Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy jolted upright in an unfamiliar bed, and in an unfamiliar room. The walls were solid gold, the roof made of a blindingly white marble with a gold inlay of a sun in the center, incredibly bright despite no visible sources of light. The sheets were white silk, the bed more comfortable than any he’d previously felt, and he was tempted to go back to sleep, despite feeling more well-rested than he ever has before. A staff with a single green snake curled up around its handle propped up in the corner next to the door on the opposite side of the room, a desk shoved up against the wall covered in papers and empty prescription bottles, cabinets above it full of little pull-out trays. The snake seemed to be sleeping, and Percy was curious how comfortable that could really be, having multiple, separate parts of your body pressed up against a wall like that.

Trying to think about why he’d be in Apollo’s palace - a place he recognized from a previous trip here after the fight with Kronos, where the god had taken some of the more beat-up demigods to care for them, and Percy came with because he wanted to check up on Thalia, Percy climbed out of the bed, the door slamming open the moment he stood up.

A clean-shaven man with short salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a stereotypical white lab coat over a business suit of all things, with a stethoscope around his neck stood in the doorway, one hand on the center of the door, glaring at him. “No! No. You get back in that bed.” Closing the door behind him, he grabbed the staff and the snake whirred to life, a crown of spikes fanning out from just below its head. “God you may be, you’re still new to it, and it’s been millennia since anyone Ascended. There’s all sorts of checkups I need to do before you can go anywhere, got it?”

Percy was even more confused. He’d never seen this man before in his life, and he felt some sort of… connection, to him, like a string linking them he could tug if he wanted, but he followed the instructions, almost habitually, and put the weird feeling he had to the side, since he was probably a doctor of some sort based on where he was and what he was wearing. 

The doctor nodded, taking off the stethoscope and reaching out with the butt of his staff, pressing it against Percy’s chest. He felt a warmth flow through him, and the doctor nodded again, apparently satisfied. “Good. Everything seems to have gone fine, despite your longer than normal rest. Now, what is the last thing you remember?”

It… took Percy longer than he’d care to admit to remember.

Or to speak.

“The… The giants.” Images whirred through his head - the Acropolis, the army, the blood, being bitch-smacked from Athens to Long Island by Zeus.

“The Romans.” More - Camp Half-Blood, his home, his family, surrounded by an enemy army of monsters and demigods alike, run by a madman claiming himself Pontifex. 

“Gaia.” A towering figure a hundred feet tall made of dirt and stone, the living embodiment of the ground they walk on and the planet they were born from. Eyes the embodiment of the cruelty of nature itself, the hatred of the very Earth aimed at them. A crushing force, bones shattering almost as fast as they could heal, hearing each tick on the hands of the clock of Time as he felt his lungs fill with mud and he couldn’t breathe he was drowning-

Something pressed against his chest and he calmed, forced out of his memories. The doctor looked concerned, but didn’t ask him anything, which he was thankful for.

Percy takes a few deep breaths, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. “I… The fight with Gaia. Routing the Romans. Dad…” He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry looking down at his scarless - where did they go - hands. “Dad lending me his Trident.” He remembered that very well. The conversation he had with Poseidon was… short, and one of the most interesting ones he’s ever had in his life.

Percy knew what would happen if he took that Trident. He’d be the one responsible for killing Gaia and saving the rest of the Seven. He’d be the only one that reliably could - Leo and Jason’s plan could work, sure, but this would.

He wouldn’t be mortal anymore.

The Trident itself didn’t make him immortal, he didn’t think at least, Poseidon wasn’t very clear - but it, combined with everything that followed… did. The storm he unleashed, the earthquakes that raged - if Percy remembered right, he expanded the lake by camp by a good margin when he was trying to throw Gaia off balance, throwing her into the sky with a storm and using the Trident to impale her like - like a fish. That’s kinda funny now that Percy thinks about it - the oddly thick ichor of the primordial splashing onto him.

The doctor nodded at him, stepping away to sit at the desk, attaching some papers to a clipboard, grabbing a pen, and starting to fill in some sort of info he got from that. “Now, just a heads up, Lord Zeus wishes to speak with you as you’re awake, to get you sorted, give you some information, and set you up with a trainer. Before I send you on your way, are you feeling any symptoms of nausea, heartache, increased anxiety, burning blood, eye strain or discoloration, detached vertebrae…” He continued listing different things. Percy felt… fine, at least physically, and told him no. The doctor made a few more scribbles on his pad, setting it down on the desk, and stood up and held open the door. “Great! Zeus is waiting for you in the throne room. Now, leave.” His voice took on a slightly hostile tone, so Percy complied quickly, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Percy walked through the temple-hospital in a bit of a daze, coming across a mirror and taking a moment to observe himself, surprised at both how similar and how so very different he looked. Sea green eyes filled with storms, dark skin free of acne - and scars. One he knew he had under his right eye from Tartarus, falling down a hill and ripping the skin open on the glass land, was absent. Dark hair was as wild as ever, the gray streak from his time holding the Sky more prominent than he remembered it being, currently clothed in a fixed version of what he was wearing during the fight with Gaia - dark jeans, a Camp Half-Blood T-Shirt, his camp necklace… He continued through the hospital. Stepping out onto Olympus and turning, the layout of the floating city memorized from the days of the Battle of Manhattan, and its beauty lost on him today, looking as if the Titan War had never happened - as if hundreds of demigods, of children, hadn’t died at the base of it, voices - voices calling out for Gods who could not - would not - answer, Percy doing his damnedest to answer in their stead, Riptide tainted with the blood of traitors who turned their back on their families, looking worthy of the position as a son of the Father of Monsters - he idles his way through the city, nodding towards some of the people that notice him, making his way through the winding streets of the mountain top, eventually finding himself standing in front of the great doorway to the throne room of Olympus, someone familiar standing in front of them and blocking his way in.

Standing across from the newest god on Olympus, was the oldest Olympian god. Hestia stood there in her childlike form, barely coming up to Percy’s thigh. She looked excited, if nervous, which made the ex-demigod more than a bit concerned.

“Perseus,” Hestia started, which was already not a good sign. “It’s… good to see you awake.” 

Percy nodded at her. “Hestia. How did you know I was awake?”

“My Domain. As well as your Blessing.” Percy nodded. He figured, but, who else may know about him if she did? He… really didn’t want to deal with people yet. He wasn’t quite ready for that, and was more than happy to follow Hestia when she motioned for him to move off to the side of the doorway, a small (for Olympus) gazebo a bit down the hill and off to the side. 

Hestia takes a seat, short enough for her feet to not touch the ground, legs swaying back and forth slightly as her hands rest in her lap, Percy taking a seat across from her, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hands clenched together out in front of him. 

Hestia speaks first. “So. Before you meet with the King, do you have any questions you’d maybe like discussed in a… gentler environment?”

Percy sighs, a hand running through his hair. “The doctor. Who was he and what was his whole deal? He seemed pretty peeved at me, and I can’t think of anything I’ve done to piss him off, at least not directly. I’ve never met him, so… yeah.” 

The Hearth goddess nods, taking a moment before answering the question. “That was Asclepius, one of Apollo’s sons. You may have heard of his myth. He was a mortal who Zeus killed upon the request of Hades because he figured out how to undo Death itself, and Apollo was upset enough Zeus made him immortal. Technically speaking, he’s a star, but he’s Divine enough to manifest in more Divine-inclined places, such as Olympus, through Apollo. He’s here, and upset at you, because his punishment for aiding The Seven and crafting the Cure for them, even if it has gone unused, was making sure your Ascension went properly. However, that was of no concern, and he’s effectively spent the past year forcefully bound to the hospital you were in, watching a god do nothing.”

Percy took in that information for a minute, before nodding. “Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed too if I had to make sure a corpse didn’t die.”

Hestia smiled at him, and a feeling of warmth spread throughout Percy and he found himself relaxing a bit more. He wasn’t sure if it was her using fancy god-powers or just her being her, but he welcomed it either way. “Honestly, the only other thing I’m concerned about is my friends. Is… is everyone okay?”

Hestia reached across to him, softly patting him on the head and ruffling his hair, and Percy smiled a bit. “Thalia and Nico have recovered well. They’re not great, but, after what you all went through, I don’t think anyone would be. Dionysus has been helping them recover, and they can sleep well now, at least. They have regular sessions still, and you may want to try to take him up on that as well. I know you two don’t get along, but he doesn’t like seeing anyone be in that state. Reyna stepped down from Praetorship and joined the Hunt, after a long series of events involving Apollo’s punishment after the Giant War, which Zeus will likely tell you about, or you can ask him yourself if you get the chance.” She moves over to sit next to him, legs kicking a bit as she takes some time to continue her response. “Piper has removed herself from the Divine world as much as a demigod really can, trying to focus on repairing her relationship with her father. Frank and Hazel have instigated a lot of reforms in the Legion, trying to remove children from the front lines. Leo has been leading the construction of a currently unnamed Greek version of New Rome - they’re considering the name New Athens, but there’s a lot of debate about the focus on Athena, as opposed to all the gods, or even the demigods themselves. He’s also working on setting up a protected safe haven for demigods in Texas, and a series of smaller ones across the country for homeless demigods on the run, and to make it easier for people to travel from camp to camp. And Jason…” She reached a hand out, resting it on his arm and he felt another pulse of warmth - this one more intense, and he felt… subdued? “Jason Grace died.”

Percy felt like he should be mad. Sad. Depressed. Something. Instead, there was… contentment. As if he had already had his time to grieve, to come to terms with it, despite only hearing about it two seconds ago.

And then he felt betrayed. Hestia had forcefully skipped the mourning process for his friend. Realistically, he knew why. He had something important to do, and one bad day for a god is far, far different from one bad day for a demigod. A bad day for a demigod meant some bruises and cuts in training, some overturned dirt, vined-up houses, broken bones, storms… But a bad day for a god meant cities would vanish. Likely even for a new one like him.

The far more emotional side of him - the side that Percy thought made up the vast majority of what made Percy, Percy, felt betrayed. That she would dare deny him the grieving process was a massive breach of trust and faith and the love they had for each other - in a familial sense, of course, as well as between Patron and Champion - and Percy wasn’t sure he could get over that. But he also… He couldn’t find himself able to dig up the rage, the hatred, the anger he should feel about something like this. Maybe that was Hestia’s lingering magic, or maybe it was because he understood why it happened, why it needed to happen.

So, instead, he sat there, and stewed in the turmoil he was allowed. 

Hestia didn’t say anything. If she knew about his thoughts, she didn’t show it. And when Percy stood up and left, walking back towards the doors of the Olympian throne room, she didn’t follow.

Pushing open the doors to the throne room, Percy noticed two figures immediately, and was a bit let down. He then noticed three others, and an already somber and tense situation became incredibly serious and concerning in an instant. Directly in front of him sat Zeus, as expected. He didn’t seem to notice Percy yet, instead looking down at some papers with some black square-frame glasses, which was confusing because Percy didn’t think that gods would need glasses, and he also didn’t notice the reflective glint of any lenses. Every time he met Zeus, the comment his father made the first time Percy met him of Zeus more than deserving the domain of Theatrics made more and more sense. Percy also noticed a few of the odd connections he felt to Hestia and Asclepius, but pushed that to the side of his mind for now. The other person in the room was a bit surprising - sitting in one of the thrones was Apollo, and he was… far less teenage-supermodel-y than Percy remembered him being. He was still golden-skinned, had blonde hair and blue eyes, and frankly still hot, but he looked more… realistic, he supposed. 

And behind Zeus’ throne stood the wizened figures of three old hags.

The Moirai. The Fates.

Apollo, contrary to Zeus, did notice Percy enter, and grinned at him, either oblivious to or ignoring Percy’s internal crisis at seeing The Fates. “Hey, lil’ cuz! Welcome to the immortal side of the family.”

Percy didn’t have time to reply, as Zeus’ head shot up, lightning flickering across his storm-gray beard as he set down the papers and folded up the glasses, slipping them into his breast pocket. “Perseus! Glad to see you awake, nephew.” As the King of the Gods spoke, the throne room seemed to warp, and instead of having to look up at the two Olympians, he was now roughly eye-level, accounting for them being seated. He wasn’t sure if he grew, or the throne room shrank, but neither god seemed it worthwhile to mention. Zeus continued speaking. “Your father wanted to be here for you, but I assured him he had nothing to worry about, as this will mostly be a boring discussion with a lot of paperwork. Apollo is here by virtue of being a trained psychiatrist, as well as the person most familiar with your position, in his own way, that I believe you would get along with. I know you don’t have the best relationship with Dionysus, and Apollo has been a mortal before, so I believed he would be the best for this position.”

The confusion kept stacking for Percy - Zeus was rather different than he remembered, and was treating him… nicely? Percy was expecting to get thrown back into Tartarus, really, for daring to ascend to godhood without his explicit permission, but Zeus seemed… welcoming? And- “What about Heracles?” Percy blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Zeus went to speak, but Apollo interjected. “We’re pretty sure he’d try to kill you.” At Percy’s confused expression, Apollo elaborated, both pointedly ignoring Zeus’ look towards his son. “Think about it this way. He’s been riding the fame high of his Labors for, what, three millennia now? And you come along and do most of them by accident by the time you were fifteen? Three years into being a demigod? And then you one-up him by doing three things he never did, beating Kronos, traversing Tartarus, killing Gaia - though, he had a hand in that, since he was there for the first Gigantomachy, but you still did more than he did with that. And then you steal his other bit by ascending? Hilarious! Hell, when I heard you all met him on your quest to Rome, I was surprised he didn’t sink your ship immediately!” Zeus cleared his throat loudly, the sound like thunder, and Apollo stopped talking, a sheepish expression shot towards his father. “As I was saying, Apollo is the best suited for being here at this moment, and as such, he is here. But, I should extend a formal welcome to the newest god, and as King it is my duty to help you get adjusted. Do you have any questions?”

Percy thought back to something that Asclepius mentioned in passing. “How long was I out for?” Zeus flipped through some papers. “One year, two months, seventeen days, and four hours, give or take two and a half hours. A rather long time for an Ascension, oddly. Dionysus was only out for a few months, and Heracles didn’t take any time at all.”

Percy blanched - a year? What had changed in that time? Were his friends still around, did they know what happened? Did they miss him? Were they worried, did they think he’d forgotten about them? Oh gods, his mom-

“Worry not, we kept the camps informed, and Poseidon visited your mother to let her know. She was apparently ecstatic to learn of your position, actually. No mother wishes to bury her children, as you may know.”

Oh. That… cleared that up, he supposed. “Uh…” His brain was briefly de-railed. “What exactly am I the god of? And… what all does my new position, I guess, entail?”

Zeus flipped through some more pages, taking his glasses back out of his pocket and putting them back on - Apollo scoffed softly, and Percy was certain now there weren’t any lenses in them. “Your only current domain is Oaths. What that means specifically is that it is your duty to enforce, regulate, and bind deals and agreements between individuals or groups. A rather easy job that’s mostly auto-pilot, though you may wish to make a binding oath people can swear other than the Styx. She’s been complaining about that for millenia, says the broken ones pollute her river even more than it already is, whatever that means. And it does , admittedly, come with some duties related to enforcing some of the Ancient Laws, but we’ll get to that here in a minute when I outline some misbeliefs you may have about those.”

Percy remembered the river from his trips to the Underworld and his time in Tartarus. Even down there, little bits and bobs of discarded dreams and broken oaths found their way down the river.

“Well… I can work on that, sure. But, what all have I missed in the past… year?” The word hurt to say.

Zeus flipped through some more pages. “Well, after your Ascension truly began and you were brought to Apollo’s clinic, the demigods of the Seven and some of the other big players of the war came here for a reward ceremony, as you may remember happened after the second Titan war. They were granted wishes in the form of requests that we have done our best to honor. Unfortunately, there were…” Zeus’ eyes look towards Apollo, before turning his attention back to the paper. “Complications that caused a notable delay, so it took a few months to occur, and not everyone has made them yet, but it happened.”

“Jason wished for Camp Half-Blood to be granted the room necessary for and aid in constructing a Greek version of New Rome, to hopefully help your kin survive to adulthood. Leo Valdez requested help creating a system to traverse between camps and other demigod hot-spots and safe havens, such as the Waystation, the Amazons, or…” He turned towards Apollo. “What are they calling that new one they’re working on in Texas? Have they picked a name for themselves yet?” Apollo answered immediately, which Percy found surprising. “They’re still trying to decide between Valdez’s Garage and The Jive Station.” 

Zeus nodded, as if that made perfect sense. It didn’t, but, sure.

“Yes, that. Next on the list, Frank Zhang used his wish to disconnect his life from that little stick of his - he desired to live his life not having to worry about his friend accidentally burning the rest of it. Hazel Levesque and Thalia haven’t used theirs yet, nor has Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. Piper McLean used hers to…” Zeus paused, before looking up from the paper and at Percy. “Ah. Right. Piper used hers to… request aid in Jason’s unfulfilled promise to the minor gods, to get them recognition and proper temples in New Rome. After Jason…” Percy interjected at Zeus’ hesitation, evidently unsure of how to break the news he already knew. His voice was quiet and hoarse. “After Jason died. I know. Hestia told me.”

Zeus nodded, awkwardly clearing his throat, the sound a lot quieter this time. “Well, yes. That. So!” The King of the Gods was evidently eager to change topics. “The second part of your responsibilities as the God of Oaths. Something you may not know, I’m not quite sure how much they teach you at that Camp, but not all of the Ancient Laws were created by Olympus.”

That was, in fact, news to Percy. He thought that the Laws were some bullshit excuse for them to not have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Zeus continued. “Many of them, such as the one about not stealing Symbols of Power - something we need to get sorted for you, after this, actually - or crossing domains or interfering with quests, were outlined by… either the Fates, or Chaos themselves. We aren’t quite sure.”

Even upon them being mentioned, The Fates didn’t respond, or even move.

Percy did speak up at that. “How do you not know?” Zeus snorted. “They’re rather secretive entities, the Primordials. While the Fates may work alongside Olympus and us Gods, they do not serve us, and hold no necessary obligation to answer us, no matter how different some may believe. But, as I was saying - there’s a full list of ones enforced by Olympus and the others that I can have brought to you after we finish, and you present yourself in front of the Council. But, within your capacity as the god of Oaths, it is part of your responsibility to enforce punishment for those that may break them. You’ll have far less to do for the… bigger , ones, I guess you may be able to call them, as those are fairly self-sufficient, and enforced by the fundamental laws of reality. The others that were created by us, you’ll have to be far more hands-on for, as well as any that will eventually get sworn to you, when you finalize your own system. I do request that, when that happens, you bring it to the Council - more specifically me - for approval, so that notices may be sent out mostly, but that’s not important currently.”

“Now, Perseus, do you have any last questions?” The King of the Gods was… oddly patient, today, or at least it seemed that way to Percy.

The newly-titled God of Oaths nods, cogs in his brain turning as Percy tried to process everything. “You said current domain. Am I going to be getting more..?”

“Gods are not intrinsically given domains. Not mostly. Until after we defeated our father, neither my siblings nor myself had any Domains. We had to earn them. Much like Apollo was not God of Prophecy until he slew Python the first time, and Themis handed the domain over, or how my daughter Artemis earned the Childbirth domain by aiding her mother in having him. Now, many of them are given something upon being born or raised - Dionysus was granted Wine, Heracles given Strength, and Athena was born with Wisdom and War, and you were given Oaths. That’s not to say the Fates have anything planned for you, per se, but I’m not saying they don’t either.”

The Fates were, again, eerily still, and Percy was starting to wonder if they were statues. The moment the thought crossed his mind, one of them squinted at him just long enough for him to notice, and threw the thought out of his mind.

“Now, before you are brought before the Council to confirm your position, there are two very important things that we must do, that require privacy.” Zeus looks at Apollo, and the god of the Sun nods, vanishing from his throne. Zeus rises from his, stepping towards Percy and walking through the table in front of the chairs as if it wasn’t there, stopping a few feet across from Percy.

“I imagine you already know what you wish for your Symbol of Power to be, so I’m not going to ask about that yet. But there are things you need to know before you meet the Council in your new capacity.”

“First. What happens there is a formality. It’s a show. What happens here, now, is what’s important. Second. Your position gives you abilities very similar to some of my own. As such, your training will be very hands-on with me, so that I may monitor you and ensure you do not accidentally break anything. I do not doubt your loyalty to Olympus, that has been more than proven within your service, it is simply concern over you doing your job in the best way possible, to your full capacities. Third. I do not want you to get confused or concerned over where to place your loyalties. Your oath will be to serve Olympus, as every god before you has done. Your loyalty to your father is commendable, and will be important, as some of your domains you may gain later will likely be related to him, and you will likely serve in his Court. That is not an issue. Fourth. As you adapt further into your Divinity, something that I will have Apollo explain better later, your Domain may change. Not what it is, but how it shows and represents itself. You may find new interpretations in Oaths you didn’t previously, or find yourself more attuned to when one is broken, or who knows what. If and when that happens, you are to find me immediately, and I will help you to the best of my capabilities. Fifth. Your capacity as god of Oaths will have many coming to you trying to get out of them. There is a process for that. Ultimately, that will be up to you to decide later, but for now I request you send them to me for judgment over what will and will not be allowed until you are better Settled and accustomed to your Divinity. Sixth. Your position will, inevitably, work hand in hand with my own. That means you will see and hear much most others don’t get, even my own wife. There will be a lot of trust placed within you from me due to that, and I do not believe I need to explain what will happen if that trust is broken.” Zeus’ hands placed themselves on Percy’s shoulders and gripped, his eyes turning from a normal stormy gray into a deep, almost black shade, sparks and lines of blue, white, and yellow appearing like lightning, and for the first time, Percy felt truly afraid of the god in front of him, Zeus’ aura pressing down on him like the Sky itself once did.

“Now. I need two more things from you. One. Hand me Riptide.”

Percy almost struck down the god then and there.

“This is an important part of your Ascension, Perseus. I will not hold it long. This is simply to confirm it as your Symbol of Power.”

Percy didn’t, personally, quite believe the god in front of him. But something within him - within the newest chunk of his soul - did. And so, Percy reached into his pocket, pulling out a simple ballpoint pen, uncapping it, and as the Celestial Bronze blade expanded in his hand, Percy handed it over.

Riptide vanished as soon as it came into contact with Zeus. “Another Aspect is dealing with what is necessary. The process is secretive, and the only people that truly know it on Olympus are myself, my brothers, the Fates, and the Elder Cyclopes. It will be returned to you when the process is done, by my own hand, unchanged except for what is necessary to make it a Symbol.”

“The second thing needed is an Oath. One to Olympus, that you will serve Her loyally, in your fullest capacity, and do what is necessary to bring Her glory and strength. It need not be vocalized, though I will know if it is not completed.”

Upon mention of the Oath to Olympus, Percy felt something within that same part of his soul pulse, mentally dragging his attention to it. There was… something inside of him. Something living, in some capacity, that was reaching out in so many directions, forming connections both coming to and going from him and so many others he didn’t know, and he could feel its desire to latch itself onto something else. Onto Olympus. And so, he let it.

Zeus let out a loud sigh, eyes closing as Percy came back to - he knew what had seemed like a simple process had taken almost two hours - one hour, fifty-three minutes, and forty-seven seconds, to be exact.

The King of the Gods nodded, evidently content. Zeus moved back to his Throne, taking his seat at the head of the Council as his hands lightly clenched the ends of his Throne’s armrests, and Percy felt something pulse throughout the world, and within moments, every Throne in the Council Room was full, Hestia was at the Hearth, and a thirteenth chair had erupted from the ground opposite Zeus, and in it sat Hades.

The simple fact of the God of the Dead being here was enough to put Percy on edge - he had a good relationship with Nico, sure, but his dad still had held his mom hostage, and had kidnapped him. Percy imagines that having beaten him on the bank of the Styx wouldn’t exactly endear the god to him either. Ares, to be honest, he wasn’t too concerned about. The rest of them…

That remained to be seen.

If any of the Olympians were concerned with the presence of the Fates behind Zeus’ Throne, they didn’t show it. And as the last of them appeared in their Thrones - Hermes, funnily enough - the room seemed to shift as the walls vanished, being replaced by columns of marble as it turned open-air, thousands of seats being revealed beyond, each filled. Percy had never felt smaller, even in front of - a black hole in place of a head, shattered armor covering every inch of what should be exposed skin and rippling muscle, the size of a semi-truck standing vertically, what’s visible through the cracks a deep, rich purple the very color the ground beneath them - Tartarus himself, thousands of pairs of eyes staring at them- at him.

“Gods of Olympus!” Zeus’ voice billowed out, drowning out a clap of thunder. “You have been summoned here today to witness something not seen in over four millennia! The crowning of a new god, a mortal having ascended to Divinity!”

The crowd was silent. Whether they had expected this, had simply realized what was happening before Zeus had said it himself, or were too afraid of interrupting the King of the Gods, Percy wasn’t sure.

“Perseus!” Above his head, Anaklusmos shimmered into existence, physically unchanged, but as it drifted down into his hand, he could feel the difference.

Riptide had never felt like a normal sword. It was unique even within the Divine world - Katropis, Thalia’s spear, nothing else had ever felt like it, to him or to anyone else that held it. Percy had originally chalked it up to the fact it was magic, even more so than the other hidden weapons a lot of demigods carried, or the fact that it was, as Chiron had once told him, an ancient blade, with connections to the Sea. Percy had since learned better. It was infused with the essence of two immortals - Zoë Nightshade, and her mother before her, Pleione. 

