Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1

The boy ran.

Black curly hair swayed in the strange breeze, his green-blue-green-blue-and-again eyes filled with tears and determination.

The walls blurred around him, a mix of sounds and noises following his footsteps. Hunting him. 

He didn’t stop. 

He couldn’t.

If he did—

If he stopped again, only for a moment—

Then they would win.

Those monsters.

Percy’s chest hurt, and more tears threatened to come out. 

Mom, he thought, desperate and afraid and twice resolute.

He couldn’t leave her alone. 

He couldn’t.

Even if it would be easier for her, if she had no more a burden like him, but—

Mom was his only family, and he was his mom’s only son.

They only had each other.

Mom —

Something crashed behind him, and Percy only had an instant to throw himself out of the way before a whistling-thing brushed against his cheek. He hit the floor, but his attention was on the wall where a long piece of metal was stuck on the wall.

It kinda looked like a short spear, and would have killed him.

Fuck. A voice like Gabe’s cussed out in his mind, and he felt a wave of repulsion that always followed any thought of the man who liked to visit his mom at her work. The stinky, smelly man.

“Stop!”

A sibilant, scaly voice came from behind him, closer than Percy preferred. Although, to be honest, the distance would still fall short even if these things were in the sun. 

Whatever. What mattered was that Big Dumb #3 was still on –and yeah, they started to approach again.

Rolling out of the floor, Percy sprinted again, feeling exhausted but determined to find his way out. He didn’t look back but he could hear Big Dumb #3, screaming at him while crawling on their tail.

A big scaled thing jumped from the shadows ahead of him, raising a short pointy stick, yellow eyes squinted (a look Percy didn’t know they could make with that look).

“Give up, demigod!” Big Dumb #4 hissed.

The torches flickered.

In any other moment, Percy would have said something about the obvious drama, but now his attention was solely focused on the sudden door that opened behind the creature. It was like a black hole, pitch dark, and it shouldn’t be calling him like this but—

Percy pushed on, and gathering a red rock from the floor threw it to the scale guy’s face. 

“Fool.”

Dumb #4 raised the metal stick to cover his face in reflex, and the rock broke into dust. It wasn’t normal dust. They screamed and threw their weapon away to grasp their face, and Percy took advantage to jump ahead, straight to the unknown. 

A sharp feeling accompanied his last second of clarity. Pain followed him even as the darkness embraced him.

࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ 

The dark sky looked quite scary with the looming clouds, and Percy could smell the rain in the air, taste the salt and anger on his mouth. 

In front of him, huge waves crashed against the shore, broken by a black horse that ran across it.

Percy wondered why he felt so… sad while looking at the stallion, even when it was quite impressive that the animal was able to gallop in such dangerous water. Something told him he had seen this black horse before, but never like this. So… desperate.

He wanted to talk to him. With him. Like he had done last year in that school trip to the farm. Would him like apples and cuddles like Aura? His mom always told him hugs were the best medicine for the soul, and hers always cheered him up, no matter how sad or hurt he felt.

Maybe Percy could help. 

But as soon as he tried to approach —

“Hello, there.”

Percy opened his eyes. 

A beautiful woman with curly black hair and green-golden was sitting beside him. A red cloak with yellow accents draped around her, and it took his brain a moment to register that the shapes were lions. They looked like they had been embroidered, like those bags his mom sold on the store for twenty bucks.

"That's so cool," he said without thinking and then immediately felt embarrassed when the woman smiled at him, so warmly. Clearing his throat, he tried to remember the manners his mother had drilled into him, trying to make a good impression in the nice lady. "Hello, ma’am. Thank you—thank you for saving me." Percy knew there was no way he could have survived on his own. But now… now he didn’t even feel pain. 

The woman smiled, her expression brightening like the afternoon sun. She was almost as beautiful as his mother.

“Ohh, look at you, so sweet. Don’t worry, dear, I simply couldn’t let one of my grandsons be lost forever in this old labyrinth,” she then sighed, and pulled out a ceramic jug that looked like it belonged in a museum like the one they were supposed to go next year. “There’s not much I can do, but at least, here. You need to get your strength back…”

Percy slowly pushed himself upright, still a little groggy. As he took the jug, her words finally sank in—and his eyes widened. He almost dropped it.

“…Grandson?” He clutched the jug to his chest, staring at the woman. She didn’t look any older than his own mother. And besides, his mom had told him both of her parents had died long ago. He was the only one left in their family. They were. Her and him.

