Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“This is, quite literally, one of the stupidest things you’ve ever done, and one time I watched you eat an entire package of Mentos and one of Mandy’s peppers because you thought they would cancel each other out.”

Percy paused in his packing to give his boyfriend a look. “Okay, first off, the logic for that made perfect sense and also Pollux offered me an alliance if I did it and that won us Capture the Flag that week so you can’t even complain. Second, this isn’t even that stupid.”

“Oh, so you admit it’s at least a little stupid?” Lee raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed in front of his chest.

Percy rolled his eyes and went back to shoving another sweater in his bag. An entire minute passed before he sighed, abandoning his half-packed bag and reaching over to pull Lee’s arms away from his chest.

“Look, I get that you’re worried, I do. I haven’t left camp for longer than a few hours since summer ended, and almost all of those times were with you, but we’ll only be gone for a day or two, at most, I promise. We just—we’ve no idea when Thalia’ll be able to do this again, and it’ll be nice to…”

“Get away,” Lee finished, his jaw tight as he looked to the side. Percy tugged him closer, and Lee’s arms seemed to move on autopilot as they wrapped around his waist.

“Not from you,” he said softly. “Never from you, Lee. But I won’t deny that sometimes camp can be a little…much. Besides, we’ve never really had the opportunity to spend time together with just the three of us, and I think it’ll be fun.”

“The only three living children of the Big Three in the middle of the wilderness for two days, and you think it’ll be fun?” 

“At the very least it’ll be entertaining,” Percy said lightly. “A bonding experience, almost certainly.”

Lee still looked unhappy, and Percy poked him in between his eyebrows to get him to lighten up on the frown.

“Mr. D thinks it’s a good idea. Said I can’t always cling to you or Tani when I leave the borders of camp and me leaving for longer than a few hours with other people is a step in the right direction—though, he may just be saying that because he wants to see if we can go the whole time without blowing something up or getting ourselves arrested.”

Nothing.

“Lee,” Percy cajoled him. “Come on, I don’t want to leave with you still…”

Lee’s shoulders slumped. “I still don’t like it, but I get why you need to go,” he said.

Percy’s lips quirked up and he wrapped his arms around Lee’s neck, tugging him down until their noses brushed.

“I’ve still got time before Thalia’s supposed to get here,” he murmured. “Let me make it up to you.”

Lee’s eyes flashed with heat, and a moment later he was crossing the scant distance between their lips to kiss him deeply.

“You’re late,” Nico said when Percy finally made it to the Big House almost half an hour after their intended meeting time.

“Got caught up packing,” Percy lied, even though he most certainly hadn’t.

Nico gave him an unimpressed look. “Your shirt’s inside out,” was all he said, and Percy looked down immediately only to freeze.

“You little shit,” he muttered, and Nico smirked at him.

“Got you.”

Percy grumbled, slumping down in one of the empty seats and tugging at his very much not inside out shirt. “Thalia?”

“Annabeth.”

Percy let out a quiet ah and settled down more comfortably at the knowledge that they’d be waiting for a while longer. Almost an hour had passed before he spotted the daughter of Zeus stomping up to them, her face a storm of emotions.

Nico and Percy exchanged a glance.

“Guessing your conversation didn’t go too well,” Percy said lightly, and the glare Thalia sent him would’ve had Ares running for the hills. Percy, as it was, just raised a single eyebrow.

“I can barely stand to look at her,” Thalia admitted when it became clear Percy wasn’t going to back down.

“It’s not like she can tell the difference anymore. She can’t exactly look at you either,” Nico snarked, and Percy turned away to muffle his laughter into his hand.

“Whatever,” Thalia growled. “Let’s just go, yeah? I want to kick your asses and then kill a couple dozen monsters.”

“What’s it like to be so confident and so wrong?” Percy asked as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Thalia narrowed her eyes at him, and Percy knew he was in for a hell of a spar when they reached their campsite.

Good. It’d been too long since anyone except Clarisse had managed to give him a good thrashing.

They took Blackjack and two other pegasi from the stables—Percy had a great time on the flight, laughing at Thalia and Nico’s unhappy and uncomfortable faces every time he made a daring dive or threw his hands out to his sides and gripped Blackjack only with his knees—but eventually they landed somewhere in the middle of the wilderness somewhere in Vermont, of all places.

Thalia gave a sigh of relief as soon as her feet touched the ground, turning in a circle and appraising the clearing where they’d landed.

“It’ll do,” she said after a moment. “Flat ground, plenty of firewood, should have a great view of the stars through the trees at night, too.”

“There’s a waterfall that drops into a natural spring a couple hundred yards that way,” Percy nodded to the west of them before furrowing his eyebrows. “Might be too cold for swimming, though,” he added thoughtfully.

“What gave it away,” Thalia said wryly, toeing at the snow under her boot. Percy gave her a blank stare, flicking his fingers out and sending the snow flying to the edges of the clearing.

“Wh—how long have you been able to control snow?” Thalia demanded, lifting her foot to check out the completely dry grass and dirt under it.

“It’s frozen water, Thalia, it’s not that hard of a jump,” Percy said.

“He figured it out, like, two weeks ago, and only because Will asked if he’d ever thought about it,” Nico, the little traitor, said with a smug grin, ignoring Percy’s betrayed Nico! and dumping his bag on the ground.

“This is so unfair,” Thalia complained. “You get so many different powers and all I get is lightning.”

“I mean, you could probably control the wind if you tried,” Percy suggested with a shrug. “You should also be able to make some pretty wicked storms and tornadoes and shit.”

“You could temporarily paralyze people with your lightning if you hit them in the right spot with the right voltage,” Nico piped up, and both Percy and Thalia turned to look at him.

“You’re a devious little kid, you know,” Percy said eventually, and Nico stuck his tongue out at him. Thalia shook her head and tossed one of her bags on the ground, which immediately expanded and turned into one of the Hunters’ magical tents.

Half an hour later and they had a small campsite set up around a flickering fire. Thalia waited impatiently for Percy to dump the last of the firewood next to the fire before snatching him by the shirt and dragging him to the open space on the other side of the clearing.

Percy slapped her hand away, grumbling that he was, in fact, capable of walking on his own.

“Nico, you gonna join us?” He called over to the boy still sitting on one of the logs next to the fire.

“In a few rounds,” Nico said, though he twisted around on his seat so he had a better view.

“He just wants us to tire each other out so he’s got a better shot,” Thalia said.

“Oh, definitely, the little shit,” Percy laughed.

Thalia expanded her spear and shield, and Percy wrinkled his nose at the grisly face of Medusa engraved on the bronze. He thought for a moment and then pulled out Current, figuring Thalia would have little to no experience fighting against a trident as opposed to a sword. He was proven right when she scowled at the bronze weapon.

Percy smirked at her and then lunged forward. What followed was one of the most brutal spars Percy had ever had. Each of Thalia’s blows reverberated through his bones, and she caught him across the ribs and arms more than once. Her face was serious and focused, electric blue eyes glowing even though they’d agreed on keeping godly powers out of the fight.

Percy gave back as good as he got, clocking her in the chin with the butt of his trident and following up by trying to sweep her legs out from under her.

It took several minutes of fast-paced dueling before Thalia’s shoulders loosened and her scowl faded into a teasing grin. The fight shifted into more of a dance, flashy moves and complicated steps and fancy acrobatics, until Percy planted the butt of Current into the dirt and used it as a pole to swing around and catch Thalia in the face with both feet.

She reeled back with a shout, fighting to keep her balance, but she’d been caught too off guard. By the time she blinked the reflexive tears out of her eyes, Percy had leveled Current at her throat with a cocky smile.

“Dead,” he said.

“Bitch,” Thalia responded, knocking away the prongs with a hand and standing up with a groan.

“Fuck, where did that trident move come from?” She rubbed her nose, prodding it carefully and wincing.

“Saw Clarisse do it last week with her spear and figured it’d work the same with Current.”

“Damn, can’t believe I’ve never thought of doing that with mine,” Thalia said, flopping down next to the fire. “Your turn, Death Boy. See if you can dethrone the reigning king.”

“Wh—I don’t get a break?” Percy complained, downing a water bottle from his own spot next to the fire—fuck, even with the snow cleared the clearing was freezing unless he was right up next to the flames.

“No,” Thalia and Nico said in unison.

“‘s what you get for winning,” Thalia said.

“The curse of being better than you,” Percy lamented, dodging her retaliatory hit with a laugh and following Nico back to the sparring ground.

Nico eeked out a win, because he was a sneaky little shit, though Percy would die on the hill that he would’ve won if he hadn’t been so exhausted from his fight with Thalia, but the son of Hades suffered a loss at Thalia’s hands in the following fight.

Thalia wanted to go for a three-way spar after that, but Percy, who could no longer feel his fingers, begged off to the fire with the agreement that they’d have a full-out fight between the three of them in the morning.

They cooked burgers and roasted s’mores late into the night and only had four swordfights with the skewers that ended in blood, which Percy considered a success.

“Alright,” Thalia clapped her hands together. “Storytime.”

“Storytime?” Nico asked, looking impressively unenthusiastic. Thalia deflated slightly at his face before perking back up.

“Don’t you want to hear about Percy’s first two quests?” She cajoled him, and Nico’s entire countenance lit up. Percy, meanwhile, slumped in his seat with a groan.

“Why…why would you do this to me?” He asked her, and she snickered.

“Oh, please, Percy,” Nico begged, turning his pouting face on in full effect. Percy, as an incredibly secretive person, had developed a reputation for keeping the details of his quests to himself along with his fellow questmates, and even Nico hadn’t managed to pry the stories out of him.

Tonight, faced with both Nico and Thalia’s excited faces, he crumbled.

“If you ever breathe a word to anyone…” Percy threatened, waiting for them to nod before refilling his cup of hot cocoa. “Okay, so, it all really started with Mrs. Dodds…”

Percy talked well into the night, sparing no details as he laid out his entire first quest. By the time he reached the end of his first summer, however, Nico’s head was drooping, and Percy’s words were coming slower and slower.

They stumbled into their tents only a few hours before the sun rose, leaving Thalia’s timber wolf to keep watch, and Percy curled into his sleeping bag gladly. 

Percy’s dreamt of swimming in a milky-white river, of falling through darkness, of a garden carved out of gemstones, of a grey field filled with pale shades of people, of horrifying bat-like women, of a woman whose face was half bone-white and half blackened and twisted, of a towering man in a prisoner’s jumpsuit, of a black sword with a golden key set in the base of the blade, of the goddess of spring and the god of the dead, and he woke with the cold certainty that they wouldn’t be spending another night in the clearing.

Percy crawled out of his tent to find Thalia and Nico already huddled around the fire, and Thalia looked up with a teasing grin.

“I was beginning to think we’d have to call you Zombie Boy with the way you were sleeping.”

Percy glowered, plopping down on Nico’s log and snatching the hot cocoa out of his hands. He ignored Nico’s offended squawk and took a deep drink of his stolen hot chocolate.

“We need to start packing,” he said.

Thalia looked at him like he was an idiot. “Packing? We’re supposed to stay another night.”

“Yeah, well, we’re about to get interrupted,” Percy groused.

“Interrupted? By who?” Nico asked, ceasing his attempts to take back his drink.

“Your stepmother.”

A beat, and then Nico groaned, flopping back off the log onto the ground. Percy knew he’d met his stepmother only one time when he’d risked a trip to the Underworld a few months before, and the interaction had left much to be desired.

They were quick to pack up after that, though Thalia grumbled the entire time about stupid stepmothers that ruined their well-earned vacation, and no sooner had Percy zipped up the last of their stuff in his bag than the ground proceeded to open up underneath their feet and send them plummeting into the darkness.

They were still screaming when their feet touched down in a sparsely lit garden of glittering gemstones.

“Ugh,” Thalia curled her lip, toeing a rosebush made out of green agate and emeralds and rubies. “Are they incapable of sending a fucking warning? Seriously, who the fuck just opens the ground out from under you without saying anything? Bitches, that’s who.”

Percy and Nico made twin noises of agreement, and then Percy caught sight of the ghostly woman standing under one of the pomegranate trees.

“Found the bitch,” he muttered, low enough that Persephone wouldn’t overhear but the other two would. Nico let out a muffled laugh that had the goddess of springtime narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

She was wearing a pale dress made out of faded, wilted flowers. Her skin was paper white, her eyes shimmering with colors that he was sure would be vibrant in the overworld but were muted in the land of the dead.

“Welcome, heroes,” Persephone smiled at them, but it was strained.

“Welcome? Last time I was here you turned me into a dandelion, and you’ve got the nerve to stand here and say welcome? Fuck off.”

Persephone’s face looked as if it were carved from marble, and Percy thought for a second that too much of his own defiant disrespect had rubbed off on Nico before he decided that the best thing to do was add fuel to the fire.

Honestly, this was what Persephone deserved for ruining their vacation.

“Hey, if you want a new stepmother, mine would adopt you in a heartbeat. And she’s never turned me into a floating patch of kelp no matter how disrespectful I got,” he said, and Nico hummed thoughtfully.

“She would be a real step up,” Nico said slowly, and Thalia turned her face away to hide her amusement.

“Dad’s not half bad either,” Percy told him, hearing a choked wheeze from Thalia’s direction.

The air around Persephone grew positively frigid as she watched Percy and Nico methodically list all the ways Amphitrite was better than her, all the while Thalia died silently next to them.

“Hey, if Nico doesn’t take you up on your offer…my stepmother also sucks ass,” she said when she got her breath back.

“You know, I can think of nothing that would make your dad more mad than if mine adopted you, and that right there is how I know Dad’ll do it without question.”

“Heroes,” Persephone interrupted before them before they could really get going, her voice ice cold.

“I didn’t call you here to discuss the merits of parentage, but because I have a job for you.”

“Job implies we’re getting paid,” Percy said.

“And that we have a choice,” Thalia added.

“It concerns Lord Hades’ sword,” Persephone continued, clearly deciding to ignore their side comments.

Nico frowned. “My dad doesn’t have a sword. His symbol of power is his helm, and he uses a staff when he has to fight.”

“He didn’t have a sword,” Persephone corrected.

“He’s forging a new symbol of power,” Thalia said, her blue eyes darkening.

“War with the Titans approaches. My Lord Hades seeks only to be ready for when they come,” Persephone defended.

“He seeks to upset the balance of power between the Big Three, you mean,” Thalia shot back. “You can’t possibly believe either Zeus or Poseidon would ever agree to this.”

“He seeks only to be their equal, daughter of Zeus. Believe me, the Lord of the Dead has no desire to rise up against either of his brothers. But he knew they would never understand, hence why the blade was forged in secret.”

“This sword,” Percy said slowly. “It wouldn’t happen to be all black, currently without a hilt, and have a golden key set in the base of the blade, would it?”

Nico sucked in a sharp breath even as Persephone turned to him.

“You’ve seen it?”

“In my dreams last night,” Percy told her.

Persephone looked the slightest bit relieved. “So, you know where it is, then.”

