Chapter Text
The second adventure—the journey into the Sea of Monsters—started with Hermes.
Unsurprisingly.
Originally, he wasn't planning on doing anything. Ares was bragging about one of his kids getting a quest, and Hermes was far too occupied with other things.
Then he got that tiny message from Poseidon demanding that he "go and help." Something about his son being the reason this was all happening in the first place. . . he wasn't exactly wrong.
Percy stared at Hermes with suspicion as they stood alone on the gloomy beach. He had the distinct urge that he was about to be kidnapped, but he couldn't quite figure out where the feeling was coming from.
Stranger danger, his mom drilled it into him from a young age. Probably due to all the times he went "missing."
Hermes did what he usually did. He handed out useful gifts while being routinely interrupted by George and Martha. The wind thermos—a slightly safer version of the wind bag, created by Hephaustus and whatever wind gods he could talk into helping him, perfect for mass production. The chewy multi-vitamins, for whatever magical mayhem one might run into. And then three appropriately customized duffel bags.
Of course, that wasn't all he was there for. So what if he directed the children in the direction of his son's mysteriously acquired cruise ship.
They'd be fine.
Morpheus hated being around mortals, but he would occasionally drift onto the Princess Andromeda to ensure that they weren't messing everything up. Precious cargo on board and all.
That was how he found Percy Jackson. Sleeping in the darkness of one of the spare rooms, the boy rolled across the bed getting tangled in all the blankets.
The correct thing to do in this situation would be to warn Kronos that the brat was on board and everything was at risk of unraveling. Poseidon might not be able to touch the ship, but no such rules applied to his son.
Morpheus could see it now, a tidal wave hitting the boat, Kronos' sarcophagus sinking into the deep blue sea. Of course, that would only happen if the son of Poseidon could actually form a wave strong enough, the most he'd ever done was hit Ares with one. While hilarious, Ares was much smaller than a cruise ship.
The boy stirred and his eyes cracked open ever so slightly. Morpheus didn't move.
Percy jumped back when he woke up and saw the odd man hovering over him. He reached for his pen, but his body was so heavy, he was still tired. The more he looked at the man, the more familiar he got.
Of course Percy had met him before. Had he met everyone?
"I know you," Percy managed to get the words out even when his tongue felt unimaginably heavy.
Morpheus shrugged. "Possibly. But many people know me."
"You—you were at the park," he said. "With the dogs, and the chickens, and the ice cream."
Now that he thought about it that might have been dream.
Morpheus sighed in defeat. That was what he was remembered for: ice cream. He looked back on that day occasionally, usually to laugh at how close Zeus had been to the forbidden child without realizing.
Then the thought came to him, Kronos was supposed to better than Zeus. Surely he would know if Perseus was right beneath his nose. Really, Morpheus had no reason to interfere.
"Who are you?" Percy asked, his eyes started to glaze over.
"Nothing but a dream," Morpheus said, then he tapped the boy on the head and he fell into a deep slumber.
When he turned around there was a wide brown eye staring at him, the cyclops blinked hesitantly.
"You sleep too," Morpheus demanded and the Cyclops fell back into the couch, snoring instantly.
He shouldn't be doing that so much, Morpheus decided. Chaos forbid Hypnos found out, then they'd all start having slumber parties.
Tethys felt a little bad. Who could blame her really?
Dear brother Kronos was on the rise, Rhea was more secluded than ever, Zeus was just in denial and refusing to acknowledge anything.
Tethys didn't actually want her brother to come back, neither did her husband. They'd stayed out of the first war for a reason. And then afterwards they'd taken care of dear Hera—Tethys would never tell the queen that deep down her presence always reminded her of Kronos. There was something to them, how calculating they both were.
Most would say Zeus held the resemblance, Tethys disagreed.
Despite it all, and how adorable her baby brother had once been, he was a monster and totally deserved to be in Tartarus.
Only now, he was active again, and plotting to kill baby Perseus
That pit scorpion was such a low blow.
To clear her mind, Tethys was out and about visiting all of her grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and those that weren't technically hers but sort of were by extension.
