Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Percy didn’t like the way the new kid was looking at him, his bright eyes always peering at him from the corner of some corner or piece of art in the manor, like he was waiting for him to slip up. If he hadn’t tested him with the celestial bronze needle, Percy would have assumed the kid was a monster, waiting to kill him.

But that wasn’t true and Tim Drake was 100% mortal, filling the haunted halls of Wayne Manor with something Percy could only dream of doing.

He tried to control his emotions, he really did, but the entire situation was definitely unfair, both to him and to Jason. Jason, whose body was still warm in his grave that Percy had only visited once since returning to Gotham. Jason, who he hoped was living large in Elysium, maybe in the same house as his mom. But it was impossible for Percy to remain calm with this new predicament, and he was certain Bruce could tell from the way the pipes rattled anytime Tim got too close (he would never ask Bruce about it, though).

Since Jason had died, Bruce had managed to first strip Percy of his own colors and vigilante name, ignore his new adopted pet project completely, take in the kid next door (who definitely still had parents who were alive, kicking it, and extremely rich), and give Jason’s colors to him when logically they should’ve been Percy’s next. (Hades, they were talking about a cute passing down ceremony that wouldn’t be as traumatic as the incident with Dick and Jason.) With that, the two at the center of the mess had convinced Alfred, Babs, and Dick that this was the right move (and oh if Percy didn’t want to kill them all).

Whatever. He didn’t need to be a vigilante. It was clearly a passing thought after his mom’s death and a way to channel his anger productively. Who cared about Gotham’s needs when Percy was saving the world on a yearly basis? Fuck, he didn’t even like New Jersey.

(At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, when he cried himself to sleep every night, trying to ignore the obvious heartbreak he was still going through.)

He wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to come back. Maybe he should have ditched the card and disappeared to camp to never be seen by the Waynes again. He blamed Annabeth, who had reconnected with her own toxic family, and even with their impending relocation to San Francisco and continued gaslighting of everything Greek, she still planned to go back at the end of summer, no matter how painful.

If she could bear to spend time with the Chases, Percy would be able to return to the Wayne’s, at least until the next camp emergency occurred—and let’s be rational, there would always be a camp emergency. When he sat on the pier by the bank in Miami, Percy contemplated whether or not he even wanted to return to Gotham, and more importantly, whether he would be wanted. While Alfred was always welcoming and cordial (well, as much as he could be in his own grief which he didn’t allow anyone to see), he hadn’t seen Dick for months, the last time he checked on the vigilante, Nightwing was on a space mission. Bruce…

Percy didn’t want to get into Bruce. He wasn’t a stranger to the fists of fathers, Gabe was an early welcome into men who couldn’t control their emotions. And while Bruce looked and sounded apologetic at first, he had lost Percy’s trust. He knew he shouldn’t have given it up so quickly in the first place, but he was so desperate after he lost his mom and his dad proved he was only an errand boy.

It was quite possibly the dumbest thing he had done, including challenging Ares to single combat.

But when Percy exited the bank, with enough cash for a plane ticket for Clarisse to get on the plane and a set of clothes for Grover to get on the plane without raising suspicion, he had seen the newspapers about his disappearance (he’d made national news once again, great), the television reports with Bruce and Dick staring into the camera, begging for him to come home, and Percy realized that was perhaps the most obvious sign the Fates had ever sent him.

After the confrontation with Luke, which ended with Chiron saving their lives, Percy forced the centaur to bring him back to the Miami shore. He had waited on the pier, sure that either Bruce or Batman would show up, scoop him into the Batplane, lecture him about disappearing from school, demand answers for his absence, chide about the irresponsible spending on the card, and either completely expel him from the Wayne family or lock him in the manor so he could never leave again.

(That’s exactly what happened, but there were three people who showed up: Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, some kid in Jason’s [Percy’s] colors who was definitely not Jason. Allegedly, he’d snuck onto the plane when Nightwing and Batman didn’t notice, and Percy didn’t even see him until they got back to Gotham, too engrossed in his own breakdown.)

And now the kid was following him around, watching Percy’s every move as if he was the suspicious one. Percy, the one who was here first, who had his own moniker and didn’t steal Jason’s rightful place, was somehow in the wrong in Wayne Manor, after he was essentially abandoned by the entire Wayne family.

On one hand, Percy couldn’t begrudge that they definitely preferred Tim to him. He was a certifiable genius, ahead of him at school, figured out their identities, forced his way into the house, and was rich on his own. Tim was probably one of the smartest mortals, behind Bruce himself, and Percy would never be able to measure up to the new kid. He was everything the world would expect in a Wayne heir, and Percy hated him.

Percy didn’t hide his disdain, refusing to sit for a meal with the new kid, instead choosing solitude, or sometimes baking with Alfred. The butler tried to heal the rift, but Percy felt stubborn as the sea, unwilling to budge at all, no matter how often the old man claimed it may be “for the best”.

Alfred was on his way of ending up on Percy’s list of people he was upset with. He wasn’t there yet, but it was close. There was something calming about his presence, and Percy couldn’t manage to be upset with him for more than a few hours, unlike the rest of the family who he held onto that grudge for months.

Percy tried—and failed—not to let it get to him, deciding to try his best at school (how had he missed so much of it), and maybe even join an extracurricular, or try to make some friends. He didn’t know how to make friends unless they were mythological creatures put in place by a higher power (see Grover and Tyson).

Still, this was all a part of his brand new plan, which now included surviving until at least 18, thanks to Thalia’s magical resurrection. Percy had a few goals: first, to not completely flunk out of school, and while Gotham Academy (and Bruce’s money) made it easier, it definitely was still difficult. Percy also needed to survive to at least 18 years—and now that Thalia was officially the prophecy child, it would be easier (Percy hadn’t had time to process any of that, the feelings of jealousy but also relief too much to handle at once).

Once he was 18, Bruce would no longer feel whatever absurd obligation he had to Percy (and to the state, obviously), and Percy could disappear again. Without the weight of the world on his shoulders, maybe he could live freely or something—away from vigilantes and gods alike. He didn’t know what his future held, but he didn’t want it to be anywhere near some of the people who had come in contact with him recently.

***

The first time Percy officially met Tim was when he woke up in the Batcave after being flown back to Gotham from Miami. He was infinitely grateful that Zeus didn’t immediately strike him from the sky, but he thanked Batman for that rather than Zeus, or maybe his insane uncle was feeling grateful that Thalia’s tree was about to be healed with his help. Whatever, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It took him a while to completely regain consciousness. He was dehydrated, underfed, and exhausted from the quest, especially after he lost all of the supplies Hermes had originally given him. Percy went down a mental list of everything he had to do within the next few days: first and most importantly, call Annabeth at camp and make sure that everything went well with the fleece, and with Tyson.

Percy blinked, this position feeling awfully familiar: the bright white lights, the beeping of the machines, an IV inserted into his vein, and two worried vigilantes staring down at him. Percy gestured, wordlessly, for a cup of water, hoping that Bruce got the message. He did, and handed Percy a plastic cup, which he immediately gulped down, glad for the cool liquid falling down his throat, rejuvenating him. He stared back at the crowd, their faces bare despite their vigilante suits still on.

“Am I in trouble?” he said, quickly and quietly. He wasn’t sure why he asked, because Percy was definitely in trouble, probably for a lot of different things.

“Of course not,” Dick said, reaching his gloved hand to Percy’s hair, surely tangled after days at sea. “We’re worried about you, baby bird.”

Percy glanced over at Bruce, who said nothing from his spot, then turned back to Dick, much more familiar with his brand of emotions and feelings rather than whatever was going on with Bruce.

It was quiet for a moment, before Percy heard a few footsteps on the other side of the cave. He sat up, expecting Alfred, only to be met with the face of someone he had only seen once before.

“What the fuck is that stalker doing here?”

It was the kid from the rooftops, the one who was taking photos of them when he went on patrol with Babs and Dick, when everything was semi-normal. And now he was in the Batcave, in a costume with a stylized “R” on the chest.

He felt his heart beating faster, tearing his eyes away from him, moving to glare at Bruce and Dick. They both avoided eye contact, the cowards, and Percy heard the machine increase in tempo and volume.

“I can’t fucking believe you two,” he said, pulling the IV from his arm and moving to get up. Percy ignored the attempts of help from everyone in the cave, deciding to limp away on his own. He heard the protests from Dick, but he chose to ignore everything he said, focusing on his own indignant anger, the lividness surely rattling the pipes of the manor.

Fuck staying here, fuck everything. I’m going back to camp, Percy thought to himself, trying to work out how to get there without being stalked by three vigilantes who apparently were the perfect team without him and Jason.

“You’re grounded,” Bruce said, finally saying something. “You won’t be leaving the manor anytime soon, to keep you safe.”

His eye twitched, as he tried to rethink his plan of disappearing. “I don’t want to speak to any of you ever again.” With a simple flick or his hands, thank you Garth, they were all covered in water from the fountain in the corner. Percy smiled to himself, taking the stairs to his own bedroom, deciding to avoid all of them until he turned 16.

Percy barely stopped himself from immediately IM-ing Annabeth and Grover once he returned to his room. He took a deep breath, looking in the mirror next to his closet; even though he was physically healed for the most part, the gaunt features of fatigue stared back at him. He had bags under his eyes and had clearly lost weight in the months away from the manor. Taking a quick glance, he saw that the room had definitely been cleaned by Alfred in his absence, as if he was always sure that Percy would return. Nothing, however, had been packed away—all his possessions were still in the same order that he had left them. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Percy realized, climbing into bed, that he couldn’t continue to be reliant on Annabeth anytime something went wrong. Sure, she was his best friend, and he would always make time for her, but he felt guilty at the thought of her doing the same. He also definitely wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment, too stressed about the current disasters downstairs.

No, he would call her in the morning. By then, everyone would have all the updates on camp, Chiron, and the fleece—and Percy wouldn’t overwhelm her with the tears that were definitely threatening to fall from his eyes. Even though he had just regained consciousness, Percy immediately collapsed in his bed, having a dreamless sleep for the first time in months.

He woke to the sunlight streaming in his room, the rays landing gently on his face through the thin curtains. Though he was definitely more rested, Percy was still feeling volatile. Nevertheless, he carried on and persevered, tackling everything on the list for the day. He called Annabeth, learning that everything at camp was going perfectly: Thalia’s tree was healed, Tyson had been picked up by Poseidon, Grover was feeling better, and Chiron was positively reinstated.

He was glad for the good news from camp, but dealing with the Waynes and their insanity was a whole new leaf he didn’t want to turn yet.

***

Things were definitely tense around the manor. Percy didn’t think that he had a real conversation with anyone since the day he doused them all in water—next time, he’d make sure it was from the toilet, a little taste of everything a son of Poseidon could throw at them.

He was no longer a vigilante, but he refused to care. Bruce was still spiraling, clearly, but the drinking was nonexistent again, as if Alfred had thrown every expensive bottle away and forced him back on the wagon. He was still buried in batwork, this time with Dick and Tim at his side, an image copying what was once Bruce, Jason, and Percy.

The worst part is that he didn’t even ask Percy if he wanted to join them, only sent him up to his room, grounding him for some long period of time. Now, he didn’t want to be relegated to the backseat of the Batmobile while Tim sat up front as the favored Batman partner, but it would have been nice to be asked.

Dick was…trying, in his own way. He was definitely caught in the middle of everything, worried about Percy’s safety and his secret keeping while also mad at Bruce’s dismissal. In the end, Percy could see that he aligned closer to Bruce’s side, loud and clear.

Tim was the worst of all, not even pretending to be subtle about his investigations into Percy’s disappearance. Sue him—he was gone for around five months sailing through the Bermuda Triangle. Dick had disappeared for that long before and no one investigated him like Tim was investigating Percy.

What gave him the right, anyway?

Apparently Dick, Alfred, and Bruce, in that order. They were all on his shit list.

Tim went out nearly every single night with Bruce, and sometimes Dick, depending on whether he was in the city. In that time, Percy either disappeared to his room, alone with his thoughts, or worked his magic on the Batcomputer. Tim had not quite gotten to the paranoid levels of Bruce and Dick (Percy refused to become as paranoid as them and create contingency plans to kill his few remaining friends) and all his files on the computer were extremely out in the open, well relatively.

He let the computer read out all the information Tim had managed to acquire on Percy specifically, frowning at the assessments. His dyslexia and ADHD were on full display at the top of the document, and—ouch. He wasn’t ashamed, but he didn’t like that it was the first and most important thing that Tim noticed about him.

The rest of the file was surprisingly dull: nothing on Percy since his disappearance in May and his reappearance on the Miami dock. It was to be expected, as this summer unlike last summer, was surrounded by the Mist rather than on display in front of mortals. Tim had a few theories: kidnapping by enemies of Batman, brainwashed, on a revenge mission fueled by grief, but none of them came close to the truth.

Percy watched the clock as the time flowed quickly and earlier into the morning hours. A half hour before 3 a.m., the time when Batman and Robin would usually return to the cave, Percy disappeared back to his room, before Alfred would go downstairs to focus on their medical needs. He had the information he needed about Tim’s thoughts on him, sure that it would come in handy soon.

The next day after school, Percy was almost sure that he was caught. No one had mentioned his obvious snooping, so he thought he was in the clear until Tim randomly appeared at his doorstep. Percy tensed, ever so slightly, but managed to control his emotions when the accusations didn’t immediately fly out at him.

“Can I help you with something?” Percy said, not looking up from his homework assignment. The dyslexia friendly font could only do so much, but unfortunately there wasn’t a translation app for Ancient Greek, so he had to make do.

Although he didn’t say anything, Percy could hear the footsteps Tim made as he tried to sneak around the manor. He wasn’t the best at moving silently yet, and Percy’s naturally enhanced senses made it nearly impossible to sneak up on him, or whatever Tim was trying to do.

He stood straight, “No.”

“Great,” Percy said, still only observing him from the window reflection. “Then you can leave.”

Tim didn’t move to leave, instead standing with his back on the door, crossing his arms. “There’s no record of you anywhere over the past few months and Dick and Bruce are worried about you.”

“About me, what? Becoming a supervillain? Killing everyone in sight? He should focus on himself.”

Tim’s eye twitched, and he opened his mouth to continue, but Percy interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“Eat a bag of dicks,” Percy said, marching over to the door and slamming it closed on Tim’s face. It felt good, if only for a millisecond.

***

Every night was the same bland routine that was definitely driving Percy crazy. Alfred picked him up from school as soon as the bell rang—he definitely could not be trusted to do any after school activities, nor did he feel inclined to at any point. He was driven directly to the manor where a blue snack would be waiting for him, a peace offering that he would eat but say nothing further about. Then, he’d retreat to his room while Bruce and Tim did whatever training they did in the cave, ignore their attempts to invite him to their circle, and wait until Alfred called him down for a dinner by himself, before he left to go to his room once again.

If he was certain that no one was around, Percy would go to the pool and spend hours underwater, trying to feel at peace. It would work, though not for long as the feelings of impending doom would crawl into him.

“Would you like to come out with us?” Bruce asked one night.

Percy scoffed. If Bruce had asked him a month ago, maybe he would’ve accepted the obvious attempt at a peace offering. But after so long, Percy couldn’t be sure that Bruce meant the words coming out of his mouth, or if someone else had put him up to it. Besides, Percy lost interest in being a vigilante. Mortal monsters that he was unable to kill didn’t sit well with him. “After you gave away Jason’s colors? I think not.” That was haughty, Percy thought to himself, frowning and looking away from Bruce.

He decided to focus on his homework, the numbers nearly floating off the page as he tried to focus on the pre-algebra. Whoever decided to introduce letters and numbers in the same subject was clearly into torture techniques.

From his peripherals, Percy saw Bruce frown, his hands fidgeting over the long sleeve exercise shirt he chose to wear.

“You don’t—”

“Understand. Yes, I’ve heard it before,” Percy sighed. “And I don’t particularly care enough to try and understand either, especially right now.”

“If you won’t patrol, maybe you’d want to train, at the very least?” There was hope bleeding through his tone. “I don’t want you getting rusty or anything, especially with the way the city has been behaving.”

Percy frowned, not looking up. “I’ll think about it.” I’ll train with Dick or at camp.

Bruce hesitated, before pushing forward and planting a chaste kiss on his forehead. “I love you, chum.”

Percy startled, but said nothing, only lifting his head from his books once he heard Bruce’s footsteps leaving the room. He rubbed his head furiously when he was sure he was alone.

Because Percy was rightfully ignoring Bruce’s attempts at an olive branch (Poseidon would hate that idiom) he was still exceedingly lonely. A year ago, while he was infinitely depressed, he could count on a thousand things to distract him from the pain and guilt he felt over his mom. There was Jason, Bruce, Annabeth, the action of being a vigilante. Now, unfortunately, he had nothing.

Sally was dead, the first person who ever loved him and supported him unconditionally. Now, Jason was dead, and he was the other person who always looked out for him. When his mom died, Percy at least had Jason to lean on, a friend—no, a brother—who he could allow himself to get caught up in when he was feeling particularly down. He was gone, though, and Dick wasn’t nearly the same, especially when he was so focused on Tim.

Gods, did Percy hate Tim.

The three of them had their own little team, even when Dick was in another city half the time, and Percy has never felt so isolated.