Percy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “You say that as if you don’t know where it is,” he said eventually.

Persephone gave a nearly imperceptible wince, and Percy and Thalia groaned in unison.

“You lost it, didn’t you? That’s why we’re here—you want us to get it back for you,” Thalia gestured to the three of them.

“Man, I’m so tired of having to chase down a thief who’s stolen a weapon of immeasurable power from a god. Can’t you guys, just this once, find your own damn shit?” Percy griped, and Persephone drew herself up, rage flashing in her eyes.

“It’s not that simple,” Nico spoke up before Persephone could. “You said you saw a golden key set in the base of the blade, yeah? They must’ve put one of the keys of Hades into the blade, and that…”

“Keys of Hades,” Thalia said carefully. “And what exactly do those do?”

“They can lock or unlock death. Imprison a soul in the Underworld or release it,” Nico said, looking paler than Percy had ever seen him.

“Which means the wielder can raise the dead or slay any living thing and send its soul to the Underworld simply by touching them,” Persephone said.

Percy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And you let this thing get stolen? One of the most powerful weapons in existence and you let somebody just walk off with it in the middle of your godsdamn domain? Fucking—like father like daughter, I guess.”

“Mind your tone, son of Poseidon,” Persephone said, her voice practically a growl, and Percy felt cold vines creep up his legs, sharp thorns pricking at his fingers. “You may be Poseidon’s favored son and a prophet of Apollo, but do not presume to disrespect me in my own palace.”

“You turned my little brother into a dandelion because your husband had a kid without you, you don’t get to ask me for respect, Lady Persephone,” Percy’s voice was hard, and he could feel the mood shift throughout the entire garden.

Persephone looked like one of Medusa’s statues, her poisonous eyes staring into Percy’s own. Percy, for his part, refused to back down. If she thought Percy would respect her just because she was an immortal goddess, she had another thing coming.

“Lord Hades has used his remaining keys to shut down the Underworld. Nothing gets in or out until he finds the sword, and he’s using all of his power to locate the thief even as they attempt to slip out of the land of the dead. The thief must be a demigod—I suspect one of Kronos’s minions—and I need you three to find them before they slip out and give the sword to their master,” she said eventually.

“Why us? My father has no shortage of servants down here that could do this. Why not use the Furies?”

“Hades’ servants don’t know about the existence of the blade, nor do we intend to inform them until it’s finished. Besides, who better to return Hades’ sword to him than his own son and the children of his two brothers? You three being the ones to give it to him will go a long way to getting Zeus and Poseidon to accept it.”

They were silent for a long time, and Percy and Thalia exchanged a glance.

“Whatever, how do we find this thief, then?” Thalia asked, and Persephone waved her hand. A potted plant formed in her palms, a sickly yellow carnation that listed to the side as though trying to find the sun—a futile effort in the land of the dead.

“The flower always faces the thief. More petals will fall off the closer the thief gets to escaping. When all of the petals are gone, the flower will die, and that means the thief has escaped the Underworld and you’ve failed.”

Percy sighed, accepting the potted plant but making sure his displeasure was clear on his face. “I’ll hold the flower while you two beat up the thief?”

Thalia rolled her eyes, and then they were off.

They traipsed through the Fields of Asphodel, and Percy couldn’t help but be reminded of the last time he’d been there—on his first quest, with Grover and Annabeth by his side.

Hmmm, that reminded him…

Percy sped up to walk next to Thalia as Nico led the way with his black sword.

“So, how’d your conversation with Annabeth go?”

Thalia didn’t look at him, but her jaw clenched.

“That bad, huh? I can relate, honestly.”

“I just don’t understand how she got to that point,” Thalia said. “How she could do what she did and not even…”

The last time Thalia had been at camp had been several months ago, when Annabeth had admitted to being Luke’s spy at camp for almost two years. The two of them had, reportedly, gotten into a massive argument over the entire thing, though Percy himself hadn't witnessed it. Thalia had been absolutely livid at Annabeth’s decisions, and not even Annabeth’s tears had lessened her rage.

Of course, it was nothing compared to when Thalia had overheard from some of the other campers what Annabeth had done to Percy—how she'd treated him over the past year, how she'd abandoned him in the Labyrinth, how she'd forced a prophecy out of him—and even Percy himself had been taken aback by some of the things she’d said.

Percy could still remember the crestfallen look on Annabeth’s face when Thalia had stomped away from her without a backwards glance, the confusion in her milky-white eyes, as though she’d expected Thalia to stand by her side even after everything.

“Lee told me once that the Luke Castellan I knew died the same night I did. Now I think…I think we all died that night. The Annabeth I knew doesn’t exist anymore, just like the Luke I knew doesn’t, just like the Thalia I used to be is gone. Both of them grieved me for longer than they even knew me, and I…I woke up to the knowledge that the people I once knew grew up without me. I can’t cling to the person Annabeth is now just because I used to love her,” Thalia said eventually.

“I understand. I let her get away with a lot because of how close we got on our quest. I let the nicknames slide right past even if sometimes they stung because I knew she was just teasing me, I let her insinuate that I couldn’t survive without her because I knew she was just worried about me, I let…I let a lot of things go because I cared about her. Even now, sometimes I think…” Percy trailed off, looking down at the sickly carnation in his hand as one of the petals withered away into nothing.

“You think you were too harsh with her,” Thalia finished. “That maybe she didn’t deserve her punishment.”

“I see her on the outskirts of camp and all I can think is that I know how that feels. The first few days after my claiming…that was how they treated me. And for me to do that to someone I used to care about…”

“She did it to you first, Percy,” Thalia said firmly. “She turned her back on you first. Over and over again, she hurt you because she thought she knew everything and she thought you liked her back and she thought she was your number one and then she found out all at once that none of that was true.”

Percy frowned, his brain caught on one part of Thalia’s sentence. “Annabeth liked me?”

It didn’t even compute in his brain. Maybe a year ago—or maybe not a year ago, considering how bad his self-esteem had been last winter—he could’ve seen how Annabeth held some affection for him, but after everything that had happened over the past year?

A person didn’t treat somebody they claimed to care about like that.

“She and Lee were at the top of the betting pool for a while,” Thalia admitted. “But even I could see that you only had eyes for Lee. I tried to tell her, but…”

“Annabeth always knows best,” Percy snorted, shaking his head. It didn’t change anything, he thought. Just because she used to have a crush on him didn’t excuse what she’d done—it honestly made it worse, in a way. That she claimed to care about him like that and still called him such awful things, still treated him like a piece of shit, still left him to be tortured...that wasn't—people didn't do that to somebody they cared about, somebody they loved.

“She still I-Ms me, sometimes,” Thalia said eventually. “Tries to talk to me like nothing has changed, like I don’t know that she lied to me for almost a year and left you to Luke for some stupid glory and—and I can’t look at her. It’s like she thinks if she just pretends it never happened, I’ll forget about it, but how can I forget about it when everytime I see her I’m reminded of it? That scar on her face…sometimes, I look at her and all I see is him.”

“I can barely stand to look at her half the time either. I catch a glimpse of that scar and I’m back in the Labyrinth and she’s leaving me to him, and then he’s beating me half to death and then he’s standing over me in that forest with his hands around my throat and—and I hate her. I hate her so much that I wish I’d let Apollo kill her, or Lee kill her, or that I’d done it myself just so that I don’t ever have to see her again. And then I think that even if she ends up in the Fields of Punishment death would be too easy for her. I think that she deserves to live a long, painful life without anyone to care about her because she put me through a hell I still haven’t recovered from and if I have to live with what she did to me, so does she,” Percy swallowed, his hands whitening around the pot in his hands, his fingers trembling. He’d never told anyone but Lee any of that, but something told him Thalia wouldn’t judge him for it, something told him she understood in the same way Lee did.

Percy was still struggling with what had happened to him over the summer, with Calypso’s poisonous touch and the Labyrinth’s madness, and he would likely continue to struggle with it for years. And she’d done that to him. Annabeth, someone who’d been one of his best friends once, had done that to him.

“It hurts,” Thalia said quietly. “That she turned out this way, that I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

Percy let out a long breath, and then Nico was yelling from in front of them.

“Hey, you two! We’re not exactly going for some leisurely stroll in the park here. You’re walking slower than that old couple that likes to walk around the block every morning.”

Percy huffed, and he and Thalia sped up obligingly. They traipsed through the Fields of Punishment, passing by Sisyphus as he struggled up his hill.

Nico mentioned how Sisyphus, as someone who’d escaped the Underworld before, might’ve offered the thief some advice, but Percy had a feeling he already knew where they needed to go so he ushered them on.

“Hey, Neeks, which river down here is white?”

Nico gave him a curious look. “The Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness.”

“Ah, and we’re currently heading straight for it, right?”

Nico’s eyebrows furrowed, and he looked around for a second, gauging their position. “Yeah, how did you…you saw it, didn’t you?”

“Yep. While we’re on the subject, I also saw these, frankly, very horrifying half-bat ladies and also an incredibly creepy woman who was half paper-white ghost and half burnt mummy, don’t suppose you know what the fuck either of them are?”

Nico stopped in his tracks, his already pale face going even paler. “You saw Melinoë,” he said.

“The creepy half-and-half lady?”

“The goddess of ghosts, of the restless dead that walk the earth. Apparently, she rises from the Underworld every night to terrify mortals,” Nico told them.

“So, she’d have her own path into the overworld,” Thalia realized. “The thief must be trying to make a deal with her to get out.”

“Wonderful,” Percy said dryly. “Let’s go get haunted, I guess.”

Thalia let out a huff of laughter before stiffening and slinging her bow off of her shoulder. Percy and Nico sobered up as well, each drawing their own weapons.

Thalia tilted her head like she was listening for something even as she notched an arrow.

Percy set down the potted carnation slowly, moving until he was back-to-back with the other two. No sooner had their shoulders touched than did a troop of the half-bat women from Percy’s visions materialize around them—furry faces with sharp fangs and bulging eyes, matted gray fur all over with shriveled arms and leather wings and bowed legs.

Ughh, they were no less horrifying than the first time he’d seen them.

“Keres,” Nico said, sounding angry that he hadn’t put it together before. “Of course.”

“Care to enlighten the class?” Thalia asked.

“Battlefield spirits who feed on violent death.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Percy sighed.

“Get back!” Nico ordered, raising his sword in their direction threateningly. “The son of Hades commands you.”

“Ooh, shivers,” Thalia teased, and Nico gave her a withering glare.

“I don’t think they were very impressed though,” Percy said, as the Keres hissed at them with foaming mouths.

“We follow Hades’s commands no longer. Our new master will give us more free reign than he ever did,” one of them snarled.

“New master?” Nico blinked, looking taken-aback, and the monster used his surprise to its advantage, lunging forward with snapping teeth. Thalia was quicker, though, shooting an arrow point-blank into its ugly bat face before it could rip Nico to bits.

The rest of the Keres seemed to take that as a sign to charge, and pretty soon the three of them were embroiled in a nasty fight with the violent creatures.

Percy ducked just in time for Nico’s sword to whistle over his head and cut one of them in half, popping up on his other side and using Riptide to slice through three of the monsters.

“You know,” Percy said conversationally, booting one of them away with a strong kick and sending it straight onto Thalia’s spear. “When I said we should do this more often, this wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

“No, really? Cause when I imagined our little Big Three bonding vacation this is exactly what I pictured,” Thalia shot back.

Percy narrowed his eyes, slashing the wings off of two Keres and putting Riptide through their chests in a single breath.

“Hey, I’m the one with the prophetic dreams. Get your own shtick, Pinecone Face.”

Thalia rolled her eyes, her spear whirling in a deadly arc around her and vaporizing any monster that came close. Nico cut through an entire line of Keres, absorbing their essence into his spear and causing the air to grow cold around him.

One of the Keres lunged for Nico’s exposed back, and Percy leapt forward with a snarl. The monster died with a screech and Percy felt a grim smile flit across his face.

“Iapetus will crush you,” one of them shouted, slashing at him with their claws. 

Iapetus? But—

The vision of the towering man in the prisoner’s jumpsuit flashed through his mind, and Percy felt dread flicker up his spine.

Oh, no.

The sword—

Pain exploded on the entire right side of Percy’s body as a Keres used his distraction to slash at Percy’s exposed upper arm, cutting through his shirt like it was made of butter and leaving deep gouges in his skin. An agonized yell left him, and Riptide clattered to the ground. Percy followed suit barely a second later, curling into a ball around his burning arm.

The world became blurry and indistinct, but Percy thought he saw Nico standing over him, lashing out furiously at any Keres who dared to come within range. He saw flickers of other things he couldn’t understand—the man in the prisoner’s jumpsuit looking up at him blankly, the same man from before but in a janitor’s uniform, smiling kindly even though his silver eyes were sad—and let out a low, keening whine.

A hand landed on his shoulder, gently turning him over, but even that small movement had the pain spiking. Percy jerked away weakly, but the grip tightened.

“Hold on, Kelp Head. Let us—”

Bob Bob Bob Bob Bob—

Burning hands grasped his face, and Percy blinked his eyes open to Thalia’s worried face.

“What are you—who’s Bob, Percy?”

Percy shook his head. “The stars,” he slurred nonsensically. “The stars the stars Bob Bob Bob Bob—”

He let out a shout when someone touched his arm, and consciousness slipped through his fingers like sand.

The next thing Percy was aware of was two soft voices speaking above him, familiar and safe and—and worried?

They sounded worried. He didn't think he wanted them to be worried.

“Mmmph,” Percy tried to speak, though his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

“Percy?” A finger tapped his cheeks lightly, and Percy went to lift his arm and swat it away before a stinging pain erupted all throughout his muscles at the slight movement.

Percy’s entire body flinched at the pain, but it seemed to clear the last of the fuzziness out of his brain.

“The Keres?” He asked, opening his eyes to find Thalia and Nico hovering over him.

“Gone for now,” Thalia said. “But you really had us worried there for a sec, Perce.”

Percy let out a hum, lifting his head up to examine the wound only to find it already bandaged expertly.

“‘s fine now, yeah?”

“Not for long,” Nico said. “The Keres are spirits of disease and pestilence as well as violence. Ambrosia and nectar can slow the infection down, but unless a god heals you…”

“Good thing I’ve got a bunch of them on speed dial, one of whom happens to be the god of healing. Let’s find this stupid sword and then I’ll pester one of them into popping up and helping me, yeah? Now, help me up,” Percy lifted his uninjured hand, frowning when neither of them moved to take it.

Well, fine. He’d just do it himself, then.

Percy sat up and immediately regretted it. Nausea welled up in him and he swayed dangerously, kept upright only by Nico’s quick intervention.

“You little—lay back down, Kelp Head, before you pass out again.”

“No time,” Percy grunted, catching sight of the potted carnation. Only five petals remained on the sickly flower, and he knew they needed to move if they wanted to catch the thief.

