Chapter Text
Percy took refuge from the party in a quiet corner behind a pillar where he had a clear view of the battlefield, no, dance floor, and no one could sneak up on him. He had taken off his suit jacket and tied it around his waist, and damn near tore off his sleeves as well. The clothes restricted his movements too much, but he wasn’t a fool to discard some clean valuable fabric that could be used for wound dressings or a sling later.
He liked that he felt clean for the first time in four years, but part of him missed the armor of grime and blood. His hair being cut neatly made for better sight, but it made his expressions more readable, and he didn’t like that level of vulnerability, no matter how well he had practiced his poker face.
He watched the demigods with fascination. He had barely seen any human beings in all that time in Tartarus. And they were all children and teenagers like him. It was so surreal, like he had stumbled into one of the memories he would revisit, of school dances and him migrating to a corner to play basketball with like minded kids.
He reached for Riptide before he could think about the powerful presence getting closer. A man in a fishing hat and Hawaiian shirt caught his eyes and began approaching him. Poseidon. His dad. Funny how he showed any interest in him now. He kept his hand close to his pocket just in case as the god nodded at him and took a spot a few feet away from him.
“You must be overwhelmed,” he began.
Percy scoffed. To say it was an understatement was one in itself.
“I won’t bother you for too long. I can sense that you’re wary of my presence.”
“Don’t take it too personally,” Percy said, nodding his head over to Zeus, whose electric blue eyes shot daggers at the two from his throne. Percy could feel static in his hair and clothes spark.
“Yes, I suppose this many powerful beings so close raises some alarms for you.”
Percy shrugged.
“No one will harm you on my watch. I can swear that. But, ah, Perseus…”
Percy’s hand twitched at his pocket. His spidey senses, he jokingly called them to himself, going off.
“The gods are holding off for now, seeing as you only just escaped Tarta—“
“Don’t say it,” Percy growled.
“Downstairs,” Poseidon corrected, “but they will want to discuss with you eventually. They’ll have questions. You see, the fact you survived Tar—the Pit, is...well it’s…”
Percy raised an eyebrow, though it wasn’t of shock. “They’re scared.”
“Don’t say that. They won’t like it.”
“If they don’t try to hurt me, they don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Poseidon worked his jaw. “Perseus you need to be careful.”
“I don’t want to fight them, but I will if I have to.” It wasn’t a threat. He was just stating facts. That’s all.
“So you have no fear of the gods’ power,” Poseidon stated.
Percy crossed his arms. He was always scared, part of him always will be. But he’d been up against Titans and Giants and even Primordials and survived. And now he had the Achilles curse. It felt so stupid to be afraid of them.
“I don’t want to fight anyone,” Percy said sincerely. If I don’t have to was implied. If Poseidon was dissatisfied with this answer, he didn’t show it.
“Just be careful, Perseus.”
You’re the ones who should be careful.
“Okay.”
“And for what it’s worth, which I imagine not much, I am very sorry for what you’ve suffered through. I am sorry you were born. A hero’s life is never easy, but you’ve been through the unimaginable.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Eat something, you must be starving,” Poseidon suggested. He chuckled, “I suppose I’m preparing you for your mother.”
Percy repressed a smile, remembering that she’d be here any minute. He tried not to get his hopes up, knowing a trick or trap was always a possibility.
Annabeth and Grover must’ve decided it was their turn to encroach on Percy’s territory. He took a deep breath (the air here didn’t hurt, didn’t feel like glass in his throat, he forgot what it was like to breathe without pain) and forcibly relaxed his tense posture.
“Hey Perce,” Grover started.
If everyone was going to talk to him like that, with that careful tone as if he’d break, he had an even greater chance of losing his mind (not that he hadn’t many times already, of course).
“Hey, man. Or should I call you Lord or something now?”
Grover’s eyes lit up. “You heard?”
“I hear everything,” Percy smirked. He was a master eavesdropper when he needed to be, and he needed information on what’s been going on on the surface the past four years. And demigods talk. Part of Percy itched at the idea of Grover being a hot shot powerful Lord of Anything, because it made him a potential threat, but this was Grover .
“Congrats, man. How’d you land that title?”
Grover opened his mouth, but met eyes with Annabeth and changed course. “I’ll tell you all about it some other time. Right now, uh, Annabeth…”
Annabeth gave Percy a once-over. Percy did the same to her, sizing people up being a crucial instinct, settling his gaze on the golden curls loose on her shoulders, then shifting to her striking grey eyes, then shifting down to—he snapped his eyes back up. Annabeth’s gaze may be naturally intense, but right now it was an intense kindness. Percy wanted to melt under it, but that was dangerous. She was way too dangerous, and not because she was a master strategist, warrior, general, and war hero.