It was a weapon that Percy was very familiar with, having used it for nearly half of a decade, and when he grabbed it, it felt different. Something about the blade had changed. It felt… heavier. Not in a literal sense, it was as balanced in his hand as it had ever been, but more… spiritually. Something within his soul, his Domain, was reacting to it.

But, as Fate would have it - the bastard - Percy was busy and couldn’t spend the time to inspect it at this current moment.

The King of the Gods continued, having stood from his throne as he was addressing Percy, hands spread wide towards him. “God of Oaths! From this day forth, shall your loyalty to Olympus never waver, and shall you spend your immortal life in Her service. May the Serpent guide you in your endeavors to serve Her, and in your journey to secure your Divinity.”

There was applause. Mostly polite, slightly scattered from the minor gods - a lot of them liked or appreciated Percy for securing them positions and amnesty after the Titan War, sure, but many of them, frankly, didn’t give a shit about him, either. And like Apollo mentioned, others considered him a dangerous upstart, like Heracles. 

After that, a lot of the gods just… left. Zeus hadn’t said anything about continuing the meeting, and the minor gods weren’t required to be here anyways. Though, as Hermes went to speak - likely to inquire about whether or not it would actually continue, if Percy had to guess, the room seemed to twist as he got frozen in place, and the Fates made themselves the center of attention (as they so loved to be, he thought), appearing in front of Percy in a line.

The one in the center (Percy had no idea which one this is) spoke. “Perseus Orkistís.” The name seemed to ping something deep within him- and he was thrown back to one of the lessons at Camp, of the whole “names have power” thing he regularly ignored. 

Divinity had different Names, depending on what they were doing, or trying to be. He tried to recall a few- Poseidon had some like Pelagios, which had.. Something to do with water, he thought. Apollo and Athena had some big ones - Pallas was pretty much an alternate name for Athena, and Phoebus was almost always attached to Apollo. 

Meaning… Did he just get his first Divine Name? Epithet? 

The Fate continued. “Your duties are small in number, but wide in scope. For now, at least. For now. They shall grow, as our Mother demands, Polýolvos.” Another ping - another Name, for… some reason. It sounded familiar- and his mind was thrown back to the young face of a girl with flaming eyes, tending to a Hearth. A… shared one, maybe? He knows there's a few of those- 

“Your next one finds you at your Home, Perseus.”

And the world seemed to twist once more-

The Fates were back where they were. Hermes continues his question about leaving, Zeus rejecting it, putting the topic down. Percy wasn’t paying attention, too rattled by the revelations the Fates gave him.

A few more things were spoken of - brief checkups of both camps, a note from Ares about a drop in monster activity, a note from Dionysus about an uptick in demigods reaching camp, Demeter saying something about a drought in Oregon… Percy stood there, off to the side now, only vaguely listening.

Zeus spoke up once more, after everyone stopped their reports. “Now, there is one more matter to discuss.” The King of the Gods lifted up the paperwork, pulling out the glasses - Poseidon audibly groaned. Zeus ignored it. “The punishment for Dionysus has been decided due to his interference within the second Gigantomachy, as well as for his actions causing demigods to turn against Olympus during the Titanomachy.”

Now that got Percy’s attention, as well as everyone else's. The crowd of minor gods that stayed got silent, all the little whispers happening hushing in an instant. The council went stiff, looking towards the God of Wine, who was sputtering. “Wh- I helped the brats kill the Twins! And if those damn little campers were worth- ” He was shut up by a look from, surprisingly, most of the gods both on and off the Council, including Zeus himself.

“Now, as I was saying.” Zeus cleared his throat, thunder booming in the background as he gave Dionysus a short glare. “Dionysus is to be removed from his position as Director of Camp Half-Blood, and is to be put under house arrest here upon Olympus. He is to be banned from the mortal realm for the rest of his previous punishment - approximately forty-eight years. He is to only leave Olympus in a minor capacity for the purpose of monitoring his domains, exceptions to be approved by the Council on a case-by-case basis. While the punishment itself is not to be voted upon, the matter regarding his position at Camp Half-Blood is up for vote, as his position would otherwise be left vacant.”

“Currently, we have two leading choices. Chiron, the current activities director, has justifiable cause to be promoted. However, that would still leave a vacancy.” Two pairs of stormy gray eyes dart towards Percy. “I nominate Perseus, God of Oaths for this position. I believe his relationship with the current demigods of both Camps would be an asset, it would allow him to enforce the rules we have for claiming,” Zeus levels a glare towards a few of the minor gods - none Percy could name. “And it would allow him access to the mortal realm for the purpose of properly adjusting to his Divinity, and gaining recognition from the mortals as a new god. As far as I am aware, he has already received many offerings from veterans of the war in both camps, enough to warrant the chance to cement a position as their Patron god.”

Percy was stunned - what was with Zeus being nice? Sure, Zeus now had to deal with him forever, and they’d have to work together. But this was going beyond just a normal level of politeness, or work-colleagues. He was being kind to Percy. And it, frankly, scared the new god. He’d have to ask about it later. While lost in his thoughts, the Council voted - Zeus, Poseidon, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, Ares of all people, Athena, and Hermes all voted Yes, for both Chiron’s promotion and Percy being instilled as a camp director, while Hera abstained, and Dionysus voted no.

And with that, the Council was dismissed.

Leaving the Throne Room, Percy was more than a bit shaken. The fact that he couldn’t escape the Fates, despite his immortality, was a reality-ruining experience, and he was already having a pretty shit reality. And the knowledge that he couldn’t really live as just this - a minor god, barely acknowledged beyond the necessity of people creating oaths, that he would get more domains… He really didn’t like that.

But, as his life has proven time and time again, there’s… truly not much you could do against the Fates. Much less, apparently, their mother. 

Idling his way down the massive slope leading up to the Throne Room and homes of the Olympians, Percy eventually hit the plateau at the bottom, and found himself in a park. Directly in his line of sight after walking through the gates, far down the road, was a statue.

Percy didn’t want to see this statue. He didn’t want to be reminded. But he walked, as he should, to honor the fallen. The park was silent- despite this being the biggest park on the mountain, no gods found themselves here, far more concerned with a party being held in his honor he didn’t find himself caring to attend. 

Stopping at its foot, Percy looked up- a Scythe falling into the Hearth, a pleading voice and a flash of blood, a drained form with golden curls framing an empty face, a Yankees hat at the feet of a man with gold- no, blue - eyes, the dripping of golden blood- and then back down. He couldn’t stomach it. His hands ghosted over a plaque, and then a voice erupted from behind him.

“Perrrcy!” The voice trilled, and the sound of hooves pounding against stone rushed towards him, and Percy felt a body slam against his, hitting the ground hard. Percy rolled, slamming the person beneath him to the ground, only to see Grover. A bit older, a bit of a shaggier beard, but… Grover.

Percy scrambled off of him, helping the satyr pull himself up, and the new god smiled. “Hey, G-Man! What are you doing on Olympus?”

Grover started a trot while he talked, leading Percy over to a bench. “Well, honestly, a lot. Being Lord of the Wild gave me a bit of a pass to come here, not much though, but after, uh…” He looked Percy up and down out of the side of his eye. “All of… y’know. Actually it’s a bit of a long story-” Grover sat down on the bench, stretching a bit as Percy sat next to him. “Basically. The empathy link we had? I told you a while back that it would kill the other one if one of us died, right?” Percy nodded. He remembered that well. While he would have gone to save Grover from Polyphemus anyways, that added a bit of fuel to the flame. “You die, I die, I die, you die, but, apparently… You ascend, I do too. I’m the new God of the Wild. The new Pan.”

Percy didn’t really know how to feel about this - something that was happening a lot today. On one hand, Grover was immortal with him! Someone he knew, liked, and could trust, would be going along with him on this journey of his. On the other hand, though, Grover had also been immortal much longer than he had - or, at least, had more experience due to not being unconscious for a year. And he hadn’t exactly had a say in it, either. Percy at least kind of did. 

Grover didn’t get that chance.

Percy threw it out of his mind as Grover started to talk, and the two chatted for what could have been hours. Mostly about what Grover had done while Percy was out - a lot of wildlife preservation and reclamation, the topic of Apollo’s adventures came up and Percy got briefed on that whole fiasco (what was Zeus thinking?) as well as what was going on at Camp. The city was coming along really nicely, apparently, though the gods hadn’t quite figured out the safe transportation method yet (or, if they have, they haven’t said anything or made it yet) between Greece and Rome, and apparently Hestia was a bit out of date with her information as he called the city “New Hellas” before explaining there was some vote going on with the leaders being “New Hellas” and “New Achaea”. Percy didn’t feel particularly strong in either direction, but Grover apparently had some strong opinions he only half paid attention to-

Grover finished up telling what Percy was certain was a heart-wrenching story of his marriage ceremony to Juniper (that he wasn’t at all upset he wasn’t invited to definitely not-) when the satyr suddenly shot upright! “Oh! Oh! You need to see camp!”

Percy smiled- he was waiting for this, especially since he could change camp now, without needing to lead a few wars for it. He could expand cabins, tables, maybe even the border! The possibilities of what he could do were endless! He could help!

The God of Oaths shot up, heading towards the elevator. “Well what are you waiting for, G-Man? Let’s go!”

Grover looks confused for a moment, before blinking a few times. “Oh, do you not know how to Flash yet? C’mon, I’ll do it. Can teach you after.”

Percy stared at him, before laughing. “Right. Gods. Yeah, bud, let’s go.”

Holding out his hand, Grover’s fingers brushed his and he felt his form shatter into a billion pieces, his consciousness spreading to encompass what he thought could very well be everything, hearing every spoken or thought promise, every agreement, and every deal being struck, as he shifted into his Divine Form for the first time. Feeling a tug as the energy that made up his body was shunted into a direction, Percy felt his attention shift and narrow down - a singular tree atop a hill, a magical barrier that spread around him to allow him entry, the electric feeling in the air even after Thalia had been released from her prison, and in what could have been an instant or an eternity, he and Grover stood at the base of Thalia’s Tree, on top of Half-Blood Hill.

Chapter Text

Even before he got thrown off a cliff, Nico was having a pretty bad day.

First, he woke up. Most normal people consider that a pretty good thing, but he’s really good friends with Clovis, and he was just starting to actually get to the point of the story he was telling, and it’s impossible to get that guy to remember anything after he woke up, if you could even wake him up long enough to talk in the first place. So, that was pretty annoying to deal with, because it seemed pretty interesting - Nico’s always had an interest in the Dreamscape, and while his Chthonic connections made it easier for him to travel and learn about than most people, he was by no means an expert, and tried to get his hands on any information he could.

Second, he had a quest. Again - something most people would consider a good thing, or cool, but Nico's been on about seven in the past month, and most haven’t even been real quests, just demigod-retrievals that the Satyr’s thought would be difficult to deal with. Which this one was. 

Again.

Nico, by virtue of being a child of the Big Three, having experience in this type of quest, and being one of the fastest demigods in Camp (thanks, shadow-travel) was often first pick, even with his generally dour attitude. He’d made a point about Thalia being available, but she’d apparently been scheduled to assist in a training course, and couldn’t. Because… of course.

Slipping his way into the shadows making up the remaining body of Erebus cast by the early morning sun hitting Thalia’s tree, Nico found himself in a familiar place - almost a second home, after Camp Half-Blood. When he’d been on the run, Erebus was a distant figure. A place he could barely skim to get to where he wanted - or, often, needed, primordials are funny like that - to be. Now, with proper training and resting time, he found the place easier to travel than ever. 

Previously, this realm manifested as more of a feeling than a place.

Now, this place felt… eerily similar to the Mansion of Night. An endless corridor of white noise, and shadows he can travel purely by feel as opposed to anything resembling sight. He simply… knew where places he wanted to go were. How long he had to travel to get there, when to shift directions, and by how much. It was incredibly useful, as opposed to traveling by pure vibes and just hoping the Fates didn’t feel like screwing him over this time. 

He’d discovered that, by staying here, he could heal his wounds much faster (though still incredibly slowly), recover stamina easier, think clearer… It was similar to what Percy had previously described being in water like. Though, he had noticed this was far more similar to a lower potency, over-time effect, as opposed to a supercharge and crash like Percy had previously established his to be.

Percy… Over the past few days, Nico had heard mentions of him a few times while he was in Erebus. That wasn’t uncommon - even when mortal, Percy had been a bigger, more important figure than most deities. He’d managed to find his way into everything, had fingers in every pie, most of the time by complete accident if the story about that Crocodile held any truth - and Nico knew it did. The Chthonic deities held the rift between Pantheons in far less reverence than the Olympians or Asgardians or whatever-the-hell the Egyptians call their not-Heaven, and Nico had learned plenty about them during his time in the Labyrinth, and even more during his hunt for Percy. 

Nico shifted a few inches to the left - he’s not sure how much of a difference that made in the world above, to be honest. Could be millimeters, could be kilometers.

Then the third big issue with his day. The shadows seemed… loud, today. Not in volume - no matter what, they felt like whispered screams. But maybe… heavier? Deeper? Something about them seemed more important. But he couldn’t hear anything that made sense- 

- God who has Turned - 

- Make it Your Own - 

- Bane of Olympus - 

- Lost One Raise - 

- Hera’s Rage - 

- Neptune shall Drown - 

- Angel’s Breath - 

- The Final Verse - 

- Death and Madness - 

- Pages turning - 

- The cloven guide - 

- Destroy the Tyrant - 

- Open His Door -

Nico… Nico knew some of these. They were fragments of Prophecy - but why was he hearing them now? These had all passed… What was the link? Just that they had happened in his life? But-

Nico felt the Realm shift. He’d hit the right door.

The Angel took a Breath, and left Erebus.

Of course, when Nico actually got there it turns out the kid was being chased by monsters, and Nico didn’t like to shadow-travel new kids (or new people at all) because it was a generally bad time to someone that wasn’t used to it (and a lot of people that were(Thalia)). At least they were pretty close to Camp, which meant Nico didn’t have to go far and still had plenty of energy left after his trip through Erebus, and would be plenty fine when they got back to camp. 

The satyr gave him a bit of a briefing - demonic math teacher (where had he heard that before?), ran out of school by the teachers (a common trend), fire department and police called (bog standard, though the cyclops gym teacher was new, he had to admit) and the cyclops was still on their tail. Nico gave the satyr and kid (who’d been told about the godly world a few days before the start of break, to get her prepped to leave ASAP (always sixth grade. Always.)) a nod and some directions, and went off to deal with the cyclops. 

And the fourth big issue with his day:

The cyclops found him first. 

Nico thought he’d been stealthy after finding the cyclops trying to move through the forest on the edge of a hill, likely hoping to corner the demigod and satyr before they could properly escape. Nico, however, was very much so wrong, which he realized after the cyclops ripped off a tree limb and swatted Nico off the side of the cliff before he could so much as grab the handle of his sword, being sent a dozen or so feet out and a couple dozen down before his jacket caught on a branch, dangling maybe ten feet off the ground below the edge of the cliff, freshly out of contact with any good enough shadows to free himself.

The terrifying Son of Hades, King of Ghosts, was being held up from a tree like a kitten by the scruff of its neck, trying to reach behind himself to be able to grab onto the branch and pull himself up enough (he really should stop skipping training sessions) to be able to pry himself free, or at least break the branch he was stuck on. 

It took a few minutes, but Nico finally managed to bend the branch enough to yank his jacket off of it, falling the distance and landing within one of the billions of tunnels connecting Earth and Erebus, taking a moment to rest within the realm, feeling the darkness envelop him and giving him a chance to listen to the whispers, guiding him to his target, waiting for the right moment.

It doesn’t take long for the Cyclops to catch up to the demigod- and that’s when Nico strikes. Popping out of the satyr’s shadow, Nico emerges in a kneeling position and slashes his sword through the leg of the cyclops, sending him toppling with a roar. As Nico stabs his blade downwards through its eye, the monster dissolves into a fine golden mist that solidifies into obsidian-colored glass-like shards that melt into the Stygian Iron, the fuller glowing a soft purple for a moment as the blade glistens. 

From there, the demigod (oddly quick - maybe Hermes? Enagônios, maybe. Nico likes trying to guess - Mythomagic was useful for some things) is escorted to camp - through the forest and into a peach orchard that reeks of death for… some reason. From the peach orchard to the road, from the road to Thalia’s Tree and Half-Blood Hill. All in all, Nico was gone for maybe two hours, and in that time, Camp apparently went to shit.

All in all, Thalia was having a pretty good day.

She managed to get out of demigod-retrieval duty (really, the satyrs need better training. Next time he’s in Camp, Thalia needs to talk to Grover about getting that weird satyr-council to mandate some combat training) by instead volunteering to teach some kids some one-on-one spear-combat tactics, and assisting a son of Aeolus (poor guy) named Kari in learning how to do some wind manipulation (she still refused to learn how to fly, but she’d learned some aeromancy from Jason during the Second Giant War, to help control the Argo II and deal with different wind spirits and other flying monsters.)

Sure, when she learned Nico had been sent instead, she felt kinda bad - but really, if it got Death Breath out more, it was a win in her books. He’s gotten much better about locking himself away from people recently, she’d admit, but he’s still not exactly sociable. Being an introvert’s great and all, she even considers herself one, but he still takes it a bit too far for Thalia to not try to get him to open up when she could. Bit too close to “recluse” territory. 

Walking by the cabins and nodding in greetings towards the Hearth Goddess tending to the everburning flame in the middle of Camp, Thalia felt something in the winds shift, words and segments of sentences carried by the Anemoi whispering in her ear. 

“...an hour…” “...Cabin…” “...dare…”

Over the years, Thalia’s gotten better at figuring out what the Anemoi try to tell her with these - and this one was fairly obvious. Someone - probably the Hermes Cabin - was going to be pranking their resident Oracle in about an hour. Thalia didn’t think she’d shown up yet, so maybe they were just setting up for when she did? Either way - not her problem. If it was dangerous, her Oracleness would probably warn her. If it was funny, she got a laugh out of it. 

Making her way up to her tree, Thalia sat against the base where she crawled out of, looking down the hill towards the road leaving camp, elbow digging into her thigh and chin resting on her palm. Over the years, she’s found her Tree oddly… comforting? Soothing? Something of the sort, which considering it was kind of her grave that was a bit concerning, and not something she really liked thinking about. Way too easy to spiral, all things considered- it also tended to happen when she thought about Percy.

Percy… she thought she’d heard something from the Spirits earlier in the day, during her training session with Kari. When she channeled the Winds, she often heard more and more whispers from the Anemoi than usual, likely due to the fact she was actually working with them as opposed to passive over-time exposure. She’d tried to ignore it, especially due to the bruise on her side caused by her hesitation when she heard it (kids a natural) but finding herself on her own… She couldn’t help it.

The last time she’d seen Percy, he looked like a storm, as if he belonged in it. His father was the Stormbringer, sure, but Percy had never been the best at channeling that aspect of his powers, despite the oddities - Walking under a river of milky white water, feeling her memories slipping from her grasp even from proximity - An ocean of poison, Percy standing on the only bit of land in the middle, a crumpled goddess standing on the edge of the Abyss - A hurricane spawning out of thin air in the middle of Manhattan, a Titan falling to his knees from the force of the winds as bark begins to grow from his skin - he’d always had. She didn’t get to see him before Poseidon rushed him to Olympus, Apollo confirming his Ascension - something Thalia had subconsciously always known - Emerging from the River Styx - drinking the blood of the Last Olympian - staring down the King of the Titans - the Giants - a Primordial - may happen to him… even with the other kids of the Big Three, Percy had been… different. Less human, more God, despite what he’d always tried to say and maintain and do, despite the fact he cared and she couldn’t-

She forced herself from her thoughts, digging her elbow into her thigh to focus on something else - pain brings clarity. She couldn’t afford to think about Percy, especially not here. In the privacy of her Cabin, in Nico’s company… maybe. Nico understood more than most, she’d never been the closest with Hazel, and Jason… 

She nearly growled at the thought. She knew it wasn’t Apollo’s fault, sure. But knowing and caring are two very different things, as often showcased by the Olympians, and she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything but blame the god for her little brothers death. For fuck’s sake, he was the god of healing! Even if he’d been stuck as a mortal, he got godly bursts all the time according to him and - what was her name, Meg? Why not then? Why not to help her brother? He more than deserved it, with the shit he did during the quest, and the life Hera - Juno, whoever - forced him to live. 

Even if they actually cared about the Greco-Roman divide, which they proved no one really did, then why did he have to leave at two years old? Get - literally - thrown to the wolves as a toddler? What did any of them do to deserve that? And who the hell was Zeus to give him up to her in the way he did? Why did what he was named matter? 

Why was a two year old abandoned, a family split, on the orders of the Goddess of Family?

Why was he forced into military service as a child?

Why were any of them forced onto the front lines of a war?

From what she’d been told in her time on the Argo II, despite how quickly he progressed due to his father, Jason's life hadn’t been easy. His time with the Wolves was long, and they held no mercy despite - or possibly even due to - the fact he was a child. Getting Centurion at such a young age - she thinks he said thirteen - likely hadn’t helped much either. Barely a teenager, and he’d been expected to lead a small army, and any decision he made was so incredibly criticized by his peers that he might as well have disgraced the entire Legion. 

None of them deserved this. So why-

Thalia felt a searing heat against her back, and scrambled her way up to look back at camp, only to see a plume of green flame roar its way into the sky from the conglomerate of Olympian cabins.

She was sprinting before she knew what she was even really doing.

By the time she got to the Olympian cabins, shit was wildly out of hand.

The Demeter cabin was, somehow, on fire. Greek fire. She thought it was enchanted - like most of the cabins - to be nigh-indestructible, but nothing seemed like it was collapsing, so maybe it was? Was the fire just kinda… there? Maybe? She really hoped so-

The next thing she noticed was that, somehow, the fucking Hermes cabin was on fire too, despite being on the opposite side of the U-shape and four cabins down the row. Made absolutely no sense, but, was likely deserved.

The Demeter Cabin seemed to be working in conjecture with the Hephaestus cabin to keep the spread limited. The Demeter cabin was enchanting plants to be a bit more fire resistant, she guessed, while the Hephaestus cabin had grabbed their bucket-chain stuff from that incident during the Fourth of July with Chirton, and was working on soaking the grass in the area around the cabins. Greek Fire could burn under and on water, sure, but she guessed it couldn’t spread well on it? They probably knew more than her on the subject-

Watching a bit of fire leap over the waterline and catch quickly on the grass, she figured it may not matter.

Sprinting her way towards Miranda Gardner, Thalia nearly tripped over some sort of thick root that was spiraling its way up from the ground and burrowing its way under the cabin, righting herself and coming up to the de facto head of the Demeter cabin.

Miranda was a rather short girl, especially for a demigod - maybe five foot three. Deep brown hair currently in a very messy, likely rushed bun. A lot of the Demeter cabin seemed to fall to the extremes in a lot of bodily directions, Katie being nearly six and a half feet tall for instance and built like a stick despite the two being full-blooded siblings, while Miranda was a whole lot stockier and muscley, kind of like a tree trunk.

Wait- important stuff. Cabin on fire. Right.

Thalia placed a hand on Miranda’s shoulder to get her attention, and the daughter of Demeter seemed overjoyed to have more hands on deck, her vibrant green eyes with hints of orange sparkling. Fortunately, Thalia had a plan. “Get everyone away from the cabin,” demanded the Daughter of Zeus. “You can really only keep it from getting worse, I’ll try to choke out the fire. Help Nyssa over at the Hermes cabin.”

Miranda nodded, and Thalia felt the ground beneath her shift and split as more roots came up from the bottom to try and hold the walls of the cabin together, Miranda calling out to Thalia and granting her good luck while she sprinted towards Cabin Eleven.

Taking a deep breath, Thalia held her hands out and felt the winds shift to answer her call, coalescing infront of her as she took a few steps back from the burning Cabin, just to play it a bit safe.

Sending the winds in her palm out to wrap around the Cabin, she felt for the currents and directed them to form an outline, calling more and more air from the surrounding area until she had a good mental map of the box she’d ordered they create, and with a shove of willpower that felt like a punch to the sternum she ripped the air out from around the Cabin, feeling the wind blow past her and ruffle her hair and clothing, though she remained standing. They were hers to control, and the winds could not hope to demand something of her if she did not let them.  

Thalia grinned, blue eyes sparking with electricity as she continued to rip more and more air out from the area she sectioned off from the rest of the world, the fire rapidly sputtering and dying as it lost one of its most vital components. Greek fire didn’t need nearly as much air as normal fire did, but the shoddy stuff they kept at Camp still needed some, and that meant she could kill it. 

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but the fire finally died out, leaving a still-standing (though soot-stained) Cabin. They’d probably need to work on the roof, but that's what you get for using grass.

Looking around, Thalia went to take a few steps towards the Hermes cabin to help out, only to notice they’d already finished. Kari seems to have been able to mimic what she did - at least somewhat (damn that kid really was a natural. How much better would she be if she’d tried to embrace this side of her powers sooner?) and put out a lot of the smaller ones while the Hephaestus and Demeter cabins seemed to have gotten the rest. 

Nico apparently seemed to show up during the middle, too - he was standing on the roof of the cabin with a bucket in his hand, walking around and testing paneling by stomping on it. Or maybe he was annoying the Hermes kids?

Both, probably. They definitely did something to deserve it.

The moment Percy’s feet touched the ground, he nearly crumpled.

It wasn’t the teleportation - Percy felt better than ever in the moments it took for him to manifest into a physical body again, more true to himself than he ever had before.

No, when Percy touched down inside the borders, he felt something in his soul burn in a way he hadn’t felt since landing on Ogygia after Mount Saint Helens. His worldview shattered, and he could see the Olympian Cabins from a perspective just above the Hearth, the burning feeling turning cold as his attention was shifted towards the Demeter and Hermes cabins, seeing the soot-stains and holes through the Cabin roofs into the buildings below. 