Thalia pursed her lips but couldn’t seem to bring herself to argue. She helped Percy to his feet, keeping him up with an arm around his waist and staggering after Nico, who was holding the flowerpot. His arm lit up with pain, every step sending a jolt of heat through his blood. Thalia’s touch on his skin seemed to buzz, but he couldn’t tell if that was the poison from the Keres or from Thalia’s own aura or even a mix of both.

“Mmm, nobod’ else s’ppose t’ touch me there,” Percy mumbled near deliriously, and Thalia huffed.

“I’m an eternal maiden,” she reminded him.

“‘n I’ve got a boyfriend. He wouldn’t ‘ppreciate you touchin’ me there.”

“I swear, Kelp Head, if you weren’t knocking on Uncle’s doorstep already…” Thalia growled, and Percy laughed, his head swimming with pain.

“Uncle’s doorstep’s back that way, though,” Percy gestured behind them vaguely. Nico turned back to look at them, his dark eyes bright with concern, and that cleared the worst of the mush from his head.

Nico looked scared for him.

Percy never wanted Nico to be scared.

Percy let out a low moan but managed to push away from Thalia and stand on his own two feet.

“Percy—”

“I can walk,” Percy said, waving her off. “Can’t have all of us out of commission just cause I got myself slashed. Give me the flower, Neeks.”

Nico bit his lip, but Percy was insistent, reaching for the carnation, and he eventually handed it over.

There were only four petals left on the flower, but somehow the shrinking time limit seemed to pale in comparison to the pain radiating up his arm.

“Fuck,” Percy cursed, “Lee’s gonna be so mad. I told him we’d all be fine.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you’d just lie to your boyfriend like that,” Thalia snorted.

Percy glared at her halfheartedly before stumbling over his feet and barely keeping himself from face planting.

“Okay, somebody has to—to talk cause I need a…hnngh—a distraction,” Percy panted.

“The Keres mentioned Iapetus,” Thalia said. “You don’t think he’s out of Tartarus, do you?”

Percy hummed, “I think he’s about to be. I keep—keep seeing a tall man in a prisoner’s jumpsuit. Don’t know who else that could be.”

“Wonderful, as if we don’t have enough on our plate. Now, we’re gonna have to fight a Titan,” Thalia grimaced.

“Hmmm, I mean, might as well go for the full set. Father-son ‘n all,” Percy said.

“Father—oh, Atlas. Can’t believe I forgot he’s Iapetus’s son.”

“Hopefully, this one doesn’t try to snap my neck,” he grunted. Thalia was saved from having to respond by the approaching sound of rushing water.

Percy looked up, catching Nico’s grim look.

“The Lethe,” he said, confirming Percy’s thoughts.

They stumbled down the banks and Nico let out a low curse as they made it to the edge of the river. “It’s too far to jump. We’ll never make it across. I can’t believe I didn’t even think about how we’d—”

“What if I just shoot an arrow across? I could anchor a line to one of the rocks on the other side,” Thalia suggested.

“You want to trust your weight to a line that isn’t tied off?”

“You’re right,” she said with a frown.

“And I can’t summon the dead either. I mean, I could, but they would only appear on my side of the river. Running water acts as a barrier against the dead,” Nico said.

“Good to know, but extremely unhelpful in this situation,” Percy said, and both of them turned to look at him.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Nico furrowed his eyebrows, reaching out to help him, but Percy waved him off.

“‘f I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up. And I need to be up—you need me for this.”

“You can barely stand, Perce, what could you possibly…” Nico trailed off, looking between Percy and the river for a moment before it dawned on him. “Oh, absolutely not. Don’t you even—”

“Hold the flower for me, Neeks,” Percy pushed the pot into his hands and staggered the last few feet to the bank. It was a horrible idea, he knew, but it was also the only one that would work.

Percy reached into his gut, feeling for the power that always rested there. This wasn’t saltwater—wasn’t even freshwater—but it was water, and that would have to be enough.

“Percy—”

Percy raised his arms above his head. For a second, the water balked, resisting his control, but Percy growled and pushed his will into the river.

You will rise, he thought furiously.

The water rose in an arc above the banks, creating a swirling white tunnel just big enough for two people to walk side-by-side.

“Go,” Percy breathed. Nico and Thalia scrambled into the riverbed without a word, hurrying across to the other side like they knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.

Darkness encroached on the edge of his vision and his arms trembled like he was carrying the sky once more as the river fought him for control.

Percy shook with the effort of holding it, of keeping the water from touching the others, but eventually the two of them climbed up the opposite bank.

“Alright, your turn,” Thalia called over.

Percy took a step forward and his knees buckled, barely holding his weight. The arc of water quivered, almost dropping before Percy managed to grab hold of it again.

“I can’t,” he said.

“You have to,” Thalia said firmly. “So, get your ass over here.”

Percy drew in a shuddering breath and started down the bank. Every step was torture, but he kept moving. He just had to reach the other side and then he could drop it.

He just had to—

Percy’s foot caught on the mud, and he went down. His bad arm slammed into the ground and the spike of pain broke his concentration. Nico and Thalia let out twin screams as the Lethe crashed down around him.

Percy curled in a ball as though it would help him.

Dry, he thought desperately to himself. Stay dry.

Percy focused on nothing else except staying dry as the milky-white water slammed into him.

Dry dry dry dry dry—

Percy was dry. Percy was dry and he remembered his name and he remembered Lee and Nico and Thalia and…Percy was dry, and he remembered.

He sucked in a shaky breath and opened his eyes slowly. Percy struggled to his knees before doubling over. Staying dry had always been almost like second nature to him—Percy didn’t get wet unless he wanted to get wet—but this time it was taking everything in him to keep it up.

Percy practically crawled to the other side, unable to force himself to his feet, dragging himself through the mud with his good arm. He hit the slope of the bank and flailed an arm out of the current, praying that either of them was still there, were still watching.

A moment passed.

Percy was just beginning to fear he’d have to pull himself out of the waters when a hand grasped his own and yanked him unceremoniously out of the Lethe. He gasped for breath as his back hit the bank, reality fading in and out as he struggled to stay conscious.

Somebody propped him up gently and pressed something to his lips. The taste of chocolate-chip cookies hit his tongue, and Percy groaned as his mind settled back into his body.

“Owwwww.”

A finger tapped his cheek, and Percy opened his eyes unhappily.

“You know who I am?” Thalia asked, electric blue eyes shining with concern.

“...pinecone,” Percy managed, and Thalia’s face split into a relieved grin. A small weight landed on his shoulder, and Percy shifted, finding Nico pressing his forehead into his shirt.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, Percy,” the kid mumbled, and Percy brought his arm up around him in a wordless apology.

“Alright, up and at ‘em, sunshine. We’ve still got a job to do,” Thalia said.

“‘m not the sunshine. Lee’s the sunshine,” Percy muttered, but Thalia just shook her head and pulled Percy upright. The world swam in front of him, but he stayed conscious.

“Can you walk?” Nico asked anxiously when he swayed on his feet.

“I can walk. And flower.”

Percy accepted the carnation, which only had two very sad looking petals left, and the three of them staggered up the dusty trail lined with human bones that Percy just knew led to Melinoë.

Oh, no shit. The path lined with human bones leads to the ultra-creepy goddess of ghosts. Who would’ve guessed? Lee’s annoyed voice echoed in Percy’s head, and he had to refrain from laughing, knowing that it would just make the other two more concerned about him. Fuck, Lee was gonna be so pissed when Percy told him about this. The idea of keeping it from him never even crossed Percy’s mind—he told Lee everything even if he knew he was giving himself a one-way ticket to the infirmary.

They hardly made it ten feet up the path before white mist billowed from the cave and rushed down to them. A woman formed out of the mist, disheveled blonde hair and a stained pink bathrobe and a full wine glass and—

Hold up, Percy’d seen her before. That was…

“Mother?” Thalia lowered her bow, blue eyes wide with shock and something that could’ve been fear. She looked unspeakably young, all of a sudden.

The spirit of Thalia’s mother threw down her wine glass and both Thalia and Percy flinched as the glass shattered and dissolved into the mist.

“You wretched girl,” the woman snarled. “Look at what you did to me—doomed to walk the earth forever, and it’s your fault! I needed you and you left me! You abandoned me, ran away like an ungrateful little—”

“Enough,” Percy stepped forward, putting himself between the shade and Thalia, who’d been shrinking back with every harsh word. Immediately, the ghost shifted, and Percy staggered back a step at the form they took.

No.

“You,” the boy snarled, bloodshot eyes and a ring of purple bruises around his neck. “Look at what you did to me.”

“No,” Percy choked out. “No, please, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? You killed me! I’m stuck wandering the corridors of that place for all eternity because of you!”

“I didn’t have a choice. Please please—”

The boy disappeared with a dreadful howl, and Percy sucked in a sharp breath when he was replaced with the figure he’d seen in his dreams—half chalky-white and half hardened black, the goddess Melinoë.

“What…” Thalia blinked, shaking her head. “Where did—”

“It was a trick,” Nico said from his place slightly in front of both of them, his dark sword raised, and Percy realized what must’ve happened. “She was using your ghosts against you—deaths you regret, guilt you feel, fear. Unlucky for her, I don’t have any of that.”

Percy’s arms were trembling, and Thalia seemed similarly out of sorts, but he could see the same anger in her eyes that was surging up in his chest. How dare she—

“You’re too late, I’m afraid,” Melinoë tutted in false sympathy. “The deal has already been struck.”

Fuck.

“What deal?” Percy demanded, and she laughed.

“When Kronos rules the world, I shall walk amongst the mortals both night and day uninhibited, sewing terror as they deserve,” Melinoë said with a grotesque grin.

“Where’s the sword? And the thief?” Thalia asked.

“Close,” she said. “Fight them, if you dare. I will not stop you.” Melinoë let out another hissing cackle and Thalia sent an arrow flying her way. The goddess dissolved into fog, and Percy let out a shaky breath.

“The thief?” He managed.

“The cave,” Nico said, already starting up the path. He made it two steps before the last petal fell off the carnation, and the flower turned black and wilted.

“Too late,” Percy said.

A laugh echoed down the path, and dread trickled up Percy’s spine at the sound.

“You’re right about that,” a voice boomed as two people appeared at the mouth of the cave.

The first was the same towering man Percy had seen in his visions—who could only have been the Titan Iapetus. His eyes were pure silver, with a scraggly beard and gray hair that stuck out wildly. He looked thin and ragged, but there was an edge to him that had Percy unnerved. He waved his hand, and a giant spear appeared, glistening in the low light of the Underworld.

The second person, who was holding the unfinished sword of Hades, was vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until Percy saw the eyepatch covering his left eye that he recognized him.

“He was in the Labyrinth,” Percy murmured. “I saw him in a dream. I thought—he ran into some dracaenae—I thought he died.”

“Must’ve just joined up instead,” Thalia muttered in derision.

“And now I will destroy you,” Iapetus said, smiling cruelly.

The boy spoke up unsurely. “Master, we have the sword, we should—”

“Yes, yes,” Iapetus said impatiently. “You’ve done well. My brother Kronos will reward you, surely. But now is the time to kill these upstart young demigods.”

“My lord,” the demigod protested. “You’ve only just left your prison. You’re not at full strength yet, and our orders were to flee so that we may—”

“Flee?!” Iapetus rounded on him with a roar. “I do not flee! I have waited eons to be summoned from that infernal pit, and I want revenge. I will kill these weak, foolish half-bloods.”

The boy stumbled in the face of the Titan’s rage, dropping the sword onto the rocks as he scrambled back.

The world flickered around Percy, and then he was on a bridge. The boy—Ethan Nakamura, his mind whispered—stood in front of him, bloodied knife in hand. Percy locked eyes with him and was filled with an indescribable rage. Somehow, he knew that Ethan Nakamura had done something unforgivable.

Percy’s vision righted itself just in time for him to dodge a strike that would’ve caught him in the heart, staggering to the left and pulling out Riptide. His fingers were numb from pain, and he was forced to switch to his left hand, which put him at a severe disadvantage—never had Percy envied his boyfriend more for being able to switch between both hands in fights with ease despite being predominantly left-handed.

Iapetus yanked his spear out of the ground and turned to face Percy again, but Thalia shot his flank full of arrows before he could raise the spear.

The Titan roared—in anger rather than pain, Percy thought—and rounded on Thalia, who drew her hunting knives.

Closer to the path, Nico summoned a trio of armored warriors to duel Ethan Nakamura, keeping him away from the sword of Hades lying abandoned on the rocks. Nico left the skeletons to deal with the enemy demigod and charged to help Thalia, but Percy beat him to it.

The edges of Percy’s vision were dangerously dark, and his right arm screamed with every breath, but he lunged forward, burying Riptide in Iapetus’s calf.

Golden ichor gushed from the wound, and Iapetus whirled around with a pained yell, slamming the shaft of his spear into Percy’s chest with enough force to send him flying.

Percy hit the ground hard enough that the breath was knocked from his chest, and he wheezed as the Titan stalked toward him, knocking Thalia and Nico aside like they were little more than mosquitos.

“You die first,” Iapetus snarled.

Percy scrambled to his knees, feeling the waters of the Lethe rushing past at his heels.

The river, he thought.

Iapetus reached him a second later, and Percy, not sure where he found the strength, lurched to the side, grasping the spear as it descended and guiding it past him. One hand shot out and twisted in Iapetus’s collar, and then he was pitching backward into the milky-white waters of the river.

Please, let this work. Please, Dad, Percy prayed desperately as he threw his entire focus into keeping himself dry.

A moment passed, and Percy let out a shuddering breath as he realized he was completely dry and still holding the Titan by the collar.

Thank you, Percy whispered into the water, unsure who he was even thanking. The spirit of the Lethe? His father?

Gods, Percy didn’t even know if his father had any real dominion over the waters of the Underworld, given that the Underworld itself was Hades’s domain.

With the last of his strength, Percy dragged himself out of the river, pulling Iapetus out with his good arm. He collapsed at the edge of the bank, his trembling limbs barely able to hold himself up.

Iapetus looked up at him blankly, white water dripping down his face.

Ethan Nakamura had been driven all the way back up to the cave and was just cutting down the last skeleton when he turned and caught sight of his ally laying spread eagle on the ground.

“My lord?”

Iapetus sat up, tilting his head curiously at the demigod before turning to Percy. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition in his eyes, nothing but curiosity and confusion.

A blank slate.

“Hello,” Iapetus said. “Who am I?”

“You’re my friend,” Percy said, his voice faint, the words pulled out of him without his consent. “You’re…Bob.”

Somebody nearby—Thalia, maybe, or Nico—drew in a sharp breath at the name.

Iapetus—Bob clapped his hands together happily, “I am your friend Bob!”

Percy swallowed, feeling all of a sudden like he’d just sealed someone’s fate but unable to tell whose.

Rocks clattered above them as Ethan started to go for the sword of Hades lying in the dirt, but Thalia put an arrow between his feet before he could take more than a single step.

“One more step, and I’ll put one in between your eyes,” Thalia snarled, sounding like she meant it. Ethan stepped back uncertainly before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the cave of Melinoë.