At the moment, she was with one of Poseidon's children—the giant whirlpool, Charybdis.
The poor girl got such a bad rap simply for wanting to have a good meal three times a day. Scylla got to eat six men at a time, it truly was unfair.
Charybdis was in the process of capturing her next meal when Tethys felt something odd. There was a ship up there of course, one running with oil and smoke. But she felt something more, the presence of a child. the presence of. . .
The explosion was shocking. Charybdis ducked away immediately, debris scattered between the waves, chucks of metal and pieces of bone. Tethys saw the life raft, she saw who was it. Percy was nice and safe.
Which led Tethys' attention to someone in a less safe position. The darling Cyclops was sinking deeper and deeper, just a baby he was. And one of Poseidon's too. How sweet, brothers on a quest.
Tethys scooped him up and took him to a nice comforting cave. He wasn't too hurt, but the explosion would have him out for a while.
Kym settled into the ocean, she'd found a nice deep cavern to dive into, and now all she had to do was wait. She could feel the ship above rocking over the harsh waves. That Athena brat had just dove into them and was trying her very hardest to get eaten by the sirens.
Oh, and there Percy went.
Kym ramped up the storm a little more, the wind blew wider, the waves grew taller. It took a while, but then she felt it. The small form of someone swimming towards her, cutting through the currents and swirling around the schools of fish.
He wasn't steady in the water, Grandma Doris had said at much. Percy looked like he was still relying on father to keep him alive—like he expected his ability to breath underwater to be stripped away at any moment.
Kym scoffed, fair enough. Hadn't he tried something similar with her?
Percy repeated the one thing he's said to every god he's met so far. "I know you."
Kym didn't beat around the bush at all. "Of course you do. Or at least you better."
Percy felt unimaginably vindicated, he did actually know this woman. Goddess? Nymph?
"You were at Montauk," Percy said. "Making a storm. . . Are you—"
"Yes, yes, this storm is mine. Isn't it amazing?"
Percy looked frustrated for a second, but it all disappeared with a blink to be replaced by an expression that resembled a confused shark. "You asked about my dad?"
"Our dad," Kym clarified. "I was inquiring about the shared experience."
Percy wasn't quite sure what to feel, he'd cut the head off the last sibling he met. But this woman didn't seem like Crusty. Yes, she was making storms and slowing them down on the journey to Grover, but she hadn't been so bad when he first met her.
"You never told me your name."
"Kymopoleia," she said.
"And your my—"
"Sister," Kym said it with a sense of smugness in her voice. "Or aunt, depending on who you ask."
Percy groaned, how far was that going to go? Nobody could actually believe that Triton was his father, Percy hadn't even met the guy. Then again, he'd never met Poseidon before last year.
Kym lurched back in their water, their was a large grin on her face and bubbles escaped her mouth. She was laughing, Percy realized. He tried not be unnerved by how sharp her teeth were.
She could probably bite through metal if she tried.
"You're a goddess of. . . storms?" Percy tried to recall exactly what she'd said. It was all a mess in his mind, and she'd been quite sad at the time. Or, younger him thought she was sad.
Kym glowed brighter once she heard his words, her eyes lighting up (literally). "Yes! Exactly. A goddess. Of storms. Who knew this was all it took to get some recognition."
Percy nodded slowly, he had no idea what she was going on about. "Your storm is great," Percy said kindly, he had a feeling that if he said anything else she would get offended. "But, I kind of have to get somewhere."
Kym huffed, everybody always wanted to get through her storms. Nobody ever stopped to relish in them. "And what is oh so important that you have to get there urgently?"
"Uh, Grover?"
"Am I supposed to know what a Grover is?"
"He's my friend," Percy said. "He's been kidnapped."
"By who?"
"Polyphemus."
Kym barely restrained her laugh when Percy said. Polyphemus, back causing trouble again, and here she'd thought everyone had forgotten about him. Then Percy said the thing that really made her lose it.
"They're getting married."
Demeter stared down at the sirens as they lamented about their missing meal. Such a tasty one that daughter of Athena would've been. Hera was stood to her right, frowning. Hestia was at her left, trying to fuel some of her power into the only candle she could find on the ship, just so the children would feel warm and safe.