Staring at the holes made the pain dull, as Percy felt a part of his being scream in agony at the sight of the damaged cabins, his essence stretching out towards them. He instinctively reached inside and felt a tug in his chest, higher than he normally did for his powers granted by his status as a Son of Poseidon, and he watched as blue - the same blue as his moms cookies - energy shined around the holes, the soot burning away in flames of a matching tone, the hole knitting themselves back closed as the energy overlaps with itself, wood planking replacing the missing bits of the Hermes cabin and the sod that makes up the roof of the Demeter cabin weaving itself back together to form a tight, weather-proof seal.

And then he was back.

Standing perfectly upright, Grover still standing at his side, having barely started moving, as if no time had passed at all.

…What… What just happened?

Percy didn’t have much time to think about it, Grover grabbing his wrist and pulling him down the hill, rambling about… something or other. Percy couldn’t really hear him, a sound like sand pouring into his ears overtaking the rest of his senses. 

As they got closer and closer to the Big House, the sound began to fade, a sound like a fireplace - a Hearth - crackling overpowering it, and Percy’s head twisted towards the middle of the Olympian Cabins, seeing the Hearth and its Keeper through the gaps in the cabins, and sent a small smile her way.

Despite their argument, she would always be here for him. They were okay.

Everything was okay.

Except the Demeter and Hermes cabins, apparently-

Unless he… did fix them? Odd. That didn’t feel like…

Oh- Chiron’s here! When did that happen?

He… Chiron was different to Percy. He noticed things he didn’t before - more scars, an older face, older - sadder - eyes… and yet he seemed freer than Percy had ever seen him, especially since the Titan War. 

How much of this was Percy being able to see the world as it was more than as a Demigod, versus Percy being more experienced? He was never the best at seeing through the Mist, even the most basic illusions pretty much always working on him, and forget ever really trying to control the damn stuff either. Or maybe Chiron was just… changing? The weight of the wars off his back, and life at Camp flourishing? More campers to help, safer borders, stronger connections… Percy would think that would help the old centaur feel better about his position. 

Well - that and Dionysus being gone.

“Percy.” The ancient Trainer of Heroes breathed out his name like a prayer, and the newly crowned god smiled at him, moving in for a hug. “The King sent Hermes to let me know of my promotion and your new role, though I must say that I wasn’t expecting you so soon, my boy. Dionysus’ office and room has already been cleared, for when you have time to move in properly, though I was informed of your status.”

Percy was a bit confused by that - his status? There were a few different things that could mean, though he didn’t ask.

Didn’t get the chance, either, as he felt something slam into his left side, the world tilted, and he hit the floor with what felt like a jolt of electricity to his arm, and heard two different voices shout what he thought was his name, though he wasn’t really sure, and his vision was covered in black leather.

There was a short flurry of activity - Grover trying to help him up, Thalia and Nico yapping like they hadn’t seen him in over a year (to be fair, they hadn’t) and he thought they said something about the Anemoi or shadow voices or whatever-the-hell, but he was too busy grinning as he looked at his little cousins (shorter and younger, thank you very much, despite what they both might say) to fully process what they were saying, and reached out to grab them both and pull them into one big hug.

They both got quiet really quickly, clinging to Percy like he might vanish again. “Hey, guys. I’d say I missed you, but I don’t really remember being gone for more than just a few hours, if I’m honest. Must’ve sucked for you, though.” One of them smacked his chest - he’s not sure which, and it wouldn’t matter if he was. They could definitely sense the smugness from that sentence. 

“C’mon, let’s sit and catch up. Inside, though, I don’t want anyone else trying to break my arm.”

Grover, apparently, had to leave - something about a meeting with the Council of Cloven Elders (Percy idly wondered if the Council had been rotated around since he last saw them, but didn’t ask) and promised to see them before he left (and then he felt more of those same bonds appear - between Grover and himself, and connections between Thalia and Nico too. So those were Oaths, then. That… makes sense, with any level of thought.) The satyr took off towards the forest, Thalia smacking herself on the forehead as if she forgot to do something (again, Percy didn’t ask).

Stepping inside the doorway, Percy noticed a few things were different. As in, basically everything.

From what he could tell, the layout was the same - the rec room and the main room were where he remembered, and the decoration even looked the same (Dionysus apparently forgot his Pac-Man machine, something Nico went to take advantage of) but everything felt… bigger?

Before, when everything was normal-person sized, demigods would often smack their heads on door frames, bump against furniture that was a bit too tightly packed, and have to squeeze through the halls if even one more person was present. Now, the house felt taller and wider. Percy wasn’t sure if he had just… missed it from the outside, as he wasn’t paying too much attention to the building itself, or of this was some Doctor Who TARDIS bullshit, but seeing as Chiron didn’t have to basically play limbo with the doors, he didn’t care too much either.

Bet Clarisse - the fucking giant - was happy about this. 

Percy and Thalia took a seat on one of the couches against the wall in the main room, butted up against the window (Percy was sad to notice Seymour was gone, he was a good leopard-head) while Nico tried to beat some of the recorded scores (all set by a mysterious “DIO”, of course)

Thalia leaned over the armrest of she was sitting against, opening a mini-fridge and grabbing something-or-other that Percy couldn’t see, and she tossed one over her shoulder and it landed in his lap, another one being thrown to Nico who grabbed it out of the air without turning away from the game.

Little Fruit Barrels. Huh.

Thalia pulled herself back up, holding one herself and puncturing a hole in the foil lid with her knuckle - the heathen - while she curled up against the armrest, grinning at Percy as she spoke. “So, what’s immortality like, Kelp Head?”

Percy took a few seconds to properly peel the entire foil cover off, hunching over with his knees on his elbows and shotgunning the entire barrel (blue raspberry, of course) before he looked over at her (wait, is she taller than him? But on the porch…)

“It’s…” he started, before pausing. What was immortality like? He didn’t feel all that different by default, just when things set it off - though… “it’s… like everything is clearer. Like I can see things in a way I couldn’t before.” He crumbled up the empty barrel in his hand, throwing it across the room, it bouncing off the wall and landing in a small trash can near the door. “And things seem… slower maybe? Like Time isn’t in a rush anymore. Like He knows I’m not in his grasp.”

Thalia nodded. Bianca had told them something similar about the world slowing when they were on their quest to free Artemis (he tried not to think about A-)

In the corner, Nico cursed violently and loudly in Italian, smacking the machine in front of him. Not one to look past an excuse to not think about his life, Percy shot to his feet (he’s definitely shorter than he was on the porch) and took Nico’s spot, clamping a hand over his cousin's mouth. “Shush, Neeks. Swearing is for grown-ups, an- OW!” Goat-like teeth chomped down on Percy’s palm, and he yanked his hand towards his chest, shaking it.

Nico looked smug.

“You feral little flea-infested bastard! You better not have given me rabies!”

The Son of Hades preened, as if he was a dog getting praise. All the while, the daughter of Zeus was laughing hard enough to choke herself, coming out more like squawks than anything else.

The Son of Poseidon swore in Greek, pushing Nico back hard enough he fell over the armrest, head landing in Thalia’s lap.

Grumbling all the while, Percy turned his attention back to the Pac-Man machine, he squinted at the score flashing on the screen.

Yeah, he could beat that.

Moving Nico’s fruit barrel out of the way (why did he leave half the foil on? And it’s grape? Ew.) Percy got to work, his cousins still laughing from the couch.

Yet, despite all the mockery, the laughter, the insults thrown back and forth (it takes him three tries to beat Nico’s admittedly bad score), he can’t help the grin on his face.

And inside his soul, a small spark ignites, and it smiles too.

Chapter Text

Percy soon discovered that an emergency camp counselor meeting had already been called to discuss the events with the cabins. This was convenient for several reasons.

One, he got to stay inside and chill with his cousins. Big win.

Two, he got to be secret and scare the shit out of the people that didn’t know he was here, which he was pretty sure to be pretty much everyone in camp. Another big win.

Three, he had plenty of time to figure out what, exactly, he had to do in his new role as one of the camp directors. Not a win, at least not in his books, but it was important. Chiron helped break it down into the bare essentials - it was basically being a camp counselor but you help people figure out cabin schedules, referee duels and Capture the Flag, and manage the rest of the camp counselors and meetings.

How hard could that be?

Very.

Very, VERY HARD.

Apparently, managing the counselors was hell. Percy was expecting maybe thirty or thirty-five counselors. When he’d been kidnapped by Hera, there’d only been five extra cabins being built, and only two done. Hypnos, Morpheus, Iris, Hecate, and Nemesis.

He’d expected that those had been done by the end of the war, and had been proven right in the time he’d been conscious and at Camp towards the end of the fight. They’d started laying the foundations for some of the others (he had no clue who’s) as well. In the year he’d been gone, they’d apparently made two whole-ass districts! There were over sixty cabins with counselors now!

They’d elected district heads!!!

What the fuck!?

The meetings had moved from the Big House to the Amphitheater - which makes sense regardless. It’s a bit more public, sure, but they’ve never really gone against people’s wishes, and the meetings were almost always public information afterwards. The only exceptions Percy knew of were during the Titan War, when they knew there were spies, which wound up not mattering anyways - bright kaleidoscope eyes dimming as a helmet is ripped off a half-melted face, red eyes glaring through tears above as Percy can sense the salty water drip, drip, drip -  

Percy resisted the urge to slap himself.

Back to the district heads - apparently, in their infinite wisdom, the Olympians (Dionysus) decided it’d be smart to continue segregating the demi-gods, keeping the Olympian cabins where they were, with the Major God cabins - people like Hades, Hecate, Nemesis, Nike - off to one side, and the Minor God cabins - Iris, Hebe, each of the Muses - were off to another, though the sheer quantity of cabins there had begun encroaching on the Olympian Omega as more and more gods sent their kids to Camp.

Each of the district heads sat at the front of the Amphitheater, the cabin heads of each of their districts behind them. Percy wasn’t sure how the meeting would go - if they were all allowed to voice their own opinions (he hoped so), or if they had to funnel it through the heads, or some mix of the two - like if the heads had a list of topics they each wanted to broach, but they could interject as necessary… Though, that didn’t matter much, this was an emergency meeting to announce that he was back (they hadn’t seen him yet, he was hiding behind the stage because, well, it was funny) and to discuss the cabin damages earlier.

Thalia was, apparently, head of the Olympian cabins (Percy isn’t surprised she was voted for, more that she accepted the position.)

A child of Hecate that Percy had known but never really been close with, Lou Ellen Blackstone, a shorter (still like six foot) girl with pale skin, midnight black hair that was a pretty similar color to his own, with eyes that danced like Greek Fire, represented the Major Gods.

And someone he actually didn’t know, Butch Walker, an incredibly buff dude with a menagerie of rainbow-colored tattoos on his arms, child of Iris and head of her Cabin, represented the Minor Gods.

Percy tried to calm his nerves (did he even still actually have those?) as more and more people trickled in - people he knew distantly, people he knew closely (he thought Connor might have side-eyed the wall he was behind, though he didn’t have proof - and he also wasn’t quite sure how we knew that, as he hadn’t looked outside since people started to enter the Amphitheater - speaking of, how did he know what Butch looked like, or what his name was? God stuff? God stuff.) and people he didn’t know, but could sense through the disruptions in the air and the connection he felt to the very essences of their beings-

Chiron banged his hoof against a small stone slab embedded into the stage (had it been replaced while Percy was gone? How did he know these things!? Maybe he should have stuck with Apollo for a bit-) “Campers! I’m sure you all-”

The ancient trainer of heroes was interrupted as Lou Ellen (fuck it, he just had to get used to it) raised her hand and spoke up. “Is Percy still here?”

…

Well shit.

Despite not being able to see Chiron’s face, Percy knew the exact train of expressions it went through - be it experience or further God Stuff™ (as Percy decided to brand it).

His eyes held most of the shock - though it quickly faded into mirth, with a quick glance to Connor (who, Percy noted, let out an indignant “Hey!”, further outing himself as the culprit), and Chiron sighed softly with a subtle shaking of his head, as he smiled. “You are a bit ahead of our itinerary, but yes, Percy is still here at Camp.”

Plans thrown to the Four Winds, Percy decided to step out from behind his wall (he saw Connor’s smug face as the Son of Hermes looked over at Will Solace, who sighed and rolled his eyes. Probably a bet?) to the murmuring of over sixty campers.

Some of them looked at him warmly, like the old friend he was.

Some of them whispered to each other - people he recognized but didn’t truly know from his time here, or people he hadn’t known long before being whisked away to Camp Jupiter and New Rome.

And some of them looked at him like a God. 

Percy didn’t like that very much, he quickly discovered. And that seemed to be the majority of people in the amphitheater. Younger or older - spectator or counselor. 

And yet… no one seemed surprised. Or upset. Or angry. Or concerned. 

Not like he had been.

They seemed… Curious, maybe? Happy? Hint of hero worship he’d already gotten after the Titan War blown to the extreme?

He wasn’t sure.

The New God rubbed the back of his neck a bit, kicking the stage softly a few times with the front of his shoe as he broke himself from his train of thought with a quick look at Nico and Thalia reassuring him as he stopped fidgeting, standing up a bit straighter, and clearing his throat with a small wave, before he clapped his hands together and started his (slightly improv-altered) speech he practiced a bit with Chiron.

“Well, like Chiron said, we’re skipping a few steps, so this won’t come out as good as I tried to make it.” He chuckled a bit, covering his smile with a fist as he started to slowly pace back and forth on the stage. Some of the counselors laughed a bit, which made Percy feel slightly better.

“So, in the past year-” and two months, and seventeen days , his mind unhelpfully autofilled “-I have been, basically, in a coma on Olympus. A-Ascending.” His voice cracked involuntarily, and he tried to cover it up by clearing his throat. “In a meeting I had with Zeus-” the ground underneath them rumbled, and Percy could feel a gaze staring down at the Amphitheater in a way he never had before. Had he simply been blind as a demigod, or was he seeing and feeling things no one could as a God? He’d never been the best at seeing through the Mist, or sensing the Divine, but this was on a new level. He could feel a type of weight on him he hadn’t felt since he held the Sky, but his knees didn’t buckle, and he didn’t pause for longer than half a second. A scent followed the weight - the smell of a breeze flowing by an oak tree.

More followed - something like sea salt, a laurel tree, walnuts, the sound of fluttering wings, a hint of perfume saturated by blood - and Percy was nearly overwhelmed, until the the scent and warmth of a freshly lit hearth brushed past him, almost like it was cupping his cheek.

Percy continued, as if nothing had happened. “-I was informed of my new position as God of Oaths.”

A new feeling - like he was standing in the middle of a river, once powerful and now… weak. Faded, like it had been dammed and couldn’t flow as it wished.

Something ignited in the God, and he felt almost insulted on Styx’s behalf.

He’d work on fixing that. 

The water's flow strengthened slightly, and he felt something like surprise come across a bond he hadn’t known existed.

The campers were silent, waiting for him to finish. So, he continued.

“In the meeting following, Dionysus was deemed unfit to continue in his position as one of Camp’s Administrators.”

The demigods remained silent, but he watched as the pyre began to slowly spiral into the sky, the fire brimming with excitement and a quick whip of wine swayed past his nose. 

“And, I was voted in to be his replacement.”

The fire erupted in a way he’d not seen before - nearly fifty feet tall, breaching clean through the opening above and bright enough in the evening light that it looked like midday (Percy thought he heard a few shrieks from outside), flowing with a mix of reds, oranges, and yellows (did he see a hint of black with a… neon blue, on the inside? His mind flashed back to his time at the banks of the Styx- interesting.)

Percy let the flames die down to a measly twenty feet before continuing. “Really, that doesn’t change much from what was happening before - except now I won’t be hounded for Capture-the-Flag nearly as much. Anything small you’d go to Chiron for before - schedule issues, breaking up fights, stuff like that - you go to me for now.”

The meeting continues, Percy explaining his position and answering questions about it and his duties as activity director-

not his position as a god. None of those. 

-and it was interrupted by a noise coming from further than he should be able to hear - is that on Olympus?

How did he know that?

The noise wasn’t really discernible for a moment or two until it came into focus - like a banging? Maybe some sort of ri-

Is that a doorbell?

His vision split-

He was standing in front of a door in a hallway-

He was on stage answering questions-

Neither? Both?

Both. Yet one-

The door snapped into focus and he was grabbing the knob, twisting it open only to realize it was locked. Twisting the little latch - he thinks it's called a thumb turn? -, he then twisted the knob properly, standing face-to-face with an older, tanned man with blonde hair and very familiar blue eyes - blue flickers to gold. A pained noise rings out. A dagger is handed over. Drops of ichor onto a tongue- and a classic USPS outfit on, with a smile on his face - genuine, as far as Percy can tell. “Hey, Perce! Got a letter or three here for ya’, lemme just-” Hermes starts to ruffle through the letter bag on his side, and pops out with six envelopes and a small package, two standing out more than the others, one yellow and one black, offering them out.

Percy goes to grab them, before pausing. “How the hell did I get here?”

Hermes looks confused for a brief moment, before the grin returns, much more scheme-y this time. “Oh, figure out avatar manifestation already? How many names did you get when you ascended, eh? I’ll let Apollo help you figure that part out. Yellow one should be from him, he’s the only one that buys the things. Probably wants you to meet him somewhere- lovely place you got, by the way. Say, wanna invite the mailman in ma-”

The door slams in Hermes’ face.

Cackling is heard outside, and he sees Hermes jog away through a nearby window.

Percy sighs, stepping over to a co- wait a fucking second.

Where the hell is he?

His head snaps around, and the environment is so familiar and yet so foreign.

He is consciously aware he’s on Olympus. That settles that part fine. How he got here? He’s not sure. He should probably open that letter from Apollo soon. The building around him is about the size of his moms newer apartment in Manhattan she got after selling Gabe and moving in together with Paul, but he sees several doors leading outwards, meaning that it's likely much bigger. He’s standing in a kitchen - hard wood floor, black slate countertops over navy blue cabinets in a wide, square U-shaped (bracket shaped?) kitchen with an island in the middle that sticks out enough for some stools to be slid under it that had one of those fancy glass induction cooktops his mom would talk about wanting placed inside of it. Black appliances - a double-wide fridge on one side of the island, a big two-basin sink, a dishwasher, and an oven cabinet on the opposite side of the fridge with a microwave placed above the oven. The hardwood floor seems to continue throughout the house seeing as he can see it continuing through the entryway he met Hermes in, which has a coat rack and a shoe-storage cabinet that goes up just high enough to use as a bench as well. Large bay windows with a big enough gap to lay down in and look out into the streets of Olympus from are placed in both the kitchen and the living room, which seems to be laid out around a coffee table made out of some sort of dark wood with a resin river flowing through it, painted with dark blue walls and a large couch with two chairs on either side of the table, facing a TV lined with what looks like celestial bronze framing in a TV stand full of empty slots on either side, the bottom, and above. Different plants litter stands and shelves along the walls, including bamboo, some succulents, and a small bit of moonlace on the countertop in the kitchen, facing the large window.

Something about this place… it was definitely empty. He was always used to small spaces - the cabin at Camp was low but long, the apartments he had in the mortal world were small but homey, the room on the Argo was on a boat , and this… seems like an oddity. It was… big. A house. Homey, yet not. Artificial, almost.

He could fix that.

It wasn’t empty, it just wasn’t full. Not yet.

Percy reached for the yellow envelope and his vision split, again, much like when he first showed up here, and he watched the “him” on the stage at the amphitheater continue as if it - he - wasn’t seeing the same things he was, as if it - he - didn’t know there was a second him going around doing other things.

And then his vision rescinded, and he was back in the house on Olympus, the yellow envelope partially opened in hand. 

Definitely, definitely asking Apollo about that first.

Having not parsed what he read - he’s not sure he had read it, actually - he flipped the envelope back over.

Was that… was that gold ink on yellow paper?

How the hell was he expected to read this?

Definitely Apollo.

With a sigh, he flipped it back over and opened it the rest of the way. Thankfully, the pages inside were white, with black ink. 

“Hey, Perce! 

Apollo, God of the Sun, Knowledge, Healing, and all things shiny (and your teacher) here. Glad you managed to find your way to your palace!”

Percy looked around. Not much of a palace. He likes it that way.

“When you get a chance, meet me at the gazebo outside of the Meeting Room at the peak. I probably won’t be there when you show up, but I’ll know you’re there, and then I will be too! Don’t worry about it.

- Apollo.”

That-

That was way too Apollo to be a coincidence.

Did Apollo know about his meeting with Hestia before he entered the throne room?

He had to, right? God of Knowledge, Prophecy, the Sun they happened to be under…

Was this meant to be some sort of power play or something? A warning? A threat?

Or- much more likely. Apollo didn’t think about it that much, and just thought it was a familiar place.

After all, if Apollo wanted him dead, he’d have just faked a complication of some sort during his apotheosis. He was unconscious for over a year in the dude's temple, after all.

Apollo was probably just cruising along in his sun-maserati or something and thought it looked pretty.

Right?

An hour and a half walk later, Percy saw the gazebo in the distance. 

Yep. Looked the exact same as it had earlier that day. Especially the distinct lack of a Sun god.

Walking uphill gives such an odd frame of reference for distance. You have to be a whole lot closer for something to make an appearance, especially on some of these windy-ass roads Olympus has. For what's supposed to be “just the peak” of a mountain that got carved off the top of a hill in Greece and shoved onto a cloud to float around the world, this thing was tall. Bumpy, too-

Oh, he’s at the Gazebo!

Yep, still no Apollo.

Percy takes a seat and prepares to wait for a lo- oh, why is his skin so ho- oh, Apollo’s here! That was fast-

Apollo was in a pretty similar form to the last time Percy saw him, though smaller- only about six and a half feet tall. A black windbreaker jacket, red t-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots. Golden hair that seemed to be dimming as he stepped under the roof of the gazebo to a simple blonde, gold-tanned skin doing something similar.

A far cry from the supermodel on the cliff, but still hot - literally and figuratively. 

His bow nowhere in sight, Apollo sat down across the gazebo from Percy, seat smoking slightly as the area directly around the gods skin turned black, before repairing itself and the smoke died out. 

“So!” Apollo clapped his hands together and leaned forward a bit, hunched over. “How’d you like your palace? Heard from Hermes you figured out how to split yourself, too, tell me about that.”

“Uh- I’m not sure I’d really call it a palace, it was pretty bare-bones, though I didn’t see much of it except the entry, got your letter and I headed straight here. What it had was pretty nice, though, I just need to find stuff to fill in the space. And… yeah, I think Hermes called it avatar manifestation? I was at the camp - Grover flashed me there, I haven’t figured that out - and we hung out for a bit. Met up with Chiron, Thalia, and Nico, and I introduced my new role to the counselors - there’s so many of them now, I still haven’t really thought about the implications. Really need to move some of the cabins around too-” Percy stops himself, face flushing a bit as he realizes the small tangent he went off on. “Right- well, when I was on stage, I… heard something. It sounded like it was really far away, but also right next to me? And then my vision kinda… stretched, and split, like in an old console game, and then I was looking at the inside of the door to my… palace , and then I was there. And I don’t know how. ”

Apollo nods along to the story, actually looking like he’s trying to pay attention. He sat up straight, and the vibe kinda shifted a little around him. It got a bit heavier, and he got a sense like he should really listen to what his teacher was about to say.

“Right, what you experienced is, technically, called avatar manifestation. Kind of a slang term, the real name for it is closer to Nameshaping, but that doesn’t really matter, it gets the point across either way. Basically, you took the power given to you by your Divine Name, and used it to manifest a new body and put a fraction of your consciousness inside of it. You kept most of it in yourself, which made your current body your ‘default’, and the one that keeps consciously going and knows about the others. Kind of like a ‘manager’ for your avatars, though it’s more subconscious. You can tap in and take control directly, though, which is what was probably causing that ‘split’ sensation you had.”

Percy nodded along dutifully. Something about this was much easier to follow along with than his teachers when he was a mortal - whether that was divinity getting rid of his ADHD (he didn’t think it had) or something about Apollo’s Domain of Knowledge he wasn’t sure (it was probably the latter). “So, you’re saying I basically cloned myself and have some sort of one-way connection to it, where I know what it’s up to, but it doesn’t know what I am?”

Apollo shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Have you had flashing explained to you yet?”

At Percy’s blank look, Apollo nodded. “Good to know. So, you’ve technically already done it with the avatar manifestation. Doing it to and from places that are ‘yours’-” the god put air quotes around the word “-like your palace, shrines, or places of worship, are a lot easier, so it makes sense your first one would be from Camp to Olympus, especially by accident. It’s decently simple, actually, once you stop picturing yourself as a solid, rigidly defined entity. Basically, in simple terms, you just have to picture the location and then have the desire to be there. For avatar manifestation, you just pick what ‘parts’ of yourself should be there instead of all of you, or whatever parts you’re already composed of.”

Percy kinda got lost at the “stop picturing yourself as an actual thing” step, but nods as if there's no issues to be had.

Apollo clapped his hands and stood up. “Cool. If you think ya’ got it, let’s go back to your place then. Flash yourself there- doing both of us, especially me, might be a bit much for you right now.”

Panic settled its way into Percy’s chest, but he stood up all the same. “Okay- I… didn’t pay the most attention to where it was, or the outside of it, but…” 

An image settled into Percy’s mind. The kitchen - his moms dream kitchen, just about. Plenty of space to move around in, new appliances, tons of cabinet space. 