Nico picked up the abandoned sword of Hades reverently. “We did it. We actually did it.”

“We did?” The newly named Bob asked. “Did I help?”

Percy could barely see straight, but he managed a weak smile. “Yeah, Bob. You did great.”

His arms gave out under him, but before Percy could hit the ground warm arms caught him.

“Owie,” someone said, and immediately all pain left him. Percy straightened back up with wide eyes, staring in amazement at the Titan who’d just healed him with a touch.

“Wh…” Nico trailed off, his hands still outstretched from where he’d moved to intercept what he’d clearly perceived to be an attack.

“You are better now,” Bob smiled, and Percy let out a shaky laugh, prodding his completely healed arm carefully.

“Yeah, I am. Thanks, Bob.”

The four of them caught an express ride back to the palace of Hades via the Furies themselves and quickly found themselves facing the Lord of the Dead himself. Hades sat on his throne, glowering down at them like they’d personally caused all of his problems—which, honestly, was just rude considering they’d just solved a pretty major problem for him.

Persephone was perched on her own throne next to him, but she kept her mouth shut the entire time as Nico divulged their entire adventure. Percy laid a hand on his shoulder before he could give the sword up, pulling an oath out of Hades that the god wouldn’t use it against the other gods.

Hades’s eyes flared with power, his cold aura seeping out from his throne as shadows coiled around Percy’s ankles, but he restrained himself with great effort, making the oath through clenched teeth.

Nico laid the sword at his father’s feet, looking up with something like hope.

Hades’s face softened just the slightest. “You’ve…you’ve done well, my son,” he said.

Thalia snorted. “Did it all himself, did he?”

Percy muffled his laugh into his hand as Hades turned a scowl on the two of them.

“You will speak of this to no one,” the god growled, and Percy raised an eyebrow.

“That’s an odd way of saying ‘thank you,’” he said mildly.

Hades took a deep breath, like he was hoping the air would rid him of his urge to commit nepoticide. He gestured with his hand and the Furies swooped down to take the sword away, likely returning it to the forges so it could be finished.

“You are wise, my lord,” Persephone said, speaking for the first time, and immediately Hades whirled on her with furious eyes.

“If I were wise, I would lock you in your chambers. If you ever disobey me again…”

Persephone sniffed, trying to look unaffected by the threat even as her face paled. Hades spared his son one more glance before snapping his fingers and vanishing into darkness.

“You have done well, heroes.” She waved her hand, and three rubies appeared at their feet. “Step on these and you will be returned to the world of the living. You have my lord’s thanks for your efforts.”

“Oh, yeah, he seemed real thankful,” Thalia muttered. Percy narrowed his eyes as the pieces slotted together in his mind.

“Making the sword was your idea. That’s why you gave us the mission instead of Hades. That’s why he was so mad at you—because he didn’t even know the sword existed until after we’d already gotten back,” he said.

“Nonsense,” Persephone scoffed.

“Percy’s right. There’s no way this was my dad’s idea—he knew the other gods would never trust him with it. He told you no, and you had it made anyway,” Nico said, his fists clenched.

“It matters little. The important thing is that Hades has now accepted the sword. With it, he’ll become as powerful as his brothers. Our realm will be well protected against any threats against us.”

Percy grit his teeth. “You used us.”

“Yes,” Persephone admitted easily. “Perhaps, to soothe your anger, a reward?”

Thalia opened her mouth, likely to tell her to get lost, but Percy interrupted her.

“Yeah, watch out for Bob.”

Persephone blinked, “Bob?”

Percy nodded at the silent Titan standing beside him, who’d watched the proceedings with curious eyes. “You take care of him. If you mistreat him in any way—and we’ll know if you do—we’ll be back down here, and I guarantee we’ll be a lot less agreeable that time.”

Persephone’s eyes widened, but Percy didn’t stick around, stomping down on the ruby without another word. He reappeared back in their campsite, and Nico and Thalia followed him mere moments later.

Thalia was chuckling lightly. “Damn, Perce. Gotta say, you really know how to make an exit.”

Percy shrugged, a small grin on his face. “I get it from my dad, the drama queen.”

“Drama queen?” The mild voice came from behind him, and all three children of the Big Three let out matching screeches. Percy was pretty sure his feet left the ground in his shock before he spun around to find his father standing not even five feet from him.

“Oh, hey, Dad. What, ah, what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Percy asked hesitantly, even though he was quite sure he knew what had brought his dad to them. Poseidon raised a single unimpressed eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing much, just a rather desperate prayer my son sent me that, when I checked, seemed to come from the depths of the Underworld itself,” Poseidon said casually.

Percy wilted. “Ah, right…that,” he said weakly. “Well, you see, it all started with…”

Chapter Text

Sally loved her baby more than anything. They were still safely in her stomach, and yet already she knew they were perfect.

Her baby, her child.

Oh, yes, she loved them already. And yet she knew she wouldn't be able to protect them forever. They were safe in her for now, but that would change as soon as she gave birth.

Poseidon had warned her when she'd told him she was pregnant. My children are powerful, Sally, they attract monsters far too early, they play pivotal roles in fate, they live and die as heroes, he'd told her.

I don't want them to be a hero, she'd whispered. I want them to be happy.

Let me take you both below the surface, then, he'd begged her. Let me build you a palace and make you immortal and we can raise our child beneath the waves and they'll be happy, Sally. They'll be safe and protected and neither of you will ever want for anything.

She'd refused him then—if my life is to be worth living, I must live it myself—and so he'd turned to preparing her for what was to come, for the things she would need to do to raise their child.

And it wasn't easy. Oh, no, it was nowhere near that. Sally was barely nineteen, no degree, no prospects, and, most importantly to her stuffy old neighbors, no husband. She got looks everywhere she turned, especially as her stomach swelled.

Job after job turned her away, apartment after apartment rejected her application, but eventually she landed a job at a candy store and a one bedroom apartment nearby. It wouldn't be easy, especially not with the medical bills that came with pregnancy, but she would manage.

She always had, after all.

"And it'll all be worth it when you're here," she murmured to her belly, smiling when she felt a kick against her hand. She'd elected not to know the sex, wanting to be surprised, and now with every day that passed she grew more and more excited to know, to hold her baby in her arms for the first time.

They were going to be a family, this baby and her. She was going to have a family again.

That prospect made all the looks she got in the baby aisles worth it, the snide comments in the hallway of the apartment complex, the wide eyes when she rounded the counter at work—it was all worth it because they were going to be a family.

A family of two, sure, but that didn't matter much to her. Sally'd been alone since her uncle had passed, and he'd never exactly been the caring type even before he'd gotten sick.

Yes, two would work.

The birth was long and difficult.

Sally was long past the point in her life where she missed the parents she hardly even remembered, but she wished, for the first time in years, that at least one of them was there to hold her hand. Her mom, mostly, with her soft smile and warm voice, but her dad, too, with his booming laugh and steady hands.

Poseidon couldn't be there, couldn't be anywhere near her lest his family discover his broken oath, and she couldn't even risk sending him a prayer, but she knew he knew.

The way the storm rattled the windows told her that.

One of the older nurses was the one to comfort her when it became obvious that Sally had no one, letting her clutch onto her hand and soothing her quietly.

"We're almost there," she said. "And then it'll all be worth it, won't it? It always is."

Sally nodded even as she cried. It would be worth it, to hold that little baby in her arms and know that they were hers.

"Do you have a name picked out?"

"If it's a boy, Perseus. A girl…Penelope," she said through gritted teeth, and she ignored the way their eyebrows all rose at the names.

She didn't want her child to be a hero, but she knew they would be. So she would give them what she could, give them the name of a hero who lived, a hero who was happy.

Perseus, who suffered greatly but lived to see a happy ending. Penelope, who waited for years and years amongst a den of wolves and emerged victorious with her husband.

"Ah, Perseus it is, then," someone said what seemed to be an eternity later, and Sally smiled through her tears.

"A boy," she breathed, already holding out her arms.

"Strong and healthy," the nurse confirmed. "Got a pair of lungs on him, too."

And then he was in her arms, her little Perseus. And he was just…oh, he was perfect.

Tufts of dark hair and blue eyes that she hoped would change to match his father's, a pudgy little face and teeny tiny little hands that snuck out of his blanket to wrap around her finger.

"Hello, Perseus," Sally murmured. "Just you and I for now." Her son blinked up at her, hand still clutching her finger, and she knew she would do anything to protect him.

Anything.

For awhile, things were okay. They weren't easy, sure, but they were okay.

Sally had enough money saved to take some time off to be with him, and by the time she had to go back to work she'd found a retired grandmother in the building willing to babysit for a little extra cash.

She hated being away from him for so long, but it was necessary. And the hard days were always worth it when she came home to Percy's bright eyes and gummy smile.

His first word was a slurred version of Mama, his first steps were taken to her outstretched hands. She taught him how to read, never faltering when he stumbled over the words and grew frustrated with each mistake, she lulled him to sleep with quiet lullabies and storybooks. She spent far too much time trying to get him out of every bath, sighing when she turned back around from grabbing a towel and found him splashing in the tub again, she took him out with every thunderstorm and let him splash in the puddles, tilting her face up into the rain and hoping that Poseidon was watching their son.

They were a family of two, but they made it work. They were happy.

And then when he was four, Sally got a call from the babysitter about a snake slithering into his cot while he was asleep, and she knew they were running out of time.

It didn't take her long to find Gabe. There was no shortage of disgusting creeps in their neighborhood who liked to catcall her on her walk home and make lewd gestures at her when Percy wasn't looking.

Gabe was the worst she could find, short of the perverts who could only take no for an answer with a knife shoved at their nose, and so she mustered up her courage and accepted the date, accepted the eventual proposal that followed.

Percy didn't understand when she brought Gabe home for the first time, because she'd spent the first four years of his life telling him that the two of them were all they needed and now she was adding someone else to their little family like it suddenly wasn't enough, and she hoped for both of their sakes that he never did.

I'm doing this to protect him, Sally told herself the first time Gabe raised a hand to her.

To protect him, when another beer bottle shattered next to her head.

To protect him, when bruises painted themselves onto her hips and her arms and half of her morning was spent covering the dark marks in the shape of a hand on her cheek.

The first slivers of doubt crept into her mind less than a year after the marriage when she returned home after a long and grueling day of work to find her precious boy not waiting for her like he usually was.

Sally, for the first time in months, ignored Gabe's call for dinner and headed for Percy's room without even bothering to take off her shoes. She found him huddled under his blankets, and her heart cracked when he peered up at her with bloodshot eyes.

"What is it? What's happened, darling?"

Percy sniffed when she set herself on the edge of the bed, sitting up and swiping at his face roughly. "Was I an acc—an acc'den'?"

An accident. Her boy, her sweet, precious, kind, bright, little boy—an accident.

"Oh, sweetheart, no," Sally assured him, sweeping him up into her arms. "Why would you ever think that?"

"Gabe—"

Curse that man to the pits of Tartarus. If his scent wasn't hiding Percy…

"—said th' I was a—a bas'ard 'n cause you and my dad weren' married when you had me 'n then he said no one ever wan's a bas—a bastard but tha' you were just too nice to ge'rid of me ev'n though I was an acc'den.'"

"That is not what happened," Sally said fiercely. "Your father and I wanted you, Percy, we wanted you so much. You…when we found out I was pregnant—oh, Percy, we were so happy."

The fears had come after, of course. The long talk about the dangers of carrying such a powerful child in her, of raising him in a world that would try to kill him just for existing, Poseidon's begging for her to let him take them both beneath the waves, the acknowledgment of what might happen to the both of them as a consequence of that broken oath.

My brother broke it first, Poseidon had admitted. So his child will face the brunt of the Styx and our other brother's rage, but…

I would bear it for them, she'd said, and he'd sighed.

As would I. But we may not have a choice.

Sally may not be able to protect her child forever, but she would do what she could for as long as she could.

"Really?"

"Really," she said gently. "You're my perfect little boy and I would never wish for a world where you weren't here."

She poked him in the belly for emphasis and he giggled, trying to wriggle away.

"Mommy, stop!"

"Never," Sally laughed, smothering him in kisses even as her hands continued their tickle attack.

Later, when Percy had fallen asleep, Sally went into the living room and had her first screaming match with the disgusting urchin that was her husband.

The bruises didn't go away for weeks, but still Sally considered it worth it because now Gabriel knew that her son was off limits from his vitriol. He could aim whatever he wanted her way and she would accept it with grace, but her son—her son—was off limits.

For awhile after that, Sally dared to hope that the price she was paying was enough that Percy wouldn't have to pay his own.

And then, two years later, her son woke her up in the dead of night with most bloodcurdling of screams, crying and sobbing and thrashing around in his bed like he was being torn apart. When she asked, he stuttered out something about being chased by dogs, but she knew him well enough to know that wasn't everything.

There was something in his eyes, glowing almost unnaturally in the low light of the storm that had spread through the entire state, that made her fear her son was paying a price all his own for circumstances of which he'd had no hand in.

That night, after lulling him back to sleep, Sally fell to her knees in his bedroom and clasped her hands on the edge of his bed, just next to her son's still body.

She had never been the praying type, not even once she'd learned of just who Poseidon was. And yet now she bent her head and pleaded—with Poseidon, with Styx, with the Fates themselves—pleaded with these greater powers to spare her son and make her pay the price.

I broke the oath. Me, not him. Do not punish him for something he had no hand in. I would pay it all, please, just let me.

None of them answered her, not even Poseidon, though she was sure he'd heard.

Unbeknownst to her, all of those greater powers she'd beseeched had their eyes turned elsewhere that night, watching as a young daughter of Zeus gave her life, as a result of that broken oath paid the price of her birth with her death.

Things changed after that night.

Percy drew into himself more. He stopped trying to make friends, stopped pushing his face against the window with every storm, stopped waiting at the door for her to get home from work. He hid himself in his room instead, penciling strange pictures into the margins of his books until she got him a real sketchbook. He grew quiet, and no matter how many times Sally asked he wouldn't tell her why.

The years passed slowly.

Percy turned sullen and silent, only really happy when it was just the two of them or when they managed a trip to Montauk. More and more incidents happened, slipping through the protection of Gabe's scent, and she moved Percy from school to school even if she hated the way his face fell with each expelling. There was a point she wondered if Gabe's 'protection' was even worth it if monsters were still finding him, but she remembered Poseidon's words, of how many monsters would come for Percy if he had nothing hiding him, and so she stayed. A few monsters a year was worth it, changing schools every year was worth it, because at least he was alive.

At nine, he flinched away from her touch for the first time, his shoulders hunching in from where he sat curled against the window in his room.

"Startled me," he offered in explanation, giving her a strained smile. Sally knew she wasn't imagining the way he clutched his sketchbook closer to his chest, obscuring it from her sight. She pushed away the pang in her heart at the motion, wondering when her precious child had begun to think he couldn't trust her with these things.

She smiled through it, dropping down next to him and smoothing his hair back gently.