If it was a year ago, he’d complain to Annabeth or Grover, but he couldn’t even do that anymore, with Thalia miraculously returning from the dead. Annabeth had her own best friend, her own older sister back, and her responses to emails were getting shorter and shorter. They rarely IMed, and even when they could, Thalia was most likely in the background, scowling at something he said, so Percy simply stopped reaching out.

Grover was so busy trying to find Pan, especially after the disaster that was the summer, so Percy tried to let him go on his quests and achieve his dreams without the emotional and trauma dumping.

Once again, the people closest to Percy were various fish and horses around Gotham. He found himself spending time at the aquarium when no one was around to remind him of the never ending punishment, or he was in his room by himself, wallowing in his own thoughts and feelings.

And when the fish weren’t enough, Percy was desperate enough to train on his own, though it rarely improved his mood.

Percy was hacking away at a dummy in the cave with a practice sword, technically a gift from Donna after his display at the Titans tower. This day in particular, Percy was upset and hurt.

School was more demanding than usual, presumably because of the time he took off last year, and Bruce’s money could only go so far in convincing the teachers that he was worth their time. He really didn’t have any friends, unwilling to force himself to navigate the hellscape that was Gotham Academy’s social politics. Worst of all, Tim seemed to weasel himself into every aspect of his life. He was younger than Percy, yet in more advanced classes, except for Greek and Roman classics, where they were in the same level.

All that’s to say, Percy was not doing well and he complained to no one about his current state, fearing they wouldn’t understand.

The dummy was hacked to oblivion and Bruce would definitely have to replace it soon, not that Percy cared. The man was a billionaire, he could afford a new dummy every month for Percy to beat the shit out of.

The destruction of the dummy was not making him feel better, unfortunately. What he really wanted was a fellow demigod who was apt at swordplay to spar with until they were both breathing hard and bleeding. Unfortunately, that was not something he could count on in Gotham.

Percy was in his head, trying to not let the self loathing get to him (it wasn’t working) when he heard the telltale sound of the elevator arriving at the cave. According to the clock on the wall, it was the awkward time in between when the bats returned for patrol and when they would need to start getting ready for school. By all accounts, Percy should have been the only one awake, as he was the only one who refused to go on patrol.

Nevertheless, it was Tim who emerged from the elevator, wearing comfortable workout clothes and checking the corners. Percy glanced at him and rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop his work on the dummy until Tim appeared right behind him.

He was gripping the handle of the sword tight, in a way uncharacteristic to how he usually behaved with a sword. His knuckles were turning white with the way he held onto the weapon, desperately trying to ignore the anger that was building.

“Why are you here?” Percy asked, while still attacking the dummy.

From the corner of his eye, Percy saw Tim shrug, almost indifferent.

“Where did you learn how to fight with a sword? Bruce will never teach me anything cool like that, and Dick doesn’t know how to. He offered to teach me escrima sticks but those seem lame. I don’t want to offend him or anything, so maybe I’ll have him teach me anyway.”

“My gods you talk a lot,” Percy muttered, mostly to himself. He kept his answers short and succinct. “Summer camp, mostly. And Donna Troy taught me some moves.”

He perked up instantly. “Wondergirl? Do you think she’d teach me some things?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so godsdamned annoying.” His voice was low and he didn’t purposely try to keep his thoughts from Tim, but Percy couldn’t care less if he heard or not.

“Will you teach me?” Tim asked, and Percy finally felt enough shock to stop working his anger out on the dummy. He hurried to add, “Just the basics, of course.”

On one hand, Percy’s anger towards Tim completely overtakes any basic needs when the new stray is brought around. On the other hand, how insanely good would it feel to absolutely beat the shit out of him and teach Tim a lesson. The worst that could happen is Bruce and Alfred grounding him for another six months, which wouldn’t be terrible because Percy really didn’t have a life at the moment.

“I’ll spar with you,” Percy decided. “Which is how I learned. But you can’t start crying when it hurts.” He threw Tim one of the two practice swords, moving towards the center of the room, and taking a natural fighting stance.

Tim looked like an awkward duck when trying to imitate Percy, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was going to teach the new stray a lesson, that was for sure.

The next morning, Tim was still in the manor, which was rare in itself as he usually traveled back to his own home when he wasn’t being Robin.

Did Percy feel a little guilty about the obvious black eye? Maybe. Sally Jackson certainly would not have appreciated his treatment of the new Robin who had managed to infiltrate every single moment of his life, even the lonely training in the cave. But Percy was in a bad mood, and on the worst of days he was reminded who his father was and how the sea behaved. Tim just happened to be both the source of his ire and in a destructive pathway.

He continued to get ready after breakfast, taking a peak in the bathroom mirror after he dressed. Percy saw a few injuries on his face from his spar last night, nothing compared to the damage he had dealt to Tim, but still noticeable enough for questions to be asked, if he had anything friends at Gotham Academy that is.

Percy was ready to leave and ignore the damage when he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror at an odd angle.

The injury slashed across the right side of his face, covering his eye in a way that was vaguely familiar. He jumped when he saw himself in the mirror, his green eyes looking a haunting blue for a moment, the hatred and anger on his face mirroring someone he had come to fear and hate.

Percy quickly turned away, his breathing more labored than a moment before. He shook his head, not daring to look at himself once again. Percy couldn’t become him, he wouldn’t. Something about last night reminded him of—

No. He took a deep breath, ignoring the pounding in his chest.

He wasn’t the perpetrator of violence, he couldn’t be. Besides, Tim was the one who came to him, desperate for a lesson. He should not be blamed for obliging the new Robin’s wishes.

Bruce appeared behind Percy in the mirror, his sudden presence causing the demigod to jump only slightly and curse under his breath.

“Tim did not have a black eye when we returned from patrol yesterday,” he said, his voice gravelly, falling closer to Batman than his usual tone.

Percy shrugged and avoided eye contact, instead trying to focus his attention on the reflection of Bruce’s gray robe. “Maybe you should pay more attention to your sidekicks while on patrol.”

Bruce scoffed, grabbing Percy’s chin and turning him around, eyes scanning his own injuries, tracing over the new long cut. “You need to learn to control your emotions around Tim. It’s not his fault—”

“You shouldn’t be the one to lecture me on controlling emotions,” Percy said while pulling away from Bruce and turning back to the mirror. He examined himself again, messing with his hair and fixing his collar. “And you’re right. It’s not his fault, it’s yours.”

He looked at Bruce again in the mirror, who was frowning. The older man crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Percy, like he was examining his soul. “You’re grounded—”

“You already grounded me until I die, or whatever, so can you leave me alone?” Percy snapped. “I have school.”

Bruce sighed, his hand twitching once before he left the bathroom, leaving Percy alone in his miserableness. Percy wanted to fall to the bottom of a pool again, or take a dip in the ocean and not emerge for hours. He couldn’t, however, and only had the ability to splash his face with water once and examine the permanent frown that had made its way onto his face, before he exited the bathroom without a care.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that stressed Percy out, it was getting Iris Messages at inopportune times. Though, he appreciated any opportunity to get out of Gotham and away from the Waynes. Had they truly reconciled? No, he wouldn’t say so. There was the one moment of hugging on the batplane followed by months of awkward interactions.

Bruce tried every so often, but Percy wouldn’t hear him out. Sometimes he felt a little immature at his antics, but he always had to remind himself that Bruce caused the rift in the manor, and it could not be healed with a few invitations on patrol with his old mantle. And everytime Bruce and Tim went out, Percy barely held himself back from drowning them in the waterfall in the cave. 

He never did, however, and Percy considered that progress. (He tried the first week, but Dick was the one who stopped him, to Percy’s dismay. He did, however, allow Percy to submerge Bruce underwater for a longer amount of time. The Bat was basically inhuman, and could hold his breath for hours it seemed, so it didn’t affect him.)

Afterwards, Dick moved up on his list of alive family members to his second favorite brother (after Tyson of course). Tim was at the bottom, even though he wasn’t technically a brother yet, but who knew what Bruce was up to. He was addicted to collecting boys with shitty homelives—or no homelife at all.

Being in the manor for a long period of time was the definition of discomfort, but Percy truly didn’t have anywhere else to go. Somehow, Thalia and Annabeth were enrolled in an all-girls school in upstate New York (as Thalia had been dead for the past seven years, Percy had no idea how she managed to get records, and act normal enough to go to a modern school), and Grover was still searching for Pan, so he was far from camp, forcing Percy to remain in Gotham.

The city seemed even worse than usual, the crimes violent and dangerous, the weather unpredictable, and the entire New Jersey-ness of the entire state dialed up to an eleven. Gods, he missed the normalcy of New York.

Winter break started two days ago, and Percy was bored out of his mind. He really needed Gothamites to stop dumping an insane amount of pollution into the harbor so he could spend time underwater and away from the chaos that was Gotham. Maybe that would be his goal for the next year: figure out how to use his powers to fix the pollution in the harbor. Maybe he’d reach out to Garth to see if he could help, but he wasn’t sure if Bruce or Dick would appreciate that.

Anyways, he was insanely blessed when Annabeth called him informing him that Grover wanted the three of them in Maine to help him with two demigods with a powerful scent, and the monsters that would be coming after them.

“We’ll be there within an hour,” Annabeth said. “But the Gray Sisters won’t take us to Maine, too far away. We’ll have to figure out another way to get there.”

“Leave that to me,” Percy said, grinning wryly. After he disconnected the call, Percy immediately went to pack. If nothing went wrong, it would be two days away from Gotham, but as things often went wrong, he planned for a week, stuffing a few changes of clothes in a duffle bag, along with emergency cash, ambrosia, nectar, and water. He made sure to keep his phone in his room in the manor. It wouldn’t do him any good outside of Gotham, and either Bruce or Tim would certainly try to track his location.

He checked the time, glad it was still relatively early in the morning, and the Bats would still be sleeping after their late night patrol. This gave him the time to sneak down the cave and pick up a few spare daggers lying around—nothing wrong with having a weapon that would harm mortals if push came to shove.

Unfortunately for Percy, Tim caught him after he returned to the first floor of the manor, bag packed and ready for Thalia and Annabeth to show up. He groaned when he saw the little Robin, hoping he could gaslight him into thinking that he only saw a battle-ready Percy because he was sleepwalking.

The bags under his eyes betrayed his posture, the exhaustion practically leaping from his body, announcing his pain to the world. “Where are you going? Are you disappearing again ?” Tim asked, his questions hurrying in quick succession.

“Are you even awake right now?” Percy asked, his voice taking on a floating tone. 

Tim seemed to consider it for a moment, then narrowed his eyes. He went to speak, but the doorbell rang first. Percy rushed before Tim could do or say anything, throwing open the door to reveal Thalia and Annabeth, both carrying different weapons as well. Thalia looked even more intense than she did over Iris Messages, with intense black eyeliner rimming her electric blue eyes. Her hair was done up in a plethora of braids, blue highlights staggered every so often.

When Percy glanced over to Annabeth, he realized that their hair was essentially matching, her blonde curls braided with blue highlights of her own. He tried not to feel the intense jealousy brimming, but it was impossible, so he controlled his face and invited them in with a smile he hoped they couldn’t see through.

Thalia whistled. “Fancy place you got here, Jackson.” Her eyes narrowed on Tim in the background. “Who’s the pipsqueak?”

Percy stifled a laugh, and Tim gasped in offense. “Who are you? I didn’t realize Percy had friends.”

“Ouch, hurtful,” Percy said, his right hand rising to cover his heart in mock offense. He didn’t mind because it was unfortunately a little true. He turned away from Tim, ignoring the stray and focused on Annabeth and Thalia. “Come on, we should leave asap if we want to get there before it gets too dark.”

“No!” Tim explained, and even in his exhausted stupor, he managed to get in front of Percy. Bruce must be training him well , he thought to himself. “You’re not supposed to leave Gotham for an extended period of time! And we have that gala in like a week.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your parents or something?” Percy asked, rolling his eyes.

Tim huffed. “They won’t be back for two days.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “Either you stay here or I’m going to get Bruce.”

“Get him then! I’m not scared of Brucie Wayne .”

“Fine,” Tim interjected. “I’ll get Alfred then.” He turned to walk away, but Percy’s hand grasped the back of his shirt. “Let’s see what he thinks about this.”

“Look,” Annabeth said, and everyone turned to look at her, Percy noticing the amused look written all over her face. “As entertaining as this back and forth is, we really don’t have time for it. Tim, it was really nice meeting you, but we’re leaving. And Percy will call tomorrow if we all survive the trip.”

Tim scowled. “I knew it. You’re in a weird cult.”

Thalia, who had been awfully quiet, barked out a laugh. “Alright we’re leaving. Don’t die of exhaustion, or whatever.” She pushed past him and grabbed Percy, who took Annabeth’s hand, leaving Tim in the dust as they quietly ran down to the garage.

“ Holy Hades , you really are rich,” Thalia breathed after he turned the lights on in the garage, revealing several different cars.

“ I’m not rich. Bruce is rich,” Percy said, throwing the bag in the trunk of the least outlandish car—the BMW.

Annabeth looked more concerned, “Will we be followed?”

Percy smirked, jumping in the driver's seat and popping open the wiring harness under the steering wheel, and removing the tracker Bruce had installed on all his cars. He presented his findings to the other two and tossed it on the ground of the garage. “He’ll try, but you won’t succeed. Let’s go.”

Annabeth sat next to him and Thalia hopped into the backseat, refusing to put on her seatbelt, but Percy couldn’t care, opening the garage and speeding out, taking the backroads to avoid Gotham traffic. He was grateful that Dick had taken the time to teach him how to drive, as he wasn’t even a little sure how he would get to Maine without the car.

They spent the first part of the drive playing road trip games, which Annabeth always won, obviously, before they grew exhausted of them, and the landscape turned bland. The trio turned to less lighthearted conversations instead.

“How’s your dad?” Thalia asked, seeming sincere.

“Well, do you mean Poseidon or Bruce? But the answers will be similar,” Percy said, with a quiet snicker.

“Bruce, obviously,” Thalia deadpanned. Percy glanced at Annabeth, to see her looking back at him with sorrow, which he chose to ignore. Thalia’s face was a complete opposite in the rear view mirror. He looked forward again, focusing on the road ahead. 

Percy could only roll his eyes in response.  “Don’t get me started.” He took a breath. “How’s your mom?”

Her eyes thundered, the electric blue frightening as her father, a few sparks flying off the tips of her fingers. He could practically taste the static electricity in the car. “None of your godsdamn business, Jackson.”

He held up his hands, temporarily taking them off the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean anything by asking. And you started it.”

Annabeth spoke up, “Don’t argue, you two. It’ll distract Percy from the road, and he’s the only one who can drive.”

Percy hummed to himself, ignoring the speed limit like any true Gothamite—though he wasn’t even in Gotham anymore, somewhere along the way in Massachusetts. He hoped he wouldn’t get pulled over, especially as he was unlicensed, underage, and technically with two girls who had been declared missing or dead before. He was sure that Massachusetts state police wouldn’t take bribes like Gotham PD, which was both righteous and annoying.

He was determined to cut their drive time from nine hours by at least ninety minutes. It was important to arrive as soon as possible to Maine, if the messages that Grover sent indicated what he assumed.

After what seemed like forever, and minimal stops for gas, snacks, and bathroom breaks, they arrived at the military school in Maine. Percy parked his car a few blocks away, as to not look suspicious and to give them a quick getaway if needed.

Percy took a few emergency supplies from the trunk, mortal knives, a flask of nectar, and a few squares of ambrosia, and followed the other two into the school hall. Westover was oddly familiar—once you’ve seen one military school, you’ve seen them all. Once they were all situated inside, the doors slammed shut ominously behind them, trapping them like a horror movie. Percy immediately felt uneasy, his hand trailing to his pocket where Riptide was resting, begging to be used.

Percy exchanged looks with Thalia and Annabeth, before following the bland pop music playing over the speakers toward what he assumed was the gym, where they met a few teachers and Grover. Thalia did something with the Mist that was unknown to him, but Percy didn’t have time to feel jealous over Chiron teaching Thalia magical tricks with the Mist, when he was only taught through abstracts back in sixth grade Latin class.

Grover pointed out Dr. Thorne as the monster to watch out for, though nobody knew exactly what he was. It was clearly something powerful and rare, difficult to kill as well most likely. It would be a difficult fight Percy predicted, unless they managed to get the demigods out without contact with Dr. Thorne, which is what he suggested. It was quickly scrutinized as unrealistic, leading them to simply wing it in the dance hall.

“Are you sure you don’t want to knock them out and stuff them in the trunk?” Percy asked, only half kidding. It was rude, but it would keep them out of trouble and away from the monster disguised as a teacher, who was clearly on a path to eat them. (If he had a drachma for every time a teacher disguised themselves as a monster…)

When they caught the attention of the principal, they quickly split up, Thalia leading Grover into an awkward dance, especially with their different heights and Grover’s odd gait, and Annabeth lightly punched Percy in the arm, leading the two of them to partner up on the dance floor.

Look, Percy loved Annabeth, like a friend, obviously . She was, in fact, one of the only friends he had, and probably his best one. So it shouldn’t have been awkward to dance with her while watching the powerful demigods and the monster that was after them. Percy fought a blush as he wrapped his hands around her waist, ignoring the fluttering of his heart as his fingers grazed her soft skin where her shirt rode up. He didn’t know what happened in the past six months, but she was an inch or two taller than him now, and Percy didn’t know how to feel about that.

