Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Step into the sun. Fly with me, my Icarus. There is nowhere to go except up."

"Why fly to the Heavens when we are happy and safe here?” asked Icarus.

"My passion leaves no room for 'safe,' my love, because with you, I'd rather burn up in hot, fiery heat."

There, he stood before his lover. The worn tunic opened his back to tropical sunny air. His turquoise eyes danced with dashing amusement as he watched Icarus; many emotions battled on his lover’s face.

Percy could barely contain the quirk of his lips; it was contagious as a slow mischievous smile came over Icarus. The scar on his lip made it look ever sinister. Suddenly, Icarus grabbed him by the hand, tangling Percy’s weathered fingers with his own. His other arm trailed up his back, slowly, as he traced deliciously familiar terrain, memorizing Percy’s sunkissed skin with touch alone. His fingers brushed the feathery wings attached to Percy and Icarus gave his hand a squeeze.

“Fly with me,” Icarus whispered against his cheek as they fell, tumbling out of the tower in a blur of feather and flesh.

Soft lunar rays trickled in and soaked the unembellished room with a serene glow. He was surrounded by empty beds, pressed in by deafening silence. The wooden bedframe creaked under the strain of his movements while his back arched over his long limbs. He curled into a ball while he stared into oblivion. The room was clean and neat, only the necessities were kept in Cabin Three. It felt like the complete opposite of Percy's mind.

There were chests found at the foot of each bed for storage. The nightstands were placed against the wall with identical lamps on top. Ocean décor was sprinkled throughout the space in the wallpaper, sheets and as seashell wind chimes; the only stand-out piece in the room was a marble antique fountain in the corner. There were no bunk beds that grazed the ceiling like in Cabin Eleven, Percy liked to keep it simple.

He wondered now, why everything else couldn't be nice and easy, like how he kept his cabin. He cupped his face in his hands and fought the urge to scream.

“It’s freezing in here,” Percy untangled himself from the sheets to shut the window. It felt like Camp Half Blood's weather control team had forgotten to check the magical thermostat. Rover stirred from his sleep and padded over to the windowsill. A smile softly played at his lips and he reached down to pet Rover's curly fur. The dog somehow always knew when he stirred, even when it was deep in the night.

Percy found his way back to the bed and burrowed into it. He hoped that the trickle of the fountain could lull him back to sleep but it never came. Each time he closed his eyes, flashes of Icarus' grin appeared in the darks of his eyelids like a movie screen. He drifted in and out of consciousness until he was swept away for a walk down memory lane.

There were nights during the Second Giant War when he was too stressed to sleep. He spent them standing on the deck of the Argo II, where he took in the swirling clouds and the constellations above when weather permitted. It was very rare for the Son of Poseidon to find himself in the sky, since Zeus didn't fancy him in his domain. However, a splitting headache that gave the gods Borderline Personality Disorder meant priorities were laid elsewhere.

Jason would cram his long legs under the humble dining counter in the kitchen, “Ow, why did Leo build the tables so short, he knows there are people taller than his 3 feet ass on this ship right?” Percy laughed and laughed, while Jason poorly hid his own wry smile.

There were nights where they went on for hours simply drinking cocoa, talking and laughing; however demigods were light sleepers and the two would often have company. Whoever was on night patrol often came into the kitchen for a cup of cocoa because everyone knew we were always there. Annabeth was a regular intruder as she always came down to get snacks in the dead hours of the night. Jason had asked her once: “How come you’re always awake?”

Annabeth took a swig of Percy’s cocoa, much to his complaint, “Too many things in this world to think about, plus I like the quiet at night, it lets me design in peace.” She gave Percy a gentle head rub and left shortly after.

Afterwards, Percy noted the puzzled look on Jason’s face, “She wants to be an architect and go to university when this is all over so she’s studying hard.” Jason smiled lightly, amusement teased his lips like he heard a joke.

“What?” Percy probed.

“Don’t you go to university to learn things you need there? It’d be pretty useless if she studied everything now.” Jason’s smile never went away, even as he took a bite of a brownie.
Once again, Percy only laughed in response.

As the quest went on, the obvious question came up: “Percy, what do you want to do after this?”

He watched Jason carefully as he kept his features neutral; to insure he didn’t give away how panicked the question made him feel. In truth, he hasn’t put much thought into the future. There wasn’t much to think about; he’d (hopefully) survive this stupid Giant War. One day he’d probably settle with Annabeth, take care of his mother and it’ll be smooth sailing from there, but all of that didn’t really feel like what he wanted though. Despite everything he was thinking: “I don’t know,” was uttered as the chosen response.

Jason regarded him with a wistful look. A glint in his eye showed wisdom that was far more than a 15 year-old could possess; perhaps it was from the godliness within. He leaned over the counter and whispered, “It’s alright, Percy, to have your own ambitions too. I know we’re pawns for the gods and shit, but that doesn’t mean you're gonna follow everyone else’s plan.”
Percy could smell the heat and the chocolate on his breath- the proximity made his skin tingle. He found himself unable to move away as something stirred in his mind. Jason was right, and Percy felt his words settle deep in his gut. From that moment on, it became an ideology he would live fast to.

The most challenging trials Percy had faced up to that point occurred in the Giant War, however those simple late night talks were one of the few things that got him through.

His tired eyes grew glassy and his chest tightened around his heart; losing himself in the past is blissful for a moment but many things have changed. For one, the second Giant War was 7 years ago. A year later Jason was gone; he died defending Apollo and Meg so they could escape from the Maze. Percy, now 26 years old, was a director at Camp Half-Blood next to Mr. D and Chiron. He was the oldest demigod there and the perks are pretty sweet, but the jokes made at that expense were BRUTAL. All of his friends have moved on to live happy lives; settled with jobs and families in New Rome. Annabeth got a degree in architecture and works in a comfortable corporate job while doing part-time designing for the gods at Olympus.

She lives in New Rome.

… Percy doesn’t.

He and Annabeth broke up.

Now. It wasn’t easy. A broken engagement, custody over Rover, the dog (which Percy won), complicated “adult” feelings and the grief of mundane artifacts sending Percy into an emotional rage because… they reminded him of Annabeth.

Yeah. Life’s frigg-ing fantastic (Not)!

Still, both Annabeth and Percy knew it was something that needed to happen. There were too many directions they couldn’t agree to take. Which, in Percy’s case, was the lack of direction. Annabeth was a very ambitious woman; ready to get her life started and move up in the world while he needed time to find himself. They finished senior year, stayed that summer at camp but Percy wasn’t interested in college anymore. She moved to New Rome soon after while he stayed at his mom’s place with Paul and his little sister, Estelle.

Percy knew he’d go down another existential spiral soon which meant he needed to go do something. ADHD, nerves, stupid prophetic dreams and an inner darkness that threatened to consume everything meant he spent a lot of time awake. He put on a shirt and sweatpants blindly then went into the night.

Funny how some things never change.

Chapter Text

Tonight was cold and Percy could feel its effects even more that he was outside. A cool breeze cut through his shirt like tiny annoying little daggers; the goosebumps on his arms probably read FREEZING in braille. It was late September and the evenings grew quite cold, snow hung in the air like a incoming storm. The school year was freshly underway which left Camp Half-Blood mostly empty, save the year-rounders who were fast asleep by now.

Gods, he could even see his breath. Percy went straight for Long Island Sound because at least in the water, temperature didn’t bother him so much. A neat quirk he obtained from his father being Poseidon; which he recently found out after swimming off the coast of Newfoundland last spring, everyone else at Hazel and Frank’s wedding was near hypothermic while Percy was just dandy, he even climbed up an iceberg!

He tentatively waved to the half bird-human monster that stood in the field clawing the ground viciously looking for worms (or something, he had no clue). She didn’t care that he was outside of his cabin after hours, even briefly turning to snort at him; luckily being Camp Director meant the harpies didn’t give a crap about you! (one of the perks.)

Percy followed the beaten trail to the ocean, where he took off his shoes to feel the sand between his toes; the waves welcomed him by lapping his ankles in icy water. The demigod waded through the water, breathing in the salt air happily.

The ocean was his home.

He swam in lazy circles on the surface while he half-listened to the indistinct chatter of fish. The water itself felt alive as it nudged Percy this way and that. All his aches and worries melted away. Here, it was as if they couldn’t follow him, like the inner darkness was kept at bay by the sea.

Chapter Text

Soon, Percy willed the water to let him sink, all the way until he sat deep down on the seafloor.

“Hello, Perseus.” said a mysterious figure as they drew up beside him.

Percy was barely able to contain an indignant- I mean, a VERY manly yelp, “Hey! What the hell?”

Bright laughter erupted from his right, which made him grumble like an old man.

“Calm yourself, hero. I bring no harm to you.”

Suddenly, the whole space flooded with iridescent light. The kelp that pressed darkness closer around them now shone neon green. Percy went to touch one and it wiggled under his finger, sort of like it got tickled.

“What brings you to these waters, Perseus?”

