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The cliff under Percy's feet chipped and scratched with every minor movement of Percy's feet. The cliff gave off a seductive sheen crafted from artificial light that didn't exist, at least not this far down under.
If Percy reached far inside him further than he's ever dared to reach, scared of pushing past limits that never actually existed, to begin with, he could feel Styx and her river churning in Hades, further down he could feel the blistering heat of Phlegethon.
Both are powerful bodies of pain and torment. Both own a piece of Percy's soul, and, in turn, he owns a trickle of them.
"What are you doing here?"
Percy turns and welcomes sandy winds and moon lace petals. Calypso stands on the shore in a knee-length toga that molds her waist and is so loose around the top that he can see her dusky nipples and creamy breast with every passing breeze.
Percy slowly turns his back to her, expecting the sea to be at his heels but is only met with the darkness and toxic air.
Not being able to stomach the large vat of emptiness, Percy walks offshore until he's close enough to smell Calypso- taste Calypso and the mint leaves she would chew on as she worked elbow deep in her garden. Her palms are warm and feather-light on his arms, and chin, thumbs sliding over eyelids and ears, but Percy knows better now, far better than his scared, virgin 13-year-old self had known when he first washed ashore. He knew that despite her youthful appearance and wifely hands she was a Titan doomed to live forever forgotten and yearning, and Percy was childish for thinking that he could save her by demanding the Gods let her go.
"What are you doing here, Percy? Should you not be with Annabeth?"
Hearing Calypso speak of Annabeth's name with so much malice reminds him of the curse she had placed upon her two years ago, but it also brought forth memories of rusted metal being held together by trembling self-control and water-soak couches.
But Percy doesn't want to think about water bill damage, and scarfs that smell like a cheap copy of home, but he also doesn't want to think about failed romances and ones that could have worked if he had just stayed.
So he allows Calypso to rub soothing ovals on his cheekbones but falls back into non-existing waves when she needs to stand on the tips of her toes to reach his unresponsive lips for a kiss that he won't give.
Percy had been living with his dad for the past two weeks, who is all too eager about the thought of having his favorite son under his roof and domain and all too quick to remind Percy of his past warnings about Athena and her spawn.
"They're shells, son," Posideon had whispered the words into his grey strands. Whether he was hiding his presence from his uncle or cousin, he was not sure, allowing artificial net-scared hands to push his bangs back and over his ears in a plastic imitation of a caring father. "They are nothing more than copycat husks of their mother. Made to build, not to love."
A month ago, Percy would have defended the girl he dove into Tartarus for with his very life. But now? All he can do is sob.
Reyna shows up three weeks after Calypso and Percy cowards under her gaze, for she is power and raw strength, clever mind, and golden-tongued. But she's also friends with Annabeth, so he looks around searching for Princess curls and a California tan, but all he sees is eternal darkness and a Roman fountain guarded by Reyna's powerful dogs.
Reyna does not wait for Percy to make up his mind, she takes the initiative stealing what little control Percy could have possibly had over the situation, but even then Percy is still the most dangerous of the two.
He thinks about what he did to misery and her poison and knows that Reyna is nothing compared to her. Extravagant gold dimmed by rusted shadows.
Reyna was his beginning. Something new that nearly caused an end.
He did not love Reyna, but she loved him, and if given a chance, he could have loved her as well. He feels it in the whites of her teeth and the plump of her lips. With a strong jaw and stronger hands, Reyna doesn't speak, which is a good thing because he's afraid that if she did, whatever Circe-like magic that was placed on him would disappear into the gaping canyon.
I can't breathe. Percy thinks.
I don't care. The darkness whispers back
Percy crosses paths with his half-siblings and Stepmother often; after all, it is still their house. They don't treat him with the malice he had expected and prepared for; instead, they stare at him with pity. News travels fast above the surface but it travels even faster below it the only one that seems to not treat him any differently is Tyson, still too young to understand what's going on with his big brother, plus Tyson adores Annabeth and no one wants to break his heart by telling him about what she's done so for now, it becomes Atlanta's worst kept secret.
Posideon introduced the royal family to him in a much more formal light in November. Schedules are never quite aligned until now, and Percy has a feeling that it's more intentional than not. His 'sisters', Rhode, and Kymopoleia are rarely around, but the old sea God doesn't miss out on an opportunity to brag about his history-making daughters. When he speaks of Triton, who has yet to stop glaring at his, baring rows on rows of shark teeth. Their shared father sounds just as proud, which is enough to get Triton to stop burning holes through Percy's frontal lobe.