He tried distracting himself with Annabeth’s interests, because he was sure he’d either get lost in her eyes or she’d ask him about the Waynes if they continued. “So…design any good buildings recently?”

Her face immediately lit up, Percy felt himself smile at getting her so excited,  and she went on a long rant about how she would completely redesign Manhattan, with allusions to classical Greek designs everywhere. “My gods, my new school has this 3-D design class, and there’s this super cool computer program which lets me design to my heart's content!”

“So, you like your new school, then?” Percy asked, trying not to sound disappointed. Of course, he wanted Annabeth to like school, as much as any demigod possibly could, but he couldn’t deny the jealousy he felt at her and Thalia’s excitement with the boarding school in Brooklyn. They weren’t too far from him, really right over a river, but Percy had never seen them at all, even through Iris Messaging, especially since it was an all girls school they were attending.

Her face went through a million different emotions: happy, sad, apprehensive. “Yeah, it’s great. It’s just…” she trailed off, her eyes glancing around the hall. “My dad wants to move to San Francisco, and take me with him.

“ Oh .”

“He’s on the other side of the country,”  she said, miserably. “And half-bloods can’t live in San Francisco. He should know that.”

Percy squinted, staring at her even as she looked everywhere but him. “What? Why not?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You should know. It’s right there .”

Percy didn’t know. All he knew about San Francisco is that Dick used to live in the area when the Titans were young and just starting out. Wonder Woman also lived in the area, but he didn’t know what that had to do with demigods. “Oh,” he said again, still unsure. “Did…were you going to go back to living at camp?”

She shrugged. “It’s complicated…I think I need to—” she suddenly paused, in her words and her movements. Her eyes scanned the room again, taking on that familiar calculating look. “They’re gone.”

“What?” Percy glanced back to where the two demigods were hanging out a second ago, only to see that they were not in sight. Dr. Thorne had disappeared as well, causing Percy to curse under his breath.

She pulled away from him, grabbing his hand. “Come on, we have to get to Grover and Thalia.” Annabeth looked around frantically. “They also disappeared. Styx .” She tried to pull him through the crowd of dancing students, but they were easily separated, Percy getting lost in a group of eight grade girls jump-dancing to another unknown pop song.

Once he maneuvered his way through the crowd, Annabeth had disappeared too, leaving Percy alone. He tried to find them, instead locating a green hat like the one Bianca di Angelo was wearing, tossed lazily on the ground. Finally, he caught a glimpse of Dr. Thorne, grabbing the two siblings by the back of their necks, steering them outside.

Percy immediately made to follow them, as he was still unsure of where Annabeth, Grover, or Thalia were. On one hand, it would be smart to find backup, but Percy doesn't know if there was time for that. He was certainly capable enough to fight a monster without their help. (He was decidedly not feeling jealous about the three old friends reconnecting, absolutely not.)

His plan to save the siblings did not work out, as he was immediately caught in a trap by Dr. Thorne, who somehow was able to throw poisonous spikes at him. It definitely wasn’t as bad as the time the chimera poisoned him but no one likes being poisoned. 

To be honest, Percy was a little embarrassed at how easily Dr. Thorne had managed to lure him into a trap away from backup—he definitely broke one of the first rules of Gotham vigilante-ing when he chose to chase them outside.

Percy wasn’t sure if his empathy link with Grover was quiet or what, but everytime he tried to send a message, there was no response, leaving him floundering to come up with a secondary plan. The three demigods were on the side of the cliff and Percy was able to feel the ocean behind him, and hear the waves crashing against the rocks. But it was too dark, too misty to see the bottom.

Alright, there’s plan C .

“I would kill you before you ever reached the water,” Dr. Thorne said, reading Percy’s thoughts. The demigod frowned at how blatantly obvious he had been. “You do not realize who I am, do you?”

“Do you know how many figures in mythology there are?” Percy sassed. “And none of them sound French like you.”

His car was on the other side of this field, marking it Plan D. It was a viable escape option, but too far for him to get everyone there safely in a short period of time. 

Percy tried to keep Dr. Thorne distracted by letting him monologue about “the General” and “the Great Stirring of Monsters”, filing those two thoughts away for later. He’d probably ask Annabeth when he got the chance. If there was one thing Percy learned in Gotham, it was that villains loved to monologue. Personally, he thought it was ridiculous and allowed time for the heroes to form a plan, but whatever gave him the advantage. From behind him, he heard the blades of a helicopter and saw Dr. Thorne grinning victoriously, so he assumed that was part of the escape plan.

Great, like Zeus didn’t already hate him enough.

When no backup came, he entertained the thought of jumping off the cliff one more time, but he didn’t get a chance as an invisible force slammed into him, knocking Percy and the siblings to the ground.

Annabeth .

The battle moved quickly, Annabeth weaving around still invisible, Thalia challenging the monster with her spear, Grover furiously playing his reed pipes. Dr. Thorne’s form slowly switched from that of a principal to a body that was leathery and looked like a huge lion.

“He’s a manticore!” Annabeth cried, suddenly visible again.

“A manticore?” Nico gasped. “He’s got like three thousand attack power and plus five to saving throws!”

What the fuck was he talking about?

They lost the upper hand quickly, Thalia’s spear flying away at the tail of the manticore, Grover knocked down and his reed pipes far from him, when they heard a hunting horn blowing in the woods.

Percy didn’t know who the archers were, but their aim was definitely better than Roy’s and on par with the Apollo cabin at camp. They were all girls, about a dozen of them, dressed in silver jackets and jeans, arrows notched at the manticore and ready to fire at any moment. It was certainly not the weirdest situation Percy had ever found himself in. 

The next moments happened too quickly. Dr. Thorne tried to charge and Thalia and Percy, the two overly dazed and unable to fight back, and Annabeth charged at him, driving her dagger into his back. The monster howled, turning in circles as he tried and failed to shake Annabeth off of him. The archers fired their weapons, catching the manticore in different places, the monster wailing in pain but still alive.

Before anyone could react, the manticore, with Annabeth still on its back, lept off the cliff and tumbled into darkness.

Percy screamed her name, once, and he was in motion.

His heart was beating erratically as he watched Annabeth topple over the cliff. His feet were moving before he knew what was happening, his heart nearly stopping as he reached over, too far away, too slow. Percy made to follow her, to jump off the cliff and into the ocean if it was the last thing he did, but Thalia was behind him in a second, hauling him back to the edge in a moment.

“No, not again. Not again. Not again. Please, gods, not again.”

It was no use, Annabeth was gone.

***

Percy was the definition of “not doing okay”. To be honest, it had been a terrible few years, everyone he loved seemed to die or disappear, and Annabeth was the next in a long line of pain. She wasn’t dead, he refused to acknowledge that possibility. And his dreams told him something similar. Alive, but in danger. If he had a drachma…

Did someone place a curse on him? That had to be what happened. There was no other way his life could be going to shit this much recently.

He was out of it for the next few days, going through the motions of camp barely. Yes, he got on that flying school bus but he barely listened to Apollo’s terrible haikus, or witnessed Artemis’s abrupt departure. Somehow got back to Camp Half-Blood without freaking out. He had half a mind that Grover was trying to push calming thoughts through their empathy link.

It wasn’t working.

Every explanation about the Hunters of Artemis went in through one ear and out through the other. He wasn’t really sure what he would do until he managed to collapse in his cabin early that morning, finding time for a quick nap after being awake for nearly a whole day. 

His dreams were insightful and informative, as always, recognizing the pain on Annabeth’s face when Luke tricked her to…do something. Percy wasn’t sure, but she looked like she was in pain, being tortured, and Percy wanted nothing more than to go after her. He tried to come up with a plan, but he had no idea where she was being held. He recalled everything Dr. Thorne had said to him on the cliff, he mentioned an army of monsters and a general, both of which didn’t sound good, but neither led to any information about her whereabouts. 

From what he could tell, Thalia was angry, but not only at him for going off on his own in Maine, but also with the hunters, for a variety of reasons. He didn’t have the full story, but until it helped to get Annabeth back, it wouldn’t be important. Grover was taken with them, something about nature and their connection to the wild. He was too enraptured to show his worry about Annabeth, or maybe he knew everything would end up alright.

Percy hoped it was the latter. 

Camp was interesting, and Percy realized how long it had been since he spent a lot of time there. Last summer, he swore it was only a few days before he disappeared on a quest he didn’t have permission to go on. In the winter, it was a lot emptier than usual, but the presence of the hunters made up for the emptiness. 

Then there was Nico di Angelo, who was way too happy about everything. Percy didn’t understand how someone could be so excited about everything all the time. Everytime he looked around it was with awe and stars in his eyes. On one hand, from an outsider’s perspective, it would be cool if you found out you had magic powers based on your blood, especially if you didn’t have to deal with the trauma that came with being a child of the big three. On the other hand, Annabeth was missing and Percy couldn’t deal with a ten year old following him around and asking him ridiculous questions that he didn’t have the answer to. (He didn’t know if he could surf? And Gotham’s beaches were too polluted to even try.)

Still, even being trailed by the demigod, Percy tried to create different plans to leave and find Annabeth, but they were all half-baked without any merit, at least until the disaster of a game of Capture the Flag. 

Training while angry was never safe, especially for the son of the Earthshaker. The mummified oracle somehow waddled down from the attic, into the woods, spitting out a prophecy, and Percy could barely hear it through their ears ringing.

The camp counselor meeting was as disastrous as expected, animosity between the Hunters and campers clear as the night sky—that wasn’t even mentioning the tension between Percy and Thalia. She was still mad as Hades at him for losing the game of Capture the Flag, but Percy didn’t care, much more concerned with the impending doom of the world, and of Annabeth.

He wasn’t allowed on the quest, as Zoë, lieutenant to Artemis and the lead quester, was anti-men/boys. He couldn’t begrudge her, especially living in Gotham, where he had seen the horrors of men, especially on patrol. Of course, he was upset, arguing for a position, even as they continued to deny him.

“I have to go on this quest,” Percy insisted.

“Why?” Zoë asked. “Because of thy friend Annabeth?”

“ Obviously! ”

“No,” Zoë said, flatly. “I will not travel with a male hero.”

Chiron sighed, agreeing with her. “The quest is for Artemis, and the Hunters will be allowed to approve their companions.”

Percy felt his ears ringing, and the ocean swelling outside. His eye twitched, but he didn’t care as he stormed outside the Big House, ignoring the pitying eyes and mixed emotions from everyone. He managed to walk back to his cabin, avoiding any stray camper who was around, slamming the door behind him, and letting the calm of Cabin 3 wash over him. 

He was back to plan A, which was finding Annabeth through his own means. At least now he had a prophecy, even though it wasn’t for him, but it created a sense of where he had to travel: west. Percy was 30 seconds away from creating a crime board on the wall of his cabin, but he decided against it. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out a possible location. Los Angeles was way too obvious, especially with the Underworld entrance right there.

Didn’t Annabeth mention something about San Francisco being dangerous? What was the likelihood that…?

Percy jumped when there was a knock on the door. He sighed, debating ignoring it completely, but he heard hooves and decided to answer. Chiron and Grover were outside, and the sky was darkening greatly. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been in his cabin, and those two were obviously worried.

Grover opened his mouth first, starting to sniffle. “Percy, I'm so sorry! I didn’t know that—Honestly!”

He looked like he was about to cry, and Percy went to cheer him up. “It’s okay,” he said, but Grover didn’t look like he believed him. “Really, it’s fine. And not your fault at all.”

“I was so focused on finding Lady Artemis, that I wasn’t even…” Grover bleated. “I swear that I’ll look everywhere for Annabeth. I promise I’ll try to find her.”

Percy nodded, silently agreeing and trying to ignore the guilt he felt for making Grover spiral. 

Chiron interrupted his thoughts. “Grover, perhaps you’d let me speak to Percy for a moment.” Grover nodded, but hesitated to move, causing the centaur to tack on. “Alone.”

He sniffled again. “See, nobody needs a goat.” He shuffled outside, hooves clanking against the wooden floors, before the door closed behind him.

Percy turned to Chiron, who looked extra sorrowful as he gazed at the saltwater spring Tyson built in the corner of the room. He tried to be inspiring with his speech, but maybe Percy had grown out of those recently. “I pray that I’m wrong about the Titan’s curse, but I cannot be sure. I do not pretend to understand prophecies.”

“Well, they don’t make sense,” Percy said, a hint of a smile piercing through his frown. Chiron responded with a much clearer smile, though it was pained and grim.

“I would not have chosen Thalia to go on the quest, as she’s too impetuous. She acts without thinking.” He stared at Percy. “I would not have chosen you either: you two are much alike.”

“Thanks,” Percy said wryly.

“That’s not a bad thing, necessarily. A huge difference is that you have become a lot less sure of yourself, whether that is because of recent events—” Percy flinched, by the centaur continued, “—or because of something else entirely. Both of you together is a dangerous thing.”

Percy rolled his eyes and huffed a breath. “We could’ve handled it.”

There was a twinkle in Chiron’s eyes. “The way you handled it with the creek tonight.” 

The image of Thalia covered in water flooded Percy’s mind, and he said nothing, biting back a smile. He got me there, Percy thought.

“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Chiron mused, his voice quiet. “You can go home for the holidays. Should we need you, we’ll call.”

Percy’s eye twitched, and he didn’t say anything, causing Chiron to add, “Gotham will be safe, especially during this time of the year.” 

Annabeth’s not safe. “Fine,” Percy sighed. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

Chiron looked inquisitive, one of his eyebrows raising in a question. “You’re not going to try to join the quest, are you?”

Obviously .

“No, I’ll take a taxi back to Gotham.” He was going to take a taxi to the west coast. Or maybe he’d steal a car and drive himself .

Chiron hummed to himself. “There is no need to rush into danger everyday. Your time will come, of that I’m sure.”

His eyes darkened significantly, and Percy was sure that his thoughts had taken a scary turn, or he was remembering something from his thousands of years of life. He was certainly too frightened to ask, choosing to keep his nerves to himself. 

***

Percy tried to get some sleep, but it was nearly impossible, especially when his dreams became clear. 

He dreamt of Annabeth and Luke once again. Still, he was confused on what exactly was happening, though she was tired, on the verge of collapsing, kneeling under the weight of a dark mass.

Artemis was there, now, her arms covered in golden chains, calmly demanding her hands freed by Luke’s evil sword. The goddess immediately took the burden herself, shivering under the weight, and Annabeth collapsed to the floor.

Luke barely stopped the General from ordering her death, instead requesting that she be used as bait, thank the gods . But Percy was still going to beat him to a pulp the next time he saw Luke Castellan.

Percy woke with a start, his anger permeating the room. Annabeth and Artemis were together, but in danger, in dire need of rescuing. But they were together, with the General, who Dr. Thorne had mentioned before, so he had his first official lead. He rolled over onto his side, seeing Annabeth’s New York Yankees cap and grimacing. He took stock of all of his senses. It was still dark outside, and noises were minimal, with his saltwater spring gurgling in the corner and the occasional hoot of an owl in the woods.

All of a sudden, a few thumps on his door had Percy springing up, his hand reaching into the pocket of his sweats. He crept over to the door, slowly peeling it open to reveal a large black Pegasus. 

“Blackjack!” Percy called, sighing in relief. “Shouldn’t you be in the stables?”

The Pegasus shuddered and complained, claiming he was too good for the stables. Percy secretly thought that it was better than the last place he stayed—aboard the Princess Andromeda, a prisoner of Luke. In the summer, Percy had managed to free him and the Pegasus had felt indebted to him ever since. Percy was sure he’d fly out to Gotham everyday if he could, but he settled for once a month. 

Blackjack ended up requesting his help to free a few hippocampi who had gotten stuck in netting on the coast. One day, he’d figure out how to destroy the commercial fishing industry, but for now he had settled for helping every sea creature he came across. 

But what was stuck in the net wasn’t a hippocampi, to his surprise. He actually didn’t know what it was, but it certainly was adorable, a face of a cute little cow but its back was a serpent. He named her Bessie, why, he wasn’t sure: it seemed like a good name for a cow. 

Bessie nuzzled his face, and swam off in a hurry once she was free, and Percy allowed himself to smile for the first time in ages. He always felt more sane underwater, surrounded by sea creatures, but he didn’t have much time before the cleaning harpies would figure out he was gone and try to eat him

Oh, the joys of being a demigod. 

He popped back up, seeing Blackjack waiting for him, climbing on his back. 

When they appeared back at camp, Percy saw that demigod child, Nico, hiding behind a pillar, spying on something. Percy had Annabeth’s hat in his back pocket, putting it on and turning invisible. Nico was watching Bianca and Zoë arguing as one of the hunters apparently could not go on the quest. They quickly left the dining pavilion, and Nico made to follow them, but he was not faster than Percy. 

“Stop,” Percy whispered, taking the hat off his head. 

“Whoa,” his eyes widened, “that’s so cool!”

Percy rolled his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “You can’t go on the quest with them.”

“I wasn’t…” Nico trailed off, and Percy held his hand up, not believing a word he said. 

“Yes you were. But you’re untrained, the first time you held a sword was yesterday, right? It’ll be dangerous, and you’ll probably die out there.”

His shoulders sagged and he frowned, “But you’ll go, right?” He was shifting his stance awkwardly, a little desperate. 

“Huh?”

“You were going to go anyways, weren’t you?” Nico asked.

“How did—never mind. Yes, I need to help my friend, Annabeth,” Percy answered. 

