Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

‘They will come into the city today.’

‘I know.’

‘They will not listen to me. I cannot stop them.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

The woman clutches at the bars that line her window, face frozen in horror as she stares out towards the beaches just visible beyond the high walls of the city. Most of the ships have long since disappeared beyond the horizon, the few whose sails remain visible too far away to be considered a threat. 

The sounds of celebration echo through the streets.

The Greeks are gone. They have surrendered. This siege of ten long years has finally come to an end. 

“They celebrate for nothing. They will be slaughtered in their beds. Our city burned. Their children thrown from the walls.” She grips at her head, nearly tugging her hair out in frustration. 

The shadow of a towering, wooden horse looms in the distance. 

“My fault. It is my fault. They do not believe me and it is my fault-”

“It’s not,” he says quietly, taking a hesitant step forward. “It’s not your fault.” 

The woman whips her head around, looking at him with wide half-crazed eyes. “I cannot save them.”

She lunges towards him, fingers digging painfully into the skin of his arms as she shakes him, breathing becoming more erratic as her panic grows. “Do you see? I cannot save them. We are all going to die and no one will believe me until it is too late. My brother has doomed us all.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s the only thing he can say whenever his mind leads him here, back to where everything started. 

She’s about to say something else when suddenly a bit of the hysteria calms, and her eyes become less cloudy. She gasps, looking at him with wide eyes as every thought of a city about to be destroyed leaves her mind. 

Her shaking hand comes up to cup his cheek. “Teledamus?” she whispers, a hopeful look in her eye. “You are alive?”

For a moment he considers lying to her again, bringing her a tiny moment of peace in a past he is not capable of changing no matter how many times his consciousness visits this exact moment. He has seen Teledamus, once or twice. He doesn’t like to visit that moment very often. He doesn’t think he looks very much like the other boy at all, but he must have some of his looks if she keeps confusing the two of them. 

But he can’t lie to her. Not this time. 

“I’m sorry, Grandmother Cassandra,” he whispers, and he truly is sorry. “I’m not him.” 

Immediately her face falls, the grief overtaking her once more. 

“Not even born yet and I can feel them dying ,” she wails, collapsing to the ground with a sob. 

“Pelops lives.”

It’s a weak attempt at comfort, letting her know that one son manages to survive after all. 

“It’s not your fault,” he says again, for the millionth time. 

It really isn’t. Teledamus’ string had been cut well before he was even born. Snipped in two the moment the blade fell on the neck of his half-sister, Iphigenia. 

A sympathetic nursemaid had been the only reason Pelops survived, the boy whisked away from the palace in Mycenae into a life of obscurity. Existing under a false name and thought mad by most of the people who met him. 

He wonders if she’s happy that one of her boys survives, or if she wishes he had just died with his brother?

Because sometimes he wishes Pelops had died. 

If Pelops had died he wouldn’t have had a daughter, who had a son, who had two daughters, and so on and so on all the way to Roger Wiltsey who spent most of his adult life in a sanitarium. To his daughter, Estelle Wiltsey-Jackson who threw herself from the roof of her apartment building to escape the nightmares that sent her screaming bloody murder through the house at all hours of the night.

To Sally Jackson who had spent so much of her time higher than Olympus itself in an effort to ignore the visions and voices that plagued her– flying into uncontrollable rages and crying fits, lashing out at him for things he didn’t even do, for making things harder for being like his father. 

Sally who finally overdosed when Percy was in third grade and left him with a step-father who only kept him around for part of the year because-

No. He won’t go there now. Not now. 

He wonders if it would have just been easier for his line to end with Cassandra and her sons. 

“I can’t protect them,” she whispers, looking back up at him mournfully. “We can’t protect them. We can’t save them.” 

She reaches back out to him, grabbing his wrist to pull him closer. 

“Don’t you see, Perseus? I cannot protect them. She couldn’t protect you either. He’s coming. He’s coming..”

Percy stiffens. 

This is….new. 

“Who?” he asks softly, hating the way his voice quivers as a chill races up his spine. “Whose coming?”

“He’s awake, you know. He’s awake and he’s so angry.” She laughs, sounding slightly hysterical again.  “He is awake and waiting. Not now. Not now. No, the Greeks, they are our problem now but he will come eventually and our family will suffer again and again again.” 

“Please, I don’t understand.” Percy can feel his own panic growing. “You’ve never said this before-”

“They are dying, Perseus. Can you see them dying like I can? They were marked for death the moment he stirred in the darkness.”

“Who?!” he screams, “Who is–”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he is suddenly overwhelmed with flashes of faces he hasn’t met.

A blonde boy with arrows who shines like the sun, a beautiful girl with black hair, a large dark skinned boy with an easy smile who likes to ruffle Percy’s hair, another boy mourning his twin and a girl screaming in rage. Dead. All dead. 

And then she’s gone, whatever else she was about to say disappears with her, and all he sees is black. 

Black and cold and wrong. 

A pit. 

Down, down, down. There’s something down there, looking at him. 

“Perseus,” it whispers. 

No. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be talking to this. It’s wrong. 

“Perseus,” the thing whispers again, a note of interest in its tone, dragging itself ever closer to the top of the pit. Everything around it begins to collapse in slow motion, tumbling down into the darkness as it grows closer. He begins to fall, too, some invisible force yanking him down. 

"Perseus."

No!

“Percy!”

He jolts upward, chest heaving as he fights against the hands trying desperately to hold him still. No, no, no, he has to get out of here. He has to get away . Who is holding him down? He has to get away from that voice in the pit. 

“Perseus,” the voice comes again, firmer this time. The voice is not the cold one from cold, grating one from the pit, he realizes. But another familiar one that is gentle and soothing and filled with only concern. “It’s okay. It’s just another dream. You’re okay.” 

Images of flowers and goats and wild fill his brain, a young boy with horns sticking out from a mop of unruly hair running up a hill towards a tall pine tree that guards a valley no one is supposed to see. Satyr. Demigod. Camp. Camp….what? No. Don’t say that  because he can’t know. No one can know he knows.

‘Percy, run!’

‘We’ve been expecting you.’ 

“Grover?” he chokes out, blinking the new images away, voice hoarse from all the screaming. 

Grover, his first and only best friend who has been there for him since his first day at Yancy. Grover who doesn’t care that he’s “weird” and spaces out all the time, or writes and draws things that don’t make sense to anyone else.

Grover, who feels about as human as his Latin teacher and who he thinks was definitely sent here to keep an eye on him for reasons he’s been trying not to think about. Who lies to his face every day about it. 

Grover.….who is the only person Percy has who has felt safe in such a long, long time, despite everything. 

“Yeah, Percy, it’s me,” the other boy says softly with a relieved sigh, resting his forehead against Percy’s, his hands tightly. “It’s just me,” he repeats. “You’re safe. It’s just another dream.” 

Percy squeezes back just a tight, afraid that if he lets go his friend will disappear the way he had in his dream. That none of this will be real and he’ll be transported back to that dark place that threatens to swallow up everything. He suddenly lets out a terrified sob, lurching forward and burying his face in Grover’s shoulder and breathing in the familiar smell of hay and spring. 

“We can’t save them, we can’t save them, we can’t save them ,” he chants over and over, the words pouring from his lips against his will. “He’s awake. The pit. I can’t-” Percy lets out another harsh sob, breath coming in short, painful gasps. 

Grover does his best to remain calm and collected, the way he does every time this happens in the middle of the night. He holds Percy tightly, tracing soothing circles on his back, brushing his fingers through blonde curls as he continues to cry and shake uncontrollably. 

“Percy. Perseus . I need you to breathe. Can you do that? Breathe with me.” Grover starts taking slow, dramatic breaths in an effort to get Percy to copy him, and really he tries. But the lingering terror from his dream refuses to allow him at first. 

He can’t breathe and it feels like he may die . 

“You’re okay. You’re not going to die,” Grover whispers, as if he knows exactly what Percy is thinking. “Just breathe.” 

After what feels like hours but is probably more like twenty minutes, the panic clears enough for Percy to start thinking clearly and he takes his first, full deep breath. 

He feels Grover relax, no doubt relieved that he’s finally come down from whatever set him off this time. He honestly doesn’t understand why the other boy has this much patience for him, why Grover even bothers to be his friend when he’s such a mess all of the time. It doesn’t make sense. 

He sniffles, still clutching at Grover. 

“I wish I didn’t have to see anything,” he croaks, throat feeling sore and swollen. “I just want it to stop. Please.” He doesn’t even know who he’s begging at this point. There probably isn’t anyone he can help with this. Well, maybe there is one person who might be able to. But considering he did this to Percy’s family in the first place, he’s not even going to risk saying that deity's name in the quiet of his own head. 

Grover hums sympathetically, holding him a bit tighter before speaking. “I can’t understand you, Percy,” his voice wavering only slightly. “You’re going to have to try and speak English, buddy. Remember?”

Oh. 

He hadn’t even noticed that he slipped into a different language. 

The same long-dead language that Cassandra had spoken to him in as the madness slowly clouded her eyes. It happens sometimes after spending so much time visiting other times and places, and talking to dead relatives who by all accounts shouldn’t be able to see him. He’s just thankful that Grover wouldn’t be able to recognize the language for what it is. Mr. Brunner on the other hand….that would be more difficult to hide. He’s already on thin ice as it is. 

“Sorry,” he sniffles miserably, trying and failing to gain control over his tears.

“No apologies! I just don’t speak….whatever language that is.” 

“Sorry,” he whimpers again, unable to stop himself. 

Grover only sighs. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he murmurs into his sandy blonde curls. 

Percy shakes his head. “It won’t matter. It never does.” 

“It matters to me .” 

Percy tenses, but still can’t will himself to speak. 

“Only if you want to, that is,” Grover continues hurriedly, no doubt sensing him about to close off again. “I’ll listen to whatever it is.” 

And Percy wants to laugh. Because sure, Grover can listen. Plenty of people had listened to him over the years. But listening means little when they just laugh at him for being strange or get angry for telling “lies.” Grover is the one person he hasn’t managed to chase away yet, and he’s so afraid that this would be the final straw after everything he’s already put him through. 

He wonders if this is how his many-greats-grandmother felt when the curse was placed on her. No, he knows this is how she felt. He’s spoken to her enough times through whatever strange link he has to his ancestors, has seen enough of her life to know that this is almost exactly what it was like for her. Always seeing but never being believed . Not until it doesn’t matter anymore. 

Not until it’s too late. 

It’s how they all felt before they finally went mad with the weight of it. 

Or maybe they really are just crazy. Maybe nothing he sees is real and he’s just starting to crack like the rest of his family. The visions of Gods and monsters that haunt him are nothing more than a figment of his warped mind, and he just can’t accept it yet. It would make more sense than his best friend being some kind of half goat creature from the stories his mom used to tell him. 

“Percy?”

He takes another deep breath, steeling himself for the near instant rejection that is no doubt about to occur. 

“My dreams,” he begins slowly, “I think….I think they’re real. Sometimes.”

He feels Grover tense up again, hears his quiet intake of breath before the other boy quickly forces himself to relax. “Do you?” he asks, voice slightly higher than normal. 

“Sometimes I see things before they happen,” he admits, “bad things. And no one believes me, no matter what I do. I just know, I guess, and I can't make it stop." The words come much easier than he thought they would now that he's started, flowing out of him rapidly. 

Grover swallows harshly, struggling to find his words as his grip tightens on Percy. 

Percy sighs, feeling his heart sink at Grover’s reaction. He should have known better….

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“What? No! No I don’t think you’re crazy, Percy. I’m just-”

“It’s okay. Everyone has always thought my whole family is crazy. It happens to all of us, I guess. It’s why we don’t really tell people we see things even when we’re awake,” he rambles. “Maybe we are just crazy.” He can feel the tears welling in his eyes again and tries desperately to will them away. 

“Hey, hey! No. Percy, look at me–” he pulls back, carefully taking Percy's face in his hands forcing him to look him in the eye. 

Grover takes a deep breath. "I believe you," he says with so much sincerity that it almost hurts. "I don't think you're crazy at all." 

Percy stares at him, mouth open in shock as he tries to wrap his mind around this new development.

Grover believes him. 

He actually believes him. 

“I….really?” he asks hopefully, begging for this not to be a trick. 

Grover's expression softens further. “Yes," he says without hesitation. “I believe you, Percy. You…you wouldn’t lie about something like this. I believe something is happening to you,” he says seriously. 

Percy sags in relief, leaning against Grover again. 

“No one ever believes me,” he mumbles into Grover’s shirt, sounding on the verge of tears again. “I always get in trouble.” 

"Well those people are stupid. Don't listen to them, okay?"

Percy sniffles. "Okay."

They sit in silence for another few moments, Grover not seeming to be in a hurry to move anywhere. Percy's eyes begin to droop in his friend's embrace, Grover's presence keeping some of the lingering fear from the dream at bay. His eyes slip all the way closed for a moment before he speaks again. 

“It’s rare, kind of, but I think I know some other kids who might be like you.” It's not very specific, but it’s just enough information to set off Percy's anxiety again. A reminder of what his mind says Grover's real purpose here is, no matter how hard Percy tries to convince himself it's not true. That it's not real. “You remind me of them a lot, actually. Especially with all the art stuff you do. And the hair. I wonder if you’re….” he trails off, a thoughtful look in his eyes before quickly snapping his mouth shut as if he was about to say something he shouldn’t. 

Percy blinks, opening his mouth to speak before a wave a cold realization washes over him. The images follow in quick succession. 

A large group of children gather around a multicolor campfire, most of them unnaturally good at singing. A number of them are varying shades of blonde

Matching orange t-shirts that say something in dark bold letters. 

Archery. Many of them have archer callouses, a few of them engage in target practice in the distance. 

A boy, another blonde with a gentle smile playing with some of the younger ones. The boy who will die. 

The boy who is a son of...

Percy shakes his head. No. Camp is dangerous. That’s where they find him. That’s where everyone dies and he can’t do anything to stop it. The blonde who shines like the sun will die and it will be his fault. The one that cursed his family will see him and he’ll be in even more danger.

Oh, he is definitely not one of those campers. If he has it his way, he’ll never even go near whatever that place is. If it's real. 

“No,” he says quickly. “I don’t think I’m like them at all.” 

“Okay,” Grover agrees easily, but Percy can still hear the uncertainty in his voice, “we don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

Bless Grover’s ability to always know when he has reached his limit on talking about things. 

They stay like that just a bit longer until Percy's loud yawn breaks the silence. Grover lets out an amused huff. "Tired?" he murmurs into blonde curls. 

"Mhm." 

“Alright, back to bed,” Grover announces, his tone leaving no room for argument as he shakes him a bit more awake. “Come on. Don’t fall asleep yet.” 

“Can you stay?” Percy whispers, fighting to keep his eyes open as he tries to comply. 

He glances up and sees Grover looking at him with wide brown eyes, a mixture of sadness, pity, and understanding on his face. “Yeah, Perce. I can stay,” he agrees easily, combing his fingers through his hair one last time. 

Breathing a sigh of relief he slowly pulls away from the other boy again, flopping back down onto his pillows. Grover carefully shuffles under the covers next to him, laying on his side to face Percy. “Better?” Grover asks.

“Mhm.” Not really, but it’s enough he supposes. 

Grover gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Get some sleep, Percy. You’ll probably feel better in the morning.” The other boy pulls the blanket back over the two of them. “And you have that big test in Mrs. Dodd’s class tomorrow.” 

Percy grimaces. “Yeah. Can’t wait.” 

He’s not sure how long he lays there in the dark until the sound of Grover’s soft, even breaths slowly start lulling him back to sleep. He closes his eyes, breathing in time with the boy next to him until his consciousness slowly slips away. 

He doesn't dream of Cassandra this time, nor the voice in the pit or the death and destruction that comes with it. Instead it's the sound of hissing snakes and green smoke that greets him, the warmth of the sun shining on his skin so intensely it hurts. It gets brighter and hotter until Percy is sure he may die from this.

And then...

The sound of something shattering. 

All at once the hissing begins to quiet and the intense light and heat disappears, and Percy is alone.  

He feels....lighter, almost. 

Strange. 

Percy sleeps, and for the first time in months he does not dream. 

__________________

At some point before breakfast Grover shakes him awake, chucking his uniform at him and telling him they're running behind. As if that's anything new for him. He's tempted to ignore his friend, curling back up under the covers and sleeping the day away, consequences be damned. But as Percy has learned over the course of the school year, Grover Underwood is nothing if not persistent. 

So with a tired groan, he forces himself and begins the process of getting dressed. 

Percy hadn't meant to befriend Grover, as mean as that sounds. In fact, he had planned on ignoring him for the entirety of the year and hoping he would just give up. 

From the moment Percy laid eyes on him he had been overwhelmed with horror and terror. 

Not at the idea of having a roommate, he had been prepared for that. Nor at the idea of Grover himself who had looked like we would be a perfectly nice and reasonable person. And he is. No, he had quite literally been frozen to the spot as a deep sense of impending dread overwhelmed him to the point of nearly having a panic attack in the middle of their dorm room floor.

One moment Percy had been staring at Grover, and the next all he could see is outline of four terrified figures desperately stumbling their way up an unfamiliar hill, the wind whipping through the trees as a cacophony of howls and wails drew ever closer. The smallest one struggled the most, dragged along by an older boy who is shouting for the other, older girl to hurry. 

'Go!'

'No!'

There was a horrible sensation of something sharp ripping across his middle, warmth seeping out and covering him and the feeling of the hard ground as he collapsed back onto it. The lightning above him raged, seemingly growing more and more frantic. 

'-lia!'

When Percy had finally managed to drag himself out of whatever nightmare Grover's presence had projected him into, it was to said boy kneeling in front of him looking entirely frazzled and on the verge of his own panic attack as he watched as Percy trembled and cried on the floor. But he hadn't run, either. He'd stayed, even when Percy practically threw himself across the room to get away from him. 

He had stayed. 

It had been surprisingly difficult to shake him after that, which had been a strange experience for him. Usually the first time he did something or said something strange, people couldn't wait to find a way to ditch him. But Grover never did, always asking him how his day was, always wanting to hang out at lunch or before and after classes. He hadn't made fun of Percy when he had his "episodes". No, Grover had taken the time to learn all of his tells, to learn when Percy was slipping away and how to carefully pull him back. He never got angry when Percy woke him up with nightmares and or went on strange, rambling tangents that made no sense even to his own ears. 

Grover seemingly cared for him unconditionally. Something Percy is very much not used to. 

And so, Percy gave in.

It was an easy thing to do. 

He started doing his best to ignore the the visions and the dreams Grover's presence caused, to pretend like his appearance didn't occasionally warp and shimmer into something not so human out of the corner of his eye, to not see the way Grover and Mr. Brunner whispered about him when they think Percy is oblivious. It's one thing to see and hear crazy stuff and your new and only friend to accept it. It's another to look your new and only friend in the eye and say to them "hey so you know how I say crazy stuff sometimes? Well sometimes my brain wants me to think you're part goat." 

Even if he really might be part goat.

Percy may still be in some level of denial. 

He finishes getting dressed just as Grover pokes his head around the corner. "Ready for breakfast?"

Percy takes a deep breath before turning to follow him. 

"Yeah, man. I'm coming."

The dining hall ends up being loud and boisterous as always. He once again finds himself asking how he managed to get put into a school with a bunch of kids who are all seemingly morning people. Or at the very least have managed to adjust to functioning this early while Percy wants to curl up and die. He eyes the coffee pot near the table where the teachers eat longingly and wonders if Mr. Brunner will take pity on him and let him have some. 

But then he recalls the time last semester he had been too terrified to sleep, plagued by nightmares of scorpions of all things. He had gotten desperate enough to steal a coffee pot and coffee from the teacher's lounge much to Grover's horror, though his friend had remained loyal to his cause. After approximately four days of no sleep and enough caffeine to kill an elephant he had promptly ~lost it~. 

Just a bit. 

The lack of rest, shockingly, had had the opposite of the effect he was hoping for. His sleep deprived brain slipping more and more into places he didn't understand. 

Percy had wandered, half manic, into Mr. Brunner's classroom muttering incoherently about lightning and storms. 

His caffeine intake was subsequently limited (read: he was cut off almost entirely). 

He finds his mind wandering again to the dream he had the night before, the noise around him fading into the background. Unlike his other dreams, which arguably are usually just as upsetting, he's never had anything speak to him. Well, anything that wasn't the specter of some person he assumes is related to him in some way or another. That voice in the pit....

It felt wrong. 

Terrifying in a way few things he's encountered ever have. 

Can you see them dying like I can-

Shaking his head, he banishes the thoughts from his mind before he can be sucked back in. The last thing he needs is to have an episode in front of basically the entire school. 

Percy sighs, head flopping down onto the table. 

If he closes his eyes now, maybe he can sneak a few more moments of sleep in before his first class of the day. 

Percy should have known that the calm was not destined to last and that the universe would never see fit to give him even a moment of peace. 

It's the storm that does it, he thinks, cringing as the entire building seems to tremble with the force of the most recent clap of thunder. The storms have been getting more violent lately, more unpredictable as the end of the term approaches. He grits his teeth as another loud boom of thunder echoes through the room, willing himself to stay calm while he pushes the soggy scrambled eggs around on his plate listlessly. 

The idea of trying to take a single bite is enough to make his stomach heave.

Grover nudges him with his elbow, eyeing his plate with mild concern. "You okay?" 

Percy sighs. "M'fine, I guess. It's just the..." he trails off, shrinking in on himself a bit. 

"The storm?" Grover supplies, glancing apprehensively at the dark clouds visible through the window. 

"Yeah," he mumbles, forcing himself to take a bite of his breakfast only to immediately spit it out into a napkin when his stomach threatens to rebel. His head is pounding, the migraine he had become accustomed to these past few weeks brewing behind his eyes once more. Maybe it's not too late to go back to bed.

"I don't like storms that much either," Grover says softly and Percy winces, mind flashing back to the girl on the hill. 

"Sorry."

"For what?" Grover asks around a mouthful of oatmeal, brow furrowed in confusion. 

He shrugs. "I just....sorry." 

Grover studies him intensely, a knowing look on his face. "Are you sure you're up for classes today? I know the nurse hates you but maybe-" 

"I'm fine," he snaps, much harsher than he intended. He knows Grover is only concerned for him, but Percy hates that the other boy even has to be. He raises his head from the table, an apology forming on his lips when another flash of lightning lights up the dim room. And then it's not Grover he's looking it.   

A white horse and a golden eagle race towards each other.

Behind them the ocean churns dangerously as a clap thunder so loud he feels his own bones shake can be heard. 

The horse rears up on it's hind legs just as the eagle swoops down, talons outstretched towards the horse's face about to pierce the wide, dark eyes.

He has to stop it.

Images of death and destruction are before him, cities toppling into the seas, so many people struck down carelessly. 

He has to stop it. 

They have to stop. 

They have to-

"STOP!" 

And suddenly he is not on the beach, there is no crazy storm or horse or eagle fighting each other. There is water raining down from the ceiling, nearly as much as there is outside from a combination of the busted sprinkler system and a few unlucky pipes. When did that happen? 

He's standing in the middle of the dining hall, nearly hyperventilating as his legs struggle to keep him upright. 

He isn't there. 

Percy isn't there, it wasn't real. 

He tries to calm his breathing, reminding himself over and over that he's here and it's fine. It's what Grover always told him to do in these situations. Especially in public-

Oh shit.

He's in the dining hall....

With a sense of growing trepidation he finally chances a glance around the room, wishing for nothing more than the floor to swallow him up. 

Everyone is here. 

Everyone saw. 

The whole room is silent for a moment, a sea of eyes staring at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement, before the whispers and laughter slowly start to trickle in. Half at him, and half at the novelty of the building randomly deciding to break. Across the room he sees the teachers have all jerked to attention, Mr. Brunner and Mrs. Dodds for some reason in particular. The short woman makes to leave her seat to come over and, Percy can only assume, punish him for something, but Mr. Brunner is quicker. 

He crosses the room and wheels to a quick stop in front of him, leaning forward in his chair. 

"Percy! Are you alright?" he asks softly, hands stopping just before they land on his shoulders as if the man is afraid touching him would scare him more. 

He wants to respond, to reassure the man that he is fine, but those aren't the words that want to come out it seems. 

Instinctively he lunges forward towards his teacher. He clutches at his teacher's arm desperately, the words clawing their way out of his throat before he can stop them. "Face the god who has turned," Percy gasps, his voice no longer feeling like it's his own. "Find what is lost and see it safely returned." 

"Percy, what-"

"You shall be betrayed..." his head jerks to the side as the words continue, "betrayed by one who calls you a friend."

Percy's hands shake as more words spill out of his mouth in an uncontrollable rush, nonsense even to his own ears and only heightening the alarm in his Latin teacher's expression. Finally it stops and he 

He watches as Mr. Brunner pales, cold realization dawning on his face though Percy has no idea what his revelation could be. He watches the emotions quickly flash across the man's face; surprise, then fear, then resignation and pity. Almost as if he's already decided that something about this is wrong, or will go wrong. 

As quickly as the look appears it disappears back behind a mask of professionalism and regular concern for a student. Mr. Brunner clears his throat, gently prying Percy's fingers from his sleeve and giving his hand pat. "Alright, Percy," he says in the placating tone of someone trying to not upset the crazy person more than they already are, cutting through the jumble of thoughts threatening to overtake him, "it's alright. It's clear that you are....not well. Maybe a day off is in order."

Not feeling well. 

Just tired. 

Crazy.

He's heard it all. And probably will hear it again for the rest of his life. 

He's too tired to argue. 

Percy swallows, willing the noise in his head to stop. "Okay," he agrees.

His teacher nods, turning his attention to Grover who still sits frozen in his seat, unsure what to do. 

"Perhaps you should take Mr. Jackson to get some rest back in your room. I can inform his other teachers that he is...ill, and will not be able to attend classes today." Mr. Brunner clears his throat again, sharing a meaningful look with his friend. "And you, Mr. Underwood, will also be excused today in order to take time to deal with the issue we previously discussed." 

"Uh, right. Yeah. Thank you, Mr. Brunner," Grover says softly, trembling voice barely above a whisper. 

Their teacher nods. "Right. Well, off you go then." 

Grover gives a jerky nod, rising to his feet and making his way to Percy. He looks more frazzled than Percy has ever seen him as he quickly begins to gather up the contents of their bags, slinging both his and Percy's over his shoulder. 

Percy blinks and Grover is suddenly crouched next to him, a hand rubbing his back soothingly. 

"It's gonna be okay," his friend murmurs, and he isn't sure who Grover is trying to reassure; Percy or himself. "Let's get you back to the room."

His thoughts drift back to Cassandra, and her specter looming behind them and staring off into the distance at something he cannot see. 

"They are dying, Perseus. They will all die. Can you see them dying like I can?"

Percy doesn't think it will be okay at all. 

Chapter Text

Percy doesn’t want to be on the field trip. In fact, he had almost considered pretending to be sick in order to get out of it at the last minute, but he wasn’t entirely sure the nurse would believe him considering she has dismissed every legitimate complaint he’s brought to her over his time at Yancy. Including the dining hall fiasco from last week that he is refusing to think about. 

Besides, if he had pretended to be sick he could almost count on Grover having suddenly become sick and staying back with him.

Just like what happened after the fiasco last week he is definitely not ruminating over. Nope. Not thinking about it at all. 

So here he sits, against his better judgement, on a cramped bus filled with troubled kids on his way to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

He's sure this is exactly what the people working at the MET want today; a bus full of problem children. 

He also just….really doesn’t have a good track record with field trips. 

Like that time in fifth grade when his class went to the Saratoga battlefield and he managed to shoot a revolutionary war cannon at the school bus. Percy hadn’t been aiming for the bus, or anything for that matter. To this day he’s still not sure how he managed to set it off or why they thought it would be smart to have a bunch of kids gather around a loaded weapon . But of course, he had been expelled anyway. 

And then there was the time before that in fourth grade when his class took a trip to the aquarium and had gotten an up close and personal visit with the sharks when he accidentally pulled on a lever. 

And it had been an accident, thank you very much. His bag strap got caught on it. Not that anyone believed him. 

Well, except for that really nice lady roaming around that all the kids (and adults, honestly) had been somewhat afraid of for some reason. She talked to the sharks and the fish and that really weird thing with all the spikes and tentacles in the back of the tank that no one else seemed to be able to see. 

‘My son!’ she had introduced proudly. 

‘Your son is so cool!’ 

She had even complimented his drawings of all the sea creatures he dreamed up and kept in his sketchbook, giving him little pointers on how to make them even scarier. 

In hindsight there had definitely been something weird about that lady. Something old and….not quite human. He hadn’t felt anything strange until the world around her had started shifting. Present and future blinking back and forth. The nice lady he was speaking with had alternated with a different version of her in a different aquarium. An angrier, more hostile version that scared him and trapped him behind the glass. 

Swirling and shifting and changing until whatever that distant future that had been between the two of them had evaporated and been replaced with something new he still can’t see yet. 

Percy hasn’t seen her since. He doesn’t even remember her name. 

Sometimes he gets little ocean themed care packages from an unknown sender with drawings of sea monsters on a little card. 

Percy should probably be more concerned. He should be a little suspicious. But he really just wants to chalk it up to bad field trip luck (and those sour blue raspberry fish in the packages are really good, okay). 

The point is, he and field trips generally don’t mix. 

But Mr. Brunner is leading this one so he’s holding out hope that maybe this one won’t be too bad.

Mr. Brunner with his somewhat thinning and scruffy beard who always wears a fraying tweed jacket that smells like a weird combination of coffee and the hay from that horse stable he visited once when he was small. Unlike Percy’s other teachers, Mr. Brunner has always been kind and patient with him. And is probably the only adult Percy has ever let his guard down around. 

Somewhat. 

Just a bit. Sometimes. 

It also helps that Mr. Brunner’s class is on a subject he actually enjoys, even if he doesn’t really need the Latin or mythology lessons. 

Mr. Brunner has always been suspiciously impressed with how much he already knew about Greek and Roman mythology. At how well he took to Latin and how sometimes when he is particularly bored he scribbles some Ancient Greek in the margins of his worksheets just for fun. There have been a few moments where his teacher had tried to press him about it, just a little bit. 

But Percy would merely smile and shrug his shoulders. “I’m just a classics nerd,” he would say, because saying "I visit the past so often I don't need your books or your lessons" would not be the safe answer to give. 

Because he’s seen what happens when people know too much and let others know that they know too much. 

Because he knows that behind that façade of the gentle, middle school teacher, is something else . The faint smell of horses and hay, the sound of thundering hooves and the shouts of battle and the clashing of swords. Eyes that look like they have seen far too much for far, far too long. 

Or maybe he is just crazy....

But he’s not going to risk it either way. 

Even if none of this is actually real and he’s simply inherited the severe mental illness gene from his mom's family, he can’t take that chance. He won’t take that chance. 

The bus rolls to a stop on the busy New York street and cheers erupt, easily drowning out the sounds of the chaperones desperately trying to give a large group of unruly preteens directions. Until Mrs. Dodds, the short pre-algebra teacher who always dressed in a leather jacket and had a permanent scowl on her face, stood up and began marching down the aisle, demanding quiet. 

Everyone shut up immediately. 

Mrs. Dodds is not known for being the kindest teacher, and most of the kids in her class are somewhat scared of her. 

Well, except for Nancy Bobofit whose behavior was always overlooked or indulged by Mrs. Dodds. Percy truly doesn't understand why the teacher likes the red head so much, and he doesn't care enough to think about it too hard. 

He's drawn out of his musings as Mrs. Dodds pauses abruptly in front of him, studying him as if he's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Percy almost says something smart that he's sure would have gotten him sentenced to death via in school suspension, but his annoyance at her attention is quickly replaced with a familiar buzzing in his brain. His breath hitches as the world around them seems to slow as he stares into her eyes, the sheer amount of hatred and fury visible in them making him shudder. 

Something's wrong. 

Something isn't right here. 

'Die, honey!'

Percy gasps, reeling back and slamming into Grover who lets out a surprised yelp. 

Mrs. Dodds lips curl into a cruel smile, a malicious sort of excitement in her expression. I know your secret, her face seems to say. I know who you are. 

'I found you,' an eerie voice rasps in his head. 

Percy shivers. 

______________________

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour. He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding them through large, echoing galleries, past a host of marble statues, and so many glass cases containing orange and black pottery. If Percy focuses hard enough on the objects, he can almost see them in their glory days. The temple's statues stood in front of, the hands that painstakingly shaped and painted the pottery, the little girl who used to play with the small display of partially rotted toys in one of the far cases. 

The group comes to a stop in front of a thirteen foot statue with a large sphinx on the top. He doesn't need his teacher to tell him what this is; a stele- a grave marker, for a girl with golden hair who loved archery. 

Percy grimaces. He would rather not linger at this statue in particular. 

Nevertheless he dutifully paid attention to Mr. Brunner's mini lecture on Greek funeral art. At least, he attempted to listen, but everyone around him is too busy whispering to each other and every time he tries to shush them Mrs. Dodds gives Percy the evil eye. Her attention on him has not wavered since the bus. 

Finally, Nancy and her friends snickering behind him becomes too much for his easily distracted brain to handle. He turns around and before he can stop himself says "Will you shut the fuck up?"

The group starts laughing. Apparently it had come out much louder than he originally intended. 

"Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

Percy can feel his face heating up. "No, sir." 

Mr. Brunner points to one of the reliefs visible on the stele. "Then perhaps you can tell us what this image represents?"

Percy sighs. He really would rather not continue to focus too hard on anything in this room, but he feels like he's not getting out of this one. Hesitantly he turns his gaze to the image before him, a heavy sense of unease washing over him. 

He's familiar with this one, alright. 

It's-

Screaming, a baby crying. 

A woman with his eyes and a face that reminds Percy so much of his own begging and pleading for him not to take her daughter. 

Lions roaring, time slowing. 

And then she sees him. The moment the baby is out of her arms she turns and their identical eyes meet, he knows she sees him. The way Cassandra did. The way his other family members, whether living or dead, no matter what time period, have always been able to. 

She sees him looking right at her and opens her mouth to speak. “He can see you, εγγονός . ” 

Εγγονός.

Grandson.

The image before him changes and he finds himself standing at the edge of a familiar pit, cold, cruel laughter echoing from below. The same laughter from his dream, beckoning forward. Forward, forward, and down. 

“You must not listen-” 

“Don’t you want to change the prophecy, Perseus?” the man’s voice whispers, “I could help. They could all live.” 

They could all live…..

“Percy?”

“Huh?” 

Suddenly he finds himself standing back in the museum with Mr. Brunner staring at him expectantly, a hint of concern in his old eyes as the other students cackled at him spacing out yet again. Grover, still pressed close to him, reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze in an attempt to ground him as his legs wobble. This sets off another wave of giggles for different reasons, but Percy is still a little too fuzzy to be properly upset about it. 

Mr. Brunner coughs, shooting an unimpressed glare at the other students before turning back to Percy. “I asked if you could tell us what this sculpture depicts.”

He shakes his head and tries to remain firmly planted in the present moment. A harder task than usual given everything he’s surrounded by. 

Swallowing harshly he glances back up at the sculpture, fingers squeezing Grover’s just a bit tighter.

“It’s Kronos eating his children,” he says softly after a moment, avoiding Mr. Brunner’s gaze.

A chorus of disgusted “ewws” erupts behind him as if this is fact that they are just now learning and not something they had already gone over in class at the beginning of the year. 

"Correct," Mr. Brunner nods, "and he decided to do this because..." he continues, still not satisfied with his answer. 

"Well," he begins slowly, "Kronos received a prophecy that he would be overthrown by one of his sons. So to keep that from happening he ate them all. Except for Zeus got hidden away by his mom and eventually tricked his dad into throwing up his siblings. There was a war between him and his kids, the Gods. And the Gods won," he finishes, hoping this is enough to make Mr. Brunner turn his attention elsewhere. 

"Correct again, Mr. Jackson."

Behind him, Nancy Bobofit rolls her eyes, mumbling to a nearby classmate, "Like we're going to use any of this in real life. Like it's going to say 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids' on our college applications or at job interviews." 

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner continues, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" 

"Busted," Grover snickers. 

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, face redder than her hair as she viciously elbows Grover in the back. Percy barely resists the urge to turn around and deck her on the spot. 

Percy is quiet for a moment, mulling over the possible answers he give. He could just say he has no idea and get this over with, but somehow he knows Mr. Brunner won't be satisfied with that answer either. 

"Because Kronos tried so hard to avoid the prophecy that he ended up making sure it came true, in the end. He couldn't run from his fate in the end, no matter how hard he tried to," he answers softly, 

Mr. Brunner looks exceptionally solemn. "Exactly. Full credit, Mr. Jackson." Percy ignores the laughter and snickers behind him, the whispers of '"teacher's pet" from Nancy and her friends. His Latin teacher's gaze lingers on him for a moment longer, studying him similarly to the way that Mrs. Dodds had earlier, though with none of the hatred. Percy shifts uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor again as he gives Grover's hand another nervous squeeze. 

How long has he been hanging onto Grover?

He should probably let go. 

“Now!” Mr. Brunner claps his hands to get everyone’s attention, sudden change in tone rather jarring, “for the rest of our time here, I want each of you to pick a piece of art in this room and study it. Describe it. Right down to how it makes you feel." 

There's a chorus of groans as his classmates begin drifting off, annoyed at having to do work on a field trip. Before Percy can move to follow his classmates (and hopefully get at least ten minutes to himself somewhere in this museum), a hand grips his forearm gently, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Percy..."

Mr. Brunner. Of course. 

"Are you quite sure you're feeling alright? You've been acting strange since we left the school this morning." 

Percy puts on his best "everything is okay" smile. "I'm fine, Mr. Brunner. Really. I just didn't sleep much last night." 

His teacher raises a brow, clearly not believing a word coming out of his mouth but knowing better than to push it any further. 

“If you’re certain,” Mr. Brunner relents with a sigh, hand still on his arm. “You will let me know if that changes, yes? You can always rest on the bus if you need to.”

“Yes, Mr. Brunner.”

“Good lad. And here,” his teacher reaches into his pocket and pulls out a shiny pen, offering it to him. "I see you have forgotten to bring one."

"Thanks?" 

He gives Percy's arm a final pat before wheeling away to deal with the chaos that had suddenly erupted on the other side of the room. He hopes it’s Nancy Bobofit and he also hopes that whatever she’s done this time gets her in trouble.

Reluctantly he lets go of Grover's hand despite the other boy's protests and begins wandering through the maze of statues of artifacts that fill the room. He pretends not to notice the way Mr. Brunner's and Grover's eyes bore into his back as he goes. 

Almost of their own accord his feet carry him to a familiar sculpture, bypassing all of the ones that his classmates had deemed more interesting. 

One that he has visited at least three other times. 

‘Do you know who that is?’

‘Perseus! It’s me.’

‘Mhm,’ his mother laughs, ‘that’s who you’re named after.’ She gives his hand a squeeze, turning to smile down at him. A clear, happy smile. A smile he had not seen in some time as her lucid days became fewer and fewer. ‘Do you know why I named you after him?’

He thinks for a moment. ‘Because he’s strong and kills monsters?’

His mother laughs again. ‘And what makes you think she’s a monster, hm?’

Percy furrows his brow. ‘My teacher said Medusa was a monster when he did our mythology lesson.’

‘Not everyone who looks like a monster is a monster. And not everyone who looks like a hero is a hero. Remember that, Percy.’ She crouches down in front of him, ruffling his hair a bit and making him giggle. ‘But no, I didn’t name you after him because he was a monster slayer.’

He tilts his head, not understanding. ‘Then why?’

Her smile turns sad as she smoothes out imaginary wrinkles in his clothes before her hands come to rest on his upper arms. ‘I named you after him because when he was a very little boy, he and his mother were placed in a wooden chest and cast out into the sea by a very angry king.’

Percy frowns. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’

She smiles sadly. ‘No, sweetheart. It wasn’t. But even though they were alone and afraid, every night his mother would whisper in his ear…’ she leans in a bit closer, voice quieting further. ‘Hold fast, Perseus. Brave the storm that was made to break us for we are unbreakable as long as we have each other.’

‘Did he make it?’ 

‘Mhm. He did. Against all odds, he survived and found his way to a happy ending.’ She presses a kiss to his forehead. ‘That is why your name is Perseus.’ 

Percy is silent for a moment as his mother’s words sink in. ‘But we don’t get happy endings,’ he says softly. ‘I haven’t seen a single one, mama. I’ve tried.’ 

It had been the last time they had had a normal conversation, a normal day together. Three weeks later she was dead. 

Percy always wondered if she would have held on a little longer if he had just kept his mouth shut about their happy endings. 

Sally Jackson certainly didn’t get her happy ending. Or maybe it was, in a way. She is finally free from the curse that’s plagued them for centuries. She doesn’t have to worry about being haunted by strange visions or waking up every day wondering when her son may die. 

She’s free, wherever she is. 

_____________________________

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Grover.”

“But–”

“I’m fine!” he snaps, a lot harsher than he intended. Percy winces, shoulders sagging as he looks away from his friend. “Sorry. I don’t…I’m just,” he lets out a frustrated huff, unable to properly articulate what he’s feeling. “I guess I’m still just tired.” 

They’re gathered on the front steps of the museum, the sad school provided lunch in a brown paper bag sitting untouched in Percy’s lap. He doesn’t really feel like eating, just the thought of putting food in his mouth makes him want to gag. 

“That makes sense. You didn’t really sleep last night,” Grover says carefully.

Percy shrugs, defeated. “When do I ever?”

Overhead, a storm is brewing, the clouds blacker than Percy has ever seen them. It gave him a headache. The weather has always had a negative impact on him, mostly in the form of horrific migraines. And between the snow storms, hurricane level floods, wildfires from freak lightning strikes, and that really random earthquake a few weeks back, he's basically had a headache for four months. 

No one else seems to notice the storm. 

Except for Grover who glances nervously upward whenever a rumble of thunder can be heard. 

He watches the stream of taxis and other vehicles headed down Fifth Avenue, and thinks about his mom's apartment just a bit uptown from where he sat. Well, Gabe's apartment now, he supposes. He can't exactly call it his mother's home when she's been dead for almost five years at this point. His birthday will be the anniversary of finding her dead on their bathroom floor. 

Some present he got that year. 

He misses when the idea of coming home for the summer was exciting. Back when he was still small, back when his mom was alive and had more lucid days than bad days. Back when they could at least pretend, even for a little while, that things were okay. 

Now all he has to look forward to is Gabe. Gabe and his poker parties, the drunken rages, the- 

He grimaces. 

Nope. He'll just leave that last thought where it belongs. 

Shaking his head he turns his attention back to the untouched food in his lap, knowing that if he doesn't at least try to eat Grover is going to get on his case about it. From a place of love, of course, as the other boy always tells him. But lately Grover has been more clingy and overbearing than usual. And with this increasingly shortening temper he's not sure he won't blow up completely the next time his friend tries to mother hen him. 

Of course, that's the moment Nancy chooses to appear in front of them and dump her half eaten lunch in Grover's lap

Normally he can ignore Nancy and her antics. It’s definitely not the first time he (and Grover) had a bully target him this heavily, and it probably won’t be the last. But a sudden, violent rage overtakes him, the sound of a wave roaring in his ears. He must zone out because the next thing he knows Nancy is sitting on her behind in the fountain screaming "Percy pushed me!" at the top of her lungs. 

Grover is gaping at him, a mixture of awe and fear in his expression. 

"I....what?" he whispers, looking around confused, head still spinning. 

He distantly makes out the whispers from the other kids around him. "Did you see that-"

"-the water just grabbed her!"

Percy doesn't have much time to process the whispers because Mrs. Dodds, as if summoned by her "Percy must have done something wrong again" senses, practically materializes in front of him. After fretting over Nancy and assuring her that she would get a new shirt from the gift shop, she turns her attention back to Percy. There's an excited glint in her eye, even more so than there had been on the bus. As if Percy had finally done something to be truly interesting. 

"Now, honey-"

Leathery wings. Talons. Fangs. 

The scent of death. 

Punishment.

No. No no. This is wrong. Something about this is wrong. 

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says. "You've caused quite enough trouble today." 

"Wait!" Grover yelps, jumping to his feet in a panic. "It wasn't Percy! It was me! I pushed Nancy-"

"That is enough, Mr. Underwood."

"But-"

"You will stay here, Mr. Underwood," she glares. 

Grover looks at him, desperately trying to communicate something with his eyes that Percy doesn't understand. 

"It's alright, man," he says with a strained smile, trying to reassure his friend, "thanks for trying." 

Behind him Nancy Bobofit smirks and he has to resist the urge to do whatever it was that sent her flying into the fountain the first. 

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks, "now."

He looks and Mrs. Dodds is now standing impatiently at the museum entrance, motioning for him to keep up or else. He could have sworn she was just down here in front of him. How did she move that fast? Maybe he just spaced out again. The school counselor had always told him his ADHD was good at making him do that.

But he's not always so sure. 

Percy moves to follow Mrs. Dodds, ignoring the way Grover tries to yank him back. Delaying this would only make the punishment worse. 

Halfway up the steps, he chances a glance back at Grover. He's pale, expression panicked as his eyes cut between Percy and Mr. Brunner as if he wants their teacher to realize what's happening. Mr. Brunner, for this part, seems too engrossed in his novel to pick up on anything happening around him. 

He looks back and Mrs. Dodds has vanished once again, now waiting inside the museum at the entrance for him to catch up. 

What is happening?

How is she doing this?

Percy follows her deeper into the museum, ignoring the prickles of fear and the voice telling him to run. To run now and not look back. He ignores the scent of earth of pomegranates, and the eerie whispers that remind him of ghosts from the horror movies a few kids had snuck into Yancy. When he finally catches up to her they are back at the Greco-Roman exhibit. Surprisingly, it's just the two of them there this time. No other patrons milling about. 

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a large marble frieze of the Olympian gods. A deep, guttural sound comes from her throat, not unlike the growling of his neighbor's big dog that loves to chase him back home. 

She glares at the frieze a moment longer before turning her attention back to him. "You've been giving us so many problems, honey," she says icily, tugging on the cuffs of her jacket. "Did you truly think you would be able to get away with it?" 

"Uh...what?" 

"We are not fools, Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds hisses. "It was only a matter of time before we found you. Confess your crimes, and your suffering will be less." 

Percy doesn't have the faintest idea what she's talking about. 

Unless the teachers have finally discovered the illegal stash of candy and other items he will not disclose that he sells out of his dorm room when Grover isn't present. Or all the times he's pickpocketed the really mean teachers and staff members. Or maybe its...

Lightning. Storms. 

War. 

The eagle and the horse. 

Stolen. 

It was stolen. 

Find what is lost and see it safely returned.

"Well?" she demands. 

Percy winces, trying to keep his mind in there here and now. "Ma'am, I don't understand. Please..."

"Your time is up, Perseus Jackson." 

Anything he was about to say in response dies in his throat as he watches Mrs. Dodds form begin to ripple. Her eyes glow like hot coals, her fingers stretch far beyond their limits to form talons. The leather jacket she wears everyday morphs and twists, appearing more like a writhing pile of living flesh than a coat. It contorts until two, large leathery wings burst from her back, a relieved sigh leaving the woman's lips as she stretches them out. She smiles widely, revealing a mouth full of sharp, yellow teeth. 

Fury, his mind whispers. Fury. She is a fury. 

She lunges at him, wings carrying her across the room faster than he can keep up with in his shock. He tries to dodge, letting out a cry as her talons miss his throat but rake across his shoulder instead, the sound of his flesh tearing and the smell of blood nearly making him vomit. 

Percy falls to his knees, gasping in pain as Mrs. Dodds growls in frustration at missing her mark. 

He flails around looking for anything he might be able to use to defend himself, but finds nothing except for Mr. Brunner's pen still tucked away in his pocket. His fingers curl around the cool metal of the pen and suddenly he feels something shift, feels the pen changing and growing in his hand. He manages to rip it out of his pocket before it reaches full size and stares with wide eyes at the pen that is....

No longer a pen. 

The pen Mr. Brunner had loaned him earlier is not just a pen, but a sword. A finely crafted bronze sword inscribed with ancient Greek letters.

Anaklusmos.

Riptide, he translates. 

What the fuck? 

He doesn't think about it too hard, and doesn't have the time to question it as Mrs. Dodds spins back around to face him, preparing for another attack.

Percy's survival instincts must kick in because the next thing he knows he's on his feet, the pain in his shoulder hardly even registering as he grips the hilt of the blade tightly in his hands. He's never used a sword before- a knife, sure. And a gun once or twice. His neighborhood had never been the nicest place to grow up in. But he supposes he's going to have to learn fast if he plans on limping away from this. 

"Die, honey!" she snarls, lunging towards him once more with talons outstretched.

Absolute terror runs through his body as he realizes there is no escape. There's no running, no dodging this time. Percy's legs feel like jelly and his hands shake so badly he fears he may end up dropping the blade, his only means of defense. Steeling himself, he plants his feet firmly on the ground and tries to recall the way Mr. Brunner had swung his sword in class on their last tournament day. Breathe and swing. 

Mrs. Dodds shrieks loudly as she closes in on him. 

Breathe...

Her hand rears back to slash at him once more. 

And swing. 

The blade connects with her shoulder and passes through her body as if she's made of water. There's a final, agonized shriek from her mouth before the room is filled with the sounding of hissing. No. 

The sound of something disintegrating before him. 

Percy opens his eyes, not aware that he had even closed them, to see the form of Mrs. Dodds erupt, covering the area and him in a mixture of yellowish-gold dust and gold liquid. She is gone, leaving nothing but the lingering smell of sulfur and the sense of something still watching him in her wake. 

Percy is alone in the museum.

The sword in his hand is now just a pen again. 

There is no monstrous bird lady- fury, trying to kill him. 

Did he imagine the whole thing? Was everything that happened just some figment of his already fucked up imagination? He reaches up to shoulder and nearly lets out a yell as his fingers brush over torn cloth and flesh. Warm ,red liquid coats his hand when he pulls it back. Blood. He's bleeding. His injury is real. It's where Mrs. Dodd's talons had raked across him during her first attack. 

Or did they?

Did something else happen? Could he have done this to himself?

His eyes are drawn to the floor in front of him, the tiles still covered in traces of that strange gold dust and liquid. Mrs. Dodd's body, he thinks.

Or just paint someone spilled on the floor.

Why would there be paint on the floor, though? 

He doesn't....he can't....

Numbly, he turns around and begins the trek back to the front of the museum where his class waits, thoughts racing as he goes over what happened again and again again. Percy finally stumbles out of the museum entrance, legs barely able to carry him down the steps. His shoulder burns fiercely and he can feel the warm blood still seeping from the wound. 

He makes it to the bottom of the steps before collapsing onto his knees, trembling as the rush of emotions he'd been suppressing finally hit him.  

“Give him some room!” Mr. Brunner's loud shout can be heard over the chaos, and Percy jerks his head up to see his teacher wheeling towards him as quickly as he can, Grover hot on his heels. 

He blinks and Grover is kneeling at his side, helping to steady him as their teacher comes to a stop in front of them. The other boy is babbling apologies too fast for Percy to keep up with, practically in tears as he frets over him. 

"Percy, my boy. What happened?" Chiron demands. 

"Mrs. Dodds!" he chokes out. "She's...she was..."

She was what? A giant shriveled bird lady? A fury straight from the pages of a Greek mythology encyclopedia? A fury that knew who he was and had been sent after him because he's committed some crime he doesn't remember? Percy runs a hand through his hair, a hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat as he processes the implications of that sentence. A fury had pretended to be his teacher. 

He had almost been killed by a fury. 

"Deep breaths, Percy. What happened in there?" Mr. Brunner asks again, voice deceptively calm. 

“Mrs. Dodds. Our pre-algebra teacher,” he continues. "She attacked me." 

Grover and Mr. Brunner share a nervous look.

Mr. Brunner frowns, sitting forward with a look of mild concern on his face. “Percy,” he begins slowly, “there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know there isn’t a teacher at Yancy named Mrs. Dodds." 

Percy swallows down the nausea, trying to hide the way his hands begin to shake. 

"What?"

Mr. Brunner clears his throat, giving his shoulder a squeeze before continuing. "There is no Mrs. Dodds, Percy. It's just me and Mrs. Kerr leading this trip. Did you hit your head when you fell earlier?" 

"I...fell?"

"Yes, Percy. You took quite the tumble down the steps," Mr. Brunner says slowly, "do you remember?"

No. That's not what happened. That's not-

Percy stares at his teacher in disbelief before he turns his attention to Grover, begging the other boy with his eyes to believe him. To tell him he's not crazy. 

Grover looks at him with sadness and regret, lower lip trembling. 

"You fell pretty hard, Perce. And your head's already bruising. It's okay, you're probably just getting the names mixed up," Grover says softly, now refusing to meet his eyes. 

No...

No one believes us, Perseus. Don't you see? 

Chapter Text

Percy is no stranger to unusual and unexplained happenings. A lifetime of strange, often horrific visions and eyes that are capable of seeing the fantastical creatures that roam unnoticed through the streets of New York does wonders for desensitization to these things. But even then he was occasionally awarded a break. A few hours, days, a few glorious weeks even, where his mind was relatively clear and he could pretend that everything is normal. This twenty-four/seven hallucination he's currently existing in, however, is quickly proving to be more than he can handle. 

He's always struggled with the notion of inherited insanity and the potential for the big psychotic break at some point. Even if more recently,  he has slowly begun to reach the conclusion that maybe he's not crazy after all; that maybe no one in his family ever was crazy to begin with. 

But it feels like the entire school is in cahoots with one another to make all those old feelings come back with a fiery sort of vengeance. 

For the remainder of the term, the entire campus seems dedicated to playing some kind of prank on Percy. Everyone acts as if they are completely and utterly convinced that Mrs. Dodds is nothing more than a figment of his imagination. They are certain that Mrs. Kerr- a bubbly woman whom Percy had never met prior to seeing her board the bus at the end of their museum field trip- has been the pre-algebra teacher for the entire year. 

Every so often he springs a Mrs. Dodds reference on someone, hoping to catch them off guard. But they would just stare at him like he's a psycho and go back to whatever they were doing, whispering about him all the while. 

It almost got to the point where Percy almost started to believe he had conjured the whole thing up. 

Almost. 

But Percy didn't imagine the deep claw marks that still haven't healed completely and ache throughout the day and night. He didn't imagine the gold dust that had stained one of his favorite shirts that he had been wearing that day. 

He also certainly didn't imagine the weird bronze pen that keeps materializing in his pocket despite having returned it to Mr. Brunner directly once and leaving it on his teacher's desk another five or six times. 

And then there's Grover. 

Grover couldn't fool him. Whenever Percy would mention Mrs. Dodds to him, he would freeze up, a look of poorly hidden panic on his face. And then he would insist that Mrs. Dodds wasn't real. But Percy knows he's lying. He's actually rather good at knowing when people aren't telling the truth- being able to see things tends to help with that. With Grover, he doesn't need any special powers to assist. His friend is just a terrible liar. 

Something had happened at the museum. Something awful was going on around him. And whether or not he wanted any part of it, he got the sense that his desires don't matter much. That he's managed to find himself firmly in the middle of whatever divine kerfuffle is taking place. 

Percy doesn't have much time to focus on it during the day. Most of his effort is spent trying to maintain some aura of normalcy. But at night in the dark of his shared dorm room, he finds himself plagued with visions of leathery wings and talons. Of storms and earthquakes, of destruction. Of vicious arguments between powerful people he cannot name, but knows he should fear and keep his distance from. 

Of...him. 

Percy has only encountered him directly once, and that is enough in his expert opinion. A golden haired man glowing with the intensity of the sun, driving his chariot across the sky as he hunts for....something. Something Percy still can't quite see clearly. Unable to help his curiosity, Percy had pushed closer. Just a bit, just to see what he could glean despite the danger he knew he was in. 

Immediately he had given himself away, his skills still too unpracticed in this way. The man- no, God's head had whipped around to face him, surprise etched into his features. "Who-"

But Percy had managed to rip himself away before he could be completely seen. And he hopes it was fast enough. He hopes it was enough to let him remain hidden. 

Some nights he didn't sleep at all, curling up under the dull light in his and Grover's shared closet, endlessly writing and drawing until he'd gone through nearly every pencil and spare sheet of paper he could scrounge up. He'd already filled two sketchbooks and his journal he'd brought with him last term. In the mornings, Grover would gently pry the objects from his hands, coaxing him out of the tiny space and try his best to bring Percy back from wherever his mind had taken him. 

Grover never said anything about the drawings, or the manic mess of writing that appeared to be little more than nonsense at first glance. He just gathered up his work, neatly arranging it at his desk with a forced smile that barely hid his growing concern and anguish over Percy's state. 

Percy feels bad, sometimes. 

And other times he doesn't care at all. Why should he when Grover, the person who was supposed to believe him, decided to join the rest of the school in making him feel more insane than he already does? Why should he care anymore if he's making Grover's life miserable? No one cares when they make Percy miserable. 

By the time the end of term was creeping up on them, his average grades had slipped to failing. He found himself getting into fights almost daily with Nancy Bobofit and her friends, and getting thrown out of class for being unreasonable to the point where even he knew he was crossing the line. But he just couldn't seem to regulate himself enough to stop it. 

The freak weather isn't helping either. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows of multiple dorm rooms. A few days following that incident, the biggest tornado ever recorded in the Hudson Valley touched down near Yancy Academy. A suspicious number of planes had also gone down in squalls over the ocean. Not to mention the earthquakes rumbling up and down the east coast. Instead of doing homework he spends most of his afternoons languishing in bed, head pounding, body aching, no energy to do much of anything. 

The final nail in the coffin had been getting into a screaming match with his English teacher, Mr. Nicoll. Percy truthfully doesn't even remember what set him off that time, just that he was quickly booted to the headmaster's office and berated for the better part of an hour. The following day a letter was mailed to his stepfather stating that he would not be invited back next year. 

Percy can't wait for that conversation. 

He doesn't need to be able to see the future to know what will happen. Gabe will be furious and punish him despite truly not giving a single shit about how well Percy does in school. He'd do it simply because he can, because he wants to. And this latest expulsion will give him the perfect excuse. 

Maybe if he's lucky Gabe will be too busy with his poker pals when he gets home to properly greet him. Sometimes if he's quiet enough Gabe will ignore him for a while, for a few days even, sometimes. Other times he can't make a single move without doing something wrong and setting the man off. Or maybe his stepfather just happened to be bored and decided he needed entertainment for the evening. 

He doesn't want to go home, if he can even call it home anymore. 

He hates Yancy only slightly less. But there are things he will miss about this place. Not being beaten black and blue, or being forced to fund his stepfather's existence for one. Not dodging all of the goons Gabe has managed to piss off, and the people he has managed to piss off on his own. 

Hey, sometimes a kid has to do what a kid has to do to make it out there. And also maybe hide a secret survival savings under his floorboard for a one day-maybe-sooner-than-he-thinks escape. 

He'll miss the view of the Hudson from his dorm window and the scent of pine in the air

He'll miss not being used as a bargaining chip when Gabe's deals go exceptionally sideways, and his tiny brain can't think of any other way to get out of the mess he created. 

He guesses a part of him will miss Grover, even if he's still angry at the other boy. Grover had been a good friend until now, if a little weird and overbearing at times. He supposes a part of him will also miss Mr. Brunner too, even if he is also mad at his former favorite teacher for making him feel crazy. Percy can't help it. It had been so nice to finally have people who cared about him. 

He should have known better than to think he could trust people. 

The evening before his last round of final exams are set to begin, Percy reaches a breaking point. He gets so frustrated that he throws his textbook across the room, nearly re-breaking the window that had been repaired not too long ago. He doesn't care about the exams anymore. He doesn't care that he's going to fail and probably be thrown out of yet another school. His dreams are getting worse, he can barely keep himself locked in the present. 

He's not eating, hardly sleeping, and everything hurts. 

Percy is miserable. 

At some point after throwing his textbook he storms out of his dorm room, hoping a walk will clear his head. Or at least calm him down enough to attempt to rest tonight. 

Technically they're not supposed to be wandering around this late, but the teachers were never great about monitoring the halls. And for some reason Grover hadn't returned before curfew, very unlike him. But at least he wouldn't have to explain his evening walk to his roommate. 

Almost of their own accord, his feet carry him past rows of empty classrooms until he reaches the hall that contains the faculty offices. Most of them are as empty as he had expected them to be, but curiously Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, the light from one of his lamps shining out into the hallway. Percy knows he should turn around before he gets caught, but some propels him forward. He's three steps away from the door when he can finally hear the voices speaking in hushed tones inside the office. 

"-worried about Percy, sir," says a voice that is definitely Grover's. 

He freezes.

Any thoughts of turning around and not eavesdropping going out the window at the mention of his name. Carefully, he inches closer, trying to catch more of the conversation. 

"....alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! If he's already attracting their attention, who knows what else will come after him. And now that we know for sure-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner interrupts. "We need him to mature more." 

"But the summer solstice deadline-" 

"Will have to be resolved without him. Let him enjoy living in ignorance a bit longer, Grover." 

Grover lets out a frustrated sound. "But sir, he saw her. And his dreams, the things he's seeing, they're getting worse. We can't just keep pretending that nothing is happening!"

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insists, though he can hear a hint of uncertainty in the man's voice. "The mist over the students and staff should be enough to convince him that the incident at the museum didn't happen. As for his dreams, it's the stress. We shouldn't feed into what he is seeing. It might....encourage more serious ones."

"With all due respect, sir, you aren't his roommate. You don't see him lost and confused all of the time. You're not there when he wakes up screaming and terrified because of what he's seeing. He's not eating, he's not sleeping, he's lashing out at everyone and himself. He spends half the night obsessively drawing and writing trying to get his mind to be quiet. Percy is falling apart, and you expect me to just sit here and keep lying to him-" Grover's voice is choked with emotion. "I can't fail again. I won't. Not with Percy." 

"You haven't failed," Mr. Brunner says softly. "I should have seen her for what she was. And as for the things he sees-"

"It's cruel and you know it," Grover bites out. 

"It's for the best, Grover." 

"The best for who!?" 

"We can continue this conversation later," Mr. Brunner says, effectively shutting down any more talk on this. "For now, we need to focus on keeping Percy alive until next Fall-"

It's at this moment he decides to be clumsy and accidentally crash into one of the chairs outside of the office. Immediately, the office goes silent and Percy scrambles back into the darkness, shoving himself into the first empty room he can find. Heart racing, he tries to steady his breathing as he remains as still as possible. 

A shadow becomes visible in the lighted glass of Mr. Brunner's office, a shadow much taller than his teacher who is usually confined to a wheelchair. There's something that looks suspiciously like an archer's bow clutched in its hands. 

He ducks down just as the sound of a slow clop-clop-clop drifts down the hall towards the room he is hiding in. If he didn't know any better, he would say it sounded like hooves. The large shape continues down the hall until it stops directly in front of the door. Percy holds his breath, praying the door doesn't open. 

It's quiet for another moment and then-

"Nothing," his teacher sighs in relief. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. Every little thing has put me on edge lately."

"Yeah," Grover agrees, sounding nervous himself. "But I could have sworn..."

"Go back to the dorm. You have a long day of exams ahead of you tomorrow. We can finish this discussion later."

Grover hesitates for a moment before sighing. "Yes, sir." 

The lights go out in Mr. Brunner's office. Percy stays hidden, uncomfortably crouched for what seems like forever until he's certain that the coast is clear. He slips out of his hiding place and carefully makes his way out of the faculty hallway, breathing a sigh of relief when he successfully avoids detection. 

Percy knows he should head back to the dorm and try to beat Grover there so he wouldn't have to make up an explanation for where he'd gone. But as he reaches the stairs leading back up he stops. 

The conversation he overhead keeps replying in his mind. Percy has always been aware that Grover and Mr. Brunner discuss him behind his back, both for normal reasons and not so normal reasons. He knows that there is another reason for both of them to be at this school. He's tried to ignore to, tried to lean into the idea that maybe he's crazy after all and he's imagining things. 

But....he's really not sure that's the case anymore.

That it ever was. 

One thing is clear: something terrible has happened and he is somehow involved. He's in serious danger from a threat that is becoming clearer but still just out of his sight. Something Mr. Brunner doesn't think he's ready to hear. 

Before he can continue his thoughts there's a violent rumble of thunder outside. 

And then...

He's slipping. 

__________________________

He's on the roof of the school. 

How did he get here? Percy has spent time up here before in an effort to find some quiet, but usually he makes a conscious decision to do so. 

He blinks hard, shaking his head as he tries to get his bearings. 

He had been walking after eavesdropping on Grover and Mr. Brunner. He had tried to make it back to his dorm, but then the sound of thunder startled him and....

And then what? 

He doesn't, he can't-

“Percy?” a voice calls from behind, startling him out of his thoughts. 

Percy turns and his heart constricts at the sight of Grover. Panic stricken, brown eyes wide and so visibly concerned that it physically hurts for Percy to look at him. 

He turns back around, eyes once again fixed on the waters of the Hudson. 

“I’m fine, Grover," he says softly. 

He doesn’t know why he feels the need to tell Grover he’s fine. He hadn't even asked him a question in the first place. But Percy can practically feel the worry and panic coming off him in waves and as always, his first instinct is to reassure his friend. 

Grover takes a hesitant step forward as if he's afraid one wrong move is going to be enough to spook him and send him toppling the edge. 

“What are you doing up here, man? It’s the middle of the night," his friend says with forced calmness. 

What is he doing up here, again?

Percy still can't recall how he made it up here. The events between leaving the faculty hallway and opening his eyes to a rather scenic view of the campus below him are still a mystery to him. The wind blows harshly against his face, still quite chilly for this time of year. The force of it causes him to sway ever so slightly on his feet, teetering back and forth just enough for it to be concerning at times. 

Didn't his grandmother throw herself out of a window or off a roof or something? 

Maybe she didn't mean it either and had just accidentally wandered, lost in the visions no one else could see. 

Grover has mentioned once or twice that he's gotten up while asleep. But he wasn't asleep before this.....was he? 

"Percy- Can you back up a little? That doesn't feel like a safe place to zone out?" 

He should probably do what Grover asks. The other boy is right about a ledge not being the best place to be if you accidentally lose your footing. But he can't will himself to move, eyes still fixed out on the scenery before him. A distant rumble of thunder causes him to flinch.

Two men rage at each other from their thrones. 

With each shout the earth beneath them trembles and the lightning grows more fierce. 

Somewhere far away from them, a wave destroys a small village. A man trying to get home is unlucky enough to be next to the tree that is struck with a lightning bolt after a loud boom of thunder. 

"Return it to me!"

Armies gathering, sides being chosen. 

A third man with fire in his eyes laughs at the chaos from his own throne-

"Perseus!" Grover's voice is firmer now, his growing fear at the situation making him bolder. He takes a few steps closer. "Come on. Let's go back inside and talk, yeah?" 

Percy is silent for a moment before speaking. "Why are you here, Grover?" 

"Because you're my best friend," he says simply. "I'm here because I want to be. I've been looking for you for over an hour." 

"Oh..." 

Percy doesn't know why he finds that so hard to believe, that someone would bother looking for him. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Grover has remained at his side, unbothered by how angry Percy has been at him lately, not being chased away by all the times he's lashed out. And the way he talked to Mr. Brunner earlier, sticking up for Percy when he didn't have to. Maybe...maybe Grover isn't tired of him after all. 

"Percy, please." 

The desperation in his friend's voice tugs at something in him, momentarily getting through the layer of numbness that has settled over him. He blinks again, mind becoming a bit more focused as he begins to truly process where he's standing and what this probably looks like. 

Percy carefully moves to take a step back, hearing the anxious way Grover shifts behind him as he does so. He takes one step back, and then two, and suddenly he finds himself being pulled into one of the tightest hugs he's ever received. He melts into his friend's embrace, the exhaustion of the past weeks catching up to him all at once. Percy takes a shuddering breath, hands clutching at the back of Grover's jacket. 

There's so many things he wants to say.

I thought you believed me. I thought you were different. 

What were you and Mr. Brunner arguing about in his office?

Why are you all lying to me? 

Who am I? 

But he asks none of these questions, just stands there breathing in the familiar scent of flowers and hay. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Grover is mumbling into his shoulder, sounding on the verge of tears. 

"They're fighting. I can see them fighting," is what he finally says. "I can't stop seeing it."

He feels his friend flinch at his words. "I know." 

"Do you think I'm crazy, Grover?" Percy asks wetly. 

"No! No. Percy, you're not crazy. It's...it's complicated, but-" Grover takes a deep breath. "I promise I'll explain. I will. I just need to figure out-"

Before Grover can finish his sentence the door to the roof slams open, causing them both to jump apart. Jim, the aging security guard who looks quite out of breath from climbing so many stairs to reach the roof, glares at them, shining his flashlight in their eyes. 

"What are you kids doing up here!?"

Grover swears violently in ancient Greek. 

Shit, indeed. 

________________

"Surely there are other steps that can be taken rather than just jumping to this decision?" 

Upon finding Percy and Grover on the roof, the security guard had promptly escorted them to the headmaster who was not thrilled at all at having been woken up at this hour. Mr. Brunner was also there, though Percy isn't sure how he managed to find out something happened so quickly. Whatever the reason for his presence, Percy is certain it's not doing much to help him this time. 

"Enough!" Mr. Barnes exclaims, slamming his fist on the desk and cutting off Mr. Brunner off before he can continue his argument in Percy's favor. "Enough," the man repeats, slightly calmer this time as he tries to regain some of his composure before continuing. "I won't hear anymore arguments, Mr. Brunner. Yancy is not equipped to deal with the...issues that Mr. Jackson presents with. We are a school, not a facility."

And there it is again. 

"The decision is final. Mr. Jackson will not be allowed to return for the next school year. We'll contact his guardian at once and inform him of our decision and perhaps suggest alternative programs for children more like him. He will be sent home first thing in the morning." 

Programs for kids that are more like him. 

Programs for mentally disturbed kids who need to be locked away from society, he means. He wishes the adults in his life would just say what they mean for once. If they're going to insult him he prefers they be open and honest about it. After all, he's sure there isn't anything terrible they can say to him that Percy hasn't already said to himself at some point. 

Mr. Brunner shakes his head, a deep frown on his face. "I do not think a facility, as you say, is needed in this situation. Mr. Jackson has been-"

"The boy was found standing on the roof in the middle of the night! Not to mention the incident on the field trip, his outburst in the dining hall, talking to himself in class," the headmaster lists. 

Mr. Brunner is silent for a moment before heaving a sigh, shooting Percy a deeply apologetic look. "Perhaps you make a valid point. Yancy, it seems, is not the place for him." 

It may be a true statement, but it still hurts to hear it. 

"There are certainly much better places he could be than here-" Mr. Brunner continues, voice fading into the background as Percy lets himself drift away from the conversation. 

He's done. He's so tired. 

At some point he is ushered back to the dorm room he'll share with Grover for only a few more hours. He sits numbly on the bed while the other boy packs up his meager belongings, chatting all the while in an attempt to fill the heavy silence. 

Eventually his friend falls silent, realizing that no amount of happy banter and lighthearted jokes would be enough to fix this. Grover plops down on the bed beside him, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

"I'm sorry, Percy," he says after a moment. "I really am."

Percy says nothing. 

__________________

The next morning Percy sits on the bench outside of the school, waiting patiently for the truck that would take him to the bus station. Normally this was the point where he would be shaking and throwing up from just the thought of going home, of knowing what and who is waiting for him at home. Especially in a situation like this. Percy hasn't spoken to Gabe yet, but he did hear the shouting match between his stepfather and headmaster that had erupted when he had been informed Percy was expelled. He knows Gabe is going to use it as an excuse to vent his frustrations on him.

Not that he ever really needed an excuse. 

And not that he also didn't sometimes reap the benefit of Percy being home. But he's not ready to think about that. 

It feels different this time. Or maybe he's just reached the point where he doesn't care anymore. What's going to happen is going to happen, and it doesn't look like that will be changing anytime soon. 

Or maybe he's just too exhausted to muster up any real feelings about it at the moment after everything that has happened these past few weeks. 

Whatever the reason, the numbness that had settled over him last night still hasn't left. He thinks he should be worried about this, probably. 

Mr. Brunner sits in his wheelchair next to him, having volunteered to see him off safely. So far Percy hasn't said a single word to the man, or even spared a glance in his direction. He's hoping to keep it that way, not even knowing what to say to the man at this point. But of course, Percy's wishes never come true. 

Mr. Brunner clears his throat in an obvious attempt to get his attention, and he winces. 

"Percy," he begins, "don't be discouraged by leaving Yancy. It's....it's for the best."

His tone remains kind but all it does is grate at his nerves. Underneath the temporary numbness, Percy can feel vague hints of shame rising to the surface. 

"Okay," he says flatly. 

Mr. Brunner shifts uncomfortably as he tries to find his words. "I mean...this isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time." 

"Right. I figured that out on my own, but thanks for reminding me." 

"No, no!" he says. "What I'm trying to say is....you're not normal, Percy. And that's nothing to be-"

"Right, cool." His eyes started to sting a bit. 

"Percy-"

"Oh, look. My ride is here," he interrupts, standing quickly and slinging his bag over his shoulder as the white truck rolls to a stop a few feet in front of him. He's speeding towards the truck before his teacher can try and say anything else. Just as his hand grips the handle a sudden shout behind him nearly causes him to drop his bag. He whirls around to see Grover jogging towards them, his own bag slung over his shoulder. 

Grover comes to a stop next to him, a smile on his face as he catches his breath. 

"Hey, Perce! Guess who gets to go home a little early? Looks like we're riding together." 

Percy blinks in surprise. "Um...cool, I guess," is all he manages, as Grover bumps his shoulder playfully. 

Mr. Brunner's face is impassive, but Percy can make out a hint of something there; surprise, disapproval. His teacher clears his throat again. 

"I was not aware you were also leaving, Mr. Underwood," he says, raising a brow. 

"Yep! Last minute thing. Good thing I caught you guys, otherwise I would have to wait for the next ride." Grover stares back at Mr. Brunner, smile still firmly on his face but eyes hard, almost as if he's challenging the man to say something. After a tense staring contest, Mr. Brunner sighs, clearly losing some kind of battle Percy is not privy to. 

"Well then. I hope the two of you have a good trip home."

"We will!" Grove says cheerfully, herding Percy into the truck. "Have a good summer, Mr. Brunner!"

Once they are both settled in the truck and the school staff member puts the truck in drive, Percy leans his head against the cool glass and watches Yancy disappear behind them. 

Mr. Brunner does not move from his spot and watches them go until the truck is out of sight. 

_________________________

When they arrive at the bus terminal, it turns out Grover has booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound bus as Percy. So it seems the two of them will be completing this next leg of the drive together. Suspicious. 

Almost as suspicious as Grover suddenly being able to leave school early.

The entirety of the ride his friend alternates between trying to keep him engaged in conversation and nervously eyeing every passenger on the bus as if he expects one of them to jump up and attack at any moment. And given what happened at the museum, maybe there's some merit to that thought. He's tempted to ignore it, to once again try and put all the weirdness out of his mind. But at the halfway point he can't take it anymore. 

"Looking for Kindly Ones?" Percy asks.

Grover nearly jumps out of his seat, eyes widening in shock. "I, um, what- what do you mean?"

Percy shrugs. "I heard you talking to Mr. Brunner last night," he confesses, and Grover's eye twitches. 

"How much did you hear?"

"Enough." 

Grover laughs awkwardly. "I was just telling him how I was concerned for you, giving everything that's been going on. You were acting really-"

"Please stop lying to me, Grover," he says softly, turning back to look at his friend. "Please. You're really bad at it, you know." 

Grover's face flushes a deep red. The boy takes a deep, calming breath before continuing. "Look. I know I said I would explain. It's just....things are so complicated with-"

He decides to take a chance. "The solstice deadline? Or Camp Halfblood?"

"Don't say that out loud!" he yelps, looking around as if the mere mention of the place would draw everyone's attention. Once he's sure no one is paying attention to them, he turns back to face Percy. "How do you know about camp?

Percy stares at him for a long moment. "How do you think? I saw it. Just like I've been seeing everything else, even though you all keep telling me I'm not. I'm still kind of mad at you, by the way," he admits. 

Grover has the decency to look ashamed. "I uh...yeah. I probably deserve that."

Well. At least it's something they can both agree on. 

Before Percy can reply a loud grinding noise sounds from under their feet. Black smoke pours from the dashboard and the entire bus fills with the smell of rotten eggs. The driver swears loudly and just manages to get the Greyhound to the side of the road before the engine conks out with a final metal clanking sound. The driver swears again after a few moments of fiddling around with the engine compartment before announcing that everyone needed to exit the bus. 

Grover and Percy filed off the bus with everyone else, joining the crowd as they stood on the side of some desolate country road with no other signs of life. Percy hopes the bus isn't broken too badly. He's not counting on a rescue anytime soon if that's the case. There's nothing out here but trees and....is that a fruit stand?

He blinks and looks again and sure enough, there is a fruit stand set up on the opposite side of the road from them. Kind of an odd place for it, if you ask him. He's sure they're not getting much business out here. The stand is manned by three elderly women in rocking chairs, moving forward and back in perfect unison. They look ancient; faces wrinkled, silver hair thinning, the part of their arms that are visible looking little more than skin and bone. 

Percy turns to Grover to ask if he sees the creepy old ladies too, only to find him already staring across the road in horror. 

"Grover?" he asks nervously, "hey, man, what's-"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. Please tell me they're not looking at you." 

Percy tilts his head. "Uh, I think so? Maybe I have something on my face?" 

"Not funny, Percy," he snaps. "Not funny at all." He grips Percy's arm and begins tugging him back towards the bus. "Come on, we're getting back on the bus."

"But-"

"Now."

Despite his best efforts Percy holds firm, still looking curiously across the street. The three women are knitting in tandem what seems to be the world's largest pair of socks. Or maybe a blanket. It's honestly hard to see from where he's standing. The yarn they use glows faintly, and the more he stares at it the more it alternates between the appearance of regular knit work and a series of golden, intertwined threads. 

The sister in the middle reveals a pair of silver and gold shears hidden underneath her sweater and Percy's breath catches in his throat. Beside him, Grover is frantically trying to get him to follow him back on the bus, but Percy remains transfixed. Almost in slow motion, he watches as the woman cuts the yarn. He swears he can hear the snip from all the way across the road, the sound echoing in his ears. 

A child of the eldest gods, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, followed by a jumble of words that he can't quite make out. 

The three women continue to stare, their eyes boring into his as they slowly and carefully pack up their work. 

Finally the bus roars back to life, the driver giving a shout of triumph and the other passengers cheering. In the time it takes to look over at his fellow travelers and turn his attention back to the road, both the women and the fruit stand have disappeared as if they were never there in the first place. A sudden, bone deep chill settles over him and he notices for the first time that his legs are shaking horribly. 

Grover manages to get them both back on the bus, collapsing into his seat, pale and not in much better condition than Percy. 

"Percy, what did you see back there?" Grover asks as the bus begins to roll down the road. 

"I saw...."

Threads.

Threads intertwining and weaving around each other. Influencing each other and pushing some in different directions. 

All being spun, spun, spun until snip. 

Every string cut where and when it's supposed to be.

No string escaping it's fate-

"She cut the string."

Grover closes his eyes and makes a gesture similar to crossing himself. "This can't be happening. This can't be happening again," he moans, looking absolutely distraught. 

Percy immediately thinks back to the children on the hill running from monsters, focusing his attention on one specific figure from his vision. A boy with curly hair and horns. Grover. Grover had been on the hill that day. 

Percy swallows. "They cut someone's string," he says again, understanding dawning on him. "Is someone going to die?" 

Grover stares at him mournfully as if he's already thinking about which flowers to order for his funeral. That's answer enough for him. 

He turns away from his friend, gazing out the window at the spot the women had been at moments ago. 

Percy wonders if his mother saw her own death coming, too. 

Chapter Text

Confession time: he ditches Grover as soon as they reach their stop. 

In hindsight it probably wasn't the best move. For one, it's rude. For two, with everything going on Percy's probably just given him a heart attack. But Grover had been freaking out the rest of the way home, looking at him like he was already dead and muttering things like "Why does this always happen?" and "Why sixth grade?" It was starting to unnerve him, especially with the comfortable numbness he had been existing in for half the day gradually fading away the closer he got to home.

So when Grover dashes off to the bathroom after making Percy promise to wait for him, he makes a beeline for his stuff and slips outside, hailing the first taxi he sees. 

"Where ya headed, kid?"

To hell. 

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," he tells the driver softly, nervously fiddling with a fraying strap on his bag. 

"You got it." 

The cab pulls out into the busy street and Percy sighs, head flopping back against the seat. 

He really misses his mom. 

Sally Jackson had been the best person in the world. Well, as best as she could be given the circumstances of her life. But Percy will argue that even on her worst days, a part of her still tried to be there, still desperately wanted to be a good mom. Even if she didn't always succeed. Both of her parents, his grandparents, had died when she was young. Her mother taking her unfortunate tumble out of a high window, and her father dying in a plane crash while returning home from a business trip shortly after. She ended up being raised by her uncle, her mother's brother, for a time. 