Percy absently moved to touch his Achilles spot on the small of his back, remembering his vision and still not understanding why a girl he knew for only a few weeks when he was twelve had pulled him to safety in it, and quickly retracted his hand so as not to draw attention to it.
“Percy, I’m so glad you’re alive. It’s so incredible. I wish I had known sooner, I could've done more to help.”
“You helped by getting my mom back. All this time I assumed she was gone.”
“It was the least we could do for you!” Grover exclaimed.
Annabeth pursed her lips.
“What is it?” Percy probed. They had to have wanted something, right?
“Nothing, I just. We just wanted to tell you we’re still your friends.”
Percy blinked. He looked to Grover for some kind of explanation. But he just nodded.
Annabeth continued, “If you need to talk to someone, we’ll be here.”
Percy blinked again. Annabeth already stuck her neck out for him, with her wish for demigods getting more support from their parents accounting for him as well, and making sure the gods gave him a chance instead of vaporizing him on the spot. (Funny how the Annabeth he remembered would have wished for a building or temple or something. She’d grown up a lot.) He couldn’t help but wonder why she was still bothering.
It’s not like he hadn’t had friends (technically a more appropriate term would be “allies”) in the Pit, it’s just that they were hard to come by, and usually the relationship started on rocky terms or out of nothing more than a mutual goal or deal. Was Annabeth getting something out of paying him special attention?
As seconds ticked by, he remembered now would usually be where a civilized human being would say something. “Uh, thanks. Thank you.”
Annabeth nodded. She subtly looked him up and down once again. “You clean up well.”
Grover snickered, causing Annabeth to blush and stumble. “I mean, I saw you when you first showed up and it’s just such a huge difference. It was nice of Aphrodite to clean you up and dress you—dress you all nice.”
Percy felt his own cheeks get hot. Annabeth was too dangerous. Too dangerous.
“Thanks. I just feel stuffy. So I took the jacket off. And tied it. But you—you can see that yourself, so...thanks. I’m glad my mom won’t see me as a contestant on Survivor.”
Grover and Annabeth hesitated, but laughed. Percy guessed no one expected him to still have a sense of humor, however dark it could get, but there were certain things he learned he needed to hold on to.
Everything suddenly seemed to slow down. Hermes walked in with a woman Percy should have recognized instantly, but over the years the memory of his mother’s face blurred more and more and this woman looked so much older. Four years looked like ten on her, but Percy knew he was no different. With the premature stress lines and grey streaked hair, battle scars, and his intimidating glare, Percy wondered if she’d even recognize him.
That alone would be enough to paralyze him, but the crowd of people (armed demigods and too many powerful gods who could take advantage of his unfamiliarity with this new environment and his discomfort in his restricting attire) between them didn’t help.
“What are you waiting for?” Annabeth asked quietly, gently.
“Too many of them,” Percy said thickly. Deep breath. Deep breath. Like Damasen had coached him that one time, trying to snap him out of an insane panic. No, he wouldn’t lose his mind today.
Annabeth looked back and forth with a dawning expression. “No one here’s going to hurt you, Percy. But, y'know actually that’s okay, Percy, I can go ahead and bring her over here if you—”
But Percy was already taking long strides, the chronic limp in his left leg making his approach anything but smooth, toward the entrance. His instincts told him he needed to slash through the crowd (of monsters, of threats, of people who wanted to kill him) to get to her before she was killed. They told him he needed to grab his mom and get out of here. But he told himself these were people. Demigod children.
He didn’t want to hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. He didn’t want to hurt anyone.
Hermes pointed the approaching Percy out to his mom and Percy could see her jaw drop and eyes brighten with recognition. Not a moment later, the two had closed the gap between them.
The familiar sweet smell of the candy shop she worked at launched Percy headfirst into a sea of emotions he didn’t know he could feel anymore. And all he could do was hold his mom tighter. He was taller than her now by almost a foot. That was to be expected, but it still felt surprising.
Sally had been babbling his name and words of comfort and gratitude for him being in her arms again, but Percy interrupted her to verify what was happening. It could be a dream, or a vision inflicted by some cruel titan.
“Is this real?”
“Yes, yes it’s real, you’re really here. I’m really here. I’m here, baby,” she cried into his shoulder.
Percy nodded and broke from her embrace and gripped her wrist. She opened her mouth to say something, but Percy was already pulling her through the crowd of onlookers to the quiet corner.
