Chapter Text
Percy Jackson disappeared on a Monday.
It happened quietly, without any particular fanfare– there for a moment, then gone. 16 years of life erased from the world in less than a second, witnessed only by the eyes of an unsympathetic Queen.
Percy Jackson had been excited to spend his winter break at Camp Half-Blood. Percy Jackson had been looking forward to spending time with his friends and girlfriend, uninterrupted by the threat of some malicious deity or dangerous quest. Percy Jackson should have known better.
For what was Percy Jackson, if not a pawn of the gods?
He was sitting in his cabin when it happened.
The room was dim and cool, moonlight streaming through the mottled sea-glass windows, casting soft shadows along the driftwood floor where it was intercepted by the furniture. The slight smell of sea-salt floated through the air. A small fountain gurgled against the wall across from the door.
Percy couldn’t help but feel content.
As lonely as his cabin was, he’d always found comfort within its walls, in a way he suspected only a Son of Poseidon could. The feeling was only augmented by the spread of festive wrapping paper and small presents resting on the blankets in front of him– Christmas gifts for Annabeth, for Grover, for Mom, for Paul, for Rachel, for Tyson, for Nico, for Thalia….
It was something of a wonder, how in just a few short years, he’d gone from only going out of his way to find a gift for his mom, to this entire menagerie of loved ones.
A feeling akin to pride, all warm and bubbly, yet softer, somehow, welled up in Percy’s chest. He couldn’t help but smile as he worked, humming songs to himself while he tied cheerful ribbon around clumsy wrapping-paper jobs.
He didn’t have a chance to tie the last bow before all of the air seemed to get sucked out of the room.
Percy froze, his cheerful humming sputtering out. He didn’t want to turn around. He didn’t want to see whatever had joined him in the cabin.
He didn’t want to fight for his life yet again. Not now. Not when it was finally good .
“Perseus…” a deep, alto voice crooned, the timbre of it laced with surety and power. The tart taste of pomegranate sat atop Percy’s tongue like acid, and the sickly sweet smell of lotus made him woozy.
He finally summoned the strength to turn around and face whatever terrible thing was about to happen to him, heart shattering into the pit of his stomach all the while.
Before him stood Hera, the Queen of the Gods herself.
The cabin was quiet for a moment, only interrupted by the whistle of air creeping through gaps in the sand-stone walls.
“....Hera,” Percy greeted softly, dread settling firmly beneath his skin.
The goddess huffed. “ Lady Hera, boy.”
“ Lady Hera,” Percy corrected himself with an internal wince. The woman before him stood tall and proud, despite his disrespect, which he figured made sense. Hera was not known for being insecure.
Her calf-brown eyes bored into him, depthless and dark, only emphasized by the milky, opalescent white of her chiton– at least, Percy was pretty sure it was a chiton. It was really the only kind of Ancient Greek clothing he could remember, though, purely for the fact that a chiton was also a marine mollusk.
Hera quirked a dark brow at him, as though waiting for something. Percy internally blanched. Shit . Okay, okay, think . Sally Jackson did not raise a heathen, what’s the first thing you do when a very important scary lady arrives in your home…
A flash of realization zipped through him, and he quickly clambered off of his bed, gesturing awkwardly to the armchair and sofa set in the corner. “Sit, sit, er– would you like a seat?” he offered anxiously. “Ma’am– my lady , I mean…” he tagged onto the end in an effort to smooth over the rough edges of the goddess’s infamous temper.
Truthfully, Percy was surprised at his own tact. Normally he was more irritated than stressed when mysterious powerful beings approached him, especially after spending over five years adjusting to the concept that this was just his life.
Something about this, though…deep down, he knew this was different.
Fuck .
Hera offered him a sharp, satisfied smile at his quiet deference to her power. “Thank you, child, but this is a conversation I feel is best to have whilst on my feet. But please, feel free to sit, yourself.”
What was that supposed to mean? Percy nodded, even as he mulled over the statement in his mind. The situation was eerily reminiscent of getting called into the principal’s office, where they ask you to sit down before standing and towering over you as they list out all of your failures and insecurities before suspending you. Not that Percy knew what that felt like, of course.
