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Chapter Text

For a brief moment, Apollo closed his eyes and let himself feel the sun. Let the heat consume him as the bond was restored. Let the flames tickle at his fingertips as he became aware of his glowing skin. He had to be given his other domains, or take them by force, but the sun had waited for his return and greeted him like an old friend. If it weren’t for Phthisis sniveling before him, Apollo would’ve taken more time to just bask in the warmth of his first domain. He refocused on Phthisis, eyes hard and jaw set.

“Now, there,” Phthisis said, raising his hands placatingly, “why don’t we discuss this like civilized Greeks? No need for violence, right?”

“Wrong,” he said, and released an arrow. Phthisis hissed as the arrow skimmed his cheek, whooshing past his ear. Incredulous eyes zeroed in on Apollo, and the decaying immortal creaked a laugh.

“You missed?” Phthisis wheezed, “you? Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Riddle me this, oh bright one, what was that supposed to do? You’ve already tried shooting me with those little sticks of yours, and they did nothing. Have you really run out of ideas? Pathetic.”

“Nothing?” Apollo asked, feigning confusion, “Are you sure?”

Phthisis paused and slowly raised a hand to his cheek, fingers lightly touching where the arrow had cut into his skin. Where once there was a gash, now the only evidence of injury was the lingering ichor left behind on his cheek. The god’s eyes widened, and his shocked gaze flickered to Apollo, his face shuttering between emotions. Disbelief, anger, arrogance, and finally, fear. The old immortal looked at his ichor-stained fingers and felt fear.

“What did you do?” Phthisis croaked, taking a step back. His eyes were fixed on Apollo.

“I’ve healed you,” Apollo clapped, voice joyous but eyes hard, “it’s a miracle. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“That shouldn’t be possible!” he shrieked, “You shouldn’t have been able to do that! I’m the god of rot and decay,” he said, raising a finger at Apollo, “I don’t heal, I just am.”

“And yet,” Apollo shrugged. Quicker than a blink he notched another arrow and aimed it at Phthisis’s abdomen, the immortal gave a surprised grunt and doubled over, clutching at his stomach, fear seeping out of him in sync with the ichor oozing. He gasped and clung to the arrow, holding it in place, attempting to stop the bleeding but the skin stitched up by itself. Healed in a matter of seconds. Before he had a chance to think, another arrow pierced his clavicle, commanding a scream from his throat.

Desperate eyes scanned the scene. “Calypso!” The god of rot said, swiveling his head in her direction and wincing as the shattered clavicle jostled, “Calypso, baby, how about we just put this whole thing behind us, hm? Let me go, how does that sound?”

“You’re looking a little green there, Phthisis,” Calypso cooed with fake concern, “everything alright?”

The hope slipped off Phthisis’s face and morphed into panic. He noticed Percy on the ground and tried to go over to the hero, petition for leniency, but another of Apollo’s arrows sliced clean through his calf before he could make it.

“Don’t you fucking dare go anywhere near him,” he seethed, eyes going gold, “you don’t deserve his kindness, you don’t even deserve his pity. If he were conscious, he’d probably petition for mercy, but unfortunately, he can’t make that call right now because of you!” Fury like never before overtook Apollo and he threw arrow after arrow at Phthisis. Each cry from the rotting being felt like a hymn to Apollo, and dark pleasure crept into him. He was Phoebus Apollon, just as feared as he was beloved, and it was time to put some respect back on his name.

He grinned down at the mewling mess on the ground and prepared to notch another arrow. Phthisis laid, curled in a fetal position, bleeding out into the sand. His strangled breaths perfectly timed with Apollo’s exhilarated ones.

“Please,” Phthisis whimpered, “please stop. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please.”

“Sorry?” Apollo asked, cocking his head, “What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you, I shouldn’t have had so much hubris, I’m sorry my Lord, please, please show mercy,” he cried.

“Mercy, you say?” Apollo mused. He looked at the arrow in his hand and snapped it in half. The decaying god breathed out in relief, praises on his lips when suddenly Apollo straddled his waist and leaned close into his ear.

“You apologized for the wrong thing.”

Clutched like a knife in his hands, Apollo took the half of the arrow with the arrowhead and stabbed it into Phthisis’s throat. The old god gurgled as he choked on his own ichor and his eyes widened in panic and fear, watching Apollo lean in once more. “You don’t deserve mercy,” Apollo whispered, “you would’ve watched with glee as Perseus died, so I will do the same for you.”

Apollo heard Calypso gasp behind him, a soft “oh!” leaving her lips. Had he disgusted her? Did she fear him now? Would she tell Perseus of how vindictive a god he was? He turned to face her, an apology on his lips when he finally noticed what had surprised her.

Phthisis’s legs were fading.

Apollo stood quickly, watching in fascinated detachment as the god began to fade. His body dissolving, not unlike it had before, but this time with a sense of finality. Apollo looked at his hands, his knuckles were still white from how hard he gripped the makeshift knife, but the rest of his hands were splattered gold. Gold from the ichor of the immortal that he’d just killed.

He glanced at Calypso, finding her already looking at him, an odd expression on her face.

She let out a low whistle. “Damn,” she said.

He watched her cautiously.

She shook her head and snapped out of her reverie. “Alright, fine, you win,” she conceded, sighing, “Percy’s yours.”

**

The first thing Percy did when he woke up again was groan and shut his eyes. After a year of no sunlight, the first rays shining on his face nearly took him out.

“What happened?” he rasped out, wincing a little at how dry his throat felt. Eyes still shut, he mostly heard the telltale rustle of Calypso’s dress as she made her way towards him, Apollo’s normally strong steps were more subdued as they trailed behind her.

She held a cup to his lips and lifted his head. “Here,” she murmured, “drink this. Some water will do you good.” He tried squinting up at her and gave her a grateful smile, letting the cool liquid sooth his throat. She wiped away the small drops that escaped down the side of his lips, never once losing any patience.

“What happened?” he asked again, eyes flickering between the two. A pause. He grew uneasy at their silence. “What? What aren’t you telling me?” Percy noted Apollo shift a little, and bit back a groan of frustration. “You guys aren’t making me feel any better by not telling me,” he said, annoyance lacing his voice, “if anything, I’m much more concerned.”

“Percy…” Calypso began.

“What do you remember?” Apollo interrupted, speaking for the first time.

“What?”

“What do you remember, Perseus? Last thing you can think of.”

“We were sparring, I think,” Percy said slowly, tasting how the words felt. He was remembering warm embers and a warm body pressed against his own, “no,” he said, shaking his head, “you were teaching me archery.” Green eyes glanced up at the blonde, letting out a small breath when he saw Apollo nod.

“Go on,” Apollo prodded.

Percy shut his eyes, willing the memories forwards. “You called me babe,” he smiled, eyes still shut.

“I did,” he heard Apollo whisper.

His body felt tingly with the memory, a pleasant buzz pulsing through him. Babe, he remembered, darling and sweetheart. Sweetheart. He remembered he really liked that one. He liked that Apollo had given him a nickname. But the tender memory had a tinge of sour. He remembered a smell. A man with a stench a mile long. Dust and decay.

“Shit!”

“There it is,” commented Calypso.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” she popped.

“Was I really KO’d by bad breath?” At Apollo’s slight grimace, Percy huffed out. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“This isn’t a joke, Perseus,” Apollo said, eyes glinting, “you could’ve died. You basically did die, do you understand that? I just,” he swallowed, “I could’ve lost you. And you- you’re the one good thing that’s happened to me. Turning into a statue, being forgotten, losing my domains- all worth it because I got to find you. And then you go and almost die.” Apollo ran his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the exhaustion of the last couple of hours.

“But I didn’t,” Percy reminded him gently, pushing himself off of the ground. With unsteady legs, he made his way over to the god, and lightly took Apollo’s hands in his own. “You saved me, didn’t you? Look at me, please, Apollo,” Percy pleaded. Blue met green. “Thank you,” Percy said earnestly.

“You saved me first,” Apollo mumbled.

Percy leaned up and kissed the corner of Apollo’s mouth, then lightly kissed Apollo’s lips. “It’s not a competition, love.”

“Can I go now?” Calypso asked, “not that I need permission, because this is my island, but, you know. Felt like being polite.”

“Sorry,” Percy said, scratching the back of his neck. “So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s the move?”

“The move?” Apollo asked.

“Yeah, what do we do now? If Phthisis got away then he’ll definitely tell your father where you are,” Percy responded, “which means we really shouldn’t be lingering here.”

Calypso and Apollo locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation. Calypso gave Apollo a meaningful look and he shook his head. He glanced at Percy, waving when he caught Percy looking at them.

“You know,” Calypso finally said. Apollo looked at her warily. “Maybe I will just go. The weather is lovely, and a stroll sounds nice. I’ll be,” she waved her hand, “around. Bye!”

“Wait, no! Calypso!”

When Apollo turned around, Percy was looking at him expectantly. The blonde god sighed, his shoulders hunching in a bit. He walked over to a log and sat down, motioning for Percy to sit beside him. When he did, Apollo turned his body slightly, and looked Percy in the eyes.

“I don’t want you to think differently of me,” Apollo said.

“I won’t,” Percy replied.

“You might,” Apollo corrected.

Percy placed his hand on Apollo’s thigh and began rubbing small circles. “Maybe,” Percy conceded, “or maybe not. But we’ll never know if you don’t tell me.”

“I-” Apollo started, “I’m not a nice god, Perseus. Not always. I can be vengeful and proud, and I can hurt a lot of people without remorse.” Apollo spared a glance at Percy, but Percy stayed silent, watching him intensely. “I have hurt people without remorse. Phthisis,” he swallowed, “Phthisis won’t be an issue anymore. I made sure he wouldn’t be.”

“What did you do?”

“I killed him. Permanently.”

“But he’s immortal,” Percy said, confused, “you can’t kill an immortal. He’ll just reform in a couple of years.”

“Not this time,” Apollo said, “I made him fade.”

“Shit,” Percy breathed out, “that’s… wow.”

“I don’t regret it. He hurt you, Perseus. I don’t think I can bring myself to regret it, so don’t ask me to, but I can’t stand the thought of you thinking of me as a monster. Mercy is not always in my nature.”

“I know,” Percy said simply, a soft smile on his face, “I figured you’ve probably done things I wouldn’t like; all gods have.”

“You… knew?”

“A bit, yeah.” Percy said, “Remember when you were telling me about Achilles and Patroclus? It didn’t sound like your first time killing someone.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m not sure if okay is the right word, but,” he sighed, “I trust you. I wouldn’t have left you with my mom and Paul if I thought you were a bad person.”

Apollo looked at Percy with awe and something else. He gently took Percy’s chin in one hand and placed the other behind Percy’s neck. Tilting his head up, he brought Percy in closer and kissed him slow and sweet. “I think I love you, Perseus Jackson,” Apollo murmured against Percy’s lips. Percy pulled back, shocked, his eyes scanning Apollo’s face, looking for any sign of a lie, but his blue eyes were sincere. Percy’s mouth formed into a crazy grin before he crashed his lips back into Apollo’s, deepening the kiss. He wasn’t sure if he could say it back, not yet, but each kiss felt like a promise, each moan sounded like their future, and despite being absolutely delirious with joy Percy felt clarity through the haze. Apollo was it for him.

**

The day Artemis came to visit was two days before the Solstice. It would be the last time the three would see each other until then. Artemis brought with her a circular table, parchment, charcoal, and figurines. It was very medieval but Percy kind of enjoyed the vibes.

“So will you finally tell us who our allies are?” Apollo asked, arms crossed. He was leaning forward, bent over the table and observing the figurines, trying to decipher who they represented. The lightning bolt was fairly easy to understand, the trident, too, but except for the other Olympians, Percy felt lost gazing at the dozens of pieces she brought.

Artemis shifted from her twelve-year-old self into an older version, matching Apollo’s late teen look. “We’ve got a couple. Mainly nature spirits,” she explained, “nymphs, naiads, dryads, surprisingly a lot of satyrs-”

“Wait, why surprisingly satyrs?” Percy interrupted, wincing a little under Artemis’ glare.

“Shelf that for later, yeah?” Apollo rushed. He motioned for Artemis to continue. She rolled her eyes but conceded.

“Our biggest allies are Poseidon, Demeter, Hades, Persephone, and Dionysus.”

“Wait, what?” Percy gaped, “how did you get them?”

“They’re gods associated with nature, Jackson. There is no spring without a change of seasons, and for that to happen there needs to be sunlight. Without the sun, Demeter has been struggling to support plant life and the harvests have been dwindling. Same with Dionysus. And Hades tagged along because of Persephone,” she continued.

“And because Demeter would never let him live it down if he stayed behind while Persephone fought,” Apollo joked, jabbing Percy’s side with his elbow, making Percy grin.

“Be that as it may,” she said, “what it means for us is that, including myself, we have five Olympians against the thunder bringer. These aren’t bad numbers in the slightest,” Artemis emphasized.

“Now add in the Muses, and Asclepius,” Percy started.

“We don’t know about Asclepius, Perseus,” Apollo interrupted, lowly.

“Actually, we do,” Artemis smiled, “he called upon me a few days ago in distress. Your son was beside himself thinking he led to your death by losing the domains. Give him a little more credit, brother, he still adores you.”

Percy smiled at Apollo, then turned to Artemis. “Can we count on the Hunters to join us?” he asked. He noticed Artemis’s face shutter, switching between emotions faster than he could begin to process.

“I am… hesitant to involve them in this,” she said carefully, words slow and picked out. “I’ve already lost one hunter to this mess, and I’m not entirely sure if I want to bring anyone else into this.”

Percy nodded. “Will Thalia be there? Given that she’s a demigod who's been on a quest? Or is she exempt because she’s a hunter?”

“My lieutenant will be in attendance, yes,” Artemis replied in a clipped tone, the slight twitch of her hands giving her way.