She watched him closely, a spark of something in her eyes. Percy suddenly felt like he was being studied by some kind of feline. He’d never had pets, but Old Larry from their last apartment building had owned three of those furry menaces. One of them, Mr. Spark, used to stare at him like he was calculating whether or not could take him out.

Ah.

He really hoped this wasn’t like that...

Something—something told him it wasn’t like it, but—

“Do you dream, dear Percy?” she asked suddenly, her voice gentle again. “Dreams that stretch back, to long lost paths. Maybe forward. To what hasn’t been lived yet. Dreams where you walk sideways, to paths only a few are able to step in. Do you, my grandson?”

Her words ringed on his ears. 

Percy swallowed. He hadn’t told her his name—but somehow, that felt like the least strange thing right now. 

What was he supposed to say? 

He knew he wasn’t normal. Beyond the creatures no one but him could see, the dangers that tingled under his skin, the tugging that only failed to warm him when he was too stupid to understand —like today, like yesterday. 

Dreams, she said. But Percy felt it wasn’t the right word for it.

Nightmares, perhaps. 

He nodded, in the end.

“No surprise there, don’t worry.” She tucked a lock of her hair behind a crown— wait. It wasn’t there. What?—“Think of it as a family trait.”

“…Are you my father’s mother?” He hated how small his voice sounded.

His mother… she had told him his father was lost at sea. But Percy was old enough now. He knew his dad wasn’t dead. Or lost. He just… wasn’t there. With them.

His fingers tightened around the jug.

“That’s right, my grandson,” the woman said. “You’ve no idea how happy I am to finally meet you. You… you look so much like him. My second son. Reckless, passionate. So full of love.” Her voice trailed off the way old Mrs. Tomasa’s did, that elderly neighbor who used to talk about the son she hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

Percy swallowed again. “Oh,” he said. A spark of anger ignited from the bottom of his stomach. “Did… did he visit, at least?” He managed to ask. He had his mother, and his mom had him. This lady —his grandma, looked kinda lonely. Sad. 

She blinked, and something flickered —a spark of gold and red and black before it stopped. “No, sweetie. But it is no fault of his own. I’m afraid— no one can come here. But I’ve seen him and the rest of my children on some occasions, “she smiled like she was telling him a secret, and then she gestured to their surroundings. “I make little mementos of them to keep me company.”

Percy finally noticed the walls were covered with colorful mosaics. He could see children and men and women doing all kinds of things —there was a blonde woman dressed in green, raising her hands in front of a yellow field; a man sitting on a cloud, with a lighting on a hand; a red girl in front of a red fireplace; a man dressed like a vampire, with long, long black hair and all, caressing a three-headed dog—

“That’s Hades?” He asked, confused. They had been studying Greek mythology for his Literature Class in his last school, and thought it had been so difficult to read as Hamlet or Frankenstein, it had been ten times more interesting for him. His mother had always liked to tell him about mythology, so they had been reading the book together.

His eyes fixated on one of the central mosaics. A blue-haired man with a tail stood in a chariot pulled by hippocampus. He had a big fork —a trident— on his hand. His eyes were of the same color than the ‘water’ surrounding him.

Something… something drew him to that man. 

“I called him Haides,” the woman whispered. “And —that’s my second son. You can touch him if you want.”

Percy stopped, noticing his stretched hand. He let it fall. “Oh,” he said. “What— what is his name?” He asked, carefully. His mother had never told him his father’s name. Said it was dangerous, too dangerous. 

“You already know,” she said, not unkind. 

Percy looked down.

“.... Poseidon,” he said slowly.

Who would’ve thought his last classes would actually help him figure out who his father was? It seemed… It seemed so crazy.

Him. Perseus Jackson, who couldn’t read, who sometimes couldn’t even speak out the words he wanted, who could only be a burden for his mother, despite as much as he tried not to.

Him.

The son of the sea king god. 

It should be something impossible to believe but the feeling on his belly —the same that appeared when he Knew— told him it was true. 

… At least now he understood why the man (god) hadn’t been around.

Percy wouldn’t want a kid like him either.

But—his mom. She definitely deserved better. Better than that disgusting man who looked at her with that kind of eyes, who looked at Percy as trash, and made trouble at his mom’s work as if he deserved more than being eaten by one of the Big Dumbs. He— he couldn’t understand why she smiled at him, and asked Percy to ‘get along with Gabe’.

