Chapter Text
He knows the life of a demigod is not one of rest. But Artemis’ light has been shining through his cabin windows for a good three hours and still rest refuses to take Percy into Hypnos’ realm.
His muscles ache, sore from the day’s worth of training. His throat is dry, voice hoarse from instructing campers in combat classes. He simply wants nothing more than to bury his head into his blessedly cool pillow and fall asleep for at least a good six hours. Even if those six hours are riddled with bizarre and horrific demigod dreams.
This want. This wish for escape. Is perhaps a mistake on Percy’s part.
For eventually he begins to feel a pull at his consciousness. Assuming it to be slumber, he follows it, allowing it to take him.
As Percy allows his body and mind to fall further into the tug, voices echo in his mind. The voices are as old and worn as the beginning of time as they squabble amongst each other.
“No no, take him to the Titanomachy!”
Percy feels a frown dust his lips as the voice rings in his mind. He’s not fully able to grasp what it’s saying as his mind is muddled with fuzziness but he has the creeping suspicion if he could understand he wouldn’t be happy about it.
Another voice, more irritable and insistent than the last, snaps,
“Perhaps earlier, the Fall of Ouranos?”
Before Percy can begin to process the most recent voice who spoke a third voice is shouting in his mind with thread thin patience,
“No not that early! Take him to the gorging.”
The voices go quiet, considering the last voice’s suggestion. An uneasy feeling settles in Percy’s chest as he gets the sinking feeling the voices are deciding his very Fate. He groans lowly, attempting to force himself to wake up. To escape this strange state between the waking and slumbering worlds. But it proves fruitless.
The voices return, contemplative yet pleased.
“Yes, Atropos. A fine suggestion.”
“Very well sisters, hand me the thread.”
Suddenly Percy’s mind goes from feeling sluggish and syrupy to alert and frantic. His body tingles like he’s been fed too much ambrosia and is going to be engulfed in divine flame any second. It’s like his very atoms are attempting to separate from each other, tearing him apart in the process.
If Percy had to describe it, it was like being stretched out across all of time.
Which, was scarily accurate actually.
It all ends as quickly as it begins. Within moments a force smacks roughly into his back, knocking the wind out of him. Percy gasps as his eyes fly open and his body returns control to him. His atoms still buzz hotly as if struck by lightning. Yet even so they obey his will.
He doesn’t move at first, simply staring up at the sky. Wait…the sky?
The sky is blue and expansive before him. Large in all its never-ending glory.
However, he’s not given much time to contemplate on his change of location due to the very close by and very loud screaming that echoes around him caging him in with it.
Percy forces himself up even as his limbs tingle in protest at the quick movement, not eager to be put to work after such strain.
Percy pulls himself into a sitting position, which proves to take more effort than he’d like to admit, and immediately wishes he hadn’t bothered.
Where he is is no question. He’s been here before. He’s on Olympos. Where exactly in Olympos he can’t say. All of it usually looks the same to him. The grand living abode of the gods.
Yes, the whole where is not an issue at the moment.
The current issue is not where, but when.
For a couple feet away from Percy, laid upon a bed is one of the most beautiful woman Percy has ever seen. Her beauty rivals that of Aphrodite. Long curly dark hair cascades down her back. Her brow is covered in sweat. Her ocean green eyes droop from exertion yet shine with unbridled terror and shock. Her lips are parted in a soul crushing scream. She reaches out with shaky limbs, grasping the air for what was once her’s moments before and now threatens to be no one’s forever more.
Percy’s eyes follow her frantic motions to a sight that makes him tremble where he’s laid on the ground.
While appearing man-like in nature, Percy knows he is no such thing. For those golden piercing eyes are emblazed in Percy’s soul. They’ve haunted his every move. They’ve cost the lives of so many. Wringing destruction, weaving manipulation, and demanding sacrifice.
These are the eyes Percy can never forget. The eyes of Kronos. King of The Titans and father and enemy of the Gods.
Here Kronos stands in all his glory and might. Adorned in the riches of his kingdom, scythe and sickle settled on his back, as he lifts a newborn crying babe above his unhinged jaw.
Contrary to popular opinion, Percy is an incredibly fast-thinker. He’s quick to react in battle, knowing it is the difference between life and death. Just like now, his actions will decide the fate of the baby who is threatened to be swallowed by Kronos.
It’s hard to make out the baby’s features as it cries where it dangles over the menacing chasm that is Kronos’ throat, but Percy would recognize that aura anywhere. It’s weak, faint. It has not been cherished and developed yet. But even so it is present. The feeling of the warmth of a flame and hug alike. The essence of family.
Why he has been brought before Kronos as he is about to devour his and Rhea’s first-born child is beyond all reason and logic to Percy. It could be the conniving ways of Kronos himself as the god of Time or it could be the work of the Fates. Either option is not exactly optimal.
But none of that really matters. Because without a second thought Percy decides he is not going to watch his favorite aunt be gorged alive by her own father.
Much like Rhea is doing in horror, Percy thrusts his hand out as if the gesture can stop the Titan from his evil intent. His voice pierces through the chaos with both its commanding nature and desperation, “Wait!”
Two pairs of eyes land heavy gazes on Percy’s form making him want to squirm under them. Rhea’s eyes are calculating, trying to determine whether he is another threat or a possible ally.
Kronos’ eyes are irritated, curious, and impatient. He does not lower the babe from above his head, but he does shut his jaw. He faces Percy head on, eyes raking up his form as if sizing him up.
A voice that should be the very personification of evil is oddly soothing on the ears, like a clean swipe of a freshly sharpened sickle through a harvest’s grains, “And who might you be?”
