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Percy Jackson had spent the better part of his adolescence mostly concerned with staying alive. Preparing for the next battle, making it through the deadly quest of the week, and calling his mom were the only things he really gave much of his attention to. Moves, countermoves, parries, blocks, and strikes consumed all of the space in his mind that wasn’t already taken up by his mother and Annabeth of course- which left surprisingly little room for much else.

It could be reasoned that it possibly began far before anyone would suspect. After all, who was anyone to wonder if the most powerful demigod alive should have been able to pull off some of the feats he managed? Who would question if he had perhaps inherited a few too many of his father’s domains? He was destined to be the hero of two great prophecies; of course the Fates had acted accordingly. Nobody would have noticed if his bloody nose shimmered in the sun a little bit more than it should have as it watered the ancient lands. There was far too much going on at the moment for anyone to see or care if gold glinted in the deep crimson spot at the foot of the Parthenon. Or if in the depths of Tartarus, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end every time someone on the surface uttered something a little too close to a prayer. He was in a place designed to hold horrors beyond mortal comprehension; of course he would be on edge.

However, the story seems to be getting ahead of itself. Regardless of when it truly began- and for the above reasons it would be near impossible to tell the exact moment anyways- Percy first notices it after the dust of the giant war has settled and finally has a moment to focus on anything but getting through the gauntlet that was a warring Olympus (twice!)

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Percy spent the dwindling days of what remained of the summer at Camp Half-Blood, content in finally knowing that all those that he loved were both safe and within reach.

He was sparring with Clarisse on this particular afternoon, something they had done millions of times before. It was reassuring to them that despite everything that had happened, nothing about this had changed. In fact it was one of the only things that had remained the same after all these years. They whirled in circles around each other, sword against spear in a comfortable dance. Neither of them felt the need to hold back for the other. Jab, deflect, lunge, feint, and plenty of trash talk. A group of onlookers had gathered around them, cheering, placing bets, and occasionally biting their nails when they forgot that the pair, a blur of celestial bronze and orange camp shirts, were only good friends having a bit of fun.

It goes on like this for a while until, in a quick move, Clarisse pins Percy on the hard marble of the training arena. The small crowd that had amassed around them erupted in cheers and one could almost miss the clink of drachma changing hands. With the crackling spearpoint centimeters from his throat, one would think she actually might’ve done it this time if not for that lopsided grin and the fact that Clarisse moved the spear and lent him a hand not moments later. Both sweaty, bloodied, and out of breath, they helped each other dress the wounds they could and split a square of ambrosia for the ones they couldn’t. If the ambrosia felt more substantial than it used to, maybe even a little sweeter than it should, Percy didn’t notice.

What he did catch though, was the fact that as the cuts on his arms began to heal, it seemed his blood had a shimmery quality to it, as if there were gold flecks mixed in with the deep red, like oil in vinegar. He watched, fascinated, as the droplet traveled down his arm, little golden bubbles rolling along, but never mixing in.

“Prissy? Hello? You just so shocked by the fact that you lost for once or what?” Clarisse’s snapping broke Percy out of his stupor.

“Huh? Oh come on. If I remember correctly, we’re going pretty fifty-fifty this summer. Capture the flag on the other hand…” Percy replied. He stole another quick glance at his arm, but quickly shook his head. Must’ve just been a trick of the light, he reasoned.

“Oh shut up. You only ever win capture the flag because you get girlfriend privileges. Annabeth wears the pants and we all know it.”

“So you do have a brain in all that muscle! Finally got one right for once.”

“At least I have one. You can’t say the same.”

“At least I-” Percy was cut off by the conch signaling dinner. And then, “Same time tomorrow?”, his tone now easy and conversational.

“I’m doing lessons all day tomorrow but the day after for sure.” As if they had been discussing weekend plans instead of attacking each other with deadly weapons.

The small audience that had been circling them was mostly dispersed by now, each going to meet their respective counselors for dinner. Percy and Clarisse started toward the dining pavilion and, upon reaching it, split off for their own tables. Percy’s gaze wandered back to his arm a few times, but as it dried, the blood looked exactly the same as it had ever been. By the time he got out of the shower, he had completely forgotten about it.