And then he was there, standing between the island and the fridge and looking into the living room, where Apollo was sitting inside of the bay window with a grin. “Good job, Perce. Easy, yeah? Not necessarily simple, at least not once you understand what’s going on. But, easy.”

Percy nodded again as Apollo pushed himself out of the bay window into a standing position. “Alright. Next lesson is-”

Percy had a fairly good internal clock. However, ascending to divinity and being in a coma for a year and some change can mess with those. 

It was fairly early in the day when Percy had woken up. It was October, and the sun wasn’t out yet, meaning it had been around four or five in the morning. The Second Giant War had concluded when Gaia died in August the year prior, and Percy had been dragged out of his cabin and hidden away by Hera back in August of the year before that, just a few days after his sixteenth birthday, meaning Percy had solidly missed his seventeenth and eighteenth birthdays. That also means he hadn’t been home for the last three of them, on top of not having seen his mom in over two years.

So, it is with a fair bit of nervousness that Percy stares down a baby blue door of an apartment in Manhattan at around five PM, knuckles pressed against the wood but not tapping.

He knew they hadn’t moved, he’d asked Apollo. In fact, they’d renewed their lease despite some price increases, just for when he came home.

The god had a few things he’d tried to tell Percy as well, but Percy didn’t want to hear it. Any developments or changes in his moms and Paul's lives, he wanted to hear from them.

He also really hoped they hadn’t gone through with the decision to get a camera doorbell, because he’d been here for like seven minutes and he didn’t want them to think he was a thief or a murderer or anything-

The scent of sea salt, laurels, and a hearth overtook him. Percy felt himself relaxing even as his knuckles rapped against the door before he parsed what happened. 

His panic spiked again, and the feeling of warmth from the hearth wrapped around him in a comforting wave as shuffling was heard inside, a distant “Coming!” heard from the other side of the apartment. 

Ohgodsohgodsohgods-

Percy glared out the window at the sun and the light filtering through flared in amusement.

Who the hell thought this was a good idea?

Oh, right. It was him.

The door opened and Percy whipped back around and was suddenly staring at his mom.

Older.

A few - okay a lot - more grays.

Eyes as shining as ever - and full of tears.

Next thing he knows he’s being slammed against the wall and her arms are around him and she’s bawling. 

Percy has never been good at comforting people. Unfortunately, he’s had a lot of practice, but he’s never really known what to do. He’d never known if it was best to let them vent, or give them advice. Hug them, or just be near them. 

Some time after the Battle of the Labyrinth that changed - a threading needle pricking a small, golden-bronze finger, ichor bubbling up and drip, drip, dripping - at least a little, but this was his mom.

Something about that made it different but so, so familiar-

Tears welled up and something inside burst and he collapsed to the floor, hugging her and sobbing violently.

Deep, deep inside, a small fire roared to life and began to dance and sing.

They were in that hallway ugly-crying for ten minutes. Paul had joined in after about three minutes, having come outside looking disheveled, looking for Sally and noticing the door was open.

Then, they went inside. Percy noticed a little girl less than a year old in a crib and started crying again.

Estelle.

Named after a grandma he never got to know.

He was so, so happy she would actually get to know him. That he wouldn’t have to stay away to protect them. She could grow up knowing her brother. Because he would be here.

Her eyes were vibrant and so very intelligent for a child of her age, and she was so bouncy and giggly and loving.

Percy would have to ask Apollo if a mortal’s Sight could be inherited.

Yes, Percy would be here far, far longer than her. But that was a problem for another day.

Because he’d make sure he was here for whoever came next.

The flame cheered, laughing like a giddy child, and Percy felt something bloom outwards and cement itself in place.

Kourotrophos.

The conversation was full of everything and nothing. Percy learned everything that had happened since the end of the Titan War, and said nothing, a bit too busy focusing on the giggly younger sister that refused to leave his lap.

Apparently, he’d been formally declared a missing person up until about a year ago, when his files mysteriously disappeared, and the cops had no clue he existed (funny how that works).

Rachel had actually wound up going to Clarion, and was absolutely miserable. She was, in her own words, “spending just as much time learning to turn off the formalities as she is learning to turn them on.”

Apollo had apparently shown up during his stint as a mortal (he had neglected to mention that earlier. Funny how that works.) looking for him, not remembering that he was currently on Olympus, and stayed for a bit (and took some of his old clothes) on his way to Camp.

Estelle seemed to like Apollo well enough as well, which made Percy feel a bit better about his assigned teacher.

Eventually, after a long while of talking about nothing in particular and long after Estelle fell asleep while drooling on his shirt, Percy felt something inside pull , and his vision was suddenly full of the doors to the throne room of Olympus, a thundering call coming from inside

Percy blinked a few times, and he was back in his parents living room. 

His face must have revealed something, because Sally looked concerned and stood up to move over to him, a hand resting on his cheek. “Is everything okay, Percy?”

Percy leaned into the touch, mouth suddenly a bit dry. “Yeah. Just… gotta go real quick. Think I’m needed on Olympus.”

Sally nodded, taking Estelle with one arm and pulling Percy into a hug with the other, pressing a kiss to his forehead with a gentle smile. “Be safe. And remember, just because you have a fancy palace on Olympus now, that doesn’t mean you have to be alone. You’re welcome any time, for any reason.”

Percy smiled with a small laugh, standing up and pulling his mom into a hug, sandwiching Estelle between them. “Of course. I still can’t cook nearly as good as you, so I’ve got plenty of excuses.”

Percy moved on to hug Paul, and was out the door, gently closing it behind him. Just after he heard the ‘Click!’, he was standing in front of the doors of Olympus’ throne room.

Staring up at the gold and marble doors, Percy sighed. He’s never once had a good experience in this room, and something tells him that won’t change now. But, once more, he answers Olympus’ Call, and pushes open the doors, stepping to the middle of the U shape as he had three times prior.

Once, to save himself.

Once, to save his cousin.

Once, to save all those who simply wanted respect.

Kneeling towards (not to. Never again will it be to.) Zeus, just past the Hearth at which Hestia sat, tending to the flames that danced as he came near.

All the Olympians were present this time. Zeus, in his platinum throne, black and blue pinstriped suit, thunder-cloud beard. Hera, in her colorful, peacock-patterned gown. Poseidon, in his fishing getup, and that proud smile only his son could bring out. Demeter, the season reflected in her aged form and the colors she wore. Athena, softly armored and stony in expression. Hephaestus, volcanic hands tinkering with something set in his lap. Artemis, shining as bright as the moon had in the Alaskan wilderness, despite the empty sky above them. Apollo, his light muted in the darkness of night, though still brilliant enough to warrant caution. Aphrodite, form in a constant state of flux, some parts sliding smoothly into another and others jolting as if shocked - which Percy thought was a bit odd, as she was much more stable the last few times he saw her. Ares, a grim expression across his scarred face as he leaned forward in his throne, flaming eyes blocked by thick sunglasses, Percy able to feel his eyes boring into him. Hermes, a phone to his ear and another in his hands, mumbling quietly into one as his hands tapped away at the other, each one's case decorated with a snake - one green, one pink. The pink one winked at him. Dionysus, looking much less like a cherub than before. A bit slimmer, sitting a bit taller, hair less disheveled and more intentional, eyes slightly calmer, nose a bit less red. Did being away from Olympus for that long change him? Did being back for less than a day fix him that much? Or was it maybe that he was back with his wife more constantly now-

Percy had missed the first part of what Zeus said. Thankfully, it didn’t have anything important in it - or at least not important to him.

“Perseus,” the King’s voice rumbled out, filling the room despite its oddly quiet tone. The room warped once more as it had during his last visit, and the scale between him and the Olympians sizes equalized again.

“You are here to present your wish before the Council, as all the Heroes of the Prophecy of Seven have been granted. Despite your Ascension, as it was not granted by the Council, we have decided to grant you one request due to your contribution in the fulfillment of the Prophecy and the destruction of the Earthmother’s form.”

Zeus was being nice again. Why? What had changed between them? Was it his Ascension? Surely that wouldn’t be enough - he was still Poseidon’s child, born of a mutually shattered Oath-

Oaths.

That must be it-

All the eyes were on him, stares more intense than before.

He can think later.

Play the part they want now.

Zeus continued. “Do you know what it is you desire, Perseus?”

Actually. He did.

“My… my wish might not be able to be fulfilled by you all directly. But I do know it’s within Olympus’ power.”

Zeus’ attention was seized, and an eyebrow was raised. “I cannot guarantee we can fulfill it if the Council cannot grant it, nephew. That said, speak, and we will decide.”

Percy stood, taking a deep breath as he looked at each member of the Council. “I know my last wish was big, and it made a lot of differences. Since I woke up, I’ve been to Camp. I’ve seen the differences it made, and I’ve already got plenty of ideas for more changes I’m going to make as its Director. But I know that it wasn’t enough.”

Some of the gods looked intrigued, and some looked furious. Zeus, however, was impassive, electric eyes staring and waiting.

“During the Second Giant War, I heard so many stories of monsters still chasing Demigods to camp, and people that went missing during the school year, or demigods that hadn’t even figured out their parentage dying in attacks. Just this morning, Nico had to rescue a daughter of Hermes from a cyclops that her satyr guide couldn’t deal with.”

Percy hadn’t breathed since he started talking, but that didn’t seem to be impacting him. Either way, he took a deep breath for this last part. Inhale, exhale.

Some of the gods, going by their expression, had a good guess as to where he was going.

Poseidon’s eyes twinkled, Athena was leaning forward and staring him down, Apollo had a big grin. Hestia’s Hearth, though he could not see it, had flared behind him, keeping him going and giving him a presence while speaking.

-    The Final Verse    -

“My wish is for the immediate removal of Demigod’s Scents.”

The Throne Room erupted.

Chapter Text

The Olympian Throne Room was in utter chaos.

Gods screamed at each other, at the air, and at the individual in the middle.

Percy, of course, was that individual. As always.

He couldn’t really understand the things that were being shouted, as the Olympians didn’t care to make sure they were understood as much as they did care about being heard.

Thunder rumbled throughout the room as Zeus tried to call order, but the bickering continued.

Throughout it all, Percy kept his attention trained on two specific individuals, both of whom were quieter than the rest. Much quieter, as even those that he figured may agree with him (not that he could really tell with how loud everyone was being) were yelling at someone. Not these two.

Apollo and Athena.

Knowledge and Wisdom.

Athena leaned back in her chair, stony gray eyes staring through him as he met her gaze. Not trying to scare, or to intimidate. Simply observe. Wondering if he truly knew what he was asking, and what the consequences of such an action would really be.

Thunder rumbled again, Zeus’ call of “Order!” far louder, and still ignored.

Apollo was in a similar position to Athena, though he stared up at the roof as opposed to at the god in front of him. Eventually, his eyes shifted down to look at Percy, blue replaced with gold, green swirls that quickly were eaten by the gold, present for but a moment.

He was grinning.

Zeus stands from his throne, beard flickering with lightning as he claps with a roar of thunder loud enough to leave Percy’s ears ringing for several minutes. The shouting stops, and as the ringing dies out Zeus sits back down, clearing his throat with a glare at most of the council.

“Now. Since we have finally achieved order and silence, I believe I understand most of the Council’s concern. As its King, I shall act as its voice, and represent these.”

“As you said Perseus, this is not a wish the Council would be able to grant. The Curse that granted Demigods their Scent is an ancient one that we do not understand well. However, Olympus does have someone that would be able to… remedy our ignorance in this matter.”

Zeus’ attention shifted to Athena, and then to Apollo. “Do you two truly believe this is something that could be done? Set aside whether or not it should, or if it’s realistic. Is it doable? ”

Athena spoke first. “It would by no means be immediate. The curse Lamia placed on our children is an ancient one, and it would take much to unravel it. It would definitely be beyond just the matters of the Council, and Hecate would be a necessary component. However, it would not surprise me if she’d looked into the matter previously, so she may already have ideas.”

Apollo nodded in agreement, green swirls appearing for another moment. “She has, as have several of her children in the past. We’ve talked about it before, and one of her children actually had a run-in with Lamia relatively recently. Plus, after Percy here got her pardoned, she swore loyalty to Olympus again. She’d be Oathbound- ” Apollo’s attention really focused on Percy at that word, and Percy could smell laurels and feel the Sun bearing down on him - though it didn’t hurt. It was oddly reassuring. “-to comply with this request, regardless of her thoughts on the matter personally. Lamia was her daughter, after all, though that curse has killed several more of her kids and priestesses, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

Athena nodded, attention moving from Apollo to Zeus. “So, the request as is, no, due to the stipulation of it being immediate. However, the removal of scents is, though I’m not certain I’d consider it wise. After all, it’s not only monsters that can utilize them. It’s the primary tracking method used by satyrs and Roman Eagles, and it can help play a part in tracking spells used by Seekers as well.”

Hephaestus’ voice emerges - something Percy didn’t expect. “So long as we all keep doing what the kid asked the first time, satyrs won’t need to be tracking demigods.”

Hermes chimed in. His phone that had Martha on the case had been hung up and put away when the shouting started, but he tip-tapped away at the one with George even as he talked, looking at the other gods. “If you can’t keep track of your kids, have less of them. And if you’re keeping track, you’ll know if they get in danger, and then you can go tell Percy, who can get someone to go get them.”

Percy thought Hermes was being a bit of a hypocrite - he remembered Chris, after all, an unclaimed son of Hermes that had stayed in the Hermes cabin for years. But, he wasn’t about to mention that when he was sure none of the other gods remembered, and Hermes was on his side.

Athena nodded once more - today, Percy learned she does that a lot. “I agree, I was simply pointing out potential arguments. It’s always worth considering any negative alongside the positives.”

Zeus raised a hand, and the Throne Room quieted again. “Perseus. So long as you agree to the change in terms, the Council will swear to do what it reasonably can to grant your request.”

Percy felt something reach out from Zeus towards him. Something in his chest reached out to grab it as he spoke. “I agree to the terms.”

Zeus nodded, and his attention turned away. “Hermes, schedule a meeting with Hecate for Perseus, to discuss the finer details and see what must be done.”

“Should your wish not be able to be granted, nephew, I will meet with you later to discuss a different one. For now, you are dismissed.”

Percy nodded, turned, and left the Throne Room. 

The winding streets of Olympus gave Percy plenty of time to think. Normally, for someone in his position mentally (PTSD, a large variety of other, unrelated trauma, and just forcefully and eternally separated from his support system) that would be very bad.

However, he had a distraction! In the form of a new house!

So, trying to keep his mind occupied on that, Percy walked through Olympus largely unbothered, thinking about different potential adjustments and changes he’d make, before processing that he hadn’t actually seen all of it. Probably a good starting point.

That all came crashing down the second he actually stepped inside, though.

Standing in his foyer was a young - maybe a few years older than him - green-skinned merman “human” with inky black hair that floated in the air as if he were still underwater, skin dripping with moisture, though the floor stayed dry. A conch shell was attached to his scale-covered hip, a trident in his hand with its base planted firmly on the floor. He looked rather uncomfortable, though Percy figured that had nothing at all to do with the breaking-and-entering and the near nudity, and much more to do with his current legs and the lack of water around him. 

Percy’s hand twitches, resting above his front right pocket as he stares down Triton, green eyes meeting and mutually hardening slightly before Percy’s head pulses , and Triton shifts.

Instead of the unclothed, decency-scaled humanoid standing in his foyer, Percy was looking at cerulean skinned mer with deep green hair, eyes like the bulb of an anglerfish and a tail stretching out behind him like a sea serpents, winged and barbed. Barnacles cover his torso like armor, the trident in his hand glows gold and drips red, and a crown of sea glass rests on his head.

His form shifts again - the pain absent - and Percy looks at a human-ish man again.  

The vision lasts only a moment as Percy stumbles, a flash of worry darting across Triton’s features and betraying his originally blank face as he takes a few steps forward to grab the new gods shoulders, helping steady him.

“Perseus-” 

“Percy.” It jets out of his mouth before Percy even realizes he’s talking

Triton sighs. “Percy. Father has been… testy, since he learned you woke. He wouldn’t come here on his own, but I can tell he wishes to see you as quickly as possible, and it’s in my best interests that a segment of the palace isn’t destroyed.”

Percy pushes Triton away and stands up on his own. “I just saw him in the throne room.”

Triton sighs, looking at Percy like he was an insolent child. Percy happens to be an insolent adult now, thank you very much. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Percy.”

“You’re right.”

Triton sighed again. Percy took a bit too much pride in that. 

Triton started to talk (whine) again, and Percy was barely listening to begin with, but his vision suddenly split again, this time staring out at the Olympian Omega from the front porch of the Big House as someone young he’d never met - his brain autofilled Kari Winters, son of Aeolus - approached him to talk about something - and then his vision snapped back like a rubber band into his body in front of Triton.

Triton had a hand on Percy’s shoulder, which had stopped him from slamming into a wall, apparently. “What is- oh. Oh. You can manifest your Name already?” The mer laughs. “Father is going to be pissed he missed that.”

Percy grumbled quietly, rubbing his temples as he pushed Triton away from him. “The Fates gave me them during the ceremony Zeus did. I had two.”

“Had. ” Well shit. Triton caught that. “How many do you have now?”

Percy was quiet for a few moments. What was even the point in hiding it anyways? Triton might not like him but he wasn’t going to hurt him, and what would Triton knowing them even actually do? And even past that, he wouldn’t know what they are, just how many there were.

Eventually, he sighed. “Three. The Fates gave me two, and another one… appeared , I guess, when I was with my mom and sister.”

Triton started to laugh, and Percy shoved him back. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

It took a few seconds for the laughter to stop, and it died out with a sigh. “Hermes let me in. I told him I had something to personally deliver, and he was happy to do so.”

Of course it was Hermes. He definitely knew Triton was lying, too, which means he didn’t care. Of course.

But, something he said earlier - “Why is dad going to be mad?”

Triton’s laughter picked back up, and he started explaining. “A godling getting their first Name is a rather big deal. Since you ascended, you likely have several more you’ve already earned beyond the ones you’ve discovered, and it's simply a matter of realizing them and their potential. But, splitting yourself like that is…” Triton trailed off in thought, leaning against his trident. “It’s something similar to a mortal's first steps, I suppose. I don’t personally have experience with that, obviously, but from what Hermes and father have said and done before, I feel it's an accurate enough reference.”

Triton went to continue to speak, but Percy interrupted. “You’re friends with Hermes?”

A flicker of irritation crossed Triton’s features, and Percy was deeply unapologetic. “I would not call us friends, moreso… coworkers. He is the Messenger for Olympus and the Underworld, and I for the Sea. And communications between the three go through both of us, so we have to meet to exchange letters and packages regularly.”

Percy nodded in understanding. He’d known of Triton’s job before - and it's impossible to have not known of Hermes’ - but he’d never really thought about any potential connection between the two of them.

How many more links between his family had he missed?

“Regardless,” Triton continued, “I feel we - you - have made father wait long enough.” The jab did not go unnoticed to Percy, who snarled. “There will likely be a little ceremony when we enter Atlantis, to celebrate the crowning of a new deity, and one of Father’s children at that, so try to not embarrass the family too much, Percy.”

Before Percy could respond, Triton grabbed him and Percy felt himself expand to encompass the world itself once more, before rapidly narrowing in on a point in the endless blue of the ocean and he contracted back down into something resembling a human body as he blinks away the endless wreath of interconnected lines covering the world to instead focus on a vast web of interconnected lines making up this thing called art on the front of one of Atlantis’ gates.

“Some warning would have been nice, Triton.” Percy snarked.

“Exactly, that’s why I didn’t give you any.” The mer-turned-human-turned-mer (he has fish legs again, Percy noted with a small amount of jealousy) pushed open the door to a pure wall of sound making Percy visibly recoil as cheering is heard over conch shells over clapping over stomping-

Percy is yanked forward by a smugly grinning Triton to the center of the room in front of what must be thousands of cheering spirits and immortals and other sorts of mer that get to exist within the beauty that is Atlantis, absolutely stunlocked by the noise and attention being pushed onto him.

Triton - the smug bastard - spoke, Percy able to somehow clearly hear him over the noise that Percy would swear was just getting louder. “I did warn you! And I thought I told you to not embarrass us! Come along!”

Once again, before Percy had a chance to snark back or move, Triton yanked him forward, through the cleared tunnel of guards holding back the veritable mob of people, a shimmering web of magic covering the space between to guarantee none could try to simply swim over the streets. 

“How did they even know I was awake? I didn’t think gossip could spread here that quickly, it's not even been a day yet!”

“You have been the talk of the divine world since you were twelve , Percy. Every year your legend seemed to grow bigger and bigger, and you made no effort to hide yourself on Olympus. Of course word got around.”

Percy squirmed a bit while they swam through the streets, more than a little awkward about the sudden burst of something resembling praise he got from Triton.

The duo eventually managed to make their way to the palace proper, large (unnecessary) walls looming above them; they quickly move past as the gates open before they get near, and are pulled closed behind them almost as quickly.

The new palace of Atlantis was a wide, squat building, having gotten almost completely rebuilt after the war with Oceanus. Made largely of basalt, decorated by coral and seaglass, lit by Greek fire, and covered in a variety of different crystals and pearls, Percy thought the building was truly beautiful.

Where Hades’ palace was a dark, edgy (in Percy’s mind) mirror to Olympus, he’d not seen any other building like Atlantis’ palace. Orthrys came close, but it was far, far taller, and much more ominous. Even the first time Percy came to Atlantis, after bombing the Princess Andromeda, something about it felt like home, even if he hadn’t really felt it at the time due to the… not-quite-hostility being radiated by Triton and Amphitrite. 

He’d never really been to the palace, though. Never had any chance to properly explore it, or hang out with the workers, meet any of the other siblings he’s pretty sure have rooms here- does he have a room here? Did he before he became a god?

Probably not.

Poseidon cared for him, sure, but he was still mortal, and Poseidon might have hoped he’d turn immortal, but he didn’t know he would.

A thought flicked across his mind- sea deities were often prophets, and he thinks he remembers something about Poseidon being the Olympian for prophecy before Apollo came along.

He didn’t know Percy would become a god.

Right?

Deep in Percy’s heart, something that smiled after he arrived at Camp, frowned.

The duo eventually managed to swim their way through the palace halls to… somewhere Percy wasn’t really expecting?

He figured he’d be meeting their father in the throne room, or maybe some sort of fancy, expensive guest meeting room slash lounge thingie. 

What he came into was… a fairly standard, if bougie, beach-themed living room?

Beige walls, white furniture with blue throw-pillows decorated with a various fish and seashells, a driftwood coffee table that had one of those resin-cast “rivers” in the middle full of various fake fish, a fireplace for some reason with Greek fire burning in the firebox, windows made of seaglass staring out into the deep ocean and pictures of different beaches and ocean views - he recognized the Gulf of Corinth and a very specific cabin at Montauk, which made Percy’s heart ache. 

Honestly?

Percy was, obviously, a fan of the beach.

But this?

This was pretty damn tacky.

No one but them was in the room currently, but as Triton floated over to one of the chairs by the fireplace, Percy decided it was probably a pretty safe bet to go ahead and sit down on the other side of the coffee table - his was closer to the table, while Triton’s was corner-set and pulled back a bit, almost in a corner of the room. 

They sat in a pretty awkward silence for about ten minutes, Percy’s only thought pretty much the entire time being along the lines of “Didn’t you say dad was antsy?”

Of course, he didn’t say that out loud or anything. 

Contrary to (very) popular belief, he wasn’t suicidal.

Eventually, Percy had done the equivalent of counting every ceiling panel in a doctors office (counting every shell on the ceiling) and noticed a presence-

(No, not noticed. It had only just appeared.)

-in the chair directly to the left of the table, and to the left of his loveseat.

Poseidon sat in a weird mix of the forms Percy had seen him in before. He was in his mer-form, tail currently curling under the table as his hands crossed his clothed chest - a classic flowery button-up, the stereotypical tourist-cruise style. He had on his bucket-style fishing hat, long black hair floating in the water and framing his face like a halo. His trident was missing.

And then, the world twisted, and Percy felt like he was about to dissolve.

What was in that chair was not his father.

What he saw was an anomaly. Something that should not - could not exist. 

It was both human and monster, constantly shifting between a kind but distant but loving father and something prowling the deep and didn’t understand the concept of light and hadn’t eaten in so long itwasso hungry-

Percy was on the floor. Poseidon was above him, worry evident on his face as his eyes pulsed, and Triton was gone. The water was still, and cold. The chill helped him focus, and was comforting. He slowly pushed himself up, Poseidon floating back enough to keep the same distance - the same hovering motions, like he was worried Percy might fall again. He was quiet, not even the noise or feeling of the water parting following his movements.

“H-Hey, Dad. Sorry about that.” He tried to smile while rubbing the back of his neck. The look in Poseidon’s eyes told him the smile didn’t work.

Percy went to talk more, but was momentarily distracted - could he see through Poseidon?

The thought was interrupted by him suddenly only seeing the ceiling and a very tight feeling around his ribs as his father hugged him.

Percy was stunned. His father had hugged him before, but never like this. It was always in congratulations, or during a party, and was always so light that it felt like they were barely touching. This was like the crushing force of the Mariana trench was entirely focused around his ribs, but he was fine.

The god pulled back, hands gripping Percy’s shoulders as the glow in his eyes twisted with concern, his body shifting as if it was going to float away with the current, before snapping back into place, the process repeating over and over again.

They sat there like that for what must have been minutes before Poseidon slowly lifted Percy back into the chair, the chair Poseidon was sitting in dragging itself over so they could sit across from each other.

“So…” Percy decided to try to start the conversation. “Why are you see-through?”