He smiled, large and toothy. “I won’t tell on you! As long as you promise to keep my sister safe.”

Percy hesitated, wincing. He clearly wasn’t the best at keeping people safe, as he had learned. “That’s a big ask, and the prophecy says that only three people will return and—”

“Promise,” he insisted. 

Percy sighed. “I promise that I will do my best.”

The kid smiled again. “Get going then. And good luck!”

Percy took off, flying on Blackjack after the stolen camp van, wondering if he would regret it. 

***

This quest was definitely off to an odd start, especially with the revelations about Bianca’s time in the Lotus Casino. Whoever sent her there was definitely insane, and Percy would be lying to say he wasn’t curious on the why . But hey—at least he got this sick fur coat from the Nemean Lion out of it. Take that Heracles!

Percy only felt a little weird about wearing fur, considering Grover was also half fur, but he ensured Percy it was alright.

Zoë still treated him like the dirt under her shoe, but Percy was quick to not let it get to him—he’d seen worse. And if she was really as old as it seemed (based on her use of “thy” and “thou”), it made sense that she’d have male trauma. Percy couldn’t begrudge her for that.

Somehow they ended up on a freight train going west, with text on the side of the cars which read “SUN WEST LINE”. Percy learned the bare minimum about the pain that was San Francisco from Thalia: an extra strong Mist, Titan strongholds, the Mountain of Despair, whatever that was. She refused to say anymore after Percy brought up the Hunters, casually mentioning that both she and Annabeth considered joining.

Percy, he didn’t know what to think. He could handle Zoë hating him forever for being a male, but the very thought that Annabeth would never be able to spend time with him again made Percy twitchy and unhappy. When he found her and saved her, Percy would convince Annabeth that joining the hunters would be a terrible idea, and staying at camp would be the best course of action.

Somehow, the magical train, provided to them by Apollo with concerns for his sister (naturally none for the demigod who was stolen) spit them out in some small town in New Mexico. From there, Grover had a reaction and a blessing from the Wild, as he claimed, forcing them to take a magical boar for miles, through mountains and the plains, all the way to Arizona. They ended up outside of a junkyard, the energy completely off, and decided to camp for the night, as they made ridiculously good time.

Percy listened as Grover insisted that the boar was a gift from the God of the Wild Pan, insisting that it was proof he was alive and around. Percy didn’t disagree out loud, unwilling to let his doubts hurt Grover’s hopes.

They changed to conversation, with Thalia interrogating Bianca about how she managed to kill the skeleton monsters that were after them. She was the only one in the group who managed it, using only celestial bronze. No one else had even made a dent, and no one could figure out why. Percy tried to replay to fight back in his mind, but he had nothing. Maybe…

The conversations came to a halt when a limousine appeared, sliding to a stop right in front of them, its bright lights shining in the darkness, the only source of light pollution for miles. Everyone tensed up, hands going to their weapons. If it was an immortal threat, they’d be prepared, but if they were mortal, then everyone would have to rely on hand to hand combat, or the two emergency steel knives Percy stole from the batcave. 

The back door of the limo opened right in front of Percy, and before he knew it, he was at the mercy of a god.

Ares had the tip of his sword pointed under Percy’s neck quicker than he could react. He glanced at the rest of the group’s weapons. 

“At ease, people.” He snapped his fingers and their weapons fell to the ground. “This is a friendly meeting. As much as I would like to take your head for a trophy, someone wants to see you. And besides, I would never behead my enemies in front of a lady.”

“Who?” Thalia asked, trying and failing to see inside the limo. The windows were too dark, though, and Ares was blocking the entrance.

He glanced over at her and smiled. “Well, well. I heard you were back.” He lowered his sword and pushed Percy to the ground, continuing to talk to Thalia.

Now’s the chance , Percy thought, mostly to himself. He could slip on Annabeth’s hat, take out his sword and chop Ares up into little tiny pieces. Isn’t that what the Big Three did to Kronos? It would be poetic.

Grover glanced over at him, sending worry and calming emotions down their bond,  but Percy paid him no mind, immediately diving for the ankles, always a weak place when you’re not expecting it. 

“What the fuck!” Thalia cried.

When they weren’t at an ocean, Percy had no advantage except for pure rage. Damn , he really needed a way to carry water with him at all times. Maybe the jug Katara carried in Avatar would become his saving grace.

While the god of war wasn’t expecting Percy to lunge at him, he was quick to react, smiling dangerously, his eyes certainly lighting up behind his dark glasses. His sword, no longer pointed at Percy’s throat, was quick to match the fever of the demigod’s speed, moving even faster. With a timely kick to his chest, Percy was on the ground, laying on his back and breathing heavily. 

He wouldn’t count himself out, but Ares placed his combat boot on Percy’s chest, pressing down lightly, halting his plan, and making him gasp for breath.

“Now that wasn’t very honorable, was it punk?” Ares grunted.

Percy struggled against the god, but was pinned to the ground with minimal movement abilities. 

“What do thou think thee are doing?” Zoë hissed out, and Percy could see the various confused looks on his quest companions. 

Ares grunted out an agreement, adding, “But I don’t care.”

“You killed my brother, you piece of shit,” Percy ground out.

He laughed, “I don’t remember killing any Jacksons recently, so I’ll assume that curse came in handy after all.”

Percy started wiggling again, trying to get any leverage against Ares, but he was too strong and impenetrable. If he survived this, Percy was going to head down to the Batcave and make a long list of contingency plans specifically for the god of war. 

Ares’s face changed from bored to annoyed in seconds. “You’re so fucking lucky that my girl wants to speak with you, or you’d be deader faster than fire spreads.” He hauled the demigod to his feet and kicked Percy into the open door of the limo, slamming it closed behind him.

Percy was face to face with someone so gorgeous that Percy forgot his name. She was dressed in a red satin dress, her hair done up in a thousand little braids, some stray pieces curling out. On others, it might have looked crazy, but she was as flawless as ever, especially her eyes, which seemed to change color every single second.

And every time he blinked, it was like he was looking at someone else he had seen in his life. For a few seconds, her face looked vaguely like Annabeth’s, but once he noticed that, it seemed to change again.

Percy pinched himself, to regain control of his senses. Once he managed to calm down, he recognized who was in front of him: the goddess of love Aphrodite.

“Your boyfriend fucking sucks,” Percy said to the goddess.

“Oh, yes he does.”

Ew .

He took another deep breath, steadying himself, forcing himself to not get distracted by her perfect… well everything. Aphrodite handed him a mirror, asking him to hold it up as she checked herself out, dabbing at her lipstick. Percy was sure that every single socialite in Gotham was dying to have lipstick as perfect as hers.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Percy shook his head, and the goddess smiled, “Still in denial, aren’t you?”

He raised his brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deadpanned.

“Well, why are you on this quest?”

“To save Annabeth…and Artemis, of course.”

Aphrodite beamed. “Exactly!”

“I just have to save her,” Percy explained, “I’ve been having these dreams and—”

“This is so romantic, dreaming about her,” she gushed. “Forget the hunters, and Artemis and the monster. They’re no fun and not important. Just focus on saving your Annabeth.”

“She’s not my—” Percy cut himself off, realizing it was a losing argument. “Do you know where they are?”

Aphrodite waved her hand, irritated. “No, of course not. I’ll leave the details to you. But it’s been ages since we’ve had a tragic love story. And you two are just perfect!”

“Wait, love?” Percy asked. “And tragedy? You mean platonic love, right?”

“Love conquers all,” Aphrodite promised. “Look at Helen and Paris. Did they let anything come between them?”

“Didn’t you help Paris kidnap and steal Helen from her home and husband, starting the Trojan War and killing thousands of people?”

“Pfft. That’s not the point,” she chided. “Follow your heart.”

“But—” Percy didn’t know what to say, but Aphrodite cut him off. 

“You are adorable.” Her eyes were tearing up. “Now you’d better go. And do be careful in my husband’s territory, Percy. Don’t take anything. He’s awfully fussy about his trinkets and trash.”

“What? Do you mean—”

Before he could ask, the car door opened, and Ares grabbed his shoulder and pulled him out of the car and back into the desert night. Percy couldn’t help sassing Ares a little bit, but neither made any moves to physically attack each other , the god of war heading back to the limo and driving off into the night.

Somehow, they were all away from the town, standing in the middle of the junkyard, mountains of scrap metal stretched out in every direction.

Alone again, everyone was staring at Percy with varying degrees of shock.

“What did she want with you?” Bianca asked, once Percy explained who was in the limousine.

“To be a modern Paris, it seems,” Percy murmured, mostly to himself, but everyone heard him clearly.

“Like the city?” Bianca asked.

“No,” Zoë muttered, “The male hero.”

Bianca mouthed an Oh to herself, and Thalia looked like she was trying not to laugh at him. Grover was smiling as well, but Zoë looked disgusted.

“Don’t worry. I’m not in the business of kidnapping unsuspecting women and forcing them to marry me. That would be rude.”

“Didn’t she go willingly?” Thalia asked.

“Not in the version my mom told me,” Percy said. He took a breath. “Anyway, this is apparently her husband’s junkyard.”

“Helen of Troy’s husband?” Bianca asked.

“No, Hephaestus’. We can’t touch anything.”

Grover was still staring at Percy, like he could read every single emotion, which he definitely could, damn empathy link . He could probably feel the embarrassment and desperation oozing throughout Percy constantly.

Percy shook himself out of his thoughts and stared at the full moon and the stars littering the night sky. “How do we get out of here?”

***

This day had been a fucking mess. The Mythomagic statue of Hades was burning a hole in his pocket, the last remnant of Bianca’s sacrifice. Fuck , Nico was going to hate him forever. Is that what it felt like to be Bruce…

No, he was getting rid of that train of thought right away. Percy would protect Nico; he’d explain clearly what happened, answer all of his questions, and most importantly, keep him as safe as possible. And he might still hate him, but Percy would understand: it would be a valid hatred.

Percy still hated Bruce sometimes (often).

He tried to have a conversation with Zoë, who was racked with just as much guilt as Percy. He didn’t understand why she was so insistent on training Bianca to be the next lieutenant of Artemis, when she held that position. 

She wasn’t terrible, and Percy knew that from the beginning. Zoë was, however, jaded, betrayed years ago by some male hero who once held the sword Percy now used. He couldn’t hate her for that, especially since he seemed to hold grudges just as badly as she did.

Eventually, they came across the Hoover Dam, and Percy had to smile. If Annabeth was here, she would be insisting that they stop and explore. He wished she was with him, as it seemed unfair to go without her. 

Maybe once he rescued her, he’d steal Bruce’s credit card and rent out the entire thing so she could explore to her heart’s content.

It took them an hour to find a path from the river at the bottom of the dam, to the top.

“Let us find the dam snackbar,” Zoë said. “We should eat while we can.”

Grover cracked a smile. “The dam snack bar?”

Zoë blinked, confused, “I do not understand what is funny.”

“Nothing,” Grover said, failing to keep a straight face. “I could use some dam French fries.”

Thalia smiled too. “And I need to use the dam restroom.”

For some reason, probably exhaustion, messed up emotions, and the pain they had all just experienced, Percy started to crack up, with Thalia and Grover joining in.  Zoë stood facing all of them, still confused, muttering about how she didn’t understand.

When Percy heard a familiar animal sound, he left the group, mumbling some excuse about needing a moment to himself. No one wanted to leave him alone, especially after what just happened, but they finally agreed, and Percy leaned over the edge of the dam.

Bessie, the serpent cow from Long Island, was in the water, mooing for him. “How did you get here?” he asked her. They were thousands of miles away, and there wasn’t a  continuous water path from coast to coast, so it made no sense. She was swimming in circles, butting her head against the side of the dam, trying to get Percy to follow her.

He wished he could escape into the water, but he had a quest to complete, and told her as much. She stared at him one more time, her eyes large and sad, before she mooed once more, flipping and disappearing into the water. 

He wondered what she wanted, and how she got here, but he couldn’t come up with an answer. Percy glanced around, the hairs standing up on his arm. He saw the same skeleton monsters that had been following them for hundreds of miles, the ones that were until able. 

Percy cursed to himself, running back into the touristy area of the dam. They only had one choice: escape before the monsters found them, as fighting was clearly pointless. He weaved through the crowds of people, keeping one hand in his pocket and trying to not draw attention to himself at all.

He raced to try and find Grover, Thalia, and Zoë, but with the amount of people it was extremely difficult. At some point, Percy heard a sound behind him, and without thinking, listening only to his adrenaline, he uncapped his sword and spun, slashing Riptide at someone.

The girl he’d almost sliced in hand yelped and dropped her tissue. “Jesus!” She squinted, her red curly hair pulled behind her. “Wayne?”

“Rachel Elizabeth Dare?” Percy asked. She looked no different than how he usually saw her, except instead of a formal dress with paint stains, she was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans covered in paint stains. Her noise was also redder, like she had been sick, which made sense with the tissues.

“Why do you have a sword, Percy?” she gasped. “Oh, is this finally proof that your dad is…” her voice dropped in volume. “…Batman?”

“How do you—Nevermind. Wait, you can see it's a sword?”

“Why didn’t your sword hurt me? And whoa, is that lion fur? That’s ridiculous and cruel, I thought you Waynes cared about the environment!”

He had two options. First, admit everything, which was not going to happen. Second, try to manipulate the Mist like Thalia did at Westover Hall.

The second option seemed better.

He concentrated hard and snapped his fingers. “You don’t see a sword. It’s just a ballpoint pen.”

Rachel blinked. “Are you trying to Jedi mind trick me? Are you a freaking Jedi?”

He sighed, looking upwards. “Will you be at our gala next week?” Percy asked.

She smiled. “Now? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Percy chuckled, remembering how much she seemed to hate galas. “Alright, keep this to yourself. If I’m not dead in a week, I’ll see you there and explain everything.”

Rachel made a face. “Ooh. Well now you can’t die because I need answers.” She held out her hand, and Percy took it, shaking once. “I expect my answers in a week, Wayne. Now there are some skeletons behind you.

Percy cursed, taking off. “See you then, Dare.”

***

Over Percy’s dead body was anybody going to sacrifice his new friend Bessie, with her adorable face.

Who even came up with that rule? Percy wondered. Which deity said that sacrificing a half cow, half serpent and burning its entrails would give someone a path to take down the Olympians. 

(He would never let Bruce get his hands on Bessie, because he would certainly use her as a last resort contingency plan.)

Percy was glad that his father accepted the sacrifice, he didn’t need a bulletproof fur coat anyways, taking Grover and Bessie to Atlantis for safety.

“How are we going to get to Mount Othrys?” Zoë asked, after Grover had disappeared in the bay water.

Percy sighed and took in his surroundings. He recognized the city more than he thought he would, specifically from Dick and Donna’s separate lectures. Dick had told him about when the Titans used to work in Jump City, close to San Francisco, and of how to find a safe house if he ever needed it. Donna told him about the stash of godly weapons scattered around, should he ever find himself in a pickle.

“I have a crazy idea, but it may get us in trouble later.”

Thalia rolled her eyes. “Lead the way.”

Percy led them on a ferry out of the city, to the north, a halfway point in between Jump City and San Francisco. Percy closed his eyes trying to remember the directions to the safe house, which was clearly extremely close to Mount Tam, where the Titan stronghold sat. 

When they arrived at the broken down safe house on the dock, Percy instructed the other two to hold back while he figured out how to enter. Zoë and Thalia were not happy about it, voicing their complaints loudly, but Percy had to insist, unsure of what the tech was around the boathouse. 

The safe house, even with the chipped paint and wooden slats that looked crooked and about to fall off, was overly secure with a high tech electric lock system. He sought the keypad, typing in the complicated code Dick had installed for him only, hoping that it hadn’t been changed since the first iteration of the Titans drifted away. 

When he finished, a robotic voice said, “Welcome Fledgling,” and the door pushed open, showing a house a lot nicer than what the outside projected. Percy turned his head, seeing Thalia and Zoë a few houses down, and gestured for them to follow him. 

“Jackson, you better have a good—” Thalia started to growl, but stopped 

“Don’t ask questions,” Percy said. “Let’s raid the pantry and move on. Sunset’s in two hours and we have no idea what the traffic will be.” He took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Thankfully, we’re closer to the mountain and going in the opposite of rush hour, I think, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

Zoë took a moment to take in the safe house, somehow leading the crew towards the weapons and training room. She pressed a random button, a secret weapons compartment popping out of an unsuspecting wall.

“Celestial bronze blades?” Zoë picked one up, testing the balance, before she turned to Percy, a scowl on her face. “How do thou have access to these?” She pointed the blade at him, almost threatening.

He raised his hands in a surrendering motion. “It’s a family secret?” Percy shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He looked around the room. “We need to move, and quickly. Grab snacks and weapons. I’ll find the garage and check out the cars they have.” 

***

“Percy—” Zoë started. 

“Please, for the love of every single god, do not ask!” he snapped. “And after today, you will forget that this house exists, or so help me—”

“You honestly cannot expect us to be alright without any answers?” Thalia argued.

Percy pressed down on the gas, swerving behind an electric car that was moving way too slowly. “Of course you can have questions, but no answers. Not from me, at least.”

“ By the Styx , you should have let me drive!” Zoë said, her hands gripping the handles on the sports car.

Percy smirked. “You wouldn’t have been able to. You aren’t in the system.”

“I do not know what that means!” 