Unfortunately for her, and for him Percy guessed, his grandmother's brother had already been driven a little insane by the "family curse". 

By the time his mother had reached her senior year of high school, her uncle had mentally deteriorated so much that she quit school to look after him. He died that same year. Whether by his own hand or simply wasting away from the stress is up for debate. Though at least he didn't go out by jumping in front of a train, or gouge his own eyes out to stop the visions, or light himself on fire, or- well, he'll stop there. People in his family have died younger and far more terribly than he had from what he's heard and seen. Once he was gone, she was left with no money, no diploma, and only distant family members that she didn't speak with. 

But one thing had made her happy; his dad. 

His mother had talked about him often. Never divulging too much information or giving him any real clues as to who he was, of course. But enough to let Percy know that his dad had truly been one of the only bright spots in her life. 

According to his mother his father had never visited him despite knowing of his existence. Percy thinks this was probably a lie. Sometimes if he thinks about it he can almost picture....something. A warm glow, a smile, the scent of saltwater. He can hear the faint echoing words of a song in an old language. Not ancient Greek or anything he's familiar with, but something that conjures up images of waves crashing against the shore and the swirling tides of the sea. 

That's all he has of his father, other than a few funny stories his mother had told him about their time together. 

Apparently he had been "lost at sea" before he was born. Not dead, just lost at sea. Which he thinks is just another lie. 

His mother had worked so many terrible jobs to support them both, all while attending night classes to get her diploma. They lived in questionable neighborhoods and she did what she had to do to make sure they got by. And she didn't even complain about it....at first. 

Percy's mother had done her best to hide her dreams and visions from him as long as she could. He sometimes thinks a part of her had been hoping that maybe the curse would skip a generation. Her hopes had been dashed the first time he woke up screaming about the Trojan war. Once she realizes he too possessed the sight, as she called it, it seemed like she had been lost to her grief overnight. The good days quickly became fewer and fewer. 

Marrying Gabe hadn't done anything to help the situation. If anything it made her spiral more rapidly. 

He had been nice for approximately thirty seconds after meeting him before quickly morphing back into his true form. A violent drunk who was incapable of holding a job and took out all his frustrations on the both of them. Percy thinks his mom had tried to protect him from it at first, but as time went on and she became more and more unstable she just....couldn't. 

Percy loved her anyway. 

Still loves her. 

(Sometimes he remembers all the nights she spent high as a kite, ranting and raving. Throwing things around the apartment and at him. He remembers how she would get angry at him for talking about his visions or angry at him for existing and making her see horrible things. For driving his father away and making her life difficult. He remembers all of this and sometimes he thinks he loves her a little less. But she was his mom, and she was doing her best. And she always apologized when she was more lucid-)

He just wishes she wouldn't have left him with Gabe. 

___________________

Percy walks into his stepfather's cramped little apartment and immediately contemplates turning and running. It's not like Gabe would report him missing or anything. He could just disappear and it wouldn't matter. But also....where would he even go? He doesn't have any other family, nor friend's families who would take him in. He can't ask Grover- the boy had already worried about him too much this past year. 

No one would hire a random twelve year old boy or give him a place to stay if he asked. And he's definitely not taking the social services route. Knowing his luck he'd get put with a family that was just as bad or worse than Gabe. He had spent a few weeks in a foster home once, right after his mom died as his stepfather had been out of town and was not able to be reached. 

He had mouthed off to his foster dad and subsequently found himself locked in a closet for two days with no food and water. And that was the lightest punishment he received there. 

It truly hadn't been much different than living with Gabe, but at least he knows Gabe. 

Percy has learned to read him perfectly and what to expect. There aren't any surprises anymore, really. Not even with Gabe's friends who occasionally contribute. 

The horror you know is much easier to prepare for than a horror you don't. 

Rounding the corner he sees Gabe in the living room gathered around a card table with his friends, midway through a game of poker. Chips and beer cans are strewn about the room. Everything appears to have a layer of grime as if the place hasn't been cleaned since the last time Percy had been home. Which, it probably hasn't been. The smell of smoke permeates every surface, and he can practically feel it soaking into his clothes again already. 

He hovers at the edge of the living room, unsure if he should greet his stepfather or book it to his room and hope for the best. The choice is taken from him when he sees Gabe glance up at him before returning his attention to the cards in his hand. 

"So you're home, huh?" he grunts around his cigar, and Percy flinches.

"Uh...yeah. Just got in." 

"You got any cash?"

Gabe has put on more weight in the months since he's seen him, and if possible looks even more disheveled than usual. It doesn't look like he's left the apartment much recently judging by the amount of trash laying around. Supposedly he's supposed to be managing the Electronics Mega-Mart now, but Percy can't fathom how that's possible when he's never there. He just somehow keeps collecting paychecks, blowing all of it on beer and cigars, and occasionally trying to catch up with some of his debts. 

When Percy is home he expects him to provide his gambling funds and some (most) of the rent. Or be the occasional trade to pay off a debt to some sketchy person he had ripped off who knows when. 

His stepfather calls it his dues for him being kind enough to take Percy in after no one else wanted him. Meaning, if he wants a place to live and not starve (too much, anyway), he'll do what he's told or get his lights punched out. Or worse. 

"I don't have any cash," Percy tells him, and Gabe raises an eyebrow.

"Then how did you manage to catch a cab home? If someone expects to live under my roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Isn't that ready, Eddie?"

Eddie, the building super, has the decency to look ashamed when faced with Gabe's question. 

"Come on, Gabe," he said, "the kid just got here. Give 'em a break."

Eddie certainly isn't the worst of his stepfather's friends, but he's hardly the best either. He's kind enough to Percy, as long as Gabe isn't around to see it. He's even let Percy hide in his office sometimes on particularly bad days, or slipped him a few bucks to buy something while he's out. But he never confronted Gabe about his actions, never made an attempt to step in or report it to anyone. He, like most of the adults around, just turned the other way and pretended they didn't see. Or made excuses for the things they witnessed. Whatever helps them sleep at night, he guesses. 

"Am I right?" Gabe repeats, eyes flashing. 

Eddie scowls into his bowl chips, shooting Percy a brief look of sympathy before nodding his agreement. 

Biting his tongue to keep from saying something that would make the situation worse, he dug the few dollars out of his pocket and set the money on the table. "Here," he mumbles. 

"Good boy. Now go in the kitchen and grab us some more beers. Oh, and the bean dip."

Not even bothering to put his bag down, Percy immediately sprints to the kitchen to grab what was requested. He's too tired to deal with what would happen if he refuses. 

If he's good, maybe the summer won't be so bad. If he's good, and lets Gabe get drunk enough, maybe he'll be too drunk to remember the fact he was expelled. Again. 

So he does what he's told, ignoring the insults lobbed his way as he does so. 

He doesn't even complain when Gabe goes to put out his cigar in the nearby ashtray and "accidentally" misses, smushing it into Percy's hand instead. Just bites his lip hard enough to make it bleed in an effort to not cry out, tears prickling in his eyes. He probably shouldn't even be bothered by this at this point, he's done it so many times before that Percy should be used to the feeling. 

The next hour or however long he's in the small living room is a blur, the moments bleeding together as he tries to keep his panic in check. One wrong move here and it will go wrong quickly. And Percy doesn't want to give him a reason to make whatever punishment he's come up with worse. 

Percy must check out at some point between the yelling and Gabe barking orders and the somewhat uncomfortable look on Eddie's face as he continues to watch and do nothing, because the next thing he knows a sharp pain in the side of his head is snapping him back to the present moment. 

"Did you hear me, boy!? I said, "Clean that up!" Gabe shouts, gesturing towards a broken bottle across the room. No doubt the result of Gabe getting frustrated with a bad hand or something one of his buddies said. 

Huh. When did that happen? He didn't even hear it shatter. 

Nevertheless, he scurries over to the mess and quickly cleans up the shards, wincing as some of the pieces cut into his fingers but knowing better than to complain audibly. 

Finally, he's dismissed with another grunt and a wave of his stepfather's hand. "What are you waiting for? Go on. Stop taking up space, brain boy," Gabe snaps, as if he hadn't been the one keeping Percy there in the first place. 

Never wanting to pass up a good chance to get the hell out of dodge, he slings his bag that he must had sat down at some point over his shoulder before bolting towards the hallway, relief washing over him as he does so. 

"And I haven't forgotten about the call from your school, boy!" Gabe shouts after him. There it is. "After everything I've done for you, allowing you to go to some fancy school, you go ahead and cause even more trouble. We'll discuss this later." 

Percy slams the door to his room, sinking down to the floor with his back pressed against the wood surface. The space is just as disgusting as the rest of the apartment. It's not really even his room, anyway. It's just the space he's allowed to use while he's here. When he isn't home, his stepfather uses it for....something, he guesses. Which is why every valuable thing he has is either taken with him or carefully stored in strategic places beneath the old floorboards. 

Home sweet home. 

It's funny, in a way, how after everything he's experienced these past months; the unrelenting visions of things yet to pass, Mrs. Dodds transforming into a monster straight from his nightmares, or the sound of the old woman's shears snipping yarn at the fruit stand, that knowledge of what waits for him when Gabe's friends leave for the evening still manages to scare him the most. 

But as soon as that thought crosses his mind he can't help but think back to Grover, abandoned at the bus terminal. His friend had begged him to wait for him, desperate to keep Percy within his sight. He shudders as a sudden chill rolls through him. It feels as if something is watching him, waiting for the moment he finally lets his guard down to strike. 

Shaking his head, he rises to his feet, the paranoia making him antsy. 

His mind is screaming that this place isn't safe, that he needs to be prepared to protect himself from this unseen threat. 

Well....he supposes he does have a weapon now. It makes him feel slightly better about things. 

His good hand strays his pocket, unconsciously reaching for the now familiar weight of the bronze pen in his pocket. His fingers tighten around it, the feeling of the cool metal calming him somewhat. He pulls it from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. 

It looks almost like any regular pen a person may have, albeit a bit fancy and emitting the faintest of glows if you squint. 

'Hold fast, Perseus-'

He inhales, uncapping the pen and watching as the space in front of him blurs momentarily before the bronze blade materializes. Sharp, deadly, and humming with the memories of every person it has cut. 

It feels...right. 

(Though for some reason he can't help but feel that the last person who had this sword was a huge jerk. It's a weirdly specific thought, but that's the vibe he gets. He can't say why, but he's absolutely certain if he ever met them he would hate them on sight.)

He turns it over in his hand, admiring how well balanced it feels. With the exception of the incident with Mrs. Dodds at the museum, he's never used a sword before. A knife to defend himself, the occasional improvised weapon to ward off people in his building or neighborhood who wandered around looking for trouble. He's even held a gun once, though he doesn't necessarily like to think about that moment. 

Something tells him he should get used to the feeling of it in his grip. 

'Brave the storm...'

As if in cue, lightning illuminates the sky outside, the storm that had been brewing all day finally arriving with a deluge of rain and a rumble of thunder loud enough to shake the whole building. 

Percy winces. 

Whatever's going on, whatever all of this means, he knows for a fact that he doesn't want anything to do with it. What he wants to do is disappear to some remote cabin on the beach where no one can find him, living out the rest of his days in peace. Or maybe Alaska. 

That won't happen, though. Because somehow, someway, he is involved in whatever is brewing out there. 

He wills the sword back into pen form, shoving it into his pocket once more before collapsing onto his bed. He notes with some relief that at least the sheets and blanket were still clean despite the absolute mess Gabe had made of this place in every other way. 

With a deep sigh, he allows his eyes to fall closed, but much to his annoyance he can't seem to relax enough to let sleep take hold. It feels like something is poking and prodding at him, begging for attention almost. An incessant nagging in the back of his mind that he is missing something important. 

But what.....

Percy's eyes open and drift to the bedside table, and for the first time since entering this space he notices a familiar blue gift bag. There's no indication of where or who it came from, just a little drawing of a sea monster on the card as usual. Though he knows deep in his bones who is responsible for it. 

His mind wanders back to the lady from the aquarium he had befriended all those years ago. The one with ancient eyes and a dangerous grin and her monstrous son swimming in the back of the tank, somehow unnoticed by the crowd of viewers. 

Once again he feels like he should be concerned about this strange woman's interest in him and ability to always know where he is. Just like he feels like he should be more concerned about the other ladies in the water that always seemed to watch him whenever he was near it. Or that man with dark, curly hair held in a low ponytail that had subbed for his preschool teacher for a few weeks. Percy doesn't remember too much about him either, other than those judgmental green eyes that had watched him with barely disguised disdain. As if Percy's mere presence had been an insult to him. 

Though somehow, and he's still not sure what changed, the man had softened by the end of his time there. 

Had become....protective, almost. He supposes it doesn't truly matter. Percy never saw him again after that. Caring adults in his life didn't seem to stick around. 

Percy doesn't feel like digging through the blue bag at the moment. He reaches out and makes to shove it under his bed for later when his eyes catch something beneath the drawing. 

Written in tiny neat handwriting are a few small lines of Ancient Greek that his brain instantly translates for him. 

Hold fast, Perseus. The sea and the sky have been rather unpredictable, as of late. 

There had never been a note of any kind before. 

It makes his head hurt. 

With a noise of frustration, Percy tugs the blanket over his head, curling up on his side. He's so tired. He'll start thinking about all this weird stuff tomorrow. 

It takes a while for his brain to calm down, but eventually the weeks of exhaustion catch up with him. 

He falls asleep to the rain hammering against his bedroom window, visions of long, ever-shifting hallways and a golden thread winding through them dancing behind his eyelids. 

Something bellows angrily in the darkness, the sound echoing off the cold, stone walls. 

Percy feels like he is meant to be terrified of the sound, that he should be fleeing in the opposite direction as fast as his feet can carry him. But something holds him in place as the ferocious roars grow closer. Because underneath that anger, that urge to maim and kill, was something softer and quieter, but no less powerful. 

Hurt. 

Pain.

Confusion. 

Fear. 

Please...

A little boy sobbing in the middle of a dark chamber, watching in terror as they leave him behind. He's scared of the dark, and the strange sounds that echo down the long corridors. It's so cold. He wants his mother, even though she can be cruel at times, mocking his appearance like everyone else and raging at him for things he has no control over. 

He wants to go home. 

Please don't go...

___________________

In hindsight it had been a stupid decision to fall asleep before his stepfather.

One second his brain is guiding him through a maze of hallways, the sound of something large and terrible thunder behind him, the next, he finds himself quite literally yanked back into awareness by a hand gripping his hair hard enough to rip it from his scalp. He tumbles out of the bed, a shock of pain shooting through his limbs as he lands harshly on the floor. 

"Don't ignore me, boy!"

The toe of a boot connects with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He wouldn't have ignored him if he had been awake to hear him, but Gabe would never accept that excuse or any other one. Percy lets out another cry of pain as Gabe's foot connects with his stomach once more, hard enough to make something crack this time. 

"I'm sorry-" he tries to say, like it would actually do anything, but the only thing his pleading gets him is a blow to his face and the side of his head. 

His vision goes blurry as his head throbs, 

Everything feels like it's spinning. 

Gabe is yelling something that his mind is too panicked to comprehend, but he knows its not good. It's never good when he's this angry. In a desperate act of self preservation, Percy can feel himself moving, attempting to crawl away from the still raging man. He briefly wonders if him getting kicked out of school was truly enough to have made Gabe this angry. He can't imagine it did. Percy knows that the man doesn't actually care about this education. 

No. He's probably just bored and Percy is here. 

Or something else went wrong for him and he needs an outlet. 

Maybe the poker with his buddies hadn't gone well? He's never in a good mood after losing. 

Gabe is still yelling. He sounds angrier, if possible. Percy trying to get away probably isn't helping in that department. He should know better than to fight. It was always over quicker when he just accepted what was happening to him. 

Percy doesn't get far before Gabe catches up to him, yanking him backwards. 

He curls in on himself as the blows continue to rain down on him, arms automatically coming up to shield his face and his head from the worst of it. 

At some point, he uncovers his face, risking a glance up at his stepfather. And for a moment it's not Gabe standing over him, it's the cruel face of Mrs. Dodds staring down at him, enjoying his suffering. It's the faceless threat in the clouds reveling in the fact that the world would be rid of him soon. It's every scary thing he has seen lurking around, hunting him, that no one ever believed him about before. 

It's the old woman staring at him as she raises her shears, preparing to snip another shiny, gold string. 

A cold feeling of dread settles in his gut. 

Gabe wouldn't actually kill him, would he? 

He would, a voice that sounds strangely like his own whispers in the back of his mind. You know he would. 

No. 

He has to get away. 

He has to keep trying. 

He has to make him stop. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. 

Stop. 

Stop.

There's what feels like a tug behind his navel, and the sound of rushing water roaring in his ears as his vision goes black. It reminds him of that day at the fountain with Nancy, of that morning in the dining hall at Yancy when the plumbing exploded. 

Distantly he registers a sickening crack sound and a loud yelp of pain before a sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

And just as suddenly as the wave of panic and rage rose up inside of him, it recedes, throwing him violently back into the present moment. 

He's in the living room of the apartment. Water is steadily trickling onto the floor from multiple busted pipes, gathering in puddles beneath his feet. Gabe is going to be mad, he thinks. He always hates it when the ceiling leaks or something breaks. His breath comes in harsh pants, bordering on hyperventilating as he legs threaten to buckle beneath him. Everything around him feels strange and confusing. 

There's something in his hand. Hard and heavy, and smeared with something warm and red. 

He doesn't recall picking up whatever it is he's holding in his hand. 

He doesn't even recall making it to this room. 

He's standing in his living room and he is...

Where is....

Percy's gaze is drawn downward, to the lump lying at his feet. Upon closer inspection it's not a lump at all. Gabe lies crumpled on the ground before him, a nasty, bleeding gash across his forehead. Gabe is soaked, as if he had just been thrown into a pool. A final, low moan of pain escapes his lips before he goes still. 

Did....did he do that?

"Percy!?" a voice gasps behind him. 

He whirls around, clutching his makeshift weapon tightly in his trembling hands. He fully expects it to be one of the neighbors or one of Gabe's friends stopping by for an unannounced visit. Instead he sees the familiar shape of Grover in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame as he tries to catch his breath. He hadn't even heard the door open. He has no clue how long his friend had been there, how much he had seen. 

He's suddenly overcome with the urge to run again, but his feet stay firmly rooted in place. 

"....Grover?" Percy asks, voice shaking. 

He watches as the other boy takes in the scene around them more fully, a myriad of emotions playing across his face. Shock, anger, horror, sadness. All of them swirling into one pain filled expression that Percy can barely bring himself to keep looking at. 

"I didn't mean to," he whispers, voice shaking. "I didn't...he just-"

Grover sucks in a breath before beginning to walk towards him, pace steady and hands up in a non-threatening manner. "I know. You didn't do it on purpose." His voice sounds so certain that Percy almost believes him. 

"I didn't." 

"I know, Percy. It's okay. It's going to be okay." 

How many times has his friend told him that lately, he thinks hysterically. Because it never seems like it's going to be okay, if you ask him. He blinks again and suddenly Grover is directly in front of him. 

"Can I have that?" Grover asks carefully, reaching out towards him but not making any moves to touch him yet. "Please?" 

Percy glances down at his stepfather once more, noticing with a strange combination of relief and disappointment that the man still seems to be breathing. He should probably feel guilty for wishing he had hit him harder, that Gabe would never wake up again. That's what good people do, right? They don't enjoy hurting people. 

Grover must notice the man is still breathing as well, shoulders visibly sagging in relief as he watches the shallow rise and fall of the man's chest. 

"Grover, I didn't mean-" his voice cracks, 

"It's alright," he murmurs, taking another slow step forward and resting his hand on top of Percy's shaking one. When Percy doesn't react, Grover begins to gently pry his fingers open, a soft thunk sound following as the object falls to the floor. 

Before his mind can even process what's happening, he launches himself at his friend, collapsing against him. Grover lets out a small "oomf" from the force of his lunge, but nevertheless wraps his arms around him tightly as they sink to the ground. They stay there like that for what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Grover whispers as his sobs die down, eyes shining with tears of his own. 

"I don't know," he hiccups. 

But that's not true, not really. 

He never saw the point of trying to ask for help, not when he has always been dismissed or written off as a liar. Not when his stepfather has mastered the art of making it seem like he's the problem and not the other way around. 

And perhaps because no one has really believed him about anything else he says. So why would Percy expect people to believe him about Gabe? 

"I'm sorry-" he begins, but Grover shakes his head. 

"No. No, you don't have anything to apologize for," Grover assures him, fingers tightening in his blonde curls as he presses him impossibly closer. "We'll figure it out, okay? But first we need to get you out of here before your step dad wakes up. And before he catches up- I mean, before Gabe finds a way to pin this on you," Grover corrects himself quickly, but Percy still manages to catch him. 

Him. 

A separate person from his stepfather. 

Something that has clearly been following Grover, most likely in search of Percy, and hoping the boy would lead them directly to their target. 

Through the haze of pain and misery still fogging his mind, he can just recall the sense of unease he had felt earlier in his room. The feeling that something terrible is lurking in the shadows, poised to strike. 

Bellowing in the dark, the sound of something charging-

With a final shudder, Percy nods into Grover's shoulder. "Okay." 

___________

For the second time in as many days, Percy allows Grover to pack up his things for him. There's really not much worth grabbing; some more clothes, his journals and sketchbooks, the picture of him and mom at their cabin in Montauk when he was about six. Everything else is either not important enough to pack or doesn't make sense to lug around with them. 

His tears had long dried up, a comfortable numbness settling over him as his mind wanders aimlessly. He thinks he should be acting more upset given the events of the evening, more traumatized. That's how all the kids in those episodes of Law and Order an old babysitter of his used to watch did, right? They didn't just turn it off and go back to normal like nothing happened.....right? 

"Ready to go, Perce?" he asks quietly as he shoves one more shirt into the bag, nudging him to get his attention. 

Percy nods, standing shakily to his feet. Distantly he registers the pain from what must be numerous injuries, but even the pain is muted by the fogginess in his brain. 

"To camp you mean?"

Grover nods. "To camp. You'll be safe there." 

"I won't," he says immediately, the sense of something following behind him, just out of his range of sight, gnawing at him again. There's something there, something waiting for him to make a singular wrong move. He can sense it, he just can't see it. Usually he hates being able to see things, or dreaming stuff up that's so real that maybe he just thinks he's seeing things. But at this particular moment Percy wishes he could just make whatever weird thing his family has work on demand instead of only deciding to manifest at precisely the worst times. 

Grover purses his lips, knowing that he's holding back something important from him. 

"But you'll be safer," he continues, sliding an arm around Percy to steady him.

He almost shoves him away, but he forces himself to stay still. 

"And we can get you looked at properly." Grover continues, eyes tracing the injuries he can see, anger flashing across his face before he forces himself to appear calm again. 

"Mr. Brunner is going to be upset-"

Grover mutters something under his breath about know-it-all centaurs. "He'll get over himself. We're going, whether he likes it or not." 

"But-"

"Percy," Grover saves firmly, "don't worry about what Chi- Mr. Brunner thinks. You're not staying here. You can't." 

And Percy knows that. Especially after tonight. Grover would never let him stay here after seeing what he witnessed, and he certainly doesn't want to be here when Gabe finally regains consciousness. 

"Okay," he relents, voice laced with uncertainty. 

Grover sighs in relief, giving his arm a squeeze as he begins herding him towards the door. "Good." 

He freezes suddenly, nearly causing Grover to trip. His friend blinks at him in confusion. "Percy, what-"

The gift bag.

Percy isn't sure why he suddenly remembered it, or why he feels the need to retrieve it so badly, but he knows he should go back for the bag. Before Grover can stop him he's making his way back to the bed where the blue gift bag from earlier is just barely visible underneath it. He grabs it, cursing when he loses his grip and it goes flying back to the floor. He sighs as its contents spill out in front of them. He bends down and starts to pick everything up when he notices something....strange about its contents. 

It contains the normal bits and bobs; candy, a few small sea themed trinkets, and the like. But there were other things that Percy had never seen before. 

Huh. Well, that's new.

There's a few small bottles of golden liquid, a few neatly wrapped squares the same gold color of the liquid, a see-through bag that held quite a few strangely ornate coins, for example. There's other things, too, but Percy doesn't think they have enough time to sit there and figure out what they're for. 

He hears his friend choke on his spit beside him. He looks over to see Grover staring at the items in a mixture of shock and terror. "Percy....who gave you this?" he asks sharply, a suspicious edge to his voice. 

"Aquarium Lady," he says simply, brow furrowing. "Probably. You know, I've always just kind of assumed it was her but never bothered to figure it out for sure." 

"Aquarium Lady?"

Percy shrugs, ignoring the faint sound of amused laughter that suddenly echoes in his skull. "Scary lady I met on a field trip once. She was nice to me though, and knew a lot about the horrors of the ocean. Although..." he grimaces, "I'm pretty sure she fed some guy to her son that was swimming around in the tank."

Grover gapes. "Fed a guy to her son????" 

"Yep," he says, popping the p. "It was pretty horrific actually, now that I think about it." 

"Percy-"

"Or I guess it could be one of the other weird people I've met. Who knows? I don't. Not really," he continues to ramble, not giving his friend a chance to jump in. Talking also keeps the thoughts in his brain away. 

Grover looks like he's about two seconds away from tearing his own hair out. "Others...." he whispers. 

Percy shrugs again, having already accepted long ago that his life is a horror show filled with questionable encounters and too many unsolved mysteries to name. "Or, I don't know. Maybe they're all just part of my hallucinations? Not sure if that's the case though considering you can also see the blue bag." Percy squints at him, suddenly finding himself unsure of everything that's happened in the past five minutes for some reason. "...right?" 

Grover takes a deep, calming breath, nodding to himself. "Okay. Sure. Why not? I don't know what I expected at this point-" 

Maybe Percy should have just lied. 

An accusatory finger is pointed at him. "We will be discussing this later. In depth."

"Right..."

Grover picks up the contents of the bag and stashes them with the rest of his stuff, once again muttering under his breath and looking to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown all the while. 

From beneath the numbness comes a twinge of guilt. 

He always seems to be causing problems for the people around him. 

Finally ready to book it out of there, the two of them move as silently as possible down the hall and through the living room. Gabe is still unconscious, much to Percy's relief. Though even though the man currently poses no immediate threat to him, he can't help the sharp stab of panic in his gut. Grover, ever perceptive, ushers him quickly past the unconscious man and into the hallway, closing the door behind them. 

The dim lights in the hallway flicker above them, the distant sounds of other tenants on the floor drifting towards them. At the end of the hall, two men rest on the floor, half propped up against the wall. They mumble incoherently under their breath and briefly glance in their direction, glazed eyes looking at them in confusion. Grover shoots him a panicked look but Percy just shrugs him off. 

"Don't worry, it's just the guys from down the hall. They're too high to do much of anything." Percy raises his hand in greeting. "Hey Terry, hey Max." 

Terry gives him clumsy a thumbs up of acknowledgement while Max continues to stare into the void, long past functioning. 

Yikes. 

They're nice enough people when they're sober. Or, well....less high. Percy isn't sure they're ever completely sober. His mom used to buy from them all of the time. And if he still delivers a few packages for them now and then and gets to keep his cut of the payment, well, that's between him, the neighbors he objectively should not be befriending at his age, and the other people who wanted to make poor life choices. 

Grover looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it. 

Percy is sure this just got added to the list of 'things they need to talk about in-depth.' 

Once Grover is certain that the two men pose no threat, he continues looking anxiously up and down the hall, as if expecting something else to burst out from one of the nearby apartments. And for all Percy knew, that was extremely likely to happen. Grover nods to himself, seemingly convinced that nothing was waiting to grab them outside the door. "Right. Let's go." 

A quiet clop clop sound on the hard floor of the hallway fills the silence around them as they move. 

Percy looks down and is hardly surprised to find that where his feet should be there were cloven hooves instead. 

He knew it. 

Chapter Text

The cab driver won't stop talking, it's giving Percy a headache. 

At first it's the man admonishing the both of them for being out at this hour by themselves. Don't they know that this city is a dangerous place at night? 

He does, in fact, know this. He's gotten pretty good at navigating it unseen safely. Not that he's going to share that fact with a drive they just met. Now the man seems hellbent on regaling them with tales of his youth as they wind through the dark wooden path that apparently leads to camp. Personally, he thinks this looks more like a scene from a horror movie than the path to safety, but maybe he shouldn't think that thought too loudly. 

Above them, the thunderstorm rages on, filling Percy with a growing sense of unease. 

Every flash of lightning and boom of thunder causes Grover to jump, his friend throwing nervous glances skyward. Percy's eyes keep trailing down to his friend's furry legs, one hoof tapping anxiously against the floor of the cab. 

Percy has always had a suspicion that Grover is less than human, just like he has had a sneaking suspicion that so many more things were real than people are willing to accept. But it's different to have your beliefs and visions confirmed, to know you're not just crazy and buying into whatever madness infects your family. That being said, there's still part of him that somewhat hopes it is all just in his head. Being crazy is still easier to accept than people and monsters strolling right out of Greek mythology textbook to fuck with his life. 

"So," Percy begins, wanting to break the tense silence that had settled over them both, "you're actually a satyr."

The driver seems fully engrossed in his latest tale and completely oblivious to the two of them, so he assumes it's safe to start this conversation. 

Grover lets out a nervous sound. "Uh, yeah. That's right." 

"And you were at Yancy to....what exactly? Something tells me you weren't there by accident." His tone is harsher than he intends, but he's too tense and too overwhelmed from this evening to care.

"To protect you."

"Protect me? From what?" 

As he says it, images flash behind his eyes. Memories of all the times he's experienced something strange; a person with a face that sometimes seemed normal but sometimes monstrous, watching him from the shadows. That time he swore up and down he saw a winged horse land on top of a building and got sent to the school counseling because they thought he was having hallucinations (and honestly, he had almost started to believe that too). Impossible things that everyone told him couldn't be real, and then yelled at him for telling lies. 

"From-"

"From ancient Greek stuff," Percy finishes for him. 

Grove nods. "Yeah. Ancient Greek stuff." 

Percy mulls over this fact, slowly trying to process all the pieces that need to be put together here. There's still something he's missing, something he hasn't seen or been able to understand. 

"But Grover, why are they after me in the first place? Why did Mrs. Dodds try to kill me?" 

His friend grimaces. "It's complicated. How much do you already know about....all of this?" Grover gestures broadly. 

Percy shrugs. "Just what I've seen. Which is....probably a lot, I guess. And that things are apparently trying to kill me." He turns to look at his friend more fully. "Why did you and Mr. Brunner lie about Mrs. Dodds? You knew I wasn't crazy. You both made me think I was actually losing it. And wouldn't knowing something is trying to kill me have helped me out a bit?" he demands, the anger and betrayal that still hasn't completely faded gnawing at the surface. 

Grover has the decency to look ashamed. 

"Because the less you knew, the fewer monsters you would attract. That's what Ch- Mr. Brunner said, and it's actually true. The less you know about yourself, the less attention these things give you. Mr. Brunner hoped you'd believe the Kindly One was just a hallucination, but it didn't do us much good." Grover laughs humorlessly. "It's kind of hard to hide things from someone who can see. What did your mom tell you about all of this?"

Percy blinks. "My....my mom?"

His friend runs a stressed hand through his hair. "Wait, did your mother tell you anything before she died? About your real dad?"

You'll die! You're going to die and there's nothing I can do. I can't save you-

If only I had never met your father. 

Do you have any idea how hard this is...

Percy grimaces. "No, not really." 

Grover curses in Ancient Greek. "She never talked about what it means to be a demigod?"

Percy blinks. The blinks again. "Huh?"

His friend squints at him. "You're a demigod, Percy."   

"I'm a what?"

A pause. "Did you....did you really not know? I thought with all the, you know, visions and stuff and how much you know about mythology you might have picked up on it after everything that happened. Or that your mom had mentioned it at some point. Why else would monsters be interested in you?"

He hopes the driver is still too lost in his rant to be listening to this absolutely batshit conversation. He also hopes he has suddenly developed a hearing problem because what Grover just said can absolutely not be true. Weird visions? He's accepted....to a point. Maybe. Seeing strange and unbelievable things lurking around the shadows of New York that no one else seems to notice? Also living in the reluctant acceptance category. Actually being part of the insane world he dreams about, as a demigod no less? No. No thank you. Please show him the nearest exit because that sounds terrible. Percy knows the fates of the heroes of the past and he would like no part of it, thank you very much. 

Is this what a nervous breakdown feels like?

Because he just might be joining his family members early at this rate this night is deteriorating. 

"Percy?" Grover asks tentatively, eyes wide. "Are you okay?"

"No, Hagrid. I am not okay. What kind of question is that-!?" 

"WOAH!"

Before Percy can continue his rant the car jerks to the side as the driver swerves to avoid something in the road. A dark, hulking shape, just barely visible in a flash of lightning. The cab races past it, the driver cursing all the while. "Damn kids, playing in the road at night." But something tells Percy that wasn't a kid at all. The figure had been far too large, too menacing, to simply be some weirdo kid running through the woods at night. 

"What was that?" Percy asks Grover, a feeling of panic and anticipation bubbling up inside of him. Something isn't right. 

"One more mile. Please, please, please," Grover begs, ignoring Percy's question as the cab races by a 'Pick Your Own Strawberries' sign before turning onto an even narrower path, squinting out of the rear window in an attempt to see whatever they left behind on the road. 

A familiar roar erupts in the distance, something halfway between a tortured scream of a man and the bellowing of a bull. Grover swears loudly. The cab driver's head jerks up as he looks into the rearview mirror nervously. Percy isn't sure what he's actually seeing, he's noticed that most 'normal' people don't seem to see the strange things around them for what they actually are. But whatever his mind is showing him must be just as terrifying as what Percy knows if back there if they way his eyes bug out of his skull is anything to go by. 

Winding hallways, bones lining the floor. A beast roaming the dark passages, seeking out the men and women who desperately search for a place to hide. 

An elderly man weeps on the steps of a grand palace, lamenting the fate of his son who was chosen to meet the great Bull of Minos. 

The Bull of Minos.

King Minos.

That means-

He opens his mouth to speak just as the hair on his neck begins to rise. There's a blinding flash of light and the sound of something exploding, the car he realizes. There's a feeling of being weightless before the impact. His forehead smashes into the back of the front passenger seat. It takes him a moment to gather his bearings, but he realizes that he is in fact not dead, and the car hadn't exploded. Otherwise he would actually be dead. 

The car had careened off the road and straight into a tree, smashing the front end. The roof has been torn clean open, the rain from the storm pouring in and soaking them. He groans, forcing himself to sit up as the world around him continues to spin. "Grover?" he asks hoarsely, hand blindly reaching out next to him. "Grover, are you okay?" 

Grover is motionless, blood staining his clothes and the side of his face. 

For a brief, terror filled moment, Percy is certain that his best friend is dead and he's all alone again. But then a soft groan leaves the satyr's lips, his brows furrowing in pain. Grover mutters something, speech too low and slurred for Percy to understand, but doesn't rouse back to full consciousness. 

Percy breathes a shaky sigh of relief. 

Then he remembers their third passenger. 

The driver whose name he doesn't remember is slumped motionless over the wheel, the airbag hadn't deployed. Blood pours down his face, and even from where Percy is sitting in the back he can see just how awful the man looks. He had taken the brunt of the damage, the front end most likely totaled beyond repair. The front and the drivers side had caved inward, crushing the man into his seat. 

He leans forward slightly, intent on asking the man if he's okay, but freezes. 

Two unseeing eyes look back at him, and Percy realizes that the man is gone. 

Percy swallows the bile threatening to rise up and turns his attention back to Grover. He can't help someone who is already gone, but he can help his friend before the thing chasing them catches up. 

The minotaur, his mind whispers. 

The actual minotaur. But shouldn't he be dead? Didn't Theseus kill him thousands of years ago or something? It shouldn't be possible. 

Just then something outside of the car catches his attention. A tall figure on the road behind them, lumbering towards them with purpose. Through the rain and the mud splattered window he can just make out the shape of horns jutting up from its head. 

"No, no, no. Grover, come on! Wake up!"

But the satyr doesn't stir. With a noise of panic and frustration he crawls over his friend, throwing open his door and scurrying over him. Everything is throbbing, the crash having made whatever injuries he had gotten from Gabe worse, but he doesn't have time to process just how broken he may be at the moment. With a grunt, he pulls Grover towards him, slinging his arm over his shoulder and half dragging him from the vehicle. It's a little awkward, Grover has a good couple of inches on him and weighs more. He curses his small size and begins to move away from the car as fast as he can. 

He looks around wildly, trying to figure out which way to go, and then he sees it. Up ahead at the top of a gently sloping hill, he can see the silhouette of a tall pine. Something in his gut tells him that is where they need to go. Percy just has no idea how he's going to make it there before the minotaur catches up with them, with Grover unconscious and him barely able to drag him along. 

Percy stumbles as he begins the trek up the hill, panting with the effort of keeping himself and Grover upright. 

He risks a glance behind and his knees nearly buckle in fear. 

For the first time, he can see the minotaur clearly. At least seven feet tall and covered in black fur from the waist up, his arms and legs appearing to be pure muscle. His head is indeed that of a bull's, just like the stories say, with two enormous horns jutting out from his head. Gleaming black eyes search the woods, no doubt trying to figure out where they have gone. 

The pine tree is still too far away for his liking. He knows they'll never make it if it sees them. 

He chances another glance black and sees the bull-man snuffling along the car. Percy swears he can hear each individual inhale and exhale from where he's standing. Maybe if they're quiet enough they can make it up the hill. Maybe the bull-man won't notice them as far away as he still is. 

Of course the universe is never on Percy's side. 

Beside him, Grover stirs, letting out a pained moan. "Food," he says, not at all quiet. 

"Grover, shh-"

But it's too late, he heard them. 

With a loud roar he turns and starts charging towards him. The hill is steadily getting steeper and the wet grass slicker, but Grover is not getting any lighter. His feet slip with every step and it nearly sends them tumbling back down the hill. The roaring behind them gets closer and closer. 

As the bull-man begins to close in on them, Percy makes a choice. He drops Grover to the ground before booking it in the opposite direction, drawing his pen sword as he does so. As long as he keeps the bull-man's focus on him, Grover might have a chance. He's not sure how much damage he'll be able to do with this thing, his win against Mrs. Dodds had to have been pure luck. But he's going to try. 

"Hey! Over here! It's me you want, right!?" he shouts at the top of his lungs. 

It does the trick. The bull-man turns his full attention on him, pausing briefly before changing direction and charging straight at him. 

For a moment, Percy second-guesses his decision to be this stupid. But really, what other option is there? For a camp that is supposedly a safe place for people like him- demigods- there sure is a lack of guards for situations like these. Do they really not hear this screaming in the night from up there? Its not that far. 

He plants his feet, willing himself to stay in place until the last possible second. Something tells him that a creature that big is going to have trouble changing direction quickly. 

Just as the minotaur is upon him, large hands reaching out to snatch him, he moves. 

He dives to the left but doesn't manage to get completely out of the way, the bull-man's shoulder slamming into him and sending him sprawling as he bulldozes past. The sword in his hand goes flying as he loses his grip. 

Shit. 

The bull-man slows to a stop with another rage filled bellow, no doubt enraged that he missed his target. He turns around, snorting and huffing as he prepares to charge again. Percy tenses, preparing to hop up and make another run for it, to run for his sword. But it's not Percy who is in his direct line of sight now. To his horror, it's Grover who now seems to be the target. 

The bull-man means to attack Grover, an easier prey who lays unconscious in the grass.

He charges. 

Percy reacts before he can even think things through. 

"Hey!" he screams, waving his arms wildly to get his attention. "Hey! Over here!"

The bull-man whirls around, attention immediately shifted to him. Good. It wants him, after all. Not Grover. Grover is just collateral damage in this attempt to get Percy safely to camp. Grover is good, and kind, and has had too much asked of him being friends with Percy. His friend doesn't deserve the headache that is looking after him on a near daily basis. Maybe if the bull-man completes his job and gores him, he'll be satisfied enough with his murder and leave Grover alone. Someone from the camp would surely wander out to collect him and get him safely beyond the border. 

If he can do this one thing, if he can get Grover out of this alive, then everything is worth it. 

A hero's fate may be his after all. A noble death, the writers might say. 

If anyone decides to remember him at all. He's doubtful. 

He tenses as the pounding footsteps grow closer. The minotaur is coming too fast for him to consider dodging. As the hulking thing lunges towards him, head bent forward and horns prepared to gore him, he leaps straight up. He uses the minotaur's head to kick off, whirling himself around mid jump and just barely managing to hang on as he lands on his neck. How he accomplished this, he's far too busy to try and figure out, but he'll take any and all weird survival skills he can spontaneously develop at the moment. Percy clings to him tightly as the bull-man's head slams into the tree he had been standing in front of only seconds before. 

He realizes with a note of horror that the hit surely would have killed him. 

The bull-man bellows in rage, violently twisting and shaking in an effort to throw him off, but Percy's grip remains firm, hands clenching the creature's horns so tightly it's painful. 

It's at this inopportune moment that Grover decides to stir in the grass, groaning in pain. 

Instantly the bull-man's head snaps in his direction. With an angry snort his rage at Percy's presence on his back is forgotten as his eyes lock on the prone target before him. He charges, and Percy screams. There's no way Grover survives if the bull-man gets to him, he knows it. And he can't let that happen. He won't. 

He refuses to let his only friend in the world die. 

Gripping the minotaur's horn impossibly tightly, he rears backward with all his might. There's a snort of surprise and then- snap!

There's another rage filled scream as Percy finds himself flying through the air, landing hard on the ground. His head smacks into a rock. Despite the world spinning around him and nausea threatening to overtake him, he forces himself upright, knowing that any second the bull-man would turn his attention back on him in an effort to get revenge. 

He's right. 

Before Percy is even completely upright, he sees it charging towards him. He glances to where his sword lays in the grass so many feet away from him, knowing that he could never get to it in time. But then he remembers the horn in his hand. Long and sharp, hard enough to be used as a weapon. What else does he have to lose? 

He steals himself, resisting the urge to get up and flee. He knows he can't outrun this thing. Instead he waits, heart pounding as the bull-man comes closer and closer. At the last possible second he rolls hard to the side and to his knees, narrowly avoiding being trampled. With a shout he shoves the horn forward as the bull-man thunders past, the sharp tip piercing him in his ribcage. 

The bull-man rears back, roaring in agony as he clutches and claws at his chest where his own horn remains lodged inside of him. He rips it out of him with one hard yank, another bellow of pain filling the clearing. Golden blood pours from the wound as the bull-man tries in vain to staunch the bleeding. He takes a few staggering steps towards Percy before his legs give out and he collapses to the ground, snorting and huffing in pain and rage and....

'Please don't go. It's dark here...'

Fear.

He's scared. 

The momentary feeling of triumph and relief drains out of him as he looks down at the massive figure in the grass, bleeding and shivering and no longer a threat. 

He can't help but recall his dream from earlier this afternoon, of the long winding hallways and golden thread, and a boy left alone somewhere inside. 

Of a man with dark hair and green eyes so much like his own, dressed in a well made tunic with a sword raised above his head. He brings it down with one hard swing on the stunned bull-man. 

Percy knows the story of the minotaur. It's one of the most well-known stories in Greek mythology. Or, well, he supposes Greek history might be a more accurate term at this point. The minotaur was supposed to be a monstrous, bloodthirsty thing, stalking the halls of the labyrinth and hunting down those unfortunate enough to find themselves chosen as sacrifices by the king to sate his appetite. A half bull creature incapable of anything that wasn't violence and destruction. 

But all Percy can see when he looks at him is a tiny half-calf like boy curled up in the dark and the cold in a pile of rags, crying for his mother. 

Percy barely registers his feet carrying him forward to the spot where the bull-man lays. 

He's not a monster at all. He's-

'Asterion,' a little girl whispers, her hand reaching over the side of his cradle to grip his own. 

Asterion. The starry one, his mind translates. How sad is it to be named after the stars, only to be locked up in a place where you could never see them?

'Tell the stars Bob says hello,' a voice whispers in his mind. A voice of something that has not yet come to pass. He shakes his head, pushing that thought away for another time. 

The minotaur- no, Asterion, lets out distressed snort, black eyes wild as he looks around desperately. Despite his animalistic features, Percy has no trouble deciphering the look of the terror and resignation on his face. How many times has Asterion been in this position? How many people have sought him out to kill him over the centuries? Percy shudders at the thought of what that must be like. But then again, he already does know what its like, doesn't he? Mrs. Dodds, all of the strange encounters with less friendly individuals than Aquarium Lady when he was growing up. It's not so different, he supposes. He's just been luckier, somehow. 

He sinks to his knees next to Asterion who lets out another weak half roar half whine of pain. It looks like he's glow- no, melting? Pieces of his body falling off and turning to golden dust, much like Mrs. Dodds at the museum that day. 

"I'm sorry they left you in there," Percy whispers, placing a tentative hand on Asterion's face as a poor attempt at comfort, the fur beneath his fingers matted with golden blood. Dark eyes blink up at him in confusion and mistrust.

"It's not fair," he continues, "I know it's not." 

The two of them gaze at each other for a moment longer, the nighttime insects and Asterion's rapid breathing the only sound heard in the clearing. He sees what he thinks, what he hopes, is a flicker of understanding in those large dark eyes. 

Because what are the both of them but two unlucky, scared boys who just want to go home to the idea of a mother they never truly had? Pitted against each other for the amusement of the Gods. 

"I'm sorry, Asterion," he says again. "Maybe we won't have to fight next time." 

He lets out a final low sound, eyes briefly drifting upwards to where the stars are just barely visible in a gap between the storm clouds, before he goes limp. Percy watches as the once slow process of turning into fine gold dust and smears of equally golden blood hastens as the last wisps of life leave him, his body dissolving into nothingness before him. He wonders if it hurts when it happens, if they can feel every moment of their body disintegrating. If the act of having your existence slowly snuffed out in such a way is more painful than the initial blow that triggers it. Maybe the lucky ones don't experience any of it, their souls or consciousness or whatever tethers them to this existence having fled before the worst of it hits. 

Percy hopes that's the case for Asterion. 

He lingers there for another moment, at the spot with nothing but a pearly white horn alluding to the fact that Asterion had once been there. Did Pasiphae cry when Theseus slayed Asterion the first time? Did her heart shatter into a thousand pieces for her little boy, or was she glad to finally be rid of the monster that had ruined her life? Would it have been wrong of her to feel the tiniest bit relieved that she no longer had to live with the burden the gods had given her?

Was his own mom relieved when she overdosed and realized she would never have another vision, that she would never have to see Percy and his future again? 

Does anyone mourn boys like them? 

With a shuddering breath he reaches out and grasps the horn tightly. A spoil of war, he assumes. Like the way hunters display their kills on the wall for everyone to see. 

The rain has stopped, but the thunder continues to rumble in the distance intertwined with the feeling of something powerful and angry. Everything hurts, he's covered in blood and golden dust, his head feels like it may burst open at the seams at any second. He wants to lay down right where he is and cry, to go to sleep and hope that when he wakes up everything that has occurred over the past weeks was just some wild dream he got trapped in. But Grover is there, needing his help. 

Percy staggers to his feet, legs barely able to carry him to where his friend lies motionless. With a final burst of adrenaline he manages to haul Grover up, slinging his arm over his shoulder and stumbling his way towards the lights shining from the farmhouse in the distance. 

The last thing he recalls before the darkness overtakes him is collapsing onto its wooden porch, the sound of crickets screaming in the woods around him, and the stoic faces of a familiar bearded man and a blonde girl. They both stared down at him as if they couldn't believe he had managed to make it here. And truthfully, he's pretty shocked too. 

"He's the one. He must be!"

"Silence, Annabeth," the man says. "He's still conscious. Let's get him inside." 

Chapter Text

Percy's dreams have rarely been peaceful. It's hard to have good dreams, after all, when all your mind wants to do is wander to things that have long past or get confusing glimpses of things yet to come. 

Only this time his dreams are interspersed with things that don't make sense. 

He must wake up a few times, bordering on delirious as he takes in a room that isn't familiar at all before slipping into unconsciousness once more. 

He can remember laying on a soft bed, the sound of wind chimes tinkling in the distance and the soft murmur of conversation around him. 

The clearest memory Percy has is waking up, heading pounding and body heavy, to someone next to him. He's being spoon fed something that tastes vaguely like buttered popcorn.

He doesn't like popcorn. 

The girl with curly blonde hair hovers over him, eyes flitting around nervously as she carefully spoons the popcorn flavored pudding into his mouth. As soon as she notices his eyes are open she scoots closer, a look of frustration and agitation on her face. "What will happen at the summer solstice?" she demands. "What's happening?" 

Lightning strikes the earth and waves pound against the shore. 

Two armies march against each other. 

"I...I don't know," he croaks, voice hoarse from disuse. Everything aches, the world around him is fuzzy at the edges. Her voice which is barely above a whisper pounds against his throbbing skull making him wince. He groans, turning away from her and not saying anything in response to her question. Percy barely knows where he is at the moment, so he's not sure what kind of answers she's expecting from him. 

She looks around again, as if afraid someone is going to walk in at any moment. "What was stolen? What's going on? We only have a few weeks until the solstice. Tell me what you know." Her voice has taken on a more urgent note. "I know it has something to do with you. Chiron would never have been away that long if you weren't part of this."

"Please. I don't-"

"Tell me!" she demands again. 

Though she looks absolutely nothing like him, her tone and forcefulness conjure up memories of his stepfather, always screaming demands he could never meet. He wants to get up, to run, but his body won't cooperate as injured as he is. The girl is still leaning over him, saying more words his panicked brain can't keep up with. Percy just wants to her to go away-

"Annabeth!" a voice calls sharply from the doorway, startling the girl and nearly causing her to drop what she's holding. 

A boy a few years older than Percy stomps into the room, a stormy expression on his face as he deftly puts himself between the two of them. 

"I was just doing what Chiron asks!" she says defensively. 

"And I already told you that you are banned until further notice unless you're injured. Chiron had no business......"

The two of them continue to argue, their words lost on him as Percy tries in vain to force the growing panic away. 

Another, new voice speaks then. A man this time. 

"Enough, Annabelle.....may tolerate your insolence but I.....and send you back to your mother." 

There's the sound of angry, stomping footsteps that remind him a bit too much of Gabe marching towards his bedroom when he's in a bad mood and then the door slams shut. 

Percy tries to slow his breathing, to focus on what's happening around him through the haze of fear and confusion and pain. 

"Mr. D."

The man heaves a resigned sigh. "I know. But if I actually smite the girl I'll have to deal with my sister-"

"That's not what I mean!" the boy says quickly. "I just think..."

There's more quiet words exchanged between them, but Percy is long since past trying to keep up with anything going on around him. He just wants to go back to sleep.

A sudden hand on his shoulder nearly sends him back into a full panic, his body trying in vain to rise from the bed in an attempt to escape. 

"Hey, you're alright," a voice whispers, and Percy can just make out the blurry form of the boy leaning over him. He hopes he's not going to ask him questions too. 

"I'm sorry, I don't...I..."

"Hey, hey. It's okay," he reassures him again, fingers trailing lightly through his hair, "she's gone. Just focus on getting more rest for now. You're hurt pretty bad. The minotaur really did a number on you." He laughs, a sound as gentle as his voice. "You made quite the entrance. The whole camp has been talking about the little kid who slayed the minotaur without training. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts." 

Percy frowns, a tired sigh escaping him. He's still on edge, but the exhaustion he's feeling is quickly winning out. And the boy doesn't set off any danger signals in his brain. 

"...'sterion." 

"Hm?"

"His name is Asterion," Percy rasps, fighting a desperate battle to remain conscious. "Not...not the minotaur."

There's a pause, the other boy's eyebrows raising in surprise. "Asterion," he corrects himself, letting out an amused huff. Percy doesn't find anything amusing at the moment. 

The blanket is tucked more firmly around him. "Sleep, Percy."

And he does. 

____________________

When Percy finally comes back to awareness for good, the distant screams and vivid images from his dreams slowly fading into the background, he finds himself still in that unfamiliar room that smells strongly of antiseptic. Only instead of lying on the bed, he's propped up in a rather comfortable reclining chair near the window, the afternoon sun streaming in through the mesh curtains and warming his face. A blanket is piled over his legs and a soft pillow rests behind his head. 

He can smell the trees and the faint scent of water on the window. In the distance, he can hear voices laughing and shouting. 

Percy shifts in his seat and feels the soft material of new clothes against his skin. Clothes that are actually his size and not threadbare. Gabe never takes him shopping, and new items are rare and carefully obtained. 

Definitely not stolen. 

It's peaceful. The most comfortable he's been in a while even if his body still hurts. He could sit here for a while, he thinks. 

He raises a hand to rub at his eyes and winces at the slight pinching sensation. A wave of nausea crashes over him as he realizes that there's an IV stuck in the back of his hand. Percy hates needles. Which is funny considering all of the painful things that have happened to him. A little poke should be nothing compared to any of that. But something about the thought of it floating around in his vein makes him want to vomit. 

He shoves his hand as far away from him as he can.....which isn't far considering it's attached to his arm. 

What is this place? 

He remembers going home early from Yancy, going back to his step-father's apartment, and then Grover coming to take him to camp-

Grover. 

The crushing weight of reality slams into him and bolts upright, eyes frantically searching his surroundings for the impending danger. For Grover, who had looked half dead the last time he laid eyes on him. For Asterion, the so called minotaur, that had attacked them both on the hill leading to some camp for demigods like him. Percy is still rather upset by the idea of being half divine. But not as upset as not knowing that honest to God mythological entities are roaming around and apparently have it out for him. 

"Careful," a soft voice says, causing him to jump in surprise. "Don't strain yourself. You're safe here, Percy, I promise." 

Leaning against the wall of the room is what he assumes is the boy who was in the room before. Tall, with golden hair and equally golden eyes, a dusting of freckles across his cheeks. Percy has never seen him before, he's sure of it- those few moments when he was half unconscious don't count in his opinion. But something about the teen seems oddly familiar. 

"I'm Lee," he greets, "I've been looking after you. And I kinda sorta already know your name, as you can tell." 

Percy is hit with the realization that Lee is probably the one who changed his clothes, or at the very least someone in this camp had cleaned him up. He suddenly feels a little nauseous again.

His mind quickly switches from that train of thought back to his friend who is nowhere to be seen. 

"Grover?" he rasps, voice hoarse with disuse. "Is he-?"

"He's fine. No need to worry about him. Just a few scrapes and bruises and a mild concussion. He's already up and feeling better." The boy crosses the room, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. "How are you feeling, Percy?"

He swallows. His mouth feels dryer than the Sahara. 

"Here." Lee reaches across him and plucks the glass of water from the nearby table. Percy reaches for the glass with trembling hands. Lee ends up having to help him hold for a moment until he's sure he's not going to spill it all over himself while he takes a drink. 

"So, how are you feeling now?" Lee asks again, taking the glass from him and setting it back down on the table. 

"Like I've been beaten into the ground by someone whose half bull with muscles bigger than my whole body," he grunts, shifting in his seat. 

Lee laughs loudly, a pleasant sound. "Fair enough," he says, scooting a bit closer to him. "Let's take a look at you really fast." 

Percy flinches on instinct as Lee reaches out to touch him, unconsciously curling in on himself. 

Lee freezes, instantly drawing back, something sad and knowing on his face. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I should have told you what I was doing. Is it okay if I touch you, Percy? I just want to make sure everything is healing right, and maybe get that IV out of you now that you seem hydrated enough." 

Percy takes a deep breath, face flushing in mild embarrassment at his overreaction. 

"Okay," he agrees, slowly uncurling. 

Lee is gentle and quick, poking and prodding at him but always announcing what he's going to do next so as not to surprise him. He appreciates it. The older boy hums as he goes, occasionally asking Percy questions in an effort to distract him. Every time Percy flinches he stops, giving him a moment to breathe before he continues. 

It's definitely not something he's used to. Most people aren't this nice to him. Sometimes Percy has imagined what it would have been like to have a normal family, to have an older brother or sister. He thinks Lee is pretty close to what he's imagined. 

"So this place is real? Like really really real?" Percy asks hesitantly as Lee finishes up his exam, feeling a bit more comfortable with the other boy now. "Grover wasn't lying to me about....about..."

Lee's expression softens, sympathy and understanding blooming on his face. "About being a demigod? No, unfortunately not. I know it's a lot to take in." 

Great. Excellent. So cool. This is actually his life now. 

"Are you-"

"Also a demigod? Yup. All the kids here are." 

"Who is it?" Percy blurts out. "Your parent, I mean. Is it okay to ask that? I'm sorry." 

Lee smiles softly. "You can ask, I don't mind. Though you might want to be careful with some of the campers. A lot of the unclaimed kids are sensitive about it."

Unclaimed, he mouths, not sure what that even means. 

"And my dad is Apollo, of course. You know, god of healing and all that," Lee says easily. "Hence why I'm here in the infirmary." 

Percy's blood runs cold. 

Apollo...

The God's name spoken aloud makes him flinch. He's always been afraid of that name, of the sun, of everything associated with it. Even before wandering via dream into the rooms of Cassandra, before truly understanding the Greek myths that are not actually myths apparently, there's always been a deep, gnawing fear of this entity that he has never met. Of the one who made him like this. 

And Lee is his son, his smile shining just as bright as the celestial body his father controls. 

'They are going to die, Perseus. Can you see them dying like I can?'

It hits him, suddenly. Why Lee had seemed vaguely familiar when he got his first real, not half-delirious look at him. 

Because he has seen him before, in his dream back at Yancy. 

The boy who shines like the sun, warm and inviting, with archers callouses on his fingers. Percy came to the place he shouldn't have gone, and now Lee is going to die because of him. He's sure of it. He can see it and he can't prevent it. He can't stop it. They won't believe him. 

"Percy?" Lee asks, voice laced with concern. "What's wrong? Does something hurt? You went pale for a minute there." 

He can't stop any of it. 

"Are you with me, Percy?" Lee grips his upper arms gently and gives him a little shake. "Percy." 

"Mhm," is all he manages, afraid that if he tries to say anything more he'll say too much. 

"You went away there for a moment." Lee's brow is furrowed in concern. "Does your head hurt? Dizzy? Nauseous?" 

All of the above, but not for the reasons he thinks. 

"I'm okay," he says in a small voice, refusing to meet the older boy's eyes. "Just tired, I guess. After everything." 

Lee studies him for a moment, clearly not believing a word he said, but thankfully doesn't push. "Okay. Let's get this IV out then, yeah?" 

"Please," he shudders, the reminder of the evil in his hand a welcome distraction from the horror in his mind. 

Lee tilts his head. "Not a fan of needles, I take it?" 

Percy shakes his head, still holding the offending hand away from his body like it's diseased. If he doesn't look at it, he won't have to think about how a needle is currently residing under his skin and won't throw up all over the nice boy just trying to help him and who will probably die at some point because of it. 

Percy swallows, trying not to let too much of his dream creep back into the present moment. To stay aware and alert. 

"Are you old enough to be a doctor?" Percy blurts out in a desperate attempt to change the subject and further distract Lee from his little moment. 

"Nah, not really. Don't think many hospitals would hire a teenager. That's probably a huge liability!" he grins, expertly finishing removing the IV from Percy's hand. 

"So, you're not a medical professional at all?" he asks, eyes still firmly locked over Lee's shoulder. 

Which doesn't necessarily mean much. He's been fixed up in worse places by people who were definitely not doctors. Sometimes when you're poor and without insurance, you let the nice woman down the hall who taught you Spanish and makes you tres leches cake on your birthday give you stitches and set your broken arm. And all the while you pray to whoever may be listening that nothing ends up getting infected because that bill will be astronomical. 

Lee laughs again, quickly taping a small piece of cotton over the area. "We don't really have doctors here. Just me and my siblings who are very good at healing and fixing people up. Chiron might be the closest thing we get to an actual doctor during catastrophic situations, and even that's a bit sketchy sometimes."

Percy blinks, wondering what exactly "catastrophic situations" entail. "...Sketchy?"

"Well, his methods may work but they are, shall we say, definitely not up to modern medical standards." 

Percy furrows his brow. "So I'm just supposed to trust a bunch of kids and some ancient guy with sketchy medical standards to fix me every time I get sick or injured?" 

His neighbor was one thing. That mob "doctor" who operates (quite literally) in the back rooms of a local bar is another. But he feels like he should be drawing the line at other kids playing medic and some ancient dude who probably thinks leeches are still an acceptable treatment for illness. 

Lee shrugs. "Pretty much!" 

Everyone here is insane, he's sure of it. At least he'll fit in. 

Maybe he'll even get lucky enough to die with everyone else before he goes bonkers enough to peel his own skin off and eventually bleed to death (hello, third cousin Adam. What the actual fuck? Were there no quicker methods available when the visions and dreams finally drove him batshit? Percy hopes he's at rest though, wherever his soul is now). 

Lee gives him a final once over before nodding to himself, seemingly satisfied with his current state. 

"All things considered, you're healing pretty well! You've still got a little ways to go, but nothing life threatening at the moment." 

"Great. Excellent. Can I go now? I don't actually know where I'm supposed to be going, but I can leave this room now?" 

This may be the nicest infirmary room he's ever been in, but it still bothers him to be stuck in these places. To be stuck with someone whose death he already feels responsible for. 

The smile instantly drops from the other boy's face, and Percy suddenly feels a deep sense of dread. 

"Well, not just yet. There's a few more things we should probably discuss before you leave. And you could also do with a few more days of rest here, if I'm being honest." 

Percy narrows his eyes. "But you just said I'm fine."

"Fine is not the word I would use about your overall condition. Better, yes. Definitely better than when you got dropped off here," Lee says quietly, a brief flash of anger in his eyes. "But very much not 'fine'." 

"But better enough to leave, right?" he presses, anxious to escape this situation. He does not like feeling trapped. 

Lee hesitates for a moment, mulling over his next words carefully. "Percy, while we were fixing you up we noticed some things," he begins gently. "And some of us are worried about how they happened." 

Oh.

Oh.

Nope. Not it. 

He doesn't want to do this right now. 

"And you fixed them, right? You said you healed me, so I'm healed. Can I go now?" he asks again, starting to push himself up in order to exit this situation with speed. 

"Percy, please. I just want to talk to you. It's okay." 

He hates that tone Lee has taken. Absolutely hates it. It's the soft, patronizing tone of something talking to an angry little kid who needs to calm down. It's the same tone so many professionals have used when people insist he be evaluated for his outbursts and mental wellbeing. 

"No. No thank you. I'm leaving now." 

"Here's the deal, kiddo."

"I'm not a little kid. And you're not old enough to call me that!" Percy snaps, lashing out viciously at Lee when the older boy tries to lay a hand over his own in comfort. 

Lee immediately retreats before continuing, seemingly unfazed by Percy's violent reaction. But Percy can practically see him taking mental notes the longer they speak. "Besides being beat to shit by the minotaur- Asterion, sorry! Don't glare at me like that- It was hard to find a place on you that wasn't at least bruised," he begins. "You were extremely dehydrated and are still very much underweight. Not to mention-"

"It's not even that bad! I'm fine," he insists, an irrational anger overtaking him. Lee is asking too many questions that he doesn't want to answer. It's none of his business. 

The other boy doesn't say anything, doesn't react to his outburst or yell back at him. Just sits and waits patiently for Percy to calm enough for him to speak again. 

"I want to help, Percy. That's it. I just have to know what I'm working with in order to do it." Lee says it so sincerely that he almost believes him, almost. But he's been screwed over one too many times to spill his guts to someone he just met. Even if he's been nothing but kind to him since he woke up and apparently nursed him back to health. 

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" 

Why won't he take the hint? Why won't he just leave him alone? 

Lee opens his mouth to say something else and Percy barely resists the urge to scream. Just stop, stop, stop. 

And then the door flies open, causing both of them to jump. 

"Percy!"

A harried figure is stumbling in the room, effectively cutting off Lee before he can continue his line of questioning. 

My savior, he thinks as Grover rushes over to him, joy and relief on the young satyr's face. His friend throws his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug which Percy gladly returns. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," Grover murmurs, still not letting go. "I thought I....never mind," he cuts himself off with a shake of his head, releasing Percy from his grasp. 

"Are you okay?" Percy asks, eyeing his friend up and down. But he can't see any sign of obvious injuries with the exception of a purplish bruise on the side of his face. 

"I'm fine," the satyr assures him, lower lip wobbling. "Just really, really glad to see you awake. I'm so sorry, Percy!" 

Percy blinks. "Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"I was supposed to be protecting you," he moans, "and you were the one who ended up saving me. I'm just....so sorry I failed." 

"You didn't fail, G-man. I mean, if you hadn't come to pick me up from the apartment..." he trails off with a wince. He isn't sure what would have happened if Grover hadn't shown up when he did. Percy probably would still be there, too panicked to have come up with a plan to get out. Or maybe he would have left and currently be huddled on the street somewhere, unaware of what was hunting him. Of what he is. 

Sure it still kind of went to shit, but he's sure he wouldn't have survived without Grover showing up that night. 

Grover sniffs. "Thanks," he says softly, a watery smile on his face. "I appreciate the thought." He says it like he doesn't truly believe him. Oh well. Percy will believe it enough for the both of them for now. That's what Grover always tells him anyway. 

His friend sniffs again, scrubbing harshly at his eyes. "Anyway. I uh, I brought you something." 

"You did?" And for the first time Percy notices a box tucked under Grover's arm. 

He holds out the box. "Here. I went back to see if I could get any of your stuff. And well, this was also still there. I thought you should have it. You've earned it."

Carefully, Percy takes the box in his arms, removing the lid and peering inside. 

Inside of the box is the gleaming white horn that Asterion left behind on the hill when his body faded to nothingness. A reminder of what happened, of what he did. He must have dropped it when he was dragging Grover towards the camp. His feelings haven't changed towards it, he's not even sure he wants it. Percy has never understood taking trophies of this kind. But he takes it anyway, grasping it tightly in his hand once more. 

If he doesn't take it, he's worried what will happen to it. 

"Thanks," he says numbly, setting it in his lap. 

There's an awkward silence between for a moment, neither one knowing what to say. Grover clears his throat. "I've also kinda been sent here to get you and bring you out for a conversation," he says sheepishly. "Sorry. I know you literally just woke up." 

"Absolutely not!" 

The loud voice next to them reminds Percy that they are, in fact, not alone in the room. Lee is still here, watching and listening to everything that's happening. Damn his short term memory and poor attention span. How did he forget Lee is here? 

"Percy has just woken up fully for the first time in days. He's still a little weak. He needs more rest, Grover," Lee states firmly, arms folded across his chest. "I'm sure a tour of the camp and getting him settled in can wait a bit longer." 

"I know that, but I have to-"

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to override you on this one. Pretend doctor's orders and all that." He gives Percy a small smile at the joke, and despite his annoyance with Lee's questions a few minutes earlier, it draws a small laugh out of him. 

Grover twitches, hooves nervously scraping against the ground. "Chiron sent me to check if Percy was awake. He wants to speak with him."

Lee's expression darkens. "You're joking? Why can't he just come here instead?" 

"I'm sorry," Grover says, "but they want to see him now. You know how it is." 

Lee lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he relents, but he's definitely not happy about it. "But if you start feeling bad again you come right back, alright? And no strenuous activities for at least the rest of the week!" 

Jokes on Lee. The universe never lets him rest even when he wants to. He nods anyway, getting to his feet as fast as he can before the son of Apollo has a chance to change his mind. 

"Come on, Percy. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting." 

____________________

Percy's legs shake as he tries to keep up with Grover, the walk around the farmhouse's wrap around porch feeling like miles. Grover had offered to carry Asterion's horn for him, but he declined. It doesn't feel right, holding this spoil of war in his hands. He's sure other people would proudly display such an item above their hearth, but all it does is fill him with a deep sense of sadness and grief every time he looks at it. Maybe he'll bury it later, or burn it. That's what the ancient Greeks did, right? Burned their dead? 

As they finally approach the opposite end of the house, Percy feels like his brain is short circuiting. The valley below them stretches from the house all the way to a glittering lake. But it's everything on it's surface that he's having trouble comprehending. 

The landscape before him is dotted with buildings, all designed in the traditional Greek way. White columns loom tall and perfect, not the cracked, crumbling things you see in museums or in the ruins across the sea. There's an amphitheater, an actual arena that he hopes people don't actually fight to death in, a large open air pavilion filled with tables, and of course, statues. 

Marble statues that he recognizes as effigies of the Greek gods, realistic and painted brightly the way they would have been in ancient times instead of the solid white color people often think they were. 

Interspersed with the traditional architecture of what looks like a mini version of an ancient city state, he sees what one would normally find in a children's summer camp. A sandpit, an archery range, a rock climbing wall that for some reason has lava spewing from it. 

Okay, perhaps not a typical summer camp. He doesn't think lava would be something most parents would subject their children to. 

If he squints, he can see what looks like canoes and a couple large Greek triremes dotting the lake. 

In the center of it all, a petite woman sits a well built fire, silently tending the flames. Everyone passes her as if she's not there, and for a moment Percy thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. But then her head turns towards him as if she felt his stare. Two glowing eyes meet his own, ancient and warm like a fire on a cold day. Peaceful and inviting a way he has rarely experienced in his life. She tilts her head, offering him a small smile and a little wave. 

He blinks. And then she's gone. 

Huh. 

"We're here," Grover announces, nudging him to get his attention. 

Two men sit across from each other at a table at the end of the porch. The blonde girl who fed him that nasty popcorn pudding leans against the rail next to him- great. The man facing him is slightly pudgy, middle-aged, with curly black hair so dark it looks like it has a purple tint to it. His eyes are bloodshot, and the look on his face is one of resigned exhaustion, as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. He's dressed in a gaudy Hawaiian shirt and clutches a diet coke in the hand that isn't holding his playing cards. 

At first glance, he looks like any guy Percy might run into in his neighborhood, or at his stepfather's gambling table if he's being honest. But something about his presence unnerves him. Something feels dangerous, almost. It's the same feeling he got when he met Aquarium Lady a few years ago, that she was far more than the image she was presenting. It's the same feeling he just got from the woman sitting at the hearth, although her presence had felt distinctly warmer and welcoming. 

The longer he looks at him, the more his appearance begins to waver and shift. 

Sitting in the place of the middle-aged, hungover man is a regal looking youth in his early twenties. Tall and lithe, with dark curls falling to his shoulders, he exudes an air of confidence, bordering on arrogance. Something about him in this form makes Percy want to approach him, to laugh and dance in his presence and give in to the overwhelming feeling of joy bubbling up inside of him. Ivy wraps around the man's head in a moving, twisting crown, beckoning him forward. Behind him, people laugh and shriek in pure joy. 

It's beautiful. 

It's overwhelming. 

It's horrifying. 

It doesn't at all align with the middle-aged drunkard he saw when they first approached the table. 

This man is definitely more than he seems, just like Aquarium Lady. And Percy has the faintest inkling of just what he might be, the pieces finally falling into place. 

The man glances up over his cards, looking at him with mild disinterest before mumbling something he can't hear to the other man at the table as his appearance continues to rapidly shift between the now and what Percy assumes must be the then, or what he actually looks like. 

"That's Mr. D, the camp director," Grover murmurs, turning to him with wide, imploring eyes. "Be polite." His friend's voice snaps him out of his trance and he shakes head. 

"I'm always polite." 

The satyr looks skyward as if asking some deity to grant him patience. And considering Percy has just woken up a mini replica of an ancient Greek city, he just might actually be doing just that. 

"That's Annabeth Chase," he nods towards the blonde girl. "She's another camper, and has basically been here forever at this point. And you've already met Chiron, of course." 

His eyes land on a familiar figure in a wheelchair, dressed in the same tweed jacket he always wore. 

"Mr. Brunner!" he says, somehow still surprised to actually see the man even though Grover had literally told him he would be here. 

His teacher turns and smiles at him, eyes twinkling with the same mirth and mischievousness that they sometimes got we he sprung a surprise pop quiz on his Latin students, or those times he intentionally got into arguments with Mr. Martin, the rival Latin teacher from across the hall, because the man annoyed him and he liked to embarrass him in front of his students. 

"Ah, Percy. It's good to see you up and moving around, my boy. Now we have four for pinochle."

"I don't even know what that is." 

And he doesn't want to play whatever card game this is with him anyway. He's tired and stressed and still somehow in denial about everything happening around him. What he actually wants is to go back to bed. But he can't give Lee the satisfaction of knowing he's right. 

Mr. Brunner, seemingly unbothered by his attitude, offers him the seat to the right the man whose form continues to alternate between a middle-aged drunkard who would effortlessly blend in at one of his step-father's poker parties and a youthful face in a dizzying display. Percy awkwardly shuffles to his spot, unconsciously folding into himself as he eyes carefully track every movement Mr. D makes. 

The scent of grape wine and something distinctly floral wafts off him, not unpleasant in truth. But it nudges against the animal part of his brain the same way the smell of the cigars, stale beer, and cheap cologne that had become his constant companion these past few years does. He knows when a man has been around alcohol, and he finds it's best to give them the widest berth possible. 

Mr. D must notice his intense stare because the man turns to him with a heavy sigh, bloodshot eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be happy to see you." 

There's a correct response here, he's sure of it. 

Probably something simple like an "Er...thanks?" before scooting even further away just in case. 

Instead, eyes locked on the twisting crown of ivy around the man's head that no one else seemed to notice, the faint sound of howls of laughter and joy and an unfamiliar tune echoing in his mind, he says, "I like you vines. You look better the other way." Dionysus raises a brow in surprise. "Less scar- less awful." 

Percy winces. Great start, Jackson. Great start. 

Mr. D narrows his eyes. "Pardon?" 

His mouth is moving before he can stop himself, unfamiliar words spilling from his lips in a voice he barely recognizes as his own. 

"The ivy-crowned one, saved from the flames, will ascend." 

The words are most certainly ancient Greek, the accent, however, is strange to him. 

Mr. D leans forward in his seat, expression unreadable. "And who told you that line, child?" he asks in the same strange dialect of Greek. 

Grover coughs loudly, hand reaching under the table and grasping Percy's tightly as he gives him a tiny shake. Instantly Percy finds himself back in the present moment, ears ringing as he forces himself to focus. 

Right. Be in the current moment. Don't say weird stuff that's going to get him trouble.......what were they doing again? 

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?" 

There's a heavy silence at the table. Grover and Mr. Brunner exchange worried glances. Clearly, neither of them had thought to mention his "strangeness" to the camp director. Not that Mr. Brunner even knew the full extent of things, and he doubts Grover would tell all of his secrets to the man. Unless....unless he had? Grover had spent a semester lying to him and making him feel crazy. Maybe...maybe he would have? 

Ugh. He can't think about this right now. 

Mr. D's face is impassive, though a spark in those purple eyes tells Percy that the man now has a renewed interest in him. He's definitely said too much. Again. 

"You'll have to forgive Percy. His mind tends to wander sometimes," Mr Brunner cuts in before anyone else can speak. 

A nice way of saying he's off his rocker, basically. 

Jerk. 

Mr. D regards him for a moment longer, eyes boring into him with an intensity that makes it feel as if his entire soul is being laid bare before the man. He must see something based on the way his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline and the grimace on his face as if he just witnessed something unpleasant.

"Well do try to stay on topic, young man. I don't have the patience to go over all of this twice." He says it dismissively, gaze drawn back to the cards in his hands as if the previous moment hadn't even happened. 

He gives a jerky nod, happy to move on.

Though strangely, Percy notices that Mr. D's form has stopped flickering and settled into the youthful form that seems more natural on him. 

Percy wonders if the other's can see that his appearance has changed, or if it's only him that has noticed as no one says anything about the change. 

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls out to the blond girl leaning against the railing, a quick subject change. She steps forward and Mr. Brunner gives a quick, awkward introduction.

Annabeth watches him with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He had honestly forgotten she was standing there until this moment. Looks like he's made about as good of a first impression on her as she did on him after that little outburst of his. 

"This young lady helped nurse you back to health."

"I thought she got banned from the infirmary? I don't know, maybe my memory's still fuzzy." Annabeth's face flushes as she crosses her arms over her chest. His memory about that moment isn't fuzzy at all. He's still annoyed about her mini interrogation session when he was half out of it and he wants her to know it. 

"A simple misunderstanding, I'm sure."

"I don't think it was," he says flatly. "Do you let her wake up everyone like that?" 

Mr. Brunner gives him a disapproving look. "Percy. Annabeth took time out of her normal schedule to assist with making sure you were well. The least you could do is thank her."

Percy stares right back. "No, I don't think I will. And I also think Lee did most of the work." 

Beside him, Mr. D snorts in amusement, taking another sip of his diet coke. Grover shifts uncomfortably, eyes flitting between him and Annabeth as if he's not sure if he should intervene or whose side he should take. Percy gets the sense that he must be pretty familiar with Annabeth and its always awkward when two of your friends are going at each other. Well, he assumes it would be awkward. He's never had a friend before Grover and so had never encountered friendship drama. 

His teacher sighs deeply, knowing that this particular battle with him has been lost. 

"Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go and check on Percy's bunk. He'll be in cabin eleven for now, of course."

"Sure, Chiron," she says.

She looks at Percy for a long moment, gray eyes cool and calculating. For a brief second he wonders if she's going to find it within herself to apologize for being a dick. Instead, she smirks. "You drool when you sleep." 

Then she turns and hurries away down the lawn. 

Percy rolls his eyes. 

"Soooo, Mr. Brunner," he says slowly, glancing back at his former teacher. "You work here doing Greek stuff?" 

"Not Mr. Brunner," his teacher who is now not-Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid Mr. Brunner was just a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

Chiron. 

Chiron as in the trainer of the heroes. The immortal centaur, the half horse half man trainer of heroes. The man in a tweed jacket sitting in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap instead of towering over him on horse legs is supposed to be this mythical creature somehow. The sound of thundering hooves and the images of an arrow flying that have accompanied his former teacher in his mind make sense now. 

But something else doesn't. 

Percy squints. "Where's the rest of you?" he asks bluntly. 

Grover throws him a wide eyed look as Mr. D disguises a startled laugh with a cough over his can of diet coke. 

Chiron blinks. "I- what?"

"You're supposed to be a centaur," Percy states. "Where's the rest of you? Unless that's all one big lie, too." 

Chiron gives him a reproachful look, but nonetheless proceeds to answer his question "I suppose your question is not an invalid one. My disguise might cause some confusion upon our first meeting." He taps the side of his wheelchair. "It's enchanted to hide my lower half. I can't very well walk around the mortal world in my true form. The number of clear sighted individuals might have drastically waned over the years, but enough people believe yet that beings such as myself exist. No, far too risky, even with the mist." 

"But you're definitely part horse?"

"....yes?"

Percy continues to stare until he feels himself suddenly overcome but what is possibly the worst intrusive thought he's had about a teacher yet. 

Chiron is half horse. 

He's from New York. He's seen the Macy's parade enough times by now to know about horses. That, and that one summer his mom had grown tired of him and sent him to horse camp upstate. He still doesn't know where she got the money from, what with Gabe's tight hold on the budget and bank account. The point is, he's cleaned enough stalls to trust Chiron's back half much less than he trusts his front. 

His mouth opens of its own accord. 

"Percy don't you dare," Grover warns, elbowing him lightly in the side. 

"I haven't even said anything yet!"

"I know you well enough to feel when the nonsense is coming." 

Mr. D leans forward with an amused gleam in his eyes, lips upturned in a hint of a smile. "Oh no, please. I want to hear it." 

"Please, sir, don't encourage him," Grover practically begs, exasperated. 

Completely undeterred by his friends efforts to keep him from embarrassing the both of them with his questions, he turns attention back to the camp director. "And...Mr. D. Does that stand for something?" he asks hesitantly, not sure if he's crossing a boundary he cannot see. 

Mr. D looks at him as if he's just said something incredibly rude, the smile dropping off of his face. "Young man, you don't just go around demanding people's names. Names have power, and you should be careful when you use them." 

"Oh, right. Sorry."

That makes sense, he guesses. 

Chiron clears his throat in an attempt to reign in the conversation before it gets even more off course. "I must say, Percy, it's good to see you alive and relatively well. It's been a very long time since I was called in to monitor a prospective camper. I would hate to think I've wasted the better part of a year as your Latin instructor." 

"You...you were called in?"

Chiron nods. "Oh yes. We have satyrs like Grover at most schools to keep an eye out for demigods who are drawing too much attention. But Grover alerted me not too long after he met you. He sensed something special about you, and also expressed some worry. So I decided to come upstate myself to see what was happening. I convinced the school to...ah, switch your classes around a bit." 

Percy vaguely remembers spending the first few weeks of the school year in Mr. Martin's Latin class before being transferred to Chiron's. He had assumed it was because Mr. Martin was tired of his antics and being corrected every time he said something wrong. Which was a lot, he might add. Sue him for trying to be helpful and make sure his classmates learned actual Latin and not the google translate version Mr. Martin was speaking sometimes. 