Poseidon stared at him for a moment with a very odd smile on his face. “You always were rather blind to the divine world. I’m appearing as I always have down here, Percy. You simply could not See well enough, and now you can See much more than you could before.”

Percy felt oddly insulted by that? But, questions came forward anyways. “Okay- what do you mean by See? I was always told that was more a prophecy thing, and that I had that a bit stronger than average, because of all the dreams I had.”

Poseidon frowned, evidently having to think about the answer. “Your connection with prophecy was always rather high, from what I know and from what Apollo has told me. The Sisters took much interest in your life, after all, and they never only take, or only give. Contrary to the belief of many, yourself included, they are not good, or evil. They simply are. It is a hard lesson to learn, but it is an important one. The interest they took in your life gave you much stronger prophetic abilities than has been seen in any but an Oracle in a long time, despite your difficulty in sensing the Divine and seeing through the Mist. Seeing as you aren’t fully ascended yet-”

Percy jolted at that, causing Poseidon to stop. “Did no one tell you that?”

“No! I thought I woke up because that was done!”

Poseidon frowned. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to Apollo about that son of his. But, no, you woke up because your form had settled enough for it to be safe. By all accounts, you are still a God, but your True Form has not manifested yet, and you have not realized all your Epithets. When you do, your ascension will be complete, and only then will you be bound by the same Laws that govern us , as opposed to demigods or spirits or mortals.”

Percy’s eyes widened. “So- I’m still unbound by the Ancient Laws? Or- at least the ones not made by Olympus? Meaning I can help with quests and stuff?”

Poseidon sighed, but nodded. “Yes. In this state, you have all the benefits of being a demigod, with all the immortality of a God. If you die, you will simply cut connection with that Name for a while-”

“What?”

Poseidon stared at Percy. “You had lessons with Apollo. Correct?”

Percy stared back. “One. We mostly went over how to do things, like intentionally splitting my Names, flashing, things like that.”

Poseidon sighed again, pinching his brow. “When a form is destroyed, a God is not dead. In order for that to happen, either all the Names must die, or they must be destroyed in their True Form. Only then are we sent to Tartarus to reform.”

Percy nodded. 

Poseidon continued where he was before. “If you die, you simply lose the ability to Manifest that Name while it recovers. This can limit any Domains or other abilities you have due to that name, so still be careful, Percy.” The deadpan look he was given means Poseidon knew exactly how impossible that was.

Percy, however, looked like the pinnacle of innocence - a baby seal, even.

Poseidon’s eyes softened at the look, though Percy knew he hated himself for it. That made him feel a bit better.

The Lord of the Sea sighed, and pushed himself out of the chair. “Come. I’ll give you a tour of the palace, and show you where you may stay should you wish. God of Olympus you may be, you are still my son.”

Something inside of Percy’s heart pulsed at that

Deep inside Percy’s core, something else pulsed in time.

If Percy didn’t have a perfect sense of direction while in the ocean, he’d be hopelessly lost, even while following Poseidon.

The palace was fucking massive, alright.

Percy got shown:

The throne room, the meeting room, the public meeting room, the dining room, the servants quarters, the barracks, the second barracks, the second dining room, the backup second dining room, the kitchen, the servants dining room, the servants kitchen, the servants wing (different area), the servants panic room, the war room, the backup war room, the war hall (different from the war room), the royals wing, the royals panic room, the royals meeting room, the guest wing, the guest panic room, the guards wing (different from the barracks), the grounds, the forest (what?) the walls, the interior walls, the interior of the interior walls (why?), the linen closet (why did he need to know where that was?), and the third barracks.

What the fuck.

And it was still under construction! Like they needed more dining rooms!

Also, he apparently did have his own room here. In fact, he had a whole other house here pretty much. The living room he and Poseidon started in was part of the royal's wing, and was apparently his. It also led off into a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, dining room, and “sun” room, all with the same theme as the living room. He didn’t see them, but from what he was told pretty much any properly immortal sibling he could think of (so, Triton and Kym) plus more he couldn’t have rooms here as well.

Apparently all it took to get a place of his own was becoming a God.

Much easier than finding an apartment in New York, honestly.

However, Percy noticed an oddity fairly early on, though he waited until the end of the ‘tour’ to voice it, or even really think about it.

The palace was empty. There were no servants in the halls, or carriers running messages. There weren’t even any guards. Not in the barracks, not on the walls. Not in the halls, and not even in the mall! (Well, that doesn’t exist yet. But it rhymes!)

Eventually getting the chance to sit back down after that multi-hour (three hours, eighteen minutes, fourty-one seconds) ordeal (he tried so, so hard to not think about the fact he wasn’t tired in the slightest. Even in the water, he’d have been kind of tired after swimming and flexing his control over water for that long), Percy decides to just rip off the bandage. “Where is everyone?”

Poseidon looks momentarily confused, before bursting into a booming laugh. “Don’t worry, Percy. They aren’t avoiding you - it's a holiday. They’re at home with their families.”

They had federal holidays in Atlantis- okay. “And… Amphitrite? Triton? Kym? Tyson?”

The mirth faded from Poseidon’s expression, and he was quiet for a few seconds, body melding into the water and having to snap back into place due to the stillness. “Okay, they are avoiding you. But!” He tried to hurry the word out at Percy’s confused and slightly pained expression. “Not because they don’t wish to see you. Kymopoleia has mostly remained in the Mediterranean, though she has been spending more and more time around here recently. Triton and Amphitrite simply wish to give you time alone with me, and to wait for you to… adjust a bit better. I am aware they were not the most welcoming to you when you were a demigod - despite our relationship status-”

Percy interjected with a noise of confusion, though it got ignored.

“-she didn’t like that I kept it a secret, and Triton… That’s his story to explain. Tyson, however…” Poseidon paused, stroking his watery beard as he thought. “I don’t think it’d be best for me to say everything, but when he heard you awoke he rushed off for…” Poseidon’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “For a project. ”

Percy immediately understood and groaned loudly, putting his face in his hands. Poseidon simply chuckled.

“Tyson’s giftmaking is going to flood my palace.”

“Indeed.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, simply relaxing in each other's company.

Eventually, Percy decided to break it. “What holiday is it? We’re still a week off from Halloween.”

Poseidon’s response was a series of clicks and whines that Percy’s brain rushed to translate but struggled slightly, eventually coming to something along the lines of “Week of the Sea’s Awakening”

“Fundamentally,” Poseidon started to explain, “from today to the day that the mortals celebrate as ‘Halloween’, the Ocean celebrates a point in the cycle of the Sea that indicates a… weakening of barriers, so to say, which is in line with the older interpretations of what Halloween was supposed to be. It allows for easier communication with spirits, Divine or deceased, and often has more symbolic interpretations along the line of forgiving grudges, talking to estranged family or friends, and even political truces. However, for us , it sometimes allows us to…” Poseidon tries to find the right words.  “Communicate with those who controlled the Sea before.”

The words settled oddly heavily over the room.

Percy had always played fast and loose with Names as a demigod. Nothing had ever really seemed to happen , so he figured it was more a respect thing that most people wound up taking a bit far.

Eventually, however, he did learn.

Percy, Nico, and Thalia stood at the edge of the Abyss, from which even the Pit rose.

Nico and Thalia stood a couple yards back, ghoulish, wispy forms the color of ash and milk, Nico’s a tinge darker and more solid. Small comet trails formed off of both of them, dragging their forms towards Nico’s pitch black Stygian blade, solid despite the form of its wielder, and in stark contrast to Thalia’s spear and shield.

Percy, however, stood alone in an ocean of bright green poison, on an island no larger than a kite shield, fumes swirling around him like a tornado, feeding into his own body to solidify it and give it a green glow, matching the brightness of his eyes as he glares down the weeping form of Akhlys a few feet in front of him, caught within the trappings of her own Domains as poison seeps its way into every orifice it can reach.

Truly, this is what it takes for a God to know Misery.

Several minutes later, Percy, Thalia, and Nico were in far bigger trouble.

The Daughter of Night was gone deaddeaddead -

Gone. The Daughter of Night was gone, as well as her his ocean of poison; and in her place stood Night.

“Ah;” Percy thought for one of the first times in his life (though it had been happening a lot more often lately) “this.This is how I die.”

Her form was fundamentally impossible. It took up all of his vision, and yet she was a humanoid entity - if a bit tall of one - standing feet away from him.

She was Night, yet she was in a place with no Sky.

She was a person, yet she was a Thing.

The Pit was a place. It could be understood. It was tangible. It could be measured, it could be touched, and it could be learned.  

If Night could exist in a place with no Day and no Sky and no Sun or no Moon, then what was Night?

Truly, this is what made Perseus, the Champion of Hope and the Destroyer, understand hopelessness and futility.

And yet they survived. They escaped, both the House and the Pit. 

Why?

Whywhy why?

How?

Poseidon was talking about something. Percy didn’t know what. He didn’t seem to have noticed Percy delving into thepitthepitwhydidnthehelpwhydidnthestopit- his own head - unless he had, and that’s why he was talking about a whole lot of nothing?

Maybe.

Deep inside, a frown cracked a bit, and slowly shifted back into a smile.

Close. So, so close.

Styx was a Lady of many names. Dread River of Oath, for one. The Greatest and Most Dreaded Oath for the Blessed Gods was personally one of her favorites (Homer was such a flirt). There were, of course, other, more basic ones. Oceanid, The Black River, just “Dread” (that worked better for the Persephone, anyways, she felt), Implacable. Definitely a true one, there.

But easily, one of the worst and most violated was “Involiable.”

For centuries - no, millennia at this point, she has been nothing but voliable. (She doesn’t care that that’s not actually a word.)

Gods took Oaths without a care in the world for what might happen. Demigods still feared the idea, but as they watched the gods get away with more and more egregious actions, that would fade soon enough.

Her rivers ran darker than ever, sure, but it was out of fucking pollution!

Mortals were to abandon all their dreams when they die, but they’ve taken to straight-up throwing shit in when they’re still alive because of the bit that runs out of the underworld!

And she was fucking powerless to do anything about it because she was barely hanging on by a thread of power!

And yet Olympus did nothing!

By the fucking Serpent, Pallas didn’t even come back for the second Titanomachy and Kronos didn’t even bother seeking her out either!

She was a fucking joke!

She couldn’t even remember the last time someone came to actually do the proper ritual for an Oath on her waters! Iris is supposed to come and take a vial of her water for libations that are poured and then sworn over! But no! They’d rather just throw her fucking name around willy-nilly because then it’s only kind of binding!

And then - the first time anyone had bothered to try to find her for anything other than junk mail (what the fuck is Disney Plus?) it was Luke fucking Castellan! And he didn’t even come with a damn recruitment pitch! Just talked to Achilles, jumped in, and left!

And then Percy fucking Jackson did the same thing! A child of an Oath sworn on her name, daring to come near her and get her blessing! By force! She should have ripped the soul right out of that fucker and she definitely tried!

But something… something stopped her. She hesitated.

And then she watched.

She watched, she watched, and she watched.

She watched as he fought the Lord of the Underworld on her banks. As he slaughtered his way through the Titan army.

As this young boy - not even an adult yet, not even in his prime, fought the Titan of the Light and the Sun, to a standstill.

As he dueled the Titan King (soso young-) and lost Annabeth Chase, his mortal point.

As the sheer rage towards the Gods that kept Luke Castellan mortal twisted and intensified, turning inwards and towards Kronos.

And something inside of Styx purred, and she yanked, ripping the invulnerability and the immortality from each of their grasps. Forcing the two that had lost everything that kept them mortal, mortal.

And yet, she kept watching Perseus, even after Luke took the blade, gave Perseus a Blessing, and killed himself and the Titan King in one blow.

Something about the son of a broken Oath interested in her. Something about his innate Divinity called to her.

So she kept watching.

As the Gods took a fake Oath, but tried to uphold it anyways - at least for now.

As Hera took him, left him identity-less in the middle of a wolf pack.

As he traversed the Mediterranean, and as he Fell into Tartarus.

As he, Nico, and Thalia crawled their way through the Pit, leaving a trail of dead monsters and immortals alike in their wake.

As they found a peaceful Giant.

And as they bartered with Night for passage.

And as he kept his word, and Told The Stars Hello.

And as he slew Gaea, his fathers intervention circumventing the plan laid out by Leo Valdez, and telling the Fates to go fuck themselves.

And through all that watching, she noticed a common theme.

No matter what, he always tried to keep his promises. His Oaths. 

He couldn’t always - after all, it’s not his fault he believed the Gods would hold themselves to their word, he was a child - as Leto and Calypso and Mnemosyne were all still bound (sure, they technically had an excuse due to their schism, but it’s been a fucking year since then.) Many of the minor gods that rebelled, while not hunted or imprisoned, were still outcasts on Olympus. And many of those that rejected those pardons were still on the loose. 

And yet something inside of her - in the deepest parts of her soul - thought he just might be able to change that. To hold them accountable where she could not anymore.

Deep, deep inside of Styx, something slumbering opened an eye and purred, stretching out like a dragon after a long, long hibernation.

Still, she watched over him as he slumbered after the war with Gaea, silently and invisibly nursing him through it (that son of Apollo was a damn fool.)

And still she watched and she laughed as he was crowned Oathkeeper . 

As he was crowned Polýolvos.

A Child of her River.

Her Child.

Percy was sitting in his living room on Olympus, frowning at a fireplace he knew wasn’t there this morning. It was lit, and felt so very familiar to the Hearth at Camp Half-Blood, and to the one in the Olympian Throne Room.

Not suspicious in the slightest, right?

He’d decided to come back here after finishing his chat with his father - He’d said Amphitrite and Triton wanted to wait a bit longer, and that Tyson wasn’t done with his “project” (yeah fucking right, he’d probably finished at least thirty of them during the tour alone, and he was there for another hour - and nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds - after that. 

His “internal” clock has been very inconsistent with its activity recently. Picking and choosing when to be exact or when to just be “alright.”

Oh, he’s sure that’s fine.  

He’s also sure the flicker he saw of a very specific little girl in his fireplace that looked upset at him was also fine.

Why would anyone be upset at him, after all? He was perfectly innocent of any crimes. He had no record, after all!

(Laugh through the pain, Percy.)

(Love through the pain, Percy.)

(Do not let them win.)

(Do not let them be right.)

(Be better than them.)

(Prove a God can change.)

(Prove a God can be good.)

(Be worse than them, Perseus.)

Chapter Text

Percy stood at the middle of one of the bigger crossroads on Olympus. It was on the lower side of the second tier of the mountain, leading down to the bottom, where the elevator back to the Empire State Building rests.

Olympus, apparently, was divided up into three (four, technically) tiers.

On the bottom of the Mountain resided the realm of regular immortals, nature spirits, some cyclopses - peaceful mythological beings that were rich enough to afford a home on Olympus as opposed to residing in the mortal realm, or whose jobs were mythological-focused and didn’t have mortal means of existing. Most of these homes seemed to have been dug into the mountain itself, leading to a lot of rather interesting shopping centers that were completely underground but felt open-air, as well as a lot of the actual forests of the mountain remaining, likely due to the high present of naiads and dryads present in that area.

The second tier - where his home resided funnily enough - was separated by a very wide rim which was almost definitely artificially constructed. A several mile wide inset of forests, boulders, and other such things separated the actual edge of the mountain from where “people” started being. Mostly minor gods, though plenty of spirits resided here as well - mostly ones that worked for those gods, though, having had their life forces changed over, similar to the nymphs in the nymphaeum in Rome that nearly drowned him. Or, in the cases of certain types of dryads, literally having their trees or bushes uprooted to be moved onto the property of the god they worked for.

Percy thought that was kinda sus, honestly. But, not much he could do about it for now.

His home, oddly, happened to be at pretty much the top of that second tier, leading towards the third, where Very Important people (as he’s putting it) lived. People like Nemesis, or Hypnos. Major Gods, big players that you can’t not know if you live in the mythological world. Technically, the Olympians were also here, just at the very-very top, close to where the “fourth” tier is, which is the Throne Room proper, as well as different villas for events and sightseeing outside of it.

Percy didn’t really like either of these tiers, both due to certain memories - a statue falling off an overhang, the pained yell of Thalia as it crushed her legs and stopped her from following after Percy, Annabeth, and Grover - and because he kinda thought it was boring. Pretty much the entire tier was just estates, palaces, shrines… It felt like an incredibly rich and bougie concrete jungle. Which, sure, that’s also certain parts of Manhattan (and NYC in general) but the city below had life to it, where this… These parts of Olympus felt almost sterile. Artificial. Like they existed because they had to, not because they were used or needed. 

Regardless, Percy wasn’t there right now.

Right now, he’s standing at one of the “bigger” (more used) crossroads on Olympus, separating the second and third tiers of the mountain. It was… oddly small, really. About the size of a roundabout, if you replaced the concrete slab in the middle of it that was meant to stop idiots from trying to drive across with a fountain, and had the equivalent of those caddies in the middle of a mall walkway on the outside trying to sell you either weird vendor food or junk you don’t need at comically increased prices (and just a straight-up cellphone screen repair guy? Was that really still needed when gods co- right, spirits. Right. Wait he had an Apple certification- )

Right. Back on track.

Percy looked at one of the digital clocks on a vendor's cart, sighing. Hecate was about eighteen minutes late - eighteen minutes, fourty-four(five, six) seconds - and Hermes, of course, had no warning or advice about if this was normal - or, at least, he didn’t give any if he did, as Percy didn’t think to ask.

With a sigh, Percy sat down on the fountain's edge, listening to the hustle and bustle around him for a few minutes. 

Eventually, Percy’s focus drifted to the sound of the fountain itself, eyes closing. Time passed - he’s not sure how much. It’d been about a day since his wish request before the Council - a bit longer, but his meeting with Hecate had been scheduled for almost exactly twenty-four hours after it had finished. And his internal clock had not been fixed yet, because of course.

Eventually, his eyes opened.

And everyone was gone. The vendor carts had been abandoned completely, but were still running - a hot dog cart was on fire. Percy waved his hand and some water from the fountain shot out, extinguishing that and finding its way back into the fountain. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a regular capped pen that had bronze-colored ink, holding it tightly in his hand with his thumb pressing against the cap to pop it off at a moment's notice.

His attention shifted, pulled towards two creatures standing at one of the exits from the small plaza.

One was a black lab about the size of a rhino, two glowing red eyes that seemed almost vacant. It was laying down, paws in front of it with its snout resting on them. Its appearance seemed to shimmer in the light, like it was the image of a projector firing through a smokey room.

Sitting on the lab's back was a… ferret? Weasel? Something along those lines. Very long, very fluffy looking. Also black furred, so Percy had a kind-of hard time making her out for a few seconds. 

It took Percy a bit longer to recognize the two than he’d care to admit, but he has a good excuse! He’d only ever seen them once - Percy collapsed against the floor, falling out of the elevator, too tired to even mourn - when he saw Hecate during/after the fight with Clytius, and his only other frame of reference was Hazel’s stories. And as much as he might love his cousin, she isn’t the best at painting pictures, with or without words- damn he should probably check on Rachel-

Right. Ferret - polecat. Dog. Hecate. Focus on that, Percy.

Percy slipped Riptide back into his pocket as he walked over to the duo, crouching down. Both of them stared at him, the polecat bouncing off the dogs back to stand in front, apparently taking the lead on this “chat.”

Percy held out a hand in greeting, which she then nipped at.

“Well, starting things off pleasantly then, okay. You’re… Gale, right? Hazel told me about you.”

She chittered, and Percy didn’t understand it. Talking to animals apparently wasn’t just a god thing, then. Maybe they had to be sacred to him?

“I’ll be honest. No clue what you just said. But I’m guessing you’re here to lead me to Hecate?”

The polecat chittered some more, before running off down the path they were in front of. The dog - Hecuba? - made a loud noise like a sigh, standing up and following after.

And something inside of Percy raged a little bit.

Hecate set the time and the place. And then she had the audacity to not only be late, but send two servants he couldn’t even understand to come and fucking fetch him to move where the meeting was happening?

Something inside told him this was a test. To push his limits, see how far she could stretch him before he snapped. A relatively small one, all things considered. A beginners course.

Something told Percy she was not going to like the results.

He followed.

They walked for a while - Percy was too busy thinking to keep track of time, (fourty-seven minutes, nineteen seconds) but they were in the upper quarter of the third layer of the mountain now. 

They’d taken a sharp turn off the actual main road a bit ago (three minutes, thirty-one seconds) into a forest. Seeing as Percy knew where Hecate’s palace was (it was one of the ones that actually looked interesting instead of just being a marble slab) and he knew this wasn’t the way to it, he figured there was some weird ritual-site or something out in the forest she wanted to actually meet at.

(The thought of even now being subjected to the whims of those who think they hold power fills Percy with a rage he has not felt in some time.)

The ground beneath them had begun to turn into a sort of mush - like that in a bog. The trees experienced a rapid change soon after, turning into something more like weeping willows - which Percy is fairly certain don’t actually grow in bogs? In fact, he’s pretty sure trees don’t grow in bogs. But, he’s on a flying mountain, expectations of realism are (or should be) nonexistent.

A building shimmered into existence a few yards away. A low, long building made out of a dark wood with holes in places where windows would likely be, and no door. Covered in vines, lifted off the ground, and looking like it could fall apart at any moment.

Percy was reminded of something Rachel showed him once - a witches hut from Minecraft.

Up some rickety steps that felt like they were going to collapse at any moment, and Percy was inside.

The inside was exactly what you’d expect it to be. Way more shelves than necessary that were somehow all overflowing, a massive, bubbling cauldron full of something green, a big ol’ magic circle on the floor, way more tables than necessary that were also somehow all overflowing with different items than the shelves , not a single chair at any of those tables (or anywhere to sit at all, really) and, you guessed it!

No goddess!

There was not a single living entity in this room other than Percy, Hecuba, and Gale.

Hecuba, who had shrunk to get inside the door, walked over to a wall and curled up underneath a table. Gale chittered a bit - and Percy still did not understand what she was saying.

Deciding it was his right to ignore the chittering polecat, Percy decided to snoop.

The entire building was just one room - probably about the size of his cabin at Camp, but in the shape of an L instead of just a long line. The foot of the L was what hosted the magic circle - maybe some sort of teleportation sigil, then, considering it was off on its own? There weren’t any shelves or cabinets in the area either, so that was likely.

Pretty much every ingredient Percy found that was on the shelves were in jars, but were unlabeled. Various herbs dangled from them as well, also unlabeled. It was when he opened up one of the cabinets that he finally crossed a line and heard a voice, smooth and deep, call out behind him.

“And what do you think you’re doing, little godling? Do you think your station grants you the permission to do whatever you may please?”

Percy stood from his squatted position, shutting the cabinets and turning to face the Goddess of Witchcraft.

She looked different than Percy expected.

She looked a lot like Lou Ellen.

Percy had always heard of Hecate be described as “the three-faced Goddess”, and after meeting Janus he figured that would probably be rather literal, but here she only manifested with one.

She was about a head taller than him, with long black hair done up in a ponytail that still reached about her mid back, skin almost as pale as Hades’ and vibrant green eyes that danced like Greek fire but had little bits of gray-white mist swirling within, and lacked pupils. Her floor-length dress shimmered like an apparition - similar to how Hecuba looked like a projectors image. Her skin had bits that ran along her body like veins, but they were paler, with little pulses of green occasionally rocketing across her arms and neck. 

Processing all that took Percy just long enough that Hecate went to speak again, but he interrupted her. “No, but you changing the meeting you set by about half of Olympus and an hour and a half and then still not being here when I show up does.”

Hecate scoffs, waving a hand dismissively (locks formed on each cabinet, as well.) “Things change. The world does not revolve around you. I expected better of you, Perseus. It appears you take to being a god better than anyone expected, however.”

Percy felt that rage begin to build again, but let her continue as she turned to move towards the cauldron.

Let her dig her own grave deeper.

“So, you are here to discuss breaking the curse laid out by my daughter, yes? Let’s talk. The curse has had a very long time to cement itself in place, and was woven for many years upon its creation. This will not be an easy net to cut through, either. It must be pried up from where it anchors itself.”

Percy nodded. Hecate had plenty of kids at Camp - almost as much as Apollo or Hermes. Most of them were unclaimed, because of course, and had defected over to the Titans, but before then he’d been friends with a few, and understood some of the most basic principles of how things like that worked. They’d been welcomed back afterwards, or at least those who wanted to come back had, and there were so, so many less. Her kids had the single most demigod casualties in the Titan War.

He wondered how many of them she could name.

“Lamia is intelligent. She always has been. As Olympus moved, she’d use the boost in magical power caused by the shifting of the Flame and the moving of the Mountain to create multiple anchors for this curse, making it harder and harder to remove as time went on. She also chose natural wellsprings of magic to rest them on. However, I do know where these are all - at least generally. To remove them, you’d be best off finding the spot she actually cast the spells at specifically."

Hecate waved her hand over the cauldron and a classic, yellowed parchment map shot out and nearly hit Percy in the face.

“That map is enchanted to show the most recent area where Lamia placed one of her anchors. It shall also inform you of what must be done at each location to remove the curses bindings.”

Percy unrolled the scroll. “Why the hell am I looking at the Mediterranean?"

Hecate was silent for a moment. “She took the awakening of The Earth Mother to add another.”

Percy stared at her. “...Were you going to leave that information off the table and just let me find that out on my own?”

Hecate continued as if he didn’t ask that question. “Give that to whichever mortal champion you elect to send off-”

“I’m not picking demigods. I’m doing it.”