“Jackson!” Thalia growled. “Is someone going to be after us because of this theft you just committed?”

Percy’s brow twitched, his smile losing steam. “Well, eventually. But they’ll be more worried about me instead of you guys. But I’ll figure it out tomorrow, when the solstice is over and we’ve either saved the world or died.”

“That’s not concerning, thank you,” Thalia muttered, sarcastically. 

Percy swerved onto 101, ignoring the honks of cars around him. He was grateful that the town seemed used to the reckless driving, probably of the heroes and vigilantes that lived here. Still, they drove way too safely compared to Gotham, and Percy received a variety of honks, beeps, and middle fingers whenever he cut someone off. Unfortunately for them, he had to drive to the top of Mount Tam, and based on the GPS, he had no time to slow down at all.

The car started beeping, startling everyone. Percy looked over at Zoe. “Put on your godsdam seatbelt!”

She grumbled something about how she hated modern cars, but otherwise did what he asked.

“We’re not going to make it,” Thalia muttered, sticking her head out of the window. The sky was darkening, quickly, but Percy was determined.

“Yes, we will.” He looked over the settings, seeing if there were any cool upgrades that could help him. “If this turns into a plane what’s the likelihood that Zeus will strike me down?”

The sky rumbled, and lightning struck a tree on the right side of the freeway. Percy rolled his eyes, ignoring the sparks. He hoped it wouldn’t start a wildfire. “Apparently, it’s high.”

They made it to the base of the mountain in good time, but Thalia was right about the Mist being extra potent. It disguised itself as fog, so cloudy and gray that Percy could barely see in front of them. They were in a forest, teetering on the windy path up, a cliff and ocean on one side of the car, and no rail in case the car went flying off. Percy peered over once, seeing a large white ship, and cursed, watching as the ocean disappeared again.

“What?” Thalia demanded, and Percy recounted the details of the ship. Her eyes widened, “Like Luke’s ship?”

Percy nodded.

“We will have company, then,” Zoë said grimly. “Kronos’ army.”

Percy made to answer, but before he could, he sensed something wrong and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. Thalia shouted, “Stop the car! Now!”

He slammed on the breaks, glad for the superior upgrades that stopped it from spinning out and crashing into the side of the mountain. 

“Out!” Thalia ordered, opening the door and pushing Zoë onto the dirt road. Percy followed without question, and in the next second, lightning flashed, and the Titan’s sports car erupted into a million pieces. Thalia’s shield was over them in a second, saving them from the shrapnel that flew everywhere. When Percy sat up, he noticed the four red doors all scattered in different places on the road.

“Fuck, that’s two cars ruined in less than a week. If we survive, I’ll be grounded until I die!” Percy moaned, before looking over to Thalia, who had a haunted look in her eyes. “Thank you for saving us, but are you okay?”

“ One shall perish by a parent’s hand, ” she muttered. “I can’t believe he would do that.”

Percy blinked, remembering the prophecy. “No, that wasn’t him. Why would he ever…?”

Thalia shook her head. “I can think of a lot of reasons.”

Percy paused, unsure of what to say, before he realized they were missing a companion. “Zoë?” he called tentatively. He knew that Thalia had gotten her out of the car, but where could she have gone? He scanned the accident, fog too thick to see anything further, as panic began to form in his throat.

She appeared behind him in a moment. “Quiet, or you’ll wake Landon.”

“We’re here already?” Percy asked.

Zoë nodded. “Yes, now follow me.”

***

Naturally, as soon as they managed to enter Mount Othrys and find Artemis, Luke and the General were waiting for them, along with a dozen monsters and the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. Annabeth was by Luke’s side, gagged and cuffed, Luke’s sword pointed at her neck.

Yep, Percy was going to kill him dead.

Atlas, the General , was monologuing, as Percy examined weaknesses. He wasn’t sure if Luke would actually be able to kill Annabeth or if he was bluffing. There was the sarcophagus, which surely couldn’t survive being pushed off a mountain, and a dozen monsters, easy enough.

“Wait, what?” Percy asked, and blinked as he recalled what he heard. 

Zoë sighed, “Yes, it’s true. Atlas is my father.”

Holy messy family, Batman!

Zoë demanded that Atlas let Artemis go, to which he laughed heartily, offering Zoë the position under the sky.

Luke tried to convince Thalia to join them, her sixteenth birthday was tomorrow after all, and the prophecy was around the corner. He pointed down the mountain where there was an entire army of monsters and half-bloods marching, prepared for war. Camp didn’t have any of the resources to take on an army at the time.

Thalia hesitated, and Percy was worried Luke managed to convince her. But he had no reason, pointing her spear at him. “I don’t even know you any more, Luke.”

“Think about what you’re doing. If you don’t join, we’ll be forced to kill you.” 

She glanced at Percy, who looked towards Zoë, the three of them sharing a single thought. Then, they attacked.

Thalia went straight for Luke, Zoë towards Artemis, and Percy clearly had a death wish as he attacked Atlas. The Titan laughed at him, and Percy only took a little bit of offense. His silk suit transformed into armor and a huge javelin appeared in his hand. 

Fuck it, Percy thought, and swung his sword at Atlas. He was almost instantly knocked back by the javelin, but Percy wasn’t in the business of giving up. Atlas had nearly every advantage, but his cockiness could work against him. Percy needed to work smarter, even if he could only bruise the Titan. 

“Fool!” he cried, still on the offense. “Did you think simply because you could challenge that petty war god, you’d be able to fight me ?”

“Well, yeah,” Percy muttered. He grabbed a knife from his side holster, definitely not confident in his abilities, but maybe he could use it at an inopportune time. Atlas attacked again, and Percy rolled out of the way, calling the water from the ocean below him. His demigod senses were working overtime, attempting to use three different weapons at once: his sword, his knife, and the water. He slashed at the exposed bits of armor with the knife as the water crashed into Titan, disorienting him. 

Atlas cursed, and continued on the offensive once again. Percy had managed a few drops of ichor, at the peak of the mountain. Percy went back to his preferred weapon, Riptide, and caught the javelin as it sliced like a scythe towards his face. 

In that moment, Riptide all of a sudden felt like lead, and Ares’ words came back to him. How many times will this curse affect me?

“Fucking Ares!” Percy cried once his sword flew out of his hand and off the mountain peak. He still had two celestial bronze daggers at his hips, but Percy knew as long as Ares cursed him, it wouldn’t work. 

He turned to Artemis, desperate. “Give me the sky.”

She looked astounded. “You’ll die.”

Percy shrugged. “Annabeth held it for over a day, I’ll be fine for 15 minutes. And if I’m not…” He felt Riptide return to his pocket and in a moment, made the split second decision. He uncapped the sword and cut Artemis’s chains off. 

She stared at him. “You might have a suicide wish.” Percy shrugged. It was surprisingly accurate. Nevertheless, she moved quickly, letting Percy slide next to her, both bearing the weight of the sky, before taking off. 

It was unbearable when he was sharing it, but my gods was it worse when he was alone. He felt like he was melting, turning into a pancake. His bones felt like they were on the verge of snapping, like he would cease to exist in a moment. He desperately wanted to give up, to let the sky fall and raze the earth, if he could only rest for a moment. 

Percy felt Grover’s voice in his head, telling him to hold on and fight back, and he tried to listen. His vision tinged red, and he could barely catch glimpses of the battle. Artemis fought like a beast, a blur of silver, moving with a grace Percy could only dream.

His eyes began to droop, his vision becoming hazy and he forced himself to focus. Zoë continued to shoot thousands of arrows at her father, tag teaming with Artemis. Thalia was advancing on Luke, lightning flashing all around them. She demanded he yield, but he refused, claiming he had improved a lot when she was a tree.

He was slipping, and Percy knew it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it up. Atlas was advancing on Artemis, continuing to pursue her. While Artemis was powerful, it was clear Atlas had strength for days after holding the sky for thousands of years.

Get ready , Artemis spoke in Percy’s mind, and he didn’t know what he was getting ready for—he could barely even think. 

Things went bad when Atlas feinted with his weapon, and managed to go in for the kill. Zoë screamed, jumping between the goddess and the Titan, shooting an arrow directly into her father’s head. He swept his hand, bellowing in rage, and sent Zoë flying into black rocks.

Distracted, Artemis managed to kick him once, sending Atlas slamming into Percy. He loosened his grip on the sky and let himself be pushed out of the way. The Titan screamed in rage as the full weight of the sky toppled on his back, but he could do nothing but hold it up.

Percy didn’t have the energy to smile, lounging as he observed the rest of the fight. Thalia had tears in her eyes as she backed Luke to the edge of the cliff, and Luke had a bloody slash against his chest. He was weaponless after she knocked his sword out of his hand. She hesitated, and he reached for her weapon. Instinctively, she twirled and kicked him off the cliff, causing Annabeth to scream in horror. 

The army began to advance on the group on the mountain, and they had no time to wait around like sitting ducks. Percy turned to Artemis, who had taken Zoë in her arms. The goddess was stricken with grief as her lieutenant’s breathing was becoming more shallow.

“The wound…is poisoned,” she said, her voice faint.

Percy remembered her fight against Ladon, the scrape she had endured, weakening her greatly. And still, without any hesitation she ran into battle against her father to protect Artemis.

“The stars,” Zoë murmured. “I cannot see them.”

Percy dug around in his pockets, looking for any nectar and ambrosia, but he had none, all of it left in the exploded car. He turned to Annabeth and Thalia, both looking worse for wear, but neither of them moved, the grief hanging in the air.

The army of monsters continued to advance on them, but they were stuck. Just then, Percy heard a strange noise, sounding almost like an electronic robot. He looked up, just in time to see a small electric fighter plane, guns full of celestial bronze bullets shooting down the army. He couldn’t see who was flying, but if they survived, he was going to get the lecture of his life.

He recognized that style from the Batcave. It wasn’t quite the Batplane, but close enough, and it was raining Hades down on the army of monsters. Annabeth and Thalia were looking up at the plane in confusion, but also gratefulness. It provided cover for the escape they desperately needed. That snapped Artemis out of her stupor, and she called for her silver chariot, securing them all in there and flying off the mountain. The plane with the mysterious pilot followed them like a guard dog.

They landed in Crissy Field, the plane landing behind the chariot. Percy braced himself for the lecture, but when the hatch opened, he saw a familiar Atlantean step out.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Percy said, in lieu of a greeting. “I thought you’d be Nightwing, or Hades forbid, Batman.”

“That’s some thank you, your highness,” Garth said, walking over to them, his armor vaguely glowing in the night sky.

Percy scoffed. “I told you not to call me that. It’s so embarrassing.”

“You are lucky that Nightwing was too busy to come after you, right now. I had to lie and say I was in the area after he got the alert that your code had been used. Figure out what you’re going to tell him, young prince.”

“Wait, what?” Thalia said, reminding Percy of their predicament. “You’re telling me that the house we raided was Batman’s house ? How are we still alive? How did you know about it?” she demanded.

“Well technically it was my brother’s house,” Percy admitted. 

“I thought you said Ares killed your brother?” 

Percy waved her off, “I don’t want to get into it.” He turned back to Garth, who was staring behind them, specifically at Artemis who was trying to bind Zoë’s wounds. 

They rushed over to help, but there wasn’t much to do, especially without medicine. Percy tried to reach inside him, to see if he could manipulate the poison out of her, but every time he thought he grasped the liquid, it fell from his grasp.

He turned to Garth, desperate for any help. The Atlantean’s tattoos were glowing for only a moment, but they stopped quickly. “I can’t isolate it. If I had gotten there immediately, maybe, but the poison is too deep within her,” Garth said, his voice solemn. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he said, softly to Artemis.

Zoë was shivering, and the faint glow that usually hung around her was fading. “Can you not do anything?” Percy asked, a desperation in his tone.

The goddess looked troubled. “Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do.” She sighed, “But I can try.”

She went to move and set her hand on Zoë’s side, but the huntress gripped her wrist, an understanding passing between them.

Percy caught on too late, looking down into Zoë’s silver eyes, as she continued to shiver. “You knew, didn’t you? That you would be the victim of the prophecy, killed at your parent’s hand. That’s why you brought Bianca, to take you place.”

Her smile was grim, regret shining in her eyes. “I had hoped she would be the one to take my place.” She took another shuddering breath, and Artemis’s hand tightened around her own. “Have I …. served thee well?” she whispered to the goddess.

“With great honor. The finest of my attendants.”

She smiled at Percy. “Perhaps not all men are terrible. Do you still have your sword, Percy?” He couldn’t speak,  but he managed to bring out Anaklusmos , placing the pen in her hand. “You spoke the truth, Perseus Jackson. You are nothing like Heracles. And I am honored that you carry this sword.”

A shudder ran through her body. “Stars, I can see the stars again.”

She did not move again.

Garth tightened his grip on Percy’s shoulder. Annabeth gulped down a sob, but her eyes were still watery with tears. Thalia lowered her gaze out of respect. Percy watched as Artemis spoke a few words in Ancient Greek, and a silvery wisp of smoke exhaled from Zoë’s lips and her body shimmered and disappeared. Artemis released another blessing, blowing the silver dust up to the sky, where it sparkled and vanished.

Nothing was different until he heard Annabeth’s gasp. In the stars, a brand new constellation—a girl’s figure, with a bow, running across the night sky.

***

There was no more time for grief or goodbyes, especially with Artemis’s presence required on Olympus immediately. “I will not be able to take you, but I will send help.”

She set her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “You are brave beyond measure, my girl. You will do what’s right.” Then Artemis turned to Thalia, who was reluctant to meet her gaze. There was a silent conversation between the two, but Percy wasn’t sure what it was about.

Artemis turned to Garth. “I’m not sure what an Atlantean is doing here.”

He smiled and bowed, gently. “A favor to a friend, my lady.” Garth gestured over to Percy, which turned the goddess’s attention onto the final demigod.

“And you did well,” she said. “For a man.”

She mounted her chariot and began to glow. They all looked away, and with a flash of silver, Artemis was gone.

Percy heard the sound of three large wings approaching, letting out a loud sigh of relief when he realized it was Blackjack and two other pegasi. “Hey!” Percy called, a smile crossing his face. “Can you get us to Olympus? And quick!”

No problem, boss! Blackjack said in his mind. Does the fish need a ride too?

Percy looked over at Garth, who was still standing with his arms crossed. The Atlantean sighed. “I’ll leave you to it. But I’m going underwater where your brother won’t kill me for not answering his messages immediately. You need to tell him something, young prince.”

He began to walk away, back towards the plane, and Percy called after him. “Thank you, Garth! But I’m not a prince!”

He waved and flew away in the small plane while Thalia, Annabeth, and Percy mounted their pegasi, soaring over the bay and towards the eastern hills, San Francisco only a crescent behind them.

Chapter Text

Blackjack and his friends flew the trio all the way to New York in record time. They landed on the 600th floor of the Empire State Building, where the festivities for the Winter Solstice were already in full swing. Demigods, nymphs, and minor gods were all having the time of their lives, riding chariots and dancing to the music played by lyres.

Percy knew he wouldn’t be able to enjoy solstice, especially with the summons to the throne room. He’d only been once before, after his first quest in retrieving Zeus’s lightning bolt. Whatever the king of the gods wanted with them, he was sure it wouldn’t be good.

The throne room was twelve enormous thrones forming a horseshoe around a central hearth. Near the fire, someone who looked like a young girl was stoking the flames, her eyes the intensity of a thousand flames. Even so, she smiled brightly at them, her very presence calming even with the ferocity of the Olympians on full display.

Contrary to his first visit on Olympus, where only Zeus and Poseidon were present, every single seat was occupied, the gods all 20 feet tall, staring at the demigods. Percy would’ve preferred fighting Kronos’s army of monsters rather than being at the mercy of all 12 Olympians.

Grover was on one side of the room, nerves permeating through the bond so loudly that Percy almost fell over from the sheer passion. Bessie was swimming happily in a sphere of water hovering in the middle of the room, enjoying the novelty of a magic bubble of water.

Percy gazed at all the gods as Grover rushed over, giving him a hug, muttering about how they couldn’t let the Olympians do something. They were all in their ancient garb, though with their own personal spins on them—Apollo covered in suns and wearing a laurel wreath, Hermes with a fur coat over his chiton, Percy’s own father adorned with pearls and seashells.

Artemis spoke first, shrinking to a human height and walking the inner boundary of the thrones, giving an explanation of the events which had occurred on Mount Othrys, and the rising Titan army on the west coast. “These half-bloods have done a great service for Olympus, have they not?” She took a human-like breath, and continued, “Would any here deny that?”

She glanced around the Olympians, all of whom were paying attention at various degrees. Zeus seemed to be listening deeply while Hermes was typing away on his phone and Apollo was wearing wireless earphones that were so small Percy nearly missed them. 

Still, he was the first one to break the silence. “I gotta say, these kids did okay.” He cleared his throat and began to recite: “Heroes win laurels—”

“All in favor of not disintegrating them?” Hermes said, interrupting Apollo’s attempt at a haiku.

Why was disintegration even on the table? Percy wondered. Did they not just save the goddess Artemis and delay Kronos’s attack on Olympus?

All of his thoughts must have been written on his face or pulsing through the empathy link, because Grover sent him calming emotions and Annabeth lightly grasped his arm, imploring him to calm down.

