Chapter Text
The beginning of this story starts pristine. A new slate began. An undefiled reality yet to spoil blood.
At seventeen years old, Percy Jackson had never felt so alone. Despite hardly being lonely, he was undeniably alone. As Percy sat gazing at the pink sunrise of the morning, he felt really quite pristine.
Accompanying him at the base of the Athena Parthenos, a baby stroller and two sleeping children who had no clue of the world ahead of them. As his everything sat sleeping beside him, he survived. That was his thing, Percy Jackson the survivor. He was the debris left after the war; the residue of a legacy once celebrated. He was the survivor who didn’t want to survive yet did so in spite of the suffering in his heart.
The sun had well and truly risen by the time Percy was wheeling the stroller towards the big house for his final goodbyes… or so he hoped.
Chiron greeted him on the porch, having to stay in wheel-chair form due to an injury inflicted by a pack of hell hounds during the conflicts, yet seemed content, perhaps even jolly with his situation. “Percy, my dear boy” He greeted cheerfully, “Oh and young Aurelia and Jack,” Those were the children. “What can I help you with today.”
Percy smiled half-heartedly at Chiron, “Nothing today Chiron.” Taking a deep breath, “I just came to say goodbye.” the half-horse nodded as if he had expected this. “I’m going to see my mum, introduce the kids to their grandma…hopefully stay there a while.”
“Of course, Percy.” He smiled at the boy warmly, “Please remember that you always have a place at camp if you ever need anything.”
Percy knew this of course but he accepted the kind gesture with gratitude, “Thank you Chiron… I’ll see you around I guess.” The centaur smiled knowingly at him as he walked away, rolling the pram along with him.
The camp seemed spotless of blood and death, yet scent of phantom gore captured his nostrils, and Percy was trapped within memory’s.
Pain.
He felt pain.
She felt pain.
A cry awoke him from the dream-like state. Shit. He hadn’t fed the kids yet.
---
“Voldemort has a child.” The news shook the room like an earthquake.
Squarks of protests aroused from the crowd of order members that Dumbledore had compiled. “What!”
“No.” a voice murmured bellow the complaints. No one heard Harry as he spiralled, “I can’t do it all again.”
“We need to find them!” A voice spoke above the rowdy crowd.
“I know that Sirius, this is what brings us all here.” Dumbledore sighed, exasperated “Percy Jackson is the boy’s name, he is seventeen and lives in Manhattan.”
“Why are we only hearing about him now” Remus’ voice spoke steadily.
Dumbledore had been expecting a question such as this, “Because I only found out about him now.” The old man was incredibly used to the bitter taste on his tongue, that he wasn’t fazed in to slighted when lying. “Accompanied by a few of you, tomorrow I am going to find him.”
“And what?” Harry spoke up, “What are you going to do to him?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Dumbledore smiled.
--
He was too late.
Percy was always too late.
Two twins will not only never meet their mother again, but their grandmother will never hold them in her arms.
Percy mourned. A lonely boy in an infinite graveyard of family. His only company the children he would likely doom as well. The young boy wailed into the void. Crying for a mother who would never comfort him again, crying to a god that would never help. Sobbing for his children that would never know their family.
And Gods, he felt weak. Powerless to the mercy of the fates. Why would they not show him the kindness of Thanatos.
He heard the shaking of grass behind him. Sitting like a medusa-made statue, not making a single movement. He would allow this monster to enjoy the prize and glory of killing him. Not wanting to live another day in this world without them.
A cry spewed from the pram and then another, waking Percy from the thoughts. He could not leave them. A newfound strength entered his bones and he stood reflectively preparing for battle. Putting himself between the children and the noise.
An old man with a wispy beard was all that was there. A monster perhaps?
It wasn’t until later that he would know that he wasn’t entirely wrong with that thought.
“Hello.” The man spoke calmly but Percy could sense that his blood was pumping rapidly, “Are you Perseus Jackson?”
Definitely a monster, the boy thought before questioning the decrepit man, “Depends, what do you want from me?”
“My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster at Hogwarts.” Percy assumed that the monster was sprouting nonsense, “I am here about your grandfather.”
His grandfather? Kronos? He was sent by Kronos…. No. Percy couldn’t do his again. “Fuck you.” Percy growled, uncapping his pen, and lunging forward.
The monster darted back raising a stick and a red light surrounded Percy, bones feeling weaker he continued forward. He would make sure that this creature would not hurt his children. He was hit with a crimson light again legs beginning to collapse beneath him.
If Percy had the foresight, he might have remembered that there wasn’t any Greek myth involving about a stick wielding old man. But Percy had always never seen completely in focus without Annabeth.
Another ray of light hit him, and he was on the floor clawing forward. He could not doom his children the way he had doomed them. Bam. The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced closed was a streak of crimson light.
The pristine slate of my new beginning was tainted.