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Percy found himself practicing at the climbing wall a few days later. He mastered the thing when he was like thirteen, so he’d had a go at trying it blindfolded for the past few summers (when there had been downtime between quests and war preparation, of course), with varying success. Today, he’d had a few pretty good runs, even making it to the top a couple of times, but found it frustrating at how inconsistent he was at it. 

After a few particularly miserable attempts, he took off the blindfold and threw a wink at Annabeth, who was sat at the base of it with a book. Having practiced on it with her cabin earlier in the week, she was content to just watch her boyfriend fall down many, many times.

Percy readied himself to tie the old t-shirt back around his head, looking up at the deadly wall and trying to figure out the trick Annabeth refuses to tell him. He wondered if it’s just memorization or routing or something else entirely and closed his eyes, exasperated by the whole thing. 

He threw a glare at the wall and thought about how he wished he could just know what it was going to do. A flash of awareness of the lava flowing throughout and over the edge of the sheer cliff pulled at his gut. He forced it away as quickly as it came, remembering the promise he made to his girlfriend, not twenty feet away. Maybe in another life, he would have gone the distance, fully pushing his power to the edge of his capabilities. He shuddered at the possibility that it didn’t exist. 

Quickly tying the blindfold over his eyes, he decided to try one more time before calling it for the day. He got ready to start up the rocky facade, trying his best not to sense the rushing of molten lava. He felt that not only did it break his promise, but was cheating in a way. If he was going to do this, it would be with the same resources everyone else had. 

He was determined to just be a regular camper for the rest of the summer. It’s all he’s ever wanted, really, but unfortunately the Fates just had to deal him a hero’s hand. To him, it just felt like a pair of deuces that were constantly trying to kill him and sending him on deadly quests. Where was he going with the card analogy again? 

He shook his head and began searching for hand and footholds on the wall. He made good progress, hearing the stream of lava before it could hit him and maneuvering accordingly. Dodging, grasping, and feeling for one foothold to another, he made it about two thirds of the way up in record time before jumping for a handhold that wasn’t there and tumbling down the side, landing on the ground below with a thud. 

Annabeth watched in amusement as he fell off yet again, “Sick of hitting your head yet, Seaweed Brain?” She called out. The smile on her face quickly faded, however, replacing itself with worry when he didn’t shoot some sarcastic remark back. “Percy?” Annabeth called again, concern starting to wear into her voice. All she could hear in response was a pained groan. Book abandoned without even the care to replace the bookmark, she ran toward the base of the lava wall. 

Percy lay on the ground with a leg stuck out at a funny angle, old t-shirt still over his eyes. Annabeth quickly removed the blindfold and Percy looked up at her, “Hey, Wise Girl. D- did it hurt? When- When you fell fr- from heaven?”, uncontrollably giggling as if he had just said the cleverest, funniest thing anyone could ever think of. 

“We’re going to see Will.” Annabeth declared. “Can you stand?” 

Percy groaned again in response, which she initially took for a no , and went to help him up. However, he slowly managed on his own, only limping a little bit all the way to the infirmary. 

Will Solace greeted them and immediately started looking over Percy’s injuries. “Damn, Percy. How many times did you fall off that thing?” he said, well aware of what he was trying to accomplish moments before (and partially waiting for when this happened).

“A couple…” was the sheepish response.

“That’s not an answer. More or less than ten?” 

To this, Annabeth held up the ratty tshirt Percy had been using as a blindfold. “He definitely fell off that thing more than ten times, but this time was from near the top, which is a little worse tha-”

“I was almost at the top!” Percy exclaimed. “Ugh. If I could just remember where all the handholds are. Annabeth, if you just tell me how to do it I won’t get hurt anymore!”

“Oh my gods I can’t believe you’re still on this, Percy, I figured it out when I was like twelve! It’s just muscle memory now.”

“You’re so full of shit! I know you remember because you remember literally everything. That’s your thing .” he paused for a second before realizing what he had said “Along with other stuff of course! Like being super smart and pretty and deadly like do you remember that time when-”

Will suddenly cut into the bickering, “Percy. Dude. You completely dislocated your hip and broke your femur.” He stared at the injury. “You- you walked here?”

“No, that can’t be right. It doesn’t even hurt that bad. Are you sure it’s not just, like, a hairline fracture or something?” Was his reply. 

Will raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know how you’re even still lucid right now.”

“Okay doc whatever you say. Can you just set it please? So I can have a little nectar?”