He sunk into the dusty blue armchair.
The goddess hummed out an amused, almost content sound as she began to speak. “You are aware that the next Great Prophecy has been spoken, yes?”
Percy’s breath hitched like he’d been kicked in the gut. Hera stood tall and still before him, a marble statue of a woman, despite the vibrant color of her chocolate brown hair.
“...Yes,” he eventually responded. “I was there when Rachel gave it,” he hedged cautiously.
“Ah, good. So you are familiar with the first line, correct?”
Percy furrowed his brows, a fuzzy-sock clad foot tapping anxiously against the ground. “Uh, yeah, uh .... Six– no, seven half-bloods answer a call, right?”
Hera nodded slowly with a soft smile, as though humoring the nonsense-words of a particularly small child– a thought which made a flare of familiar irritation perk up in Percy’s chest.
“Yes, essentially.”
Percy considered saying something, but before the idea had even half-formed, it was already spilling out of his mouth.
“What’s it got to do with me?” he blurted, cheeks pinking the slightest bit as Hera levelled a disapproving gaze upon him. He felt like he’d just disappointed his mom, but worse , somehow. More like he’d disappointed his mom’s evil alter-ego. Harsher. Scarier.
Gods, this sucked .
“Well, Perseus–”
“Percy,” he interrupted instinctually. Hera glared at him. “...Sorry. Continue, please.”
“Well, Perseus ,” Hera repeated pointedly. Percy winced internally. “I am…placing the call, so to speak. And it is imperative that you answer.”
Percy blinked. “...Seriously?” he mumbled softly, the word coming out more broken than how he’d intended it to be. “I– No , I just fought a whole war against Kronos , I am not going into another.”
Hera pursed her lips. “I am offering you the courtesy of a warning, but let me be clear, Perseus: this is not a request.”
“Courtes– are you kidding me? I–”
“ Perseus ,” Hera snapped. Percy’s jaw clicked shut so fast he barely had time to move his tongue out of the way. “Show some respect,” the goddess scolded. Percy felt whatever magic that had shut his mouth recede, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.
“My apologies, I’m just a little bit upset by all this,” Percy said tersely, through gritted teeth.
Hera huffed out something resembling a laugh. “It matters not how you feel, boy. You must partake in the prophecy, or else Western Civilization as we know it shall collapse.”
Something panged painfully against Percy’s ribcage. “Why me?”
The goddess’s gaze shifted to something softer, though no less cold. “You are the most influential demigod of the past century. Well, the most influential Greek demi-god, I should say. There is no one else but you who will render my plans to fruition.”
Percy furrowed his brows, mildly alarmed. “What’s that supposed to mean? What plans ? What–”
“ Silence , boy,” Hera scolded him. Reluctantly, Percy went quiet. He wasn’t looking to get his jaw dislocated via forceful, magical shutting-up.
“A great foe is coming, child, and Olympus will need her allies. All of them. But there is a rift we must repair in order for her heroes to reunite. You are a leader amongst those at Camp Half-Blood, Perseus. And you must help lead the charge.”
Percy gaped, his hopes for a peaceful future shattering all around him alongside his heart. For once in his life, he had no words. His characteristic rebelliousness had been quelled by an all-consuming exhaustion. By complete and total resignation .
Hera seemed to take his pause to be permission to continue. “I am under no delusion that you will be complacent to this, but, unfortunately, I have always had a weakness when it comes to children– even those born of adultery amongst my family,” she began.
“What’s going to happen? What do I have to do?” The words slipped from Percy’s mouth like oil slipped away from water: slick and unnatural, but impossible to deny. He couldn’t bring himself to apologize for it.
Hera clenched her jaw and sucked in a harsh breath, but Percy supposed she must’ve understood where he was coming from at that moment, since she didn’t berate him for interrupting again. “As I was saying, I have a soft spot for children. Therefore , I am willing to explain myself, despite how unbecoming doing so is for a goddess, mind you.”
