Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

THALIA GRACE trusts her stepmother as much as she does her birth mother. About none. Since Hera took her and Jason away from Beryl Grace, they've lived a charmed life on Mount Olympus. Thalia is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Just as she's beginning to accept that the schemes of immortals might last long enough that her brother might know a better childhood than she did, or that maybe her step-siblings aren't all out to get her, her father’s symbol of power is stolen. To make matters worse, she finds out that her uncle has a son, a new one. Hidden under the waves for years, mortal, like she used to be.

ANNABETH CHASE has never left her home. She knows it's not easy being the beloved of a Goddess. Her mother's love is all encompassing, and more than a little terrifying. She's her mother's perfect daughter, and yet nothing she does is ever good enough. Annabeth only sees her father during one of his rare lectures, and even then, she barely knows him. She's experienced first hand what it means to be loved by a concept, by wisdom. She knows all this and yet she still wonders why she must be hidden away from the world. Surely, if she meets her mother's standards, then she should be able to leave their home? Despite knowing all this, she has never understood her mother's hatred of the sea. It's always been lovely for her. When she sneaks out in search of answers, the boy she finds standing in the surf raises many questions for her.

PERCY JACKSON is lonely. He hates himself for it, but despite how privileged his life under the sea is, he's the only one like him. Sometimes he wishes for tails like his brother's, or teeth sharp like his sisters’. He can't stand the thought of betraying his mom like that, but he wishes all the same. All three of his parents have told him grave warnings of the surface world, instructed him to never swim there alone. He's not a pup anymore, he can defend himself. One winter he makes a trip up to New York, in hopes of seeing his mortal mother before her next visit. The girl standing on the shore is not who he expected to find.

Or, the Gods are present parents, but that doesn't make them good parents.

“Who are you? What are you doing in the ocean?” the girl in front of him demands in English.

Percy’s brain struggles to shift gears from Atlantean to English. Even his mortal mother, in the rare opportunities she has to sneak down to Atlantis and visit him, speaks to him in Atlantean.

“I'm looking for my mom. A mortal named Sally Jackson,” he says. It doesn't occur to him that mortals might not speak that way. If it occurs to the girl, she gives no sign of it.

“Do you have anything else besides her name? Where she lives, perhaps?”

“She lives in New York City,” Percy says.

“Okay, do you know anything more than that?” the girl asks.

Percy frowns. He's never had to go looking for a mortal before. He doesn't know what else he needs to know. How many mortals could live in a place called New York City, after all? If it was a new city, it couldn't have that many.

Instead of that, he says, “I know what she looks like. I just wanted to see her before her next visit.”

“That would make things somewhat challenging, but still doable, I believe,” the girl says. “We may need to do a lot of walking.”

One of the few conveniences to being born with legs, rather than a tail like Triton, was that he is a perfect natural at walking.

Percy takes a step actually out of the water and onto the drier beach. And he immediately stumbles. Okay, this whole walking thing might be a little harder than he thought.

He takes another unsteady step. It’s easier than the first one, but it’s still hard. Finding his mom might be a little bit harder than he’d thought, but at least this mortal girl offered to help him. Although he probably would still take a tail over these stupid legs. Why are they so wobbly? He needs to give whoever was stupid enough to design humans a serious talking to. Everyone knows tails are the way to go, unless you’re a crab. But crabs are the exception, everyone also knows that.

“What's your name?” the girl asks.

“I'm Percy. Percy Jackson,” he says, carefully leaving out his father's name. It wouldn't do to frighten this mortal—for surely that's what she was—and it definitely wouldn't do to attract his father's attention. Not before he got to see his mom.

“I'm Annabeth Chase,” she says, holding a hand out primly for him to shake.

He grabs it, firmly. He doesn't know a lot about the surface world, or mortal customs, but he knows about handshakes.

As she shakes hands with the boy who walked out of the water, Annabeth feels the warm presence of a god appearing next to her. She turns, and the god standing before her perplexes her. Why is he here? How? His identity, at least, is obvious, if not his motives.

“L-lord Poseidon. It's an honor,” Annabeth stammers. She knows all the gods, even if she hasn't met any of them besides her mother, and now, Poseidon.

“What were you thinking? Have you gone mad?” Poseidon booms.

Before Annabeth can formulate a response, Percy speaks up.

“I'm sorry, Dad, I just really missed Mom, and I needed to see her.”

“I know you miss her, my son, but you know the surface world is dangerous. You could have been killed! Do you know how much you scared your mother and I?”

Percy blushes before the admonishment. “Sorry, Dad.”

Annabeth's mind whirls at the new information. Percy Jackson, the mortal son of Poseidon. His clothing, not unlike her own, is removed from the standards of mortals. And he refers to himself separately from mortals. Yet he is not a God. He doesn't quite have the same aura of power his father and her mother do.

“And who is this?” Poseidon asks, shifting his attention to her.

“Just a friend, Dad!” Percy squawks. “She was going to help me find Mom!”

“Annabeth Chase, my lord,” she says.

“You have my thanks for looking after my son. I trust I need not emphasize why you shouldn’t mention this encounter to anyone?”

“No, my lord,” she says, carefully deferential in the manner her mother had taught her.

“Good,” Poseidon says, turning to Percy. “It is time for us to be going, Perseus.”

“Can we see Mom before we go? Since we're here anyways?” Percy asks.

She doesn’t know Poseidon all that well, everything considered. But as he watches his son, even she can tell that he’s contemplative.

“I suppose. But you must never do this again, my son. It's too risky. If you miss Sally, you should let me or your mother know. I know it feels restrictive, but we just want you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” Percy protests. “I’m not a pup anymore!”

“And yet you are still young. You should not have to worry about finding her on your own. How had you planned to find her in New York, all on your own?”

“I wasn’t alone, I had Annabeth! And I mean it’s a new city, it says so directly in the name. It can’t really have that many people in it, right?”

Annabeth has to try very hard not to choke when Percy says that.

“New York is home to eight million people, Percy.”

“Oh.”

Thalia wakes after the solstice to thunder loud enough to give even her immortal body a headache. She knows instantly, from the way the pressure settles in her bones, to the ionized taste of the air, that her father is furious. Storms are different on Olympus than they were in LA: Louder, much more physical, and present. She can feel the moods of their creator—either herself, her father, or her little brother on rare occasions—in every eddy and swirl.

Terror grips her heart. She still remembers, even if Jason can't, the furies of Beryl Grace on a bad day. How much worse would the temper of an immortal be? She's never seen her father angry—she's barely seen him at all, actually—and while she knows she would be safe, what of her eleven year old brother? Jason is still painfully mortal, subject to the whims of every passing god.

A voice disrupts her spiral.

“Hey, sis.”

“Ares,” she growls, turning to face her half-brother. “What do you want?”

“Easy there killer. I'm not here for a fight.”

Thalia scoffs.

“Dad's big toy’s gone missing, and I'm on the hunt for the thief.”

Her heart stops. Beryl had been at her worst when she couldn’t find her alcohol. Zeus, infinitely more powerful, possessed the possibility to be infinitely worse.

“Who could have stolen the master bolt?”

“Well not you or me, obviously. Us Gods couldn't just steal another God’s symbol of power. Not like that. But a half-blood? They can go anywhere, piss anyone off. Anyone else would be too noticeable to have gotten away with it.”

“He doesn't think … ?”

“Nah, it wasn't the little Roman. Kid's got spunk, but he's too little and too upright besides to have the guts to pull it off.”

Finally, Thalia's heart beats again, ichor resuming its inexorable march.

“Who, then?” she asks, once she trusts her voice not to betray her.

“That little group of punks down on Long Island, probably. They just had a group of them up here for the solstice. Means and opportunity, little sister. All they need is a motive, and we have perfect suspects.”

“They worship Father and the rest of you. Why would they ever turn against Olympus?”

“They worship all of us, Thals. Don’t forget it.” Ares’s eyes flash dangerously. “Now, if I knew that juicy little tidbit, then I wouldn’t have to do any looking, would I?”

“I suppose not,” Thalia says.

Something foreign enters Ares’s expression. “Take care of yourself, punk. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t. Or would. Ideally, do nothing at all.”

Annabeth knows something happened when her mother was on Olympus for the winter solstice. For one, the skies above New York City stormed for days. For two, her mother kept drinking copious amounts of her nectar-laced tea, the kind she's only broken out once before, when Annabeth was too young to remember any more details, but she knows something stressful happened then. For a third data point to complete the pattern, Athena has spent more time away from their home than any period of time Annabeth remembers.

“Mother,” she asks, “are you able to tell me any details about the solstice?”

“Why would you ask?” Athena replies.

“You have clearly been stressed, mother, and that is something that does concern me. Anything that would worry a goddess is obviously of great concern for a mortal.”

“And what makes you think it was the winter solstice?”

“The fact that the sky above New York has been storming unseasonably since, several cities are seeing unusual flooding and sea damages, and the way you asked.”

Annabeth doesn’t mention Percy. Her mother either doesn’t realize she snuck out, or she doesn’t care, which she honestly finds more terrifying. But beyond avoiding getting herself into trouble she doesn’t need, she promised she wouldn’t tell. She didn’t make a binding oath, but she thinks it would be even more unwise to break an oath made to her mother’s rival than it would be to make it in the first place.

“Your analysis, while rather flawed, is correct. Something did happen on the solstice,” Athena says.

Annabeth winces. Athena always does that, critiques her, even when she’s done something right. She knows it’s to make her better, to help her continually improve, but that knowledge doesn’t make it hurt any less. She wants to protest the criticism, but she knows that would only cause more problems.

“What?” she asks, when her mother does not elaborate.

Athena takes a deep breath, and that unnerves her more than anything else. Is her mother—her fearless, immortal mother—scared?

“Your grandfather—”

“Zeu—”

“We will not be using names,” Athena interrupts. “I have not been forbidden from informing you, but I would not risk anyone’s ire.”

“I understand, Mother,” Annabeth says, instead of questioning why even her mother won’t use names.

“Your grandfather,” Athena begins again. “On the solstice, his symbol of power was stolen.”

Annabeth is floored. Shouldn’t that be impossible? To steal another god’s symbol of power? It goes directly against the Ancient Laws, although so does her mother’s presence in her life, but maybe it doesn’t count as interference if she’s raised directly.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. Not yet. But to make matters worse, my uncle has been hiding a bastard son under the waves. Who surfaced, in New York, on the day of the Solstice. Father suspects him for the theft, and my uncle refuses to listen to reason. It may only be a matter of time before we face war.”

Oh. Oh no. This is very bad. Very very bad.

“Can you not convince the king of the seas that it would be better if he brought his son before the king now? I know you and he rarely get along, but if it prevents a total war, surely he might listen. Perhaps if you frame it as being the safest option for his son?”

“Perhaps,” Athena says. “But it will not be resolved tonight. Chess?”

“Weaving?” Annabeth counter-offers. The effort will keep her mind off the consequences of war.

“Of course,” Athena says.

“Percy,” his dad says, his tone the soft-but-firm that he uses when he has bad news to deliver. “It appears that your trip to New York has not gone unnoticed.”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“My brother found out about you, it would seem. And to make matters worse, the day you made your jaunt to see your mother, someone stole the master bolt. Given that you were in New York, and I was not only around you, but raised you without the knowledge of the rest of the Olympians, my brother believes that I raised you as a weapon against the rest of the Gods.”

“But that’s stupid!” Percy protests, “They’re family! I would never hurt them!”

“I know, my son, I know,” Poseidon places a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “But the Council does not see it the way we do. They require our presence on Olympus. For what it is worth, I am sorry. I never wanted you to face this fate, even though I knew you most certainly would.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Dad,” Percy says. He’s confused, his Dad is very rarely this sad, like he’s watching a funeral procession before his very eyes.

“My mortal children often suffer from violent lives, my son. I had hoped to spare you from that, and other troubles by raising you here with your mother, rather than being forced to abandon you and your mom. I have been unsuccessful. I may have even made things worse.”

“Nuh-uh.” Percy says, reaching out and wrapping his arms around his dad in a hug. “I’m glad I got to know you, Dad. No matter what.”

“Thank you, Percy.” His dad’s voice is tight in the way it gets when he’s trying to hide his bad emotions from him, as if that would ever work. “Do you remember where the formal clothes are? You’ll need the nice ones for Olympus.”

Annabeth knows it’s a terrible idea to sneak out again, especially when she’s supposed to be studying monsters for the thousandth time. But her mother is gone again, and she knows that something must be going on up on Olympus. And she can’t stand any more of her mother’s half-answers, especially not in response to prayers.

So she leaves, taking enough mortal currency to make her way to the Empire State Building, and one of her mother’s keys. If she’s careful about it, she can make it up there, discover what’s going on, and return without getting caught.

The streets are strange, even if they match what’s in her books. They are barely more familiar than the last time she left, but she sets her jaw and starts down the street she’s on—Sixtieth Street, near Central Park.

She knows her mother placed their home near to the entrance to Olympus, near enough such that she could easily watch over her. Her only hope is that whatever the meeting today is about, it’s distracting enough that she can get closer.