Will obliged and Percy let out a high-pitched yelp that couldn’t possibly have come from the feared hero of Olympus. Annabeth in turn snorted and covered her mouth with her hand.

Percy was given a metal water bottle full of the golden drink of the gods and took a long drink, which is typically enough for even a life-threatening injury to start stabilizing. Most demigods don’t dare to have any more than that at once, usually feeling the warm, cozy sensation begin to border on something a little too feverish for their liking. Percy took another big gulp, and then another. He would have kept going had Annabeth not snatched it out of his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to die right now? Oh my gods Percy what were you thinking? !” She exclaimed, her worry evident.

“Dying right after all the work I put into setting that? Not cool.” Will added, but even he eyed Percy nervously.

Annabeth gave him one of those glares.  

“What are you talking ab-” Percy looked at the bottle and could feel how near empty it was. “Oh. I… sorry? I, um, didn’t mean to? Like- are you sure it was even full to begin with? Because- because I think it was already like a quarter of the way from the bottom anyways. Obviously I know better than to…” he trails off, not even fully believing himself. 

Will was already fervently checking Percy’s temperature, looking at him like he’s about to explode or melt into a demigod puddle or something, which, to be fair, he probably should be doing right now. Percy should have been burning up from the inside, his organs melting and bones disintegrating from too much of the divine liquid. Truthfully, Percy felt stronger and more substantial than he had since he lost the Achilles curse. “No, seriously. I’m fine. Look! My leg is even healed perfectly! Thank you so much, Solace you’re the best! I’d really love to stick around but I think I have some, um, I need to go.” He struggled to think of an excuse, but hurried away all the same.

Chapter Text

The hot August sun beat down on the training arena and the unfortunate half-bloods who had swordsmanship class in the middle of the day. Percy had taken to teaching the beginners classes in his free time to stave off the boredom as well as to meet some of the new campers that had made their way there since he had gone on his… forced vacation. 

He was in the middle of explaining a disarming technique, decidedly not thinking about how this was the exact same one that Luke had taught during his first sword-fighting lesson. Had it really only been five years since then? He even led the lesson in the exact same format as his predecessor out of either some kind of unconscious form of nostalgia or just the fact that everyone else was used to doing it like this anyway. Percy liked to believe it was the latter. 

Percy also never really notices how the class hangs on to his every word like it’s the last they’ll ever hear. Or how they all look up at him with wide-eyed awe. He doesn’t catch any of them stealing glances or the whispered conversations, even when they make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

While he walked through a demo with a newly arrived camper, Luke echoed in his mind, “And now in real time” after the child had retrieved their weapon, “We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Sam?” 

Percy takes it easy on the kid because he remembers being on the other side of it and goes nice and slow, telegraphing his moves seconds before he makes them. Enough time has gone by to where it should be time to start wrapping the demo up and it’s clear enough to him that Sam is too timid to even attempt the move, knuckles white on their sword grip. He performed the maneuver slow enough for everyone to see, but the training sword clattered to the ground all the same. 

“Kind of like that,” Percy follows the demonstration, “And can we give some credit to Sam for being our volunteer today!” The class responds to this with a round of applause and some cheers. It still seems pretty obvious to Percy that the kid is a little embarrassed, but he decides not to push it and instead sends everyone back to practice the new technique with their partners. 

After he’s wrapped up the lesson and the kids begin to disperse, he goes up to Sam and asks for a minute, but not without first promising that he is not in trouble of course. “Hey man. I just wanted to see how you were settling in and everything. I’m sorry for singling you out today- I know how that can be a little stressful, especially on your first day.” Percy’s mind flashes back to Luke for a millisecond. “And I just wanted to let you know that if you ever wanted to get some one-on-one practice in just let me know. Not because I think that you really need extra lessons because you’re doing great, but if you even just wanted to talk about anything I’m usually pretty free.” 

Sam was a little shellshocked that Percy had even noticed his nervousness and embarrassment because he was used to hiding it very well, “Thank you, Percy. That really means a lot to me and I’ll for sure do that some time.” 

“Yeah, no problem, anytime. And I really do mean it too- don’t ever feel scared to ask for help,” Percy replied easily. He regarded him for a moment longer. A weird look passed across his face, his eyes unfocused as if looking at something past the kid in front of him, but it went away as quick as it came.“I think… that you should give archery a try. Not that that’s something I can really help you with since they banned me from the practice range. But I have a feeling that you’ll have a lot of fun.” 