Sally seemed to understand as they took the spot behind one of the pillars. “Honey, let me ask if we could have a private room or something.”
She analyzed every detail in his face as she spoke. It made him want to hide, which was silly because he knew he had nothing to fear with his mom.
“I could ask for you guys,” Grover piped in. Him and Annabeth were still hanging around close by.
Sally nodded to him. “Thank you, Grover.”
Annabeth joined Grover, leaving Percy and Sally alone in the corner. Well, as alone as they could be in the Olympus great hall. He could still feel the curious stares of half the room, and the accusatory one of the head honcho from his throne.
“It’s okay, honey, we’ll find someplace quiet to talk, okay?”
Percy nodded. Hermes walked over and motioned them to follow. He led them down the hall and through a garden path to a fountain with a balcony overlooking the whole mountain. A few demigods and nymphs were hanging out there, but they excused themselves before Hermes could shoo them away.
Sally took a seat on the bench facing the view, and patted the spot next to her. Percy hesitated, looking around and taking note of his environment before joining her.
“I thought you were dead, Percy,” Sally said shakily.
“I thought you were,” Percy countered.
Sally let out a harsh sigh. “I know, I’m so sorry.”
“What? No, I’m sorry!”
Sally smiled. “Don’t be. I’m just happy to have you home safe. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I wish I could have protected you.”
“If it helps, I wasn’t all alone.”
Sally raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”
“No, I mean, I had friends who helped me. Or at least allies. There were times where I was alone, but…I wasn’t always.”
Sally breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. Of course you’d be able to make friends in Tartarus.”
Percy tensed at the name. “Don’t say the name,” he said curtly, restraining himself from snapping.
“Oh! I’m so sorry. Okay. I guess you don’t want to talk about any of it, do you? You know I’m here to listen.”
Once upon a time, Percy was unafraid to tell his mom everything. And he wanted to unload four years of pain and fighting for his life and some of the messed up stuff he did or suffered through. He wanted someone to know, so he wouldn’t be so alone. He hated being alone. ‘Alone’ meant a less chance of survival, ‘alone’ meant easier to manipulate and use, ‘alone’ was one of the methods used to torment him, ‘alone’ meant grief, and ‘alone’ meant no one to stop him from going too far and becoming someone that terrified him.
Despite wishing it could be so easy to just air out his laundry list of traumas and fold them neatly in a way that’s livable, he didn’t want his mom to be sad and worry about him, he didn’t want her to hear stories of him at his darkest moments and hate him, as stupid as that sounds. And it’s not like the words were easy to come by, anyway. It’s not like he ever had the time to process his experiences. It was always just one after the other. He himself was afraid to unpack everything and have to face what he had been carrying head on.
“I…maybe eventually,” Percy tried. “I don’t know if I...if I want you to know everything.”
“I understand,” Sally paused. “But you know I wouldn’t think any less of you, or love you any less or anything, right? You don’t have to hide things to protect me, either.”
Percy nodded.
“What about you?” Percy asked. “What’s been going on with you?”
Sally winced.
“It hasn't been easy. Well, the gift from you and your dad definitely made things easier.”
“What gift?”
“Medusa’s head. I figured you knew about it. Your dad said you’d want me to have it.”
“Um...okay...why? What...what did you do with it?” Millions of things he’d do with Medusa’s head flashed in his mind’s eye. That would have been helpful downstairs for sure. He sucked in a breath and tried to push all the sadistic possibilities for revenge out with the exhale.
A simultaneously mischievous and embarrassed grin made its way on her face, “I used it on Gabe.”
Percy’s jaw dropped.
“And sold the statue for enough money to take writing classes at night school.”
Percy felt like his soul had left his body for a second, and he was familiar with that feeling.
“Of course, it took me a few years to actually start taking them. It was hard for me to get on my feet after I thought I’d lost you. Honey, are you okay? Oh no, did I upset you?”
Percy waved his hands. “No no no, I just can’t believe it. I mean...he definitely deserved it.”
Percy passively remembered some instances where he’d imagined Gabe’s face on a monster chasing him down, which helped him fight a little harder. He did deserve it. He was an abusive monster, and Percy knew monsters. He hated Gabe. But his encounter with the arai solidified a complicated feeling on “deserves.” If life truly operated on what people deserved, then he wouldn’t be here sitting with his mother—he’d be in the Pit for all eternity where he belonged. And if his mom got what she deserved, she’d have all the happiness in the world and none of the pain he or Gabe caused her in the first place.
