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2025-02-25
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2025-04-09
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5/?
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Anamnesis

Summary:

It’s been 2 years since the Second Gigantomachy, 3 years since the Second Titanomachy, and 7 years since Perseus Jackson discovered his heritage.

New buildings were rebuilt and new relations were formed. It took time but everyone is slowly moving forward with their lives, Percy included.

As a way to work through his trauma, Percy turned his many journals detailing the last 7 years into 10 books and several short stories detailing his many quests as well as those of his friends. He put them away, content for them to be forgotten and never read.

One day, while helping Percy organize his cabin, Nico stumbles upon the box that holds the manuscripts. When he asks Percy what they are, Percy explains and dismisses them. Nico, curious about them, tries to convince Percy to share them with their friends.

Percy eventually relents, agreeing under 2 conditions.
1. The books hold many secrets that aren’t his to share, the owners of those secrets must agree to the secrets being shared of their own volition
2. The Olympians must join the reading.

 

This is a ‘Reading the Books’ with a personal spin on it. There will be some changes to the canon. Don’t like, don’t read.

Notes:

Constructive criticism is welcome! If you see a grammatical error, please point it out so I can correct it! This is being written just for fun so I have no posting schedule. I will push out the next update by 2 days for every time someone asks when the next update it.

All characters and canon belongs to Rick Riordan

Chapter 1

Notes:

I may end up rewriting this chapter as I'm not entirely satisfied with how it turned out.

Chapter Text

Nico stepped into Cabin 3, the familiar scent of saltwater and fresh sea breeze washing over him as he took in the state of the room. As expected, it was a disaster zone. Clothes were strewn across the floor, empty water bottles rolled against the walls, and various trinkets and papers lay scattered like an aftermath of a hurricane. By the door, a few stacked boxes sat waiting, the top one open. In the center of it all, Percy was crouched down, sweeping a pile of trash into a dustpan with an almost comically guilty expression.

Nico leaned against the doorframe and knocked twice, drawing Percy’s attention. The older demigod looked up, sheepish grin already in place. “Hey Neeks, thanks for the help,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Nico smirked. “Y’know, you’d think you’d have figured out how to clean up your mess by now.” His tone was teasing, but he knew this was just how Percy operated. The guy got so lost in his writing that the rest of the world ceased to exist, and by the time he came back to reality, everything was in disarray.

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy sighed dramatically before gesturing to his cluttered desk. “Can you go through that pile? Separate the ones with sticky notes from the ones without? The ones with notes go in the box, the rest stay here.”

Nico gave a mock salute. “On it.”

As he got to work, sorting through the mess of notebooks and loose sheets, he and Percy fell into easy conversation. They playfully bickered about who could finish their task first, throwing out small challenges and ridiculous stakes. Percy teased him about his habit of organizing things too meticulously, and Nico countered by bringing up how absurdly long it took Percy to finish a single novel because he hyper-fixated on the smallest details.

Their conversation eventually drifted to camp activities, specifically the upcoming Capture the Flag game to kick off the summer. “We’ll see who wins,” Nico said with a smirk, stacking another set of papers into the box.

“I think we both know how this is gonna go,” Percy shot back, winking. “I’ve still got more wins under my belt.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got better strategy,” Nico retorted.

“Debatable.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Nico turned back to the last bit of papers on the desk. As he straightened them, a title caught his attention. ‘The Lightning Thief.’ He frowned, flipping through the manuscripts underneath. ‘The Sea of Monsters.’ ‘The Titan’s Curse.’ ‘The Battle of the Labyrinth.’ ‘The Last Olympian.’ His stomach twisted. These weren’t just random writings. These were Percy’s quests.

“Hey, Perce,” he called, holding up the top manuscript. “What are these?”

Percy looked over, and in an instant, the lightness in his expression vanished. His body tensed, his jaw tightening as he walked over. “Nothing important,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Percy took the manuscript gently from his hands, setting it back on the pile with an almost reverent touch. His expression was distant, almost... sad. It clicked then. Percy had always refused to write about their world. Any time the idea came up, he shut it down immediately, saying it was too painful. Yet here was written proof that at some point, he had tried.

“Percy?” Nico’s voice softened, treading carefully. “Are these about your quests?”

Percy nodded, turning away and resuming his half-hearted attempt at straightening his bed.

“I thought you didn’t write about your life?” Nico pressed. “About... us?”

“I don’t,” Percy admitted, sighing as he ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “At least, not anymore. Those books... they were a personal project. I wrote them based on my old journals and notebooks from over the years. They’re why I don’t write about this world professionally—it hurts too much to remember.”

His voice was quiet, laced with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with cleaning. “I have half a mind to just throw them away.”

Nico’s eyes widened. “Throw them away?!” he echoed in disbelief. “Percy, these are the details of all your quests! You’re the most famous demigod in modern history, and no one but the people who were actually there know what really happened.”

Percy smirked, the usual glint of mischief flickering back into his eyes. “Careful, I think I hear fanboy Nico leaking through.”

Nico felt a faint heat rise to his cheeks but ignored the jab, crossing his arms. “Don’t try to change the subject, Jackson. You should let us read them! We could learn so much.”

Percy sat down heavily on his bed, pushing his medium-length hair out of his face. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice quiet again. “These were personal. I don’t know how I feel about letting other people read them.”

Nico hesitated before sitting on the edge of Percy’s desk, watching him closely. “I get it,” he said, more serious now. “It’s your story. Your life. And I know it wasn’t easy. But... it’s also history. Our history. You’ve always carried the weight of these quests alone, but maybe—just maybe—letting us read them means you don’t have to carry it by yourself anymore.”

Percy didn’t respond right away, staring down at the manuscripts with an unreadable expression. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Eventually, Percy sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I think I’m done cleaning for today. You should head out to the pavilion and get some dinner. I’ve got to call my mom soon anyway.”

Nico knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he stood, making his way toward the door. But just before he left, he glanced back. “Just... think about it, yeah?”

Percy didn’t look up, but he nodded. And for now, that was enough.

Percy stared into the mist swirling within the small fountain Poseidon had gifted him years ago. It had been a lifeline once, a way to see his loved ones when he was far from home. He’d accidentally destroyed it when he was fifteen—shattering it in a burst of panic and fury after it had shown him Nico summoning the dead, the spectral energy disrupting his cabin. The memory still made him shudder. Tyson had repaired it for him a few weeks after the Second Titanomachy, his brother’s craftsmanship bringing it back to life.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Percy fished a drachma from his pocket and tossed it into the mist. “Oh, Fleecy, do me a solid. Show me Sally Jackson-Blofis.”

