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Chapter Text

"Wrath. Sing, O goddess, of the wrath of Peleus's son Achilles, murderous, doomed, who cost the Achaeans countless lives, hurling down to the house of Hades so many sturdy souls."
Line one, The Iliad

I feel weightless. Like I'm floating through a sea of peaceful black nothingness. I do not think I will fall, but I might drift away forever. I feel a tug at my gut, not unlike when I use my powers, but like someone else is activating them.
I don't have time to panic as I'm jerked forward and gasp as I look around a strange forest scene and try to get my bearings.

A woman calls out in ancient Greek to someone in the forest. I don't hear what she says at first, but she looks around frantically,
"Nemesis! Nemesis, come out!"

The woman runs through me in a panic, her pale pink chiton and golden jewelry swinging with her movements. If it were me, I don't think I would call out to Nemesis of all goddesses, but the random dream lady can do what she likes.

"Peace, Leda." Nemesis comes out of the woods, just as terrifying as the last time I saw her. Her black fiery wings spread as she stepped into the light, holding a small bundle in her arms, "I have not gone back on my word."

I watch as the woman, Leda's face, loses all tension as she spots the goddess. Coming forward, holding out her arms, "Please give me my daughter. I am anxious to have her."

Nemesis chuckles and readjusts the bundle. I move closer and see that it is, in fact, a baby. She opens her startling dark blue, almost purple eyes. I smile at her, and she squeals in delight. It's almost like she can see me.

"Now, now, Leda. As much as she is yours, she will always be mine. Ask me her name." Nemesis grins, mischief floating in her gaze.

Leda seems nervous, her hands flexing, her golden rings and bracelets catching in the afternoon sun. She licks her lips, "What is her name?"

Nemesis smiles; it's cruel. The smile of a god with an extended, painful plan. A domino about to be knocked over. It makes my hackles rise, and I wish I were not just a spectator in this.

"Her name is Helen."

Leda nods and takes the baby, and I move closer to look at Helen. I try to figure out why she would be so important when she reaches out to me like she wants me to hold her. Nemesis notices and swipes at me. Only my battle sense and reflexes allow me to jump out of the way. Whether invisible or not, Nemesis could land a hit on me.

"What was that?" Leda asks anxiously, looking around, Helen clutched to her chest.

Nemesis narrows her eyes, her pupils going to slits, reminding me of a big cat as she crouches, wings puffing out in aggression, reminding me a bit of the sphinx I saw in the labyrinth. If she had a tail, I can guarantee it would flick in agitation.

"I can sense someone is here. Go. I will find them and ensure they will not interfere." Nemesis looks right at me as she says this, and I desperately wish I had Riptide at my side instead of a plain black tee and some Finding Nemo pj pants.

Leda nods and runs away with the baby. Nemesis launches herself at me as soon as Leda is out of sight. A sharp tug at my gut, as if I was making a hurricane, makes me grunt. Before she reaches me, the scene changes, and I take in air as the world settles again.

This time in the halls of a large palace overlooking the sea.

"Gods…this can't be good," I murmur to myself after all…dreams of this detail are never good, especially for me. Mom's not going to be happy if I get kidnapped again.

The hall is filled with men. Pinces, I realize just as quickly, and a very tired king at the head of the table. Luckily, I ended up on the dialysis with the king, so I didn't have to fight through the sea of dudes to get to him. Two women sit by the king's side. One of them is the woman from before, Leda, though a little older, it's her, and a woman to Leda's left, wearing a veil.

The king stands and addresses his guests, seeming to age ten years, as he faces the hall full of men.
"I have heard of you and understand your need for an answer, but one has not been decided today. You must return tomorrow as we deliberate over who will take my daughter, Helen's, hand in marriage."

The hall is full of groans and boos. The men have been there for a while. Leda seems uncomfortable at the display and glares at the suitors from behind her fan. The woman in the veil, who I assume is Helen, giggles at the men.

Regardless, the men file out all except for one hiding behind a pillar. He reminds me a bit of Hermes in looks, but it's so distant it would be hard to tell. The king sits down and slumps towards his wife in his seat.

"Leda, why love, what are we to do? No matter who we choose for Helen, it will surely bring war to our doorstep. There is no right answer."

"I may have a solution, King Tyndareus." The man hiding behind the pillar comes forward, kneeling before the king. Now that he's a little closer, he looks like Hermes, and I silently make sure I have a count of everything that I have on me…before realizing, one, I don't have anything on me to steal other than my clothes, and two he would never be able to steal it because I'm in a dream. Great.

Helen giggles again, and I look over to her. She waves a bit, and I rear back, looking around to see if she was waving to someone else, but she wasn't. The king and the man continue to talk about mutually assured destruction, which doesn't sound very good, but Helen makes the 'come hither motion,' and curious, I come over.

She gestures to me to sit on her throne's arm. I roll my eyes but comply, much to her amusement. I let it slide.

"I know you from somewhere," Helen whispers from behind her thin veil.

"I don't think that's possible. Believe me."
She tilts, reminding me of Nemesis, "What is your name, o invisible one?"

I dodged her question, "Do you want to get married?"

The question stops her short, and she leans into my space. I do not lean back.
"It is not a question if I want to. I am a princess. It is my duty. Besides, it is my destiny to wed. For my marriage will be legendary."

My face goes hard, and I look to the seaside through the window past the king, "Take it from me: Destiny is overrated. It usually doesn't end well."

"Perhaps you are right, but not all of us can avoid it." She sinks into her throne, sighing, "Besides, in the end, it is easier to follow the river's flow than fight against it. Not all of us can swim upstream, mysterious hero."

"Well, I-"

"Helen," The two of us turn to her father and mother's expectant gazes, "who would you choose for your husband?" Her father asks.

I can hear the smile in Helens' voice as she speaks, "Menelaus, lord father. The Spartan king represented by his brother, Agamemnon."

With her words, I yanked again by my gut to a new scene. It's dark, deep in the woods, outside of a cave. The stars shine brightly; I growl at them, annoyed at this song and dance.

"Would you quit that! Gods, surely I can wake up now!" I scream into the sky, trying to find the god or entity that keeps dragging me from place to place.

I whip around when a branch snaps.

A young man comes barreling out of the woods, nearly falling over his gangly limbs. I move out of the way as he falls over. He's crying and hugging himself. Twigs stuck in his dark, curly brown hair.

I almost wish I could comfort him. He reminds me of an unfortunate baby deer. A baby deer with shoulders as broad as half my body, but a baby deer nonetheless.

"Patroclus!" A voice calls not too far away, "Patroclus!"