Annabeth ignores the mortals walking and driving around her, although she is certain to take in the sights of the buildings around her. So many different architectural styles, and all of them right there in front of her—modern, window walled skyscrapers sit next to the neo-gothic style spires of the churches like St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Personally, she prefers the older buildings made of stone, although there is a certain elegance in the minimalism of the more modern ones. If she had time, she would stop and investigate each building. But she is on a time crunch, and must make haste.

Unfortunately, she makes it maybe halfway before complications arise. She sees a very familiar flash in the corner of her eye, and she winces. She’s been caught, and she hasn’t even gotten to the Empire State Building.

“Annabeth, what are you doing here?” Athena demands.

“You wouldn’t give me any real answers, and I know something’s happening but not what. I can help, Mother!”

“No, Annabeth, you can’t!”

“Why not? Why aren’t I good enough Mother? What will finally prove to you that I am worthy, that I’m the best?”

“Because she was the best, and she died for it,” Athena snaps. “I cannot lose you like I lost her, and I will not lose you if you are nothing but perfect. You will earn much glory, I know, but not yet, Daughter. You are not ready yet.”

Before Annabeth can respond, Athena tilts her head, as if listening to a voice in one ear.

“I do not have the time to return you to our home. Stay by my side, and say nothing.”

Athena grabs her shoulder, and suddenly, they are somewhere else. A large hall, resplendent with gold and ivory. It must be Olympus, which is reinforced when she sees the giant beings sitting on their thrones.

Chapter Text

Thalia stares at the boy standing before her father’s council. He’s small, but she can practically feel the power rolling off of him. If it weren’t for his size, and the reason for his presence, she would think him a god like herself. Despite his clear fear, he glares defiantly back at her father in the stupidest possible move available to him, aside from insulting her father to his face. Although, given the way her father is glaring back at the boy, it’s possible that he already has. She is late to the council, it’s possible he’s managed to stuff his foot firmly down his throat in the five minutes before her arrival.

She very carefully tries not to notice that he’s about the same size as Jason, and just as mortal. Surely Zeus wouldn’t hurt a child for being a child. Surely her brother wasn’t in danger from him too.

“I didn’t steal your stupid bolt,” the boy says. “There, you’re a God, right? Shouldn’t you be able to tell I’m being honest or something?”

“Boy,” her father begins, his voice all the boom and rattle of thunder. “Watch your tongue around your betters.”

The kid pulls a face. “My name’s Percy, and even if I did steal your master bolt or whatever it’s called, I wouldn’t use it on you, even if you are rude. Happy?”

“Percy,” Poseidon admonishes. “Zeus is the King of the Gods. He is due respect.”

“Right.” Percy shuffles his feet, and stares at the floor. “Sorry for being rude, Uncle Z, but it’s true. I didn’t steal anything because I was trying to go visit my Mom. Who lives in New York.”

“The boy—Percy—is telling the truth, Father. He truly did not steal your bolt,” Apollo interjects, causing their father to frown in his direction.

“Innocence of the theft or not, my brother has still been raising him in secret. That is a crime I cannot ignore. What if he has been groomed as a weapon against Olympus? He could be the child of the prophecy.”

This causes the gods to stir and mutter suspiciously among themselves. Thalia is well aware the same prophecy is the reason she no longer bleeds red. As her father’s daughter, she knows that the risk of her turning against Olympus was why Hera turned her. She knows it is most likely Jason’s fate as well, although she can’t be certain if she wants him safe from the prophecy, or able to live out a mortal life. As normal a mortal life as he could live on Olympus, at least.

“We cannot let such a threat live,” Zeus says.

“And yet your wife turned your daughter into a Goddess. Is my son not allowed to live too?” Poseidon questions. “Is your double standard so blatant as to protect your daughter, but not my son?”

Zeus’s eyes grow stormy, and Thalia can tell that Poseidon has made a mistake. Questioning her father as openly as he has is dangerous, even for Hera. Poseidon himself was in no danger, she was certain, but his son would be.

“Father, wait,” she says, surprising even herself. “He is a half-blood, is he not? If Uncle believes him to be a hero, then let Percy prove himself. If he retrieves the bolt and returns it to you, then clearly he is loyal to you. If he fails, then clearly he is no threat.”

Her heart is racing in her ears. Ichor moves much more slowly than blood, but she can still hear the pounding when she’s anxious enough, and in the right form. She can feel electricity crackling from every opportune location, the little clicking noises that come from the displaced air making a staccato hum in her ears.

“You bring wise counsel indeed, daughter. But there is the risk that should he retrieve the bolt, he may choose an unwise course of action. No, someone must monitor him, to ensure that he makes the right choice in the end. Thalia, my daughter, I shall grant you this chance to earn your glory. Watch Poseidon’s son, my daughter, and ensure that he returns my bolt to me.”

“I—what?” Thalia says, just barely corralling the stream of profanity running through her thoughts. She can’t go on a quest, someone has to look out for Jason, and there’s no one she can trust to do it.

“It is a grand honor, I know, but I am certain you are worthy of it, my daughter,” Zeus says.

“I’m twelve, I don’t need a babysitter!” Percy protests.

“My daughter is no babysitter. She will accompany you on your quest, and ensure you do not think to turn against Olympus. And in the worst case, to eliminate you, should you prove even dumber than you look.”

“I’m not gonna—whatever, this is all stupid anyways.”

“If he gets to go on a quest, then I should be able to go too!” A girl speaks up. One she didn’t notice before, but is standing just slightly behind her half-sister’s throne.

“Annabeth, no,” Athena hisses.

“Hear the girl out, Athena,” Hera calls. “You did bring her here, after all. Would you have done that if you didn’t think she was ready?”

“Thank you, my lady,” Annabeth says. “I have studied under my mother for my entire life as I’ve known it. I believe I am ready to face the trials of the real world, and what’s more, I am loyal to you and to Olympus. My mother has raised me to obey the word of our king. Would it not be better to have two whom you can trust on this quest, rather than one you can, and one you can’t?”

“Hmm,” her dad says. “You make convincing points, to the credit of your mother’s education. And the quest would benefit from a third member.”

“Father! She is too young, you cannot!” Athena says.

“I can and I will, daughter. Do I need to remind you of what happened last time you disobeyed me? Annabeth, your wish is granted. You shall join the quest with Thalia and Perseus.”

Annabeth frowns at the small camp that houses her half-siblings and the other children of the Gods. Compared to the home where she lived, or to Mount Olympus, the buildings here are quaint. It is … sufficient, she supposes. Given the limitations of demigods, and the need for an accessible location that can still be hidden by the Mist. Olympus is splendid, but a magical elevator is not ideal for emergencies, especially ones where several monsters could be chasing demigods. No, a choke point such as that would be dangerous. Patrolled borders like the ones the camp has are the best solution, given the operating conditions.

She does not intend to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary, however. She will retrieve Zeus’ master bolt and return to her mother, glory earned and the day saved. Before they have to spend too long waiting without knowing where to go, a centaur with brown hair and the lower body of a white stallion approaches. Logically, she knows he must be Chiron, the trainer of heroes. Who else would her mother entrust with the sacred duty of guiding heroes, with her own children, but the legendary trainer of Achilles and many others?

“Hail, Lady Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Hail Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon. And hail Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena.”

Annabeth isn’t happy about being the last one addressed, but she has to admit it makes sense. Obviously, Chiron has to put the Goddess first, or risk smiting if he offends her. Percy, as the son of the next most powerful God, is a natural next step. It’s sensible, even if it rankles her ego to be last in anything.

“Hey Chiron,” Thalia says. “Thing One here’s been tasked with getting back Dad’s boomstick, and Thing Two wanted to tag along. I’m on baby monitoring duty to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“I presume you are here to get a prophecy for young Perseus?”

“Right on the money, C-man,” Thalia says.

“Please don’t call me that, Lady Thalia. It would set a bad example for the campers.”

“Of course,” Thalia mutters. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

Thalia turns to face Percy. “Hey kiddo, time for you to go and get your prophecy. Gotta figure out what your tasks are.”

“Why me? You’re an adult, why can’t you do it?”

“Dad’s orders. It’s probably safest for you if you do what he wants, y’know?”

Percy frowns, but he steps forward towards Chiron. Annabeth steps forward to follow him.

“Whoah, where do you think you’re going?” Thalia asks.

“To get the prophecy with Percy. I’m not going to let him show me up just because he’s not supposed to have been born,” Annabeth says.

She can see the way Thalia's face twists. She won't let her do that. She only sees her as a child and nothing more.

Annabeth slips her eleventh birthday gift on over her head and runs invisibly after Percy.

Percy walks into the attic, dusty and dry as it is. Forgotten trophies line the wall and he shivers to be in this room. Something about it is so wrong, and he hates it. He was instructed to seek the oracle out, but there’s nobody here.

Just before he turns around, though, he spots it. Apollo’s oracle, now a withered corpse, and no longer the young woman his mother once told him of.

“Approach, seeker, and ask,” the oracle says in a raspy voice.

Percy steps forward, and as he does, he could swear he hears the sounds of an additional set of footfalls, but there is no one else in the room.

“What is my destiny?” he asks, once he builds up the courage to open his mouth.

Green mist swirls around his legs and into the air around him, and he sees four very familiar shapes. His father and mothers, along with his older brother. Percy turns, looking around, and behind him there is a fifth shape, but rather than any specific person, it just seems to be a hole in the mist.

His dad speaks first, in the same voice as the oracle. “You shall go west and face the god that has turned.”

Then his mother. “You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned.”

Triton, his brother, speaks next, looking both at him and beyond him, at the hole in the mist. “You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.”

Finally, his mom addresses him, and it’s this line that makes him panic. “And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.”

Evidently it scares whatever or whoever is making that hole in the mist, because they fall over. Percy turns to see if he can catch anything about them, but there’s nothing on the floor. He searches, briefly, for the shape in the mist, but there’s nothing to be found.

When Percy gets downstairs, he finds Chiron, Thalia, and Annabeth all standing in the entryway of the house, and he relays the prophecy as it was told to him. His dad always says that Prophecy is a heavy burden, and to respect his cousin Apollo for carrying it, and so as much out of habit as anything else, he repeats the entire thing, even the lines that make him squirm.

Chiron is pale by the time he finishes speaking.

Chiron’s voice is firm when he finally speaks. “That is, hmm. Well, it is a dire prophecy, to say the least. The god in the west that has turned. I have a few theories, but the most likely one is Hades, Lord of the Dead.”

Thalia frowns, deeply, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Okay? Why him?”

“Hades resides in Los Angeles, and he has always been resentful of his brothers, excluded from much of Olympian life, in the underworld as he is. If he were to wish to change his lot, a war would be the most efficient way. Certainly much more achievable than hoping for one of his brothers to fade.”

Thalia’s frown hasn’t lightened at all.

The conversation meanders, and eventually the four of them return to the hillside, and Chiron begins to trot off, bidding them farewell.

Chiron doesn’t get very far, however.

“Oh!” He cries. “What was I thinking? I can’t let you go without this! I suspect your mother will be most cross with me for giving it to you, but needs must, I am afraid. Take this with you. It is a tragic weapon, with a very long and very sad tale, but not one that bears repeating today.”

Chiron holds a hand out, holding a strange object. It looks like the cheap plastic writing utensils his mother keeps in a mug on her desk. He can’t remember what they’re called. Pencil, maybe?

“What?”

“Uncap it, Perseus.”

“What?”

Chiron blinked. “Right, you’ve lived with your father. The slightly wider part detaches from the rest of the pen. When that happens, it becomes a sword. Simply return the cap to the tip of the sword, and it will become a pen again.”

Percy pulls on the portion of the pen that Chiron described, and to his shock the small plastic tool—the pen—becomes a full fledged sword.

“Oh, it’s named, cool. Anaklusmos—Riptide! That’s pretty awesome,” he says.

“You’re giving him that sword, Chiron? Really?” Thalia asks.

“I lack a better option for him, Lady Thalia,” Chiron says. “While it is unfortunate, it was the only suitable blade in my collection. His father handed it to me long ago, saying there would be a child of his that would need it one day and I believe today to be that day. He will need a sword that works with him some. Young Perseus has spent much of his life underwater, and will not be prepared for most weapons. Would you prefer I let him go forth unarmed?”

“Fine,” Thalia mutters.

Sword and message seemingly delivered, Chiron trots off with another farewell.

“What’d you mean when you said ‘that’ sword, Thalia?” Percy asks. Combined with Chiron’s statements, it has him a little worried.

“There’s some history with it, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything for you. I just wish he hadn’t given you Heracles’ old sword. He’s an ass.”

“Oh.”

The surface this time of year feels a little bit warmer than Atlantis. When Percy remarks on the warmth, Annabeth turns to him with a strange expression on her face.

“What, you think this is warm? It’s thirty-eight out!”

“Exactly! It’s never this warm back home,” Percy says.

“We’re going to LA, Percy. It’s going to be much warmer there,” Annabeth says.

“How much warmer than this can it get? Ten degrees, right? Surely it doesn’t get any warmer than forty eight degrees?”

Thalia laughs. “If you’re unlucky, little demigod, it’ll get up to the sixties. You’ll be fine though. Humans are built for these temperatures, even if you’re a little unused to it.”

Percy whines at the thought of a temperature as boiling as sixty degrees. He’s been on the surface for hours and already there’s torture ahead. He never should have given Triton the slip. That way he could be back in his rooms in Atlantis, where it’s a nice cool temperature, and he wouldn’t be waiting for a van to take him somewhere unimaginably hot.