"You must've been pretty focused on whatever you were drawing," Sally said, an unspoken question in her words. Percy grimaced, fingers whitening around the sketchbook briefly.

"'s not any good," he mumbled. "Don't like it."

"I'm sure it's wonderful," she pressed lightly, and he bit his lip before slowly lowering the book so she could see the scene sprawled out on the page.

It was an odd picture, far too detailed for what she thought a nine year old should be able to do. But then, there were a lot of things Percy did these days that seemed far too much for his age. Sometimes when he looked at her…

A pair of young children greeted her on one page, faces split into wide, laughing grins as they chased each other around an extravagant lobby. Siblings, she thought, noticing the similarities in their faces, in the curve of their noses and the slant of their lips and the color of their eyes.

The other page carried the parents, undoubtedly. The woman was soft and bright, a near opposite to the brooding man at her side, but she spotted the children's nose on the woman and their eyes in the man's face. They looked to be in a serious discussion, the man's hands gesturing wildly while the woman waved a single one dismissively.

"It's very nice, sweetheart," Sally said, though she couldn't imagine why he'd drawn such a thing—maybe he'd seen it in a movie? It looked a little old timey, she supposed, with that early forties style of dress—but Percy, far from being reassured, shrunk down in his seat.

"You're very good," she tried to assure him. "Do you think you might like to be an artist when you grow up?"

That was the wrong question, she sensed immediately. Percy snapped the sketchbook shut and drew his knees up to his chest.

"Not with this stuff," he muttered, glaring at the closed book in his hands like he was thinking of ripping it up. It wouldn't be the first time, she knew. Sally'd come home once before to Percy crying amidst torn scraps of paper.

Stupid, he'd said when she'd asked. They were just all stupid.

He hadn't wanted her to gather up any of the pieces, sweeping them up himself with a panicked sort of desperation, but the few scraps she'd managed to pocket had terrified her.

In one, she'd seen what was undeniably the face of Poseidon, correct down to the last detail of how she'd known him, and in the other an army of great, lumbering hounds from hell with glowing red eyes and slavering mouths.

Both of the drawings could be explained away, she'd told herself—Percy knew he looked like his father to an uncanny degree, so he could've drawn an older version of himself. Improbable, but not impossible. The hounds…she wasn't sure, but those could just be a fantastical drawing to conceptualize that old recurring dream he had of hounds chasing him. That fact that they heavily resembled what hellhounds looked like could be a coincidence. Again, improbable, but not impossible—but none of those explanations had made her feel any less terrified.

Instinctively, Sally knew that her son was special beyond being Poseidon's child. A mother's intuition.

She knew, with a bone deep certainty, that Percy was already somehow entangled in his father's world. She didn't know how exactly, but the look in his eyes sometimes—so old for a child not yet ten, an ancient sort of wisdom hidden in the depths—the things he said sometimes—be careful on the way to work and she witnessed a deadly three car pileup on the crosswalk she always took, it's been awhile since you made your seven layer dip and that dip saved her a swinging fist when Gabe lost another game, that's not how it happened in regards to one of the myths in the book she'd gotten him—they could be explained, technically, as a worried son, as a kid who'd read a different version of the myth, but in her gut…

There was something special about her son.

"Okay," Sally said eventually, even though every part of her wanted to press further. That wasn't how Percy worked. It'd just make him feel worse about everything and then he'd cry and then she'd feel bad and then she'd cry and…best to avoid that, yes.

"I have good news," she told him instead. Percy perked up immediately, knowing there was only one thing they ever really counted as good news.

"Montauk?"

"Whole weekend, usual cabin."

Gabe was having a poker tournament in their apartment that would last all weekend, which was the only reason she'd gotten away with it—he didn't want Percy around because he said his presence 'threw off his game'—and she'd promised to make him enough snacks to last the entire weekend.

Percy hopped to his feet, sullen mood disappearing in an instant. "When? Now? Please say now."

"Now," Sally said and he whooped, louder than she'd heard him in months.

"Let's go let's go let's go let's go—"

Montauk was the only place these past few years that Sally ever caught a glimpse of the happy boy he'd been before Gabe. It was like all his worries, all those secrets he was keeping, they slid off his shoulders like water off a duck.

The water was too cold for a human to swim in, but Percy didn't even seem to notice half the time, plunging right into the waves with a bright laugh.

She told him to be careful, to stay within sight, but he was as safe in the waves as he was in their apartment, she knew.

Poseidon would never let harm come to their son.

They had to be careful, still, not to draw unwanted attention, but for now…for now, she would let Percy enjoy the ocean on his skin.

"Mom! Mom! Come look—I made a friend!"

Oh, and what would it be this time? Sally smiled fondly as she made for the surf. Last time he'd found an entire den of crabs, the time before had been a sea turtle, and then there were those dolphins and that school of fish and—

"Oh, my gods."

"She's so cool!" Percy gushed, and the shark—that was a shark that was an actual shark—made another pass around him. "Look at her tail, Mom! She's a thresher, Mom, isn't that amazing?!"

It was certainly…something. For a moment, Sally regretted getting Percy that book on sharks a few years back—why hadn't she picked up the one on dolphins or sea turtles, damn it—but, looking at the naked joy on her son's face, she couldn't bring herself to wish she'd given him anything different.

At the very least, this shark seemed just as enthralled by Percy as he was by her, so that was something.

Percy was the son of the god of the seas, she knew, had known even before she'd gotten pregnant just who she was dealing with, but it had never truly hit home until this moment.

Watching her child coo at one of the most dangerous predators in the ocean, and watching, in turn, said dangerous predator wind itself around Percy like a dog, she understood then that this was a life she couldn't protect him from.

Sally would hide him for as long as she could, would keep him close and keep him safe, but there would come a day where that protection would lapse. Percy would know and the monsters would come and Poseidon's family would come and she couldn't protect him from that.

It would be up to Poseidon, then.

Sally knew her myths, and she knew them well. She knew the type of god she'd fallen in love with, the type of father.

Be the god of the Odyssey for him, she whispered into the waves later that night, when Percy was asleep on his bed and only the tide was there to act as witness. Be the wrathful father, the destructive god. I can give him a home, a safe harbor, but you must give him the sea.

The waves didn't respond, but she knew they were listening, knew they heard.

The next morning Percy picked out a shard of sea glass the exact hue of his eyes washed up from the tide, impossibly shaped like a heart, and Sally knew her prayer had been answered.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," she told her son. "We can add it to the others back at the apartment."

Gifts like those were common when they made it to Montauk, and Sally wondered if her son knew that sea glass and shells and pearls were few and far between on the beaches of New York, if he knew how rare some of his finds were.

Two weeks after that trip, Sally returned home to find Percy's entire collection—all of his gifts from his father—smashed to pieces. Her precious boy was sobbing in the wreckage, trying to piece the heart-shaped sea glass back together even as the sharp edges sliced into his palms.

Gabe would never admit it, even when she screamed and yelled and threatened to leave, but she knew it'd been him.

Curse that man to the pits of Tartarus. There'd been no reason for it. Percy'd kept his collection in his room, which meant he'd gone out of his way to destroy it simply because he couldn't stand another's happiness.

Percy withdrew from her even more in the months after that, hiding himself away from the entire world. He ate little, slept even less, and Sally, in her lowest moments, contemplated calling for his father.

She feared more and more throughout those next few years whether she'd made the right choice, whether Percy would've been happier beneath the waves. Remembering how happy he'd looked splashing through the tide, giggling at the sea life that pressed up against him, Sally wondered—oh, how she wondered—whether she was doing more harm than good keeping him with her.

But no, with her, Percy was a child. With Poseidon, he would be a hero. She knew Poseidon wouldn't push that life upon him anymore than she would, but that world…oh, that world would.

As soon as the Greek world knew of her baby, they would come for him. He would have to train and quest and fight and kill and they would turn her baby boy into a hero. She wouldn't have it. Not yet. Her son would have as much as she could give him. She would protect him, would keep him out of that world, as long as she could.

And then a hurricane came to Montauk, and she knew her time to protect him had lapsed. It was time for Poseidon to step up, to do what she no longer could.

The true depth of how she'd failed her son would come after, when he returned from his quest a little taller, a little sadder, a little more haunted, and begged her to let him get rid of Gabe for them, when he admitted what that pig had been doing to him all along without her any the wiser.

He looked so much like Poseidon in that moment, fists clenched and sea-green eyes bright, and she couldn't let him do that for her, couldn't let him save her.

If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.

She pieced her life back together slowly—got rid of her dead weight and went back to school, got a new job and a new apartment, an apartment for just two people because they were back to the two of them and that was all they really needed.

Percy always came back to her a little different, a little older and with a few new scars, talking of things she didn't understand and people she didn't know, but he came back to her and that was what mattered.

And then he didn't.

Sally got a call from his blonde friend Annabeth, her face puffy and red, and their teacher Chiron, and her entire world crashed down around her.

"He's still alive," Annabeth insisted. "And a quest is going after him. He's—he's gonna be fine, Ms. Jackson, I promise."

Sally spent the next week in a state of torment, hoping the best and fearing the worst. She always worried for Percy, of course, but this—knowing he wasn't safe, knowing he was likely being hurt and tortured and she couldn't do a damn thing about it—oh, this was a new type of hell.

Sally would've endured Gabe for another decade if it would've spared Percy this one week, but that wasn't how the Fates worked.

She was knee deep in another tray of cookies—she was a stress baker, sue her—when the door swung open, and she was so out of it that she didn't even register who would be opening the door until Percy's voice rang through the apartment.

"Mom?"

She dropped the tray with little care for where it might end up, finding her son, her sweet, precious boy, standing just inside the doorway.

He was pale and wan and thinner than he'd been a week ago, with a shock of white hair threaded through his bangs, as if all the life had been sapped out of him.

Sally wrapped him up in her arms, squeezing tight and wishing, just for that moment, for the months she'd spent carrying him in her, for the months he'd been safe in her stomach.

"Oh, my boy. My precious, precious boy. Are you alright? What happened? Your hair—what did they do to you?"

What did they do to her son—what did they do to her son?!

He didn't explain then, too overwhelmed for words, but she would learn the story eventually. Not all of it, she knew instinctively, because her son seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he had to protect her.

For now, Sally comforted herself with Poseidon's oath.

"You take care of our son, Poseidon."

"No harm will come to him while he's with me," he swore, and she felt it settle in her chest.

I cannot protect him in your world. I can only give him a home to return to. You must protect him where I can't.

It would be several months before she would learn that Poseidon had not kept this promise, that yet another broken oath yawned between them, and that their son had paid the price.

First came the slightly awkward conversation in which Percy admitted the oldest of the secrets he'd kept from her, peering up at her with worried and guilty eyes.

"I'm not surprised," was the first thing she said, and he blinked, slightly taken aback.

"You're not?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Sally said gently. "I always knew you were special. Call it a mother's intuition, but…the way you looked at me sometimes—I knew there was something tying you to that world long before your father claimed you. I'll admit, you being a seer wasn't exactly on my list, but, as far as things go, I'll consider that one of the better options."

Sally knew her myths. Prophets and seers fell under the protection of one god in particular, and he was one with a reputation almost as wrathful as Poseidon. If there was another god Sally thought she could trust her son with, it was Apollo.

Prophets were revered, were kept safe, were guarded most fiercely.

Sally thought she might sleep easier at night knowing that the retinue of beings she could count on to protect Percy had grown.

"Now, while we're on the subject of secrets…" Sally pierced her son with an expectant look. "Are there any new developments you think I should be appraised of?"

Percy blushed to the tips of his ears, and she fought back a smirk.

Mother's intuition, indeed.

Things slid into place after that, that last little puzzle piece clicking in and making the whole picture come into focus.

Percy no longer hid the things he knew, no longer made excuses for the way he'd come upon certain information. There were still things he'd didn't tell her, of course, but Sally understood that this was a worldly divide.

Despite falling in love with a god and birthing a child with said god, she wasn't a part of that world. Sally was mortal, and she liked that. Percy was only half mortal. The rest of him was made up of divinity, of golden ichor and saltwater. He straddled these two worlds where she stood firmly in her own. That wasn't something she could change, no matter how much she might wish for Percy to step fully into the mortal world and stay there with her.

So Sally accepted the fact that there were things she wouldn't know, wouldn't understand, of her son's life. But that didn't mean she liked it.

Percy came home for a visit partway through the next summer, except…he didn't, not really. The boy who stepped into the living room was a shade of her son, pale and thin and twitchy and scarred. He looked over his shoulder the entire visit, shied away ever so slightly from her touch, jumped at every loud noise from the streets.

His smiles fell flat, his attempts at convincing her he was just tired were weak. He wasn't alright, and they both knew it.

"Sweetheart," she said an hour in, when it became clear he no longer felt safe in this place, in this city he'd grown up in and this apartment he'd called home. No longer felt safe with her.

And not through any action of her own, no. He felt unsafe because he knew she could no longer protect him, because the horrors he was facing were so far beyond her capability that nothing she did could keep him safe and he knew it.

Sally had done everything she could to protect him and it hadn't been enough.

"You know I'll always want you here with me," she continued softly. "But perhaps, this year, it might be best for you to stay at camp. I think you'll feel safer there."

Percy seemed to shatter then, falling over into her side like she'd taken the weight of the world off his shoulders, and Sally had to hold back her own tears as he cried into her chest.

This was her baby, her darling, baby boy, and she couldn't keep him safe.

The true, true magnitude of the horrors Percy had faced came that winter, when he and Nico stayed over for the weekend and Sally was woken in the dead of night by the most bloodcurdling of screams.

She rushed in, feeling the echoes of that first night so long ago, that first night he'd woken screaming like he was being torn apart, and found him thrashing in the bed, his lion friend nudging at him insistently. Nico hovered in the doorway behind her, watching worriedly as she pulled her first son into her arms and crooned at him.

Sally hadn't done this in years, she realized, ever since he'd learned to quiet his nightmares, to bite his lip until it bled and muffle the noises into his pillow, but her body still remembered the motions. She set his head under his chin, laying against the headboard and cradling him close.

Percy writhed around, fighting her hold, and she soothed him with a hand in his hair and a few murmured words. He quieted after a moment, though still tossing and turning and muttering words she could hardly catch but that had her blood running cold.

No—don't touch me—I don't want it—let me go—I don't want this—

Sally held him through it all, held him even while her own heart broke because this…there were a lot of things she'd accepted about her son's life—the quests and the prophecies and the fighting—but this nightmare was one she'd never, in her worst moments, considered as a possibility.

Amidst the heartbreak came another feeling, a bone deep rage that curdled in her gut and made her fingers ache with the urge to curl them into a fist and—

Percy came back to himself slowly, slumping bonelessly into her embrace like all of his energy had fled him while tears streaked down his cheeks.

The lioness wormed her way into the huddle, licking at the tears on his face until they stopped falling.

"Mom?"

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," was all she said. "Both of you."

Nico, having crept to the foot of the bed, shuffled uncertainly on his feet for a moment, and Percy lifted his head to give him a weak smile.

"'m alright, Neeks. Go back to sleep."

