught it. There held the way to freedom in his hand.

Both of them gawked at the plume, albeit most likely for different reasons. Icarus grabbed for it, but Percy’s hand shifted out of his reach, "Careful, my boy. This is how we escape!"

There was a flicker, quicker than a blink of an eye. Percy wouldn't have caught it unless he was directly looking at Icarus. The boy too must've felt it because his face changed. He began to look at Percy with simmering sadness. It was like he already knew how the myth played out.

Daedalus would build two pairs of wings and fly to safety, while his son was doomed to plummet to his death. His arrogance would bring him too close to the sun. The wax binding his wings will melt and thus cause his demise.

Icarus– suddenly appearing much wiser than a child –turned to walk away. 

Percy caught Icarus whispering under his breath, "Why does he look so much like Percy?"  He wasn't supposed to hear but he asked the boy what he meant anyway; it made Icarus jump.

"Nothing," he shook his head, "You just look like somebody I used to know," 

Percy snorted, "You do too."

Icarus turned to look at Percy then, fear and disbelief swimming in his wide blue eyes. 

The silence stretched and grew, until he finally said, "Percy..."

His ears perked up at his name. Slowly, his eyes fell on the scar on the boy's lip.

"Hi, Jason."