“I know it’s not my place,” he started, “but even if you don’t tell her everything, you should still let her know that something will be going on. She doesn’t deserve to be caught unaware. Give her the option of joining us, Lady Artemis, she probably already knows something’s up anyway. Thalia’s perceptive like that.”

Artemis looked conflicted, switching between being sixteen, twelve, fourteen, and twenty. She settled on eight years old. Apollo went to her and picked her up. She grumbled but didn’t protest beyond that. “It’s just…” she paused, “you were gone, little brother,” she whispered, “you were gone, and they were all I had left. And mortals are so fragile. So prone to dying. I can’t lose them, any of them. They’re my family.” She cleared her throat a bit, “if it comes down to it, if we really need reinforcements, I shall call upon them, but I will fight until the brink of death before making that decision. I can’t be alone again, I just, I-”

Apollo pressed her closer and whispered assurances to her. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and she buried her face in the junction of his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head and looked imploringly to Percy. “I’m here, Artie, I’m here. I’ll never leave you again.”

“You can’t promise that,” she mumbled.

“I can,” he promised anyway.

Cautiously, Percy approached the celestial pair of twins. “My Lady,” he said in a low tone, “I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety, not even my own, but Thalia adores you and would want to fight by your side. Let it be her choice,” he implored. “Plus, I have it on good authority that she’s got a bone to pick with her dad over all those years he left her as a tree. Leaves you feeling kind of annoyed, or so I’ve heard.” Percy smirked a little. By the entrance of the tent, Percy heard Calypso smack her hand against her forehead.

“Was that supposed to be a joke, Jackson?” Artemis asked eyebrow raised, completely unamused.

Percy coughed. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought,” she replied, then jumped out of Apollo’s arms, landing as her seventeen-year-old self. Over her shoulder, Apollo threw him two thumbs up mouthing something like ‘good job.’ Artemis walked back over to the planning board with Percy and Apollo lingering behind, Percy a bit sheepish.

“I thought it was funny,” Apollo whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Artie just needs to branch out more.”

Percy looked up at Apollo’s completely serious face and snorted, causing Apollo to break and laugh, too. Artemis glared at them from the board, “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Leto help us all.”

“Sorry, sis,” Apollo giggled before straightening up. “Continue please.”

“You sure?” she asked dryly, “I’m sure we have enough time to make jokes and flirt, it’s not like this is happening tomorrow or anything.”

Percy cleared his throat, “you’re right,” he apologized. Then he picked up the winged shoe piece, “what about the others?” he asked her, “is Hermes still staying neutral?”

Artemis sighed. “Last I checked it looked that way. He’s still not against us but continues to maintain neutrality. Aphrodite, too. I haven’t given her too many details, but I’ve hinted at enough that she got the memo. Her issue is Ares. He and Athena are still firmly on father’s side, as is Hera. Hephaestus is neutral until proven otherwise,” she explained, “he’s unwilling to act against his mother out of some misplaced hope that maybe she’ll love him one day. Poor bastard,” she shook her head, “the only one I don’t have a good read on is Aunt Hestia. She’s a true neutral. Not willing to pick any family member over another.”

“So, to recap,” Apollo started, “in terms of Olympians we have you, me -and yes, I’m counting myself-, Uncle P, Dionysus, and Demeter. With them come Hades and Persephone-”

“We love a power couple,” Percy nodded sagely.

“We do.” Apollo nodded before continuing, “Nature spirits, satyrs, my son, and the Muses. Am I missing anyone?”

“Me!” Calypso shouted from outside.

“And Calypso,” Apollo added. “Calypso, why don’t you just come inside?”

“Someone has to keep an eye on things out here,” she said, “and we all know you can’t take care of yourself.”

“True,” Artemis agreed, ignoring Apollo’s affronted squawk.

“So, what’s the actual plan? Walk in ready to fight or is there going to be a signal?” Percy asked.

“I’ve talked with your father about this,” Artemis assured, “he used to be Olympus’s prime strategist before our sister came along, and he said he’d give you a signal for when the best time would be to act. My brother will stay behind, as my father still believes him to be a statue. Your presence should hopefully be enough to throw him off his game long enough for us to take the upper hand. I will be fighting Ares, and Dionysus and Persephone will be taking Athena. Demeter will hold off Hera, and you, my brother, and the rest of the Big Three will take on His Royal Highness himself.”

“Can Mr. D and Persephone hold Athena?” Percy questioned.

Artemis nodded while Apollo responded. “You’d be surprised the things D can do, and Persephone isn’t just some spring goddess. She’s the Queen of the Underworld, she’s got more than a few tricks up her sleeve.”

Just then one of the knives on Artemis’s belt started glowing, and she cursed under her breath. “That’s Thalia,” she remarked, “I’ve got to go.” She packed away the board with all the pieces and lit it on fire, allowing for the paper to crinkle and the figures to melt into each other. The tent folded in on itself as soon as the three were outside. She turned to Apollo and Percy and crossed her arms; her face twitched a little until she relented and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Stay safe. If you die before tomorrow, I’ll fetch you from Uncle’s clutches and kill you myself.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Apollo quipped.

“Never mind, you can die.”

“Ha!” Percy laughed at Apollo, before stopping short at her deadpanned look.

“Boys,” she muttered in disgust. “Calypso, you’re my favorite. Keep them alive.”

Calypso saluted. “I aim to please.”

Artemis nodded and disappeared, leaving behind a scent of fresh pine and wild berries. With Artemis gone, the two males rounded on Calypso.

“I aim to please!?” Percy repeated back, incredulous.

“You lying little shit,” Apollo gasped, “worst part is that she believes that now,” he bemoaned, a hand on his hip.

“I aim. To Please.” Percy repeated again, still dumbfounded. “You? Bullshit.”

Calypso curtsied and flicked them off. “Best be getting some rest,” she sniffed, “you both have a busy day tomorrow.”

“The sun’s still out,” Percy objected.

“Not my problem,” she said and then walked off.

They did not go to sleep at midday like Calypso had wanted them to, but they did go to sleep fairly early. Percy tossed and turned most of the night until Apollo got up and placed two fingers on his forehead. “Sleep well, my song,” he whispered, and then Percy knew no more. Deep in slumber until the next day’s first rays woke him up, not a dream or a nightmare all through the night.

When he woke up it was to Calypso making breakfast and Apollo parrying with a sword, beautiful and deadly.

“Morning,” he yawned, sitting down by Calypso.

“Good morning, Percy,” she greeted, handing him a plate of eggs and fruit, “big day today. You ready?”

“I mean, I guess?” he shrugged, “talking with Artemis yesterday really helped, and I do think we’ve trained a lot, but,” he gestured around with his arms, searching for words, “if it was easy it would’ve already been done, you know?” He moved some eggs around with his fork before bringing a bit up to his mouth. “But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. We have just as good of odds as any, and I mean, the man is losing it Calypso. He needs to be removed. Not just for Apollo’s safety, but everyone’s.”

Calypso smiled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’ll make a good king someday, Percy Jackson,” she whispered kindly. Percy pulled back to gape at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she smiled. Then she walked over to take their empty plates away. “You sure you want to stay with him?” She jabbed a finger in Apollo’s direction, “I’m still free. No questions asked,” she offered teasingly.

Seemingly out of nowhere Apollo appeared behind Percy, tilted his head back, and captured his lips. Percy caved immediately and sighed into the kiss, bringing his hands up to grab Apollo’s curls and deepen the kiss. Apollo swiped Percy’s lips with his tongue and as soon as Percy opened his mouth, he pulled back, leaving Percy with his eyes closed and lips parted, then he glared at Calypso. Calypso raised both her hands innocently.

“I thought we established that he’s mine,” Apollo pointed out.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she grinned, “had to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind.”

“Well don’t,” Apollo sniffed. Apollo placed his thumb in Percy’s mouth, holding Percy’s jaw with the rest of his fingers. He smiled down at the handsome demigod, slowly sliding his thumb out and running it down Percy’s throat and lightly gripping his neck. Letting go almost as quick as it happened. “He’s all mine, I’m afraid.”

“What the fuck?” Percy whispered to himself. Apollo shot him a wink.

Calypso harrumphed, “well, there was no need for that,” she admonished. “Anyway, what time do you have to be at Olympus?”

Still a bit flustered, Percy looked up at the sky. “We still have a good couple of hours. His Royal Nuisance wants everyone in attendance and that can’t happen until the sun sets and Artemis comes back from doing that. Of course, people will be packing in earlier, so we should try for a little before dusk.” He looked to Apollo, who nodded in agreement. “I would like to get there kind of early though,” he admitted, “I need to catch up with Annabeth and Grover, and honestly any other camper who might have to go. Thalia and Clarisse will more than likely be there, and they should be the only other ones, but you never know.”

“So, we set out roughly three hours past noon?” Apollo proposed.

“Sounds like a plan,” Percy nods.

When the time rolled around, Calypso rounded on them. “May the Fates look over you both,” she prayed. Percy could tell that she was holding back tears but was grateful for the smile she pasted on instead. She bit her lip for a second and then pounced on Percy, embracing him in a strong hug. Her face pressed against his chest, letting Percy feel the small wet spots she was creating.

“It takes a lot to kill me,” he assured, “don’t worry, okay? We’ll be back here before you know it and taking you with us.”

“You better,” she snuffled. Then she backed up slightly and turned her face up to smile at him. “I matched with a lovely boy from Sacramento on Tinder,” she admitted, “if you die, I’ll never be able to meet him.”

Percy gasped out a laugh. “What?”

Calypso wiped away the tears from her face and gave him a cheeky grin. “That phone that Artemis gave you isn’t just for calls, you know?”

“Apparently!” He laughed. Then, when the laughter died, he bent down and kissed her forehead. “Take care of yourself, okay? We’ll be back before you know it, and then you can meet Sacramento boy.”

“His name’s Aaron.”

“Aaron from Sacramento,” Percy tested out. “Nah, don’t like him.” Percy barked another laugh and ran away when she began swatting at him, ducking back into the trees and towards their campsite.

“What was all that about?” Apollo asked, coming up beside her. Both of them staring at the spot that Percy had disappeared into.

“Percy was making fun of me,” she stated.

“Good,” he said, glaring at her when she hit his arm. Then his eyes softened.

“Take care of yourself, Calypso daughter of Atlas,” he murmured.

She glanced up, her mouth open in surprise before she smiled up at him. She leaned up against his side and rested her head on his bicep. “Stay safe, son of Leto.” He drew her into a one-armed hug and the two stayed like that until Percy came back with his backpack and some supplies. Then, it was time to go.

**

New York was always Percy’s favorite place to be, but when the sun was shining and everyone was out and about taking their kids to Central Park or having picnics around the NYU campus, it really became alive. Percy breathed in the city’s air and took in all the sounds, practically giddy at being back. Apollo watched all of it with fondness. They spent some time amongst the mortals, eating ice cream and sitting by a fountain. Pretending for a moment that this could be a normal date between two boys who were head over heels for each other. But as the sky’s blue began to display hints of orange and pink, the duo stood up and began to leave. The New Yorkers around them were transfixed, staring at the last sunset of the year.

“I have to go now,” Percy said, looking towards the Empire State Building. “I still need to catch up with everyone else and I’m sure they’re waiting for me.” Apollo nodded. Golden hands picked up Percy’s and brought them to his lips. Apollo gently kissed every knuckle, never looking away from Percy’s eyes. Percy’s breath hitched and for a moment, a small second in time, he thought he saw Apollo’s true form shining through those eyes and it was stunning. Percy felt like an ant in the scope of such raw beauty and divine magnificence. Apollo. His Apollo.

“I think I love you, too,” Percy whispered. He hadn’t been planning on saying it, he wasn’t even fully aware of forming the words and projecting his voice, but as soon as it had been said it just felt right. He felt something settle in him and hum pleasantly.

Apollo’s eyes flashed dark gold before he crashed their lips together. A desperate kiss from a desperate god. Percy felt heady from all the sensations but parted his lips and let it happen, his heart stuttering and his head a million miles away.

“You need to go,” Apollo mumbled against his lips. Despite his words, he was still holding Percy tight, unwilling to follow through. Reluctantly, Percy pulled away and turned towards the direction of Olympus.

“Hang back and wait for my signal,” Percy said.

“What’ll be the signal?”

“You’ll know,” Percy assured, “I’m never subtle.”

And with that he left, racing towards the Empire State. Years of dodging monsters and swords made him an excellent crowd surfer. He skidded to a halt right outside the tall building, spotting Annabeth and Grover immediately.

‘Hey!” he yelled, waving his arms.

“Percy!” they responded in sync, running up to him. Annabeth hugged him and then punched his arm.

“Ow!” Percy winced, rubbing his arm, “what was that for?”

“You worried us, Seaweed Brain,” she said. Grover bleated in agreement.

“It really is good to see you, though, Perce,” he said, grinning.

“You, too, G-Man,” Percy said, clapping his hand on Grover’s shoulder. “Now, has Annabeth told you anything?”

Grover shook his head, “not really, just that something will probably go down today,” he responded nervously.

“That’s all I know!” Annabeth defended. “That’s all he told me!” Then she rounded on Percy, “that’s all you told me! You know I hate not working with all the information,” she grumbled.

Percy glanced up at the Empire State, its height suddenly very imposing. The sky was basically black behind them, and it would be dangerous to mention any specifics in front of the building. Never know who is listening. He bit his lip, trying to figure out how to say everything without saying anything at all.

“Alright, long story short,” he decided. He pointed at the direction of Olympus, “That’s Scar and we’re Simba.”

“Huh?” Grover asked, and Annabeth looked at him as if he were stupid before it clicked.

“Percy, no!” she gasped.

“Percy, yes,” he confirmed, before grabbing both their arms and leading them in. He saw Clarisse and Thalia pacing in front of the elevators, agitated. He sped up.