Percy doesn't point out how stupid it is for Triton to be labeled as heir when Gods don't die.
It's almost painful to listen to his father talk about his wife in such a loving tone of voice because it's the same way he talked about Sally.
And whenever he asks about both Sally and Paul, Percy tries his best to act as if he doesn't notice how he says Paul's name in a similar way.
When Percy falls asleep, he wakes up in a cave. The cave is beautiful. Walls were covered head to toe in various paints, markers, and Sharpe.
The air traveling in and out of the large entranceway is clean, Percy sees sunlight and birds flying across the horizon he does not know if he's in Tartarus or not but won't risk looking outside to see.
When Rachel wraps her arms around him, he all but melts in her arms with her carrying the smell of permanent marker and ginger.
He leans back into her embrace and wants to crawl into her skin. He feels the human blood flowing hot and steamy in her vain, dainty collarbones pressed to the small of his back; he imagines what it'd be like to cause one to burst. To paint a mural out of her blood, to sink his teeth past flesh and bone, to dig a hole in her, and seek shelter inside.
Mortals are fragile creatures, but humans are the most breakable.
But Rachel is sunlight and scrapped knees. She's his most childish love but also the realist and he wishes so terribly that he hadn't gone with Beckendorf that day instead he would have stayed by Rachel's side in the front seats of Paul's Camaro sharing shy kisses until the world eventually ended without his fighting presence.
So he allows this Rachel to pull him to her bed and doesn't fight when his shirt hits the ground and she slips out of her shorts. They lie in bed curled around each other, and Percy feels at ease as they trail lazy and ticklish lines over the stomach and legs, bottoms of feet, and the crook of necks. He allows her to paint the seven seas on his skin, and Percy feels like a normal teenager for the first time in over 7 years.
Happy, healthy, and in love.
When he wakes up, he's informed that a tsunami has hit California.
Nico is silent when he arrives and is just as quiet when he leaves. Even in his dreams, Nico never stops running from him.
Frank and Hazel are welcoming visitors. Percy loves them like a pair of younger siblings now and would die for them as such. Percy is forever grateful that it was Frank and Hazel at the gates that day; if it had been anyone else, he would have gone mad.
Frank is tall now, taller than Percy. He's grown handsome in a way that resembles his war-hungering father. Hazel just barely meets his eyes, hair spun in tights coils, face losing its childish roundness, and flattened out into a firm jaw and a heart-shaped featurs. Hazel was beautiful and together, they could rule a kingdom so Percy allows himself to be sandwiched in their arms and sinks deep into them.
When he wakes up, Percy will plan a trip back to Camp Jupiter, but for now, he just stands in between them as dark hands and calloused palms pull out moans from in-between pink lips.
Silena and Beckendorf are gorgeous. Hair clinging to sweaty backs, muscles flexing under layers of skin, and moans echoing in the bedroom. Percy knows he's in Elysium because there's nearly nowhere else for them to go. His heroes, his friends. Percy gets so distracted by the slope of Silena's breast and the power in Charles's legs that he doesn't notice Luke until he's sobbing into the pillows.
Beckendorf reaches around Silena who doesn't let up her quick-paced hops to grab Luke's choppy hair.
"Come on, Castellan don't tell us you're spent already." Luke doesn't say anything for a while to focus on the others' quick movements, when the question seems to finally process Luke sits up, resting his weight on his outstretched arms and hands.
Silena falls back into her boyfriend's chest where she sucks blood-red bruises into his skin.
"Please. I didn't have a literal Titan living in me only to get tired after a couple of rounds of sex," Percy watched in shock as Luke leaned in to kiss the dark-skinned man. "If anything, worry about Jackson. Poor boy looks like he's about to pass out."
Percy gasps when suddenly all the attention is on him. All three of them stare at Percy as if they've been waiting for him this entire time. Simply keeping the bed warm until he had arrived home.
Percy's out of his clothes and pressed against Silena's chest in an instant. Rain gently hits the glass frames and Percy sobs to its tune. He's missed these three the most, and his body practically begs to be touched by them. To be held, kissed, and fucked slow and deep. To feel small and 12 all over again, because even now they're so much bigger than him and so much more experienced.
He keens when a manicured hand is wrapped around his swollen head and pleads to the Gods above when Luke pulls him into a sloppy kiss that leaves him panting and gasping for air his body no longer needs.
His blood grows hot and the earth shakes.
Somewhere in Hades' castle, the pipes explode.