Work Text:
12 towering thrones surround me. Thrones so powerful and commanding that they take over everything else in the room. How did I get here? A sense of confusion washes over me, but also a sense of resentment. Hazily, I take a step forward. Dark spots dance around my vision, tap dancing over my senses. As I try to look around through my fogged vision, looking for anything to make sense of what I’m supposed to be doing here, I hear footsteps in the distance. I swerve to look behind me, towards a trail of steps leading up to the room. The heads of three familiar figures approach up the steps, a mount of black, brown and blonde hair. I recognise them instantly. Percy, Grover and Annabeth.
Pang. A tinge of familiarity and comfort overwhelms me. It felt like forever since I had seen them, and now that I am seeing them again, I can’t help but tear up.
I missed them. I missed her. Though they don’t seem to reciprocate the same feelings — their faces downturned, brewing with a hint of anger. Seeing their expressions like this, a flood of regret washes over me. The smiles which used to adorn their faces have disappeared, replacing themselves with expressions so stone-cold that I almost couldn’t bear to look at them. The hands I remember which used to contain toys, leaves and comfort are now gone – instead displaying the clasping of a sword, pan flute and a dagger. So much has changed, all because of me. I had been the one to inflict this pain and suffering onto them, all because of my decision to follow him.
Instantly, like a lock had been placed on my emotions, the tears in my eyes retreat back into their sockets. Unleashed power surges through me, releasing tingles onto my limbs.
Kronos. Like a snap of thunder, my hand goes straight to my sword resting on my hip and points it in their direction. The former control I had over my body instantly evaporates, my soul taken over by a devastating force.
Moments of reality flash before my eyes, sparks of swords and knives clashing, pan flute playing and blood. Repetitive motions of slashing seem to last a lifetime, till I gain the upper hand and push one of them to the ground, unaware of who it was. Pointing my sword towards the person's heart, I go to strike — but their voice stops me. Stormy grey eyes connect with mine, eyes glazed over with tears.
“Family, Luke. You promised.”
A grief-stricken expression adorned the person's familiar features.
Annabeth. She chokes the words out from underneath me, knife resting on the palm of her flailing hand. The overwhelming power within kept forcing my sword, inching it closer and closer towards Annabeth — but I fight back against the force. As I pull my arm back, a vivid realisation passes through my mind.
The hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.
Words from the Great Prophecy from long ago strike my mind, instantly incurring a maze of relentless worries. I know the prophecy has aged, but a sense within me knew that it was talking about what was to come in these next few moments.
Was Annabeth the hero? Am I the one with the cursed blade? Even if the prophecy is talking about what may happen in these next few moments, I refuse to let that fate control me.
I won’t let it happen.
Throb. A shoot of light overtakes my vision, aches pressuring throughout my head. The piercing light overtaking my vision eventually dissipates, leaving behind a roar of engines and the smell of smoke in the near distance. Suddenly, I’m in a completely different place, in a smaller body, but I’m still me? A celestial bronze knife, covered in blood rests in my right hand. As I look around, the question of where I am answers itself: sky rise buildings, one dollar pizza stores, and the Empire State Building. An alleyway resides to the right of my body, containing within its shade two figures – Thalia and Annabeth, resting against a garbage bin. Just like me, they were smaller, younger but with a look of horror casting over their features. From what I can see, we must have just escaped some monsters. They seem horrible – clothes tattered, gashes all over, and dirt and monster blood smeared over their bodies. Though, I’m sure I don’t look much better. Without my consent, my body starts walking forward in their direction. As I come closer, Thalia seems to be fine, just a little shaken up, but Annabeth looks like a ghost. Absolutely terrified. As she's the youngest of the three of us, I feel an innate sense of responsibility within me to make sure that she’s okay. Though this younger body of mine takes care of that for me, my arms wrapping around her shivering form.
“Annabeth, Thalia. It’s okay. We’re safe now.” I choke out, trying to steady my breathing. My words don’t do much to stop her shaking. Seeing her like this brings up a festering scent of resentment within me, one which I forgot. How could I have forgotten?
'I know your fate Luke, but it is not a god’s responsibility to interfere with mortal affairs.' I remember now, how the niceties of the god’s language seemed to only cover up their disdain and negligence. The words of my father Hermes continue to replay in my mind like a broken record. They were meant to be a family.
“But we aren’t!” Annabeth croaks.
“The monsters will always keep coming for us. They can sense us.” The sense of dread still remains, washing over her features. Seeing Annabeth like this, I couldn’t let her feel the same way I had. I have to protect her — but my younger self knows that won’t always be possible. The celestial bronze knife previously resting within my hand, was now being placed into Annabeth’s.
“It’s our fate as demigods, Annabeth. They will keep coming for us. But as long as we stick together, we’ll be able to get through it. I promise to always keep the two of you safe.” My younger self takes a breath.
“We’re family now, after all.” As the words come out of my mouth, I come to a realisation. I hadn’t managed to keep them safe after all. Though my words seem to work, as Annabeth 's face morphs into a slight smile. The corners of her stone grey eyes crinkling. The blade which I had placed into her hands now seemed to emanate with the aura of a broken promise, one which couldn’t be undone. Guilt overwhelms me.
Throb.
Evaporating darkness consumes my vision, a pair of familiar grey eyes staring back up at me. I still have the same sword arched back, directed towards her throat, though I feel a semblance of control over my senses now. Through the black spots blanketing my vision, a glint of metal twinkles far adjacent to Annabeth’s hand. Celestial bronze. The promise. The prophecy. Family. Quivering, I drop my sword to the ground. I know the gods have failed on many different fronts. I know that I can’t undo what I’ve done. Reminiscing on the failed promise, my past filled with mistakes, I reach out towards the blade on the ground.