“Hey, what did Artemis tell you?” Percy said in lieu of a greeting. Luckily, Thalia didn’t seem to be in the mood for pleasantries either. She spared a glance for Annabeth before turning back to Percy.

“Enough,” she said. “Are we really doing this?” Clarisse looked between the two of them confused, her eyebrows furrowing.

“We are,” he said seriously. “Clarisse, I’m so sorry I didn’t reach out to give you more of a head’s up, and honestly, I was supposed to get here earlier to have more time to explain everything to you guys, but it slipped from me, I’m sorry. I’ll try to tell you on the way up. Promise.”

Clarisse paused, taking it all in. She had war in her blood and standing idly wasn’t something that came easy to her, neither was depending on others and going into things blind, but she trusted him, and he trusted her. “You better, Prissy.”

He nodded, finally breathing. He leaned against the wall and willed his breathing to even out. Annabeth and Grover had gone to get the security guard so he could let them up the elevator, and he could hear them arguing.

“There’s no 600^th floor, kiddos,” the man grunted in a bored tone, “why don’t you try the McDonald’s across the street? I think they have a playground.”

Percy had to physically restrain Thalia from jumping over the desk and punching the mortal senseless. “Aw, come on, man,” Percy complained, “you know us! Let us up, will you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life,” the security guard said without hesitation.

“How about we do this,” Clarisse said, cracking her knuckles, “you let us up to Olympus and I won’t bash your head in so hard your ancestors feel it? Does that sound okay to you?”

“Sounds more than fair to me,” Thalia muttered darkly. She was still disgruntled over the McDonald’s comment, it seemed.

The security guard looked scared for a moment, looking at Percy, wondering if he’d really let the buff girl with scars bash his head in. Percy shrugged. The man whimpered and went to unlock the elevator with his FOB. “They really don’t pay me enough for this,” he moaned.

“They really don’t,” Annabeth agreed.

They all packed in, and just before the door closed, Percy stuck his hand out to hold it open. “Hey, dude!” he yelled, “someone is going to come up later, can you let him up? He’s with me. Hot and blonde, you can’t miss it!”

The man groaned, and Percy saw him thump his head against his desk. “Whatever, I don’t care,” he grumbled. Percy flashed him a smile and let the elevator doors close. “Thanks, man!”

“Hot and blonde?” Thalia smirked.

“Well, he is,” Percy replied, unashamed. “He’s also the reason this whole quest was called,” Percy explained as best as he could that he had found the statue that Zeus had been looking for, except it wasn’t really a statue. It was a god. Artemis’s brother. He explained how apparently, he had been turned to stone for over two thousand years and that’s the reason they don’t have sunlight.

“I’m helping him,” Percy finished, looking at all of them, “and today might end up messy because of that.”

“How can we help?” Grover questioned. Percy smiled at his oldest friend, thankful to have him by his side once more.

“Play defense,” he said, “we don’t know who supports the King and we need to keep the main players safe so they can do what they need to.”

Clarisse looked conflicted. “My father,” she began, “he…”

“Yeah,” Percy apologized, “you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to, Clarisse, I get it. I just wanted to give you a head’s up. I owe you as much.”

She looked at him consideringly, before making up her mind. She clasped his forearm and he clasped hers’ as well. “I’m with you, Jackson. Just try and get rid of me.” He grinned and the elevator door opened.

What must’ve been a thousand pairs of eyes turned to look at them as they stepped out of the elevator. They shuffled out, sticking together as they waded their way through a crowd of minor gods, nature spirits, satyrs, centaurs, and everything in between. Every creature in Greek mythology that wasn’t considered a monster must’ve been called for this quest. Percy had to marvel at Zeus’s tenacity.

“Of course, the demigods are the last to arrive,” someone muttered.

“Can we start now?” Percy heard someone complain, “wind won’t blow itself.”

“My hooves hurt,” a satyr huffed.

“My flowers, you’re all trampling on my flowers!”

“SILENCE!” Zeus’s sharp yell crackled through the room. Instantly every conversation fell to a hush. Nervous eyes flittered around, and Percy felt the weight of suffocating silence start to surround him. The air felt heavy with tension.

“Now we may begin. Gods, to the center forefront!” he commanded.

Instantly every minor god scuttled to the front, tripping over themselves to not anger Zeus. The thunder bringer looked like he was one second away from smiting someone.

“You,” he pointed at a goddess, “Apate, did you complete the quest?”

The goddess in question flinched. “N-n-no, My Lord,” she stuttered, head bowed and slightly shaking.

“P-p-pathetic,” Zeus hissed. He extended his arm and sent her flying. Her body slammed against the back wall and slid down into a heap. Slowly, her trembling form got up. “Get out of my sight,” he ordered, and she ran out of the room.

“Boreas!” Zeus called forward. A god with dark hair and a beard shuffled forward, head bowed like Apate. He hid his fear better, but Percy could see him shaking. “Hopefully you will not be such a disappointment,” Zeus drawled, “were you able to complete the quest?”

“I apologize, My Lord, I will do better I swear-”

“Yes or no, Boreas.”

“No, My Lord,” he admitted in a small voice.

Zeus swatted him out of his sight and Percy saw him shuffle to the back of the line. This continued for every minor god and goddess. Some of them got lucky like Boreas, and some of them ended up like Apate, swung to the back of the room with no regard for their safety. A couple got blasted with electricity and thrown off the side of Olympus. With each failure, Zeus began getting more and more irritated. Electricity crackled around his head like a crown, and each step he took dented the floor. Percy glanced at his father, and he could see the worry behind the mask of indifference, as Zeus finished with the gods and went through the nature spirits and satyrs.

“I must say,” Zeus hissed, pacing along the queue of immortals and demigods alike, “that out of all the participants I sent out on this quest, I did not expect for all of you to fail me. I suppose that I set my expectations too high, after all, satyrs have been searching for Pan for centuries and never found him, why would you all prove to be helpful now?”

Along the thrones, Percy noticed Hermes stiffen. The satyrs seemed torn between fear from Zeus’s ire, and anger at the disrespect thrown their way. Grover bleated something under his breath but said nothing. Regardless, Zeus paid them all no mind.

“I admit, I had no hope for the nymphs and naiads, but I thought maybe, just maybe, one of you had an ounce of ambition. A sliver of motivation to do something besides frolic. Disgusting. And the minor gods,” he spat, distaste evident, “how is it that between all of you and your supposed ‘powers’ that no one was able to locate a statue? Does no one treat a quest from me with the honor and reverence it deserves?!” Zeus growled and swiped his hand, sending small jolts of lightning to anyone not quick enough to get out of the way.

“Rise, demigods!” Zeus commanded, finally coming to them. The four stood up. He took one look at the four of them and spit at their feet. Annabeth grimaced but didn’t move, and Percy could see Thalia’s hand clench. “So much potential wasted on you four,” he sneered in disgust. “Of course, you failed. Such is the way of mortals, to be continual failures and disappointments! All I asked of you,” he bellowed, “all I asked of all of you was to find one STUPID STATUE! A simple and straightforward task! And because I am a gracious king, I allowed you two weeks to search, but I see my kindness was taken for granted.”

He began circling them, dragging his master bolt behind him leaving a trail of flames in his wake. Heat surrounded the chamber, and the nymphs began to fidget as the fire slowly started to consume more of the room. Hestia attempted to put out as much of it as she could, but she too did not want to attract Zeus’s rage.

The king of the gods finally stopped his pacing in front of Percy. “But you,” he whispered, “against my better judgment I thought that perhaps you would come through. You with your uncanny ability to complete quests. This is what you’re supposed to be good at, is it not?” Percy kept his head down, deferential in everything except thoughts. He heard his father bristle at the insult, trident scratching against the cold marble. Zeus whirled his head towards Poseidon, a nasty smirk present. “What? Did that bother you? Put down that trident before I make you, brother. All this over a demigod who can’t even complete a simple quest. My, my, how you’ve gone soft.”

Poseidon glared at his brother but backed down, he tapped his trident twice on the ground before making it disappear altogether. Percy glanced up and quirked a brow towards his father who shot him an imperceptible nod. Percy cleared his throat. 

“Pardon me, my Lord, but who said I didn’t find the statue?”

Zeus paused, spine going ramrod straight and the entire hall of Olympus seemed to stop breathing. “Choose your next words carefully, demigod, for if you are lying-”

“I’m not.”

In a flash, Zeus appeared right in front of Percy, shrinking himself down to Percy’s height. He appeared so close to Percy that their noses almost touched. “Where. Is. It.” Zeus hissed. The great hall seemed to darken with rolling storm clouds, but Percy did not flinch. 

“I was running late and it was too heavy,” Percy said carefully, “so I left it behind in the lobby. The security guard at the elevator said he’d load it up and send it, so it should be arriving any second now.” Percy prayed that Apollo’s domain wouldn’t betray him, prayed that it was still loyal to the one who held it first. Sea green eyes stayed true and steady, knowing that if there was the slightest bit of hesitance or fear in them, Zeus would smell it like blood in the water. They held their stare before Zeus sniffed and returned to his giant stature. 

“Ares!” he barked. Ares straightened into attention. “Fetch the stone before something else happens to it. Do not disappoint me.”

Just then the elevator dinged, and every head turned as an arrow zipped through the air and lodged itself in the wall right next to Zeus’s head. Apollo stepped out of the elevator, quiver slung over his back and an easy smirk on his face, but Percy could see how taut his shoulders were and the stress lines hidden behind his easy demeanor.

“No need for that,” Apollo said flippantly to Ares, whose eyes flickered to Zeus, asking for instruction. He held his spear in his hand, ready to attack at moment’s notice. Sky blue eyes then turned towards Zeus and the smirk sharpened into a grin that was all teeth.

“Hello, Father. Did you miss me?”

Chapter Text

It was with detached amusement that Percy watched Apollo stroll forward, walking past the nymphs and minor gods leisurely. They parted for him like the Red Sea, too stunned to do anything but move out of the way and watch as the lost Olympian made his way toward his father. The only sounds in the chamber were Apollo’s steady steps and the crackling of ozone building. Gingerly, Percy moved away from his friends and positioned himself closer to the sun god, protecting them with his distance.

“What?” Apollo drawled, “Aren’t you happy to see me? Heard you were looking for me, pops,” Apollo gestured to himself and mockingly bowed, “well, here I am.” Zeus’s nose flared, and electric blue eyes moved passed Apollo’s shoulders and zeroed in on Percy.

“You.”

“Me,” Percy replied.

Apollo positioned himself to be directly in front of Percy, pulling the demigod behind him. “No,” the god snapped, “eyes on me. You have problems? They’re with me. Not him, not anyone else in this room, me.”

“I see your time away hasn’t made you any less arrogant,” Zeus sneered.

“My time away!?” Apollo bellowed. “Is that what we’re calling it? My time away? A nice little vacation after a small spat? No. Fuck you. You ripped me from this world and turned me into a statue, hiding me away and having everyone forget about me. Don’t try to downplay what you did. Did you even care? Did you regret it at all?”

Zeus scoffed, folding his arms. “Why should I have?”

“I was your son!”

“You were an upstart!” Zeus yelled back, “A usurper! Conspiring for my downfall, watching and waiting for me to falter so that you could take my place and rise. I am no fool. I saw you for what you truly were and took action. Do I regret it? No. Not for a single day. I was correcting a problem before it had a chance to start. That’s what good rulers do.”

Apollo took a small step back, face shuttering between emotions before settling on a carefully blank expression. For all the anger and bravado, Percy could tell that his father’s lack of remorse hurt the younger god.

“Is that what Kronos did?” Percy piped from behind Apollo, sidestepping the god to stand beside him, instead. “Correct an issue before it could become a problem?”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Percy pushed. “How on earth was that any different? Just because you didn’t eat your kid doesn’t make it any better,” he said, before snapping his fingers and laughing under his breath, “but no wait, you did do that, too, didn’t you? But that was with Athena. You’re no better than Kronos, don’t try and pretend you are.”

“You insolent little-”

“He’s not wrong, though, is he, Father?” Apollo said bitterly, cutting Zeus off. “Sounds to me like you’re avoiding taking responsibility for your actions,” he turned to Percy, “I’ve been gone for a while, so correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s not something a good ruler does, right?”

“Oh, yeah no,” Percy said, shaking his head, “pretty sure that’s something a bad ruler does, actually.”

“You don’t say!” Apollo gasped, eyes comically wide with a hand over his heart.

“Silence!” Zeus roared, bolt in hand. “I don’t know how you escaped your confines and at the moment I don’t particularly care. You’ve done me a favor, actually. Turning you into stone was a mercy on my part, a soft moment enabled by your mother and my sister, but that is no longer the case. You will cease being a problem- permanently.” The bolt crackled, illuminating Zeus’s cold features. The king of the gods raised his arm over his head and threw his deadliest weapon toward them. Percy didn’t even have a moment to think before he felt himself be pushed and fell to the ground, a thud following next to him. The duo quickly stood back up and Percy uncapped Riptide.

“I know you said you didn’t care about how Apollo got freed, but you should,” Percy said lowly, catching his breath. Adrenaline coursed through him, fizzling throughout his body, begging him to move and stay moving. “I freed him. Saw his name on the stone and said it, because why not? It warned against the wrath of Zeus,” he continued, “but nothing came. You must be losing your touch.”

“Impossible,” Zeus dismissed, “only a favored mortal could have liberated Apollo, and I most certainly do not favor the likes of you.”

“No,” Percy agreed, “you don’t.” He moved closer to Zeus, body language relaxed and dangerous. “But you do owe me a favor, and, in the grand scheme of things, I suppose the Fates aren’t that picky with the wording.”

“Owe you a favor?” Zeus laughed, “you low level vertebrate, I don’t owe you anything!”