“I’m glad you got rid of him,” Percy decided, complicated feelings simplified by the idea of his mom free of more pain. “He was a jerk.”
“I know. I’m so sorry I kept him around.”
“I know why you did. You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“Yes I did. I’d do anything to protect you, but I was also being selfish. I didn’t want you leaving me.”
Percy hesitated. “Sorry.”
“No! No no no. It’s not your fault. None of this is.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. He tensed up at the contact, and could feel the hesitation in his mom’s touch.
She looked uneasy, seeming to wait for his response. When it didn’t come, she pulled away and asked upfront, “Do you not like being touched?”
Percy shook his head, “Not usually.”
A hug spurred by relief and such as earlier was different than an unanticipated touch that even when seemingly gentle could be deadly and have malicious intent. So no, he didn’t like being touched. But he wanted so bad to be wrapped up in his mother’s arms.
“Okay. That’s okay.”
Silence fell, and it was almost disturbing how awkward it felt. Percy felt awkward up here, period. He didn’t know how to act. Meanwhile Sally didn’t know how to talk to him, not yet. He was acting more...stable than she had anticipated when she first saw that Iris message of him and learned he’d been alive in Tartarus. The boy she had seen there was unrecognizable and feral. The boy in front of her acted vaguely like the boy she knew, but there was still something so off. She knew he was putting on a brave face, acting as normal as he could, and whatever was underneath the mask was waiting to be revealed.
But gods he looked so much older than 16. His hair was greying, he had stress lines around his eyes and mouth. Dark circles and scars and eyes that didn’t shine. His smile didn’t reach them.
“What happened to your leg? Is it okay? You were limping.” \
“Yeah I always limp. It’s fine though. Long story.” he picked at the stone on the bench.
Not that long, really. The monster squeezed tight, tighter, and all Percy could do was scream. He couldn’t even hear the cyclops’ taunts, he just heard the blood rushing through his ears and the cyclops’ body.
The bastard made another snap in his leg.
And Percy made a snap in his skull.
“You poor thing.”
Percy took a sharp intake of breath. No, he didn’t need, want, or deserve pity.
“It’s fine.” This time he couldn’t restrain a curt tone to his voice. And he didn’t have to look directly at his mom to see her face fall. Ever so slightly, because of course she’d do her best to temper her reactions with him. Of course she’d put his feelings first like that.
There was another long stretch of silence.
But the bittersweet words Sally wanted to say were still heard in other ways as she slowly went to hold Percy’s hand, waiting for him to grant her permission by meeting her halfway, and squeezing when they met.
Happy birthday, Sweetie.
Thanks, Mom.
—
Hermes was happy to escort the pair home, and if anyone was allowed to do so in Percy’s eyes, it was the god who put himself in danger to help him once upon a time. As the god of messengers, Hermes didn’t need any special permissions or to go through any hoops to venture to and from other territories like Tartarus.
After inspecting the apartment for any threats, his mom eyeing him with concern as he did so, he plopped down on his childhood bed. So ridiculously soft. His mom kept it clean. It gave him a pang in his heart.
“We’re probably going to need to go shopping for you, huh?” She said as she closed the closet door he had ripped open in his scanning.
“Oh, yeah I guess so.”
This was wild. Is this how Tom Hanks felt in Castaway? It was all so surreal. He’d never gone this long without being in a fight. His hands were twitchy with anxious energy. It was the worst feeling of “it’s quiet. Too quiet.”
It was clearly surreal for his mom, too, who seemed equally unsure of what to do with herself. She seemed to settle on something when she perked up. “I’ll make your favorite meal! And some blue cookies!”
This was too good to be true. Percy pinched himself, but oh right. The Achilles curse. No pain to affirm him he wasn’t dreaming.
Speaking of the Achilles curse, a wave of fatigue washed over him now that his adrenaline wasn’t in high gear. He did one more sweep of the apartment for good measure, double checking the windows.
“Mom, wake me if anything happens, okay?”
A beat of silence. Percy turned to her. She had paused in her cooking prep to watch him in his venture. Her eyebrows were creased and eyes were watery, but when he caught her eye, she put on a smile. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll wake you for dinner then?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
She nodded and he retired to his room. The bed was too soft, so he took a place on the floor. The pillow was a nice break for his neck though, so he’ll take that luxury, thank you very much.