He turned to look; sitting next to him was a youthful woman. Her skin was a dark shade of blue that glowed teal in the light. She was dressed in flowing white garments with a platted fishing net draped over her shoulders. Her black hair was done up into a loose updo, held together by pearl pins. She was a fair lady with a welcoming aura, however, Percy’s many years dealing with the divine meant he knew this bode more than just a casual visit.

“Just a late night swim, M’lady,” he replied.

Her lithe features accentuated the beauty of her easy smile. She carried African descent with her wide lips and big eyes, though her allure didn’t feel quite godlike. Instead, it was divine; like her power came from dignity, rather than sheer might. It was pleasant seeing a deity with a more human-esque form that didn’t end at the physical level.

“M’lady. May I be graced with whom I am in the presence of?”

Percy was careful to use the formal dialect that he only ever used around really powerful deities (and no, he didn’t talk to Old Thundercock like this.) After meeting every half relative and monster he thought he could meet, Percy still hadn’t the faintest clue who sat beside him. That meant he knew better than to assume she was just some naiad. Despite her calming vibes, she felt… ancient. The power she radiated felt older than any titan or god he had ever come across.

“I am Clymene, dear hero. I do not come bearing bad news, this is only a social call. It’s been many eons since I have had such a prolific mortal enter my realm.”

She paused for a moment as her smile grew wider.”Also, I have a particular interest in meeting you.”

“Clymene… Mother of Prometheus, Atlas and Epitheus. It’s an honor.” He paused, trying to hide his growing puzzlement. Another name came to his mind as he recalled little of what he knew of her, alas it dodged his memory. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

Her Oceanidess let out a knowing chuckle, “You must be wondering why a being such as I, who was alive in the Age of Titans would be inclined to wake for such a fleeting creature.”

Percy nodded slowly.

Clymene returned the gesture, albeit, more elegantly, “You are, eh. What do you mortals say these days, a living legend? It is actually an honor of mine to meet you, Perseus. For all, despite having such influential sons, my name is one seldom remembered. Even as I am the grandmother of all mortals. It is logically not true since clay cannot offspring.” She looked pleased to have made a joke. She seemed like an easy person to talk to which made Percy feel a little more at ease.

His eyes eased gratefully as he gave her Oceanidess a small bow. It was truly flattering to have such an ancient and powerful figure call you a legend. However, Percy knew this was weird. She was a titan, hiding in Long Island Sound. The war ended ages ago and so the question plagued his mind, “M’lady Clymene. Why are you here?”

A glint appeared in her eyes as she drew her lips thin. She didn’t speak for a few moments which she spent just watching Percy. A great sadness ghosted her features as she seemed to be searching for something inside him. He was used to being subjected to so many eyes. However, hers seemed to pry his deepest secrets through the windows of his soul.

Could it be something I've said? He thought.

“My husband fought alongside Lord Kronos in the war. As the rest of my family did. I believed reform was necessary but I didn’t agree with the way they went about it. Henceforth, I declared not to play any part; nor for the titans or the gods. My husband, especially, pledged undying allegiance to a bitter, lying entity once in the old world, and I thought that would’ve taught him a lesson,” she scowled as she recalled a collection of unpleasant memories, yet they smoothed away like a passing storm, “Alas here we are.” “I watched from the sidelines as I hid. All the while my family suffered and perished. Forever damned to be defeated by the gods.” She leveled Percy a calculating look as there was a subtle pause, "I believe you are quite well acquainted with my Iapetus.”

Iapetus. Bob. Dear gods… he was talking to his wife.

Clymene continued, if she noticed Percy’s shift in mood, she paid no mind; “Kronos freed my husband from Tartarus to fight for him, but he wouldn’t leave without me. I was told to hide here since stronger beings mask my presence in these waters. I have been here ever since, waiting for my Iapetus to return,” she turned away, letting the silence cast heavy accusations. Percy met them with an uneasy expression, opting for silence as this was a story he needn’t interrupt.

“The waves carry secrets and I hear things even as I slumber.” Her eyes grew misty and she dabbed them with her sleeve, “I am afraid he will not be able to come find me, will he, Perseus?”

His heart broke for Clymene. The titan would not be able to reform for a long time, even if he’d be able to, his memories were all washed away when Percy drenched him with the River Lithe. There was nothing left of his previous self. Her Iapetus was gone, forever. Percy had to look away as tears threatened him too.

“My young hero. I understand the actions you needed to take were due to circumstances pushed upon you by Fate.” She placed a hand on his shoulder; he tried hard not to turn away from it.

“I harbor resentment towards the many forces controlling you, and so did Iapetus, that is the reason he agreed to fight. He believed in Kronos’s grand plan as I’m sure many others did. Alas, it turned out he had more formidable foes than he realized.”

Luke. Selina. Ethan. All their names painfully flashed across his mind, silently, his tears fell.

She shot a look to the heavens, in a silent prayer or a bitter curse; either way- the sky rumbled, “I do not blame the young child you were when Iapetus came across your path.”

Percy clenched his eyes shut as he heard her voice crack, “That was Fate, and they can be abhorrently cruel.” Clymene’s hands were warm as she cupped his face. Guilt rained down like a monsoon hurricane and it made Percy’s skin feel feverish in her grasp, “It was our job as Oceanids to protect children, but that duty has been long abandoned in our current world. As my kin no longer roam this χώμα.” She gave him a smile so full of kindness that Percy forgot why he was crying for a moment. Clearly, this is what Gods were supposed to be; so forgiving, pure and compassionate at a level mortals far and few could abhold. He wondered how peaceful the world would’ve been if Oceanids could protect demigods, instead of needing to train constantly just to have a chance to survive. He thought about those endless hours, always questioning if he's done enough for those kids. Sometimes it felt fruitless because so many of them met horrible demise. It made nothing he did feel enough.

Thunder roared loud like the billowing of a lion. He could hear it clearly, despite being two hundred feet below sea level. Percy could barely think through the wallow of pain and grief, but knew then that they were in serious trouble. Clymene let her hands drop into her lap, “Let me leave you with a gift, and a blessing.” She brushed the sand aside to reveal a small mahogany chest the size of an old tinderbox. The Athena Cabin was fond of tinderboxes because they often burned notes to send between children of Athena; it was a secret form of communication that Percy was only privy to because he’d seen Annabeth use it a couple of times.

Clymene placed the delicate box in his hand, “This is the last piece of clay made by my son, Prometheus. I have a feeling you’ll have better use of it than me. It can be used to make a new human. You can use this to revive a soul that has not passed on to the underworld by binding their soul to it. Simply cover an important possession of the soul with the clay and bury it deep underground. After two nights, the body will regrow. They will be reborn, as the age their soul is, not the age they died; so be wary of resurrecting ancient mortals. They will crumble away instantly. In the natural world- physically and spiritually- humans are made to only withstand the test of time for so long.”

Percy was in such a state of shock, all he could do was stare at the Oceanid in complete awe and horror. He thanked her profusely until he was hushed by the singe of electricity gathering around them.

Metal flooded his taste buds, it was a matter of moments before they were going to be electrocuted. Everything in a mile radius was going to fry harder than a carnival grease burger, including him. He was underwater too so there was no way Zeus wasn’t going to stop his heart. Percy begun to panic and shook Clymene by the shoulders, "We need to get out of here."

She gave him a mere sad smile, "They are only here for me, dear child, but I can give you the power to escape."

Clymene channeled her divinity; eyes began to glow milky white as he voice boomed dramatically in volume. It sounded like she entered an amphitheater, despite not talking any louder, “Upon you, O demigod, I bless the power to manifest.”

A rush of strength surged through Percy, like he got Redbull directly injected through his veins. His blood ran so hot that it made him double over in pain. Clymene placed her hand on his forehead and it cooled to a bearable temperature. Still, it felt like he was wearing a blanket next to an intense fire, “Your ichor already runs thick, thankfully my blessing wasn’t enough to burst your body into flames.”

Fried AND boiled to a crisp! Perfect, just what he needed, "You weren't sure of that beforehand?"

Clymene still had the nerve to laugh, "You would've perished either way. Now, Perseus, think of a body of water you choose to appear in and you will materialize there. You will most surely not escape otherwise,” she looked around like the waters surrounding were her enemy, “I fear the gods have finally found me.”

Percy’s mind was muddled and his stomach felt queasy, but he’s been in enough life or death situations to know he needed to act fast. He tried to focus on the image of the canoe lake at camp and asked his mind to take him there. Suddenly, his skin began to tingle; he looked down at his body in surprise and found his arms evaporating into bubbles. The sensation was wildly bizarre, like his body was deconstructing atom by atom before his eyes. His mind escaped from under him and chose that moment to remember Annabeth's lecture of superposition in Quantum Physics. He had no idea where any of this was coming from. Perhaps the ichor had killed the last of his nerve cells and this was a lucid dream where he slowly loses his mind.