“Calypso,” Percy replied simply. He watched with grim satisfaction as Zeus’s mouth snapped close, and his posture changed to defensive. “You swore to me, on the Styx, that you would pardon her,” Percy hissed, “but joke’s on me for assuming you’d keep your word. I fought for you, nearly died for you, watched as others did die for you! But you don’t give a shit about that, do you? No,” Percy laughed without humor, “because you’re not a good king, you’re not even a good god, you’re just a temper tantrum on a throne. Your promises hold no value, and every word you say is a waste of the oxygen it took to make. So no, you don’t favor me, but this is a favor owed, and I’m cashing in.”

There was a brief hush before a wave of murmurs and whispers overtook the room. Nymphs and Naiads whispered and pointed, eyes accusing, towards the king of the gods. Satyrs bleated and stomped their hooves creating a sound of dissatisfaction. Even the minor gods looked around dubiously, uncertainty warring with fear and loyalty. This was their king. This was their fraud.

“Enough!” Athena yelled, moving forward, looking every bit like the war goddess she was. She placed a hand on Zeus’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear that Percy could not hear. Green eyes glanced at Apollo, but the god’s gaze with fixed ahead, focused entirely on the scene before them. Zeus, too, kept his eyes on them, but he tilted his head closer to Athena, nodding minutely to whatever it is she was saying. Percy desperately wished he could ask Annabeth what Athena could possibly be whispering, but even a quick flick of gaze towards her could put her in Zeus’s line of sight, so Percy bit back a sigh and focused, hands tightening around Riptide.

Finally, with a pasted-on smile, Zeus shifted his eyes back towards the room’s occupants. “Everyone out,” he ordered. He hadn’t yelled or raised his voice, but still, the demand traveled and broke no room for argument. Yet, no one moved.

“I said,” Zeus hissed, “get out.”

“Frankly, Brother, I’m incredibly interested in what my nephews have to say,” a voice drawled from the back of the room. Hades stepped out of the shadows with Persephone not even half a step behind him, both dressed impeccably, not a hair out of place. Hades nodded politely to Percy and Apollo when he saw them, continuing forward. “The Fates’ interference spells something… intriguing.”

“I don’t recall inviting you,” Zeus grit out.

“You never do,” Hades replied lightly.

“And yet here you are.”

“So I am.”

“No matter,” Zeus said stiffly, he turned back to Percy and Apollo, “Fates or no Fates, it makes no difference. I could’ve killed you quickly, but you chose defiance, and for that you must be punished. Ares!” Zeus barked, “roughen them up, will you? Make them feel my wrath.” Ares nodded, smirking as he stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

Zeus placed a hand up, pausing Ares. “Don’t kill them, though, I want to do that myself. Only after they beg me for death,” Zeus said, looking directly at Percy. If Percy were a lesser man, he would’ve gulped. If Percy were a lesser man, he might’ve tried to run. If Percy were a lesser man, he would’ve begged for his life. Percy, however, did none of that, and lifted his head up, staring Zeus down with defiance.

“It would be my pleasure,” Ares laughed, sword materializing in his hand. He stepped forward and swung. Percy braced and positioned Riptide, feet sliding into place. But the hit never came. A silver arrow cut through the room, whistling with speed, and connected with Ares’ wrist. The war god hissed, dropping his sword and clutching his hand closer. His eyes flared red as he glared at the direction the arrow came from. Artemis stood, proud and angry before her throne, bow and arrow in hand.

“You traitorous cow!” roared Ares. Percy could feel himself getting angry, and one glance at Apollo told him that the blond was starting to feel it, too. The anger that Ares radiated coupled with indignation at anyone yelling at his sister had Apollo almost vibrating with rage.

“So, this is your decision, then?” Zeus asked coldly, “I promised to dangle you before the edge of Chaos, and you still choose defiance?”

“For my brother? Without hesitation.”

“Foolish girl,” he responded, striding towards Artemis, his hands blue with electricity. The wind in the throne room started to pick up and storm clouds began to form, and in the blink of an eye Zeus appeared before the goddess and gripped her by the throat, raising her above the ground. Apollo and Thalia yelled, trying to reach her, but both were stopped by Ares. The smell of burning flesh filled the room and the spectators began to scream and run towards the doors, trampling each other in a panic.

“I offered you mercy, daughter, and you spit it out. I offered you a place in my court, but you chose ungratefulness.” He held true, unaffected by Artemis’s struggles. She kicked her legs, hitting him, but Zeus didn’t so much as flinch. “This isn’t even punishment,” he mused, “this is divine intervention.”

“So is this,” Poseidon said, before gripping Zeus by his hair and pulling him back, flinging him across the room. Zeus hit his throne with an explosion of marble that rained throughout the room. Hera rushed to him, and, utilizing the distraction, Apollo rushed to his sister. He slid to his knees beside her, placing a hand beneath her head and lifting her up slightly. He was only acutely aware of Poseidon advancing upon Zeus with Hades in tow, too focused on his sister injured beside him.

“Let me look at that,” he murmured, worry lining his face.

“This?” Artemis croaked, grinning tiredly at him, “it’s just a scratch.”

Apollo pulled nectar out of thin air and gently put it against his sister’s lips, watching with rapt attention as she slowly drank. He didn’t stop fretting until the color returned to Artemis’s face and the burn around her neck settled into a hand-shaped bruise.

Thunder boomed and lightning crashed throughout the room, now empty of onlookers. Sleets of rain pounded against Zeus as he threw his head back and roared, raging as Percy and Poseidon overtook his storm and turned it into a hurricane against him. If Apollo had been paying enough attention, he would’ve noticed Hades popping in and out of the battle, strategically attacking Zeus before disappearing once more. Instead, Apollo trusted Percy enough to let himself solely focus on Artemis.

“There,” he said softly, once he was satisfied, “how are you feeling?”

“Never been better,” Artemis responded truthfully, a small smile on her face. She made to stand up, holding on to Apollo’s forearm for support, and shaking herself off when she was upright. Apollo quietly handed her a piece of ambrosia, and soon enough the twin archers were back in the game.

The duo ran toward the fight, nodding as they split off.

“Ares!” Artemis yelled, her grin feral, “I’m not done with you yet.” She sprinted, bow and arrow transforming into a sword that clashed with Ares’ own. The god of war grunted as he slid back, flaming eyes glowering behind his sunglasses. He twirled his sword, eying Artemis like prey.

“You sure about this, Princess?” he drawled, “it’s never too late to run back to your little girl group.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Ares, I’d say you were worried about me,” Artemis replied, as she and Ares began circling each other.

“Then it’s a good thing you know better,” he said, and with that they both attacked. Their movements were only discernable by the sound of metal clashing against metal, both god and goddess evenly matched in craft and rage.

**

Hermes sat on his throne; anxiety fluttered through his body in a perfect mimicry of his winged shoes. He gripped his caduceus, knuckles white with his knees bouncing up and down as he watched the chaos unfold. He hated himself right now. He really hated himself right now. He had done nothing as Zeus flung his bolt toward Apollo and Percy, sat silent as his father choked Artemis to near death, and still wouldn’t interfere as a coup took place before his eyes. He hadn’t been lying when he told Percy that the gods, despite everything, were a family. A messy unit of individuals who barely liked each other some days, but a family nonetheless.

He had desperately wanted to say ‘yes’ the day Artemis had come to recruit him. He could feel the answer clog his throat and yearn to make its way past his lips. He wanted desperately to stop feeling like a coward, but the same fear that kept him in line for the last two millennia took his ‘yes’ and shoved it back down, choking a refusal out of him. He remembers the day he lost Apollo vividly. He remembers being called into council and wondering why only eleven of the seats were filled. He remembers leaning over his seat and whispering to Dionysus, “do you know what this is about?” Ignorant of the events that would transpire.

Yes, he’d heard whispers. But those were rumors! Apollo trying to take the throne? Again? Just a silly rumor meant to shake up Olympus- it would blow over in a week or two. Apollo learned his lesson the first time and wasn’t eager for a repeat, Hermes knew this without a doubt.

But… Apollo was the only one missing…

His eyes flickered to Artemis and the two made eye contact. A silent conversation.

Furrowed brows. Do you know where he is?

An indiscernible shake of the head. No. A glance toward the door. Is he arriving late?

A small shrug. I don’t know. Nodding toward the chamber floor. Do you think the meeting is about him?

A lip bite.

What Artemis wanted to say was ‘I hope not.’ What Hermes knew it meant was ‘yes.’

All too soon Apollo was brought in. Hermes could see the confusion on his face, Apollo tried to play it off, but Hermes knew him too well. Hermes saw the second it dawned on Apollo that the meeting was about him. The blond went rigid and turned to their father.

“You are brought before the Court with charges of treason,” Zeus had said, “how do you plea?” Hermes saw Poseidon sit up straighter in his seat, horror flashing briefly in his eyes. Dionysus stopped reading his book and set his wine down. Hephaestus accidentally broke the device he was working on, and Hermes felt himself go slack with shock.

“What?” Apollo gaped.

“You are charged with treason against your king, Phoebus Apollo, a charge whose only punishment is death or torture until death, how do you plea?” Zeus replied without inflection.

“Not guilty!”

“Not guilty?” Zeus asked, “Do you then deny the rumors of your uprising? You’ve been collecting domains in order to gain more power, seeking more admiration from the mortals, what of that?”

“That’s not true! I swear, Father, please! The domains-”

“And do you not have a history of attempting to overthrow me?” Zeus continued, ignoring Apollo’s increasingly more frantic pleas.

“Once, just once! I’ve been a loyal son since then, haven’t I? I’ve delivered justice in your name and supported your rule,” Apollo begged, “please Father, see reason. I would never-”

“Are you saying I am not reasonable?”

“Never, My Lord!” Apollo backtracked, “I misspoke, I apologize. I simply meant to say-”

“Enough! I have heard all that I need to hear,” Apollo turned to look at the other Olympians, panic etched in every line of his face, blue eyes shining bright with fear. As none made eye contact with him, hopelessness too made itself at home within him. “Phoebus Apollo, you are hereby found guilty of treason and sentenced to death. Kneel before your king and accept your punishment.”

Hermes saw Artemis stand up and he gave a sigh of relief. She would fix this, of course she would.

“Father please, I beg of you to reconsider. I will put an end to the rumors myself,” she offered, “I will slice the tongue of any who utter it until it is no more. Your rule is law; Apollo was just as much a victim of these heinous lies as yourself.”

“You always were loyal, daughter, I commend that,” Zeus praised lightly. Apollo and Artemis relaxed marginally, “but that loyalty has always been to your brother. Never for me, never to that degree. No matter. Once he is gone you will be free to give me all your loyalty, as is expected of you.”

“Father-”

“Enough Artemis!” Zeus hissed. It was as though an invisible force pulled Artemis back to her seat and took her voice. She could only watch, helpless, as Zeus advanced on her twin.

Zeus took his left hand and cupped Apollo’s cheek, tilting his head up, thumb rubbing gently beneath Apollo’s eye, wiping away at the stray tears.

“Father?” Apollo asked numbly.

“You were my most beloved son, you know. My little sun flare,” Zeus admitted softly, “I was so proud of you. Look at my son, the perfect Greek, patron of the arts, and an asset in battle. So perfect. That’s why it pains me to do this, but you’ve given me no choice.”

“Do what?” Apollo asked nervously. His eyes widened as the Bolt appeared in his father’s other hand. He tried to pull away but the tender hand on his cheek turned into a vice-like grip that held him in place. Zeus reared his hand back and aimed the Bolt right to Apollo’s face. Apollo closed his eyes and waited for a pain that didn’t come.

“Peace brother,” a voice called out, “please do not do this.” The flames around the council room flickered nervously as Hestia stepped away from her hearth and towards them. She made her way over delicately, almost like one would approach a cornered wild animal, and her gaze fixed resolutely on her brother. “We are a family,” she reminded him gently, “and he is still your son- my own nephew. Treat him with mercy, I beg you.”

Zeus stilled. His hand had not been lowered nor the bolt released, both were seemingly suspended in Zeus’s indecision. Piercing eyes looked at Apollo and noted how his tears appeared to be little capsules of lightning, the ice blue of the bolt reflecting on his youthful face. He made the bolt disappear and lowered his hand, caressing Apollo’s face, ignoring the flinch.

“You are right, of course, dear sister. Mercy is the way of a good ruler.” He turned and went to sit back in his throne, watching dispassionately as Apollo still stood in the center of the room. Hermes’s once proud brother stood meek, attempting to control his full body shakes. Hermes hurt for him. He wondered what their father’s mercy would look like. Would it be another stint with mortality? A century without music? Would he lose his youth?

“For your punishment,” Zeus began, “I will make the rumors end.”

Apollo’s head shot up, something besides fear finally shining through his eyes. He bowed his head, curls falling forward in his reverence. “Thank you, Lord Zeus, your mercy is truly kind.”

Zeus lifted a hand to silence him. “I will make the rumors end, permanently.”

“Father?”

“You see, they will never truly cease if you remain, so, I must therefore make you disappear. But as death is no longer an option, I will have to seek more… creative alternatives.”

“Brother?”

“I contemplated turning you mortal once more, but that punishment obviously did not work the first time so there is no need to repeat a mistake. I thought perhaps stripping you of your powers and exiling you, but, knowing you, you would still find allies somewhere. Stripping you of your domains though, that still has some merit,” Zeus said thoughtfully.

“Oh gods,” Dionysus muttered.

“I will turn you to stone and remove you from mortals and immortals alike. You shall never be spoken about and never conspire against me again. That is my mercy.” Zeus waved his hand and Hermes watched with horror as Apollo was slowly calcified from his toes to his head.

Apollo looked absolutely wretched. He tried moving away but his feet did not respond, already transformed into mockingly beautiful marble. His chest was becoming stone, and his breathing had turned labored. He lifted his hands in a final act of supplication.

“Dad, please,” he had whispered.