"You really came to Yancy just to teach me?"

"Indeed. Honestly, I wasn't so sure about you at first. We tried to contact your mother but that is impossible, as it were." Chiron looks at him with sympathy and Percy just shrugs. He's used to the poor, pitying expression he gets from people whenever his mom is brought up. It doesn't change anything. "And your stepfather was equally unhelpful. But it turns out Grover's suspicions were correct. And despite a few complications, you made it here alive. Getting to camp is always the first test for young demigods." 

Percy's mind screeches to a halt. 

It was all a fucking test? Almost dying twice with no help offered was just a test to see if he was ready? 

"The first test? The first test!? So what, you were just going to leave me to die out there? Again I might add. You didn't help me in the museum with Mrs. Dodds either!" 

"Ah, but you didn't die, did you? You handled yourself quite well for someone with no previous training." 

Percy can't remember the last time he's felt this much rage. Why is every adult in his life an utter piece of shit? 

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him, "are you playing or not?" But Percy can see the way the man is subtly watching him out of the corner of his eye.  

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes a seat in the fourth chair, glancing worriedly between Chiron and Percy. 

Mr. D turns his attention fully to Percy. "And you, young man? You do know how to play pinochle? I would expect all civilized young men to know how to play it. It is, after all, one of the best games ever created after gladiator fighting and Pac-Man." 

"I don't want to play stupid pinochle!" he explodes. His heart is racing in his chest, he can feel himself shaking. 

Mr. D begins dealing the cards anyway. Grover winces every time one lands in front of him, and distantly Percy wonders why he's so afraid of the camp director. But then he thinks back to the images of madness his presence induced when Percy first saw him and it makes much more sense. 

"I know this can be a lot to take in, Percy. It's always difficult in the beginning." Chiron looks at him sympathetically. 

"So I'm a demigod. And you thought, what, it would be fun not to tell me? To make me think I'm actually going crazy?" he practically growls, barely resisting the urge to throw the cards Mr. D had forced into his hands at the centaur. 

"It was for the best. I wanted to give you time to mature more before we brought you to camp." 

"Time to mature more," he repeats incredulously. He feels like he's about to blow a gasket. He's shaking again. Or is it everything around him that's shaking. He notices the table shaking slightly, not enough to draw a lot of attention, but enough to make it move just a bit. "Or more time for me to sit around and be bait for the next thing that wants to kill me? More time to lie to my face and get me kicked out of school. I can't fucking believe-

A hand moving towards him in his periphery makes him jump, effectively cutting off his rant. It's just Mr. D.

Mr. D taps the table in front of him to keep his attention. "Your bid."

"My what?" he snaps. 

Far more patiently than Percy thought him capable given his previous attitude, the camp director explains the rules of the game and how to bid properly. Percy grudgingly pays attention, not wanting to get on the bad side of not one but both of the men who were in charge of him now. So he bids. 

Chiron continues to ramble on, no doubt trying to make him see the importance of his fucked up teaching methods and why he's not in the wrong here. He only catches every other word because he finds if he focuses too much on his teacher, his temper begins to rise again. Despite his initial complaints, he finds that trying to focus on the stupid game of pinochle does distract him enough to calm down a little. 

He wonders if Chiron gives this same long-winded spiel to every new camper. You're a demigod! Yes, he's figured that out by now and is halfway to acceptance about it. The Greek gods are very much alive and not just stories classicists study. Obviously, otherwise he wouldn't be a demigod, would he? The Gods and Mount Olympus follow Western civilization and take up residence where the "flame" is the strongest? Sure, why not. Monsters apparently rejuvenate themselves every time someone slays them and in most circumstances can never truly be killed? Unexpected. Concerning even. But since he fought and killed Asterion, who Theseus is famous for killing thousands of years ago, it must be true. 

Percy hums and nods at the right moments, giving a good show of listening. He can feel another pounding headache building behind his eyes the longer this conversation goes on. A few times, Mr. D gently corrects his bids or taps on the table to get his attention when his mind wanders particularly far away. 

He glances over at Grover who is munching contentedly on the empty diet coke can and finds himself deeply worried for his friend's internal organs. 

Chiron is still talking. 

Does he ever stop talking? Maybe he likes the sound of his own voice. 

Mr. D looks bored of it as well, though the man has looked some level of bored this entire time so it's hard to be sure. With a barely audible sigh, the camp director waves his hand and goblet appears with a barely noticeable shimmer. Percy's jaw drops as the goblet then proceeds to fill itself with red wine. Chiron doesn't seem the least bit surprised by this feat as he barely acknowledges the action. Mr. D studies the goblet, eyes flitting over to Percy for a moment before he waves his hand again, turning the goblet into another diet coke. Cool. He doesn't really like being around men who are drinking. 

Mr. D must feel his awe filled stare because he gives Percy a knowing wink before waving his hand a third time. A similar goblet of dark red liquid appears in front of Percy, though distinctly non alcoholic. Which he appreciates as much as he appreciates the fancy looking cup. He's keeping it. He hopes Mr. D knows that. 

"How did you-?" Percy whispers, when he can finally find his words again. 

Mr. D raises a brow, as if inquiring why he's wasting time asking something he already knows the answer to. 

Oh shit. 

"Wait. Are you one of the gods? Like an actual god?" Percy exclaims, interrupting Chiron who winces at his bluntness. 

Mr. D rolls his eyes. "No, Mr. Johnson, I am merely a well paid actor who has mastered the art of summoning beverages, sent here to play the part. What do you think?" 

"So you're a god," he says again, ignoring the man's sarcasm completely. 

"What is it the children say, Grover?" Mr. D asks, turning to the satyr. "Do they still say 'well, duh'?" 

"U-Um. Yes. Yes, sir they do."

"Well, duh, then Perry. I thought you said this boy was intelligent, Chiron?" he complains, though there's no real heat behind the insult. 

It hits him like a bolt of lightning then, the images he's been seeing in his mind finally connecting with all the stories he's learned over the years. Vines strangling non-believers, people dancing in a frenzy having been utterly overtaken by the madness in the air and practically tearing each other apart, sailors screaming in terror as they are changed into dolphins and cast into the sea. "Dionysus," he breathes. "You're Dionysus, one of the Olympians. Like Zeus and Ares."

There's a distant rumble of thunder that makes him nervous for some reason. 

"Young man, I thought I told you to be careful throwing names around like that. Members of my family have smited people for far less."

"You. A god."

"Yes, child. Did that bump on the head from fighting the minotaur scramble your brains that badly?"

Rude. But to be fair he has asked the same question over and over again as if he is unable to comprehend anything the man- the god, is saying.

"But why are you here? Don't you guys have better things to do than babysit demigods?" 

"Mr. D offended his father a while back. Took a fancy to a wood nymph that he shouldn't have. Now he is here, serving as the camp director, for the foreseeable future." 

His father. Zeus, his brain fills in. He's being punished because he liked the same girl his dad did. Imagine being four or five millennia old and throwing a tantrum because your son had a crush on a girl you also thought was pretty, then casting said son out of Olympus to babysit a bunch of problem kids because you can't handle the competition. Really? At Zeus' big age? 

"Yes," Mr. D confesses with a sigh. "Father does like to punish people who slight him in the smallest of ways. The first time I was demoted from my position on the council for ten years. He threatened to replace me with my dear Aunt Hestia again. The second time- well, she was really pretty and I decided to shoot my shot one more time. The second time, he sent me here to look after you brats." 

Yeah, Percy would probably be a little grumpy if he was Mr. D. 

Mr. D turns back to the card game, clearly not wanting to discuss this anymore. "And with that, I believe I win."

Percy glances down at his own hand. "No you didn't." He sets down what he thinks is a straight and tallies up all the points. "Pretty sure this means I win. Probably. I don't know. I've never played this game before." 

For a moment, Percy is sure that he has now lost whatever goodwill the god had towards him during this interaction and is mere seconds away from incineration. But to his surprise, Mr. D merely smirks, nodding approvingly. "Well done." 

He rises from his seat and Grover follows suit. "I'm tired," he announces. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-a-long tonight. But first, Grover, we should talk about your performance on your latest assignment. Again." 

Grover pales, looking seconds away from passing out from stress. "Yes, of course." 

He turns to look at Percy one last time. "Cabin 11, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners. Though I suspect you won't be there very long. I'm surprised my brother hasn't sent a shower of golden sparkles down on you already."

Mr. D disappears into the big house, Grover following behind him completely enveloped in an air of misery and anxiety. 

Percy has no idea which brother he's talking about, or what being in cabin eleven means. 

"What does he mean?" Percy asks after the door closes behind the god, turning to look at his former teacher. "Who's supposed to be sending down sparkles? That seems...odd." And Percy knows odd. 

Chiron grimaces. "I believe Mr. D has made an assumption about who your father is. I must admit I thought the same thing for a time, but there are...other factors to consider now." 

"One of his brothers?" Percy surmises. "Is it one of them?" It honestly could be. He has like a thousand of them if the stories about Zeus are to be believed. There's very much a non-zero chance one of his many siblings is the one who fathered him. 

"It's complicated, Percy," Chiron says carefully. "It wouldn't be right to assume who your godly parent is only for you to be disappointed. Or-" he trails off. 

"Or?" he prompts, feeling frustrated that no one seems to want to tell him anything important. 

Chiron shakes his head. "Never you mind. Try not to think about it for now. There's no use worrying over what hasn't happened yet?"

Percy bites back an angry huff. Why does Chiron insist on telling him everything but what is actually useful? Doesn't he think Percy has a right to know who his dad is? Or at the very least the person Chiron suspects is his father. 

"Will Grover be okay?" he asks instead of voicing his true thoughts. 

Chiron nods, though the troubled look on his face doesn't fill Percy with much confidence. "Old Dionysus really isn't angry with him. He's just unhappy with his job and takes it out on others, unfortunately. I'm sure their conversation will go just fine." 

"If you say so..."

"I do say so. Now," he begins, bracing himself in his chair as if he's going to stand up. Which Percy supposes he can, given the fact that being a man paralyzed from the waist down was just a calculated ruse to fool the "mortals." "I believe I have talked at you quite enough for the day. Let's get you settled into camp, yes?"

He then rises in his chair for real this time, the blanket over the fake legs falling away as he begins to grow taller. He continues rising, taller than any man, until stark white fur became visible. With some careful shifting he finally manages to free the horse half of his body from the magic chair, hooves stomping on the ground as he stretches out his legs.

"Much better. It was starting to get a bit cramped in there. Now come, Percy, we still have quite a bit to see before you can rest." 

Percy nods, dutifully pushing down all the intrusive horse facts and thoughts that are swimming around in his brain after the official centaur reveal. See, Grover. He does have some self control!

He stands up and follows Chiron who is already trotting a few feet ahead of him. 

He doesn't forget to grab his new cup either. 

Chapter Text

There's an orientation video. 

The video all campers are supposed to see on their first day that explains all the important things about being a demigod and life at Camp Halfblood. It sounds useful, if he's being honest. Far more engaging than whatever Chiron had ranted about during their talk. Percy would love to see it. Who knows? The video may actually provide answers to the questions he's asking that everyone else around him pretends like they can't hear. 

But alas, Chiron has determined that the video is not suitable in this situation and that his explanation of events and a quick tour around camp will do the trick. 

They weave their way through the different parts of camp, Chiron pointing out all the important things. It's definitely an odd experience, passing by marvels of Greek architecture such as the amphitheater and the arena, and then seeing something so normal like a volleyball pit or basketball hoops not too far away. 

Most of the campers are older than Percy, though he sees a few kids his age and even a few little ones running around after their friends and what he assumes must be their siblings. Some of them don't spare him a passing glance, too busy with their usual camp activities to notice another newcomer. Others do a double take, eyes widening as they realize who is walking with Chiron. 

They nudge each other and point in his direction, poorly concealing whispers behind their hands. Some of them point to the horn he's carrying in a mixture of amazement and disbelief. 

"That's him?" someone asks. 

"There's no way. Look how small he is. You're telling me that kid defeated the minotaur?" 

"I don't think Chiron would lie about something like that." 

The looks make him uncomfortable. He's never liked being perceived, preferring to fade into the background unnoticed. But it's hard to do that when you're the shiny new attraction at camp that everyone expects to do a cool trick out of nowhere or something. 

He glances back down the path they just walked, back towards the farmhouse that also houses the infirmary. It's much larger than he originally thought; four stories tall, painted blue with white trim. A lot like those images you see of vacation spots in Greece. 

He's about to turn around and continue after Chiron when something catches his eye. A shadow in the uppermost window of the house, what he assumes is the attic. So quick he almost missed it. Percy squints, trying to see what's up there but can't make anything else out in the darkness of the room. A feeling of unease grows inside of him. He could have sworn....

Another movement, closer to the window this time. Definitely the outline of a person.

And then the voices start. 

The whispers call to him, begging him to come inside. To come to the attic. And for a moment, just the briefest of moments, Percy wants to give in. 

The images of a grand temple filled with gold and numerous offerings, a line of people waiting to see the veiled individual seated in the ornate chair, fill his mind. Faces; young girls, older women, the occasional man or boy, or person who is not quite either, year after year, seated in that chair. 

A golden haired man smiles and reaches out towards the familiar specter of Cassandra, words that he can't hear being spoken between him. 

'Come,' the whispers from the attic pleaded. 

But it feels....it feels....wrong. 

No. 

No he won't. 

He wills the images away, difficult as it may be, and takes a nervous step back. 

"Did you see that?" he asks breathlessly, pointing in the direction of the attic window. He's gotten in the habit of asking people, sometimes, whether or not they saw the weird stuff he was seeing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was a resounding "no", which was never a great feeling. But occasionally Grover or someone else would confirm that yes, they did see that person walk by or yes, something did move in the corner of the room. 

Chiron's smile fades as he turns to see what Percy is pointing at. "Ah, that's just the attic." 

"Does somebody live up there? They were watching me."

"No," Chiron says firmly, lips drawn into a thin line. "Not a single living thing. The wind moving the curtain, perhaps."

"But-"

"Time to move on, Percy. Lee did mention a nasty bump on your head. Concussions can do strange things to our perceptions." 

But his feet remain firmly rooted in place, transfixed on the window where he can just make out the faintest flutter of movement behind the curtains. His lips are moving but the words he's saying don't make sense to him, his own voice sounding far away. "And you will suffer as long as my children suffer. You will never find rest in my realm." 

"Percy!"

He blinks, head jerking in Chiron's direction. "Hm? Did you say something?" 

Everything feels a bit fuzzy, his hands tremble. 

He has no idea how much time passed since looking up at the window, but it all feels so hazy. 

His head really hurts. 

Chiron looks at him in worry, tail swishing uneasily. "Yes, well," he coughs, "I was just saying we should move on. Still so much to see." He turns quickly and begins trotting in the direction of another building. 

Percy spares a final glance back at the attic window, the sound of tortured screams echo in his ears and the smell of ozone overpowers his senses. 

He shudders. 

Whatever lingers in that attic, he has no desire to meet it. 

*

They walk through fields of different berries and past trees where campers are busy picking the fruit and filling baskets. A satyr plays a jaunty tune on his reed pipes while some of the campers tending to the plants and even are....talking to them? Encouraging them to grow, maybe. Percy assumes they must be the kids of a nature god or something. It's pretty cool. He wishes he could talk plants into growing. 

He did manage to keep a few vegetable plants and flowers alive and growing on their balcony. Until Gabe found out about it and threw them over the edge one night when he was mad at him. 

Chiron tells him that this is how the camp pays their expenses, exporting the crops to local restaurants and businesses. 

Maybe he can get assigned plant duty and hide in the fields and orchard all day from all the people who are staring at him like a circus attraction. 

They make a pitstop at the stables, Chiron drawn to the sounds of two campers having an all out brawl nearby.

"Wait here," he tells Percy. 

As if he has any idea where else to go. 

Besides, he's fine here. He's at the horse stables. 

He loves horses. 

Horse camp may have been the best two months of his life when he was younger. Upstate, away from Gabe and his mom who had been going through a particularly bad episode. It had been arguably the most peaceful moment of his life. Even his own episodes had calmed somewhat during that time, and even when they got bad again he could sneak off and pet the horses until he calmed down. Or go for midnight rides he definitely wasn't supposed to go on. 

He cranes his neck, trying to get a look, and to his delight he sees one walking in his direction. 

It shakes its head in annoyance as a bug flies past and is about to continue on its way until it notices him standing there. It freezes, staring unblinkingly in his direction before letting out an excited whinny, hooves stomping on the ground. 

Two wings stretch out from its back as it-

Hang on. 

Wings. 

A horse with wings. 

There's a horse with wings looking right at him. 

An honest to god pegasus whinnies loudly once more before trotting excitedly over to greet him. He takes back every bad thing he's said about this camp. Clearly this is the best place on earth. He's never leaving. 

White with black spots, not unlike a Dalmatian, with a silvery white mane and tail, it stops directly in front of him with a huff. 

"Hello, there," he says softly in amazement, reaching out and placing a careful hand on the pegasus' muzzle. 

It snorts, sniffing him for a moment before 

'Hello, little lord,' a woman's voice says. 

Percy jumps. 

It...talked?

Confession time; this is not the first time he's sworn he's heard a horse talk to him. He also used to have full on conversations with the horses at horse camp. They always responded, but he had figured it was a figment of his lonely imagination as he got older. Because horses certainly didn't talk. He must have been imagining it. 

But given all the other weird stuff in this life....

He glances over in Chiron's direction, but the centaur is too busy scolding two older campers to notice him. The other kids aren't paying him any mind either. He scoots a little closer. 

"Are...did you say something?" he whispers, throwing another nervous glance over his shoulder. 

'Well, obviously! Who else would I be talking to, little lord? You greeted me first.' 

"But- But you aren't supposed to talk."

'Says who? I can talk just fine, thank you!' 

Percy doesn't know whether to be afraid or delighted at this discovery. Is talking to animals some weird demigod power? What else doesn't he know?

'It has been a very long time since I have seen one of the little lords here,' she continues. 'The last little lady was very sweet. She always brought me strawberries.' The pegasus leans in a little closer. 'You look like our lord, too. Not the fur, much too golden. But you have his face and his eyes, yes." 

"Why can I understand you?" 

'Because you are the little lord.' She lightly bumps her muzzle against his chest. 'The littlest lord I have ever seen. Do they not feed you?' 

"I'm not that little!" he exclaims, mildly offended. 

'Very little. Barely a foal,' another pegasus chimes in as he quickly trots by, this one brown and white. 

He wants to be annoyed with their comments, he wants to ask the burning questions he has about their little lord comments and who he supposedly looks like. But he's still too enthralled by the concept of a flying horse who really does talk to stay on task. 

"Do you actually fly?" he asks in wonder, eyeing the skies above the stable.

She whinnies loudly, the pegasus equivalent of a laugh he assumes. 

'Why of course we do. Does the little lord want to go for a ride?' 

Does he want to go for a ride?

Hell yeah, he does. 

But Chiron chooses that moment to come back over, finished dealing with whatever scuffle had been occurring when they arrived. "I see you're making friends with the pegasi." He chuckles. "I would be careful with this one. She's known for biting and deciding to randomly throw people off her back in mid air. I think when you begin your lessons they will start you off with one that is easier to handle." 

The pegasus snorts. 

'Worry not, little lord. I would never toss you from my back. The other children who pull on my mane, however, will feel what it is like to fly without wings,' she declares with a huff. 

A bit dramatic, Percy thinks, but he can dig it. Seems like it's their fault for improper pegasus handling. 

With final pat and a heavy feeling of disappointment at not being able to go for a ride, he turns to follow his former teacher. 

"I'll bring you some strawberries as soon as I can," he promises. 

She gives him an appreciative boop. 

*

They visit the woods next. It is gigantic, wild and untouched. 

He's long had the not entirely masculine nor feminine urge to leave his home in the middle of the night, vanishing into the trees without a trace and becoming an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. Maybe he could do that here and escape all this demigod madness. 

"We keep the forest well stocked. If you wish to try your luck, you are of course welcome to. But be sure to go armed and ready." 

Percy blinks.

And blinks again. 

Well stocked. Go in armed and ready. 

Alright. So maybe not this forest. 

He glances up at the centaur. "You know, the more you say things, the more questions and concerns I have." 

"Of course you'll see that for yourself this Friday during capture the flag," Chiron continues as if Percy hadn't even spoken. "You already have a sword. But a shield and armor, no, I don't suppose you would have that. I'll visit the armory later. 

He's played capture the flag exactly one time in his life, and it ended with a boy from one of his old schools slamming his head into a tree and giving him a concussion. He does not want to know what capture the flag with actual weapons in children's hands is like. 

"Do I have to play capture the flag?" 

"Unless you are too ill or injured to participate, the capture the flag game is a requirement for all campers."

He's pretty sure fighting the minotaur and still feeling like garbage counts. It should count. 

He doesn't think it's going to count. 

*

The last stop on Chiron's little tour is the "cabin area". He was fully expecting summer camp like cabins, but honestly he should have known better. The gods would never accept a wooden, spider filled shack as one of their dedicated places. Unless one of them is like the God of Spiders and Wooden Constructs. The "cabins" were all designed to look like small temples, each unique in its own way. They're arranged in no particular order, seemingly scattered about randomly in an almost circle.  

Some are more elaborate than others, like the one that displays the number "7". Almost everything seems to be inlaid with gold, and the sun reflects off of it so harshly that it almost burns to look at it. His danger senses ignite immediately. He will not be going anywhere near that cabin, if he can help it. 

Cabin twelve has ivy snaking up around the columns and what appears to be a garden of grapes in a plot next to it. He can only assume that's Mr. D's cabin. Cabin four is similar, the roof of the temple-cabin looking like an actual patch of grass and various plants growing around it. Smoke billows out an attached building to Cabin nine, the faint sound of clanging just barely noticeable over the buzz of the camp around him. 

The two in the center of it all are the grandest, all polished white and bronze. A bronze eagle is perched on top of the cabin labeled "1" and a beautiful peacock mural decorates the side of the one labeled "2". 

"Zeus and Hera," he guesses. 

Chiron nods. 

"But the cabins look empty."

"Correct. Some of them are. Not every god has a child who attends camp. Some do not have children at all. But it would be offensive to include some of the Olympians and not the others." 

Percy looks at him incredulously. "Zeus had like a million kids. He just punished Mr. D this century because he had a crush on a wood nymph. You're gonna tell me there's not a single one out there?" 

"It's, ah, complicated, Percy. A very complicated discussion that will have to wait for another day I'm afraid."

"And why are there only twelve cabin-temple things? There's way more gods than just the Olympians." 

Once again, Chiron develops sudden hearing loss and continues on as if he never asked a question. "The cabin you will be staying in is this way. Come." 

But Percy's eyes are drawn elsewhere. 

Sat a little further away from the rest, closer to the lake, is another one. It's not high and mighty like some of the other ones dotting the area, but still exudes an air of extreme importance. It's stone dark gray walls are inlaid with what looks like shells and other things that glimmer in the light. There's a porch on the side that faces the lake, a feature not included on the rest. 

His feet carry him in the direction of the lake against his will as if an invisible force is urging him forward. 

"Percy!" Chiron calls, quickly trotting after him. 

He makes it there first; hands resting on the large white doors before he gives it a little shove. They swing open. 

"Oh, I wouldn't do that! Best not to wander into a god's sanctuary without being invited," Chiron says nervously as he goes to take a step inside. "Come alone. Cabin eleven, as I said." 

Before Chiron could pull him back complete, he managed to get a good look inside. Interior walls that glowed like abalone, high ceilings with beautiful murals, each of a different sea creature. The cabin-temple seems to be split into two spaces; a common lounge area in the front and what he assumes must be the sleeping area in the back. Comfortable seating surrounds a saltwater fountain and low shelves are built into the walls. A work desk with maps and other nautical themed gadgets is placed in the corner. 

Faint laughter, that of a man and a woman, echoes around the space, overlapping with the sound of the waves and the distinct smell of that one food vendor who always used to set up his mobile shop not to far from the tiny cabin his mom used to rent for them in the summer. Before things went completely to shit. Percy looks around but doesn't see anyone else there. 

Just an empty cabin that looks like no one has touched it in ages. 

Huh. 

Reluctantly, Percy allows himself to be pulled away from the cabin. 

The other cabins that have their doors open reveal crowds of kids milling about in them. They pass one with depictions of weapons and battles and quite a few actual weapons scattered around. There's barbed wire circling some of the pillars and a stuffed boar's head mounted above the tall doors. Inside Percy can see a bunch of kids that are usually part of the crowd Percy would avoid like the plague at school. Tall, fit and muscular, and just enough meanness visible in their smirks to know that one wrong move would get him pummeled into the ground. Rock music blares from a stereo someone had hooked up (at least these cabin-temple-things have electricity) as they laugh uproariously and shove each other around harshly. 

A tall girl of about fourteen, maybe fifteen, with deep brown skin and dark curls that fell just past her shoulders stands with her arms crossed, watching her fellow cabin mates in amusement. She wears an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt under a camouflage jacket. Her eyes meet his and she raises an unimpressed brow, looking him up and down critically. But it's the boy next to her that really makes Percy nervous. 

Taller and bigger than most of the other kids in the cabin, his gaze has also zeroed in on him. He tilts his head, grinning widely as he eyes Percy like he's his next target. 

Percy walks a little faster. 

"Chiron?"

"Yes?"

"If each cabin is built for a specific god, does that mean cabin eleven is my dad's cabin?" He nearly chokes on the word "dad". It's not something he likes to think about often, his father. Or lack thereof. 

"Goodness no! I have met many of Lord Hermes' children over the years, and I daresay you do not fit the bill. However, as Hermes is the god of travelers, unclaimed demigods are welcome to live in his abode until their actual parent claims them." 

Percy frowns. "And how long does it take to get claimed?"

Chiron's silence is answer enough. 

Percy's shoulders slump in an unexpected feeling of disappointment. 

His ex-teacher looks at him in sympathy before clearing his throat. 

"Oh, look. Annabeth is waiting for us." 

*

Of course it's Annabeth. Who else would it be? He's getting a sense of favoritism from Chiron, similar to the way Mrs. Dodds had doted on Nancy Bobofit. And somehow he knows its going to be a pain in the ass. He doesn't need weird visions to tell him that much. 

She's standing in front of a rather homey looking cabin-temple. Still just as well made and grand as the others, but it definitely exudes a far more welcoming air than others he has passed. She gives him a look of disapproval as he approaches, as if she's already decided he's a lost cause not worth her time. Wouldn't be the first time someone makes that decision upon first meeting him.

"Annabeth, I must be off to my master's archery class. Would you mind taking things over with Percy from here?" 

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

He turns to look at Percy, offering him a small smile. "Cabin eleven." He gestures towards the open door. "Do make yourself at home. I'll see you at dinner." And with that, he turns and gallops away. 

Inside is packed with campers, far more than reside in any other cabin that he saw. Despite each cabin being a decent size, capable of holding a number of people comfortably, cabin eleven is bursting at its seams. It looks more like an emergency shelter you see after a natural disaster; not enough beds to go around, sleeping bags on the floor, stuff everywhere because storage space ran out long ago. 

He lingers awkwardly in the doorway as the other kids in the cabin stare at him just as critically as Annabeth had. Percy knows this song and dance. They're all deciding whether or not he's really one of them or if they're going to make his life miserable. 

"Well," she says impatiently, "go in." 

Of course the second he steps food into the cabin is the moment that his bad knee decides it's had enough after these past few days, nearly causing him to fall flat on his face. Much to the amusement of everyone else watching him. 

"Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven," Annabeth announces on his behalf. 

"Regular or undetermined?" a boy calls out from somewhere in the back. 

"Undetermined."

A collective groan reverberates through the room. Percy can't really blame them. Their cabin has literally been taken over by every kid whose parent hadn't bothered to acknowledge them. And even if they did, it's not like there's anywhere else for them to go. There's only twelve cabins. 

A guy who's a little older than the rest steps forward. "Come on, let's not be like that. That's what we're here for, after all. "Welcome, Percy. It's good to have you here." 

He's a little older than the rest, maybe eighteen or nineteen. He's tall and muscular with short dark hair and a friendly smile. He wears an orange, like many of the other campers here, with a necklace that holds five clay beads. The only thing remotely out of place about his appearance is a thick, jagged scar that runs from just under his eye to his jawline. 

"This is Luke," Annabeth says, her voice sounding softer and far different than the tone she's had with him. He glances over and sees a light flush to her cheeks. 

Ah, so this is crush territory. He doesn't have the heart, nor the patience to deal with her reaction, to tell her that crushes on older boys rarely work out in your favor and that she should stay far away from them. 

"He'll be your counselor for now. Until-"

"Until I'm determined. Which may never even happen," Percy finishes for her. 

Luke gives him a sympathetic look. "Don't think about it too much, kid. We're happy to have you here for as long as you need. Hermes is the god of travelers and all." 

"Thanks," Percy mumbles.

"We found you a spot right over there." Luke gestures to where a small sleeping area had already been set up for him. A thick sleeping bag with two pillows and a neatly folded extra blanket sit in his designated spot. 

It doesn't look particularly comfortable, and he knows sleeping on the floor every night is only going to make his somewhat loosey-goosey joints hurt worse. But Percy's had much worse sleeping arrangements in his life around much worse people, so he doesn't see a reason to complain when he has nowhere else to go. 

He makes his way over to his spot and sets Asterion's horn, and his fancy new cup, down on the sleeping bag. Surprisingly his stuff has been retrieved from the cab that had crashed. He wasn't sure any of it had made it, or if anyone had bothered to go back for it. It must have been Grover, while he was getting the horn. 

Hesitantly, he rifles through his two bags to see if everything is still there. He distinctly remembers Hermes being the god of thieves, and he doesn't like the way some of the kids in the cabin are looking at him, mischievous smirks on their faces. 

Clothes? Check. Emergency fund money? Check. Picture of his mom where she actually looks kind of normal? Check. Sketchbooks with vivid images of his nightmares and notebooks with words of terror scribbled manically on every page? Also check. Gift bag from his Fairy God Aquarium Mother? Check again. Extra gift bag-

Wait. 

Extra? 

There is indeed an extra bag of blue sour straws that has somehow found its way into his backpack, tied off neatly with a blue ribbon and another small card dangling off it. He opens it and is greeted by a drawing of a green and red sea monster he's not familiar with. More of that neat, tiny scrawl is present next to the drawing. 

You got this, little sea serpent! Also, I find that feeding insufferable people or annoying horsemen to the unfathomable horrors lurking in the depths of the sea is an effective way of shutting them up! :) Should you ask :)) I have many :))). 

Thanks Aquarium Lady. 

Who, now that he thinks about it, is also probably, maybe, a god just like Mr. D. 

Yay? Yikes?

How is one supposed to feel about a Fairy God Aquarium Mother who's actually a god? 

With a sigh, he tucks away his belongings, trying to ignore the stares and whispers of his cabin mates. 

"Come on," Annabeth tells him when he stands up again. "I'll show you where the dining pavilion is." 

"I've already seen everything else."

She grabs his wrist, dragging him out of the door as he protests. 

"Jackson, you have to do better than that," she says once they're outside. 

She rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath. "I can't believe I actually thought you were the one." 

"What's your problem?" He feels the anger from earlier returning with a vengeance as he yanks his wrist out of her grasp. "You've been on my case since I got here. All because I got into a couple fights-"

"Don't talk like that! Do you know how many of us wish we'd had your chance? To finally be able to do something with all of our training instead of wallowing around camp all day for years?" 

Percy stares at her in disbelief. "You mean you want the chance to die a horrible death?"

"To fight the minotaur! What do you think we train for?" 

"Survival, I would think," he says, still highly confused by her desire to fight Asterion. "I think the idea might be to know how to defend yourself in the worst case scenario. Not, you know, go and find the danger just because." 

Annabeth lets out a frustrated sound. "You don't get it. It's not about the danger. It's about glory and claiming your place in history." 

"The glory," he repeats. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." 

Annabeth stares at him as if he's lost his mind, which is funny considering he thinks he may have finally found someone slightly crazier than him. "It's an honor to fight, to go on a quest for the gods and get the recognition for our deeds. Everything we do brings honor to our parents' names."

"Our parents."

"Yes."

"You know, I always wanted to believe the lie that he disappeared or died or something. I still kind of want to." 

"Your dad isn't dead, Percy. He's-"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, a god, supposedly. Kind of obvious with the whole 'demigod' label. But considering he's never bothered to show his face, you can see how that might be hard to believe. And how I don't really care about what he wants or his honor." 

Because if Percy's father is a god, an actual god, why has he stayed away this whole time? Why did he never show up to help when Percy needed it? When his mother needed it? When he was left with no one but Gabe? 

"Don't say that! You don't know what you're talking about." 

"So who's your parent then?" he asks. 

"Athena, of course," she says with a proud smirk. 

Yeah, that tracks. But he's pretty sure she's inherited all of the smarts and none of the wisdom from the goddess because if she were wise, she would take a hint and leave him alone. 

"And how often does the oh so great Athena reach out to you?" 

"The gods don't really come down here that often-"

"Exactly my point." 

"They're gods, Percy. They can't be here all the time. There are rules that have to be followed." 

"They're supposed to be our parents, too, Annabeth. And what, they just- they just make us and then disappear and leave us all alone down here until we're needed for some stupid "quest" thing or whatever? They just sit there and watch all the terrible things that happen to us and do nothing to help?" 

Annabeth shakes her head. "It's not that simple."

He's about to fire back that it really is that simple. That if the gods wanted to make so many kids, they least they could do is pay attention to them, or actually claim all the unclaimed kids so the Hermes cabin stops looking like a FEMA shelter. The least his own father could have done was check up on him after his mom died. Before his mom died, even. 

But a deep voice interrupts him before he can. 

"Well, well, what do we have here? A newbie!" 

Percy whirls around to face the newcomer. The same large boy from the cabin with barbed wire strolls up to him. Three other equally large kids flank him, two boys and a girl who look just as mean as him. 

"Eric," Annabeth sighs, "why don't you go and polish your shield or something? As you can see, we're busy here." 

"Oh shut up, Princess," one of the girls says, "we weren't talking to you. Shouldn't you be making plans for the game you're going to lose Friday night?" 

"Erre es korakas!" Annabeth growls. Go to the crows, he translates effortlessly. "You don't stand a chance!"

He assumes this is about the capture the flag game Chiron told him about. Why they're taking a game so seriously he can't begin to understand. But clearly there's some bad blood between Annabeth and these campers. 

"We'll pulverize you," the largest boy says, though the brief unsure look that crosses his face at the statement tells Percy he might not be able to follow through with his declaration. He wouldn't be surprised; in his experience boys like the one in front of him tended to make themselves seem stronger and more important than they actually are. The boy turns his attention back to Percy, taking a step towards him. "I'll ask again. Who's the little runt we have here?"

"Percy Jackson, meet Eric, Son of Ares," Annabeth says, lips pressed into a thin line. 

Percy blinks. "Ares. The war god, Ares." Well now the attitude makes sense, at least. 

"You got a problem with that?" Eric demands, a sneer on his face as he takes another step forward. It takes everything in Percy to not back away from Eric. Part of him knows that as the new kid, he should stand his ground and not look like a coward. The other part of him, his animal brain, sees the much larger Eric for the threat he is and wants nothing more than to run away. 

"No," he says, proud that he keeps his voice from shaking. "Just explains the lack of intelligence." 

For a moment Percy is sure that Eric is going to punch his lights out. That all four of them are going to jump him and send him right back to the infirmary he escaped not too long ago. Lee would be both upset at how he ended up there and pleased that he would be stuck there and have to rest like he originally wanted him to. Eric's face turns red with rage, and Percy braces himself for the blow that is surely coming. 

But then Eric takes a deep breath and grins, eyes shining with malice. 

"We got an initiation ceremony for newbies," he grins. "Come on, I'll show you." 

"Eric-" Annabeth tried to say.

"Stay out of it, wise girl." 

Annabeth hesitates, looking between him and the Ares campers. But ultimately she backs off with a sigh, barely sparing him a glance. 

Before Percy could process what was happening, Eric has him by the beck and is dragging him towards a cinderblock building that he assumes houses the restrooms. The panic sets in immediately, raw and terrible. He's kicking and clawing at the boy in a desperate attempt to break free, but Eric's grip is unshakeable. The other Ares campers around them are laughing and jeering at him. A few times he feels one of them land a sharp kick to one of his legs. 

He's dragged into the bathroom and towards the side with the line of stalls. 

Percy is forced to his knees in front of one of the toilets, a heavy hand on the back of his head and neck forcing his face towards the nasty water in the bowl. 

The second his knees touch the hard floor beneath him, held in place and not able to move, his body goes rigid. 

Because he's no longer in the communal bathroom at Camp Half-Blood, he's back at the apartment in New York with Gabe, and Gabe is going to hurt him and he can't get away. 

He can't get away. 

The ground begins to tremble, softly at first, until what feels like a minor earthquake causes the stall doors to bang noisily and objects to fall off shelves. The kids holding him down nearly lose their balance at the sudden force of the movement. 

He can't breathe. He needs out. He needs to get away. 

He needs-

There's a sudden rushing in his ears and tugging sensation in his gut as water erupts from the toilets and the pipes, arching upward as four separate tendrils launch themselves at each of the Ares campers. Two of them are thrown clear out of the bathroom, one slams into the wall. Eric manages to stay in place, but he's soaked. He can hear their enraged shouts as he quickly scrambles out of the stall and into the nearest corner, a choked sob escaping him. 

In another corner of the room he can see Annabeth still standing there, soaked and watching him wide, calculating eyes. 

Eric goes to move towards him, but before he can take a step two people run into the room, pointing at the two of them. 

"What the fuck is going on in here!?" The dark haired girl from earlier stomps into the bathroom, pushing the other campers out of her way.

"Clarisse- we can explain!" Eric starts, suddenly looking a lot less confident than he had before. 

Clarisse's eyes flit about the room, taking in the scene before her. Eventually they land on Percy. 

He must be a sight, sobbing and hyperventilating in the corner of the communal bathroom the way he is. His arms have instinctively come up to shield his head and legs are pulled closely to his chest. 

It's not safe. It's not safe. It's not safe-

Something in her eyes seems to soften as she looks at Percy, the harsh façade she puts on like the rest of the Ares kids cracking ever so slightly. She whirls back around to face her brothers and sister, gesturing in his direction. "Explain yourselves. Now." 

"Clarisse, we were just-

"It was just a prank! We didn't mean anything by it-

It quickly turns into a screaming matching that does nothing to ease the absolute terror he is feeling. 

He blinks and suddenly a pretty girl with long black hair and bright blue eyes is kneeling in front of him. "It's alright-" she begins to say, slowly reaching out towards him. But all Percy can process in the moment is that hands that he doesn't know are about to touch him. 

He's on his feet in an instant, barreling past her and nearly knocking her over as he goes. 

He doesn't look where he's going, just takes off towards the trees. Away from the bathrooms and everyone else who had congregated there. 

He runs. 

He hears Luke calling out after him. The older boy must have been drawn out of the cabin by all the commotion. In his periphery he can just make out what he thinks is Lee jogging over from the direction of the archery range. More kids have been summoned by the scuffle and all the shouting, peeking out of cabins or heading over to see what all the commotion is about. 

There's more shouting, and the sound of footsteps behind him. 

But he doesn't stop. He can't stop. 

They'll catch him if he stops. 

He keeps running. 

*

Percy runs until his legs can't physically go any farther, until his lungs burn and his heart is racing so fast he thinks he may pass out. He has no idea where he is. It probably wasn't a good idea to have taken off in a random direction when he barely knows the camp ground and the forest that surrounds it all. But sometimes his body goes on autopilot until his brain can catch up. 

His foot catches on a tree root, sending him sprawling to the ground. 

He lays there for a moment, panting. Maybe he can just lay here until whatever these woods are apparently stocked with comes to eat him? Just put him out of his misery already.

He sighs. That's a shitty way to go, though. He could at least find a more painless method. 

With a groan, Percy starts looking around and, just as he expected, he's lost. He should probably find a spot that's slightly more sheltered to rest in instead of laying on the forest floor trying to become one with the dirt. 

He sees a hollowed out tree next to him. 

Good enough. 

Too tired to fathom standing up, he crawls inside, collapsing back against the bark. He draws his legs to his chest, burying his face in his knees as he tries to slow his breathing. 

He's not sure how long he sits there, curled up in a ball waiting for the moment someone finds him. But eventually he hears soft footsteps crunching in the leaves. He hears someone call out his name a few times. Buzzing with anxiety, Percy waits for the person to show themselves. He bets it's Chiron or Mr. D who are going to be mad and throw him out of camp. Or another camper who's going to punch him for being annoying or something. 

Percy tenses as they draw closer, the fear building once more. 

But when they step into his line of sight, it's just Luke. 

He must make some kind of loud sound because Luke's head whips around in his direction. The older boy looks momentarily confused before he zeroes on Percy's hiding spot. Which...isn't that great of a hiding spot, actually. It's a pretty big hole in the tree. 

Luke's shoulders sag in relief as he jogs in Percy's direction. 

"Hey kid," Luke says softly, crouching down in front of his hiding spot. "Everyone's been looking for you." 

"M'sorry for running!" he says immediately as he hugs himself tighter, barely able to meet the counselor's gaze without flinching. 

The older boy's eyes soften. "That's alright. You've had a rough day. I don't blame you for taking off. I probably would have done the same thing." 

Percy sniffs. "So you're....not mad?"

"Nah. Just glad you're safe," Luke assures him. "Are you hurt?"

Percy shakes his head. "N-No." 

He tripped a few times and he's pretty sure he'll wake up with bruises in many of the spots Lee just healed. His ankle is also killing him, but he's had plenty of worse pains in his life. It'll pass in a few days. 

"Good," Luke says, relieved. He gestures to the open space next to Percy. "Mind if I join you?" 

Percy eyes him warily, wondering why Luke hasn't just yanked him out of hiding spot to punish him already. But the older boy shows no sign of being upset, no sign of an impending blow coming his way. He scoots over a bit to make some room. Luke gets all the way on the ground, crawling into his hidey hole with him and sitting down with a soft sigh. 

"So, this is a cozy spot you found out here."

"I tripped and didn't have it in me to get up, so I gave up and crawled in here." 

"It's still a nice spot." 

"A nice spot to rot in and become one with nature."

"Nope!" Luke says cheerfully. "That's unfortunately not allowed at camp. Though visiting here periodically, with notice about when you're leaving and when you're coming back, is acceptable." 

"Fine." 

Percy gazes out in the trees. A soft breeze rustles the leaves on the ground, and he thinks he sees some kind of animal slink by in the brush a few feet away from them. The only sounds are the chirping of birds and the crickets that have decided to come out and start their song early. 

"Is Annabeth always like that? Is the Ares cabin always like that?" Percy asks after a while. 

Luke grimaces. "Not all of the Ares kids are like that. I'm sure Clarisse won't let Eric get away with it. She can be....somewhat unpleasant, I'll admit. And she'll overlook mild acts of hazing and roughing up new campers. But she doesn't let it go that far." 

He briefly saw Clarisse before his mad dash away from the chaos earlier. But he doesn't know how much faith he wants to have about the idea of Eric and his goons actually being punished for this. 

"And Annabeth?" he presses. 

Luke sighs. "Annabeth is complicated. She's eager for a chance to leave camp and prove her worth. She haunts every new camper who shows up just in case they happen to be the one." Luke shakes his head. "I'll tell her to lay off you a little bit. It can be....a bit much, I'm sure." 

"Okay," he mumbles. "Thanks." 

They sit in silence for a moment longer, Percy basking in the quiet and lack of people. 

So of course, Luke has to ruin it. 

"As much as I'm enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, I think we should head back. It's time for dinner." Luke crawls out from the tree and rises to his feet. 

"Do I have to?" Percy sighs, already dreading what waits for him when he returns. He also crawls out of the tree and forces himself to stand on shaky legs anyway. 

"No offense, but you look like you haven't had a decent meal in days. And as your head counselor it's my job to look after you and make sure that you," he nudges Percy gently, "are properly taken care of." 

"Why do you care so much? I'm not even your brother. Don't you have actual siblings to worry about?" 

"All we demigods have is each other," Luke says as he leans down and proceeds to brush off the dirt that had accumulated on him, giving him another thorough look over for any signs of injuries despite his earlier assurance that he's fine. "If we don't look out for one another, who will? Besides, like I said, you're in my cabin and I'm going to look out for you just like I would for one of my siblings." 

Percy doesn't know what to say to that. 

Luke ruffles his hair affectionately. 

"You don't even have to eat in the pavilion if you don't want to. We can find you a spot somewhere else. But you do have to come out of the woods before it gets darker. I don't want anything to happen to you out there." 

Percy lets out a final sniffle, scrubbing at his face one last time. "Okay," he agrees softly. 

"Come on, then." Luke reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers in invitation. 

Percy wrinkles his nose.

He's twelve, he's not a baby. He doesn't need to hold someone's hand while he walks because he's upset. 

He takes Luke's hand anyway. 

*

The walk to the dining pavilion is awkward. 

Word of the incident in the bathroom had spread like wildfire, and now he was once again the main topic of conversation. Luke glares at anyone who stares too long or gets too close, but Percy can still feel all the eyes, the judgement. It makes his skin crawl. He's led over to where two tables are shoved together to accommodate the number of kids who reside in Hermes' cabin. 

They walk past Annabeth and her siblings on the way, all of them with the same gray eyes. She looks up as they pass, and for a moment Percy swears he sees a hint of shame and embarrassment on her face. But then she quickly schools her expression and goes back to whatever conversation she was having beforehand, acting as if she never saw him. 

"Welcome to the Hermes table," Luke says as he gestures to an empty spot. Percy slinks into the seat, briefly glancing at his cabin mates. Some are ignoring him, too wrapped up in their own conversations. Some are looking his way in a mixture of wariness, concern, and pity. 

He hates it. 

"Why are we only allowed to sit at the table with people from our cabin?" Percy asks. 

Luke shrugs. "I don't understand a lot of it, quite frankly. It's just how it's always been. It's not a hard and fast rule, though. I think Chiron's given up over the years, and no ones been smote for sitting at another god's table.....yet!" 

That doesn't fill him with confidence. 

The tables have platters of food, far more food than Percy is used to seeing and having access too. Around him, no one hesitates to pile food on their plates, seemingly used to this. Percy stares at all uneasily

Luke, watching the way Percy avoids making a plate of his own, leans in a little closer. 

"The plates are enchanted, you know. If there's nothing here you like, you can just "order" something else." 

Enchanted plates? How Harry Potter of them. 

Percy grimaces and shakes his head. "I'm not really hungry." 

That's not entirely true. He's pretty sure he hasn't eaten much of anything since he got to camp. A familiar hunger gnaws at him, and for a moment he's tempted to change his mind. But he can't convince himself to do it. 

Luke frowns. "You haven't eaten all day, Percy," he scolds. "You have to eat."

He shrugs. "I'm good." 

Luke studies him for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion. With a deep inhale, Luke nods to himself before snatching the plate that sits in front of Percy. Against his will, Luke proceeds to fix a plate for him as Percy watches in utter dismay. It's sat back down with a pointed look directed his way. "You're gonna eat at least some of that," Luke tells him, pointing a fork at him for emphasis. "But first, we should probably head up and give our offerings." 

Percy blinks. "An offering..."

Luke sighs. "Yeah, a show of appreciation and respect for the gods and everything they do for us." 

"Which is....?" 

Luke lets out a surprised laugh. "Don't say that too loudly," he warns, though Percy can tell by the smirk on his face that Luke has a similar opinion. "Come on." 

He follows Luke to the hearth. A line of other campers are already there, dropping bits of meat or vegetables from their plates into the flames. Beside him, Luke scrapes a bit of his potatoes off the plate and lets them fall in. "Hermes," he mumbles half-heartedly. 

"Do they actually like the smell of burnt macaroni and cheese?" Percy asks incredulously. 

"It's a show of respect. Not so much the smell, but the offering itself," Luke explains. 

"And who exactly am I supposed to make an offering to? You guys said you make an offering to your parents and I don't know who my dad is."

Luke shrugs. "Make one to Hermes then." The older boy grimaces as he says this, as if his father's name leaves a bad taste in this mouth. "Or don't do it at all. Some of us just throw food into the flames to keep up appearances." 

Luke turns and heads back to the table. 

Percy looks down into the flames for a long moment. Part of him doesn't feel like doing this, but with all the attention he's had since he woke up, he doesn't want to do anything that's going to make people stare more. He settles for picking up his least favorite thing from the plate and tossing it in. 

"I hate you," he whispers, tossing in another piece of the offensive vegetable into the flame for good measure. 

"You left, and I hate you." 

As he expects, there's no response. No sign that this mystery sperm donor of his has even heard his prayer. 

Whatever. 

Percy makes to go back to the Hermes table and force himself to eat at least some of the food Luke had forced onto his plate, but pauses as a sudden idea strikes him. 

Just to be spiteful, he marches back up to the flames. He plucks a few grapes off his plate and drops them in. "Mr. D seems pretty cool though. Thanks for the cup. And uh, Hermes I guess. Sorry your cabin is such a nightmare......please tell your kids to not steal my stuff." 

He swears he hears the soft sound of amused laughter echoing around him as he heads back to the Hermes table. 

Two more boys have joined the table when Percy comes back. They look so similar that Percy thinks they must be twins. But the closer he inspects them, the easier he can spot the subtle differences between the two of them. They have matching grins that promise mischief will follow wherever they go.

"Hey!" they greet at the same time, smiling at Percy all friendly. He's not sure if he should trust it, or if this is some ploy to lull him into a false sense of security before they rob him blind or play a prank on him. 

"My younger brothers. Travis, and Connor," Luke introduces. 

"Hey." He gives a shy little wave back.

"We've heard a lot about it," the one Luke identified as Connor says. "Did you really blast Eric and his cronies with toilet water?"

"Wish I could have seen it," Travis cackles. 

"Uh, I don't think the plumbing exploding was my fault. It's probably just old pipes?" It sounds fake even to his own ears. 

"How did you do it?" they ask as if he hadn't just said he had no idea what happened two seconds ago. 

Percy shrugs. "I really don't know. It's probably just faulty plumbing, guys."

"Sure, sure. We definitely believe you, Percy." Their tone says they do not believe him in the slightest. And honestly, Percy isn't sure what to think or believe either. 

The maybe-twins glance at each other again, sharing a look before turning back to Percy once more. "But even if you really didn't blast them with toilet water. It's okay, we took care of it." 

Luke freezes mid bite, eyeing them suspiciously. "And what do you mean by that?" he asks his brothers. 

Travis leans across the table, a grin on his face as he whispers, "We may have filled the Ares cabin with scorpions." 

Beside him, Luke lets out a resigned groan, burying his face in his hands. 

"I...what." 

"Scorpions. The cabin is full of them. Get ready for all the yelling when they finally head back after dinner," Connor says, a matching grin on his face. 

"But where did you get that many scorpions?" Percy asks, half curious, half disturbed. 

"We have our ways." 

"But don't worry! They're not super deadly-"

"And there's worse things we could have filled their cabin with." 

"Yeah, exactly! So don't worry so much. We got them back for you and no one is going to die."

"Probably," Travis adds as an afterthought. 

Percy stares at the two sons of Hermes completely bewildered by their tale. They filled the Ares cabin with scorpions to get back at them for being mean to him? To get back at them on Percy's behalf when he hadn't even asked? It's a strange concept to think about; someone concerned enough about the fact that people were jerks to him to obtain an unholy amount of stinging arachnid creatures and release them into the wild of their house. 

"Also, sorry about your stuff."

"My stuff?"

"Don't worry, don't worry!" Connor says with a wave of his hand, "it's all right back where it should be. We always give it back, anyway. Usually. Sometimes."

"Unless it's really, really cool." 

If these two hadn't just defended his honor via scorpion, and if he wasn't completely exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically, he might be more angry about the fact that they went through his stuff.  

Luke clears his throat, giving the two boys a disapproving look before turning to Percy. "My siblings enjoy playing pranks on the newbies. Usually harmless, and I always make sure they return the important things," he assures him. "They won't touch your things again. Right?"

Travis and Connor give Luke a mock salute at the same time. "Sir, yes sir," they say in unison, causing Luke to roll his eyes. Though his expression quickly softens and there's a fond smile he can't hide on his lips. "Gremlins. The both of you." 

For the second time since he woke up in this place, Percy feels a deep longing in his chest. 

He can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that. 

He looks over at the table where the Apollo cabin sits and sees Lee laughing and joking with his host of siblings. Snuggled into his side is a boy a few years younger than Percy. At other tables, siblings and friends laugh and joke.

He can't remember ever having any of this, if he's being honest. Sure he has Grover now, but never the familial bonds and relationships he sees happening around him. Percy thinks back to what Luke said when he found him hiding in the tree just twenty or so minutes earlier. 

He wonders if any of that is actually true, or if Luke was just trying to convince him to come out of hiding so he could finally stop wasting time searching for him. 

It wouldn't surprise him if it was all a lie. People loved to do that; lie to get you to trust them. 

He spends the rest of dinner poking at his food and organizing it by type, size, and color. He makes it through the fruit and a few bites of macaroni and cheese before calling it quits. 

Percy pretends not to notice the worried gazes of Luke, Travis, and Connor as he pushes his plate away. 

_____________

There is indeed a lot of screaming and yelling as the camp settles down for the night. 

It's quite the ordeal, capturing all the scorpions and removing them from the Ares cabin. Chiron gives the Stolls a harsh lecture, which Percy finds hilarious. Where was Chiron when he was being dragged across the camp by older kids and having his head forced into a toilet? Too busy with his master archery class, he guesses. Luke said Clarisse would take care of it, but it would still be nice if the actual adults in charge of camp would have had something to say about it. 

However he did notice Clarisse talking to Mr. D after dinner, so maybe one of them might actually be aware of what's going on. 

Percy lays there in the dark staring up at the ceiling, the quiet snores and faint mumbles of sleep talk the only sound. 

Luke has warned him not to go outside after dark. There are harpies, apparently, that fly around at night to make sure no one is where they're not supposed to be after dark. Sounds a little extreme to him, but it's a risk he's willing to take eventually. He's quite fond of night walks, and he feels like sitting beside the lake at night by himself sounds amazing. 

But tonight, he lays quietly in his sleeping bag, mind racing as he goes over the events of the day. 

Today sucked. He kind of wants to go home, as awful as that sounds. Home is predictable, home is normal, home is not filled with creatures from Greek mythology and deadly quests that he had convinced himself wasn't real for so long. Home is terrible and painful, but it's at least terrible and painful in a way he knows. 

His head hurts terribly, the lingering concussion and the frequency of him spacing out today making it worse. His headaches always got worse the more he saw things. 

He turns on his side with a quiet groan. He just wants his mind to turn off for once. He wants to close his eyes and not think anymore about the shitshow that was today. 

A familiar itch rises inside of him, one he's been trying to ignore since he laid down for bed. He knows he'll never get to sleep unless he can get it all out. 

As quietly as he can manage, he fishes out one of his notebooks and a pen from his bag and scooches down until the material is covering his head. He switches on the small flashlight he found earlier and angling it so he can see the page. 

He writes, his hand practically moving of its own accord. 

The weird words that had popped into his head earlier, the strange thing he saw in the attic, random things that keep flashing in his mind as he thinks about everything he sees; he writes it all down. His hand flies across the page and before he knows it four pages have been filled with words he doesn't understand and frantically drawn images of things he hasn't seen before. 

Percy is so lost in his work that he doesn't hear the quiet footsteps approaching, and doesn't notice the tall figure standing over him until there's a soft thump next to him. 

He jolts back to the present moment, poking his head out from his covers and looking around in a panic. But to his relief, it's not a monster, or Gabe, or anyone else scary standing there. It's just Luke, dressed in his pajamas, hair mussed from his pillow. He's dropped another sleeping bag next to Percy's. 

"Scooch," Luke orders softly, lightly shoving him over as he begins to roll out his sleeping bag. 

"Luke? What are you doing?" he says a little too loudly. 

"Shh!" the older boy holds a finger to his lips. "Just setting up my stuff." He sinks down onto the ground with a quiet grunt when he's finished, flopping onto his back. 

"But you have a bed," Percy whispers in confusion. 

"I know. But there's nothing like a good slumber party on the floor every now and then," he laughs softly, turning over on his side to face Percy. He leans closer, voice becoming even quieter as he dramatically looks around like he expects someone to be listening in. "Besides, I'm next to Chris and he snores like a beast. I'm surprised he doesn't inhale his blankets when he sleeps. A sound that horrendous can't be healthy!"

Percy stifles a startled giggle with his hand. 

"Whatever. Enjoy your time down here on the cold, hard floor, then I guess," Percy teases before he ducks back into his sleeping bag to continue scribbling his jumbled thoughts down. 

The words are written in a long forgotten script. Scholars call it "Luwian", the Trojan's just called their dialect the language of the people. Staying true to his ancient Anatolian roots, these languages come just as naturally to him as Ancient Greek did.  Also, it's not like strange ancient people you meet in your dreams suddenly know English. Your options are to stand there looking dumb or to figure out what they're saying. 

All Percy knows is that it's a dead language that no one besides him at this camp should be able to read and understand. He should probably make more of an effort to hide the manic ramblings written in Ancient Greek and Latin in case people rifle through his bags again when he's not here. 

The sleeping bag is suddenly tugged back down and Percy glares at the grinning face of Luke. 

"Can I help you?" he asks in mild annoyance. 

"What are you still doing awake, kid?"

Percy shrugs. "Can't sleep." 

"The first night- well first real night in camp for you I suppose, is always the hardest," Luke continues.

"I guess." 

"Is it about earlier?

"No." 

"I know we just met, but I am your head counselor. If you need to talk about it-

"I said no." 

"Fair enough," Luke shrugs, though Percy can still see the concern etched on his face. "Just thought I'd offer. And the offer still stands if you change your mind later." 

Percy is quiet for a moment, eyes searching Luke's face for any hint of a lie, of teasing, of anything suspicious. But all Percy sees is genuine concern and kindess directed his way. It's all....so strange. 

"I have dreams, sometimes." The words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. "Bad dreams. I don't like to sleep." He's not sure why he's telling Luke this. He'd shared a room with Grover for weeks before confiding in him about even the smallest things. "I can't make them stop."

Luke listens patiently until Percy's done, a look of gentle understanding on his face. 

"Demigods have bad dreams. They're not fun, but you get used to them after a while," Luke tells him. 

Percy chews at his bottom lip nervously. He doesn't think the dreams he has and the dreams other demigods have are the same. But he also doesn't want to say too much to Luke, lest he find out how much a mess Percy is. How crazy he is. Not when he's been so nice to him today. 

"Hey," Luke pokes him to get his attention. "You need sleep. You're exhausted. And Lee also mentioned you're still not feeling great and should be getting as much rest as possible."

Dammit, Lee. When did he even talk to Luke? 

"But what if they get really bad again?" He winces at how pathetic and whiny he sounds. He hates the way his brain has seemingly decided that Luke is an okay person to confide in. 

Luke is quiet for a moment before he answers. "Then I'll wake you up." 

"But-"

"But nothing," he says firmly in that older brother tone of his. He reaches out and plucks the notebook out of Percy's hands despite his quiet protests and grabby hands. "You can finish writing in the morning. For now, you need to sleep." 

"Fine," Percy huffs. 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, both of them on their sides facing each other. Luke has his eyes closed, his breathing is steady, but Percy can tell the older boy is still awake. 

"Luke?"

"Hm?" he says immediately. 

"You'll really really stay and wake me up if they get bad?" 

"Really really," he says sincerely with a soft laugh. "I promise." 

"Okay." 

He snuggles down into his blankets with a quiet sigh, notebook lying forgotten on the floor above his head as the exhaustion finally catches up with him. His eyes flutter closed.

Percy falls asleep to the gentle sound of Luke humming an unfamiliar tune. 

He doesn't dream that night. 

Chapter Text

Percy has been awake for exactly fourteen minutes and is barely coherent as he stumbles his way to the dining pavilion. He's already tripped over his own feet twice. The rest of the Hermes cabin has already left for breakfast, but Luke had let him sleep in a bit longer. He's trying exceptionally hard to be optimistic about what the day ahead of him holds. He once heard some hippie woo-woo person talking about manifestation and thinking positive thoughts to influence the universe and have good luck. 

His brief trial of optimism ends abruptly when he sees Annabeth marching towards him, a look of steely determination on her face. 

Percy hasn't spoken directly to Annabeth since the incident in the bathrooms yesterday. He'd seen her at dinner, but she hadn't seemed keen on speaking with him. Which is fair, he supposes. He also might not want to speak to the Person who drenched him in gallons of filthy toilet water. 

"Look, Annabeth. I'm sorry about the toilets, okay? It wasn't my fault," he says before she gets the chance to speak, hoping to smooth whatever argument is about to erupt before it begins. 

"Whatever."

"I'm serious! I don't know what happened!"

She looks at him skeptically, and feelings of doubt begin to creep in. Because whose fault could it have been, if not Percy's? Plumbing doesn't explode like that for no reason. It certainly doesn't send targeted blasts of water at people. No. The water had responded to him, to his fear and desperation to escape. Just like it had responded to his anger at Nancy all those weeks ago in front of the museum. And the shaking- he hadn't thought much of it at the time. Maybe he tried to brush it off as a result of the exploding pipes. But the earth beneath him had been shaking enough to throw people off their feet and knock things over. 

He caused it. 

And that thought terrifies him. 

"Annabeth..." he starts, not knowing what to say or how to make this better. 

"Whatever," she says again, effectively cutting him off as she crosses her arms. "That's not what I'm here to talk about anyway."

Percy blinks, feeling a mixture of relief that this wasn't going to be a fight and trepidation at what the girl actually wanted to discuss . "Then what do you want?" 

"You need to talk to the Oracle."

"Who?"

"Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron." 

He sighs deeply, staring past Annabeth and at the lake, wondering what mockumentary he has been cast in against his will. Percy longs for the day someone will give him a straight answer about anything in this place. 

He sees a group of girls hanging out around the pier, staring back at him. They wave excitedly, he automatically waves back. 

Annabeth scoffs. "Please don't encourage the naiads. They're all terrible flirts." 

"I'm just being polite. You could try that once in a while. Who knows? You might even like it." 

Annabeth glares at him in response and he stares right back. Go head, tell him he's wrong. He's not in the mood for this. The more he has encounters like this, the more he considers packing his things and trying his luck out on the streets. He must accidentally say his inner thoughts out loud because Annabeth responds to them. 

"You could, but it would be suicide. And you would have to get Chiron or Mr. D's permission. But they wouldn't give you permission until the end of the summer session unless..."

"Unless?" he asks impatiently. 

"Unless you're given a quest. But that hasn't happened in a long time. And the last time it was...well.." she trails off uncomfortably. Must not have gone well for whoever went. 

"Well, I'm not looking to go on a "quest" anytime soon, so I guess that means I'm stuck here for forever." 

Annabeth shrugs. "It depends. Some of us only stay for the summer. If you're a child of Demeter or Aphrodite for example, you're probably not that powerful. The monsters wouldn't notice you as much, so you could live in the mortal world with a few months of training each year." 

Percy stares at her in utter confusion at that statement. Does Annabeth not realize she's talking about actual gods? Olympian goddesses, at that? He could only imagine that in ancient times when the gods featured far more prominently than they do now in everyday life, as actual deities venerated my the masses and not reduced to classical mythology, a comment like that might have spelled the end of the daughter of Athena. Are Demeter and Aphrodite not worthy of the same praise as her own mother? 

He has no real love of the gods himself. He does not intend to ever fall on his knees and become a devout worshipper of any of them. But even he is not so stupid as to underestimate them just because of the domains they hold. 

"I mean, I wouldn't call kids of the goddess who could cause mass famine and death, or the goddess of one of the most powerful emotions that has literally caused centuries of war and destruction at times, not that powerful. Aphrodite is literally one of the most ancient goddesses in the pantheon, if you think about it. It feels a little rude.....and incorrect to say their kids aren't powerful. But you do you." 

Annabeth pulls a face, and Percy can tell she's not used to having people challenge her opinion on things. It must be exhausting, believing you know everything and constantly having to prove that you're right. 

"Well wait until you meet some of their kids. You might just change your mind," she sneers, eyes drifting over a group of campers also making their way to the dining pavilion. The oldest one is the pretty girl with long black hair that he vaguely remembers from the bathrooms yesterday. She's chatting animatedly with what Percy assumes must be some of her siblings. All of them unnaturally pretty with inviting smiles and an aura that is hard to ignore. 

The black haired girl catches his gaze and gives him a cheerful wave as they continue on their way. 

Aphrodite, he thinks. They must be. 

Percy can see how one might assume that they are less of a threat; softer looking, a stronger focus on their appearance despite the fact that running around camp all day might undo their hard work. But some of the prettiest things in nature tend to be the most deadly. The unsuspecting find this out the hard way. 

"So, that thing you wanted to talk to me about," he starts, trying to get them back on track before Annabeth talks too loudly and gets them both smote. "Does all of this have something to do with the summer solstice thing you were asking me about when I was in the infirmary?" She had been so insistent, from what he can recall. If she's suddenly so eager to go on a quest, it has to be about the summer solstice. Even Chiron and Grover seemed concerned about it that night when he listened in on their conversation. 

Annabeth's eyes light up. "Aha! So you do know something!" she exclaims. 

Percy shrugs. "Well, not really-"

The eagle and the horse speed towards each other on a beach. Lightning flashes in the sky and the earth trembles beneath his feet. 

"Give it back!" a voice roars.

"But I did overhear Grover and Chiron talking about it back at school. Grover mentioned something about the solstice deadline, whatever that means. Wish I knew, but I don't think I can help." 

Annabeth clenches her fists in frustration. "Yeah, well, I wish I knew too. Chiron and the satyrs know something, but they won't tell me. Something is really wrong on Olympus. Everything seemed fine the last time I was there, but clearly something went wrong during their council meeting." 

"You've been to Olympus?" he asks, not being able to fathom actually entering the home of the gods he had tried so hard not to believe in. He can think of about thirty places he would rather go than Olympus, including but not limited to the crater of an active volcano or bungee jumping off a tall bridge over a pool of piranhas with a faulty safety cord. 

"Some of us year-rounders-- like me, Luke, and Clarisse, we get to take a field trip to Olympus during the winter solstice. It's when they hold their annual council meeting. But right after we came back everything went wrong. The weather has been crazy, people have been caught in the crossfire and died. I've overheard the satyrs talking about something being stolen, but I can't be sure." 

She looks at Percy. 

"I thought that we might be able to work together. When you showed up I was hoping- well, I mean Athena can get along with most people, rivalries aside. I just thought that if you actually knew something we might be able to do something." Annabeth looks at Percy, steely determination in her eyes. "I have to get a quest. I'm not too young! If Chiron would just tell me what needs to be done-"

"Have you considered he's not telling you for a reason?" Percy asks. "That maybe it's too dangerous for you to be involved in? You're so obsessed with getting a quest, even though you just said we'll probably die outside of this camp." 

"Just shut up Jackson! You don't understand. You keep saying how stupid these quests are, but one day you'll see how important they can be. How much it matters." She fixes him with a stern look. "I don't know how you're involved in all this, but you are. You need to speak with the Oracle."

"What Oracle?" he asks exasperatedly. She keeps mentioning this stupid oracle, but refuses to give him any context. 

Annabeth looks at him like he's dumb. "The Oracle of Delphi, of course. Apollo's oracle. What other oracle would I be talking about?" 

Percy stares. 

And stares some more. 

Annabeth's words play on a loop in his head, his mind having a hard time processing what he just heard. The Oracle of Delphi. The Oracle of Delphi. 

There's no fucking way. 

There's absolutely no way he has found himself in a place where he might have to encounter that thing. 

A startled laugh escapes him, his hand coming up to his mouth in an effort to stifle the sound. 

Cassandra and Teledamus murdered by Clytemnestra; able to see it coming and unable to prevent it. 

A woman burned at the stake for predicting a plague before it happened. 

A man drowning himself in a river. 

A teenager sitting down on the train tracks, watching listlessly as it barrels in her direction. The sound of its blaring horn music to her ears. 

Generation after generation of people screaming-

Percy collapses into full on hysterics at the absurdity of it all. Imagine him, standing before the Oracle of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of the entity he and so many other before him had lived in terror of for centuries. 

She really wants him to speak to Apollo's oracle. 

He would rather die. He will die, someday, just like everyone else before him. Whether by his own hand or some fate he can't avoid, it will catch up to him eventually. Of that much, he's certain.

Whatever quest waits to be spoken by whoever holds the current position as Apollo's oracle, he does not want it. 

In front of him, Annabeth's face is red with outrage. She's staring at him as if he's lost his mind, and maybe he has. It feels like he must have. "There's nothing funny about any of this! How can you laugh when so much is at stake?" she yells.

"Then you go!" he yells back when he's finally able to compose himself. "Go talk to whoever the oracle is and go on your stupid quest. I won't stop you. Just leave me out of it!"

Annabeth looks at him in disgust, as if he's the most ignorant person she's ever met. "I can't believe you. Do you know how many of us want the chance to be like the heroes we read about? You have the chance to go out and stop whatever this is before it gets worse. And you're just-" 

"Hero is just another word for a tragedy," Percy interjects before she can finish. "And I want no part of it. Let the gods figure it out themselves." 

He turns around and rushes back towards the Hermes cabin, slamming the door behind him. He presses his back against the cool bronze, slowly sliding down to the floor. 

Percy takes a few deep calming breaths. His head hurts again. His hands have developed that tremor they do sometimes when he's really not feeling well. His whole body starts to feel weird the more he thinks about the oracle and that stupid quest Annabeth keeps talking about. Why can't she just a take a hint and leave him alone? He doesn't want to be part of this. There's no way this craziness has anything to do with him. 

Liar, his mind whispers. Why else would you be seeing so much? 

*

He doesn't end up going to breakfast. 

Luke brings him a plate of food and sits there with his arms folded until he eats at least a third of it. He's supposed to join everyone else for "cabin activities" after, but just flops down on his sleeping bag in refusal. Luke, surprisingly, doesn't push him. Just urges him to get some rest and come find him if he needs anything. 

He skips lunch too. 

By the time Luke comes to get him for dinner, he's sitting in an empty corner, mumbling under his breath as his hand frantically moves across another page of his sketchbook. His fingers are stained with graphite, papers lay scattered around him. 

Luke freezes when his gaze lands on Percy, expression mortified as he takes in the scene before him. 

"Percy?" He quickly steps into the cabin and shuts the door behind him. Luke crosses the room, kneeling down beside him. "Hey bud," he says softly, "whatcha got there?" 

But he's too focused to stop and answer. He can't will himself to stop

"Hey," he says again, hands grasping Percy's own gently to halt their movements. The older boy pries the sketch book from his shaking, sore hands. His drawing pencil that's been worn down to a stub clatters uselessly to the floor. Luke closes the sketch book, but not before his eyes catch a glimpse of what is on the page. Percy can't even recall what this page was about. His mind had been moving so fast he couldn't keep up. But whatever it is, it must not be good. 

Luke sucks in a breath. "Okay. Alright," he mumbles to himself as if he has no idea what to do about the situation. He runs a frantic hand through his hair before gathering up the rest of Percy's supplies, carefully tucking them away in his bag for him. 

The older boy takes one more deep, calming breath before focusing his attention back on Percy. 

"It's time for dinner. We're gonna head to the pavilion, okay? Take a break from the cabin," Luke tells him, a strained smile on his lips. 

Percy nods numbly, hands still twitching with the urge to do something. "Okay." 

*

Percy doesn't remember much about dinner, other than being squished into Luke's side. Travis and Connor are on his other side. He thinks they try to include him in their conversation, but he's too tired to keep up. 

Another member of the Hermes cabin- Chris, he thinks his name is, snaps at an Ares camper who lingers near their table for too long. 

He blinks and he's back in the cabin he feels like he just left.

There's warmth on his skin, a hand cupping his face. Percy stares into the worried, golden eyes of Lee who offers him a tight smile in return. When did Lee get here? 

He blinks again and Lee is speaking quietly to Luke at the door before turning and exiting the cabin. 

The next thing he knows he's tucked in for bed. In an actual bed this time, not his sleeping bag. Luke sleeps on the floor again though, next to Percy.  

He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning, jolting back to awareness at the slightest sound or movement. Luke is always there, always awake and watching despite the obvious exhaustion on his face. 

At some point something he can't remember scares him so much he shoots up in bed, eyes wild, nearly hyperventilating. 

He lashes out at the other boy, fingers digging into his arm as words he can't understand force their way out of him. 

Percy catches the brief look of terror on the other boy's face, the way he nearly jerks his arm out of his grasp in an effort to get away. As quick as it appeared it's gone, replaced once more by the look of a concerned older brother. 

Eventually it stops and Percy can control himself once more. He lets go of Luke, rearing back as if he had been burned. 

"M'sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to." 

Luke swallows, voice shaking ever so slightly as he speaks. "It's alright, Percy," he says quietly, coming towards him with slow careful movements. He lightly pushes Percy back down on the bed, tucking him securely back in. "Just try to go back to sleep, yeah?" 

Eventually the exhaustion wins out once more and he begins to fall into a more lasting sleep. He thinks he hears two other quiet voices near him, talking in urgent whispers with Luke. 

The next morning they don't talk about it, but Percy can feel Luke watching him even more closely than he already had been. 

_______________________

Throughout the rest of the week he manages to get himself up and start following a semblance of a routine. It almost felt like a regular old summer camp at times if you didn't think too hard about the lessons being taught by satyrs and various nature spirits. Or the fact that his Latin teacher was actually half horse and liked to teach archery, or the fact that the rock climbing wall spewed lava periodically. 

For some reason he was sent to Ancient Greek lessons with Annabeth in the mornings. As if Chiron wasn't aware that Percy already knew Ancient Greek. He had scribbled enough in the corners of his Latin assignments at Yancy to clue him in to this fact. 

The Greek lessons had ended rather quickly, however, when he proceeded to have a conversation with her, switching effortlessly between Mycenaean Greek, Koine Greek, Byzantine middle Greek, and modern Greek just because he could. Annabeth seemed to think that he's an idiot, and he wanted the satisfaction of proving her wrong. Just to be a shit he had started annoying her with Minoan. It had the desired effect. She had stomped away, frustrated enough with his antics to leave him alone and give him a free hour or so before he was expected to show up at another activity. 

The rest of the day he's supposed to rotate through said various outdoor activities with the rest of the Hermes cabin. 

The keyword being supposed to. 

Archery? Not really his thing. Foot racing? He's fast when he wants to be, he doesn't need to prove it to anyone else. He absolutely refuses to participate in wrestling. The idea of being that close to someone, of being pinned down with them on top of him- no thank you. Some of the kids try to goad him into doing it anyway, wanting to test the might of the little boy who supposedly defeated the minotaur. 

Clarisse yanks them off him when he's halfway to a panic attack, telling them in no uncertain terms that doing that again would end terribly for them. 

"You alright, punk?" she asks gruffly once they're gone. 

"I, uh. I'm fine," he squeaks, still somewhat nervous around a child of Ares after what happened in the bathroom. 

She regards him coolly for a moment, impassive face betraying nothing. "Hmph. You better start figuring out how to take care of yourself. I can't always be rescuing you." There's no real heat behind the words, but Percy shrinks back a bit anyway. 

And with that she turns around and leaves, going back to making a fool out of the other campers who challenged her to a match. 

He discovers on Tuesday that he excels at canoeing. Because that skill will surely serve him one day when he's running away from monsters. Not. But it gives him the chance to escape out on the water a bit. To clear his mind as he stares down into the blue depths of the cleanest, clearest lake he's ever seen. A few naiads wave to him before dashing beneath the surface of the water to go wherever it is that they go. 

They remind him of those strange ladies he used to see hanging around the ocean as a kid. 

He's almost convinced to join the art class, but a fear of what may happen with a pencil and sketchbook in his hands keeps him at bay. 

For the most part he's....average. He wouldn't classify anything he's good at as particularly heroic in nature. They're not the things people are looking for in him. He can feel everyone, especially the senior campers and counselors trying to figure out whose kid he is. But they're having about as much luck as Percy on that front.

Lee seems to be particularly interested in him, always urging him to come hang out with the other members of the Apollo cabin when he notices Percy slowly sneaking away in the background. He has an inkling of why that is. He hasn't forgotten all those weeks ago when Grover mentioned knowing other kids who "might be like him." He hasn't missed how a few of Apollo's children, like Lee and Will, have blonde hair nearly the same shade as his own. He doesn't know what Grover might have told the older boy while he was unconscious, but if he had shared his suspicions it would make sense why Lee was slowly trying to include him in cabin activities. 

Gods, he hopes it's not true. There's no way that could actually be the case. He really, really hopes it isn't the case. 

Percy likes Lee. Truly. Even if he doesn't like how the boy fusses over him almost as much as Luke. 

But Percy does not like the Apollo cabin.

Just walking past it in the mornings is enough to put him on edge, the sight of the marble likeness of the deity the cabin represents making him nauseous. It always feels like he's being watched whenever he's near it. It's the same feeling he gets when he allows himself to gaze up at the attic window, at the space behind the curtains where something had definitely moved during his tour with Chiron. A feeling of intense wrongness beneath the near permanent layer of the fear. 

Percy still isn't sure about camp, the rather traumatizing introduction he was given perhaps having something to do with his mixed feelings. But he has to admit it isn't terrible. He's always liked being out in nature, and being by the water. He's gotten used to the sounds of monsters in the forest and the way everything is foggy in the morning, the way the smell of the berry fields and orchards becomes more prominent in the afternoon heat. 

The Hermes cabin has warmed up to him, treating them like one of their own after their initial suspicion of them. Luke in particular, but Chris, Travis, and Connor were quickly becoming good acquaintances. Percy is still hesitant to label anyone a 'friend' this early in the game. 

He sees Grover sometimes, his satyr friend stopping by for a quick hello. But mostly he just scurries around camp looking extraordinarily worried about something that he won't talk to Percy about. 

The solstice, his mind whispers whenever he thinks about too hard. 

This whole solstice deadline seems to be a really big deal, after all. Annabeth wasn't lying. Not that it changes his mind about wanting to be included in whatever nonsense is happening. He would still like to remain as far removed from it all as he can. But it's clearly contributing to the tense atmosphere around camp.

He doubts everyone knows what's going on. Maybe some of the head counselors- and Annabeth obviously judging by the way Chiron seems to tell her everything. But the feeling of unease grow strongly by the day, enough that even the most clueless of campers must be aware that something is not right. Anxiety spikes, fuses get shorter, silly arguments break out. 

Percy spends most of his time hiding as much from that as he does all the activities he doesn't like. 

Sometime on Wednesday he finds himself lingering around the forge. Why he chose this place, he cannot explain. But he figured it would be one of the last places Luke or anyone else would expect him to be. It's hot, but Percy has always run cold. It smells like smoke and metal, unpleasant but manageable. He curls up in the least soot-filled corner he can find, the rhythmic sounds of a hammer hitting metal and stone nearly lulling him to sleep. 

At some point, the tall Black boy working meticulously on his bronze dagger glances in the direction of the corner he had shoved himself in. "I know you're there. You can just join me, ya know? Don't have to hide." 

Percy learns this is the "Beckendorf" a few people have mentioned in passing conversations. Head of the Hephaestus cabin. Charlie, the boy tells him when he asks. Percy prefers Charlie, if he's being honest. 

They don't talk much. Charlie seems like a naturally quiet person and Percy is content to just sit there and watch him work. The other boy asks him a few questions every now and then; how's camp, is the Hermes cabin behaving, and the like. But for the most part, they just sit. Percy appreciates not having to talk much, Charlie's calm and steady presence soothing his frayed nerves. 

"You can hang out here anytime," Charlie offers when it's time to head to dinner, voice so sincere Percy almost believes he hadn't annoyed the other boy with his presence. "I mean it. I don't mind."

"But why would you want me here?" Percy asks, confused. 

Charlie had given him a sad look then, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Anytime," he repeats.

For a moment, a brief moment, images of an explosion and the sound of screams dance behind his eyes. He shakes his head, chasing that thought away. 

"Okay," he agrees softly, allowing a small smile to work its way onto his lips. 

*

At meals he carefully scrapes a bit of his food into the flames, saying his usual 'hey' to Hermes and 'fuck you I still like Dionysus better' to his father. He never prays directly to the camp director. The god is sitting right there. Literally right there. He could just walk over and talk to him if he must. But Percy feels like he must hear it anyways based on the amused looks he receives every time he makes an offering.

Despite how angry his prayers directed to his absent father are, how cruel and vicious they become as he goes yet another day of being unclaimed, he is still hit with that annoying sense of warmth and kindness every time he speaks to him. The same feelings he gets when his brain recalls the moment he still isn't sure is real; a glow, a smile, soft humming. 

Fuck him.