Percy is both relieved and mortified to be the center of the Titan King’s attention. A plan blooms in his mind as he fervently racks his brain on everything he knows of the story of Kronos’ cannibalizing his children.
“I was…sent here.”
Not exactly a lie. He does believe he was sent to this time period with intention. Though what that intention might be is out of his grasp.
Kronos’ eyes twinkle with both intrigue and distrust, “Did my mother send you?”
Before Percy can respond Kronos scoffs, waving a dismissing hand in his direction, “Surely she knows I have no intention of raising my child. And even if I did,” his golden eyes narrow with a disdained intensity, “I wouldn’t need the help of a nymph.”
Oh. Hm okay, nymph. That’s a new one.
Rhea dares to speak for the first time since Percy’s arrival. Her words are sharp with hurt and betrayal, “If she was sent by mother perhaps you should listen.”
Percy opens and closes his mouth, not unlike a fish, as he comes to the realization he’s never met a male nymph before. He waves his hands in the air placatingly, with bigger problems at hand than his newly nymph and apparent female status, “Never-mind what I am. What matters is you, Son of Gaia and Ouranos, have forgotten your mother’s words.”
Percy crosses his arms and puts on his best ‘I’m thoroughly disappointed in you’ face. He’s been on the receiving end of the expression enough that he feels like he has the ability to nail it.
Kronos tilts his head at him as the Titan examines Percy’s words and apparent disproval. His face contorts as he struggles to find the meaning in them. Ever so slowly the arm holding the child lowers as Kronos angrily barks at Percy, “How dare you accuse me of such!”
Kronos pulls his child down and thrusts the babe in Percy’s direction. Surprisingly the child has somewhat calmed, unending cries becoming small frequent sniffles.
Kronos’ anger builds and builds like great mountains being stacked upon each other, “Why do you think I dare eat my own child? Due to her own words! Mother told me a child of mine would overthrow me!”
A smirk that is all too natural graces Percy’s lips as he thinks, Bingo.
Rhea appears aghast at the admission and filled with fret over the fate of her current child and no doubt future children to come.
Percy pulls himself off the ground by his knees and stands to his admittedly much smaller height compared to the Titans in the room, “Ah, but not quite. The Earth Mother said a son would overthrow you.”
Percy gestures towards the baby who stares at him with wide brown eyes filled with lingering tears, “Not a daughter.”
“So why,” Percy implores with a newfound confidence, “bother eating this child? She cannot work against you for she is not a son.”
Percy smiles broadly as he places his hands on his hips tasting triumph, “Raise her by your side as an ally. You can rule together as Father and Daughter and should a son ever come,” Percy hesitates for just a beat, “then you may do as you must.”
Yeah that one is going to take time. If Percy remembers correctly the Kronides were born in the following order: Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades, Poseidon, and Zeus.
Meaning there’s at least two more births before the first boy, Hades, appears. He doesn’t know if Titaness pregnancies are as long as human one’s but surely he has to have a decent chunk of time. A decent chunk of time to begin his new apparent sudden mission. Operation Stop Kronos From Eating His Children Because Percy Is An Idiot Softie With No Care Of The Timeline.
Okay, maybe the name could use some work but the point gets across. For better or worse, Percy has altered the events of Time. And well, why not continue to? Maybe it’ll give whoever sent him as big of a headache as Percy is currently experiencing.
Percy smiles as he imagines Annabeth screeching about how changing the childhood and fate of the eldest gods could very well doom all their futures.
Kronos hums deeply. It rumbles through his chest and shakes the entire room. With a gentle nature that was nonexistent previously, Kronos pulls the baby to his chest. The girl stares up into his golden eyes as if searching every corner of his soul. In the end she must not be too opposed to what she sees for she smiles up at him, a small giggle falling from her lips.
Rhea holds her breath, unsure of how her husband is going to react to the innocent reaction of their child.
Yet Kronos surprises both of the other occupants of the room. With his eyes only for his daughter in his arms he sends her a warm smile back. With careful motions he brushes a finger against the child’s cheek and murmurs, “What is her name?”
The question is directed towards Rhea who breathily replies, “Hestia…it’s Hestia.”
“Mmm”, Kronos lifts Hestia in the air like she is the greatest gift to grace the cosmos and as such must be worshipped by all, “how fitting. For I see a fire in her eyes that has the power to bend all to her will.”
Percy winces at the remark. He would’ve gone for a fire that is like a warm kindling. A feature present in all homes and at the heart of sacrifices as well as survival. Not exactly the whole blazing the world route.
Kronos looks between Percy, Rhea, and Hestia before settling his gaze finally firmly on Percy. He addresses him as he decrees, “Seeing as you have saved my daughter from an untimely fate I grant you the privilege in assistance of her rearing.”
Percy meets Kronos gaze head on. It’s an ever-burning gaze. Yet in his following words the blaze ignites into a inferno, “Do not dare scorn this gift or I will send you to the deepest depths of Tartaros. And each day will pass as if a millennia has gone by while you suffer.”
Percy swallows back the urge to laugh. He supposes the immortals’ greatest threat has and always will be Tartaros. How lovely.
Percy inclines his head, showing his understanding.
Kronos huffs before walking towards Rhea and gently placing Hestia into her trembling hands.
Percy watches the scene unfold. Curious to see what Kronos’ idea of raising a child looks like and wondering if he’ll have the patience to participate alongside without making an attempt to skewer Kronos with his own sickle.
A faint smile graces Percy’s lips as Rhea meets his eyes. Her own filled with deep gratitude and mounds of relief. Though hints of horror remain.
Well, at least he gets to spend some time with his grandmother he supposes.
He’ll just choose to forget that time includes being spent with his sworn enemy, his grandfather.