Zeus’s head turned, and in his last moments, Apollo’s face froze in a perfect picture of betrayal.

Hermes had never been so horrified in his life. Sheer terror gripped his throat and made his bones feel brittle. He spared a look at Artemis, and she looked absolutely broken. An air of hopelessness lingered in their lives as the days went on, anxiety turning into outrage as he was physically unable to say Apollo’s name. It would taper off or he’d gag as if choked until he finally stopped trying. Until they all finally stopped trying. His empty throne eventually went to Hestia, and the world really did forget his big brother.

Hermes thought that would be the worst day of his life, he was sure that absolutely nothing could surpass the fear and pain that the memories of that day brought, but as he watched Hera and Demeter fight, and Persephone and Dionysus intercept Athena, he had an inkling that today would be worse.

**

Athena had been making her way to assist Ares when Persephone had sent tendrils of vines to wrap around her body and detain her. The spring goddess smirked slightly at Athena’s surprised grunt. A vine wrapped around her wrist, whipping her back, before many more curled themselves around her legs and waist.

“What is the meaning of this?” Athena hissed, glaring at Persephone. Dionysus lingered in the back, lazily flipping through a magazine.

“What? It’s not obvious? I thought it was pretty obvious,” Persephone said, “you were going to help Ares and I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

“You?” Athena laughed, wriggling within the vines, “please, you’re not even a threat, let alone a player in this. Go back to the Underworld and keep playing housewife, let the big kids handle this.”

Persephone bristled and tightened the vines, eliciting a strangled grunt from Athena. Green eyes observed Athena, circling her. “You always were so quick to judge,” Persephone remarked, “always the one to condemn hubris, but never able to see it in yourself. Never seemed very wise to me, but I digress. You may be daddy’s little princess, Athena, but never forget that I am a queen.” The floor opened up beneath Athena and a giant venus fly trap emerged from it, swallowing the blonde goddess whole. Persephone watched dispassionately as Athena thrashed and struggled within the plant.

“Are you actually going to help or just sit there?” Persephone snarked over her shoulder to Dionysus. The wine god waved her away, still flipping through his magazine.

“You seem like you have everything under control,” he said, “you’ve got this. Go team.”

Persephone grinned exasperatedly, shaking her head. She kept her eyes focused on the fly trap, knowing that it wouldn’t keep Athena there for long. She was proven right when five minutes later Athena managed to slice straight through the plant and step out.

She was covered in the fly trap’s sticky liquid, radiating fury. Persephone sent forth another round of vines, but Athena sliced them before they had a chance to touch her. Cold grey eyes observed her, sizing Persephone up, no longer underestimating her. Persephone had just lost the element of surprise and they both knew it.

Athena ran toward her, weaving her way between vines. She twirled her dual-edged spear, slicing through anything she couldn’t dodge until she reached Persephone and held one of the blades up to her neck. “Is that all you’ve got?” Athena asked mockingly.

“Now that you mention it, no,” Persephone growled, summoning a scythe and swiping at the other goddess. Athena hissed as it slashed her cheek, a single drop of ichor flowing out. “Since when do you use a scythe?” Athena demanded.

“Since it’s always been a farming tool!” Then she charged, and the two met head on. Athena quickly gained the upper hand, sidestepping before Persephone finished executing her move, and always slicing where Persephone planned on going. The goddess of spring was quickly put on the defensive. She dragged the scythe behind her, opening a door to the Underworld and summoned her guards. Heroes of old surged forth, ready to defend their queen.

Behind his magazine, Dionysus’s eyes flashed purple. He licked his thumb and continued flipping through the pages.

The old heroes fought. Whether they were swinging swords, throwing spears, or slashing with axes, they were doing their queen proud. Athena faltered for a second before advancing, muscle memory carrying her through the fray. Her garbs were ripped, her hair undone, and her helmet dented, but she had emerged victorious against the undead warriors. Athena huffed and shook the tiredness off herself, traded her spear for two twin daggers, and wiped some of the ichor off her face. Then, she attacked.

“I’m almost impressed, Persephone,” Athena commended, dodging the scythe as it sliced through the air where her head had once been. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Persephone scoffed. “You think you’re the only goddess with an ounce of talent or a modicum of thought, but newsflash, Athena! You’re not! You’re just the only goddess too arrogant to see talent in others!” Persephone yelled, before trading in her scythe for a sickle. She then slid on her knees across the floor and deeply sliced Athena’s ankles. Lightning shot in the distance. Quickly, Persephone stood up and kicked Athena in the back, sending her falling to the ground. Athena was forced to roll out of the way of each swing Persephone made at her, scared for the first time in a long time. Standing into action, Athena wielded her swords with a precision that came with centuries of training and battle experience, yet none of her hits landed. She slashed and parried, maneuvering through battle like a dancer on stage but it was like she kept missing her cue or the beat was off. Never incorrect, just off. She kept making stupid mistakes and she knew it.

“Gah! What is this?!” Athena growled, barely dodging Persephone. Athena took a sharp step back trying to avoid the sickle and almost fell. She angrily yelled and threw one of her daggers at Persephone, who deftly sidestepped the attack. “How. Are. You. Doing. This?!” Athena snapped. Gray eyes assessed the situation and determined that she was losing. Her eyes flickered around the room, trying to find a weak spot, an opportunity, anything. Desperateness seeping into her as no strategy came to mind. Then, she saw it. The purple hue behind the magazine.

“You,” Athena said coldly, advancing on Dionysus. Vines blocked her from continuing, and she whipped her head angrily towards Persephone, who shrugged innocently.

“What’s the matter, sis,” Dionysus drawled, “you’re acting kind of mad.” He chuckled, laughing at his own joke. Athena hissed, anger and bruised pride swirling around her in a blue aura. She looked to where Ares and Artemis were fighting, still at a standstill.

“Ares!” she yelled. The other god grunted, acknowledging her, before blocking a hit from Artemis. “Switch with me!”

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Switch with me!”

“I’m kind of busy right now!”

“Oh, just do it!”

Ares grumbled under his breath then muttered, “fine.” He grinned at Artemis before bowing mockingly, “sorry, Princess,” he said, “duty calls.”

Artemis gripped the hilt of her sword tight and charged forward. Ares against Persephone and Dionysus was not part of the plan, and Artemis wasn’t sure if she’d be able to last long against a fully functional Athena. They had a plan, and, by the gods, they were going to stick to it. Artemis quickly doubled down her efforts, unwilling to let their strategy derail before the main group had brought down Zeus. She spared a glance toward the main fight and saw that even with both her uncles, Apollo, and Percy, that Zeus was still holding his own. She grimaced as her brother was flung backward and sent skidding against the harsh floor, only relaxing as he stood up once more. Then, she refocused on Ares. The brute was putting up one hell of a fight, Artemis admitted to herself, not that she was expecting anything less. Despite being one of the most disgusting men she had the displeasure of knowing, there had been no doubt going into this fight that Ares would be a challenge. Any other day she might even be enjoying the rush, but as she watched him, she was reminded that this was no friendly spar. They were enemies on opposing sides.

“You always do what she tells you?” Artemis asked tauntingly. She thrust her sword up above her head, blocking a swing from Ares.

Ares narrowed his eyes, the sound of a kettle boiling practically audible through his anger. “I don’t listen to no one,” he spat. He ran to her, sword raised high, but then, right before he struck, he transformed the blade into his electric spear. Artemis’s eyes widened, and she cried out as her body was hit by a wave of high voltage electricity for the second time in a day. Taking advantage of her pain, Ares kicked her right in the abdomen and sent the goddess crashing into an empty throne, leaving her crumbled in the rubble.

“You should’ve run back to your girl scouts when you had the chance, Princess,” Ares sneered before walking away. He then made his way to Athena and in one clenched fist, ripped the vines off her and pulled them towards himself, startling Persephone who lurched forward at the unexpected force. He smirked as he saw her lose her balance, and with one final tug, he had the younger girl in his clutches. He gripped Persephone’s face, his palm covering her mouth as his nails dug into the side of her face. “Isn’t springtime over?” he asked her, “oh wait, there is no spring.” His face twisted into an ugly imitation of a smile and with her face still in his hand, he slammed her into the floor, ignoring her muffled screams and swatting away the vines that both she and Dionysus were attacking him with. He slammed her and slammed her until the screams went quiet and her body went slack. Ares wiped her ichor on the side of his shirt and stepped over Persephone, entirely focused on a now panicked god of wine.

“Fuck!” Dionysus whispered under his breath. His eyes kept flickering between Persephone’s limp form and Ares’s slow saunter. Dionysus focused on Ares and his eyes glowed, light purple and indigo swirled to life as he sent a wave of insanity toward Ares. The god of war laughed, reveling in the mayhem that surrounded him.

“That should have worked,” Dionysus gaped.

“Oh, D,” Ares tutted making his way to Dionysus, “you’re not the only crazy one here.” He walked through the vines and plants that Dionysus sent his way, scorching the ground with every step until he was standing right in front of the Camp Half-Blood director. Leaning forward, Ares pressed his lips right against Dionysus’s ear. “I’m bloodlust, little brother,” Ares reminded him, “man’s first dip into insanity.” Then, he hoisted Dionysus up by his throat, and with a flick of the wrist, snapped his neck. Dionysus fell bonelessly to the ground.

“Nice try, though,” Ares said glibly to the body.

Artemis watched, dismayed, from the pile of marble she was buried in as their plan fell apart. She slowly managed to free herself from the heavy stone, only to find Athena leaning against a pillar a few inches away, watching her intently. “Going somewhere?”

The tide had turned, and it was not in their favor.

Chapter Text

It felt like an ice cube rolling down his spine, and Percy looked around until his eyes met his father’s. Poseidon already knew what Percy was just now discovering- the balance had shifted.

Percy watched as Apollo rushed over to Artemis’s side. Watched as he sidestepped Athena and stood protectively over his twin.

Percy watched as Hades materialized beside a barely conscious downed Demeter. Watched as he circled Hera, both Olympians waiting for an opening to strike.

Percy watched but he did not wait. Water was adaptable so he too would adapt. He gripped riptide harder until his knuckles were white, and his fingertips were red. Green eyes met green and with barely a nod between them, both father and son surged forward and were on the move. It wasn’t the way of the ocean to sit still, and if the sea ever looked calm it was only because there was hell underneath.

Zeus smiled at the duo, sharp and all teeth.

“Well,” the god purred, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, “would you look at that? Seems you’re spread a little thin there. Give up now and I’ll be lenient, brother. A quick death for you and your demigod. What do you say?”

“You always did like hearing your own voice,” Poseidon grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Zeus asked, eyes flashing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Weather Boy,” Percy answered with a small smirk in place before lunging forward.

Zeus sent forth a volley of lightning bolts, forcing Percy to slow his momentum. He hissed as one of the bolts spliced the ground where his foot had just been, glancing up to see a flicker of annoyance on Zeus’s face before it was replaced with rage once more. He needed to think. He needed not to think. Percy closed his eyes and felt. Lightning needed moisture, needed humidity to properly conduct through the air. He could work with that- he would have to. It wasn’t possible to pay attention to where every lightning bolt in the room was, defend himself from them, and go on the offensive. He was no god. He could not spread his consciousness thin and still be present, he needed to pivot. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. His hair clung to his forehead, a mixture of sweat and the condensation in the air. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. The hairs on his arms stood as static filled the room. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. His ears twitched as a low and tinny whirring sound appeared by his left. The moisture, the static, the sound. Deep breath in. Deep breath- there. Percy opened his eyes and pivoted.

He took a step back and spun to the right, before racing forward. The bright white bolt hit where he had just stood, but unlike before, this one didn’t stress Percy. Unlike before, he didn’t have to look up before running forward again. There was a tell in the air, the way the particles expanded and contracted before lightning struck- it rearranged the moisture. And Percy may be dyslexic, but this symphony was something he could read.

It was like ice skating as he glided throughout the room. Sidestep, sidestep, dodge. Duck and jump. It was easy. It was mindless. And, to Zeus, it was infuriating.

It was with one of the bolts that Percy let himself attack. Water surrounded him on all sides, lifting him higher as it spun faster and faster. Lightning bolts were flung, but the hurricane swallowed them, and Percy flung them back. Let Zeus see how it felt. He could feel his father before even seeing him surge beside him, the father and son creating a deadly duo. Where Percy was in the storm, Poseidon was the storm. The storm clouds that amplified Percy were his father’s, the waves that battered Zeus on all fronts were from Poseidon, and the riptides that tried to drag Zeus closer to them were all from the king of the sea. It was raw and it was powerful.

Percy grinned as Zeus let out a frustrated bellow.

“Oh, you thrice-damned son of a-”

“Finish that sentence,” Poseidon said lowly, “and see what happens.”

“Is that so?” Zeus hissed, “For a demigod?”

Poseidon glared. “For a demigod? No. For my son? Of course.”

Percy jolted and risked a glance up at Poseidon, a small smile on his lips. Thanks, dad.

“Well, isn’t that just touching,” Zeus mocked, “What a lovely moment, shame it can’t go on forever. Truly a loss, because let me tell you a secret Poseidon, just a little advice from brother to brother. Savor it while you can. Bask in his inability to harm you, in his weakness, while you still are able. Because children?” He lowered his voice and whispered, “Children will always disappoint you. You want to win a Father of the Year Award? Fine, that’s fine. But when this little upstart bites the hand that fed him and betrays you, well, I hope that in your final breaths that you’ll be thinking of me and how I warned you. Children are nothing, just a means to an end, and your child? He served his purpose. Time to cut him loose.”

Percy stared, a mix of horror and disgust warring for dominance. Gods, he hoped that somehow Ares and Athena heard him, heard what their father thought of them, and what he would do to them if they stepped even a toe out of line.

Disgust won.