Was it his fault…?

“Percy.”

He looked up, startled by the sudden call. His chest tightened at the sight of the woman’s expression—his grandmother. She— she looked like his mom. 

Something soft and warm filtered through his body, even as tears stung his eyes. He blinked, feeling like he was sitting under his mom’s blanket.

“Come on, drink a little. You’ll feel better.”

Percy obeyed. He uncorked the jug and brought it to his lips. A rich, incredible aroma hit his nose, and something sweet and delicious spread across his tongue. Only when he drank he noticed as empty his belly was; it felt like he hadn’t eaten for a week.

“What does it taste like?” she asked with a secret smile tugging her lips. 

“…My mom’s blue cookies,” he murmured, hugging the jug to his chest. “They’re the best in the world.” Though feeling better, he has to rub his eyes to shake off the tears. He wouldn’t cry. He was a big boy. No tears. “What —what is it?” 

“Nectar and milk. I’m afraid I have only this to offer for now, my grandson.” Perhaps seeing Percy’s confused face, she explained. “Do you remember what brought you here?”

“Big Dumb #1,” he said without thinking. She raised an eyebrow. “A thing, I think it was like a monster, because it had a snake tail and scales. It was in the same bus as my mom and me. We left in a different stop, and—” Percy frowned. “We got separated. I don’t know how, I was holding mom’s hand how she told me — but then I was alone, and Big Dumb #2 appeared and started to try to— to eat me—” he stopped for a moment, thinking hard.

“I think I fell,” he said, eyes staring at one point on the wall. “And then I heard something like a click. I don’t know. I fell —and then I was in a strange place, like a cave ‘cause the stones and I didn’t know where to go so I —I only ran,” he mumbled.

He then raised his eyes, looking at his grandmother. “I only wanted my mom. I  —I cannot leave her alone. We are the only Jackson left, you know? Before today, she was my only family. I—” He closed his eyes to stop the stupid tears, and the words spilled out. “I can’t leave her alone… or with him:”

It took him more than he wanted to notice the heaviness in the air.

“Oh, sweetie,” she sighed. The sadness that had crossed her before was now only the tip of the iceberg. 

Oh. Right.

If she was his grandmother —if she was Poseidon and Hades and Zeus and the girl’s mother, the mother of those six, then her husband couldn’t be other than Cronos. Or Kronos. Mr I-eat-my-own-children. Ate. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I —I didn’t mean—”

“Percy,” she cut him off, her voice warm. “Don’t worry, my sweet boy, you’re the last one at fault. Now, it warms me how much you love your mother, she must be a great woman.” 

“She is!” Percy couldn’t stop himself, feeling a rush of excitement after her words. “She’s the bestest of the best! She is really strong and kind and beautiful and—” the torrent of words lost the tone as the smile grew on his grandmother’s face. Warm spread on his face. “Ejem, yes—” he said, trying to recover himself. “She’s the best.” 

Grandmother hummed. Percy took it like she was agreeing to his not-at-all-biased declaration.

He wondered if she would like to meet his mother…

“I understand you want to get back to her as soon as possible,” his grandmother said gently. She reached out her hand to him, and Percy took it—his eyes going wide when he realized he could barely feel her touch.

“I’m afraid my strength is fading. I’ve been asleep for a very, very long time, my grandson—until I heard your footsteps and your voice. Soon, I’ll be going back to sleep again.”

“Grandma…”

“But in the meantime, could you do an old woman a favor?”

Her eyes flickered green, then amber, then green again. Percy felt like he was seeing two people at once—a young woman in sunlight, and an older woman bathed in moonlight. But then the image stilled, and it was only his grandmother in front of him.

Percy swallowed hard, tightening his grip on her hand. Something told him this moment was more important he could understand. 

“Please, stay a little with this old woman,” she asked, smiling with sad, gentle, warm eyes.

“Okay, Grandma.”

Percy sent a silent apology to his mom, knowing she’d understand once he told her what had happened.

She was the one who’d taught him never to turn his back on family, after all. 

Chapter Text

Poseidon, Sally’s lovely voice came to him while he was strolling around the garden of his palace, and it was the emotion, the sadness so thick and sharp like knives that made him stop. And listen. Listen with a foreboding feeling of dread spreading in the space where his heart should be if he were a mortal.