"You better not be lying," Nico said, pointing a finger at him threateningly. "Or I'm telling Lee."

"Betrayal," Percy bemoaned, thunking his head back down theatrically. "I can't believe you like my boyfriend more than me."

"Get over it," Nico snarked even as he slipped back out the door and shut it behind him.

"…Mom?"

"I'll stay," Sally said, catching the unspoken question in his tone, and Percy smiled, snuggling back into her side while the lioness cuddled up against his back. She lulled him back to sleep with a hand in his hair, humming softly until he was back to peacefully slumbering.

It was only then that she slipped out from under him.

"Keep an eye on him, would you?" She murmured to the lioness, a little uncertainly because, while Percy had explained just who Tani was and how intelligent she was, to her, this was still a wild and extremely dangerous animal that she was expected to let sleep next to her defenseless son.

Sally didn't go back to her own bedroom after that, instead collapsing at the dining room table and putting her head in her hands. She couldn't have said how long she sat there, how long her tears dripped silently onto the table, before a burning anger cut through her despair.

A second later she was up, pacing into the living room and grabbing one of the scented candles. It was one of the ocean themed ones, because of course it was—Percy was always partial to those scents—Ocean Storm, it was called, and she grit her teeth as she lit it.

She couldn't think of a time where she'd offered something to the god she was about to call, not even in the darkest moments of Percy's childhood, but she needed to be sure he would hear her and come to her and so she grabbed a stale cookie—blue, always blue—and broke it into pieces over the open flame.

"Poseidon," she whispered, and within the next second he was there.

"What is it? What's wrong—is Percy okay?"

"Define 'okay,'" Sally said, not looking up from the flickering light of the candle.

"Sally, is he okay?" Poseidon asked seriously, and her fingers trembled at the clear care and concern in his voice.

"You told me you would take care of him," she said instead. "I trusted you with him—with my son. I trusted you to look out for him in your world because I can't. And you—you think that this is taking care of him?!"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Poseidon said slowly, and that was what made her look up at last. "What's happened? Is Percy okay?"

"You don't know—you don't know?! You don't know why I just spent the past hour comforting my son after he woke up screaming—begging some unknown assailant not to touch him, crying that he didn't want it?"

There was a flicker behind his eyes—those eyes that she'd once found so beautiful, so enthralling, and yet now just made her think of her child—and Sally knew that he knew.

"What happened to him? What happened when you were supposed to be taking care of him?" She demanded, getting to her feet, and Poseidon drew himself up.

"I've done everything within my power to keep him safe—"

"Safe?" Sally let out a harsh laugh, turning away. "What about what I just woke him up from is 'safe?'"

"He…there was an incident," Poseidon said reluctantly. "Percy was injured on a quest and somehow found his way to a—a place. A place I could not find without explicitly searching for it. And I did search for him, Sally. I searched every inch of the oceans and my nephew scoured the land from the sky. But we couldn't find him, and he…he had to free himself from that place."

"Where was it? Who was it?"

"I can't tell you," he said, and she whipped back around.

"You can't—"

"I won't," Poseidon corrected. "Our son has the right to tell you of his experiences in his own time. I won't take that away from him."

"You won't—" Sally cut herself off, furious almost beyond reason. "He is my son."

"He is our son."

"I raised him," Sally hissed. "Me—not you! I was there for every childhood nightmare and every cold and every parent-teacher conference and—and you weren't there for any of it!"

"And who's fault was that!" Poseidon snapped, his eyes blazing with an entirely inhuman light, and she remembered only then just who she was dealing with. Thunder boomed outside, rain lashing against the window from the storm she knew had sprung up out of nothing. "I offered to raise him under the sea, offered to build you a palace and—I offered you and him everything you could've ever wanted!"

"Everything except the freedom to live our lives ourselves," Sally scoffed, and Poseidon's face darkened even more.

"Would that life have been such a curse? To live without suffering, without pain? Our son would've never known the horrors he knows now. And he has you to thank for that."

Sally reeled back like she'd been struck, but Poseidon wasn't done.

"You wanted him to grow up in your world and I allowed that even if it meant, for his own safety, that he could not know me until he was older," he continued. "That was your choice, not mine. You cannot blame me for not being there for his childhood when you were the one who made that choice in the first place!"

"Poseidon," someone spoke, and she watched as a graceful woman with dark hair and luminous eyes, crowned with a circlet of interlocking polished crab's claws, slipped around her and took Poseidon by the arm. "Love, calm down."

"Lady Amphitrite," Sally greeted stiffly, and the queen of the seas gave her a look out of the corner of her eye.

"Dear, you're going to flood the state if you continue, and you know how cross your brother will be with you," Amphitrite said, not gracing her with a hello as she kept speaking with her husband in low tones.

Poseidon let out a long breath, the tension flooding out of his body, and Sally felt herself relax minisculely along with it. It had been years since she'd weathered the blows of a man, but her body still remembered, still flinched from the imminent threat of an angry man.

"Sally," Amphitrite finally deigned to greet her, her brows pulled down in slight displeasure. "Forgive me for barging in unannounced."

Sally pursed her lips, knowing that she should say all was forgiven and yet not wanting to—because the goddess hadn't just barged in on her home but on an extremely personal and private conversation.

And she showed no signs of leaving now.

"Of course," she said eventually.

"Now, might I inquire as to what has the two of you in such moods?" Amphitrite asked, raising an eyebrow at her husband, who pressed his lips together.

"Just a parenting matter," Sally said, and something flickered behind her eyes.

"I see," Amphitrite said carefully. "About young Perseus?"

Sally forced herself to take a deep breath. Poseidon might hesitate to strike her for speaking without caution, but Amphitrite had no such reservations, she knew.

"I was under the mistaken belief that my son would be safe with you," she said after a moment, addressing her words to Poseidon alone. "I trusted you to protect him."

"There are things even I cannot protect him from," he said, voice a rumble in his chest, a storm rolling across the sea.

"And yet you swore to me that he would come to no harm when with you," Sally bit out. "I suppose I should expect no less of you, considering the circumstances in which our son was brought into the world. Perhaps you see no issue with yet another broken oath."

"You go too far!" Poseidon snarled, Amphitrite's hand turning white from her grip on his arm. "I have protected my son to the best of my ability! It is you who has failed him!"

"I gave him a life! A home! A childhood where he wouldn't have to live with the expectations of the Greek world resting on his shoulders as soon as he knew how to walk!"

"A childhood with an abusive drunk in the next room," Poseidon said derisively, and Sally took a step back at the vitriol in his tone.

"That's not fair," she whispered. "I was protecting him from your monsters, hiding his scent—"

"And by protecting him from our monsters, you exposed him to one of your own," he said. "It is unfair of you to blame me for not protecting him to the extent you wish I would and then say I cannot do the same to you!"

Sally swallowed around the bitter taste in her mouth.

"You say I didn't keep Percy safe in my world? Well, I say you didn't exactly keep him safe in your world, either."

"I wouldn't have had to marry Gabe if it weren't for the danger being your son put him in," Sally said venomously, and Poseidon's shoulders tensed.

"Don't pretend like having Percy wasn't a choice the both of us made," he hissed. "I warned you from the beginning and you accepted those risks—you don't get to turn it around on me now!"

"Poseidon," Amphitrite warned, looking a little concerned. "Perhaps this might be a conversation best left for later?"

"No," he said. "No, I would have it now."

"As would I," Sally said tightly, except then there was—

"Mom?"

She turned to face the hallway, her heart sinking in her chest at the sight of her son standing there, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. Before she could think of a response, Percy dropped his hand and spotted the other occupants of the living room.

"Dad? Amphy—what are you guys doing here?" His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, and Sally knew she wasn't the only adult in the room that was uncertain on how to proceed.

"It's—it's nothing, sweetheart," she said. "Just go back to sleep."

"What—no!" Percy protested. "I want to know why you're here in the middle of the night arguing with each other!"

Sally exchanged a loaded look with Poseidon, but it was Amphitrite who moved forward, sweeping Percy's hair back in an undeniably motherly gesture that made her jaw clench.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, little one," she said soothingly. "We just got a little heated discussing certain things, that's all."

"Certain things like me?" Percy asked, refusing to back down even as he seemed to lean into Amphitrite's touch.

"I…yes," Amphitrite admitted. "But you needn't concern yourself with it. It's a parent thing."

And that, to Sally, was too far.

"That's enough," she said, striding over and pulling Percy away gently.

"Mom—"

"You're absolutely right, Lady Amphitrite," Sally said sharply. "This is a parent matter."

The meaning was clear, and the goddess flushed.

"I am just as interested in Percy's safety as—"

"You're not his mother," Sally said, voice dropping dangerously low.

Amphitrite took a step back, and this time Sally could see the flash of hurt in her eyes she couldn't quite hide.

"Mom!" Percy ripped himself out of her arms, and she turned to find him looking at her in horror.

"Sweetheart—"

"You can't—you can't just say that! Amphy loves me."

"But she's not your parent," Sally tried to explain. "This is a matter for your father and I. Lady Amphitrite may be your stepmother, but—"

"But it's not the same? What, so Paul has no right to act fatherly towards me because he's not my real dad?" Percy challenged, and she paused. She could admit she hadn't expected her son to put up such a staunch protest in Amphitrite's defense, and it was throwing her for a loop.

Percy slipped around her in the silence that followed, and her gut burned when he stepped into Amphitrite's embrace. She couldn't hear what he said to her, the words soft in a language she would never know, but Amphitrite smiled upon hearing them.

She said something to him and brushed his hair back from his forehead to place a kiss on his crown before dissolving into sea mist.

Percy turned back to her after that, and she knew she wasn't imagining the disappointment in his gaze.

She took a deep breath at the hurt the emotion caused deep in her chest.

"Go back to sleep," she said firmly. "Your father and I were just having a discussion about your safety."

"My safety?" Percy's eyes flashed, and she could see the moment he put it together. "This is about my nightmare."

It wasn't a question. Sally gave him a sad smile.

"The things you said before I woke you—"

Percy took a step back, bumping into the wall of the hallway as his face twisted into something she recognized intimately—shame.

"That's—it's not what it sounded like," he said weakly. "It wasn't—I wasn't…"

"Percy," she said softly, and he stopped, curling in on himself.

Why didn't you tell me? Sally wanted to ask, but she knew it would only make his shame worse.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart," she said instead.

"I know that," Percy snapped, hands digging into his arms whe he crossed them over his chest. "I know, but—"

He looked away, and Sally…Sally didn't know what to do.

"I don't understand what—what that has to do with you calling Dad here to talk about my safety," Percy said after a moment.

She frowned. "Your father was supposed to protect you in that world."

She could hear Poseidon huff behind her, gearing up for another defense, but her son beat him to it.

"What? But that's—Dad protects me as much as he can," he protested. "Cal—that was out of his control 'n he searched for me 'n came for me as soon as I was free."

"As much as he can isn't enough," Sally said, forcing her voice to soften. "Not if it led to…"

"But that wasn't his fault!"

"I trusted him with your safety, Percy. He promised to protect you and he broke that promise," she said.

"But he didn't," Percy insisted. "There are—are laws and fate and Dad can't…he can't protect me from everything. That's not how life works, especially not a demigod's life."

"If I could," Poseidon said heavily, and Percy gave him a sad smile.

"I know."

Percy turned back to her, his eyes weighed down with something she couldn't grasp.

"You turned down Dad's offer when you were pregnant with me because you wanted the freedom to live your own life," he said, voice achingly gentle. "Well, now it's my turn. You and Dad can't protect me from everything. I have to live my own life."

Sally opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her head knew Percy was right, but her heart—oh, her heart…

"You're my baby," she whispered eventually. "How can you expect me to be okay with…?"

Percy shrugged minusculely. "The same way you expected Dad to be okay with not being there for my entire childhood."

Sally pursed her lips, sending a glance over her shoulder at Poseidon, who was trying and failing not to look pleased at Percy's defense of him.

"I suppose," she said reluctantly. "My apologies, Poseidon, for my harsh words."

It was half-hearted at best, but Percy beamed at her anyway. He gave her and Poseidon a quick hug each, and then, seeming to sense that they still had words left to say to each other, padded back down the hallway.

Sally waited until she heard the click of a door—not his own, she thought, and reasoned he'd slipped into Nico's—and then dropped onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.

"I am sorry," she said quietly, and Poseidon let out a long breath as he sat down next to her.

"I cannot find it in myself to be surprised," he said. "Your ferocity was one of the things that drew me to you all those years ago. I should've expected you would turn it on me eventually."

"As if I didn't back then?"

His lips twisted into a wry grin. "Fair enough."

Poseidon hesitated for a moment and then, slowly, leaned over to press a kiss to the side of her head. "Know that I will do everything in my power to protect him," he murmured into her hair, and she let out a shuddering breath.

"Okay."

He was gone a moment later, and she swallowed down the aching grief in her chest.

There was a part of her that would always love Poseidon, she knew, though it had shifted through the years, no longer the passionate and physical love of her youth but something older and wiser. It wasn't the love she had for Paul, the want to spend the rest of her days at his side, but a love weighed down with history, a love born of shared experience and long-grieved moments.

Sally shook her head and got to her feet, finding her way to her own bed at last.

In the morning, she found Percy and Nico sprawled on his bed side by side, Tani flopped across the both of them, and she couldn't resist snapping a picture of the scene, giggling to herself quietly.

Percy didn't bring up the night before, and neither did she, but she couldn't stop herself from holding him close for just a little longer when they made breakfast together.

Despite everything, Sally thought to herself as her first son gave her a warm smile. I would break that oath a thousand times over because it gave me you.

Chapter Text

Percy wasn't ready.

Physically, he was packed and prepared, Riptide in his pocket and Current on his wrist, wearing one of his warmest sweatshirts underneath his armor. Physically, he was ready.

Mentally, however…

"Dude, you're making me nervous," Chris sighed, and Percy stopped his pacing, though he was still strung tighter than a bow, turning to face his friend and giving him a look. "Ughhh, that's worse. Somebody go get Lee."

"He's not here," Percy muttered. "He's picking up that demigod and their protector in Miami."

"Wonderful," he said dryly. "Silena, then?"

"She's with him."

Chris made a face, and Percy tried to force himself to calm down. It wouldn't help anyone if he was tense and anxious the whole time.

"Why do you both look five seconds away from an aneurysm?" Beckendorf joined them outside the pegasi stables, his bag slung over his shoulder and a single eyebrow raised.

"He's stressing me out," Chris complained. "Acting like we're gonna be attacked the second we leave."

"I haven't left camp since that pickup trip with Drew and Malcolm and we all remember how that ended," Percy bit out, rechecking Blackjack's saddle just to do something with his hands. "So I'm a little nervous about it, sue me."

A moment of silence, and then—

"Shit, sorry, man," Chris said. "I wasn't thinking about that."

"Yeah, well, I'm trying not to, either." Percy's hands were trembling ever so slightly as he tugged on a strap.