Clymene’s voice sounded distant, growing more watery the second, “Even if I don’t get to spend my time with my husband, at least I will go back to a place where we can be close.”

Just as he transformed, a ground-splitting arch of lightning hit Clymene.

Then, everything went black.

Chapter Text

The sky shook and thundered overhead. Percy was sitting leaned against a cool stone wall. Someone was laid next to him on the floor, with their head resting in his lap. He felt cold and damp, but also feverishly warm. So did the other person, who Percy recognized as Icarus, the man from his last dream. Only, he was younger and in a much more vulnerable state.

Icarus' breath faltered slightly, then, he groaned, “How much longer do you think the storm will go on, papa?”

Percy shrugged, but it was as if his body did it on its own. His lips didn’t even move when he tried to talk. It was like being a fly trapped in a spider's web, or watching a sleep paralysis demon sits beside his bed.

The boy had called him "papa," maybe that meant his mind had been transported into someone else. It would explain why he had no control of his actions. He supposed he was only meant to watch and play it out as a memory.

It was difficult to see anything in the dark, but he recalled it was very spacious and crafted beautifully in the architecture. Information about the residence flowed into his mind as it took place where it hadn't been before.

The grand living quarters were open to the rain as it had no closed doorways or windows, save for a set of large double wooden doors where food and supplies were delivered. They were always locked otherwise.

It was originally designed by Daedalus to be one of King Midas’ summer residences. Made to withstand fire, monsters and earthquakes, and constructed out of the finest materials and architectural designs of Ancient Greece.

The entire Kingdom of Crete could be seen from anywhere as it was built atop the tallest point on the island, Mount Ida. It was the perfect fortress, fit for a mighty king; luxurious enough that no one will pose a question, but isolated enough that any “guests” could easily be kept out of sight.

The marble floors glistened with moisture and puddles formed around the few pieces of embellishment that were placed sparingly throughout the room. They cast long shadows, broken only occasionally by lightning.

The father and son found a sanctum from the storm opposite the window walls, tucked beneath the stairwell leading to the bathing rooms.

He felt a little nudge on his arm. Percy didn’t realize his mind had wandered, “Are you off in your own little world again?” Icarus asked lightly. He rolled over onto his belly and propped his elbows on Percy’s knees— which was to his discomfort— yet he didn't mind.

Lightning flashed right then, and Percy caught a glimpse of Icarus’ wide smile. A faint crescent dented his top lip slightly upward, close to the left corner. He was well-sculpted for a boy, lean and fit like a gymnast and his long legs showed signs of a very recent growth spurt. He had a sharp jawline and long lashes that danced a deceptive caper across the lines of masculinity and femininity.

Judging from his elevated features, he would guess Icarus to be only at the cusp of manhood- 16 or 17 years old. Strangely, the boy had an uncanny resemblance to Jason… before he died.

He blinked, hoping to the gods that it was just a trick of the light. The rain drummed harder above and furniture shifted with the force of the wind. He was vaguely aware of saying something as his lips mimed the words that were spoken.

His voice didn't sound like his own.  His hand moved to stroke Icarus' thick golden hair; it was coarse but full and fluffy to the touch.  Then, quietly as the trickle of a breeze, he heard himself whisper, "My dear Icarus, if only you were free." 

Icarus didn't seem to hear Daedalus. His gaze was distant, looking outside the window into the turbulent angry night. Percy knew the terrible fate that awaited him, yet he could understand the longing held in the boy's eyes.

Perhaps because he felt it too. 

“Percy…?”

5 more minutes, please, he said to himself.

Percy!” 

Piss off, I was literally electrocuted like, 2 seconds ago. 

“PERCY!” 

Jeez, give a guy a break? 

“Frigg’s sake. Magnus, how are you sure this drengr is alive?!” 

He heard a slap, then a laugh followed. 

Percy groaned in pain, “What do you want?” 

Off somewhere to the side, there was a deep sigh of relief. He felt hands grab him to hoist him up out of the water, immediately pain flared up his right arm as he was dragged upshore and placed against a slab of concrete. 

His eyes were closed because his exhaustion threatened to take him under at any moment. The smell from the water was foul and his organs didn’t feel like they were put back the right way. The sound of traffic whizzing by clearly meant he was no longer in Camp Half-Blood. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he’d made a mental GPS error. 

One problem at a time.

Percy hissed and clutched his arm, ol’ Thundercock really messed him up. 

He heard shuffling uncomfortably close to his face, then he felt a poke on his cheek. Percy weakly shooed them away, “Duud! Juss eet wee way here.” 

(Or, for our audience: “Dude! Just let me lay here.”)

Someone crouched down beside him, “Maybe we should let him freeze, Boston weather is no joke.”

“Relax, Alex,” wait. That voice… Magnus? 

Magnus Chase! 

Percy finally opened his eyes, and had to stifle a gasp. 

“The Sea Prince awakes from his beauty sleep!” Magnus jeered sarcastically. Percy had to squint at him to focus because his vision showed two of him side-by-side. 

He looked exactly the same when Percy trained him so many years ago. Magnus still has his signature wavy mid length cut you can find surfer bros rock, except on him it made him look like a rugged young celebrity.

Percy remembered seeing pictures of the band-lead his mom was absolutely in love with. Ah! Kurt Cobain— that’s who he looked like. A wisp of blonde hair that barely passed as a moustache framed his mischievous lopsided grin.

The expression wasn’t enough to mask the confusion apparent in his eyes. There was a silent question that hung in the air and he didn’t have to ask out loud. 

“What’s this guy doing here?” questioned someone out of view. 

Percy shook his head, “No questions, ood.” 

(Food.)

His eyes lulled back into his head as the last amount of strength keeping him away faded, then, sleep took over him once again . 

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, Percy slept soundly. 

No weird memory-dreams. 

No night terrors. 

No uncomfortable dampness in his pajamas because the room temperature was always out of wack.

It was the best goddamn feeling in the whole world!

In fact, he didn’t notice how bad he was drooling from the smell of roasting falafel. “Yum…” he muttered. 

The juicy chickpeas frying in delicious herbs gave the air a warm atmosphere. There was light chatter, kept hush to let Percy rest. His mind awoke before the rest of his body did, slowly he opened his eyes. He was thankful to be greeted by soft light, shining from the windows across the room.

The city landscape cut Apollo’s light into thin slices of butter, whist tinted glass from skyscrapers reflected the light into a pale happy glow.

They must’ve been in a restaurant because Percy could hear a kitchen ventilator nearby, wheezing steadily as the vents rattled under age and pressure.

The interior carried a distinct Middle Eastern feel, reflected clearly in the decor choices. The walls in front of him were painted a rich sunny yellow, while the rest of the walls had a rustic clay colour. Arabic mandalas framed the store front windows that ran from floor to ceiling. They looked the world’s most amazing colouring book.

Embroidered twain wall art lavishly decorated the space behind the sale counter. As for the counter itself, it had a mosaic of complex hooks weaved into dangling rings as a decorative front.

A purple silk curtain separated the dining room from the kitchen. Stock-photo prints depicting deserts and market scenes were hung in golden frames.

They felt a little stereotypical, but it was tell of a chain restaurant. The furniture was worn and a little generic looking, shades of pasty green and diner booths but it was very clean by New York standards. 

A lovely looking Middle-Eastern woman sat across from him, wearing a green Hijab and a simple cream turtleneck. She was having a heated discussion with a teenager who sat beside her.

The girl looked very familiar but he couldn’t recall her name, but she was certainly a fascinating person to look at. Seaweed green hair, glossy pink lips and a rather dressy pink button down, frilled from shoulder to cuff. 

“Why did you tell me to wear this? I feel way too stupid in this,” the girl hissed with a frown, “It was just a simple walk in the park. It wasn’t even a date since you were there!”

Percy watched her nail run in a line over and over again on the wooden table while her other hand was busy unraveling all the cutlery from the napkins. She was probably a demigod because that behaviour was ADHD at its finest.

The woman, who looked around the same age as him, gently placed a hand over hers. When her finger kept moving, the woman slapped the girl’s hand. “Stop that, you know Amir doesn’t like people wrecking his furniture.”

Obediently, the girl moved her hand away in favour of picking at the frills on the shirt.

The green-hijab lady was in the midst of hiding a smile, “You look fantastic, I can't fathom why you’d feel self-conscious in anything. You’re like, the most confident person I know.” 

The green-haired girl threw up her hands in an exaggerated display of annoyance, “I know I look great, but this—“ She wildly gestured at the sleeves, “—is too flaunty, even for me.”

She saw the woman covering her smile and proceeded to swat the hand away. “And don’t hide your smile, you’re beautiful.” 

The woman merely rolled her eyes, “Uh huh,” she rubbed the girl’s wild green locks in circles. “Alex, listen, Magnus loves you. You’ve been together for like 10 years, do you think he cares about how you look?”

Despite having met both of them before, it was only now did he learn their names. The girl—Alex— shook her head in response. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Just then, a blond haired figure walked over to their table.