“Hey, wait up!” A camper with a scar running down one side of his face and a pair of red shoes in his hands sprints from near the big house.

“Who’re you?” Thalia demands.

“Luke Castellan. Hermes,” he pants.

Luke holds up a hand as he catches his breath. “I heard you three were going on a quest. I know I probably can’t go, but, well, the last quest we had didn’t go too well, and letting you kids go without doing something just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Why should we trust you?” Thalia asks. “It’s not like you know any of us well enough to care what happens to us.”

Luke scowls briefly, before banishing the expression. “I was on that quest, the one that didn’t end well. Dad sent me to go steal some stupid Golden Apple about a year ago. I had some of the campers with me. A friend of mine, a son of Apollo, and my little brother, who snuck his way onto the quest. He wasn’t much younger than you two are. I was the only one who made it back alive. I couldn’t save my little brother, but maybe I can help keep you safer.”

“I think we can trust him,” Percy says, confidently.

“I don’t like it,” Thalia says.

“But I’m the quest leader. And I say I think Luke can help.”

“No, it’s fine, kid, you guys don’t know me, it’s probably for the best if you don’t just trust every random stranger you meet.”

“No, I think we can trust you. You’re here, so clearly you’re trustworthy, right? It’s not like Chiron would harbor people who wanted to hurt demigods.”

“Well, if you guys decide to take them, these are some winged shoes, a gift from my father after I returned alone and empty handed. A consolation prize, I guess. All you gotta do is say ‘Maia,’ and the wings will let you fly.”

“Thanks Luke,” Percy says. Flying isn’t exactly his thing, but maybe Annabeth or Thalia would like them.

“No problem, friend. Just skewer some monsters out there for me, alright? And come back alive. Most important part of any quest.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t like the idea that Uncle H could be the one who stole the bolt,” Thalia says.

“Well it wasn’t my dad!” Percy protests. “He isn’t a thief and he didn’t send me to steal it either! I was just going to visit my mom!”

Thalia fights the very tempting urge to press her fingers against her nose. “I know, kid. Uncle P doesn’t exactly roll like that, and we proved that your dad didn’t do it in the council, remember?”

“All we proved was that my dad didn’t get me to do it. For all I know you think he got someone else to instead.”

“I’m not my father,” Thalia spits. “I don’t think either of my uncles stole the bolt or had it stolen, and I don’t get why Chiron would suggest it.”

“Wouldn’t more dead people be good for the god of the dead? And our dads fighting would probably make a lot of more dead people,” Percy asks.

“Would your dad want more sea creatures?” Annabeth counters.

“Who wouldn’t? Sea creatures are great!”

“Percy, the dead aren’t exactly like sea creatures. Hades has to carefully manage every soul that enters his realm. The last thing my uncle would want would be a war of that magnitude. If it was him, it would be a departure from the way I have known him. That could be more concerning than the theft of the bolt itself.”

“Oh. So why are we going to see Hades then?”

“Well, the prophecy did say to go west. Uncle is the only major player I know who hangs out on that side of things, and even if he didn't take it, he might know who did.” Thalia very carefully dances around mention of the Roman camp. If a Roman demigod stole the Greek master bolt, somehow, there would be major trouble on Olympus. Her, Jason, and perhaps Apollo would be the only ones functional.

Percy recognizes where they are, and Annabeth thinks it might be the end of the world. They're in the middle of the woods in New Jersey standing before a dilapidated gnome emporium, and he’s excited.

“Oh, oh, my mom told me about this place! She’s got great burgers here! We’ve gotta go in, can we, please? It’s not like we’ve had anything to eat in ages.”

Before Annabeth can protest about how on earth the kid who doesn’t know anything about the surface world somehow knows this one random almost abandoned-looking gnome emporium, Thalia speaks up.

“Sure kid, might as well make sure you two are actually fed at some point.”

Annabeth tries very hard not to sigh.

The door rings as they open the door to the main building, and a woman wearing an unfamiliar head covering of some variety looks up from the counter.

“Hello dears, what are three young children such as yourselves doing out here on your own? And in this awful weather?” asks the woman.

The shop owner seems mostly harmless, but her mother has taught her better than to take anything or anyone just as they appear.

Percy gasps. “You’re Aunty Em, aren’t you? My mom told me all about this place once! She said she goes here all the time!”

“You’re Percy, aren’t you? Sally’s son?”

“Mhm! I’m traveling with my cousin Thalia and my friend Annabeth to go see my uncle! Do you have any food? We’re a little hungry.”

Annabeth grinds her teeth. Did Percy just trust anyone who had a connection to his mother?

“Oh, you poor dears, come in, I insist,” Aunty Em says. “I could not let three children such as yourselves be forced to stay out in the rain, especially not Sally’s boy.”

Annabeth glances at Thalia, hoping that she at least will have some sense.

Thalia, of course, just walks in without any reservation, followed by Percy. She sighs, and follows the both of them. If a fight is going to start, she wants in, at the least.

“What brings the three of you to my little out-of-the-way shop? I don’t get many travelers these days.”

“We’re looking for Zeus’s master bolt! Someone stole it and my uncle wants us to bring it back for him. Thalia’s supposed to ‘watch over me’ and my friend Annabeth volunteered to help me out!”

“That is … awfully kind of her,” ‘Auntie Em’ says, tilting her head, and Annabeth gets the feeling of eyes staring directly at her.

She is confident that this woman is no mere mortal.

“Yeah she’s the best! She even offered to help me find my mom in New York, but my dad came along before we could get very far and I got grounded for going to the surface alone without telling anyone”

Annabeth can’t believe him. Has he never met a stranger before? Did Poseidon not teach him about stranger danger?

“While I cook some food for you, would you three like to message your parents? I'm certain they're very proud of you, and it would ease their minds to know how well you're doing.”

Before she can say no, do anything to deny Medusa any more information on the three of them, Percy perks up.

“Can we? Please? I’d really like to see my mom. I haven’t had a chance to see her in months, and it’s the whole reason I’m in this mess.”

“Of course, darling. Thalia, you and Percy can feel free to use the bathrooms for your Iris Messages. It should be easy enough to get the mist and rainbows you need in there. Annabeth, if you’d come with me? I have a feeling you and I should talk.”

Annabeth shoots a panicked look at Thalia, but all she gets in response is a thumbs up. Great.

“What do you want, Medusa?”

“Figured out a thing or two, have we?”

“I’m not stupid,” Annabeth spits. “I know my mythology. I know who you are, what you do.”

“But your mother hasn't told you the truth about me, has she?” Medusa mused. “We used to be quite close, you know. Not in the way the myths today would tell it, not at all.”

“She told me enough,” Annabeth says.

Medusa smiles at that, underneath her veil. It’s enough to make Annabeth’s hand pause from where it’s reaching for her dagger.

“Sit, child. I swear on the River Styx that I will not bring you any harm, or your companions, unless I am forced to in self defense. There is much I must tell you. Your mother was always too embarrassed about what happened to tell the truth.”

She knows it could be a trap, that Medusa could be planning some way around the oath that sent thunder to shake the building, but nonetheless, she sits, curious for whatever Medusa has to say.

“A long time ago, I was your mother’s most devout priestess. We had a closer relationship than most gods did with their worshippers, and while it was unusual, it was good. For years, we were friends beyond compare. In hindsight, there were signs that things could have become more, but I didn’t see them at the time.”

Medusa passed a hand over her face, contemplatively.

“And then Athena and I had a fight. A big one, although now, I couldn’t even tell you what it was about. Isn’t that funny? At the time, it seemed like the most important thing in the world, and it certainly led to the complete upheaval of my world at the time, and here I am, unable to recall why we fought. I’m sure your mother would know.”

Medusa’s tone is wistful, as if she holds some feelings still for Athena. But that has to be impossible, right?

“Regardless,” Medusa continues, “Because of our fight, I began to see Poseidon. Much of what happened is not for ears as young as yours, but he and I spent some time in Athena’s temple, before things with him ended. Ultimately, he hurt me, and through her pain and rage, as well as my own, I became the creature you know today. I now suspect, knowing what I do, that I may have been the first mortal creature that Athena trusted with her heart, after the very first. She has shared it again, since, but never often. You are truly special, my dear.”

Annabeth hears the words that Medusa isn’t quite willing to say. That the woman she so easily saw as a monster could also have been her stepmother, in another time. That she might still want to be.

“I should call my mother,” she says instead of reacting to that. “She will surely want a report, especially if she hears that Grandfather and Poseidon each received one.”

Medusa doesn’t stop her, merely gestures with a hand to the bathrooms.

“Go ahead, my dear.”

Annabeth walks past a few locked bathrooms, presumably occupied by Thalia and Percy. Entering one, she creates a weak mist using the faucet and her knife, allowing the florescent lighting in there to form the rainbow needed for her message.

“Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Athena, in her temple on Olympus.”

The rainbow shimmers as the image of Athena’s temple solidifies before her.

“Annabeth? What brings you to call me?” Athena asks.

“We’ve reached a roadside store run by Medusa, although she doesn’t seem to be as hostile towards us as some of the stories say. Percy and Thalia took her offer to contact their parents, and I thought you would appreciate the report,” Annabeth explains.

“Mmm. Given you and Percy, that makes sense. We parted on difficult terms, you could say. But it would be unwise for you to tell her his full name. It may summon … complicated memories for her.”

“I understand. Our quest has gone fairly well so far, at least. The prophecy declared that we will be successful in the return of the bolt, and we received some aid from one of the campers.”

“Good. I have full faith in your success, daughter. Do not disappoint me.”

“Thank you, mother,” Annabeth replies. “I will not.”

Athena waves a hand, and the message dissipates.

Annabeth stops just outside the bathroom where Percy is making his own Iris Message. He’s saying something she hadn’t expected.

“No, no, come on! Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Sally Jackson, Royal Palace, Atlantis.”

A faint whisper came through next. “We cannot reach this recipient. Please try again.”

What goddess had a name like Sally Jackson? Surely he’s trying to reach a goddess, because who else would he be contacting in this manner, and who else would reside in the royal palace of Atlantis? She thinks his mortal mom’s name might have been Sally, but the memory is a little unclear.

“No, Mom, c’mon I don’t know why this isn’t working! Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Sally Jackson, Upper East Side, Manhattan.”

“We cannot reach this recipient. Please try again.”

Annabeth doesn’t need to strain to hear Percy’s cry of frustration. She’s never heard of an Iris Message failing like this, even when the location is a little off. She backs away from the door, and returns to the picnic area.

When Percy appears next, trailing Medusa, who is carrying a tray of burgers, there’s no sign of frustration on his face.

Thalia watches as Annabeth’s eyes widen as soon as the bus pulls into sight of the St. Louis Arch. Before she even looks away from the monument, Thalia knows that Annabeth is going to ask for a stop here, so she can see it for herself.

Realistically, she knows that she should say no. Both Percy and Annabeth are almost certainly monster magnets, even if her own presence would dissuade some monsters. But, she knows Athena almost certainly hasn't let Annabeth see the mortal world much. After everything that happened the last time Athena was so involved with a hero, Thalia would be surprised if Annabeth has even left New York, much less gone sightseeing. And her father didn't give them a specific deadline.

“Thalia, can we please stop here? I'll be quick, I promise, but I need to see one of Mother's favorite monuments while I'm here. Who knows if I'll get this kind of opportunity again!”

“Wait, why are you asking her? Isn't it my quest?” Percy protests.

“Yes it is your quest, Percy, but I'm more familiar with mortal transportation than either of you, and my father did task me with supervising you. If I thought this would derail the quest too much, it would be my job to keep you on track,”

“Fine. I need to stretch my legs anyways,” Percy says.

“That’s the attitude. We’re not even halfway to LA, not yet.”

When the bus reaches its station, Annabeth practically leaps off the bus, and Thalia has to drag Percy along behind her to make sure she doesn’t lose her.

“Okay, kid, what’s so cool about this thing? It’s just an arch,” Thalia says.

“‘Just an arch,’ she says. For one, it’s the tallest memorial in the United States, and it’s the tallest stainless steel monument in the world. Six hundred and thirty feet, nearly forty thousand tons, all the most important metal humanity has ever made.”

“Alright, well, go on ahead and lead us there, if you know so much,” Thalia says.

Annabeth takes the lead, dragging the three of them through the city and towards the arch, commentary on the designing, construction, and composition of the arch running the entire time.

She catches the stench of monster around the monument. Something has found the scent of demigod children on a quest, and is either too stupid to notice her own presence or has decided that Percy and Annabeth are worth the risk of the wrath of a goddess.

When she finds whatever creature worked out how to hunt down demigods, she’s going to wring its neck. Preferably several times.

“Hey, Annie, why don’t we go up the arch? Might as well while we’re here, right?”

“Don’t call me Annie,” Annabeth protests.

“I don’t know,” Percy says. “I don’t think heights are a good idea for me.”

“You’ve got me here, and you’re doing a quest for my dad. He can’t be mad about this. It’s an education detour, or something. It’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Percy acquiesces.

They find a tour group, and a guide, and they, along with several mortals, cram their way into a claustrophobic elevator, and she waits for the top, itching to escape. Even after years with Hera, small spaces bring back unpleasant memories.