Ares interjected, ignoring the several arms raised to agree with Hermes’s words, pointing to Percy and Thalia. “These two are dangerous. And it’d be safer, while they’re here—”

“Ares,” Poseidon interrupted, “they are worthy heroes. We will not be blasting me son to bits.” Percy bit back a smile, and when Zeus said something similar about Thalia he saw her blush as well. Getting compliments from the gods, even their parents, were rare, especially for a forbidden child.

Athena was not following the same thought patterns as Zeus and Poseidon, claiming that there was a security risk with the two of them, especially with the Great Prophecy on the horizon. Ares fervently agreed with her, while Dionysus, called upon for his close proximity, acted indifferent.

“I will not have them punished,” Artemis said. “If we destroy heroes who do us a great favor, then we are no better than the Titans.”

Percy didn’t want to say what he was thinking about that statement, and he barely managed to keep his face neutral.

Zeus grumbled. “Perhaps. But the monster at least must be destroyed. We have an agreement on that.” There were a lot of nodding heads.

Percy looked over to where all the Olympians were staring at Bessie in the sphere of water. “Wait, Bessie? No!”

Poseidon frowned. “You named the Ophiotaurus Bessie? Why?”

Percy shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “It’s a cow name. He has a cow face. Wait, that’s not the point! He’s just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature who tried to save my life over the past few days. You can’t destroy him!”

The sea god shifted uncomfortably. “Percy, the monster’s power is considerable. If the Titans were to steal it, or—”

“But you can’t!” Percy insisted, eyeing both Poseidon and Zeus, unafraid of the utmost power between the two ancient gods. “Bessie—the Ophoiotaurus is an innocent creature who’s done nothing wrong but exist! Killing something out of fear, well…” Hook, “It’s like eating your children—” line , “—because of something they might do!” Percy examined the faces of the gods in front of them, Zeus in particular, who seemed to consider his words. 

“And what of the risk?” the king of the gods asked, his eyes drifting to his demigod daughter. “Kronos knows full well that if one of you were to sacrifice the beast’s entrails, you would have the power to destroy us. You will turn sixteen tomorrow, just as the prophecy says.”

Artemis spoke up, declaring that her faithful companion had passed into the stars, and that she needed to choose a new one, whispering something to Zeus that nobody could hear.

Percy felt a moment of panic, turning to Annabeth and remembering Thalia’s words a few days ago. He was desperate to stop Annabeth from joining the hunters. Maybe it was a little bit selfish, especially since immortality and traveling the world forever sounded mildly cool. The very notion of rarely seeing her, of Annabeth growing to hate him, made Percy want to flood the throne room, perhaps with his tears.

He turned to her, grabbing her arm lightly. “Annabeth, don’t,” he said under his breath. 

“What?” she asked, frowning.

Percy took a breath. “Listen. I need to tell you something.” The words were tumbling out before he could stop it. “I couldn’t stand it if—”

“Percy? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

He was definitely going to be sick. If Annabeth left, along with everyone else in his life, Percy didn’t know what he would do, how he would cope. But he couldn’t find the words to tell her that, his stomach churning too much to say anything else.

Artemis finally turned back to the throne room. “I shall have a new lieutenant, if she will accept it. Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Will you join the hunt?”

There was stunned silence, and Percy felt his jaw drop as that was not what he was expecting at all.

She took a deep breath. “I will.” She stared at Zeus, intensity and resolve in her eyes. “I will not turn sixteen tomorrow. I will never turn sixteen. I won’t let this prophecy be mine and Kronos will never tempt me again.” She knelt before Artemis, reciting the words of the oath.

When her oath was completed, she hugged Annabeth, and then Percy, surprising them both, before going to stand next to Artemis.

“Still,” Zeus said, regaining everyone’s attention, “There is the matter of the Ophiotaurus—”

“The boy is still dangerous,” Dionysus warned, and ouch . He’s seen how much of a disaster Percy is at camp. “The beast is a temptation to great power, and even if we spare the boy, the temptation—”

“I’m only fourteen,” Percy insisted. “If this prophecy is about me, then that’s two more years to—”

“Two more years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena interrupted, her gray eyes staring into Percy’s soul. He barely suppressed a shiver. “Much can change in two years, young hero. It would be safer to end him and be done with it.”

“Well, logically speaking, killing me or Bessie wouldn’t solve anything, maybe delay everything a few decades.” Percy took a breath, preparing for the worst. “Everyone knows that avoiding prophecies never works, and you can’t control the Fates. Look at Harry Potter—” he ignored Annabeth’s gasp and continued “—look at Oedipus. Di immortales, look at dear old Grandpa K eating his children to avoid being overthrown. Time and time again, in every story, trying to avoid a prophecy only speeds up the process.”

He was breathing heavily, watching as all the Olympians watched him, their eyes curious and contemplative.

Annabeth had a look of confusion on her face and asked in a low tone, “You read Harry Potter?”

Percy cracked a smile. “My bro—Jason read it to me.” He shook his head, clearing the thoughts, “It doesn’t matter.”

He thought he saw Thalia perk up at the name Jason, but she controlled herself in a second, looking at Zeus once then back at Artemis.

While Zeus still seemed to be contemplating, Poseidon stood up, the sound of waves permeating through the throne room. “I will not have a sea creature destroyed if I can help it. And I will help it! I will vouch for my son and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You cannot take it under the sea!” Zeus stood up, electricity crackling. “I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession, especially considering your history!”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon’s energy seemed drained as he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“You’d think there would be some brotherly love when their evil father is on the verge of killing all of them and ending civilization as we know it,” Percy muttered, mostly to himself.

Annabeth, however, definitely heard the sly remarks. “Do you not regularly treat Tim the same way?”

Percy scoffed, hoping that while the gods bickered amongst themselves, they wouldn’t hear the side conversations. “He’s not my brother.”

“Wasn’t he at your house like before the sun rose?” Annabeth asked. “And if the statistics are accurate, he’ll become your brother sooner rather than later. Bruce Wayne has a pattern of adopting kids with similar features to him. A few years ago, I would’ve assumed he’s taking back his biological children after they’re orphaned, but you throw that theory out of the widow.” She sighed. “Anyways, you should relate to them.”

Percy blinked. “I hate you.”

She smiled, staring back at him. “No you don’t.”

She was right, he didn’t hate her. He could never hate her.

Percy refocused on the arguing gods, just in time for Zeus to continue to yell. “And what if you use the beast to overthrow me ?” Zeus asked incredulously, his voice booming in the throne room. 

“You try to overthrow a guy once and he never lets it go,” Poseidon muttered, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I don’t care how long ago it was! You cannot be trusted!

“Fine!” Poseidon through his hands up in the air. “We will build an aquarium for the creature here, and Hephaestus will help. me. My son will not betray us and I vouch for this, on my honor.”

Zeus was frowning, but he still called for a vote, and Percy was surprised when a majority of the Olympians chose to believe in Poseidon.

***

Percy got a few congratulations after the vote for his survival and his success on the quest, but he didn’t know how to react to most of them. He put on his best “Perseus Wayne at a gala” face, dreading every conversation with the deities who could kill him with a flick of their fingers. Hermes was one of the gods who came up to him, in his stupid furs and glasses, someone who was way too cheerful considering it was his (favorite) son who had put them all in this predicament to begin. Percy didn’t care to inform him of the fact, or let him know that Luke was definitely dead after falling off a cliff. He’d find out soon enough.

Apollo came up to him as well, telling Percy he could drive his sun chariot anytime and offering archery lessons. His smile was blinding, and the god was the pinnacle of beauty. Percy tried to brush him off, explaining his absolute failure at archery, but Apollo wasn’t having any of it. 

“Target practice from the best chariot as we fly over the U.S.? Best fun there is!” he continued with a sly wink, and Percy felt his cheeks redden as he made excuses and wove through the crowd, looking for Annabeth.

“We took a great risk for you,” a harsh voice said behind him, startling the demigod. Percy turned to see a goddess with eyes that looked way too much like Annabeth’s.

“Athena,” Percy acknowledged, trying to not sound resentful, but he feared it was lost with his tone. He tried to calm his breathing, but it wasn’t going well.

She smiled, her expression similar to Annabeth’s, but it held none of her warmth. “Do not judge me too harshly, half-blood. Wise counsel is not always popular, but I spoke the truth, as you are dangerous.”

Percy frowned. “I thought my logic was sound as well,” he shrugged. “Besides, have you never taken a risk before?”

Athena nodded, wryly. “I concede to your points. Smarter than I would have assumed for a child of the sea. You may turn out useful, but your fatal flaw may destroy us all, as well as yourself.”

Percy remembered Annabeth’s flaw as she told him: extreme hubris, but he was unsure of his own. If he asked Bruce, the man would probably say something like excessive force and violence, but that wasn’t confirmation. 

“Kronos knows your flaw, even if you do not,” she stated, soundly. “He’s manipulated you already. Your mother was taken from you, then the boy you learned to call brother and your friend Grover. Now, my daughter, Annabeth.” Athena paused, a frown on. her face. “The safety and deaths of your loved ones are used to lure you into Kronos’s traps. Your fatal flaw is personal loyalty, Percy. You do not know when to cut your losses. You would sacrifice the world to save a friend, and that is a dangerous quality to possess.”

Percy couldn’t stop himself from flinching, replaying her words and his actions over the past few years. He didn’t have an argument against her, and it frustrated him to no end.

He took a moment to think, before smiling, “I’ll do everything I can to save both the world and the lives of my friends, even if it costs me my own,” he said finally.

The goddess hummed. “I hope the Council’s decisions prove wise. But I will be watching you, Perseus Jackson, I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter. And should you ever waver in your loyalties….” she trailed off, her threat implicit. Athena stared at him with her cold gray eyes, and Percy barely managed to not pass out from fear, seeing the war goddess as she was, a dangerous enemy should she ever choose to make you one.

“Percy!” Annabeth called, running through the crowd. Athena broke eye contact and Percy released a breath, finally. Annabeth stopped when she saw the tension between the two. “Oh… Mom….”

“I will leave you. For now.” Athena strode away, the crowds parting around her.

After a moment of silence, Annabeth finally spoke up. “Was she giving you a hard time?”

He smiled, “No, it’s fine,” Percy lied.

Annabeth didn’t look like she believed him, studying Percy with concern. She reached out and touched a new streak of gray in his hair, one that matched the gray braids framing her face—a painful souvenir from holding Atlas’s burden.

“We match,” he said, reaching out to touch her own gray, and Annabeth smiled.

“We do.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, gazing at each other, and Percy was sure his face was as red as a tomato.

“So, what did you want to tell me earlier?” Annabeth asked, finally.

Percy smiled, finally finding his courage. “Uh, we never did get to finish our dance at Westover Hall.”

She smiled slowly, her eyes lighting up for the first time in days. “All right, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy took her hand, leading her in a slow dance, ignoring the quick beating of his heart.

***

The conflicting feelings warring within Percy made him feel insane. The quest, while technically a success, was also a definite disaster, with two deaths forcing his guilt to reel up immediately. What he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and hide from the world for the next month, but that was impossible, and he was working hard to compartmentalize. He wondered if this was how Bruce felt whenever he returned from a neverending Justice League mission, maybe one where he lost some lives. But Percy wasn’t in the mood to compare himself to the big bad Batman, especially when his secret life was hanging on by a thread. Bruce might just break his “no killing” rules if he found out the truth about anything.

It might happen soon, with the car he stole from an old Titan safehouse in Jump City, that surely had trackers on every inch of the vehicle, or the very presence of Rachel Dare at the Hoover Dam. That wasn't even mentioning Garth’s air presence by Mount Othrys, and his attendance for Zoë’s death, her body shimmering and dissipating into the stars. If Dick got his hands on Garth so soon, Percy was sure he’d be able to make the Atlantean talk, or trick him for the needed information.

With this quest, it truly felt like everything was changing, like the war for control of Olympus was on the horizon. The prophecy would fall on his shoulders, he knew, and it was up to him to save the world. 

Definitely not a good feeling to have.

After his dance with Annabeth, who, to his dismay, was still a few inches taller than him, and the craziest shovel talk (could it be called a shovel talk they were only friends) of his life from Athena, Percy was worn out with the festivities of the solstice. He was unwilling to leave without Annabeth, who looked to be busy with Thalia, but desperately he wanted to go to camp, or maybe even back to Gotham.

Percy was standing on the sidelines, leaning against a column and observing the floor with a keen bat-sense, sipping his goblet of blue cherry coke when his father came up to him. He had been gazing at a very familiar looking person, someone who he had seen in photos on the Batcave.

Poseidon sauntered over to Percy, smiling and surprising the demigod. “You’ve made me proud, Percy.”

He gulped. “Oh, um, thanks?” Percy wasn’t sure what to say. He certainly wasn’t aiming to make Poseidon proud, moreso just save his friends and survive. Dam, Athena was really correct about that fatal flaw.

Posiedon nodded, “Your friend, Luke—”

Percy scoffed. “He is not my friend.” He realized his attitude and rudeness. “Uh, sorry.”

His father continued to smile, despite the interruption. “Your former friend Luke, then. He once aimed to only make his own father proud. But have caution, as even the bravest can fall.”

“He fell pretty hard. He must be dead.”

The god shook his head. “No, Percy. He’s not.”

Percy stared at him, mouth dropping. “How the fu—?” He took a breath. “He literally fell like a thousand feet off a cliff!”

Poseidon shrugged. “Powers perhaps we are not privy to. Even so, he will retreat with the remains of Kronos and regroup before attacking you again. I will do my best to destroy his boat, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. There may not be much we can do but wait and fight when the time comes.”

Percy pondered his words, wishing they weren’t true. Annabeth’s intuition about Luke was the same as his own about her, and he did not like that comparison. His eyes drifted away from his father and around Olympus when he caught sight of Wonder Woman again, and he was unable to control the spike of nerves crawling up his throat. With her was Donna Troy, Wondergirl, looking nervous and out of place. He hoped he could avoid them, or at the very least, they’d not want to interrogate him and report their findings back to Bruce.

“Diana, huh?” he asked, deliberately ignoring the clear elephant in the room, the anger that Percy wasn’t subtle in showing. “Wonder Woman, and her little protégé. I believe they’re both quite famous in the mortal world. Would you like to meet them?”

Absolutely not . “Sure,” Percy shrugged. Why did he say that?

Poseidon marched him over to the member of the Justice League, and the Titan (which seemed like an inappropriate name now considering the imminent war between Olympus and the Ancient Titan) who was speaking with her half-brother, Hermes looking way too pleased in his glasses which Percy knew for a fact were fake.

Percy remembered Annabeth’s speech on the Justice League hero, when he first informed her of his new living situation. 

“She shows up to solstices but never when it actually matters. I think half of it is righteous rage at her unwillingness to work with demigods, the other half pure jealousy, and I understand it. She’s the daughter of the king and should have the most powerful scent, and yet monsters leave her alone. She’s immortal and will likely never be harmed by anything that’ll eventually kill all of us. It’s rather infuriating.”

Percy tried to not let the obvious disdains show, especially with the pain of the last week, the last few years. On the other hand, he knew Donna a lot more personally—she taught him that sick sword move and was the only one in the mortal world who was willing to engage in swordplay—but she didn’t know anything about him, obviously, other than that he was Dick’s little brother who had too much teenage angst.

His father made the appropriate introductions, Percy almost retreating into himself, but forcing himself to stand tall. He stared at her, apprehensively, even as the all-powerful, somehow immortal demigoddess smiled down at him. Donna was a step behind her, looking confused beyond belief at the turn of events, and he couldn’t blame her.

Princess Diana of Themyscira looked like a goddess, classical beauty that looked like it should be sculpted into a statute to watch over him forever. She, like many of the others, were dressed for the occasion of the solstice, a floor length traditional white dress and her dark hair cascading down her back in waves. Her dark eyes felt like she would pierce into his soul as she stared down at Percy.

“You’re Bruce’s kid, aren’t you?” she said, holding her hand out to shake, and Percy was looking for every excuse not to take it. With a nudge from Poseidon, he grasped it, not surprised by the calluses surely caused by consistent swordplay.

With her words, Percy peered at Poseidon, hoping he didn’t look as jealous as he knew gods could be, especially when it came to adoption. When Olympus didn’t immediately rumble because of an earthquake, he agreed. “Sure.”

“Apologies for not introducing myself earlier. I simply haven’t had the time to return to Gotham for the past few years.

Percy hummed, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep his body language loose, though it didn’t seem to be working.

“You don’t like me?” she phrased it as a question, but by the look on her face, she knew the answer.

“I don’t think any of us do.”

“Perseus!” Poseidon hissed. His father wasn’t smiling anymore, but Percy had trouble caring if he ruffled any feathers. It had been a terrible week, all things considered, and he didn’t mind neither Poseidon nor Diana’s anger, especially when he’d just dueled with a Titan and held up the sky. 

He was feeling a bit invincible at the moment.

She laughed, quiet and boisterous at once. Her eyes crinkled with the chuckles, and Percy felt surprised with her lack of offense, which is exactly what he was going for. “Do you mind if we go for a walk, young prince?” she asked. Her question was directed to both Percy and his father, and when Poseidon nodded, she lightly grasped his arm, directing him away from the crowds. Donna followed for a moment, before splitting off, surely so she would not be left alone with his father. 

“There are some rumours about me that are floating around the other demigods, are there not?” she asked, her voice light and airy, no concern to be found, as they marched through a garden full of ancient vines and plants.

Percy scowled. “A few.”