"You said it yourself that there's only a few dozen monsters at this place," Beck reminded him. "We'll just fly above the camp, drop a couple Greek fire bombs, and come back here. It'll be good practice for the ship mission in a few months."

"Right," Percy said tightly. "So no big deal then."

"Look, man, if you're not ready—"

"Shut up, I'm ready," Percy snapped and then slumped, laying his forehead on Blackjack's neck. "Sorry."

It wasn't his friends' faults he freaked out at the mere prospect of leaving the protective barriers of camp, wasn't their fault he was being sought after by the Titans like a prized possession.

Chris laid a hesitant hand on his shoulder, there and gone again, and Percy blew out a heavy breath before swinging up into the saddle.

"Let's just go. I want to get to the camp while there's still some light."

Can we stop for donuts on the way, Boss? Blackjack knickered, and Percy rolled his eyes.

"On the way back. Maybe," he said, ignoring the looks Beck and Chris sent him.

The other two followed his lead as they took to the air, gliding through the late afternoon sky. Percy slipped into his sight, letting his visions guide him to the encampment that had hidden itself by one of the main roads into Long Island, catching demigods and their protectors on the way to camp and either capturing or killing them.

Percy'd spent three sleepless nights this week alone sketching out the faces of the three children and four satyrs who'd lost their lives to the monsters—three children who'd never even gotten the chance to be claimed by their parents, three children who'd never gotten to step foot inside the camp that would've kept them safe, three cabins who'd woven shrouds for someone they'd never met but knew they'd shared ichor with, four satyrs who's death sprouts had taken root in the spot they'd lost their lives, four satyrs who couldn't be replanted amongst their loved ones or nature proper because their roots had sunk into the ground surrounded by monsters—and, by all the gods, he would not spend another night like that.

He'd given himself frostbite finding the location of the camp, spent hours outside his body walking amongst the tents and counting numbers and species and noting shift changes.

The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon when they rocketed over one last hill and spotted the small circle of tents tucked in a small valley, far enough not to be spotted from the road but close enough that they could doubtless smell demigods traveling along it.

Percy's whistle carried over the wind, and they banked right. Beckendorf tossed jars his and Chris's ways that both of them caught deftly—a move that they'd actually had to practice with regular jars because it's an incredibly explosive substance, dude, what if you drop it?—as they circled back around, putting the sun at their backs to lessen the chances of being spotted.

Beckendorf made a gesture with his hand and they split.

"Get ready for an updraft," Percy murmured to Blackjack, holding the jars out with both hands and guiding the pegasus with his knees alone.

Two short, piercing whistles, and he let it drop.

It almost went off without a hitch.

It likely would've if Percy had, in his incorporeal reconnaissance, taken a closer look at their armory and spotted the two additional barrels of Greek fire hidden in the corner.

Unfortunately for the three of them, he'd given the tent only a cursory glance when counting numbers.

The explosion that went off when their own jars hit the ground and shattered took them all by surprise, and Blackjack whinnied in fear and mild pain when the flames shot up so high they licked at his hooves. Percy yanked back on the reins desperately when they tilted to the side from the force of the heat, and then they caught the updraft, soaring out of range of the dangerous flames.

Percy'd had the very bad luck to have been staring directly at the camp when the explosion went off, and now he found himself blinking away luminous green spots as he searched for his friends.

Percy was a skilled enough rider that the explosion, while it'd taken him by surprise, hadn't threatened to unseat him, but his friends were, at best, average in the saddle.

Beckendorf was better than Chris, by virtue of Silena spending half her time at the stables, so Percy looked for the son of Hermes first.

He caught a flash of bronze to his right, shot a hand out on instinct, caught Chris by his armor straps just as he plummeted past him, and promptly felt his right shoulder slip out of its socket.

"Shit!" His fingers spasmed as he doubled over in pain, and only Chris's own quick thinking saved his life. He latched onto the saddle right as Percy lost his grip, keeping himself from certain death with one white-knuckled hand.

Percy met his eyes through the haze of agony radiating down his entire right side, clocked the naked fear in them, and managed to swing his left arm around and grab him by his armor straps again. He didn't have the strength to pull Chris all the way up with just the one arm, but, between the two of them, they kept him from freefalling long enough for Blackjack to find a safe spot to land.

Chris tucked and rolled when Percy dropped him, popping back up on his feet and immediately hunching over with his hands on his knees. Percy wheeled Blackjack around as soon as the pegasus cantered to a stop.

"You good?"

Chris sent him a halfhearted glare. "I just almost plummeted to my death, dude. In what world would I be good?!"

"So you're fine, just dramatic," Percy said and that got him a middle finger. "You see Beck?"

Chris pointed at the sky behind him, and Percy craned around, spotting the son of Hephaestus, still safely on his pegasus, descending through the sky to join them.

"You two alright?"

"Chris fell off his pegasus and is being dramatic about it," Percy answered dryly. "I, meanwhile, can't feel my hand."

Beckendorf's eyes caught on the slumped way he was sitting, the way his right arm was resting limply in his lap, the uneven line of his shoulders, and made a face. "How did you—"

"He caught me out of the air with it," Chris said, apparently done with his freak out. "And it just kinda—"

He made a popping noise that had Beck wincing.

"I've got ambrosia, but—"

"Can't take it until it's popped back in," Percy said, having made that mistake only once. Taking godly food with the bone still out of the socket did not miraculously pop it back in but instead healed the torn ligaments and muscles caused by the dislocation which, for the record, made putting it back in supremely more painful. "Don't suppose either of you…?"

Chris and Beck shook their heads in tandem and he sighed, though he'd expected nothing less. Despite what some media would make people believe, trying to pop a shoulder back into place without some sort of medical training was more likely to cause permanent injury than actually relocate it.

Besides, none of them wanted to risk Will or Lee's wrath for improperly handling a dislocation.

"Wonderful," he said. "We'll have to leave it 'til we get back to camp."

They'd still get an exasperated head shake courtesy of the healers, but they wouldn't get a lecture so that was something. Now, if it were Lee he'd be getting the lecture from, it wouldn't be that bad. Percy was an expert at either getting out of Lee's lectures entirely or softening them until they were hardly lectures at all.

Will's lectures, on the other hand, were absolutely impossible to get out of. Percy'd seen him lecture an Ares kid immediately after regaining consciousness from a near fatal injury and sit down Michael with little more than a look.

Percy'd been subjected to more than a few, and he had no wish to relive those experiences.

"Guido spooked, I think," Beckendorf said. "Saw him speeding off south, didn't look like he was stopping anytime soon."

"He's pretty flighty," Percy said with a grimace. "We're working on it. You two can double up on Prince…" He trailed off, narrowing his eyes as he took a closer look at the tan pegasus.

'm good, little foal, Prince tried when he brought Blackjack around and peered at his wings. Just a little singed.

The underside of his wings, as well as his flank and the upper part of his foreleg had been seared by the flames, parts of the saddle melted into his side. Percy'd assumed that because Beck had been uninjured—

"I can't make you fly like that, bud," Percy said. "Especially not with passengers."

Hope you're not thinking of piling all three of ya on me," Blackjack said with a flick of his tail, and Percy gave him a pat on the neck.

"I wouldn't ask that of you," he said, already sliding off his friend's back. He stumbled a bit when he landed on his feet, his shoulder jolting painfully. "Why don't you head back to camp, grab a few of the other pegasi and come back here to get us? Maybe grab Will while you're at it?"

The others would probably already be worrying by the time Blackjack made it back, wondering if they'd wandered into another ambush—as was all too common these days—or if the plan had gone horribly wrong.

Which it sort of had, he supposed, though it certainly could've been way worse.

Blackjack took off with a vaguely worried nuzzle at Percy and Prince, black figure disappearing quickly into the now dark sky. Percy squinted in the direction of the monster camp, which was still smoldering with green flames and likely would be for awhile yet.

"Think any made it out?"

"With that explosion?" Chris snorted, plopping himself down against the side of the hill. "It almost took us out, dude."

Percy hummed, keeping his eyes on the distant fire for a bit longer before joining Chris on the ground. It'd taken them maybe thirty minutes to find the encampment, which meant they could expect Blackjack to arrive with reinforcements in an hour, provided nothing else went wrong.

As if he'd thought it into existence, Percy became aware of an increasing pressure behind his eyes.

"Fuck," he said, and then he was gone.

Lee and Silena were going to run into trouble in one of the Carolinas that would derail them for two days, maybe more, unless Percy sent a warning through the notebook, and—

Percy coughed when he came back to himself, shaking his head of the fog that always came with his floating, and locked eyes with Beck, who was in the middle of binding his arm to his side to keep him from jostling his shoulder.

"How long…?"

"Minute, maybe two," he said, his lips twisting with some emotion Percy couldn't read. "Anything important?"

"Not for us," Percy said truthfully, and then he shivered. It was late January, which meant it was already far too cold for his liking, especially with the sun now completely beneath the horizon, and he hunkered down into his sweatshirt as much as he could with one of his arms strapped to his side.

"Should've brought stuff for a fire," he muttered.

"Technically, we did," Chris said, extremely unhelpfully, and Percy gave him a baleful look.

"You're not as funny as you think you are," he said, and then stiffened again.

"Per—"

Gone.

He was trembling when he came back, fingers itching with the urge to draw, and his lungs ached for breath.

"How l—how long?"

"'nother minute," Chris said, looking a little more worried than before, with a darker emotion in his eyes that Percy could barely catch, something like grief and fury rolled into one. "What—"

Gone again.

Chris was in full panic mode when Percy slipped back into his body, hunching in on himself with a stuttered groan.

"—turning blue, a—get yo—ther, ma—"

Sound fuzzed in and out, interspersed with the screaming terror of the boy who would've died tomorrow if not for them, the boy who would now reach camp and join his siblings in the Ares cabin.

Percy's hands were twitching, fingers curling in on themselves, an action which should've been agonizing for his still dislocated shoulder but instead carried no pain.

A bad sign. He must've already gone too numb to feel it.

He slipped away again, but when he came back it was to blessed warmth spreading across his back.

"—got you, Perce," Beck was saying, his body pressed against Percy's back, the warmth of simmering fire and blazing forges and molten metal seeping from his skin. Percy melted into him with a low moan, head thunking back onto his shoulder.

"Back with us?"

"Mmmph," Percy mumbled. His hands were still itching with the need to draw, but it was manageable, at least for now. He floated again, walked alongside Artemis and her hunters somewhere in Kansas for a moment before his mind slipped back into his body.

"This sucks," he said as soon as his tongue unfroze enough to form actual words. "When we get back, I'm gonna go in my hot spring and not come out for an entire day."

Chris snorted from where his legs were stretched over Percy's. "You do that, then."

Percy stuck his tongue out, huddling closer to Beck's chest. "Y'make a good replacement for Lee," he murmured after a minute.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," Chris said, lips twitching up, and Percy jostled his legs.

"Good. Love when he gets all—all like that. He'll cuddle me for ages."

"Uh huh. Cuddle," Chris said, emphasizing the last word with his fingers, and Beck's chest shook with laughter while Percy flipped his friend the bird.

"Cause all you and Clarisse do is cuddle, I'm sure," he retaliated, and Chris looked away tellingly.

Percy fuzzed out for another minute—Will and Clarisse were coming with Blackjack, Ghost, and Fargo, they'd be here soon they'd be—coming back with a shudder that had Beck's arms tightening around his chest.

"On the way," he forced out. "Be here soon."

Chris made a face over his shoulder, an expression that Percy couldn't quite read before it was gone, and then the son of Hermes stood up with a dramatic stretch.

"I'm gonna go…take a walk."

Percy had no idea what was going on, but Beckendorf clearly did, based on the muttered curse he let out. He shifted slightly, and Beck sighed.

"Perce, I'm so sorry."

The apology was so unexpected that Percy startled, twisting around to face his friend.

"What are you talking about? This was my fault—I didn't look close enough at the armory—"

"Not for that," Beckendorf said, his voice low, his eyes full of guilt. "For being so—so weird about your sight."

Percy blinked. "I don't understand. You haven't—"

"I have," Beck said quietly. "I've been trying so hard to make sure you didn't realize, but then that turned into avoiding you and I just…I'm so sorry, Percy."

"Oh." Percy drew back, unable to fight the instinctive flash of hurt in his chest. There'd been more than one person who'd been freaked out by his abilities once the news had come out, more than one person who'd shied away from him, but no one that he would've called a close friend had seemed put out by what he could do aside from Annabeth—and the less said about her the better.

Until now, at least.

It hurt more than he'd expected.

Before this, Percy would've said that Annabeth's initial reaction to his prophet status had been the most hurtful reaction, with her venomous words and spiteful insults, but this?

Knowing that Beckendorf had been feeling like this for almost a year and he hadn't said anything, that he'd pulled back on their friendship because of something Percy couldn't control…it stung in a different way.

And Percy hadn't noticed.

If he looked back now, he could see Beck spending less time with him, no longer joining him at arts and crafts and going on a tirade about whatever new design he was working on, no longer sitting with him while the Aphrodite cabin sparred and pretending he wasn't drooling over Silena, no longer getting dragged to spa days and trying to avoid getting his ears pierced by letting Percy paint his nails.

The thought that Beck had pulled back because Percy was—because he was…

"I didn't mean to—I never wanted to make you feel—" Percy drew back further even though his body ached at the loss of warmth. But if Beck was uncomfortable around him, Percy wouldn't force him to be so close. He wouldn't—he would never—

"That's not—no, Perce, you've nothing to be sorry for. This is my problem, okay, my issue," Beck said firmly, trying to catch Percy and bring him back in, but he scrambled out of reach, ignoring the jolt of agony in his shoulder at the movement.

"Please, Perce, you're gonna freeze. Just come—"

"I make you uncomfortable," Percy rasped. "I can't—I won't—"

"You're my friend," Beck said, almost pleading. "You're my friend and I care about you and I'm trying so hard to understand what you do but I just—I just don't get it. I…I know machines. Blueprints. Mechanics. I don't get prophecy, or seeing the future. I don't—it doesn't make sense to me, doesn't compute. Everything else we do, every other ability we get from our parents, it makes sense in some way. But seeing something that hasn't happened yet? I can't make myself understand it."

Percy sat there, frozen by the raw guilt in his friend's voice, and Beck took the opportunity to tug him back in, tucking his head under his chin. Percy melted into the touch despite himself.

"'ve spent hours talking to Chris about it and then he sent me to Mr. D and we've been working on it but I can't—I don't think my brain works that way, man. I don't think I'm built for it like you are. And that's absolutely not your fault and I—I feel like an absolute shit person for it because I know how you get when someone gets freaked out and I don't want to make you feel like a—like a freak. But, gods, man, it gives me the shivers everytime you go all prophet, I don't…"

"Gives me the shivers, too," Percy mumbled before he could stop himself, and Beck huffed.

"I'm baring my heart here, dude."