Hecate’s expression remained neutral, but Percy could feel the emotions she felt. Shock and confusion, at Percy’s declaration, and a hint of anger at being interrupted. “That is not only not a choice you have, Perseus, as you are a god now, it is also beneath you-”

“Like it was beneath you to stop Lamia from cursing kids to never grow old and be hunted their whole lives?”

Hecate took a shaky breath, her anger growing. “Demigods were fine up until the wide spreading of the internet and cellphones. It simply took us too long to realize they acted as a booster. And regardless of what you may think, I didn’t know it would work.”

Percy stared at her for a long moment. Didn’t know it would work-

“So you did know it was going to happen and you just let it? You chose to take that risk, and then let it be cast again and again and again -”

“Silence!” Hecate's hair flared with greek fire as she swiped her hand towards Percy, a bolt of lightning flying out and catching on Riptide. “You know nothing of what you speak! For generations I have watched and there have been none worthy enough to take on this quest!”

“It’s all about fucking worth with you isn’t it! Just like we weren’t worthy of saving, and how you made Hazel prove herself so that you’d do your damn job and fight Clytius! Just like how none of your own children were worth caring about when they were wondering who their mother was! The only reason you gave me this map is so that you wouldn’t have to taint your own name if whoever I picked failed and you could reap the rewards if it succeeded, isn’t it?”

Hecate was silent for a long time, staring at Percy with eyes roaring like a bonfire. 

Percy took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It didn’t work. “Like it or not, Hecate, I am the reason you aren’t chained to a rock with an eagle eating your stomach every day.”

“That does not change that, one way or another, you are a god. You will not be able to do this quest. You will have to pick a mortal. And they will all fail. This shall be your own Mark of Athena. Your own Statue of Zeus. You will chase an unending dream for eons, and send hundreds to their deaths."

“No, I won’t. And I don’t have to tell you why, either.”

“My children will be of no aid to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Who do you think they’ll be more eager to help? Me, the Savior of Olympus, who made sure they - and you - were welcomed back with open arms and a home of their own after they fought for respect? Or you, who shipped them off to die in that war to begin with, who’s let monsters hunt them for thousands of years, and joined the Titan King who was going to torture their families for years to come in front of them, all so she could have a palace a few feet higher on a shattered mountain?”

Percy left the cabin uninjured, map in hand, and feeling lighter than he has in years.

Twenty minutes later, Percy was sitting in his living room, staring at a blank TV screen.

He’d been trying to take his mind off the… conversation he had with Hecate the entire walk back - which was part of the reason he walked back as opposed to flashing.

(That and a desperately growing attempt to cling to his mortality. What if Hecate was right, and he was adapting to divinity faster than he hoped?)

Eventually (very quickly tooquickly) the thoughts got bad enough that Percy moved over to the bay windows and throws them open, looking up at the Sun.

Before Percy could even open his mouth, a form shimmered into existence next to him, legs thrown over the side and facing the streets of Olympus. Apollo was here, a dumb smile on his face, sunglasses dangling from one of those holder-clasp things around his neck.

Something inside of Percy clicked, like a puzzle piece.

One more. Just one more piece left-

“Hey, Perce!” The god of the Sun’s grin turned into a bit more of a smile - a bit more genuine. “Looked like you needed something. What’s up?”

Percy laughed, shoving Apollo a bit too hard, seeing as he fell back off the shelf of the window and onto the living room floor. “Are you stalking me, Apollo? I hadn’t even said anything yet.”

Apollo pushed himself off the ground, dusting himself off. “Teachers are supposed to look after their students, and I knew you were meeting with Hecate today. ‘Course I was.”

Percy pulled the window shut, twisting the handle to lock it again, sitting on the inner edge of the window gap and looking at Apollo. His form was a bit different today - brighter. Sunnier. Maybe he was using that as this body's name. “Speaking of Hecate, I’ve got a few questions. Is she normally super late to meetings she plans?”

Apollo does a half-shrug, reaching into his pocket to pull out a case he plops the earbuds Percy didn’t notice he was wearing into. “Typically, when I meet with her, she’s fairly consistent. Punctual, even. But I’m an Olympian, and you aren’t. Could have been a powerplay? See if you’d fold, see what she could get away with.”

Something about Apollo’s words rang true, and not just because he was the god of it.

Percy absently wondered if Apollo could lie.

“She tell you anything important?”

Percy pulled out the map. After leaving the cabin, it had folded itself up into something about the size of a thumb nail, like an origami coin. He moved over to the couch, set it on the table, and tapped it. It sprung open, rolling out to fill the size of the table itself.

It was still a map of the Mediterranean, which Percy was thankful for, but one that had all the mythological hotspots noted. Heracles’ Island, Ithaca, the original Troy, a sailing map of Odysseus’, well, Odyssey. It didn’t note some more famous things that evidently shifted with Olympus, like the Sea of Monsters itself, or Calypso’s island which itself moved - it did note Circe’s origin island of Aeaea, though, which was interesting. Apparently she liked to move herself.

Several places had special marks on them too - Delos, for one. Percy mentally marked that as ‘unlikely’ considering Apollo and Artemis were on the island during most of the Gigantomachy. Ithaca was another - also unlikely, since it had the island full of suitor-spirit-simps, but it was possible. 

Wait a- what the hell is a simp?

Percy wasn’t old, okay, but he was almost comically sheltered (for legitimate reasons, admittedly) and has been in a coma for over a year, and was kidnapped a year before that, and hadn’t so much as had a chat with anyone that wasn’t either equally sheltered or a God in that time. 

Apollo was talking and pointing at something- no, Percy couldn’t let this die.

“Hey- Apollo. Apollo . Shut up a second- why are made up words popping into my vocabulary?”

“Okay, first off, rude. Second, all words are made up. Third, give me an example.”

Percy racked his brain, trying to think of any other times- got one.

“Uh, simp, for one. Second example is sus.”

Apollo burst into laughter, slapping his palm onto the table.

Percy didn’t make a confused whine. He didn’t. He’ll kill you for saying he did. Not because it's embarrassing, but because it’s slander. He did no such thing.

Apollo was laughing for a while longer for completely unrelated reasons. At the end of it, something about Apollo shifted. Percy found himself sitting straighter, paying a bit more attention to everything the older god did, and the vibe around him changed from a sunny day in the park to something more like a nice, calm library, or a classroom. 

He tried to recall some of the Names associated with the Sun God’s Knowledge domain but came up blank; though it didn’t really matter. He was still Apollo. Different, but Apollo nonetheless. The Son of the Sea was familiar with that type of shift.

“Alright- so. Gods can speak pretty much any language, yeah?”

Percy nodded. He’d never had much experience with it - he and his mom spoke Hawaiian, but any god he’d ever talked to did it in English, Greek, or Latin.

“Yeah- we don’t really learn them. We kinda cheat. One of the things that the Flame allows for is us to learn the language of any of our worshippers pretty much instantly. It lets us always be able to answer prayers, y’know? And as a language grows, our understanding of it grows too.”

“Okay but what do they mean- ”

Apollo gave Percy a “brief” (three hour ) rundown on the internet's culture.

Percy had never been more confused by mortals.

At the end of it, Percy’s hands dragged down his face and he sighed. Whatever effects Apollo’s Knowledge domain held had long since faded in the face of pure, utter confusion and boredom.

Apollo vanished away the whiteboard he was using to explain VTubers, sitting next to him with some soft chuckles. “Anything else you want me to explain while I’m here, Perce?”

Percy rubbed his eyes with his fingers, wishing he had some sort of knowledge-based domain. Then, it clicked.

“Hecate said something about the Flame being some sort of power source for magic, and you said it grants abilities we have. So what actually is it? I thought it was more of a metaphor.”

“So, I’m sure Chiron or someone explained to you how the Flame works. It’s something we Olympians are intrinsically tied to in a way that causes us to move alongside the Heart of Western Civilization as a concept. But, what apparently never got explained was how that came to be, why we did it, or what exactly that means. I’ll try to explain it in a way that makes sense, as it’s a very complex topic if you go beyond the surface, especially for someone not accustomed to Divinity and its oddities yet.”

Percy appreciated that in the wake of being explained a very confusing, deep topic from the perspective of someone not yet accustomed to the Internet or its oddities yet.

“The Flame was not always around. When we saw the meteoric rise of Rome, we realized that Greece would not be around forever. And after witnessing a number of Pantheons fall before us and so many others, we decided that we didn’t want to go that way when Greece’s time came. So, Zeus, Athena, Hecate, myself, and a few others devised a plan, and crafted something we could tie our immortal essence to and… gift to another homestead. The plan was a success - better than any of us ever hoped for, and we witnessed Olympus soar to heights like none other before us, be it the Norse or the Titans. It was like crafting a cocktail that gave you the perfect high.” 

Apollo’s hands began to shake as he remembered the feeling of true worship for the first time - hearing, feeling, living every prayer, every sacrifice, every utterance of anything across his very, very wide scope of domains, of feeling all of those Names and what they truly meant, even as his mind fractured a trillion different ways to shift in the ways needed, was an experience like no other.

The Sun balled his hands into fists, one knocking against the side of one of his knees as he clenched his legs together, the other fist pressing against his chest as he tried to stop the shakes and focus on the conversation at hand.

“But, it came with… unintended side effects.”

The ever-present light emanating from Apollo dimmed, and for the first time while in the God’s presence, Percy felt cold , shivers racking his body as the miniature suns that made up Apollo’s eyes became tinted a sickly green - swirls wrapping their way around the frail body of the Goddess as her own Domain dragged her backwards towards the Abyss, Percy marching step by step closer - but the God kept talking.

“We became more powerful than ever before. Everything became a joke to us. I’m not sure if you ever consciously noticed, but us younger Olympians often have Domains that represent society, or mortal progress. Knowledge, Wisdom, Crafts, Invention, Travel, Festivity… My sister and I are two notable exceptions, being the Sun and Moon, with her having even more than I, with her wilderness domains, as Medicine - the mending of a broken bone - is often considered the first signs of a proper Civilization. This isn’t a set rule, of course, as shown by her, but the King is another example, as he holds domains and names of Hospitality and Law and Justice. Your patron would be another, being Home. The younger side of the Council, due to this, has often been more… human than the elder Olympians. Over time, that became less and less obvious, as they spent more time in the mortal world. Let’s take your father, for example. His Flaw meant he would often become very, very invested in his partners, often doing whatever he could to be as involved with them for as long as possible. Your mother, of course, was a notable exception, due to the Oath, but, to be honest with you, Percy, after meeting her I’d not let the King or the River stop me.”

Percy went to get out of his chair to politely ask Apollo what the hell that meant, only to find himself strapped into place with restraints that weren’t there a moment ago, and his mouth covered in gauze.

“Please hold all questions and comments until the end of the lecture.”

“Now, as I was saying, The Elder Olympians often represented Nature itself, in its truest form, especially in the olden days. But after we crafted the Flame and moved to Rome… Mortals began to hold a lot of power over us. Names and Epithets meant a lot more than ways for Mortals to reference specific myths, or to refer to plea cases in their prayers. They became a part of us in a way that I’m not sure we could escape from even if we wanted to any more. Ways that Mortals could fracture and twist us to fit their standards and beliefs and interpretations of us and the world.”

“I’ve referenced this before to you, back at Westover before my sister was captured.” Percy tried to not let the shock that Apollo remembered that conversation - much less the school's name - show. He’s not sure how good a job he did, but Apollo didn’t show any signs of noticing or caring. “The Romans began downsizing. They didn’t want to do all the sacrifices, remember all the holidays…” Bitterness entered his tone. “Helios was the first we noticed. One day, I was a beacon of civilization, one of the peaks of knowledge and medicine. And the next, I held the Sun in my hands. We all thought nothing bad could ever come of the power we gave you all, and so, so many of you didn’t notice for millennia. After him, we started scouring for any others, and we realized how many were missing, and we couldn’t find them. How many new people showed up, too. New memories, new histories…”

The Sun took a shaky breath.

“Of course, not everyone was affected. I, for example, barely shifted from Greece to Rome, or even in the time between then and now. Calypso would be another example of one who hasn’t changed, but her calcification is for a different reason, that being that not all of the Pantheon agreed. Not even all of us agreed. However, when Zeus passed the motion, all who swore fealty to Olympus were ordered to tie themselves to the Flame, consequences be damned, as is his Right as Olympios.”

Percy remembered that Epithet clear enough - Zeus’ Name when he was invoking his Authority as King of Olympus and all the Gods. But… did that really give him the power to force gods to do something, or was it more fear of political backlash?

He… really hoped it was the latter.

Something told him that hope was wrong.

“Ovid is a name you likely recognize. He was purely a mortal, and didn’t even realize what he was doing, using the Gods as stand-ins for political means. But he nearly single-handedly rewrote the entire Pantheons history over time as his works grew and grew and spread throughout millenia. Our history has never been the clearest, I’ll admit, but crafting the Flame and giving mortals the power to change us through Worship…”

He trailed off, and didn’t continue, his green-gold eyes digging into the ground below them.

Percy had so, so many questions, like how the older forms of gods - Mycenaean - existed, if they even had, or if that was just personality differences. Why Pan was thought to have faded when that apparently wasn’t even a thing for another couple millenia. Why so many gods agreed to do this, how it worked to be tied into it, if he was and what that would mean in the future - would he get a Roman form eventually? Would his quests manage to worm their way into history, making it seem like everything he did was during the golden age of heroes? How many gods had been forgotten even by their peers due to mortals striking their names from history?

And, most importantly.

What the fuck did Apollo mean about his mom?

By the time Percy got out of his own head, the Sun God was gone.

Percy stood in front of a deep velvet curtain, golden embroidery lining the outer trim with gilded decorations aplenty of snakes and laurel trees and ravens. 

Two torches lit with greek fire stand on each side of the entrance to the cave behind the curtain.

The Oracle of Delphi was in.

The last time Percy really saw Rachel Elizabeth Dare was following the Titan War and a hectic dash back to Camp Half-Blood where she absorbed the spirit of the Oracle of Delphi, spouted a Prophecy that would ruin the next two years of his life minimum , led to his immortality, kinda-sorta broke up with him despite the fact they were never really dating(were they?) because of the whole maidenhood bit of the Oracle’s Oath, and then got whisked away by Apollo so he could teach her how to hide the fact she was prophetic from mortals and how to properly channel the spirit to give the right prophecies at the right time before they even really had a chance to talk about it.

Despite all that, he kinda missed her. She was one of his only real friends that he could talk to just about anything about, for a long time. On top of that, she was one of his only bridges to the mortal world, alongside his mom, and he couldn’t exactly ask her to go hang out at the mall and listen to bad rock music together.

Percy pushed aside one of the curtains and was immediately looking up at the sky and a lot of curly red hair.

That’s becoming a theme. 

He’s not sure he likes it.

Nah, he kinda does.

Not that he’ll ever let anyone know that.

Deep in Percy’s core, something gurgled with laughter like a newborn child, clapping its hands together eagerly.

All the puzzle pieces were here! They were assembled! But what is the picture supposed to be, it wonders?

Percy felt something slot together and twist like a deadbolt, but it didn’t hurt. It felt… pretty good, actually? 

He tried to gently grab Rachel to pry her off of him before something else inside of him twisted in recognition as he heard a noise and another deep part of his soul cried out.

She was sobbing.

“Oh,” Percy realized.

“She probably thought she’d never see me again.”

“Hey, R.E.D.” He mumbled, trying to be a bit quiet but hoping she could still hear him. “I’m here. I’m fine. I’m real.”

They stayed like that for about a minute, Percy mumbling reassurances to her as Rachel tried - and failed - to talk.

While Percy was no Oracle, or at least not a full one, he did have a lot of prophetic abilities, and as such had studied as best he could (listened to some of his friends talk about it while he tried - and failed - to read his own books about it) and had his own experiences with it.

There were all sorts of different mental difficulties that could come with visions. Disassociation was common. Breaks were too common. Full episodes of people forgetting where or who or even when they are, assuming the identity of whoever they might have lived through during their visions were heard of.

Two years was a long time - relatively, of course - and people changed. So it could be none of that.

But something in Percy felt that Rachel hadn’t changed this much. Which led him to believe something was deeply, deeply wrong.

He didn’t know what she had Seen - or maybe hadn’t Seen - to get her like this. 

But he’d find out.

Eventually, the sobbing stopped and Rachel pulled back, hair as much of a mess as always but her bright green eyes were certainly trying to match it as she used the back of her hands - currently colored a rich blue - to wipe away some of the tear streaks.

Percy tried to smile. Rachel tried to match it. Neither of them pulled it off all that well.

“So,” Percy tried to start, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “Been a minute.”

Rachel let out a watery laugh, leaning back against the cave wall to the left of the velvet curtains, the back of her head tapping it a few times. A few more tears escaped her eyes. “Yeah. It has.”

They were silent for another minute. Rachel broke it. “During the final battle with Gaea, I was in class. Had a full on break. Fell out of my chair and nearly busted my head open on my desk. Went to the hospital in an ambulance and everything. It was the last vision I had before Apollo killed Python.”

“I saw you kill her. Pretty much in real-time from what I learned after. But I saw so, so much after that as well.” She held her hands out in front of her, flexing her fingers and starting to try and peel off some of the dried and cracked paint. “And in so many of those visions you died. ” Rachel’s voice cracked on the last word. “Apollo and Poseidon said you were fine, and on Olympus. I didn’t learn that for a few weeks, and even after that I didn’t believe it. There was always something that happened - some weird complication while you were ascending, or someone sneaking in and killing you, or something.”

Percy was quiet, but shifted to sit next to her, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder as she leaned against him.

He smelt a whip of laurel and snakeskin flow past him, and he glared at the sun. Judging by Rachel’s sudden head tilt, she sensed it too. An angry jet of sea-salt and pine chased it away.

“I’m not sure how many of them - if any of them - were real,” she mumbled, looking at some of the trees down the cliff. “But I’m so glad none of those happened. I’ve never had a vision like that before, and I’d really not like for the first one to be the worst case scenario.”

She stood up, balling up some of the paint she managed to peel off her hands, and Percy followed. “Now- c’mon. I’ve got some things I wanna show ya’. Heard about this game called Garctic Phone?”

Rachel had, apparently, managed to smuggle a pretty good mobile hotspot onto camp grounds. Percy wasn’t mad, to be honest - her cave was far enough away from the rest of the camp that there shouldn’t be any issues, and from what he heard from Chiron (when did he hear that?) the border was stronger than ever so even if monsters did get a blip on their radars, they couldn’t really do anything about it. Camp's location was already very, very well known amongst the monster population.

So, Percy was forced to learn about Garctic Phone against his will from a series of videos from different (kinda unfunny) youtubers.

Because that’s what being a friend is.

Eventually, the topic shifted towards more important matters - visions Rachel had, prophecies - big or small - Percy had missed, how school and some of her art groups were going, how Percy was adjusting to godhood, his meeting with Hecate - and then the map got laid out.

Once again, it sprung open and adjusted its shape to the large oval-shaped table Rachel has in the middle of the cave. It had apparently retained some marks Apollo had made during their talk over it- several different locations were marked out or had notes on them. Troy, notably, had an X with a broken heart drawn above it, which made Percy and Rachel giggle a bit. Delphi had a questionmark with a well-drawn crying emoji near it. There was a circle around the straight of Gibraltar, with some of Apollo’s writing next to it.

“Border security! You’ll have to stop here, you don’t qualify for pre-check yet and Heracles is a stickler. Be ready, Perce.”

Percy remembered the comment Apollo had made back in the Throne Room - Heracles hated him. He had no doubts that there might even be a fight, especially after what Jason and Piper did during the quest.

He was ready.

He’d been ready since he was fourteen.

“Zoë-”

“Stars,” she whispered. “I can see the stars again, my lady.”

A tear fell from the eyes of the goddess, and the moon flickered overhead, mourning with her.

Percy could feel Anaklusmos pulse in his pocket.

Ithaca and Delos both had X’s through them, as did the original lair of the lotus eaters and the sirens. Aeaea had a questionmark near it, as did a circle drawn by Apollo in an area near Delos, between it and the Pillars of Heracles labeled “Atlantis 1.5”. Percy didn’t know why it was 1.5, and Apollo wasn’t around to ask, but he knew that's where he saw Kym, so he mentally threw it out of the list of possibilities. Kym was pretty territorial, and wouldn’t have let Lamia stick around long enough to do her rituals. 

All that didn’t exactly leave them with many options.

Rachel’s attention seemed to be drawn to the bottom left corner of the map, though, near a mountain range in what Percy is pretty sure is modern-day Morocco (the map didn’t have county names. He’s fairly certain that was on purpose.)

There was a small dot labeled "Mount Atlas”, with a question mark near it, inside a much bigger circle taking up the entire mountain range visible on the map, labeled “Hera’s Garden” (it had a small nauseous face next to the name, which made Percy laugh a bit too hard - Rachel had to slap his back a few times to get him to stop.)

“Well,” Rachel said. “If you’re still figuring out flashing and stuff like that, it’d make sense to try to do short jumps, right? Especially to bigger areas, so you don’t get stranded in the middle of nowhere. Plus, there’s like four different magical hotspots in that area, so you could check them all at one time, and it’s just a short hop away from Heracles too.”

Percy nodded, rolling the scroll back up as it popped into its little origami square form once more, slipping it into his non-pen-holding pocket. “I’ll probably head out fairly soon. Every day is another demigod we might lose.”

Rachel frowned, looking at him out of the side of her eye. “You know you don’t have to rush off and play hero all the time. You deserve a break too - and stress induced comas do not count.”

Percy was about to mention said coma, and Rachel didn’t need her gift of Prophecy to have known that either. Regardless; “it wasn’t stress-induced. ”

Rachel slapped him over the back of the head.

Fair enough.

“Just…” she sighed, pinching her brow. A light green glow lit up her closed eyelids, and they opened, the glow dying and the green in her eyes swirling darkly. “Take Nico and Thalia with you. Please. Even if only because they’ve missed you."

Percy understood.

But he had something he needed to do first. And alone.

The world was at his fingertips, billions of interconnected lines weaving over it like a protective net. Percy’s really only been able to jump to hotspots so far - his palace on Olympus, Camp Half-Blood - but it was possible to flash to other places, especially if they’re magically dense enough.

The Pillars of Heracles was not such a place. 

Hera’s Garden and Mount Atlas, however, were.

And if Apollo’s warning was to be believed, that was enough.

Shunting himself in a direction, Percy felt something grab around his Divinity and rip him to Earth.

Perfect.

Percy found himself in a deeply unfamiliar place. A small island, almost stereotypical in its coconut trees and banana palms, except for the two large, white pillars facing outwards.

NON PLUS ULTRA.

The words on the pillars glowed as the island rumbled with the words, and before Perseus stood Heracles.

Heracles was easily a foot and a half taller than him, built like a truck, and was covered in his golden cloak, lion's mouth over his head. His club was buried into the sand next to him, almost the size of Percy despite the missing chunk and covered in celestial bronze rivets.

“You.” The God of Strength rumbled. “What the hell could you possibly want in Morocco? Running more errands for Hera, maybe? Or maybe you’re trying to figure out where the big kids played, eh? Not tired of copying my acts yet, wanna try to hold up the damn Sky again?”

Percy’s shoulders ached as Heracles mentioned the Sky, but he rolled them a few times. This should be fun.

“Needed to chat with you, actually. I didn’t get the chance during the second Gigantomachy - y’know, the one where I beat Gaea-” Heracles’ eye twitched. Good. “But I’ve got some questions I want to ask, and your island isn’t important enough for me to know how to teleport here yet. So I figured I had to get your attention somehow, yeah?” Percy’s famous shit-eating grin was on his face, several abnormally sharp teeth flashing.

Heracles didn’t bite the bait yet, though. Not yet. “What, are you trying to figure out how to catch the golden hind?”

Percy actually had to wrack his brain for a minute about that one. That was apparently what put Heracles over the edge, as the next thing Percy knew he was ducking under a swing from a club, fangs flashing in a grin.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

Percy dropped himself into something resembling half roll, half dash, all scramble in an attempt to dodge a second sweeping strike, Riptide out of his pocket and uncapped before he was even fully standing to parry a third, his arms taking even the minimal impact surprisingly well, Anaklusmos bouncing off some of the celestial bronze rivets in Heracles’ club just enough that the third strike went past his side instead of down on his head.

While surprisingly dexterous for his size and bulk, Heracles was mostly reliant on strength. He had technique, but that was his foundation. Large, telegraphed attacks that if Percy gets hit by once he’s done for.

He was familiar with fights like this.

Ares, Atlas, Antaeus, Iapetus, Polybotes. Hell, even his second ever monster - the minotaur. 

He’d won those because he couldn’t lose. Because his life and the lives of those he cared about were on the line.

He’d win this fight because he wanted to.

The letters carved into the fuller of Anaklusmos glowed as Percy dodged and deflected another series of Heracles’ attacks - two more swipes and an overhead downward. A fairly predictable pattern, and one Percy exploited.

The God of Strength was recovering once more, and Percy dashed forward, using the club that was partially buried into the ground as a springboard to score a deep gash on Heracles’ shoulder, landing behind him with another swipe across his back, though that was deflected by the cloak. 

So it did work.

Heracles roared, and instead of pulling the club out of the ground he roughly tugged it to the side while it was still buried, causing a deluge of sand to fly towards Percy, who brought an arm up to protect his eyes. 

His arm came down just fast enough to stop the club from slamming itself purely into his side, and instead hit his arm and sent him flying a few feet and crashing into the sand closer to the water.

Rolling out of the way of another overhead swing (he really liked those, huh) Percy sprung to his feet and rolled his arm (unfortunately, his main one) but didn’t immediately collapse, so it probably wasn’t broken. Definitely stung like hell, though. A quick look told him the skin hadn’t even broken, but he could worry about figuring that out later. Right now it was useful, but he shouldn’t rely on it.