“I hope you never get to experience true happiness, brother,” Poseidon murmured. “Our children are meant to be the best parts of us, and some of them are truly the best part of you. I see it. Your children can be the rain that falls upon a dry field, the gentle storm that pushes sailors to shore, the cloud that provides shadow to the weary, but instead, you’ve molded them into lightning strikes and burnt skin. It’s no wonder you fear them.”

“Fear them!” Zeus roared, “I do not fear them! They’re not worth my fear.”

“It’s not often I’m glad that mother is where she is, but today is one such day. It would break her heart to hear you speak like this.”

“I am Mother’s favorite; she’ll get over it.”

Poseidon paused and tilted his head.

“You’re not Mother’s favorite,” he said, slowly.

“Then why did Mother save me?!”

“You were the only one hardheaded and small enough to pass as a rock!”

And listen, there may be a battle going around but Percy knows a sick burn when he hears one. He let out a low whistle that can only be taught by the streets of New York, and swore he heard Hades say something like “hear, hear.”

Percy barked a laugh and steadied his feet. Looking up at a slowly unfurling Zeus, Percy let himself relax for the first time since the day began. He and his father would be fine, he just hoped the others could hold up.

**

Hades wanted nothing more than to stay by Persephone’s side. Well, scratch that. He wanted nothing more than to pick up his wife and leave before any other harm might befall her.

His beloved was crumbled on the ground, a concerning amount of ichor surrounding her head like the most morbid halo that Hades had ever seen, and his heart ached. He longed to be by her side, to stand guard by her form until she was well enough to rise. He longed, he longed, he longed. And yet, he stood before Demeter, defending her against Hera, and look, Hades was no saint, but being sandwiched between his sisters was his personal hell.

It had happened so fast.

One moment Hades had been standing beside Poseidon and his nephews, working as one cohesive machine to bring down Zeus. Everything was going according to plan, his darling Persephone was making mincemeat out of Athena, and Artemis was holding off Ares. They were going to do it; they were really going to succeed! He could almost taste the victory in the air. But then he blinked. And in that blink, everything changed.

Athena figured out the game plan.

Athena figured out their game plan and she changed the rules. Rearranged the game to her liking. A war goddess through and through, and if Hades weren’t as annoyed as he was right now, he might take some time to appreciate her skill.

But he was annoyed.

And scared.

But mainly annoyed.

Athena outwitted Dionysus.

Athena stood over Artemis.

Athena was the one who set Ares on his wife.

Athena was the reason he was standing over Demeter instead of on the front lines. But it was because of Hera that Demeter went down, so here he was. Hades remembered the fight, his consciousness split so he could keep an eye on all the players.

He remembered that Demeter had been holding her own against Hera up until she heard Persephone’s pained screams paired with the dull thud on the marble floors. His sisters were evenly matched, to the point where the only thing that could determine the winner of the fight was who could get lucky first. But with each crack of Persephone’s skull, Demeter’s focus wavered, and when her daughter went silent, the mother finally gave into fear and temptation and turned around, desperate to know if her daughter was still there.

Hades would’ve scoffed at the cliché if his heart weren’t also in his throat.

It was a split second.

Just a glance, really, but that was all Hera needed to gain the upper hand. Hera pulled out one of the peacock feathers sewn into her dress and the barb of the feather became as sharp as a knife in her hands. Quicker than light, the queen of the gods was at her sister’s side, and she stabbed Demeter’s throat, watching in detached pleasure as the goddess of harvest choked on her ichor.

Hera circled Demeter, observing how the second eldest child of Kronos and Rhea fell to her knees, her hands desperately clutching at her own throat, trying to stop the flow of ichor, but failing miserably as the golden liquid seeped between her fingers. With a snap, Hera vanished the feather and the floodgates crashed. Demeter fell forward, her legs no longer able to support her. One hand weakly broke her fall, while the other continued its fruitless attempt to temper the bleeding. Coughs wracked her body, and Demeter finally went silent and still.

Hades watched, and Hades waited, but Demeter did not get back up.

But by then, Apollo had already run to Artemis, and his own feet itched to run towards his wife, but Hades knew then and there that if he didn’t go help Demeter then it would be Ares, Athena, and Hera against the twins, and, with Artemis as injured as she was, it wouldn’t be a fair fight. Apollo would fall soon after, and then the trio would assist Zeus, and, and, and, and…

No.

The ruler of the Underworld grimaced as Demeter began to stir behind him. Hera stood in front of him, her fingers twirling the bloody feather, eying him critically.

“Really?” Hera drawled, “You don’t even like her.”

“Yeah,” Hades agreed, shrugging, “but I really hate you.”

Hera frowned, and the corner of her mouth twitched downward. “Is that so?” Hera responded, arching a brow. At his unrepentant gaze, she huffed in annoyance, “Well then, so be it.”

“So be it,” Hades repeated.

“I warn you though, I will not be going easy on-”

Hades’ fingers curled around her neck, and the queen’s eyes bulged in shock. One of her hands went to try and dislodge his fingers while the other punched his shoulders and head, but with the helm on his head and her punches growing weaker, the attempt was futile at best and laughable at worst.

“I really don’t care if you don’t go easy on me,” he intoned, and he slammed her body into the floor with a fluid motion.

Hera stood quickly, coughing as she held her quickly bruising throat. She backed up, looking around for help or inspiration. Her eyes landed on a point behind him, but before she could yell for help, Hades threw his blade. The forged blade impaled itself in her shoulder and a strangled cry left her lips. Her eyes locked with his and he saw anger and desperation in them. Good.

“You know?” Hades started conversationally, “It may not look it, but this is me going easy on you.”

“Well, isn’t this a party? Hope you don’t mind if I crash, Uncle,” Ares smirked, walking up to Hera’s right, his head cocked slightly towards his mother, “everyone else is kind of a bore.” His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, red eyes never leaving Hades.

Well, Hades thought sarcastically, at least he’s not fighting the twins.

Ares’s face and neck were covered in ichor. Persephone’s ichor. Hades’ face hardened and his stance shifted. If he couldn’t go to his wife, then this would be the next best thing.

As if sensing his train of thought, Ares smirked and wiped some of the golden liquid from his cheek, smearing it further.

“I don’t mind at all.”

And it was on.

**

The arrows were notched and released in quick succession. Apollo ran forward, with eyes only for the war goddess that stood over his sister. Grim satisfaction coursed through him as the first arrow hit her shoulder. Athena let out a hiss and turned her gaze to him. Gray eyes narrowed, and her sword made quick work of the other arrows that were headed her way.

Apollo growled and slowed to a stop a few feet short of where Athena had Artemis pinned.

“Well if it isn’t the prodigal son himself,” Athena smirked, “if I were you, I would’ve stayed a rock.” She lifted her sword and pointed it at him, “or better yet, you should’ve stayed hidden. Because what he’s going to do to you?” she chuckled, low and dark, “Well… Let’s just say I might actually pity you for once.”

“Don’t pretend you care,” Apollo spat.

“Oh, I don’t.” Athena laughed, “Apologies if you got that impression, it was certainly not my intention. It wasn’t even a warning, really. More like a head’s up,” Her sword still hadn’t been lowered, and Apollo wasn’t foolish enough to assume that her cheeky tone was anything other than perfectly calculated.

“It’s almost like a prophecy if you really think about it,” she said idly, tilting her head. “That was your specialty, wasn’t it?”

“Still is,” Apollo grit.

“Right,” she hummed, “because Poseidon returned it. Almost forgot about that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t,” she agreed easily. She finally began to lower her sword in favor of twirling the hilt around her fingers, the tip of the blade getting dangerously close to Artemis at times. The goddess of the hunt flinched as one of the times the blade managed to knick her cheek.

“That must’ve been awfully easy for you,” Athena continued, “hope you aren’t expecting me to just give you back Knowledge, though.”

“Okay, enough!” Apollo notched his arrows again and sent a volley of them at Athena. “Enough small talk, enough snide comments, and enough with the attitude. You don’t want to give back Knowledge, that’s fine, I’ll just pry it from your cold dead hands- makes no difference to me. But first, get away from my sister!”

Arrows decorated the space between the two, the sound of them slicing through the air created a dangerous symphony. Apollo leaped high to create more distance and allow more speed to build, but as soon as he landed, he slung his bow behind him and grabbed for his sword.

Every lesson he had with Perseus raced forward. Athena was a close-range fighter, and him sending arrows would just be a waste of effort in the long run. He noted the spliced and splintered pieces of arrows at her feet and furrowed his brows. He needed to end this and end it quickly. Artemis was recovering but trapped under rubble and barely three feet away from Athena, she had no chance at actually freeing herself. Hades had separated from the main fight as well, to handle Hera and Ares, which left Perseus and Poseidon alone to deal with the psychopath.

Athena raised a brow.

“You’re no swordsman,” she commented.

“What can I say?” Apollo quipped, “New year, new me.”

Apollo raised his sword and ran towards Athena, but instead of swinging, he concentrated the sun into his being and let himself illuminate the room. A few others screamed and shrieked as they hastily covered their eyes, but Apollo was only focused on Athena. Athena who turned her face away and pressed her eyes shut. Athena who just gave him an opening.

Apollo dropped to his knees as he slid to a stop and sliced her ACL. He may have drawn first blood, but Athena’s eyes promised retribution.

Her coy countenance dropped as the façade fell, and her face went carefully blank.

Most people thought that as twins who represented day and night, that Artemis was Apollo’s opposite, but that was not the case. Artemis and he were extensions of one another, different aspects of the same concept. But Athena? She was his antithesis. Where he was warm, she was cold. Where he was passion, she was calculating. Where he preferred concepts and fluidity, she preferred precision and structure. He was long-range, and she was close.

As her faux friendliness cleared, Apollo finally made his first real eye contact with his sister. There you are, Apollo crowed in his head, a wicked smirk on his face. No more masks, Little Sister.

No more distractions or tricks, from either of them. Apollo raised his sword, and it clashed with Athena’s blade. She twisted her wrist and angled up, almost sharpening her sword on his, forcing Apollo to pull back slightly before she could reach the hilt. She spun and parried, dodging before Apollo could strike back, then in one swift motion she dropped her hands to the ground and kicked Apollo’s legs.

The sun god fell, and it was instinct alone that told him to roll. Athena’s blade whipped through the air where his head had been just seconds ago. Adrenalin pumped through him, heaving at his chest. Apollo knows he trained with Perseus, and he knows that he could handle himself with a sword, but he also just realized that for all the training and preparation that he had done with his demigod, he never once felt fear on the island’s sand.

Perseus was safety and fun. It was challenging and exhilarating. The stress came from developing the skill fast enough, not because he feared for his life.

When Perseus looked at him, Apollo saw the stars reflected on calm waters. He saw green with no end in sight, just like the line where the sun hit the sea. Endless in its potential, and vast in its love. Apollo felt more like a man than a god with Perseus, seen for who he was and loved for his flaws.

When Athena looked at him, Apollo felt his spine straighten in apprehension. He felt his body jolt with caution and his skin prickle with fear. Her gray eyes were not dissimilar to a shark’s, he decided. They felt lifeless and predatory, and, Apollo was acutely aware, that to her, he was the prey. He steeled his resolve.

“I thought you were a swordsman now, brother,” she commented, circling him,

“Still learning,” Apollo admitted, his eyes never leaving hers.

Athena scoffed. “You’re a god, are you not? Needing to learn a skill is pathetic.”

Apollo paused.

“Is that what you think?” He asked, his voice low. “You think learning is below us? You think that a skill should be acquired automatically or not at all?” Apollo ran the hand not holding a sword through his hair and covered his mouth. “You-” Apollo laughed bitterly. “Is this how you’ve been handling my domain?”

“Knowledge is power,” Athena argued back, “and power is not for the simple or the weak!”

“Knowledge doesn’t just come with the snap of a finger, Athena! It has to be nurtured! It requires time and patience, it’s a gradual process that isn’t easy but still so incredibly rewarding. If you- if this is how you’ve taken care of knowledge I… I just,” he trailed off looking lost, “Athena, if you believed that learning a skill is pointless unless it’s acquired quickly, then that would be mirrored onto the humans.”

“So, the simple stay dull, and the bright ones shine, so what? Wisdom perseveres through those who deserve it.”

“And where does wisdom come from?! Knowledge! Wisdom is built from the foundations created by the things you learn and the experiences you live through. You can’t have one without the other, birdbrain.”

Athena bristled.

“You know, as much as I hated not having my domains, I never actually thought they were going to be treated badly or mismanaged to such a degree. You don’t deserve Knowledge, Athena, you never have. You’ve never had the patience for it. When was the last time you sat down with a human and encouraged them to think and grow?” At her silence, Apollo only exhaled.

“Give me back my domain, Athena.”

The goddess tensed and brought her sword back up. “No,” she said.

Apollo’s eyes flashed gold.

“Fine. I’ll just take it myself.”

And then he lunged. He thrust his blade towards the blond goddess, all previous mirth and boyish charm erased from his features. Apollo may have less experience than his sister with close-range combat, and he may be two thousand years out of practice, but he was crafted to be a weapon of destruction, and it was time to kindly remind her of that.

His sword hit her shield, and she slashed, aiming for his midriff. He jumped back and swung to intercept. The two blades met with a sharp clang, the sparks of metal against metal littering the air between them. Athena roared and swung faster and faster. Apollo was being held together by the muscle memory Perseus drilled into him as well as his sheer anger. Footwork maneuvers that were taught to him by a demigod guided him in battle, and amid the chaos, Apollo felt himself finally dance.

And, oh.

This was what Perseus kept trying to teach him. This is what he never understood perched from a distance with his bow and arrows.

It was nothing more than an elaborate waltz, and Apollo needed to ensure he could lead. For a moment the only sound was the thunder in the background and their own breathing, and then it was just the sound of metal whistling through the air. Athena wasn’t budging an inch, but neither was he. When he stepped forward, she refused to step back. Every step was met with opposition and every swing of the blade was met with another in kind. If Apollo wasn’t as angry as he was, he would almost be having fun.