"I know. I'm…working through it. I don't—I didn't realize you were uncomfortable with it," he said slowly. "I wouldn't have been so…um, with you—"

There was a very small group of people Percy was openly comfortable going into that sort of state with, with letting his visions take over, with letting his mind drift, but Beck had been one of them. The thought that this entire time he'd been uncomfortable with it and just been pushing through so Percy didn't feel like a freak…

"No, don't—I like that you trust me enough to be like that around me," Beck said. "And I don't want you to think I was avoiding you because I was uncomfortable because I wasn't, dude. I was avoiding you because I felt like such shit for not being able to wrap my head around what you can do. I still feel like shit for it. I mean, you're my friend and I care about you and I want you to feel comfortable around me and I've tried so fucking hard but I just can't—"

He cut himself off, sounding so immensely guilty and disappointed that Percy felt his chest ache at it.

"It's okay," he said. "It's—you're trying, you're trying and that's what matters. I don't expect you to understand sight, man—gods, not even Lee and Silena can really understand because they don't have it. I would never ask you to do more than try to understand. It's…I can't pretend I understand how you feel. I've always had sight. I'll always have sight. It's a part of me, for all that I sometimes hate it. But I can't be mad at you for not understanding something so…"

Hours spent with Herophile, her scratchy voice forcing out disjointed words as his hands moved unbidden, middle of the night calls from Rachel—I don't see things like you what if I never do what if you're wrong and I had this dream and it doesn't make sense but I have this feeling too and I don't understand I feel like I'm going—and entire nights spent in the fields of Delos with Apollo's warmth grounding him, trembling fingers scratching at skin and a mind that couldn't remember what it meant to be a person first and a prophet second.

Nobody without sight could understand what it was, what it did, what it felt like.

That Beck was trying so hard even when it went against all of his logic, when it contradicted everything else he knew and understood, that he felt so guilty for still not being able to grasp something so far behind his comprehension even gods couldn't understand it, it made him tear up.

Percy still wasn't completely used to people caring about him enough to go so far for him, to loving him to the point of trying to change.

"Thank you for trying," he whispered. "I…just thank you, Beck."

"You're my friend," Beckendorf said firmly. "Friends don't make friends feel bad about something they can't change. Your sight's a part of you and I love you, even if the way your voice goes all wonky and your eyes flicker like you're having a seizure still gives me the shivers."

Percy's gut twisted, just barely, but he laughed through it. Even his mom had looked weird the first time she'd seen him go vacant, even Silena sometimes got an odd look in her eyes. In truth, the only people that had never batted an eye at his sight had been the Apollo cabin, who didn't have the same level of understanding as prophets and seers did but were instinctually comfortable with it by virtue of their father being who he was.

"Okay," he said eventually. "So stop feeling bad about this."

"But—"

"Friends don't make friends feel bad about something they can't change," Percy repeated softly. "You're trying to change, and that's what's important. I don't want you feeling bad when you're doing so much to make sure I don't feel bad. So just…forgive yourself, man. And stop avoiding me."

Beck let out a huff of laughter. "I'll stop avoiding you."

Percy smiled, curling up closer to his friend's chest and soaking up the warmth radiating off his skin. It wasn't the same as a child of Apollo's, simmering coals instead of a raging fire, but it was warmth nonetheless and he welcomed it.

Chris circled back around some time later, wriggling his eyebrows at them and laughing when he got twin middle fingers flipped his way.

"'m just saying, better be glad Lee and Silena are out of camp or they might get jealous."

"Have you seen them when they get jealous?" Beck asked. "It only ever works in our favor, dude."

"Right? Lee gets all touchy and possessive and—mmm, Beck, what's say we do this when they get back?"

Beckendorf let out a considering hum, but they were interrupted by the flap of wings and thud of hooves before they could muse any further.

"What the fuck did you three do?" Clarisse asked as soon as Ghost cantered over to them.

"They had—" Chris started to respond, explaining the situation, but Percy tuned him out when Will slid off of Fargo and knelt in front of him.

"Shoulder out again?" The healer's voice was exasperated but still soft, and Percy barely hesitated before tilting himself forward into his chest.

"You're very warm," he mumbled. There was a touch of antiseptic in his nose, rough bandages wrapping around his wrist, but for the most part Will was as warm as the rest of his siblings, which meant he was Percy's new favorite person.

"Betrayal," Beckendorf said dramatically while Will just shifted to better let him melt against his chest and still be able to examine his shoulder. Bless the Apollo kids, who'd seamlessly adjusted to Percy's temperature issues and were always willing to lend a warm body when Lee wasn't around—he'd yet to meet an Apollo kid that wasn't extremely touchy, actually, and he was beginning to wonder if it was literally genetic—

"Visions, too?"

"He had a couple a bit ago, been trying to keep him warm since," Beck answered, and Percy felt a hand run through his hair.

"Right," Will said briskly. "Let's get this shoulder back in and get back to camp then."

Percy let out a low moan. Will patted his head, but his voice was firm when he responded.

"You are not flying with your shoulder like this."

Percy sighed but didn't offer any complaints when his friend unwound the cloth from his shoulder.

Will laid his hands on the dislocated joint, and gave absolutely no warning before sharply pulling up and shoving.

"Oww fucking fucking—fuck you, Solace—you fucking—"

Will, ignoring his continued curses, murmured a quiet hymn that had liquid sunlight seeping into his shoulder and soothing the ache, and Percy felt himself melt into his hold.

"Am I forgiven now?" Will asked, amusement coloring his tone.

"'s long as you stay right here and let me keep leeching off you," he mumbled, and Will laughed, deftly rebinding his arm with one hand while the other ran through his hair.

"I promise I won't let go until we get back to camp and I dump you in your hot spring."

"Mmmm, acceptable."

"Well, then let's go," Clarisse said impatiently, still on Ghost's back with Chris vaulted up behind her. "I don't fancy spending any more time this close to the wreckage of that camp than I have to."

Percy hummed lightly, letting Beck and Will help him to his feet, though he stayed pressed close to the son of Apollo. "Mmm, and you've got a bed to prepare."

She blinked and then quirked an eyebrow. "I do?"

Percy nodded tiredly. "He'll make it now. He…he wouldn't have otherwise."

A strange grief crossed her face, grief for something that would've been and now wouldn't but that a part of her would ache at regardless.

Percy knew that pain far too well, carried horrors that had never happened and never would but he still remembered as if they had.

Hmm. He sensed an arena trip in his near future—once Will and Lee cleared him, that was—just him and Clarisse going round after round until there was nothing but bruises and blood and the bared teeth of a worthy opponent in the sand.

Beck bodily picked him up—hello arms, mother of—and set him on Blackjack's back, and Will was quick to follow him up, letting out a huff of laughter when Percy fell back against his chest.

"When is Lee coming back again?" He asked, aiming for long-suffering and missing by a mile.

"You love me," Percy said as they took off, feeling the way he shook his head.

"I tolerate you," Will corrected, and he let out a gasp of mock offense.

"'m telling Lee you're bullying me," he grumbled, and Will let out a bark of laughter.

The flight passed without incident, and, true to his words, Will kept close to him long enough to see him safely into his hot spring before heading off with one last word of warning regarding his still tender shoulder.

Percy sank into the spring as soon as he was gone, letting the saltwater close over his head with a content noise.

Gods, the heated water felt like heaven after the chilly air of the January night. It would've been better if Lee were there with him, but Percy would take what he could get.

Him and Silena would be back within a day if Percy sent them that warning, and with one of Hecate's kids to boot. Maybe he could just—

The knock caught him by surprise, and he startled, turning to the door with a frown. It was past curfew, he knew, which meant whoever was there had risked the harpies.

Percy focused and caught the faintest flicker of bare feet on packed dirt roads, the click of a lock beneath his fingers, and the curl of an unknown language on his tongue before the sensations slipped away. Hmm, Hermes kid then. Their auras were always annoyingly hard to pin down, likely due to their slippery nature.

There were a fair few of Hermes's kids in camp, but he had a feeling he knew which one was at his door.

"Come in," he called, and was unsurprised when the door swung open to reveal Chris on the other side. He was in his pajamas, which were clearly too thin for the chilly weather, if the way he quickly shut the door behind him and stepped further inside were any indication.

"Gods," he said, looking around with a blink. "Clarisse wasn't kidding when she said your place was a fucking sauna."

Percy gave a small shrug with his good shoulder. "Dad found out about my temperature issues and went a tad overboard."

"Just a tad," Chris said, raising an eyebrow at the hot spring he was currently sitting in, the fluffy, heated carpets that covered the rest of the floor, the tank against the entirety of the back wall that Cerberus was currently enjoying, the numerous knickknacks he'd brought back from Atlantis, and Percy shifted a little at the look in his eyes.

Chris was on their side now, he knew, but it was hard to forget that he once hadn't been. Being surrounded by the clear signs of Percy's godly family's care for him while Hermes had only claimed him when Mr. D had mentioned to him, offhandedly, that he was no longer insane and that had apparently made him remember Chris actually existed…it couldn't have felt great.

Percy knew his relationship with his family was something the others envied. Even the Apollo and Aphrodite kids, whose parents always made an effort to be there whenever possible in whatever way they could manage, weren't immune to the brief flash of jealousy when Percy's siblings showed up for dinner or his dad swept him away to Atlantis for a weekend.

Percy wanted to think that most of it was that Poseidon could get away with breaking Zeus's laws to his face by virtue of being his older brother and of an equal power level, but the truth of it was that most of the gods simply didn't care.

If they did, they'd be finding ways around the laws like Apollo and Aphrodite did. Demeter was older than Zeus, had brought a deadly winter for her daughter once, and she couldn't swing by and help her kids in the greenhouse? Ares was a patron of warriors and he never came by to help his children train? Hermes was the messenger of the gods, and he couldn't find ways to slip packages for his kids in there occasionally?

Bullshit.

They just didn't care. Maybe they had once, but not anymore.

It made Percy's heart hurt because he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't make their parents care, couldn't make them show up and be a part of their kids' lives.

He couldn't make Hermes care about Chris, no matter how much he wanted to track the god down and give him a piece of his mind.

"I guess you are his only demigod child in decades," Chris said eventually, and Percy relaxed gradually when the tension faded. "Gives him a little room to be overprotective."

He slipped off his shoes and padded across the carpet, stopping at the edge of the hot spring, and Percy tilted his head curiously at the nervous shifting of his feet.

"'s this when you tell me why you're visiting me after curfew? Cause I got to tell you, I don't think our partners would be too—"

"Oh, shut up," Chris huffed, his lips twitching up in a short smile before he sobered, and Percy straightened a bit at the serious look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, rushing the words out like they'd kill him if he kept them in another moment.

Percy furrowed his brows. "For what? Today? Dude, that wasn't—"

"Not for today. For—for this," Chris said, gesturing to the hot spring, and Percy felt himself become even more confused.

"For…my hot spring?"

"I tricked you under the sky," he said lowly. "I tricked you and betrayed you and almost killed you and now you—you have to live with this condition the rest of your life because of me. I did this to you."

The pieces slotted together with startling clarity. The dark sort of grief in his eyes when Percy'd had those visions earlier and started turning blue, the look he'd given Beckendorf—a shared guilt, an understanding borne of shame—it came together under his palms until he could see the whole picture.

"You didn't know," Percy tried. "You didn't know what it would do—"

"But I knew it would hurt you!" Chris burst out, pacing away from him. "I knew it would hurt you, knew it could kill you if nobody came to save you, and I did it anyway because I was just so…I was so angry. I was angry at my father and I let you pay the price."

"Chris…"

"I knew you'd take it from me," he whispered. "Even though we hadn't spoken in a year and a half, I knew you'd take it. And I—who does that to a person? To a—to a kid? Gods, Percy, you were just a kid when this all started and you didn't have a choice in any of it and I still blamed you. Because you were there and our parents weren't. Because it was easier to hate you than to accept that your dad cared and mine didn't."

Chris's eyes were wet when he turned back around, tears slipping down his cheeks. Percy stood up slowly, and he flinched back when he approached like he was expecting condemnation.

What he got instead was—

"I had a choice."

Percy reached up, gripping the back of his head and tilting their foreheads together until their hair meshed. Like this, the white from Percy's bangs bled into Chris's dark curls, mixed with the hair that he relentlessly dyed to keep his own remnant from the sky hidden.

"I had a choice," he said again. "And I chose to take the sky from you. Just like I chose to forgive you."

Chris's betrayal would always sting a little bit, would always linger in the air between them, and they both knew it. But that didn't mean they had to let it consume them, that Percy wanted Chris to spend the rest of his life hating himself for it.

"But why? I betrayed you—I hurt you," Chris said hoarsely. "I'm no better than Luke."

"You are nothing like Luke," Percy said firmly. "Not for a moment did I ever think what you two did to me was in any way comparable. Luke poisoned me and strangled me and...and he smiled when he did it. You regretted what you'd done as soon as you did it. That's not the same thing. You made a mistake, Chris."

"A mistake that you have to live with for the rest of your life," he protested. "You're suffering for my mistake, and I can't—I don't understand how you can ever forgive me for that."

"You don't have to understand it to accept it," Percy said. "I forgave you a long time ago, Chris. It's time for you to forgive yourself."

Chris was silent for a long time, and they were close enough that Percy could feel the shaky hitch to his chest.

"Look, I know I’m hardly one to speak of holding on to past mistakes—"

"Hardly," Chris snorted.

"But this, Chris?" Percy pressed their foreheads together harder. "This, I want you to let go."

"What I did still hurts you."

"It does," he said evenly. "It’ll always hurt. That doesn’t mean you have to hurt yourself over it. That I want you to hurt yourself over it."

They’d had this conversation countless times by now, and each time Chris promised to try and forgive himself and then he tried and failed. This time would be different, had to be different.

There would be enough guilt at the end of this war. Too much guilt. He wouldn’t be able to ease all of it, he knew, so Percy would ease what he could, would ease this.

"It hurts me more to see you hurt yourself over something I’ve long forgiven you for."

I forgive you I forgive you I forgive you, Percy thought fiercely, like he could make Chris believe him through sheer force of will.

Chris slumped like a puppet with cut strings. "Thank you thank you thank—" He said, over and over again, the words almost a prayer as he curled his arms around Percy.

Percy just smiled, hugging him tight with his good arm.

"Sooo...you wanna try out the hot spring?"

Chris laughed, lighter and happier than he'd heard in months, and Percy knew that, while his guilt was far from gone—would probably never entirely disappear—he'd finally started forgiving himself, which was all he could ask for.

Percy tracked down Beckendorf just before dinner the next day, finding him in the forge—which he was, with no small amount of distrust, finally allowed back in—and leaning against the table next to him.

Beck squinted suspiciously, and Percy just gave him a beaming grin.

"Lee and Silena are gonna get here in, like, fifteen minutes."

Comprehension dawned on his face, a matching grin spreading across his lips.

Lee and Silena's faces when they touched down and found their respective partners unabashedly cuddling—for warmth, Lee, I was just so cold without you and Beck was nice enough to keep me warm isn't he great—at the campfire were, to put it simply, priceless.

Needless to say, Percy and Beckendorf reaped the benefits of their actions, and they thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.