But also, where is he? Why isn't he here? Doesn't he deserve at least a greeting after everything he's dealt with? A bit of acknowledgement? A sign that even if he hasn't been present thus far in his life, he still gives somewhat of a damn?

But Percy feels that might be asking for too much. 

Luke is rather open about his dislike of the gods, particularly Hermes. Percy can't say he disagrees with anything Luke has said so far, he's just quieter about it. He already has one god angry at his family and would not like to add to that number. At least he's not alone in the deadbeat parents club. They're all united in mutual mommy and daddy issues.  

Luke and Lee's hovering becomes almost unbearable during mealtimes, and Lee doesn't even sit at the same table. Yet he can still feel the intense gaze of the young healer boring into his back as he makes sure Percy is eating. He's almost grateful for the ninety second break he gets when he's making his offerings, even if that means talking to his dad. 

On this particular evening he pauses mid step, turning back towards the flames one last time. 

"Uh...hey. Aquarium Lady? You probably have an actual name and I shouldn't be calling you that. But, yeah, I don't know. Maybe say hi instead of watching me from afar like a weird stalker and sneaking into my space when I'm not there?" Percy grimaces, wishing he had chosen his words better. "I mean, you know! I just-" he groans in frustration. "Never mind. Here you go. Enjoy your burnt snacks, I guess? Still don't know why you guys like this stuff." 

He hastily scrapes the vegetables into the flames before hurrying back to the Hermes table. 

There's a drawing of a sea monster with comically large eyes on his pillow when he turns in for the night. 

'Always watching...' is written ominously beneath the Cthulhu-esque sketch in fancy calligraphy. 

Comforting, he thinks as he pulls out one of the blue sour straws said unhinged aquarium woman had gifted him. Definitely nothing weird about that at all. 

With a heavy sigh he flips it over, only for his eyes to catch a second note written on the back. 

'You should come to the lake sometime. It's definitely safe here.' 

Percy narrows his eyes, the second message not making him feel much better than the first. 

But sure. 

Why not? Nothing else in his life is normal, anyway. 

He guesses he has to venture to the lake at some point. 

_______________________

Thursday comes with his first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from cabin eleven gathers in the arena where Luke will be their instructor. For once, he is not sneaking away to doodle in his sketchbook or hide in the fields with the plants instead of participating. Of all the things he can learn at this camp, he figures learning how to properly use a weapon might be the most important. Best not to skip this one. 

At first Luke hands him one of the practice blades for him to use. They go over the basics; stabbing, slashing, and the like. He's not terrible but he probably could do better if not for the unbalanced sword he was given to use. The movements felt awkward, despite his good reflexes and ability to seamlessly imitate the moves Luke demonstrates for them. The blade just didn't feel right in his hands. Percy had even switched swords a few times, hoping a new one might do the trick. But everyone he tried had something wrong with it; too long, too short, too heavy. 

He takes a short break after the initial drills, flopping onto the ground and taking some deep breaths before his frustration boils over and he snaps at someone. 

He has a bad habit of getting frustrated with and giving up on things he's not immediately good at it. It's one of his flaws. He cannot, however, give up on sword fighting. All he needs is a proper-

Percy jolts upright with a curse. "I have a pen!" he exclaims, much to the confusion of his cabin mates. 

Barely resisting the urge to smack himself, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bronze pen he's been carrying everywhere since that fateful trip to the museum. It had refused to return to Chiron, despite his best efforts. So he assumes it's his permanently now. 

He uncaps Riptide, watching the air around it shimmer before it settles into the form of a sword. 

"I'm so fucking stupid," he grumbles, pushing himself to his feet and stalking back over to the training dummies. "It's literally been in my pocket this whole time!" 

He clutches the hilt of his sword. Perfectly balanced. Much better. 

Why is he like this?

A few of the Hermes kids look up in surprise, a few in envy, no one having expected him to have a weapon of his own yet. He's not ashamed to admit it, but it is one of the better weapons he's seen at camp. Percy doesn't think many of the kids here are gifted things and most likely have to make due with whatever the armory is stocked with. Luke tilts his head, just as surprised as everyone else. 

"Oh, uh, Chiron gave it to me. Well, he loaned it to me and now it refuses to go back. So it's mine now. It has chosen, I guess," he informs him when he notices the older boy's questioning gaze. 

Luke nods in approval. "Good. You need a sword you can actually use now that we're splitting up into dueling pairs."

"I- huh?"

Luke just grins. "No use learning all the moves if you don't get to practice them. Come on. Since it's your first lesson, I'll be your partner." 

Fantastic. He's about to die for real this time. 

"Good luck, newbie," one of the campers snickers as he moves to follow Luke, "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

Percy sighs. "Maybe he'll go easy on me?" 

The camper snorts. "Have fun, pal."

True to the campers' words, Luke is a harsh instructor. He doesn't take it easy on Percy, even though he has hardly any experience with a blade besides a few instances of sheer dumb luck. He is taught proper sword-fighting the hard, unforgiving way. Luke nearly knocks him off his feet more than once. Percy can feel himself collecting bruises and scrapes as the minutes fly by. He makes another attempt to block a strike from Luke, but doesn't succeed and is rewarded with a harsh hit to his side. 

Percy tries to follow his directions- "Keep your guard up!" "Faster!" "Lunge!" "Block!" "Keep those feet steady, Percy!" "Fix your stance!" But after a while he starts to struggle, his body not used to this type of workout. 

Luke lands another hit and he starts to feel like he's nothing more than Luke's punching bag. He can hear a few of the Hermes campers near them chuckling at his plight, and he has to wonder if Luke picks on all the new campers in their cabin like this. 

By the time Luke allows them to take another break, he's practically crawling towards the cooler that holds the water. It's funny, really, how running intensely cold is usually his problem. But put him in direct sunlight on a hot day and suddenly he's like a fish out of water, drying up and praying for death. If his body could pick one singular side of the temperature spectrum to hate, he would be eternally grateful. 

Beside him, Luke dumps some of the water over his head. Percy follows in suit in a desperate attempt to cool down faster. 

Near instantaneously he starts to feel better, the water dripping down from his head soothing some of the aches and pains. There were times after a particularly bad day with Gabe, or when a combination of stress and poorly healed injuries made everything sore, that he would hide in the tub for hours. He'd snuck into the pool at Yancy a few times. He can't explain it, but sometimes being submerged in water is the only thing that makes him feel better. 

All too soon, Luke is calling for everyone to circle up once again. With a groan, Percy picks up his sword and drags himself over to where everyone is gathering.

"If Percy doesn't mind, I'd like to give you all a demo." 

Percy glares, Luke is unbothered. He most certainly minds and the older boy knows it. He wonders if Luke would mind a sharp kick to the knee in retaliation. The two of them can have matching old man joint issues then. 

The other campers are barely suppressing their grins at their counselor's announcement. Definitely a rite of passage for newcomers, then. He feels slightly better that everyone around him has mostly been in his shoes at some point. 

"Now this next move is a hard one. No one make fun of Percy for not getting it on his first try. I've had this move used against me." 

Luke proceeds to demonstrate a disarming maneuver, one that forces your opponent to drop their weapon.

The first time he goes slow, effortlessly knocking Riptide out of Percy's grip. He goes over it a few more times before clapping his hands together. 

"Alright. Real time now! Let's see how you do." 

Luke does not go easy this time. In a matter of seconds, Riptide once again clatters to the ground. "Again!" Luke calls, already adjusting his stance for the next spar. They go on like this for what feels like forever. 

He notices that the longer they spar, the easier it becomes for him to predict Luke's movements. His slashes become more purposeful, his blocks more effective. It's still not enough to change the tide of the fight. Luke has years of training on him, and is physically stronger. 

Just as Luke is about to disarm him again, he decides to just go for it. 

What the hell? He's probably going to lose anyway. Might as well go out doing his best to show Luke what he's learned. 

With a sudden burst of energy, he lunges. His blade comes in contact with the base of Luke's and he throws all his weight into it as he thrusts downward. There's a loud clang as Luke's sword flies from his hand, clattering on the stone below. Percy is breathing heavily, the tip of his sword less than an inch from Luke's unarmored midsection. A few centimeters closer and Percy might have actually done some real damage to the older boy. 

The arena is silent, everyone's eyes locked on Percy in a mixture of shock and awe. Even Luke seems at a loss for words as he stares at Percy with wide eyes. 

"Uhh..." Percy shifts from foot to foot nervously, hastily lowering his blade. "I'm sorry?" 

"Sorry?" Luke's face breaks into a wide grin. "What are you apologizing for, Percy? Show me that again!"

He honestly doesn't want to. He's not sure he can repeat whatever it was that allowed him to disarm Luke a second time. Reluctantly, he raises his sword once more and adjusts his stance. 

They go through their mock fight five more times. To his complete shock, Percy manages to disarm Luke two out of those five rounds.

Eventually, Luke calls an end to the training session. "Good job, kid," he praises, wiping the sweat off his brow. "You're a natural." 

"Thanks," he says. "You're a good teacher."

Luke nods, eyes studying him with a renewed interest. His eyes have lost a bit of their usual warmth, his gaze becoming far more calculated than Percy is used to seeing. "Can't wait to see what else you're capable of." 

He shivers. 

For some reason those words fill him with a sense of unease. 

He forces a smile, shoving his growing apprehension down as far as he can.

"Yeah. Can't wait until the next session." 

*

Despite being thoroughly exhausted from his first round of sword-fighting instruction, sleep still does not come easily to him that night. He tosses and turns fitfully, unable to get comfortable in his sleeping bag. He had finally convinced Luke to take his bed back, and talked both Travis and Connor out of wanting to switch him instead. He's sore, cranky, and dealing with yet another pounding headache from the flurry of dreams that had only let him rest for an hour or so. 

With a frustrated groan he kicks his blankets off, sitting up and burying his face in his hands. 

Maybe going for a walk will calm him down enough to rest? 

Technically he's not supposed to be outside after curfew, but he's desperate. He squints into the darkness of his cabin, listening intently for the sounds of anyone who might also be awake. But all he hears are the even breaths and occasional snores of the other members of his cabin. 

Slowly, ever so carefully, he gets to his feet. Slipping on his shoes he tiptoes towards the door, thanking the universe that it doesn't creak loudly when he opens it. He creeps out of the cabin, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. Percy waits there for another moment or two, waiting for the telltale signs of someone who had been awoken by his exit stomping to the door to ask him what he's up to. When there's no sound, he lets out the breath he had been holding. 

He's in the clear. 

Percy doesn't know where he's going. He just allows his feet to carry him in a random direction, the cool night breeze and the sound of crickets soothing his nerves. He hasn't gotten much alone time since starting here, and it's nice to just be able to breathe alone, outside, with no one speaking to him or demanding things of him. He glances up every so often, keeping an eye for any nearby harpies. 

He briefly considers journeying to the lake. That's what the latest note his godmother (literally a godmother, he is coming to realize), had instructed him to do. But a part of him is afraid. Afraid that she won't actually show up, that this is all some ploy to humiliate him. Afraid of saying the wrong thing and losing yet another person who seems to care about him. She's a goddess, after all. How long until he offends her in some way? How long until she gets bored of the mortal boy and their silly little sea monster game? 

Percy hardly knows her, has only seen her once. But she has been one of the few constants in his life, and the idea of losing something he can count on is terrifying. 

No. He wants to hold on to one of the few good things he has for a bit longer.

He pauses, eyes flitting over the campground as she tries to figure out where to go. 

Then he remembers. "Pegasi," he whispers, a small grin appearing on his face. How could he forget the best version of a horse? 

Percy makes a pitstop in the strawberry field, making sure to grab the most appetizing looking berries. Based on his interaction with the pegasus whose name he forgot to inquire about, he can only assume that bringing her anything less than perfect berries will result in her turning her nose up at his offering and trotting away in annoyance. 

He arrives at the stables, hovering nervously at the useless fence that probably does very little to keep the pegasi from escaping should they decide they crave a life of freedom away from unhinged demigod children. He can't see any of them roaming around, and really, what had he expected? It's the middle of the night, they're most likely sleeping like he should be. 

Percy almost talks himself into leaving when a bit of movement in one of the stables catches his attention. 

As if sensing his presence, the spotted mare pokes her around the side of her stall, dark eyes regarding him for a moment before she breaks out in a cheerful trot. Percy grins, waving excitedly at her as she does so. She speeds in his direction, stopping a few inches in front of him. 'The little lord has finally returned,' she says, bumping her muzzle against the side of his face. 'Did you bring the strawberries?' 

Percy huffs out a laugh. "So you're only happy to see me because I might have brought you food?"

'That is not the only reason.....but did you bring the strawberries?' 

Percy sighs dramatically. "Yes. I've brought you the strawberries as requested." She stomps her feet excitedly as at his announcement, nudging him impatiently until he begins feeding her the berries. 

'You are a good little foal,' she praises once all the berries have been eaten. 

"I'm not that little!" he says indignantly, but he still offers her gentle pets anyway. 

'The littlest of lords. A tiny foal. So very small.'

"I'm never bringing you strawberries again." 

She snorts. 'With an even shorter temper!'

Percy glares at her and she stares back. 'Precious little foal,' she says after a moment of silence, just to rub it in a bit more. 

"I didn't ask what your name is last time," he says, still stroking her flank and choosing to ignore her last comment. 

'Meleys,' she answers. 'And it's about time you did! Introductions are supposed to happen during a first meeting, little lord,' she scolds.

Percy laughs. "Sorry. Sorry! And you can just call me Percy, you know. You don't have to call me 'little lord' all the time." 

Meleys cocks her head. 'But you are the little lord.'

"No, I'm Percy. Percy," he emphasizes. "I promise you it's easy to say." 

'Whatever you say, little lord.' 

Percy rolls his eyes. "Hopeless," he mutters. 

'Correct.' 

They don't talk for a while after that. Meleys munches on some hay in one of the troughs and Percy leans against her, lightly stroking her silvery mane. They exist in silence for so long that Percy startles when the pegasus speaks to him again. 

'Why are you out so late? Little foals like you should be sleeping at this hour.'

Percy shrugs. "I can't sleep. My brain is too noisy. I can't get it to stop," he says softly. "So now I'm here." 

Meleys is quiet for a moment before giving him another affectionate boop. 'Would a short ride help rid you of some of your worries?' 

Percy's eyes widen. "Really?" 

'Yes, really. I say what I mean and mean what I say.'

Percy trembles with excitement. He gets to ride a pegasus. He gets to ride a pegasus. The best form of horse. He's totally going to do this. "I...do I just climb on and-"

'Yes, yes! Do climb on. Chop, chop! We do not have all night to stand here.' 

Not having to be told twice he grips her saddle, sliding his foot into the foothold before pulling himself up. 

Seated comfortably on the back of the pegasus, his earlier confidence at his ability to ride begins to wane. Just a bit. His experience with horses is limited to the standard, wingless version. He has spent countless hours on horseback navigating fields and forests. But he has never navigated the skies. There's no additional safety measures on the saddle. It's a regular saddle that you would see on any horse. There's absolutely nothing to assist with keeping him from falling off.

Meleys must sense his nervousness because she chooses that exact moment to exacerbate his fears. 

'Hang on tight, little lord. I do not wish to explain your untimely demise to your father.' 

That catches him off guard. "My father? Wait, how do you-" 

But he is cut off mid-sentence as Meleys begins to move. Slow at first, but her pace steadily increases until she's moving at a full gallop. Percy clutches the reins tightly, wishing once more that the saddle came with some type of seatbelt. Something to ensure he doesn't accidentally find himself speeding through the air and onto the ground below. Despite Meleys assurances that she would not let him fall, Percy doesn't necessarily trust himself to not make a clumsy mistake. 

Her wings stretch out fully, flapping once, twice. On the third, she kicks off from the ground, wings effortlessly carrying them both upward towards the dark sky. 

Up and up they go. Percy's eyes are squeezed shut, not used to the sensation of flying. He leans forward, gripping the reins and the front of Meleys' saddle tightly. He hears Meleys laughing quietly at him. 

'You will not fall. Open your eyes.' 

Percy cracks one eye open, and then two, peering down at the earth below them. It's....not as scary as he thought it might be. The butterflies in his stomach have calmed and he feels his hands loosening their grip ever so slightly. He carefully pushes himself fully upright again, breathing steadily as he tells himself that this fine and Meleys would not let him fall.....on purpose. 

They soar over the trees, over the dark, gleaming depths of the lake, higher and higher until they are well past the water and the boundaries of the camp. The longer they're in the air, the more relaxed he becomes. 

The sky is breathtaking from this point of view. He gazes upward, marveling at how many stares he can. Having spent most of his life thus far in the crowded city of New York, seeing the sky in all its smogless, light pollution free glory never gets old. It feels like he could reach out and touch them. 

tell.....stars.....says hello, a sad, unfamiliar voice whispers. The longing in its tone is almost painful to hear. 

"Hello, stars," Percy whispers, not fully understanding the context of the voice urging his greeting. But it feels important that he does so. 

They spend another fifteen minutes in the sky. Meleys shows no sign of being tired, and Percy is content to let her circle as many times as she pleases. It's freeing, being up here on Meleys. He fears that if were a pegasus he might never be persuaded to come back down after he takes flight. He could stay up here forever. But unfortunately, he knows that this is not possible. 

"We need to go back," Percy reluctantly informs Meleys as she completes her most recent lap. "I don't want to go too far from camp and get in trouble." 

'Of course.'

She changes direction, soaring back towards the camp. As they get closer she gradually begins to descend. Her hooves graze the surface of the water, a cool, light mist spraying him as they cross the lake. She finally touches down just past the sand. As if knowing that Percy isn't ready to go back to bed, she takes her time walking to the stables. When they arrive he carefully climbs down from the horse, making sure to undo and remove her saddle after he does so. 

'Thank you, little lord. The other children often forget to take it off. This is why I throw them off mid flight. Well, this and the fact that I simply do not like most of them.' 

"Rude. Definitely deserved on their part," he agrees.

'Oh, yes. I do not care what the half-man says. If they cannot be proper riders, they will feel what it is like to fly on their own!' 

Meleys is so dramatic. He loves her. 

"Thanks, Meleys," he says, leaning his head against her flank after she is successfully freed from the prison of her saddle. She nickers softly in acknowledgement, giving him a final boop before she trots off to her stall. 

Percy takes a deep breath as he watches her go. He really does feel a bit better after that ride through the skies. He feels lighter, calmer. Hopefully it's enough to let him pass out when he gets back to his cabin. 

Hopefully, Luke hadn't woken up when he left. He had checked and double-checked that no one was awake when he slipped out. But that didn't mean they weren't faking and ready to chew him out when he got back. Percy begins to carefully tiptoe across camp, keeping an eye out for the harpies he has avoided up until now. 

Of course, the universe has never been kind to him before, so why start now? 

"Did you enjoy your ride?" a voice from behind him asks. 

Percy nearly jumps out of his skin. 

He whirls around, heart pounding. His hand is already in his pocket, fingers closing around the familiar bronze pen. 

"Relax, boy. No need to draw your weapon." 

It's Mr. D. The god is leaning against the fence that surrounds the stables, sipping another diet coke. Percy notices that he has once again dropped the middle aged drunkard form he usually adopts while he roams around camp, appearing in his youthful visage the myths had always described him as having. Even his voice is different in this form; softer and melodic. But it carries no less authority and is no less intimidating. 

The god's posture is relaxed, looking more annoyed that he has to be out here at this hour than furious. Percy still feels an overwhelming, all encompassing dread washing over him at his presence. Plenty of people are good at faking calm. It lulls you into a false sense of security; your guard dropping so low that you're no longer prepared when they lash out. 

"How did you know I was gone?" 

Mr. D snorts. "I am a god, child. Do you believe an inexperienced demigod could sneak out of camp without me knowing?" 

Percy swallows. "N-No." 

Shit. Fuck. Damn. He's done it now. 

Mr. D pushes off the fence, exhaling loudly through his nose as he crosses the distance between them in a few, quick strides. Percy shoves down the instinctual urge to turn and flee from the situation. Running may occasionally save him from Gabe who is out of shape, or other individuals who are not as fast as him, but he doubts it would do him any good here. Mr. D is a god. Where could Percy run that he couldn't find him? 

Instead he resigns himself to whatever comes next, shoulders hunching as his arms wrap around his midsection. Sometimes it's easier to just accept it and not fight back. It's usually over quicker that way. 

Mr. D comes to a stop a few feet in front of him, silently studying him as Percy tries to even out his breathing. 

"Campers are not supposed to be wandering about after curfew," he says idly, finger tapping against the soda can. "You're lucky I'm the one who found you and not the harpies. The harpies that I'm certain campers are warned about on their first day." 

He was warned about the harpies on his first day. Along with the other handful of rules that exist in this place. There aren't that many, surprisingly. And most are broken often and without care. Chiron and Mr. D rarely punish anyone for not following them, only intervening should something particularly heinous happen. But he supposes you can't be too harsh on chronically stressed and exhausted children whose days are spent learning how to survive and pondering their likely early demise. Leniency is to be expected. After all, what kid could consistently be "good" and well adjusted under these circumstances? Percy just isn't convinced that this tendency towards leniency and looking the other way at their shenanigans applies to him as well. 

"Isn't death by harpies a bit extreme for breaking curfew? Half the kids don't follow it anyway and I've never seen a harpy actually go after them." 

As usual, the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. His ability to process internally before speaking and filter the words he chooses has always been lacking. Stupid, stupid, he curses himself, frozen in place as he stares at the god in growing horror. 

Whatever hope of getting off with nothing but a harsh warning from the usually lenient camp director flies out the window at the man's frown. 

"Yes. But those campers typically do not commandeer a pegasus and go for a joyride in the sky," he says sternly, eyebrow arched as he stares at Percy expectantly, obviously wanting an explanation for his actions this evening. 

Percy swallows, unconsciously taking a step back. 

He has no good explanation, no good excuse that might get him out of this. He couldn't sleep, he likes horses, this place kind of sucks sometimes, and he desperately needed a break. Even just a few moments where he didn't have to think about the circumstances that brought him, or how he has no other options besides this camp unless he wants to end up on the streets or back with his stepfather. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice trembling. He doesn't know what else to say. 

Mr. D lets out another heavy sigh, and Percy flinches. He wishes he would just get it over with already. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches again, breath quickening. "Look at me, kid," the god says quietly. 

It's a gentle request, not a demand like he would receive from Gabe. No slap to his head hard enough to make his ears ring when he doesn't comply immediately. 

Hesitantly, Percy uncurls just a bit, peeking up at Mr. D's face. There's no real anger there, just the signs of frustration adults get after long days of being in charge of multiple children who have taken it upon themselves to misbehave for the laughs. 

"If you feel the need to go on another midnight journey, please do inform someone of your whereabouts, and try not to get lost into the woods or stray away from camp," he tells him, tone firm but not unkind. "You've made a habit of disappearing and I would rather not waste my time hunting you down when I have much better things to be doing. Got it?"

For a moment Percy is sure this has to be a trick of some kind. Adults are never this nice. Men are never this nice. 

"Got it?" Mr. D repeats when he doesn't reply. 

"Yes, sir!" he says anxiously, voice a little too loud, a little too panicked. 

"Good." He gives Percy's shoulder a light squeeze before letting go, a yawn escaping him. "Now if you don't mind, I would love to get back to doing what I was before I had to come and find you. Let's go." 

Percy stares at him in disbelief. No punishment. Just a warning. He opens and shuts his mouth a few times, words failing him. Nervously tugging at the hem of his shirt, Percy finally manages to summon the courage to speak. "Mr. D?" 

"Yes, Persimmon?"

"That's it?" Percy asks hesitantly. "You're not...you're really not angry with me?" 

A dark, knowing look passes across his face, but it's gone nearly as quickly as it appears, morphing back into one of bored indifference. "Do you want me to be angry?" 

"No! No, I'm good," he says quickly. 

The camp director regards him for another moment before letting out a soft, breathy laugh. "Bed. Now. Off you go," the god says, giving him a light push in the direction of the cabins. 

Percy's feet are carrying him in that direction before Mr. D can finish his sentence, lest the god change his mind and decide to punish him after all. 

"Uh...goodnight!" he calls over his shoulder. 

"Goodnight, Pedro." 

"It's Percy." 

"That's what I just said, Peter." 

_______________________

On Friday, the camp is buzzing with excitement. It's the day of their weekly capture the flag game. Percy is no more excited about it than he was the first time Chiron had mentioned it to him. He spends most of his day dreading it, unable to concentrate on any of his activities. He's even made a concerted effort to participate in some of the activities he normally avoids in order to take his mind off the game. And his impending use as a punching bag for the older, more experienced campers. 

But he can't.

There's a nagging sense of wrongness that he can't shake. His gut is telling him that there's something off about today, something that's not going to end well. 

The Ares cabin only puts him further on edge. The way Eric and some of his siblings glower at him as he passes, making crude cutting motions across their throat, only confirms his suspicions that tonight is a mistake. He tries not to let his trepidation about the evening show, but he must do a poor job of masking his true feelings judging by how Luke is much gentler with him and his corrections during his second sword-fighting lesson. 

After a near-death experience on the climbing wall that he has vowed to never climb again, he finds himself relaxing with Grover at the lake. His legs dangle off the edge of the pier. The naiads are friendly as ever, waving up at them as they tend to their crafts below the surface. Seagulls squawk in the distance, their white forms moving in circles over the lake and occasionally diving down into the water. 

"So..." he begins awkwardly, second guessing his desire to have this conversation. But it's the first time he and Grover had been able to sit down and have a full on conversation in days. He doesn't know when he's going to get another chance. 

Grover looks at him curiously. "Yeah?"

"How did you talk with Mr. D go the other day?" 

Grover tenses, looking like he's on the verge of throwing up at just the thought of it. "It went...fine." 

"Did it, though?" Percy presses, "because it doesn't look like you're fine." 

Grover looks away quickly, picking a few stray pieces of grass off his pants and flicking them into the water. He keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the water below them before answering in a shaky voice. "Mr. D suspended judgement for now. He said I technically didn't fail, but that I also didn't succeed. Our fates are still tied together."

Percy nods. "Okay then. How do we make sure you succeed? What do I have to do?"

Grover laughs humorlessly. "You shouldn't have to do anything. It was me who messed up again." 

Again. 

This is the second time someone has mentioned a previous failure on Grover's part. He can't imagine what the satyr could have done to wind up in this position, but he knows his friend. He knows that even if Grover did make a mistake or two, he always tries his best. It doesn't feel fair, him being blamed for things that were probably out of his control anyway. 

"Let's say I want to. Purely hypothetical." 

Grover sighs. "Well, if you were to get a quest," he begins slowly, "and I were to go along with you and keep you alive. Then maybe, maybe, it might be considered a success." 

Percy makes a face at the mention of a quest. He doesn't want it. He doesn't want to be sent out to do the bidding of gods who can't even acknowledge their existence, but still expect them to answer to their every beck and call. But this is Grover. Grover's future in...whatever he's trying to do, is in jeopardy because of him. If he has to suffer through a quest to help his friend, well, he supposes that would make the adventure worth it. 

"Right. Then....should I do what Annabeth has been bugging me about and ask for a quest?" 

Grover whips his head around, eyes wide. "No! No, Percy. You do not have to get a quest on my behalf."

"But you said it would help!"

"You're not gonna risk your neck for me. I won't let you," Grover says firmly. But jokes on him because plenty of people have told Percy not to do stuff in the past and it hasn't stopped him before. "Besides, why would you want me to go with you?"

"Of course I'd want you to come! You're my best friend, Grover. You'd be my first choice." 

Grover shakes his head in disbelief. "You wouldn't. I wouldn't be useful to you." 

Percy spends the next twenty minutes trying to convince his friend of the opposite. Usually this conversation is reversed, with Grover reassuring Percy about his existence and how he's not horrible. But the harder he tries, the more depressed and hopeless the satyr becomes. He wonders if he looks this bad when he has his own episodes. He's rarely on the other side of these conversations, so this is a new experience for him. Grover must secretly be tired of him if this is his near constant state of being. Percy imagines that being around him is exhausting. 

But this is Grover, and Grover has a right to be sad given the circumstances. 

Eventually, Percy gives up and changes the subject. The conversation is clearly going nowhere, and he doesn't want to stress his friend out more than he already is. Grover asks him how he's adjusting to camp, and Percy makes it sound like he's doing better than he truly is. They talk about canoeing, and Grover humors him as he goes on a rant about the pegasi and their similarities and differences to standard horses. 

"Certified horse girl," Grover snorts, though there's a soft smile on his face as he continues to listen to his information dump. 

"Why does Annabeth keep bothering me about a stupid quest," he ends up asking him as their conversation eventually shifts to whether or not Percy is making new friends. "She's so convinced that I'm supposed to talk to the oracle." He shudders, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "Everyone is so wrapped up in this solstice thing and no one can tell me anything!" he complains. 

Grover flinches in a way that lets Percy know they're approaching a touchy subject again. 

"Annabeth is...she's complicated. She's been through a lot and is looking for a way to prove herself," Grover sighs. "She harasses all the new campers like this at first. This time though-" he trails off, looking uncertainly at Percy. It's nearly the same explanation Luke gave him the other day in the forest. To Percy, it sounds more like someone who's never been told "no" and thinks she can boss him around. 

He keeps that thought to himself though. 

"This time?" he asks. 

Grover swallows nervously. "I'm not sure she's wrong this time." 

Percy furrows his brow. "What do you mean? Does this have something to do with making the water in the bathroom explode everywhere? And all the shaking? Because I still don't know how I did that. I didn't do it on purpose! Honest." 

Grover gives him a long look. "I know you didn't do it on purpose. It's just- powers like that are unusual around here. They aren't really seen in most demigods unless they're the child of specific gods. And that could make things complicated," Grover tells him. 

"I'm already crazy. How much more complicated could things get for me?"

"Don't say that!" his friend protests. "Percy, you aren't crazy."

He shrugs. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better, you know? I've already accepted it." 

Grover sucks in a breath, giving him that sad, sympathetic look he hates. "Let's just talk about something else. It's probably nothing for you to worry about anyway. You're probably Hermes' kid, or maybe some other minor god. The bathroom was probably just a fluke. Don't worry, alright?"

Percy looks down. "Yeah...yeah, you're right. Just a fluke. It's probably nothing," he agrees halfheartedly. 

He can't help but think Grover is trying to reassure himself more than Percy. 

_____________

As dinner ends that evening, the excitement has become palpable.  

At last, it's time for capture the flag. He should have escaped on Meleys when he had the chance. 

A conch horn sounds and Percy watches as Annabeth and a few of her siblings speed into the dining pavilion. They carry a silk banner with them, gray and decorated with the image of an owl and an olive tree. Athena cabin must have been the winners of the last game judging by their smug looks as Clarisse and a few other Ares campers race into the pavilion with their own flag. Red this time, depicting a spear and the head of a boar. 

Everyone is cheering and already talking smack to each other. It seems lighthearted for the most part, a friendly game of capture the flag between pals. But Eric is looking at him once more, grinning wildly, eyes bright with malice, as he taps the blade resting at his side. 

He flinches, turning his attention to Luke to avoid the intense gaze. "Whose side are we on?" he asks. 

Luke gives him a sly look as if he's privy to information that Percy doesn't have. Which is probably true. He had witnessed some counselors whispering among themselves about the upcoming game, forming plans and alliances. Luke must have done the same. 

"We've made an alliance with Athena for now. Tonight we battle Ares. And you, Percy, are going to help."

Oh, he really doesn't like the sound of that. 

The teams are announced. Like Luke said, Hermes has made an Alliance with Athena. Athena has also made an alliance with Apollo, the second largest cabin in camp. If possible, his nerves become even more frayed at that announcement. Ares has made an alliance with everyone else; Demeter, Dionysus, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite. His teammates seem to be under the impression that half of the opposing side is made up of demigods who aren't much of a threat. 

He'd give anything to watch some of them be humbled. He just knows a Demeter or Aphrodite kid is saving up a good swing for someone who finally says the wrong thing to their face. Which would be deserved, in his opinion. Percy might also feel some type of way if he were dismissed as useless based on his godly parent. 

Chiron pounded his hoof to get their attention, the loud conversations slowly dying down as everyone turns their attention his way. 

"Heroes! You already know the rules," Chiron's voice booms across the pavilion. 'The creek is the boundary line, the entirety of the forest is fair game. Magical items you may possess are allowed. There is to be no maiming or killing during the game-"

"Excuse me?"

"Shh," Chris says, nudging him with his elbow. 

"Prisoners may be disarmed, but not bound or gagged. As always, I will serve as referee and the field medic." 

And the questions just keep coming the longer the centaur speaks. 

"Heroes, arm yourselves!" He spreads his hands and suddenly the tables are covered with equipment from the armory; swords, shields, spears, helmets, breastplates. Everything an Ancient Greek warrior would have needed to rush into battle. 

"We're really doing this, huh?" he asks no one in particular, resigned to his fate. 

"Yup! Here, Chiron thought these might fit." He's handed a breastplate, a helmet, and a shield that feels bigger than him. Embarrassingly, he has to ask for help  with his armor from Chris much to the amusement of some of the other campers. Chris doesn't seem bothered, carefully instructing him on how to wear it properly. One the older boy is certain Percy is securely protected, he hands him his helmet. It has a blue plume on the top like everyone else on their team. He slides it on just as Annabeth calls for the blue team to circle up and follow her to the southern part of the forest. 

He's proud to say that he only stumbles over his new armor a total of three times before he finally manages to catch up to Annabeth. 

"Hey."

She keeps marching, barely sparing him a glance. 

"Can you at least tell me what our plan is?" His voice borders on whiny, but he's so sick of people not telling him anything. Even about a stupid little game of capture the flag. 

"We take the banner from Ares. You'll be on border patrol. Stand by the creek and keep the red team from getting through. That way you won't get in anyone's way. Leave everything else to me and our teammates," Annabeth tells him shortly. "Athena always has a plan." 

Sure. Great. 

"Oh, and one more thing. Stay clear of Clarisse and Eric's spears. You don't want them to touch you." 

With that, she pushes forward. Leaving him behind without any further directions.

"Thanks. Glad you have so much faith in me," he grumbles, stomping the rest of the way to his assigned post. Much to his confusion, he can't see anyone else on border patrol in the area when he arrives at the creek. He hadn't expected a bunch of them to be gathered in one spot for obvious reasons, but wouldn't it make sense to have more than just the new camper keeping watch at the boundary? 

The conch sounds once again in the distance, followed by excited screams and yells. The game has begun. 

He thinks he sees a few blue plumes race past him in the trees, but he can't be sure. 

Percy can't help but feel nervous, standing there alone with his too big shield, anxiously waiting to see if someone would choose to attack him. He's alone in the woods with the daylight quickly fading. He can hear swords clanging against each other somewhere off in the trees and a few enraged yells. What happens if someone really does attack him out here when he has no backup? 

He takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

"You're fine. It's fine. Someone will steal a flag and this game will end so soon," he tries to reassure himself. "I hope.." 

Time continues to tick by as the forest around slowly grows darker. Every little sound makes him jump, unsure if it's just an animal or a camper on the other team sneaking up on him. Or even whatever the forest is "well stocked" with. There's another flurry of movement in the bushes not too far from him. Instinctively, Percy raises his shield. It feels like he's being watched, like something is stalking him and biding its time until the perfect time to strike. 

He squints, trying to make out what it is. 

A low growl sounds in the darkness and Percy shudders. 

What is that? He's not sure he wants to know. 

The growling continues for a few seconds, accompanied by the snapping of twigs and leaves being crunched beneath feet. Whatever's out there...it's moving in his direction. His hand squeezes the hilt of his sword a bit tighter. 

The growling subsides just as the underbrush explodes across from him on the other side of the creek. Five Ares kids, led by Eric, burst into the clearing screaming and yelling. Percy's blood runs cold. 

Fuck. 

They're grinning like it's Christmas day and they've just been gifted the most wonderful present when they see him standing there alone. "There you are, punk," Eric says, taking a few menacing steps forward. "We've been looking for you."

He's sure they have been. 

Percy swallows nervously. "Flags that way, guys," he tries, pointing in the opposite direction. 

Eric tilts his head. "If only we were here for the flag. Too bad for you that's not what we're after." 

He hardly has a chance to raise his shield before they're running at him. True to Annabeth's word, Eric brandishes a five foot spear, the tip gleaming dangerously in the fading light. He seems to be the only one with a weapon like that, he notes. The rest of the Ares kids all carry standard issue swords. Not that it means anything for him. It's five on one, and he's only had two formal lessons so far. The odds are very much not in his favor. 

He takes a breath. No help is coming. He's been left alone at the border, and no one is going to come save him. Percy can either try to run and hope he finds someone in time, or he can stay right where he is and defend himself against five other campers. 

The choice is taken from him when one of the campers makes it to him before he can flee. He manages to dodge the first strike out of sheer dumb luck, but these guys are trained fighters. They are not as easily fooled as a random monster in the streets might be. Percy is surrounded, Riptide held in a death grip as his eyes flit between the five burly campers. 

Another kid lashes out at him with his sword and Percy is far too slow this time. The blade slices across his face, narrowly missing his eye. He stumbles back, momentarily blinded by the blood pouring into his eyes. Eric attacks next, raising his spear as he moves towards Percy. He manages to lift his shield just in time to deflect the point, but as soon as the spear makes contact his arm goes limp. 

A searing, painful tingle races through his whole body. His hair is standing on end.

Electricity. 

The spear is electrified. 

His arm dangles uselessly by his side, the shield slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the ground. His hand twitches, half numb, half tingly from the electric shock he just received. He stumbles back. 

An Ares girl slams the butt of her sword into his chest and he hears a sickening crack as he's sent sprawling into the dirt. Breathing is painful. It's made even more complicated when the toe of a boot connects with his face. His lip is split open and he's certain his nose must be fractured. Eric raises his spear again. 

The spear strikes him in his chest, his armor the only thing keeping it from being a fatal blow. His body jolts as electricity surges through him once more. Eric strikes again before he can regain his bearings, driving the tip of his spear into the unprotected meat of his upper arm. Percy nearly bites through his tongue in an effort to not cry out. He won't give them the satisfaction of knowing how bad they're hurting him. 

Another one of his cabinmates slashes at him with his sword, the blade striking deep and cutting through the layers of flesh with ease. He can see the yellow, fatty tissue in the wound, the brief hint of white visible even deeper. He nearly throws up, body feeling warm and cold at the same time as he stares at his wound. 

"No maiming," he chokes out, blood from his bitten tongue and split lip dripping down his chin. 

"Oops. Guess I'll lose dessert privileges for a week," Eric taunts. "Worth it, if you ask me." 

Gabe had cut him this deep once, he thinks. Or maybe it was one of Gabe's associates? Maybe both. It's a rather blurry memory, like so many other memories he catches brief glimpses of in his dreams or during his waking hours when someone is too loud or moves too fast towards him. Percy can't recall how he managed to not die or get a massive infection from it. But he can recall the days of intense pain while it slowly healed. 

Percy's been here plenty of times before; in these moments of panic where his brain rapidly calculates his likelihood of survival. How far Gabe or whoever it was would go before they stopped. 

He doesn't think Eric is going to stop. Not with that look in his eye. He's enjoying this far too much. 

Someone delivers a harsh kick to his side, the force enough to send him rolling into the creek. They take a break to laugh at his plight, and Percy knows the second they stop reveling in their amusement is the second he's most likely going to die. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, willing his body to move even just a little bit. To his shock, a wave of relief washes over him the longer he lays in the cool water. His wounds hurt a bit less, a few of the tiny ones even closing entirely. He regains enough energy to stagger to his feet, still somewhat woozy and unsteady from blood loss, but focused. His still somewhat numb hand grips his shield, raising it up once more. 

Eric and his buddies notice immediately, looking just as shocked as Percy feels. They all lunge towards him, entering the creek to take more swings at him, and he reacts on pure instinct. 

He swings his sword, the flat of it colliding with the first kid's head, knocking his helmet clean off. The second and third kids take their shot, but he manages to knock one back with his shield and slash the girl with his blade. They're quick to back off, not having expected him to be able to put up a fight. The fourth one hangs back, suddenly unwilling to engage after seeing Percy fight back. But Eric is relentless, spear crackling with dangerous energy. 

He dodges the first few strikes, and then with precision he wasn't aware he was capable of, he catches the shaft of Eric's spear between his shield and sword on the final strike. There's a satisfying crack as the weapon breaks in two, falling uselessly to the ground. Eric lets out a scream of rage, obscenities flying from his mouth. Percy takes the chance to hit him one more time, knocking him as far away as possible before he can retaliate for the broken weapon. 

"I'll kill you," Eric screams. 

He probably would have made good on his threat if it weren't for the screams and shouts that erupted in the clearing. Luke dashes towards the boundary line, the red team's flag held firmly in his grip. Behind him are a few more Hermes campers covering his back while a few Apollo and Athena kids fight with members of the Hephaestus cabin. 

"A trick!" Eric shouts. "It was all a trick!" 

He staggers after Luke, Percy all but forgotten in the looming threat of their defeat. But it's no use. Luke makes it across the creek and cheers erupt around them. The red banner shimmers before turning silver, the spear and the boar imagery that had once decorated it replaced with caduceus, the symbol of Hermes. 

The game is over. They've won. 

Percy sags in relief. 

He's about to stumble his way towards his team when Annabeth's voice pipes up next to him. "Nice job, hero. Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?"

Percy's head whips in the direction of her voice, but nothing is there. 

The air near him begins to shimmer and distort until Annabeth materializes at his side like she's always been there, a Yankees baseball cap clutched in her hand. 

Percy can feel himself shaking. Whether it's from the anger welling up inside of him or the fading adrenaline rush he isn't sure. He's unfazed by the fact that the girl had been invisible mere seconds before, he's seen enough weird things in his time to be fine with it. But what he is not fine with is what it implies. The pieces of her strategy are slowly clicking into place, and he feels his rage grow. "You set me up," he says flatly. "You put me here by myself knowing that the Ares cabin would target me instead. You knew this was going to happen." 

Annabeth shrugs. "I told you, Athena always has a plan. And it worked beautifully if you can't tell." 

"A plan to get me murdered you mean!? I could have died, Annabeth. Did you see what they were doing?"

"I came as fast as I could!" she says defensively. "I would have jumped in if it looked like you were really going to die. But clearly you didn't need my help." 

Didn't need help. 

Didn't need her help. 

Percy would have begged for a little help, given the chance. Not that it would have mattered. His begging rarely ever changes the outcome. "How long were you standing there?" he demands. "How long were you watching?" How long had she stood there watching as this was happening to him without lifting a single finger to help? Just another person in the sea of faces who have seen things and chosen not to intervene. 

When she doesn't answer, Percy nearly flies off the handle. Annabeth, for her part, doesn't seem to notice his anger. Or she simply does not care. He's betting on the second option. She's too busy pointing at his arm to process anything he's saying to her. "How did you do that?" she asks, completely changing the subject. 

"Sword cut. But you still haven't answered me-"

"No! Not that. You're healing. Look at your arm."

Percy would rather not look at his arm again. He's not sure he can stomach it a second time. But something in Annabeth's voice has him reluctantly looking down at his mangled arm. It still looks gaping and awful, but the bleeding has slowed dramatically. Parts of it even seemed to be trying to knit itself back together. Some of the minor scrapes and cuts heal completely, leaving only thin white lines behind. Bruises start to lighten. 

He looks at Annabeth with wide eyes. "I don't know what's happening. How am I doing this? I don't understand." 

Annabeth continues to stare at his arm. Percy can practically see her thoughts traveling a mile a minute as he tries to figure out what she's witnessing. She glances from his arm, to Eric's broken spear, and back to Percy where her eyes settle on his feet, still submerged in the water of the creek. 

"Step out of the water, Percy," she orders. 

"Huh?"

"Just do it, Jackson!"

Too exhausted to argue, he takes a step forward. Once he's no longer in direct contact with the water, what little energy that had returned to him dissipates instantaneously. He tips forward, legs suddenly unable to hold him up as the last of his adrenaline fades and the full scale of his pain reaches his awareness. The magic healing effect that had been working on him stops. Annabeth steadies him before he can hit the ground. He has to hold in a scream as she unintentionally grabs one of his injuries in the process. 

She swears in Ancient Greek. "This is not good," she says. "Not good at all. I wanted....I assumed it would be Zeus." 

"I don't- what are you talking about?"

"Your father," she begins hesitantly. "I didn't want-"

Before she can finish her sentence, a low canine sounds from behind them. The same one he had heard when he first entered the forest, but much closer this time. Annabeth's head snaps up in the direction of the sound, free hand already reaching for her sword. There's a loud howl, and suddenly a black beast is bounding its way towards them. The excited chatter around them dies instantly, replaced by warning shouts. 

Chiron shouts something in Ancient Greek that he couldn't quite hear. 

Running towards them at an incredible speed is a hound of immense size. Its glowing red eyes are nearly level with Percy's own. Sharp white fangs gleam in the darkness as it snarls. It's coming straight at him, he realizes with a growing sense of horror. The dog creature is ignoring everyone else, everyone who had been much closer to it, and is targeting him specifically. 

"Percy, run!" Annabeth screams, attempting to shove him out of the way. But his body is too damaged to comply, and the creature is too fast to avoid. It leaps over Annabeth and slams into him. He can feel its claws raking down his chest, slicing the armor like paper. He falls back to the ground, head connecting with one of the many stones. The hound is looming above him, snarling and snapping its jaws. It dives forward, and Percy squeezes his eyes shut in anticipation of the feeling of teeth tearing into his flesh. But the bite never comes. 

There's whooshing sound, followed by the soft thwack of arrows hitting their target. The hound lets out one loud yelp before it falls to the ground in front of him, dead. 

Chiron rushes towards them, bow in hand, face grim as he takes in the scene before him. 

"Percy!" he exclaims. "Quickly. We must get him to the infirmary." 

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says. "Chiron, that was a hellhound from the fields of punishment. How did it get in here?"

"Someone summoned it," Chiron answers. "Someone inside the camp. But we don't have time to discuss this now, child." 

The world around Percy grows fuzzy, Annabeth and Chiron's voices sounding miles away. His breathing comes in short, ragged gasps as the pain becomes overwhelming. Is this what death feels like? Is he actually going to die this time? 

"Please....can't..."

"Get him in the water!" he hears Annabeth shout. "Just trust me! Get him in the water." There's the sound of pounding footsteps followed by the sensation of being lifted and carried. And then he's submerged in the creek once more. Fully, this time. It becomes a little easier to breathe again, the searing pain in his chest lessening enough to where he can still fight to remain conscious. 

Blurry figures kneel over him in the creek bed. A boy with a scarred face- Luke. Lee is there too, he thinks, judging by the frantic hands examining his injuries and the sudden feeling of warmth that follows. His head lolls to the side and he can just make out the concerned dark eyes of Charlie who is propping him up to keep his head from slipping underwater. He must have been the one who carried him. 

Around him is a cacophony of whispers. 

"How is he-"

"He's healing!-"

"What the-" 

Percy groans, vision fading in and out as he lays there. "M'sorry. I don'-" he tries to say, words slurred as the world around him begins to spin. 

"It's alright, kiddo. Try not to talk," Luke says, a hand petting his hair soothingly. 

"Mhm," he groans, fighting to remain conscious as Lee continues to work on him. He focuses on breathing nice and deep, on the voices above him to keep him grounded. He's shivering. It's so cold. Luke continues to mutter more words of encouragement, doing his best to keep him calm. 

"This doesn't make sense," Lee says in amazement, sitting back on his heels. "How is he doing this?" 

"Maybe he inherited it from your dad?" Charlie asks with a nervous laugh, sounding just as confused. 

Lee shakes his head. "No. Our abilities have never worked like that. He's responding to the water, somehow." 

"LOOK!"

The sudden yell startles the boys gathered around him. The whispers grow louder and louder as the campers who had been giving them a respectful distance begin moving closer. Luke, Lee, and Charlie stare upward in a mixture of shock, awe, and a tinge of fear. Percy groans again, the effort to remain awake suddenly becoming too much. 

The last thing he sees before his vision goes dark is something hovering above him emitting an eerie green glow. 

Chapter Text

He finds himself waking up in the room that smells heavily of antiseptic once more. The lights are dimmed, and the sun has just begun to set outside, painting the sky shades of pink and purple. The sound of campers laughing and joking as they make their way to the bonfire drifts in through the window. 

The first thing he's able to fully process is the pain. He grits his teeth as both of his arms throb and burn in tandem with one another. It takes him a moment to recall how he ended up in this situation, but it slowly comes trickling back. He'd been stabbed, hadn't he? And cut, and had bones broken if the way breathing hurt more than usual is any indication of the state of his ribs. His head is pounding and the light, as dim as they had made it, still has him squeezing his eyes shut with a quiet moan of pain. Fuck, he feels terrible. It's just like waking up at home after a particularly rough time with his step-father. 

The second thing Percy notices is the sensation of someone leaning over him, fingers lightly poking and prodding at places where it hurts the worst. He jerks away instantly, the feeling of hands on his body causing a spike of panic. "Stop it," he grumbles, weakly slapping at the person above him and continuing to twitch away at every touch. 

There's a quiet laugh as the person complies immediately, taking a step back. "Finally awake, huh?" 

Summoning all his willpower he forces his eyes open, finding himself staring up into a second set of worried, golden eyes. 

"Lee?" he asks as the person's blurry form begins to come into focus. 

"Yep! Just me!" 

Instantly, he feels himself relaxing, eyes threatening to fall closed again. Just Lee. Lee is safe. It's fine. He's fine. 

"Why do we keep meeting like this?" Percy complains.

"I don't know. But I would prefer it if we stopped,” Lee says sternly. Though the soft look on his face betrays that fact that he’s not truly angry with him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a bunch of really big kids tried to murder me.” 

It's strange to say that out loud. In a place where kids like him are supposed to be safe, he's almost died twice now. Percy is convinced that given the chance, if no one had been there or Percy hadn't gotten lucky at the end like he did, Eric and his siblings would have continued until his breathing stopped. Lee seems to share his opinion, a dark look passing across his face. 

"I'm so sorry, Percy," Lee sighs, stepping closer to his bed once more. "We didn't know they were going to do that. We didn't even know Annabeth had you out there by yourself." 

He's not surprised. "Athena always has a plan" doesn't mean "Athena always has a plan and will communicate said plan to their teammates", he had come to realize. Or the person it directly involves who may be in grave danger due to said plan. It's nice to know that not everyone would have been on board with it, at least. 

"But they shouldn't be bothering you again. Their punishments were pretty harsh from what I was told." 

What an odd concept; people getting punished for hurting him. That never happens. As far he knows they didn't even receive a real punishment for the bathroom incident before this. Just some harsh words of warning directed their way by Clarisse and maybe Mr. D. Chiron seemed more like the type to shrug and say "demigod children will be demigod children, what can ya do?" in his opinion. 

“They really got punished?” he asks, suspicion coloring his words.

“Yup,” he says, popping the P sound. “I haven't seen Mr. D that angry in a long time. Not to mention Clarisse. I'm sure whatever he assigned them, she'll make it twenty times worse for them for a long time." 

Huh. 

Lee clears his throat to get his attention. "Are you okay if I take a peek at your injuries? I know touching can be weird for you sometimes." 

Percy blinks in surprise.

No one has really taken the time to notice what makes him uncomfortable, and if they had they certainly didn't care. Rarely has he had the option to refuse anyone anything. Still, the thought of Lee looking at him makes him anxious. The fact that the boy has already done so on multiple occasions without him being conscious makes him feel worse. However, he was just beaten within an inch of his life so it's probably a necessary move to suck it up and make sure everything is healing correctly. 

"Okay," he says, swallowing uncomfortably. 

Lee nods, shooting him a sympathetic look. "Alright, let's get you up."

As gentle as Lee is with helping him sit up, he still curses like a sailor the entire time. Every movement makes him want to scream, but finally he is up, legs dangling over the side of the bed. 

"Let's get the worst out of the way. Left arm first." 

"Fuck!" Percy cries out as Lee gives him barely any time to prepare before he's moving the limb around. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Lee murmurs apologetically, already undoing the bandage that is wrapped around it as quickly as possible. 

As the bandages fall away he can't help but recoil at the sight. Though his arm looks decidedly less mangled than he remembers, the deep gash having been put back together with a combination of divine healing, stitches, and hope, it’s still angry and swollen. The feeling of the thread pulling and tugging whenever he moves it has his stomach churning violently.

"Not great, but okay for now," he hears Lee murmur to himself. "Right arm, now. This one might be a little more sore," Lee warns as he finishes inspecting his forearm and moves to Percy's other side.

This one does hurt more. Percy grits his teeth in pain as Lee unwraps this one as well. 

He chances a glance down and quickly finds himself averting his gaze. This one looks far worse than his forearm. Just as red and angry, only this time there's pockets of whitish yellow pus. He barely holds back a gag. 

Lee clicks his tongue, brow furrowed as his fingers trace lightly over the wound. He carefully wipes the wound with something damp, and Percy hisses at the terrible sting that comes after. 

"Is something wrong?" Percy asks nervously, the expression on Lee's face making it obvious he doesn't like what he's seeing. 

He shakes his head. "No, not really. Just- usually it would be a little further along than this, healing-wise. Things heal faster here for obvious reasons. But we couldn’t really do that this time." 

"Why not?"

“You were fighting us every time we tried to use healing. Your body was fighting us too, somehow. Never seen anything like it."

A memory of soothing words and warmth on his skin surfaces, a warmth that feels far too familiar and dangerous. He didn't want it. He wanted it to go away. 

Lee takes a breath. "I was afraid that your panicking would make things worse so we just did things the old fashioned way," he continues. "We even tried the water thing again when your fever spiked hoping it would be more relaxing for you, but you were so out of it you kept trying to drown us with it.” Lee chuckles at this. "Definitely not great at the time, but a little funny now that it's over. You almost flooded the Big House." 

He also has vague memories of being dumped in cold water, the shock lasting mere seconds before his body automatically adjusted to the temperature around him. He remembers the feeling of hands on him, holding him down, and the panic that erupted because of it. 

"Water thing?" he questions, trying to ignore the guilt clawing at him. 

"You heal much faster in the water. Has it always been like that?" 

Percy recalls the surge of energy during the game when he had been driven into the creek, the way things had started healing less and he was able to stand up and fight back. "I mean, it's made me feel better sometimes. But I didn't think it, ya know, actually healed me or anything." 

Another thought occurs to him. "Couldn't you have used that nasty stuff that tastes like butter popcorn?"

He's been informed that nectar and ambrosia are supposed to taste good, mimicking your favorite flavors. But Percy has never been normal in any sense of the word so of course it gave him one of his least favorite ones. 

"We didn’t want to risk any more ambrosia or nectar in case it made your fever higher," Lee answers with a defeated sigh. "You were already burning up because of the infection." 

Percy wrinkles his nose. “Wait, it’s infected?” he asks, only to kick himself mentally after he says it. Of course it's infected. Why else would there be pus in the wound? 

Lee grimaces. “Both arms, unfortunately. A few other minor inflamed scrapes and cuts that Neosporin will probably take care of. But yeah, the dirt got into it. And something tells me your immune system is shit." 

Percy can't argue with that. If there's a cold within five miles of him, he'll catch it. His body probably welcomed the infection with open arms. 
"Do you want me to try and fix it now that you're awake?" Lee asks, hands once again hovering over the wounds uncertainly. "It'll heal a lot faster, and it will help with the infection." 

Percy contemplates it. It would be nice to heal up a little faster. But just the thought of that warm, divine energy that feels so much like him has Percy cringing away. 

“No! No. Maybe I'll, uh, try the water thing again," he says quickly, then pauses. "Wait, the water thing? What do you mean?" 

Lee's demeanor changes instantly at the mention of "the water thing", his bright energy dimming slightly as his movements become more stiff. Percy can tell he's touched on a sore subject. "You were claimed during the game, Percy," he explains, focusing intently on the process of redressing Percy's wounds. "I'm not surprised you don't remember, you were pretty out of it already."

"You mean-"

"Yeah. Your dad claimed you. Congrats, Son of Poseidon!" he says with a forced smile, though his eyes convey nothing but stress and worry. "So many things make sense now. Other things..." he trails off, "well, not so much. But we'll figure it out!" 

Poseidon. 

God the Sea, Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. 

He thinks back to all the stories his mother had told him about his father. About their brief time together on Montauk, their shared love of the water. He also remembers his insistence that he was lost at sea. Never dead. Just lost at sea, as if one day he would finally find his way back to them like Odysseus had fought to get back to Penelope. 

Percy always knew she had to be lying, to him, and herself. 

But everything is starting to make more sense now, the pieces slowly slipping into place. Nancy being thrown into the fountain, pipes exploding, mini earthquakes, healing faster and feeling better submerged in water all of these years. Being able to understand Meleys and the other horses and pegasi he has met.The hazy memory of a warm glow, a smile, and the scent of saltwater that he convinced himself isn't real. 

Looking back, it's all so startlingly, frustratingly obvious. It's a wonder people didn't figure it out immediately. Even Dionysus had seemed thoroughly convinced it was another god who fathered him. Though if he had to guess, Chiron most likely had an inkling that Percy is Poseidon's kid and just neglected to tell him his suspicions. As he neglects to tell him everything else. 

"Why does that sound like a bad thing when you say it?" he questions. "Claiming is supposed to be a good thing, I thought?"

Because that means their parents are finally acknowledging their existence. Which is better than nothing, he supposes. 

Lee stiffens further, refusing to meet his gaze as he continues re-wrapping his wounds, pointedly not meeting his gaze. "It's probably nothing to worry about," he says with forced calm. "Really. Big three kids are just rare these days."

"Big three?"

"Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades," Lee clarifies. "We don't really see their kids coming to camp anymore." 

"That's what everyone keeps saying. But Zeus and my dad had like a zillion kids, so how is that even a thing?" 

"I don't know," Lee shrugs, feigning ignorance. "I guess they just changed over the millennia. Maybe their wives got tired of all the step-demigods they had to deal with and finally put a stop to it. Who knows?"

Lee certainly knows, that's for sure. Percy can tell by how tense the older boy has become since bringing up this topic. The way he steadfastly avoids Percy's eyes and stumbles and trips over his words. Their wives putting a stop to their behaviors is a weak lie. While it's true that Hera, Amphitrite, and Persephone most likely were angry with their husbands for siring demigods, he doubts they could actually stop them from doing what they like outside of their marriages. 

Lee clears his throat. "But you get your own cabin now!" he says excitedly, an obvious attempt to change the subject matter. "That's pretty cool." 

Percy humors him, knowing that he's probably not going to get much more out of the other boy. "Yeah, I guess." 

He should have expected this. Now that Poseidon has claimed him, it would make sense that he would be moved into cabin three.

It's funny how he hated the Hermes cabin in the beginning, how cramped and loud it is. But he'd grown used to it as the days passed. Used to Luke and Chris and Travis and Connor only being a few feet away at night, a buffer between him and whatever else might be lurking around. Used to the constant hum of quiet voices and the soft snores as he fell asleep at night. It has become comforting to know that he's not alone. And now he has to leave it. 

Lee cocks his head. "You don't seem too happy about that. Most people are excited to finally escape the Hermes cabin," he comments. "Kind of a nightmare from what I've heard." 

Percy shrugs. "I mean, yeah. Maybe. But I like it there."

“Do you?”

He nods. "It's better there sometimes. But I also feel bad. So maybe it's a good thing I'm switching cabins." 

"Why do you feel bad?" Lee asks, sensing an opening that Percy very much regrets giving him. 

"Because I always bother Luke at night. Or Chris, or Travis and Connor. Probably everyone else too." Oh well, he figures. He's already given him an in, might as well give him an answer. If Lee is a fake doctor he probably has fake doctor-patient confidentiality agreements or something, so it's not like he would tell anyone....right? 

Because Percy got lucky with Grover. Grover has seen everything that's wrong with him and still stuck around, still defends him when other people are ready to write him off as being crazy or belittle him for his episodes. There's no guarantee that Luke or Lee or Charlie or anyone else he's gotten a smidge closer to will do the same. Or that the entire camp wouldn't ostracize him if word got out about how fucked up he is

Grover believes him, he thinks. 

And with the exception of Grover, no one ever believes him. Not until it's too late.

That's how it's always been for everyone in his family. The blatant disbelief and disregard of the things they see, until disaster strikes and they are blamed for it. Sometimes even punished under the assumption that they planned the catastrophe. He wonders if people know that some structures have people immured alive in their foundations during construction based on the strange belief that a sacrifice will protect it and keep it standing longer. Or how that the ritual was sometimes just a clever façade to remove an undesirable person from their town or village permanently. 

"And why's that?" 

"It doesn't matter." 

Lee is dead, blood seeping into the ground where his body lays. 

"It matters to me," Lee tells him, "especially if it's bothering you this much."

Monsters are pouring into camp from beneath the earth. There's screams, so many screams and the sound of blades clashing. Where are they coming from? He can't see. But Lee is dead, so many are dead. Pollux is screaming-

"Percy? Percy, look at me. You keep spacing out, bud," Lee says gently, coaxing him back to the present. 

Percy sniffles, lower lip trembling slightly as the echoes of the screams still reverberate around the room.

It's the "bud" that does it. The nickname Luke always uses for him that he used to despise, especially from kids who are barely older than him. 

It comes rushing out of him in a jumbled mess. “I don’t want you to die! And I don’t know how to fix it. I'm sorry."

Lee goes pale, eyes wide with sudden fear. "Woah! What do you mean "die"? Who told you I'm going to die?" 

He's shaking, "I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix it. I don't want-"

Before Percy can finish speaking, he finds himself squished against Lee, the older boy's hold tight but gentle, mindful of his injuries. “Hey now. I’m fine. I’m right here ,” Lee reassures him. “Perfectly alive and healthy. Why do you think I'm gonna die?" 

"Because I keep seeing it," he mumbles into his shirt, fingers clinging tightly to the fabric. 

"Do you see a lot of things like this, Percy?" His tone is calm, but Percy can still hear the fear permeating his words. 

He shouldn't be sharing this with Lee. He shouldn't be risking divulging this kind of information to the son of the one he's trying to avoid. Who knows what could happen if he finds out Percy has been around his children? The rage the god might feel about someone like him daring to go near Lee and his siblings. 

"Mhm," he nods. "I hate it." 

They stay like that for what feels like forever, but it's probably only a few minutes.

"You're not allowed to die," he says miserably. 

Not when he finally has people who seemingly like him. 

Lee swallows, holding Percy just a bit tighter. “I’ll do my best, Percy. Okay?" 

Percy knows that’s the best answer anyone in Lee's place can give. The life of a demigod, from what he has gathered, is usually short and tragic. He’s sure there’s a fair number who survive to adulthood, that’s what the training is for after all. Maybe they even find safe places like camp that are protected from monsters. But he imagines their lives aren’t peaceful by any means. 

“Promise?” he whispers, mentally kicking himself at how pathetic he sounds. 

“I swear.” Lee pulls away from Percy and raises his hand, pinky outstretched. “Can’t break pinky promises according to Will,” he explains with a toothy grin when Percy looks at him questioningly. "It's bad luck, apparently." 

Percy scrubs at his face before carefully intertwining his pinky with Lee's, feeling absolutely ridiculous about it all the while. Who makes pinky promises at his age? 

"Do you feel better now?" Lee asks as they untwine their fingers. The older boy is using the same tone that adults do when they talk to small children much younger than Percy who are upset. 

And he hates it even more that the stupid pinky promise from Lee does make him feel a bit better about things. 

He nods. "Yeah," he admits, still mad about it. 

"Good." 

Lee gives him a final once over to soothe his own anxiety before changing the subject once more. "One more day, and then I will release back into the wild of the camp. BUT-" he points a stern finger at him. "You will rest. I mean it this time. No strenuous activities. No sword lessons, no running, no jumping, no walking too fast, no unnecessary journeys. In fact, maybe just stay confined to your cabin away from all the dangerous activities and we can bring you what you need. You need rest.” 

Percy's mind grinds to a halt, and it suddenly feels as if it's getting harder to breathe. "Please don't lock me in," he blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately after as he realizes what he just said. 

Percy watches the look of confusion slowly turn to one of horror at the dawning realization of the implication of his words. Lee looks like he wants to vomit at this new piece of information. Stupid, stupid. Why does he keep talking? 

"Oh, no, no. Percy, I was just joking! I would never actually-" he runs a hand through his hair, jaw clenching. Lee takes a deep breath before continuing, voice softer. "Forget I said that. That's not a thing. Ever."

Percy nods, still eyeing the other boy warily. 

Lee sighs, shoulders slumping. "One day, we're going to have a very long conversation that will provide me with a list of names," he tells Percy. 

It takes a moment for him to catch on to the meaning behind Lee's words, but when he does he shrinks in on himself. "You don't have to do that," he mumbles, eyes trained on the floor. 

"I know," Lee says softly. "But I kinda want to. And I'm really good with a bow." 

It's a tempting offer.

"And I'm sure Luke would agree with me. He'll be by at some point, by the way. It's almost time for him to start haunting my infirmary again and asking for updates," he says with a roll of his eyes. "As if I wouldn't find him and tell him if something changed." 

Percy brightens at the mention of Luke

"Can you....can you stay until Luke comes, though?"

Lee ruffles his hair. "Yeah, Perce. I can stay." 

*

Grover visits him shortly before he's released. 

"You have got to stop doing this to me!" Grover exclaims, more out of worry and relief than actual anger. "I don't think my heart can deal with the constant stress." He flops dramatically onto the end of the bed. "Do you do this on purpose? I feel like you do." 

Percy snickers. "I make no promises. I literally can't. The bad stuff just happens to find me."

They lounge together on the surprisingly comfortable infirmary bed. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Terrible, but what else is new?" he says with a shrug, picking at the food that had been brought to him moments earlier. Percy hates that question. Mostly because he never feels "good" in any sense of the word. There's only bad, moderately bad, and less bad when it comes to his daily existence.

"Sorry."

"S'not your fault." 

They chat about everything and nothing, Grover purposely keeping the conversation light, but Percy is having a hard time focusing. His earlier conversation with Lee keeps repeating in his mind. The way he had seemed so concerned about Percy being a child of one of the Big Three, the way he had brushed off all his questions about why he's the only one. Lee certainly doesn't want to tell him. That much is clear. 

But Grover might. If anyone else would know something it would be him. 

"Grover, can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, shoot. What's up?"

Percy runs his fingers over the somewhat scratchy material of the infirmary blanket. "Why is everyone so weirded out by me being Poseidon's kid?" 

Grover goes rigid. Percy can tell that they've touched on a sensitive topic. 

"Because you're not supposed to exist, technically," he says apologetically. "You're a forbidden child."

Percy stares in disbelief. "I'm forbidden?"

"After WWII, Zeus made his brothers, Poseidon and Hades, swear an oath on the river Styx that they would have no more demigod children. The war was basically the children of Zeus and Poseidon against the children of Hades who had managed to become really influential among mortals. As demigods do, sometimes. Millions of people died, entire parts of countries were razed to the ground."

Percy once again feels like Hades and his kids are being stereotyped here, but stays silent as Grover continues. "Zeus decided that it was too dangerous for the three of them to have any more children. He didn't want another war like that happening."

A tall, handsome man with dark hair stands next to a beautiful woman. Two children, a boy and a girl, hover near them. 

The woman is saying something to the man. Her lips move silently, the words too far away for Percy to hear. 

The man is worried, so worried. 

Bright light and then screaming.

Percy jerks back to the present moment with a gasp, heart pounding and the taste of metal in his mouth. The lingering sound of screams and crackling lightning still reverberates in his ears. He looks around frantically, searching for the woman and her children who are in danger. The world around him changes from the quiet infirmary, to an unknown train station, and back to the infirmary with a dizzying quickness. But they're not there. He's at camp, and what he saw wasn't real. Or at least it's not happening now. Or maybe it's not real at all? Sometimes he still can't tell. His right hand itches to grab the pencil he doesn't have with him

Grover is staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, looking completely helpless. Percy's seen this look a thousand times when his friend isn't sure how to comfort him during his episodes. 

"Do you need me to get Lee? Or anything? I don't-"

"Please just keep talking," Percy begs, nearly gagging on the phantom smell of burnt flesh and smoke.

"Uh, right! Right," he stutters out as Percy forces himself to calm down. "And then the oath was completed. And then all of the gods stopped interacting with their kids." 

His mind grinds to a halt. All of the gods? 

"But that doesn't make sense! Gods used to interact with their kids all the time. There's whole stories about it," Percy protests, breathing finally back under control. "What's the big deal now? Unless it has to deal with the oath? But it's not like any of the other gods had to swear off having kids. Just my dad and his brothers. Why would the others stop visiting just because the three of them couldn't have kids anymore? Unless..."

Grover nods. "It's because of the oath. Zeus didn't just want to keep him and his brothers from having kids, he felt that all of the gods interacting with their kids too much, or making them too powerful, was a threat. It made demigods too...bold. It made gods choose between their own kids or the laws of Olympus. And with the more involved parents who actually tried to be decent sometimes, well, their kids tended to win. There were so many fights because of demigods." 

"He was that scared of his own kids? His nieces and nephews and grandkids?"

He turns to look at Percy. "Like I said, the more powerful a demigod, the more influence they might have in the mortal world, and our world. Not to mention inheriting power from their parents that could wreak havoc."

Percy swallows thickly, thinking back to how the water exploded from the pipes in an answer to his desperation. How the ground had trembled beneath his feet when he experienced anger or another strong emotion. 

"And he couldn't have that."

"No, he couldn't," Grover agrees. "But then Zeus fell off the bandwagon."

Percy rolls his eyes. "Of course he did."

Grover flinches, gazing up at the sky in momentary fear. "Maybe don't- you know what? I can't stop you. I've got to come to terms with that. Just make sure to move a few feet over before the lightning bolt strikes. Anyway, some Hollywood starlet caught his eye. He had a daughter with her. Thalia." 

Percy glances off in the direction of the cabins where he knows the empty Zeus cabin resides. "And she's not here?" he asks, though he has a feeling he knows the answer. 

"No." 

"What happened?" He instantly regrets asking this question as Grover begins speaking. 

"A satyr was assigned to bring Thalia and her friends to camp. He almost got them to camp, but the monsters caught up to them when they were nearly to the border." Grover curls in on himself, tears welling in his eyes. "Thalia decided to stay back to give them more time, and even though her protector begged her to just keep going, she wouldn't listen. And she died." His voice breaks at the end and he hastily wipes his eyes. "Not his best moment." 

Percy scoots closer to him until their hands are touching. "I'm sorry," he says, knowing that there aren't enough words in the world to make any of this better for his friend. 

"Thanks," he mumbles glumly. 

Percy swallows. "I think I saw you guys," he admits softly. "The first time we met at Yancy. I wasn't sure if it was you at first. But now it makes sense. You were running and.." he trails off, the feeling of claws slicing through him still as viscerally real as the first time he witnessed it. 

"You saw everything," he says with a weary look. "I should have guessed you might have. And you're still friends with me after that?"

"It wasn't your fault G-man. There's no way all of you were making it. And Thalia made her choice." 

Just like he had made his choice with Asterion to make sure Grover would get to camp alive. He had been certain he was going to die. He almost did. He just got very, very lucky that night. That doesn't always happen, and it's nothing Grover did and didn't do that caused it. Sometimes bad things just happen. Sometimes kids die. 

Grover sniffs, giving him a watery smile. "Thanks, Percy. I mean. Most people aren't so quick to let something like that go," he says sadly. 

"And those people are idiots." This earns him another small smile. 

"Does it bother you that I see that stuff? I don't mean to. I promise."

"Percy, we've been over this. It doesn't bother me," Grover says sincerely. "I mean, I'll admit, it was a little creepy at first to wake up at 2am with you standing over me muttering all-knowing weird shit, but you adjust!" 

He deflates just a little at that. 

Realizing his mistake, his friend backtracks quickly. "I didn't mean it like that! I just- what I'm trying to say is that I don't care. So you act a little weird sometimes, so what? Everyone is weird." 

"Yeah, but not everyone is crazy."

Grover shakes his head. "You're not crazy. And even if you were, you're stuck with me." 

He playfully nudges his friend with his elbow. "And you're stuck with me, too." 

"Glad we're on the same page about this." 

_____________

Chiron moves him into cabin three immediately when he's finally freed from Lee's clutches. Unlike last time, he has decided to abide by Lee's command of no strenuous activity as his body recuperates from the nightmare that had been the capture the flag game. 

There's parts of having his own space that are great. He's technically a counselor now, in charge of himself. He can choose his own activities (not that he hadn't been doing that already, but it's official now), he can stay up as late as he wants without worrying about bothering his cabinmates. But most importantly, it limits the amount of time people can see how much of a mess he is. For some reason he always gets worse at night. Maybe that's because he has nothing else to try to focus on and it allows his mind to run wild. Especially when he's stressed. 

And he's already taken up too much of Luke's time with his episodes. At least when he goes crazy in the peace of his own cabin he doesn't disturb anyone else or force them to take care of him. 

Despite following Lee's fake doctor orders, he does still find himself still wandering, albeit slowly and carefully, about camp during activity times. For the most part his schedule continues to mimic the one Luke has set for cabin eleven, the people he is most comfortable with. 

It's rare for him to go anywhere without Luke or Travis and Connor, or even Chris on occasion, being more than a few feet away. He still finds himself at the Hermes table during mealtimes for the most part. Though there have been a few times he's been cajoled by Castor and Pollux to sit at their dad's table with them. Percy's honestly not sure how he started hanging out with the two of them. He'd been hiding in the fields one day when they stumbled upon him and insisted that he join them. 

They seem nice enough. They don't even comment during all the times he blanks out and has to be reminded where they are and what they were doing beforehand. Though their father is literally the God of Madness so maybe they're used to insanity? 

It's also pretty hard to escape Lee and his siblings who seem determined to make sure Percy is actually resting and healing properly. Despite the continued offers and imploring looks, he still refuses another attempt at healing. The thought of that sunny warmth touching his skin makes him shudder, even though he knows it would be Lee or Gracie or some other kid he could probably trust.

He does end up taking Lee's advice and sinking into the saltwater pool in his cabin for a while. To his amazement, his injuries do seem to heal up significantly, though the soreness lingers. 

As a rule, he avoids the Ares kids as much as possible. 

As far as he knows, Eric and the other instigators of the fight had a rather harsh punishment handed down from Dionysus. No one told him what it is, and he hasn't bothered to ask. Percy's arms throb every time he thinks about them too much. The only thing he cares about is how the older boy and his jerk siblings steer clear of him, not even making eye contact when they're in the same place. 

This also might have something to do with Clarisse glowering at them, arms folded as she regards them coolly, reprimanding them for the tiniest of mistakes. She's not that much nicer to Percy, if he's being honest. She's not really nice to anyone except for Silena as far as he can tell. But she's never been cruel to him. Short tempered and ill-mannered as she is with everyone else, but never outright cruel. 

Percy doesn't really count her among the "Ares spawn that need to be avoided at all cost", but he still maintains a healthy distance.

Even a few members of the Aphrodite cabin manage to coerce him into spending time with them. 

Silena is great with her soothing presence and mutual love of horses, but he can't tell if he loves or hates Drew. Nevertheless, they still sit near each other occasionally, being snarky and petty all the while much to Silena's amusement. 

The other campers, well, they keep their distance from him. More so than some they already had. Even some of the members of the Hermes cabin do despite Luke's best efforts. And Percy doesn't blame them. Who would want to be in close proximity with a forbidden child? They're probably afraid of what would happen to them but association. 

Tonight though, he tries not to think about that. He's agreed to meet Castor and Pollux before lights out even though he would rather be curled up under a blanket. He's going to make an effort to focus on the good, on people that for some reason want to spend time with him. 

"Percy! Are you coming or not?" Castor yells from the steps of the Big House, Pollux already having sprinted inside. They've dragged him along for "movie night", which none of the other campers are privy to. The benefits of being the camp director's kids; special privileges.

Nervously, he makes his way inside. Chiron is nowhere to be seen, and Mr. D just watches him carefully from where he sits as the three of them pass, the glass of wine in his hand shifting into a can of diet coke for some reason. 

"Well? Go on, Peter. Don't keep my sons waiting," he says in a bored tone when Percy stops in front of him, expecting him to say something about the recent revelation of his parentage. Both Dionysus and Chiron have been strangely quiet about the whole thing, and it's making him nervous. 

Percy nods, quickly following the two boys to the room he had seen them disappear in. 

He isn't one to pass up a good chance to escape before something bad happens. 

He can still feel the god watching as he goes. 

_____________

It's waiting for him when he takes a break from the summer heat in his cabin one afternoon. 

A newspaper sitting innocently on his bed. 

A newspaper that has his face printed on the front cover. 

Hesitantly, he picks up the offending thing, flipping to the page indicated on the cover. His stomach drops as he reads the title. 

*****

BOY STILL MISSING AFTER VIOLENT ASSAULT

Perseus Jackson, 12, is still missing nearly three weeks after his disappearance. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, was discovered bleeding and disoriented on the floor of their apartment. What was originally suspected of being an instance of a violent break in and kidnapping, was revealed to be a vicious, unprovoked attack by the 12 year old. 

Ugliano claims that his stepson has always suffered from severe behavioral issues. 

"His mother and I tried everything to help him," Ugliano said in his most recent interview. "The best schools, the best professionals, medication, stays in psych facilities. And nothing ever worked. He just kept getting worse and worse." 

Jackson has been expelled from every school he has attended, has spent time in multiple mental health facilities, and has an extensive record of violent behaviors. Multiple sources have cited that the boy is suffering from severe mental illness and presents as a danger to himself and others. 

But despite what happened, Ugliano remains firm in his support for his stepson. "I just want him to be found so he can get the help he needs. That's all I want. He can be such a great kid when things are under control." 

The police urge anyone with information about the boy's whereabouts to call the crime-stoppers hotline.

*****

The phone number is circled in thick, black sharpie. 

Percy angrily tears the newspaper to pieces, chucking the shreds out of the window and watching them blow away in the breeze. Of course Gabe had managed to pin this on him. Gabe is kind of stupid- really stupid. It's how he always finds himself in a long list of predicaments he can't get himself out of, resulting in him venting all his frustration on Percy. Or Percy having to somehow smooth things over for him. 

He can also be a damn good actor when he puts his mind to it. 

He's good at making people who don't know him feel sorry for him, expertly spinning the narrative in his favor. 

But Percy supposes the real reason this story worked out for his stepfather so well is because not all of the things he's saying are complete lies. He has been kicked out of every school he has attended. There has been a revolving door of psychologists, especially before he realized talking to adults about the things he sees and experiences gets you labels like "psychotic symptoms" and "delusions". His mother hadn't helped his case. She had reached the point of rapid decline and it was obvious to anyone who looked at her. 

He'd been removed from her care once or twice before her death, shoved into a foster home once and a facility the second time. 

'Severe mental illness can run in families,' his last psychiatrist had told him the summer before he had started at Yancy. Confined to an adolescent ward of some specialized treatment center following an outburst and severe breakdown in the middle of his fifth grade classroom. Doped up on medication that didn't help, he had just nodded along with whatever the doctors said to get out of there as fast as possible.

'It's nothing to be ashamed of. It just needs to be effectively managed.' 

There's no managing it though. Percy had come to terms with that a long time ago.

And he's not going back. 

No one can make him go back to that place, to Gabe. 

He collapses onto his bed, muffling a frustrated scream with a pillow. 

_____________

Percy has been expecting a summons to the Big House since he found out Poseidon had claimed him. 

Finding out he's technically not supposed to be alive has added a new level of stress and paranoia to his daily existence that he never thought possible to achieve. He spends a good portion of his days peeking over his shoulder, at the sky, expecting the strike to come at any moment. The Ares cabin has slowly become the least of his worries these days. Even they seem to be avoiding him more lately. 

It's become hard to ignore the literally brewing storm over them as the days pass. Everyone is on edge, the feeling of wrongness seeping into everything they do. 

Life at camp has been slowly grinding to a halt since his claiming, each day becoming more nerve-wracking than the last. 

Today is no different. 

Most of the daily activities had been cancelled due to the torrential storm happening and campers simply not wanting to go outside. The campgrounds are eerily quiet with everyone holding up in their cabins or tucked away in a dry corner, whispering amongst themselves. 

He spends his time alternating between pacing his cabin, sitting down with the weather makes his bad knee ache a little too much, and staring listlessly at the lake from the porch of his cabin. 

Percy is about to restart his pacing when three loud knocks sound on his door. 

"Uh, come in?" he calls, wondering who would be visiting him in this storm. 

The door opens and Grover quickly shuffles inside, shaking the rain off him as he does so. "Mr. D wants to see you." 

"Oh, so it's finally time for my execution?" Percy asks, only half joking, as he rises from his chair. 

Grover flinches. "Please don't say things like that, Percy," he begs. 

"Am I really wrong though?"

Grover says nothing, but from the mournful look on his face he's certain Grover shares his thoughts on the situation. 