The mist rippled before forming an image, shimmering into clarity. There she was—his mom—moving around the kitchen with practiced ease, stirring something on the stove. The sight filled him with warmth. He watched her for a moment, absorbing the familiarity of home before he finally spoke up.

“Mom?”

Sally startled slightly before turning to face the mist, her expression immediately shifting into something soft yet perceptive. “Percy,” she greeted, a smile appearing, though her eyes studied him carefully. “It’s good to see you. You look—” she hesitated, clearly noting something off about his demeanor. “—tired. What’s going on?”

Percy forced a grin. “Nothing major. Just the usual—keeping things in order at camp before the summer rush.”

Sally hummed in acknowledgment, not quite believing him but choosing not to press—yet. “And everyone’s doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Percy nodded. “Nico helped me clean my cabin today, which is honestly a miracle.” He chuckled. “We talked about the upcoming Capture the Flag game. He’s already scheming.”

She laughed lightly. “Sounds about right. And how’s Annabeth?”

“She’s good,” he answered. “Busy as ever with architecture projects. She sends her love.”

Sally nodded approvingly. “And how are things at camp otherwise?”

Percy leaned back slightly, glad for the distraction. “Pretty good, actually. The Romans are coming over for the summer to train with us again, so we’re preparing for that. It should be interesting—hopefully fewer fights than last time.” He smirked. “The temple constructions are coming along too. Annabeth’s designs are amazing, and the Hephaestus cabin has been working non-stop to get them built. It’s gonna be incredible when it’s done.”

“That sounds amazing,” Sally said warmly. “It’s good to hear things are progressing well.”

“What about you?” Percy asked. “How’s the writing going?”

Sally let out a small, amused sigh. “It’s going. I’m working on a new novel, and it’s been a little slow, but I think I’ve finally got a good rhythm going. Paul’s been helping me brainstorm ideas when I get stuck.”

Percy smiled. “He’s a good guy.”

“The best,” Sally agreed. “And Estelle keeps me busy. She’s learned a new word today—‘shiny.’ She’s been saying it nonstop, pointing at everything that catches the light.”

Percy chuckled, picturing his baby sister waddling around, fascinated by the world. “That’s adorable.”

“She also decided that her stuffed Pegasus needed to take a bath in the sink,” Sally continued with a mock exasperated sigh. “So that was an adventure.”

Percy laughed. “Sounds like she’s got the Jackson spirit—always ready for a new quest.”

Sally grinned. “It does seem that way.”

As they continued talking, Percy felt his mood lift. The tension that had been gnawing at him started to fade as he got lost in the comfort of their conversation. By the time Sally circled back to her earlier question, he almost forgot why he’d called in the first place.

“Alright, I’ve let you stall long enough. What’s actually bothering you, Percy?”

Percy hesitated, debating whether to brush it off or admit what was gnawing at him. But this was his mom. She’d always been the one person he never had to pretend with. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nico found something today,” he admitted. “My old manuscripts. The ones I wrote about my quests.”

Sally’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You kept those?”

“Yeah. I wrote them years ago, mostly as a way to process everything. But I never intended for anyone to read them.” He looked away, fingers drumming against his knee. “Nico thinks I should let the demigods at camp read them. He says it could help them learn, that it’s history.”

Sally considered this for a moment before nodding. “He’s right. Your experiences hold so much that could guide them. There’s no better way to teach than through real stories.”

Percy scoffed lightly. “You sound like Chiron.”

“Well, Chiron is a wise centaur,” she said with a teasing smile before her voice softened. “But I understand why you’d hesitate. Reliving those moments isn’t easy.”

Percy exhaled slowly. “It’s not just that. If I did this, there’d have to be conditions. The only way I’d agree is if the Olympians read the books too.”

Sally tilted her head. “And why can’t they?”

Percy scrambled for an answer. “Because—because they wouldn’t care,” he said, but the words rang hollow even to him.

Sally gave him a knowing look. “You don’t think they’d care, or you don’t want them to?”

Percy frowned. “I just… I don’t want them to dismiss everything we went through. They always act like it wasn’t as bad as it really was.”

Sally nodded. “That’s fair. But is that a reason not to share your story?”

He hesitated again. “It’s personal,” he tried.

“And it can stay that way,” Sally assured him. “But if you ever choose to share it, it should be on your terms.”

Percy exhaled, rubbing his temples. He wanted to argue more, but every excuse he reached for crumbled under his mom’s gentle logic.

“You don’t have to decide now,” she said kindly. “And you don’t have to say yes at all. But if you do, make sure it happens the way you want it to.”

Percy nodded, still lost in thought. After a few more minutes of casual conversation, they said their goodbyes, and the image faded.

He sat there for a while, staring into the empty mist. The idea of sharing his past with the demigods was overwhelming, but if it happened, it had to be on his terms. The Olympians would have to be present. And everyone whose secrets would be laid bare needed to agree.

Only then, maybe, he could consider it.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Behold, a gift for all my lovely readers but especially SilenceIsTheLoudestSound and SolarEclipse16! I give you, chapter 2.

Let me know your thoughts, theories and ideas in the comments! Thank you to all the lovely people who commented on my last chapter!

If you notice any grammatical errors, please let me know! Constructive criticism is welcome!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and sea salt as Percy walked back from the campfire. His fingers absently toyed with the leather cord of Riptide, twisting the cap back and forth in a restless rhythm. Above him, the stars shimmered in the velvety darkness, distant and indifferent. His gaze drifted upward, tracing familiar constellations until his eyes caught on one in particular—the Huntress. A cluster of stars arranged in the likeness of a girl running with her bow out as though hunting a monster, forever immortalizing Zoe Nightshade.

Percy’s throat tightened. The books didn’t just hold his story—they held everyone’s. Every sacrifice, every mistake, every moment of loss that still clung to him like ocean salt drying on his skin. If they were read aloud, people would have to relive those moments, just like he would. The weight of it all pressed against his ribs, making it harder to breathe.

“Thinking too hard never suited you, Jackson.”

