Work Text:
"He's not coming out."
"You don't know that."
Overhead, a flock of crows chased after one another, singing a warbled kin-song. It was a tune Percy's been entertained by for a month now.
"He didn't come last week; he didn't come yesterday. Percy," Hermes, because of course it was Hermes, put a heavy hand on Percy's shoulder. "Luke isn't leaving."
The crow song is a bit further away. Fainter, but still audible, Percy wonders which of the trees they have taken refuge in.
Hermes sighs, a sound so thick with exhaustion that if he were not a god, Percy would feel bad for him. But the gods no longer deserved his empathy, not anymore.
A hummingbird flits around the flowers surrounding Percy, lingering just out of reach as it jumps from flower to flower. Hermes stuck out his hand; the bird whizzed into his open palm like an obedient pet.
"Luke is happy where he is. Or at least happier than he was in New York."
Percy wishes Hermes would take the hint and leave him alone. He did not need his older cousin lecturing him on Luke's heart; what did he know of it anyway?
"Percy, this isn't healthy."
"Shut up, I don't need you bitching at me over my health. If you don't approve of what I'm doing, then leave." Percy spat the words with so much venom that he spooked the bird in Hermes' hand, causing it to take flight.
The crows had stopped cawing, though some of them had left their perches and were hopping through the flower fields. The braver ones came and nipped at Percy's shoes before running away to regroup with the flock. One of the older ones watched over the rest atop the entrance of the large cave Percy had spent the past four hours in front of.
An entrance to the Underworld.
One of the many minor doors of death Percy has found this month.
With Lord Thanatos freed from captivity, those who died stayed dead, and with the Doors of Death closed, it took much longer for monsters to crawl out of Tartarus.
Of course, the set of doors that he and Annabeth had destroyed weren't the only way out. Monsters needed a way to crawl out of hell and make their way back to Earth to keep demigod populations in check, and if they couldn't get out through the pit, they'd crawl out through Hades.
"Percy, please, Olympus is starting to talk; they've noticed your behavior and think you're planning something malicious."
Percy scoffed. Everything he did made Olympus suspicious. He's saved their sorry asses time and time again; if he really wanted them gone, he would have let Gaia destroy the camps. "They've been thinking that since I was twelve and freshly orphaned. All they're doing is pulling at straws to try and justify locking me away in some dank prison."
Hermes didn't deny Percy's claim; he knew better to. Percy hated when people treated him like he was stupid, and lying to Percy about something he already knew to be true was an insult to his intelligence and their friendship.
"Even so, people rumor you to have gone mad. That you've left half your mind behind in the pit; my siblings want to experiment on you." Hermes ran his hands over his arms. Instead of goosebumps, Hermes grew falcon feathers.
"Experiment?" Percy wondered what a word like that meant to gods who insisted on knowing everything there is to know.
"Very few mortals have traveled through Tartarus; even fewer have escaped. They want to see what effect the pit has left on the three of you."
Right. Three of them; Nico had gone down too, hadn't he? Nico had disappeared shortly after the war against Gaia had been won. Percy did not know if he went back to Camp Jupiter or if he stayed at Camp Half-Blood with his new boyfriend, Will Solace.
Percy wondered what Hades thought of this. His son had traveled through hell on his own and was now at risk of being bisected like a high school science frog. Did Poseidon know about what Percy had suffered through? About what his nieces and nephews wanted to do? Did he even care?
“Percy, please. You—” Hermes swallowed. “You have to let my son go. We have to let him go.” Hermes collapsed next to Percy. A feather drifted from his hair and onto the grass; beneath it, the earth gave way to a six-petaled purple flower.
Percy picked up the feather and watched as the flower died without it. He didn’t like this. This grief and heartbreak that Hermes choked his words with. What good was any of it? Luke was gone, but he could come back; Luke had to come back.
Hermes warbled beside him, pathetically. Percy wanted to shout at him to shut up, that he had his chance with Luke and ruined it.
From across the forest, the sun had begun to set; Percy was sure his older cousin Apollo was getting an eyeful of what was transpiring between them.
Whatever, Percy’s run into dead ends before. He would just try again tomorrow.