He follows the satyr across the lawn, noticing with awe how his desire to remain dry somehow keeps the rain from touching him. Some water power from his dad, he assumes. Percy just wishes he would have discovered this much, much earlier. This would have come in handy considering the amount of times he's been caught in the rain or locked out of various apartments during storms. 

They arrive at the Big House, rushing inside as the rain begins to fall even harder and the wind picks up. 

Chiron and Dionysus have moved their usual game from the front porch of the Big House to the enclosed sunroom to avoid the rain that is no longer held at bay by the magic that surrounds camp. The god sits there in his gaudy Hawaiian shirt with another diet coke, just like he had on Percy's first day. Chiron rests in his fake wheelchair across from him. Invisible hands hold up to more hands of cards at empty seats around the table. 

"Well, well. If it isn't the talk of the camp," Mr. D says, not bothering to look up from his cards which he held with the practiced nonchalance of someone who would rather be anywhere else. 

He hesitates at the door. 

"Do come in. Stop haunting my doorway. And don't expect any special treatment just because Barnacle-Beard is your father." 

Lightning crackles across the sky, illuminating the whole valley as thunder rumbles so loudly the windows of the house shake. The wind and the rain picks up just a bit, and Percy can almost feel a slight tremble in the ground beneath his feet. 

"Oh, whatever!" Dionysus sighs, waving his hand dismissively at the sky. 

Chiron feigns interest in his own cards, absently turning them over in his hands. Grover hovers close to him, trembling in fear as his eyes flit between Percy and the men at the table. 

Scowling, Percy carefully makes his way over and slinks into one of the empty seats at the large table. Grover sinks into the one beside him.

Mr. D lets out an exaggerated sigh. "I have to admit, you had me fooled Perry. You have all the markings of one of my brother's brats. Of course you had to end up being more difficult." 

"I also thought that at one time," Chiron says. "And despite the growing evidence to the contrary the longer I was your teacher, I still had retained some level of hope that he might be your father, and that your water related abilities were the result of being a legacy of a sea god. But alas, here we are." 

Percy stiffens at the mention of the sun god, a familiar fear prickling in the back of his mind. "I would rather give myself a lobotomy with a rusty screwdriver," he says tersely, hands clenched at his sides. 

His Great-Great Aunt Katherine had done that apparently, right after her older brother had been committed to a sanitorium and before her younger brother had wandered into the Canadian wilderness never to be seen by society again. Truly a pioneer in her field considering it wasn't an official treatment until 1935. 

Chiron, unsettled and a little green due to the gruesome mental imagery Percy has provided, looks at a complete loss for what to do next. Dionysus does not have that issue. 

"It's a creative way to go, I'll give you that. What did my dear, older brother do to earn your ire?" Dionysus inquires, sparing a brief glance in his direction. 

"Exist," he says simply. 

The camp director barely manages to disguise a startled laugh with a cough, looking positively gleeful at Percy's distaste for his older sibling. Grover and Chiron on the other hand seem to be on the verge of simultaneous heart attacks at his offensive declaration. 

"I would watch how you speak about my family," Dionysus cautions, "they're known to be easily offended." 

"Then they should stop doing things that make people say things that will offend them," he counters. 

"I would be particularly careful in your case, Patrick, considering your status. My father may-"

"Look down and smite me because I'm a forbidden child and Uncle Sparky is trigger happy? A trait he passed on to his son?" Percy interrupts. 

Mr. D snorts. "Correct. Especially my father. He's smote people for far less than an unfavorable nickname. And with the way things are going..." he gestures at the sky again. "He's probably seconds away from going through with it." 

"Well tell him to not threaten me with a good time," Percy huffs. "If he's gonna do it, just let him do it already." 

"Percy!" Chiron exclaims, aghast, the cards tumbling out of his hands in shock. 

"He doesn't mean it!" Grover cries, eyes darting between Mr. D and the skies. "Percy, please." His friend clutches at his arm, eyes wide and teary. "Don't say things like that." 

He bulldozes on ahead anyway. 

"No, no. I'm serious. Just take me out. I'll stand perfectly still and everything so he doesn't have to worry about missing. It'd be way quicker than plotting my future episode of Unsolved Mysteries." 

An episode of Unsolved Mysteries, Chiron mouths incredulously, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline as Mr. D slowly sets his can of diet coke on the table, head tilting to the side. 

"I legitimately can't tell if you're joking," Mr. D muses. 

Percy stares back, unblinking. "I never joke about my lifelong dream of becoming an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. And when they interview you guys, don't lie to the viewers. I definitely didn't light up a room when I walked into it. I'm a reclusive gremlin who hates people and is banned from multiple stores, who also once got sent home for biting people." 

Grover gazes at him in absolute despair. Despair about Percy voicing his perfectly attainable dream or despair about him mouthing off to an Olympian god, he's not entirely sure. It's probably a little of both. But Mr. D is the one who asked. People shouldn't ask questions they don't want an honest answer to.

Dionysus' eyes light up with interest, equally fascinated and disturbed by his statement. He leans forward in his seat, fingers tented in front of him as he studies Percy with a new level of intensity. "Oh? Did you hear that, Chiron? The boy is serious about his future episode of Unsolved Mysteries. Do tell us more."

Percy wrinkles his nose, shaking his head rapidly. "I'm not falling for that trap again. That's how they get you. The "quiet rooms" in those places aren't actually quiet and sometimes they even forget about you." 

The silence between them stretches uncomfortably long, broken only by the sound of rain falling beyond the window. Percy resists the urge to tap his fingers against the arm of his chair, but his leg bounces restlessly beneath the table. 

"You are an interesting one, aren't you?" the god murmurs, voice tinged with what could almost be described as worry. 

Dionysus' eyes slide to Chiron, brow raised. "You sure you still want to go along with this little idea of yours, Chiron? I'm not sure how that's going to work out for anyone involved." 

Chiron shifts in his chair uncomfortably. "Sometimes we must do what is necessary, despite the costs," he says uneasily. 

Dionysus hums in consideration. "Well, who am I to question the wisdom of the trainer of heroes!" Chiron stiffens but says nothing in response. 

The god stands and stretches. 

"I'm off to Olympus for an emergency meeting. Three guesses as to what it's about." He picks up a playing card, twisting it in his hand, and suddenly it takes the form of a plastic keycard. He pauses, pointing at Percy with the card resting between his fingers. "And Perseus Jackson?" 

"...yeah?"

"Provided you don't go along with Chiron's stupid plan and manage to avoid a grisly death, you will, in fact, be telling me more about your big Unsolved Mysteries dreams. I'm curious," he says casually, a smirk on his face. 

With that the air ripples around him and in an instant he's gone, the scent of grapes lingering in the space he once occupied. 

Chiron smiles at Percy, a strained, tired smile. "Well, I suppose there's no use beating around the bush." He turns to look at Percy more fully. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

He has the feeling Chiron wants him to say something like "oh, it wasn't that bad. I mean I fought Asterion and won so hellhounds are nothing!" That's the attitude so many people in this camp seemed to expect. As if these encounters are normal and should even be celebrated.

Percy frowns. "What kind of question is that? It tried to kill me." 

"You'll meet worse, Percy. So much worse before you're done," he says gravely. 

Percy blinks, a feeling of dread settling over him. "Done with what, exactly?"

"Why, your quest of course. Should you choose to accept it."

Beside him, Grover tenses. The satyr's hand reaches for his own and Percy instinctively grips it tightly. You don't have to, his friend's eyes seem to say. Percy can see the fear and worry etched on the other boy's face. He gives a barely noticeable shake of his head. Please don't do it. 

But then he remembers what Grover told him that day at the lake. How Dionysus might consider his assignment a success if he were to go on a quest with Percy and redeem himself but ensuring he comes back alive. Not that Percy thinks the satyr truly has anything to redeem himself for. For either time. What could a young satyr and young demigods really have done against the furies? Against Asterion? Percy and Grover had only survived that encounter due to sheer luck. 

But if nothing else, Percy has learned that the rules of this world make absolutely no sense. 

And it wouldn't be fair to his best friend if he didn't try to help. Not after everything Grover has done for him. 

Percy doesn't want this quest. But his gut tells him there's not much of a choice to be had here. 

He swallows harshly. "What exactly is this quest?" 

Chiron grimaces, shifting uncomfortably once more. "That is where things get a bit messy." 

As if on cue, thunder rumbles in the distance, rattling the foundations of the house once more. The wind picks up as the rain begins to fall harder. Puddles of water are gathering in the valley, and he wouldn't be surprised if the lower parts of camp began to experience a flood in the coming hours. Gazing out into the lake he can see the horizon point where the sky and the sea meet. He can see the black clouds gathering the frantic flapping of sea birds as they try to outfly the chaos brewing behind. 

Find what is lost and see it safely returned, a voice croons in the back of his mind. Percy shivers. 

"Something was stolen. Zeus and my father are fighting because of it, aren't they?" he asks softly, eyes still fixed on the storm in the distance. 

Grover and Chiron exchange worried looks. Chiron clears his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "That is correct. How exactly did you know that?" There's a note of suspicion in his voice that has Percy clenching his jaw. He can't actually think that Percy is the thief here? 

He may have a touch of the kleptomania gene, but he's not so stupid that he would steal from a literal god king. 

He flushes, leg bouncing faster beneath the table as he tries to hold back his instinctual reaction to mouth off. 

"The weather's been crazy since Christmas. It's like the sea and the sky are fighting. Annabeth kept mentioning that something has been stolen, but she didn't know what. So I guess it just makes sense that that would be what's happening," he says, fidgeting anxiously with the hem of his shirt. "Also, I've just-" he glances warily up at Chiron, the hand not fidgeting with his shirt squeezing Grover's a bit tighter. "I've been dreaming a lot." 

Percy has never spoken to Chiron directly about any of this. He's made a concerted effort to keep from speaking to any authority figure about his experiences since starting at Yancy. Grover just happened to find out because it's rather hard to conceal something like that from a roommate who sees you every day for hours on end. Chiron's eye twitches, but he shows no other signs of being surprised by this information. He must know at least some of what's been happening. Grover had to convince him to come to Yancy somehow. 

Grover's eyes light up in realization, a gasp escaping it. "You've seen it all. Your dreams. Your...moments. That's what's been bothering you these past few months." 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"That means it really is your quest." Grover's face falls as he says this, and Percy knows he wishes this wasn't the case. 

"Only the Oracle can determine," Chiron says sternly. "We cannot assume."

For a moment he's no longer in the Big House. He's in a temple before a veiled individual, green smoke choking him. There's an intense heat blazing down on him as if he's standing next to the sun itself. The Oracle. Apollo's oracle. 

He comes back to the present with a jerk, blinking and looking around confused as he tries to remember what he was just saying. 

He looks to his left and sees Grover in a quiet argument with Chiron, frustration rolling off of him in waves. "Sir, with all due respect. Do we really need to consult an oracle in this case? With-" he gestures broadly in Percy's direction. "All of this he's got going on?" 

He sends a silent thank you his friend's way. Maybe there's a way around this. 

"It's the way things are done," the centaur insists. "We would not want to offend Apollo by declaring his oracle insignificant in such an important task. Regardless of the extenuating circumstances." 

Fuck. 

"Nevertheless, you are correct, Percy," he says, turning his attention back to him. "Zeus and your father are fighting over something that has been taken. To be specific: they are fighting over a lightning bolt."

"A lightning bolt," he repeats. "All of this....over a bolt of lightning?" A burst of shocked, nervous laughter escapes him. "The god of thunder lost his own lightning bolt? How did he manage that one?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warns, frowning at him in disapproval. "This isn't an elementary school craft. This is a symbol of Zeus' power and authority as king of the gods, forged by the Cyclopes for Zeus during the Titan war. The bolt that hurled Kronos from his throne. And one that is perfectly capable of, as it has on many occasions before, causing mass destruction that mortals can scarcely begin to comprehend." Chiron is getting worked up now, the stress of the situation bleeding into his tone. "It is not a laughing matter." 

"Oh," he breathes. Yikes. Yeah, that's probably a big deal. "And it's missing?"

"Stolen." 

"By who?"

"By you, of course."

Percy isn't sure what he was expecting to hear. Maybe another god who had a bone to pick with Zeus. Maybe he misplaced it and is throwing the ultimate tantrum because of his own stupidity, blaming it on someone else. There were many scenarios he had assumed might be at play here. Him being the thief was not one. 

"He realizes I'm twelve and don't even know how to get to Olympus, right?"

Chiron holds up his hand to stop him. "At least, that is his assumption. Gods cannot take the symbol of another god's power directly. The most ancient of divine laws forbid it. And for the most part, these divine rules are respected. Demigods, on the other hand, are not bound by such rules that the gods themselves have agreed to abide by. Zeus believes your father has convinced a demigod to steal it for him."

"But I didn't-"

"Patience, Percy. Just listen," Chiron interrupts. Percy huffs, but lets the centaur continue. 

"Zeus has good reason to believe this to be true. The forges of the Cyclopes lie beneath the sea, in your father's domain. It would stand to reason that taking the master bolt would allow your father to produce numerous copies as part of his effort to usurp Zeus' position as king. The only thing Zeus remained uncertain about is the demigod who is responsible for the theft. And now that your father has openly claimed you and acknowledged that he has broken his oath, combined with the fact that you were in New York during the winter solstice, you could have easily been the one to sneak into Olympus. As far as your uncle is concerned, he's found his thief."

Percy stares in disbelief, unable to fully comprehend the words coming out of his teacher's mouth. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." 

Chiron sighs once more. "You must understand where Zeus is coming from-"

"I understand that Zeus is crazy if he thinks I managed to sneak into Olympus. A place I've never even been?"

The sky grows even darker. Despite how early it is, it looks as if night has fallen. Grover and Chiron stare nervously up at the sky, but no stray lightning bolt descends from the heavens to take him out, unfortunately. 

"Er...Percy. Maybe don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky," Grover says. 

"Paranoid, perhaps," Chiron offers in an attempt to smooth things over. "Percy, you have always been a good student of the classics. Tell me, do you remember the story of the golden net?"

Percy nods. "Poseidon and Hera and some of the other gods trapped Zeus in a golden net. They wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better king. Which clearly didn't work." 

Chiron winces, once again glancing skyward before continuing. "Correct again. And Zeus has never trusted your father since. Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt, of course. He took great offense to such an accusation from his brother. They have been arguing for months, their tempers causing destruction all across the west. War is on the horizon should this conflict not be resolved," he says solemnly. 

Understanding begins to creep in. "And now that I've been claimed, war is definitely going to happen if his bolt isn't magically returned to him by the summer solstice." 

"I had hoped that Hestia, Demeter, or Hera might have been able to make the brothers see sense. But your claiming has worsened things drastically. Neither one will back down now. Do you know what a full on war between Zeus and Poseidon would look like, Percy?"

"Probably not great," he guesses. 

"It would be absolute carnage. Nature at war with itself, and Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Millions would die in the crossfire, and civilization in the west as we know it would collapse. And you, Percy, would be the first person Zeus' wrath comes down on." 

He curls in on himself, the gravity of the situation beginning to sink in. "Yeah. Not great. What I just said." 

"What better peace offering," Chiron begins gently, "than the son of the person he believes to be plotting against him returning what was stolen?"

"But my dad doesn't actually have it, right?"

"Most observing the situation would come to the conclusion that theft of another god's symbol of power is not Poseidon's way. But Zeus is thoroughly convinced." 

Percy suppresses a groan. "Then where would I even look for this stupid thing? 

"I believe I may know," Chiron says grimly. "Part of a prophecy I heard years ago is beginning to make sense to me now."

Percy feels a sharp pain in his temple at the mention of the prophecy, muscles in his arm spasming. "Olympus to preserve or raze. Olympus to preserve or raze," he mutters, head jerking to the side. Fire. So much fire and screaming. So many bodies-

"Percy!" Grover gives him a harsh shake, snapping him back to the present moment. 

"Huh?" Chiron's face is ashen as he stares at Percy with an unreadable look. Grover sucks in a breath, hand rubbing his arm comfortingly. Percy blinks in confusion, head still a bit fuzzy, limbs still a bit twitchy. "Did I space out again?" he asks, memories of what just happened slipping away before he can fully grasp onto them. 

"Yeah, dude," Grover says, voice shaking. "But it's fine. Nothing to worry about." 

It's definitely something to worry about. But if they don't want to talk about it, that's fine with him. 

"Uh, right. Quest. Lightning bolt. What am I doing exactly?" he asks, trying to change the subject. 

Chiron clears his throat, still observing him carefully. "Before I can say more, I must know. Will you officially accept this quest, Percy? Will you seek counsel from the Oracle?" 

His fear must be showing as Chiron's shoulders slump ever so slightly. A weary, resigned look appears in anticipation of his refusal. Grover seems more worried about him than whether or not he's going to accept the quest. 

"Percy. I know what you're thinking and...and you don't have to say yes just because of what we talked about the other day," Grover says seriously. "If you're not up to it. If you can't handle it.."

If he's too unstable to function, he means. 

But what choice does he have? 

War. 

Chaos.

Death.

His best friend being labeled a failure for something out of his control.

All because of him. Because he's too afraid to stand in front of the Oracle of Delphi and the deity behind it. Because he's too afraid of the wrath of yet another god coming down on him for another thing he didn't do. 

Percy takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's about to come. "I'll do it." 

Chiron nods, relieved. "Very well, Percy Jackson. Go upstairs and speak with the Oracle. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we'll continue this conversation."

Percy gives him a wry look. "I don't think it could hurt me worse than what's already been done, to be honest." 

*

Of course the Oracle resides in the attic. That shape he had seen moving behind the current, the feeling of being watched. It all makes sense now. It had sensed his presence the moment he stepped foot in camp. Whether it was the Oracle itself reacting to a fellow being with sight, or the god who controls it aware of someone he condemned daring to get close to his domain, it had known. 

And it was calling to him. 

Four flights of steep stairs lead him to a trap door that conceals the attic. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to turn and run. 

Grover is right, in a way. Percy had seen what is happening out there. He knows what he needs to do. Lines of prophecy had been whispered to him for months now in a confusing swirl that was hard to put together, but he had seen and understood enough to have direction. 

But Chiron is also right. Going against camp tradition, risking offending Apollo more than his ancestors already had...that isn't a risk he necessarily wants to take. 

He wills himself to stop shaking as he grips the cord and tugs. The door swings down, and a wooden ladder noisily falls into place. He's hit with a rush of air that smells of mildew of rot. Instead of the usual heat you would expect from a stuffy attic, Percy can only shiver at the sudden chill that grips him. He hasn't even put a foot on the ladder and already he can feel something stirring . 

The attic is cluttered, various boxes and strange artifacts littering the room. But it's not the impressive collection of valuables that keeps his attention. No. It's what sits at the far end of the room. 

In front of the window is what can only be described as a husk of a person. 

A woman's body sits on a stool, on display for all to see. Her skin is shriveled and leathery, pulled tightly across bone. Empty eye sockets stare at him, their contents having long since decayed. She wears a thinning tie-dyed dress, holes from hungry moths adorning it. She's been dead for a very long time. That much is clear. 

Percy takes a few hesitant steps forward, eyes never leaving the mummified corpse in front of him. He half expects it to jump up and begin moving once more, he knows it's capable of that after the way it watched him from the window. There's a buzzing in his ears that grows louder and more intense the closer he gets to the body. So loud it almost becomes painful. His hands twitch, wanting to cover his ears. 

But then he listens closer. 

It's not buzzing. 

It's screaming. 

A woman is screaming, half mad with rage and grief within that husk. It's not just the spirit of Delphi who is trapped, but the poor, unfortunate person who was unlucky enough to be the last oracle. 

A man's furious words echo in his mind; as long as my children remain in danger, you will never find rest in my realm. 

Tough break. 

Probably should have avoided the sun god. And whoever cursed her, he supposes.  

He comes to a stop directly in front of her. "Well, you got me here. You win," he grits out, fists clenched at his sides. "Are you going to do your thing or what?" But the mummy remains silent, empty eye sockets still staring at nothing. Maybe it's not his quest after all, he thinks. Maybe Chiron is wrong and someone else is meant to retrieve the bolt. Maybe his fate is to be smote by his paranoid uncle. 

But then the empty eye sockets glow green. The corpse sits up a bit straighter, head jerking in his direction. 

Fuck. 

Green smoke erupts from her mouth, accompanied by the sound of hissing snakes as it curls around her. 

A voice slithers into his mind then, raspy and grating. I am the Oracle of Delphi. Speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask. 

Wrong.

Everything about this feels wrong. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to speak to this thing. Just being near this thing is making him nauseous. Sweat beads on his forehead as a headache begins to form behind his eyes. He wants to leave. He wants to leave. 

Approach, the voice urges again. 

Shoving down his fear he takes a few steps closer, staring into the glowing eye sockets. 

"What am I supposed to do?" he asks, voice trembling, already dreading the answer. 

The presence doesn't feel evil, not like Mrs. Dodds or any other monster he has encountered. It feels ancient and powerful, more like the Fates he had seen knitting their socks at the fruit stand. But definitely not human. And not something he wants to spend an extended amount of time with. 

The green mist expands then, gathering in front of him, swirling around thicker and thicker until a horribly familiar table sits before him. His stepfather and his poker buddies, or rather projections of the men, gathering around the table, cards in their hands. 

"It's not real. He's not here," he mumbles to himself, resisting the urge to turn and run as Gabe's familiar glare lands on him. 

It's not real. 

It feels too real. 

He stands his ground, unwilling to let a fake version of his stepfather win. 

The projection of Gabe is the first to speak, ghostly expression still frozen in the sneer that always promises punishment. "You shall go west and face the god who has turned."

"You shall find what is lost and see it safely returned," ghost Eddie adds. 

The third one whose name he can't recall but whose face he occasionally sees in his nightmares leans in, elbows on the table in front of him. "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend." 

In unison then, the three of them speak the final line. "And lose what matters most to you, in the end." 

With that, the figures begin to dissolve, the green smoke retreating back into the mummy in the form of a large snake. Just as its tail slips into the corpse's unhinged jaw, disappearing from view, Percy finds it in himself to speak. 

"Wait!" he cries. "What friend? What do you mean?" 

But there's no answer as the smoke retreats, the corpse once again slumping over as it goes silent. 

Percy growls in frustration. "That can't be it."

Why is this shit always so confusing? Why are visions always so vague?

He's going on a stupid quest to get the stupid bolt that he didn't even steal! They could at least make it easy for him. 

"Fuck you," he spits, for the first time allowing his thoughts to be directed at the object of his anger. At the sun god who oversees this Oracle and watches his family and distant relations suffer for a crime they didn't commit. One that not even Cassandra had been guilty of, not really. 

He turns around, intending to go downstairs and report back to Chiron, but finds that something stops him. 

The air has shifted, becoming heavier. 

There's a sudden spark of curiosity in the air around him, accompanied by the prickling sensation of being watched. He whirls around, expecting to see someone else besides him and the mummified woman before him in the dark room. But no one is there- nothing visible to the naked eye, at least. 

The feeling of being observed grows more intense the longer he stands there 

'Who are you?'  a man's voice says, smooth and melodic. 

He can feel it, something poking and prodding at his mind as someone searches for answers. The more he fights, the more insistent it becomes, frustrated at the resistance keeping it at bay. 

To his horror, the green smoke erupts without warning from the corpse, the empty sockets on its face glowing once more. The form of the snake returns, exiting through its mouth. Instead of encircling its host, it slithers towards him, coiling around his ankles. Percy's breathing picks up as he tries to step away from it, but it only wraps around him more firmly, its incorporeal form somehow starting to feel solid. 

But it's the man's voice sounding from seemingly nowhere that really sets him off. 

'Interesting,' it says in mild surprise, 'it's supposed to be trapped.' 

Trapped? Whose trapped. Him? 

Or- Does he mean the Oracle? 

'Son of Poseidon?' the voice muses, and Percy's blood turns to ice in his veins. It knows who he is. 'This hasn't happened before.' 

The smell of smoke and incense is overwhelming as the snake winds around him higher and higher, it's hold tightening until it becomes almost painful. 

Percy opens his mouth to yell but only succeeds in letting the smoke start to pour into his mouth. He's breathing it in, he thinks hysterically, the smoke infiltrating his lungs with every gasp. His body tingles all over as the sensation of something desperately trying to hold on overtakes him. With a dawning sense of horror, he realizes what's happening. It's trying to bond with him.

It's trying to leave its previous host for him. 

And if the Oracle is doing this, if it's "awake" enough to try and make him his host, if this has started immediately after his reckless, frustrated prayer above, then that means the presence peeking in on him is-

No. No no no no no. 

"Get out!" he screams, clawing at himself as he stumbles backward. His nails rake down his arms, across his face, as he tries to rip the incorporeal thing out of him. "GET OUT!"

The house trembles, mounted artifacts falling off the wall with the force of the quaking. 

He will not let this happen. He will not. He refuses. 

All at once it ceases, as if the spirit of the Oracle had realized its fight is futile. The green smoke and the thick smell of burning incense begins to dissipate as Percy once again finds himself standing alone in the darkness of the attic. The mummy has gone silent, permanently this time, resting in its chair as if nothing had happened. As if the thing housed inside of it hadn't attacked him. 

The feeling of being watched fades as well, the voice that had been speaking to him also falling silent. 

Without missing a beat he turns and flees, nearly falling down the old ladder as he does so. 

Percy slams the door behind him, breathing heavily as he collapses to his knees. 

He's never doing that again. 

*

Percy must have been a sight when he came back down the stairs, shaking and babbling incoherently as he was.

Grover and Chiron had rushed over to him in a panic demanding to know what was wrong. Instead of answering, he had promptly leaned over and thrown up. He was quickly ushered to a chair where he didn't have the energy to stop his friend from fussing over him. 

"Percy, you must tell me exactly what happened," Chiron asks urgently once he's a bit more lucid. 

Percy leans back in his chair, shaking hands clutching the mug of hot chocolate Grover had forced into them tightly. There's a blanket wrapped around his shoulders he doesn't remember being put there. His face and arms sting from where his nails have made angry red lines. 

"I'm never speaking to that thing again," he chokes out, "you can't make me." 

Grover lets out a nervous sound next to him, hands fluttering around Percy as if he wants to help but is unsure what to do. "Maybe you shouldn't have sent him up there, Chiron. Maybe this has nothing to do with him," he says, though uncertainty coats his words. "Look at him," Grover demands. "You can't be seriously thinking of going through with it!" 

"It spoke to him. If not this quest, then there's certainly something else he's meant to do. Of that I'm sure." For the first time since his arrival at camp, he can sense Chiron's uncertainty, see the way his odd behaviors are beginning to unnerve the centaur.

"But-"

"We cannot override the Fates decisions, Grover," Chiron chides, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "They have decided that there is something Percy must do. And who are we to question their wisdom?" 

Percy feels like screaming. He doesn't want to do anything. He wants to get as far away from that freaky mummy as possible. He wants to forget the sound of a woman's tormented screams and the feeling of the Oracle attempting to worm its way inside of him. His skin crawls as he remembers the way the smoke had curled around him, the sudden feeling of being watched as someone had begun to prod at his mind, trying to find answers Percy didn't want to give. 

"I'm never talking to that thing again," he says again, angrier this time. 

"Never might be a strong word in this situation," Chiron begins, and Percy slams his fist on the table. 

"Never!" he snaps. "Never again. Keep that thing away from me!" noticing belatedly that he had accidentally slipped into the language he's heard Cassandra speak so many times. 

If Chiron recognizes the language, he chooses not to acknowledge this fact. But Percy catches the twitch in his eye, the way his hands briefly tighten on the arms of his chair. 

Chiron clears his throat, trying to get them back on track. "What did the Oracle tell you? Please, Percy. This is important." 

It didn't tell me anything that I haven't already seen, is what he wants to say. It just said it more clearly, fitting together the neat little lines of poetry he's been hearing whispered around him for months now. He wonders if prophecies given by the Oracle of Delphi have to rhyme like that, or if that's just the preference of its master. He can still hear the raspy, ethereal voice in his head, can still feel the way the spirit had latched onto him. 

Percy sinks further into his chair, still shivering with cold despite the heat outside. "It said I would find what was stolen," he sighs, forcing himself to breathe through the lingering panic. 

"What did the Oracle say exactly? Word for word," Chiron presses him. "You must tell me." 

Percy sighs again, staring down into the steaming contents of his mug. "You shall go west and face the god who has turned. You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned," Percy grunts. "So I guess I am going after the stupid bolt." 

Chiron gives him a long look, unsatisfied with his answer. "And that's all it told you?"

"Yes." 

"You're certain?"

"Yes. That's it. Nothing else. Can we go back to talking about the quest now so I can go and get this over with?" he says shortly, anxious to change the subject. 

He studies Percy a bit longer before sighing. "Alright. But you should know that prophecies usually have double meanings. The truth is not always clear until the events have happened." As if he doesn't already know that. He doesn't need Chiron to explain any of this to him. "As for the quest, I believe the path is obvious. Think, Percy. If Zeus and Poseidon were to be at war with each other, their kingdoms weakened. Who would stand to gain?" 

"Somebody who wants to take over Olympus," he guesses. "Somebody is hoping that Zeus and Poseidon fighting will distract them long enough that it will be too late to stop them when they finally do notice."

Chiron nods. "Tell me, Percy. Who do you think stands to gain everything if Zeus and Poseidon tear the world and themselves apart?" 

His teacher stares at him expectantly, waiting for an answer Percy certainly doesn't have. Maybe he lives under the impression that since Percy is capable of seeing so much more than the average person, that he can just gather information and thoughts from the air at will. "I have no idea," he says flatly. "Enlighten me."

"The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility," Chiron says, a note of regret in his voice. "The bolt must be in the underworld." 

Percy longs for someone to direct him to the nearest exit. To be released from this ride he never asked to be on in the first place. 

Grover's eyes widen as he lets out a panicked bleat. "You can't be serious, Chiron!" he cries. "You can't send Percy to the underworld!"

"I'm afraid there's no other option." 

Percy sighs. "But like, are you absolutely sure Hades is the one who did it? Is there any actual proof that he might have done it, or are we just assuming he's causing chaos?" Percy presses. If they're going on classical mythology, on the myths surrounding the gods which are actually not so mythical, Hades doesn't seem like a god who would fit the bill for this crime. He feels like Hades would be one of the most chill in the pantheon, actually. 

This is the second time someone has made the assumption that Hades and kids are naturally terrible. Percy doesn't necessarily like the guy, his stance on most gods being "you suck", currently. Not to mention he's never even met him. But it stands to reason they should be thinking more carefully about this. 

Chiron, however, seems firm in his commitment to attributing the theft to Hades. 

"Hades has always been unhappy since the brothers drew their lots for their domains. He's been quiet in the underworld, yes. But it's logical to assume that he has been biding his time for the right moment."

It's not completely logical, he wants to say. 

Assuming usually makes you look like an ass in the end. 

Who's to say that Hades doesn't actually enjoy his chosen lot below? Away from the endless drama of Olympus and his volatile brothers. Percy might enjoy a quieter, further away option in the god's situation. But with a family like this one and the way he and his domain have been demonized over the millennia, he also wouldn't be too surprised if resentment had grown and finally boiled over. Chiron's point of view is not an entirely unreasonable one to have, loathe as he is to even somewhat agree with his former teacher. Still, he's not going to be quick to blame someone just because. 

Cold laughter fills the air around him as he's dragged towards the pit. Something down there is calling, beckoning him to join.

'I can take the suffering from you, child,' it croons. 'I can fix the problem for you.' 

Percy shudders, pushing down the images of the dark, cold place as quickly as they have arrived. 

"Then I guess I'm going to the underworld."

Chiron sighs in relief. "That is- That is good to hear."

Good to hear? For who, exactly? 

"So I just, what, go to the underworld by myself and ask my uncle to give back the bolt he may or may not have stolen?" 

"Of course not! Those who accept a quest may select companions to join them."

Because phoning a friend is going to make all the difference here. 

Instantly he turns to Grover, a wordless plea to join him. If anyone is going to go with him, he wants Grover. Especially because he knows a successful quest would fix his reputation. "You don't have to go," he amends quickly. "I'd understand if you don't want to. But- I mean, if I have to go I'd want you with me."

Percy braces himself for the rejection. Even if a quest is what Grover needs to fix things, he can't expect the satyr to want to participate in this particular one. Hell, he doesn't even want to go. But Grover only shakes his head. 

"Don't be ridiculous. If you go, I'm going. End of discussion." 

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Where you go, I go. Especially if you're going to the underworld. You're not getting stuck there on my watch." He gives Percy an accusatory glare. "You've already played with my emotions enough with your near death experiences at camp and I, for one, am tired, Perseus Jackson. Do you hear me? Tired. If you die, I will revive you just so I can kill you again myself." 

There's no real heat behind the words and despite the heavy tension in the room, a quiet, shaky laugh escapes him. "Thanks, Grover. Looks like it's me and you." 

"Not quite," Chiron interrupts, "you need to choose at least one more person to join you." 

"I have to pick someone else?"

"Yes. Quests are traditionally done in groups of threes. Another has already volunteered, if you would have her," Chiron says with a small, amused smile.

Percy barely suppresses a groan. "Gee, I wonder who that could be?" he deadpans, already dreading the conversation about to occur. 

The air next to Chiron shimmers and contorts until the familiar form of Annabeth becomes visible, her baseball cap clutched in her hand. He really wants to know how many conversations she listens in on with that thing. Or how many people she stalks in order to gather information because she has no concept of privacy and feels like she's entitled to do so. 

"Athena is no fan of Poseidon," she says, crossing her arms. "But if you want this quest to succeed, seaweed brain, I'm the best person to make that happen." 

Seaweed brain. 

'Your report card came today, Brain Boy. I wouldn't act so snooty.'

'How can you be this stupid!'

'Why can't you do anything right? You're always getting in the way!"

He swallows down the hurt at the name, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got under his skin.

Percy's initial reaction to her volunteering herself for his quest? Hell fucking no. The new nickname isn't helping her case either. His second? He doesn't think it's really worth the vicious argument and long-term headache refusing her would cause. And he has the strange feeling Chiron expects him to take her on this journey, what with the way he had already told her the next quest is hers to join. Who promises a kid a dangerous quest, anyway? Percy still has a lot of questions about how encouraging kids to go out and die is the norm here. 

"Fine," he grits out, jaw clenched. "You can come."

Annabeth has a satisfied smirk on her face and Percy longs to explode another pipe over her head. 

"And I'm taking someone else," he continues. Someone else who won't make him want to commit heinous acts of violence due to their poor attitude, is what he doesn't say out loud. 

Chiron coughs. "Percy, quests are usually done in groups of three. It's an auspicious number," he explains gently. "You can't take more than two people."

Percy narrows his eyes. "Yeah I heard you the first time. But are you the one going on the quest?"

"I...well, no."

"Has it been written down and codified into law?"

"No," he stays stiffly. "But tradition dictates-

"And you said I can take whoever I want with me?" Percy presses, glaring at the centaur. 

Chiron sighs heavily. "I did say that, didn't I?" 

"Then I'm bringing someone else with me," he declares. "If I have to go looking for a stupid weapon I didn't even steal because they're incapable of solving the mystery on their own, I'm taking whoever I want."

Beside him Grover looks like he's torn between laughing at his attitude and keeping quiet so as not to make the situation worse. Neither Annabeth nor Chiron look too pleased with his decision, but considering the quest must be completed and Annabeth isn't going to go on a quest anytime soon otherwise, neither deign to comment further. 

"Very well," Chiron relents wearily. "Choose whoever you like. But be sure the four of you are ready to leave at first light tomorrow. We can't delay this any longer." 

That episode of Unsolved Mysteries sounds really, really great right now. 

_____________

Betrayed by one who calls you a friend. 

He keeps turning the warning over in his mind as he stalks through camp after that disaster of a meeting. 

Friend. 

There's only so many people in this camp that Percy might consider a friend. One of them has already agreed to go on the quest with him. But something tells Percy it's not Grover he needs to be worried about betraying him in the end.

Annabeth isn't his friend by any means. His anger has calmed somewhat since capture the flag, but she still has lost his trust. A neutral acquaintance at absolute best. Nevertheless, Percy has to admit that she does know what she's talking about a lot of the time. Even if she's annoying about it and her decisions sometimes lack the wisdom she claims that she and all her siblings inherited from their mother. Having someone with him who has been in this world far longer than him, who can strategize, and who wouldn't be afraid to push him down the stairs in order for the quest to succeed and war to be avoided is a smart move. 

He doesn't think it's Luke either. 

Luke was one of the first people who came to his mind when Chiron mentioned companions. Taking Luke with him would be another smart choice. And older, experienced demigod with the fighting skills to keep them all alive. But Percy still feels immensely guilty for all the care Luke has had to give him. Luke has been looking after him practically since he stepped foot in this camp, constantly having to come to his rescue and help him with the most basic of things. 

Percy can't ask Luke to do another thing for him. Not this. He's already despairing over doing it to Grover. 

Castor or Pollux, then? 

He's been hanging out with Dionysus' twins more and more lately. They've gotten familiar, but he wouldn't necessarily call them all super close friends yet. He also knows Dionysus' might not appreciate one or both of his boys being dragged into a dangerous quest without his permission. So the twins are also a no-go. 

Charlie? 

He's nice, but Percy doesn't know him that well yet either outside of their time spent quietly in the forge. The same is true about Silena and Drew. He's also certain that he and Drew might butt heads almost as much as him and Annabeth are certain to do. Though over less pressing and highly petty matters just because they can and like to annoy each other. 

That leaves only one more person he could ask. 

Lee. 

Lee who has been overly friendly since Percy woke up in the infirmary this first time. Lee who has basically accepted him as one of his one despite Poseidon laying claim to him instead of Apollo like he and everyone else had assumed would happen. If he's going to label anyone as a friend, Lee definitely fits the bill. 

Betrayed by one who calls you friend. 

But Lee wouldn't, would he?

Betrayed by one who calls you friend. 

A familiar anxiety rises up inside of him. Maybe he wouldn't. And maybe, just maybe, he would. It's not like "friends" haven't done that to him in the past. But Lee is like Luke, there's no way. 

Still...

It looks like he knows who he's asking to come along. 

With a sigh, he turns around and heads back towards the Big House. He makes sure to give Chiron a dirty look as he goes by, the centaur doing his best to ignore him as he does so. 

The door to the infirmary is open when he arrives, and he can hear the quiet murmur of voices inside. 

"Percy!" Lee exclaims, half in excitement and half in worry as rapid fire questions are aimed his way. "What are you doing here? Are you okay? Did something happen?" 

"No, no! I'm fine," he tries to reassure the other boy. "I just- there's something I need to talk to you about." 

Lee freezes at this, concern only growing at his announcement. He sets down what he's working on and turns to look at Percy fully. "Why do I feel like I'm going to hate what you tell me? And what happened to your face!?" Lee asks with narrowed eyes, finally getting a good look at him. 

Percy runs his fingers over the scratches. Some had begun to fade, some remained slightly inflamed with tiny drops of blood seeping out from beneath the scraped skin in some spots. Guess he'd scratched harder than he originally thought. But that's a problem for later Percy to deal with. 

He might as well rip off the Band-Aid. "Soooo, remember how I'm not supposed to make unnecessary journeys? Yeah, about that. Chiron is sending me on a quest," he says in lieu of answering any of Lee's questions. The rolls of gauze fall from the boy's hands as he looks at him in shock. 

There's a tense silence between them as Percy observes Lee's face journey. 

"A quest." His voice is deathly quiet when he finally speaks. 

"Yes."

"You're going on a quest?"

"Mhm. To find Zeus' master bolt that somehow got stolen so the entirety of Western Civilization doesn't get destroyed. And also I don't get smote and eternally punished if I find it, I guess," he shrugs. "Did you know that I stole it? I mean, it's news to me but that's what everyone is saying!" 

Lee does a remarkably good impression of a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing five times before he finally manages to summon his words. "Zeus' master bolt was stolen?" he asks, unsure if he heard him right the first time. "You're sure?"

Percy nods. "Completely sure."

"And he thinks that you stole it?" 

"Also yes!" He lets out a nervous chuckle. "And I would like to not be smote because of it. Which is a new feeling for me. Normally I'd be cool with it." 

Lee falls into a chair that he swears hadn't been there two seconds ago. "You? A thief?" he asks more to himself than to Percy. 

"Apparently so," he shrugs. "Didn't know I had it in me." 

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Lee yells in outrage, the clipboard he had been holding flying out of his hand and clattering to the floor on the other side of the room. "They really think that you, of all people, managed to sneak into Olympus and steal it?"

Percy squawks in indignation. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm actually pretty good at stealing. I got paid pretty well for sneaking things in and out of places for my neighbors and some other people. Like that one mafia guy."

Lee's head jerks up. The boy looks about two seconds away from completely losing it. "The who!? No, never mind. Oh gods, I don't even know where to begin with you, Perseus Jackson," Lee groans, burying his face in his hands as he tries to regain his composure. "This is just another entry on my list that we don't have the time and I don't have the self-control to talk about at the moment. Now back to this stupid quest-"

"That we leave for in the morning. So I don't get smote," he reminds him. 

Lee is quiet for a long moment. Percy swears he can almost see him beginning to glow in rage. He takes a step backward just to be safe.  "I'll kill him," the son of Apollo growls. "I'm going to shoot him with his own bow. And then I'm going to the top of the Empire State building and setting everything on fire."

"I uh, don't think you can kill the immortal trainer of heroes," Percy says nervously. "Or like, burn down the city of the gods. That might not end well." 

"Un-fucking-believable," he continues to mutter as he jumps to his feet and begins storming around the infirmary, angrily organizing the shelves of first aid supplies. Gracie and Aiden who had been in the room when he arrived make themselves scarce as their brother continues to spiral. "You're still walking around looking half-dead!"

"I've healed pretty well, I think."

"Not enough!" He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. "You were barely functioning when you got here and they really think you would have been able to pull this off in your condition?"

"I don't think Zeus or anyone else really cares." 

Lee's shoulders sag in defeat. "I guess I can't argue with you there." He runs a stressed hand through his hair. "So who's going with you on this quest of yours?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually," Percy says sheepishly. 

"Oh?" Lee perks up, curious. 

'Yeah, um, Chiron says I'm supposed to take people with me, and Grover already agreed to go. But I guess we need other people to go with us."

"Uh huh," Lee encourages, and Percy thinks the boy may have an inkling where he's taking this. 

"And technically we already have a group of three. But I decided I want someone else, too." 

"You want me on the quest?" 

"As a fourth person, yes," Percy confirms. "If you want. I would like you to quest. With me. Tomorrow," he rambles awkwardly. 

Lee raises a brow. "Aren't quests supposed to be just three people?"

"Well yeah, but it's my quest so I figured I could take whoever I want," Percy shrugs. "I don't really care." 

"I'm shocked Chiron even let you break tradition. He's so committed to the ancient rules and all that dumb shit," he says with a roll of his eyes. "I'm even more shocked you didn't ask Luke first." 

He really does want to ask Luke. He wants to march back to Chiron and Annabeth and say he doesn't want her to go after all and just take Luke with them instead. But he's made his decision, and he still can't bring himself to believe that Luke might be the friend to betray him. 

Percy shrugs again. "My quest. I do what I want. And I want you with me." He flinches, realizing that Lee hadn't even agreed yet, already anticipating the harsh rejection that must be coming. "I mean, if you want to, that is! You definitely don't have to." 

Lee exhales loudly. "Then I guess we're going on a quest." 

Percy breathes a sigh of relief, the tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying melting away. "You'll really come?" 

Lee smiles softly. "Yeah. I'm not going to let you and Grover and whoever else is tagging along wander off to who knows where by yourselves. You said we leave tomorrow morning?"

"First thing, Chiron said." 

"Alright then. First thing. Which means you need to run along and actually eat something tonight and get some sleep," he says sternly. "Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir," he says with a mock salute.

Lee rolls his eyes in response, playfully shoving him in the direction of the door. "Go on." 

Before Percy leaves to dutifully make his way to get food, he pauses in the doorway. 

"By the way, Annabeth is the fourth person for this quest." 

He speed walks away just as Lee's final shred of patience vanishes into the ether. 

_____________

A figure lurks on the beach when he finally returns to his cabin that evening, features indistinguishable in the darkness. It stands perfectly still, not making a sound. Just...watching him intently. 

"Hey," an unfamiliar female voice rings out from the darkness. The figure's head tilts to the side as they raise a hand in greeting. "Come here." 

Hm. 

Nope. He doesn't think so. 

Percy nods to himself before turning on his heel and continuing his walk to his cabin, albeit at a slightly faster pace. He's seen this movie before, and he's not interested in living out the ending. Whatever they're up to, someone else can go out there and deal with it. 

"No, no. Come here! It's perfectly safe," she encourages as tries to make a break for it, gesturing wildly for him to come closer. "I have blue candy!" She produces a small bag from thin air, shaking it enticingly at him. 

Because that's not textbook kidnapping behavior. Not at all. 

Against his better judgement he stops, squinting in an effort to see the figure more clearly. It's definitely a woman in some kind of dress, the cloth blowing in the warm breeze. She still holds the candy up in offering. Part of him expects her to start screaming and sprinting towards him in the way that ominous figures lurking about at night are wont to do. 

"What do you want?" he calls back. 

"Come here and I'll tell you! It is safe, I promise."

"That's what every cryptid says before they kill you." 

"No, no! I'm not a cryptid. Though I do know a few!" she says far too cheerfully. 

"No!"

"....Please?" 

Fuck it. What does he really have to lose here? He's already got a probable death sentence via quest coming tomorrow. That and he is painfully, problematically curious about things despite his initial outward refusal. He is that white person in a horror film on occasion. He turns back around and begins slowly creeping in the direction of the woman. 

He isn't sure what he's expecting, but it's certainly not the relatively normal looking woman he can see more clearly the closer he gets. 

The woman looks to be in her mid to late twenties, with short curly black hair framing her lightly freckled face. She's dressed in a smile chiton, jewelry made of various assorted shells and sea gems adorning her. Her face seems kind, now that he's close enough to see it. More excited and eager than evil. Of course, she could also be excited that she has successfully lured a dumb kid to her to eat or something. 

She claps her hands excitedly when he finally reaches her. Percy's hand instinctually strays to his pocket as he comes to a stop a few feet in front of her, to the comforting weight of Riptide against his thigh. But the woman makes no move to attack him, no move to step closer. 

"Phew! You finally showed up! I thought I was going to have to emerge from your little pool thing like a horror from the briny depths in the middle of the night to get your attention." 

Percy blinks, recalling images from that one Japanese horror film he watched in his shared dorm with Grover and how neither of them had rested peacefully for a week afterward. "Please. Never do that," he begs. Also, who are you, exactly? And how do you know what's in my cabin?"

And why is she standing on the beach in the darkness attempting to lure a child towards the water? Why was she waiting for him specifically?

She giggles. "You know who I am. I told you to meet me here!" 

"I don't actually. That's why I asked." 

"Did you like my latest drawing?" she asks with a grin. "I worked very hard on it."

"You're drawing- wait a minute," he gasps in shock, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. The drawing that was left on his sleeping bag, the drawings he has been receiving for years now with his little care packages. The ominous "watching" that had accompanied the most recent one. "It's you!" 

"Right!" she exclaims. "It's so nice to officially meet you. I'm Keto." 

"The goddess of sea monsters," he whispers in disbelief. 

"The one and only!" she says with a dramatic flourish. "Well, except for Cetus. But I hate that name so we won't talk about that aspect of myself." She pauses, the grin returning. "I'm also affectionately known as "Aquarium Lady" by my friends." 

Percy's face burns hotly at the reminder of the less than flattering nickname he's been using for the goddess all these years. 

"Cetus?" he chooses to ask instead. 

"Not important! Come, come. Sit with me for a while!" She plops down into the sand, motioning for him to sit across from her. 

Carefully, he crosses the remaining distance between them and lowers himself into the sand. The pleasant expression hasn't left her face. Keto holds out the bag of candy to him. "As promised." They're sour blue fishes, one of his favorites. Damn her and her knowing what it would take to lure and keep him out here. He opens the bag and pops a few into his mouth anyway. He didn't eat much at dinner. 

"You've really been the one leaving stuff all this time?" he asks casually around a mouthful of candy. 

"Sure have! I hope you liked all your gifts so far."

He definitely has. Though he's not going to admit that to her just yet. Not until he's figured out what she wants. 

"And you're doing this...just because?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Is it a crime to leave presents for my favorite kid?"

Favorite kid. That's also a new one. No one has ever classified him as their favorite kid. He's not even sure his mom would have given all the stress he caused her when she was alive. Percy doesn't see how someone like him could ever be someone's favorite kid, and yet here is a goddess claiming that he, in fact, is someone's favorite kid. 

Keto seems to notice his hesitation and takes the opportunity to change the subject. "I hear you've been having a rough go of things at camp lately."

"Rough is an understatement," he grumbles. "I almost died twice." 

"So I've heard." Her voice has taken on a colder edge. "Chiron has always done things a little questionably. And this silly quest," she scoffs. "Ridiculous, if you ask me. You clearly didn't steal it. I would know, I watch you!" She pauses. "Sometimes! Not actually all the time because that would be weird, I think." 

Indeed it would. He's not gonna lie, that's been haunting him for a lot of years. It's good to know she's not actually watching his every little move. 

"If it makes you feel better, even the teeniest bit, some of us were prepared to drown them on your behalf." 

Percy blinks. "Wait, seriously?"

She sighs in disappointment. "Yes. I really did want to drown them, your brother, too. Alas, your father said we must exhibit restraint and not murder his nephew's children in retaliation." 

His heart skips in his chest at that. "My brother?"

Keto nods. "Oh yes. Triton. I'm sure you've heard of him."

Of course he has. He just never expected that his brother would be interested in the product of his father's affair with a mortal. Perhaps he might be more lenient with another godly sibling, but he doubts demigods are looked upon as fondly. 

"Your brother has been keeping an eye on you for many years. Well, as closely as he can without drawing suspicion. Even Triton taking a sudden interest in a demigod would had drawn unwanted attention from the king, or anyone who may be inclined to inform him. Your brother has not often sired a halfblood of his own, so it would have made people suspicious." 

Percy suddenly remembers his pre-school substitute, a man with the same green eyes as him who had hated him at first for some reason he couldn't understand. "That was him," he says softly. "At my school when I was younger."

Keto hums in confirmation. "It was. I suppose his original intention might have been....malicious. After all, your father broke an oath that could have brought down punishment on all of them. War, even. Getting rid of you quietly might have saved some headaches. But you are little and cute and easy to like, I've heard," she teases lightly. "He wouldn't have been able to go through with it even if that was the plan."

"I'm not cute! Or little!" he protests, a dusting of red on his cheeks. "Why do people keep saying that?" 

"Because it's true, little serpent," she snickers, pinching his cheek in the way old ladies liked to do. He slaps her hand away with a scowl, which only makes her laugh more. 

"And he still left," Percy says glumly. "My brother, I mean." 

Keto's smile falters. "I'm sure he would have liked to be more present. But as it were, he had already spent far too much time masquerading as a mortal to see you." She hesitates, as if unsure whether or not she should be sharing this with him. "He asks about you, you know." 

He perks back up a bit. "He does?" 

"Mhm. He found out we know each other and requested the occasional confirmation that you're alive. And," she leans in a little closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't tell him I told you this, but he sometimes contributes to your fun packages." 

A ghost of a smile works its way onto his face until her words fully begin to sink in. His brother had requested she check on him and give him updates. She

"Wait, did my brother make you check on me?" Percy demands. "Is that why you've been my weird stalker for years now? Because my brother wants updates and won't do it himself?"

Keto throws her head back and laughs. "Make me? There are few people who can make me do anything, child. And I certainly won't be bossed around by your whelp of a brother who was hardly an infant when I was already ancient." 

Percy's scowl deepens, not trusting the goddess' words in the slightest. "Then why? Why waste your time checking on me? What do you want from me? It can't just be because I'm your favorite kid."

Because adults always wanted something in return. Everyone does. He should have known that she might not be doing this out of the kindness of her heart. Instead he hadn't questioned it, just clung to the idea that at least one person, even if they're not around all of the time, actually gave a shit about him. 

"I guess I got attached," she admits with an amused huff. 

"You got attached," he repeats flatly. 

"It wasn't intentional, believe me," she drawls, "but what can I say? You were adorable, and you liked my children. Not many people compliment my children, as beautiful as they are," she says wistfully. "And now here we are. Aquarium Lady and her favorite demigod." 

"Well forgive me if I find that hard to believe," he snaps, resisting the temptation to get up and storm away. 

She sighs, scooching closer to him until their knees are touching. "It's fair you don't believe me. None of us have given you reason to believe otherwise, have we?" 

"Not really. Especially when everyone wants to remind me what a mistake I am," he huffs. 

Keto's eyes go wide. "Mistake? Who told you that?"

"That's what everyone keeps saying. My dad wasn't supposed to have any more kids, right? My existence is just causing problems. It's always been that way, and everyone at camp is just making that really clear, I guess." 

Keto reaches out and gently tilts his head up so he's looking her in the eye. "You're a good boy, Percy. And you're not a mistake. Don't let them tell you otherwise," she whispers, the fingers of her other hand brushing stray curls back from his forehead in a way that reminds him painfully of his mother on her good days. "And if they do, you tell me and I'll feed them to my children!"

She cups his face, giving his cheek one last pinch before pulling back. "I mean it." 

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbles, finding himself missing the feeling of her hand on his cheek when she pulls away. 

There's another question gnawing at him. One he really doesn't want to know the answer to. Not really. But one he feels like he has to ask now that he has the chance. 

"Keto?" 

"Hm?"

"How much did my father and brother actually see?" he inquires, grains of sand slipping through his fingers. "Like, were they watching me the whole time? Just looking and never doing anything? Or did they only show up sometimes?"

Did they see everything Gabe did? Did they see all the things he had to do to survive and choose not to intervene because it would have been an inconvenience? 

Keto releases a puff of air, brow furrowing. "Glimpses, perhaps. Enough to make sure you were still alive and relatively hidden from Olympus' eyes and Zeus' rage. But, I don't imagine either one ever risked looking too closely for too long. Not after Triton's stunt." 

That makes sense, he guesses. If too much attention would have alerted Zeus, of course they wouldn't look too hard. Percy can see it from their perspective, but that doesn't make it right. It doesn't make it okay. They could have been there. They could have tried harder, been more discreet in order to be around just a bit more. 

He runs his fingers through the sand, fingers finding a small white shell hiding in it.

And then there's Keto who has been playing the watching from afar game all these years. Even admitting to watching him a bit closer than his father and brother. He swallows, unsure if he really wants to ask her the next question and whether the answer will only make him feel worse about all of this. 

"Did you? See anything, I mean."

Keto stiffens, gazing over his shoulder with an expression of regret. She joins him in grasping handfuls of sand, letting it run between her fingers. "Not as much as I could have, I suppose. It's easier now that you're claimed and at camp and I don't have to be so secretive. But no, Percy. I did not see everything either." She takes a breath. "I was able to look more often, given that Olympus doesn't pay too much attention to me these days. Pull a few strings here and there. But never too closely or for too long." 

"Oh," he breathes, a heavy disappointment settling in.

"You're angry with us." 

"Sorry."

"No, you should be. You've earned that right." 

"Okay," he says, still unsure. 

"For what it's worth, little serpent, your father does love all of his children fiercely. He always has, even if he couldn't be present." She gives his hand a squeeze. "I'll lie about a lot of things, like that time I released a baby Kraken into Oceanus' abode. He's still very much convinced your sister was the one to do it. But I wouldn't lie to you about this," she says so sincerely that he can almost believe it. 

Percy's scowl only deepens, however, as he chucks the shell he's been turning over in his hand as far as he can throw it. It lands in the water with a barely audible splash before sinking out of view. "Yeah well, him loving me doesn't change anything, does it?" 

"It doesn't," she agrees easily.  

"He didn't even try. None of you tried hard enough to see us after that stupid rule was made. You all could have argued. There's more of you then there are of Zeus." 

"We could have," she nods. "And we didn't." 

Percy should be worried about insulting a goddess the way he is. Even with Mr. D, despite the god's laid-back attitude and apparent amusement with his antics, he knows he should never push it too far. But yet here he sits, angry and hurt and bordering on yelling at Keto who could do away with him with hardly a lifted finger if she so chooses. 

"I'm surprised you haven't decided to smite me yet."

She tilts her head. "And why should I do that?"

Percy raises a brow. "Because I'm sitting here insulting you and your extended family?"

Keto laughs again. "Some of us are capable of admitting our faults. Now some of these younger ones," she scoffs, "the Olympians, they are proud creatures. Some less so over the centuries." She pauses. "Maybe not just them. Many of us are like that," Keto corrects herself. "We've grown used to certain things after being worshipped for so long." 

"So no smiting?" he asks, just to confirm. 

She softens, eyes still so, so sad. "No, Percy. I'm not going to smite you. 

"Cool."

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, listening to the sounds of the lake and the chirping of crickets around them. 

He finds another shell hiding in the sand to fiddle with. "You're still going to be here? "Stalking" me, I mean." 

Keto leans in, a mischievous look in her eye. "Always watching. And occasionally crawling out of the nearest watery surface when you least expect it."

"Please don't," he begs. 

_______________

Cabin three has its own bathroom, which Percy is grateful for. Technically, all of the cabins have a bathroom, though use of it gets tricky when you have a god with many children or a situation like the Hermes cabin. Percy has spent far too much time in the communal bathrooms for his liking. 

There's also the small saltwater pool in the common area that Keto had threatened to emerge from. 

After a quick check to ensure that she had, in fact, kept her word to not inhabit the pool, Percy falls into it, clothes and all. The water soothes his aching muscles and joints, the tension he's been carrying all day melting away. 

He's too wired to sleep, too anxious about what tomorrow brings to relax. Each time he closes his eyes he sees the green smoke from earlier, remembers the sensation of the snake wrapping around him and the sound of the god's voice ringing in his ears. He'd managed to compartmentalize for the most of the day after it happened, not wanting to risk a public breakdown. But now it's all he can think about. 

That and this quest. 

Tomorrow morning he leaves on a quest that he may never come back from. 

Usually that thought would be comforting to him, in a way. An end to the chaos that his life has been since the moment he was born. An end to the quite literal madness that is looming over him, ready to strike at any moment. But now all he feels is trepidation about what's to come. 

He sinks further beneath the surface, the water now covering his nose and his mouth. 

A thought occurs to him as he sits there, carefully holding his breath. 

He wonders...

There's a brief moment of hesitation, and then he opens his mouth. 

And breathes. 

Breathes better than he has in his life. His lungs expand with the ease for the first time in his working memory, unbothered by the asthma that plagues so many inner-city kids. 

Thanks, dad, he thinks, sinking further into the water until he's completely submerged. He stares up from the bottom of the pool at the painted ceiling of his cabin, the art enchanted in such a way that it appears as if the waves are actually moving. You give me cool Aquaman powers but not any attention or help when I really needed it.

Chapter Text

He packs light. Just some spare clothes and toiletries shoved in a backpack. His hand hovers over one of his new, empty sketchbooks that Travis and Connor had taken him to get from the camp general store after he mentioned he had filled his other ones. Apparently the camp store has everything they could need, including art supplies, and is free for them to use as long as they log their “purchases”. 

Truly a wild concept considering almost all of the meager possessions he’s had until this point were obtained through stealing or bartering. 

He ends up thinking better of bringing it along, carefully putting it in the drawer where he stores the rest of his artwork and writing. 

The camp has also generously gifted him about three-hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas for "non-mortal purchases", whatever those will end up being. Percy isn't sure if Chiron and Mr. D are out of touch with the mortal world and how inflation works or if they just don't care, but he's absolutely certain three-hundred dollars is not enough to support four people traveling across the country for who knows how long. 

Thank God (and he does mean God because he's not presently in the business of thanking any immortal Greek deity for anything, with the exception of Keto, maybe) for his sketchily obtained living fund. He's accepted his role as the provider for this journey.

Lee, ever the good fake doctor, has snagged nectar and ambrosia from the infirmary, along with some other basic medical supplies. Percy already has a stash of his own, a gift from Keto before his arrival at camp, but it's always good to have more. 

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which he's been told was a twelfth birthday present from Athena on one of her extremely rare, possibly only, visits during her long tenure here as a camper. Which actually makes Percy a bit annoyed on her behalf. 'Sorry I've ignored you and left you to fend for yourself all these years. Here, have a magic hat and feel better about things!'. Things like that have never sat well with him. If his father ever decides to show up and pull something like that, he's punching him square in the jaw. Punishment for attacking a god be damned. 

No wonder Annabeth is desperate for any kind of attention. From Olympus or otherwise. 

She also has a mean-looking bronze knife she stores in her shirt sleeve and a book on Ancient Greek architecture that he’s certain will also be in her bag. Because priorities. There's going to be so much time to sit down for story time while on a dangerous quest, after all. 

Grover also packed light.

Percy saw him scurrying towards the Big House earlier, wearing a hat to hide the horns that just peek out over his tufts of curls, and a heavy coating of Mist around his legs to disguise his legs. Percy was also informed yesterday that his orange backpack will contain a collection of apples and scrap metal for him to snack on during their travels. He always thought the memes of goats eating metal was just for laughs. But no, satyrs actually seem to like that stuff. He hopes there's an emergency medical procedure for satyr intestines slowly being sliced to ribbons over the years. 

And those reed pipes of his. 

He loves his friend, truly. But one day the satyr is going to wake up to find that those reed pipes have mysteriously vanished in the night if he doesn't learn another song soon. Percy can only handle Hilary Duff renditions so many times before the violent thoughts emerge. 

The sun has barely risen. There's still an hour or so before they are scheduled to leave with Argus, who will drive them to the nearest bus station. But he, like everyone else it seems, had been too restless to get much sleep. 

He’s been too busy ruminating over this quest. 

Too worried about the Oracle resting in the attic of the Big House, and the voice that had spoken to him as it tried to make him its host. 

Too busy alternating between feelings of overwhelming sadness, grief, and rage over the conversation he had with Keto on the beach the night before. 

In the distance, he can see Annabeth pacing around the Athena cabin, her bag resting on its steps as she walks in hurried, anxious circles. Looks like the one who was most excited about this quest is starting to feel a hint of the nervousness she had belittled him for on multiple occasions now. Good, he thinks. Good in a sense that it will be good for her to know she's not always right, and good in the sense that maybe she's starting to think about how dangerous and awful this quest of theirs actually is. 

Percy's pretty sure he glimpsed Lee making his way towards the infirmary, no doubt checking in one last time before he left "his infirmary" in the very capable hands of his siblings. And for what feels like the hundredth time in the past two hours, the guilt rises up once more. He's taking Lee on a dangerous quest, one that none of them may come back from. This is after admitting to him that Percy has witnessed his death over and over again for months, ever since that dream back at Yancy. He knows that, as of this moment, Lee is on a path that leads to his death. 

Where and when, he's still not sure. 

But he can't help but think; what if Lee isn't the one who will betray him after all?

What if Percy has unintentionally set in motion the events that will lead to Lee's death? 

What if he's made a mistake and there's another person at camp he should be more concerned about? The prophecy from the Oracle did just say "friend." It didn't say good friend, or best friend, or anything like that. If you stretch the definition of "friend" as far as it can possibly go, it could be used to describe an acquaintance even, an ally you occasionally hang out with. 

What if he’s wrong?

Percy feels like he’s missing something, something important. But the harder he reaches for it, the farther away it moves, always lingering just outside of his grasp. 

A knock on the door draws him out of his thoughts. 

He tenses. "Come in!" he calls, fully expecting Chiron or Annabeth having come to fetch him so they could leave earlier than intended. 

The door creaks open and Luke pokes his head in. "Hey, bud," he greets, a warm smile on his face. 

Luke's presence fills him with an immediate sense of relief. Percy had been afraid he wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye before he left. But he should have known Luke would come and find him. The older boy always stops by his cabin in the morning, so he doesn’t know why he thought today would be any different. 

Except today is different. Because Percy is leaving on a quest that he barely talked to Luke about the night before and didn’t even decide to invite him on. A few of the other demigods around camp, the ones more like Annabeth in their desire to be known, had been disgruntled that they weren’t even considered for such an important mission. Percy had assumed that Luke, as one of the oldest campers and arguably one of the strongest, would have had at least some similar feelings. 

"Hi! I- I didn’t think you’d be stopping by.”

Luke shoots him a look of mock offense, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Percy. Did you really think I wouldn't come to say goodbye? You must think so little of me.” 

Percy flushes, a shy smile on his face. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

Luke steps fully into the cabin, shutting the door gently behind him. "Sure, sure. I believe you.” He crosses the room in a few steps, reaching out to ruffle Percy's hair. 

“ Luke !” he cries in dismay, slapping halfheartedly at the boy’s hands. “I just fixed my hair.” 

“I’ve known you for weeks now and I can’t recall a single time when your hair has ever been tamed-”

“Hey!”

Eventually, Luke  relents, doing his best to smooth the curls on Percy’s head he had just purposely mussed. “So, are you ready for your grand adventure ?” 

Percy winces, the brief joy he had experienced while goofing off with Luke quickly fading at the reminder of what is quickly approaching. 

"Uh, yeah! It's gonna be great," he says quickly, not wanting to seem weak in front of someone he realized he actually looks up to. 

“Great?” Luke says in disbelief. “You sure about that?” 

Percy nods. “Yup. I’m so excited for this quest.”

Luke raises a brow, a knowing smirk on his lips. "Uh huh. Now tell me how you actually feel." 

Percy looks away, tugging at a loose string on his shorts. He mulls over his words, over all of the things people like Chiron and Annabeth would want to hear from a “hero” preparing to go on a journey. But Percy gives up the show of false bravado rather quickly under Luke’s scrutinizing gaze. 

"I don't wanna go," he practically whines, ashamed at just how easily the confession slips out of him. But he’s always found it hard to lie to Luke. "It's all so dumb. I didn't even steal the stupid bolt!" 

"That's more like it," Luke says softly, settling into the seat beside him with a quiet huff. "You know, Percy, most demigods aren't actually excited about quests the way Annabeth is." 

"Really?" he asks in disbelief, "because that's the vibe I’m getting from every other person I talk to.”

Luke snorts. "Okay, some of us, maybe. Some of us really want our parent's attention, at least at first. A lot of us don't see the point of going out and dying for someone who will just forget our existence after it's over. The need to please starts to fade for a lot of demigods the longer they’re here." He gestures to the scar on his face. "A quest was how I got this, actually. It went sideways from the beginning," he continues with a light chuckle, though Percy can see the way his eyes harden, the subtle tensing of his jaw. 

Percy recalls Annabeth mentioning a quest that hadn’t ended well. 

Luke must have been one of the campers who went. 

"What happened?" Percy winces. "I mean, if it's okay to ask?”

Luke sighs tiredly. “It’s okay to ask, Percy. I just don’t talk about it often.”

“Okay,” he says, still unsure that he hasn’t crossed the line. 

Luke takes a deep breath. "My dad decided to be nice and offer me a quest. You know, because after years of not talking to me, that should smooth things over, apparently." Luke says "dad" in the same tone of voice Percy would use when asked to describe the vermin that infest his apartment building back home. "It should have been an easy one. It's something that's been done before. But then…”

Luke trails off as he fiddles unconsciously with the lace of one of the shoes. 

“But?” Percy asks as Luke’s silence drags on. 

Luke shakes his head, pulling himself back into the moment. "I won't bore you with all the details. Just....just be careful out there, alright? Even the easiest quests can turn deadly.” He flinches at the last word, eyes growing distant. 

This time Percy holds his tongue and doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He doesn’t need to. The knowledge that Luke’s questmates didn’t make it home with him is written in the grief all over his face. 

"I will," Percy promises him. "As careful as I can be." 

“That’s all I ask.” 

They sit in silence for a moment, Percy unsure what to say next. His eyes drift to the space between them where a box rests between them. He had noted it when Luke arrived, but hadn’t thought to say anything at the time. 

“What’s that?” Percy asks, taking the opportunity to change the subject. 

Luke follows his gaze to the box. "Oh, this?" He removes the top from the box, revealing a rather nice looking pair of converse within. "I guess I had another reason for finding you besides saying goodbye. I originally wanted to give you something," Luke says with a sheepish look, gesturing to the shoes. 

Percy cocks his head to the side, entirely confused by this "gift." "You got me...shoes? I mean, thanks! But I don't even think those would fit me."

Luke huffs. "Watch this." He picks up and hands the shoes to Percy before saying a soft "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprout out of the heels of the shoes, startling him so much he almost drops them. 

"Woah," he utters in amazement. "Are these..?"

"Yup. A knock off version of my dad's shoes. But incredibly useful nonetheless." Luke looks sad for a moment, but he quickly hides it once more . "I don't use them much anymore, obviously, except for a few moments of fun. I thought they might be useful to you guys." 

Percy doesn't know what to say. Luke is giving him the shoes to use? A magic gift from his dad, probably one of the only things Hermes has ever given him, and he's prepared to loan them to him? He'd spent the last twelve hours or so worried that Luke would hate him now, feeling insulted for not being included on their quest. But it looks like he was wrong about that, thankfully. 

Luke reaches out and gently plucks them from his hands, setting them down again. "Except...I don't think that's the case anymore." 

Percy blinks in confusion. "Wait, why not?"

"I didn’t think about it on the way over, but with everything going on, and with Zeus already looking for an excuse to blast you, I don't think going into the sky would be the safest thing right now," Luke tells him regretfully. 

Luke isn't wrong. Ever since his claiming he's felt a sense of foreboding whenever he looks at the sky. He hasn't even flown on Meleys these past days, despite the pegasus' annoyance about it. 

“It would make me feel better if you stayed out of the sky, Perce,” he continues, and Percy notes the tension returning to his frame.

"You're right," he says with a sigh, "but maybe someone else could use them instead? Like Grover or Annabeth." 

Luke stiffens at the mention of Grover or Annabeth possibly using the shoes before quickly brushing off Percy's suggestion. "I've known them a lot longer than you, Percy. Trust me, I don't think they're coordinated enough," he says with a wry smile. 

"Lee, then?" 

Luke seems to consider this option. "Possibly," he murmurs, brow furrowed in thought. But his shoulders slump as he turns to look at Percy again. "You like Lee, don't you?" Luke asks softly. 

Percy nods, eyes brightening. "I do! He's really great, honestly. I'm, well, not really used to people being nice to me like you and Lee, some other people are." 

Which is, once again, making him deeply question the thoughts that are leading him to view Lee as a likely candidate to betray him. 

Luke looks like he wants to say something about that, an anger similar to what he witnesses from Lee whenever he has ended up in the infirmary and the topic of his past comes up brewing beneath the surface. But he doesn't interrupt. Just forces himself to stay calm while Percy keeps talking. 

"It's kind of like hanging out with you or Chris. Or Charlie, I guess. But I don't know him as well. Anyway, I like Lee. But..." he trails off, mind conjuring images of the way cabin seven glows like the sun, the marble statue of its patron staring at him each day as he passes, the Oracle. "But even though I like him, sometimes I think I shouldn't."

Luke looks up sharply. "What do you mean, Perce?"

Because I don't want their dad to look down and see me interacting with his children and punish me even worse for it, is what comes to his mind immediately. 

"It's scary sometimes," is what he settles on. “Being around them.”

Luke's eyes narrow. "Wait, did Lee do something? Did one of his siblings?” he demands. 

"No, not the Apollo cabin! Lee and everyone are super nice, like I said. I promise. It's-" he takes a deep breath, not used to talking about this with anyone. It's not even something he has expressed to Grover, with the exception of his outburst with Mr. D yesterday. "It's their father that scares me." 

Always the sun god. Even more so now that Percy has finally come to terms with that fact that he's real. That all the 'mythological' things he and his family have been experiencing for generations are real and not just powerful delusions.

And especially after the incident in the attic. 

"Their father."

He shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah. Him." 

"You’ve met Apollo?" Luke's expression is stony, but his eyes burn with barely contained rage as if he is prepared to challenge the sun god himself.

Percy swallows uncomfortably, unsure how much he can safely risk sharing with Luke. Grover already knows too much, and now even Lee knows a bit. He’s terrified of what could happen the more involved they become. What if they’re punished? What if being around him is enough for whatever is affecting him to rub off on them and make their lives miserable somehow? Apollo is the God of Plagues, after all. 

“Well, not officially,” he whispers. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s complicated.” 

There’s no easy way to say “I barely know the guy, but he saw fit to curse my entire lineage because he can’t handle rejection and now here I am” to someone. 

“Mhm. What’s so complicated about it?” Luke’s voice remains steady, but Percy can still feel the anger and suspicion simmering underneath. 

Everything. 

Everything about it is complicated and he doesn’t know where to start. Or how to start. The air in the room suddenly feels harder to breathe. Is he panicking? He might be panicking. 

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Breathe, kid,” Luke’s calm voice cuts through the panic. “In and out. Try to copy me.” 

Beside him he hears Luke taking loud exaggerated breaths, the same way Grover would back at Yancy when things got too much and he felt like he was going to die. He can’t quite do it the first few tries, but Luke is patient, urging him to keep trying. 

Eventually he manages a breath, and then another. Luke’s hand has migrated from his shoulder, carefully holding Percy's one to give him something to ground himself with. 

“There you go,” the other boy encourages as Percy’s heart rate begins to slow, “a few more deep breaths. Just try to relax.” 

Percy nods, continuing to copy the older boy’s breathing until he feels less like he may pass out. 

“Wanna try that again?” Luke asks when he’s calmed down enough to speak, still keeping a firm, grounding grip on him. 

Not really, he thinks. 

But he’s come this far. And if he doesn’t force it out of himself now, he’ll just give himself more time to panic about it. 

Percy stares at the floor, at the grains of sand that always seem to dust it no matter how often he sweeps. He’s sorely tempted to make up an excuse, or announce that he has to leave right now for the quest and doesn’t have the time to finish this conversation. 

He drags the toe of his sneaker through the light layer of sand. “Before Chiron would officially give me the quest, he made me talk to the Oracle. I really, really didn’t want to.”

Luke winces in sympathy. “Yeah, the Oracle isn’t exactly the most fun camp resident to visit. I don’t think any of us who’ve been on quests really wanted to talk to the creepy mummy,” he says with a small laugh. 

Percy shakes his head. “It’s not the mummy that bothers me.”

It certainly is a creepy thing, he’ll give him that. But the mummified corpse he can handle, he’s seen far worse in the streets of New York and its many seedy establishments. But that spirit coiled inside of it, always waiting, ready to spring up at a moment’s notice at the bidding of its master? That is the truly horrific thing about this. 

“I told Chiron it was a bad idea, and so did Grover. But he didn’t care.”

Luke squeezes his hand tightly. “Why was it a bad idea?” 

Why was it a bad idea?

Maybe because when his mom was a small child, before Grandma Estelle had thrown herself out of their apartment window, her brother, Aidan, had lost his mind and attacked their half-brother, Paul, with a pair of scissors. Paul, whose mother had promptly picked him up and never let him return to the Jackson household again. Going so far as to change her son’s name back to her maiden name. 

Or maybe because Uncle Aidan had wandered out in a sleep-like trance into the road not two weeks later in front of a speeding car. 

Or because Maxim had tried to warn the authorities that someone was murdering people, only to be blamed when the bodies were finally found and was immediately disappeared to a gulag somewhere in the Soviet Union without a trial. 

Or the little girl who was abandoned in Cyprus by her grandmother, the woman who was supposed to care for her, for being “crazy like her father” and had an unfortunate encounter with one of the many mistreated and abandoned hunting dogs that roam there. 

There is an ever growing list of reasons as to why Percy should have no contact with the Oracle of Delphi, one that doesn’t look like it’s prepared to stop growing anytime soon. One that he doesn’t know how to even begin sharing the details of. 

“I have these weird dreams sometimes,” is where he decides the easiest place to start is. 

Luke quirks a brow. “I’m aware. We slept in the same cabin for a few weeks.” 

“Yeah but I’ve never, like, actually told you what any of them are really about. Or about-”

“No. You did, actually. A few times. Usually in the form of looming over me at odd hours of the night and saying strange things,” Luke grins. “Or sometimes on your way out. Chris once had to sprint after you during a midnight jaunt to the woods and throw you over his shoulder to bring you back.” 

Percy stares at him for a long moment, mouth open in shock. “And you didn’t say anything!? You just put up with me being weird like Grover did at Yancy?” 

Luke shrugs. “It wasn’t a big deal. You were already having a rough time, no need to make it worse.” 

Percy hides his face in his hands, letting out distressed, embarrassed as he does so. 

“The sleep walking was rare, if that helps,” Luke says sheepishly. “It only happened once. Everyone else just chalks it up to weird, vivid nightmares. They’re pretty common here, after all.” 

“It really doesn’t,” Percy groans into his hands, face hot. 

Luke pats his back. “Okay, alright, back on topic. Your weird dreams.” 

He peeks through his fingers at the older boy, relaxing a bit more as Luke offers him an encouraging smile. 

“They uh…they don’t always happen when I’m asleep,” he says hesitantly. “Sometimes they just happen whenever.” 

Luke tilts his head. “I’m still struggling to figure out what the new information is supposed to be here, Percy.”

Percy blinks in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not sure how much you remember, bud, but you’ve had some pretty…rough days here,” Luke tells him gently, watching him carefully for his reaction. “Sometimes your mind wanders a little.” 

He vaguely recalls the day he spent holed up in cabin eleven after the bathroom incident. And the various times a member of the Hermes or Apollo cabin, and more recently Castor or Pollux, had whisked him away from whatever he had been doing, much to his confusion when he finally snapped back to the present moment to find himself in a completely different spot. 

He must be making it so obvious that something is wrong with him. 

Of course people could tell.

If people couldn’t tell just by being around him that something is off, his family wouldn’t have been labeled for the village crazies for millenia now. He wouldn’t have gotten in trouble so much. He should have known. 

“So does everyone…?”

“No,” Luke says quickly before he can finish his question. “Not everyone. Just a few of us who know what to look for might have some idea what’s happening. I think a lot of campers just think you’re kinda…”

“Insane?”

Luke winces. “I personally wouldn’t use such a harsh word, but they have definitely filed you in the ‘strange and unusual’ category, yeah.” 

Percy appreciates the honesty. It still stings a bit, but he appreciates it. 

Luke clears his throat. “So. All these dreams and stuff, they have something to do with Apollo, I’m guessing?” 

“Yeah. Runs in the family because of him, I guess. Kinda wish it didn’t,” he says with a nervous laugh. “We all hate it.” 

Screams.

All he hears are screams. All he sees is death and destruction.

And the voice whispering to him from below-

Percy flinches, fighting the urge to throw his hands over his ears in an attempt to block out of the chaos no one else in the room could hear. There’s so many people who long for abilities like this, to peek into the past and the future, and sometimes different aspects of the present with ease. To find all the answers they seek with little effort. But they’re all fools, in his opinion. Fools who don’t know the cost of such a gift. 

Maybe it’s different for those who develop them under normal circumstances, whatever “normal” is for people like him. Maybe it’s different to have them when they don’t come with a curse woven throughout. Truthfully, it sounds like a nightmare either way. 

“He doesn’t like me,” he continues, “Or any of us. He never has. That’s why we all die. Have I told you I’m probably going to die? I mean we all die, but we just die faster , you know? Because of him, and the fact that we’re crazy. But hopefully it’ll be quick in a ‘I threw myself off a building’ way or something and not in a 'I gave myself a lobotomy with a rusty instrument’ way. Both of which have happened!”

Percy’s rambling now, afraid that if he stops speaking he won’t be able to start again. Luke gazes at him in horror, the weight of his words settling over them. Do gods always listen in when you talk about them? Does he hear Percy confessing all of this to Luke? Does Poseidon hear any of this? They’re in his cabin, after all. Maybe they’re all too busy with the impending war to monitor every use of their name. He sure hopes so. 

“I thought he would smite me for just going near his oracle, if I’m being honest. But it turns out there are worse options than smiting. I guess smiting us would end his entertainment too quickly.” 

“Worse how,” Luke presses, voice shaking ever so lightly as his fingers dig into his thigh in an effort to keep himself calm. 

Percy takes a deep breath, barely suppressing a shiver. “Before I could leave it….it woke up again, I guess.” 

Green smoke curled around his ankles, slowly slithering up his body. Each inhale brings the overwhelming scent of incense and sunlight. 

“I thought it was trying to attack me.”

The longer it remains wrapped around him, the more intertwined with him it becomes. The easier it becomes for it to start worming its way in, poking and prodding at things in his mind it shouldn’t have access to. 

“I think it wanted me to be its host,” he confesses. “It didn’t want to let go. And then he spoke and I…I don’t understand. He hates me. He hates all of us . It shouldn’t have been able to happen.” 

He’s watching, he’s listening. He’s just as curious as his Oracle and yet he doesn’t push too hard when he meets the wall of resistance that is Percy’s panic. He’s frustrated, but he doesn’t force it. He’s a god . He could do whatever he wanted. So why doesn’t he…

“I didn’t want to be the Oracle. I still don’t want to be. But it was trying to make me and I almost couldn’t get out. I’m already going to lose my mind, Luke,” he says miserably, “I don’t want it to happen faster.” 