“We have that tomorrow! But even if I don’t, you’ll still teach me sword-fighting right?” 

“Of course. I’ll always be here for you. But I think for now we should try to find the rest of your cabin so you don’t miss out on your next activity!” 

Percy took the time to walk Sam to the lake, where the Hermes cabin was getting ready for a canoe race. 

——

The next day, Travis Stoll asks Percy how he knew that Sam was a child of Apollo, having been claimed at archery that very morning. 

“What are you talking about?” he frowned, confused. 

“You told him that you thought he would like archery more?” Travis replied.

“Huh. Yeah I guess I did. Lucky guess?” 

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know.”

“I really don’t, Trav.”

“You have been right about all of the new campers’ godly parents since you've been back! You have to be swimming in drachma from all of the bets you’ve won lately.” 

“I don’t know,” Percy’s frown deepened, “Spend too much time with their asshole parents, I guess? I see the new campers a lot anyways with training and stuff so…”

“Percy. I literally live with all of them and I’m not even that good.” Him and Connor shared the best track record next to Percy’s for that exact reason. It was why they had even started the gambling part in the first place. 

“I used to really suck at it, remember?” he dodged the question, “Like two years ago I was so sure Tanya was one of Demeter’s that I put all of my drachma and a week of chores on it and she ended up in the Ares cabin. I just vote what I think. Sometimes I'm right and sometimes I'm not. Just like you and Connor and everyone else."

The conversation nagged at the back of Percy’s mind for the rest of the day. The more he thought about it, he realized how right Travis had been. All of the new campers he’d seen since Gaea, he’d had some sort of vibe about. He noticed a look in their eyes that really reminded them of a certain god. Or he would just think about how well they would fit in with the rest of a cabin. 

He chalked it all up to what he had told Travis before, but something kept him thinking about it. Sam wasn’t sunkissed or freckled. He’d only met the kid once before yesterday. And still, he had been right on the money.  Like he had been for every kid the past summer. He didn’t, however, think about the tug in his gut when he’d made his so-called stab in the dark about Sam’s parentage. It was probably the only part of the interaction he hadn’t turned over and over in his mind at trying to remember what exactly tipped him off. 

——

He made his way to the mess hall at dinner time. Alone at the Poseidon table, he turned his attention to the Hermes table. He looked at each undetermined kid, thankfully only a handful now that Percy had enforced the claiming rule, and made some guesses. Canan and Victoria would go to Aphrodite, probably tonight. Parker would go to Athena. A couple more were bound for Iris and Hypnos. How the fuck did he know all of that? Come to think of it, he didn’t even think he’d spoken to the Athena boy before and yet he could just tell. The fizz of his blue coke masked the tingling feeling in his chest as he took a sip. 

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He draws in a ragged breath, the poisonous air restricting his throat and clouding his mind. The eerie dim of Tartarus presses in on him. Percy looks down at the goddess, begging, pleading for mercy, and he savors the feeling of power coursing through him. This is how it’s supposed to be. This time, Annabeth isn’t here to snap him out of it, to anchor him back to his mortality. This time, Percy is alone with Misery. 

He smiles as he turns Akhlys’ domain back onto her and finds pleasure as she suffers at his hand. The goddess’s screams and cries fall onto deaf ears as her torturer laughs . Akhlys has been reduced to a whimpering, cowering mess surrounded by her own poison.

Percy stands tall and cold, cruel laughter that no longer sounds like his echoes through the cave. Kronos’s laugh is the one coming out of his mouth, every bit as evil and vindictive as he was. This, finally, is what breaks the demigod out of his trance. He looks down at the acrid pool of poison and sees himself reflected. Though instead of sea green looking back at him, bright gold meets his gaze with a twisted smile.

Percy jolts awake. 

His cabin is shaking. Percy staggers to his bathroom and heaves into the toilet. Wind howls outside, in time with his heavy breathing. He stands, unable to look in the mirror as he walks past. Rain pours down in sheets. He makes it out of his cabin before he realizes a storm has formed inside camp borders. 