“Did you miss me?” Magnus!  

Just as the woman- Sammy? Sam? -predicted, a bright blush crept up Magnus’ face when he saw Alex. He went around to stand behind her; then, he kissed her on the head and burrowed into her hair in hopes to hide his embarrassment, “You look beautiful,” He whispered quietly.

Sam squealed while Alex playfully shushed her, “Aw, c’mere baby.” The green-haired girl sweetly pushed Magnus up then tilted her head back to meet his lips in a kiss.

Percy wanted to get up to go to the bathroom, but didn’t realize how uncooperative his body was. A wave of vertigo hit and suddenly, he was falling. Someone grabbed him before he toppled over.

Magnus patted Percy’s shoulder, carefully leaning Percy back into his chair, “Morning again, sleepy head. I’m right here,”

Once everyone realised he was awake, the mood sobered; Sam, who sat opposite of Percy, regarded him with a serious stare.

Magnus took up a chair next to Percy and spent his time twiddling with a piece of loose string from his sweater. Suddenly, he let out a yelp.

“Hey! That frigg-ing hurt.” Alex raised an eyebrow, challenging him to do something about it. He just grumbled while rubbing his ankle beneath the table.

“Sam, this is Percy. He’s my… uh, friend. Alex, you’ve met him at our wedding. Say hello.” Percy waved but didn’t say a word, Alex nodded in greeting and Sam gave him a small smile.

The way Magnus hesitated when he called him a friend felt… awkward, and it bothered him. Still, he recognized that pause.

At one point, him and Magnus were nearly family. He could understand why Magnus didn’t know what to call his *almost* cousin-in-law; guess the fact he and Annabeth would break up didn’t occur to many people.

Alex and Sam shared the same stern look, taking turns to glare at Magnus, then at Percy. 

A little creepy, they must be siblings. 

He saw Alex cross her arms. “So tell us, Percy. Why did we pull you out in one of the most polluted rivers in America; head down, with lightning scars, looking like a bloated corpse?” Percy could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from her words like charmspeak.

“Those are technically lichtenberg figures, they’ll disappear in a day or two,” Magnus pipped excitedly, as if it was one of their areas of expertise. How in Hades’ Helm did he know that?

Percy recalled Magnus being homeless for a time, maybe he picked up some books in a public library while looking for a warm place to stay. It still felt like something quite random to know though.

“Thank you, Magnus!” said Alex and Sam at the exact same time.

Yup. Siblings, definitely. 

Magnus flicked his wrist to dismiss them. A silent standoff occurred between the two siblings, laughter danced behind their eyes like they were sharing a joke. Percy could see the years of friendship built into their unyielding bond.

Soon after, Percy caught Sam letting out a heavy sigh and pinching her nose bridge. Magnus shifted in his seat while Alex fiddled with her sleeves.

The three were clearly uncomfortable by Percy’s strange arrival. The circumstances under how he showed up were suspicious, even by demigod standards. With their luck, it was no coincidence either. 

“Have you guys noticed any bad omens happening lately?” Percy croaked weakly, everyone who already wasn’t looking at him was certainly now; maybe he actually sounded as bad as he felt.

Percy could  sleep for a million years because his body was completely drained. His blood ran akin to lead, which weighed him down like dumbbells; even his throat felt like it got licked by a cat before viciously getting scrubbed with sandpaper.

However, at least he was warm and dry.

(But also in desperate need of a wardrobe change. Polluted water and grime was so medieval peasant chic.)

It didn’t change the fact that those weird looks made his skin crawl. Fundamentally, they were judging him for being different, something Percy was very familiar with. Being a demigod meant you were always up to strange shit.

Mortals weren’t always fooled by the Mist, most of the time it was as useful as a poorly placed greenscreen. Percy felt like going up to all those gawking people. Ask them if they’ve ever seen a guy who’s gone through an electrical storm; except, he was pretty sure he couldn’t hold up his head for more than 30 seconds.

The fact is, it made Percy uncomfortably angry. 

A curly-haired man dressed in a white greasy apron carrying plates of falafel stopped at their table. Sam’s whole face lit up when she saw him, ”Well, our deliveries this morning were delayed by thunderstorms happening out west. The trucker who stopped by said the supply chain is going to be backed up pretty badly.” 

Sam grinned sweetly while she said, “It’s on the house?” 

“Bebê, it’s nice to see you,” He flashed her a brilliant smile instead, playfully avoiding the question.

The man set a plate each in front of everyone before pulling up a chair at their table. “Everyone, enjoy. Magnus is paying for your orders today.”

He had a light Arabic accent that complimented his easy charm. He was built strong like an ox who did hard labor every day, most likely acquired from years of serving many loyal customers. 

Magnus squawked in disbelief, drawing a rich chuckle from the curly-haired man, "I'm only joking."

He must be the owner, Percy realized.

“Your cooking never fails, Amir. I can’t believe you don’t have restaurants across the world!” cheered Alex. 

Amir was a handsome man, made even more by a grin spread from ear to ear.

“Percy, this is my husband.” Sam said as she patted his arm, “Amir, this is Magnus’ friend I told you about over the phone.”

Amir regarded him with a curt nod, “Nice to meet you, Percy. Please go ahead and eat.” The Sea Prince noticed a blush warm Sam’s dark caramel skin just by being around Amir. 

Alex quaintly pecked at the falafel, explaining she wasn’t very hungry.

On the other hand, Magnus had forsaken utensils and took up to demolishing his food freestyle. It resulted in him feeding the table more than himself.

Percy almost face-planted into the food because he was so hungry, but exercised some restraint by picking up a fork.

They all ate in silence, tensions slowly rose until someone asked,“You didn’t answer the question, Percy.”

Percy picked up a napkin and wiped his face, hoping it also hid a grimace. He recounted the events that led him here as briefly as he could, although he left out the part about Clymene’s gift. They didn’t need to know that. 

Afterwards, everyone held grim faces and the meal was forgotten.

You avoided being smited, narrowly. Do you know how serious this is?” Sam exclaimed, bewilderment plastered on her face. She had turned so pale that she looked sick, clearly this troubled her a lot.

Amir’s knuckles were white on his Sam’s shoulder, he looked scared too.

His wife whispered with a small laugh, “Habib abi, you’re hurting me.”

Amir flinched and released his hand. Then, he smoothed her arm apologetically. 

“I’ve almost died plenty of times. What’s one more?” Percy shot back. 

Magnus shook his head in exasperation. He spoke. Every. Single. Word. Enunciated, as if he was speaking to a child, “Dude! Zeus is like King Daddy in your world. If he wanted to strike that titan lady, Clementine, then he could’ve done so when you were gone. Instead he did it while you were still there, which only means he’s pissed at you too!” 

“That’s not her-” 

Percy caught Alex’s deadly look from the corner of his eye: That’s not the point, and you know it. 

He gulped. 

Percy ran his hands through his hair before testing his weight on his legs,

“Well, thanks for the meal. I’m feeling a lot better now—“ To his luck, they held. “—Don’t worry, I can find my way back to New York.”

Percy stretched his arms to prove his point, pain bloomed his right arm as the wounds rubbed against his tattered shirt, he prayed his face didn’t give it away. He moved stiffly like a rusty automaton. He put one foot in front of the other and nearly cried once he made it to the entrance.

Magnus, Alex, Sam, Amir and every mortal in the restaurant stared at him like he was crazy. 

What else was new? 

Percy pushed open the door and stepped into crisp Boston air. Immediately, he started shivering. Blasted barnacles! Why is it so cold here?

Still, he was too stubborn to step back inside. The demigod pushed onwards in hopes to find a cab.

Just then, a can whizzed over flying traffic and whacked Percy in the head. His reflexes decided to kick in then and caught the can before it hit the ground. 

Percy dropped to his knees and cradled his head, then let out a groan so loud that everyone else hustled to cross the sidewalk.

Most people worried about a grown man crying in the street with a head injury interrupting a stressful commute. A big gust of wind suddenly flew past, carrying the faint smell of grapes. He was already tired and stressed, he didn’t need godly pranks to mess up his day even more.

Percy glared at the sky.

Positive thoughts, like his therapist said. At least he got a free drink out of it. 

Wait, but his therapist was an empusa trying to kill him. They were a great help for his trust issues…

The can popped open with a satisfying shhh . Percy eagerly took a swig since he couldn’t ask Amir for a drink earlier, but alas, he was disappointed.

“Ew, diet coke.” The weird tangy taste did nothing for him except quench his thirst,  but he had no place to be picky so he downed it all.

The demigod wiped his tongue on the back of his hand. He read the text printed beside the label: 

“Ditch Boston.

We need to talk.” 

If Percy didn’t know which divine asshole chucked a can at his head, he did now because of the address written below: 

Westport Rivers Winery

417 Hixbridge Road

Westport , MA 02790

508-636-3423 

“Percy, wait!” He heard the bells on the door jingle as Magnus busted out of the restaurant. 

Percy got up and kept walking.

