Work Text:
...sh,shh" Kronos settled comfortably in Percy's lap, wrapping his arm around him, one hand cupping the back of his head and stroking Percy's dark blond curls with gentle fingers.
Guiding his head to rest on Kronos' shoulder. and for a moment, the coldness of the voice melts into something familiar It's funny to think that it's exactly how Luke did it once, when Percy was just a traumatized boy - having his world swept from head to toe and Luke was just the frustrated but friendly advisor.
Percy’s wrists strain against the chains that hold him, and his heart feels like it’s being ripped apart. He gasps, his breath coming too fast, too shallow
Percy wonders, fleetingly, if Luke ever knew he would be used as a vessel for Kronos. Would he have done anything differently? Would it have been enough? He doesn’t know. Maybe there's nothing left of Luke now—just echoes in the dark, haunting him.
Is it cruel of Percy to wish that Luke could have stayed untouched? That Luke hadn’t been lost like this?
"It's okay...calm down." Kronos's voice drips with false sweetness, mirroring Luke’s comforting tone so perfectly that Percy can’t tell where the line blurs. His mind clouds, the pain in his chest only intensifying a wicked trick using the same tone Luke uses - it's Percy's mind clouded and clouded - trying to reconcile the pain in his heart. It's Luke's face, despite the yellow eyes that haunt him, the dark curls of the son of Hermes - It sounds and smells like Luke, too.
" Stay away from me". he snarls, his voice thick with pain and fear. The ghostly caress of Kronos’ fingers on his cheek makes Percy’s skin crawl, and every part of him screams in rebellion. He wants to rip Kronos apart. Tear him down, shred the god of time to pieces. But his body feels like it's not his own anymore
He missed Luke—more than he thought. Percy’s wrists strained against the chains that bound his limbs to the chain—his heart felt like it could rip a knife out of his chest, an endless thud.
The soft sounds, the soft kisses against his head, it’s not Luke. It never was.
“Just match your breathing to mine.” Kronos continued, sounding worried in Luke’s voice. “We both know I’m going to hurt you anyway, so there’s really no point in having a panic attack over it."
His breaths come too fast, too sharp. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, the terror still gnawing at him. His chest tightens. The panic claws at him, makes his stomach churn. He’s exposed. He’s vulnerable. His pulse screams in his ears.
“Come on, baby—take a deep breath. No need to cry now—this is good, you can do it.” Kronos continued to make soft sounds, peppering Percy’s head with kisses. He thought about ripping Kronos’ throat out—or bleeding Crono to death. “There you go—good boy…you learn quickly, don’t you?” the nasty voice cooed, and icy fingers caressed his cheek. Percy shivered and squirmed uncomfortably, wanting to escape the contact. Kronos runs a finger along the side of Percy’s neck, finding the precious pulse point. Before tilting Percy’s head back as it should, painfully and uncomfortably so that he’s staring at the ceiling.Percy can’t help the disgust that rises in his throat as Kronos’ hand traces his skin, cold fingers brushing against his pulse. Percy’s heart races, his body going cold with fear as Kronos so he squeezes his eyes shut in fear-filled anticipation, swallowing hard. He feels so exposed and so vulnerable.
Kronos’ voice is so gentle now, too gentle, and Percy tries to push it away, to scream, to fight—but his body refuses to obey. His pulse thunders in his ears as Kronos’ fingers trail over his neck, sending shivers down his spine. The touch should feel comforting, but it’s like fire on his skin.
His hand twitches weakly against the restraint that holds him in place. Cruel hands roam over him, a little gently at first, but soon very rough. His gut twists and panic sets in like a summer fever. He tries to push away the sensation, making a mess of blood on his wrists. Kronos laughs at his desperate attempts, his hot breath fanning Percy’s ear.
“Good boy,” Kronos coos, the words slipping out like a curse. He can feel the tears welling up, his throat tight with the scream that never comes. Kronos laughs again, a low, dark sound, as Percy squirms, helpless under his cruel touch.