Patroculous boy cringes at his name being called and cries harder, hugging himself. I'm once again overcome with the urge to comfort him…and the other voice seems to want to help, so I try something new.

I walk over to a branch and focus, pulling on it. I was surprised when I could move it. It snaps, and Patroclus goes quiet, looking around. Another man with long golden hair bursts out of the trees and stops when he sees Patroculus.
The two look at each other briefly before Patroculus makes a choked noise and looks away.

The blond man quickly rushes over and holds, shushing and rocking him. Patrcoulus sobs harder, trying and failing to shrug the other boy off.
"We'll figure this out, Patrouclous, I promise."

"How, Achilles?" Patroclus chokes out, "How can we make this better? I am not like you, and I will go and die."
"No." Achilles growls, pulling Patroclus close, "Do not speak like this. You will not die. I will not allow it."

Patroclus lets out a weak, wet laugh, "Not even you can fight death, Achilles."

"No, I will go with you. You will be my Therapon, and we'll be together even in death."

Patroclus sighs, and they continue to talk. I keep my distance, feeling increasingly like an intruder but unwilling to turn my back on Achilles. I may be invisible, but I remember his grim warning at the styx. I don't want to get knocked around more than I already have tonight.

I walk away from them and nearly battle into a familiar Centaur.
"Chiron?" I say out loud, not expecting a response.

To my surprise, he turns towards me and seems just as surprised as I am to see him. I'm struck by how young my teacher looks. I've never seen him look startled, and it reinforces the Alice in Wonderland-like experience this has all been.
He steps forward cautiously, holding his hands out.

"Hello…how did you get up here… where is your mother? Did someone send you? Your father, perhaps?"

"What? I'm not a" I look down and gasp.

Okay, this stupid dream has officially gone too far.

As I look down, my comfortable night clothes are gone, replaced by too-big armor and the ill-fitting camp shirt one of the Hermes kids gave me all those years ago. I'm shorter. An ill-balanced sword held in my hand drags the ground. Like the first time, Chiron saw me control water, that confirmed I was a big three kid. Twelve all over again.

I'm so surprised at my appearance that I don't notice when Chiron snatches me by the back of my armor and holds me to his eye like I'm some ill-behaved kitten. I struggled, but my old teacher was firm, seemingly unfazed.

"Hey! Please put me down, Chiron! This isn't funny!" I shout and eventually just let myself fall out of the breastplate, leaving the centaur with an intrigued look on his face.

"Well, you're certainly a spirited one… probably from the sea of some sort if the smell is anything to go on." He contemplates coming forward again, "Now come with me, child. You know who I am and wouldn't have been sent here if you did not need guidance."

"I'm not a child anymore, Chiron, and I certainly am not meant to stay here." My brows furrow, "Something is wrong with this dream."

"Dream?" Chiron asks brow raised, "And what makes you think this is a dream, young man?"

"Because-" I began but stopped short as footstep approached. I turn towards the noise, feeling a strong wind suddenly hit me.

Chiron makes a constipated noise, and I turn back toward him, realizing I am again at my proper height.

"Who are you? You are no god, I know." My teacher? My future teacher lets out.

I growl at the implication, "Not a god. Will never be a god."

My vision spins before he can say anymore, and I'm in a scenic meadow surrounded by gods, music, food, and excessive amounts of wine.
The beautiful scene is marred by a loud argument at one of the larger tables. I contemplate being difficult and lying down until this new memory or location is over, but my body becomes stiff, and I'm forced closer to watch.

I see some of the gods I should know, but they look like new people. Younger, or wilder, more powerful. The Olympians are on their hay day, and they're at a wedding.
While it is a happy occasion, the bride, some nymph or minor ocean goddess, is not having a good time. Heavily pregnant and shooting furious looks at all the gods in attendance, especially at her new mortal husband. Who miraculously doesn't notice.

The urge to stick my nose in other people's business flares up (It happens more than I would like to admit), and I weave through the chaos of the party to get to her. I sit down next to her, bringing the peace offering of some shellfish I found on the table as I wove through the rowdy crowd.

"Good evening, my lady," I say respectfully, offering her the plate, "Do you need a moment away from the festivities? No one would mind such a pregnant mother to take a moment."

She looks over, a cold eyebrow raised. She reminds me of the deepest, most frigid ocean depths, but to me, that is home. In some capacity, the ocean is as much my weapon as it is my cradle. At least, that's what Chiron would say from time to time.

"I don't know who you think you are, boy, but I-" She stops dead and looks closer, squinting at me. She must see something because her eyes widen before she relaxes, softening somewhat.

"Forgive me, little brother. I did not realize you were of the sea, too, at first. You are good at blending in." Her smile is sharp, her voice hollow. It does not deter the likes of me.

I grin wolfishly right back, the lessons of Lupa not going to waste, "I will take it as a compliment, my Lady…" I pause, gesturing to her to tell me her name.

Her smile becomes kinder, "Thetis. You may address me as Lady Thetis."

"Well then, Lady Thetis, may I accompany you away from, "I gesture at all the fuckery happening and at a wedding no less, "all of this."

Her eyes are cold but grateful as she holds out her hand. I take it and help her up, though she needs no help. She is much taller than I, with beautifully sewn braids and ringlets, almost making a crown of her raven hair.
I walk us towards the cliffs, towards the sea. We sit together, looking over the water. The party grows louder behind us, the mention of some apple making everyone tense. Thetis and I do not pay attention.

"How is it?" She asks suddenly, hands on her stomach.

"How is what my lady?"

"Being only half god, little brother."

I give her a trim look and sigh when I see the conviction in her eyes, "Not easy. It is hard…being a pawn but being a powerful one. You feel like a tool. It's like you're only around to serve, but the ichor in your veins burns at serving anyone other than yourself. It is exhausting and contrary…"
I think of camp, of home, "But…it is a beautiful life. We experience both immortality and mortality. We are a bridge between the mundane and the immortal. Plus, we have less rules. I think it may make some of the gods jealous." I grin at her shock, not painted on her face but subtle as sand falling back into the tide.

She nods and looks at the horizon, "I think I understand…though I don't know if I can deal with the split halves of life my son will have to go through."

"I get that too. No parent really can. Well…” I look back at the party, "Accept gods."

She nods grimly, and we sit until I feel I am leaving. I don't say anything. Just fade from existence as the scene goes black, and I am once again floating in nothingness.

A golden light starts to break out as I float in the blackness. Soon, it is almost pure light, and I shy away from the burning power inside my chest. The light follows, and I hear waves and trees rustling before I know it.
I open my eyes, the sun blinding.

"Well, what do we have here? Aren't you interesting?"