Magnus ran down the sidewalk after Percy while screaming his name.

Percy sped up and rounded the corner. Up ahead, he spotted a huddle of cabbies hollering at the passing rush. He couldn’t help but grin, finally, lady luck chose to give him a break.

Magnus stood at the end of the street hunched over his knees, feeling like death, “Hold your fucking horses, you overgrown bairn.”

Magnus wheezed and held up his arms in a prayer for patience. Then, resumed a light jog to keep up with Percy’s hobbling pace. It was a miracle how far he made it while moving slower than an old man in a buffet line. 

Percy yelled at Magnus without looking back.  “Leave me alone, I’m a big boy who can take care of himself.”

“Muspelheim must’ve frozen over if I’ve lived to see the day you lost your mind! Percy Jackson, what were you thinking?” 

Percy turned around, “It is the art of not thinking, Magnus Chase.” He muttered in a Jack Sparrow accent, wagging his finger to prove a point.

Seconds stretched by as he stared at Percy’s stupidly smug face, searching for some hint of sanity. “I can’t believe what Annabeth saw in you.” 

It would’ve hurt less if Magnus had slapped him.

He shoved the immortal son of Frey away, “What’s your deal, punk?”

Fatigue did nothing to shave off the tidal wave of anger he felt as he regarded the boy with wild eyes.  

The entire street was a ghost town, silence punctured only by for the occasional car whizzing by or sirens in the distance. The pavement emptied long ago, even for the jaded Bostonians, this was quite bizarre. 

A twinge of regret flashed across Magnus’ face so he chose his next words carefully, “Percy, you and Annabeth were literally two peas in a pod.” He began slowly. 

“It was as if every part of your personalities complimented each other. After I was able to get back in touch with Annabeth and her dad, you—besides architecture —was the only damn thing she talked about.”

Magnus grew exasperated, “Odin’s eye, you’ve gone on quests together since you two met, but how did she become a great architect and you ended up… like this?” 

Percy’s shoulders shook with rage. Tears flowed freely as he swiped them away with a viciousness that left his face raw, “Mind your fucking business, kid. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I’m not some deadbeat or hazbin, like you think I am. I’ve trained a lot of good demigods at Camp; I make sure no child goes out on a quest unprepared!” 

Magnus threw his hands up, “You cut everyone off, Percy! Annabeth told me, whenever she volunteers to help with training, you’d turn her down. Whenever any of your friends visit, you just ignore them. You’re always too busy to do anything.” 

 “Christ’s sake, Annabeth hasn’t heard from you in years! FRIENDS ARE FAMILY IN OUR LIVES, SOME OF US HAVE NO ONE ELSE.”

Magnus was shouting now, emotion raw in his voice, “Only the lucky ones live, Percy. You’re family, man… Don’t just keep pushing us away. We care about you. Annabeth still cares about you, too.” 

Something broke in him. Percy felt hollow and scathed. 

He didn’t distance himself that much? 

Yeah, he ignored some Iris messages after Annabeth and him broke up. It did seem suspicious that Iris just showed up one day at his door to ask if he no longer wanted to receive calls. Did he really let it go to magical voicemail THAT many times? 

How many of those calls were from Annabeth? From Nico? From Grover or his other friends? 

Percy would sometimes hole himself up in the Poseidon cabin while trying to decipher the next prophecy. They sometimes didn’t meet up because his friends were always in town during an inconvenient time… He only missed them once or twice. 

“I just need to focus.” That’s what Percy told them when he turned them away; even when his friends showed up at his door to surprise him on his birthday with his favorite blue raspberry cake. 

Annabeth, Nico and Will were devastated, but he couldn't see the sadness in their eyes. He was too busy.

After that, they gave Percy the space he wanted. Did they think he hated them? 

He just got so busy managing Camp that they fell out of touch, I mean, what’s missing a few  birthdays, weddings, baby showers…? 

Right? 

Percy wanted to get mad and scream like Magnus; he wanted to tell the other demigod that it wasn’t true but stopped.

He knew he’d be lying.

Magnus looked everywhere, except at the man in front of him, the whole ordeal was making him very tired. 

Alex approached the pair, her eyes flickering between them worriedly, Sam was right on her trail. The two came up behind Magnus and Alex pulled him into a hug. Percy watched helplessly as the boy sobbed into her pink shirt. Sam pointedly avoided Percy’s gaze, however, she said, “You’re an adult, Percy. ” 

Afterwards, she added, “ It's time you start living for yourself. Sentient beings who don’t care about you cannot be your whole world. Plus, those kids at camp will be fine without you.” 

“DON’T say that. Even if you aren’t from my world, you know better than anyone how hard it is without a mentor.” Percy spat weakly. All his rage was gone, drained out of him like a receding wave; all that it left was bitterness. Sam's expression softened with sympathy. He didn’t realize Riptide was still in his hand until his own bruising force snapped his thumb.

Percy let out a small whimper, he quickly covered it up by capping the sword-pen and concealed his thumb in a fist. 

“You need to learn that you can’t save everyone.” Sam said with sorrowful eyes. 

She came up to Percy and offered him a green plastic bag. “Valhalla isn’t safe for you tonight due to some internal… wolf problems. There should be enough money for you to spend the night at a good hotel. Also, take advantage of the change of clothes.” 

Percy’s only response was a simple smile as he thanked her with a nod. Sam placed her hand over her heart, in a gesture of respect and love. “I would like to hug you, but it would be against my faith.” 

Magnus sniffed from his place in Alex’s arms and waved him goodbye. 

“Take care of yourself, ya bastard.” Alex called to him. “Stay in touch! For his sake.” 

There was a slap, then laughter followed. 

The sun was sinking on the horizon by the time Percy found a hotel. He didn’t want to take a taxi so he spent the afternoon roaming Beacon Hill, a neighborhood located on the west riverfront of the Charles River. The walks were certainly long because the area was built on a hill. There were incredibly rustic brick row houses and antique lanterns that gave the place a charming feel. Percy wanted to see everything; from artisan shops to grocery stores. At one point, he’d gone into a gas station to change just so he could go inside shops. 

The argument earlier left him weirdly buzzing with energy. There was suddenly a wanderlust craving to be satisfied.

Annabeth had taken him to Boston a few times early on in their relationship- plus, there was Alex and Magnus’ wedding, although it was more like a promise ceremony since they couldn’t legally get married. Even after traveling the world, as he looked around Beacon Hill; he realized there was so much he hadn’t seen yet. 

Percy asked the front desk for a single bed with a nice view. He paid in cash and kindly took the room key. There was a little less than one hundred dollars left over. 

As soon as he made it into the room, he hit the showers. The water rejuvenated him wonderfully, lukewarm droplets cleared away dirty grime and pollution that collected in his joints and hair. He popped open the bottle of soap Sam gave him, scrubbing religiously at his taunt muscle. Many years training, going on quests and lifting unconscious kids from the sparring arena sculpted his body into a healthy build.

(Ha! He’s buff.)

Percy felt his thumb pop back into place, it healed completely, only leaving a faint soreness. The scorch marks on his right arm faded into a red patch, but the lightning figures were still stark on his tanned skin.

When the water finally ran cold, he slipped out and patted dry with a flurry white towel and checked his face in front of the wide counter mirror. His stubble was growing out but he didn’t have a razor. The raggedness took nothing away from his handsome appearance: bright green eyes that appeared polarizing against his wild curly raven locks and a deep tan that gave his iconic celestial bronze complexion, plus he had a nice smile accompanied by a killer jawline. 

Once puberty was through with him, Percy was a total heartthrob. Like, mortals-stopped-to-stare handsome. However, he was either at Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter, so most of the people that were into him were way too young.  

Also, none of them lived up to Annabeth.  

Snap out of it! He thought. 

He exited the bathroom and plopped onto the bed. A pamphlet placed on the nightstand caught his attention so he began flipping through it. No smoking, Cable was free, specific channels had to be requested, such as: The… 

You know which ones. 

A picture of mashed potatoes and gravy made Percy’s stomach growl. There was a bar/restaurant in the lobby called “Bjorn To Be Wilde. Restaurant & Pub.” He had to laugh because the name sounded cliche. 

All and all, who could complain at the promise of food.

Chapter Text

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, Percy set off the next day riding a Greyhound towards the destination, from the station he took a taxi and rode forty minutes out of town.

Once he got out of the cab, the demigod found himself standing in front of a wide vineyard, broken by a beaten path that led to a quaint log cabin. Soon afterwards, he paid the cabbie and made his way.

Percy was greeted by hundreds of bottles stacked to the ceiling in honeycomb shelves. He was impressed to see so much fit inside, the exterior was deceptively small. A stout man wearing a loud patterned shirt was sitting in a lounge chair, glaring straight in his direction.

Percy went up to him and offered a curt nod: “Mr. D.”