Percy takes another deep breath before finally risking a glance in Luke’s direction. Luke hasn’t said much since he started to say more about the Oracle and Apollo. He looks not too different from that night in the Hermes cabin that Percy can only recall glimpses of; pale, frightened, concerned, angry. His nails dig into the skin of his thigh so hard that Percy can see tiny pinpricks of blood where he’s broken the skin. 

Maybe he should have just stayed quiet. He should know better than to tell people any of this. Not even Grover knows this much. 

"Luke?" he asks hesitantly at the sudden, worrying change in his demeanor. "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" He can already feel himself shrinking away from the older boy on instinct, his brain screaming at him that he's fucked up. That this is the moment Luke finally snaps and get's tired of him because he can't handle how fucked up everything about him is. 

"No! Gods, no, Percy. I'm not mad at you. Never you. I'm just-" he lets out a frustrated sound, raking a hand through his hair. "It's just not fair that this keeps happening with that stupid thing!"

Percy involuntarily flinches at the other boy’s raised voice. Luke is not a yeller, he only raises his voice when he absolutely has to. Usually in an effort to corral a cabin full of his siblings and other unclaimed campers who are united in the desire to cause chaos. And even then, he’s never too harsh or too loud. It still makes him nervous all the same. 

He pushes that nervousness away in favor of honing in on something Luke said. 

‘It’s not fair that this keeps happening.’

Someone else has shared his experience with Apollo’s oracle. 

"It's not the first time the Oracle has done something like this, is it?" Percy asks, a cold feeling of dread settling over him. 

"No. A while ago someone I knew- she uh, she also met the Oracle and it didn't go well,” Luke admits quietly. “She was absolutely convinced that she was the one who was destined to be the next Oracle. And maybe that could have been the case in a different time or place. Maybe she really is one of the people who have the ability to accept the Spirit of Delphi. But really, I think it was just a mix of being clear sighted, dating a god, and untreated Bipolar disorder giving her a bunch of fancy new ideas. It didn’t matter if she should do it, she just wanted to.” 

Like one of the times when days of no sleep had blurred the lines between vision and reality for his own mother, and she had a full psychotic break. The results were never pretty. 

“And they let her try anyway?” 

For all Chiron’s faults, Percy can’t imagine the centaur letting a random mortal, parent of a demigod or not, show up at camp and demand to be the next Oracle of Delphi. Nor can he imagine Dionysus having been on board with it. Not to mention Apollo who must have been insulted that some random woman decided she had the right to the Spirit of Delphi. They all have to know that the Oracle is cursed, trapped inside the husk of the woman who had taken it last. They had to know it wouldn’t have worked and that it might have put one of the god’s most sacred spirits in further jeopardy. 

But then again, Chiron had also been willing to let Percy be taken out by Asterion and Mrs. Dodds if he couldn’t figure out how to save himself. 

“They did,” Luke says flatly, leg bouncing in agitation. “They really did.” 

“And it didn’t work that time either.”

“No. It really fucking didn’t,” he says with a humorless laugh. “And they didn’t do anything about it after it happened. They said there’s nothing they can do for her, and just sent her home and left her like that.” 

Of course they did. The outcome isn’t a shocking one. Still horrifying and rage inducing, but not shocking after everything he has witnessed or heard about the Greek world thus far. 

“I’m sorry, Luke,” Percy whispers, scooching closer to him. “I shouldn’t have brought any of this up.” 

“It’s not your fault, bud,” he sighs, nudging him gently. “You can always tell me things.”

“But-”

“Always,” Luke says seriously, “I mean it. You can tell me when bad stuff happens. You don’t have to deal with it on your own, Percy. Especially not stuff like this.” 

Since meeting Luke, Percy has found himself ruminating over the fact that he’s never had anyone in his life who looked out like this for him before. He’d always scoffed at the idea of running to a “trusted adult” with his problems. Even with Grover he still has the tendency to censor just how bad things get when he can help it. 

If Luke– maybe not even Luke, specifically. If just one adult had bothered to care the way his former counselor does, would that have made a difference? 

"I really hate that Oracle. I can still feel it trying to get me," Percy says miserably, shuddering at the memory. "I never want to speak to it again." 

"And you won't," Luke says firmly. "You'll never have to go anywhere near that thing again. Or anything to do with him if you don't want to." 

By “him”, Percy assumes he means Apollo. How Luke would manage to keep a god away from him is beyond Percy, but he appreciates the sentimentment. "I tried to tell Chiron that, and all he said was "never might be a strong word in this case." But I was serious. I won't-"

"Fuck Chiron," Luke interrupts, jaw clenched tightly. "Chiron is just another part of the problem that needs to be fixed." 

"I mean, yeah. But how would we even fix it? Everything looks pretty unfixable if you ask me," Percy grumbles unhappily. “I don’t think most of them would really change things around here.” 

"They will," Luke insists. "I know it." 

"How?"

Luke is silent for a long moment, eyes fixed on a distant point out on the lake.

"Sometimes, Percy, we have to make hard choices,” he begins slowly, still staring out of the cabin’s window. “Even when we don’t necessarily like everything involved. Sometimes…it’s the only other option we have.”

Luke’s expression is pained, voice soft and hesitant as if he doesn’t quite believe his own words. It's strange seeing the other boy look so conflicted, so uncertain about anything. It's nothing like the effortlessly confident persona he has been projecting since Percy arrived at camp. 

It’s concerning. 

It’s unsettling. 

Something about this version of Luke makes him uneasy. 

"What’s our only option, then?" he prompts, still watching his friend closely.

Luke slumps in his seat with a bone deep tiredness that someone his age shouldn't have. "I want things to be different, Percy," he says in lieu of answering his actual question. "And if doing the difficult thing means that camp will change, that everything will change, that you and my m- the girl I used to know, and the other demigods won't suffer anymore when it's all over. Then I'll do it." 

"But what thing are you talking about?" The unsettling feeling only grows stronger the longer Luke dances around his question. He doesn't know why, but something is telling him to push harder. To force the answer out of Luke. 

"When you come back from your quest. And you will come back," Luke says sternly, "and it's the right time, I'll tell you everything. All of it. I just need you to trust me that it's necessary, Percy, and that I can't talk about it just yet."

Luke's tone borders on begging, communicating a desperate need for Percy to understand. 

There's a nagging feeling in his gut that something is very, very wrong with this situation. One that he would lean into heavily under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances. This is Luke. Luke who looks exhausted and is already at the end of his rope, the harsh realities of life already having worn him down in a way that Percy can relate to.

Luke who, like Grover, cares about him unconditionally, even when he’s hard to deal with. 

And so...

He chooses to believe in Luke. 

Percy exhales. "Okay."

Luke looks at him in surprise, obviously not expecting his answer. "Yeah?" 

He nods. "Yeah. I trust you, Luke." 

He watches Luke cycle through a myriad of emotions. Relief at that idea that Percy trusts him, sorrow about something that he has yet to do and attempt to explain his reasoning for, regret for what may happen because of it. All of this is clear to him somehow as he looks at Luke and the dark circles under his eyes. 

Without warning, Luke pulls him into a hug. One of those tight ones that he always gives Percy when he's having a particularly hard time, and he melts against the older boy. They stay like that for a few seconds longer before he pulls away. 

"I should probably get ready to go, huh?" Percy sighs

Luke nods. "Yeah. Annabeth will probably be here banging down your door if you're not ready on time." 

"Ugh!" 

Luke laughs as he picks up the shoes, some of the previous tension in the cabin dissipating as he tucks them neatly back into their box. 

He ruffles Percy's hair one last time. "I'll see you when you get back, bud." 

"Okay." 

Percy watches as he goes. 

In his periphery he sees the large, black legs of an unknown creature scuttling through the edge of the forest, the end of a long, curled tail disappearing behind a tree before he can get a good look at it. His hand burns as if it's on fire and his lungs follow suit as it quickly becomes harder and harder to draw breath. Someone is shouting in the distance, their voice eerily familiar but too far away for him to discern who it is, or understand more than a faint '.....no!...-rcy...' 

He blinks once more, and then it's gone. 

There's no creature in the woods, his airway no longer feels like it's being constricted. 

It hadn't been real. 

Just another instance of his brain running wild. 

His left hand still burns fiercely, and when he looks down he realizes that he has accidentally scratched it raw and bloody. 

_____________________

They meet on top of Half-Blood hill near the tall pine tree that marks the border between camp and the rest of the mortal world. Annabeth stands in front of it, a hand placed reverently on its bark as she gazes at it with intense sadness. 

"She really likes that tree, huh?" Percy comments. 

Lee and Grover share a look. That look that people share when Percy doesn't know something and they're debating the best way to either break it to him gently or skirt past it and not tell him anything at all (Chiron). "It's not just a tree, Percy," Grover says, a mournful expression on his face. 

"It looks like a tree."

Grover sighs. "Remember how I told you when Annabeth first arrived here with Thalia and Luke, they were being chased by monsters? Agents of Hades had been sent after them. Sisters."

Leathery wings and claws, and inhuman shriek he hasn't been able to forget. "Furies," he says. "Mrs. Dodds?"

Grover nods. "Furies. Alecto was the one pretending to be our math teacher." He clears his throat. "Anyway, when Thalia sacrificed herself to save her friends, Zeus turned her into that tree. That's why Annabeth likes that tree so much, Percy."

"Wait, the tree is Thalia?" 

"Yup," Lee answers. "Her body and soul, I guess. I don't know all the details about how that works. But when she was dying, Zeus looked down and took pity on her in her last moment. He turned her into this tree that reinforces the border that protects this place.”

Percy blinks, and blinks again, confused by the absolutely absurdity of that statement. 

"You're really telling me that Zeus, the King of the Gods and one of the most powerful deities in the Greek pantheon, looked down and saw his kid dying and the only thing he could come up with was turning her into a pine tree?" 

A loud curse in Ancient Greek is all the warning Percy gets that Annabeth has made her way back to them, and has most certainly heard his less than sensitive comments. 

"Thalia was the bravest demigod I ever knew. She fought valiantly, and she met a hero's fate," Annabeth tells him, voice thick with emotion. "You don't have any right to comment on it." 

"Here we go," Lee groans, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "I'm not sure this is something-"

Percy shrugs, interrupting the older boy. "She met a pinecone's fate. Do you think she's mad about the family of squirrels living in her? I personally like squirrels and wouldn't mind, but not everyone feels the same way." 

Grover once again looks at him in absolute despair. He's quite good at drawing that look out of his friend. He raises a brow, gesturing at Percy as if to say ' really, dude?' . Lee looks torn between breaking out into a stern lecture about respecting their fellow demigods who have passed and cracking a smile at Percy's sense of humor. He tries to disguise a lightly amused chuckle with a cough, failing miserably. 

"Forbidden children are always in danger. Even the strongest ones, even Thalia. And you are not Thalia," she tells him, jabbing a finger into his chest. "You barely know what you're doing." 

Percy scowls. "Well obviously I'm not Thalia. I'm not a tree. And don't worry, I don't want to be Thalia. Having Zeus as my dad seems worse than my actual dad. At least mine didn’t turn me into a stupid little koi pond or something when I almost died out here.” 

Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Lee and Grover flinch in unison. Okay, so maybe not the best time or place to be insulting the King of the Gods. Oh well. It's done now. 

Annabeth glares at him, her face turning red as her anger only grows. For a moment, Percy is certain she's going to punch him. But in a surprising show of restraint, she just takes a deep breath before continuing. "Do exactly as I say, and maybe we survive this. Are we clear?"

He knows he shouldn't respond, he should just let it go. But something about the implication that he's helpless, that he couldn't survive without her or someone else directing his every move, sets him off. 

"You know, I'm pretty sure I got good at surviving on my own before this. When's the last time you've even been outside of camp or seen how the world actually works?" he snaps. "Also I'm pretty sure I'm the one who invited you on this quest." 

Thankfully, Chiron takes this moment to trot over, effectively silencing their argument before it can start to get too ugly. Next to him stands Argus who Percy has only seen in passing. He serves as head of security for the camp, according to Grover. Which makes sense given the fact that there are eyes all over his body. He imagines it would be pretty hard to get past a guy who can see your every move from every angle. Today, he can only see the extra eyes on the backs of his hands, the rest of them hidden underneath a neatly tailored chauffeur's uniform.  

"Argus will be driving the four of you into the city and ensuring that you get to where you need to be."

Annabeth doesn't wait for any more information before she stomps off towards the white SUV he assumes they will be taking into the city, mumbling under her breath all the while. Grover takes off after her, calling for her to wait up. He knows her a lot better than Percy, so maybe the satyr can get her to lay off him for once. 

Lee jogs after the two of them with a cheerful wave. "Meet ya at the car! I’m gonna go play damage control,” he says with a mock glare in Percy’s direction. 

Chiron catches his arm before he can follow. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he says with regret. ''If only there had been more time. Hercules, Jason- they all got more training before they were sent out into the world." 

I don't recall you training me at all, is what he wants to say. And it's true. With the exception of a botched archery lesson or two, and some pointers on proper sword techniques in passing, Percy has relied almost entirely on himself, Luke, or another sympathetic counselor to tell him what to do. 

"It's fine," he says, trying to keep his voice even. 

"And you have your sword?" 

Percy nods, retrieving Riptide from his pocket and uncapping the pen. The air ripples, and the familiar bronze blade pops into existence. 

"Good. Use it only for emergencies. And only against monsters," Chiron tells him seriously, "no hero should harm mortals unless it's absolutely necessary. Of course, a sword like this would make that hard to do in the first place."

Percy looks at the sharp blade, puzzled. "Are you saying this can't harm mortals? How could it not?"

Chiron looks a bit uneasy at that question. "This sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters and any creature from the underworld, as well as capable of harming those with divine blood."

"Gods, you mean? Their weapons are made the same way?"

"Just so. Many of them, anyway. Of course, Hephaestus is the one who designs Olympian weapons these days, and not all weapons are crafted with celestial bronze, depending on the god or demigod in question. But most importantly, I want you to remember that as a demigod, you can be harmed by both mortal and immortal weaponry."

"Good to know." Percy caps his sword, sliding it back into his pocket. "You still didn't answer my question about it not being able to harm mortals, though." 

"Usually the answer is no. Usually . As something divine in origin, the average celestial bronze weapon would simply pass through a mortal as if an illusion, their essence essentially being deemed not important enough to kill." 

Percy crosses his arms, unimpressed. "I'm sensing a 'but' here." 

Chiron gives him a long, exasperated look. "But yes, they can certainly harm mortals if that is what the wielder intends it to do. Gods know that many a hero marched into battle during the ancient times with their celestial weapons at their side, just to cut down as many mortals as not. It's about the intention, Percy. If you deem a mortal important enough to kill, then your blade shall answer. Of course, there have historically been other methods to ensure that this would happen more easily, but that....that is something we will not be discussing. It's not something you should be considering." There's a note of finality in his tone, and Percy knows he won't be able to push the centaur any further on this subject. 

"Okay, fine! I was just asking." 

The quest is beginning to feel much more real than it has. He's been dreading it since he learned about it yesterday, but now here he is, standing on the hill and preparing to leave. They would head west with no supervision, no backup, and no way to prevent a disastrous war should he fail. He has nothing but a sword he still barely knows how to use to get him from New York to the Underworld alive. 

And if he does fail...

"Chiron, what was it like? Before the gods, I mean." 

"Before the gods?" Chiron's brow furrows. "Why do you ask?"

"They're immortal, technically. I guess? But there was something before them, right?" 

An empty space that is somehow void yet swirling with possibility at the same time. Quiet, until a consciousness slowly begins to emerge-

Chiron purses his lips. "Four ages, in fact. Few beings in this world are old enough to remember that time, child. I myself am not one of them. But what I do know is that it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the Titan king, referred to his rule as the Golden Age because men lived free of all knowledge. But this was merely a farce. Kronos cared nothing for your kind, except when it provided entertainment for him. Most of the deities around at that time cared very little, if I'm being honest. It wasn't until much later that mortals became interesting enough for the gods to invest themselves in. When your species began to progress after Prometheus gave fire to mankind."

"But they for sure can't die, right? Even if I fail miserably and everything goes sideways. The gods won't be gone, will they?"

As tempting as that thought might sound on some days.

Chiron smiles sadly. "No one knows how long this age will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. And so are the Titans and everything that came before them. They still exist now, locked away in various prisons and severely reduced in power. Some have faded away into obscurity so long ago that even we do not remember their names. But I would have to assume that even some fragments of their essence remain somewhere, if not absorbed by something else.” 

"Cool. Cool cool. So I won't mess up absolutely everything.” 

At least Percy has that going for him. 

Chiron sighs. "You must relax, Percy. Fretting like this will only make things so much worse." Easy for the centaur to say. He's not the one going on the quest. "Keep a level head, and remember that you may just prevent the biggest war in history."

"Oh yeah, I'm so relaxed about this. Definitely an easy thing to do. Just go out there and be level-headed about any of this nonsense," he snarks, turning around with a huff. Only to pause as something Chiron said finally processes. 

Frustration momentarily forgotten in lieu of burning curiosity, he turns back around. 

"Wait, so did Prometheus give fire to all humans? Because I'm pretty sure Prometheus and the Titans and our gods in general are native to the ancient Aegean area, and wouldn't there have been, you know, the other gods that were worshipped everywhere else? Did he just show up and say "move aside, I got this" to gods who were already there? Because that seems rude. But also really Western of him. Also, I'm pretty sure humans are smart enough to invent things on their own-"

The centaur loudly clears his throat, looking so incredibly tired. More tired than when Percy would switch between proper Classical Latin and various common Vulgar Latin dialects just to throw him off. "On your way now, Percy Jackson! We must not delay this quest any longer. And do try to keep your mind focused on the present moment." 

Rude. 

Nevertheless, he jogs to catch up with his fellow questmates. When he gets to the bottom of the hill and joins the other three in the car, he looks back one last time as the SUV begins to drive off. 

Chiron raises a hand in salute. Just an average send off from your summer camp that has signed you up to die. 

*

Argus drives them through the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be in a car again, zooming through regular roads with everyone else. Percy hasn't been at camp for a super long time, but it's been long enough for him to settle and grow used to camp life instead of the normalcy of the mortal world. He finds himself staring at every building they pass like a little kid who's seeing everything for the first time. 

Especially McDonald's. 

Percy is pretty weird about food. He's gotten so used to not having it consistently that even when he does have it, he can become pretty obsessive about it in all possible ways. Not to mention he's always been naturally picky about what he eats. Cooked broccoli? Fine. Uncooked broccoli? He will gag until he throws up. The texture of spaghetti? Too much like worms. 

McDonald's fries, however, might be the exception to most rules. 

"Do you think we can stop for McDonald's?" he asks curiously, speaking to no one in particular. 

"Really, Percy? We don't have time for that," Annabeth says with an irritated look. 

"Remind me- why do you hate me so much, exactly? You've done nothing but be a jerk to me or try to get me killed since we met." 

"I don't hate you."

Percy scoffs. "Could've fooled me." 

Annabeth awkwardly folds her cap. "We're just...not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals. That's how this works." 

"Oh, for the love of..." Lee rolls his eyes in exasperation. "You can't be serious, Annabeth!"

"I'm serious! Everyone knows it's true," she says matter-of-factly. 

"Well I don't so why don't you tell me?" Percy says. 

Lee groans. "Maybe we should do this at a different time?"

But neither he nor Annabeth are interested in what their questmate has to say at the moment, far too busy glaring the other down. 

"Go on. What could have been so bad?"

She sighs. "How many reasons do you want me to give you, seaweed brain? One time my mom caught your dad with his girlfriend in her own temple, which is hugely disrespectful." Medusa. He knows that one. A gut feeling tells him there's a lot more to that particular story than what Annabeth is saying and what a lot of people think, but he files that away for later as he pushes away the sound of angry snakes and the feeling of stone beneath his fingers. 

"Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god of Athens. Your dad created some stupid fountain and my mom created the olive tree. People saw that her gift was better and they named the city after her."

"Wow, guess they really liked olives back then."

"Oh, forget it!"

"I mean, I also really like olives but not enough to name a city after someone."

"I said, forget it!" 

"Didn't your mom also murder Pallas, my niece I think, during a fight and then steal her name in some act of really performative grief? I don't think my dad is the only problem here." 

"That was an accident!" Annabeth says petulantly in a way that lets Percy know she would be stomping her foot like a little kid if they weren't seated in a car. 

"Oh so when my dad does something, it's a crime. But when your mom fucks up, it's an accident. I see how it is." 

"Ugh!" 

Grover nervously munches on an apple as he watches the two of them argue, unsure if he should step in or not. Lee has a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his laughter. Even Argus seems amused judging by the smile on his face and the way one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at him. Once again, he fails to understand why people are bothered by his perfectly legitimate questions. 

The back and forth continues for a long time. Annabeth grows more and more frustrated with his questions and witty replies to her answers, and Percy has come to find a strange joy in poking at her very strong beliefs in just the right places. Argus focuses intently on the road in an effort to ignore them after the first forty minutes, while Grover has popped on a pair of headphones to drown them out. Lee has his face buried in his hands, mumbling something about "Chiron" and "quests" and "gods give him the strength." 

"Alright, knock it off you two!" Lee barks, finally having had enough. His former amusement with their antics has long since faded. 

"Percy started it!"

"I did not!"

"I don't care who started it, I'm ending it! Got it?" He points at Annabeth. "You stop focusing on this ridiculous feud that doesn't even have anything to do with you. And you," he's pointing at Percy now, "stop egging her on. You know exactly what you're doing.” 

"Fine."

"Whatever." 

They both fold their arms, refusing to look at each other for the rest of their very silent ride. 

By the time they inch their way through traffic and make it to Manhattan, it's approaching afternoon and a light rain is beginning to fall. Argus drops them off at the Greyhound station on the Upper East Side, only a few blocks away from Gabe's apartment. Taped to one of the terminal walls is a soggy flyer with a picture of his face on it. 

Have You Seen This Boy, it reads in bold letters, the number for the tip line printed neatly at the bottom. Percy rips it down before anyone can see, crumpling it up and tossing it into the nearby trash can. 

He watches Argus drive away after making sure they had their bags and their bus ticket, one of his many blue eyes glancing back as he goes. 

His mind continues to drift back to his close proximity to Gabe. How one wrong move would end with him being discovered and dragged back to that place, or to juvie or another facility for disturbed kids. Despite the afternoon heat, he tugs his hood over his head, sinking into the soft material of the hoodie he had "borrowed" from Connor a week or so prior. If the slightly older boy noticed he had nabbed it, he hadn't said anything so far. 

He won't go back there. Not to the apartment with his stepfather, not to another facility or program that won’t do anything other than drug him until he can’t function and punish him when he doesn’t behave correctly. 

He won’t. 

Percy wonders if he's already been spotted. He hadn't even thought about that when he stepped out of the car and into a public space. 

He's a wanted criminal at this point. Or at the very least a wanted "risk to himself or others" that people should be on the look out for. If he's in a newspaper, the same image of him and the same story has probably been plastered on people's televisions and all over the city since the story broke. A few feet away, a woman looks at him for just a second too long and he has to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction. 

Percy feels another set of eyes on him and looks over to see Lee staring at him before looking over his shoulder. Turning around he sees another flyer with his face on it that he hadn't noticed before. Without saying a word Lee strides over, yanking that one down as well and throwing it in the trash. He doesn't ask Percy any questions, barely acknowledges what happened other than offering him a small nod before returning to his original spot. Percy appreciates it greatly. But he knows there's going to be plenty of inquiries about this later. 

He turns back to look in the direction of the apartment again, paranoia growing. Percy finds himself looking over his shoulder every few seconds as if just thinking about the man would summon him. He knows Gabe would never actively search for him. If he were dragged back to the apartment Gabe would take him then. Not out of the kindness of his heart, but because he would have his favorite punching bag back. 

Grover must notice him staring but the satyr shuffles closer until their fingers are just barely touching. 

"I'm sorry you had to live with him for so long," he says quietly so the other two don't overhear. "I knew it wasn't great, but I....I didn't think he was that bad." 

Gabe isn’t that bad. He’s worse. In every way a person could imagine. 

"S'fine. I'm not there anymore, right? No big deal." 

It might actually be a big deal, loathe as he is to admit it to anyone who asks him. He can't help but wonder why his mom married him in the first place. Even with her eccentricities , she should have been able to snag someone halfway decent if she had once drawn the attention of a god. Why had she settled for that piece of shit? 

Grover adjusts his bag on his shoulder. "You want to know why she married him, Percy? At least part of the reason."

"Were you reading my mind?" he asks suspiciously, not putting anything past his friend after the weeks he’s had. 

"Your emotions, actually," he shrugs. "Guess I forgot to mention that satyrs can do that."

"Yeah, people forget to mention a lot of things to me," he says dryly. "But go on, enlighten me." Percy doesn't mean to sound as snappy as he does, but this has always been a sensitive subject for him. The tiniest thing about his time with Gabe over the years is enough to ruin an entire week if the right memory is tugged on. 

"Part of the reason your mom married Gabe was for you ," Grover tells him. "You call him "smelly", but you've got no idea. He just has that aura that's so.... yuck. Horrible, and violently mortal. You've been away from him for weeks, and the last traces of his scent on you just went away.”

His skin crawls at the mention of his stepfather, at the memory of hands on him, and he longs to find the nearest shower to ensure all traces of him are for sure gone. He swallows, willing the building nausea to go away. 

"He's so repulsive that he helped keep the monsters off your trail for years. Your mom did it to protect you, to keep you closer to her for a little longer. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy. To make you both stay with him." 

She must have loved him a lot to put up with that guy. 

She must have loved him a lot to force Percy to stay with that guy. 

She must have loved him so much to make him go through that every day, every night, while she herself was getting worse and worse and was no better than his stepfather on her particularly bad days when she would lash out at him, half-crazed and screaming. 

Somewhere inside the terminal there is shouting as the plumbing explodes and the ground shakes. 

"You're saying she stayed with him....to protect me ?" 

Grover bites his lip. "Probably, yeah." 

"She tried to hide me from Greek monsters by leaving me with a mortal one, just so she could keep me home from godly summer camp?" 

The sting of betrayal hurts worse than Eric's spear had. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. 

In her lucid moments, when she could actually think clearly, did she see what was happening? Did she know and just pretend she didn't, using the monster excuse to justify her choice to not leave and take Percy away where he wouldn't be hurt anymore? Was keeping him closer a few more years really worth it? He would never do that to his kid, or any kid. Percy would never be that selfish. 

It’s not like she really kept Percy with her, anyway. Boarding schools, that one summer at horse camp, those times Percy had been removed by Child Protective Services and those times Sally had been hospitalized. He had spent as much time away from her as a regular demigod camper would have.

Grover must still be actively reading his emotions because the satyr moves even closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm to steady him. Or maybe he’d finally realized just how fucked up what he said is. "I don't think she meant for things to go that far." 

"Yeah well, they still did, didn't they? And she knew. Just like..." he swallows, voice thick with emotion, "just like other people did. And she decided to stay anyway." 

"Percy-" 

"No!" 

His angry shout draws Lee and Annabeth out of whatever conversation they were having. Both of them eye Percy in concern, but he shrugs them off as he stomps over a different bench a little ways away from them to sit by himself. He continues to sit there despite all attempts to coax him back to the group. No, he's mad and he's gonna stay that way. 

Quest be damned. 

Maybe if he’s lucky a monster will emerge from a crack in the sidewalk and eat him, and then this whole thing can be someone else’s problem. 

*

The longer they wait for the bus, the more foul his mood becomes. 

The rain keeps coming down the longer they wait. It doesn't bother him though as he silently wills the water not to touch him like it hadn't yesterday. It takes him a few tries but eventually he figures it out. Just to be kind, he does his best to extend his little trick to Grover, Annabeth, and Lee on the other branch. This takes a bit more effort, controlling two spaces at once, but he succeeds, letting a triumphant smile spread on his face. 

Annabeth is the only one to actively notice and sends him a nasty look. As if his kindness is somehow negated by the fact that his power comes from Poseidon, and therefore she is obligated to hate it. She continues to glare at him and he rolls his eyes. 

Fine. Jeez. 

Maybe he'll just let her suffer next time. 

Finally the bus comes. He stands in line with the others, impatient to board. As they wait, Grover looks around, uneasily sniffing the air. 

"What is it?" he asks, following his friend's gaze around the terminal, half expecting a monster to emerge from behind one of the signs and attack them. 

"I don't know," he says tensely. "Probably nothing." 

It's certainly not nothing, he knows that much. If it was nothing, it wouldn't have spooked him. 

He's relieved when they make it onto the bus, finding two empty rows in the back so they won't be separated. He tugs Lee over to sit next to him. Partially because he's still too annoyed with Grover to sit by him for however many hours this is going to take, and partially because he fears Lee may lose whatever self-control he has if forced to sit next to Annabeth for a long period of time. He slumps into his seat, head resting against the cool glass of the window. Lee settles in beside him just as he lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. 

"You alright, Percy?" he asks worriedly. 

"M'fine," he grunts. "Just don't feel well." 

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Lee asks, a warm hand coming to rest on his forehead. Percy slaps it away in annoyance. 

"Yes," he lies. 

"Did you eat anything?"

"Sure did," he lies again, ignoring the way his stomach instantly starts grumbling. 

There's rustling as Lee digs through his bag before something is plopped into Percy's lap. He cracks one eye open, seeing a sleeve of saltine crackers. "Really?"

The look on Lee's face is answer enough. 

He glares half-heartedly at Lee, but obediently sits up and opens the sleeve of saltines, putting two in his mouth. Lee won't leave him alone otherwise. "Happy?" he asks around a mouthful of crackers.

"No, but it will do for now." 

He eats a few more crackers to appease Lee before shoving the rest of them back at him. He resumes his slouched position, watching people move about the terminal outside. 

Lee sighs quietly. "Maybe try to get some sleep while we're driving?"

You will be betrayed by one who calls you friend, the Oracle rasps in his mind. And lose what matters most to you in the end . 

Shut up, he thinks as an apparition of the creature with the black legs from earlier this morning skitters past the bus. 

"I'm fine." 

“Sure you are.”

“Can you just leave me alone!? Fuck off.”

He says it much louder than he intends to, several passengers turning their heads to look in his direction, whispering amongst themselves. Across the aisle, Grover, and even Annabeth, stare at him with open concern. With a final huff he tugs the hood further down so he doesn’t have to perceive any of them, completely aware of how unreasonable he’s being yet unable to stop himself. 

“You’ll feel better after you rest,” is all Lee says after a beat, no hint of anger in his tone as he settles more comfortably into his own seat as the bus slowly begins to pull out of the station. 

Maybe Lee is just used to bratty younger siblings and that’s why Percy doesn’t get smacked for being difficult. 

He feels something being draped over him and realizes Lee must have ditched his own light jacket to cover him up.

Fuck. Why does Lee have to be so nice? 

_____________________

He must doze off because the next thing he knows Lee is shaking him awake. 

“Huh, what?” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sits up quickly. “Did something happen?”

Grover shakes his head. “Nah, we just stopped at a gas station. We’re discussing snacks! And water because for a son of Poseidon, you are somehow constantly dehydrated and it stresses me out.” The satyr leans against his seat, a cheerful grin on his face. Annabeth stands with her arms crossed beside him. 

“Cool. Awesome. Let’s go, it smells so gross back here.” He throws a disgusted look at the bathroom they’re stuck sitting near before standing up. 

“And that’s exactly why you’re staying put,” Annabeth tells him, blocking his path. “The monsters can’t smell you through that, so that’s exactly where I want you.”

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“You’re staying here,” she repeats like it’s the obvious choice. “End of discussion.”

“Annabeth,” Lee says sharply, the disapproval clear in his tone, “you don’t get to decide that.” 

“Lee is correct. I vote we listen to Lee,” Percy says immediately, even more ready to exit to the bus. His foot taps anxiously as he glares at the girl. “I’m also going.” 

“There’s no voting. Chips and sodas okay for everyone?” Annabeth asks, brushing him off immediately. 

Percy frowns. “You don’t just get to decide what everyone does, Annabeth. If I want to get off the bus, I’m going to.” 

Annabeth shrugs. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” 

And Percy’s sorry for the mini earthquake he’s about to unleash if they try to keep him on this damn bus any longer. He should probably be more concerned about one, how fast that new power appeared, and two, how ready he is to use it despite not having a clue how it works. 

“We’re going to be trapped on this bus for forever, and we’re next to the bathroom. It smells. I’m getting off to get fresh air,” he says flatly. 

Annabeth groans in frustration. “Grover, would you mind telling your friend-” 

But Percy doesn’t give her the chance to finish. He’s already on his feet and roughly shoving past her, joining the other passengers who are making their way off the bus. He ignores Grover and Lee’s shouts for him to wait up, and Annabeth’s loud protests at him leaving the “safety” of the bus. 

He glances back once before he exits and in the aisle he can see Lee and Annabeth locked in a furious discussion, or argument perhaps. One that Lee seems to be winning if the chastised look on her face is anything to go by. 

He stomps his way to the gas station, muttering a quick sorry to the poor guy he bumps into in his haste. 

Percy breathes a sigh of relief as he steps into the store, quiet despite the number of people loitering about. He ducks into the first aisle, ready to spend as much time as he can loitering like everyone else before he has to go back out there. 

Lee and Grover have followed him into the store, of course. 

They linger by the bottled water, eyeing him worriedly rather than invade his space, which he appreciates. He doesn’t want to snap at them as well. Even if he is also still annoyed with Grover for his interpretation on the situation with his mom. As if he knows the whole story and has a right to comment. 

Ugh. 

Maybe he’s just a grouch today? He feels like he’s angry at absolutely everyone right now. He should probably just try to focus on picking stuff out instead of the mess going on around him. If he gets too upset he may cause the pipes to burst again. 

Percy trails mindlessly through the aisles, wrinkling his nose at the various things on the shelves. Everything he looks at makes him nauseous. Why did he even come in here? It’s not like he actually wants to eat any of this. He could have just roamed around outside to kill time. 

He’s not sure how long he stares at the same bag of chips, but it must be at least half of their allotted roaming time as the next time he looks up Grover and Lee are already at the door, bags in hand, ready to go. 

Grover gives him a nervous thumbs up as if to ask “You good over there?” 

Percy just raises a brow and goes back to browsing aimlessly as Lee ushers the satyr out of the door and back towards the bus. Just a few more minutes. 

A few more minutes of quiet and to not have to deal with anything or anyone else. 

Immediately after that thought, someone clears their throat behind him. A quick peek thrown over his shoulder reveals a glimpse of blonde hair and an orange t-shirt. 

Oh for fucks sake. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, turning to look at Annabeth tiredly, already resigned to whatever is going to happen next. He’d been hoping she had already gone back to the bus with the other two. “Did I do something else wrong by just existing in the same space as you? Here to drag me back to the bus already  against my will?” 

She stares at him uncomfortably, looking like she would rather be anywhere else than here at the moment. “I just came to give you something.”

He narrows his eyes. “Does….does it tick? Because I swear we were just arguing like two seconds ago.” 

“No! I just-” She shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, looking more unsure than he’s ever seen her. “Your hand looks gross. You should probably put a bandaid or three on that,” Annabeth says quickly, holding a small box out to him. 

“My hand?” 

He lifts his hand up and sees that she is correct. The scratches do look pretty awful and hurt like a bitch when his hand moves the wrong way now that he’s paying attention to them. He can already feel a lecture in his near future should anyone else see them. “Huh. Guess you’re right– wait..”

He leans in a bit closer. 

“Are these Blue’s Clues bandaids?” he asks incredulously, squinting at the box. Sure enough, a familiar cartoon dog stares back at him from the package. 

Annabeth shrugs. “They’re blue. You always have something blue. You even turn your mashed potatoes blue at dinner.” Her face scrunches in mild disgust. “When you actually eat them.” 

It’s true, he does have a strange habit of turning food items blue since discovering the magic plates at camp can do almost anything food related. He also tends to gravitate towards blue snack items; candy, and the like. When, like Annabeth says, he actually feels like eating them. 

It’s not even his favorite color. 

On his fifth birthday, his mom had rented their old cabin at Montauk and thrown him a tiny surprise party. Complete with a mini candy bar with much more candy than the two of them could reasonably eat in six months. 

The color scheme had been blue, of course, because blue had been her favorite color. Percy hadn’t even cared that much that she went her favorite color and not his. He didn’t need things to be various shades of purple, he had just been happy to have a fun, normal weekend with his mom. And if the color blue is what helped with that, so be it. 

That’s one of the few pictures he has of the two of them together, happy. He and his mom were biting into identical blue cupcakes at the same time. 

“Wow. I didn’t know you paid that much attention to me.” 

Annabeth scowls. “Do you want them or not, seaweed brain?” 

He sighs at the nickname, but doesn’t feel like starting another argument when she’s clearly attempting to be nice for once. “Yes, please,” he says, reaching out and taking the box from her. 

“Hmph.” She turns and wanders back down the aisle she emerged from, muttering under her breath something he’s one hundred percent is about him. 

He’s still not entirely sure the box she handed him won’t start ticking soon. 

Five more minutes pass and Percy still has not chosen anything. He’s still tired and grumpy, and contemplating just giving up and heading back to his seat. He’s gotten his fresh air, Annabeth seems to be in a better mood, and he still doesn’t want anything anyway. 

With a small sigh, he turns around to put his latest find back on the shelf only to come face to face with Annabeth who is standing directly behind him. He lets out a startled yelp, flinging the chips he had been holding into the air. 

Annabeth stares at him, entirely unimpressed with how easily startled he is. 

Jerk. 

“I really wish you would stop doing that,” he grumbles, hastily retrieving the bags he had dropped and putting them back on their proper shelf. She didn’t even have the hat on this time. How the fuck does she just sneak up on people like that? She’s worse than Travis and Connor. 

“Here,” Annabeth says, ignoring his complaint entirely. “I got your stuff.” 

“What?”

“Your stuff,” she repeats, shoving multiple items into his arms without warning. “I got you snacks.”

“You picked out my snacks? Are they also Blue’s Clues?” he asks in mild amusement as he lets her pile the stuff into his arms.

“No. You’re taking too long to decide, and we have to be on the bus soon. So I got you snacks.” 

It’s definitely not Blue’s Clues themed items, but everything he’s currently holding does still fit the color scheme. Percy feels a bit of his earlier anger fading as he stares down at the assortment of blue candy and some soda that is such a neon blue it has to be straight poison. But the most perplexing item in the bunch is one of those little Beanie Babies with the two big eyes that you can clip onto things. A spotted seal that he grudgingly has to admit is adorable. 

“I wasn’t aware a stuffed seal counted as a snack item.” 

“If you don’t like it, put it back then!” she huffs, shoulders hunching. His eyes must be deceiving him because she looks almost hurt at the idea that he might actually put it back. This can’t be the same person he was arguing with. Either a monster has managed to take her place right under their noses in these past ten minutes and it’s currently trying to lull them into a false sense of security, or Lee’s eldest sibling vibes and lectures about bad behaviors truly are that powerful. 

He’s betting on Lee. 

“Is this your version of “sorry I was a jerk and tried to tell you what to do, Percy” because actually saying the word sorry might make you spontaneously combust?” he asks, only half joking. 

Annabeth’s mouth twists as if she’s just bitten into something incredibly sour, and Percy decides to take pity on her before this magical instance of goodwill evaporates as quickly as it appeared. 

“Thanks, Annabeth,” he says sincerely. “I appreciate it.” 

Annabeth still pisses him off, and he has no doubt she will continue to do so as this quest goes on. Probably long beyond this quest if he’s being honest with himself. But even after all the arguments and the capture the flag fiasco, Percy can’t say that he outright hates her. 

They’re just two kids who each have their own long list of reasons making it extremely difficult for them to maintain stable social relationships or behave in socially acceptable ways. 

Look at him pulling out that fancy therapist language that’s haunted him for years now. 

The stress of a quest that could end with the collapse of Western Civilization as they know it probably isn’t helping either. 

That being said, if she ever sets him up like that again, he will drop her in the middle of the lake back at camp and straight into the clutches of one of Keto’s lake monsters. Keto has expanded her brand and no longer produces just sea monsters, which is both exciting and horrifying to think about. 

“Cool. So are you ready to go now? Like I just said, you’re taking too long.” 

Percy sighs heavily. 

There’s the attitude. He’s still going to count this surprisingly civil moment as a win though. 

They wait in line behind a guy who reeks of beer and argues loudly for a solid five minutes about a brand of cigarettes that doesn’t even exist anymore. Stiffening, he passes his collection of blue treats back to Annabeth and takes three healthy steps back from the man. She looks at him quizzically but doesn’t comment, tossing his stuff on the counter with the rest when it’s finally their turn. 

He fidgets impatiently as the woman takes her sweet time ringing up their items. More passengers are beginning to make their way back to the bus as their departure time grows closer. His uneasiness grows as he watches Annabeth pay, chatting politely with the cashier. 

Everything appears normal. 

So why does he suddenly feel so strange?

The guy who reminds him so much of one of Gabe’s friends is gone, much to his relief. There shouldn’t be anything else here….right?

Percy glances around the store, but doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just customers milling about, a cat napping lazily on a stack of boxes that reminds him of the various bodega cats back home he’d befriended over the years. 

A shadow darts past him, so fast that when he turns his head, whatever it was is already long gone. He inches back towards Annabeth, now on alert. Something isn’t right. 

There’s another quick movement in a shadowy corner of the store and he jumps, bumping into Annabeth. 

“Percy?” she grasps his arm, giving him a little shake. “Percy, what’s wrong?” Her gray eyes dart about the gas station in an attempt to identify the thing that’s spooked him. But there’s nothing there. Of course there’s nothing there. 

Just-

The flapping of wings and talons clicking on stone floors. 

The cracking of a whip and voices begging for mercy. 

‘Give it back!’

Something is here. He can’t explain it, but he knows something is here with them. The shadows continue to twist and bend in the corners of the room. 

‘Perseus Jackson,’ they seem to whisper. 

Fuck. 

“Percy,” she tries again as the woman hands her their change. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“We need to go. Now,” he hisses, voice tight with panic as he tugs her forward. Annabeth hardly has time to grab their bags from a confused cashier before Percy is dragging her out of the store and back to the bus. The feeling of being watched grows more intense as they bully their way past other passengers who had been about to board. 

“Percy, slow down!” Annabeth exclaims as she tries to keep pace with him. “Why are we running?”

He doesn’t have an answer for her. He doesn’t know why. 

Bring it to me, a cold voice whispers from somewhere dark. Percy’s speed increases. Lee and Grover look up, alarmed by their quick entrance. 

Bring it to me, the voice says again, as the world around him begins to shift. He’s standing on a beach, waves lapping at the shore. 

“I don’t dream!” a large man with flames dancing in his eyes screams.

Around him, time seems to slow, the shadows bend and twist, stretching towards them both. 

The sword is heavy in his hands, but he staggers upright anyway, planting his feet firmly on the ground. 

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” he says flippantly. 

The man’s face contorts as his arms raise the sword above his head, as if he is surprised to feel himself doing so. There’s a glimmer of something there, of recognition that something about this situation isn’t correct. His movements are jerky, forced, as if someone else retains control over his limbs. 

He glares down at Percy,  the barest hint of regret in those glowing eyes before he swings the blade down-

And then he’s back on the bus. There’s no man looming over him, no sword about to cleave him in two. He’s on the bus, in his seat, with Lee beside him and Grover and Annabeth hovering anxiously near them. When did he sit down? He was just standing up a second ago. 

“What happened!?” Lee demands. 

“I don’t know! He just started freaking out and dragged me back to the bus,” Annabeth says, fidgeting nervously. 

“He didn’t say anything?”

“No.”

“Sometimes he doesn’t. Or he can’t when he gets like this,” Grover says nervously.

“How often does this happen?” Annabeth asks, voice rising in pitch. “What if it happens during a fight? We’re on a quest.” 

Grover flinches, realizing his mistake. “I just. I mean-” but his sentence abruptly cuts off as his eyes flick to the front of the bus. Grover’s eyes go wide as he freezes in place, fear rolling off him in waves. 

Concerned, Percy turns to look. 

Three new passengers who had not been on the bus when they left New York are part of the line of people slowly streaming back towards their seats. The first one is a middle aged woman with graying hair and a leather biker jacket, a cruel smile on her lips. When she rounds the corner and enters the aisle, her black eyes glitter with a familiar malice. Percy knows that face, he’ll never forget it. 

It’s Mrs. Dodds. 

Two more women step up behind her, faces near identical to her own. 

“Shit,” Percy curses, scrunching down in his seat as far as possible. They’d been found by Hades’ Furies. 

“Wait what’s wrong?” Lee asks in confusion, and Percy realizes that the older boy is the only one here who has never encountered the Furies before. He doesn’t know what just boarded the bus. Percy grips his sleeve and yanks him down with him, shushing him. Grover and Annabeth are also doing their best to not be seen in the row across from them, but he knows this won’t keep them from being found for long. 

“Monsters,” he whispers. “Mrs. Dodds and her sisters,” he clarifies a second later when Lee still looks completely baffled. He’s pretty sure he’s told Lee the museum story at some point. 

Lee’s eyes widen as he makes the connection. “Fuck. All three!?”

“We have to get out of here,” Annabeth says, gripping the knife that is no longer hidden in her sleeve tightly. 

"Furies. Okay, alright," Lee says, trying not to panic. "Just the three most dangerous monsters from the underworld here to kill us. No problem at all! We can just, uh, go out the window?" 

"Windows don't open!' Grover squeaks, having already stood up to check. 

"Back exit?" Annabeth suggests. 

"Doesn't have one of those either." And even if it did, Percy isn't sure the four of them would manage to escape through it in time. The bus is already moving again

“Will they attack with so many witnesses?” Percy asks. 

“Most mortals don’t have good eyes,” Lee reminds him, “their minds will make up something to explain away whatever they’re seeing.” 

Great. So they’re going to see the four of them being brutally murdered by three middle-aged women with handbags and probably not do anything to help. Not that they should count on help from mortals for this quest anyway. That would just put even more people in danger. 

“Here, take my hat,” Annabeth says, reaching across the aisle and shoving it into his hands. “Put it on and go.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Turn invisible and try to sneak past them. If you’re lucky, they won’t notice you and you can get to the front and escape.” 

Percy shakes his head rapidly. “No way! I’m not going. What about you guys?”

“You’re a son of one of the Big Three. Your scent is the most powerful. There’s a chance they won’t notice us if you sneak past them and escape.”

“But I can’t just leave you guys,” he protests weakly, already feeling like the world’s biggest jerk at the idea of running away and leaving the three of them to what would probably be their death. 

“Do what she says, Percy,” Lee snaps, hand inching towards his bow that mortals must not be able to see either. “She’s right. It’s you they’re after.” 

“But-”

“Go,” Grover urges more softly. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” 

Screaming.

Roaring.

Blood. So much blood. He can’t even tell the bodies apart with how badly they’re mangled-

“Percy, now!” 

He shakes his head, no longer standing on a corpse littered street, but back in the bus with the Furies steadily making their way down the aisle. 

Reluctantly, he puts the cap on. When he looks down his body is gone. Swallowing nervously he stands up, carefully making his way down the aisle. The three sisters walk towards him, seemingly oblivious of his presence. He ducks into an empty seat just as they reach him, his arm accidentally knocking into one of the sisters. 

Her head snaps in his direction and Percy holds his breath, fully expecting his cover to be blown. But she just growls softly under her breath and continues her slow path to the back of the bus, the second sister following closely behind. 

Mrs. Dodds- Alecto, he should say, is the last to pass him. She moves as slowly and confidently as her sisters, eyes scanning the rows of faces in search of him. She takes a few steps past him and for a brief moment, Percy thinks he’s in the clear. But then she stops. Alecto glances over her shoulder, giving the front of the bus a final once mover before her gaze comes to rest on him. 

Her eyes meet his, and in that moment Percy knows that their invisibility trick has done nothing. Alecto knows he’s here.  A slow smile spreads across her face, dark eyes lighting up with excitement. The same cruel joy he had seen back at the MET when she tried to kill him the first time. 

‘Found you,’ her cold voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

Percy goes rigid, fingers clutching Riptide in his pocket as he prepares for an attack, but she just grins wider and turns away, continuing her path forward. 

Unholy shrieks erupt in the back of the bus, and Percy tumbles forward to get a better look. 

Alecto’s sisters no longer appear as two regular mortal women. Just like what happened at the museum weeks ago, their forms writhe and twist, leathery bat wings bursting into existence as their teeth and talons grow long and sharp, their hair more wild. They corner Grover, Lee, and Annabeth in the back of the bus, whips lashing around them. 

“Where is it! Where!” they hiss.

“He’s not here!” Annabeth yells. “He’s gone!”

Their voices grow louder. “WHERE! Where is it!?”

It’s not him they’re asking about, he realizes. They want to know where “it” is. But what is it ? He doesn’t have the master bolt, anyone with half a brain (Zeus not included) could see that. And if somehow Chiron’s crazy, biased suspicions were correct, Hades would already have it anyway. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to retrieve it from him. 

So what do they want? Why are they actually here?

But Percy doesn’t have time to ponder this at the moment. 

Alecto looks over her shoulder to flash him one last cruel smile before her form also begins to twist and ripple, revealing the monstrous form that had been lurking under her disguise. Like her sisters, the gaudy handbag she had been holding morphs and elongates into a fiery whip. 

‘Your move, Son of Poseidon,’ her raspy voice sounds once more, ‘you, or your friends. Choose.’ 

Alecto is smart. She knew Percy wouldn’t be able to convince himself to run. Why attack him directly when she can lure him out into the open so easily. 

The mortal passengers around them are screaming, some desperately trying to leave their seats and flee. Percy doesn’t know what they’re seeing, but they’re minds are definitely showing them something terrible. 

Alecto raises her whip, bringing it down with enough force to rip one of the seats in two. Lee barely manages to dodge in time, throwing himself to the floor to avoid the whip. 

Percy doesn’t think, he moves. 

Still invisible he leaps from his seat and lunges towards the bus driver, too distracted in his attempt to see what’s happening in the rearview mirror to notice that something is wrong. 

He grips the steering wheel and yanks hard to the left, throwing all the passengers violently in the opposite direction. A loud howl lets him know that at least one Fury must have also been thrown off her feet. 

Percy and the driver continue to struggle for control of the wheel. Cars honk and swerve in an effort to avoid the oncoming collision as the bus barrels through the road out of control. 

In the mirror, he sees a  bronze arrow whizz past the ear of a screaming woman and catches one of the sisters in the chest, the movement of the bus throwing her off balance and not allowing her to dodge in time. With a final scream, she disappears in an explosion of golden dust and ichor. 

He lets go of the wheel and the driver hastily tries to regain control of the bus, narrowly avoiding crashing into a nearby semi as he directs the bus to a nearby exit that thankfully takes them off the busier streets and onto something more rural. 

Just to bring his series of bad ideas to an epic close, he hits the emergency brake, causing the bus to spin on the wave pavement until it slams into trees lining the roads, once again throwing passengers out of their seats and off their feet. The emergency lights flare to life and the driver is the first one out of the now open door. Passengers in various states of distress and bruised and bloodiness stream after them, yelling in terror. Once he’s sure that all the incident bystanders have made it off the bus, he turns to face the remaining Furies. 

They’ve regained their balance, whips once again lashing at his three questmates as they brace to defend themselves. There’s a clear path to the door now, the one that he was supposed to take in order to escape. 

But he can’t bring himself to go through with it. 

Percy is a lot of things, but someone who's okay with leaving other people to die is not one. 

In a move far more impulsive than causing a bus full of innocent passengers to crash, he uncaps his sword, yanking the cap of invisibility off as he does so. “Hey ugly!” Instantly, Alecto and her remaining sister’s heads whip in his direction. “Looking for me?”

Grover swears loudly when he notices Percy is still here, in danger. 

Alecto stalks towards him, her whip glowing more intensely. “Perseus Jackson, you have offended our Lord. Submit now, and you may not suffer eternal punishment.”

He grips Riptide’s hilt tighter. “I’ve offended a lot of gods in my time, somehow. Tell Hades he’ll have to get in line.” 

Alecto raises her whip and comes down on him with a loud crack at the same time her sister dives towards him. 

He barely suppresses a scream as what feels like molten lead wraps around his sword hand and wrist, rapidly burning through layers of skin. Somehow, he manages not to drop Riptide, rearing back and managing to slam its hilt into the fury on his right, knocking her off her feet. 

Annabeth and Grover, who had been using the distraction to sneak up behind Alecto, lunge forward and grip her tightly, yanking her backwards. Lee rips the whip out of her hand as she stumbles, cursing all the while at the heat of it. 

The Fury he had already attacked regains her footing and lunges for him again, talons outstretched, but with the whip gone he’s free to move. He swings, the blade connecting with her throat and cleanly removing her head from her shoulders. Like her sister, she bursts into another cloud of dust and ichor, fading into nothingness. 

Annabeth and Grover shove Alecto into one of the rows of seats, her large wings impeding her efforts to take flight in such a narrow space. Lee wraps her own whip around her legs, and Percy has to wonder how his hands haven’t been burnt to crisps by now. 

“Zeus will destroy you!” she screams as she struggles on the ground. “And Hades will have your soul! You will be punished for your transgressions against the Gods.” 

“Go to the crows! ” he yells back, accidentally slipping into Cassandra’s Trojan dialect despite the very Greek nature of the curse.

Before she can retort, thunder shakes the bus. Alecto’s head snaps skyward as the hair on the back of his neck begins to rise, the air feeling eerily still. 

Oh no. 

“Get off the bus!” Lee screams, pushing Annabeth and Grover forward in his direction. Percy doesn’t need to be told twice.  

They rush off the bus and find the other passengers huddling around in confusion. Some wander in dazed circles, a few are locked in a vicious argument with the driver about what happened, and few more sit on the ground while others tend to their injuries to the best of their abilities. Sirens wail in the distance and Percy knows they need to move fast. 

A terrified looking man snaps a picture of him with his phone before he can recap Riptide, the flash startling him. 

Annabeth shoves his bag into his hands and he feels a hint of relief that despite all the chaos, someone at least had the presence of mind to make sure they grabbed their stuff. 

That relief is short lived as the static in the air becomes almost painful before-

Boom!

The bus explodes as lightning rips through its roof, sending the passengers able to walk scurrying for cover. A furious scream from inside the burning vehicle lets him know that they didn’t get lucky enough for Alecto to have been taken out by the blast. 

Why the lightning?

Why is there always a lightning bolt when he’s getting chased by something? 

He’s quite literally on a quest to return the fancy lightning bolt to its rightful owner and Zeus expresses his thanks by trying to kill him with a different one? Again? 

“Go, go!” someone yells, and Percy isn’t sure who. 

They tear off into the woods as the rain begins to fall harder, Alecto’s screams continuing to echo through the surrounding area. 

Reinforcements, his brain whispers. She’s calling for back-up. 

They run for what feels like hours until they finally feel safe enough to rest, trying desperately to catch their breaths. Lee immediately jumps into medic mode, starting with Annabeth. 

Despite her loud protests that she is perfectly fine, Lee fusses over Annabeth the same way he does over Percy or one of his siblings. Lee lets out a sigh of relief when he determines that she is, like she said, more or less fine. He does the same to Grover who is much more good natured about his mother henning tendencies than Annabeth. 

Any hope of avoiding this treatment himself goes out the metaphorical window when he hears Lee cursing loudly and finds himself being suddenly manhandled around as Lee anxiously assesses him. 

“You good?” The older boy is somehow even more frantic as he checks him over, inhaling sharply as he notices the deep gash and burn wrapping around his arm where Alecto’s whip had struck him. “Fuck. Of course you’re not good.” 

“I’m fine.”

Lee levels him with a glare before continuing to lightly examine his arm. “Could be worse,” he murmurs, brow furrowed. “I’ll have to take a better look at it when we stop for the night. How about your other injuries? Did any of them get irritated?” 

Other injuries?

Oh.

Right. 

He’d been beaten into the ground barely a week before this by his cousins in Ares. It does slip his mind occasionally, until he tries to move one of his injured limbs too fast, that is. Or Lee catches him doing something he was told not to do, or he spots a member from said Ares cabin and nearly has a panic attack at the sight of them. 

The frequent soaks in the saltwater pool in his cabin have helped immensely with healing  and dealing with the infection, but the pain still lingered and sometimes his arms still feel weak. 

“They’re fine. They closed up and everything,” Percy tells him, “nothing to worry about.” 

“You’re sure?” Lee presses him, eyes wide and worried. 

“Yep. They really only hurt bad at night after I’ve been moving around a lot all day. But that’s like, the norm for all my bones at this point, you know?” he says with a forced smile. “So it’s fine!”

Lee stares at him as he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. “Um, no? I actually don’t know? What do you mean it’s the norm for your bones ? Percy, that isn’t normal!”

“Normal for me . I didn’t say it was normal for you.”

“ Perseus Jackson!”

“Guys! We can and will debate Percy’s questionable health later. I really think we should keep going before our friend in the sky decides to take aim again,” Grover stutters nervously as he stares at the smouldering ruins of the bus. “The third time might actually be the charm!”

“This is the second time this has happened!?” Annabeth exclaims. 

“Yeah. Taxi. Mino- Asterion! Sorry, sorry! Percy, don’t glare at me like that. Now is not the time. Anyway, taxi, Asterion, Zeus, big boom! And then we almost died,” Grover explains. “So we should move. Like, now.” 

“He’s right,” Lee says, reluctantly pulling away from Percy and easing himself back onto his feet with a wince. Lee must be hurt too, Percy notes as the older blonde tries to disguise a limp. He would never admit it unless he’s actively dying, always too worried about taking care of everyone around him first. And really, what choice did he or most of the older kids at Camp Half Blood have during times like this? It’s not like anyone else is available to parent their siblings or make sure they stay alive. It must suck. 

“Not to mention that one of those things is still out there, we only got two of the three. She’ll be hunting us.” 

“But which way? We don’t have a map,” Annabeth points out. “Do we even know where we’re going?

“There!” Grover’s shout startles them all. The satyr is beaming, pointing at a random direction in the trees. “There’s a path here we can take!” he says. 

“You sure?” Lee asks, eyeing the “path” uncertainly. “Doesn’t look like a well used trail to me.”

“No,” he huffs, “not a hiking trail. A satyr path. It’s how we get around without too much attention. I can’t believe I almost forgot that one goes through this area.” 

“Fine,” he says, “lead the way.” 

It’s not like they have any other options. 

“Come on!” Grover exclaims excitedly, “this way!” 

Grover darts off down the path that still doesn’t look like much of a path to him, Annabeth at his heels. Lee slings his and Percy’s bag over his shoulder. He hadn’t even realized the other boy had grabbed his stuff for him, but doesn’t have the energy to protest Lee carrying it for him. 

In the corner of his eye, darting between the trees, Percy swears he sees the large, black form once more skittering through the trees. Percy freezes in place, half expecting the phantom thing to reveal itself to having been Alecto all along, taunting him since this morning in camp. But it doesn’t move closer, doesn’t let him get a clear look at it. 

The smell of smoke from a campfire fills his nostrils, the sound of laughter and a familiar tune spiking in the distance. Despite the fact that it’s not yet sunset, the world around him grows darker as if night is already falling. 

He’s still in the woods. But it’s no longer New Jersey. 

He’s….at camp?

But he left camp hours ago, didn’t he?

The creature is still there, obscured by the trees. Something long and black uncurls behind it. A tail, maybe. It twitches, moving ever so slightly closer. Someone else is there, too. He can hear them talking, but can’t make out what they’re saying. What are they saying?

Why can’t he just-

“Percy!” 

Percy gasps as his surroundings begin to change. 

A sudden warmth floods his face and Percy finds himself back in the wet, humid woods of New Jersey, not the trees that surround camp. Sirens still wail in the distance back where they left the bus behind. He’s not at camp, he’s here. On a quest. 

Lee is leaning down, warm hands cupping his face as he tries to get his attention. 

“There you are,” he says with a strained smile when he notices Percy looking at him. “You wandered off again for a second there.” 

“M’sorry,” Percy mumbles, still feeling fuzzy. He hates it when this happens. 

“I need you to focus, okay?” Lee says urgently, hands still cupping his face. “Please. I know it’s hard, but I need you to stay present . But we’ve already been attacked by furies,” his voice lowers as he says their name, as if saying it too loud might summon the surviving sister. And maybe, just maybe, it would. “It’s only going to get worse from here and I need you to try and stay alert.”

Sometimes your mind wanders a bit, Percy. 

He feels the shame from his earlier talk with Luke come flooding back. 

“Okay. I’m sorry,” he says softly, pretending he doesn’t still hear the soft hissing of snakes or feel the sensation of his limbs growing solid and heavy, nearly freezing him in place. Nor see the shape of the phantom monster that’s been haunting him all day lurking just a few trees away

Lee’s eyes soften. “It’s okay, Percy.” 

Percy doesn’t think it is. 

He stumbles behind Lee as the two of them race off to catch up with Grover and Annabeth, his fingers clutching the back of the older boy’s shirt as if Lee might disappear on him if he lets go. 

He notices a bird’s wing poking out from Lee’s bag. The same kind of wing he saw on the shoes Luke had decided were too dangerous for Percy to use. 

Luke must have given the shoes to Lee, after all. 

His left hand hurts again.

Chapter Text

The sun is low in the sky and they are still no closer to finding a suitable place to rest. 

The satyr path Grover located has managed to successfully shield them from Alecto’s prying eyes so far, and no other monster has come crawling out of the woodwork just yet. But he knows their luck won’t last for long, not with the gravity of his supposed crime against the gods and the impending war. 

None of them dare to speak more than they have to, not wanting to risk drawing the attention of anything that could be lurking nearby. For most of their trek the only sounds are the chirping and buzzing of the local wildlife, and the uttered curses as one of them inevitably trips or stumbles into another tree as the forest grows darker by the second. 

He wants to stop, even if it’s just for five minutes to rest. 

His body aches, his right arm is hot and swollen where Alecto’s whip had wrapped around it. 

But Annabeth is determined to keep going. “Come on! The more distance we put between us and her the better,” she says every time one of them slows down. 

“We can’t keep going all night,” Lee reminds her gently, “we have to rest at some point.” 

“We’re in a time crunch, in case you forgot. The solstice is only-”

Lee sighs in exasperation. “And we won’t make it to the solstice if we’re exhausted and can’t defend ourselves from another attack when it happens. And it will happen.” 

Annabeth is silent after that, it’s not as if she can argue with that statement. Lee is correct. If another monster bursts out of the underbrush right now, it’s very likely that he isn’t going to win that fight. Not with the way his legs shake and his mind remains uncomfortably fuzzy. 

The trudge through the muddy landscape, Lee gripping him by the back of his hoodie more than once to keep him upright. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the quest after all. Maybe this was all a mistake and a more qualified demigod should have been sent in his place. If this is how day one went, he can’t wait to see what fresh horrors await them tomorrow, and lurk closer to their final destination of the Underworld. 

“Did you think that a quest would be easy?”

“Huh?”

He turns his head to see Annabeth staring at him, and realizes he must have been mumbling his thoughts out loud. 

“We were sent on a quest by the Oracle, by the gods themselves. It’s not supposed to be easy. That’s why only certain people are chosen to go on them. If we don't keep going, we’re basically saying it was a mistake to choose us. That we’re not worthy,” Annabeth says emphatically. “Don’t you see that?”

Percy blinks slowly, coming to a stop. “You know what? I’m fine with that.” And he is. Whatever he needs to do to become unworthy of the attention of the gods, he’s in. “And I’m pretty sure you invited yourself along on my quest. The Oracle didn’t sit up and conjure a phantom poker party for you!”

“A what ?”

Percy pretends not to see Lee strategically placing himself between the two of them, looking resigned to whatever is about to happen next. He owes Lee big time for agreeing to this quest. Providing he’s still alive to make it up to the older boy after everything’s said and done. 

“Nevermind. Just, gods, why are you being so weird about this quest, Annabeth? You know it’s not normal to want to go on dangerous adventures where you’ll probably be violently murdered, right?”

“Look, I know it’s stupid, okay? I just…” Annabeth falters mid sentence, “this might be my only chance to get out of camp until who knows when. If you give up, or die, I guess, that’s it. The quest is over, and all that training we do at camp is for nothing. You don’t know if you’re good at anything until you’re out in the real world.” 

Percy deflates just a bit. Damn. 

Now he actually feels kind of bad for her. 

“You haven’t left camp since you were seven, right?” 

“Not really. Just short field trips. My dad– well, me living at home didn’t really work out. Camp Half-Blood is my home.” 

And how sad is that? A summer camp where children are chronically neglected by their parents (both immortal and mortal in some cases), and spend most of their days learning how to prolong their inevitable death via outdated, violent practices implemented by an out of touch centaur, is more homey than an actual, normal house somewhere else. 

But he understands. 

He doesn’t have anywhere else to go, either. As awful as Yancy was, it had been the closest thing to a stable environment he’d had in a very long time. He even made it almost an entire year this time before being kicked out. And he met Grover there, which had helped immensely. Anything is better than living in that apartment with his stepfather. 

Percy sighs. “Yeah, I get it,” he tells her. “Home sucks sometimes.” 

Annabeth studies him intensely. “Yeah?” 

“Yup,” he says, not willing to elaborate any further. Grover looks at him with wide, sad eyes, mouth opening and closing a few times as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. Lee’s expression tightens, but he also says nothing. The two of them share a look over his head that reads of ‘secret Percy discussions’ happening between the two of them when he’s not around. 

Ugh. 

“But if it makes you feel better,” he continues, not wanting to give anyone the chance to ask him questions, “you are pretty good with that knife in my opinion.” 

It’s a little dark and hard to make out, but he swears he sees the hint of a smile on her face at that. 

So of course, his brain and mouth have to ruin the moment. 

“You still could have requested more regular field trips or like, time at a mortal school, instead of going on a dangerous quest to get real world experience. Just sayin’.” 

“ Percy-!”

“What? I’m right!- ” 

Lee loudly clears his throat. “Okay, alright! All in favor of taking a break for the evening, say ‘aye’!” 

Grover raises a hand, hesitating a bit before speaking. “Aye,” he says quietly. “I think we could all use a little break and maybe it will make us a little less…testy.”

Lee snorts as Percy and Annabeth immediately turn their glares on the satyr. “I’m not testy- ” “I’m fine-”

“You’re both proving his point, is what you’re doing,” he laughs, leaning against a nearby tree, a tired smile on his face. He wipes the sweat from his brow. “I’m calling it. We go a tiny bit further to see if we can find civilization. If not, we’re stopping anyway and roughing it in the woods for the night.” 

They trek on for another miserable mile or so, walking into more trees and slapping mosquitoes off their faces. Percy is tempted to sit down right where he’s walking and declare this muddy area their campsite for the night, when Grover comes to a sudden stop. The satyr’s head is tilted up, sniffing the air in curiosity. 

“Please don’t tell me it’s another monster,” Lee says warily, hand already twitching towards his bow. 

Grover shakes his head, giving the air a final sniff before an excited smile breaks out on his face. “Do you smell that? Someone’s making hamburgers!”

His half goat friend must be truly exhausted and hungry if hamburgers are appealing to him despite his delicate vegetarian sensibilities. 

“Hamburgers,” Annabeth says flatly. “You’re excited about hamburgers?”

“You don’t get it. Someone is making hamburgers on a satyr path . Paths that are notoriously hard to find for mortals. Whoever they are, they have to be from our world.” As the words leave his mouth his previous excitement slowly begins to die. “Which, given the circumstances-”

“Could be a good thing or just another thing trying to kill us,” Lee groans.

“Yep,” he says nervously, scraping his hoof across the ground.

Percy squints in the direction that Grover had been sniffing in, and to his surprise he sees the faint glow of lights up ahead. And now that he’s standing still once more and paying attention, he can indeed catch a faint whiff of food in the distance. Looks like there is something up ahead after all. 

“Do we risk it?” Percy asks, torn between the idea of a potential place to rest and the fear of what it could be hiding. The hissing of the invisible snakes that he’s been hearing since stumbling into this forest has only grown louder and louder the farther they have walked and his limbs feel strangely heavy, far beyond the usual strain of forcing himself to move when tired. 

They stare at each other, all waiting for someone else to make the decision for the group. Percy sighs. “We risk it,” he says. “If it’s bad, we run.” 

Cautiously, they continue forward, eyes peeled for any signs of an impending attack

The trees part to reveal a desolate road, no cars or people in sight. On the other side are two establishments. To the right, a closed down gas station currently inhabited by a family of raccoons. A few of the little ones spill out of the open door, tumbling around with each other. To the left, is what appears to be one of those roadside antique stores operating out of the lower level of a large, old white house. 

It’s beautiful, with an immaculate garden wrapping all the way around it. A statue of a man rests in the middle of the path leading to the entrance of the store portion of the house, a sign held in its hand. The sign is impossible to read, even though just enough daylight remains to illuminate it. 

Normal English is hard enough for his brain to interpret. Fancy cursive lettering? Forget it. 

He’s not even going to waste his time attempting to translate. He had an easier time translating hieroglyphics and Coptic script into Latin at Yancy when the nice librarian would let him hang out with her instead of dealing with his other shitty teachers, or when he couldn’t sleep. 

“What the heck does it say?” he asks. 

“Something about gnomes, I think?” Lee says, sounding unsure, and Annabeth just shrugs. 

Percy has gotten so used to camp providing everything written to them in Ancient Greek and seeing Lee and Annabeth reading without issue, that he forgot most demigods tend to have some form of divine dyslexia, the two of them included. 

“Auntie Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium,” Grover translates for them. 

True to the signs' words, two little cement, bearded gnomes sit on either side of the entrance to the store. The lights of the shop are still on, and Percy can just make out the faint silhouette of someone moving around inside. “Looks like it’s still open.” 

“Still feels weird to me,” Grover shivers.  “Maybe…maybe we should just keep going?” 

The silhouette beyond the curtain pauses suddenly directly in front of the window. He can just make out the faint fluttering of the material as it is pushed aside 

“At the very least they probably have a phone or a map or something,” Lee says, not sounding confident at all that this is the case. “Percy’s right. It’s still worth checking out.” 

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have made the executive decision for the group. The repercussions of being wrong about this will almost certainly be deadly, and he does not want that on his conscience. 

They creep across the deserted road, heads on a swivel as they go. But no monsters appear, no cars either. The closer they get to the house, the more on edge he starts to feel and the louder the buzzing in his head becomes. Grover might be right, they should move on quickly. Yet something tugs at him, urging him to keep moving. 

The sun has nearly set by the time they set foot on the path leading to the antiques and garden gnome shop. 

The two little gnomes and the man holding the sign are not the only statues on the well maintained paths. The owner’s rather eclectic collection spans the entirety of the space, tastefully incorporated into the various floral displays. 

A man holding a fishing rod, another man in what appears to be a prison jumpsuit, a woman holding a phone with her mouth hanging half open in shock. All incredibly lifelike and just as well crafted as any marble statue he would find in a museum or even back at Camp Half-Blood. 

There’s a dog, a large beast with wicked fangs that reminds him eerily of the hellhound that tried to kill him during that capture the flag. A woman with wings perches on a bench, arms thrown up over her face as if she had been trying to hide from something. And then there’s the hulking figure of a cyclops locked in eternal combat with what looks like someone holding a sword-

Wait. 

A cyclops? 

Someone with a sword?

He freezes in place, eyes locked on the scene before him. A cyclops, just as lifelike as everything else in this garden, stands with a raised club, preparing to bring it down on a young person who couldn’t be much older than Luke. The stone boy holds a sword in his hand, one that looks like it came straight from the armory at Camp Half-Blood. But they’re not looking at each other.

Both have their eyes turned in the same direction, identical expressions of terror frozen on their faces. 

These aren’t statues, he realizes. At least, they hadn’t started out that way. 

“Auntie “Em” has a garden of statues, most of which are people who look frightened. Anyone wanna guess what “Em” might be short for?’ Annabeth asks in a panic, eyes darting wildly around the garden as he shares a look with Lee.

Looks like everyone has come to the same conclusion he has. 

“Oh ... .oh no,” Grover murmurs, as he stares into the eyes of the nearest statue to him, another woman whose mouth is forever open in a silent scream of terror. 

Percy stumbles backward, yelping when he bumps into one of them. A man in his late twenties, early thirties perhaps. But unlike the rest, there is no fear in his expression. 

His face is relaxed, happy, even, as if he welcomed what happened to him. 

‘Finally,’ it seems to whisper as he stares at it, images of a man in hiking gear at the end of his rope flooding his vision. ‘Finally, it’s over.’

He shakes his head as the world grows fuzzy at the edges. No, not the time. There are things he needs to focus on. “We need to leave,” he whispers, carefully removing himself from the statue that makes his head hurt to look at it. “Now.” 

Lee nods quickly. “Yeah, we should get out of here while we still can,” he agrees, already backing up the way they came. 

A girl screaming for help that never arrived. 

Hissing snakes and cold stone. 

Faces frozen in terror, their voices cut off mid-scream. 

A man with a sword who shares the same name as him creeps towards a woman resting peacefully in the early morning hours, blade poised to strike. 

The four of them had wandered out of the clutches of the Furies, and straight into the home of Medusa . 

Not for the first time since coming to terms with the fact that he’s a demigod, Percy wonders if there’s a godly version of a hidden camera show happening around him. Because even for a demigod child of one of the Big Three, he doubts it’s normal to attract and/or find his way to this many notable figures in such a short amount of time. Even Herakles had breaks between his trials. 

The thing about the Greek gods - and probably all the other pantheons, too - being confirmed to be real, is that he now has a consistent spot to place blame upon when shit like this happens. And honestly? He wouldn’t put it past them to be sitting around, drawing a monster’s name out of a magic hat and sending them in his direction for entertainment purposes. 

Which is why he sends up a particularly nasty prayer directed at any and all who may be observing this little quest of his as a shriek sounds in the sky. 

Before the four of them get a chance to move, a figure is descending from the sky, landing at the end of the path. Leathery wings fan out behind them as their clawed hand grasps a familiar fiery whip. Standing in front of them in her true form is Alecto. 

They’d wasted too much time. 

“You truly thought you could outrun me,” she snarls, rage rolling off her in waves. “You should have surrendered when you had the chance.” 

Instinctively, Percy brandishes his sword, Annabeth and Lee following in suit with their own weapons. Alecto takes a step forward. “And you should have died with your sisters,” he says. “I can send you to them, if you want? We already did this back at the museum.” 

His words sound far braver than he feels at the moment. The first time at the museum was sheer luck, as most of his subsequent encounters have been thus far. The fact that they defeated two out of the three Furies just a few hours ago is a miracle that he attributed to a confined space making it far more difficult for them to fight back. 

His arm throbs, his bad leg shakes and threatens to give out, and the lack of food and water Lee and Grover had been harping on him about earlier is starting to catch up with him. Percy doesn’t think there’s much luck to be had this time around. 

She takes a step forward, whip curling dangerously at her side. But then she stops. Her eyes flit to something behind him and she goes rigid. There’s an expression on her face that he’s not used to seeing; fear. 

A Fury is afraid. 

But of what?

Unless….

The sound of soft footsteps on the stone path makes him jump in surprise. He clutches Riptide tighter, bracing himself for one of the two Furies they had dispatched on the bus to have already put herself back together again and preparing to attack them from behind. 

But it’s not a Fury, he discovers as they come closer. 

"Not today, friends," a woman's voice warns sharply, "Not in my home." 

“Oh fuck,” Lee swears, as the footsteps continue to draw clos

Percy turns around on instinct, only managing to catch a brief glimpse of the woman who spoke, her form coming into view just as Lee yanks him back around. “Don’t look!”

The older blonde has his gaze firmly locked on the ground in front of them, back to the approaching woman. Grover lets out a panicked bleat as Annabeth swears loudly under her breath. Even Alecto looks terrified, her previous bravado disappearing as the footsteps grow closer. She quickly shields herself with one leathery wing, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head in the opposite direction. 

The woman– Medusa, he thinks with a shudder, comes to a stop only a few feet behind them. 

Percy knows he shouldn’t look, knows that one wrong move could be his last. And yet he finds himself turning his head, just a bit. Something inside of him urging him to see . 

She wears a well tailored, long cream colored wrap dress and low heels. A matching hat rests on her head with a veil that drops down from the brim to obscure her eyes and most of her upper face from view. But even with the veil, he swears he can make out a hint of eerie blue glow where he knows her eyes should be. 

She raises a hand in greeting. 

"If you have something to resolve, why not come inside and I'll help?" she asks with a pleasant smile, her shrouded gaze fixed on the fury. A light accent accompanies her words, one he can’t place. "Alecto, will you be joining us?" 

The fury doesn't respond to her, just curls her wing more firmly around her. 

"Hm. No, I wouldn't think you would." She turns her attention back to them and Percy immediately averts his gaze, not wanting to risk looking longer than he already has. "She won't bother you as long as you're with me. But she won't leave either. Not if that means reporting that she failed in her mission to retrieve the son of Poseidon." 

Percy flinches. "Wait. How did you--"

She laughs, a soft, pleasant sound. "A forbidden child has been claimed. How long did you think that secret would keep?" She takes another step forward, but still makes no move to attack them. "It's a pleasure to meet you, son of Poseidon. I'm Medusa." 

If what he remembers of Medusa’s story, the ones that have been told to him anyway, are true, then there’s no reason for her to greet him with so much kindness. Isn’t his father  the villain in her origin story? That’s one of the most popular versions, the one transcribed by Ovid. Well, he supposes Athena is also the villain here, even if Annabeth is incapable of admitting it. 

“Why would you help us?” he demands, voice tight with suspicion. “You have no reason to.”

“Does one need a reason to help?” she asks lightly, “is it so strange that someone may offer it just because they can and they want to?”

Yes , he wants to say. 

Because everyone always wants something. There’s always an ulterior motive. No one has ever given him anything for free. He’s always had to work for it. 

“Yeah well, you’re going to have to excuse me for not trusting you. Just tell me what you want from me instead of dragging this out.”

Medusa is quiet for a moment, as if weighing her next words carefully. “You are a suspicious child, aren’t you? I suppose that caution is warranted given the circumstances.” 

Percy scoffs, grip on the hilt of his sword so tight it’s almost painful now, ready to move at the slightest hint of aggression directed at him or his friends. 

“My offer still stands, son of Poseidon,” she continues when Percy doesn’t respond. “It’s getting late and you and your friends look like you’ve had quite the day. Please, feel free to join me for dinner. I’m sure there is much to discuss! I even have plenty of room where you could rest for the evening.” 

Mm. Sleeping in a stranger’s house? Disaster waiting to happen. 

“No harm will come to you as long as your friends do not try to harm me. I swear it.” 

It’s said with so much sincerity that a part of him almost wants to believe her. Maybe it’s just the exhaustion and fear from the day clouding his mind and making him weak. 

What’s even more terrifying is that he doesn’t see a better option presently. 

In front of him stands Medusa, one of the most infamous and dangerous figures in Greek mythology, and behind him stands a Fury waiting to rip him and his friends to pieces for something he didn’t even do. Both seem like terrible options. Both paths likely end in his own death as well as Annabeth, Lee, and Grover’s. 

And yet something still urges him to go forward, a gut feeling that there’s more to this than what they’re seeing on the surface. 

‘What makes you think she's a monster?' His mother had asked him once as they stood in front of the statue of his namesake. 'Not everyone who looks like a hero, is a hero. And not everyone who looks like a monster, is a monster.' 

‘Very rarely do people start out as monsters,’ a tour guide at the same museum told his fourth grade class once as he stood in front of that same statue later that next year. ' Sometimes they become what they are to survive when we have taken all other options away from them.' 

Percy breathes in deep, bracing himself for something to go horribly wrong. “Fine,” he says softly. “Okay. I accept.” 

He takes another breath and stands up straighter, preparing to turn around once more and face Medusa directly. He sends a silent prayer to the universe begging for this not to be a trick and that she hasn’t already uncovered her eyes. 

"Percy, don’t!" he hears Annabeth shout, freezing him in place. “She’s a monster. You can’t trust her!”

Medusa laughs again. "We all choose who we make out monsters. But right now, the one behind you is waiting to tear you limb from limb, and I'm offering you dinner and a place to lay your head for the night. The choice is yours,” she says evenly.

He turns his head just as she turns to leave, the soft sound of her heels echoing as she makes her way back to her home. 

The three of them round on Percy immediately as Medusa retreats out of view. Alecto remains firmly rooted in her spot, leathery wing still shielding her face from the perceived threat of turning into concrete. 

“Excuse me!?” Grover squeaks, voice bordering on hysterical. “You want us to have dinner with Medusa !?” 

Hearing Grover speak it aloud does allow him to notice just how ridiculous as a concept it sounds. A demigod receiving a dinner invitation from Medusa would be just as suspicious as the boogeyman inviting the kid he’d been haunting to a tea party under their bed out of the blue one night. 

“Seaweed brain, you can’t be this stupid. This is obviously a trick and you’re going to just walk right into it,” Annabeth hisses. “We’re leaving.” There’s that familiar note of authority in her voice that has Percy clenching his jaw. 