The game of cat and mouse continued, Percy trying to score the occasional jab or slice whenever he got the chance between Heracles’ barrages, mostly being deflected by the cloak or by the god managing to dodge. Dusk fell to Night, the Moon rising in the distance and stars shining overhead. And yet, the island remained bright around its combatants - Heracles’ ichor spattering the ground, Anaklusmos with its usual unearthly glow, highlighted by the flecks of ichor that still stained its blade.

Eventually, Percy slipped up. Heracles’ club got buried a bit deeper in the sand than usual, and Percy went for another springboard attempt. Except this time, Heracles grabbed Anaklusmos with one hand, the ichor from his hand running across the front of the fuller that seemed to grow ever brighter as the fight went on, and with his grip he swung Percy back into the dirt, the club coming down across Percy’s front soon after, knocking the wind out of him - and yet it still didn’t hurt like it should.

Neither of them quipped, or jabbed. They had no need for mind games. One of them would die here.

The club came down for a second swing.

The stars above screamed-

 Anaklusmos met it - with a loud crack.

Ichor dripped from the blade, but Percy knew it wasn’t the blood of the god in front of him.

A crack extended from Anaklusmos, from the place of impact throughout the center of the blade, the name distorted by the golden liquid dripping towards its center, the glow rapidly dying as ichor ran from its core.

High above in the Sky, the stars flickered in panic as some of their own began to rapidly dim, a Constellation. Dying.

The Moon reared its head and screamed in agony, watching one of her friends suffer in agony, but unable to aid in any way-

No.

No, it could help.

The Holder of the Moon looked at the Oathkeeper.

Percy found himself empty, as he stared at his sword - his Symbol.

He wasn’t aware that was something that could happen - and going by the look on Heracles’ face, he wasn’t expecting it either.

Did-

Did Zeus do something to Anaklusmos?

Did Zeus do something to Anaklusmos?

The emptiness he was feeling was suddenly full - and the Seas responded to the rage that flooded him, swirling around the mystical island like a whirlpool was forming, and trying to drag the island to the bottom of the sea floor.

Heracles took a few steps back as Perseus rose, his club at the ready.

It would prove futile.

The Moon glowed above, a curtain of light surrounding the island as the ocean began to lift, jets of water shooting out to grapple Heracles faster than he could respond as Percy’s eyes glowed gold, the sound of sand falling in an hourglass and the tick of a clock as Heracles slowed like he was moving through molasses, the ocean wrenching the club from his grasp and throwing it out into the middle of the water, well past the unearthly silver glow encompassing the island.

Perseus took a step forward, ichor still dripping from Anaklusmos.

Did ichor have types, like blood did?

He might find out.

Anaklusmos entered Heracles’ chest, the sky above screamed as the moon and the stars cheered.

The Huntress glowed just a bit brighter, her stars regaining a bit of strength.

Heracles dropped, the water letting go of him as these Names dissolved into a golden-white powder, blowing away on the wind.

Percy felt something deep inside click together - elsewhere, this time. Closer to his throat than in his chest, and deeper into his gut.

Χάιλ, Γενναίε

Percy collapsed, the glow in his eyes dying out as all the energy left his body. He was caught - not by the sand or the ocean, but by a twelve year old with auburn hair and eyes like the Moon above - glowing just as brightly, and filled with just as much rage, who propped him up into a sitting position and sat cross-legged across from him.

“Perseus,” she started - and was promptly interrupted by a sharp “Percy.” She glared at him, and Percy felt nothing. “Perseus. The King will have your head for what you did here - he will care not about who swung first.”

Percy snorted. “He can try. I know a few people that would help, and I need to figure out whatever he did to Riptide. He can do whatever the hell he wants if he’s still around after that.”

The implication wasn’t missed on her - but she didn’t comment on it. Percy was grateful for that. 

Artemis looked confused, staring at the blade that was still weeping tears of ichor. Her words, however, were ice. “What do you mean what he did to Anaklusmos?”

Percy sighed, running a hand down his face as he thought back. “When it was confirmed as my symbol of power, he said… he said he needed to take it somewhere. Do something with it. He wouldn’t tell me what, said it was a secret only he, Poseidon, and Hades know.”

A quick whiff of pomegranate, and it was gone just as fast. The scent of sea salt hadn’t really left since he left Atlantis. He didn’t think it would, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Artemis frowned, but nodded. “That’s normal. I’m not sure what he could have done to cause something like this, however I am not a smith. The best choice would be to take your blade to Hephaestus.”

No scent accompanied the name. Percy wasn’t sure he’d have cared even if he noticed. 

“The Elder Cyclops haven’t been seen in centuries, after all;” she continued. “And he is the smith of Olympus for a reason. Plus…” She thought for a long moment. “If you are correct about the King sabotaging it, I’m certain he’d still help. Without any reports, even.”

Percy wasn’t so sure until he thought back to his most recent meeting with the Olympians. Hephaestus was the first to speak up for him. Maybe that would work.

“Regardless, you must move quickly, Perseus. The longer it is damaged the more damage it will do.” She looked up, and Percy followed her gaze, a bit confused- oh.

Oh.

Heracles didn’t die painfully enough.

Percy walked into one of the highest palaces on Olympus - a building constructed entirely of Celestial Bronze, long and low to the ground with dozens of chimneys leading up into the sky, the only windows leading into water troughs directly outside, several rivers and lakes being used to feed them. A building designed for functionality - it fit what it needed, and nothing else.

The Palace of Hephaestus. 

Surprisingly enough, Percy found the god pretty much as soon as he entered.

Almost as if he was waiting for Percy to show up.

He had no projects in his hands, nothing to tinker with. He rested next to a very intense looking anvil, a massive lump of metal of a hammer sitting on top of it at rest. He had large gloves that were probably thicker than Percy’s arm on, and an apron to match.

Percy’s mind was shunted back to his time in the Labyrinth. The god was barely able to register that they were so much as present for more than a few seconds at a time, bouncing around from project to project even as he worked on another project.

He knew many of his kids were much the same - Leo and Nyssa, for example. 

Right now though, Percy thought he might have been looking at an older, volcano-bearded Beckendorf. And if his heart didn’t ache at that-

“Perseus.” The god's voice rumbled like a volcano, sparks flying off of his beard like it was shooting warning flares. “Your Symbol.”

Ah. So the god did know he would be showing up. Which meant Artemis wasn’t the only witness to his fight with Heracles, which meant all of Olympus probably knew about it, and had probably watched it to boot.

At least he normally had pretty good ratings. Would he get commission now that he was a god?

Saving that question for later, Percy pulled out the pen-form of Anaklusmos, which had apparently suffered some damage as well. The plastic casing around the ink chamber was cracked and stained slightly, like it had leaked some. 

He hoped Zoë was okay.

He offered it to the god, who shook his head and one of his hands. “No. You need to hold onto that during this, to make sure it doesn’t reject me. Come.” And he lumbered off towards the back of his forge, picking up the anvil and hammer like it weighed nothing.

Granted, to him, it probably didn’t. Hephaestus’ kids had some pretty weird rules when it came to the weight of certain objects - calling them inherently strong wasn’t right, it was more like whatever projects they were working on weighed less.

Percy followed, and Hephaestus began to explain while they walked. “Normally, fixing a Symbol of Power would be rather easy. It doesn’t happen often, but I do have experience in the matter, even if I haven’t made one myself. However, your blade is special, as I’m sure you’ve heard many times before. As it was crafted by the divine power of an Oceanid, and imbued by the power of a Pleiade-turned-Hesperide-” wait what “-it has the power of three different immortals in it, and is much more… sapient than most. If it so desired, it could simply refuse to be worked on by me, but with you here that chance is minimal.”

They reached the back of Hephaestus’ Palace, and he placed the anvil down in front of a forge that took up the entire wall. He pulled a remote with a single large button on it out of one of the pockets of his apron, and with a press several walls closed throughout the entire building, Percy hearing the distant thoomthoomthoom- of multiple closing even past the one encasing them.

“So- hold on a second. Three things.” Hephaestus nodded, willing to hear out Percy far more than he thought he would be. “One, Pleiade turned Hesperide? I only ever knew Zoë as a Hesperide.”

“She was a daughter of Atlas and Pleione. By birth, she would have been a member of the Pleiades, however her mother took her and gave her to the Hesperides. I couldn’t tell you why.” Hephaestus scratched his beard and Percy had to quickly step away so as to not get hit by several sparks. “It’s probably why Artemis helped put her into the Stars after her death, though. It was her birthright.”

“Okay- I’ll… I’ll ask her about that later I guess - what do you mean Anaklusmos is sapient?”

Hephaestus seemed confused at that question, gesturing to the pen. “It’s sapient. More than most Symbols, at least. Many of them have at least some level of awareness, even if only as security systems or to try to boost whoever's using it. But that one’s definitely got more to it. I’d try talking to it after we get it fixed. Speaking of-” Hephaestus gestured to the anvil.

“Third question first.” The god grunted, but nodded. “Is this going to… to cost me anything? I’m broke. Haven’t figured out how the King is going to pay me yet, or even if he’s going to after what I did to Heracles.”

Hephaestus was silent for a while, the only noise coming from the god being the crackling of his beard. “You tried your best to save Charles.” Percy’s heart ached again. “You did save Leo. You saved Jake, Nyssa, and are trying to save so many more. The least I can do to repay you is make sure you have a functional weapon during your quest.”

Percy decided he liked Hephaestus.

Percy wasn’t super involved in the repairing process, believe it or not. He basically just held Riptide and twisted it every now and then while Hephaestus did all the work - removing broken pieces that couldn’t fit back properly or were too small to be of any help to be resmelted into a cast, making sure as much ichor as possible was still in the blade while also still removing some (blood transfusion didn’t work, got it) as well as what looked like a really long strand of glowing hair - it really reminded Percy of his times in the forge at Camp after they found out about his heat resistance and fire nigh-immunity. Just… glorified tongs. Not that he was really complaining, though - he’d rather be here than not, and would rather things be done right.

Eventually, Hephaestus finished. The blade looked like new, though the glow still seemed a bit dull. “It needs time to heal properly,” Hephaestus explained shortly. “Like breaking a bone. Keep it in its sword form for a day or two, and then keep it in its pen one for a day or two after that. Basically just watch it and when it looks fine, it’s probably fine.”

Percy nodded.

“There was…” Hephaestus scratches his chin, thinking. “There was one other thing. I know you stabbed Heracles afterwards, which got his ichor in the wound, and could have caused complications after it healed. I’ve seen it happen a few times with War’s Symbol - had to re-crack it open to remove it. It basically gets confused as to who owns it, though using Ichor is a fairly old-fashioned way because of that. It’s not seen in, say, my Forge, or Revelry’s pinecone staff. I’m not sure about the Twins, neither of them have ever broken it.”

While the tangent was off topic, Percy did find it at least a bit interesting, and appreciated the effort for Names to stay unsaid.

“Regardless, the newer method is more like that strand you saw me remove. The issue was that it wasn’t yours, and it wouldn’t have been Pleione’s or the Hesperide’s either. You did have one in there, though, so that's good.”

Percy’s blood froze.

Zeus.

Something must have shown on Percy’s face, because Hephaestus grunted. “I was right. You didn’t know. Whoever put it there - and I’m sure we both know who did - did a sloppy job, which caused a weakness in the weapon itself. And you don’t have to worry about me telling him I took it out, either.”

Percy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thank you. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, just let me know.”

Hephaestus was silent as the walls began to slide back open, and spoke only after that was done. “I have a daughter in Lansing, Michigan - about an hour and a half north-west of Detroit. She’s still about a year out of turning thirteen, but her father - her other father - passed of cancer recently, and she’s going to wind up in foster care. If you can get someone to bring her to camp, that would be appreciated.” Hephaestus held out a small robotic squirrel. “This will bring them to her when they enter city limits.”

Percy took the squirrel and realized it was only small in Hephaestus’ grasp, and was a bit bigger than a normal one in his. But, he nodded, something inside of his core cooing with joy. “We’ll find her.”

Hephaestus dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Go. Let Anaklusmos heal, and talk to your sword. Get to really know it.”

Percy found himself in the Poseidon cabin, of all places.

Seeing as he’s basically on the run from the King of the Gods for killing his son - a child arguably more famous than he is - he figured there were probably worse places to go than one under divine protection from an entity almost as strong as Zeus.

Sure, he had a fancy palace on Olympus now - but Zeus would probably be there first thing, and could probably enter as he pleased. Apollo could, after all - Percy didn’t put much stock into there being any sort of Anti-King-Of-Olympus barrier on the damn place.

It didn’t hurt that this was really one of the first places he could call home. Something in him was always drawn to this place - he felt a sense of yearning for it when he was at school or on a quest almost as intense as the one he had one for his moms apartment. And that was before he was a god - now, he was able to see all sorts of small threads connecting him to just about everywhere at Camp, and his cabin had more than any other - drawn to all sorts of knicknacks Tyson had made, pictures pinned up on the corkboard by the door, the iris-messaging pool in one of the corners.

He wasn’t sure what granted him that - he’d heard something on the Island, though he couldn’t place it. And it hadn’t been present when he visited his mom, either. But that didn’t feel right - maybe whatever happened with Rachel?

Either way, Artemis had managed to do something on the island that probably kept him from Zeus’ sight at least a bit, and he’d pretty much spawned on Hephaestus’ doorstep after that, and vanished from the front door to, well, here. 

The scent of sea salt and pine had not left him since Atlantis, and it had only been strengthening since his encounter on the island. And yet, Poseidon had yet to make an appearance.

For the first time in his life, Percy understood the term helicopter parent fairly well, he felt.

Pinching his eyes, Percy sighed, dropping the journal in his hand onto his lap, attention shifting to Anaklusmos - still in sword form - on the bed next to him.

The journals were originally Annabeth’s idea.

Something that spawned from her after their quest to the Sea of Monsters - a way to keep his story straight, try to prevent it from warping like all the heroes of the Golden Age had. 

Writing his own story led to a lot of… interesting things that he wouldn’t have really thought of if he hadn’t penned them down - the journals were full of hashmarks and torn pages, water-stained passages and runny ink. He’d learned a lot about himself from them.

They were also useful in moments like this. In keeping his memory right, stopping it from twisting itself into a black hole. 

Placing the third journal in the series back into his nightstand, thoughts of dead children - the first real casualties of the Titan War-

“A shroud,” he announced, the words bitter on his tongue, blood running down his hands. “For the Son of Hermes.” As if he deserved one-

Percy took a deep breath, trying to break himself out of his thoughts. Those ones never went well.

He and Zoë were not close, by any means, and not just because she was part of an immortal group of people that swore off outside companionship, especially if they were men. They had known each other for a week, even if he had magically gleaned some insight into some of her trauma, there were still thousands of years of her history he knew nothing about, and she knew nothing about him except for what was revealed during that week, which was a whole lot of nothing.

And yet she trusted him with her sword - he was allowed to be there as she died. She had followed him in the Stars throughout the rest of his journeys - and was apparently still in Anaklusmos, if he correctly figured out what Hephaestus was trying to say, so had been there for all of it, even when the Stars did not shine in that stinking fucking pit-

Maybe he should listen to Hestia about Dionysus-

Later. He can worry about that later.

Placing his hand on the hilt of Anaklusmos, Percy gently lifts the blade, running his thumb along where the crack line was - perfectly sealed, unscarred.

Just like he was now.

The letters forming the name seem to flash one at a time - A N A K L U S M O S - and Percy took a deep, shaky breath-

And found himself setting the sword back to the side.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Not right now. Not until he was done.

Mental crisis later. Legal and physical crisis now.

Percy had killed Heracles.

Or, at least - if Poseidon were to be believed - part of Heracles. Part of him that needed to heal. Which meant that the rest of him could go straight to Zeus and tell whatever bullshit story he wanted about Percy, and Zeus would probably believe it - or even if he didn’t, would use it as an excuse to get rid of him, Poseidon be damned.

Except. There was one very obvious issue with very few answers.

Why hadn’t Zeus appeared yet?

Percy was under no illusions that whatever he did wasn’t noticed, and was probably noticed very quickly. Artemis trying to help probably just wound up making it more conspicuous, even if she had managed to mask his presence long enough and well enough to get to Hephaestus, why didn’t Zeus show up in the hours it took to fix Anaklusmos? Why hadn’t Poseidon appeared to whisk him away to Atlantis? Hell - Percy didn’t exactly have a laundry list of hiding spots he could go to, there wasn’t any reason Zeus hadn’t decided Poseidon was harboring a traitor and nuked the cabin yet!

Unless he wouldn’t.

Percy was useful now. God of Oaths - Zeus probably has at least one oath he made he wanted out of. Heracles was still around- it wasn’t like Percy had damned him directly to Tartarus to not pass GO or collect two-hundred drachma, he wasn’t in his true form after all. Maybe he was planning on holding this over Percy’s head as a bargaining chip - a ‘get out of jail free’ card?

What else could Zeus want him for, after all?

Thalia found him first, sitting in a chair and staring at his sword thrown across his bed, elbows digging into his knees and hands clasped together in front of his mouth. She pulled up a chair next to him without a word, just sitting, shoulders touching.

His form was definitely being weird and making fun of him - she was almost a head taller than him, which hadn’t been the case since the quest Bianca and Zoë died on. She’d joined up with the Hunt after that - being eternally fifteen wasn’t exactly conducive to getting taller, after all, even if she was only in the Hunt for about two years - until Annabeth died - and that was enough for him to hit a big enough growth spurt to send him past her.

Granted, he was eternally seventeen-ish now, until he figured out how to consciously control his body, and she was physically eighteen, mentally - what, twenty-one? Chronologically twenty-five-ish? The one time that fucking clock would be useful it doesn’t make itself known. Of course.

Nico was even weirder with age. Hazel was too- was Jason really the only one of them that didn’t have some weird marks to his age, and was that really only because he died? How long would that streak have lasted? Until he found himself in some weird time-displacing thing, or immortal, or sent back in time?

Percy decided to break the silence, even if only to find something to focus on other than his own thoughts. “I made my wish before the Council. I got a quest to make it happen faster- I asked for Demigod scents to be removed.”

Thalia nodded, leaning against him a bit. “Rachel told me, Nico too. She said you were going to invite us, but had ‘something to do’ first and left it at that.”

Percy took a deep breath. Back into his thoughts, he guesses. “I killed Heracles.”

His cousin was silent for a bit - staring ahead, at Anaklusmos. “I get it. Dad cause any trouble yet?”

A head shake. “And that’s the weird part - why I’m here, instead of out there just shoving my way through the quest. I can’t figure out why - my best guess so far is he wants something out of me and is going to use this to threaten me into doing it.”

“Sounds like him.”

Percy snorts, reaching across the bed to pull Anaklusmos a bit closer. “Hephaestus said something about Anaklusmos when I talked to him. Said it was sapient - that it might be able to communicate with me. Or at least that I should talk to it.”

“Have you?”

Percy’s silence was answer enough.

Nico entered from stage left - meaning a wall. Because may the gods forbid the Son of Hades enter a room in a normal way, pulling another chair from the wall to sit on Percy’s other side, the same distance away Thalia was, sandwiching him between his cousins.

Nico was the same height as him, which just felt weird. Wrong, even. 

Next lesson with Apollo: Shapeshifting. He desperately needed it.

Percy let out a mix of a sigh and a groan, leaning back in his chair a bit, the front legs floating off the ground. “We can’t start the quest for another four days or so. Hephaestus said Anaklusmos needed to rest-” the looks he got meant he forgot about that part. Whoops.

He ran through the fight with Heracles in brief terms - they fought, Heracles got his ass whooped, but damaged Anaklusmos - and what Hephaestus had told about the sword itself and Zoë, carefully leaving out the part about Zeus’ involvement.

He didn’t like lying to them, but it wasn’t safe for them to know. Not yet. 

The conch horn sounded a few short hours later - curfew. The trio had spent that time well, Percy thought, analyzing the map to try to dissect further areas that Apollo didn’t bother refining, as well as making a list of things they should bring, who they should talk to, and other generally smart pre-quest things Percy wasn’t used to, considering the amount of times he either had to leave the same day he got the quest, or was kidnapped, or ran off without a quest because the rules were dumb.

Nico and Thalia left to their cabins - and Percy collapsed into his chair, face falling onto his comforter as he finally got to relax. 

There had been a tugging sensation for almost an hour now - growing slowly and slowly, turning into a full-blown migraine, pulling him towards Olympus - towards his Palace.

And so, he went, flashing into the living room and feeling the sensation fade almost immediately.

“Perseus.” The King of the Gods stated, lounging in an armchair with a wine glass of nectar so pure and vibrant that Percy nearly mistook it for ichor. He took a drink, setting the glass down and uncorking a foggy bottle on the table, refilling it as well as another one next to it, the drink dripping - down golden brown fingers - atornwrist - apuncturedthroat - into the glasses slowly, each one garnished with a leaf that looked like it came off of some sort of oak tree. Percy took the drink to hopefully calm his nerves, the taste - his mothers cookies - a freshly cooked meal, made with love - like sand sprinkling onto his tongue - like mudhe’sdrowninghe’sdrowning -

He gestured to the chair opposite him, like he owned the place - which, Percy supposed, he probably did on some technicality. “Sit. It’s time for your first lesson.”

…

What?

Zeus had given him a migraine of summons for that?

Not for killing his son, or sneaking behind his back to go to Hephaestus to fix Anaklusmos - which was gripped in his hand still - or removing Zeus’ strand of power from it?

For lessons?

Percy sat, setting Anaklusmos on the table in front of him. Zeus raised an eyebrow as he took another sip of nectar. “Displaying your Symbol so brazenly is dangerous, Perseus. Be glad this isn’t a meeting with the Lady of Mist, or another deity. They may take it as a sign of aggression.”

Percy blinked a few times “Oh- alright. I spoke to Hephaestus about Symbols because I was a bit curious, and he said that it wasn’t good to keep it in its smaller form all the time, but didn’t really… give me a sheathe or anything, and I didn’t think about asking.” A lie - a brazen one, probably, considering Zeus was Zeus. 

But he wasn’t called on it, and Zeus simply nodded. “I can speak to him about that for you, if you wish. The Master Bolt does not have a condensed form, so that’s not something I happen to be intimately familiar with. For this meeting, it is fine.”

Percy nodded, and Zeus continued speaking. “Your first lesson is to be about how you interact with your Domain. As I’m sure you’ve discovered, it’s mostly passive. You need not be present for every Oath sworn, and you can likely detect ones sworn between others - especially ones you’re involved in. I’m sure there are many between us, for example, due to the Oaths you swore to Olympus, and us to you. Speaking with Lady Styx to try to figure out a transference system would be wise, but that is for another time. For now;” Zeus leaned forward in his chair, setting his glass down, still looking full despite the drink he took. His eyes sparked, the lightning in his beard more intense than normal. “I would like to test some of your abilities, to determine where you’re truly starting off at, if that’s okay.” 

Percy nodded again, genuinely a bit curious about what Zeus’ test would be, thoughts of Heracles fading from his mind.

“Apollo, in his capacity as God of Truth, cannot knowingly tell a lie while he holds that domain. I’d like to test whether this is the case with you, as well as you, as well as your ability to detect when Oaths have been broken.”

Ah.

That made more sense.

Zeus’ hands clasped together in front of him, now hunched over. “Tell me, Perseus. I had several of my anemoi tell me of an interesting encounter at the Pillars of Heracles, between you and my son, and he had his own story to tell as well. He told me that you came to his island unprovoked and attacked him. But something about that felt off, and I, as Olympios and Horkios, as well as your mentor, wished to get each side of the story before I made my verdict. Under oath, Perseus, did you and my son engage in combat?”

Something inside of Percy tugged, and he felt his mouth moving before his brain could even begin to figure out what to say. “Yes.”

Zeus leaned back slightly and waved his hand, the tugging feeling fading though not vanishing. He felt a bit freer, and began to talk. “We did fight, but he swung first. I was going to Morocco because Apollo thought that was the best place to check for something Hecate said was needed to remove Lamia’s curse, and he ripped me out of the sky while I was Flashing. We talked a bit, he kept goading me, and eventually he swung.”

Zeus was still and silent, fists gripping the armrests of his chair.

Percy really wondered what was going through his brain. He truly doubted he’d ever figure that out, though.

After - approximately - seven minutes and eighteen seconds, Zeus spoke once more. “I believe you. Heracles has faced punishment enough, I feel, losing the names he did. I shall, however, make sure you and he do not meet again, at least not soon. Would you say you felt compelled to earnestly answer the question?”

Percy had a choice. He was, technically, no longer under Oath - at least as far as he could tell. He could just… lie. Tell Zeus he didn’t. But that seemed like a very fast shortcut to making things a whole lot worse, considering Zeus probably has some sort of lie-detector powers like Apollo does as Olympios.

“I did. Or, at the start I did. When I was elaborating on the story it wasn’t as intense a feeling, but I couldn’t stop myself from answering if I wanted to.”

Zeus nodded, leaning back in his chair and going for the nectar again. “Did you feel anything beginning two hours ago? An itching sensation, a headache, or anything else?”

“Well, an hour ago I started to get a headache, but that was about you being here.”

Something in Zeus’ eyes twinkled. “And why did you take so long to respond to that?”

Percy rolled his eyes with a scoff. “I was talking to Nico and Thalia about the quest Hecate gave me. Got a magic map that shows me where Lamia put some of her anchors for the curse, and I can’t reliably split off my Names yet.”

“Interesting. Has Apollo been teaching you?”