" Oh baby, you're so pretty." Kronos continues, voice dripping with false affection Kronos’ voice—too familiar—whispered in his ear, the same tone Luke had used when he’d tried to calm him down in the past. It sent a shiver through Percy’s spine. “It’s okay, calm down.”
Percy shudders, his body shaking uncontrollably, the panic crawling up his spine like fire. he can’t escape.
The world goes black.
Percy woke up - with thundering heartbeat and gasping for air, his hair damp and his throat raw, as though he’d been screaming. But all he can hear is his own panicked breaths. and the ghost hand roam over him.
" Jackson?" The voice is muffled, too familiar. It’s a twist of cruel irony—Luke’s voice, but soft, drowsy, like he’s just woken up. It makes Percy’s stomach turn, and the salt of his tears blurs his vision as reality bleeds into the nightmare.
Percy choking on his breathing and curl over himself. He shudder, again and again. for a moment there's only the sound of they breathing shared on the cabin of Poseidon, Percy breathing sounds like gasping - he hear the sound first, feel the glare of a pair of eyes watching him. Luke standing close to his bed, unsure.
" Jackson? You okay?".
And something break on Percy, his soul ashes and he snapped, grinding his teeth " stay away from me." He knows that Luke had been used too, a Vessel for Kronos. But it's don't do anything for change what happened.
" I.. " it's was not Luke fault, Kronos was the one to blame for, Luke Start his voice unsure and carefully. " You're calling me.. so I just though.."
It’s Luke.
The real Luke. The real one with brown eyes and softly dark curls.
Not the golden-eyed monster, not the whispering demon in his nightmares. Just Luke, standing close to his bed in the dim light of Poseidon’s cabin, arms crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression.
His mentor, his friend and enemie too. - it's a devasting acknowledge for Percy heart aching, his mind a battlefield.
His heart beats erratically, each thud a reminder of the pain, the confusion. He can’t breathe right. His lungs feel like they’re collapsing. He needs to escape
" Jackson - you need to breath, just breathe.." Luke started, hesitating. He ran a hand through his dark curls, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“I can’t—” Percy gasped looking at Luke's brown eyes, not yellow, His chest felt like it was being crushed, like a knife was lodged in his ribs. His heart was an endless thud, drowning. him His body tensed, panic clawing at his throat as he fought to breathe, to stop the tears from spilling over. “Stay away from me.”
His voice cracked as he said it, the words sharp and desperate. His mind was clouded. Every touch, every whisper, it felt like it was Luke... but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The yellow eyes of Kronos burned into him, the heavy weight of his presence all-consuming. But the hands, the touch, the voice—they all felt like Luke. And that hurt worse than anything.
" It's okay, Percy, you're okay, Just breath - I can go and pick one of your friends, would it's be better? what was they name even? Jason? Or Nico?."
Luke’s voice softens, and there’s a hesitant compassion in it that almost breaks Percy. "I’m not gonna touch you, Percy," Luke says gently, holding back, giving him space. "Just breathe, okay?"
Percy doesn’t answer. He’s shaking too hard. His breathing too ragged
,the reality of it sinking in like ice in his veins. His chest tightens, the feeling of suffocation consuming him again. This isn’t Kronos. This isn’t the god of time. This is Luke.
And yet… how could it be? After everything?
Percy wishes, even in the middle of his panic, that he could let Luke comfort him. The thought is like salt in an open wound. His body craves the warmth of familiarity, the steadiness of Luke’s presence. He wants to let himself believe—for just one second—that Luke’s touch could soothe him, that it wouldn’t feel like shackles tightening around his wrists.
It was Luke. His mentor, his friend, his enemy.
And Percy wanted—gods, he wanted to let Luke comfort him.
But his breath still comes too fast, too sharp. His chest heaves, his ribs feel like they’re caving in. The phantom sensation of cold fingers on his skin—Kronos’ fingers—makes him recoil even though Luke hasn’t moved an inch. His mind is tangled in knots, torn between seeking comfort and wanting to tear away from it.