Percy flinched, barely stopping himself from drawing his sword as a shadow fell into step beside him. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Seriously, Deathboy? You ever consider announcing yourself like a normal person?”

Nico smirked, completely unbothered. “Not as fun.” His dark eyes flickered toward Percy’s face, sharp and assessing. “So? What’s got you looking like you just watched someone set fire to your blue pancake stash?”

Percy huffed a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just... thinking.”

Nico waited. When Percy didn’t elaborate, he nudged him with his elbow. “Come on. Spill.”

Percy hesitated, staring ahead as they walked toward Cabin Three. The campfire’s warm glow faded behind them, leaving only moonlight and the distant crash of waves against the shore.

“I was thinking about what it’d really mean—reading those books,” he admitted, voice quieter than before. “It’s not just my story, Nico. It’s everyone’s. Every mistake. Every death. Every moment I’d rather leave buried.”

Nico was silent for a long moment before he sighed. “Yeah. It won’t be easy.”

Percy let out a dry chuckle. “Understatement of the century.”

“But,” Nico continued, his tone shifting from solemn to light, “you’re not alone in it. And, let’s be real, you don’t have much of a choice anymore. You think I went through all the trouble of finding those books just for you to chicken out now?”

Percy gave him a flat look. “Oh, so it’s like that?”

Nico smirked. “Damn right.”

Percy shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, man.”

“You’re overthinking it.” Nico’s voice was firm but not unkind. “You get to set the terms. No one’s forcing you to do this.”

Percy exhaled, staring down at the worn planks of the path beneath his feet. After a long pause, he finally murmured, “Alright.”

Nico arched an eyebrow. “Alright?”

Percy nodded, more to himself than anyone else. “But only under a few conditions.”

Nico crossed his arms. “Here we go.”

“One,” Percy said, holding up a finger, “the Olympians have to be here for the summer. Not just for the readings—they need to actually spend time with their kids.”

Nico tilted his head, considering. “That’s... ambitious.”

Percy shrugged. “If they want to hear what their children have gone through, they need to actually be there.”

“Fair,” Nico conceded. “What else?”

“Two, only the people I approve can attend the readings. I’m not turning this into some campfire horror story for people to gawk at.”

“Reasonable.”

“And three,” Percy said, voice firm, “anyone whose secrets are in those books has to be okay with this. I don’t care if it takes weeks—if they don’t want their story read, it won’t be.”

Nico studied him for a moment before nodding. “I can work with that.”

Percy let out a slow breath. “Good. I’ll make a list of the demigods you need to talk to. You get their permission. I’ll handle the gods.”

Nico winced in sympathy. “Good luck with that.”

“Yeah,” Percy muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’m gonna need it.”

They reached Cabin Three, its seashell walls glowing faintly in the moonlight. Nico stopped at the threshold, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Get some sleep, Percy. You’re going to need that too.”

Percy smirked. “You actually care?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”

With that, he walked away, the shadows of the night swallowing him, leaving Percy alone with the quiet crash of the waves.

He sighed and pushed open the door, toeing off his shoes before flopping onto his bed. His mind refused to slow down, thoughts spiraling as he ran through every possible way his conversation with Poseidon could go wrong.

He stared at the ceiling, knowing sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Tomorrow, there was no turning back. The morning sunlight filtered through the trees, warm and golden as it bathed the dining pavilion in a soft glow. Camp was already alive with energy, demigods chatting between bites of breakfast, planning sparring matches and training exercises.

Percy sat at his usual table, absently pushing his food around his plate. His mind was elsewhere—tangled in the weight of what came next.

With a quiet sigh, he picked up a portion of his blue pancakes and carried them toward the central brazier. The fire flickered, waiting, and he carefully placed the offering into the flames.

“Tía Hestia,” he murmured, watching the fire flare as it accepted the food. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. Or if I’m even the one who should be doing it. But I need to get this right. If you’ve got any advice… I could use it.”

The flames crackled in response, sending up a wisp of smoke that curled like a comforting touch before fading into the morning sky.

After breakfast, as Percy wandered past the cabin commons, the familiar sight of a robed figure tending the central hearth caught his eye. Hestia, dressed in simple brown, coaxed the flames with a practiced hand. The fire glowed warmly in her presence, casting soft light over her kind face.

She looked up as if she had been expecting him and smiled. “Come here, my boy.”

Percy didn’t hesitate, stepping forward and sitting beside her. The warmth of the hearth wrapped around him, but more than that, it was the feeling of home—the steady, unwavering presence of someone who had always been there.

“You’ve been carrying something heavy,” Hestia noted gently, brushing a stray ember off her sleeve. “Tell me.”

Percy let out a breath. “I wrote books,” he admitted. “Everything that happened—the wars, the quests, all of it. Nico found them, and now…” He hesitated. “Now I’m letting people read them.”

Hestia hummed thoughtfully, nodding as if she had already known.

“But only under certain conditions,” Percy added quickly. “I don’t want it to just be… a spectacle. I need it to mean something.”

Hestia placed a gentle hand over his. “And yet, you still doubt yourself.”

Percy’s throat tightened. He didn’t answer right away.

After a moment, he admitted, “I don’t know where to start.”

Hestia gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to do this alone, mi sobrino.”

The words, the way she called him that—her nephew—settled something deep inside him. Percy had always thought of Hestia as family, but hearing her say it so openly… it made the weight on his shoulders feel just a little lighter.

She gave him a knowing look. “Start with your father.”

Percy swallowed. “I was going to.”

“Good.” Hestia smiled. “But also speak to Hermes, Apollo, and Aphrodite. They, more than most, understand the power of stories. They will have thoughts on this.”

Percy frowned. “Hermes and Apollo, sure. But Aphrodite?”

Hestia chuckled softly. “Every tale is woven with love, in some form or another. She understands that better than most.”

Percy thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. That makes sense.”

Hestia squeezed his hand once more before withdrawing. “You have my support, whatever you decide.”

The lump in Percy’s throat grew, but he managed a small smile. “Thanks, Tía Hestia.”

She only nodded, watching as he lingered by the fire a little longer before finally standing. As he left, he felt the warmth of the hearth stay with him, steady and reassuring. The waves crashed gently against the shore, the morning tide rolling in with a steady rhythm. Percy made his way down the beach, the familiar scent of salt and brine filling his lungs.

Waiting for him by the water’s edge was Poseidon.