As soon as they reach the top, Annabeth is enamoured instantly. Even if she had cajoled them to try and dodge the monster, Thalia is glad she did. The kid definitely doesn’t get out enough.

Thalia’s eyes catch the guide’s, and she notes their familiar gray color. Athena says nothing, but nods her head in recognition of being caught. At least she’s looking out for her daughter, unlike Poseidon, who she hasn’t seen even once so far, or felt his presence.

The aura of monster has followed them up to the top of the arch. Whatever it is that’s found them, it’s strong. She’s not certain yet who exactly it is, but she has her suspicions.

She tries to herd Percy and Annabeth towards the elevator, get them away and in the open, where the mortals might protect them long enough to return to the train.

Unfortunately, Annabeth is far too busy rambling about the structure, and Percy far too occupied listening to her, for them to reach the elevator down before it fills.

“Hey, you guys go on ahead, I’ll be fine,” Percy says.

“Are you sure?” Annabeth asks, voicing the same thought that Thalia has.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Percy asks.

As they enter the elevator, Thalia sends a sliver of her consciousness to watch over Percy. It’s not much, but it’s one of the only things she can do stably so far. She doesn’t think the monster left with her and Annabeth. She would know by now if it had.

“Will Percy be alright?” Annabeth asks.

“He should be. I’m watching over him, even if I won’t be able to do much for him. Worst comes to worst, I could warn my father, and he could intervene.”

“Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Thalia winces. “Mastering my godly abilities is hard. I’ve had four years, and I’m only barely able to keep hold of a mortal-safe form when doing even the most basic of tasks. Everyone says it will come with time, and I suppose that’s one of the things I have plenty of, now.”

“I see,” Annabeth says in a tone that makes it clear she doesn’t at all.

Before she can explain further, however, a spike of alarm comes from the fragment of herself watching over Percy. Thalia shifts her attention to watch him, and she nearly utters oaths foul enough to burn out the ears of the mortals sharing the elevator with her, Annabeth, and Athena. Only the reminder of what it would do to Annabeth—and what Athena would do to her, in return, holds her instinctive reaction back.

Echidna, the mother of monsters is there, cornering Percy with one of her children. The chimera. In a dark way, she’s relieved that it’s only the chimera, and not one of her worse children.

Percy slashes with his sword, makes a valiant effort to defend himself, but he’s too untrained with it. Too young. The chimera’s tail catches him, and she can tell instantly that he’s been poisoned.

She warns her father, begs him for his interference. Thalia can’t even tell if he hears her.

Miraculously, Percy keeps fighting, but with each spanning second she can watch as the poison spreads, and his strikes and dodges slow.

Percy reaches the same conclusion that she has. His fight is doomed. He can’t win.

Percy jumps from the top of the St. Louis Arch.

Chapter Text

Percy blinks as he unexpectedly finds himself in a river. Of all the things he had expected when he leapt, this was not one of them. Didn’t the St. Louis Arch not cross over the Mississippi?

“Perseus,” a warm voice greets him. Amphitrite.

“Hello, Mother,” Percy says.

“How have you been? We haven’t heard from you since Medusa’s.”

Even alone as he is in the river, Percy can feel his face flush with embarrassment.

“Mother,” he complains. “I’m hardly a seal pup. You don’t need to check up on me every day. I’m doing fine.”

“I know. But it is your first quest, and we worry. We all do.”

“I have Thalia with me, Mother. I’m not in any danger.” Percy knows he might be stretching the truth a little bit, given everything that’s happened, but he really doesn’t want his mother to come and accompany him on the quest, which he knows she will if she knows the truth.

“I have good news for you, Percy. Now that we need not fear your uncle’s fury should he find out about your existence, Sally will be able to come visit as often as we like, or even to move into the palace permanently, should she be amenable to that now.”

“Now?”

“We offered, once, before your birth. She refused.”

“Then why do I live at home and not with her?”

“She wished to raise you on her own, as we believed we would not be able to raise you. When you were younger, the Queen of the Gods did something that gave us an opportunity to be in your life. We knew, if you were ever discovered, we would have a defense for our involvement, and that your life would be safer with us. Sally agreed, but she hated how little it meant she could see you.”

“What do you mean, safer?”

“Most demigods attract monsters naturally. Something about their smell, although I must admit I am not entirely certain. I have not had many demigods before you, darling. You are more powerful than most, as is the girl with you, Annabeth. The most powerful monsters will seek you out.”

“Why haven’t you told me this yet? Me being a danger to Mom is something I would have liked to know,” Percy says. “Is that why you guys grabbed Mom after the quest started?”

“Oh, my pearl, no. You are not a danger to Sally. Come here.” Amphitrite holds her arms out for a hug.

The coolness of her hug is a welcome reprieve from the heat of the surface, even in the river.

“We were going to tell you once you were older, and more ready for the surface world. You are still just a boy, Percy. It is not fair of the king to demand this of you. We are very proud of how far you’ve come. Now what did you mean, ‘why you guys grabbed Mom?’ Did something happen to Sally?”

“I tried to IM her, but the message wouldn’t connect, either at home or her apartment and I don’t know why. I thought you brought her to one of the deep trenches, where it’s harder to get messages.”

“Oh, my darling little boy. You do not deserve these hardships at your young age. But if anyone knows what has happened to Sally, it would be your Uncle, who I understand you are going to visit soon. Our darling boy, already facing so much of the world.”

Percy lets his mother hold him, and cries in her arms.

Annabeth finds herself standing at a gaping pit, shoes sinking into a sandy rim. She isn’t sure where she is. Strangely, it doesn’t quite feel like the typical demigod dream. She gets them, occasionally, and her mother is always there in the early hours of the morning, waiting with a warm drink and a new story.

She squints, trying to get a better feel for her surroundings. It’s dark, and there’s no sign of any light sources. She could be outside, near a human city giving off enough light pollution to render the stars invisible. But that doesn’t feel right.

No, she’s underground. No longer on the train they had boarded after leaving the smoking arch behind them, but in some cave somewhere.

Stepping gingerly around the pit before her, Annabeth explores the cave. Perhaps, if she can find the walls, she can find some hint as to why she’s here. It feels like it takes an incredible amount of time—hours? days? Without any light or a clock, she can’t tell—but eventually she reaches a wall of some sort.

Her fingers find it first, blindly outstretching arms leading her to sudden cold stone, rough, with carvings trailing beyond her limited reach. And they must be carvings, she can feel shapes and cuts that would be impossible to originate naturally. Someone had to have made these, somehow. For some reason.

She stares unseeing at the wall, running her fingers over it in an attempt to interpret the markings on the cave. And then, impossibly, her vision adjusts. In a cave, without any light sources, she shouldn’t be able to see a single thing. She knows this. And yet, she can make out what the carvings represent.

Some of them are scenes from ancient history. The death of Ouranous, the triumph of the Gods over Kronos, and her mother’s birth, to name a few. Others are more recent, leading up to the modern day. Some appear to represent what must be the future. In some of them she sees herself, older than she is today. She sees technologies the mortals have yet to master, and events that have never passed. Ones that must not have, surely.

She sees the fall of Olympus, her mother guarding their house jealously until her own fall. Events that are too unspeakable to name, even in the safety of her own mind.

Annabeth squints. Something about the carvings seem off, as if they’re glowing slightly. With further inspection, she determines that’s where the impossible light was coming from, how she is able to read them in the utter blackness of the cave. But why an off-red, one flecked with gold? A strange color to be certain.

A deep chuckle emerges from the pit itself, in the darkness darker than the cave around her.

“You know this to be true, girl. In your heart, you know that you will never be enough for her. Your mother will never let you go again. You aren’t good enough. No-one will be. Why return to the goddess who smothers you?”

The voice feels slick, like dish soap. Something about it is so wrong, it sends a shudder through her bones.

“Do you think she will let you see these friends again? After how you defied her before her father?”

Annabeth tries to open her mouth to speak, to refute what this voice claims, but her jaw feels like it’s been wired shut. She can’t say a word. She brings her hand up to feel her mouth, and that’s when she sees it.

On one finger, the first one to have touched the wall, there’s a cut, and a bead of blood with golden flakes in it. It was her. Her blood, her actions lead to all of this.

“Bring the bolt to me, and I can ensure you will never have to go back to that isolation ever again.”

She wakes in a cold sweat, still on the train to Denver. Thalia appears to be either asleep, or simply elsewhere, mentally. Percy, from the way he’s snoring, definitely is asleep. No one could have witnessed her dreams.

“I thought I told you not to do anything at all, squirt,” an unfamiliar voice says as a biker dude slides into the booth with them at a diner somewhere in one of the boring landlocked states Percy never paid much attention to. He thinks it might start with color?

“Who?” Percy exclaims before Thalia cuts him off.

“Percy, Annabeth, meet my older half-brother Ares, God of war. Ares, meet the two kids hellbent on making me go gray before I'm even three hundred.”

“That's Lord Ares to you two punks. Can't have mortals running around without the proper respect for the gods, now can we?”

“No it isn't,” Percy says confidently. He knows this one. “If you're a lord, then you have to wear one of the stupid circlets, and care about boring things. But instead you're here talking to us, and you still have your helmet on.”

Unexpectedly, Ares laughs deeply, ending almost bent over the table at their booth. “Oh you're a good one, kid. I can see why Uncle P keeps you around.”

“What do you want, Ares?” Thalia grits out.

“I can't just stop by and meet the rugrats you're looking after?”

“No.”

“Fine. I need a favor. Someone left my shield in a water park, and I can't get it myself.”

“Why not?” Percy asks. “You're a god, aren't you?”

“Why hasn't Thalia just snapped the three of you to LA? There's rules to these sorts of things, cuz, and sure I could go get it, but that would take me so much more time than it would the three of you. Besides, I'm on the same hunt as you. Do a sort of ‘you scratch my back I scratch yours’ type of deal.”

“Lord Ares, this may be impertinent, and if so, I apologize, but what could you give us that traveling with Thalia doesn't already give us access to?” Annabeth asks.

“Hah! You're not sorry in the slightest. Well, there's only so much we're allowed to do to help quests, without an exchange of some kind. Thalia has a little more leeway than most, since Father sent her to keep you two from doing anything stupid, but she's not the greatest at using her godly powers without also evaporating any nearby unfortunate mortals and demigods. I trust you three don't plan on going down to uncle Hades the easy way.”

“No, but you still haven't answered my question.”

“Fine. You brats get me my shield back, and I’ll get you some new supplies, and get you a ride to Vegas. That’s not all the way there, but I trust you can figure it out from there. If not, I might find the thief first.”

“I …” Thalia pauses. “Thank you, brother.”

Ares smiles. “Anytime, sis.”

As soon as she sees the waterpark, Thalia is immediately disappointed in Ares. Even for teenagers sneaking out for the first date in their lives, this would be pathetic. For two gods? It’s just plain embarrassing.

“Well now I can see why he asked us to get his shield,” Thalia says.

“This place is a dump,” Percy agrees. “Why would you ever go here? Especially for a date? There are better ways to enjoy the water. My Moms wouldn’t take any shit from my Dad if he tried to take them here.”

“Ares and his girlfriend have to sneak around, cause she’s married to our step-brother.”

“And he’s constantly trying to catch them when they sneak out on dates!” Annabeth contributes.

Thalia whirls her head to look at her. She should definitely not know anything about what Hephaestus, Ares, and Aphrodite get up to. Especially not on dates where they get caught.

“What? Mother lets me watch Hephaestus TV! It’s educational, mostly.”

That is better than the alternative, at least.

She rubs a hand down her face. “Okay, kiddos, time to get in and get this over with. The sooner we’ve grabbed my brother’s stupid shield, the sooner we can get back to the quest and get home. I don’t wanna be gone any longer than I have to.”

The gate is locked, so Annabeth and Percy climb over the fence, and once they’re looking away, Thalia teleports herself to the other side.

“Whoa, hang on, why’d we have to climb over if you could’ve done that?” Percy demands.

“Godly teleportation is a little dangerous on a good day, and I didn’t want to risk accidentally vaporizing one of you two. Besides, didn’t you hear what Ares said? There’s a lot I can’t do.”

They wander around the abandoned theme park for a while, before eventually finding themselves at one particularly themed ride that feels likely.

“That’s gotta be it, right?” Percy asks. “I mean it’s called the Thrill Ride of Love, even if it does look a little… grungy.”

“Yeah it’s the place. I can feel the remnants of Ares’ aura here. His shield has to be inside.”

Thalia moves to step inside, but an invisible barrier keeps her out. The Ancient Laws, or another one of her father’s decrees, is keeping her from interfering here.

“Damn it, Dad! One of you two will have to get it. The most I’ll be able to do is watch, unfortunately.”

Annabeth nods, and pulls Percy with her inside the building. As soon as they enter, Thalia can feel the barrier retreat, and she steps forward, following them both.

Inside, there’s a big concrete bowl with one of those stupid swan boats painted pink and white, with extremely tacky plastic hearts plastered all over it. Percy and Annabeth stand next to it, contemplating Ares’ shield, gleaming in the seat.

Percy grabs a scarf from behind it, and she can watch as the threads of Aphrodite’s lingering magic start to sink into him.