This- this couldn’t possibly be him. He tries to breathe, to calm down, but his mind is spiraling. The last time he made a storm like this by himself… he had borne the Achilles Curse. Percy shakes his head. No. His dad must have just been having an equally bad night as he was. His feet take him to the beach, but his thoughts are a million miles away. The ocean and the stormy night sky blur together as he can feel the tropical storm building into a hurricane. He’s waist deep in the water now, his awareness sunk awfully deeply into a storm he swears he didn’t create. He’s caught up in the feeling of the rain and the winds and the waves. He’s too caught up, even, to notice a middle aged man in an obnoxious Hawaiian shirt and flip flops behind him in the sand.

Poseidon regards his son for a moment, as if just now seeing him for the first time. “Son.” he greets, a ghost of a smile could almost be detected on his face. “Walk with me?” 

Percy jumps at the sound of his father’s voice, then freezes, for some reason feeling caught doing something he shouldn’t. He turns to face Poseidon, “Having a rough night?” 

“I could ask you the same question.”

Percy slowly starts towards his father in the sand.  “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“I’m sure you know that this isn’t me, don’t you Percy?” 

Waves crash hard onto the surf. 

“Kym is having some fun then isn’t she?” Percy asked nervously. He still doesn’t quite get it. (In the back of his mind he did, but he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself.)

“I hear you’ve been a real help to the local sea life around here.” Poseidon changes the subject. He’s here to calm his son down and it was clear that taking that topic any further would just lead to more agitation. 

The wind begins to die down. 

“Yeah. Blackjack lets me know when there’s- I dunno- a seal stuck in plastic or something and I give them a hand. I’ve been doing it since forever though.” Percy replies, happy to talk about the times he’s actually helped with something instead of just living up to his name. “Like, do you remember when everyone was looking for the monster fated to destroy Olympus and I named her Bessie?” Gods that felt like lifetimes ago now. 

“I see. Your efforts are deeply appreciated by the community here, I hope you know.” Poseidon said. “Your pegasus- Blackjack, was it?- always tells you when there’s a creature in need?”

The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

“Well- uhm. Sometimes I just get this feeling?” Percy suddenly seems bashful. “What are you doing here anyways? And none of that cryptic bullshit I used to let you get away with either.”

“Is it too inconceivable that I might just want to check up on my favorite son?”

“Yes.” Is the immediate response. 

“I suppose I deserve that. Though that really is all I’m here for- at least tonight.”

As they walked, the storm had all but stopped, dark clouds now hung lazily overhead. 

Poseidon came to a stop and turned to his son. “Is there something you want to talk about, Perseus?”

A shiver runs down the demigod’s spine. “Percy,” he corrected, “And no, not really.” This always felt like a trick question. From teachers, from Gabe, and apparently now from his dad. The safest answer was always to play dumb until he found out how he’d fucked up this time.

“Percy.” Poseidon acknowledged the correction, “Nothing new or out of the ordinary going on? No new developments?” 

He thought about the past couple of weeks and all of the weird stuff that had been going on. He met his father’s gaze. “Nope.”

Poseidon seems to decide against pushing his son to talk and instead offers Percy a can of Coke, which he took. They sit down side by side, watching the sun come up over the ocean. Percy couldn’t help but feel like something about their relationship had shifted. He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the rhythmic sound of the waves. When he wakes, however, he is alone and the sun is bright above him. 

He makes his way back through camp and it appears he hadn’t been out for very long, seeing as breakfast was only just wrapping up. 

He overhears the chatter from the mess hall as he walks past, every table buzzing about the freak storm from last night. The campers wonder what it means that it had entered camp borders and what could have caused it. As an exhausted, traumatized collective, they could only assume it meant that yet another big bad ancient figure was rising to give them a hard time. The anxious energy is dry and hot on his tongue. They swap among tables and trade theories on who it could be this time. Even Chiron’s tail flicked in agitation. 

Percy doesn’t have the energy to tell them all that it was just his sister’s idea of a practical joke. He realizes that he hadn’t even gotten confirmation from his father that that’s who it had been. Surely if it was anything concerning he wouldn't have come out for a friendly chat with his son that he didn’t even talk to in the first place. 

Right? 

The clearing of cabins has come into view. Percy had planned on going back to his and washing up for the day, but instead, he changes course for the Athena cabin and knocks on the door. 

Chapter Text

Percy stands at Annabeth’s door. His dark circles are prominent and there’s sand stuck between the tangles of his hair. “Had a rough night, too?” She asks. 