The god snorted and acknowledged him with a raise of his drink, “Perry Johnson, you made it.” A half-smirk graced his pudgy features, but there was an anxious look in his eye. His foot bounced nervously on the wooden floor as the air hummed strangely. It was then Percy knew they were being watched. Mr. D shouldn’t have come so close to the domain of other gods.

“I didn’t think you’d find your way here.” He muttered.

Percy waved the can of signature diet Coke, “I keep my trash until I find recycling.” He stuffed it back into Sam’s green plastic bag, where he felt a little box brush against his hand then quietly let out a sigh of relief.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid?” Mr. D asked, he pressed his head into the back of his hands, years seemed to pass over his face in seconds. “Out of all the demigods I’ve met, you’ve got some of the worst luck.”

Percy hummed in agreement, though right now, he didn’t know what the god was referring to.

“My father is mad at you, he found you with that wench and wants to know what she told you.”

The demigod pursed his lips, “Nothing really, but she gave me an ability. I can teleport to any body of water I choose.” He fished out the box and held it in his palm, “She also gave me this.”

Mr. D plucked it from his hand and opened it. As soon as he did, a frightened look passed over his face. He was already on edge but this sent him hunching in the seat. “This is magic older than me, I can’t believe there is any left.” The box seemed to burn in his palm, because it was shoved back to Percy.

The god stood up and motioned Percy to follow him, “We can’t stay any longer or I risk angering the gods here. My presence has alerted them.” A crow cawed to confirm his deduction; their beady eyes followed the two as they found a secluded area outside, where Mr. D summoned his staff: a long wooden shaft wrapped elegantly in vines, topped with a pinecone. “I’m taking you back to New York.”

Percy had seen it coming earlier. If the Norse gods were getting riled up at Mr. D, they probably didn’t like him sticking around this long. “So you just gonna-”

“Yup.” The god gave him no chance to reply; a simple swish of his staff and they were gone.

Olympus is a lot blander than a lot of people think.

The galactic ceiling added a beautiful outdoorsy feel but the grandiose-ness of everything got old fast. It just meant it took Percy forever to get from the entrance to the throne room.

Tall embellished Greek columns replaced walls in framing the ballroom-sized hall. They rose into the impossibly endless depths above then became engulfed into darkness. Acres of fields surrounding the great hall were lusciously green, if Percy had to guess, that's probably where half of New York City's water supply went. The floors were a respectable marble with not a single speck of dust to be found, and  the same material was used to sculpt the glory and achievements of the Olympians’ in huge spectacular statues. The figures were twisted in elaborate poses, masculine gods resembled tough bodybuilders from the 1950's or something you'd find in a queer sailor magazine. The only difference being that they were all dressed in flowing chitons and laurel wreaths, however to him, it made it all the more fruitier. Apollo was memorialized lounging beside a lake, wearing a garment short in all the right places.  The other statues were rather unremarkable. The thrones; which were arranged in a semicircle, were all the way at the end of a plush red carpet.

So basically it was the Pantheon in Athens but like, ten times larger.

The red carpet beneath made no sound as they walked, leaving the room silent save a buzzing of energy. Either Zeus was trying to intimidate them or simply being in Olympus had that effect on gods.

The King sat on his throne glowering down at Percy in his ten foot tall form. If he didn’t know any better, Zeus was trying to incinerate him with his eyes, “Why do you always end up a thorn in my side?”

"No, hi? How are you? How's you day?"

The god snorted, "Niceties are only for gods I have to pretend to like." 

A voice spoke out of the shadows, “Don't tease my brother too much, Perseus. He'll get cranky.”

Mr. D’s eyes darted to the God of the Underworld; none of them even heard him come in. The god of madness chose that moment to cough. When everyone looked at him, unimpressed, he scrambled to take his place on the throne marked Dionysus.

It was a beauty alright. Made from a sheen mahogany teak tree that somehow grew into a chair; grape vines artifully tangled themselves in intricate swirling designs and small pollinated flowers looped in a crown-halo above the throne. The god even conjured a Diet Coke and placed it into the cup holder (HOW COOL IS THAT!).

Each throne was designed to reflect the duties of the gods, whoever created such magnificent furniture took their time to showcase uniqueness for each individual, the craftsmanship alone was truly intended for gods.

Hades came up beside the demigod. With a start, Percy realized he was twice his height. The god wore a black satin shirt that had faces of the dead swirling in it like clouds, he paired it with matte black dress pants and wavy raven hair; Percy thought he looked like a fancy chaffer. Zeus pointed at a folding chair near one end of the crown of thrones. “Take a seat, brother.”

The craftsmanship alone was intended for gods Olympians.

The smugness almost suffocated Percy; Hades bared his teeth, “You love to humiliate me, brother. Back in Greece, it was that stupid stool with a loose leg: now, it’s this office boardroom piece that belongs in a cesspool of broken dreams.”

Zeus’ smirk broke into a grin, “Dear brother, the Styx is no place to store your things.” His voice carried like steel but venom laced his words.

Percy remembered flashes of the oily black river, filled with trophies, diplomas and divorces and it sent a shiver down his spine. Dionysus laughed, only to cover it with a coughing fit.

Hades’ shoulders rose and fell but his face remained completely still. Deep frowns were etched into the souls swimming in his clothes. Through gritted teeth, the god spoke, “Kindly, I’d prefer to stand.”

Percy didn’t like that. The god was seething so much he could practically feel Hades sapping the life out of him.

“Your job is done so make yourself scarce, Dionysus. This discussion doesn’t require you.” Zeus waved his hand to shoo him away. Dionysus was disappointed but he was quick to hide it in a grimace. The god slid his drink out of its holder and disappeared with a pop.

“So tell me, demigod,” Zeus spoke, now casually lounging on his marble throne. “Are you plotting to overthrow the gods like Hermes’ boy?”

“No.” Percy rushed, “I was going for a swim and she just came up to me.”

Hades chuckled, a sound Percy did not expect to hear in his lifetime. “A titan just swam up to you? You must’ve summoned her.”

“I didn’t.” The demigod, again flustered from the sudden proposal of anarchy, replied hastily. He took the box out of his pocket to show it to them. “She gave me this.”

The gods were all but frozen at the sight. “It can’t be…” Zeus trailed.

“That is ancient powerful magic.” Hades bristled and leaned away, “Is that why you called me here, without a council?”

Zeus nodded grimly, “You’re the expert and I don’t want others learning of this. Once they find out, all hell would break loose.” The god sat up in his chair and his stormy eyes grew cool. “How did Clymene tell you to use the Clay of Prometheus?”

“She told me to take the clay, wrap it in an important possession of a soul and bury it for two days.” The ease of it all seemed to unsettle the gods; Percy was prompted to continue: “There are some limitations, however. The soul cannot have already passed into the underworld and they will not be revived the age they died, rather the age they will be currently.”

Hades’ frown was replaced by an arrogant pout, “Please, most souls are already in the underworld. The ones still on the surface are bound here by powerful old magic, which means they’ve been around for a millennia! That hunk of dirt is practically useless.” The god puffed his chest while Percy had to stifle an eyeroll.

“There’s someone I have in mind.” Zeus said slowly, stroking his salt and pepper beard. Percy had noticed his distant gaze during Hades’ soliloquy; his face was set in a pout like he was in careful thought. “I am quite certain one of my sons is still trapped in the Labyrinth. His soul is bound to something, yes?”

The arrogance seemed to slip away from the God of the Underworld, a hint of sorrow ghosted over him, “The roman? Ah, I forgot about him.” A wistful expression took over and Hades spoke softly, “His soul bound to a sword when he died, Thanatos could do nothing for the boy so he hid his weapon inside the Labyrinth, where it is guarded by the maze itself.”

“And that is where you will go, hero,” Zeus opened his hand like he was holding an imaginary cup and the Lightning Bolt appeared in his hand. In a blink of an eye, his pinstriped suit transformed into a billowing Greek chiton and his gray hair began floating off his shoulders. “Bring me Jason Grace and I will consider your act of treason forgiven. You may say you have no cohorts with our enemies but your word cannot be easily trusted; after all, you have been accused of wronging me before.”

Percy stood there, gobsmacked, disbelief comically apparent by his hanging jaw. The hamster wheel slowly turned in his head as he tried to register the information. A million colorful phases came to mind, but the demigod wisely chose to say nothing. He stiffly took a bow and when he rose, he kept his shoulders squared in hopes to keep them from shaking.

Treason? I didn’t do anything! I was twelve!

Hades also had changed, now dressed in a black chiton adorned with gold ring hoops at the waist; his wavy dark hair now ran past his shoulders and an ivory circlet created a white halo at his temple.Gothic Jesus thus spoke, “It’s suspicious you ended up in Aesir territory. Do you think that is also coincidence?”

Percy shook his head, “M'lord, only the Fates can tell you.”

The god of the dead made a sound of disapproval, but nevertheless seemed to believe Percy, “I must be off, brother. Lest I am to let hell break loose.”

Hades bowed curtly to Zeus and passed Percy a nod of courtesy. “He made his way towards the elevators at the end of the hall, which led to the Empire State Building and New York City below.