—
Watching Percy sweep the apartment— twice —with all the diligence of a detective looking for a strand of hair was all the reminder Sally needed that this would not be easy, and her son would not be the same. She didn’t want to stop him, because he clearly felt he needed to do it to feel safe, but shouldn’t she assure him he was already safe? Dinner and the cookies were ready, but Percy was fast asleep. She couldn’t possibly wake him when he was so peaceful. She imagined him half his size and scooping him up and wrapping her whole body around him. She didn’t want to let go. She left the food out on the stove on a simmer in case he should wake up, and sat on the couch and flipped to the news. Just a bunch of mortals trying to make sense of the last few days.
There was a knock at the door. Like the perfect watchdog, Percy came bounding from his room in an instant and assumed a prepared stance a few feet from the door.
“Who’s there!” He barked. His voice sounded significantly deeper and more aggressive than when he was speaking to her, so it made Sally flinch.
“Percy, it’s okay, Honey, I’ll answer the door.”
“Sally?” A man’s voice came from the hall.
“Shit,” Sally swore, covering her mouth after the fact. Percy looked at her with wide eyes at the slip then drew out Riptide.
“No no no no, he’s not a threat. It’s my friend, Paul,” she whispered and gently guided Percy’s sword wielding hand down. Though still guarded, Percy nodded.
Sally opened the door a crack.
“Hey, Paul.”
Paul cracked a nervous smile. There was clear hurt in his eyes. It made Sally’s heart sink. Had she done something?
“I brought some Chinese food to eat over our session, but I didn’t know you had…company. I’ll, uh, see you in class?”
Her eyes widened.
“Oh! No, no, it’s not…company, it’s—“
Paul raised an eyebrow.
“It’s my son.”
Paul blanched. “Your son.”
She nodded.
“Your…son who died four years ago?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Your…” Paul raised a pointed finger as if connecting invisible dots in front of him, before dropping his hand with dejection.He was clearly conjuring up a million different stories to explain this, so Sally decided to stop him by opening the door the rest of the way to reveal Percy, who stiffened and tightened his grip on Riptide once again.
“Oh!” Was all Paul could say.
“Paul, this is my son Percy. Percy, this is my friend from my writing class, Paul.”
“S-so this is your son. Just showed up out of the blue! Wow. Wow. This is—“
Sally decided to motion him inside. He took the steps through the threshold and she closed the door behind him. He absently placed the bag of takeout on the floor. Percy glared at him. Paul was a teacher, and he’s worked with plenty of teenagers before, but one look at Percy (who to him, looked like he was holding up a bat ready to play a game of baseball with his head) was enough to know he was not like any kid he’d met before. Nevertheless, his excitement for Sally outweighed the intimidation he felt under the boy’s stare.
“—incredible! Sally this is incredible!” He moved quickly to hug her.
Percy flinched, but upon catching Sally’s smile at the embrace, relaxed. Sally could see the struggle going on in her son’s eyes.
“It is,” Sally said, voice catching.
Paul parted and gave her a kind smile, making her melt even more. Tears started to fall.
“Oh, sorry,” she sniffled and wiped her eyes.
“Don’t be.”
Paul turned to Percy and held out a hand his mouth twitching when his eyes drifted down to the sword/baseball batt, but not backing down, “Nice to meet you Percy, welcome home. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Another battle flashed across Percy’s face before he relaxed his deathgrip on Riptide and took the man’s hand.
“Wow, firm handshake there,” Paul chuckled.
“Paul, um, you’ll have to excuse Percy for having his guard up. He’s been through a lot. Percy, Honey, you’ll have to excuse Paul’s friendliness. He’s very kind. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Paul seemed to pale, “Oh no of course not. I wouldn’t hurt you or your mother. I understand, I’m sure there are some boundaries I’ve unknowingly crossed. I apologize.”
“Sorry I forgot about our session.”
Paul laughed. “As if I blame you. I’ll leave you two be. We can catch up whenever you’re ready.”
He moved to the door.
“Oh don’t forget your dinner!” Sally scurried to pick up the bag and hand it to him, their hands lingering when they touched. Sally blushed.
“I made dinner. I can send you home with some.”
“No, no, thank you. Enjoy it with your son. I’m so so happy for you Sally,” he leaned in for one more hug and gaze into her eyes before heading back down the hallway and around the corner toward the stairs. When he was out of sight, Sally closed the door.
She turned back to Percy. Who was staring at her. His gaze looked through her, it was cold and calculating, it felt like a predator sizing up his prey, it stopped her in her tracks. Her heart pumped harshly a few times in her chest.
“Percy?”
His expression broke into something lighter, and Sally let out a sigh of relief.
Relief? Relief from what?
Percy cracked a smile. “You like him.”