Thalia leaps into the bowl. She can’t let it get its hooks too far into the kid, or who knows what’ll happen to him. Annabeth reaches out for it as well, but she knows it would probably be even worse for her.

“Nope, none of that love magic for either of you. You’re too young for any of her romantic shit, and platonic love can honestly be worse than anything else.”

Thalia confiscates it, stuffing it in one jacket pocket. “C’mon now, grab the shield and let’s go. It’s been too easy by far, and I don’t wanna be here when whatever complications come along.”

Percy grabs the shield, and that’s when everything goes wrong. The cupid statues around the pool shoot out Imperial Gold cables, forming a net over the top of the bowl.

“Damnit, I should have known! Hephaestus and Ares have been on the outs again this year! This was a trap for him and Aphrodite. We need to get out of here, now!”

A few of the cupids trade their bows for broadcasting cameras that had been hidden in their quivers.

“Can’t you do your teleporting stuff and get out?” Percy asks.

Thalia shakes her head. “These were made to bind gods! I’m as stuck as you are! More, even.”

Annabeth scrambles up, trying to climb the side of the bowl. She slides back down on her first attempt, but on her second, she grabs one of the Imperial Gold Cables to hang onto. Unfortunately, it immediately begins to wrap new golden threads around her fingers, and she lets go before they can entrap her or she can pull herself out.

Spotlights in the rafters thrum on, and a loud voice booms over loudspeakers. “Live to Olympus in one minute … fifty nine seconds … fifty eight seconds …”

To make matters worse, metallic spiders begin pouring out of the drain pipes, scrambling towards the boat, crawling over everything and anything indiscriminately, even her.

Annabeth begins screaming immediately. She’s even worse than her mother is—neither of them, it seems, can handle seeing a spider, although Athena just gets furious, not paralyzed by fear.

Thalia stares at the peculiar creations crawling up along her legs. They don’t look dangerous, but Hephaestus has many tricks up his sleeves. One of the spiders pauses long enough to bite her, and the pain that shoots up her leg is intense. She glances down, and she can see a dribble of ichor leaking from her ankle.

“Ow, shit, in the boat, both of you! I don’t want to see what would happen if one of those were to bite you!”

Percy and Annabeth both scramble into the boat immediately. Thalia moves to join them, but wading through the spiders is harder than she thought. She definitely shouldn’t risk decorporealizing to get into the boat, not with both of the demigods so freaked out. If one of them opens their eyes at the wrong time, they would disintegrate immediately.

By the time she makes it in, the countdown has reached thirty seconds, and Percy is kicking as many spiders back as he can. Annabeth is looking less pale, but she’s still curled into a ball.

“Water!” Percy cries.

“What?”

“The drain pipes!”

Percy furrows his brow, and for a tense several seconds, nothing happens. Without Percy kicking them off regularly, the spiders start weaving a tight sheet of Imperial Gold over the boat. One Thalia’s pretty certain won’t allow air through. They need to act fast, before they’re all trapped inside.

The countdown reaches fifteen before Thalia can hear a deep rumble from below. Percy’s face is still scrunched up in concentration.

The spiders cover more and more of the boat. The small corner where Annabeth is curled up is completely covered, and the spiders are getting close to her.

“Perseus!” Thalia snaps.

Water pours into the bowl, scraping the spiders and the Imperial Gold off of the boat. They rocket through the tunnel, the boat bouncing off the walls. Ahead, a chained gate lies in the path. If they don’t find a solution, Percy and Annabeth are going to be squished.

“Unfasten your seat belt,” Percy yells.

“What are you thinking? You’ll fall out!” Thalia shouts back. If he’s hurt again, Poseidon’s rage would be immense.

“If we don’t jump it, we’ll be smashed against the gate. Last I checked, that was bad for me. Annabeth, on my mark!”

Annabeth seems to wake up from the state the spiders put her in when he says that.

“No, on my mark,” She argues. “I know the physics, I can do the calculations. Can you?”

“Fine, your mark,” Percy says, grabbing Ares’s shield firmly.

Mere seconds before they reach the gate, Annabeth yells. “Now, jump!”

Percy and Annabeth both take to the air.

Thalia jumps up, using her godly strength to clear the gate easily.

“Maia!” Annabeth shouts, wings sprouting from the shoes. She grabs Percy, slowing his fall with her and gliding to the ground.

“Good thing we took those shoes, huh? If Luke hadn’t given them to us, then we would’ve been pancakes,” Percy says.

“Yeah, good thing.” Thalia repeats. She isn’t quite sure she trusts how convenient they are—and how easily the son of Hermes gave up a gift from his father—but now is not the time to pursue that.

“Ares, they're twelve! They're barely older than Jason!”

Ares actually winces at that. “Hey, Mom’s the one who wanted you to get some glory, and Athena wanted her special little girl to get some too, when she couldn't get her out of it. Besides, they'd have been fine. A little embarrassed maybe, but they'd live. We both know Hephaestus wouldn't have put anything too bad on there.”

“It tried to suffocate them, and then they were nearly crushed on the way out!”

“It’s possible he forgot about breathing, or maybe it would’ve magically breathed for them. It wouldn’t be the first time. Look, I’ll rap our brother on the head for forgetting how fleshy things work, and you don’t tell Mom about the whole asked you to do this thing.”

“I won’t tell Stepmother, if I hang on to Aphrodite’s scarf, because that wasn’t in the deal, we get shelter when we get to Vegas, and something for the heat for Percy.”

“Deal,” Ares agrees, snapping his fingers.

The shield disappears, and Thalia finds it replaced with a backpack, along with two more, already on Percy and Annabeth. Aphrodite’s scarf stays in her hands, and she stuffs it into the backpack. She can definitely use that later, to get something out of her.

“Your ride’s out there, I’d get moving before they leave you behind,” Ares says.

Outside, there’s a semi-truck, the back doors open for the moment.

Thalia turns back to glare at Ares, but he’s already gone.

“Okay, kids, time to get going. This is probably the best we’re going to get, for a while at least.”

Percy and Annabeth both follow her out of the diner, and into the parking lot.

Inside the truck, Thalia can see why Ares arranged for this to be their transport. Three extremely mistreated animals are languishing in too-small cages, with none of the appropriate equipment for transport. He almost certainly wanted the animal traffickers taken down a peg, whether that was her smiting them in a rage, or something the demigods did. Smiting the mortals driving this foul truck is tempting, but she wants this journey over with sooner, rather than later. The mortals can keep until they’re in Vegas, or perhaps she could convince her father to lend her the master bolt, after they return it.

Chapter Text

When the clouds had converged over her apartment so suddenly, Sally knew what must have happened. She had known, for years, what would happen if Zeus found out about her or Percy.

She had not expected to be in a grand palace, and in relatively little pain. She knew something should hurt, dying was rarely pleasant, and electrocution was no exception. But, despite that, nothing hurt.

And then she saw someone, a figure remarkably similar to one of her lovers, and yet different. Given that she was dead, there was only one god he could be.

“Lord Hades. I was under the impression that you did not meet the newly dead personally,” Sally said.

“I do not, you are correct. But, I understand that you are the mother of my nephew?” Hades asked.

“I am,” Sally confirmed. She doubted she could lie to him successfully, being dead and all, and any favor she could curry for Percy's sake, the better.

“How old is he?” Hades asked.

“I'm sorry?”

“Perseus. Your son with my brother. How old is he?” Hades repeated himself, but he didn’t sound frustrated. Merely curious.

“He just turned twelve this past August.”

Hades smiled. “How is he doing in school?”

“He lives with his other parents, for his safety.”

“So that is how you managed to hide him for so long. But you live separately from Atlantis?”

“I couldn't just be a trophy for Poseidon and Amphitrite. My life needed to be my own, lived on my terms. That is not a luxury I have always had.”

“Believe it or not, but I can understand. My own wife is much the same.”

“Forgive me for asking, Lord Hades, but why have you taken the time to speak with me? The myths do not paint you with the same brush as your brothers, but I am under no illusions as to my own fate. I had expected the Fields of Asphodel, rather than your palace.”

“You are not dead, Sally Jackson. I suspected what my brother would do, as soon as I found out about your son. I intervened before history could repeat itself.”

That was not what she had expected.

“And I suspect my children would be very upset if I didn't let them meet their Aunt Sally.”

Percy doesn’t know where he is. He’s underwater, so he’s probably dreaming. The last thing he remembers is climbing inside that truck and settling in for a long ride. No ocean anywhere nearby.

Wherever he is, he’s never been here before. It’s deep, so deep that almost all of the surface light doesn’t make it down here, and cold enough that it almost feels like home.

“You struggle to fit in, don’t you, boy?”

He doesn’t recognize the voice, and yet it sounds familiar all the same.

“Aid me, and I can grant you whatever you wish. Your deepest desires. All of them could be yours, if only you do one thing for me. Give me the bolt.”

Percy shakes his head. He doesn’t know who this voice is, but he knows he really shouldn’t give them Zeus’s master bolt. Nobody who wants it would be up to anything good, whether they’re Hades or someone else, like Thalia says.

His mom appears before him, wreathed in golden light.

“I could return her to you. It would be simple, once I am risen. I understand a boy who would do anything for his mother. I was one, once.”

His heart aches. His mom. She’s been running through his thoughts since his mother spoke to him in the river. If she thinks Hades knows what happened to her, then that means she’s probably dead. No-one would return her to him, not that simply.

Percy shakes his head wordlessly again.

“I know how alone you feel, Perseus. Too human for Atlantis, but you’re strange to the humans too. Your father has doomed you to a partial existence, never to find a home beneath the waves or above them. I could help you find peace with yourself, or even change yourself to fit into your home. I too was once doomed by my father. I sympathize with you, boy.”

Sure, it sounds great in theory, but so does a siren’s song. This feels more like the lure of an anglerfish than a true offer. Why is this mystery voice trying to offer him so much? Why specifically what he wants most?

Percy shakes his head a third time.

The cold of the ocean turns from comforting to freezing in a heartbeat.

“Foolish boy. You could have the world, and still you defend those miserable Olympians. I would give you the world, and you reject me.”

“Who’s Jason?” Annabeth asks, tentatively.

It earns her a sharp glare from Thalia, one that holds for a brief moment, before she glances at Percy, where he’s asleep against the opposite wall of the container.

“He’s my little brother,” Thalia says, her voice gentle. Very few of the gods Annabeth has met have ever spoken so carefully. Even her mother only sounds so delicate on extremely rare occasions. “He’s twelve, and so very mortal.”

“Mortal, my Lady?”

Thalia frowns. “Don’t call me that. It wasn’t too long ago I was just like you.”

Annabeth mirrors Thalia’s expression. “What do you mean?”

Thalia shifts against the steel. “I was mortal, once. I was born the half-blood child of the King of the Gods and Beryl Grace. My mother was a wreck, an incredibly pathetic mortal, even for all her power and status. She abused me, but somehow when I was seven, she caught Dad’s eye again. It was … I hate to admit it, but it was better when he was there. She was better. Beryl and I had never gotten along, but I think that was the first time I began to hope for a family.”

“What happened?”

“About two years after Jason was born, our stepmother came calling. She was there for Jason, but I refused to let go of my brother. She said she was Jason’s guardian, so I demanded to know where she was when Beryl mistreated us. I didn’t know she was a goddess yet. If I knew what I know now, I don’t think I would have said all the things I did. But when she took Jason with her, she took me too. She brought us both to Olympus. Things were pretty good for years, but then I made the mistake of trusting her.”

“Mistake?”

“There’s a prophecy. A demigod child of one of the Big Three will have the potential to destroy Olympus, on their sixteenth birthday. To prevent that from coming true with me, my stepmother forced me to ascend. She didn’t so much as stop to tell me what was happening, let alone ask if it was what I wanted.”

Percy’s body twitches, and she isn’t certain if it is just a nightmare, or if he wasn’t as asleep as she had assumed.

“I’m sorry, it must not have been pleasant to not have any choice in the matter,” Annabeth says.

“No. It wasn’t. But it is not a topic I would like to linger on.”

“Do … do you know what can cause an Iris Message to not connect?” Annabeth asks.

“You overhead that too, huh? There's not a lot of explanations, but the simplest one is if the recipient doesn't exist on the plane you're trying to reach anymore, or is somewhere Iris won't go.”

Annabeth can read between the lines to see what Thalia doesn't want to say right next to Percy.

“There aren't many places she won't go, I would imagine.”

“A few. Not many of them pleasant. Maybe a godly realm, like Olympus or perhaps Atlantis, if they've been closed. Sufficiently deep trenches, or caves. Tartarus.”

“You don't want to go in there.”

Thalia turns.

A girl a few years younger than her, flanked by three elderly ladies, stands behind her. She blinks, however, and the elderly ladies transform. They are no longer elderly, but all of their eyes burn with a visceral hatred, and perhaps more relevantly, leathery wings sprout from their backs.

“What?”

“The Lotus Casino. It's run by the Lotus Eaters. You'd be fine, but I'm guessing you don't want your demigod friends to lose track of the world around them?”

As the girl speaks, Thalia realizes she can feel the layer after layer of magic slathered over the building. It's enough to make her skin crawl.

“Do you know who that is?” She hears Percy whisper to Annabeth, who shakes her head.

“That would not be ideal,” Thalia says. “How do you know that? Even I couldn't tell, not until you told me.”