The energy in the room thrummed less against his racing heartbeat. Percy turned to Zeus, his breath rose and left his chest unevenly. “After this quest, M'lord,” he swallowed before he spoke again, “Will I be done?”

Zeus regarded him with an unreadable gaze, “Depends if the Fates are done with you, demigod.” The god of thunder fiddled with the helm of his chiton. Percy didn't understand why they had to do a wardrobe change before initiating a quest, perhaps it was due to the gravity of the situation. He suspected it was just for dramatic flare.

“If it’s any consolation, even gods to adhere to them too.”

Percy wanted to say it was different for him. He wanted to tell Zeus about so much lost time spent worrying, fighting and slaying monsters that’s plagued his life up until this point. The centre of his world is being the perfect troop, training other perfect soldiers to take up the blade once he’s gone. Magnus pointed it out but it’s been so obvious all along, and he was tired of it.

“You’ve had demigods doing your bidding since the dawn of time, I’m sure there’s more bastards that can clean your dirty laundry. I’m gonna save Jason, after that? I’m out for good.”

Zeus clenched his jaw, clearly stung by those words. He seemed to be wrestling with rage underneath his calm facade, he was showing restraint unprecedented even to his own godly children. The singe in the air Percy felt before had returned, “Very well. You are lucky that my brother is your sire, Perseus, but mark my words; this is as far as my generosity extends, cross me again and I will make sure you eat voltage forever.”

The Sea Prince bowed once again, tasting metal in his mouth. He excused himself from Zeus' audience. His rage and anxiousness melted away once he was in the elevator. He had to stop himself from jumping up and down in excitement. The man nearly sobbed as joy swelled in his chest like a sea sponge about to explode. He couldn't believe any of it. With his luck, it sounds too good to be true but the prospect of retirement was so sweet he let hope win. No more stupid quests, no more prophecies and no more annoying kids.

Just as soon as Percy saves Jason Grace.

Chapter Text

It’s crazy how so much can happen in one day but so is the life of a demigod. Percy rapped at the apartment door. The flights of stairs it took to get to his mother’s place did not help the fatigue which ate at every joint like a ligament-locking disease. He was sore all over while feeling incredibly impatient and tired. 

The porch light switched on and flooded the dank hallway with yellow fluorescent glow. Small boxy windows equipped with burglar bars faced east, whereas the doors to the apartments laid west.

Years of cigarette smoke and ash made a fair sum of this place look dilapidated. The walls were a hue of sickly green pasted with grime. The floors were carpeted with a dark green rug worn by age that carried the smell of moldy dew mixed with pizza. 

Percy saw something scurry away in his peripheral vision and pointedly decided to ignore it, lest he was to have a meltdown then and there. 

All of that washed away when the door creaked open to reveal Sally Jackson.

Her misty blue eyes widened, “Percy, my dear. It’s been so long,” Sleepiness that had hung over her shoulders vanished as soon as she saw her son.

Sally grappled him into a hug. “My baby boy…” She whispered into the crook of his neck and held on for dear life. Her hands trembled because she was afraid he would disappear again. 

“Mom, it’s great to see you too.” Percy said quietly. He only realized how deeply he had missed his mother once he was back in her arms. 

Sally felt Percy shaking and pulled away just enough to see his face,” I’m not going anywhere,” Percy laughed quietly. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Blue. Now come inside.” Sally pinched her son’s face to prove a point.

Percy just grinned wider and picked her up in a swirl. Giggles bubbled out of her like a spring fountain. Oh, how he missed her laugh so much. 

“What’s with all this ruckus?” Estelle leaned against the door with a little sleepy hand rubbing away at eye goop.

She yawned wide as a cat and tears pooled at the corners of her eyes where her halo of brown locks stuck to hear face. Estelle’s meek body was engulfed by unicorn pajamas that were so big on her they gathered at the bottom of her feet. 

Percy let out a cheer wild like a party centaur once he saw his baby sister. Neighbors and noise complaints, be damned.

He swooped down and took her up in one arm whilst the other held onto his mother. Sally let out a cry of surprise as her hands flew up to cling onto his neck. “Jesus, Percy! When did you get so strong?” 

The muscle mass must’ve been truly impressive for a mortal. Luckily for him, he was only half on one side.

Percy peppered his sister's face in butterfly kisses. Estelle backhanded the side of his head, “Serves you right, Blue! Don’t do it again. You are obscenely oafish to disappear for so long.” 

Sally gently laughed it off and so did Percy. Little Estelle sounded so cross and bossy in a way only a ten year-old girl could pull off.

Percy could never take her insults seriously, especially because they were so wordy. 

“Come now, children.” Sally slipped out of his arm then beckoned her daughter to do the same. 

“Onward steed!” Estelle cried before hoisting up an imaginary sword, she giggled with devilious rigor as she clicked her heels on Percy’s waist, “This horsie needs a bath, mama.” 

“That, he does,” Percy made a show of sniffing his armpits. 

Estelle scrunched her nose and turned her face away, but not before bursting into harder fit of giggles. 

Chapter Text

Paul stood at the end of the hall, half leaned on the doorway and half trying to cower back into the bedroom. The deep bags under his eyes were accentuated by the turmeric lighting cascaded from the hallway as it cast murky shadows into the apartment. Clothes, toys and paper were strewn about in a way that resembled a retail store in the calamity of a violent and treacherous windstorm. The scant counter space was dangerously threatened by thick manuscripts stacked high towards the cupboards. Slippers and art supplies cluttered the floors, especially in the living room where dinner plates were piled on the coffee table and the TV hummed with indistinct chatter.

A laptop was open on the dining room table surrounded by heaps of unopened letters and sticky notes. It was laid next to a colorful coarse drawing of what seemed to be a black horse skipping over rainbows; which compared to the nonsensical abstract marker scribbles Estelle used to make, it was an artwork pursuing the correct step in a new creative direction.

Paul’s ruffled brown hair fell over his askew glasses in tendrils. He wore deep creases on his forehead and a heavy frown. 911 was dialed on the keypad and Percy watched as his finger hovered over the call button. “I heard screaming. Is everything okay?”

Sally’s smile was wide and bright like the sun itself had risen in the room. She drew Paul into a warm embrace and planted a meager peck on his cheek, the confusion on his face melted and his bleary eyes gave away to a wide blank stare. The raven headed man stood awkwardly at the door like a vampire waiting to be invited in, his eyes lit up and twinkled when he saw Paul.

“Yes, we’re okay, Paul. Don't worry your pretty little head,” Percy laughed sheepishly and put Estelle on the floor. She whined and playfully backhanded the crook of his back, luckily the hit was softened by sculpted fleshy muscles. Percy found it incredibly concerning that the little girl hit people whenever she didn’t get her way.

Paul let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around Sally to return the hug, “My dear, I thought you were getting kidnapped.”

He beckoned Percy excitedly into the apartment as he met him with a warm, fatherly smile. The dark seas of his coffee eyes held bounds of endless affection for Percy. The raven headed man still remained a comfortable distance, admiring his mother basking in a glory of happiness. Sally’s eyes were misty as she held out a hand, calling him to be with his family as her eyes still lingered on her son, like she still didn’t quite believe he was standing next to her, “It’s been too long, Blue.”

That nickname from his childhood brought flutters to his chest. He began to recall memories of sunny Sunday picnics; days where his mother and him sat on a checkered blanket. Drinking the glow of rare golden rays during a time when mundane experiences felt like anything if not an exception. His mother often got sample candy bags from Sweet on America, which she filled with blue treats: macaroons, live wire, taffy and Jolly Ranchers. He’d be delighted as a child, not only because he could spend time with his mom but also learn about her past. Even now, the fondest memories of his childhood always included the brilliance of her loving grin; the times her beautiful crescent beamed when he fell down to encourage him to get back up, or when she’d fall into stitches as Percy told her corny renditions of his adventures.

All those warm feelings flooded over him as he held Paul, Sally and Estelle tenderly. He nuzzled into the crook of his mom’s neck and wrapped his arm over Paul’s shoulder with a fierce grip. A torrent of repressed yearning barraged his chest, like a whirlpool precariously tossing a seabed and he felt a sob brew inside. He refused to let the tears drop, even burying his free hand in Estelle’s hair to hide how badly his arms were shaking. Finally, as these storms of emotions washed over him, he realized how much pain and worry he had caused his mother all these years. He resented the selfishness that had possessed him to stay away from his family and it made bile rise from his stomach.

He was so scared by the idea that Magnus was right, he’d missed out on so much time that he'll never get back. As the child of prophecy, he’d carried the world on his shoulders and saved it twice; he thought if he could train demigods, make Camp Half Blood safe and keep the Romans happy that would save the world for good. Still, the more he fought, the more he realized the world of Gods and Monsters was stuck in verbatim. Deep down he knew one man alone couldn't change the laws of the universe. He grew more obsessed and the mission became a facade to mask resentment against everyone for being able to move forward. While time seemed to march on, he remained the sullen Prince of the Sea, unchanged and anchored to the notion of responsibility. It had been like he’d accepted the fate to become a god at his father’s side. Even without immortality, he’d unintentionally placed the shackles upon himself to chain his soul to the gods.