“Oh,” she breathed out with a laugh. “Yes, I know it’s probably obvious. I do. I like him a lot. I guess we’re technically dating, but he’s been really patient with me in taking it slow.”
“He makes you happy.”
Sally nodded.
Percy nodded.
“Good. I’m glad.”
Percy turned to investigate the kitchen, led by his nose. After a couple sniffs of the air, he quipped back with a lopsided grin, “Oh but obviously if he hurts you I’ll rip him to shreds with my scary demigod powers. Crush him like a bug. Feed his corpse to the hellhounds.”
Sally laughed uncomfortably, because yes the way he said it was clearly lighthearted and meant to be over the top for the joke, but she didn’t doubt for one second that he was also being serious underneath it. Percy looked up from the pot on the stove at her. His eyebrows furrowed, hearing her discomfort.
“Sorry,” his shoulders slumped. “I was joking, okay?”
Sally smiled and walked forward into the kitchen and stood next to him. She started preparing his plate for him. “Well I’m not when I say if you don’t eat every last bite of this meal I will squash you like a bug.”
Percy clutched his heart dramatically. “I shoulda known no monster could ever be scarier than my mother.”
She shoved the plate into his hands. “I’m serious,” she deadpanned.
“Right. Okay.”
—
The gods gave them about a week before invading their lives again. It was not an easy week, either. Hardly a break for the Jackson family. When Percy wasn’t sleeping or eating, he was pacing the apartment or “keeping watch” on the fire escape, mind still back in the Pit. He never awoke peacefully, always waking from a nightmare and ready to strike at an unseen enemy. It’d take a few minutes to convince him of where he was. All of that, and already they wanted to subject her boy to more emotional hurdles.
She nearly slammed the door shut, but Hermes’ foot stopped it.
“Sally, look, I know. I know.”
Hermes was always one of the more human-like gods. He tried to be trustworthy and kind, even if the downsides of his job meant having to be the bad guy sometimes. Don’t shoot the messenger. He gently pushed the door open more, not quite letting himself in but still close to invading her territory.
“The gods can’t wait any longer. They need to talk to Percy. And decide what to do with him. I know how bad that sounds, but the more compliant he acts, the better chance he has of not being incinerated on the spot, you get it?”
Sally fumed. “No! I don’t get it!”
Percy scoffed. “I’d like to see them try.”
Hermes’ eyes widened. “See that’s exactly the kind of thing you shouldn’t say, Percy.”
“Oh I’d love to see them try, too,” Sally threatened. “Because if they hurt one hair on his head you better believe I will not stop until each and every one of those cowards pay!”
Well.
Go Sally.
“Mom, you’re scaring me.”
“She’s scaring me, too. Maybe it’s not Percy the gods should be fussing over.” Hermes smirked.
Thunder rumbled.
“Yeah but see, see that’s why you two should be quiet.”
“I’m not scared of some thunder,” Percy said, crossing his arms. Sally copied his posture.
Hermes looked ready to internally combust because of the Jackson family. “Okay that’s enough. I tried to be nice but clearly there’s no saving you two. If I were human you’d be giving me angina. Now let’s go.”
He snapped his fingers.
—
Standing in front of an entire counsel of gods who wanted to vaporize him was something out of his nightmares, even though he’s lived through worse. Technically he could overpower them with the Achilles curse. Before, he was restricted by a fragile mortal body that burned from the inside out with his displays of power that no demigod should be capable of, but the Achilles curse gave him the invulnerability to tap into his potential. He couldn’t help wondering just how far his powers could go. Could he explode all twelve of them instantaneously without killing himself in the process? Could he make them suffer, and for how long before he wears out or they’re able to break free from his hold.
He pushed the power and revenge fantasy away. That’s not who he is. He refuses to let himself be that. He’d been there, done that. Especially now that he had his mom back, who had always seen the good in him, he was more incentivized to not become that.
Percy approached the bench, so to speak, as the bench was a fifty foot throne seating the king of the gods, and bowed with all the respect he could possibly fake.
“Perseus Jackson, do you understand why you’re here?”
You want me dead, but you promised Annabeth you wouldn’t kill me at least not without a fair trial, because centuries-old godly beings who control the forces of nature need a teenage girl to keep their morals in check.
Percy didn’t answer.
“You would have been dead days ago had we not made a deal with Annabeth Chase to give you 'a chance,' so to speak,” Zeus explained.
Poseidon huffed and regarded Percy. “Not true. I wouldn’t have let him kill you just like that. After everything you’ve been through.”