“My father stashed my brother and I there, years ago. We spent a very long time in that hotel. If you are who I think you are, then we both know you can't afford to lose time.”

“I am Thalia,” she says. “My father has tasked these demigods with a quest.”

“I am Bianca. Your father is not the only one who was stolen from. Come with me, and we'll see if we can help each other.”

Bianca leads them to a mortal restaurant, but evidently one where she's known, as a server leads them to an out of the way table, and the three furies stand guard a short distance away.

Food arrives, mortal food, but food nonetheless, without them needing to order. Percy and Annabeth both dig into it immediately, but Thalia refrains. She hasn’t actually eaten any mortal food in years, not since before Hera made her a goddess. She isn’t sure if it will still taste the same, and she thinks learning that it’s no longer as good as it once was might be too much for her.

“We need to speak to Uncle Hades,” Percy says, finally having stopped chewing long enough to allow air to pass through his throat. Thalia is mostly certain that's fine.

“We were instructed to ‘face the god who has turned’ in the West. Uncle would know more who that could be. I can't say I like spending my time here, and don't have the slightest clue where to start.”

“The best entrance to the underworld is in Los Angeles,” Bianca explains. “Charon’s office is in DOA Studios. Go there, and pay for your travel. Tell him I sent you, if he protests about none of you being dead.”

“You said Zeus wasn't the only one who's been stolen from? Did someone steal from you too?” Annabeth asks.

“Not from me, and I cannot tell you what was stolen. But someone did steal from my father.”

“What? Why hasn't he told Olympus?” Annabeth asks.

That girl's curiosity is going to get her in serious trouble some day, this Thalia knows for certain.

“My father and his siblings have often had a strained relationship, you could say. He did not believe his concerns would be prioritized.”

“We could try to help,” Percy offers.

Bianca glances at her, and she shakes her head. There is enough on their plates already, without worrying about searching for another godly item. If whatever was stolen from who she presumes is Hades is still missing by the solstice, she might issue a quest on his behalf.

“No, you have your own quest to worry about,” Bianca says. “My father trusts me to find it on my own.”

Percy waves goodbye to Thalia and Annabeth and sinks into the surf. If he had thought New York was hot, the city of Los Angeles is much worse. He is not going to miss that while he meets his mother. The Pacific, at least, is a reasonable temperature. It’s not as reasonable as it is in his home, but he’ll take what he can get.

A mako shark swims up to him and curls around his legs playfully.

“Little lord, little lord!”

Evidently, the shark is excited to meet him. As the youngest member of the royal family, Percy is used to subjects who speak formally around him or are a little awkward. This is the first time one has been actively excited to meet him, like he’s some kind of celebrity.

“Come with me, little lord. Your mother has bade me to guide you to her.”

“Will my dad be there?” Percy asks, fidgeting. He hates how little it makes him sound. Like he’s a baby who needs his parents to coddle him. But it’s been a very long week, and he hasn’t seen his mother since St. Louis, or his dad since Olympus and his mom might be dead. He needs a few more hugs.

“I don’t know, my lord,” the shark responds. “Only your mother spoke with me.”

“Okay. Take me to her, I guess,” Percy says.

The shark races off into the deep, and Percy does his best to keep up. It’s hard, with his legs and arms instead of a tail and fins like the shark, but his powers do give him an edge most creatures don’t have. Racing the mako is fun, for as hard as it is, and he doesn’t notice his arrival until he runs headfirst into his mother.

“Perseus,” Amphitrite chides, “You should watch where you’re going. The surface is not so safe as it is down here. I hope your cousin has not encouraged such behavior.”

“Mother,” Percy says, and even he can tell he’s whining.

“Whining is not dignified of a prince, Perseus. You know better.”

“Why did you call for me, mother?”

“Your father and I prepared some items for you and your friends, just in case. You haven’t been to your uncle’s home before, and I don’t want you to get lost. Take these pearls, my son, for you and your friends, should you become lost.”

Amphitrite hands him a trio of magic pearls, ones he can tell are enchanted to return to the ocean upon being crushed.

“Thanks, Mother,” Percy says.

“Now, tell me about these friends of yours.”

Percy squirms.

“Your father will be along soon, and we must fill the time somehow.”

Percy acquiesces, at the promise of being able to see his dad. “Well, Thalia’s okay, I guess. She helps out when she can but Ares said something that implies she can’t do much more or she risks turning me an’ Annabeth into ash, which would not be very fun. And Annabeth is great! She wanted to help me find Mom when I kinda sorta snuckuptoNewYorkdon’tworryaboutthat and she knows a lot even if she’s mostly interested in boring things.”

Amphitrite frowns. “Your father never mentioned that, although it would explain how your other uncle discovered your presence. You should know better than to sneak out, little pearl.”

“I know,” Percy says, dragging out the final syllable. “I’ve seen how dangerous things are up here, especially for a squishy human like me.”

“You still feel out of place?” Amphitrite asks.

“Mhm.” His friends are great, but somehow it feels a little worse now that he’s met other humans other than his mom and he doesn’t fit in with any of those mortals much better than he does at home. “I’m not missing any parts up there and still I’m so alone.”

“I’m sorry Percy. You are young still, your scales may grow in, or something else, yet. Many of your father’s demigod children did not express more inhuman features, but none of them have spent as much time in Atlantis as you have.”

Percy harrumphs disbelievingly, and then his dad is there.

“Dad!”

He lunges forward to hug Poseidon. It’s only been a few days, but already it feels like it’s been ages since he’s seen his father.

“Hello son,” Poseidon says, amused. “How has your quest been? Not too dangerous, I hope.”

“Mm-mm,” Percy denies. “We’ve been fine!”

“Good. Now, I am to understand you’re going to visit your Uncle soon?”

“Uh-huh! Thalia says she knows where we can go to find him! We got directions from a girl named Bianca.”

“That’s good. Soon, you will be back home, my son, and safe from the dangers of the surface world,” Poseidon says.

“I’m fine, Dad,” Percy protests. “Nothing that bad has even happened.”

“You were gravely poisoned, Perseus. I would not call that ‘fine,’ even in the worst of circumstances.”

Amphitrite’s form flickers, a hint of a form much older than the mother that he knows. One that expresses more anger than he’s ever seen.

“He did not tell me this. And neither did you, husband.”

“I did not wish to worry you.”

“I am his mother, it is my place to worry about him.”

“Guys, it was fine! I was all better by the time I hit the Mississippi anyways.”

“Perseus. Speak with your uncle, retrieve what was stolen, and return to us. I have been delaying your classes with Triton, but perhaps it would be best if we were to begin them when you get home.”

“Really? You’ll let me train?” Percy asks.

“It might be for the best, as much as I hate to see you in danger, it would help, if, in the worst case scenario, you must quest again,” Amphitrite says.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Percy wraps his arms around her. He’s been begging for years for his parents to let him start training in the trident with Triton, but their refusal has been adamant.

“This is not something you should be thanking me for, my son. Finish your quest, and we will arrange things with Triton.”

Percy shoots off towards the surface and the shore.

Chapter Text

Dead On Arrival Recording Studios is exactly where Bianca had told her it would be. The neighborhood is honestly a little disappointing for the entryway to her uncle’s realm, but it could be worse. At least it’s not Pasadena or San Francisco.

When they enter, Charon sits behind his desk, seemingly reading something just behind the register, not paying attention.

“Payment?” Charon asks, not looking up from what he’s reading.

“Bianca sent us,” she says. “I have business with my uncle. I was told you could escort us?”

Charon drops the magazine immediately. “Lady Thalia. I see, of course. Are these souls a new duty of yours? I’m sure Thanatos or your brother could instruct you in more efficient routes to the Underworld, if you’re to guide souls regularly.”

Thalia shakes her head.

“Ahh, I see now. Godlings. I’m afraid you must leave them behind. No living beyond this point, unfortunately,” Charon says.

“Either they come with me, or I can call Bianca, say you told us different from what she did,” Thalia offers, one eyebrow raised.

Charon pales and folds. “Very well. But I’m not to be blamed for any adverse effects, you hear? They get anything funny, it’s not my fault.”

“Just take us to my uncle, Charon,” Thalia sighs.

“Do you know what he meant by ‘adverse effects’?” Annabeth asks in a whisper.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think you actually need to worry about it. I think he’s just complaining to complain. Just don’t touch the Styx, either of you.”

“‘Just don’t touch the Styx’ she says,” Charon grumbles quietly. Perhaps too quietly for either of the demigods to hear, but Thalia is a goddess. She has better hearing than that. “If Hades ends up with two new godlings following him around like ducklings, it won’t be on my head.”

Charon opens the door next to his desk with a brief warning for the shades to refrain from changing the abhorrent music

Despite her very direct instruction to not touch the Styx, she still has to stop Percy from reaching in and grabbing at the river.

“What did I just tell you?”

“Not to touch the Styx,” Percy admits.

“And what did you just try to do?”

“But it’s so polluted! It’s absolutely awful. Someone’s got to do something about it!” Percy protests.

“Maybe when you’re older, and with your parents’ permission,” Thalia says. “We’ve still got to find the bolt, kid.”

Reluctantly, Percy leans back inside the ferry, and the cold fist around her heart unclenches. Children. They’ll be the fading of her. Fortunately, neither Percy nor Annabeth do anything for the remainder of the ferry ride, just sit in the boat and stare at the realm around them.

Seemingly endless lines of dead stretch out from the riverbank.

“Quickly, quickly, godlings. We don’t have all day, do we?” Charon chides, already stepping away from the river at a decent clip.

Thalia puts her hands on Percy and Annabeth’s backs to get them to move along. Spirits they pass reach out, either in recognition of the divine presences before them, or just in jealousy of how quickly they’re moving towards the gates. Fortunately, none of them try to grab Annabeth or Percy, but that does little for her worries. As much as she’d tried to reassure Annabeth, Charon wouldn’t have said what he did without reason.

As they walk, eventually, in the distance a series of gates begin to form out of the mist.

Of course, that’s when the next thing to go wrong happens.

Cerberus, the fearsome three-headed guardian of the underworld appears from the mist.

“Puppy!” Annabeth squeals.

“What?” Percy asks.

“Can we pet him? Please, Thalia?” Annabeth begs.

Thalia spares a glance to Charon, who gives a long-suffering sigh.

“Go ahead, kid. Just don’t take more than a few minutes, okay?”

Annabeth resolutely drags Percy off by one hand to go and pet the “puppy.” Thalia watches, but strangely, Cerberus actually seems good with kids, which surprises her for a beast of that size.

She lets the kids play for perhaps a little longer than is wise, but they’ve probably both had a rough week. They’ve nearly died twice, and she knows firsthand how rough that is on a kid, even if she hasn’t had to fear it in a long time.

“Percy, Annabeth, time to go,” she calls after Charon coughs and shakes his wristwatch out past the hem of his expensive suit for the fourth time.

Reluctantly, they both return, and Charon leads them all past the gates and the tent of the three judges of the dead.

“This is as far as I can take you. No matter who invited you, I can’t leave my desk abandoned for too long, or the shades start getting peculiar ideas about things like communism and free public transit.”

Charon departs back through the gates of the Underworld, past Cerberus, and across the River Styx.

Thalia turns around, and she stares at the stretching plains of the Fields of Asphodel, dotted here and there with stubby poplar trees.

Halfway there, Annabeth’s feet go out from underneath her, and she shoots off in a wildly different direction.

“Maia! Maia!” Annabeth shouts. “It’s no use! I can’t get the stupid things to stop. Thalia, Help!”

Thalia takes flight, trying to catch Annabeth, but those shoes are fast. She knows Hermes favors Luke, but this is frankly ridiculous. She’s too slow to reach her, and poor Percy is struggling under the weight of his backpack

Annabeth flies further and further away, and Thalia pushes herself just to keep the gulf between them from widening.

Annabeth bends herself over, reaching for her feet. Thalia can’t tell what she’s doing until Annabeth drops suddenly, slamming against the ground of asphodel. One winged shoe zips into the darkness, freed of its unwilling cargo.

Thalia is able to catch up more easily now, and grabs Annabeth firmly by the hand. Within seconds, her feet begin to slip against the black grasses, and the singular winged shoe continues its demented journey.

“Hang on, I’ll help you get that other shoe off!”

“No!” Annabeth refuses. “We should wait, see if we can find out where the shoes are trying to take me.”

They’re going slowly enough that even Percy, hunching over from the weight of his backpack, is able to catch up to them.

“What’s,” Percy pants, “what’s going on guys?”

“Annabeth wants to see where the shoes are taking her, because none of you have self preservation instincts.”

“Makes sense,” Percy says. “Smart move, Annabeth!”

Thalia narrowly resists letting out a groan. Of course Mr. Arc Jumper would agree with the suicidal idea. But she lets them continue, secure in the knowledge that she could untie the shoes before the worst happens, if they take them anywhere bad.

The shoes take them out of the Fields of Asphodel, past the Fields of Punishment, and towards a pit she doesn’t recognize. She doesn’t like it though. The darkness inside

A deep voice she’s never heard before laughs. It sends a shiver running down her immortal spine.

Annabeth gasps, and scrambles for her foot with the shoe on it. Thalia and Annabeth accelerate, getting closer and closer to the pit at faster and faster speeds.