Chapter Text

I wake with a start. Sweat dripped down my body. I feel hot and cold at the same time. My hair is plastered to my face. It felt like I bathed in the Phlegethon, swallowed some, and was cooked from the inside out like some terrible reverse rotisserie chicken.

I get up and nearly fall over. I realize with a start that I'm in cabin three at camp. I scramble over to the saltwater fountain and dunk my face in. Other than being a bit saltier, my efforts yield nothing, and I sit on the ground, panting from the heat. Eventually, the feeling passes, and I feel somewhat normal. This is all…weird even for me, and I once fought a hydra in a bib. (True story)

I haul myself up and change quickly before heading over to bang on the Athena cabin door, hopefully to get some answers from Wise Girl.

I must look like I got run over by an 18-wheeler because everyone keeps stopping short and staring at me as I march to the Athena cabin. People jump out of my way as I cross the lawn between the cabins. Once I get there, I bang on the door but barely get two knocks in before Annabeth is there, looking a bit worried. If you didn't know her, you'd think she was about to kill me. One of her siblings saw me booking it towards their cabin and ran to get her.

"Alright, Seaweed Brain, what's the damage?"

"Dreams Annabeth. Vivid dreams."

Annabeth freezes right then and there before she grabs my arm and drags us to the big house. We get to the rec room in the basement, and she has me sit down in one of the foldout chairs across from her, the ping pong table in front of us, abandoned red solo cups scattered around the room from the last time the Stoll brothers threw a party in here when Chiron was away.

Honestly, it would be a funny place to be interrogated if Annabeth and I weren't so grim. We may have lost our sense of humor and intrigue about this stuff to the war after all.

"Alright, Percy spill. Everything, I don't care how small the detail is, tell me everything."

So I tell her, I tell her everything I can remember from the dreams last night. She seemed annoyed I had not been paying attention to many of the more critical details, and when I described the feeling of burning up, she went utterly still. It's strange; I never think of Annabeth as a fidgety person, but seeing her go honestly, deathly still makes me rethink that line of thought.

"We should call Rachel," Annabeth says, her steely gray eyes fixed on the table.

My lips press into a thin line; I can feel the crease in my brow deepen and a bead of sweat roll down my neck, "You think it could be another one?"

Annabeth sighed and leaned back into her chair, her silver streak of gray hair making her look older and tired. It's hard for me to look at.

"I think you're the unluckiest person I've ever met, and if anyone were going to trigger a second Trojan war…my money would be on you."

"Trogian war. Like with the horse?"

She smiles at me, her gaze lifting with a gentle chuckle. Equal parts amused and exasperated. I give her a crooked grin right back.
"Yes, Seaweed Brain, 'like with the horse.' There is a lot more to it. It was a big deal. It's the event that led to the founding of Rome. New lines were drawn, men killed, and gods humbled. It was a massive event. I cannot believe you don't know it."

I shrug, long used to this argument, "I prefer not to know most of this stuff. The more I know, the angrier I get. I think me staying somewhat ignorant is in everyone's best interest."

Annabeth doesn't have a witty retort for that one, and we sit in silence, contemplating the next steps. The decision is made for us as I hear the conch shell sounds to make everyone gather for breakfast at the dining pavilion. We get up and talk on the way.

The camp has been strange recently. The younger kids that keep pouring in, many of whom I escorted myself, look at me differently. Staring in awe before averting their eyes. Many more people ask me for advice even though I don't think I'm all that smart…Annabeth says I have a comforting way of speaking and give good advice.
The other half of the weird changes come from the gods. More and more have been popping up recently. Not always because they want something, which sends alarm bells and red flags through my brain, but to see me. It feels like they're evaluating me or something. It makes me feel like I'm missing something everyone else seems to be in on.

Annabeth has also been acting strange, stealing glances at me from the corner of her eye like I'm a puzzle she isn't sure how or if she should solve. It feels like when I first came to Camp Half-Blood, Annabeth tried to figure out if I would be the one to take her on her first quest. If I was really 'Big Three Material,' they said.

As we approach the dining pavilion, I break the silence, "What do you think the dreams are about? What does it mean I saw the gods in their older forms?"

Annabeth pauses, stops walking, and stands there for about a minute. I start to become worried, but then she turns to me, and I feel pinned in place. It's like she's giving me a prophecy rather than just an opinion.

"The older aspects of the gods are hazardous and wild. I would cautiously approach them if we ever encountered them in that state."

I swallow and nod before getting in line. Today, there's a special treat: bags of M&M's at the end for dessert. The camp store bought too many and figured it would be a good way not to waste them, give them to the campers, which is a massive W for me. I'll always eat the blue ones first.

But standing in that line, something completely unexpected happens. A child of Janus storms up to the brazer, where we burn offerings to our godly parents. He seems upset and has a fistful of blue M&M's in his hand. He throws them into the fire before he yells towards the sky, towards Olympus.

"Please accept my offering, one of the swords of loyalty, quiet wisdom, and demigods. All hail the mortal god Perseus Jackson!"

"Oh, Shit," Is all I manage to get out before all eyes turn on me.

I smell moon lace, the sweet sea air, the smell of the candy store my mom used to work in, and a million other beautiful things before my world whites out.

"Percy!" I hear Annabeth cry as I feel my eyes roll back and my body fall towards the ground. Power scorches through me, and the tugging on my gut pulls me back at my old mortal anchor point.

Gods, I hope I'm just dreaming.

"Well, what do we have here? Aren't you interesting?"

I feel like I got trampled by an angry herd of pegasi. I groan as I sit up, taking in my surroundings. I'm on some cotton candy-colored beach, which is a little jarring, with clear blue jello-like waters and a lush island behind me.

Standing above me is a beautiful woman with golden hair, clear blue eyes, and tanned skin. She's Aphrodite, and I resist the urge to growl. Great, so I'm probably not dreaming, just my luck.

"Lady Aphrodite," I grumble and get going to dust myself off.

I gasp when I see that my regular clothes were traded for a dangerously short white chiton with gold trim and some blue-dyed scarf. That wraps around my neck and shoulders. I see that, and I'm sporting saddles, which are surprisingly comfortable.
However, I don't have time to contemplate who in Hades changed me and how I ended up on some random beach before a pissed-off love goddess cuts me off. She snaps her manicured nails in my face, demanding attention.

"Excuse me, you rude thing. What makes you think you could divert your attention away from me?" She gets up in my face, angrier than I have ever seen the love goddess, "Who are you? How did you get here? Only those destined to have my interference in love may enter this island, and I have yet to meddle with you. Explain yourself."

"Hey! I don't know how I got here either, you overly perfumed peacock! I didn't show up on purpose, and I certainly don't want you, of all immortals, taking an interest in my love life!"