And Luke—Luke—just watches him, hands at his sides, his face carefully unreadable. But Percy knows better. He sees the tension in Luke’s shoulders, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach out but knows he can’t.
Luke swallows hard, and when he speaks, his voice is steady—but only just. “Jackson, breathe.”
It’s not an order. It’s not Kronos. But Percy flinches anyway.
Luke exhales through his nose, tilting his head just slightly, eyes searching Percy’s face. “I’m not gonna touch you, okay? Just… just tell me what you need.” His voice is softer now, careful. Raw, It almost reminds Percy of how he used to be before everything shattered—before Kronos, before betrayal, before the war.
Luke had tried kill Percy multiple times, they had tried kill each other multiple time. And somewhat it's don't had sent Percy downhill. What Kronos had did had been worse than betrayal and die.
Percy clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself. The panic still thrums through his veins, but something in Luke’s presence makes it almost bearable. His throat burns, but he forces the words out anyway.
“I—” His voice cracks. His breath stutters. Gods, he hates this.
Luke nods, not pushing, not rushing. He takes a slow step back, giving Percy space, but his eyes don’t leave him. “You don’t have to talk,” he murmurs. “Just breathe with me, okay?”
And Percy wants to. He really do.
He wants to let Luke anchor him, to listen to the quiet steadiness of his breath, to match his rhythm like he used to when things weren’t this bad. He wants to close his eyes and pretend that Luke’s presence doesn’t send his mind spiraling into panic and confusion.
“I can’t breathe, Luke," Percy admits, his voice trembling this time. "I can’t—"
The words hang in the air, heavy and thick with emotion. Luke stands there, watching, his face a mixture of concern and something else—guilt, maybe. Percy’s pulse races, and the pull of the past tugs at him like a magnet, dragging him under the surface.
Luke doesn’t move closer, but his voice stays level, unwavering. He repeat “I can call someone. You want Nico? Jason? Someone else?” hesitated, glancing toward the door like he was debating calling someone else in but still waiting for Percy to answer
Percy doesn’t know. Maybe. But he still want to Luke to stay, to see the mess he had made. To haunting Luke as much as Luke haunting him.
Luke hesitates, rubbing a hand over his face. His expression shifts—just for a second—like something inside him is breaking too. “You called my name, Percy,” he says, almost like an afterthought. “I thought—”
He stops. Because maybe it doesn’t matter what he thought.
Percy squeezes his eyes shut. His breath is still uneven, but Luke’s voice is not Kronos’ voice. The war in his head rages on, but somewhere in the wreckage, he still wants—even if he can’t reach for it yet.But the yellow eyes are still burned into the backs of his eyelids
"Just breathe, Jackson." Luke’s voice is steady, firm. "Slow down. That’s it. In and out."
Luke stays where he is. Close enough to help. Far enough to not be a threat.
Luke shifts again, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks lost, like he doesn’t know what to do. Percy can see the guilt on his face, even though it’s not Luke’s fault.
“That’s it,” Luke says softly, watching Percy’s chest rise and fall, his breathing still shaky but slowing. “Slowly.”
Percy clenches his jaw. He’s still shaking, his pulse still hammering in his throat. But the sound of Luke’s voice—Luke’s real voice—is grounding him, pulling him away from the grip of the nightmare.
Luke looks like he wants to say something else. Something important. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just stands there, watching Percy with something unreadable in his expression.
Maybe if things were different, Percy could let himself drift into that familiar comfort. Maybe if things were different, Luke would sit beside him, rub circles on his back, tell him it’s okay. Maybe Percy would let him.
But things aren’t any different.
So Percy just presses his knuckles to his mouth, breathing through the wreckage of his own mind, pretending he doesn’t see the way Luke’s hands twitch—like he wants to reach out but knows he never can. He keeps his head down, his body slowly Stopping trembling.
He doesn’t say it, but Luke stays anyway.
Just like before. Until the sunrise