Percy paused for a brief second, surprised—but then, he supposed he shouldn’t have been.

Poseidon turned at his approach, his sea-green eyes warm with something Percy had learned to recognize over the last two years—fondness, quiet and steady.

Before Percy could say anything, Poseidon closed the distance and pulled him into a firm embrace.

Percy stiffened, still not entirely used to the casual way his father showed affection. But after a moment, he let himself relax into it. The smell of the ocean clung to Poseidon like an unshakable force, the scent of home.

“Hestia told me what you’re planning,” Poseidon murmured, his grip strong and grounding. “I’m proud of you.”

Percy felt something tighten in his chest. Even now, hearing those words from his father was… hard to process. Not because he didn’t believe them, but because he did.

Poseidon pulled back slightly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “What do you need from me?”

Percy blinked, thrown for a moment by how easily his father offered his help.

“You… actually want to help?”

Poseidon chuckled, shaking his head. “Percy. Of course I do.”

The simple certainty in his voice made Percy’s stomach twist. He had spent so many years thinking he had to handle things on his own, convincing himself not to expect too much from the gods. But Poseidon had never abandoned him—not when it really mattered. And over the last two years, that truth had slowly started to settle into place.

After a beat, Percy cleared his throat. “I was going to talk to Hermes, Apollo, and Aphrodite about this. They seem like the ones who’d care the most.”

Poseidon nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. They’ll have opinions.” A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Many of them.”

Percy huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Poseidon’s expression softened. “I can speak to them on your behalf if you’d like.”

Percy hesitated. The old part of him—the one that still struggled to accept help—wanted to refuse. But that wasn’t who he was anymore.

“…Yeah,” he said at last. “That’d be great.”

Poseidon gave him a firm nod, as if sealing a promise. “Then consider it done.”

For a long moment, they stood together, the waves lapping at their feet. Percy didn’t say anything, didn’t try to fill the silence.

And for once, he didn’t feel like he had to.

It wasn’t perfect, not yet. But it was real. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough. The path from the arena to the stables was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the training grounds. Percy walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mind half-focused on his steps and half on the million things he still had to do.

As he passed by the Big House, movement on the porch caught his eye. Dionysus lounged in his usual chair, a can of Diet Coke in hand, staring at the camp with an expression of deep boredom.

Percy hesitated for half a second, then sighed and changed course. May as well get this over with.

He climbed the steps onto the porch, stopping just short of Dionysus’s line of sight. 

Dionysus didn’t even look up. “What do you want, Preston?”

Percy smirked. “To talk. Got a minute, Donnie?”

That made Dionysus flick his gaze toward him, one eyebrow arching. “I suppose.” He took a sip of his Diet Coke and made a lazy gesture. “Talk, then. Entertain me.”

Percy leaned against the railing, arms crossed. “I’ve got this idea. A reading.”

Dionysus groaned dramatically. “Ugh. If this is about more of those wretched mortal books, spare me. I’d rather be turned into a grapevine.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Not that kind of reading. I wrote some books. About, you know… all of it.”

Dionysus’s expression didn’t change, but Percy swore he caught a flicker of interest. “Fascinating. Do continue, Paul.”

Percy smirked. “Close enough, Damien. Anyway, I want to read them to the camp. Well—more like let others read them. But only under certain conditions.”

Dionysus hummed in mock interest, swirling his Diet Coke like it was fine wine. “And what, pray tell, does this have to do with me?”

Percy shrugged. “I need the Olympians to vote in favor of it at the summer solstice. And I want you to vote yes.”

Dionysus took another sip, considering. “Mmm. And why should I?”

Percy kept his voice as casual as possible. “Well, I don’t know… maybe because Zeus might actually lift your restrictions if he sees you being a good influence and interacting with us?”

Dionysus’s eyes flickered with something sharp, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. He exhaled through his nose, watching Percy with an unreadable expression.

Then, to Percy’s surprise, he let out a low chuckle. “Oh, you are a cheeky little brat.”

Percy smirked. “You love me.”

“I tolerate you,” Dionysus corrected. He took another long sip of his Diet Coke, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll vote in favor. But only because I do enjoy a good tragedy.”

Percy grinned. “You won’t be disappointed, Dion.”

Dionysus rolled his eyes. “Run along, Persimmon,” Dionysus drawled. “Don’t let the pegasi trample you.”

Percy waved over his shoulder without looking back, still smirking as he made his way toward the stables. Five days until the solstice. Five days until Percy let everyone crack open his life like a book—literally.

He sat on the steps of Poseidon’s cabin, absently bouncing his knee as he stared at the distant campfire. Laughter drifted through the night air, the easy kind that came when no one had to worry about war or monsters lurking in the shadows.

For once, he wasn’t a part of it. His mind was too full, too restless.

The crunch of boots on gravel barely registered before a shadow flickered at the edge of his vision.

"Why do you look like you're contemplating your own funeral?"

Percy huffed, shaking his head as Nico plopped down beside him. "Nice to see you too, Deathbreath."

Nico smirked. "Don’t dodge the question. You look about five seconds from bolting into the ocean."

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. "Just thinking."

Nico gave him a knowing look. "Dangerous habit. You should try stopping."

"Ha ha," Percy deadpanned.

"Seriously, though," Nico continued, leaning back on his elbows. "Everyone on your list agreed. Took me two days, but I got through them all."

Percy blinked. "Huh. That was fast."

Nico shrugged. "Most of them didn’t even hesitate. Apparently, everyone wants to hear the great Percy Jackson’s life story."

Percy groaned. "Yeah, because that’s what I need—more people knowing every embarrassing detail of my life."

"Oh, definitely," Nico said, smirking. "I, for one, can't wait to hear the dramatic retelling of your first fight with a Minotaur. Was there really a lot of screaming involved?"

Percy shot him a flat look. "You’re hilarious."

"I try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the firelight flickering in the distance. Percy could feel the weight of it, the inevitability of what was coming.

"You sure about this?" Nico asked, voice quieter now. "Just because I got everyone’s approval doesn’t mean you have to go through with it. It’s still your choice."

Percy glanced at him. "Oh, now you’re giving me an out? I seem to recall this was your idea in the first place."

Nico rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well. That doesn’t mean I’m forcing you. If you want to call it off, say the word. I’ll take the blame. You can even tell people I bullied you into it."