Her eyes turn red, Aphrodite's aura flaring. I want to facepalm; this isn't the Aphrodite I know ...this is a fickle goddess at the height of her power, and I just pissed her off. Fuck my life.

"Why you little- Ugh! May the sea drown you, and if not that, may you find a love that suffocates you!"
With that, she picks me up faster than I could react and throws me deep into the ocean.

She says something else, but I'm too busy hitting the water and panicking. The water here doesn't respond to my command, and for a second, I think I might drown.

The ocean is rough and wild and won't bend to my will. Like everything else in this place, seems to want to kill me. I force myself to be able to breathe and begin to assert my will over the water. It feels like having to ride a wild horse. I tug at the water, and my power overtakes whoever was controlling it before. I come up for air and take deep heaving breaths.

As if alive, the water holds still and comes closer, trying to comfort me. I take long, drawn-out breaths. I wouldn't say I like the feeling of drowning. I haven't felt it since…well, since Tartarus.

I shudder, and the water stills completely, letting me relax. It's weird to feel the water as a living thing.… it's never happened to me. The water under me seems to grab and drag me down just as I relax. I scream, but only air bubbles make it out.
I feel a massive hand snatch me from under the water and fight it. Using the water, my fists, my teeth, anything. I reel back when I taste ichor and salt. Abruptly, I hear the deep voice of my father.

"Enough!" He bellows the control of the water around me, leaving me immediately. I feel uncomfortable being surrounded by this ocean now. It's not a fun feeling.

My heart beats out of my chest, but I am still in my father's massive hands. His grip is firm and as suffocating as the water. His sea-green eyes seem poisonous as he looks at me, his lips in a thin line. For a second, I'm surprised as I see confusion in his gaze.

"You are not the son of a Titan."

"Huh?" Is the highly eloquent response I give.

Poseidon's brow smooths, an amused look coming to his breaded face as he looks to see his previous look of confusion mirrored back at him.

"Aren't you a curious creature? What is your name, boy, for I do not remember aiding in your creation, yet here you are."

I swallow; the look in my father's eyes is one I have never seen before, but I stare back at him regardless—Annabeth's warning playing like a broken record in my mind.

"Perseus, sir."

"Destroyer. A fitting name for one of my ichor. Who is your mother?"

I still feel my chin jut out, the need to protect my mother rearing up for some unknown reason. I feel the water around me jerk at my change in mood. I decided to play dumb.

"I don't have a mother."

I internally facepalm at the raised brow Posiden gives me. I shouldn't have played that dumb. He seems to play along with it but looks skeptical.

"Well, you are certainly not mortal. But you don't smell like a demigod either…rather contradictory, aren't you, son?"

My brow furrows at his statement, "I suppose so, sir."

"No matter," He adjusts his grip, and I feel the water be yanked out of my control again. I feel helpless.

I wouldn't say I like it.

"-Will go to my home and give you a quest. After all, it is not often something interesting that comes about. Strange times these are."

I miss most of what he says, and as we teleport to Atlantis, it starts to sink in.
I'm not in Kansas anymore.

Chapter Text

Teleporting. I will never get used to it.
The water helps wash away some nausea from the instantaneous travel, as hostile and strange as it felt. Not that Posiden noticed. His grip was too tight on me, hurting my ribs and making breathing hard.

I can't marvel at the golden city of Atlantis or the masterfully crafted palace. Posiden decides to treat me like a frog he's not supposed to have in the house and cups his hands around me, preventing me from escaping.

I sit up in his palm, trying to peek through the cracks in his fingers. I hear Poseidon's deep, rumbling chuckle vibrate though he waters around us as he closes his fingers tighter, preventing me from seeing out.

"Curious little thing, aren't you? Stay hidden for now. No need for the others to jump to conclusions-"

"To whom are you speaking, Lord Husband?" A silky, dangerous female voice rings, and I'm quickly moved behind Poseidon's back and tightly locked in his hands.

"Amphitrite, my love, I was looking for you."

"Oh, were you now?" I feel the water shift and tense as Posiedon slowly spins, keeping me firmly behind his back, "And who is it you were talking to? Certainly not your lovely wife."

I feel Poseidon stiffen and think that I am in danger. I tense, crouching in the gods' hands, ready to pounce or run. Poseidon clears his throat, and I am both confused and horrified as he brings his hands in front of him, still cupped in front of a suspicious and smite-happy ocean goddess.

"I have made a gift for you."

Something within is growling at Poseidon's words. I am not a trinket or something to be given! I am not livestock or something less than them. I am -.

"Oh…" Amphitrite's voice softens as she leans closer to Poseidon's hands, "What have you made me, husband?"

As Poseidon shifts his hands, I stand in the center of his palm, refusing to cower in front of any god. Amphitrite gasps when she sees me, and I look her in the eye. More so now than ever, I look like my father. In his younger, wilder form, we look nearly identical.

Amphitrite leans down and scrutinizes me, her strange pink eyes looking for an imperfection; I have no doubt she finds many.

"Are you sure you made him?" Amphitrite questions cocking her head to the side, causing the many brightly colored fish surrounding her to shift, the shining lights dotting her outfit causing their scales to flash, "He is much too pretty to have you be his only creator."

I blush at that while Posiden lets out a noise that I can only describe as an offended dolphin squawk. He sputters, coming up with some excuse. I save both of us from whatever terrible reason he would come up with.

“Hello, Lady Amphitrite; I am Perseus. But those who know me well call me Percy."

She turns her attention back to me with a slight grin, seemingly amused, "What an odd shorthand and naming choice; you hardly seem to be a destroyer, little one."

I look her straight in the face. The water seems to drop a few degrees, and I can see her taken aback, "You would be surprised."

I'm suddenly shrouded in darkness as Poseiden covers me with his hands. I feel the power of the water slip away once again, and I growl this time.

"Enough of that, Perseaus, no need to be rude. Behave"

I growl at that and contemplate trying to escape the gods' hands.

"I changed my mind," I hear Amphrtirte muse, "I can see he was crafted by your hand."

Sheepishness enters Poseidon's voice, and he lets out a weary chuckle, "He's a bit wild. He is untamed, but he is powerful. I believe he would bring you much glory if you would accept being his patron."

She hums, and I feel gently moved into her hands. She's much gentler than Poseidon is and looks me over. It feels like being under a microscope.
"He is lovely, Lord Husband…but I do not wish to grow too attached to a child you wish to send into battle."

"Battle? What battle?!" I demand and am promptly ignored.

Poseidon seems sad and pouts, moving me closer to his chest; Amphitrite stops him and looks down at me fondly.