“That bad, huh, Wise Girl?” He replies in mock offense. He seems to mentally tally the amount of time he actually slept. Annabeth knows because she does it too. “I got a couple of hours, I think.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Had the worst nightmare last night. Made me start thinking about some stuff.” 

She tugs Percy from the doorway to sit on her bunk in the now empty cabin. Malcolm had taken the lead with the kids today. “Anything you want to elaborate on?” 

Percy hesitates for a second, but then ultimately decides, “Not yet, I don’t think.” He looks out the window at the now drying grass and shrinking puddles. 

Annabeth follows his gaze, “Was it you?” 

Percy thinks, for a moment, about playing dumb, though he doesn’t know why. “The storm? No. It was my sister I guess.” 

“It really scared a lot of people. Maybe we should tell them that it wasn’t anything serious?” 

“Yeah. That would definitely ease some of the campers’ minds, especially after everything that they’ve-” He stops himself. “That we’ve been through.” 

“I agree.” 

Percy fidgets with the hem of his shirt. 

“Is there something else?” Annabeth prompts. It's obvious that there is, of course, but she doesn’t want to push or pry. 

They sit together in silence for a minute. Percy plays with a stray lock of Annabeth’s hair, deep in thought. She leans her head on his shoulder. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re too much for your body?” 

“What do you mean?”

“It just feels… too tight sometimes.” The tightness radiates from a spot on the small of his back. “Like, when you blow up a balloon a little more than you’re supposed to? And it has this weird tension everywhere- like with just one little pin it could all pop.” Percy tries his best to explain. “And- and there are times when I feel like everything just gets dialed up to eleven, you know? But- not in the battle reflexes way.” He struggles to think of something to compare the feeling to. “It almost feels like being in the Olympus throne room.” 

Annabeth thinks about field trips to the Olympian council, how the sheer power in the room weighs down the very air. The crackling ozone pressing in on all sides could make her nauseous if she wasn’t careful. She thinks about how sometimes being around Percy makes her ears pop, not unlike how they would at the bottom of a deep swimming pool. Or the aching pressure that sometimes pounds in her head after she’s been with him for however many hours. 

“I think I’m following,” she says. 

“I’ve never been afraid of what I could do. Half of the time I don’t even know what I’m doing and most of it I have help. But lately it’s all been so much and I have no idea what even should or shouldn’t be possible for me at this point, and I know that some things are best left alone and I’ll never break that promise.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I feel like I’ve just been waiting to hit a wall and sometimes I’m scared that there isn’t one.” It would almost be a relief to find something he wasn’t capable of. 

“Do you think you’re going to pop?” Annabeth asks quietly. 

“There’s something else,” Percy blurts. It almost feels like a confession, like if he didn’t get the guts up to say something now, he never would. He doesn’t answer the question. “It has nothing to do with my dad or his domains. I don’t know what’s going on with me.” 

Annabeth sits up straight and looks Percy in the eyes. They pierce straight through her, as if looking past her and directly into her soul. It would be unsettling if it were anyone else. 

He takes this as a sign to go on. “There are things that I just get some feeling about in my gut and I know they’re true.” 

“Like?”

“You know I haven’t lost a new camper bet since last summer?”

She was beginning to connect the dots, “You can sense their godly parent?”

“I guess. I’m not sure when it started, but there’s other stuff too.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay,” Percy says, “You're thinking of betraying our alliance with the Hephaestus cabin for the chariot race on Friday. You think the sketch for that new temple sucks even though it’s some of your best work yet. I know Parker is your sibling.”

Annabeth tenses. He had hit the mark. He hasn't even seen the temple she was working on because it wasn't perfect yet. 

“I know that your heart is pumping at one hundred and eighteen beats a minute right now.” Percy continues, breathless, “And that you’re feeling confused, and tired, and worried, and-” his breath hitches, “that you dreamt about the Pit last night, too.” he finishes, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. 

She’s staring at him now, wide eyes full of a thousand different emotions, “How?”

“Like I said, I don’t know.” His voice cracks. “And there's been so much weird shit going on, but not the normal type of weird, which honestly I never thought I’d say I actually prefer…” 

“So weird weird stuff happens to us all the time,” Annabeth shrugs. She leans back against his side and squeezes his hand in hers, “We’ll figure this out somehow. Just like we always do. Okay?” 