Percy snorted, shaking his head. But he knew what Nico was really saying. If this is too much, I’ll be the bad guy for you.

He looked back at the fire. He could still back out. No one would blame him.

But… that wasn’t what he wanted. The idea of sharing everything—the victories, the losses, the sacrifices—scared the hell out of him, but it mattered. If he could make even one demigod feel less alone, if he could make the gods actually listen … then it would be worth it.

"No," Percy said finally. "I’m not backing out. I need to do this."

Nico studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Then we’ll do it right. On your terms."

Percy let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "Yeah… my terms."

Nico nudged his shoulder. "And if it all goes horribly wrong, we can always blame the gods."

Percy barked out a laugh. "You know, that might be the most reassuring thing you’ve said to me all week."

Nico grinned. "Happy to help. Now, come on. Let’s go to the campfire before I have to start questioning whether you’re brooding too much for your own good."

Percy groaned. "You sound like Annabeth."

"Take that back."

"Make me."

Nico shoved him. Percy shoved back, and by the time they made it to the campfire, he wasn’t thinking so much about what was coming—just that, no matter what, he wouldn’t be facing it alone. The day before the summer solstice, Percy was restless. No matter how much he tried to push it aside, the weight of the upcoming vote sat heavily in his chest. The entire camp felt like it was buzzing with energy—partly from the usual pre-solstice excitement, but mostly because of the arrival of the Roman legion.

A few hours after lunch, the horns sounded, announcing their arrival. Percy wasted no time heading to the border, finding Reyna at the head of the column, her purple cloak catching in the breeze as she dismounted.

"Legion’s looking good," Percy said as he approached, offering a lopsided grin. "Though I was expecting a little more fanfare."

Reyna smirked. "We’re not here for a parade, Jackson."

"You sure? I bet if I asked, the Hermes cabin would throw one together in record time."

Reyna rolled her eyes, but there was amusement in them. "Tempting. But I think we’ll settle for a warm welcome."

Percy spent the next few hours catching up with his Roman friends—Frank, Hazel, and a few others he hadn’t seen in months. It was a good distraction, keeping his mind off the upcoming vote. But even as they swapped stories and sparred in mock battles, a nagging anxiety stayed curled in his stomach.

The summer solstice came, and Percy did everything he could to keep himself busy. He spent almost the entire day training—sword drills with Annabeth, racing against Jason and Leo, even sparring with Reyna just for fun. When that wasn’t enough, he called for Blackjack and took to the skies, letting the rush of wind against his face push away his nerves, if only for a little while.

By the time he landed back at camp, the sun was setting, and reality came crashing back in full force. He had no idea how the vote had gone.

That question was answered when Grover found him.

"Percy!" Grover’s voice was breathless as he jogged over. "Mr. D just got back. He and Chiron want to see you."

Percy’s stomach twisted. He nodded and followed, his heart hammering as they walked to the Big House.

The porch light cast long shadows as Percy stepped onto the wooden planks. Chiron stood near the doorway, his usual calm expression giving nothing away. Dionysus, meanwhile, was lounging in his chair, a Diet Coke in hand, looking as unimpressed as ever.

"Well, good news, Peter Johnson," Dionysus drawled, his tone bored but his eyes sharper than usual. "The gods have agreed. They’ll be arriving in three days. Hope you’re ready for your little storytime."

Percy swallowed hard. Three days. He had three days to prepare himself for standing in front of gods and demigods alike, opening up his life for all to see. He managed a nod, even though his pulse was a little too fast. "Okay."

Chiron stepped forward, his gaze thoughtful. "Have you decided on a location?"

Percy forced himself to focus. "Yeah. I was thinking the beach, near the dining pavilion, but far enough that no one can accidentally overhear."

Chiron nodded. "A wise choice. And where will the gods be staying?"

Percy hesitated before answering. "They can stay with their kids or in the Big House. I figure they’ll want to spend time with their children, but if they want space, there’s room for them here."

"And the readings?"

"Most of the day, with breaks every few days so people can train and, you know, not lose their minds listening to my life story."

A ghost of a smile crossed Chiron’s face. "That seems reasonable."

Dionysus let out a dramatic sigh. "Well, at least I won’t have to suffer through it alone."

Percy rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

Chiron ignored the exchange, adding, "Grover and I will be attending as well."

Percy glanced at his best friend, who gave him an encouraging smile. "I wouldn’t miss it," Grover said. "Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t overthink everything."

Percy huffed, shaking his head. Overthinking was exactly what he’d been doing. He wasn’t worried about himself—he knew what he’d done, what he’d been through. But he didn’t know how the others would react. His friends, the younger campers, even the gods… Would they see him differently after this?

Chiron placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Tomorrow at breakfast, I’ll announce that the gods are arriving, but I won’t mention the reading itself. That’s for you to share when you’re ready."

Percy exhaled slowly, nodding. "Alright."

Chiron gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Get some rest, Percy. You’ve done well to prepare for this."

Percy wasn’t sure he believed that, but he murmured a thanks anyway before heading back to his cabin.

That night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, his thoughts refused to settle. Would the gods regret agreeing to this? Would the demigods resent him for dragging up old wounds? What if they couldn’t handle the truth of what had happened?

Sleep didn’t come easily.

But for better or worse, the decision had been made.

And in three days, there would be no turning back.

Notes:

This will likely become a series with each installment covering a single book. If people want a place to discuss this fic and fandom in general, I'm willing to make a discord server. Let me know in the comments what ya'll think.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Thank you to all the lovely people who commented! I love hearing y'all's ideas and thoughts! As always, if you notice any grammatical errors, please let me know! Constructive criticism is welcome!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Percy sat on the porch of the Big House, absently running his fingers along the worn bindings of the books stacked beside him. He and Annabeth had worked to bind them together, their spines crisp and untouched, almost mocking in their newness. It was strange—knowing his entire life, his worst and best moments, his failures and triumphs, were locked inside these pages, waiting to be laid bare.

A part of him regretted this. Maybe it was a stupid idea, thinking they could change anything. But then he remembered why they were doing this—to make things better for future demigods. To stop history from repeating itself. A shadow fell over him.

“You look like you’re about to puke,” Thalia said, crossing her arms.

Percy huffed. “Nice to see you too, Pinecone Face.”