Listen to me, she prayed, her words filled of salty tears and fear so deep that it fanned the flames of his anger, because anyone who dared to let the queen among women in such a dire situation should bear the brunt of the sea, should test the sharpness of his trident from inside their guts—

It’s – it’s our baby.

As Sally broke, those last words choked in desperation so clear, so tangible that the king of sea himself could feel the taste on his mouth.

But perhaps, it was because it was their son. His babe.

He ran, hunted by a monster –I couldn’t protect him–

I’m so sorry, please, help me, please find him–

Find him.

Yes, the Father of Monsters whispered to the mother of their son, I’ll find him.

And anyone who dared to put their hands on his little pearl would find why the sea had been feared as much as it was since ancient times.

࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ 

“— and he had to find the seahorse’s birthmother. But my son created this little creature with an interesting twist, as it is the father who bears their progeny,” his grandmother related, smiling with a glint in her green eyes.

“So –Uncle Zeus failed?” he asked, curious, caressing the red blanket her grandma had given him when he started to grow cold. It was warm, and smelled like trees –thought he couldn’t say which one. “Or–?”

“Oh, yes, he did fail, but—” she chuckled. “my youngest boy has never been one to be joked on. He pretended to accept his loss, and when it was the time to give you father the promised gift, he gave him a jar.”

Percy’s eyes showed confusion, “A jar?”

“Yes, a jar. An empty one. And when your father asked where his gift was, your uncle told him: Oh, no! The seahorse birthmother has stolen it!”

A laugh escaped Percy’s lips. “Did father get angry?”

Grandmother shook her head. “He took the jar home and put it on his bedside table. Your father has always been someone who loved his family a lot, and prided himself for it,” A distant look crossed her face, something Percy had seen a lot. He stretched his hand and held hers, smiling at her as she came back. “Oh, dear, where was I?”

“Father got the jar and took it to his home.”

“Right, right. This was just a bit before your Uncle Haides’s helm was taken by one of your cousins —cunning Hermes, son of Pleiad-nymphe Maia and your Uncle Zeus. Oh, such a lively boy!”

Percy was tucked better, his hand still holding hers, before she continued talking about the ‘prank’ —and the resolution, which ended with the culprit being turned into a snake for some time. Apparently, Uncle Haides was stricter than the others, perhaps because he was the oldest.

As the stories continued, no matter how much he resisted, his eyelids grew heavy.

Before falling asleep, his thoughts came back to the precious moments his grandma shared with him.

It was kinda of warm to know about them, when he only knew fragments of what humanity had decided to paint about them, what things his mother had read to him as bedtime stories.

He, and his mother, had been all alone…

Would be nice, he thought. To have more family.

࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ 

The child had fallen asleep, food on his belly and his little, kind hand still clinging to her.

She closed her eyes, feeling so selfish for this. Because she knew this boy was loved —his mother’s love was around him, warmer than any blanket she could weave, and though his father’s mark was missing, she still could feel the claim of the sea on his soul, within his bare bones, pulsing.

This was a child who was loved.

And she, on her selfishness, on her fear of falling asleep again and waking up weaker and all alone, couldn’t stop herself from wanting a little bit more. A little bit more of time on the company of such a gentle, star-hearted boy.

Her grandson.

If only —if only things were different. Then she could have helped her son to raise this little bundle of joy, could have done the same with the rest of her children and her grandchildren. Lived with them instead of watching over them. Help them instead of crying herself to sleep as they got hurt and hurt their own family.

If only she could step outside of this dusty, lost corner of the labyrinth, if she could go outside, surrounded by the family she didn’t deserve, wasn’t able to protect, was so weak— oh, but as she wanted.

How much she wished to be able to embrace them, only for a moment—

Rhea brought a hand to her eyes, the heaviness of her thoughts sinking her shoulders.

It wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time she cursed her monster of a husband, her stupid, stupid brother. The father of her children hadn’t gone down without a last poisoned gift, and though she didn’t regret her actions, could never regret the betrayal when it was he who took her children again and again… 

Rot, husband of mine, she told him, knowing he couldn’t hear him but wished he could, knowing it wouldn’t matter to him. Rot.

Breathing in, she let out a faint sigh. One, two times, until the emotions faded away. To help herself, she looked at the only good thing that had happened to her in a lot of time. Her eyes found her grandson, lovely asleep, engrossed in his dreams.