But he was angry.

Even if he could forgive her for how she handled his domain, he couldn’t find it in himself to forgive her for how she stood over Artemis. He couldn’t forgive her for making him choose between Perseus and his own twin. He could barely forgive himself for leaving Perseus with his father, but both Perseus and Poseidon nodded to him, letting him know it was fine.

It wasn’t fine, they all knew it.

Hades had already broken rank to defend Demeter, and here he was, taking a four-on-one battle against Zeus, and making it two-on-one. All because Athena stood over Artemis, foot over her neck, callously pressing down. The goddess of the hunt was choking, and Apollo saw red. His ichor pounded in his ears and finally, he saw a chance.

Blue eyes narrowed, he ran forward and feigned left, rolling to get behind Athena and thrusting his sword into her shoulder blade. She shrieked and turned around, but Apollo was already pulling out his bow and had a series of arrows ready to launch. By the time Athena was able to raise her shield, two arrows were embedded in her armor, and if the wince was anything to go by, they had pierced skin as well. Apollo ran forward, spinning and weaving to dodge her blade, hissing as it cut his cheek and arms anyway. He looked down and saw ichor slowly leak out of his wounds, the cuts apparently deeper than he had thought.

Apollo realized at that moment that Athena had been toying with him earlier. While she had blocked, dodged, and parried before, it was nothing to how she was now. Now, Apollo noted with mounting fear, now he could barely see her sword with how fast she was wielding it. His only warning that the blade was near him was the telltale sounds of the blade cutting through the air.

She stepped forward and he stepped back.

His body ached with all the new cuts and bruises, and now that he was aware of it, he could feel the steady thrum of ichor pulsating throughout his body and slowly oozing out. He needed this to end and fast, but any attempt to get to Artemis was thwarted, and him going head-to-head alone with Athena was quickly becoming unsustainable.

His moves were becoming sluggish. It wasn’t obvious, but to Athena, he may as well be limping and belly up. It was an opening. A weakness to exploit. It was in one desperate maneuver where he managed to reach Artemis and slip her some ambrosia that Athena finally caught him. One second, he was kneeling next to his sister, pushing the remedy into her hands, and the next he felt a sharp pain on the side of his head and was sent flying four feet into the air. His ears were ringing, and as he tried to stand up, an intense sense of vertigo overtook him and he stumbled.

“Need a hand?”

He looked up. Sea-green eyes looked back down at him.

“Perseus?” he asked.

A hand reached down and pulled him up, steadying him as he wobbled.

The hand was too big, the voice was too deep, and the touch, while helpful, was impersonal.

“Poseidon,” Apollo corrected.

Poseidon grinned. “Well look at that,” the sea god joked, “he lives.”

“Barely,” Apollo groaned.

“That’s the spirit! Listen, I got it from here, but I need you to get a hold of yourself and help Percy alright?”

It just hit Apollo.

If Poseidon was here, then who was with…

Poseidon grimaced.

No.

“You left Perseus alone with Zeus?!”

“More like, I left Zeus alone with Percy,” Poseidon reasoned.

Apollo shot him an incredulous look.

“Look, he’s fine, but you clearly aren’t, so patch yourself up, get some nectar and ambrosia in you, and go help our boy, alright? I’m more than capable of handling Athena.” He gestured vaguely to his left and Apollo looked over.

The goddess in question was currently fighting to get herself out of a waterspout.

Well, that explained the nice breather he was having.

Apollo huffed a laugh and looked back over to Poseidon and nodded. Patch himself up, he could do that. He pulled out some nectar and sipped it while haphazardly stitching himself up. Yeah, he could do that. He walked over to Artemis and finished looking her over as well, resetting her shoulder, checking for internal bruising or bleeding, and mending her leg.

“Hey,” he smiled, “you feeling better?”

“Much,” she sighed, shaking herself off. Debris fell off of her and she wiped the rest of the dust and stone.

“Good.” A clap of thunder sounded to his right and Apollo winced. “Listen, I’m going to help Perseus, you stay here with Poseidon, okay? The plan is still to keep Athena away from Zeus.”

“And Ares?”

Apollo shrugged, feigning a calm he no longer had. “Hades is taking care of that one.”

“Wait,” Artemis said, holding up a hand. “Are you telling me that both you and Poseidon are here fighting Athena, Hades is fighting Ares, and the only one fighting Zeus is a DEMIGOD?”

“Not exactly my decision there, Arty,” Apollo mumbled. She glared at him.

“A demigod! The best plan we could come up with was to leave Jackson alone with father?”

“More like leave father alone with Perseus,” Apollo mumbled.

“Go!”

Artemis pushed Apollo towards the main fight.

“Art-”

“Absolutely not. Move. All this talk about keeping Athena and Ares away from Zeus, when none of you realized that it could go both ways?”

“Poseidon seemed confident…”

“Yeah,” Artemis snorted derisively, “look, Jackson is talented, gods knows that that’s the only reason he’s still alive after being alone with Zeus, but he’s still just a demigod. Still just a mortal. Now, if you don’t go help him, I swear to Mother herself that I will personally turn you back into stone.”

“Duly noted,” Apollo said standing up. He turned and looked towards the battlegrounds. The area was dark with storm clouds and mist, the only light available was coming in inconsistent intervals from bolt strikes. He put his foot down and steadied it, ready to run, but before he could something happened.

Everything in his peripheral got hazy. He looked back to Artemis, but she was frozen in a blurry picture. Poseidon and Athena were locked sword to trident, but neither were moving. He lifted his foot and found that he could move. Hesitantly, Apollo took a step forward and then another, looking at everything and everyone. Hades was still frozen in place, and despite being blurry, like a watercolor painting that was swiped at, Apollo could still make out the snarl in his features. He turned again, and again, and again. Frozen, everyone was frozen.

He heard a crash of thunder again.

Not everyone.

Shit.

He turned and ran towards Perseus. Jumping over toppled columns and dodging stray bolts. At one point he even had to avoid a sheet of rain that was sharper than knives. And then, just as he could finally make out Zeus and Perseus, a golden thread appeared.

No.

“Perseus!”

The golden string was connected to his back, and Apollo felt himself freeze. He shouldn’t be able to see this. Fear lodged itself in his throat.

“PERSEUS!”

But Perseus couldn’t hear him, couldn’t even see him. Apollo had never felt so useless. When he had first woken up from his stone slumber, he had assumed that that was the worst he could feel. Not being connected to his domains left a gap in his being that he was not used to, and a sun god should never feel as cold as he did. Helpless. Powerless.

He thought nothing would ever make him feel as cold as that.

He was wrong.

He watched as Zeus roared, finally having had enough. He watched as the king of the gods made himself, 15, 20, 30 feet tall, towering over Perseus. He watched as his father swiped down, grabbing Perseus in his hand and squeezing. He didn’t hear what was said, he didn’t hear his beloved’s bones shattering, but he did hear the thud of his body hit the floor. Apollo ran towards him, nectar and ambrosia ready at hand. Apollo dropped to his knees and skidded right next to Perseus.

Perseus whose body was bent at odd angles.

Perseus whose jaw was crushed.

Perseus who had blood leaking from his ears.

Numbly. Gently. Apollo turned Perseus around and bit back a sob.

The thread had snapped. The gold had faded.

“No, no, no, no, Perseus please. Wake up, darling, don’t leave me please don’t leave me,” Apollo whimpered. He held his hand over Percy’s body, and while his fingers gleamed gold, Percy’s body didn’t mirror that. You can’t heal the dead.

Grief and anger overtook him, and Apollo laid Percy gently back down before standing up. Fury like no other rushed into his body and he looked up at Zeus, catching the smug gleam in his eyes and hating him all the more for it. He willed his divinity forward, willing it to let him grow as well, but before that could happen, Apollo felt himself stumble forward.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, steadying him.

“Brother? Are you alright? You just stopped.”

It was Artemis.

But… how…

He was just-

Oh.

“I need to go, now.” He shrugged off her hand and bolted.

Artemis furrowed her brows before clarity struck.

“A prophecy,” she whispered to no one.

Shit.

**

Listen, Percy doesn’t mind being left alone, he really doesn’t. He’s used to it even! Back when he was younger and his mom had to work two jobs and Smelly Gabe would leave him to go play poker, Percy would be alone. He would walk out of the fire escape and wander the streets of New York. One time he even learned a magic trick from a homeless guy in Central Park!

But oddly enough, he grumbled, this time is a little different.

“All alone, little demigod? No father here to protect you?”

“I’m sorry my dad actually loves me,” Percy snarked back.

Zeus growled, and Percy shook the earth before the god let loose a volley of lightning bolts. All of them missed by a mile.

“Oof,” Percy winced, “that’s some bad aim you got there.”

“You brat! You should be quivering in your shoes, begging me for mercy.”

“Yeah,” Percy said, extending the word, “no. Sorry. I met your dad, and honestly, you’re a piece of cake in comparison.”

Zeus stilled.

Then he ran forward, he swung his bolt like a sword, and it was pure instinct that had Percy raise his in kind, blocking the blow that sent tingles down his arms.

“Is this how you want to play, Jackson?” Zeus hissed. He pulled back and set his feet carefully. Percy recognized that stance. It was a swordman’s stance. Seems like the big bad wolf got tired of huffing and puffing and was finally going to do something about him.

He smirked.

“Game on.”

To the untrained eye, one couldn’t even tell there was a battle going on. The thunderclouds surrounded them, and Percy’s ever-present mist shrouded them even further. Then, even if you did get close enough, the two were going so fast that the normal eye would struggle to see them.

It was scary.

It was dangerous.

It was kind of exhilarating, actually.

Riptide held true and Percy let himself be. No more holding back to not hurt anyone, no more being careful to not scare the new campers, no more. Now, with an angry king of Olympus trying to kill him, Percy could finally let loose.

Percy glided on the floor, the water from both his and Zeus’s attacks made it so that barely any inch of surface was dry. He swung and swung and swung. The sound of metal on metal sounded more like a movie score at this point. And if it wasn’t the sound of metal that filled the air, then it was his own breathing. He was growing tired. It was sheer stubbornness that was keeping him upright at this point, but no way would he let Zeus know that.

He gritted his teeth and plowed on.

He just needed an opening, anything to shift the tide his way. And finally, after a few minutes that felt like hours, he found it. Quickly he attacked. Percy lunged forward, nearly getting struck by the lightning sword, the bolt passed so close to his face that it singed some hairs on his forehead. He twisted to the left, dropped his arms, and then arched the sword up. The sword made contact. Riptide’s blade cut upward, slicing Zeus’s chin, then his cheek, and finally cutting up until just above his eyebrow. Ichor began coming out of the cuts, and in a very morbid way, he reminded Percy a bit of Luke.

Zeus stumbled back and roared. He touched his face and looked down at his hand, seeing the ichor. When he finally looked back up at Percy, Percy’s spine stiffened.

The god looked back down at his hand, eying the ichor with detached amusement. “You know where my father failed with you, Percy Jackson?” Zeus asked, his voice oddly light, “he fought with you at your level- that was his mistake, mine too, it seems.”

He wiped his fingers on his robe before finally looking up at Percy. “But you see Jackson, you and I are not the same. I am a god. I AM ABOVE YOU!”

And before Percy’s eyes, the god grew. And grew and grew. His instincts were screaming at him, run, run, run! Hide! But Percy couldn’t. His body buzzed with anxious energy. Begging him to get out, get out, get out! But there was nowhere for him to run, nowhere for him to hide, nowhere that would shield him from Zeus’s eyes. He was there like a sitting duck, ripe for the picking.

The worse part was that Zeus knew it, too. He didn’t even bother to hide his intentions. His movement was so telegraphed that Percy knew what was coming from a mile away. He just couldn’t do anything about it.

The open palm came quicker than he expected, and Percy closed his eyes.

But it wasn’t the hand that hit him.

He fell to his side with a thud, and his eyes flew open, baffled. He looked side to side to see what had hit him, before finally looking up.

And there he was.

In Zeus' clutches was Apollo. His bright and beautiful Apollo.

No!

This wasn’t the plan.

“Well, well, well,” Zeus hummed, “what do we have here? Not the catch I was expecting but I can’t say I’m too disappointed.” He eyed Apollo carefully, turning him over in his hand, even as the blond god struggled and wiggled around.

“None of that, Apollo,” Zeus chided, “You chose this fate, do try to take it gracefully.”

“Let him go!” Percy yelled, sending gusts of hurricane-level winds toward the god. He merely swatted them away.

“None of that, demigod, you’re turn will come soon enough.”

“Perseus, run,” Apollo begged. His face contorted in pain, but the love was still evident in his gaze.

“Not without you,” Percy replied, too low for Apollo to hear him.

“Well, isn’t this sweet,” Zeus mocked. “I hate that. Jackson, since you want to die so badly, I’ll just speed this along, alright? How does that sound?”

He began to squeeze Apollo.

“No!”

Percy ran forward but didn’t know what to do. There was no guarantee that any major attack he sent toward Zeus wouldn’t also hurt Apollo.

“Stop! Please! Just let him go!”

“Soon, soon. Don’t rush me.”

And Percy could hear Apollo’s joints popping, he could hear his bones breaking, he could see the ichor that was beginning to leak out of his nose and ears. He just couldn’t do anything about it.

Think!

Where was Annabeth when he needed her? Gods, he missed his best friend, she’d know what to do. He could almost hear her in his head, urging him to come up with something.

Come on, Seaweed Brain! Use your head for once!

He’s trying! But every time he manages to get his bearings straight, Apollo lets out a strangled cry, and he’s hurtling down again. He forces himself to look up and take everything in, but gods does it hurt. Then he sees it.

Apollo’s legs started to fade. There was this golden dust that traveled up his foot and, in its wake, there was nothing. No foot. No ankle. Soon, no knees and no Apollo.