Percy races forwards, in an attempt to grab her fingers and slow all of them down, but his foot hits a rock, and he goes down hard.

Annabeth’s fingers scramble over the laces, and she takes several tries to undo them. When she finally does, they’re a mere few feet from the pit, and Thalia can feel her ichor race.

“What’s in there?” Annabeth asks, her voice fragile.

“Nothing good. That’s Tartarus, the worst and darkest corner of the Underworld. If you thought the Fields of Punishment were bad, Tartarus makes them look like a nice day in the spa.”

Annabeth gulps audibly, and doesn’t say anything.

Thalia hauls Percy up as they walk back from the ledge, and it takes much more of her godly strength than she’d expected.

“Gods, kid,” Thalia mutters. “What’d you put in this thing, rocks? Trash from the Styx, somehow? Lead weights? No wonder you couldn’t keep up with this damn thing on your back. Need me to carry it?”

“No, I got it,” Percy says.

Thalia kneels as they enter the throne room, and after a moment’s hesitation, Percy follows her lead.

“Lord Uncle,” Thalia says.

“Niece. And Nephew. What brings you to my home?”

“We seek your advice. My father’s bolt has gone missing-”

“And you seek to accuse me for the theft? Or have you forgotten in your youth, that gods such as ourselves cannot act so directly against each other. Your arrogance aside, I don’t suppose either of you would care to explain why my nephew carries with him your father’s bolt, unless he plans to give to me what he stole?”

Thalia says several words that he’s only heard once before, when Rhode ruined a priceless vase his mother was very fond of. It had been two thousand years old, and Percy thinks the circumstances just might justify their repetition.

“Dad? What's going on?” an unfamiliar voice asks.

Worry lines etch their way across Hades’ face, and he shoots Thalia a murderous glare before turning away from the both of them.

“Nico. I thought I told you to stay with your mother until your sister returned? I have company.”

Hades turns away from them, all thoughts of his visitors forgotten.

The voice, still unseen, says something, but in a language Percy doesn’t recognize.

Hades sighs, and Percy blinks at the similarity between Hades and his Dad. Sure, he knows that Hades and Zeus are Poseidon's brothers, each of them kings of their own realm. But Zeus hadn't really seemed all that much like his Dad up on Olympus. But that sigh and the expression on Hades's face, that is one straight from his Dad's repertoire, the one he pulls out when Kym has gotten him into a scheme.

“Come on out, Nico. You may as well meet your cousins, if you've already revealed yourself.”

A boy about Percy’s age, maybe a little younger, steps out of the shadows around Hades’s throne. His hair is dark, and he looks pale, which admittedly makes sense if he lives in the Underworld.

“Did you at least tell your mother where you were going?” Hades asks.

The boy, Nico, presumably, shakes his head, chastised.

“Go and fetch your mother and your aunt then, and tell them we have guests,” Hades says.

Nico steps into the shadows around Hades’ throne, and disappears.

“His mother?” Thalia asks.

“Persephone. Your father slew his mortal mother, and attempted to kill Nico and his sister, in an attempt to kill my children so they could not fulfill the prophecy. The same prophecy that my sister sought so hard to avoid for you. Curious how my brother’s paranoia would affect my children, but not his own.”

“Darling, there’s no need to scare the children. They're family, and furthermore they're here to help,” Persephone says, appearing in a burst of leaves and gems.

“We don't think you were behind the theft. It wouldn't make any sense. I've met you, Uncle, I know you wouldn't make that play. But I had hoped you would perhaps know more about the theft than I did.”

“I do not believe I can tell you much. Whoever the thief is, they are clever. My helm was stolen first, I am certain. It's the only way someone could have gotten an object of power off Olympus. Without it, they would have been caught immediately.”

“And of course, the thief must be someone you've met on your journey,” Persephone adds.

Before he can ask what she means by that, Percy hears a voice he's been missing dearly for the past few days.

“Percy?” His mom's voice calls.

“Mom?! You're okay?” Percy turns away from the conversation with Hades and Thalia to find the source of her voice.

His mom is being escorted into the room by the boy from before. Ignoring everything his mother and Triton have taught him about court etiquette, he runs over to her, practically leaping into her arms.

“I got so worried when Iris couldn't reach you at home or at your apartment!”

“I'm sorry for worrying you, baby. Your uncle thought it would be best if I stayed with him for a few days, while we waited for this to be resolved.”

“Dad and Mother didn't know where you were either. I got to go to Aunty Em’s though! That's actually where I tried to call you from. You were right, the burgers are so good!”

“I’m glad that you had the opportunity to visit, but Percy, what are you doing on the surface world, let alone in the underworld? Your Uncle Hades is merciful, but I do not believe your other uncle would be happy if he were to catch you.”

Percy rubs the back of his head. He’s definitely gonna be grounded for this one, even if it’s totally not his fault.

“So you know when Dad and I came to visit for the solstice?”

“Yes,” his mom says, her tone the same one she uses when he gets in trouble during a visit.

“Well, uh, I actually kinda snuck out and came to see you on my own, and then Dad found me, but it turns out that Uncle Zeus found out about me, and on the same day, someone else stole the master bolt. And because he’s a jerk, Uncle Zeus said I stole it, even though I didn’t, and now I have to find it and get it back.”

“Percy… “ His mom’s tone is pitying.

“I’m fine, Mom. I told Dad and Mother this earlier too, but Thalia and Annabeth are pretty great, and I’ve been having a good time.”

“Okay, Percy, if you say so.”

“Mom,” he whines.

“Let’s get back to the conversation with your uncle, okay? I get the feeling it might be important. We can talk about your quest later.”

Percy and his mom walk back over to Hades, Annabeth, Persephone and Thalia.

“Percy’s bag is the sheath for the master bolt, rigged to summon it once you reached my realm. Of course. That would explain how it got to his bag, and why the three of you were unaware,” Hades says.

“Ares. It must have been him. He was the one who gave us the bags, who asked us to retrieve his shield for him. It was him all along. When I catch that coward, he will have much explaining to do,” Thalia growls.

“There may not be much you can force out of him, niece,” Hades warns.

“There is little we gods can do to act directly against one another. Even in this, I doubt you would be able to interfere, not without causing more problems than your actions would solve,” Persephone says, a sad smile on her face.

“We’ll get the bolt back to Olympus, Thalia,” Annabeth says. “After all, what could Ares do to stop us? We’ve got the master bolt.”

Hades frowns. “If Ares is behind the theft, then he may have my Helm of Darkness as well. I doubt you will be clear of the threat for some time. He may follow you in secret, or goad you into a fight, or any of a dozen things that could play into his hands.”

“I just don’t understand why? He’s always been kind to me, and certainly protective. Why would he turn on Dad like this? It doesn’t make any sense,” Thalia says.

“Family rarely does. And yet, we love them anyway. My brothers have often hurt me, but I would never betray them like this. And that’s aside from the fact that I don’t want any more responsibility than I already have. Trust me, the Underworld and my children are plenty to look after.” Hades says.

Thalia nods, turning away from Hades. “Well, we should probably get going. The sooner my father’s bolt is back, the better I’ll feel. And Uncle, if we find Ares, I’ll make sure your helm is returned to you. I won’t let you down.”

“Do you want to come with us, Mom?” Percy asks.

“No, honey, I think it would probably be best if I stay here until everything with your uncle up above has been resolved, just in case. But I promise I’ll come down to visit as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” he says.

“I love you so much, Percy. Never forget that. I wish I could be there for you more than I have been, but it just wasn’t in the cards, sweetie.”

“Mother said her and Dad were gonna ask you to come stay at home with us, after this. Since Uncle Zeus already knows about me, she said there wouldn’t be any danger. Could you, Mom? Could you please?”

His mom smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t know, Percy. I’ll have to talk with them about it, and see what it would look like. I don’t want to make any promises and break your heart if something comes up.”

“I'll see you soon Mom.”

“You too, Percy. My brave hero.”

Percy gives his mom a quick hug, before joining Thalia and Annabeth at the doors.

“Just a short ways till we’re done,” he says grinning.

“But don’t forget to watch out for Ares,” Annabeth agrees.

As they leave the throne room behind them, Percy can hear one last sentence before the doors close.

“Sally, dear, it really has been lovely having you here,” Persephone says. “Once you're all settled after this whole affair, we'd love to host you again. Maybe bring Poseidon and Amphitrite too, make it a whole get together.”

Percy is too far away by the time his mom responds to hear what she says.

Chapter Text

Their return to the mortal realm is unhindered, as the lord of the dead sends them on their merry way. Waiting for them back at Santa Monica, however, is Ares.

“Why?” Thalia demands. “You were my brother and you set us up! You had the bolt stolen, and then you framed us for it!”

“I didn't mean for your new friends to be framed for it. I didn’t know Poseidon had a son, not until it was much too late. I meant it when I said do nothing, Sis. You've already seen how Father and our Uncles are. I couldn't risk them deciding to do something about you.”

“So you almost started a war. One that could very well have destroyed Olympus.”

“Don't count your chickens before they hatch, littlest sister. I still could succeed. But if Father and our Uncles were busy squabbling amongst themselves, then you and Jason would be safe, for a time.”

“You're insane,” Annabeth says, foregoing her usual respect.

Ares’s eyes burn. “I'm War, kiddo. You, out of all three of you, should understand that. How far would your mother go to keep you safe? How far has she gone already?”

Annabeth swallows, and says nothing.

“Now, I am going to need that bolt, kiddos. Can't have you getting in the way of my plan.”

“No.” Percy says. “It wasn’t your plan, was it?”

“Excuse you, punk?” Ares says.

“If you had your dad’s bolt and Uncle Hades’ helm, then why would you need a war? You could protect Thalia and Jason on your own, rather than hoping no one would pay attention to them.”

Ares pauses, thoughtful. “No. No, I needed to be subtle. I’m a God, but that’s not enough to protect them constantly. A war was the only way.”

“And what about the mortals who your war would kill? What about the Atlanteans who would suffer because you framed my dad?” Percy demands.

“Who cares about them? War’s got casualties, kid. What’s a few measly mortals against my little brother? Now, you three are going to hand over that bolt, and let me do my thing, or I’m going to take it the hard way.”

“No,” Thalia says, and something about her voice is so different that Annabeth has to look over at her.

Thalia looks young, younger than herself and Percy, even. Thalia glances down, and the expression of shock on her face is so severe, she’s certain that Thalia didn’t intend to change her appearance.

“Thals, I'm sorry, but you have to know what Dad did! If I didn't do something now, there's no telling what Uncle H would do if he found out about Jase. And I can't let your friends get in the way of that. Family first, always.”

“If you want the bolt, you're gonna have to come and take it,” Percy says.

“I could do that,” Ares says. “You're an ant, compared to me and Thalia. I could wave my hand, turn you into a cockroach and-”

“No,” Percy interrupts. “If you did that, it'd be as good as admitting to all the world that you were scared of me. If you're so powerful, why don't you actually fight me directly?”

“Works for me, dead boy.”

“You and me, one on one. No minions for you, or help from my friends for me. If you win, you can have the bolt and do whatever stupid shit you have planned. But when I win, you have to let us go and you give us the helm.”

“If you win,” Ares chuckles. “This should be like taking candy from a baby. Classic or modern, fishbones?”

“Ares!” Thalia snaps.

To Annabeth, she sounds nervous.

Percy raises his sword regardless.

“Classic it is.”

Percy and Ares begin circling each other, before Ares begins the fight with a sudden forward swing.

“Ares, he is twelve. Poseidon would never forgive you if you do this. Think about what he would do,” Thalia begs.

“None of that now, Sis. Wouldn't want you distracting your precious mortal now would we?”

“Please don’t,” Percy grits out.

Ares is fast, and judging from the way Riptide wavers every parry that Percy makes, Annabeth is sure he's strong.

Percy dances out of the way as much as he swings at Ares, moving across the beach. She can tell he has a plan of some kind, his movements, even when backing away from Ares’ blows, are too intentional to be random.

When his back foot slides into the surf, it all becomes clear to her. Percy plans to use his connection to his father’s domain to bolster his strength, maybe even surprise Ares. It’s a smart strategy. Maybe even one that will work.

One dodge, then another, and finally Percy is close enough to leap into the ocean proper. Instead of lunging like she can tell Ares expects, Percy dives back into the water.

“Ha, coward,” Ares calls.

They trade blows back and forth, but this time, it’s not nearly as one-sided. Percy can stand his own against the god, rather than getting almost batted around.

In the space of a few more blows, Annabeth can see the moment when Percy will win the fight. The tide rises ever so slightly, slowing Ares down, and Riptide traces a line across his chest, golden ichor bubbling up along the gash.

It’s strange. Ares almost doesn’t look as angry as she’d have expected for the god of war who just lost a duel to a mortal. “Not bad, kid.”

“I won,” Percy pants, clearly tired from the exertion. “That means you give us the helm.”

“Yeah yeah, keep your pants on,” Ares says, fishing a black balaclava out of a back pocket.

Percy makes a grabby motion, and Annabeth wishes, just for a moment, that she could brain him over the head. Does he have seaweed for brains?

Ares tosses the helm to her instead, and she staggers a little under a weight that would seem impossible for simple fabric.