Percy nods, eyes blurry and face hot. 

“How long has this been happening?” 

“That’s the problem. I think it all crept up on me so slowly that I didn’t even realize and I never really had the time to think about it before either.” 

“That’s okay.” Annabeth repeats herself, “We’ll figure this out.” 

They let a moment pass, each minute in each others’ company still feeling like it was trying to make up for all the months they had been apart.

“I talked to my dad last night.” Percy says, as if suddenly just remembering a mildly interesting bug he saw. 

Annabeth yawns then asks, “Was he any help?” She plays with a loose thread on Percy’s pajama pants.

“What do you think?” Percy snorts. “He wanted to know about all the seals and turtles I help and stuff. Said I was his favorite son.’

“Do you believe him?”

“Fuck no.” He would never admit it out loud, but it had been kind of nice to hear. 

The conversation drifts to mindless gossip and easy small talk, both of them trying to process all the new information they had been confronted with. 

Eventually the rest of the Athena cabin comes back and the noise and business and bustle return with them. Percy excuses himself not long after, needing a hot shower and a change of clothes.

Chapter Text

Percy’s excellent intuition continues to prove correct in the following weeks. He always seems to pick up on when a camper needs some extra help or advice, both in training and outside of it. To others, it nearly seems uncanny how perceptive Percy can be. To him, everything just seems so obvious. 

He’s just sat down for dinner in the mess hall when he tastes it. His attention snaps to the brazier at the head of the pavilion where a child from the Aphrodite cabin is muttering a prayer. The hairs on the back of his neck stand straight on end. Green eyes lock onto ones closed in worship. The feeling subsides when the young girl turns back to her siblings at their table across the mess hall. It’s easy enough to pretend the smoky brisket that lingers in his throat is just the aftertaste from his own meal. 

Almost every night Percy finds himself called to the ocean. Their desperate pleas breach the water’s surface and float in through his open window. A nymph or a turtle or a hippocampus or an eel. He doesn’t sleep much anymore but he finds that he doesn’t really mind. At least it means he doesn’t have to deal with the nightmares. Annabeth and Percy win the chariot race that week, even without betraying their alliance with Leo. It had even been a good plan- as Annabeth’s always are- but just the idea of doing it set Percy’s teeth on edge. 

On the nights he does lay in bed, staring at the ceiling until Hypnos takes pity on him, his dreams are strange. Whispers catch on the edge of his consciousness and he could swear that it's coming from the other cabins. Most of the time, the only remnant of these dreams after he wakes in the morning is a weird feeling in his chest. In the mornings, he tastes pancakes before he’s made it to the dining hall and a headache has been growing behind his temples. He can’t quite get his back to crack in the right spot. 

On more than one occasion, he swears he hears someone calling out to him only to turn and find nobody there. Little kids look up to him in awe and it feels good to help them. He’s not hungry at lunch time, but the sickly sweet taste of fruit waters his throat nonetheless. His body is sore all the time now, his muscles always aching like he’d been deadlifting the weight of the sky the day before.

“I think I’m going crazy.” Percy blurts out. It’s the last night of the summer session and he and Grover are up late, stargazing on the Poseidon cabin roof. It’s a perfect night for it, really. They’re far enough away from the city that the sky is clear of any light pollution and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. The weather is always nice when they’re together. Breathing has always been easier around Grover, so it makes sense that his very presence would clear the pollution from the air and make the stars twinkle just a little bit brighter. 

He had been tracing the outline of the Huntress over and over again for the past hour, committing it to memory. He would tattoo it on the back of his eyelids if he could. Her and the names of all the others he could never forget. It feels good to remember again. 

Grover is quiet for a while, expecting some sort of elaboration. When he looks over to find Percy once again lost in thought, he quips, “I think you’re the last one to know,” and it elicits a chuckle out of both.

Silence stretches on after that, Percy afraid to voice his problems because that makes them real . “I mean this stuff- even for me it’s…” He tries to start, stops, then sighs, “I don’t know why I can’t just be normal.”

Of course people have noticed the changes in his behavior lately, but most just attribute it to the shellshock and trauma. It certainly looks that way, with how he’s always looking over his shoulder or having trouble staying exactly in the moment. Nobody has seen him at mealtimes in days. It’s a miracle he doesn’t have any roommates to call him out on just how erratic his sleep schedule has become. 