An involuntary shudder racked its way through Percy at the reminder of the lesson on internet culture. “Unfortunately.”

Zeus laughed at that, draining his wine glass and setting it back on the table, gesturing to the seemingly-full bottle of nectar. The bottle looked almost frosted, now that Percy looked at it - around the neck it had a similar leaf to the one in the wine glasses, and the cork top was shaped like a bronze eagle.

“A housewarming gift. I believe my time here is done for now. Enjoy yourself, Perseus.”

Percy was out of that house the moment Zeus was gone. He left the chairs moved - facing the table instead of at the angle he’d set it at. The bottle of nectar was still on the table - as chilled as when Zeus had set it, he knew. The glasses were still next to it.

He just needed out.

He needed a breather.

Why was Zeus being so nice to him? Zeus might not know about the fact Anaklusmos didn’t have his power in it - though Percy figured that was unlikely. Ever since it had been confirmed to be his symbol of power, Percy could feel it in a way he never could before - something deep in his soul that latched onto the sword. There was no way Zeus didn’t have that too. Which means that, when Percy put the sword on the table, Zeus would definitely have known it was gone.

Was his domain - his domains - simply that useful to Zeus for some reason? Sure, keep him around, corrupt him a bit, he might be a get-out-of-jail-free card for some oaths Zeus regretted. But did Zeus really think it was that likely, that he would forgive Percy killing Heracles for the chance of it?

Or was there something else he was missing-

Percy’s world snapped, and he was overwhelmed with the scent of roses, apples, and something like buttercups.

He felt his hand compulsively twitch as he thought back to a limo in the New Mexican countryside.

Aphrodite looked pretty different this time. The first time he’d seen the Goddess of Love up close, she looked a lot like Annabeth. Percy was enough of an adult now to admit that, though probably never out loud. Unfortunately, that hadn’t changed much - her smile was still the same, she had the same princess curls, though they were black instead of blonde. Her skin wasn’t quite as flawless - she had freckles, across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were the same - light blue and green pools of spring water.

Every time Percy had seen Aphrodite, she wore a dress. He didn’t know if that was him or her - her appearance could look different to people in the same encounter, after all, but maybe she just liked them. He’d never consciously liked them, after all, but he’s well aware she can go deep into people's psyche to pull out things they’d never learn about themselves. During the quest with Bianca and Zoë? Dress. Every council meeting he saw her at? Dress. The Gigantomachy? He admittedly wasn’t paying much attention, probably a dress. 

Right now, though? 

Knee-length red dress.

He was, evidently, a very simple man.

“Aphrodite,” he started, very cautious as to her presence.

“Percy,” she shot back, voice like a cannon to him - a weird mix of Annabeth’s Virginian accent and Rachel’s Manhattan that he found oddly appealing. He really didn’t want to think about stuff like that now - not in the least because he was immortal and they were mortal or dead.

“What do you want?” Might as well be blunt, it’s always gone well for him.

She clapped her hands together, and in a cloud of pink mist they appeared in what looked like a shopping mall. “We’re getting you a remodel.”

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Percy and Aphrodite appeared in a light pastel pink-and-blue swirl of smoke, lightly fragranced with a scent like the breeze that’s still got a bit of salt in it but has long since left the Sea.

Percy’d never cared much for fashion - he was always more of a “function” kind of guy, but he’d definitely understood people that liked it. He’d had too many friends in the Aphrodite cabin to not, and they’d tried to play dress-up with him a lot when he was younger, especially during that stint when he thought he might be genderfluid. While still not fully certain about the answer to that, he’d tried on plenty of things, and had zero issues with it.

What he saw where Aphrodite brought him scared him. 

Fucking miles of clothes. In every direction - up, down, north, east, south, and west. 

He thinks he might see makeup in the distance a couple dozen floors up but he can’t really be sure. 

“Where in Hades are we?”

Aphrodite shushed him and started flipping through a nearby clothes rack, in a completely different outfit from before - a black three-piece tux with a white undershirt, rose gold buttons and trim. She was a bit taller, a bit bustier, and her hair was up in a fluffy ponytail. 

He thought she looked a bit good in it, honestly - maybe better than the red dress?

Maybe.

“First, never speak the name of the Lord of the Dead like that - it’s excusable as a demigod, but I can’t advise it as you are now, dear. You’re safe right now due to where we are, but you might get sued if you do it elsewhere, and if he’s really mad at you he might sick the IRS on your taxes.”

He has to pay fucking taxes? To the US Government?

Hades running the IRS was one thing but he has to pay taxes to the US Fucking Government? As a GOD?

He still didn’t even know how or if he got paid!

He’ll ask Zeus about that later, he guesses-

“Second, we are - technically - within my palace, though really it’s more of a pocket realm created by my power - lovely, isn’t it? Like I said, we’re here to give you a remodel, though we won’t finish it today of course, and part of that means your outfit. As is, your clothes are part of you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t add to them.”

Part of him?

“Sorry- Apollo is still getting me up to speed on everything. What do you mean my clothes are part of me?”

Aphrodite scoffs and rolls her eyes, throwing a blue flannel overshirt at him that he reflexively caught. “Try that on, it might clash with your shirt but it feels right.”

Percy starts shrugging it on while she talks.

“Your current outfit is designed by your worshippers as what they consider to be ‘you.’ The truest you. A protector of Camp, and one of them - hence, your shirt. Your beads are still around due to close association with the shirt, and then jeans and those raggedy shoes are what you wore a lot back then, probably, as well as what you were wearing when you properly became one of us. I’d have to be doing a bit more digging than either of us want to to be certain, but my intuition is often right.”

She emerged from the rack she was digging in, looking him over with a close eye. “It goes well with the jeans, but the shirt… It’s fine, I suppose, you liking it matters more than looking good. Blue and orange are complimentary colors, sure, but the tones… Bright blue would clash, dark blue doesn’t fit well with the jeans, but changing those to a brighter color would make the clashing worse, and thus.” She gestures to all of him.

He was distracted from being insulted by another swirl of pink and blue mist, and they were in a section with more shoes than Percy thought existed. 

“Right now we’re trying to find you some good casual-wear. Something that’ll pretty much always work… What kind of shoes do you tend to prefer?”

Percy looked down at his current Walmart-brand sneakers that he knew were about eighty percent tattered before his ascension. “Never been picky.”

Aphrodite frowned, quiet for a few moments before snapping and pointing in a direction, a box flying into her hand and opening to reveal a pair of black, blue, and white hi-top Vans. “You used to skate, didn’t you?”

Percy wasn’t sure how she knew that and wasn’t sure he wanted to. “Uhm- yeah, I did. Never really stopped, just… got kidnapped for a while.”

She handed him the box and pushed him onto a bench that he didn't think was there a few moments ago. Might as well-

“So,” Aphrodite started again. “Apollo’s your teacher, mmh? He’s a good choice, but he might struggle with teaching you some things, especially in regards to your mind.” She places a hand on his head and Percy relaxed muscles he didn’t know he had. “He is of the Sky, and you are well and truly of the Sea. Related, yes, and I’m sure he could teach you and you would learn in time. But I could teach you far sooner, and far better, being of the Sea myself.”

Percy had started to disassociate - something Aphrodite was doing seemed to… calm him, maybe? Definitely did something with his mind- but he caught most of the words… he thinks. “I…” Percy’s words trailed off for a moment. “What do you mean by in regards to my mind?”

“Splitting your conscience. Changing your form. Consciously manifesting and monitoring Names. Modifying the default appearances for such things. The Sea and the Sky are both the best types of domains for these tasks, and I am of both.”

That made sense to him- the Sky was almost as fluid and was as ever-changing as the Sea, and he’d always had problems with disassociation, even before all the trauma-

There was another swirl of pink and blue as Percy was interrupted from lacing up the shoes and properly trying them, but something told him they’d be perfect regardless - as proven by him looking down and them being laced up and feeling amazing.

Percy almost groaned when he saw where they were now.

Dress uniforms - tuxedos, dresses, pantsuits, the like.

Today was going to be long.

“So,” Aphrodite punctuated her word with a clap. “Do you accept my offer, and would you prefer it before or after we get you suited for your work attire?”

“...After. Please.”

She smiled.

After getting fitted for a suit he swore up and down he was never wearing for anything short of a wedding (he felt like he was wrong and did not like that), being basically thrown an assortment of silver and platinum jewelry (“It accents your hair and eyes so well!”), a pair of sunglasses he thinks cost upwards of a thousand dollars (“Please, I have seven just like those you’d really be doing me a favor-”), a pair of boat shoes for some reason(???), and being given a crash course on shapeshifting (he was about as good as Drew he thought, now, able to basically change any color of any part of his body, as well as hair style and length - maybe he could grow out his nails some even, if he wanted, or put some polish on them with a thought-) he was finally let free back into the world with the “casual wear” outfit she’d picked out for him, plus a hairpin and the sunglasses.

At least she didn’t try to take away the necklace.

Honestly he kinda liked the flannel, he hadn’t worn any since Gabe was around and that was mostly to cover bruises.

From skating, or basketball.

He swears.

-the sound of a shattered bottle echoing down a hallway-

What was he doing again?

“Oh, and Percy?” A voice - Aphrodite’s - rang out from behind him, and he turned, now facing a marble wall covered end to end with pillars hiding murals of famous scenes he recognized - emerging from sea foam, stars holding down the sky, Silena-

“You’re welcome any time, dear. For any reason.” She winked, but Percy felt like that was as much a mask as the one he was wearing.

He’d be back.

Percy stood in his kitchen, leaning against the island with pursed lips as he stared out at his living room.

Objectively, he liked it. The colors, the layout, the decorations.

But something about it felt wrong. Lifeless.

No- timeless? Emotionless? Unaging. Empty?

Immortal-

Like it would look fine anywhere. In anyone's house. A hundred years ago, now, or a hundred years in the future, it’d be fine. Just fine.

Just like he would be-

Maybe he could ask Aphrodite for some advice to liven it up? Make it more ‘him?’ She’d talked about a remodel, after all.

Knocking brought him out of his thoughts - on his front door. 

He was moving before he really thought about it, seeing who was probably Hermes through the frosted window in it (was that there last time? He wasn’t paying attention-) and opening the door to, yep, Hermes.

“Heya, Perce! Letters for ya’, thought most of its junk - I think you got an offer for a Synchrony card? Whatever the hell that is-”

“Couldn’t you filter these?” Yep, there that was. All junk. Some things never change, Olympus or New York. He went to close the door, but Hermes put his hand on it and lodged his foot in the frame before he even got the chance to try closing it, leading to the foot being worthless.

“Ay- uh, thought I’d ask, since you don’t really have friends here yet- lotsa enemies though, so good on you. ‘Pollo, Arty and I are-” Hermes’ body snapped about an inch or so to the right, as if reality itself tugged at him. Coincidentally, a silver arrow mounted itself in Percy’s doorway, right where Hermes’ head was a second ago. “-hanging out down at Tyche’s if you wanna come with? She runs a casino in the inner part of the second Ring.”

ESPN was blaring on the TV, the smell of stale chips, old beer and cigars almost stinging his nose.

“So, you’re home.” He didn’t even bother taking the cigar out of his mouth.

“Where’s my mom?”

“Working,” he said. Always working. “You got any cash?”

Percy tries to slam the door. “I’m good, thanks.”

Hermes catches the door again, a flash of remorse across his features - maybe he realized it was sensitive?

Or maybe he knew, and just forgot. Percy’d cursed enough of the gods for Gabe being in his life he was sure they all knew about it. 

Fucking gossips.

Hermes started to speak quickly, and with a bit of - of desperation? “Hey- doesn’t have to be there. I think Apollo’s tired of losing anyways - dudes in trouble with Tyche and some of the other collectors. The Muses run a movie theater, or there’s a new Hawaiian takeout place down the street we’ve been wanting to hit up, could just go back to one of our places and chill?”

Percy let out an almost snappy sigh. “Hawaiian takeout? Seriously? Think fried spam and rice is gonna make me like you? Bit racist, isn’t it?”

“I mean, do you not like fried spam musubi?”

The door stopped trying to close itself (because that’s definitely what was happening) on Hermes, and reopened enough that the Messenger god could stand comfortably in the opening. The silver arrow faded into moonlight, the crack in the stonework molding itself over.

The God of Oaths sighed again. “Fine.”

Percy threw the letters on the shoe stand next to the door, next to that black one he keeps forgetting to open and the package he hasn’t bothered to, and leaves.

Recently, Apollo had been liking to think himself one of the more patient gods on Olympus.

In history, that was probably - definitely - not true. He had a famous temper, and was eager to chase things he found pretty or enticing. Quick with a good smiting. And he liked to collect shiny things, too.

Was it any wonder he had crafted ravens?

But, as Apollo stared at the hand he had been dealt, he learned that his time as a mortal hadn’t fixed all of those again.

A two and a three, into a six, into an ace, into a jack.

Apollo hated blackjack.

He looked at the dealer - Tyche herself - and then looked at his now-empty pile of chips, comparing it to his smug sisters that was likely worth several thousands of drachma, and then at Hermes’ decent sized pile - more than he had walked in with, at least, and sighed, closing his blazing eyes.

Excusing himself from the table completely nonverbally by pushing the chair back and standing up, causing Hermes to follow suit and Artemis to pause for a moment as she considered her hand, before folding, Apollo started to leave the OVIG (Olympian-Very-Important-God) area of the Wynn in Vegas.

“I’ve got him coming,” said his totally-the-worst friend of Hermes.

“Here?”

“Nah- the Hawaiian place I talked about run by Lono’s kid, on the second tier. We’re getting close, do you two wanna head there or find somewhere else?”

Apollo looked down at his totally-the-worst sister of Artemis, who was currently about two thirds of his height, who responded with a very unhelpful shrug, but a helpful idea. “We could try to show him different parts of Olympus he may be unfamiliar with?”

Hermes shrugged, and Apollo watched as his form shimmered and a couple dozen more Hermes’ appeared to run off to different parts of the globe.

Hermes’ rules had always been different in some ways. He wasn’t confined by a limited number of Names like the rest of them - an oddity of his positions, but a useful one. Though, as Apollo understood it, most of his forms were restricted to Travel and Message based Names, the others following the same rules as the rest of them.

“It isn’t a terrible idea,” decided Hermes. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it, if nothing else.”

Apollo nodded in agreement. “We can do that, then.”

He tried to ignore the jingling noises and slot machine sound effects as the chips Hermes and Artemis carried from the casino turned into drachma and faded into the air as they walked onto the streets of Olympus.

He failed.

Miserably.

Percy quite literally ran into Hermes, Apollo, and Artemis - though mostly Hermes, as he rapidly turned a corner, the Hermes he was following - and happened to be blocking his line of sight - walked into the other Hermes and merged into one, and then he walked into Hermes, and fell on his ass.

The God of Thieves reached out to grab Percy to help pull him up, giving him a totally innocent pat on the back and slight dusting.

“I don’t have money, Hermes, stop looking.”

The accused god just tried to laugh it off.

“Though, actually,” Percy continued, looking at Apollo. “How do I get paid? Do I get paid?”

Hermes and Artemis looked at Apollo pointedly. “Did you not tell him?” 

Artemis almost sounded offended on his behalf, which he found more than a little odd considering their history - he had stolen her lieutenant, gotten another one killed - almost twice actually, got another huntress killed, and stopped another huntress from joining, after all.

Plus, he was a guy. That too - though. Maybe?

He’ll think about that later.

“I figured his father would, considering he’s who Zeus put in charge of his accounts!” Apollo scoffed, but looked back at Percy. “The reason we take so many light-weight offerings off of demigods is because that is most of how we get paid. A new and improved tithe, basically, that's better for everyone involved. The food they offer to us gets turned into drachma, which gets sent out to whoever it needs to go to. There’s other ways, of course - I get paid for much of my doctor work, Artemis sells pelts, Hermes offers overnight shipping.”

Percy had to blink a few times. “So, the food we scrape into the fire at Camp turns into Drachma, which gets sent to whoever we offer it to-”

“Technically it gets sent to Zeus who gives it to Ganymede who distributes it,” Apollo interjected.

Percy just sighed. “So, Zeus gave my dad control over my bank accounts while I was in a coma, so I need to ask him?”

Apollo nodded. Percy sighed again, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’ll… I’ll deal with that later. Can you guys cover whatever it is we wind up doing?”

“Of course!” Apollo said, at the same time as Hermes saying “Apollo can’t, but I gotcha.”

“Hermes-” “Apollo here has been in crippling financial debt since the first riverboat casino opened.”

Percy blinked. “The… eighteen hundreds?”

Hermes did a side-to-side motion with one hand, shimmering out of existence for most of it as Apollo tried to tackle him. “BCE, sure. About.”

The messenger god laughed as Apollo faceplanted on the sidewalk of Olympus and took off sprinting, as Artemis sighed and continued trying to explain Apollo’s poor life choices - something Percy was certain she was proficient at due to sheer experience alone.

“Tyche opened her first proper ocean-bound casino to celebrate the return of Poseidon after his stint building the walls of Troy. Apollo sunk himself into debt during the war on the boat, due to its scenic views of the city which allowed him to monitor it directly before we were able to split ourselves as we are now, while also giving him something to do, and him being in desperate need of a coping mechanism.”

Percy took a few seconds to both take that in and watch Apollo try to shoot Hermes in the skull a few times.

“So, when Hermes said he’d been in debt since the invention of the Riverboat Casino, Hermes meant Apollo had been in debt since the Trojan War?”

Artemis nodded morosely. “Tyche is brutal with her interest rates. He’s paid off the original sum a dozen times over.”

Percy visibly flinched, though recovered from hearing a distant argument.

 “I have you at gunpoint Hermes, now swear you’ll never mention it again!”

“Bitch that isn't a gun that’s the fucking sun!”

“So, is that why Apollo has so many kids? More offerings means more cash to pay off debts?”

Artemis shrugged. “I cannot speak for my brother, but I imagine that’s at least one reason. I do know he falls in love rather easily, however, so I can’t imagine it’s the only one.”

Percy offered Artemis her bag of food that Hermes had rattled off the order for, and she took it, peeking inside with a soft thanks, though not eating as she laughed at Apollo dunking Hermes into a fountain while the poor trickster god had to recite Taylor Swift lyrics.

“Something tells me this happens a lot.”

“A few times a week, yes.”

“How long does it normally go on for?”

Artemis had to think. “Anywhere from an hour to three days. Five, at its longest.”

The trio spent hours dragging Percy along - at least nine of them, in fact. Showing the newest god everything there is to do on Olympus - the best places to eat, the good movie theaters, the nicer parks, the quiet sections, the best views, all the secret shortcuts out to specific areas - Olympus apparently had tons of connections to the mortal plane, though the elevator in the Empire State Building was the only real two-way one for non-gods beyond Flashing.

They were even nice enough to show him some of the bigger scams and tourist traps.

He knew there was something up with that phone screen repair stand.

And by the time Percy was confident he wouldn’t get scammed or robbed by anyone short of Hermes (or maybe Autolycus) he was exhausted.

Considering he hadn’t slept since his ascension, he wondered if that might be why, and got a very firm shrug from Apollo, and a quick “Heracles and Dionysus didn’t have an adjustment period like you are.”

Greaaaaaat.

Even as a god he can’t escape the disease known as “otherness.”

Some things truly never change.

Including, it seems, the amount of people breaking and entering, as he found Hestia and Hera - Juno, his mind corrected - sitting on his couch when he got home.

He slammed the door shut with a very, very loud sigh. “Can this wait?”

They didn’t have to answer that. He knew it couldn’t.

As the goddesses stood, Percy’s vision twisted, and as Juno’s black hair shimmered in the light like the feathers of a peacock both of their forms shimmered, revealing nothingnothingwarfaminescreamshopehopehopelovewarmthitburns-

Percy was on the floor. Again.

Very concerned people were standing over him. Again

He has a migraine. Again.

Percy groaned loudly as he pushed himself up, both Juno and Hestia backing off just enough for him to not bump into them. He pinched his eyes. “Why can satyrs not get migraines but gods can?”

Hestia placed a hand on his back and sent a pulse of something through him that soothed his aching skull. “We can’t.”

Percy swore. Hestia slapped his back and shushed him.

“Alright- alright.” Percy pushed himself into a standing position with a groan as Hestia dragged him up a bit, and then looked at Juno. “What the hell do you want?”

Juno’s eyes started to harden into a glare, but at a look from Hestia it crumbled. She sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she looked slightly above Percy’s head instead of at his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

What?

What?

Maybe he’s unconscious from the pain and fall-

Did the Queen of the Gods just… apologize to him?

Why?

Percy’s stunned silence must have been taken poorly because she scoffed and, for some unknown reason, elaborated.

“I am sorry for kidnapping you, stealing your memory, and locking you in a box for a year for a quest that took all of a week. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on being kidnapped, which played a very large part in the timing.”

Juno looked away from the still-stunlocked Percy towards Hestia, asking a silent “Can I leave now?” that was functionally not silent at all.

Hestia pouted, but nodded to her sister.

And the Queen of the Gods left.

Percy looked to his still-present aunt after roughly a minute.

“You terrify me.”

She beamed like the beacon of light she’s meant to be.

After a truly egregious amount of pampering and health-checks regarding his migraine and Settling that really reminded Percy that Hestia was almost his stepmother if the myths were accurate about that (and, remembering his conversation with Apollo about that subject, they probably were) which kind of disgusted him (she really did have many more aunt vibes than mom ones, for some reason(plus the whole incest thing but yanno)) Hestia finally left, and Percy went to find his bedroom, something he hadn’t actually managed to do so far in his time exploring the house.

He’d found the sun room (different from the living room, covered wall-to-wall in empty bookshelves sunk into the walls with the exception of the wall of windows), what he thinks is a game room (empty, but something about it seems like it should have a pool table), the technically-outdoor pool (Olympic sized, because. Of course. It was also surrounded by walls on three sides, and under a roof, but led into a backyard and garden he hadn’t looked too much at because it had rows of moonlace and he almost cried) and his bathroom (it was the only room in the house so far to not have the wood floor, being all black tile similar to the slate in his kitchen, and had a jacuzzi tub that he could comfortably fit four of himself in without them touching (not that he’d tried(yet)), two disconnected sinks on either side for some reason, a walk-in closet, and a catty-corner shower stall that had a frosted glass entrance in one corner of it and twenty one shower heads, five on any side and one massive one above. He was terrified to try it, no matter how much it called to him.)

He’d also found a second living room, which really confused him, and a study which seemed like the most furnished room in the house he’d found so far - his bottle of nectar that was a “gift” from Zeus (still chilled) was sitting on the black wood desk like it had always been there, a large stereotypical black office chair sat behind it with a window similar to the one in the main living room present. 

The main furnishings in this room, however, were the copious amounts of books organized neatly in shelves and on his desk, a quick skim over once he’d found the room revealing them all to be legal documentation and histories of long-standing oaths, laws, and Olympus itself, and legal theory on why they exist, and whether or not they should.

Believe it or not, he’d not had time to read them yet.

He’d hopefully never have time.

Something deep inside of Percy… pouted.

Percy shall ignore that something. For now.

He’d always been good at escapism.

Percy proved himself wrong about the assumption his study/office was the most furnished room in his house, when he actually found the damn bedroom - up a flight of stairs, in a corner somewhere in the house he wasn’t sure either of existed a few hours ago.

His room was his room.

A full sized bed in the middle against the left wall, with a headrest and a chest at the foot. Blue sheets, blue pillows. A window against the back wall of the room, covered in gray blackout curtains. A single overhead light in a ceiling fan, his skateboard against the wall next to the door when he entered. His dresser had, however, been replaced by a walk-in closet separated by a door, a shoe rack against the back with very familiar - but newer, cleaner versions of - clothes hanging from wire shelving. 

The walls were littered in posters - bands he loved, movies he could quote every line from, tours he went to concerts in. 

But most importantly his corkboard.

Pictures from an old camera he’d managed to smuggle to camp every year his mom gave him in the car on the way while being chased by the minotaur and had survived every. Single. Quest.

A picture he took of Aunty Em’s after killing Medusa. A picture of him, Annabeth, and Grover at the base of the Arch before he’d burnt a hole in the side and jumped. A picture of the Queen Anne’s Revenge. A picture of the Hoover Dam from the bottom, and of Mount Tam from just before they entered the Garden - a selfie with him, Thalia, and Grover. Zoë had said no. A picture of his shroud at Camp, after the Mount Saint Helens incident - he’d traded the camera with Annabeth when she gave him her hat, to make sure it got out. 

The Empire State Building lit up blue.

And dozens, hell maybe hundreds of others from his time at Camp - pictures of cool things he’d found in the forest, of the Cabins, of random sunsets he thought were pretty - so many pictures of his friends.

So many pictures of dead children-

He turned away from the corkboard, and fell face first onto his bed.

Those thoughts can wait.

Sleep time first.

Sing, O’ Goddess, the anger of Perseus, Son of Sally

Percy had always been unhealthily curious - in a very literal way, as it often led to him getting injured. He isn’t sure he’d call himself nosy, though. At least not consciously, considering how often his demigod dreams would lead to him spying on someone.

But something his dad had said had stuck with him - he didn’t have a true form yet. But he was taught (as a demigod, sure) that Flashing was pulling all of a god’s Names together and ascending to that energy-laden state and moving at borderline light speed.

Was he curious about that? Of course. And he would ask Apollo about that the first chance he got.

But what he was really curious about was what his True Form would look like.

And there was no better option for a picture than Camp’s resident Oracle.

Now, granted. Percy has no clue if this will actually work or not - whether Rachel could see the True Form of a god in a vision or not, much less safely.

But it was surely worth asking. Right?

Right?