"But I will bless him, and should he become a god, I will gladly take on the role of his mother."

'Yeah, right,' I snort internally, 'I'll be long gone back home with my actual mom before anything like that can happen.'

She leans down to my eye level, and I feel my body freeze, "Should you ever need a retreat, you will always land softly in my seas and may command them as if they are your own. Currens will ferry you to safety and block enemies who would wish you harm."

I feel a warm rush wash through me and cling to a strange power in the center of my gut and chest. It's like getting hit by the real-life version of a cruise brochure picture—the smell of the ocean air, coconuts, colorful fish, warm currents, and clean water.

I blink as I come out of it. The faint golden halo that tends to surround Amphitrite starts to fade around my body, and I shake it off, causing the ocean goddess to chuckle.
"Go on, my love. I can see you have a plan for your youngest child."

Amphitrite swims off, and Posiden lets out a tense breath, "Well, that went better than expected, and I did not even have to give you to her, Perseus. How fortunate."

"What war was she talking about?" I look over to him, trying to assess what I could do.

Posiden starts to swim off and lands in a study-like room, "The Trojan War. I have a lot riding on it, and you, my son, "He turns his intense gaze onto me, the pools of green more like hurricanes of madness than anything else, "You will be the one to secure my victory."

My face scrunchs up in disgust, my chest getting tight, "I don't kill humans."

"Don't worry," He assured, a sly smile on his face, "You will, and when you win, you'll bring honor to your father's name and be rewarded handsomely."

I let my mind go a million miles a minute looking for a plan…until I got it. I smiled. It was most likely more dangerous than comforting.
"Okay, I'll fight for you," Posiden lit up and started to speak before I cut him off, "BUT…in exchange, after the war, you will owe me a boon."

I grin as I see Poseidon's eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and I, for one, am very proud I remembered what the word 'boon' means.

"Very well,' Poseidon nods, "Now, let us outfit you in the proper warrior garb. I want you to be presentable when I send you to lead the men I have chosen."

Poseidon leaves me on the desk as he goes to fetch whatever he deems as the 'proper military garb,' and I'm allowed to stew in my thoughts.

The first thing that immediately jumps to mind is hunting down the fates and putting their heads on pikes for the games they seem to keep playing with my life. I dwell on it for longer than strictly necessary. The water around me swirling in my concentrated agitation. I might hold their eye hostage for all eternity, feed it to a dragon, or throw it in the ocean. Something to make them pay for the slight against me and the personal vendetta they seem to hold on to no matter how many times I say the world as we know it.

Poseidon returns with the ancient version of what I have dubbed my 'Go-bag.' Ambrosia, drachmas, spare weapons, clothing, nectar, and water.
It's bare necessities, but it's easy to carry and move with, so who am I to complain?

"This has everything you'll need for your upcoming journey," Poseidon explains, "I doubt you will need it for long as the Trogians should offer you hospitality once you reach their city."

I tilt my head at that and say nothing. I have often been described by gods and monsters alike as, and I quote, 'Very Greek.' From my understanding of the Trogian war, the Trogians didn't like the Greeks. Like…really didn't like them, so I'm not entirely sure how Poseidon expects Troy to swing its gates open for some random Greek kid armed to the teeth, but I decided to question it for the moment.

It'll probably bite me in the ass later, but I can't name any decision I've made that hasn't done the same thing.

"Now, for the clothes." He looks over my soft chiton and blue scarf that covers my neck and shoulder. The patterns on it are undeniably Greek but remind me of our shirts at Camp Half-Blood more than anything. It's a comfort.

"Here," Poseidon hands over fine armor, just my size. The quick work of the forges of the cyclopes hidden somewhere in this very castle. It's more practical than pretty, which I'm okay with, and comes with many accessories that look like they will be a pain to carry.

"Now you will look like a proper prince, but…you will need a sword," a blink later, and a sword appears in my father's hand. Riptide. I quickly grab it, feeling like I am seeing a long-lost friend. The blade glows brighter in my gasp as if happy to see me. Poseidon looks surprised.

"You know this sword?" He questions, looking intrigued.

"Yes." I gruff out defensively as he might try to take it from me, "It's my sword."

"As you say," Poseidon says with a cryptic tone. "Now dress and swim to the shoreline. The currents will pull you where you are to go when you are ready."

I nod and continue to look at Riptide, feeling the weight of my recently out-of-control powers ease as I have it in my hand.

"I will leave as soon as possible, Lord Posiden."

"I am your Lord Father, and you will address me as such." His mood swings and quick exit leave me off kilter. Conviction settles in my chest, glowing and pulsing with the new light of Riptide.

This time and place is not my home, and Poseidon, at least in his current state, is not my father.

I will have to get home by any means necessary.

I dress quickly and leave; the current does tug me along with little effort, shooting me off in different directions so fast it feels like an underwater rollercoaster. The trip is short, and I'm happy as I break the surface. The water dries off me immediately, and the sun gives me special attention. Warming me through almost instantly, and I sigh at the pleasant sensation.

I mutter under my breath, "Thank you, Apollo." It's barely loud enough for my ears to pick up, but I hope he hears it.

It's been stressful. Homesickness and uncertainty grip my heart, and I feel my throat bob. I have a plan. It's more of a wishlist, but I've succeeded with less.

1.) Find Troy

2.) Win the War

3.) Use the Boon Poseidon Promised to get home

4.) Possibly Hunt the Fates for Sport. (If I have time.)

I never said it was a good list. With that thought in mind, I head up to the beach to try and figure out how to win this long-ass war so I can go home and eat pizza rolls in the comfort of the modern age.

I sigh as I walk on, rolling my shoulders back. I never asked to be a half-blood.

Chapter Text

'Troy isn't so bad when you're a god,' Apollo thought and hummed wistfully as he lounged in a large open towner.
Let gentle rays filter through the thin curtains and cool the room with a gentle breeze. It was peaceful for Apollo to allow some of his more prominent being to relax in the human shell he created. At the very least, he got to observe the look of reverence, fear, and lust on the mortals who ventured into his vicinity.
Besides, this was the only form his dreams would come to him in.

Typically, gods do not dream. It's a primarily human phenomenon and is often how higher beings interact with them without killing them. Apollo, though, is an exception. Sometimes, very rarely, he will get prophecy through impressions in his dreams. They're more complex than human dreams of prophecy, and Apollo cannot be in any other form to get even a glimpse behind the eternal curtain.

As annoying and strange as it seemed to himself, though, Apollo's dreams had recently been something to look forward to.

Even with all the war, interesting humans running around, and family drama, Apollo found himself in the tower of Troy, dozing as if he were Hypnos. But the dreams were much more alluring than wakefulness.