Athena chimed in, eyeing him up and down with a familiar expression of calculation. “And what exactly is ‘everything,’ is what we want to know. You could not have survived Tartarus without the help of some of our greatest enemies, or without committing some incredible atrocities. What is it you’re capable of, Percy Jackson, where do your loyalties lie, and can you be trusted?”
He bristled at the mention of the Pit. His eyes flashed in his mind’s eye, and he felt the voice prickle at his brain and send a chill up his spine. It was watching him, it had its chains wrapped around his limbs, pulling him downwards, trying to rip him back home.
“I did what I had to do to survive, but I don’t have any loyalties to anyone down there,” Percy forced out.
“So you’d betray the gods for your own survival,” said Athena.
Percy scoffed. “That’s not what I said, but it’s simple: Why would I serve someone trying to kill me or someone I love? I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
Some thunder rumbled and Zeus stood up. Percy felt his insides shake.
You have nothing to fear. They can’t hurt you. If they did, they’ll be sorry. Stand your ground, don’t be afraid.
Sometimes he felt like he was just a scared little guinea pig inside. He swallowed his fear and met Zeus’s eyes defiantly.
“You need to remember your place, Jackson. You’re in no position to speak in such a manner. Your time in the Pit has given you too much nerve. You serve Olympus or you’re a traitor.”
I didn’t realize asking not to be killed was so controversial.
Zeus searched Percy’s face, and…yep he was trying to read his thoughts, of course, for any read on him, but with Percy’s expert poker face and strong walls he had built up around his mind, it was pointless. Percy could see a power struggle in the king’s eyes. He wasn’t used to anyone, let alone a mortal, not bend under his command. He wanted some kind of reaction and display of fear and submission, but he wasn’t going to get it. “We could easily send you back to Tartarus where you belong.”
Not even for a low blow like that. The mention of the Pit once again caused a shiver up his spine and a tug on invisible chains, but Zeus was nothing compared to him.
His mom made a noise of indignation behind him, but since she decided to follow Percy’s lead (no matter what he did, she’d support him, she decided. If he wanted to fight each and every Olympian she would stand behind him, as much as she would if he decided to comply to their wishes) she stayed silent.
“You will do no such thing!” Poseidon stood.
Ares smirked. “I say the punk deserves it.”
Aphrodite pulled at her hair in anxiety at Ares’ comment. “No one deserves to be separated from everyone they love like that.”
“Especially with such cruel conditions,” added Hermes. “I’ve seen the Pit, and I’ve seen more of what Percy has gone through than any of you. No one deserves that.”
Hera had not taken her eyes off of Percy. “You’re all so concerned about him turning against Olympus that you’re willing to kill him, but fail to consider what he could do for us if given the chance.”
Everyone paused. Zeus turned to her and stroked his beard.
Hera smirked. “We all seem to agree that keeping Percy alive is dangerous, but he said it himself. We keep him happy, he’ll be valuable to us should we need him. His conditions are simple: safety. We’d be fools not to have him as an ally.”
Hera had a glint in her eye as she regarded Percy. “With so much unknown in our future, with another Great Prophecy revealed, I doubt Kronos is the last of our troubles. And he knows that, don’t you, Percy?”
Percy said nothing.
“He says he has no alliances with anyone who threatens his or his loved ones’ safety. So, we pose no threats to him, only protection, and he’ll fight on our side.”
Athena stiffened. “The risks are too great. He has powers and previous unknown alliances that allowed him to survive the Pit, which proves he’s a force to be reckoned with. If he betrays us…”
Zeus held up a hand. “You act as though we fear this human. Need I remind you all that we’re Olympians?”
Hera scoffed. “Oh please, dear, set your pride aside for one moment. Look at him. We all know that he‘s powerful. Personally, I’d rather have him as an ally, not as an enemy.”
Hermes laughed, “And his standards are literally just ‘don’t hurt me.’”
“Or we could kill him and have him as neither enemy nor ally,” Hades suggested.
I’d like to see you try.
“But we also need to take mental stability into account. The boy is clearly not sane, making him unpredictable,” Athena argued.
That was a fair assumption, Percy internally shrugged.
Zeus turned. “Dionysus? Will you weigh in?”
Dionysus groaned, “I don’t need to see into his mind to know he’s not mentally stable, he’s been through Tartarus , for our sakes! Even we’d be coo coo for a while after that. But look. He’s not going to kill us all on a whim, or he would’ve tried it already. He obviously has self control and personal morals and standards and whatever.”
“Ask his mother,” Aphrodite suggested.