"That's my bad," Demeter said. "Really, this is not what I turned them into birds for."
Hestia turned to Hera. "They might still be a little salty from losing that singing competition you encouraged them to compete in."
"Then they should've sung better," Hera huffed. "Besides, I did not expect the Muses to pluck away some of their feathers."
"I feel like there's a lesson to be learned from this," Hestia said.
"What?"
"What?"
"That you should stop messing with people's lives."
Poseidon didn't get between his children when they fought. The only time he ever interfered was when his godly ones were purposely trying to murder his mortal ones, even then, he didn't do that much. Either they listened, or they didn't.
But this time Poseidon was definitely rooting for Perseus. And Tyson, Tyson was there too.
Sure, Polyphemus had been his favorite son once, but then was back when he was young and inexperienced, and only occasionally tried eating a few dozen people. He was over two-thousand-years old now, and he still acted just like he did back then. Eating whatever satyr he came across, stealing things from the gods (seriously, how did he get that fleece), and then he stole Perseus's best friend.
Not to eat, but to marry.
Poseidon needed to talk to his son about his taste, not just in food but in relationships.
Did Poseidon care about the satyr? Not particularly. He definitely stood out among the others, traveling with Percy to the Underworld and all. But Poseidon didn't really care.
What he did care about, was that out of desperation, the satyr had formed an empathy link with Perseus. That was so dangerous. If the satyr died, Percy would die, so now Poseidon had to care about the satyr.
Ooh, Poseidon leaned up in his throne, he was pretty sure Perseus just stood on Polyphemus's eye. One thing about Percy was that he was far better than Odysseus, for example he did not shout out his full name and address in a fit of hubris as he was leaving the island.
Poseidon could not say the same about the child of Ares.
That boulder was deserved.
Dionysus had never been happier to see Peter Johnson's face. Especially when that whole Iris-Message encounter basically gave him free reign to do whatever he wanted with Tantalus without complaint from Zeus. Now that Chiron's innocence had been proclaimed, Zeus would send Tantalus back to the Fields of Punishment and forget about him all over again.
But first, he would enjoy watching the young ones practice their archery as Tantalus wriggled in the vines dangling him from a tree.
Hermes entered the stables with a letter to be delivered, honestly, he did not understand the need for a letter at all. The address was longer than what was written on the actual note.
Maybe he also, kind of, slightly wanted to see Percy, just to see how everything went—the fight to almost death was disappointing. Alas. . .
"Uh, Lord Hermes," Percy said right before he could leave. "There was a man on the Princess Andromeda, I don't think he was a man at all, actually. He reminded me of you, for some reason. I can't quite. . ."
Hermes frowned. "What did he look like?"
"Um—silver hair, purple eyes, I think he was hovering?"
Hermes barely repressed a shiver. "Morpheus?"
"You know him?"
"You know him," Hermes said. "He handed you over to Zeus that one time."
"What—"
Heart attack inducing, Martha said.
Had me put off rats for a week, George added.
"Anyway, we must be off."
"Wait," Percy called. "What do you mean?"
Hermes zipped away without a reply, Percy was left alone with even more questions when he'd hoped to get answers.
"How could he have handed me over to Zeus?" Percy asked himself.
He opened up the letter to find two simple words printed onto the page: Brace Yourself.
Not a single answer in sight.
The counsel was gathered on Olympus to not talk about the quest for the Golden Fleece. They had, however, talked about Chiron, and Zeus actually agreed that he may have slightly overreacted.
He still was not acknowledging Kronos.
Even after Iris presented tangibly proof with her recorded message.
They don't know what they're talking about, he said, then he noticed Perseus. Why is your grandson there?
And they all changed the conversation to something less likely to get them smote.
Every god in the room felt the shift in the air when it happened.
Something had changed, something deeply intertwined in the threads of fate.
They all directed their gazes to the demigod camp, there in the dead of night, the oddest thing happened. The tall pine tree glowed a magnificent gold, and then. . . a girl fell out.
"Oh shit."