Percy hyperventilated.

“NO!”

He looked and looked, but fuck, there were no openings. Apollo was going to die before his eyes and it was driving Percy mad.

No, that wasn’t an option.

Think.

 Think.

  Think.

He looked up at Zeus' smiling face, the ichor from earlier still lingering.

Ichor.

Ichor?

A plan formed.

Ichor.

Just like lightning needed moisture, Gods needed ichor, and both were liquids. He could do this, he needed to do this. Apollo needed him to do this.

He closed his eyes and breathed in. Zeus said something but Percy paid him no mind.

Briefly, his green eyes flickered over to Zeus laughing, and suddenly, like a blurry picture coming into focus, something in Percy just… snapped. He could still hear his heart in his ears, and feel his blood coursing through his body, but faintly, very faintly, he could feel the feeble ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of a heart that wasn’t his.

Oh.

He could work with this.

Ichor ebbed and flowed under Zeus’s skin, like an ocean, like a sea, like any other body of water. And isn’t that what people were? Bodies of water? Seems gods aren’t exempt from that either. Percy grinned. He could work with this. He could definitely work with this. He extended one hand out and let himself feel. Then, once he knew every vein and artery like the streets of New York and he could connect 3^rd and 5^th to 68^th and Broadway, he clamped his hands and made it all just stop.

Zeus froze mid-laugh.

Percy slowly unclenched his fist and willed Zeus to set Apollo down. The god’s body made some jerky movements, and his eyes were darting this way and that, but slowly, ever so slowly, he set Apollo down.

Percy closed his fist again, and Zeus began to choke. His arms stayed firmly by his side, though Percy felt the god’s desperation to bring them up to his throat. Good. Stay like that for a minute, Percy thought vindictively. Then he ran towards Apollo.

The god was in bad ways. His legs were gone, and the golden mist thing was making its way up his torso.

“Shit,” Percy whimpered, “Babe, tell me what to do, please, I don’t know what to do.”

He placed a hand on his lover’s chest and tried to feel around, but the most he could do, it seemed, was pause the process, not bring back what had already faded.

Apollo stayed silent.

Percy felt like crying.

“Please,” Percy whispered, “please don’t go.”

“Percy,” a voice behind him said.

He turned around and saw Artemis with another god standing slightly behind her. He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“You’ve done more than enough, Jackson, let us look after him.”

“Us?” Percy blinked.

The god behind Artemis came forward. He looked vaguely familiar, but Percy either couldn’t place him or his mind was just lagging that much.

“Asclepius,” the god said with a wave. “Thank you for looking after my father, but I’ve got it from here.”

“You can fix him?” Percy asked, hope and something else in his voice.

“I can try. You’ve done an excellent job of halting his further deterioration, but bringing him back from this point will be tricky, so if you would?”

Percy nodded dumbly and stood up slowly, backing away but his eyes never left Apollo’s still figure.

“When did he...?”

“I heard you yelling and saw my father clutching him. Poseidon had a good handle on Athena, so I went outside the doors to retrieve him. He was already ready for me and came quickly,” she explained. Right, Percy forgot there was a whole separate fight happening outside the double doors.

“Focus, Jackson,” Artemis snapped, but not unkindly. “You have Zeus, now you just need to finish him.”

“Can you-” he stopped, unsure of what he even wanted to say.

“I will accompany you.”

“Thank you,” Percy murmured.

The two marched forward to the still restrained king, and for the first time since the day began, Percy saw fear in the tyrant’s eyes. Good, he thought viciously.

Zeus’s arms were still pressed against his sides, and his legs were still stiff as a board, but the old king could move his head and talk.

“What have you done to me?” Zeus rasped.

“I took your ichor and made it mine,” Percy replied in a monotone voice.

Percy began circling Zeus, “But that’s not the question you should be asking,” Percy said languidly. He tutted lightly at the wide-eyed look Zeus shot at him, and grinned. “No, the question you should be asking is, what will I do with you?”

Percy squeezed his fist a little harder and watched as Zeus gasped.

He kept on squeezing, visualizing the god before him dying. Fading the same way he made Apollo fade, but as the seconds became minutes, he realized he didn’t know how to do that.

Zeus still gasped and gagged, but the fading never came. His gaze flickered to Artemis, and he was about to ask her what the plan was when suddenly a blade was pressed against his neck, and he could feel a body behind him. A strange sense of anger washed over him.

Ares.

“Neat trick you got there, punk,” the god of war commented.

Percy gritted his teeth; he could hear the grin on the other man’s face and that pissed him off. His hold on Zeus was slipping.

He saw Artemis grab Zeus and hold him in a similar position. Both of them were hostages- it was almost ironic.

“Let him go, Ares!” Artemis shouted, “It’s over.”

“It’s not over until I say it’s over, Princess,” Ares shot back. He pressed the blade a little closer. It wasn’t enough to pierce skin, but Percy wouldn’t put it past him to get to that point soon.

“Glad to see you’re doing better, though,” he commented, “you looked a little rough earlier.”

Artemis snarled, pressing her blade closer to Zeus as well.

“He’s just going to betray you, you know?” Percy said, “he doesn’t care about you. The second you stop being useful or he sees you as a threat? There goes Ares.”

“Don’t listen to him, son,” Zeus interjected.

“He wouldn’t,” Ares grit out. “I’m useful! I’m obedient! He has no reason to get rid of me.”

“Is that what you think?” Percy asked, “Because didn’t you start the Titan War when you stole your father’s bolt? You think he forgot that?” Percy laughed, “Nah, he’s definitely keeping score. Keeping track of any and every slight.”

Percy couldn’t see him, but Percy could feel his hesitance. He could hear his uncertainty.

“No,” Ares ground out. “I’m not like the others,” he stressed, “I’m the favored son!”

“So was I,” Apollo scratched out.

He sounded horrible from his place on the floor, but Percy sighed a breath of relief that Apollo was even able to talk.

“No! No, Ares, my son, I would never do to you what I did to him!” Zeus pleaded. But the damage was done. Ares loosened his grip on his sword and staggered back, his gaze constantly shifting from Apollo to Zeus. Maybe he was realizing it for the first time or maybe he finally allowed himself to acknowledge what he had always known. His place in Zeus’s court was at the pleasure of a mad monarch, and he wasn’t safe.

Percy turned to look around him. Athena stood stock still next to Poseidon, her sword on the ground and gray eyes never leaving her father. Hades had Hera in a headlock, which must’ve been how Ares escaped. Apollo was almost back, with only his feet and ankles missing. He glanced at Artemis, and the two shared a nod.

He made his way over to Apollo and gently, ever so gently, Percy pushed some of the hair off his face, revealing the baby blues that Percy had fallen headfirst for.

“Hi,” Percy grinned.

“Hi,” Apollo smiled softly.

Percy pressed a soft kiss to Apollo’s lips. Had it really been hours since he had gotten to kiss this wonderful man? Gods, it felt like an eternity.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Never better,” Apollo replied. Percy snorted, before taking Apollo’s face in his hands.

“Never do that to me again, Phoebus Apollo.”

“It was either you or me, Perseus, and there is no reality where I would’ve let it be you.”

Percy let out a wet laugh. “Silly god,” he chided.

“If it is silly to love you, then consider me a fool.”

Asclepius cleared his throat uncomfortably. Right. There was an audience. Because the day wasn’t done yet. Right.

“I don’t want you to think differently of me,” Percy said.

“I won’t,’ Apollo replied a small smile at the callback.

“You might,” Percy corrected.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” Apollo said, “but we’ll never know if you don’t tell me.”

So Percy told him, and Apollo took it in stride.

“I’m having a bit of trouble actually making Zeus fade,” Percy admitted lowly into Apollo’s ears.

“Lucky for you, I know exactly how it’s done.” He motioned Asclepius over, “Help me up?”

His son gave him a look but conceded. Between the two of them, Apollo walked once more. The sun god hobbled over to his father, and if his body shook from something other than pain then no one needed to know that.

“Hello father,” he said, “this is going to hurt you far more than it’ll hurt me.” And with that, he halted Zeus’s ability to heal, sent illness and injury after him, and instructed Percy to press harder.

It was almost embarrassingly quick how fast Zeus began to fade after that. The golden mist traveled up the length of his body. Then, as it finally crossed his head, Apollo grabbed one of the golden flecks and kept it, watching as Zeus finally died. A halted scream was the only thing that remained of him.

Apollo looked at the golden fleck. “I know fading is permanent, but on the off chance he figures out something, I’m throwing this last bit into Chaos. That way he’ll never truly be complete.”

“Hot,” Percy commented.

Apollo shoved him lightly, but the dark look in his eyes let Percy know exactly what they would be doing later.

Percy looked at the mess around them. A lot later.

**

Hestia was the first to come to him.

She stared sadly at where Zeus once was, before shaking her head and smiling up at the two boys.

“Apollo,” she said, grinning as the name finally left her mouth, “Percy. I’m glad to see that you are both okay.”

“Thank you,” they murmured.

The other gods slowly made their way towards the duo as well. Ares and Athena hung back, but they were no less present. Demeter tugged Hera along. And Poseidon appeared behind Percy placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Percy smiled gratefully at him.

“As the king is dead, a new one must be chosen,” Hestia said. “Apollo, as the one who dealt the fatal blow, that title falls onto you unless there are any objections.”

Percy and Apollo both froze.

“Me?” Apollo asked, “but I thought it would fall on Poseidon or Hades.”

“The paperwork for the Underworld is bad enough, kid,” Hades grumbled.

“I am of the sea, lad,” Poseidon added, “Olympus was never made for me.”

“Oh. I- oh,” Apollo said. He looked over at Percy who had a blank expression.

“Does it have to be now?”

“Pardon?”

“Do I have to take the thrown now?” Apollo repeated, his eyes darted back and forth, “I mean… It’s just that this has happened so fast and there’s so much I want to do first. So much I want to experience,” his eyes found Percy’s. The demigod finally began to relax again, hesitant hope on his face. Apollo knew just with that that he was making the right decision. “How can I rule a world that I do not know?”

“Well, it is unprecedented…”

“I would obviously delegate the position to someone else!” Apollo clarified, “A regent to rule in my stead.”

“Oh!” Hestia sighed in relief, “Oh that’ll do just nicely. I’m sure Poseidon or Artemis will do an excellent job-”

Apollo gently stopped her.

“I agree,” he said softly, “but they’re not who I want.” She furrowed her brows. “I want it to be you, Auntie,” Apollo announced. There was some muttering from the crowd, but Apollo paid them no mind.

“Olympus doesn’t need another ruler who rose to power through patricide. Olympus needs to be reminded that, first and foremost, we’re family, and I can think of no better goddess for the job than you.”

Hestia gasped and covered her mouth. The goddess shifted between ages before settling on a young woman.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

He grabbed her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“That being said, I do believe that there needs to be some punishments. Ares, for your part in the rebellion you will be removed from the council of Olympus and your spot will be taken by someone of Hestia’s choosing. Furthermore, you are to take over Dionysus’s role as camp counselor for the next 100 years. You will incite no wars and you will diffuse arguments between campers. Hera, for your part in the rebellion you will be removed from the council of Olympus and your spot will be taken by someone of Hestia’s choosing. Furthermore, you will be stripped of your powers and sent to be a human. You will stay with them until you learn humility and how it feels to live without power. Athena,” he said, turning to his younger sister, “for your part in the rebellion, you will be removed from the council of Olympus and your spot will be taken by someone of Hestia’s choosing. Furthermore, you are to also be stripped of your powers. You will live with a human of my choosing, and you will learn what it means to come into a skill. Also, give me my domain back.”

The goddess in question looked like she swallowed a lemon but complied, and in an instant, Apollo was enveloped in a golden light that filled him with warmth. He was finally complete.

“And any Titan who was punished in the first war due to neutrality will be released from their curse,” he added after Percy gave him a look. Percy smiled and nodded his head.

Apollo laughed, loud and bright, before reaching out for Perseus’s hand.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had quite the day and I’ve got to see about a boy and a picnic.”

The two made their way to the double doors, opening them wide for the first time, allowing the battle on the other side to cease as the victors appeared. Shouts of joy rang through the hall, and Percy was tackled by his friends.

“You did it!” Annabeth shrieked. “I knew you would!”

“You literally said ‘What’s taking him so long, do you think he’s dead?’ like 10 minutes ago,” Clarisse drawled.

“Okay, I mostly didn’t doubt you,” Annabeth conceded, but her smile was still wide and contagious.

Percy’s smile matched hers, and he finally felt a sense of rightness as he realized all his friends were okay. Then he looked over at Apollo, who was shuffling awkwardly behind him.

“Guys, this is Apollo,” Percy introduced, “my boyfriend.”

There was a lot of congratulating, a lot of threats towards Apollo, and one nervous bahhh from Grover, but overall, Percy was elated.

The couple made their way through the crowd of onlookers, they received pats on their backs, hugs, and someone even tried to kiss Percy (although Apollo shut that one down real quick). Finally, they reached the elevator and clicked the button. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Apollo pulled Percy into a bruising kiss.

The pain of the day, mixed with the fear of losing each other, called for a kiss that wasn’t sweet or soft, it called for passion and pain- a reminder that they were both alive.

“Gods, I love you,” Apollo breathed into Percy’s mouth.

Percy moaned and sank his hands further into Apollo’s hair, tugging him closer. He nipped at Apollo’s lower lip, asking for permission that was already given. In his warmth Percy was home.

“Love you, too,” he whispered.

The door opened and the two walked out hand in hand. The same security guard from earlier was still there and Percy couldn’t help himself.

“Told you he was hot!”

They left the building and walked into a new world that wasn’t aware yet of everything that had changed. Tomorrow the world would wake up and for the first time in two thousand years, the sun would be shining after the solstice.

Percy looked at Apollo.

He couldn’t wait.