She hummed, “Perhaps that I have abandoned those like me, to seek a life of comfort in the world of man. It wouldn't be the first time someone has hurled those accusations at me. And it will certainly not be the last.”

“Why?” Percy asked. “If you know those rumors, why don’t you get involved? Do you know how many of us die each year? Two just in the past week on this deadly quest! Aren’t you supposed to be a hero ?” He spat out the word like it was poison.

Her face changed, from something soft and amazed to pained, eyes like one who had seen thousands of wars before in her lifetime—and maybe she had.

“Well, we’re very different, Perseus,” she said, and he fought a scowl, ready to interrupt, before Diana held a hand up calmingly, stopping his assault. “I do not mean that as an insult, cousin. I was created untraditionally, so I do not have the same limitations as your fellow demigods. Not to mention that my father has forbidden me from interacting too much with the other side of my family.”

“And you listen to Zeus?” he retorted.

She laughed, and Percy was definitely becoming annoyed with that sound that was imprinted on his brain. “I heard you like to challenge the Olympians, but it is amusing to see it firsthand. It is not that simple. While some of the time I respect my father, other times I wish I could save everyone. He has physically and magically hidden the scents of demigods from me, as well as the location of your camp. I could not help unless he and Lady Hecate lifted the magic clouding my sight. And as we are at war with the goddess of magic, I do not see that happening anytime soon.” 

Diana sighed, her breaths heavy, before continuing. “And after all of these years, I begin to realize what is at stake if I were to interact often. I remain a public figure in the mortal world, with people like Batman, your father, always watching me, making sure I do not cause mayhem. While we have a respectful relationship, that is true, the Olympians will not entrust paranoid individuals like Bruce with the information of their existence, and the existence of their children.”

He took in the information, trying to believe her. All Percy managed to say was, “Batman isn’t my father.”

“Nevertheless,” she smiled, “It would be dangerous. While the Olympians typically do not care if you reveal their existence to fellow humans—it increases their worshippers after all—someone like Batman would be completely different.”

Percy stared at her, remembering who Bruce was to his core, a paranoid man.

Diana’s smile widened. “Yes, he’d create a thousand contingency plans on how to take down the gods. Whether they’d be successful, I could not say. But I do believe that he wouldn’t appreciate every single creature from our world, and want to choose to study or threaten them. I love Bruce, most of the time, but he has a need to be in control of everything all the time.”

Percy snorted, and she grasped his shoulder. Surprisingly, Percy didn’t flinch away from her touch, instead staring into Diana’s eyes.

“I promise you,” she said, her voice quiet and harmonious, but full of assurance. “If you call for me in an emergency, I will be there. And when the time for war comes, I will be honored to fight alongside you.”

***

Percy was pulled towards the edge of Olympus by Diana, her hand lightly grasping the top of his arm as they gazed around. Off to one side, Percy saw Aphrodite leaning into Ares, giggling, and he couldn’t help the scowl that blossomed on his face at the very sight of the war god.

If only there were an ocean.

”You are quite angrily gazing at my least favorite brother,” Diana said, interrupting Percy’s attempt to glare lasers at the god.

“He deserves it.”

“I won’t disagree,” Diana said. “I have challenged him to duel many times before, as he can act as war incarnate without care. But you have a personal conflict with him, do you not?”

Percy’s nostrils flared. “He’s the reason my brother is dead.” He didn’t look at Diana to see that she had stiffened, her own glare turning cold as well. Her hand was resting on his shoulder and tightened slightly around the muscle, if only for a second.

She took a deep breath before asking, “How do you figure that, young demigod?”

He tore his eyes away from the happy couple, focusing on her solemn expression before he started his story. In as little detail as possible, Percy explained his quest to find the master bolt when he was 12, and his duel with Ares on the Santa Monica beach. Diana nodded along, as if she had already heard the story before, and for all Percy knew, she had.

“Ares cursed me after I drew blood,” he explained. “That my sword would always fail me in times when I needed it most. I shook it off for the most part…” Percy took a deep breath, refusing to let the tears glow on Olympus, with the audience of dozens of gods and nature spirits. “Until the incident in Gotham.”

She nodded, sympathetic. “I would assume that you think you had an opportunity to catch the Joker, but the curse weakened you in the most important moment.”

Percy sniffled and looked away, his head nodding once before it hung in shame. He inadvertently balled his fists near his hips, though it went unnoticed until Diana’s warm hand lightly grazed his thumb, attempting to loosen his muscles.

“You won’t believe me, but there was nothing you could do to help him.”

“But—”

She shook her head. “It is a lesson I have had to learn many times. If Thanatos is coming, there’s nothing that can stop him, no matter how hard we fight. Your curse, your presence would not have stopped that vile man from escaping your fight. He was determined to hurt your family, and he would’ve found a way. To blame yourself isn’t healthy, and it isn’t what Jason would’ve wanted.”

Percy looked in her eyes, for the first time that evening, and found nothing but sincerity and pain. He pondered her words, letting them wash over him. Percy wasn’t sure if he could believe her, but maybe she was slowly changing his beliefs on her character. 

He changed the subject. “I tried to attack him a few days ago.”

She cracked a smile. “And I’m assuming that didn’t go well.”

“No.”

“Speak with uncle, as I see this has been affecting you greatly. Perhaps a conversation with a spirit will put your own soul at peace, if even for a second.” She looked across the room again, where Hades, dressed in the darkest silks he’d ever seen, was twirling a beautiful goddess covered in flowers to the music. Percy assumed that was Persephone, his wife. For a story that began with kidnapping, they looked awfully happy together, Percy noticed.

He wasn’t sure if it would help, however. Percy knew that his anger wasn’t only the result of Jason’s death, but of Bruce’s handling of it afterwards. He wasn’t desperate to be a vigilante anymore, or to take on the Robin mantle, especially with Jason gone, but it boiled his blood that Bruce went from grieving to the point of blaming Percy to giving the rich kid next door the Robin mantle. He told Diana as much.

“Bruce…he is wrong about many things often.”

Percy snorted. “Isn’t that the truth.”

She smiled, her hand on his shoulder. “I disagree with him about numerous different things, but still he is one of the smartest people I know, even when he makes dumb decisions.” She sat down on a bench, Percy taking a seat next to her. She looked ethereal in the moonlight, and Percy definitely felt like he needed a shower—it had been days since he last had one.

“His no-kill rule, I fear, will get him in trouble one day. I don’t pretend to understand the difficulties of protecting a city like Gotham, so I choose to not comment on his goals,” she sighed. “But he needs a Robin, desperately. And from what I understand, he didn’t necessarily choose the new one, but he knocked on the door and demanded the mantle, because he thought he was saving him.”

Percy stared at her, his jaw on the floor. That was ballsy (but it didn’t make him like Tim, out of principle of course). He hadn’t been told that by any of the Waynes. Sure, he hadn’t given any of them a chance over the past few months, but still. 

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

“I believe Bruce told Kal, who told me.”

Percy hummed to himself, wondering if he was the last to know. He wouldn’t let this get him down, however. There were more important things to worry about, after all.

Diana rose from her seat while Percy contemplated quietly, as graceful as ever. “If you have no other questions, I’m sure Donna has many for you.” She gestured over to her partner, who was storming over to them, her dark hair loosening from the braid it was pinned back in, and indignation written all over her face.

“What the hell? You’re a demigod! I thought they were practically extinct and there’s been one under my nose this entire time!” Percy’s eyes wandered the hall, glad that all the gods and spirits were too caught up in their own festivities and debauchery to notice Donna Troy interrogating him. “So it was you who took my emergency celestial bronze from the safe house! No one else should have been able to open the safe, but Diana assured me that it was nothing to worry about.

“Does Nightwing know?” She gasped. “Does Garth? Is this why you’re so good at swordplay when I know for a fact Batman doesn’t teach anybody the art?”

Percy sighed. He hoped that he’d be able to return to camp, but apparently he needed to appease Donna. Garth never had this many questions about everything, and he was beginning to miss the chaotic Atlantean.

Chapter Text

The past week had been…tumultuous to say the least. And Percy didn’t even want to think about the 12 hours he had spent at camp, which had somehow been just as bad as watching the Olympians debate whether he should be killed. 

Nico…he’d figure out what to do about Nico sooner or later. Percy wanted to help him, but he didn’t know how. Zeus knows that when he first learned about Jason, he didn’t want to hear it from anyone, especially the ones he found responsible. But Percy couldn’t focus on any of that when he had Hades to answer back in Gotham, or even worse, a curious Bruce.

Percy’s next biggest challenge would be facing Bruce again, and by the gods did he not want to. He could stay at camp for an indefinite amount of time, until he eventually died at age 16, but he had promised Garth that he would explain to Dick why he had been in that safe house in California.

Percy’s return to the Wayne Manor was anything but victorious. Of course, there were a few things to celebrate, but mostly, his life was a disaster at the moment. 

Whether or not they were surprised to see Percy, he didn’t know. He’d broken into a Titans safe house a few days ago and stolen necessary supplies, and now Bruce, Tim, Dick, and Alfred were all hovering by the doorway when Percy reappeared.

He plastered on a smile, one he was sure didn’t quite meet his eyes. Percy knew he looked different, a bright streak of gray in his hair, that he would have to convince them was a fancy dye instead of trauma, and hope they didn’t notice its presence for the rest of his life. There were also new scars blossoming on his skin, a result of the constant battles he fought against ancient deities. Atlas had left a nasty one on his upper right shoulder, one that wouldn’t heal right away, even in the shower, but luckily it was nearly always covered.

Percy didn’t even have time to attempt to get his key off his necklace, the place he kept it when questing, because the door was already swinging open when he reached the top step.

Alfred was dressed in a pristine suit, his white dress shirt crisp and perfectly peeking out from behind his coat. Dick was wearing…gods know what he was wearing, with his short-shorts and crop top, like he was ready to workout at any moment, Bruce and Tim both in similar gear, though much less scandalous. All of them were staring him down, like he was a figment of their imagination.

“Hi,” Percy said, slowly lowering his arm which had been sitting at waist length, positioned right next to the doorknob. “I’m back.”

It was quiet for a moment, before there was a bombardment of questions from Dick and Tim. Dick pulled him inside, wrapping his arms around Percy in the tightest hug. His eyes bulged out of his face at the sheer ferocity of it, and barely managed to return the affection. 

He pulled back, staring at Percy with worry ripe in his eyes. “Where the hell were you? And why did I get the notification of someone with your call name breaking into an old Titan safe house in Marin?”

He winced. “Technically I didn’t break in if you told me where it was and gave me access,” Percy defended.

“Might I suggest we continue this conversation away from the front door?” Alfred said. “Perhaps in the den.”

Dick nodded, agreeing, and with his hands on Percy’s shoulders, began to direct him to the den. Alfred excused himself to the kitchen, saying something about preparing snacks, while Dick continued to manhandle Percy onto a couch. 

“Thank god you’re back. I thought you’d run away again,” Dick said, his arms still around Percy. He pulled back a moment later. “Where did you go? Why did you go?”

Tim was nodding in agreement, and when Percy glanced over to Bruce, he looked onward quietly, not saying anything. It was unusual for him to not be asking questions and demanding answers, and Percy said as much. 

Bruce looked uncomfortable, an almost unnoticeable glance at Dick before he said. “I’m glad you’re home, chum. Even though I want to know everything, I want to make sure you’re safe first.”

Percy blinked, once, then twice. “Have you been possessed or something?”

Dick snorted, both he and Tim watching the scene unfold before them. Bruce twitched in his chair facing the couch Percy was sitting on. “No…”

“So you aren’t desperate to know where I’ve been for the past week?”

He twitched again, his face going through a thousand emotions, and opened his mouth, but Tim beat him to it.

“He may not, but I do! Where were you? What about those friends that came to the manor? What happened to the car you took? Why did you need a second car in San Francisco? I’ve spent hours searching through footage, but I can’t make out any specifics! And—”

Percy forced himself to not knock him unconscious, trying to remember what Diana said the night before. But by the gods did Tim’s incessant amount of questions drive him crazy. Dick placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, halting his speech, turning to Percy with the same inquisitive look in his eyes.

He scoffed, “As if you haven’t run away to start a superhero team before?”

Dick raised a brow, “Is that what you were doing? Starting a superhero team? You can join mine, if you feel the need so badly.”

Percy scowled. “Of course I wasn’t starting a superhero team. I’m not you .”

The older vigilante had the audacity to look offended, and Percy felt guilty, just a little bit. Alfred took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to bring out a tray of blue chips and salsa, with a tea pot and four cups, ready for pouring.

Dick was still frowning. “You left on a Saturday morning, before anyone was awake, and ended up god knows where, on Thursday evening you were on the West Coast, in a nearly abandoned safehouse with two other girls, taking a car, a few weapons, and raiding the pantry.”

“Yes, that is true and accurate,” Percy said. “This feels like a weak interrogation,” he was smirking. “Do you have any real questions?”

Tim spluttered, his jaw dropped, and he turned to Dick, who looked angry at Percy for the first time in months. Every interaction with Dick since Jason died was pitiful, but this was something new entirely. 

“Yes!” Dick exclaimed. “Where were you and why?”

Percy sighed, “I went on a road trip with some friends, Annie ended up getting kidnapped again , so we went on a cross country adventure to save her, only to find out that her pseudo-brother who joined a cult kidnapped her and was trying to recruit her.”

There was another bout of silence, before, “What do you mean a cult?”

“Who is Annie? Kidnapped again? Like when you were kidnapped a few years ago?”

“Why on earth did you not call for help?” Bruce asked, pain written evidently on his face. “We have resources and allies on every part of the world, so why did you feel the need to go about this on your own?”

Dick and Tim looked from Bruce, to Percy, who was trying to keep his face neutral, to not say what he was feeling. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t sure if he could trust Bruce anymore, that this secret was too big for him to know, especially with his actions over the past few months.

Instead, he said nothing and remained quiet.

Percy sighed. “Do you guys have any more questions or can we get on with my punishment?” He rubbed at his eyes, staring down at Bruce who looked at him imperceptibly. “Am I grounded until I graduate? Am I forbidden from touching water? I can take it.”

Bruce relaxed his posture, leaning forward in the chair. “I’m not going to punish you.”

Percy blinked, and glanced over at Dick and Tim, also staring at Bruce silent, jaws dropped. “What?” he asked.

“I agree. What?” Dick added.

Bruce looked as relaxed as a stressed out super detective could look. He swelled before saying, “I wish you had come to us first, but I understand why you didn’t. Your friend was in trouble, and you went after her. Everyone here would’ve done something similar. And whatever you put us through, Dick did twice as much harm to my stress years ago.”

“Hey!”

“Have you been replaced with a clone or a robot?” Percy asked. “Or are you finally going to speak with a therapist? Should we get the league to check you out? Are you really a clay face?”

His face twitched. “No, none of that.” Bruce took a deep breath, “I don’t want to lose you, and I’m willing to meet you halfway, I suppose.”

Percy blinked, staring at him, then glancing over at Dick and Tim, both of whom were pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say. Bruce was putting in effort, which was something he hadn’t seen from him in years, but Percy wasn’t sure if he was even close to ready to forgive Bruce. Every time he looked at him, he couldn’t forget the anger and disappointment after Jason’s death, the way Bruce blamed him, no matter how understandable it was. He wasn’t ready to let go of the ire of his own colors and Jason’s colors being taken away, Percy having absolutely nothing after Jason died.

And while Percy was angry, he began to recognize it as irrational. If Bruce was trying, then shouldn’t Percy try as well. He thought back to his mom, taken from him too soon, who was overly forgiving. Maybe he should channel her.

But he was also Poseidon’s son, the god who hunted Odysseus for ten years, who tortured him at every avenue. Forgiveness was difficult.

Percy wasn’t ready. It was too soon. He’d get there eventually.

Percy was not looking forward to the gala. The last time he’d been to one, Jason was still alive and Percy could at least pretend to be happy. It hadn’t yet been a year since his death, and while Dick and Bruce were doing remarkably better, Percy still felt stuck, slowly sinking like he’d been caught in quicksand.

Before, the galas Bruce hosted were in honor of orphans in Gotham, his parents, or other issues in the city. Now, they were all dedicated to Jason, which was another stab to Percy’s heart that was barely beating. On one hand, none of the rich people knew Jason at all—they all saw the Waynes as adopted street rats Bruce took in to assuage his own guilt and trauma. On the other side, at least kids from the Narrows and Crime Alley would get some gifts in the New Year.

His anxiety about the upcoming gala doubled when he remembered that a certain ginger would be there demanding answers, not to mention that she apparently knew that Bruce was Batman— how did so many people know about that ? Percy hoped that whatever illness was ailing her a few days ago was keeping her down, and that she wouldn’t show up and expose everything to Bruce.

Gods, he hoped Clark didn’t show up again—Superman would have the ability to listen in to every single one of their conversations, and maybe Bruce would instruct him to do so in order to figure out everything about Percy.

Or maybe Diana would show up; she’d been known to peruse galas before, especially as a representative of the different museums she worked with. Then he’d really be fucked.

Percy found himself praying, for the first time in a year. He hadn’t burned offerings in ages, as after Jason’s death he felt a bit lost and angry towards the gods. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was everything he had gone through over the past week, but his intuition told him it would help.

Luckily, this time Percy knew what to expect. Was he still scared as fuck about everything that could possibly go wrong? Of course. But he knew who to stay near and who to avoid. (Unfortunately, his list of people to avoid had increased exponentially from last year, especially because Rachel had moved onto it.)