At first, he had thought Aphrodite was messing with him, trying to get Apollo to bend to her will…but soon realized it was something new.

A boy, or well, a man. A beautiful warrior that reminded Apollo of many of his lovers before.

Power rolled off him in intoxicating waves, clean raven waves of short cut hair, in the Spartan style, taunted him. They bounced and bobbed with the prince-like man's movements on a blurry battlefield. Only rarely does Apollo catch any glimpse of his face, Usually just a feeling, a smile if he's lucky—the echo of a war cry, the smell of Moon Lace, and something sweet lingering behind. A short Chition and leather war pteruge flashed thighs on one auspicious occasion, and Apollo had never felt more like his father's son at that moment.

But constantly, that man is tearing off his golden strings of Fate that wind around and bind his wrists. There are so many that they look more like thick golden ropes of chains. Like a puppet breaking from his stings, he is like Achilles, willing to defy Fate, but for what, Apollo cannot be sure.

Apollo could feel the obsession taking hold for this mysterious Fate Definer grow with every passing glance he could take of him. Privately and embarrassingly, Apollo had even named and gifted an epithet to the man in his dreams.

Phobos Acacius

Maybe a bit presumptuous on his part, giving one of his favored epithets to a man he had yet to meet, but Apollo was sure Acacius would be worth it.

Apollo would sometimes catch himself scanning wherever his rays of light fell upon the land to try and spot where this powerful man could have hidden himself. After a few months of nothing and the visions only getting more vivid and frequent, Apollo became suspicious that Acacius was intentionally hiding himself. Perhaps, if they are fated to be together as Apollo thought (more like hoped), he was intentionally hiding out of spite.

Of course, he would never do it to hurt Apollo; it was simply in his nature to struggle against anything trying to restrain him, Fate, obviously included.

Apollo's lazy dozing and musings are interrupted by the overwhelming smell of roses and a pissed-off love goddess barrelling into his room. She spews curses, and Apollo suspects there will be many a broken relationship in his city of Troy to this day. Aphrodite flares angry and red as she paces in human form in Apollos' hideaway.

"I take it your trip to Elafonisi did not go as planned?" Apollo drawls lazily; eyes still lined as the images of Acacius still playing behind his eyes. Remembering his new loves, his way with a sword, and his crooked, mischievous grin.

Aphrodite storms over to him and yanks the sheets he was lying on out from under him, forcing the body he's in out of bed and onto the floor.

"Hey," He snarls, eyes glowing gold as he gets up, teeth bared, his canines just a bit too sharp to be an actual human, "Watch it. I can still kick your ass, war or not."

Aphrodite snarled right back, her human appearance shifting to fit Apollo's preferences: dark black hair that shone blue in the right light, swirling sea-green eyes, and tan skin. For the first time in a long time, she seemed genuinely fierce.

"Get up, you worthless, overgrown child!" She screamed and got into his face, "Someone was able to reach my island without my permission! I need you to go and destroy him for his slight against me!"

Apollo huffed and pushed her off, "Fight your battles, princess. Why should I care about some guy ending up on your island? Normally, you'd love that sort of thing."

She huffed, "Because if you catch him, you can have him."

Apollo paused at that, tilting his head, "Why's that? Is he revolting or something."

She smiled, sending a fathom chill up Apollo's physical vessel, "Quite the opposite. I have a feeling you would like him," She looks down at her appearance, "He seems your type, and besides," she gives him a condescending pitying look, "A love like yours is much worse than any punishment I could give."

Apollo's temper flared, and before he could react, he had her by the throat. Aphrodite garpsed, trapped, and holding his wrist, squirming at the feeling of her essence being held down.

"I should scatter you to the ends of the existence right now just for the insult." She choked as Apollo squeezed her vessel's neck harder, watching it almost instantly bruise and bubble with burns, "But you will turn into this man and show me if he is worth hunting."

Apollo released Aphrodite harshly, throwing her body to the floor. He felt his vessel's eyes tingle and burn as they continued to glow gold in his rage. Aphrodite looked up at him angrily, rubbing her neck as it slowly wheeled.

"Go on," Apollo sang, sitting nearby and spreading his legs into a comfortable position, cheek resting on his fist, "Show me this man you have decided needs to be brought to heel."

Aphrodite got up slowly, and her bones and skin soft slightly as she did. Hair shorter and filled with natural waves, a sharp jaw, sea green eyes, tan skin with a warrior's build.

It was Acacius. He was here.

Apollo flew from his chair, barely keeping a hold of his physical form, as he grabbed Aphrodite's shoulders, gripping them tightly. She dropped the glamor, and he held her in place. He must have looked like a madman as he grinned from ear to ear.

"You've seen him?! Where? Where did he go when you last saw him? I have to find him." The last part was ground out. Apollo had been seeing visions of his Phobos Acacius for nearly a year now. He had been looking for him for half that time, and he refused to let him slip away now that he had finally appeared.

Aphrodite seemed startled by his demands, "I threw him into the sea."

Apollo felt dread fill him, and his physical body's face became pale. His uncle had a taste for pretty things, and all that lands in the oceans is his to claim. Apollo would not be surprised if the father of monsters had decided to keep such a gem for himself.

Dread turned to anger, and Apollo quickly pointed towards Aphrodite; his face became a stone wall as he spoke, "You had better hope he's not dead."

Without another word, Apollo sweats out of the room, leaving it cold and dark without his presence and aura interfering with the space. He swept over the land in a panic, desperately looking for his love. He rode as close to the ocean as he dared, hoping to behold hope that his Acacius could get away and come to him.

Apollo becomes more worried the longer he sees neither hide nor hair for the man in his dreams and then a breakthrough.

"Thank you, Apollo." A sweet, smooth, deep voice whispered into his ear. As soft as it was spoken, it rang louder through his being than any other prayer, the use of his name catching his attention.

His essence in an area near the sea close to his city of Troy seemed to purr and hum around something interesting. Quickly gathering himself, Apollo was at that spot in seconds, and if he could breathe, he wouldn't have been able to do so anymore. Because their emerging from the sea foam perfectly dry was the man he had seen only glimpses of.
He was glad now for the glimpses as looking upon him in his entirety was almost too much. Ironically, Apollo thought it was like staring into the sun. Only the physical powers that truly make up his being are present, and he takes advantage, wrapping himself around his love. Warming him through Apollo practically vibrated when he saw the man smile in real life.

It was at that moment Apollo knew. He would destroy the world for him. For his Fate Definer. His Phobos Acacius.