Percy chewed on that thought for a moment. Did he even want to know what Hera’s plans were? Because the way she was talking, it seemed like she’d carry them out either way. Why was she willing to tell him, anyways? Surely sharing her grand plans with the hero she hoped to exploit was risky, right?
Well, knowledge is power, and all that– at least, according to Annabeth. And Percy was pretty sure his girlfriend had the most brilliant mind on the planet, so…
“...I’d like to know. Please.”
Hera nodded firmly– and wasn’t that strange? Percy had never known a god to heed a demigod’s request so easily, despite having offered up the option. Normally there was some sort of favor involved, a transactional agreement, but not now. Not at this moment, at least.
Strange.
“Camp Half-Blood is not the only sanctuary for demigods. The other camp, however, caters to Roman demigods, rather than Greek. Both parties are necessary for the successful completion of the Prophecy. I will wipe away your memories and place you into the other camp, just as I will do to a Roman demigod in a similar position to yourself. This will forge trust before the truth of your heritage is rediscovered, eliminating biases for the sake of establishing a relationship….” Hera explained clinically. Honestly, though, Percy didn’t hear much past “wipe away your memories”.
Everything he’d been through, every hard-earned lesson… gone . Any concern or shock he might’ve had about a whole other sub-type of demigod roaming about the world was usurped by the preemptive grief for his oncoming loss.
“...When?” he mumbled out, the quiet word managing to overpower Hera’s strong, commanding tone.
“...Tonight.”
Percy closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying not to cry. It made sense, really. The only reason Hera was willing to tell him was because he wouldn’t remember it anyways.
Figures.
“Can I…say goodbye?” he asked softly. Deep down, he already knew the answer.
Hera’s lips pursed together in a manner that Percy might have diagnosed as pity, if he hadn’t known better. “No,” she answered simply.
“...How long?”
Hera hesitated. “I must remove you from Camp Half-Blood now, before the Roman demigod arrives, but it will be months until you resurface.”
Percy furrowed his brows. “Months? I’ll be alone, without memories, for months ?”
“Peace, child, you still have your memories for a while yet. I must store you someplace safe, however. Until you are needed.”
Percy clenched his jaw. “So you’re kidnapping me?” he snarked.
“Do not be so crass, boy,” Hera huffed. But she didn’t deny it.
Percy ran a hand over his face, sparing a longing look to the Christmas gifts he’d just finished wrapping. “Where are you taking me?”
Hera considered the question for a moment. “A…parallel dimension, I believe you mortals call it.”
“A par– why ?”
The goddess huffed. “Mortal souls can not simply disappear , Perseus, nor can they reside in a form that was not meant for them without long-term consequences. Since I need to remove you from this plane, I have no choice but to replant you into another until it is time for you to return.”
Percy shook his head helplessly. Did that mean he was going to have to fight with his döppelganger or something? Or was he going to become his döppelganger?
Annabeth would know.
…
…
…He wouldn’t see Annabeth again for months .
…… Fuck .
Was there some way out of this? There had to be, right? You do the best you can, you get the best you can– and Percy had done some pretty great things. Besides, what would happen to his mom? Annabeth? Grover? The other campers? They needed him, right? He was supposed to keep them safe. He couldn’t leave.
But, of course, that was not how the world worked. Not really.
This…this was happening.
Percy turned his gaze back to Hera. “...Make it quick?” he requested softly.
Hera did not say anything in response.
All Percy could do as his body dissolved into the air was stare down at the presents he’d wrapped. Lumpy and uneven, but full of care and love. Full of life. A life he was leaving, a life that might never be the same again.
What would Annabeth think, if she knew he’d given in so easily? What would his mom think? He was supposed to be better than this, he was supposed to fight .
But how do you fight against fate?
The room was dim and cool, moonlight streaming through the mottled sea-glass windows, casting soft shadows along the driftwood floor where it was intercepted by the furniture. The slight smell of sea-salt floated through the air, a small fountain gurgling against the far wall from the door, and Percy couldn’t feel anything at all.
Unlabeled Christmas presents sat quietly on a pile of old, well-loved blankets.
Percy Jackson was gone.