Even Lee appears conflicted, anxiously rubbing his fingers over one of his bronze arrows. 

“Percy, maybe we should think about this,” Lee starts, giving his arm a squeeze. “Preferably somewhere far from our winged friend before she starts feeling brave again. I just…I’m not sure this is going to go well.” 

Grover and Annabeth nod in agreement, already sneaking away in the opposite direction. But Percy shakes his head, unmoving. 

“I can’t explain it, but I think we can trust her,” he says softly when it looks like none of them are going to budge. “Her story…I think there’s more to it. I don’t think she’s just some monster.” 

Annabeth throws her hands up in exasperation. “That’s exactly what she is, Percy! A monster. Someone who got what they deserved.” 

Then maybe the little brat shoulda worked faster, Eddie-

Mr. Jackson brought this on himself-

Always getting himself into trouble..

The rain that had previously eased to a light drizzle begins to fall harder, a strong breeze picking up around them. 

“Well, do you all have any better ideas?” Percy snaps, his growing agitation causing the water of a nearby pond to spiral, sending a family of ducks scattering. “Because if you have another plan to keep us from being torn apart by one of Hades' servants, I’d love to hear it.” 

Their silence is telling. The three of them are just as lost as Percy is about what to do next, even if they don’t want to speak this truth aloud. 

He turns on his heel and marches towards the house, ignoring his friends calling after him. They’ll follow or they won’t. Percy can’t make them. A tiny part of Percy wonders if this is the moment the prophecy was talking about. 

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend .

Maybe this when they turn his back on him and leave him to die, to figure things out on his own while they escape. He’s conflicted when it comes to Annabeth who seems to be rapidly oscillating between hating his guts and trying desperately to be his friend. Grover– he trusts Grover. But even now a part of him still secretly seethes over the weeks of gaslighting that happened back at Yancy, no matter how much he loves his best friend. And even Lee doesn’t seem to trust him at the moment. 

His mind wanders back to the others they had left behind at camp. Charlie, Chris, Silena, Castor and Pollux, Travis and Connor. Even Luke.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the black shape once more, and he shudders. 

Maybe it’s a mistake for him to have started to trust any of them. 

Maybe possibly being turned into a garden statue wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

______________

Percy follows the path she took back to the house, carefully avoiding looking too long at any of the statues as he goes. He pushes the door open, and a small bell chimes. 

The house is just as well maintained on the inside as it is outside, looking more like something you would see on the set of a popular Regency era period drama than a modern house. He weaves through the furniture carefully as he navigates towards what must be the dining area, not wanting to risk accidentally touching and breaking anything. 

The entirety of this space feels far too expensive for someone like him to be existing in. He has vivid memories of an emergency foster home when he was tiny having similar decor, and how he was screamed at for leaving a smudge on something. 

He turns the corner to find the dining room. The table is already set for guests, expensive dishware resting on a white, lace tablecloth. 

Percy has to wonder if she keeps the table like this all the time, or if she had been expecting guests before they arrived. Visions of a dinner party for monsters come to mind, a table full of them each waiting for their chance to strike. 

Too late to back out now though. 

He lowers himself into the nearest chair, wincing as he comes in contact with the fancy material that lines the seat. He’s really spent too much time stumbling through the woods and falling into mud puddles today to be sitting comfortably on this. 

The door to the kitchen opens just a crack as he settles into his seat. 

“Oh, good! You came. Please, have a seat. You must be hungry. I put snacks out on the table while I finish making dinner. It shouldn’t be too long,” Medusa says cheerfully before retreating back into the kitchen, the door shutting with a soft thump . The faint sound of clattering dishes and utensils fills the quiet. 

A quiet shuffling in the doorway nearly makes him jump out of his seat, but when he turns his head it’s just Lee and Grover hovering awkwardly there. Looks like they’ve decided to come in, after all. 

Lee sits down first, taking the chair to his left. He’s tense, looking like he’s prepared to bolt at a moment’s notice. “And you’re absolutely sure about this, Percy?” he whispers, leaning in close as he watches the door to the kitchen. 

“I’m sure,” he says.He’s not at all sure. But something is screaming that this is what he should be doing, so even though he’s riddled with anxiety and doubt, he’s going to sit here and hear Medusa out. “I guess I just have a– a feeling .” 

Lee inhales sharply, catching the meaning of his words. “Alright then,” he relents. “Dinner with Medusa it is.” 

Grover plops into the chair on his other side with an exhausted grunt, his bag falling to the floor beside him. “It’ll be fine!” he says with false optimism. “We can totally handle it if things go sideways. I mean we survived Alecto and her sisters. All we have to do is survive dinner, and then the rest of this cursed roadtrip to the Underworld to stand in front of Hades and accuse him of theft to his face.” 

Yeah, Percy had honestly been trying not to think about that part. It’s one thing to accept a quest to the underworld, and another to stand before its king without any solid evidence and accuse him of a crime. 

“You think any of this is actually safe to eat? Or did she lace it with poison to make it easier to kill us,” Lee wonders, poking at a piece of bread. 

“I’m gonna be so honest with you guys, I really don’t care anymore. This is a chance I’m willing to take,” Grover says through a mouthful of food. 

He hadn't even seen the satyr fill his plate. 

The way his hands shake and the feeling of lightheadedness that’s been haunting him suggest to Percy that he might also want to consider taking this chance. He hasn’t had anything since the crackers Lee had forced on him back on the bus. As it is, he can already see said son of Apollo watching him and his plate carefully. He must assume that since Grover hasn’t keeled over, the food is probably safe enough to make Percy eat something. 

He snatches a piece of cheese off one the serving plates and takes a bite, trying to hold off the impending lecture. 

Lee gives him a thumbs up, and Percy makes a face. 

It’s at the moment Annabeth decides to finally make an appearance. He’ll never admit out loud, especially to her, but Percy had been starting to get a tiny bit worried she had run off and was dead in a ditch after Alecto caught her. 

“Glad you decided to join us. Want some cheese?” he asks to be polite, gesturing towards the plate in front of him. 

Annabeth scowls, and he notices that her knife is clutched tightly in her hand. “Percy, this isn't the same for me as it is for you.” 

Before he can reply Medusa sweeps back into the room with a pitcher in her hand, and they all avert their eyes on instinct. 

She lets out an amused huff at their reaction, but it doesn’t otherwise comment on it as she begins filling their glasses. 

“You are concerned that I would hold a grudge against you simply because your mother is Athena,” Medusa says lightly as she fills a fourth glass for Annabeth, setting it on the table when the daughter of Athena refuses to come close enough to take it. “Don’t be, we aren’t our parents, after all. I have no reason to blame you for something your mother did thousands of years ago.” 

She sets the pitcher on the table, a hint of a smile visible beneath the veil that shields most of her face from view. “We might even have more in common than you think.”

He hears Annabeth scoff loudly, her gray eyes firmly fixed on the carpet beneath their feet as their host takes a seat at the head of the table. Medusa doesn’t appear put out by this, at least. 

“Please, eat! The rest of the food will be done shortly,” she encourages. 

Lee had questioned whether or not the food may be poisoned, and despite Grover’s seemingly good health after consuming it at an exponential rate, he still finds himself unsure. Maybe the piece of cheese he ate will be his downfall. And how embarrassing would that be?

“So you aren’t a monster. What are you then?” Percy asks, picking at the food that had somehow magical-Lee appeared on his plate when he wasn’t looking. 

“A survivor,” she answers him softly. 

“You have to be a little more than that. There’s a Fury outside that’s afraid to move because you’re here.” 

Medusa smiles. “Because she knows exactly what I think of her, and what will happen if she continues to behave as such on my property.” She lifts the nearby teapot and pours herself a cup, adding a few spoonfuls of sugar. “I don’t like bullies. And when they decide to show up on my doorstep, they spend much more time here than they originally planned.” 

“You hate bullies,” Percy repeats. 

“Indeed. And the gift I was given ensures that I cannot be bullied anymore.” 

Annabeth rolls her eyes with a scoff. “What my mother did to you wasn’t a gift. It was a punishment. A curse for you disrespecting her.” 

Medusa’s grip on her tea tightens as her attention shifts to Annabeth, her smile faltering. “You are loyal to your mother, then?” she asks, voice strange. 

“Yes,” Annabeth says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you stand by her and all her decisions?”

“Yes. Without question.” 

Medusa leans forward. “You love her?” she asks, voice tinged with an emotion that Percy can’t place. 

Annabeth crosses her arms, a scowl on her face. “Of course I do! Why are you asking me all these stupid questions?” 

“Because so did I, once. So did I.” The pleasant smile that has been fixed on her face since they first arrived melts away in its entirety, replaced with something far more melancholic. “I wasn’t like you, sweetheart. I was you. Athena was everything to me at one time.” 

“Why?” Percy blurts out. Maybe he’s biased given his life experiences, but he finds it strange just how willing people are to devote themselves to various gods, both in the past and in the present. Especially when out of a thousand followers, just two of them might actually be lucky enough to receive any kind of acknowledgement for their worship. 

“Why would I devote myself to Athena, you mean?”

“I…yeah. I mean, so far half of the things I’ve heard at camp and in general haven’t been very flattering.” He pointedly ignores the intense glare Annabeth shoots his way. “I just don’t get it. Most of the gods up there suck!”

Lee coughs loudly, a flash of fear on his face while Grover bleats in distress. “Please stop saying things like that,” he begs.

“I won’t,” Percy says immediately. “Because I’m right .” 

Medusa stifles a laugh. “To answer your question, son of Poseidon; when I was born, my parents didn’t know what to do with me. It’s unheard of, really. Two gods producing an entirely mortal child. So I was sent to live with my sisters, Stheno and Euryale, in seclusion. But even that proved difficult.” 

She takes a sip of her tea before continuing. 

“Despite my mortality, I was still the child of two gods, and my scent and power was no different than that of a demigod's. And my sisters could only do so much to keep me safe. I couldn’t return to my parents, I couldn’t stay with my sisters, so when I was just a little girl they took me to a temple.”

“Athena’s temple,” he fills in.

“Correct,” she smiles. “In my time, temples were an easy way to hide away children who were either unwanted or otherwise not able to be kept. Many a young girl would find herself sent to a temple dedicated to Athena, Artemis, or Hestia.” 

Percy winces in sympathy. He knows the feeling. He also hopes temples back in the day were nicer than foster homes or poorly run facilities and troubled kid boarding schools. 

“Athena never answered any of my prayers, no matter how dutiful and faithful I was. No matter how many offerings I made in her name. There was never even the tiniest hint that she knew me and appreciated my worship. But I would have continued on that way, worshiping her in silence.”

“Sounds like a pretty awful job if you ask me,” he can’t help but say, ignoring the feeling of Annabeth’s glare and the sharp elbow from Grover to his side. More out of fear that he may be smote than actual annoyance or disagreement with Percy’s statement. 

“I did not think so at the time. But, as you know, things change.” 

He has a feeling the thing that changed may have something to do with his father, if the stories can be believed.

“So what happened?” Lee questions. “If you loved her so much, what made you stop?” 

Medusa is quiet for a long moment, picking lightly at a forgotten teacake on the plate in front of her, what’s visible of her expression darkening. 

“Men,” she answers simply, voice carefully neutral. “No offense to you boys, of course. But men can be rather….unfortunate to deal with at times.” 

“No, I get it,” Percy says immediately. “You’re not wrong.”

And she’s not. In his experience, many of the men he’s met have been terrible. Of course his experience is limited to his stepfather, his stepfather’s friends, shady people he occasionally did business with on behalf of his neighbors for extra cash, and randos on the street. New York is full of weirdos just roaming around unsupervised. 

“Do you, now?” She tilts her head, a curious note in her voice.

“....yes?”

He feels Lee stiffen beside him and can’t help but feel like he missed something important in this exchange. But he’ll worry about that later. 

Medusa takes a deep breath before continuing. “I begged for help, but of course, she did not come. I don’t know what I was expecting after all that time I had spent in her temple, listening to her silence. I knew she would not answer, but I suppose a part of us never stops hoping.” 

How many times he had asked for help from people he thought he could trust, only to be ignored entirely? How many times had he tried before he realized it was hopeless and gave up? 

Yes, he can certainly understand that, too. 

“But someone did answer that night. Perhaps it was the close proximity to the sea, or maybe just luck, but your father heard me. He broke that silence…and quite a few of their bones.” She lets out a quiet chuckle at that. 

“He…saved you?” Percy asks slowly, not quite believing what he’s hearing.

He’s never come across that version of her story. But he can’t say he’s shocked to have missed one. Mortals edit and rewrite ancient “myths” all the time to suit their needs. It stands to reason that an accurate version of Medusa’s life might not have been written down. 

She nods, a hint of a smile returning to her face, albeit far more sad. 

“He was my savior, and then my friend. Or so I thought. I hadn’t had many of those when I was growing up. The other girls at the temple did not like me, no matter how hard I tried. So when he insisted on coming to check on me after, to speak with me and allow me to confide in him, I was not opposed. His visits were a source of joy for many weeks, despite how secret we had to keep them.” 

Because Athena wouldn’t have reacted well to one of her priestesses consorting with her greatest rival. Even if said rival had been the one to actually intervene when it mattered. 

But Percy knows how this story ends, even if it didn’t start the way everyone seems to think it had.

“And then he stopped being your friend?”

Medusa scoffs, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “He certainly wanted to be more than friends. He made his intentions very clear one evening. Again, I suppose I should have expected it. Most gods rarely show or give their affection that easily.” 

It’s not just gods who are like that. The gods just seem to excel at bad behavior. 

“We argued when I refused, and he followed me into the temple which, of course, was the thing that finally drew Athena’s attention to me; her greatest rival daring to step into one of her temples, seemingly invited by one of her priestesses no less.” 

What a dick move, Dad , he thinks. There’s no way his dad didn’t know that following her would get her in trouble. 

Lee and Grover seem to be of the same opinion, the mild looks of disgust on their faces making their stance on the matter clear. Annabeth’s expression and posture remains unchanged. He doubts she’s actually making an effort to listen to anything Medusa says, and is probably just planning what she’s going to say next instead. 

“She demanded to know how long I had been breaking my vows with her uncle. I tried to tell her that I had done no such thing. That he had been the one to proposition me and that I refused, and that nothing had happened that night. But before I could speak, he saw fit to tell her that my behavior shouldn’t come as a surprise since I had already forsaken my vows and been with men before him .” 

Percy feels suddenly nauseous, the lemonade in his glass in front of him beginning to swirl so violently that the glass shakes. Grover stares at him openly, eyes wide and worried. 

His dad wouldn’t actually say that….would he?

Who’s he kidding? Of course his dad would. The gods do and say whatever they want, often with no consequences on their part. Why would they face consequences, after all, when they could lay the blame entirely on someone else? 

“And so she decided to punish me. Not Poseidon. Me . And he said nothing .” Her voice had become bitter, her hand clenching her teacup so hard Percy fears it may shatter. 

It’s something he’s been trying to reconcile in his mind since he was claimed – Poseidon of myth, Poseidon of the Odyssey, Poseidon in Medusa’s story – with the kind man his mother had spoken of during her lucid moments.

With the loving father Keto proclaimed him to be, despite his forced absence and the treatment of her own daughter. Because Medusa and Stheno and Euyale are Keto and Phorcys’ kids, he realizes somewhat hysterically. 

His father who ignored him for years because he wasn’t willing to stand up to his brother and silly laws that don’t matter. 

His father, who looked away when bad things happened to him. 

His father who, out of spite and feeling rejected, had used Medusa’s own trauma against her and stood by as Athena punished her for something that wasn’t her fault. And from what he can see, has remained silent on the matter since, despite the fact that he likely has the power and authority to challenge her on the matter. 

Did he just forget about her after all this time, the way gods always seem to forget about mortals? Or does he remember and just not care? 

Just like Apollo who cursed Cassandra and never looked back, never had second thoughts. 

And Athena, what excuse does she have in any of this besides letting her anger guide her actions instead of the logic and wisdom that Annabeth always attributes to her? Aren’t gods supposed to protect those who worship and serve them? 

Medusa is Keto’s child, he finds himself thinking again. Keto– Aquarium Lady, who had always seemed so nice despite her inherent spookiness. There weren’t any laws back then preventing gods from interacting with their mortal kids. As far he’s aware, those laws are relatively new. So why didn’t she help? 

Does Keto know he’s here right now? Is she watching? Does Medusa know that he knows Keto? 

His internal crisis is interrupted by Annabeth before he can continue to spiral. 

“You’re lying,” she accuses Medusa, face screwed up in anger. “That’s not how the story goes.” 

“Am I?” 

“My mother is just, always,” she insists.

“That is what they want you to believe, little one. That they are infallible and just. It makes it easier to shift the blame onto you, or anyone who dares call them out on their behavior. You would do well to remember that,” Medusa tells her, surprisingly patient for all the anger and resentment and pain he can see bubbling just beneath the surface of her forced calm. 

But Annabeth won’t be deterred. When she decides she’s right about something, she’ll keep going until she feels like she’s won. 

“That is not what happened. And you are a liar .” 

A heavy silence blankets the room, 

Annabeth and Lee’s hands are already straying towards their weapons, years of survival training kicking in automatically at what looks to be an impending attack. Even Grover is tense, firmly clutching his own weapon that Percy hadn’t noticed he had until now. 

Medusa takes a deep breath, and then another, before setting her teacup down on the table. 

“Oh dear, something’s burning,” she says, voice quivering ever so slightly. “Would you mind giving me a hand in the kitchen, son of Poseidon?” She rises to her feet without waiting for an answer, hands clenched tightly at her sides. 

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” he squeaks, looking at his friends in a mixture of confusion and fear as he rises to his feet. Maybe he can go in there and smooth things over before Annabeth’s attitude gets them all murdered. 

Grover shakes his head rapidly and Lee makes an attempt to pull him back down into his seat. 

“You can’t be serious!” Annabeth hisses, eyeing the door Medusa just disappeared through. 

He shrugs off their attempts to keep him there, rising to his feet. “I don’t want to be rude! We’re her guests. You’ve already been rude enough for the four of us, anyway.” 

Ignoring their continued protests, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

‘ Get ready to run!’ he hears Annabeth say to Grover and Lee as he steps into the kitchen, ‘ we can’t-’

The door shuts behind him before he can hear the rest of her words, but the little he did hear fills him with a sense of resignation and dread. 

Medusa stands in front of the stove, her back to him as she hurriedly attends to the foot that is cooking. Swallowing down his anxiety he makes his way towards here. 

“I’m sorry about that. That– that was a lot. She’s not usually like this.” He grimaces at the lie, images of all the times she was exactly like that coming to mind. “Okay, so maybe that is her natural state. But she still shouldn’t have said any of that,” he sighs. 

“It’s quite alright. No harm done,” she assures him with false cheer. 

It’s not though, he thinks, uncomfortable. 

He knows how much it hurts to have your experiences dismissed like that. 

“I’m still sorry,” he tells her again.

Medusa pauses, still facing away from him. “Hm. Well that’s not something I’m used to hearing from a demigod.”

“I’m not used to hearing it from anyone, so that makes two of us,” he says with a shrug. He takes a few steps closer, and when he speaks again it’s softer this time. “I also don’t think you’re lying. Most people don’t lie about stuff like that. And if they do, that’s real gross of them And you, well…” he tugs at the frayed sleeve of his stolen hoodie. “You don’t seem like a liar.” 

She’s silent for a few moments longer, and he starts to think that he might have overstepped. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to keep talking about this and he’s just going to annoy her further. 

“Thank you,” she says so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it, voice thick. 

He relaxes slightly. 

“Yeah. Anytime,” he says awkwardly. He’s never been good at dealing with other people’s emotions. Hell, he can hardly deal with his own. 

She clears her throat and in an instant the emotion is gone, replaced once more with a mask of cheer. “Well! We should do what we came in here for. Grab a spatula and stir the potatoes before they burn, son of Poseidon.” It’s a clear attempt to change the subject, but he’s not going to call her on it. 

“Percy,” he says quickly, as he picks up the nearest spatula and dutifully attends to the potatoes. “I never liked ‘Perseus’ that much, And ‘son of Poseidon’...” he trails off, expression pinched as he mulls over what he learned about his father today. “Well, I think just Percy is fine.”

“Hmm. Alright then, Just Percy, ” she teases, and his face flushes. 

They work in silence for a few moments longer, Percy handing her the items she requests and helping her to plate things. It’s such a normal moment in the middle of what has been an utter nightmare so far, that Percy almost laughs at the absurdity of it all. 

“Why are you being so nice?” he finally asks. “My dad screwed you over and didn’t stick up for you when Athena got mad. Shouldn’t I be the last person you want here?” 

Medusa wipes her hands on the nearby dishtowel, humming thoughtfully. 

“As I said, we are not our parents, Just Percy . You do not seem much like your father, for all you look like him in certain lights. You are a boy caught up in something that is no fault of your own. I suppose it leaves me feeling a bit…protective of you,” she confesses.

“Uh, thanks? I guess.” 

“Are you not afraid that she will betray you?” Medusa questions, and Percy has no doubt who the “she” in question is. “That your other friends out there might join her in turning against you on this quest?”

Hell yes he is afraid of that happening. 

That line from the prophecy has been haunting him as much as the weird shadow that lives in the periphery of his vision today has. It wouldn’t have been spoken if it wasn’t true. Percy knows deep down that someone will betray him, that it’s only a matter of time. 

“I don’t think Annabeth would do that. Or any of them, really.” 

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Just Percy?” 

He’s honestly not sure anymore. 

“I could help, if you like,” she says slowly, turning to face him more fully. “I could make it so she would no longer be a threat to you or your quest.” 

Percy’s blood runs cold as he catches her meaning. She’s offering to turn Annabeth, and by extension Grover and Lee, to stone if he so chooses. 

“No,” he says firmly, shaking his head. “No. That’s not necessary. There’s no need to ‘deal’ with any of them. I trust them.”

Liar, his mind whispers. 

“Then you will be an easy target when the time comes if you’re not careful,” she warns. 

Percy swallows nervously. “I think I’ll be fine-”

A small celestial bronze dagger, one of the extra weapons Annabeth insisted on packing, whizzes through the air past his face, cutting him off mid-sentence and forcing Medusa to leap to the side. It hits the portion of the wall that she had been standing in front of moments earlier, blade digging into its surface. 

Her mouth falls open in shock, but before she can say anything about the unprompted attack, a tin can – a fucking tin can – follows the same flight path and smacks her directly in the face, throwing her off balance as she grunts in pain. 

“Percy, run!”

And just like that, any hope of diplomacy and avoiding another fight is gone. 

He turns and flees the kitchen, not wanting to give Medusa enough time to gather her bearings and strike. Because he knows that despite the fact he had nothing to do with the unprovoked attack, he is definitely going to be blamed for it along with Annabeth. 

He’s totally feeding Annabeth to one of Keto’s creations, providing they survive this quest. And maybe Grover now, too, for going along with this. 

___________

“I told you this was a stupid idea, seaweed brain!” Annabeth hisses as they book it through the attached antique shop and down the stairs leading to the storage area beneath. Which feels like quite possibly one of the worst  places they could choose to hide. They’re effectively trapping themselves inside with Medusa, who will surely block the stairs when she catches up. 

But Alecto remains outside, prowling along the property as she waits for one of them to be brave enough, or stupid enough, to try and leave the house. They’re trapped either way. 

Percy’s scowl deepens. “Well I think it was going just fine until you tried to stab her! She was being perfectly reasonable until that point!”

Why? Why is it that every time he thinks he might be able to get along with Annabeth, or that she’s decided to be slightly more reasonable about things, she pulls stunts like this? 

And why do others go along with her schemes!?

“Oh, come on ! It was obviously a trick. She was going to turn on you at any second!”

“You know, I don’t think it matters who’s right and who’s wrong right now. Because regardless, Medusa is now out to kill us and we need to worry about that!” Lee cuts in, grabbing them both and dragging them along just a bit faster.

The storage area is less of a basement or a cellar, and more of a cavern that stretches on farther than he can see. Torches of Greek fire line the wall, their light casting a strange green glow on the countless statues that fill the space. Monsters, men, women, even some unlucky younger individuals. No one, it seems, was truly safe from her gaze when it comes down to it. 

“Shouldn’t we be running outside and not staying in her house?” Grover asks as he dives behind a cluster of them, Annabeth following swiftly after him. 

“Alecto,” Percy reminds him, ducking behind a stack of nearby crates. “We’re in just as much danger here as we are out there.” 

“We need to split up,” Lee decides, throwing a nervous glance towards the stairs where Medusa has yet to emerge. “There’s four of us and one of her. She can’t keep her eyes on all of us at the same time. And if we can get her distracted-”

“Then one of us she’s not looking at can cut off her head Original Perseus style!” Grover exclaims. 

Percy barely suppresses a groan. “Never say those words to me again, Grover.”

The door that leads to the cavern swings open, harshly banging against the stone wall. They all hold their breath as slow, steady footsteps begin making their way down the steps, the soft hissing of snakes filling the silence. “Now,” Lee mouths in panic.

As quietly as they can, they all speed off in different directions, weaving their way through rows and rows of petrified individuals and shipping crates. Across the way, there’s a loud crash as someone goes tumbling and Percy winces. 

Please don’t get caught, he thinks as he continues creeping deeper and deeper into the cavern. The torches become few and far between and he nearly goes sprawling a few times himself, foot catching on things he can no longer see. 

He tracks the sound of her footsteps as she begins her search, methodically checking behind all of her creations as she goes, sniffing out the various hiding places they might use with ease. 

“We are not our parents until we choose to become like them,” Medusa’s voice echoes throughout the cavern. “And you have chosen, daughter of Athena. For you, and for your friends who would support you.” 

Percy tries to steady his breathing as the soft clicking of her heels on the floor draw closer, the hissing of her snakes growing louder. 

“Perhaps shipping your statues to Olympus will finally get the point across after all this time. To them all.” 

Closer and closer. 

They come to a stop directly in front of where he sits, curled up as tight as he can to avoid being seen. For a moment, he’s convinced she’s found him. But then she sighs, and he hears the sound of her footsteps moving on. 

He peeks out from behind the crates, catching a glimpse of the hem of her dress as she wanders by. She disappears from sight and Percy breathes out slowly. 

Time to move. Gripping Riptide tightly, he continues forward, trying to catch another glimpse of Medusa while maintaining a safe distance. But she’s gone, disappeared somewhere into the crowd of stone figures as fast as she approached. 

Where is she?

Steeling himself, he steps out from his current hiding place into a more open area. He can’t see his friends either, and once again hopes none of them have been caught. 

He takes another cautious step as his eyes dart around the darkened space, keeping his gaze low to the ground in case she makes a sudden appearance. 

But there’s nothing. 

No more footsteps, no sound of snakes. No sign of her whatsoever. 

So where…

“Found you,” her melodious voice whispers, just as he begins to turn around. 

He sees her reflection staring back at him in his blade seconds too late to stop himself. She’s behind him. He hadn’t even noticed her approach. How had she moved so fast? 

“Let’s have a look at you,” she says as one of her snakes snaps at the air near his face. 

He hears his friends scream his name as they watch him turn, eyes open. Percy hadn’t noticed them approaching either. He’s immediately overcome with panic at the knowledge of what comes next. He wonders what it will feel like for his skin to turn to stone, to be trapped forever in the same position watching the world go by around him. Will it hurt? Will it be over before his brain can even process what’s happening to him? 

Or maybe he won’t perceive anything at all. Maybe the process will kill him instantly. 

And then the quest will fail, and war will rip the western world apart as his father and uncle argue over a stupid bolt that he didn’t even steal in the first place. 

Percy feels like he should be doing more; attempting to close his eyes, trying to turn his head and run at the very last second. He should be doing something to try and save himself….right? But he doesn’t. He doesn’t stop. 

A part of him wonders what the point would be. He’s probably going to die anyway. Whether it’s being torn apart by a monster or smote by an uncle who hates his very existence, he doesn’t expect to live much longer. And what comes after this, should he survive?

More quests, more danger. Going back to an apartment with Gabe. 

Percy is tired. And maybe, just maybe, being a statue wouldn’t be so bad. 

He thinks back to the statue of the man in the garden, the one who hadn’t seemed afraid to meet his fate but rather had welcomed it as an escape from whatever was troubling him. He takes a deep breath, any remaining fight draining out of him as their gazes meet. 

And.

Nothing happens. 

Percy stares into her eerie, iridescent blue eyes and she stares back, the snakes hissing and snapping around her face. He waits for the pain, for her powers to finally claim him after a strange delayed response. But there’s nothing. 

Medusa tilts her head as Percy watches the flurry of emotions pass across her face.

Confusion. Understanding. Anger. Sadness. Pain. 

She reaches out and Percy flinches, but there’s no pain. Her hand only comes to rest on his cheek. “You poor thing,” Medusa says gently, thumb stroking his cheek. 

“I don’t understand,” he whispers, still trembling. “I’m supposed to be stone.” 

She shakes her head. “Oh, sweetheart. My eyes don’t work on people like us. They never have.” 

Chapter Text

My eyes don't work on people like us. 

Now that part hadn’t been included in any myth that Percy had read. It’s his understanding that even gods tend to avoid her gaze, not willing to take the risk that they too might become statues in her garden. Vivid images of Athena being bested by her own curse pop into his mind, and he nearly laughs aloud. 

But included in the myths or not, she seems to be telling the truth. How else could he be standing here, staring directly into her eyes, and yet not slowly turning into the latest item in her stonework collection? He ignores the faint twinge of disappointment at this. Medusa does have a rather nice garden, and he imagines life as a garden statue might be a bit more peaceful than whatever comes next for him. 

He feels her fingers twitch against his cheek and suddenly realizes she’s still touching him. Instinctually, he rears back, slapping her hand away from him as he rushes to put space between them. 

"Easy," she says softly, holding her hands up in front of her in surrender and taking a few steps back of her own. "I'm not going to hurt you, Percy. I swear it. On the River Styx if that makes you feel better.” 

There’s a distant rumble of thunder, not the kind that his paranoid uncle makes when you so much as breathe in his general direction, but the quiet sound of acknowledgement he’d come to associate with conversation regarding oaths on the famous river. 

A promise on the Styx should make him feel better. It doesn’t. 

It’s not like the fancy oath has actually kept people from going back on their word. Percy wouldn’t be here if that was the case. And it doesn’t seem like his father or Zeus have been punished too severely for their actions yet. 

He maintains a shaky grip on the hilt of his sword. "You literally just tried to kill me.” 

Medusa cocks her head. "In my defense, your little friend tried to stab me in my own kitchen after I offered you xenia . I was perfectly within my right to deal with unruly guests. How was I to know that you weren't secretly part of her scheme?" 

He winces at the implication of her words. He hadn't even thought about that when the fight broke out. Though thankfully, there hadn't been that much actual fighting, just a lot of scurrying through the darkness and finding corners to hide in. 

“Okay, you have a point,” he relents, lowering his sword a bit. “We’re definitely in the wrong here. But how do I know that this isn’t–”

“A trick to get you to lower your guard once more, just so I can find a way to kill you that actually works?” she asks with a teasing grin that reminds him so much of his fairy god aquarium lady. Which is probably because she is, in fact, Keto’s daughter. How does he keep forgetting that? 

He really, really doesn’t want to have to explain to Keto that he assassinated her daughter in her own home. 

“Yes. Exactly that. How do I know this is not that ?” 

“I suppose you’re just going to have to trust me, as you did before this little fiasco began,” she tells him simply. “A task that has been understandably difficult for you in any capacity long before you met me, I would imagine.” 

Rude. 

“So what will it be, Percy?”

Engage in what he knows will be a very nasty and bloody fight resulting in at least one person’s death, or put his weapon down and try this over again with the hope that no errant daggers will come flying through the air and ruin any further attempts at diplomacy. 

His deep rooted trust issues that Medusa had called him out on are screaming for him to not to be stupid, to be like the original Perseus and take her head off before she can betray them. 

But he can’t.

Because deep down he knows Medusa doesn’t deserve it, especially when she was attacked first in this scenario. Because killing her would make him no better than a monster himself. As much as camp talks about the dangers of these supposedly soulless, evil creatures, and how it’s better to find and slay them as quickly as possible, he can’t make himself believe that they’re all bad. He refuses, actually, to believe that nonsense. 

For every little demigod trained at Camp Half-blood, there’s probably another little ‘monster’ somewhere out there whose worst nightmare is one of them stumbling into their home when their parents are away. 

Percy sucks in a breath. “Okay,” he says uncertainly. “Let’s try this again.” 

Medusa visibly relaxes at this, a small, tight, smile working its way onto her lips. “Good. I’m very glad to hear it.” 

The relief in her tone is palpable, though whether it’s more at the prospect of not being beheaded by her original murderer’s namesake or the fact that she doesn’t have to murder children is debatable. 

He makes a show of recapping Riptide, sliding the now innocent looking bronze pen back into his pocket. His posture remains tense as he waits for the moment where she might change her mind or reveal this for the trick a part of him still thinks this is. But she doesn’t. She stays still, hands still raised in an effort to appear non-threatening. 

“I still don’t understand. Why didn’t your eyes work on me?” he blurts out, unable to help himself. “What do you mean ‘people like us’? I don’t get it.” 

The words had been replaying in his mind over and over since she said them. People like us. Does she mean people who are cursed? They’re both currently living on the receiving end of the wrath of petty gods. Maybe two curses cancel each other out? 

But no, that doesn’t feel entirely correct the more he thinks about it. 

Percy is once again subject to that annoying, nagging feeling he gets when the answer is right there and for whatever reason, his brain just won’t allow him to process it. It does that with a lot of things, truly. There are so many things that feel like they are right there whenever he tries to think about things, but sometimes it’s easier to just… not . If only his dreams and visions were that easy to lock away. 

Medusa stiffens at his question, hands coming down to clench at her sides. 

She takes a deep breath, and Percy can see her struggle to maintain a level of calm detachment as she speaks. “It is as I already said,” she begins gently. “My eyes do not turn certain people to stone. People who have similar life experiences, that is. Like we briefly discussed earlier. Though I confess, I did not catch on at the time.”

“Catch on…?”

Percy thinks back to their earlier conversation, before everything went to shit. 

‘Men,’ she answers simply. ‘No offense to you boys, of course. But men can be rather unfortunate to deal with at times.’

‘No, I get it. You’re not wrong.’ 

He doesn’t get it.

You do, though, that annoying voice whispers again. You do. You do. 

Percy suddenly feels nauseous, his skin uncomfortably tight. The more he tries to think about it, the stranger it feels. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s feeling, but he knows it isn’t good and he doesn’t like it. What is he missing here? 

“But I think this is a discussion best reserved for another time.” Her voice interrupts his rapidly spiraling thoughts, yanking him back into the present moment. She’s gazing at him with such a sad expression that he almost can’t look at her. 

“But–”

“A different time, Percy,” Medusa says firmly but not unkindly, leaving no room for argument. “When things are less tense and there is time to process it without a civilization ending quest hanging over you, hm? And maybe someplace more private." Her gaze briefly drifts to the side where he knows his friends are still hiding in the darkness amongst the statues. 

Okay, yeah. Medusa is full of good points today, it seems, because judging by the way his ability to breathe air is slowly leaving him and the way his hands are shaking, he should probably take her advice and move on for now. He's also quite certain that Grover and Lee have dealt with him becoming a mess far more times than they should have lately, and he would rather not lose his shit right now. 

Speaking of Lee and Grover, where are they and Annabeth? They have to be close by and had to have seen that the fight is over. 

As if reading his mind, Medusa looks over at a collection of nearby statues. “You three can come out now!” she calls. “As you can see, the conflict is over. There’s no need to hide.” 

Lee is the first to emerge from his hiding place, bow still clutched tightly in his hand. He hesitates for only a moment before rushing to Percy’s side, a stricken look on his face. 

“Are you okay? No, of course you’re not okay. Stupid question,” Lee curses at himself as he leans down to look him over much like he had after they escaped the bus a few hours ago. 

“M’fine,” Percy grumbles, slapping Lee’s hands away in annoyance. “Not a single scratch other than what I already had. And as you can see, I’m not a garden gnome either, so it’s fine!” 

Without warning, Grover slams into his back, nearly knocking him off his feet. He lets out a grunt of surprise, flinching at the sudden contact. 

“What were you thinking!” the satyr cries, giving him a firm shake. “I saw you, Percy. You didn’t even try to look away! What if you really had been turned into stone?” 

He scoffs. “I imagine it would solve at least a few problems. Now can you both please let go of me?” His tone borders on whiny, but he can’t bring himself to care. While he appreciates their concern, their close presence is quickly becoming overwhelming and uncomfortable. 

“Don’t say things like that!” Grover scolds him, voice high and distressed. “It’s really not funny.” 

“Not funny at all,” Lee agrees sternly, brow furrowed. 

Even Annabeth, lingering a few paces behind the two of them, eyes him with something that could almost be considered worry, lips in a thin line as she shifts anxiously from foot to foot. For once, she seems at a loss for words. Percy never thought he’d witness the day that happened. 

A cough draws their collective attention back to Medusa. 

"In millennia past, an unprovoked violation of xenia of this magnitude could have severe consequences. Especially amongst those related to the gods. Zeus himself oversees the right of xenia, and you know what a stickler for the rules he can be. Must be where your mother gets it from," she says, her back to them as she carefully situates the hat over her head and the writhing mass of snakes that sprout from it. 

Annabeth pales considerably at that, the gravity of Medusa's words settling over her. A part of Percy wants to feel bad for her, but he can’t bring himself to. She had extended them hospitality in exchange for no harm coming to her within her home. 

Percy had accepted, and by choosing to follow him inside, so had Lee, Grover, and Annabeth. In ancient times, he can only imagine the punishment that would be brewing for them had they done something similar to one of their hosts. He can only continue to hope that Medusa, who is far less monstrous, it seems, than the stories or her appearance would lead one to believe is truly willing to let this go and isn’t waiting to kill them in their sleep. 

Which is asking a lot, in his humble opinion. 

Percy isn't sure that, if put in a similar situation, he would be able to find it in himself to forgive the raggedy bunch of misfits he allowed into his home out of the kindness of his heart, who then turned around and tried to murder him while he was cooking them dinner. 

Absolutely not. 

Medusa adjusts the veil over her eyes, making it safe to look at her once more. She turns to address Annabeth directly. "Luckily for you, I am not Zeus. Nor Athena. I am willing to forgive you this once and this once only, daughter of Athena, for your actions and for dragging your friends into this mess." 

Annabeth has the decency to look ashamed at the callout, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks as she stands there awkwardly, pointedly not looking at any of them. 

Grover clears his throat nervously. "So just to be like, really, really extra clear. You're not going to try and murder us again?"

Medusa exhales slowly. "No, little satyr. You will not join my collection tonight.” She sounds so incredibly tired. "But if you are all amenable, perhaps you will join me back upstairs and we can make a second attempt at dinner. I did promise you a meal, after all. Although at this rate, I'm sure everything has been burned beyond saving.”

The four of them share a look at her offer. 

More accurately, Percy glares his three companions down and silently dares them to refuse and make a mess of this a second time. He’ll drown them all, he swears he will (he would never). And then he’ll do this stupid quest on his own in peace. 

Man, he’s suddenly very grouchy. 

“Well I’m going,” he says, pulling away from Lee and Grover who still have not fully detached themselves from him. “She’s being nice and not murdering us and everything.” 

Grover lets out a nervous sound. “I guess that means dinner part two, then?”

“Yep,” Lee agrees with a resigned sigh. 

“Fine,” Annabeth agrees with a huff, as if she has the right to be annoyed about any of this. At least she can accept that she’s clearly outvoted on the matter. 

Medusa nods. “Well then, shall we?” 

_______________

Everything is, in fact, burnt to a crisp.

But a promise to help her clean her kitchen top to bottom in the morning and one very concerned delivery man later, and they are sat back down at the table for dinner. The sun has long since set, the the sound of crickets and frogs drifting in through the open windows. 

Lee sits to his right and Grover to his left, the satyr so close to him they’re practically in the same seat. Despite his earlier protests, Grover has gone back to being exceptionally clingy since they returned upstairs, refusing to be more than a few inches away from him as if he’s afraid Percy will disappear if he doesn’t maintain physical contact. 

This is normally something that wouldn’t bother Percy in the slightest. In fact, he is usually the clingy one in this friendship. 

He has vague recollections of conversations about ‘trauma’ and ‘touch deprivation’ with a counselor at Yancy after one teacher had been confused and concerned by how attached Percy had become to his new friend. But he honestly had never paid too much attention during those meetings, just nodded along and waited for them to finally be over. 

Now though, every brush against his skin sets him on edge, and it takes everything in him not to lash out at his friend. 

Lee has hardly said a word, opting to glare a hole in the wood of the table and viciously stab at his food as if it had done something horrifically offensive. Percy hopes he's not the one responsible for his mood; Lee looks really angry. The son of Apollo, like Luke, rarely gets truly angry with other campers. And if they do, they're both good at not showing it or taking it out on others.

Percy winces at another particularly hard jab. 

He leans over towards Lee. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.

Lee blinks in surprise and confusion. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“You just seem really angry….is all,” he manages to mumble, curling in on himself a bit. “Sorry.” 

Lee’s expression softens. “I’m fine, Percy. Just eat your dinner, okay?” Lee says it in that tone adults– or, well, in Lee’s case kids who have become the designated adults– use when they are clearly not fine, but they don’t want to or don’t know how to talk about it with the children. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he adds when he notices Percy still looking at him uncertainly. And Percy feels a tiny bit of his anxiety fade at that. 

Annabeth has been somewhat mellow given the circumstances. Not one comment or rude remark had left her lips the whole dinner. But more than once, Percy had caught her staring intently at him when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if he had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. He can practically hear the gears whirring in her mind as she no doubt tries to figure out how he managed to survive looking directly into Medusa’s eyes. 

He can also sense an impending interrogation that he hopes will wait until at least the morning when his mind feels less fuzzy and he’s more likely to not say something he’ll regret. 

And maybe has managed to sneak coffee without Grover noticing. The satyr does enjoy thwarting any and all attempts at him feeding his caffeine habit. 

By the time they successfully make it through the world’s most awkward dinner, Percy is using all of his remaining strength to keep his eyes open. More than once, his face had almost fallen flat into his plate of barely touched food. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins since the Furies attacked has finally run its course, and every little horror of the day is finally catching up to him. 

“Bedtime, I think,” Medusa announces after he drops his fork for the millionth time with a loud clatter. “You all have a long quest ahead of you and need your rest. You can leave your dishes here, we’ll take care of those in the morning.” 

He hates sleep. Absolutely despises it. 

Given the choice, he will avoid it as long as humanly possible, until he physically cannot function and his body makes the choice for him. Which he has been told on multiple occasions is not healthy. But today? Today, all he wants to do is curl up under a blanket with his eyes closed and hope that for once his brain is kind to him when he drifts off into unconsciousness. 

She rises to her feet, brushing off her dress as she sweeps towards the stairs. “Come, bring your things.” 

Medusa leads them up the creaking stairs, pointing out the important things as she goes; the guest bathroom, her room (that they are not to enter), and finally the rooms that are available for them to use. There’s enough for each of them to have their own if they want. They end up opting to share two instead. 

They split up much like they did on the bus; Grover with Annabeth in one room and Lee with Percy in the next. 

Annabeth tried to argue at first that it would be foolish to split up like this in an unfamiliar place after everything that’s happened. And Percy somewhat agreed with her, though he’d rather eat his shoe than admit to it after her stunt of the day. Lee and Grover shared a long, exhausted look with one another before quickly ushering Percy and Annabeth in separate directions. Something about it being more of a hazard to make a “very determined puppy and an angry feral kitten” roommates than to split up for the night. 

Percy doesn’t appreciate the comparison, and he tells Lee as much as they settle in for the night. 

“Then don’t act like an angry feral kitten,” Lee deadpans, dropping down on the bed beside him. “Now let me see that arm.”

“Arm?”

Lee raises a brow, unimpressed. “Yes, your arm. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about it. She got you good with her whip back on the bus.” 

Right. His arm. 

He’d been doing his level best to disregard the searing pain for the past however many hours it’s been. He’s been burned pretty badly before, so he’s familiar with the awful sensation of it and the effort it takes to ignore it and function. But he has to admit, this one is definitely far more painful than he’s used it. 

“It’s probably–”

“If you say it’s probably fine , I’m going to lose it. Your definition of ‘fine’ is a lot different than everyone else’s and you know it, Perseus Jackson.” 

Percy grimaces at the use of his full name. Looks like he’s not getting out of this one. 

Reluctantly, he shrugs off the hoodie he had been hiding in all day and gets a good look at himself for the first time. As he suspected, his arm looks nasty;  a deep gash encircling his wrist surrounded by burned flesh where the whip had wrapped around it. There's a host of other bruises and scrapes from their adventure through the woods to get here, but nothing that looks as serious as his wrist. 

Gently, Lee takes the injured limb in his hands, turning it this way and that to get a good look at the damage. 

“I know you don’t like our healing, Percy. But maybe you’ll let me try this time?” He worries his lip as he pokes at a particularly bad looking spot, murmuring apologies when Percy hisses in pain. 

“It’ll be fine,” Percy insists, yanking his arm away and cradling it close to his chest. “I’ve had worse. And there’s literally a bathtub. I’ll just go dunk myself for a while and get over it.” 

As he says this, he can hear the water in the bathroom across the hall turn off, signaling his turn for the shower is approaching. He shifts in his spot, eager to make a quick escape. 

Lee gazes at him imploringly. “Please, bud? We just barely got you over one hell of an infection from capture the flag, and I don’t think another one is going to go well for you right now.” 

Maybe it’s the way Lee calls him “bud”, the same nickname he uses for little Will back at camp, and the same nickname Luke affectionately uses for him, but he feels his resolve beginning to crack. 

“Why are you so concerned about me? You’ve been limping since we left the bus. You shouldn’t waste your healing on me when you’re already exhausted,” he counters instead of giving in. Whether or not the older boy wants to admit it, he can’t keep everyone else healthy and alive if he’s not taking care of himself. Lee is just as stubborn as Percy in a lot of ways.

Lee narrows his eyes at the challenge. “I’ll make you a deal, you tolerate a little bit of healing that you hate so much for some reason, and then I’ll heal my ankle.” 

Percy glares right back, but it’s hard to stay strong when Lee is looking at him like that. His sad older brother look is just as powerful as his stern older brother one. 

Dammit. 

“Fine,” Percy huffs, attempting to calm the spike of anxiety at the prospect of submitting to healing, of feeling an energy that’s technically from a god who hates him. 

He carefully extends his arm out to Lee once more, pouting all the while. The son of Apollo places his hands over the wound, softly humming as he does so. Is humming or singing a requirement to access their healing powers? He’s noticed a lot of the Apollo kids do it when they heal. 

Percy stares up a small crack in the ceiling instead of at his arm. If he doesn’t look, it’s not happening. If he doesn’t think about it too hard, then maybe Apollo won’t notice an extension of his powers being used to help Percy and get angry. 

“Where did you say you lived before coming to camp again?” Lee’s voice catches him before he can fully zone out and pretend he’s not here. 

The question catches him off guard. “I didn’t. And I lived at home,” he says slowly. “Why?”

Lee rolls his eyes in mild exasperation. “I know that much. I meant where . And with who?”

“New York, Upper East side. Or at boarding school sometimes. Is this really important? Also are you almost done?” he asks impatiently. 

Lee nods. “Just a little bit more and I’ll free you. I promise.”

Percy risks a glance down at his arm encased by the warm feeling of Lee’s healing, and sees that it looks better than it had moments ago. The burn has lessened, and the gash is no longer as deep. It certainly hurts a lot less than it did before. At least his bone isn’t showing this time like it had after capture the flag. 

Still, he finds himself looking away quickly once more. After all the grievous injuries he’s had over the years, one would think he’d be used to seeing them. But they still make him a bit queasy at times. 

He stares down at the vintage pattern of the carpet. “Why are you so interested in my life outside of camp?”

Lee is quiet for a moment as he mulls over his words. “Because I feel like up until this point, no one besides Grover has ever been interested enough.” 

Percy’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I lived with my mom,” he says quietly. 

“Your mom, huh?”

He shrugs. “Well technically she’s been dead for a while, so now I live with Gabe. And I don’t think Gabe wants me to come home, not really. I mean, well, maybe he does. He gets paid by the state to look after me. He’s probably mad about losing the check and not having someone around who can figure out how to fix his problems for him. Or cook. Or use a vacuum.”

Lee releases Percy’s arm and he quickly draws the limb back towards his chest. He watches as the older blonde turns away from him for a moment, taking several deep, measured breaths in an effort to stay calm. 

“And Gabe is?” he asks when he no longer looks like he’s about to explode, pulling a small container of ointment out of his bag. It’s gold in color, the same shade of gold as the ambrosia squares and nectar that camp stockpiles for the numerous injuries they collectively receive. 

“My stepdad,” Percy clarifies as he holds his arm out again for Lee, watching as he rubs what he assumes is magic healing cream into the remaining damage. “He’s been around since I was two, I think.”

He can’t remember a time when Gabe wasn’t there in some capacity. His mom just brought him home one day and seemingly overnight, it went from uncomfortable date nights that interrupted his time with her, to the two of them leaving their crappy apartment to move into Gabe’s even dingier one.

“Oh! The one they interviewed in the paper about your ‘disappearance’.”

“The paper? What do you—oh…”

Right.

The bus station had been littered with missing person signs and the occasional abandoned newspaper. Lee had discretely disposed of at least one of them, and Percy swears he had caught him idly flipping through one of the papers while they waited. He’d probably read every terrible word written about him in there— both the lies and things that aren’t really lies, but have been misconstrued by mortal’s poor understanding of how mythological concepts and familiar curses work. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” Percy mumbles, suddenly finding a yellowing piece of the floral wallpaper extremely interesting.

“Doesn’t really sound like the loving father-figure he’s making himself out to be,” Lee comments, whispering a soft apology as he firmly rubs more of the golden ointment into his skin.  

Percy shrugs again. “Could be worse.”

Lee finally lets go of him, capping the container and putting it back in his bag. “I know it’s worse than what you’re telling me. That’s what scares me.”

“M’sorry,” he whispers, still staring at the wallpaper instead of making eye contact. 

He never meant to make anyone worry about him. 

“And you don’t have any other family you can go back to after the summer session?” Lee asks, as he sits back down on the bed next to him. To Percy’s relief, he glimpses him healing his own ankle as promised. 

Percy shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I do actually have a decent amount of close-ish family and other very distant relatives who are alive right now, like Uncle Paul or Heather from Arizona who lives with her chickens. But not anyone I’ve met in person or who could reasonably take me in. I don’t think most of the ones who are old enough and have managed to stay alive would meet the requirements of a competent legal guardian at this point in their lives.” 

“.....managed to stay alive?” 

Percy winces at the note of horror in his tone. Maybe that was a little too much detail. 

“Mhm. We die a lot. Usually young. Old age is something that none of us really want to deal with because at that point life is just straight suffering and there’s not much of us left anyway, you know?”

Lee blinks, and blinks again as slowly straightens up and turns to face him directly. “I don’t, actually. Now what the fuck do you mean by that?” 

“I just hope when it’s my time, it’s not being pressed to death for being a witch. Or the bears,” he rambles, the words spilling out his mouth before he can stop himself. Dammit. What happened to not saying too much?

Lee chokes on air. “The bears!?”

“Yeah, bears. I’ve never understood why it’s always so violent and awful when we go for the most part.” Death by grizzly bear is definitely not one of the ways he wants to go out. They’ll start eating you when you’re still alive. “I’m aiming to be one of the lucky ones who dies from wasting away forgotten in a cell or a mental hospital for years. At least I won’t be coherent enough to know what’s happening to me at that point.” 

When Lee speaks again there’s a noticeable tremble to his voice. “Percy, please tell me you’re messing with me right now. Because I want to believe that you are, but in my heart of hearts I don’t think that’s the case here.” 

He ducks his head. “I can’t do that. Sorry.” 

Lee lets out a slightly hysterical laugh, pointing at Percy rather dramatically. “The list. This is all going on the list. The second we are back at camp, we have so much shit to unpack.” 

Percy smiles nervously. “We could also just throw it all away instead of unpacking it?” he suggests. 

“No! We’re not just gonna skirt past everything you just said. What do you mean everyone in your family dies violently? That doesn’t make any sense!” He exhales loudly. “How does something like this even start?” 

Because your dad is a bitch and can’t handle rejection, so now I’m paying the price for a situationship that ended badly millennia ago. 

But Percy can’t say that out loud. He doesn’t want to offend Lee by insulting his father. Furthermore, he doesn’t want to risk talking or even thinking about the god too much or for too long lest he manage to draw his attention once more. He still remembers the feeling of being watched in the attic when he was forced to speak with the Oracle, when it tried to escape its prison and make him his host.

He wonders if Apollo realized who he was at that moment, beyond being a forbidden child of Poseidon. Or if he even cared.

Maybe he finds the whole thing amusing and the fact that one of his latest victims is a forbidden child is just the icing on the cake for him.

He rises to feet before Lee can continue to push for answers. “I’m gonna go shower now.” 

Not even Grover knows all the details regarding his situation . Luke is the only one who has the faintest idea what’s really going on, and honestly, he wants to keep it that way for now. And even that was an impulsive decision he now regrets. It’s easier to just not say anything. He’s already a burden. 

“Wait, Percy!” Lee calls after him, but he continues to speed walk away, narrowly avoiding slamming into Annabeth who stares at him in open concern as he goes. 

He slams and locks the bathroom door behind him, grateful for the first moment of true privacy he’s had since they left camp. 

Why the fuck does everything have to be so complicated? 

_______________

When Percy comes back to the room after his shower, feeling refreshed after dissociating under the water until his aches and pains became manageable, he finds Grover loitering in their room. Grover and Lee are finishing up a conversation that is definitely about him, judging by the way they jump and change the subject when they notice him. 

Lee looks even more exhausted and stressed than when he left thirty minutes ago. He wonders what the satyr shared with him while Percy was gone. 

“Night, Perce,” Grover tells him on his way out, affectionately ruffling his hair and laughing when he swats at him in annoyance. “Come bother me if you need me, yeah?” 

“M’fine,” he insists, making his way over to the bed and flopping down on it. 

Grover shuts the door behind him, and it’s just the two of them again. The son of Apollo wanders around the room for a few more minutes as he finishes preparing for bed. Percy buries his face in the pillow, already feeling the call of sleep as his eyelids grow heavy. 

Lee climbs into his own bed, but hesitates as he reaches for the lamp on the table between them. “Do you want me to leave the light on?” 

“I’m not a baby,” Percy mumbles into his pillow. “I don’t need a night light.” 

“I didn’t say you were one. Grover just mentioned–”

Of course Grover mentioned it. And probably a bunch of other embarrassing facts about him too. He really wishes people wouldn’t have conversations about him. And also that people would stop perceiving him all together so he would never have to worry about anything like this again. 

“Goodnight, Lee,” he mumbles, turning over on his side. 

There’s a heavy sigh, followed by the rustling of blankets before the light clicks off. “Goodnight, Percy.” 

_______________

Percy is standing in the middle of a garden he has no recollection of walking to. 

The sky above him is a mixture of purple and pinks, dotted with just barely visible stars, giving the impression of eternal twilight. It’s filled with flowering plants he’s never seen before, some giving off the barest hint of a glow in the fading daylight. 

The fields of plants and flowers stretch out for what must be miles around him, with no hint at the presence of anyone else. 

“Hello?” he calls out, tentatively. But silence is the only answer he receives. 

There’s a winding, garden path before him that leads….somewhere, he supposes. Seeing no other option, he follows it. 

He walks, and he walks, and he walks. 

Just when Percy is about to give up and start freaking out in earnest, he comes to a clearing in what must be the middle of this massive garden. 

There’s a circular stone area with nothing but a simple white wicker table and chair set you might find on any regular patio. An older man with white hair and a beard, dressed in a simple, smart suit sits there. Spread out on the table before him is an open papyrus scroll that he studies intensely, mumbling comments here and there as he goes. 

His cane leans against the table. No, maybe not a normal cane. Canes don’t normally have a curved blade affixed to the top of it just below where a hand would grip it. They also aren’t usually made out of celestial bronze. 

There’s something strange about the man. For all he’s presenting himself as a normal human, Percy can sense an otherness about him. Something ancient and powerful. The same feeling he gets when he’s around Chiron or Mr. D. 

He contemplates turning and leaving as quickly as possible, before whoever, or whatever this person is, notices him. But like so many other times, something urges him forward. 

Against his better judgement he steps onto the stone patio. The man doesn’t acknowledge him, too busy with whatever he’s reading. 

Percy clears his throat then, and the man finally glances up at him, revealing eyes the color of liquid gold. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see Percy standing there, as if he’d been expecting him this whole time. Carefully, he rolls the scroll he had been studying back up before setting it aside. 

“Ah! There you are. I was worried you wouldn’t find your way here,” he greets, his works spoken with an accent he can’t quite place. “Join me, will you?” He gestures to the garden chair opposite him. 

So he had been expecting him.

Great. 

Percy takes an uneasy step forward, hand drifting to his pocket where he keeps Riptide. But to his growing horror, he finds nothing there. He has nothing to defend himself with. 

“There’s no need for that, Perseus,” he tells him with a dismissive wave. “No harm will come to you here. After all, it’s rude to attack one’s guests without cause. We wouldn’t want to violate xenia rights here, would we.” He smiles then, amusement sparkling in those strange eyes, and Percy knows exactly what he’s hinting at without saying it. 

Medusa. 

But how would this man, who he has never met until this moment, already know what happened at her home in New Jersey? 

“How…how do you know my name?” he demands, voice shaking ever so slightly. “How do you know what happened?”

The old man chuckles. “Young man, I think you will find that many people know your name these days. Your existence has made quite the stir.” 

He’s not sure what’s worse; being cursed by the sun god, or being Poseidon’s forbidden kid. 

Percy looks around the garden once more, noting just how….odd the place feels. At first glance everything appears normal, if slightly magical given what has to be a non-mortal origin of this place. But just like with the man, something is off.

Realization slowly starts to creep in. 

“This is a dream. This isn’t real,” Percy says more to himself than the strange man sitting across from him as he looks around the garden, noting all the little discrepancies that mark this place as being a figment of his imagination. The shapes that aren’t quite right, the way the edges of things blur and run into each other as if they can’t remember what they’re supposed to look like. 

The man laughs again. “Why, of course it’s a dream. But who says dreams can’t be real?” The man leans back in his seat. “Now are you going to join me, or not?” 

Slowly, Percy makes his way to the table and lowers himself into the seat across from him. 

“What is this place supposed to be, exactly?” Percy asks. 

“My wife’s favorite garden. Or at least, how I remember it to be. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been able to visit it in person.” He hums, lightly running his finger over the petals of a nearby flower. “I must confess, maintaining even this haphazard rendition of it in your unconscious mind is taxing. It doesn’t do it’s true beauty justice. But I thought talking to you here might be more comfortable than showing you my….current place of residence.” 

His expression hardens at that, and Percy can feel his bitterness. Unbidden, images of a dark, cold place come to his mind, and he shivers with an imagined chill.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who has been wronged by Olympus, just like you.” 

Percy’s brow furrows. “Yeah, that could be literally anyone. Wronging people is their favorite pastime up there. You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, old man.” 

He raises a brow. “Old man? That is how you choose to address your host?”

“Well if you’re that upset by it, give me something else to call you then, old man. Stop playing games,” he snarks. Why can’t people just answer his questions?

He probably shouldn’t be behaving like this is the presence of an unknown entity. Another god, maybe, or an ancient monster. That’s usually how this goes. He finds himself in the presence of things capable of smiting him on a whim and proceeds to summon the worst version of his attitude possible. 

But the man doesn’t seem put-off by it in the slightest. He regards Percy for a long moment with a mixture of curiosity, continued amusement, and an emotion that he can’t quite identify. Something that seems almost sad. 

“What?” Percy says as the staring goes on for an uncomfortably long time. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“You have your grandmother’s eyes, did you know that?” the still nameless man tells Percy, expression softer now. “And her quick wit and smart mouth. She was one of the few people who wasn’t afraid to stand up to me. I suppose that one came back to haunt me in the end,” he huffs. 

“My grandma’s eyes were brown, like my mom’s,” Percy shoots back with a frown, thinking back to the picture of his grandmother Estelle his mother used to keep out. 

He shakes his head. “No, no. Not the mortal one who took that unfortunate tumble out of the window. Your other grandmother, my wife.”

His other grandmother. Poseidon’s mother. Rhea. 

Which means the man in front of him is…

The waning harvest season, the point when things begin to die and the earth turns cold. Time in all its destructive aspects. 

Faster than he can comprehend, scenes of a time long past flash before him. A war, a scythe, babies crying, so much destruction. He can’t. He can’t–

“Focus,” his stern voice cuts through the onslaught of visions, pushing away the visions and pulling Percy back into the garden. “We do not have much more time together and we still have things to discuss.” 

“Kronos,” Percy whispers, heart racing. “You’re Kronos.”

“Correct. I knew you’d figure it out,” he says, smile widening. “You are one of my brighter descendants.” 

Percy swallows, the urge to flee returning full force. Kronos, the King of the Titans that had been vanquished by Zeus millennia ago after he had devoured the five older Olympians. A name that Chiron and other people at Camp Half-Blood were reluctant to speak. 

“But you’re supposed to be gone!”

He gives Percy a wry grin. “Torn to little pieces and scattered throughout Tartarus? That much is true, yes. But the boon one gets with immortality is that dismemberment is rarely permanent. I don’t know why they didn’t think of that.” 

Fair. If something is immortal, you might want to be more careful where you store the pieces if you don’t want it to put itself back together. 

“But why are you here now? Why visit me?”

Kronos cocks his head. “Can a grandfather not visit his grandson for a simple chat? Maybe I just wanted to meet you, to speak with you.” 

Sure. Seems likely. 

“You’re lying. You’re trying to trick me. I’m not listening to you,” he insists vehemently, a feeling of dread curling in his gut. 

Kronos sighs. “My dear boy, I am many things, but a liar is not one. People may interpret my words however they wish, but I have never said what I do not mean. Lying is a waste of time. Too many narratives to maintain when the truth laid out plainly, sometimes for the very first time, is just as effective at bringing people to your side. The reality of our situations is often much more horrifying than the fictions we desperately cling to.” 

Percy squints, studying him closely for any signs of bullshit. But to his surprise, he doesn’t see any. There’s not a single thing about his words or his disposition that make Percy think he’s telling anything other than the complete truth. Or at least, what he believes to be the truth. 

And isn’t that something? Out of everyone in this messed up, mythological world he’s met so far, it’s Kronos who somehow feels the most believable of the bunch. 

“You….really aren’t lying to me. Huh.” 

“No. I am not.”

“I’m not used to that,” he mumbles. It’s kind of nice, knowing that the person across from you is telling the truth. He must say something to that effect out loud because Kronos shoots him a sympathetic look. 

Kronos hums sympathetically. “Then let us both agree, Perseus, to never lie to each other.  I’ll even swear on that infernal river if it makes you feel better.”

Percy scoffs. “Plenty of people swear on the Styx and it doesn’t seem to mean anything. I think it’s all just for show at this point.” 

Kronos snorts, taking a sip of a beverage that was definitely not there two seconds ago. Although he’s not sure if it's actually doing anything for him considering this is one big, weird dream, or if it’s just done out of habit. “Right you are.”

He sets his glass down. “So I suppose, in the spirit of our promise, I have to admit that this is more than just a simple chat with my grandson.”

“Knew it! What do you want, old man?”

He should probably not be this casual with a former Titan king who has (is in the process of?) reforming after being bested by his own children, one of which is Percy’s father. He shouldn’t be this open to listening to him. And yet, he wants to. 

Honesty is refreshing in this world. 

“Tell me, what do you think of your father? Of Olympus and the gods who sit on their thrones?”

He thinks his life would be better without them. He thinks things could have been different for him and his mom had the gods never popped into existence. How different things could have been for countless individuals across time who crossed paths with the gods to their detriment.

But mostly, he likes to go about his days not thinking too hard about them at all. 

Percy wrinkles his nose. “I try not to think about them for the most part. It’s not like Poseidon ever thought too hard about how to visit me,” he spits out, a familiar anger rising. “Mr. D is cool though. But also he used to be a demigod I think, so maybe he’s more like us than them. And Apollo…” the sun god’s name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

Kronos cocks his head in interest. “You hate my other grandson.”

“I do,” he says without hesitation.

“And what would you do if he could be taken out of the equation? If his existence no longer troubled your own.” His golden eyes are alight with excitement as he waits for Percy’s answer. 

Percy thinks for a moment. What would he do if Apollo was gone? If the gods who caused so many headaches for him and the other demigods were suddenly no longer a factor in their lives. “Throw a party,” he admits quietly, only slightly guilty about his answer. “Have the first normal, not scary day of life.”

He knows there are so many demigods who love their immortal parent, who support the gods in general. But truthfully, he doesn’t think most of them deserve it. What had all that unconditional love and respect gotten them? Killed, maimed, cursed, ignored. 

No. Fuck that. Percy doesn’t owe them anything. 

Percy turns his attention back to Kronos. “Why are you asking me this?”

Kronos smiles. “What if I told you there was a way to fix this? To fix every problem the gods have laid on your shoulders for you to suffer and work through on your own.”

“I’d say you’re already going back on our promise not to lie to each other, but go on, I guess.” 

He’s just listening to the ramblings of a deposed Titan king who invaded his dreams. He’s not actually interested in anything the man has to say. Because no matter how good or how helpful Kronos frames what he’s going to say next, there’s no way it’s going to be good for anyone. Percy is definitely not interested.

….right? 

“How?” he asks curiously, images of curse free life rising to the surface of his mind of their own accord. 

“By removing them, of course,” Kronos says easily, as if restructuring an entire pantheon of gods was just a regular Tuesday activity. “Removing them and starting again.” 

Dread pools in his gut at the implication of those words. “You want Zeus’ throne.”

“I want my throne that was stolen from me. I want to set things right,” Kronos clarifies. “And you could help me with that. Imagine how different your life would be without their interference. Without the expectations of your father, without the lingering curse Apollo left on your lineage, having control over your abilities for the first time in your life. Don’t you want that?”

Percy flinches. He knows. How does he know so much? 

Kronos takes a deep breath, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “And, you could save them, my grandson. You could save them all from the path they currently walk.”

Percy sits up straight, the panic starting to consume him. “Who? Save who!?”

He’s ripped out of the garden once more and back into a sea of familiar images. Images that had haunted his dreams and even his waking moments since his first weeks at Yancy. But now he can put faces to the names. 

Lee, dead on the ground at Camp Half-Blood as monsters burst from the earth. 

Charlie looking at him one last time before the world around them ignites . 

Bodies littering the city streets, mangled to the point of being unrecognizable. Camp Half-Blood in ruins, the world in chaos. 

But then everything shifts once more. And they’re alive. They’re alive but the world is still in chaos, civilization turned upside down and remade into something he doesn’t understand. People– what’s left of them, eking out a meager existence in the ruins as Kronos reigns from his throne. 

He blinks and he’s back in front of Kronos, the garden around them beginning to swirl and fade as his hold on Percy’s dream begins to grow weak. 

“My children and their descendants rule Olympus based on their fleeting whims, use their children as cannon fodder, and don’t even have the decency to say thank you when you go on a life threatening quest to solve their problems for them. I would do no such thing, Perseus,” Kronos says gently, voice filled with grandfatherly affection. 

“You and the other demigods who agree to my rule will be rewarded. You will not want for anything, there will be no more suffering. You would be the honored subjects of a new Olympus,” he continues. “And that mortal you live with, well, there are fates worse than death aren’t there?”

Percy’s heart stutters. 

Gabe would be punished. His grandfather would punish Gabe…

“But so many will still die,” he chokes out. “How is that right?”

Kronos is silent for a moment. “When you garden, it is important to prune the rot so that new growth may thrive uninhibited. This world is much the same. We will make a better one, once we purge what is unnecessary.” 

What is unnecessary. 

Just how many things would be deemed unnecessary? How far would we push his definition of the word to justify every questionable action he takes?

And what if the end result after all his “pruning’, truly is better, a traitorous voice in his mind whispers. What if starting over would solve so many of not just Percy’s problems, but everyone else’s? Because there are moments when he truly believes anything could be better than this existence. 

“You don’t have to give me an answer now, Perseus,” Kronos says kindly, pushing himself to his feet as the scenery around them begins to fade much more rapidly to reveal the darkness hidden beneath. “It’s a lot to think about, I know. Take your time, while you still have it, and come to a decision. I suspect we’ll be seeing much more of each other.”

With that, he turns and begins walking away down the opposite side of the path. 

Percy lurches forward, arm outstretched. “Wait–!”

He bolts upright, heart pounding and breath coming in ragged gasps, arm still outstretched towards a figure that was never physically there to begin with. He looks around the room wildly, half expecting there to be remnants of the mystical garden he had found himself, or for his grandfather to be looming over him. 

But there is nothing. 

The only sound in the room is Lee’s soft breathing, the older boy still fast asleep on bed across from him. A quick glance at the clock reveals it is only 3:29am. Percy muffles a groan in his hands and flops back onto the bed, willing his body to stop shaking. 

He’s had dreams like that before, but they had been limited to encounters with his mortal relatives, people as lost in their dreams and minds as Percy gets. He’s never communicated with something or someone else like that before. 

Has he? 

He thinks of the field trip to the Met, when they were all standing in front of the relief depicting Kronos devouring his children and how his mind had instantly wandered. 

“He can see you, εγγονός . You must not listen,” the woman who looked so much like him had said, panic in her eyes. 

Rhea. They have the same eyes, according to Kronos. 

And even before then, that dream with Cassandra that had taken a darker turn. How that thing in the pit had been calling out to him. It wasn’t a thing at all. It had been him all along, whispering about a prophecy he doesn’t understand and warning him of people yet to die. 

How long has Kronos been watching him? 

With a frustrated huff he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. So much for sleep tonight, there’s no way he’s getting himself to calm down enough to rest after this. Carefully, so as to not wake up Lee, he stands and tiptoes out the door, closing it softly behind him. 

After pacing the hallway for a solid twenty minutes, he decides to make his way downstairs where it’s less likely that anyone else will wake up. He creeps down the stairs, wincing at every creak of the old wood. 

Medusa hadn’t said they weren’t allowed to explore the house, just that they couldn’t enter her bedroom. Hopefully she doesn’t mind him wandering aimlessly through the entirety of it like a ghost until his body decides to give out and let him rest again. 

He makes his way towards the living room. He vaguely recalls there being a bookshelf. Maybe there’s stuff written in a language he can read easily or something. But when he rounds the corner, he stops dead. Because Medusa is already in the living room. 

Looks like he’s not the only one awake after all. 

Her face is uncovered, and the snakes that make up her hair twitch and squirm around her head. Lugging all those serpents around must be heavy. Percy could never. He deals with enough chronic headaches thank you. Just thinking about what it must feel like has his scalp aching in sympathy. 

Despite the early summer heat, there is a roaring fire going. She sits in one of the chairs next to it, legs curled underneath her as she works on what looks like an embroidery project. If he squints, he can just make out the tiny, multicolor flowers decorating the cloth. 

Maybe he should just go back upstairs? 

“You should be sleeping,” she says without looking up as he tries to make his escape, expertly drawing the needle and thread through the material. 

Dammit. 

“I don’t really sleep much,” he says with a shrug. 

“The bags under your eyes make that obvious.” 

“Rude.” 

Medusa chuckles. “Perhaps, but also very true. Come, sit with me.” She pats the chair next to her. “Insomnia is better with company.”

It’s definitely not insomnia, but he’s not going to tell her that. He makes his way over and settles into the chair next to her, the warmth of the flames seeping into his bones. He hadn’t realized how cold he was somehow. Dreams always make him cold. 

They sit in a comfortable silence for a while, Medusa focused on her project and Percy curled up like a cat next to her, watching with interest 

“Would you like to try?” she offers, noticing the intensity of his staring. 

“I’ve never done it.”

“You have to start somewhere. I find that keeping my hands busy helps sometimes.” Without waiting for an answer, she fishes through her nearby supply bag, pulling out a plain embroidery cloth and a round frame. “Color preference?” she asks, as she begins rooting through her massive collection of thread. 

“Uhm, blue I guess– No, wait. Purple. I want purple.” He’s always liked purple. His mom always liked blue. He tried to like blue to make her happy, but really he likes purple. 

“Purple it is!” She threads the needle for him to get him started, before handing it over to him. “There you are.”

Percy blinks. “So..what do I do here?”

“You put the needle in the cloth and drag the thread through it, and repeat until you get what you want,” she says unhelpfully. 

“Aren’t there like, specific stitches or something I’m supposed to learn?”

She tilts her head in thought. “You know, there probably are. I wouldn’t know, I just figured out how to do it after weeks of trial and error. There’s probably a much easier way to do it, but personally, I just sew and I hope. Usually it’s passable.” 

Funny, that’s his approach to most things in life. But not hobbies. He needs to know exactly how to do it because if he’s not good at it immediately there is a high chance he’s going to put it down and never pick it up again. 

“That’s ridiculous,” he tells her flatly. “How do I do this, for real?”

“Figure it out!” 

“Fine,” he groans, picking up the cloth and dragging the needle through it clumsily. “I already hate this.” Medusa laughs quietly and leaves him to his frustration. 

They spend a good thirty minutes embroidering in silence. Well, Medusa embroiders her nice little flowers on a pair of pants. Percy stabs himself repeatedly, can’t figure out how to make anything, and throws the whole thing across the room. Though a raised brow from Medusa is enough to make him utter apologies as he stomps across the room to retrieve it before starting again. 

“I’m surprised one of your friends hasn’t followed you down here.” Her eyes flit in the direction of the stairs, but no one is there as far as he can tell. “I wouldn’t think they would want you to be alone with me, especially the Son of Apollo and the little satyr.”

“I couldn’t go back to sleep, so I came down here so I don’t wake everyone else up like I usually do.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks. 

Take your time, while you still have it, and come to a decision. I suspect we’ll be seeing much more of each other. 

Oh, sweetheart. My eyes don’t work on people like us. They never have. 

He curls in on himself, stabbing his cloth rather harshly with the needle and poking his finger in the process. “No,” he grumbles. 

“That’s alright,” she says gently. “Talking can be hard sometimes. I don’t think I ever talked about much of anything until Dionysus began pestering me about things.” 

Percy jerks in surprise, nearly dropping the needle. “You know Mr. D?”

“I do,” she says with a small smile. “When you live as long as I have, you tend to know a lot of people. We hang out sometimes.” 

He squints. “You hang out with Dionysus?”

“Yes?” 

“Why though? I wouldn’t think you’d want to.” 

“Because he is a god and I have an obvious distaste for them, you mean? Yes, I suppose that would make sense. But out of all twelve Olympians, Dionysus has proven to be the most tolerable of the bunch. Perhaps that is because at one time he was just as mortal as you are and as I once was. He often has a different perspective on things.” 

“He is kind of nice,” Percy admits, wrinkling his nose as he once again stabs himself with the needle, a tiny drop of blood pooling on the tip of his finger. Medusa plucks a tissue from a nearby box and hands it to him. 

She gives him a sly grin. “ And, while his time on Olympus is considerably shorter these days given his punishment, he does manage to stay up to date on the latest gossip. Courtesy of Ariadne and Ganymede, I would assume. A night of wine and gossip does wonders for the soul.” 

What Percy wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall during one of those nights. 

If there’s one thing he for sure enjoys, it’s collecting gossip. Of course, it helps that given his propensity to just know things, the gossip sometimes comes to him. 

“And you actually talk to him about your problems, too?”

Medusa hums in affirmation. “I do sometimes. Not all the time, but we do vent on occasion. He’s a good listener.” 

“Huh.” 

He wouldn’t have expected that from Dionysus. Then again, before they left for this disaster of a quest, he had informed Percy that they would be having a long discussion about his Unsolved Mystery aspirations. Which is still a perfectly good path, if you ask him. But he has a strange suspicion he’s the only one who thinks so. 

“And you know, talking about things is better than holding it all in until you explode. Just something to think about,” she says casually. 

She can stop with the targeted blows anytime now. He’s a mess. He knows. He understands. And the more people point it out, the more he’s not going to listen to them on principle. 

“Medusa?”

“Hm?”

“Not all of the gods are bad, right?”

“Well, I think we both agree that Dionysus isn’t so bad. I’m rather fond of my parents, too, now that we’ve worked things out. And I have come across some others who are less annoying.” She sets her project down so she can turn to face him fully. “Why do you ask?” 

Because Medusa has also been screwed over by Olympus, and if anyone is going to understand his complicated feelings about the Gods, it would be her. 

He takes a shaky breath. “If you had the chance to get rid of the gods, to never have to think about or deal with Athena or my dad again, to fix all the messes they made. Would you do it?” 

She looks at him in a mixture of surprise and concern as she mulls over her next words carefully

“I think at one time, if someone would have asked me that question, I would have said yes without hesitation,” she says, watching him closely “I was very angry for a very long time. I still am sometimes.” 

“And now?” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

She takes his hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know, Percy. Why do you ask?”

And you could save them, my grandson. You could save them all from the path they currently walk.

He swallows. “No reason. Just…just a thought. Sorry.” 

It’s obvious that she doesn’t believe him, but thankfully she doesn’t push. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with explaining where this line of thinking came from. She gives his hand another squeeze. 

“My offer to talk is still on the table.” 

“No. It’s okay. Thank you though.”

He can’t bother her with this. He can’t bother anyone with this. 

_______________

They leave the following morning with fresh clothes and supplies, and four tickets for the next Amtrak to Denver. Percy leaves with the addition of an invitation to return whenever time allows, and the start of a rather poor embroidery project to keep him busy during the ride. 

Medusa ushers them through a hidden backdoor and down the winding path that leads away from her house. In the distance, he can see a shadow flitting through the trees near the front of the home. Alecto. The Fury had circled the property all night, not willing to give up her chase. He wonders if her sisters have already reformed and came back to join her. Alecto herself had reformed relatively quickly after he killed her at the museum just a few weeks ago. 

Percy shudders. He doesn’t want to linger long enough to find out. 

He spares one more look behind them as they go. Medusa remains standing in the same spot they left her, watching them as they go. She raises a hand when she notices him looking, and Percy waves back. 

She lingers there a bit longer, watching, and then she raises her veil turning in the direction of the front of the house where he knows Alecto still lurks, waiting for the four of them to emerge. She rounds the corner of the house and disappears from Percy’s site. 

There’s a cutoff shriek in the distance, and then silence. 

Hopefully Alecto takes longer to reform this time. 

Chapter Text

With the exception of a few sporadic trips to New Jersey, Percy has never been outside of New York before. Hell, he’s rarely left the city proper. So heading west on a train, gazing out of the window as they move through unfamiliar landscapes is a novel experience. Seeing it in person is so much different than staring at pictures of places you’d never thought you’d get to see, or seeing them in the midst of some traumatic vision you have no control over. 

When his inability to sit still for long periods of time doesn’t have him pacing the length of the train and mumbling to himself like a weirdo, he spends his time in the viewing car watching it all whizz by them. 

A day passes without a single attack, but he can’t bring himself to risk relaxing. They’re all trapped in a moving tube with miles of nothing in between various stops. Should a monster decide to make itself known, they’d have nowhere to run. 

He tries to distract himself with various things as the hours pass. He’d taken to carrying his sketchbook around, filling it with the things he sees beyond the glass. They’d glided past a family of centaurs at one point, parents and a little boy centaur with his child-sized bow, as they galloped through a wheat field. There was a herd of wild pegasi that reminded him painfully of Meleys and the others back at camp. They had all collectively turned their heads when they passed, gazing at the train and flapping their wings as if they knew he was there. 

He swore he’d even seen a lion stalking through the trees as they made their way through some unnamed section of forest. Not a mountain lion like you would normally find in North America, but something that looked as if it had just stepped off the African Savannah. It doesn’t make sense. But then again, nothing in this crazy, mythological world does. 

Percy also does his best not to draw attention to himself; not talking to anyone and keeping his hood up when he ventures outside of their cabin. His name and face have slowly begun to spread to numerous newspapers across the East Coast and beyond. 

He’d been waiting in line behind a woman and her husband in the dining car when he happened to glance at their phone screens and saw his own face looking back at him. 

Another passenger has abandoned a copy of a newspaper that also displays his picture on the front cover. It shows him, wild eyed and terrified, sword in hand, as he fled the bus. He finds it during another attempt to sit still and admire the scenery. 

The caption underneath is even more damning: 

Twelve-year-old Perseus (Percy) Jackson, wanted by the police in regard to an instance of violent assault, is shown here fleeing from a Greyhound bus after attacking three elderly passengers. The bus exploded shortly after on an east New Jersey roadside, with Jackson fleeing the scene before he could be questioned. Eyewitnesses claim the boy is traveling with three other teenagers who are also wanted for questioning. Jackson has a long history of severe mental health issues, and appears to be in the throes of a crisis. His stepfather, Gabriel Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for any information that leads to the safe return of his stepson.