Chapter Text

I trekked to Troy on foot for about a mile before being met by something strange; off to the side of the road on a strangely lush path into the forest, a pegasus stood and watched me.

"Beautiful wonderer, where do you wish to go? Perhaps I can help?" The golden pegasus called out through my mind, trotting closer.

I instantly knew somewhere deep inside me that it was not a pegasus; it stank of a trap or maybe a monster. I narrowed my eyes and looked the stallion over. He did not seem nervous or squirm under my gaze like many other equines would when I first met them. He seemed excited and…hungry underneath it all.

I stiffened as an older conversation rang through my mind;

"Why did so many people make paintings of Zeus getting it on with some lady as a goose?"

Annabeth laughed at my disgust as she dragged me towards the architectural exhibition they had shown the museum that day.

"The gods liked to turn into animals to mess with people or steal away lovers. In the old days, at least. They typically picked something symbolic, non-threatening, or something they thought would… impress…their object of affection."

"That is…a choice."

Annabeth shrugged as they made it to the room of stained glass windows, "Hey, your dad did it just as anyone else. I wouldn't judge too hard at this point."

Back in the present, the not-pegasus, who is probably some god, crept ever closer. I went over my options and quickly decided on what to do.

"No, thank you. I'll walk to where I need to go. Have a good day." I quickly walk away, my head held high, leaving a slacked-jawed pegasus behind me.

The hidden god recovers faster than I would like from the shock of being rejected and catches up to me.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"What's yours?" I fire back, not bothering to look at him.

An annoyed snort makes it through the god's nose, and I resist smirking at the idea of pissing off a god that can't do anything about it without revealing themself.

"If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours?"

I give the horse a side eye, its strange sky-blue eyes watching me, "Will you be truthful?" I challenged, getting a shocked look from the god. The pegasus stops short and stares at me.

I don't spare a backward glance, instead staring at a few signs that are faded but do point the way toward Troy.

The pegasus' voice in my mind gets deeper, darker, rumbling with a power that can't be fully understood. It raises my hackles, and I thum over the hilt of Riptide where it rests on my belt.

"Do you know what I am, stranger?" It demands, and I turn to face him.

"Not a pegasus, that's for damn sure. Now, what do you want? I'm on a mission, so either help or get out of the way."

He looks at me, shocked, and then laughs, loud and long in my mind, looking amused as he starts to glow. I look away as it gets too bright; it's hot, like standing next to the sun, and as it dies down, I look over to see Apollo standing there. However, he seems a bit different.

Apollo's hair is longer, and his toga is shorter. His hair is in a braid, and while he is handsome, it's almost like he's taken on a more feminine appearance. He's taller than me by half a foot or more, and his eyes glow with power.

He has this kind of crown made of sunlight around his head, looking like the sun personified. Apollo spreads his arms as if he were the ringmaster of a three-ring circus as he reveals himself. He was waiting for some reaction.
I stonewall rather than reacting, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at him; he seems more the clown than the ringmaster to me.

"Are you done?" I ground out and readjusted my pack, walking past him, trying to get him to go away.

Apollo looks so much different than what I'm used to—reinforcing the strange nightmare-like quality of the place. It feels like I know this place, except everything is slightly off.
If your jerk of a roommate moved everything an inch away from where it usually sits, you run into all the furniture and stub your toe on everything while not paying attention.

A sizeable burning hand lands on my shoulder, and I freeze. Gripping Riptide as Apollo hisses into my ear, "Now that is no way to speak to those higher than you, little hero."

I can't tell you what came over me. It was like one minute, I was processing what he had said, and the next, I had the god on his back, standing over him with a sword at his throat. Gold ichor spilled out of minor wounds on his face, above his brow. His bottom lip busted. There are a few other places, too.

I felt my injuries that I didn't notice at first, all itching in a way similar to just before the water would heal them. Apollo looked up at me with a mixture of emotions I could not decipher, but as I came to, I did something stupid.
I wasn't focusing.

Apollo took the upper hand while I was disoriented as I came back into my own body. Apollo flung Riptide away from me, and we came to physical blows. I swung where I could, but he was faster and could heal at will.

Soon, he tripped me while I was off balance, and I ended up on the dusty road. We wrestled for what felt like hours until he had me on my stomach, forcing me to stay down as he drove my face into the ground—holding my writs in an iron grip.

I fought Apollo still, but it was no use; he would not move. I could hear him lightly panting from exertion.

"Stop now," Apollo grunts, holding me harder, "I have won; surrender."

"Make me!" I yell, starting to struggle harder.

I can practically hear Apollo's willingness and glee at taking up that challenge, and I internally facepalm. Me and my big damn mouth. I start to feel anger welling up in me like the rising tide, and I let out a yell of frustration.

Or…I thought I did. It was ear-piercing and rang over the hills, shaking the trees and the ground beneath me. I cut it off almost immediately, spooked.

"What the hell…" I mumble, but Apollo has gone still above me. All is silent for a moment before a rumble responds to the scream I let out.

"The sea," Apollo mutters, eyes now gold rather than their usual blue, then he seems frightened before he looks back at me, "I could not find you because you were at sea."

"Well, yeah," I huff and roll my eyes, "Son of Poseidon and all that."

The ground starts to shake more violently, and Apollo quickly gets off and looks out towards the direction of the ocean with a fear I have seldom seen on a god's face, "My uncle, father of monsters, is your sire…"

The ground cracks, saltwater springs out, and Apollo attempts to flee, grabbing my arm to take me with him; another hand pulls me back towards the new ocean pool.

A man that looks much like Amphirtie lifts out of the water. I feel a kinship towards him and tug his hand. I hear Apollo gasp as I find more strength and turn toward the new god.

He looks surprised but delighted, smiling wide at me, "Come on, little brother! I will help you."

I tug harder and feel something in me shatter. A glass ceiling breaking, a plant shucking off the last of its seed, a butterfly busting out of a cocoon.

I tug, and as I enter the water, the ground rumbles dangerously before a powerful blast of water throws Apollo away. The new god is much larger than me and holds me gently; he's a merman with two tails, like the cousin of the mascot from Starbucks.

The water recedes, and we end up in the shallows of a saltwater pool. I feel my wounds heal, and I look up at the god, who seems to be grinning at me the way people do when toddlers start to talk and shuffle around.

"Hello, little pearl; I am your older brother, Triton." I startle at that and look Trition over.

He's so different, from his demeanor to his physical appearance. He seems older and has a beard, less like our father and more like Amphrite. Triton is also…lighter in a way, not so uptight. He seems powerful.

"Uhh…hello." Is all I get out, and Trition lets out a full-on belly laugh, his joy seeming to sweep into the air.
He takes a breath and smiles at me, "Come along. I will escort you to the gates of Troy myself. We need no more amorous gods to distract you from your mission."