His mother silently peeled away and patted Percy on the cheek, her baby breath eyes were ringed red and drooping heavily. A kaleidoscope of thoughts reflected in them were dimmed by fatigue, yet behind them was a promise to talk later. Paul cleared his throat as he hid his face behind his sleeve, waterworks always came easy to him. A pang of envy prickled in the back of his mind as he marvelled at how uncomplicated his stepfather’s emotions were. It made him sad that men aren't taught to cry enough in this world.

“We should head to bed. You have to work early and Estelle has school in the morning,” Sally looped her arm through Paul’s and touched their foreheads together, “Percy can tuck her in tonight.”

She winked at Percy as she flashed her winning smile, then ushered Paul back to their bedroom.

“Okay, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Estelle knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow. He found himself standing there watching his sister, her breath cycled in steady rhythms. She looked so much like Paul, down to the way her toes were shaped. Hint of their mother were hidden in Estelle’s high and square cheekbones. Considering how beautiful their mother was, she’s also going to be a heart breaker one day.

Percy shut the door behind him and blindly made his way to the living room. The couch cushions greeted his sore muscles kindly as he drifted off into the realm of Morpheus.

Chapter Text

Percy found a tall slender boy leaned against the railing. His cropped blonde hair rustled in the gentle winds. He resembled a marble statue, framed silver in the moonlight but also, in the way his posture was still and guarded. The only movement he made was in his restless fingers, where he fiddled with a gold coin.

Percy came up beside him and offered a simple smile. The boy didn't notice. His eyes were stormy and lost in a sea of thought. He was probably thinking about Narcissus and Echo, who they had encountered earlier today. Those two were a Greek tragedy at it's finest. Percy yawned as his body was reminded how exhausted the day had made him. Rest was hard to come by for a demigod.

The lucky ones were off snoozing in the cabins while the others were probably twisting silly in their sleep. Demigods got prophetic dreams that showed bits of the future. They tended to be vivid, incoherent and scary- mostly comprised of incomplete moments. Percy only caught minutes of sleep though dizzying images of giant snake legged monsters killing his friends; all of which foretold terrible things were awaited for him. The worst part of those dreams was being in the dark, not knowing if any of it would come true.

Percy shook himself, it was hard to stay grounded in reality when so much of it felt insane. 

"Jason," the quiet night carried his voice louder than he’d intended. The other boy jolted like he'd been startled awake then wild blue eyes trained onto his green ones.

"Hi," a bit of worry eased from his expression, but his shoulders were squared taunt and heavy. Percy watched as Jason's eyes lingered on his before he turned away to look at the open sky before them. Wisps of clouds ran along the hull of the bronze ship before they trailed off in swirls of grey. The moon was a great round disk that teetered on the horizon. Percy thought of it as a milky island they could reach, once they sailed far enough.

It was like gazing out into an ocean of mist, dotted above with cosmic flecks that twinkled brightly in the clear sky. There was hardly a difference between the sky and sea at night. Everything blended together. The lands below were lost to darkness; with no telltale to where one began and another ended. The ship flew suspended in the air as the waters were too dangerous to traverse.

Lightly, he nudged the other boy with his shoulder, "Jason, it's my turn to take watch."

It warranted a dry chuckle from the fair-headed boy. Jason took one last glance at the gold coin in his palm before he tucked it away. He continued to stand there and knocked Percy back with his hips, "I'll stand guard with you. Just for tonight."

Percy noticed Jason stood closer now because every time the ship moved, he felt their arms brush. He hoped his wide grin was hidden in darkness. The green-haired boy gazed thoughtfully and said nothing for a long time.

Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the warmth of the memory bring a dewy feel to his heart. It felt good to finally live through a moment that was his own.

The starry canvas faded before him into unending midnight; a coolness settled in as he felt the breeze of the curtains drawn for the intermission. Sleep placed a leaden weight upon his mind, which kept it still and empty in his own Field of Asphodel.

Soon, the orchestra came to life, violins whined their first notes and the curtains gave way to the blank screen. A new film was loaded into the projector.

“Its high noon, you never sleep this late,” Icarus said, before Percy's eyes ever opened, he could feel the ecstatic radiance of the boy’s smile, “Papa! Papa!”

And so, he did, he opened his eyes and was greeted Icarus standing directly above him.

Percy saw the boy looked younger in this dream, his eyes were bigger and the elvish curve was his nose was less pronounced. His hair was longer with slight curls, it was layered neatly and trimmed short in the front and long at the back. Wavy bangs obscured the pimples swelled on his forehead; Icarus must've been twelve or thirteen years old.

His hand moved to rest in Icarus' golden mane, outside the birds sang and Eurus, the wind, played her flute of leaves. Icarus giggled softly as he shifted and wiggled the way excited little boys do.

"My boy, move so I may leave the bed," Percy's hand moved from the boy's head to his cheek to pat it lovingly. Icarus complied and stepped aside.

Percy went to the bathroom. He used a tie of thistles dipped in powder natron to brush his teeth. It tasted carbolic and sharp like baking soda. There was a small vanity mirror in front of the basin where he caught a glance of himself. Immediately, he froze in shock. It was him, the same bright green eyes and black hair, except he was older; wrinkles framed his eyes where they didn't used to. He also had a beard shot with early signs of greying. He didn't know how long he stood there until Icarus appeared at the door.

"Papa! The flock of ἀετός Διός is returning!" Percy paused for a moment, confused. A etos Dios, he thought, Did he mean golden eagles? Eagle of Zeus? He had a hard time figuring out what the boy was talking about. However, like before, the information was planted into his mind. It was early May, the start of the migration season when the birds were set to return. The mansion was in located in the Rethymno region of Crete, which saw native species such as the golden eagle return during the summer months.

Icarus rolled his eyes because of the blank look Percy must've been giving him, "You'll miss it, come now," The boy took him in hand. He tugged the Sea Prince towards the grand arch window seated in the middle of the living room. Percy hadn't noticed it during the thunderstorm but there were slender decorative bars bolted onto the windowsills. His heart sank for Daedalus, truly seeing them now made this place feel like a prison. 

There were whistling noises in the distance, random in tonal diction but melodic, it was different from anything Percy had ever heard before, "Here they come."

Something zipped past the window, great wings of gold, brown and white carried the large bird with the durance speed of Philippides. It continued to climb altitude until it spread its wings well above the tallest tree on the island, where it cruised high in the cerulean skies. It encircled the mansion then disappeared from view.

Percy watched a dozen more flew by, catching up to the first eagle. Their powerful wings sounded like a strong cacophony of heartbeats. Feathers clung short at the arm of the bird and grew in length as the wing branched away from the body. Their wings curved into a loose arch as the eagles pushed air down to go higher. Suddenly, an eagle twisted swiftly to avoid a boulder; its wing tucked as the tail shot to the side. He was amazed to see such a motion performed with expert fluidity, it was like watching a master of dance. He noticed it was the tails that gave them air control; helping the bird twist, turn, brake and fly upward. The wings were the propeller while the tail was the steering. The sleek and cylindrical build of a bird aided flight because it's weight was balanced, but centred in it's belly. An idea began to whir behind his careful gaze. 

As the last bird flew past the window, a single feather fell out of the sky. Percy quickly reached out through the bars and caught it. He held the way to freedom in his hand.

Both of them gawked at the plume, albeit most likely for different reasons. Icarus reached for it, but Percy snatched it away, "Careful, my boy. This is how we escape!"

There was a flicker, quicker than a blink of an eye. Percy wouldn't have caught it unless he was directly looking at Icarus. The boy too must've felt it because his face changed, he began to look at Percy with simmering sadness. It was like he already knew how the myth played out. Daedalus would build two pairs of wings and fly to safety, while his son was doomed to plummet to his death. His arrogance would bring him too close to the sun, the wax binding his wings will melt and thus bring his demise.

He turned to walk away, but not before Percy caught him whisper under his breath, "Why does he looks different?"  Percy wasn't supposed to hear it but he asked the boy what he meant anyway; it made Icarus jump.

"Nothing," he shook his head, "You just look like somebody I used to know," 

Percy snorted, "You do too."

Icarus turned to Percy then, fear and disbelief swimming in his wide blue eyes. The silence stretched and grew, until he finally said, "Percy..."

His ears perked up at his name. Slowly, his eyes fell on the scar on the boy's lip.

"Hi, Jason."  

Chapter Text

Hello dear reader, 

A little while back, I took Fly with Me and edited it to… hopefully(?) make the story flow better. And in the new and retitled version, the Matrimony of Sky and Sea, I’ve added a new chapter. If you’re still liking the story, head on over and check it out. TMOSS can be found in the same series as this work. 

Happy reading, 

Dorkwing