Nico strolled up beside her, shoving his hands into his aviator jacket. “You should be worried. It’s not every day you get to hear a dramatic retelling of your own life with the people responsible for half your trauma sitting in the audience.”

“Wow, thanks, Nico,” Percy muttered. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Thalia smirked. “That’s what we’re here for.”

As Percy, Thalia, and Nico made their way from the Big House to the Pavilion, the afternoon sun bathed Camp Half-Blood in its golden glow. The familiar scent of pine and sea salt filled the air, mixing with the distant crackling of a campfire and the rich earthiness of the training grounds.

All around them, campers were busy with the everyday routines of camp life—things Percy used to take for granted but now felt like luxuries. A group of younger demigods sparred in the arena, their wooden swords clashing as Chiron watched over them, offering corrections and encouragement. A few satyrs played their panpipes near the strawberry fields, weaving melodies that carried on the breeze, making the plants seem to sway along with the music.

Laughter rang out from the canoe lake, where some campers were racing their boats, their carefree shouts echoing across the water. Near the climbing wall, two Hermes kids scrambled up as lava poured down the sides, their grins wide despite the danger. Others lounged under the shade of the Athena cabin, noses buried in books, debating strategies for capture the flag.

Percy slowed his steps, watching it all. It was so normal—the kind of normal he had fought so hard to protect. He should have felt proud, maybe even relieved, but instead, a strange, aching feeling settled in his chest.

He envied them.

They didn’t have to carry the weight of two wars on their shoulders. They hadn’t lost what he had lost. They still had time to joke, to train, to live without the ghosts of the past breathing down their necks.

Thalia nudged him. “You good, Perce?”

Percy blinked, forcing himself out of his thoughts. He must’ve looked weird, standing there all quiet while camp life carried on around him. He plastered on a smirk. “Yeah. Just thinking about how much I’d rather be fighting monsters than reading out loud in front of the gods.”

Nico snorted. “That’s because you have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“Not true. I just prefer action over sitting still.”

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Well, this action is happening whether you like it or not. Try not to pass out from the pressure, Kelp head.”

Percy huffed but followed as they continued toward the Pavilion, pushing the gnawing feeling of longing aside.

The Pavilion was already packed when they arrived.

Percy hesitated at the entrance, his sea-green eyes scanning the familiar faces of his friends. Annabeth sat beside Jason and Piper, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her dagger, a small furrow in her brow that only he would notice. Frank and Hazel sat close together, Leo bouncing his knee beside them with restless energy. Reyna stood near the back, arms crossed, but when she caught his gaze, she gave him a nod of encouragement. Grover and Rachel whispered to each other near the front, probably discussing whatever bizarre theories they had about how the gods would react.

The Stolls were grinning about something, probably already plotting a prank. Clarisse sat with Chris, looking more impatient than nervous, while Will Solace leaned against a pillar, exchanging quiet words with Pollux and Dakota. Gwyn and Katie were deep in conversation, but Percy could see the tension in their shoulders.

They were all here for this—for him, for each other.

And yet… not all of them were.

Percy swallowed against the lump in his throat as his gaze flickered to the empty spaces between them, the ones only he seemed to see. Beckendorf should have been here, arms crossed, a knowing smile on his face as he waited for the chaos to unfold. Silena would’ve sat beside him, elegant and composed but ready to tease Percy the moment his most embarrassing moments were read aloud. Castor… Percy still remembered the way he’d fought beside his brother, the way he’d stood firm even in the face of impossible odds. And then there was Lee, the fearless archer, and Michael Yew, the headstrong warrior.

Percy exhaled slowly, pushing past the ache in his chest. He couldn’t dwell on it. Not now.

Thalia clapped a hand on his shoulder, as if she could read his thoughts. “Come on, Jackson. Time to face the music.”

Percy forced a smirk. “Yeah, yeah.”

The path to the beach stretched before them, the familiar crunch of gravel underfoot grounding Percy as they walked. The Pavilion’s noise faded behind them, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves and the distant call of seabirds. The wind off the water carried the scent of salt and damp sand, but even the ocean couldn’t wash away the tension coiling in Percy’s gut.

He could feel it building with every step.

Doubt.

This was a mistake, wasn’t it? Letting the gods hear these books? Letting them see everything?

What if it changed nothing? What if it only made things worse?

His stomach twisted. He could already picture Ares grumbling about how he should’ve been grateful for the challenges. He could see Athena’s calculating stare, the way she’d pick apart every decision, every failure, as if he were nothing more than a lesson in strategy. And Zeus… Percy didn’t even want to think about what Zeus would have to say.

But he couldn’t let them see that. He couldn’t let them see him hesitate. So, like always, Percy forced himself to wear the mask—the easygoing, confident son of Poseidon. He stretched his arms behind his head, feigning nonchalance. “Think I can convince my dad to let me skip this? Maybe just tell me how it all ends?”

Nico scoffed. “Nice try. You’re in this for the long haul.”

Thalia smirked. “Besides, we already know how it ends. We just get to enjoy your pain while you relive it.”

Percy let out an exaggerated groan. “Remind me why I call you guys my friends?”

Nico shrugged. “I never agreed to that title.”

Thalia chuckled. “You love us, Jackson. Admit it.”

He rolled his eyes, but the banter did its job. It made the walk easier, made the dread settle just a little bit. Ahead, the sand stretched out in soft golden ripples, the ocean shimmering under the mid-afternoon sun. And waiting for them, standing in a perfect formation of power and presence, were the Olympians.

Percy’s breath hitched, but he kept his mask firmly in place.

No going back now.

As lightning cracked across the sky, signaling Zeus’ arrival, he caught his father’s eye. “Theatrics,” Percy muttered.

Poseidon’s lips twitched. “Theatrics,” he echoed with a laugh.

Beside him, Nico rolled his eyes as Thalia swatted the top of his head.

A crack of thunder split the air, the sound rolling across the beach like an undeniable command for silence.

Percy barely flinched. He’d long since grown used to his uncle's dramatics. Still, he rolled his eyes as he turned his attention to the King of the Gods.

"I understand you all wish to speak with your children," Zeus began, his voice carrying easily over the assembled crowd, "but we must first discuss the rules for this gathering."

The Olympians, demigods, and satyrs alike all turned their full attention to him. The air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for the King of the Gods to set the tone for what was to come.