He arrived with the family, all of them dressed perfectly, his first official outing since…well since everything that had happened in the past year. They had all been out of the public spotlight, Bruce especially to the surprise (and reluctant understanding) of everyone in Gotham. He didn’t immediately split off, hovering near Dick, eyeing the ballroom for threats—and for Rachel, he really hoped she didn’t show.

His wishes were not granted by any genie ( Did genies exist? Percy would figure that out at some point. ) because as soon as they made eye contact, she immediately made her way over to them. Percy stifled a groan.

“Wayne,” Rachel greeted, still covered in paint stains. Percy didn't know how she managed to always have paint on her, if Alfred saw him like that at a gala, he’d be waterboarded, maybe literally since he cannot physically drown.

“Dare,” Percy said in the same tone. Dick and Tim were next to him, physically vibrating at the interaction, and he was certain he’d be teased later. Percy shot the two a look, hoping to tell them to disappear. But if there was one thing Dick made sure to be was annoying older brother, which was ridiculous. Percy wasn’t this annoying around Tyson or Tim, a tad homicidal, sure, but not embarrassing and annoying.

“Rachel Dare,” Dick said, flashing his pearly whites, “Is there something I sense in the air between the two?”

Percy groaned while Tim snickered. “Go away, and never come back.”

Rachel Elizabeth Dare, it seemed, was something of an angel, smiling serenely at the two of them. “We were actually planning our elopement. I’d invite you, but then it’d feel too much like an actual wedding.”

Scratch that, Rachel Elizabeth Dare was a menace to society, Percy thought to himself.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” she grabbed Percy’s wrist, hauling him away, “We need to practice for the wedding night.” 

He watched as both Dick and Tim’s jaws dropped, the two of them completely gobsmacked. 

Dick began to sputter out, “Y-you can’t. He’s fourteen!”

“Calm down, bird boy, she makes bad jokes!” Percy said, letting himself be maneuvered around the outskirts of the dance hall, towards the hallway for some privacy.

“I mean, I knew that, but it’s still something shocking!” Tim called out, and Percy ignored it, his footsteps quickening as Rachel pulled him away from the rich partygoers and onto a balcony that was completely empty.

“I think you’re going to give Dick a heart attack and send him to the hospital,” Percy remarked, staring at the sky. Like always, Gotham was gray and covered in smog, the ability to see stars nearly impossible. He wanted to search for Zoë, her sacrifice still raw, but she too was completely hidden.

She shrugged. “Pretty boy over there will be fine.”

He squinted. “Pretty boy?”

Rachel laughed, “Yeah. Because all the Waynes have unnatural genes.” She stared at him, reaching her hand up to pinch his cheek. “Very pretty.”

Percy felt his cheeks warm and his tongue tie up. “Oh, um—”

Rachel laughed, again, this time it was louder and more boisterous. “Calm down there, Jackson. I’m just here to figure out your deepest darkest secrets.”

“That’s almost worse!” he squeaked.

She rolled her eyes, sitting on the ground, back to the railing, watching the party. “Are you going to tell me why you tried to kill me with a sword at the Hoover Dam?”

He sat next to her, crossing his legs. “I didn’t really try to kill you,” he defended. “I thought you were one of those skeleton monsters!”

“Hm,” she hummed, but said nothing else, so Percy continued.

“What do you know about Greek mythology?”

She blinked. “Um, like the Hercules movie?”

Percy groaned, “Do not get me started on Heracles. Apparently, he got my friend disowned from her family, so much that her dad killed her a week ago.”

Rachel stared at him, silently for a moment, her blinking rapid. “A week ago?”

He sighed. “So all the Greek myths are true.”

“That makes so much sense! That explains the flying horses and the constant people with only one eye that I see walking around. Oh, but what does that have to do with you? And do you know Hercules?”

“I’m a demigod,” Percy explained. “My biological father’s a god. And if I ever meet Heracles I’m going to punch him in the face.”

“Even though he’s, like, super strong?”

“Hey, if I can make Ares bleed, then I can take on Heracles. Maybe. If I’m in an ocean.”

Rachel stared at Percy, grabbing his wrist. “Okay, go back a little. And don’t leave anything out.”

He gave her the cliff notes on Poseidon, being hunted by monsters, the quests he’d been on in the last two years, and she listened enraptured, like she knew everything about them already.

Once he finished, Percy watched as Rachel stared at him, her bright green eyes not shocked or surprised at all.

“Do you not have any questions at all?” Percy asked, when she remained silent after a few minutes.

“Like a thousand,” she said, but somehow I don’t think that you’ll be able to answer any of them about the intricacies of magic.”

He nodded, “You’re probably right about that.” 

They sat in silence for a bit, Rachel digesting the information, and Percy wishing he could see the stars in the overly polluted sky. He glanced over at Rachel, her red hair somehow brighter in the moonlight, and asked one of the questions he had been pondering for days.

“How did you know about…” Percy lowered his voice and looked around, “...Bruce being Batman?” Rachel was fun and really smart, but she was not Annabeth levels of genius intellect and didn’t possess her insane detective skills. (Percy thought Annabeth could outsmart Bruce on any day, but that was neither here nor there.)

She smiled. “It’s literally so obvious that I don’t know how everybody doesn’t know.” Rachel took a breath, and then, “And their auras are the same?”

“Their…what?”

“Their auras,” she explained, a piece of chalk in her hand, (where did she get that?) and she began drawing on the wooden floors. He couldn’t tell what it was, the art too abstract for him to understand. “Batman’s only saved me once a few years ago, but every time I see Bruce, I know that their energies are exactly the same. Sometimes it's like I can see their souls.” 

“Souls? Are you a metahuman?” Percy asked. 

“Uh, no. At least, based on my research, I don’t think so.” Rachel shrugged. “I don’t care and I don’t think it matters. I can see auras and mythical creatures, it happens. You sword fight gods, whatever. That’s life.”

Percy laughed, pained. “You’re remarkably calm for someone who knows secrets that so many would burn the world for.” 

“We all have secrets, Percy,” she said. “At the end of the day, I’m sure more people know your secrets than you think. And a lot of people probably don’t care and are too busy with their own shit.”

“You’re kinda weird, Dare, but in a good way.”

She laughed. “Dude, you’re the only son of a Greek god. Out of the two of us, one of us is definitely weirder. And it’s not me.” She punched him, good naturedly, on his upper arm. Rachel stood up, brushing her hands on her already stained dress before she offered one to Percy, helping him up. “Let’s go raid the hors d’oeuvres and steal all the non-seafood from the rich people.”

Percy took her hand and was led back inside. He purposely ignored the looks from Bruce, Dick, and Tim, who had all found themselves together again, beelining for one of the waiters.

Rachel and Percy made a bet, getting as many snacks as they could without being forced into a conversation by some rich snob.

All seemed well for half an hour, until Percy was reminded that he did in fact live in Gotham, a disaster of a city.

Bruce definitely needed to update his security, because one moment Percy heard glass breaking, and the next the room was full of goons.

He sighed, because, of course .

If it was the Joker, Percy was definitely going to throw on a disguise and behead the fucker in front of everyone (and pray Bruce didn’t try to send him to Arkham). If it was anyone else, Percy planned to sit in the corner and wait for someone else to deal with it.

The henchmen all bore the mark of Scarecrow: the black horror face with the upside down bat symbol. He didn’t know what Bruce had done to make Scarecrow hate him so much that he chose to use a bat as part of his mark—no one else in Gotham was that obsessed with him.

Whatever. Percy didn’t care. And while he didn’t particularly want to get dosed with fear gas, or put into whatever experiment the man was planning, Scarecrow was definitely far less scary than holding up the sky, or god forbid, fighting a Titan. Maybe he could sic Kronos on Scarecrow, if he managed to get out of his sarcophagus.

Percy was so caught in his thoughts, that he didn’t realize that he and Rachel were being herded out of the corner by one of the henchmen, a big guy with his hair cropped close to his head. There was a gun pointed to his temple as he and Rachel were forced out of their makeshift hiding place. 

(Percy didn’t like guns. He spent so long using only archaic weapons that he felt they were cheating.)

They were brought into the light, but were still far enough from Bruce and Tim. Dick was nowhere to be seen, probably about to get onto the scene as Nightwing, and he hoped they made this quick.

Scarecrow, in his crazy getup, was monologuing in the middle of the room, but Percy had tuned him out. Villains, in Gotham especially, always gave a speech for way too long, giving the good guys just enough time to stop their evil plans. Why did they never learn? Gotham rogues were especially guilty of this, because they always had unique motivations and gimmicks.

The man had a syringe in his hand, the liquid a murky orange, but it was unmistakably the toxin. Scarecrow pointed it towards him, and all of a sudden every single nerve was alight.  His hand twitched to his pocket, but he knew that Riptide would do him no good, unless Scarecrow was secretly a demigod or monster.

It wasn’t unlikely.

He twitched away from Scarecrow, not necessarily scared but unwilling to let the rest of Gotham succumb to the fallout of Percy facing his fears. Before he could do anything, Bruce was in front of him, moving at essentially lightning speed.

“Step aside, Wayne,” Scarecrow said. “I must test this specifically on the rich youth of Gotham.” He smiled, his teeth large and white. “You’ll have your turn, however.”

Bruce shook his head, his body tense. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

The sound of a shot sounded through the ballroom, and various residents screamed in horror. Bruce went down like a weight at the bottom of a pool, blood flowing from his side. Percy screamed as well, shucking off his tux jacket to dab at the wound, trying to stop the blood from pouring out. 

“You fool!” Scarecrow screamed his anger at his henchman. “This will mess with the results!” He took out his own weapon, shooting the skinny man who had fired at Bruce, before Nightwing finally made his appearance and began battling it out. Percy could barely notice any of this, focused on trying to help Bruce. Gods, he couldn’t let him die. No one else could die.

The next few hours were a blur. Nightwing disposed of the gala crashers who hadn’t fled after Bruce was shot. Percy heard out of one ear that Scarecrow had escaped, but he couldn’t focus on it, holding onto Bruce with all his might, waiting for the ambulance to appear and take them to Gotham Memorial.

Bruce had been injured worse before, that was certain. But always as Batman, with armor and contingencies, never only in a tuxedo, which had Percy’s stress levels rising astronomically.

Eventually, the ambulance carried Bruce and Percy, riding alongside him, to the hospital, the EMTs working on keeping him stable the entire time. He hadn’t passed out at all, which was honestly unsurprising to Percy considering how the man regulated his pain.

Once they arrived at the bright modern building, recently renovated courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, he was hurried into surgery, and Percy ushered into a private waiting room—the benefits of being the richest person in the city, he supposed. He didn’t realize that Dick was already there, changed from both his Nightwing uniform and the tux he was wearing at the gala. Now, he was wearing a pair of dark blue sweatpants paired with a Superman sweatshirt. Without saying anything, he thrust a small bag to Percy, who opened it to see a change of clothes for him. He wondered how fast Dick had moved to be able to see Scarecrow’s goons taken away by Commissioner Gordon, change clothes and pack something for Percy, and then get himself to the hospital.

After the drama, Tim went home with his parents, who he had apparently come to the gala with, though Percy had not noticed the Drakes at all, but Dick told Percy that he’d check in within the next few days.

The silence in the waiting room was deafening. Percy paced around the room, unable to keep his usual ADHD habits in check, worrying the floor greatly. He was glad that Dick had a similar disposition, and couldn’t ever keep still. 

“It’s not your fault, you know?” Dick said. He was on the ground, sitting with his legs tangled in a complicated cross. Percy startled, used to silence, and stared at Dick’s heartbroken form. “You have that look on your face like you blame yourself, and you shouldn’t.”

“I don’t blame myself,” Percy responded from his spot on the arm of the couch. He wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth.

Dick shrugged, stretching his arms. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.” Percy scoffed and looked away, but Dick continued. “You did it with Jason, and you’ll run yourself into the ground if it continues.”

“As if you don’t do the same thing,” Percy retorted, because who did he think he was?

“Huh, you got me there,” Dick said. “But I’m older and I’m actively trying to work on it. Can you say the same?”

Percy didn’t answer, instead choosing to lie down on the couch, staring up at the white ceiling. He thought he was too wired to sleep, but soon, both he and Dick managed to pass out in the hospital waiting room.

***

Percy didn’t like dreaming. His dreams were never. even a little bit normal, especially when something traumatic had either just happened, or was about to occur. 

His dreams when waiting for Bruce to get out of surgery were no different. First he was at camp, on Half-Blood Hill, his body not his own. He was twisted in an intricate stretch, one that he thought even Dick would have trouble achieving, wrapping around a tree. Percy’s heart was beating, as he couldn’t move, completely frozen, like his limbs were rooted in the ground. His vision went in and out, time passing quicker than he could understand. It was morning, then night again, the sky darkening with only a few blinks of his eyes. The seasons passed quickly, a hot summer, followed by a cool autumn and a freezing winter, snow covering his body, the leaves of the tree still growing steadily. 

Still, Percy couldn’t move. He was stuck, unable to speak, to call for help, to do anything except wait, and experience the brief images of vision through his incessant blinking. He wasn’t sure how long it went on, until he felt something heavy laid on his body. Instantly, energy began to return to his body. He still couldn’t move entirely, but his fingers could wiggle, and then his toes, time beginning to pass less quickly.

It was sunny and hot, the heat radiating on Percy’s body. There were people gathered around him, watching as he began to move slowly and surely. His vision was blurry, but he could make out a few people: Chiron, Annabeth, the Stolls. He wasn’t sure what was happening in the slightest.

When his vision began to clear up and he could sit up straight, Chiron finally spoke, his voice only a whisper, with a single word. “Thalia.”

Instantly the dream changed: it was dark again, and Percy was kept in a tight enclosed space. Every breath he took was strained. He could barely move around, lying completely horizontally, no room to move in any direction. 

Rather than being frozen, Percy wiggled his arms, banging on top of the box, crying and screaming for help.

Nobody came. 

He wasn’t sure how long he tried to pry his way out, but nothing was working. He was stuck as the air became more stable, and he began to breathe in a powdery surface. It smelled like dirt, and Percy’s heart started beating even faster, hammering in his ear as he realized the intensity of his situation.

Percy kept screaming and pleading, waiting for something, until finally a white light shined brightly. He wasn’t sure if it meant help or death, but he embraced it, desperate for his nightmare to end.

***

He woke up screaming, still in the private waiting room. Dick was up a moment later, his eyes wild with fear, adrenaline kicking in as he searched for a threat. When his eyes landed on Percy, he moved quickly to the other side of the room, where the demigod still laid on the couch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice hushed.

Percy nodded, but he wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth. That was definitely the weirdest dream he had recently, especially since returning from his quest. His dreams had been conflicting lately, too many moving parts to fully interpret every meaning. Honestly, he no longer had the energy to figure out every single part of his dreams, so he didn’t waste the time unless it was particularly urgent. 

With nothing else to say, Dick squeezed Percy’s shoulder once, before exiting the room to find a doctor, hoping to learn anything new about Bruce’s condition. Percy rose slowly from the couch once Dick left, walking to the window, where the blinds were closed, giving privacy. Outside, it was clearly very early morning, based on the soft light of the sun through the Gotham haze. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the bizarreness of the dreams, and enjoying the view of the city, and its utter lack of chaos at the time.

Dick eventually made his way back, telling Percy that Bruce was awake and in recovery, and Percy hurried to follow him out the room, barely remembering to put his converse on over his socked feet. This hospital wing, presumably only for the richest of Gotham families, was unbelievably empty, only a few patients and visiting family members moving around. The overall whiteness of the hospital was shockingly bright, and it felt like Percy would be blinded by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bruce was across the hall in a hospital bed, IVs inserted into his arm and the monitor beeping slowly in the background. It was one of the only times that Percy had ever seen him obeying doctor wishes to rest, which only served to worry him more. When he first laid eyes on Bruce, Percy barely managed to keep himself from immediately bursting into tears, but Bruce looked anything but regretful, a small smile on his face. 

“Why did you jump in front of me? I could’ve dodged,” Percy muttered looking down at Bruce’s broken body. “Did you not trust me to dodge or—”

Bruce sat up, wincing, and Percy wanted to shove him back down, to force him to rest. 

“I know things have been…tense between us recently,” he grimaced. “And it’s my fault that things are like this. I led you to believe that I don’t care about you, that I don’t love you, but that’s not true.” His hand reached out and gripped Percy’s grounding them together. “And even if you never want to speak to me again, I will always love you, and take every single injury on to save you pain.”

Percy felt the tears well up in his eyes, sniffling and wiping his nose once. “Wow, that therapist must be really…” he coughed, covering up the choked up sound of his voice, “…really good.”

Dick snorted from his chair in the corner, forcing Percy and Bruce to snap their faces toward him. “Sorry,” he said, though his tone indicated he was anything but.

Percy ignored him, taking a deep breath and slowly climbing into the bed next to Bruce. He felt his heart breaking with everything the man said, and never once considered that he’d feel comfortable enough to be this close to him ever again.

“I’m sorry,” Percy mumbled, not allowing the tears that so desperately wanted to escape to fall. He tucked his head into Bruce’s shoulder, mindful of the hospital equipment surrounding them.

“You,” Bruce said, an air of finality, “have nothing to apologize for.”

For the first time in months, he let his dad hug him.