“You’re good, but you don’t have any formal training. You should ask your pops about coming up, spending a few weeks with me. Get that talent with some actual know-how behind it. Who knows? Maybe you’d even stand a chance in a fair fight.”

With those parting words, Ares vanishes in a flash of light. The water around his legs vaporizes, and Annabeth notes that even the sand has turned to glass, before the ocean rushes in to fill the space.

She's back on Olympus, but it's not the home she's known for years. Pillars are smashed, buildings ruined, and temples desecrated. Blood runs red through the streets.

She takes one unsteady step, and then another. The flagstones are cracked, and they shift underneath her feet. Something terrible has happened here.

Thalia stops dead as she nears a temple. The blood painting the home of the gods. Blood. It's the red of mortal blood, not the golden ichor of immortals. And she only knows of one mortal upon Olympus.

She moves, faster than she ever has before. She flies down the once resplendent streets, zeroing in on Hera's temple. She needs to find Jason. She needs to know what happened.

Their home is empty. It has been ransacked, and there is a disturbing amount of blood dripping from the walls and the splinters of the furniture, but Jason is not there.

Eventually, she finds Jason in the throne room. The Olympian thrones are destroyed. Her father’s platinum throne is tarnished, and deep slices run through it. Hera’s looks eroded, as if somehow millions of years have passed in the time she’s been gone. The pattern continues for all the other Olympian thrones.

In the middle of the room lies her younger brother. Jason is badly injured, blood flooding his hair and clothes.

“You could have prevented this, you know. Kept your vulnerable little brother safe. Safe from the goddess he trusts so much, the one who will betray him without a moment's hesitation, if it serves her purposes. All you had to do was let that girl fall.”

This must be whoever had spoken to Ares, the real mastermind of the theft.

“You can still prevent this. Save your brother from the prophecy. Save him from his doom.”

As much as she hated to admit it, the thief was cunning. Silver tongued. She could understand why Ares would be tempted by this offer. Coerced.

“All you must do is bow to me. Swear your allegiance, and I can save him from it all.”

She knows who this must be. Kronos. Only so many beings would have the power and the drive to see the bolt stolen and delivered to the pit. Her grandfather is crawling his way out of Tartarus.

This is so much worse than she'd ever imagined.

A woman stands before them, black hair held back by a golden band. Annabeth knows she has to be a goddess, although she’s not sure yet who. Appearance alone is an unreliable gauge for the Olympians, as Thalia demonstrated earlier that day.

“Daughter,” the goddess says warmly, her gaze focused on Thalia.

“Stepmother,” Thalia returns.

“Your majesty,” Annabeth says, recognizing Hera, the Queen of the gods.

Beside her, Percy looks a little confused, and she wonders how much he knows about all the Olympians.

“I’m quite proud of you three, you know. You have done most excellently, as I knew you would.”

Annabeth bites back a hiss. Percy does not seem to realize the implications of Hera’s statement, although Thalia clearly does, from the golden hue that flushes her cheeks.

“What do you mean, knew we would? Did you arrange the theft? Were—” Percy cuts himself off, before he finishes that sentence.

Annabeth blanches. She hasn't thought about that angle until now.

“No, Nephew, of course not. Rather, I ensured that the best possible questers I could find would be on the case. I simply took advantage of the opportunity to connect my daughter with her cousin and niece.”

“We almost died!” Percy exclaims.

“Oh please, with my daughter here, you were in no danger. I doubt your father would have acquiesced to my husband’s demands if he truly feared for your life. My little brother has always been a tad overprotective of his family,” Hera says.

Annabeth kicks Percy as subtly as she can before he says something else to offend.

“Mom? What’s going on?” A new voice. A twelve year old-ish boy with golden hair and eyes containing the same storm as Thalia’s appears from around the corner of the temple.

“Jason,” Hera says, her tone and face all warmth. “This is your cousin Percy, and I’m sure you remember your sister, Athena. Annabeth is her daughter.”

Annabeth squirms a little at the reminder that technically, Thalia and Jason are her Aunt and Uncle. Immortal families are weird.

“Hi Percy, hi Annabeth!” Jason says. “Do you live on Olympus too?”

“They live with their parents, Jason,” Hera corrects. “They don’t spend much time here.”

“But they’re here to visit?”

“For now. They’re friends of Thalia’s, and they were just on a long journey.”

“Where did they go?”

“They went to retrieve an item of your father’s that had been misplaced,” Hera says.

“Oh, did Dad lose the TV remote? I hate it when I do that,” Jason says.

“No, Jase, someone stole the Master Bolt, and Dad asked me and my friends to go find it.”

“Why couldn’t he go get it?”

“Because he’s a God, Jase. There’s rules about what we can do. Percy and Annabeth on the other hand, are demigods. They can go pretty much wherever they want, if they can stay alive long enough to get there, and do whatever needs doing. But, since they’re young, Dad wanted me on chaperone duty. Had to be someone he trusted, y’know?”

“Okay,” Jason chirps, and like that, the topic safely moves on, with Jason very blatantly lied to. Annabeth isn’t certain she’s comfortable with how causally Thalia lied to Jason, when he shouldn’t be much younger than she was, according to Thalia’s story. She understands the desire to protect him, but he’s eleven, that’s old enough to know the truth.

She knows better than to anger either goddess by contradicting Thalia though. They might have spent the last week traveling across the country, but Annabeth has not forgotten the gulf between her and Thalia. For all her mother’s love, Annabeth is still very mortal, and very powerless.

“Oh, gods, I heard what happened with the shoes, I’m so sorry,” Luke says. “Please, believe me, I had no idea they were cursed.”

“And why should we?” Thalia demands, thunder rumbling above in time with her words.

Luke winces. “After my quest, I tended to leave them in the cabin. Not much use for flying shoes here, unless you want the Apollo cabin to make a pincushion out of you during Capture the Flag. Someone must have gotten to them, but I don’t know who could’ve. All the unclaimed kids stay in the Hermes cabin, which makes for a perfect breeding ground for discontent and bitterness.”

“You speak like you’ve seen this before,” Annabeth says.

Luke glances at Thalia, visibly hesitating before continuing. “I have, yes. It’s crowded in there, with all of dad’s kids and then all the unclaimed and the children of the minor gods. One of the duties of the Hermes counselor is to talk down anyone from any unwise ideas. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a bitter demigod who feels alone lash out at the world. This would certainly be the worst, though.”

“So you think the lighting thief is someone in the Hermes cabin?”

Luke shrugs. “Or someone who works with them. I don’t know much yet, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks, Luke, you’re a real friend,” Percy says. Before this quest, he only had a few friends, and none of them half-human like him. Now, he has three surface friends.

“Hey, I get it. First time I came here, I didn't know anyone else, either.”

“First time you came here?” Percy asks. He doesn't quite get why the gods would send their children to a summer camp, but not all of them have kingdoms like Atlantis. Maybe it's for socializing.

“I … I used to live with my Dad, too. But, it wasn't working out.” Luke smiles. “Besides, this way, I can look after all my little siblings. Let ‘em know Dad loves ‘em, right?”

“Your dad misses you, you know,” Thalia says.

Luke's smile shifts into something different, something sad, for the briefest moment. “Yeah, I know. But trust me, it's better this way. The kids here need me, and if someone in my cabin really has turned—one of the unclaimed kids, probably, or gods forbid one of my little siblings—then someone oughta keep an eye out. See if I can get them back on the right path.”

Distantly, Percy can hear his dad calling.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes. “I gotta get home.”

“See you around, friend,” Luke says.

Chapter Text

Thalia straightens her chiton out as she arrives at Camp Jupiter. As the daughter of Zeus, rather than the Roman Jupiter, she doesn’t like the strict regimentation of the legion. Something about the uniforms and all the insanely specific regulations drives her up a wall. Reluctantly, she changes her clothing to a toga, to stand out less, and approaches the clustered legion leadership.

“My Lady Thalia,” Octavian says. “We are honored by your presence. What do you require of Rome?”

She can feel herself shift to her Roman form under the pressure of the demigods perception. Nothing too externally obvious, she hasn’t had split forms for long enough, or enough history to generate the kind of split the older gods do. As a Roman goddess, she appreciates the structure the Romans provide. They misplace demigods far less frequently than the Greeks do.

Still, even as a Roman, she does not like her brother’s descendant, the legion’s new Augur. He toadies far too much to be respectable, and she feels the need to deep-clean her toga every time she has to interact with him.

“I bring a warning from my father. Heed my words, mortal, for should the legion disobey, the consequences for the mortal realm will be most dire.”

“Of course, anything you say, milady.”

That’s it, this is her last trip to New Rome for at least a few years. If Father or Mother need a gopher, they can get Mars to go. He actually likes it here. Or even better, Hercules can go, actually engage in his domain for once.

“My grandfather, the time lord, is attempting to return. The Legion must oppose his rise, at all costs. Warn the praetors, warn the senate, but you must not allow defectors. He seeks to undermine the Legion from within, and to pull himself out of the pit in one stroke. This must never happen.”

“Saturn?” a centurion asks. “He is rising?”

“Yes. And if all the legion is as competent as you, there may be nothing to stand in his way.”

She vanishes before Octavian can say another word. The sooner he is out of her sight, the less she feels the impulse to smite something.

Percy hefts the last cardboard box as he swims to his mom's new room. It's right next to his, in the family wing of the palace, and connected to his parents' other room by a simple door.

Most of his godly siblings are there too, Rhodes, Triton, and even Benthesikyme, who didn’t stop by Atlantis as much, all helping his mom move in and unpack.

“How are you liking it here Mom? Isn't Atlantis just the coolest?”

“It’s very different from New York,” his mom admits.

“You’ll get used to it!” Percy says. “Dad says it took me a few weeks to get used to being underwater, but I was a baby then. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it in no time!”

Triton knocks on the door frame, holding a box effortlessly in one hand. “May I come in?”

“Of course, Lord Triton, this is your home,” Sally says.

“And now it is yours too,” Triton replies. “My parents told me about you, years ago. I wasn’t the happiest about what I’d seen as my father’s disrespect for my mother being thrown in our faces, even if Amphitrite seemed as excited as father about you. But you’re the mother to my little brother. Atlantis should be your home just as much as New York was. Further, none of that ‘Lord’ nonsense. You’re family.”

“Thank you, Triton. That means a lot to me, really.”

Percy watches as his brother’s twin tails flick, and he propels himself into the room. Triton picks up one of the boxes discarded by the entryway.

“Where do you want this, Sally?”

Triton moves closer to his mom, and as they move boxes, Percy catches hints of a whispered conversation between them. Neither Sally nor Triton sound very happy about whatever it is, but the only word he manages to overhear before they catch him trying to listen in is ‘prophecy.’

Another knock comes on the door frame, as he and his brother are helping his mom move some of the boxes.

“Lunch is about ready, everyone,” Poseidon says, sticking his head in. “Would you join us, Sally? It’d be an excellent time to get to know everyone here better.”

His mom smiles. “I’d love to. Percy was telling me you have several daughters neither you nor Amphitrite have told me about?”

Annabeth stands outside her mother's house, staring at the door. It's barely been a week since she snuck out, and already it feels so different. Like something's changed.

But she knows it hasn't. From the paint just old enough to start chipping, to the familiar protective enchantments her mother laid onto the stone, it's identical to the home she left behind.

Maybe it's that she's changed. The past week has shown her so much more of the mortal world than she's ever seen before.

The door opens, and her mother stands there, wearing her usual lounge wear. But unlike usual, it's wrinkled, like she's been sleeping in it. There's streaks of grey in her hair, and new lines in her face.

Athena had worried.

“Hey Mom,” she tries.

“Annabeth,” her mother says.

She feels something inside her crumple, and she runs to hug her mother. Athena leans down, wraps her arms around Annabeth, and holds her close.

“I missed you, Mother,” Annabeth mumbles into her hair.

“And I you, daughter. You were safe?”

“Reasonably,” Annabeth assures. “But we got to see a puppy, and the arch, and Miss Medusa gave us burgers!”

Athena's embrace tightens. “I am glad. You have done me proud, Annabeth. But perhaps we should go inside before you continue?”

Annabeth nods, and lets Athena carry her inside. She’s old enough to walk in on her own, but she’s tired, and the comfort is nice. She definitely shouldn’t mention almost getting sucked into Tartarus until they’re inside.

Ever since she'd seen those kids in the diner, Rachel had been searching. The things they talked about had seemed insane—gods, quests, impossible things—but they were all deadly serious.

Two of them glowed brightly. One of them had lightning crackling through her hair, while the other had eyes like flames. That one had made her grip the menu in her hands even more tightly. The children with them also glowed, but much less brightly.

She wasn't certain if she'd finally lost it, like her mother, or if they were real. She didn't know which was worse.

When the four of them had shown up on the news a few days later in a swordfight that everyone else was calling a gunfight for some reason, Rachel knew she hadn't just imagined them.

Unfortunately, just about everything she tried either made her look absolutely kooky, or got no results.

She tossed the years-old newspaper back. Just more useless celebrity drivel. Tristan McLean and his missing daughter. She felt for him, a bit, it had to suck for your only kid to just up and disappear without a trace, if he cared about her at all, but it wasn't what she was looking for.

She changed sections of the library. One of them had been called Ares. Maybe she'd find something misfiled by the Greek mythology section.