Zeus' expression was solemn, almost hesitant, before he continued. “We have agreed to hear these books and stay here at Camp Half-Blood through the duration. I understand that the reason the children have asked for this is to enact change, but I will not make any promises that that will happen. All the Council and I can promise is that we will do our best to listen and understand.”

Murmurs rippled through the demigods, the words no promises a bitter pill to swallow for some. Percy clenched his fists in his lap but forced himself to remain neutral. He had expected this much—Zeus would never outright promise anything, but just getting him to acknowledge the possibility of change was already an improvement.

Zeus looked over the crowd, his expression unreadable. Then, his voice softened just a fraction. “I understand that the actions we, as gods—but especially I, as King—greatly influenced the coming of the last two wars. And I am hoping that in agreeing to this, I can be a more proactive King and do what is best for my people.”

Silence.

Percy watched as those gathered processed Zeus' words. Even the gods seemed taken aback, their normally composed expressions cracking with surprise. Poseidon tilted his head, studying his brother with open curiosity. Athena, standing stiffly with her arms crossed, narrowed her storm-gray eyes in contemplation. Hera, sitting primly beside Zeus, didn’t react outwardly, but her grip on the armrest of her chair tightened slightly.

The demigods, though, were floored.

Percy could see Jason’s mouth part slightly, stunned by the admission. Annabeth, ever observant, raised an eyebrow, likely waiting for the catch. Clarisse’s eyes widened in shock before she hastily composed herself, folding her arms and grunting as if pretending she hadn’t just heard what she heard.

For a fraction of a second, Percy simply stared at his uncle.

Was this real?

He had never expected Zeus to admit—even slightly—that the gods bore some responsibility for everything that had happened. He had always imagined the King of the Gods to be too proud, too stubborn. But now, hearing Zeus acknowledge his role, even if it wasn’t an outright apology, made something tight in Percy’s chest loosen.

Maybe—just maybe—this would work.

Zeus straightened. “Now,” he said, brushing aside the astonished expressions of both gods and demigods alike. “I understand this was an open invitation to Olympus and that some of the Council already have a select few ready to come in at their word. I would like to welcome those gods to be with us now and go over the ground rules for the gods planning to be in attendance.”

The darkness around Hades unfurled like the petals of a flower beside him, shifting like living shadows. From its depths, Persephone stepped forward. The Queen of the Underworld radiated the scent of spring, her long auburn curls woven with golden flowers. At once, Demeter moved toward her daughter, linking their arms tightly. Hades, still gripping Persephone’s hand, gave Demeter a guarded glance.

Percy caught the way Hades’ fingers briefly tightened around his wife’s before he let out a silent breath. Though Demeter had made an effort to be less antagonistic toward Hades since the Titan War, the centuries of animosity between them were still present in the stiff way they stood beside each other.

A wave rolled up from the ocean beside Poseidon, retreating just as fast and leaving Amphitrite and Triton in its wake. Amphitrite took her place beside her husband, linking their arms, though her lips were pressed into a thin line. Triton, however, looked livid. His expression darkened the moment his gaze landed on Percy.

Percy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yep, still hates me. Cool. Moving on.

A warm, gentle fire flared to life in the center of the group, crackling with a quiet comfort. From the flames, Hestia stepped forward, her presence radiating warmth and peace. She swept her gaze over the gathering, her brown eyes filled with quiet pride at the sight of so much of her family together without immediate fighting—yet.

From the edge of the group, Chiron stepped forward, his hooves pressing into the sand as he made his presence known. He inclined his head toward Zeus in silent acknowledgement.

They waited for any other gods to make an appearance. A few moments passed, but no others joined them—for now.

Zeus continued, addressing the entire Pantheon, “I’m sure as things progress, we’ll have more coming to listen and experience. Any who wish to stay will agree to these rules on the River Styx before being allowed to remain.”

At this, many gods stiffened. Swearing on the River Styx was not a matter taken lightly.

“We have been made aware that these books were not written in a very flattering light for much of anyone," Zeus went on. "There will be opinions and observations that many of us will not be happy with. As such, all of the gods will vow not to hold any thoughts or opinions a demigod may have about the gods against them. No cursing, no smiting, no threats.”

Percy watched the gods’ reactions carefully. Some nodded solemnly, while others looked outright displeased. Ares scoffed, crossing his arms. Hermes rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful, while Apollo merely smirked as if enjoying the idea of chaos to come.

“Apollo, as the god of truth, will be our assurance that what we hear is the truth, and he will alert us of any lies.”

Apollo’s smirk widened. “Ah, an official role. I love being important.”

Artemis elbowed him. He winced but wisely said nothing else.

Zeus pressed on, “We gods will be staying here with our children. We will take this opportunity to get to know, not only our own children but all of the demigods, though, of course, our own offspring will take precedence.”

Percy tensed slightly at that. He could feel the unease ripple through the campers. Yeah, because that’s gone so well before.

“Gods who have a cabin are welcome to stay with their children,” Zeus finished, “otherwise, Chiron and Dionysus have made it clear that there are plenty of rooms in the Big House available. I think that’s everything for the moment.”

Percy stepped forward. “Excuse me, Uncle, I’d like to add something.”

Zeus gave a curt nod, allowing him the floor.

“I need the gods here to understand that although it’s been four years since the Giant War and five since the end of the Titan War, many of us are still dealing with the trauma of living through that time,” Percy said, voice steady despite the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. “I ask that you all respect our privacy and boundaries throughout the duration of this and understand that if I, or any other demigods present, do not wish to elaborate or share certain things, we don’t have to. Reliving all of this will be hard on all of us, and there will likely be times when we ask for a break because we just need a reprieve. We need you to respect that.”

Most of the gods nodded in understanding—though some, like Ares and Triton, looked less than pleased.

Zeus studied him before giving a single, firm nod. “Understood.”

Poseidon stepped forward, his presence radiating calm authority. “As we are closest to my domain, allow me to play host.”

With a simple wave of his hand, the atmosphere of the beach changed. Small glowing orbs of light flickered into existence, floating in the air like tiny sea lanterns, casting a warm golden glow over the gathering. The crashing waves, which had once been a steady, rhythmic background noise, softened to a gentle whisper, as if the ocean itself were listening.

All around them, seating arrangements materialized—every manner of chair, couch, beanbag, blanket, and pillow, all perfectly placed in a wide semi-circle around Hestia’s newly formed hearth. The fire crackled in the center, casting flickering shadows on the sand.