Her power, weak and thin, stranded as it was, could still be used in some occasions. She hadn’t dared to use her Sight since the last time, when it sent her to sleep for half a millennium and made her lose the birth of her youngest immortal grand-granddaughter. Worse, she only woke up to ‘attend’ to her tragic death.

But she found herself being bolder than before. Greedier, even.

And the results did not disappoint her.

Her grandson’s thread was tender and strong and vivid. Graced by so many possibilities, so many curls and waves and twists. Yes, this one belonged to the kind of mortal that stepped on paths of ruins and victory and loses and pain and love; that didn’t dare themselves to fall because they cared, and cared so much until it tipped the scales to the side, until it pushed them to above… or below.

Rhea had seen what history called heroes –men famed, glorified by deeds of strength or wits or both. Few of them were good, even fewer so kind as the soul in front of her.  

Perseus, the Destroyed. What a heavy name for a protector.

But, then, change couldn’t happen without transformation.

Rebuilding something anew couldn’t happen without destruction.

This little, beautiful child–

Yes. The Serpent had bestowed the opportunity of three millennia on his thread, and in other times, perhaps in other worlds, Rhea wouldn’t think beyond what was already set in stone. Because she knew fate, she had held Prophesy within herself and the power still flowed through her ichor.

However, his grandson was here, in front of her. What shouldn’t have happened, happened.

Wasn't this proof that there was something more...?

Perhaps…

Perhaps even—

Rhea stopped herself, her free hand caressing gently the black curls as her eyes grew distant.

She came back to herself, to the present, a determined expression sharpening her face.

Maybe, she thought, it wasn’t all selfishness.  

Because if this child —if her grandson could do what she couldn’t anymore, then perhaps the tapestry could be improved, thought she would refrain from expressing such a thing aloud. None of the sisters liked red as much it would drench this one, but they liked it less when someone took ‘liberties’ with their domain.

She pursed her lips.

Yes. She could already see this. It would be difficult and tough and filled with the kind of danger that didn’t come from strangers but your own.

But not impossible. Not for this loving child.

And, worst came to worst, making sacrifices was part of every mother. On her part, her fears were only about what would happen if she did nothing. 

For the first time in many, many years, a seed of hope sprouted in his heart. A smile bloomed on her face. “You’ll be my final blessing, my grandson.”

࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ ࿐࿔ 

Rain poured on the street –but it couldn’t reach her as she stood in front of the window. Even if it could, even if she stretched her hand under the sky, or even if she let herself be soaked from head to toe, Sally didn’t believe she would feel anything.

The numbness that had spread through her body since two days ago left little beyond the void in her heart.

“Sally,” a familiar voice whispered against her ears, a gentle breeze from behind.

The salty-sea perfume enveloped her, bringing her attention to the man. As she turned around, red-eyed, exhausted yet still standing, she saw the god standing in her small, shabby kitchen. Poseidon. Sea-king, Olympian god. 

“Did you find him?” Her voice sounded like she had been screaming for hours. She hadn’t. She was simply choking in the last tears she refused to let out. Crying wouldn’t help, and to be honest, she didn’t know if she could stop once she started. In the silence that followed her words, she scrutinized his face, looking for any clue, for any sign.

(It didn’t matter to her that it was a god. This man was her precious Percy’s father; the only one who could find out where they had taken him.)

But the painfully familiar sea-green eyes only showed the hungry-desperate waters crashing against the shores.

There was a Tsunami alert in many states, she had heard, although she did not remember where or when in those days.

“I’ll find him,” he promised, something thick and at the same time as fragile as butterfly wings on his words.

Sally’s heart trembled. Slowly, she let a deep sigh out of her lips, feeling as if a bit of the ice and iron on her chest had been melted away. Only a tiny bit. The rest wouldn’t disappear until she had Percy on her arms.

“Bring him home,” she said, the only thing she could give Poseidon. “Please.”

The sea-eyes softened, leaving only the calm before the storm. “Don’t ever beg me. Not for our son,” he said, and then, the salty breeze caressed her cheeks and hair before the man disappeared, like he had never been there in the first place.

But she knew. She knew in her heart that this man would find her little boy. 

Their.

(Hers.)

“Percy…” 

The waves swallowed her words, but not even the whole sea could fill the deeps of her worry.

Come back to me, my baby.

Come back to me.