Poseidon beamed. “Yes, of course. Sally, can you vouch for Percy? Has he shown any signs that he could be destructive?”
Sally didn’t hesitate. “No.”
She paused and stepped forward, taking Percy’s hand. “He’s different, and adjusting, but he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He’s faced things no kid should ever face, and he’s still a good kid. Always has been, always will be.” Sally squeezed his hand.
Percy disagreed with the notion, but he nodded. “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he confirmed.
“And what of his previous actions? Are we going to excuse all of it? We already know he aided in Kronos’ plan,” said Athena.
All eyes turned to Percy. He cleared his throat. “Not intentionally. He tricked me.”
And I would’ve been out of the Pit a lot sooner if I had the sense to play along longer. But no, my big mouth got me thrown right back like a fisherman discarding a catch.
“And how did you get out in the first place?” Athena questioned.
Hades chimed in, “The only way for someone like you to leave Tartarus is through the Doors of Death, and you could be there for a hundred years and never find them and get to them in time through all of the monsters who’d be swarming them.”
“Not when they’re chained down.”
If Percy knew it was that easy to shut up the Olympians, he would’ve opened with that.
Except, the silence didn’t last. The council erupted. That guinea pig feeling was coming out. Percy could feel his insides shake and he wanted to run and hide. He felt for his mom’s hand and squeezed it.
Zeus stamped towards Percy, each gigantic footstep shaking the floor and making him flinch. He weighed his tried-and-true two options: fight or flight. His mind flipped a coin in the air as Zeus stood, it spun as he approached, and was about to land when a giant hand reached for him. But the coin got caught in midair, the adrenaline faded enough to let him keep his rational mind, as Sally stepped in front of Percy, and Poseidon pulled Zeus away.
“Mom!” Percy barked. He had to raise his voice over the uproar he had started. “What are you thinking ?!”
Sally turned away from the arguing gods and met his eyes with fiery determination. “I’m doing what I should be doing! Protecting you!”
Percy gripped his hair. “Don’t! I can protect myself! If I lose you again, I’ll–I don’t know what I’ll do!”
“ Someone should be protecting you!”
With that, Sally whipped around and found Poseidon’s eyes amidst the chaos and his heated argument with Zeus. Hera was already there between them trying to break up their fight before it got physical, while the rest of the Olympians yelled and fought amongst each other. When Poseidon met Sally’s glare, he banged his trident on the floor, sending a sharp clang echoing through the hall.
“Enough! No fighting!” He bellowed. “Brother, I’ll stand down. I implore you to follow my example.”
The static in the room slowly died. The gods hesitated and took their seats until Zeus was the only one standing. His posture relaxed, but when he did finally retake his seat, he did so begrudgingly.
“Explain yourself, Jackson,” he said through gritted teeth.
Percy caught himself breathing heavily and heart pounding in his ears, and now he was back in the spotlight. Damn his stupid big mouth again. They’ll toss him right back because of it like Kronos did. He opened his mouth but his voice wasn’t working anymore, and he wasn’t sure how much more patience he could expect from twelve godly children.
Eventually, he stammered out, “The Doors of Death were chained down. I don’t know anything more.”
Liar.
Hera stroked her chin for a moment then leaned in to whisper something to Zeus.
“Jackson, you and your mother are to wait outside until further notice,” he said.
—
Percy and Sally spent the next few hours seeing Mount Olympus. The former stayed quiet for the duration, as he was emotionally spent from the whole ordeal. Sally told Percy about Paul, about her writing class, about how Annabeth had kept in touch with her over the last four years (this made Percy very skeptical), and so on. But eventually, they were called back into the great hall, an audience of gods sitting peacefully as if the previous scene in this room had never happened.
After they were settled and the silence had made its presence known, Zeus finally cleared his throat and spoke. “So we keep Jackson alive, on the condition that he allies himself with us in the future. I have another condition, however. Perseus shall stay at Camp Halfblood, where he can be protected. His fate shall be Annabeth Chase’s responsibility. She turned down godhood for him to have ‘a chance,’ after all.”
Annabeth.
Percy opened his mouth to protest, but the gods, minus Poseidon and Athena, had all voiced their agreement in their thunderous voices to drown out any words he was considering.
Not her.
Athena narrowed her eyes at him. “If you step out of line, I’d normally be sure to personally send you back to where you came, but your fate is unfortunately entwined with my daughter’s now, so I’d like to avoid such a measure, but I’ll agree to what’s necessary. Keep that in mind.”
The small of his back tingled.
Annabeth would destroy him.
And then he’d drag her down with him.