Grover finally responds, having picked his words very carefully, “I mean, nothing about what has happened in the past year has been remotely close to normal–even for our world. When natural disasters happen, sometimes the earth needs to heal it in a kind of unexpected way, you know?” 

Percy finally breaks his staring contest with the sky, which was almost certain to never blink back. His eyes search the face of his best friend for the underlying meaning in his words. “But what if I’m the disaster?” His voice cracks. Have Grover’s pupils always been that rectangular?  

“Some disasters are necessary for ecological growth. They disrupt the peace, yeah. But ultimately the earth and environment prosper from all of the movement, all of the change that they cause.” 

Percy exhales slowly, as if the answer Grover gave decided whether he would ever breathe again. Looking at him now, it’s not hard to imagine him as the Lord of the Wild. His hair has gone wilder in the past year and his horns have grown, too. The stars dance reflected in his pupils. Percy looks back up at the sky. He rolls his eyes at Hercules. 

“Any peace you disrupt is going to be worth the damage.” A little bit of the tension releases in his body, barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention. Grover studies his friend. Percy, who always got into more trouble than it was worth if it meant helping someone else, who shouldered so much burden so that nobody else would have to. He can smell the reverence on him all the time now, smoky and warm and sweet. He had hoped that he would last until he had the chance to choose to turn away, to let it all fade away. It’s apparent now that he won’t make it to New Rome in the fall. 

Percy can feel Grover’s gaze on him, pity for the future they both were afraid to voice was gone plain as day. Maybe it had been a mirage all along. Melancholy seeps through their connection and they both go quiet. 

“I think,” Grover breaks the silence, voice thick with more sincerity than Percy thinks he’s ever heard from him, “that you need to talk to Mr. D.”

Chapter Text

Percy and Grover stay up late. The stars lazily spin overhead as the two have to stifle their laughter when the harpy patrols come a little too close, reminiscing on dumb stuff they’ve done over the years. 

Sometime between late night and early morning, they move inside and Grover sits on a bunk, regaling Percy with all the latest woodland politics and gossip while he packs for the year and cleans for inspection. 

The sky over the ocean is just turning pink when they finish, almost like the sun was waiting to rise for an audience. 

“Ughh oh my gods don’t make me go,” Percy says around his toothbrush.

Grover doesn’t look away from picking through the recycling bin. “C’mon. It's morning now. He's gonna help you. Probably.”

Percy spits out his toothpaste. “But he hasn’t had his morning liter of diet yet! He’s gonna be insufferable. Let’s just wait a few hours.” 

“He’s gonna be busy with move-out in a couple hours. You know that,” Grover finally looks over, having settled on his own diet coke can. It feels like lately all he’s been seeing are reminders that Percy is something more than the rest of them, but as he watches him gargle water and rinse out the sink, it just feels so human that for a second, he can imagine that they’re just mor-

“Stop that. Whatever you’re thinking about—not really helping,” Percy interjects. “Is he even up yet anyways? I don't want to wake him.”

“Since when do you respect his sleep?” Grover questions, then adds, “And why’re you shaving, bro you look fine?”

“I don’t want to die ?" Percy knows firsthand that waking Mr. D up for any reason is never an enjoyable experience. “And can you just let me do my shit please?”

Grover lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes, “You just don’t want to hear what he's gonna say! You’re stalling .” 

“No. I would never stall.” Percy pauses to wash his face. “I don’t want to go because he’s annoying, and he wears socks with sandals, and pinochle is fucking boring.” 

Grover raises an eyebrow and takes a bite of his can. 

“Obviously.” is all the demigod can say to appeal the silent accusation. He goes to reach for the hair gel that hasn’t been used in so long it has gathered dust on the lid before Grover gently takes his hand and lowers it. 

“Okay. You gotta lock in man. He’s not actually that bad. You know that.”

Percy deflates. “I know. I just--” he takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair, leaving it to rest atop his head, “ fuck, ” he exhales, “--dont want to.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Grover looks just as miserable. He tosses Percy his shoes, which are reluctantly slipped on and tied. A hand rests on the doorknob. Another deep breath. “He’ll help you,” he repeats and they’re out the door. Grover wishes his friend luck and heads towards the woods, where he’ll be meeting up with Juniper soon.