Percy let out a slow breath, shaking his head with a small grin. “Show-off,” he muttered under his breath.

Poseidon’s blue-green eyes twinkled as he led Amphitrite and Triton to a large couch seemingly woven from seafoam and driftwood, its surface glimmering with shifting hues of aquamarine and pearl. Percy barely had a moment to process before his father gestured to an inviting pile of blankets and pillows right in front of him—a space clearly intended for Percy to nestle into.

Before he could object, Poseidon placed a firm, possessive hand on his shoulder, anchoring him. Percy blinked up at him, startled by the quiet display of protectiveness. His father didn’t say anything, but the message was clear: Stay close.

Percy hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be near his dad—he just wasn’t sure he wanted to be so close to witness his father's reaction.

With a sigh that was more dramatic than necessary, Percy plopped down into the nest of blankets. “Guess I don’t really get a choice, huh?”

Poseidon smirked. “Not particularly.”

Rachel grinned as she and Grover took spots on either side of him, immediately making themselves comfortable in his designated blanket-pit.

“I mean, you could fight it,” Rachel said, kicking her legs out. “But you’d lose. Just accept your fate, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy groaned. “I hate when you guys gang up on me.”

“You love it,” Grover said cheerfully.

Percy just huffed, turning his attention to the others settling into their spots.

Most of his friends, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem all that eager to sit with their godly parents. Nico and Hazel dragged Frank and Leo along, staking their claim on a massive gray beanbag that had appeared next to Hades’ couch. The couch itself was made of living shadows, dark and sleek, sprouting random shadowy flowers that shifted in color. Hades and Persephone sat comfortably, while Demeter perched on the edge, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Nice seating arrangement,” Percy called over to Nico. “Super warm and inviting.”

Nico, lounging with his arms crossed, barely spared him a glance. “Better than being smothered by your dad.”

Percy made an exaggerated gasp. “I’ll have you know, this is a very comfortable nest. Top-tier. Five stars.”

Hazel giggled while Leo smirked. “Oh yeah, man, real luxurious. You should get yourself a Yelp review.”

Percy tossed a pillow at Leo’s head, which he dodged with an infuriating amount of ease.

Meanwhile, Thalia settled into a fluffy silver couch next to Artemis, joined by Jason and Annabeth. The couch practically swallowed them whole, its plush fabric pulling them into the depths of comfort. Annabeth, ever the strategist, had positioned herself next to Thalia and Jason, allowing her a clear view of everyone.

Piper sat on the ground in front of Annabeth, stretching her legs out. “You guys look like you’re sinking into a cloud.”

Thalia smirked. “Feels like it, too.”

Percy raised an eyebrow at Annabeth. “That comfortable, huh?”

Annabeth shot him a look. “Don’t even think about coming over here.”

Percy grinned but didn’t move. Instead, he leaned back as Apollo dropped down next to Rachel, summoning a large sketchpad and a set of pencils for her.

“For your artistic endeavors,” Apollo said grandly. “Courtesy of yours truly.”

Rachel rolled her eyes but accepted the sketchpad. “And here I thought you were only good for haikus and bad pickup lines.”

“Rude,” Apollo said, clutching his chest in mock offense. “I am multi-talented.”

Percy snorted. “Yeah? Name three talents.”

Apollo flashed a grin. “Music, prophecy, and being ridiculously good-looking.”

Rachel didn’t even look up from her sketchpad. “You barely qualify for the first two.”

Grover let out a snort of laughter, and Percy fist-bumped Rachel in solidarity.

Further down, Travis, Connor, Katie, Will, Gwyn, Clarisse, and Chris had commandeered a massive sectional couch, pushing the ottomans against it to form a large lounging space, piling it with pillows.

Pollux had dragged Dakota to sit with their father on a deep purple couch, where Dionysus had unceremoniously handed Dakota a chalice filled with his extra-sugared Kool-Aid.

Dakota took a sip and instantly perked up. “Oh yeah. That’s the good stuff.”

Percy shook his head with a grin before he suddenly felt a weight press against his side. Reyna had officially overcrowded his little nest, wedging herself between him and Grover.

“Uh, hey?” Percy said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Reyna gave him a deadpan look. “This is my seat now.”

“You have other options, you know.”

“I like this one.” Percy sighed but didn’t argue. He knew Reyna well enough to know she wasn’t moving anytime soon. Instead, he glanced around, taking in the entire scene. The gods, the demigods, all of them gathered here.

The hearth in the center flickered with a warm glow, illuminating the faces of people he’d fought beside, people he cared about. There was something surreal about seeing them all here—together, safe.

For now, at least.

Percy swallowed hard, forcing away the lingering worries and doubts. He turned back to Reyna and nudged her with his elbow. “You’re really milking this whole ‘overcrowding me’ thing, huh?”

She smirked. “You love it.”

Percy rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Percy took a deep breath. “Alright,” he said. “I’m telling you guys right now—I am not reading these. At least not the first five. I lived them. Someone else can do the honors.” With that, he revealed the first book.

Chiron reached for the book and gave a knowing smile. “Perhaps it would be best if we took turns reading,” he said. He turned over the cover, reading the title aloud. "The Lightning Thief."

Percy felt his heart thump against his ribs as Poseidon raised a barrier around them, sealing them in.

This was it.

There was no turning back.

Notes:

The next update will likely be a week out. I'm going to write multiple chapters so I have a bit of grace and can also establish a posting schedule.

Chapter 4: A/N(To Be Deleted)

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! I'm working on finishing the last few chapters of "The Lightning Thief" portion so get ready for a incoming chapter soon! But, before I post the next chapter, I want to determine a posting schedule and I've decided to let all you lovelies vote on which you'd prefer!

1. A new chapter every Monday afternoon

2. A new chapter every Friday

Let me know what you guys would like! Voting closes in 3 days time.

Chapter 5: Not A Chapter

Chapter Text

Hey everyone, I'm sure you've all noticed the distinct lack of posts and I'd like to give an explanation. This story hasn't been abandoned, I'm simply not posting for the time being. My life has fallen into shambles and my mental health has tanked so to remove some of the stress, I've ceased all posting until a later date. I'm still actively writing this and can't wait to share it with you all, but I'm holding off posting until I'm in a stable and safe environment and mindset. Thank you all for your patience, have a lovely morning/afternoon/night!