Surprisingly, it’s not the fact that he’s become a known fugitive that finally sends him into a rapid downward spiral. It’s the reminder that his stepfather is still actively seeking his return –even if it’s just for show, just a desperate attempt to hang on to additional income from the government– that snatches the air from his lungs and causes him to break out in a cold sweat. 

It’s the knowledge that if he’s caught, not only will the quest fail, leading to a war that will decimate a good portion of North America and beyond, but that he will be dragged right back to Gabe or jail or a facility or some combination of the three for however long it takes society to collapse. 

Any length of time is too long, in his opinion. 

He stumbles out of the viewing car, murmuring halfhearted apologies to the people he bumps into along the way. Halfway back to their sleeper car he trips over his own feet, and a kind stranger reaches out to steady him before he hits the ground. 

Unfortunately for said kind stranger, all he can process in his panic is an unfamiliar voice and the sensation of something grabbing him, and the beverage he had been enjoying moments earlier explodes all over him as Percy gathers his bearings and takes off again down the train aisle. 

After what feels like he ages, he finally makes it back to their spot, throwing open the compartment door and falling inside. 

He doesn’t bother trying to make it to the seat, just plops down on the floor when his legs decide they are done working for the time being, wincing as he lands on his bad knee and knowing he’ll be paying for that later. 

This is ridiculous, he berates himself internally. He shouldn’t be freaking out like this when there are more important things to worry about. The monster attacks that he’s sure will pick up again at some point, for one. Surviving and making sure the other three kids with him survive, for another. He doesn’t have time to let his personal shit get in the way. 

No one else is there,  which he is thankful for. For once, he would like to have a meltdown in peace. Grover and Lee have been subjected to enough of those lately. He hopes everyone keeps exploring the train a bit longer until he can compose himself. 

Of course, as a reminder that the universe is cold and uncaring of his wants, the door opens almost immediately after he has that thought. 

He has another rather dramatic thought that someone had finally looked closely and recognized him, and now they sent someone to let him know he’s going to be handed over to the police at the next stop. 

But it’s not Amtrak staff, or any law enforcement officers that may be lurking about the train. 

It’s just Annabeth.

She stands in the doorway, gray eyes wide as she gazes down at where he’s pathetically huddled on the dirty train floor. He waits for some sarcastic remark, or something along the lines of “pull it together, seaweed brain, we don’t have time for mental breakdowns”, but it doesn’t come. 

Instead, she quietly steps into the space, sliding the door shut behind her and flipping down the privacy lock. 

“H-Hey,” he manages, trying to play it cool. “I’m fine.” Maybe if he says it out loud, he’ll start to believe it. Annabeth doesn’t dignify that with a response, just slowly makes her way over to him. 

Something soft is pressed into his hands, and he glances down to see that stupid little plush seal with the too big eyes from the rest stop. When did she grab that?  “You’re gonna scratch your hands up again,” she tells him flatly. “Do you still have those bandaids?” 

Annabeth doesn’t wait for a response, just casually rifles through his bag until she finds the Blue’s Clues bandaids she found for him. 

The idea of someone rummaging through his personal belongings is usually enough to set him off even more, but he’s too busy repetitively tracing his fingers over the soft fur of the seal that he definitely has not named Walter. It’s surprisingly soothing. 

Annabeth sinks to the floor next to him with a soft sigh, close enough that he can feel her warmth but not actually touching him. She sets the box of bandaids on the floor in front of him and for the first time he starts to notice the stinging sensation on the backs of his hands. Looks like he had scratched them pretty bad again. 

“The mortal police won’t find us. And if they do, the Mist tends to work in demigods' favor for this kind of thing,” she says quietly. “We could probably lie our way out of things. Or make a break for it and disappear again before they could catch up.” 

Percy nods, exhaling slowly. “Cool. The Mist. Right.” He breathes in and out a few more times in an effort to slow his heart rate. “How did you know that’s what I’m freaking out about?”

She shrugs. “Your face is literally all over the news. I found like three different newspapers with a picture of you. Not to mention the fliers back at the bus station.” 

Percy barely suppresses a groan. Of course she had seen it, too. 

“And,” she continues, sounding more hesitant now. “I saw you run off and you looked…upset. So I followed you.” 

He lets out a shaky laugh. “Don’t tell me you were actually worried about me?” 

“I wasn’t!” she says quickly, crossing her arms. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get attacked by a monster or something.” 

“Uh huh. Sure.” 

They stay like that for a few moments, sitting together on the floor listening to the sounds of the train and the other passengers milling about outside, not speaking. It’s actually nice to be in the same room with her without an argument breaking out. 

Annabeth is the one to break the silence. “Your stepdad must really care about you.”

Percy chokes at the sheer absurdity of that statement as he turns to look at her in utter disbelief “Excuse me?” He understands all those words individually, but together they sound like complete nonsense. 

Annabeth raises a brow. “Your stepdad? The one in the paper? He has a whole reward set up for any information that will bring you home.” The fingers of the hand resting on her thigh clench as something dark passes across her face. “My stepmom would have never done something like that.”

Percy takes a second to remind himself that not everyone is in the know about Gabe Ugliano and his mission to make Percy’s life hell. And even the ones who are in the know don’t actually know everything. A quick glance at the paper might convince anyone of the loving stepfather act. The man’s really been playing up his distress since Percy ‘disappeared’. 

Then the rest of her words register in his brain. 

My stepmom would have never done something like that. 

He sits up straighter in realization. “Wait? Are you jealous of my stepdad?”

She doesn’t answer verbally, but the way her face turns bright red and how she refuses to make eye contact with him tells him everything he needs to know. 

“Oh my God,” he says in disbelief as his head falls back against the edge of the seat with a soft thump. “Please do not be jealous. Trust me, you don’t have anything to be jealous of.  If anything, you deserve so much better. Better than the current absent godly mom situation and way, way better than what you’d get with Gabe.”

As much as Percy despises the man and is terrified of the idea of being stuck with him once again, he would gladly volunteer to take the place of any other kid who might get stuck living with him. He really hopes that is never the case. 

The day Gabe figures out he can scam the foster care system is the day a lot of less survival savvy kids will start to disappear. 

“He’s that bad?” Annabeth asks with a frown. 

“Yeah. I guess.” He squeezes Walter a bit tighter and hugs it close. “Can we not talk about him, please?” It comes out a lot more snappish than he intended, but he can already feel his anxiety picking back up just by talking about the man. 

Annabeth draws her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them. “My mortal family isn’t great either.” 

“Yeah?”

“My dad’s resented me since the day I was born. He didn’t want a baby. He asked Athena to take me back and raise me herself because he was too busy. Athena wasn’t really happy about that because demigods are supposed to be raised by their mortal parent.” 

“But like….didn’t he know there was a baby coming?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “No. I was born from her thoughts, remember? I appeared on my father’s doorstep in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You’d think he might see it as a miracle, or take pictures or something. But all he did was remind me how much of an inconvenience it was, and how his work got put on hold while he figured things out.” 

She fidgets with the fraying hem of her t-shirt before her hand creeps towards her necklace, and the golden class ring that hangs there amongst the beads. It must be her dad’s. 

“And then he got married when I was five and had two regular mortal kids and they lived their perfect mortal life while they all tried to pretend I didn’t exist.” 

He stares out of the window and watches an abnormally large bird fly by. He wishes he knew what to say to Annabeth to make her feel better about any of this, but he’s not sure there’s ever the right words for this kind of thing. 

“Is that why you left home so early?” he asks, recalling that she came to camp very young. 

She nods. “He didn’t care about me, and my stepmom treated me like a freak. I wasn’t even allowed to be around her children, and my dad went along with whatever she said. Eventually I took the hint that I wasn’t wanted, and I left.”

And met Thalia and Luke, he fills in. That would have been the only way she would have survived. She wouldn’t have made it to Camp Half-Blood on her own that young. 

In Percy’s opinion, both of her parents seem to be in the wrong here. Maybe springing a baby on an unsuspecting mortal isn’t the way to go about things. It doesn’t even go well when it’s a mortal surprising another mortal with baby news. Dropping a defenseless baby on an already stressed man’s doorsteps was an odd choice for the Goddess of Wisdom to make. 

But also, it wasn’t baby Annabeth’s fault she was dropped on his doorstep unannounced. And it’s certainly not an excuse to neglect your kid or let your wife be awful to her. Both of them could have handled this better. 

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “None of that was fair to you. Your mom probably should have planned out the whole baby reveal thing way better than she did, though. It might have helped.” 

Annabeth’s eyes narrow. “Why do you always insult my mother like that?”

He blinks. “Uh, because she deserves it as much as your dad and stepmom do?”

“But she’s–”

He rolls his eyes with a huff, already knowing where this is going. “A god. Yeah, I know. Everyone keeps yapping about that. But clearly gods aren’t these perfect beings, otherwise they wouldn’t fuck up the way they do. Take away their immortality and their powers and you’re left with people just like us. Not that they want to admit how much like us they really are. I mean, she literally left you with a guy who didn’t want you!”

Annabeth shifts uncomfortably next to him, looking torn between arguing on her mother’s behalf and continuing to listen to his ramblings. 

“You know, there’s actually a theory that gods are just a manifestation of human psychological needs and desires and reflect their current understanding of the world. According to that theory it’s more likely our collective belief willed them into existence and not the other way around. That’s why a lot of pantheons are basically just us, or really similar to us, but with fancy powers and some inhuman traits.” 

Percy fully recognizes that what he just said is probably considered blasphemy, but whatever. He really doesn’t care. Also he doesn’t particularly care. “I don’t know if any of that is actually true or not, but if our belief really does contribute to their power, they should work on getting their shit together if they want to keep us around.”

He finally turns to look at Annabeth who is staring at him with her mouth half open in shock. 

Percy coughs, face flushing in mild embarrassment as he realizes he had slipped into another one of his rants. He tends to do that when a topic interests him. “Sorry. I, uh, I like learning weird things. The librarian back at Yancy used to loan me her books when I was bored. It's ... .a good one?” he finishes lamely, wishing a pit would open beneath him so he could fall away from this awkward situation. 

“It’s okay,” Annabeth says after a moment. “I just wasn’t aware that you read books.”

He feels his anger issues rising to the surface at the perceived insult, but then he sees the slight upturn of her lips and realizes that she’s joking. He rolls his eyes, a small smile of his own working its way onto his face. 

“Jerk,” he says playfully, leaning back once more. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Annabeth says softly. 

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry your stepdad sucks. You didn’t deserve that either.” 

“....thanks, Annabeth.” He ignores the prickling sensation in his eyes. He’s still not used to people saying that to him, and he’s still not quite sure he entirely believes them when they do. 

She takes another deep breath, looking incredibly unsure of her next words. “And I’m sorry about the Medusa thing.”

Percy freezes at her words, not sure he heard her correctly, then glances out the window just to make certain that hell hadn’t suddenly frozen over. 

Wait, is Hell real? If the Greek gods are real, does that mean Lucifer is just chilling somewhere punishing  the souls of the damned? Is he in Hell right now and this is just some wackadoodle punishment his mind has conjured up for himself? He might be in Hell. Because that would explain so much. 

He shakes his head, dismissing the thought immediately. Now is not the time to be wondering about that. 

“I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to for that. You should probably call Medusa. Or like, visit her? Apologies are better in person I think.”

Annabeth grimaces. “Yeah. Maybe.”

‘Maybe’, huh?

Better than nothing. He’ll take it. These things take time. 

Before he can tell her as much, a sudden banging on the door has them both jumping and reaching for their weapons. Percy fully expects a monster to come busting through any second, but to their shared relief, it’s not a monster. It’s just one very anxious satyr. 

“Why is the door locked!? Are you two murdering each other in there?” comes Grover’s panicked squeak. 

They glance at each other, stifling their laughter. “So what if we are?” Percy calls back. 

“Percy!”

Annabeth pushes herself to her feet. “Come on. We should let him in before he finds Lee and they break the door down.” 

______________

It’s the second day when things go to shit. 

Their train is rolling through Missouri, ever closer to their destination of Denver where they’ll have to figure out the rest of their travels. Percy pats himself on the back again for bringing a portion of his squirrel fund with them, otherwise there was no way they’d be able to pay their way past Denver. 

They have supposedly gathered to discuss next steps over breakfast. But that discussion has quickly turned into Percy being interrogated about the prophecy the Oracle gave him. 

“I told you. You shall go west and face the god who has turned. You will find what was stolen and see it safely returned,” he recites in a mocking voice that can’t quite capture the inherent creepiness of the Oracle’s current host mummy. 

“And that’s it? That’s all it said?” Annabeth presses. “It had to have given you more information than that.” 

Even Lee frowns at his response, not quite believing him. “It feels like you might be leaving something important out.” 

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend. And lose what matters most to you, the end. 

“Does it really matter? I think the finding what was lost bit is the most important.” 

Of course it matters. It’s been needling at him since he first heard the prophecy for this quest spoken. And he still hasn’t come to any solid conclusions on who the supposed traitor might be. It’s obviously a friend, that much is certain. The Oracle wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t. But he’s finding it extremely hard to believe any of the people he now considers a friend, or even an acquaintance, would betray him. 

Or maybe they would. 

Maybe they would and he’s just too deep in denial to really look at what’s going on around him. 

“I think it matters,” Grover says, watching him carefully. “You’ve been acting weirder than normal. And granted you’re on a quest that you don’t really want to be on. But something’s bothering you.” 

He hates the way Grover knows him so well. He hates that satyrs can pick up on your emotions and use those weird empathy powers to call you out on your bullshit. He hates it. 

He flops back in his seat, arms folded as he turns his gaze to the window. “You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend,” he says grumpily. “And lose what matters most to you in the end. There. Are you all happy now?”

There’s a heavy silence following the revelation of the rest of the prophecy during which Percy contemplates getting up and walking away. He really, really doesn’t want to be thinking about this right now. 

“Percy, prophecy isn’t always clear,” Lee tries to soothe him. “It might not be as bad as you’re thinking. But the more you try to interpret it, the more fuzzy it gets.”

“Yeah, what Lee said. If you spend too much time thinking about it, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy,” Annabeth adds, and Percy nearly bursts out in hysterical laughter at that. 

He’s already halfway to crazy, he doesn’t need help. 

“I don’t need you all to tell me how prophecy works. I’m aware,” he snaps, the water in his glass swirling around in response to his agitation. “I think I have more experience than you in this department.”

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have said that last part out loud. Annabeth is not in the know, and while Grover and Lee are, he still doesn’t enjoy talking about it. He braces himself for the questions that Annabeth is surely about to launch at him, but surprisingly she doesn’t.

“You think it’s one of us,” is what she says next, tone accusatory. 

Percy scowls. “I don’t know what I think other than this whole thing is stupid,” he deflects, trying really hard not to pay attention to the flash of hurt on both Grover and Lee’s faces at implication that he thinks one of them may betray him. 

In the corner of his eye, a familiar dark shape he knows no one else can see runs by, hissing as it goes. His hand burns from more than just the scratches he had unknowingly made. He blinks, shifting his focus back to the current moment, the faint sound of someone yelling his name fading into the background. 

So he’s a little suspicious of everyone. So what? It’s almost as if most of the people in his life have betrayed him in some way. 

How would they feel if a prophecy had told them that it would happen again? He bets that they would be just as anxious, just as worried about the moment when someone they care about turns on them. 

Before anyone can continue to argue with him, there’s a soft “ahem” beside them. 

A transit police officer who had been milling about the car, mumbling into his walkie talkie and shaking his head for a good part of the last hour, stands at their table, hands on his hips. 

Fuck, he curses internally, mind immediately jumping to the plethora of news articles and missing person flyers that bear his face. The one time he left their car without his hood up. Grover must sense his growing paranoia because he reaches over, gripping his arm tightly.  Though it also might be because Grover is aware of his tendency to bolt and how bad it would look in front of a cop. 

Lee puts on his best golden boy smile as he turns to address the officer. “Is something wrong?” he asks politely. 

“Show me your tickets,” the man grunts, holding his hand out expectantly. 

Lee fishes around in his bag, producing their tickets and handing them over for him to inspect. The officer snatches them, flipping through them with interest. Hopefully this is just a case of an adult being suspicious of what seems to be four unaccompanied minors minding their own business.

 After a moment of intense studying, he glances back up at them, expression hard. “You’re the ones in 17B?”

The four of them look at each other nervously. “Um, yes?” Lee says uncertainly. 

The officer sighs. “I need all of you to come with me. Now.”

Not wanting to cause a scene, they follow the officer back to their cabin. Percy spends the entirety of the short walk staving off the urge to jump off a moving train and not look back. And only because Grover maintains his deathgrip on his arm and he knows the poor satyr would be dragged along with him. 

But when they finally reach their cabin, the truth of the situation is made obvious. It has nothing to do with him being a wanted criminal. 

When they left for breakfast that morning, the cabin had been spotless and undamaged. Now though, there is no cabin door to speak of. The sliding doors have been wrenched straight out of the walls. The seats shredded as if they had been attacked by something with long, sharp claws. The window is busted open, the wind from outside causing bits of paper and other things to fly around the cabin. 

Percy is just thankful they’re a paranoid bunch and had brought their backpacks with them, otherwise all of their stuff would have been lost. 

“This is not how we left it!” he insists, staring at the scene in horror and confusion. 

“Oh yeah? Then who did?” the transit office asks. 

“Sir, when we went to breakfast everything was intact. Why would we trash our own cabin?” Grover tries to reason with him. “We don’t know how this happened.” 

He’s starting to think that Annabeth’s comment from the previous day about the Mist being on their side and how they’d probably be able to avoid the police was a bunch of bull, because the officer doesn’t seem too keen on believing their story. But what adult in their right mind would believe a group of suspicious looking kids traveling by themselves? Especially when there’s no other logical explanation for the destruction of Amtrak property. 

Lee –and Annabeth–  jump back into the conversation that is quickly beginning to border on an argument, and Percy barely suppresses a groan. 

Yep. He can feel their imminent arrest looming over them. He chalks it up to his fellow questmates not having much contact with the mortal police and thinking you can actually reason with them once they’ve decided you’re guilty. 

Though the longer he takes in the scene before them, the more it feels like being arrested might be the least of the concerns. 

Percy runs his fingers over the tears in the seats with a growing sense of trepidation. Why would their cabin have been destroyed like this? They certainly didn’t do it, and they haven’t given anyone else on the train reason to get them in trouble. 

Which means someone, or something, had entered the train for the sole purpose of finding them. The claw marks that mar the seats are the claw marks that were intended for them. They’re being hunted again. By what, he doesn’t know. But whatever it is, it has to still be on the train, hiding in plain sight much like Mrs. Dodds had for so long at Yancy. 

His hand drifts to the pocket that Riptide has become a permanent part. 

“We have a witness here who claims she heard a commotion and saw a group of kids fleeing the scene,” the officer snaps, pointing to the opposite end of the car. “Wanna explain that?”

Percy’s gaze follows the officer’s finger, and for the first time he notices that they aren’t alone in the car. 

A tall, middle-aged woman with brown hair, dressed in smart business attire is speaking to another officer. She gestures animatedly towards their cabin as the man takes down her statement. Resting on the floor beside her is a pink animal carrier, though he can’t see what’s inside, just hear the faint growls and snuffles that sound vaguely doglike. 

She must feel him staring because she turns her head in his direction. Their eyes meet, and she smiles. A bit too wide, a bit too knowing, and far too interested. 

The PA station crackles to life, and a prerecorded voice fills the air. Next stop: St. Louis Gateway Station. Arrival in twenty minutes. 

He takes an involuntary step backward, eyes never leaving the woman and her dog. “We need to go,” he hisses to Grover. “Now.” 

“Percy, what–”

“We have to get off this train at the next stop.” 

The animal carrier begins to shake wildly, the soft growls turning into angry snarls that definitely do not belong to a little dog. The woman glances down, her smile turning much softer as she hushes the animal inside before she returns her attention to the man to finish giving her statement. 

“Oh no, you kids aren’t going anywhere!”

He must have spoken louder than he intended because the officer is now glaring at him, arms folded. “Back to the dining car. Now,” he barks, leaving no more room for argument. 

Reluctantly they all trail after him. 

Percy can feel the woman’s eyes on his back as they go.

______________

“So we’re making a break for it, right?” Annabeth whispers, eyeing the transit officer who is pacing the length of the dining car once more. 

Percy nods. “Absolutely.” 

His fingers drum anxiously on the surface of the table as he watches the man’s every more, trying in vain to listen in on the stream of chatter coming in over his radio. Unfortunately, one too many hits upside the head have added hearing clearly to the long list of things he’s not very good at. 

He moves around a little too much for Percy to maintain a clear view of his face for lipreading, but he does manage to make out ‘.....upon arrival at the station’ and ‘missing….alert. Wanted for questioning.’ Neither of which make him feel any better. 

His eyes drift to an empty table across the way where yet another abandoned newspaper mentions a missing boy from New York. 

Yep. Time to go. 

The PA system crackles to life again. Now approaching: St. Louis Gateway Station. 

They have a four hour scheduled layover before they are supposed to reboard and continue on their way to Denver, but he knows there’s no reboarding after this morning’s incident. The best thing would be to slip off the train and find a new way out west. 

Annabeth lets out a breath. “Good. And we’re at the Gateway Station. I’ve always wanted to see the Gateway Arch.” 

Percy side eyes her. “We’re about to be arrested, there’s a monster on the train somewhere, and you’re thinking about sightseeing?” 

Annabeth glares. “Not just sightseeing! The Arch is more than a tourist attraction. It’s a temple dedicated to Athena. Monsters won’t be able to enter it, so it’s a good place to hole up while we wait out whatever’s looking for us.” 

Percy tilts his head. “The Arch is a temple?”

Lee nods. “Yup. You’d be surprised how many buildings like that there are around the states, and well, the world. It’s not exactly acceptable to build pagan temples in this day and age in most places, so the people who decide to do it have to be sneaky.” 

That makes sense, especially in America. He can only imagine the backlash that would occur if people announced something like that. 

“And, like Annabeth said, a perfect place to hide,” Grover adds. “Providing we can sneak past the cop, that is.” 

“Or we just go through the cop?” Percy suggests.

The three of them look at him as if he spontaneously sprouted a second head, but Percy doesn’t understand the problem with his idea. They need out, the cop is in the way, therefore if he doesn’t let them pass they must go through him. Most cops are gross anyway. 

“Percy, we can’t just beat up the mortals,” Lee chides him gently, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. 

“Well I disagree. I think some of them deserve it. Right, Grover?” 

And that mortal you live with, well, there are fates worse than death aren’t there, a voice that sounds like his evil, scheming grandfather whispers in his mind. 

Grover buries his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “Please don’t bring me into this,” he mumbles, distressed because given the fact that he volunteered for Percy’s quest, he is most certainly involved in all of Percy’s questionable decision making. 

He’s about to tell him just that when a soft cough sounds next to them. 

“Excuse me, children,” a woman’s pleasant voice cuts in. 

He turns his head, fully expecting the cop to have returned with more questions or an official order to arrest them. But it’s not the cop. 

It’s the woman again, the one who accused them of trashing their cabin this morning. She still holds the carrier and soft growls and sniffs can be heard from within. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” she asks, not waiting for an answer before she lowers herself into the empty seat across from them.

Danger. Danger. Run, his mind screams. It’s the same feeling he got whenever he was around Alecto too often when she was masquerading as Mrs. Dodds. The same feeling he got when he was five and the scary man with one eye kept hanging around the playground, or when those giant bird things that no one else seemed to care about moved into Central Park. 

The woman in front of them is definitely not normal. 

“We do, actually,” Lee snaps, and Percy notices that he’s tracing his fingers over the nondescript bronze bracelet that disguises his bow. He must be getting the same bad vibes that Percy is from her.

Unbothered by Lee’s hostility, she makes herself comfortable. 

“You poor dears, traveling all by yourselves without your parents to guide you.” The animal in the carrier whines and she shushes it. “I know, precious. It must be so hard on them. Children get scared when they’re left to handle things on their own, don’t they?” She gives them a sympathetic smile on her face. “I would know. I’m a mom, myself. I would never send my little ones out into the world without guidance.” 

“Do you need something, lady?” Percy asks, slowly beginning to stand, eyes flitting between her and the door that now seems too far away for comfort. 

She sighs. “I want you to know that I don’t really think you’re responsible for that mess back there. I just needed an excuse to be alone with you.”

Nope. 

Absolutely not.

She could be a regular mortal and that sentence alone would be enough to set off his flight or fight instincts. And considering she’s definitely not mortal, it’s time to go. He eyes the transit officer still patrolling the car and the host of other passengers that have been slowly trickling in for breakfast. There’s no way to get out quickly without causing a scene. 

He swallows, willing himself to be brave. He’s killed a Fury twice, he defeated Asterion with his own horn even though it pained him to do it. He can handle whatever she actually is. It’s not like they have any other choice. 

“Look, we've already killed things like you,” he says coldly, drawing Riptide from his pocket but not yet uncapping it. “We’ll go through you too, if we have to.”

This gets a laugh out of her. “Well of course the ‘monsters’ you hunt are like me. Many of them are my children, after all.” 

“Your children?” Grover says nervously. 

He thinks back to all the mythology he’s read and all of the things his ‘gift’ has forced him to see against his will, and there’s only one that fits here. The one of a half serpent woman and her monstrous, incomprehensible husband who remains trapped beneath Mt. Etna following the defeat of the Giants millennia ago. 

“Echidna,” he says softly. “You’re Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.” 

She clucks her tongue. “Monster. Such a strange word, isn’t it? I’ve met plenty of ‘monsters’ who are sweet, and plenty of ‘heroes’ who are violent.” The thing in the carrier begins to growl. “Disruptive, cold, unforgiving. Willing to take whatever they want no matter the cost. If anything, you demigods live up to the term monster far better than some of my children do.” 

Echidna pats the carrier before continuing. 

“My little one here is just a pup. She still has much to learn, you see. And what could be a better hunting experience than tracking down the very thing she must learn to protect herself against.” 

The carrier trembles violently now, the noises inside growing louder and more excited. Annabeth is on her feet, dagger clutched tightly in her hand as her eyes are fixed on the carrier. Lee has managed to nock an arrow so quickly that Percy didn’t even see him do it. 

Somehow, no one around them notices the standoff happening in the aisle. 

“Are you afraid yet?” she chuckles softly. “Good. It’s essential to the hunt. I needed you to understand what’s happening here before we begin. To give her time to track the scent; all that pain and fear wafting off you. To give her time to learn and grow in all the ways she needs to so she can succeed in life. That’s what a good mother does for her children.” 

Echidna places the carrier on the floor, toying with the zipper but not yet moving to release whatever is inside. 

She looks directly at Percy now, her smile morphing into something cold and mocking. “Not that you would know what that’s like. I hear your mother left you, Perseus. Is that true?” 

Percy’s jaw clenches as he forces himself not to react. He won’t take the obvious bait, he won’t. 

“There are times I find myself at odds with my children. But even then I would never truly abandon any of them. Not when they need me. Especially not so young,” Echidna continues, now tugging the zipper on the carrier slowly down. “What does that say about the kind of mother she was?”

His nails dig into his palms hard enough to draw blood. 

How does she know this much about him? How does she know anything about his mother? There’s no reason that she would know even the smallest details of his life, other than the fact that he’s a son of Poseidon. News that has spread far and wide in the wake of discovering his father had broken his oath. 

“And what does that say about the kind of son you must be to make her willing to leave you?”

It takes everything in him to not lash out and do something incredibly stupid that he knows he’ll regret later. 

Across the aisle, a woman’s coffee erupts, covering her clothes in the steaming beverage. 

A part of him knows that Echidna is being intentionally cruel, choosing just the right words to land the deepest cuts in the hopes that he’ll snap and lose control, making him an easier target. He knows how this game is played. He’s dealt with enough bullies to know how they work. 

And yet..

The Mother of Monsters loves and raises her children, a traitorous little voice whispers. But yours didn’t care enough to even try to stay. 

She leans forward in her seat, voice dropping to a fake whisper. “I think this is the point when you’re supposed to start running.” 

They all leap to their feet, ignoring the shouts of the transit officer who finally noticed that something is amiss. 

A long, scaled tail lashes out at him from the carrier and he reacts on instinct, drawing Riptide from pocket and slashing at it. It’s not a coordinated attack, and all it does is lightly scratch the surface of the creature’s flesh. It recoils with a shrill screech, withdrawing back into its carrier as the four of them barrel past Echidna and the other occupants of the train car. 

“Sweetheart!” Echidna yells in dismay, hushing the creature that still shrieks within the confines of the carrier. “Poor thing. You got a little ahead of yourself, didn’t you?” Percy hears her cooing as they stumble into the next car. 

He’s not jealous of a baby monster that just tried to attack him. 

He’s not. 

They race through the train, ignoring how the officer and his colleagues chase after them and shout for them to come back. Because rising over their shouts is a much more terrifying cacophony of noise; the sound of creaking metal and screams as something large bounds after them.

The train shudders and groans as it comes to a sudden stop. A loud roar erupts from a few cars back, and the screaming grows louder. Whatever The Mist is showing the mortals must be just as terrifying as what he knows it to actually be. 

They make it back to the car with their destroyed cabin, slamming the sliding door behind them and locking it just as the officers reach them. 

“Open up!” they demand, slamming their fists on the glass. But they ignore them. The possibility of arrest has quickly become the least of their problems. 

“First the Kindly Ones and now Echnida,” Grover moans, pacing around in a circle. “They’re definitely out to get you.”

“Thanks. I hadn’t noticed,” he says drily. 

Grover hesitates before continuing. “She rarely comes after demigods herself these days. She lets her children do most of the hunting. For her to be here and know details about your personal life, someone must have sent her.” 

“But who would–”

“Zeus would,” Lee says angrily. “He definitely would if he thinks you’re the thief. Which is still so fucking ridiculous, in my opinion. He’s being ridiculous!”

Percy turns to the window and looks at the sky uneasily, expecting a lightning bolt to strike them all down any second for Lee’s comment. “Maybe we shouldn’t insult him right now,” he says as he watches the sky turn dark. 

He reaches up to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie, like he always does when he’s anxious, only to flinch as his hand brushes against something sharp. 

He looks down and to his horror, sticking out of his chest near his collar bone is a long, thin quill. He hadn’t even noticed it, too concerned with trying to get away to feel it piercing his skin. The only thing he can think of is the tail of Echidna’s child lashing out at him from its container. Did it have spikes? It must have if there’s one sticking out of him.

“Uh, guys, I think it stung me.” He winces as he grips the spine and yanks, a small trickle of blood staining his shirt. “That’s probably not good, huh?” 

The remainder of a viscous, black substance leaks from the end that was embedded in his flesh and leaves a stain on his shirt. 

Without the adrenaline rush, he can now feel the throbbing, burning sensation where the quill had stuck him

“Probably?” Annabeth exclaims as she leans in close to try and peek at the wound. “Percy, when things sting you, it usually means they’re toxic. Grover, Lee, do you know what monster has a stinger like this?” She carefully takes the sharp barb from Percy, careful not to touch the pointy end as she holds it up for them to inspect. 

“I don’t know,” Grover says nervously, worrying his lip. “Nothing good, that’s for sure.” 

“If we were back at camp I would have the things to figure it out. But here..” he trails off, not needing to finish his sentence. 

Out here on a quest they’re on their own with no helpful infirmary resources other than the basic supplies Lee could carry. The best case scenario would be for the stinger to not contain anything fatal. 

He rarely experiences the best case scenario. 

“Do you feel okay?” Lee asks, examining him gently. “Any pain? Trouble breathing? Does anything feel weird at all?” He lays a hand on Percy’s forehead and frowns. “You feel a little warm, but we were just running.” 

When this quest is over, he’s going to owe Lee so much for all the worrying and healing he’s been making him do. And maybe also a long break from dealing with him in any capacity. It’s the least Percy can do at this point; giving people a break from his mess. 

He shrugs, electing not to worry the older boy further by telling him how uncomfortable the tiny wound is becoming, and how the burning is slowly beginning to spread. They don’t have time for this. “No weirder than usual. Maybe because it’s a baby it’s not as deadly yet?”

Anything Lee is about to say in response is cut off by what sounds like an explosion. The train lurches to the side, nearly throwing them off their feet. Through the window of the door he can see the huge, lumbering form of said baby coming their way. It’s caught up to them.

He envies regular mortals and their ability to just not see the weird shit going on around them for what it truly is. Because while he still can’t see the creature in its entirety, the glimpse of fur and scales and gleaming fangs is more than enough for him. 

“Off the train! Now!” he shouts, urging the other three towards the door. 

Lee pries the exit open just the one behind them is broken open. One of the officers, the woman who had joined the one who had detained them in the dining car, flies through the air and lands on the ground with a sickening thump. At least he thinks it’s her. 

The face and torso are so mangled it’s hard to make out any defining features. 

Swallowing down his nausea as the scent of iron fills the car, he leaps from the train, the other three following close behind. 

______________

“Is it still following us?” Grover gasps. 

They’ve been running for what feels like forever, but is more realistically around twenty minutes. 

“It’s a baby, she won’t stray far from her mother yet,” Annabeth says as she comes to a stop, just as out of breath. 

Lee surveys the surrounding area, a frown on his face. “Maybe not, but I doubt they’re going to give up. She’s learning to hunt, and this is the hunting part. She’ll stay close to her mother, but Echidna is definitely going to lead her to us.” 

“Then we should probably keep moving,” he says with a wince, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. “That’s it, right?” He gestures to the monument across the way from them. 

“That’s it,” she confirms with a sigh as she gazes up at it. “It’s 630 feet wide and 630 feet tall, both to within an inch. It’s got no internal support. It’s held up with symmetry, with math.” She pauses, shooting him a look. “And it’s earthquake proof so Poseidon can’t ruin it.” 

Lee rolls his eyes at that. “Oh for the love of– we are not starting this again, let me tell you. We don’t have the time.” 

And Percy agrees. 

Any other time he might find it amusing how she’s nerding out over this. God knows he has his moments when he goes on rants about things he likes. Grover can attest to his love of jellyfish and whales. He might even have taken the Poseidon versus Athena bait just for the hell of it. But he’s in too much pain and too worried about whatever Echidna has released to stop and admire the architecture. 

“We need to get inside. You said she can’t follow us in?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “It’s a sanctuary. Monsters won’t be able to enter unless my mother allows it. We’ll be safe.” 

For some reason it doesn't feel like it's going to be safe, but maybe it's just his trust issues talking. Nevertheless, he follows his friends towards the Arch, craning his neck up to get a good look at it. It is kind of impressive, not that he's going to say that out loud. 

Despite the fact that the arch isn't that far away now, just a short walk across the courtyard, it feels like a hike. He has to focus on every step he takes to keep from stumbling. Sweat beads on his forehead even though it's a surprisingly cool day. Each inhale stings, and if he listens closely he can hear an audible wheeze when he breathes out through his mouth. 

A sudden wave of dizziness washes over him and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing it to go away. "Guys?" 

His friends stop, turning to look at him in concern. "Percy?" Grover steps towards him. "What's wrong?" 

“I don’t…” he tries to take another step but the dizziness keeps him from going too far. “I don’t feel so good.”

His legs give out and pitches forward. 

“Percy!” Lee cries, lunging towards him and catching him before he can hit the ground. 

“I think….I think those stingers really were poisonous.” Why is everything so hot all of a sudden? 

Lee feels his forehead again, yanking his hand back with a curse. “Fuck, you’re burning up!”

Percy nods, letting out a groan of discomfort. “S’really hot,” he complains.

“I have an idea,” Annabeth says. “Let's get him up.” 

Her idea turns out to be dragging him into the nasty fountain filled with coins and garbage careless people tossed when no one was watching. 

People stare at them like they’re crazy as they pass, and honestly, they have to look the part. A kid who looks half-dead sitting on his butt in a public fountain while his friends aggressively splash him with water in hopes that divine healing magic will kick in. 

Judging by how his limbs feel like jelly and how the world around him is spinning, he doesn’t think it’s done much other than cool him down enough to think a little more clearly. 

“You know, I really don’t think this is working,” he mumbles, leaning back against Lee as they continue to splash water over him. 

“It worked before!” Annabeth protests. 

“Maybe it has to be naturally running water for Poseidon to heal him?” Grover suggests. “Last time he was in a creek. Not a dirty fountain.” 

Lee shakes his head. “Last time the water was also just closing the physical injury. There wasn’t any poison to suck out of his bloodstream. His healing might not work like that.” He lets out a frustrated sound, fingers tapping against his leg anxiously. 

He feels like he’s burning up from the inside out. The tiny wound where the quill had once been hurts almost as bad as the ones those Ares kids gave him during capture the flag. Just the act of breathing normally takes a monumental effort. 

“Cool. So I’m going to die, then?” he wheezes, words turning into a painful cough. 

“NO!” three equally panicked voices chorus. He’s hit in the face with a final splash of water from Grover who is staring at him with wide eyes, bordering on hyperventilating. 

In the distance, car horns start blaring like crazy followed by the awful sounds of squealing brakes and metal on metal as they crash into each other. There’s shouts and screams, and a small crowd of people running like they’re trying to get away from something. 

Chimera, his mind whispers. The fur, scales, the spines. She has to have the Chimera with her. Well, a version of the Chimera anyway. 

“We need to get back inside. They’re coming,” he says, struggling to sit himself up. His arms give out and he falls back with a sharp gasp of pain. “Chimera,” he grits out in warning, and Lee swears violently. Chimera venom, from what Percy can recall, is almost always fatal. He’s sure that as a healer, the older boy is well aware of this. 

“We need to keep trying. Or get you to a natural body of water or something!” Grover insists. 

“It’s not working, and they’re going to be here any second. Look, we’ll get Percy inside and get him to my mom’s altar.”

“And what is that even gonna do?” Grover asks exasperatedly. 

“We get to the altar, and then we ask my mom for help,” Annabeth says, words clouded with doubt. If Athena and Poseidon’s rivalry is as strong as she claims it is, Percy doubts the goddess is going to care whether he lives or dies. 

Not waiting for any further information, Lee hauls Percy to his feet, half dragging, half carrying him as they sprint towards the entrance of the arch. Grover follows close behind, murmuring a string of assurances. 

But then he realizes Annabeth isn’t with them. 

“Wait!” he says, forcing Lee to stop running as he turns around, searching the crowd of people for her. 

His eyes find Echidna first, walking towards them from the direction of the intersection, pace slow and sure. Her face is too far away to see clearly, he swears he can feel the excitement radiating off of her. She’s just as excited about this hunt as her baby is. 

He sees Annabeth next, still standing frozen where they left her, gaze fixed on Echidna. Eerie whispers he can’t quite make out fill the air around them and he watches as the daughter of Athena stiffens, a brief flash of fear on her face. 

“Annabeth! We need to go!” Lee shouts impatiently. 

She shakes her head, snapping out of whatever trance she was in before turning around and running to catch up with them. They race through the doors and to where people are waiting to board the trams that will take them to the top of the arch. He catches a glimpse of himself in the glass as they go; ashen and sweaty, looking more like a walking corpse than anything. 

They cut in front of a family waiting to board with hardly a ‘sorry, excuse me’. Lee helps him into one of the seats before sitting down next to him. 

“What was that back there? What did you hear?” Percy asks, trying and failing to catch his breath. God, his head hurts. 

Annabeth refuses to meet his eyes, not saying a word. 

“She spoke to you,” he tries again. “Alecto did the same thing back at the museum in New York. What did she say?” 

A sudden growl causes them all the jump

As the tram doors slide shut, they are treated to a glimpse of Echidna standing on the platform, a hulking shape looming behind her. 

Grover sits up straighter. “Is that her? And the Chimera? How did they even get in here?” 

She shouldn’t be able to enter the building. This place is a sanctuary. The only way for either of them to enter this space would be for Athena, or another god feeling particularly problematic that day, to let them in. 

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Lee mutters as the tram starts going up. “We’re literally on a quest to return the bolt. The thing that’s going to prevent a senseless war from breaking out. Why would she try to get in the way of that?” 

Something isn’t right here. 

“Annabeth!” Percy snaps, patience growing thin. He knows this has something to do with whatever she heard outside. “What did Echnida say to you?” 

Annabeth swallows harshly, looking down at the floor. “She said that me siding with my mother’s enemy wounded her pride, and that it would be my doom.” 

“Siding with her enemy? What enemy–” he stops short, the realization hitting him. “Medusa. She means Medusa.”

Athena is angry because Annabeth didn’t slay Medusa as every other demigod who has encountered her and been strong enough has. She still sees the woman as someone who defied her and deserves to be punished. Imagine being upset that your child took the nonviolent, survivable way out of a conflict instead of getting themselves killed. Imagine being upset enough to let Echidna and her child hunt them down in your own temple. 

“I embarrassed my mother,” she continues glumly.

“This is bullshit,” Percy huffs. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who called off the fight.” 

“And I went along with it.” She sighs. “It embarrassed her, and now she’s angry. She’s not going to help us.” 

Lee folds his arms, frowning in disapproval. “My dad would never do something like that.”

No, but he would curse a woman and her entire bloodline for rejecting him, Percy almost says, but he bites his tongue. Now is not the time. 

“Then what are we gonna do about Echidna and Chimera?” Grover asks. “They’ll be right behind us when we reach the top. And Percy is…” Grover trails off with a panicked sound, looking at Percy as mournfully as he had the day the Fates had snipped a string in front of them. 

He’s dying. 

That much is obvious. Chimeras are called demigod killers for nothing. It’s honestly shocking he’s made it this long with the poison coursing through his bloodstream so close to his heart. 

Annabeth takes a deep, steadying breath. “We’re going to have to fight our way out at the top.” 

A few moments later, their tram comes to a stop. The air is tense as they make their way out into the viewing room, Percy leaning heavily on Grover as he rapidly begins to lose the ability to support himself.

“Oh no,” Grover breathes as he takes in the crowd already at the top. “We have to get everyone out of here before they get here. They’ll be caught in the fight.” 

Without a word Lee moves towards the fire alarm, yanking it down. The alarm blares through the enclosed space, setting off a wave of panic. 

“Please proceed to the stairs!” A staff member calls. “Quickly! Carefully!” 

The crowd pushes and shoves their way through the door, the sound of their voices growing faint as they descend. The four of them linger in the back, unseen, until they’re alone in the viewing room. 

Lee clears his throat. 

“Grover, Annabeth, take Percy and follow them down,” he commands as he ushers the three of them towards the stairs. “Get him to the river.” Percy feels a stab of fear in his chest as he realizes that Lee hadn’t mentioned coming with them. 

Lee is dead on the ground, blood pooling around him. Something roars in the distance, louder even the screams–

“No! No, you are not staying behind!” he yells, his hysteria quickly turning into a coughing fit. 

“We’re all getting out of here together,” Grover protests, patting Percy on the back until he can somewhat breathe again. 

“We all won’t make it. Not confined in a small space with Echidna and the Chimera. Someone has to stay back and buy the rest of us some time.”

Someone has to stay and be willing to die, is what goes unspoken. Trapped at the top of the arch with both Echnida and Chimera, nowhere to run and hide when, not if, things go badly. There’s no way out. 

“No. No! That’s stupid. You’re not staying. You’re not dying, you’re not allowed to.” He accidentally slips into Trojan again in his anxiety, but he doesn’t care. He takes a breath that turns into another coughing fit, his growing panic making his breathing worse. 

Lee is in front of him in an instant, crouching down a bit until they’re eye level. 

“Hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me.” Lee tilts his chin until Percy is looking at him. “You’re going to be okay,” he says in the same soothing tone he uses for the littlest campers when they get scraped knees and cry like it’s the end of the world. 

He brushes the hair back from Percy’s sweaty forehead. “You’re going to let Grover and Annabeth get you back downstairs and to the river, and you’re going to ask your dad for help. And you’re going to be okay.” 

He’s not sure who Lee is trying to reassure more; Percy or himself. 

Percy sniffles. “But you won’t be okay,” he whispers, voice small. 

Lee exhales audibly, a shaky smile on his face. “Straight to the underworld, no stopping until you get there. Got it? Don’t worry about me.” 

“You promised though,” he says miserably. “And Will said you’re not allowed to break a pinky promise, remember? You can’t leave.”

You can’t leave me, is what he wants to tell him. And he can’t leave Will and the rest of his siblings. 

Lee looks like someone has just sucker punched him without warning. I’m sorry, his expression seems to scream. I’m so sorry, and I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t think of any other way to keep you alive. But Percy doesn’t want to stay alive if it means living at Lee’s expense. 

He tugs Percy into a quick, tight hug that feels like a goodbye. 

Somewhere close by there’s a loud roar. 

“Go,” Lee tells them as he pulls away to compose himself, allowing Grover to swoop in and support Percy before his legs give out again. “Now.” 

It’s not fair, he thinks as Lee squares his shoulders, preparing to step out of the stairwell. It’s not fair that someone like Lee has to be the one to stay behind and perish on this stupid quest he shouldn’t even be on. Quests are supposed to be done in groups of three, he recalls Chiron saying. But he had insisted on bringing the son of Apollo with them anyway. 

It’s his fault. Lee wouldn’t be in this position if not for Percy. 

He thinks about Grover, his best friend, and all the things he wants to accomplish. He thinks about Annabeth and how even though she’s probably one of the most annoying kids he’s ever met, she still deserves a chance to grow up and live a life outside of camp. 

Both of whom would also not be on this quest if not for him. 

Lee and Annabeth both have cabins full of siblings waiting for them to return as well. Siblings who depend on them. Will had been devastated when he found out Lee was leaving for a quest. The younger boy always tagged along after his older brother, his little shadow. How could Percy look him in the eye and tell him that his big brother is gone? That he let Lee stay behind and die so he could escape? 

It should be him who stays. 

He doesn’t have anyone at home anxiously awaiting his return. He has nothing to look forward to other than a brief life of madness and suffering. His presence has been a burden on Grover, and Lee, and Luke, and everyone else who's been forced to take care of him. He could disappear and within a few weeks, a few months at most, the world wouldn’t even remember his name. 

“Go!” Lee says as the sounds of the Chimera draw closer. 

The decision is easy to make. Someone may die today, but it won’t be Lee. And it won’t be Grover or Annabeth either. 

“Wait,” he says before Grover can turn and begin guiding him down the stairs. He removes Riptide from his pocket with a shaking hand, uncapping it. He takes a few unsteady steps forward, dragging Grover with him, and holds out the sword to Lee. “Here. In case it’s hard to use your bow.”

“Percy, I can't take this,” Lee says with wide eyes. 

He coughs, vision momentarily swimming. “Sure you can. It comes back to my pocket.” He takes a few more steps forward until he’s next to Lee and in front of the door, Grover still keeping a steady hand on him as he goes. “Please?” he begs. 

Reluctantly, the older boy reaches for the sword. 

Before Lee can properly grip the sword, he wrenches himself out of Grover’s grasp and uses the last of his strength to throw himself through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He glimpses the horrified expression on Lee’s face just as the door locks with a click. 

Immediately the three of them start banging on the door. 

“Percy, open the door!” Lee yells in outrage, slamming his shoulder against it. But it won’t budge. 

“It’s okay,” he pants as he forces himself to stay upright on trembling legs. 

“No, it’s not okay, Percy! You can’t do this by yourself,” Annabeth cries as she tugs at the door handle. 

“My dad has never helped me before, and I don’t think he’s going to start now.” He coughs again and his mouth tastes like metal. “I was never going to make it to the Underworld like this, and you all know it.” 

He probably wouldn’t have even made it to the River to ask for help at this rate. Grover and Annabeth would have dragged him all the way there for nothing. He’s slowing everyone down. 

“Percy, please.” The look of pure devastation on Grover’s face is almost enough to make him consider opening the door, but he holds firm. 

“But you guys can make it, and now you will. I’m gonna buy you some time to get out of here.” He tries to smile reassuringly at them through the window on the door. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” 

A soft growl alerts him to their arrival. He takes one last look at his friends; at Grover who looks to be on the verge of tears, at Annabeth who isn’t much better, and finally Lee. Lee, who looks completely shattered and helpless as he watches Percy through the glass. 

And he turns away. 

The world around him begins to sway, everything moving in and out of focus as he clumsily slides into the stance he had practiced with Luke back at camp. 

It’s not the original Chimera spoken of in the myths that slowly comes into view. It doesn’t have two heads, nor a tail that is actually a snake, but it does take after it. It’s large and cat like, with two wicked horns jutting from its head. Its body is the mixture of fur and scales he had caught glimpses of on the train, and its fangs poke out even with its mouth closed. 

Echidna stands beside the Chimera with the same patronizing smile that seems to be etched on her face. 

“This is the end, sweetheart,” Echidna tells him, voice carrying false sympathy. “Don’t fight too much. You’ll just make her angry and make it worse for yourself.” 

Percy attacks first with a final burst of strength, swiping at it with his blade. It connects with one of its legs, but the scales there must be tougher because it slides harmlessly off it. The Chimera growls, swatting at him as it charges forward, throwing him off his feet. 

It opens its mouth, a scaled hood fanning out around its face reminiscent of a cobra. It breathes in and roars, flames bursting forth from its jaws. Percy manages to tuck and roll, narrowly avoiding the stream of fire. 

He tries to stand to take another strike at the beast, but it slams into him, knocking him back to the floor. Blood pours down his side and he realizes the claws have raked across his torso. 

Echidna raises her hand, motioning with two fingers, and the floor in front of him explodes leaving nowhere for him to move to. He tries to scramble back but the Chimera is already there, claws lashing at him once more and driving him forward. He rolls forward and straight into the hole that she has created. 

He flails as he instinctively tries to stop his descent. He narrowly manages to wrap his arms around a piece of piping jutting out, his shoulder popping painfully as he jerks to a stop. 

His heart pounds as he gazes below him. 630 feet, Annabeth had said. He’s dangling hundreds of feet in the air over solid ground with nothing to catch him if he slips. When he slips. His arms are already struggling to hold up his weight, weak as he already was. 

Soft footsteps approach the edge. 

“Life is so unfair, isn’t it?” Echidna croons as she looks down at him. “You never had a chance. If only someone had cared enough to give you one.”

The Chimera leans over the edge, teeth bared.

And there’s nothing he can do. 

He’s going to die. Whether it’s by the Chimera pulling him up and ripping him to pieces or smacking into the solid ground below or the poison sending him into sudden cardiac arrest, he’s going to die here. But maybe when that happens, Lee, Annabeth, and Grover will have the opportunity to get far away from here. Maybe she’ll forget about them since Percy is the one she wants. 

He hopes they listened to him and are long gone from here, just in case. 

His vision swims as his airway starts to become restricted, the shortness of breath rapidly morphing into the inability to breathe all together. His lungs, and most of his body, feel like they’re on fire, and his arms ache from the strain holding himself up. 

He lets out a final, desperate gasp. 

And he lets go. 

Chapter Text

The fall from the top of the arch is a blur. 

The wind rips the little remaining air from his lungs as skyscrapers and tall buildings fly past him as he freefalls. The world goes in and out of focus as the ground races up to meet him. He squeezes his eyes shut as it gets closer and closer, not wanting to see it before he hits. He wonders how much it will hurt. Or if it will hurt at all, given how high up he fell from. Supposedly if you fall from a great enough height you’re dead before your brain can even process it. 

But the impact never comes. 

A spout of water erupts into the air, surrounding him completely. He feels himself being yanked out of the air and pulled over and down towards the murky waters of the Mississippi. He hits the surface of the water with such force that he knows would grievously injure a normal mortal, but he feels no pain as he sinks beneath the surface. 

He falls slower now, down, down, down, until he comes to rest on the muddy riverbed. 

Despite not being turned into a pancake on impact, his whole body still hurts. The Chimera’s poison boils in his veins, the pain increasing to an almost unbearable level. 

And then there are hands holding him still and soft words he can’t quite make out. He fights against them, but even in the water, his father’s domain, he doesn’t have enough strength to do so. A hand settles over the place where the Chimera’s spine had pierced him. 

Then.

It burns. It burns. It burns. 

It feels like something is being ripped and torn out of him, his whole body protests. He can’t even scream. It goes on for what feels like forever until suddenly it stops. 

“There we go,” a woman says in relief as the hand pulls away. “All done. You’ll start to feel better now.” 

And he does. Not completely, but definitely an improvement. 

He no longer feels like he’s being cooked alive from the inside. Everything still aches, but the intensity of it has dropped down to a normal level of pain that he is used to dealing with. And he can breathe, the water making it even easier for his lungs to expand. 

Percy sighs in relief, relaxing into the mud and enjoying the sensation of being able to breathe in deep. 

A hand touches his shoulder and he realizes the unknown woman is still there. 

“Open your eyes, Percy,” she urges, cupping his face. 

He does, and his breath catches. Her blurry form floats in the murky water before him, a strange glow illuminating her just enough for him to see. Her curly brown hair fans out around her in the current and her brown eyes are warm. 

There’s a smile on her face. A smile that reminds him of blue pancakes on Saturday mornings with Scooby Doo playing in the background and oil pastel stained fingers. Of good days that had all but vanished near the end. 

His throat feels tight. “Mom?” he whispers. 

Maybe he had actually died during the fall and this is what the afterlife looks like for a child of a water deity. Maybe his mom had made sure she ended up in this one to wait for him. 

The smile falters a bit at his question, but she doesn’t let go just yet, thumb stroking his cheek gently. “Just me, I’m afraid, my little serpent.” 

My little serpent. 

There’s only one person who calls him that. 

He blinks and the world beneath water comes into focus, the visage of his mother, happy and healthy, disappearing. In her place is the familiar face of Keto, the goddess staring at him with wide, worried eyes as she continues petting his hair soothingly. 

“Oh,” he says softly.

As the last traces of his mother’s face dissipate into the water, he tempers the urge to discover whether or not he can make himself drown in order to go with it. 

Keto frowns as if she can sense what he’s thinking. “Alright, up you get.” She ushers him into a sitting position, giving him a moment to collect his bearings as the sudden change in position causes a brief dizzy spell, and then she’s helping him to his feet. 

He sinks about thigh deep in mud and grimaces at the feeling. Despite being seemingly healed of the Chimera’s poison, his legs still feel a bit unsteady and his head pounds. He still hasn’t quite processed the fact that he’s alive. He should be dead, broken into tiny pieces on the ground beneath the arch. But the water had saved him. Someone had chosen to save him. 

“Did you…?”

She shakes her head. “You have your father to thank for that. He reached for you as soon as he felt you fall. He probably would have shown up himself, or your brother. But there were too many eyes on this place and he already interfered quite a bit.” 

Poseidon had saved him after all. Had the god been listening the whole time? Did he save Percy because he’s his son, or did he save Percy just because he needs him to complete this quest and his death would just make things more difficult for him? He wishes things were different and he didn’t have to think this way. He wishes he could trust that his father was acting out of love and not just because he needs him for something. 

But still…

Thank you….father, he thinks, directing his thoughts the same way he does to Hermes and occasionally Dionysus in the dining pavilion back at camp. He’s prayed to his father a few times that way. Nothing kind, nothing respectful. Just angry, viscous barbs and rants, particularly after a hard day of camp being the kind of nightmare it is. 

There’d never been a bad reaction to any of them. Just that damned feeling of kindness and warmth that wrapped around him every time Percy acknowledged his father, as if he was saying that no matter how awful Percy decided to behave that day he was still there to listen. 

It’s the same feeling that envelopes him now, a quiet prickling in the back of his mind letting him know that his father heard him. 

He hates it. 

And he hates that it actually brings him an ounce or so of comfort this time. 

“But you did heal me, right?” he asks, pushing the thoughts of his absent father away for now. 

“Yep! Poison free! For the most part. I made sure of it. You’re not in danger of dying anymore, but you’re going to feel like shit for a while longer.” 

Percy just sighs. “I always feel like shit. Everything already hurts all the time. So what does it really matter?” he sighs. “At least down here the water makes breathing easier.” 

Keto’s eye twitches, a look of confusion and mild horror on her face. “Now what exactly do you mean by that?”

Mm. Look at that, he said too much again. 

“Meh, it’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” 

She squints at him. “I don’t think I believe you, but I’ll let it go for now. You’re in a time crunch, after all. But I do have a question before you make your exit.” 

Percy looks at her suspiciously. “Go on.”

“See, I don’t know if you know this, but the arch, right? That big thing you took a flying leap off? Yeah, that is over there.” She points in what must be the direction of the Gateway Arch. “And we, my little sea serpent, are waaaay over here.” She points to the sandy bed their feet rest on. “What happened?”

Percy sniffs. “I didn’t leap, I voluntarily dropped.”

She jabs him in the shoulder. “That doesn’t make it better! What were you thinking!?”

That I’m going to die anyway so I might as well go out on my own terms. 

He shrugs. “I’m gonna be so real with you, the only thought I had on my way down sounded kinda like arrrrgghhhh. It’s hard to form real thoughts when you’re about to break into pieces on impact, ya know?” 

Keto pinches the bridge of her nose. “Before that.”

Lee’s life is worth far more than mine ever will be, and I couldn’t let him die. 

“I uh….didn’t want to be eaten alive by a Chimera?”

Keto purses her lips. “Fair, I suppose.” 

“How did you know where I was, anyway?” he asks curiously. “Is my quest being broadcast for the entertainment of Olympus and beyond?”

Keto gives him a mischievous smile. “I watch every move you make, remember? But no, actually my husband and I were in a meeting with your father when his ‘my son is in grave peril senses’ activated. The last time I saw the man react that way was when Triton and Kymopoleia were barely taller than you, and they decided it would be a grand idea to go adventuring in ancient, uncharted waters.” She laughs a bit at the memory. “He saved you, and I volunteered to come check on you. Had to fight your older brother for the job, actually. And it’s a good thing I did! Chimera poison is nasty business.” 

Ancient uncharted waters. Now that would be a good setting for an Unsolved Mysteries episode. 

Unfortunately he can only ponder the merits of vanishing into ancient uncharted waters for two seconds before the remainder of her explanation fully registers in his brain. 

And he sees red. 

“My son is in grave peril senses, huh?” His jaw tenses. “He has those? Well where the fuck were those senses when I was in ‘grave peril’ before this? Where were those senses when Gabe–” his fists clench at his sides as the words stick in his throat. 

Keto’s eyes narrow. “Gabe?” she asks carefully. “What did he do?” And Percy realizes that out of everyone in his immortal family, she might be the only one who was around enough to know his stepfather’s name. He’s once again said too much, but he can’t bring himself to stop. 

“What didn’t he do! And if my father had bothered to look, maybe he would have known that!” 

“Percy,” she begins gently, “it’s like I said before. Your father–”

“Yeah, yeah. The oath. The stupid laws. Not wanting to draw attention to my existence. Whatever! Did he ever think that leaving me alone for all these years might have been worse than that?” He lets out a frustrated sound. “Of course he didn’t because unlike other parents who would do whatever it took to see their kids, he and the rest of you just use Zeus as an excuse and don’t challenge him when it counts!” 

He’s yelling now. When did he start yelling? He’s breathing hard, and not because of the poison this time. He’s just so fucking angry. 

He stays like that for a bit longer, lost in his feelings, struggling to compose himself and scaring the fish that are unlucky enough to get too close. But eventually he manages to bring his breathing back under control, shoulders sagging as the fight drains out of him. 

Keto floats a bit closer then, sinking down into the mud beside him. “You feel better now, getting it all out? Sometimes yelling into the void of the ocean, well the river I suppose, is very cathartic.” 

He sniffs, scrubbing at his face. “Kinda.” 

Not really. But whatever. He doesn’t have time for this right now. 

She gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I know I already told you, but it’s okay to be angry, you know.” 

He knows that, logically. But he’s always been scared that if he lets himself stay angry too long, he’ll never stop. He’s been around a lot of angry people, and he doesn’t like it. Nor does he want to be like them. 

“I guess I should be going now, huh? Quest and all. And my friends,” he says, ignoring the angry comment all together. Lee, Annabeth, and Grover must be going out of their minds in worry. That is, if they stuck around to search for him. Maybe they think he’s dead and already moved on like he told them when he locked them away from the fight with Echidna. He wouldn’t blame them if they have. 

“I suppose so,” she says reluctantly. 

Percy shimmies himself out of the mud, noticing the ease at which he can float and propel himself through the water. “Thanks. For healing me and well, not being awful all the time.” He makes a turn, preparing to swim towards the surface. 

“And one more thing,” Keto calls out, looking extremely guilty for what she’s about to say. 

He pauses, crossing his arms with a sigh. “Why do I feel like I’m not gonna like this?”

Keto lets out a sigh of her own. “Because you won’t. Your father has requested that before you descend into your uncle’s realm, you go to him at the beach in Santa Monica.” 

And just like that the white hot rage he had managed to calm a few moments ago returns with a vengeance. 

“No.”

Keto sighs again, reaching out to him. “Percy–”

He scowls. “I don’t want to meet him!”

The current around them turns violently, startling a poor catfish that happened to be swimming by. 

Keto looks at him apologetically. “I know. I know things are complicated. But Percy, for the sake of the quest and avoiding old Thunderpants wreaking havoc on the mortal world, please do as he asks. Just this once.” 

Just this once, for the sake of the mortal world and not his dad. 

“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “To Santa Monica we go.” 

Maybe he’ll get lucky and he’ll have another encounter that’s equally life threatening. Only this time he’ll actually die and none of this will be his problem anymore. 

“What?”

Oops. Did he talk out loud again? 

Look at the time, he really should be going. Civilization saving quest and all that to attend to. He turns around and begins swimming away with a quickness, willing the currents around him to carry him off even faster. 

“You can’t just say that and then swim away from me, Perseus Jackson!” she yells after him. 

“Watch me!” 

He kicks harder, propelling himself to the surface and leaving a yelling Keto behind in the depths of the Mississippi. 

____________________

He breaches the surface next to the floating McDonald’s and contemplates putting the quest on hold for the sake of obtaining French fries. But he decides to be good and trudges ashore instead, limbs growing heavy as he drags himself out of the water. 

What has to be every emergency vehicle in the greater St. Louis area surrounds the arch. First responders rush around, urging crowds to get out of the way as they assess the damage and injuries. A helicopter circles the top of it where he finally gets a look at the massive hole that had been blown into the landmark. 

He yanks his hood over his head as he walks, shoulders hunched. 

Now that he’s back on land, he realizes that the water had been soothing the lingering effects of the Chimera’s poison and the other injuries he’d been subjected to. The manageable ache becomes slightly less manageable, and it takes everything in him to not lay down on the ground and take a nap right there. 

Despite being told to clear out, hoards of people linger around the scene and he does his best to draw as little attention to himself as possible as he moves through the crowd.

“Mommy, that boy just walked out of the water!” the little girl yells as he passes them. 

He walks a bit faster, cursing as his bad knee and the other, slightly less bad knee protest.

“That’s nice dear,” her mother says, not really paying attention as she cranes her neck to see what all the commotion is about. 

“But mommy, he’s dry!”

He quickens his pace again, ignoring his screaming muscles and the mild shortness of breath that immediately returned after coming back to the surface. He passes a news crew, the female reporter talking into her mic as she gestures to the chaos behind her. 

“As you can see, the damage to the arch is extensive. We’re told that they don’t believe this was a terrorist attack, but it’s still early in the investigation. Witnesses have also reported seeing someone fall from the arch, though no trace of the individual has been discovered anywhere around it.” 

He really, really hopes no one got him falling on camera. 

And then it dawns on him. The arch probably has security cameras. Not probably, definitely has security cameras. There is a one-hundred percent chance that those cameras caught something weird happening at the top of the arch. Now what exactly the mortal technology and mortal eyes of the viewers would see when they looked was anyone’s guess. But whatever it was, it would have to do with him. 

He doesn’t need prophetic abilities to know that he’s so screwed once the police pull that footage. 

Time to get out of here. 

He skirts around the police barricade, keeping his head low as he desperately searches the crowd for any sign of his friends. He’s nearly ready to give up when a shout reaches his ears. 

“Percy!” a familiar voice cries out. 

He whirls around to see Lee racing towards him, Annabeth and Grover at his heels, and he sags in relief. They hadn’t left him. They really hadn’t left. They stayed.

Lee makes it to him first, throwing his bag aside and launching himself at Percy, pulling him into a fierce hug. Grover isn’t far behind, slamming into Percy from behind with enough force to send the three of them tumbling into a heap on the ground. He can hear his best friend sniffling loudly. 

Even Annabeth lingers close to their cuddle pile, arms folded as she gazes at them with a hint of longing, but still unsure if she should join. 

They stay like that for a while, oblivious to the chaos going on around them. He 

Eventually Lee pulls back so he can look him in the eye, still gripping his arms tightly. His amber eyes are red rimmed and puffy.  “Don’t you ever do that again!” he chokes out, voice thick with emotion. “Do you know how stupid that was? You could have died! What on earth were you thinking?” he lectures, giving Percy a little shake. 

His lower lip begins to tremble as Lee’s voice rises in volume. 

“Echidna’s Chimeras are literally called demigod killers for a reason, Percy,” Lee continues, the initial relief at finding him alive and healthy warring with his angers. “You’d already been poisoned, and you weren’t doing well before that and what. You thought it’d go just fine to stay up there by yourself?” 

“I didn’t….I just–”

“You just what?” Grover snaps beside him, making him flinch. He’s rarely seen the satyr get angry before, and he’s never been on the receiving end of it either. “Thought we’d be cool standing there watching you die?” 

The satyr’s voice breaks on the last word, and he furiously scrubs at his face as tears threaten to fall again. “I won’t do that again, Percy. I won’t.” 

A wave of guilt crashes over him as Grover’s words sink in. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, he’d been too busy trying to make sure his friends survived, but it had been almost the exact same situation he had been in with Thalia. That night five years ago when the four of them had been trying to get to camp and she had sacrificed herself to save them. 

“Just tell us why you did it, seaweed brain,” Annabeth demands. 

He flinches at the nickname, but doesn’t bother to correct her this time. He probably deserves to be called more than a few bad names at this point.

“Percy?” Lee stares at him expectantly, wanting an answer Percy knows he isn’t going to like. He wishes they would just let this go. He’s alive, they’re alive, so it’s fine. There’s no need to dig any deeper into this. But he knows he’s not getting out this one without giving them something. 

He sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

“I thought it was the best option,” he admits quietly, suddenly finding a leaf on the ground very interesting as a quiet gasp of horror reaches his ears. “You and Annabeth have your siblings waiting for you back at camp. Grover has his friends and the other satyrs and a bunch of stuff he wants to do. And I…” he takes a shuddering breath, “I don’t. There’s no one waiting for me to come home, at camp or otherwise. I don’t have anything I want to do, and even if I did it wouldn’t matter because I won’t make it that long.” 

He’s already destined to die, he might as well do it for a good cause.

A heavy silence settles over their little group, and Percy braces himself for the yelling to start. That’s usually how this goes; he explains himself like he’s asked to and then people get even more angry with him. But it never comes. 

Nervously he forces himself to look up at his companions. 

Whatever he was expecting to see on their faces, it isn’t this.

It’s not a usually confident Annabeth looking more lost than he’s ever seen her, or Grover teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Definitely not Lee wearing that same helpless look he gets when Chiara, one of the littlest campers with health issues that can’t be fixed, shows up to the infirmary crying and he doesn’t know what to do for her. 

Grover is the one to finally break the silence, voice shaking as he does so. 

“We’d care, Percy. I would care if you died. You know that right? Please tell me you know that,” Grover begs. 

His immediate instinct is to say yes, to assure Grover (and the other two) that he’s fine and that he knows his friend cares about him. But a taunting, nagging voice in the back of his mind whispers that Grover is just saying this to be nice. That he doesn’t actually care and would secretly be relieved when Percy is gone. Who wouldn’t be, with all the trouble he seems to cause wherever he goes.

His silence, however, is answer enough judging by the way his friend’s expression crumples. 

“I’m sorry,” he says reflexively.

He wishes they would just get angry and start yelling again. Or have literally any reaction other than silence he doesn’t know how to deal with. 

Lee releases a puff of air, suddenly looking a lot more exhausted. 

“I know you might find this hard to believe, but there are actually a lot of people who might give a shit if you die. Hi. Hello. It’s me. I’m people,” Lee says with a mock wave. “And so is Grover, and Annabeth– even if they two of you fight like small feral animals.”

He shifts uncomfortably, desperately wanting this conversation to be over. “Okay.”

Grover lightly bumps his shoulder against Percy’s. “He means it, Percy. Just like I mean it when I say if you ever die doing something stupid like that, I will personally drag you out of the Underworld so I can yell at you.” 

“I’m pretty sure Orpheus tried to do something similar and he failed.”

“Well I wouldn’t,” he tells him sincerely. “I would find you and bring you back.” 

Percy scoffs. “You’d really do all that just to yell at me?”

“I’d do all that just to have my friend back.” 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. What do you say when someone tells you that they would willingly trek through the Underworld to find you and bring you back? Not the first time, he questions what he did to deserve someone like Grover in his life. 

He swallows around the lump in his throat, turning to look at Lee instead. 

“This isn’t another thing that’s going to be added to the list you keep talking about, is it?” he asks, already dreading the answer. 

“It’s honestly less of a list and more of a 700 page study that me and the other counselors who have joint custody of you–

“....joint custody?” 

Lee waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. There’s actually quite a few joint custody agreements at camp at any given time for all the unclaimed kids or kids perpetually stuck in cabin eleven due to cabin shortages. Anyway–”

“There’s nothing like that at camp,” Annabeth interrupts. “I’ve never heard it being discussed at any counselor meetings.” 

“Correct! Because making you head counselor before you even turned twelve was real sus on Chiron’s part if I’m being honest. Should have been Reza because he’s older and also doesn’t spy on people with a fancy magic hat. Now as I was saying, yes, Percy. We’ll be talking about this later.”

Great. 

“Because if no one has ever bothered to tell you this, allow me to be the first,” Lee continues. “You deserve to not feel like shit all of the time, Percy.” 

Personally, he doesn’t think it matters if he deserves it or not. Because that’s just how things always have been and always will be. It might not be fair, but it’s even more unfair to make Lee and Grover (and the people who apparently share joint custody of him) help him figure things out when they have their own mess to deal with. 

A sudden roar in the distance sends them all scrambling to their feet before Percy can form a reply.  

Percy’s eyes dart around the crowds of people, but no one else seems to have heard the sound. Nor can he see anything approaching them. But that doesn’t mean that the Chimera isn’t back on their trail with her mother in tow. 

“Uh, right. So. Finish this very awkward and unnecessary conversation about my feelings later? When we’re not running from monsters?” 

“Yep. Sounds good!” 

____________________

They skirt around the police barricade, trying to find the best path to escape back to the train station and hoping that Echidna and her Chimera had finally lost interest. 

Lee nudges him as they go. “So what actually happened up there? How did you get down without us seeing you?”

Percy winces, knowing that this bit of information is not going to be well received either. “I sort of fell?”

“Six hundred and thirty feet, Percy!” Grover exclaims, aghast. “How are you–”

“Not a pancake? My dad saved me, that’s how I ended up in the river. Which is really gross by the way.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust as remembers the numerous pieces of trash floating about in the murky water. 

“And he obviously healed you,” Lee says, once again going to healer mode as he looks him over with a critical eye. “The poison doesn’t seem to be bothering you anymore. How do you feel?”

“Uh, better…ish. I’m not gonna die, or so I’ve been told. I think Aquarium Lady got most of the poison out.”

Lee blinks. “Who now?” 

He tells them about his fight (if he can even call it that) with Chimera and Echidna, and his meeting with Keto beneath the surface of the Mississippi (though he leaves her name out of the story). He also tells them about Poseidon’s request that he go to the beach at Santa Monica before descending into the Underworld to control Hades. 

Which still doesn’t feel like it’s the right path, necessarily, but he has no other information to go on and no idea who else would have stolen the bolt. Chiron’s very biased assumption is the only promising lead. 

“Well that settles it then, we have to get you there. You can’t ignore a summons from your dad, Percy,” Grover says.

“I mean he ignores mine, so fair is fair,” he grumbles.

“Percy!”

“Fine!” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Fine. To Santa Monica we go! You’re all as bad as Aquarium Lady.”

Annabeth stares at him. “Who exactly is this Aquarium Lady, again, and why did your dad send her?”

“The strange lady who is probably a goddess that Percy befriended on a field trip and gets care packages from,” Grover answers for him. “Don’t think about it too hard.” 

Percy hums in affirmation. “Definitely a goddess. She’s pretty chill though. Minus the fact that she feeds mortals she doesn’t like to her children and occasionally crawls out of puddles to say hello or haunts the lake at camp for fun.” He shrugs. “But whatever.” 

Before anyone else can comment, they pass a news anchor speaking urgently into her mic. 

“That’s correct, Allen. The subject has been identified as twelve-year old Perseus Jackson. Surveillance cameras show him attacking a woman and her dog on the observation deck of the arch moments before the explosion. Jackson is also wanted for questioning in regard to a serious New Jersey bus accident that happened three days ago, as well as a violent attack on his stepfather, Gabriel Ugliano in New York. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Perseus Jackson. If you see him–”

Percy shivers, anxiety pooling in his gut. “But before Santa Monica, maybe anywhere that is not here?” he suggests, voice tight with nerves. 

Grover groans. “Yeah, slight problem with that. Your face, and by extension our faces, are now plastered all over the news. I doubt we’re going to be able to get on anything requiring an ID without drawing attention.” 

Right. No new train for them. 

Annabeth hurriedly redirects them as another cop comes their way. Thankfully he passes without noticing them. “Well what do you suggest then?” she asks.

Running on foot as far and as fast as possible is an option, but that would look suspicious and they have no where to run to. And there’s no way they can walk from here to the Underworld. 

“Do any of you know how to drive?” 

“Kind of?” Lee says. “I haven’t really practiced though.” 

Annabeth and Grover just look at each other before shaking their heads. Percy sighs. He should have expected this. Satyrs probably avoid vehicles as much as possible given the fact that they’re basically nature spirits. Annabeth is twelve and hasn’t left camp. And Lee is older, but it’s not like Camp Half-Blood offers driver’s ed. Or do they?

He’s suddenly bombarded with mental images of Mr. D as the world’s grouchiest driving instructor and hopes that it is not the case. 

“We don’t even have a car though,” Grover reminds him. 

“I mean, we could have one. I could hotwire one? I know how to do it. I’m not sure you want me behind the wheel though. I also blacked out and crashed last time.” It hadn’t been a fun ride. 

He gets three identical wild looks in response. 

“Okay! So no stealing a vehicle. We just need someone who can legally drive then.”

“And who are we going to find that will be willing to drive a group of fugitives across the country?” Annabeth huffs. 

Percy is silent for a moment. “I might have an idea. I just need to steal a phone instead.” 

___________

He targets the business man yelling into his phone about travel delays and missed meetings. He recognizes him from the train. A grumpy man who had acted like a certified creep the first night on the train when it had been his turn for snack purchasing duty and they had stood next to each other in line. He always feels less bad about robbing gross people. 

It’s rather easy, brushing past the table the man had settled at and sending his important papers and lap flying with a false apology. 

In his haste to gather his belongings, he leaves his iPhone, still on speaker, resting on the table as he dives to the floor. The moment his head is turned he reaches out and hits the end call button, pocketing the phone quickly. 

He makes to leave but thinks better of it, turning back around and taking a few tentative steps closer. 

“Do you need help, sir?” he asks, smiling sweetly. 

“What?” the man practically growls. 

“Do you need help picking that up?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, just drops down beside him and begins helping the man collect his things. 

Percy can be charming when he wants to be, and within a few moments the man has softened and let his guard down. A few moments of conversation and forced smiles later, the papers are returned to him in exchange for the wallet in his pocket Percy managed to grab while he was distracted once more. 

He scurries back to where Grover, Lee, and Annabeth are waiting, the three of them looking at him in a mixture of awe, concern, and disbelief. They duck into the alley next to the coffee shop just as a police car goes flying past. 

“You stole his phone,” Annabeth says flatly. 

“I’m already a wanted criminal, might as well embrace it. And I got his wallet, too!” He holds up the expensive leather proudly. “I’m adding the cash to my savings.” 

She glares. “You can’t just steal from people!”

He rolls his eyes, already opening it and pocketing the cash. “I can and I did. Besides, he was a weirdo on the train and he deserves it.”

“What do you mean he was a weirdo? Percy, you didn’t mention anyone being weird to you,” Lee says sharply, concern bleeding into his words. “What did he do?” 

Grover reaches out and grasps his arm tightly, looking at him with wide eyes. “Perce?” 

He ignores both of them in favor of continuing his argument with Annabeth. Who, now that he looks closely, seems just as disturbed by his comments as the other two. Though thankfully she doesn’t press the issue. 

“Okay fine,” Annabeth relents, still uncomfortable. “But who are we calling anyway? Camp?”

“Nah. Chiron is useless,” he scoffs, unbothered by the offended look he receives on the centaur’s behalf from Annabeth. “He did the bare minimum to get this quest going and I’m not interested in any more of his ‘advice’. I’m gonna call Max.”

Grover tilts his head. “Max? Why does that name sound familiar– wait a minute! That guy who was passed out in the hallway higher than Olympus?” He runs a stressed hand through his hair. “How do you even know those guys again?” 

He nods. “That’s the one! He mentioned having a cousin in St. Louis once. And trust me, he’s not a narc. So I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” He pauses then, mulling over how to answer his friend’s question. “And I guess I work for him sometimes.”

Lee crosses his arms, shooting him a look of disapproval. “You work for a guy who's high all the time?” 

“I get a decent cut delivering stuff. And the customers are only occasionally violent or gross! It’s honestly better than some of the other jobs I’ve had to do.” He shivers, pushing those thoughts away. That’s for Future Percy to spiral about at three in the morning all alone in his cabin. Or, like, to never think about it again. 

There’s a heavy silence as the weight of three disbelieving gazes settles upon him. 

Pointedly ignoring them, he dials one of the few numbers he has memorized. 

Percy puts the phone on speaker and the four of them crowd around it. It rings and rings, and a second he’s afraid Max isn’t going to answer. But just as the phone is about to go to voicemail, a sleepy voice answers. 

‘Hello?’

“Max! Hey.”

‘Percy!?’ The man sounds much more awake now, though his words remain slurred. ‘The hell you been, kid? The cops tore this place apart trying to find you. Especially with your stepdad and all. Good for you by the way. The guy’s always been kind of a jerk.’ 

He laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess. Hey um, can I ask a favor?”

‘A favor? Sure, sure. I still owe ya one from before you went off to thank Yanky place–’

“Yancy.”

‘Yeah! That’s what I said. Anyway, what do you need, kid?’

“Does your cousin still live in St. Louis? And also how far west might he be willing to drive?”

__________________

Roger indeed still lives in St. Louis.

He’s a rather imposing man with graying hair, an unkempt beard, and a beer gut. His clothes are stained with God knows what, and he talks in grunts rather than full sentences. He’d fit right in at one of Gabe’s poker parties. 

It took a bit of convincing on Max’s part, and some additional haggling on Percy’s, but the four of them quickly find themselves squished in the backseat of a van that’s seen much better days and smells overwhelmingly of weed, heading west. He reaches across Grover and cracks the window, letting in some fresh air as they speed down the interstate.

Lee leans down to whisper. “Are you sure it’s safe to travel with this guy?” He and Grover had squished Percy and Annabeth between them in the seat, glaring daggers at the man every time he so much as glanced in their direction. 

“Nope!” Unlike Max who is also a criminal but for the most part a pretty sweet guy, Roger seems like the type where one wrong word might set him off on a bad day. But hey, a free-ish ride is a free-ish ride. “What other choice did we have though? Walk?” 

Roger had not agreed to take them all the way to Los Angeles. But he had agreed to get them to their original destination of Denver. Supposedly he has business to attend to out there. He doesn’t ask what kind as Percy has discovered over the years that the less you know about these things sometimes, the better. 

Grover shifts uncomfortably, checking to make sure that Roger is still engrossed in the podcast blaring at full volume before speaking. “And you work for this guy’s cousin? These are really the people you hang out with?” 

Percy frowns. “Hey! Max is pretty cool, and so is his roommate Terry. Though I don’t think they’re just roommates but anyway, he’s nice. And he always makes mac and cheese when I visit.” 

“He sends a twelve year old kid on suspicious, dangerous jobs,” Lee grumbles. “But he’s nice and makes mac and cheese, so it’s fine. Got it. At least I now know what food to bribe you with so you’ll actually eat.” 

“I also have that list,” Grover adds helpfully. “It’s much smaller than the other one.”

The conversation wanes after that as their uncomfortable ride continues. It’s roughly a twelve hour drive from St. Louis and factoring in rest stops, they should be there early tomorrow morning. Despite the continued tension from the earlier events of the day, Percy finds he can no longer fight the exhaustion that’s been tugging at him since long before they reached St. Louis. 

His eyes grow heavy and his head lolls onto Lee’s shoulder.

He falls asleep to the quiet murmur of conversation around him as they leave the mess in St. Louis behind.