"Amorous?" I mumble, but Trition brushes it off.

"Come along; we are not far, and Father will chat with the sun god. You need to worry about the human problem."

With that and a wash of sea spray, I find myself feet away from the massive gates of Troy. Triton is nowhere to be found. I stumble forward and move towards the gates, ready to sit down for a minute, when I hear a shout from behind me.

"Greek!" A man shouts, followed by more shouting and the gnashing of teeth and weapons.

A returning regiment from the battlefield surrounds me, swords drawn, ready to fight. I'm about to talk to them when the first arrow flies; even at close range, it misses terribly and hits a man behind me. That said, first blood has been drawn, and they launch forward.
Unfortunately for them, I am faster.

Riptide cut through them like butter; it seems even mortals are significant enough in this day and age, and I feel my power flare. Blood that is spilled by my hand never touches the ground, following my blood and being used like knives.

Even as the Trojan warriors start to run, I press on, a deep offense settling in my bones at being attacked when I came with no intention of battling them. I will be satisfied once they learn their lesson. I chase them back toward the battlefield, but most are not swift enough to escape me, and the more blood is spilled, the more Trojans die.

It's a strange feeling; the screams of those in the Trojan armor do not bother me; the more they run, the more fear hits the air; it's almost like it boosts me. I can taste the fear in the air, and it's beautiful.
The ground shakes as I flare out my internal power, feeling no exhaustion or my abilities reaching their limit. I feel myself start to laugh at the whole situation. I understand now what it is to be battle drunk.

As I shatter the Trogian line moving towards the Greek side, the Trogians, with heavy losses, scream to retreat as they run. A cruel smile graces my face, and I allow the power of the blood I was using as a weapon to drop.

The Trojans scream as if they were mad as they're covered in the blood of their fellows, Carrie Style.

As they run away, I feel the toll the display leaves me in. A burning takes over my body, and my vision swims as I fall to the muddy ground. I stumble and end up caught in cold arms that feel familiar. I look up and find the nymph-like goddess from my dreams, the one from the wedding; she gives me a weary smile.

"Hello, little brother," Her hollow voice rings out, "This is nowhere for such a powerful man to rest. I shall take you to my son's camp; he will offer you hospitality. He is the only one of these stupid human men who I trust with a treasure of the deep."

I close my eyes and lean into the goddess's cool touch. It eases the fire in my veins and allows her to take me somewhere safe.

Chapter Text

As I gain more awareness, I realize I am in a dream this time, the ones I am used to where I am here, but…not really. I'm on a beautiful island; the sun is bright and peaceful. It's littered with wildlife and should be noisy, but all is quiet. That is never a good sign. I don't see any people around; a few nymphs and dedicated dryads painstakingly tend to the garden, though they seem uneasy and nervous.

It's almost like they can sense me as they cringe when I drift too close. I leave them in peace, not wanting to disturb their work.

I wander around, feeling cautious as I move carefully through the garden. Usually, the more excellent the place is, the worse the trap there will be once you spring it. Honestly, I just assume everything is trying to kill me and work from there; it's kept me alive so far.

I hear music and move towards it against my better judgment. Threw a few laural trees, I spy Apollo. He has changed his appearance again; his hair is still long but not as fair as it had been, more a warm, wheat blond than the lighter color it was before. He was a bit bulkier, with a sharper jaw and more.. war-like. Certainly angrier.

And I'm mature enough to admit he's handsome like that. Sue me, he's a god. They're all visually pleasing to someone, and Annabeth said I have a thing for blonds. Whatever that means.

The gentle lyre music contrasted strangely with the angry mutterings Apollo ground out.

"Refusal of the were-guilt, a complete insult," Apollo looks bitterly out at sea, glaring like it personally offended him, "The father of monsters could stand to lose a single one of his creatures,"

I freeze at a title my father bears quite famously and creep closer, feeling a protectiveness for the Poseiden of this time rear its ugly head.

Apollo's voice gets wistful, and the music sweeter, a small smile coming to his face, "He is the crowning jewel of his father's efforts…but I offered more than a king's ransom!" The notes sour, and the air darkens, "My own King Father did not have this much trouble with Ganymede!"

The rush of heat rolls over me, and I reach for Riptide on instinct, feeling my battle instincts kick in. I must have wanted to defend myself too loudly because Apollo stopped his movements, the music ceasing.

He pauses and looks around, blue eyes turning gold momentarily as he scans the area; Apollo then perks up, his eyes widening and his smile becoming predatory. I draw Riptide.

Apollo stands and walks around as if looking for something…or someone. I take care to stay out of his way.

"Little earth-shaker," He calls sweetly, looking under things and behind trees, "I know you're here. I can smell you."

I curse under my breath. Damn, demigod stink won't ever leave me even now. Suddenly, he whips around and tries to grab me; I feel my heart seize up in fear, but his hands pass right through me.

I jerk back and have my sword in front of me. My heart is racing; Apollo seems annoyed and looks right at me.

"Not here and out of my reach still. You wound me." He sweeps forward, and riptide uslessly phases through him.

"Don't worry, I will have you soon," His eyes turn a dangerous gold that reminds me of Kronos; his wide smile allows too sharp teeth on display, "One way or another."

My world goes black, and I realize I'm staring at the back of my eyelids; I'm safe…I think.

I am comfortable; however…it feels like I've been put through a meat grinder. I groan and try not to move too much. I'm thankful for the rain outside; it's soothing as the fire in my veins becomes too much.

I bolt upright, throwing off the rich purple and gold blanket to run to the opening of the tent and throw up.

I wrench, trembling as my vision gets blurry, and I feel the strength leave my body. It's like my soul is trying to rip itself from my skin. My muscles clench so hard I worry I may have bruises along my ribs. I feel a cold, clammy sweat across my skin, and the smell of rotted and bitter iron is in the air. When I look down, I see I've thrown up blood.

"Sh-shit…" I cough and wipe my mouth, scarlet coming away with it like I'm some vampire.

My legs wobble, and I almost fall over and take the tent with me when a beautiful man catches me. He tries to speak to me, and I vaguely realize that he's Achilles, but everything sounds like it's underwater, and I feel like I'm dying, so I slump over into him and let him hold my weight.

Achilles bares my weight without a problem and calls out to someone behind him as he takes me back inside, looking concerned at the pool of blood I threw up. He lays me back down in the comfy spot I was in before and seems to keep trying to talk to me. Another man enters my blurry vision, carrying a bucket.

I instantly know it's salt water. I lean towards it, and Achilles becomes the man forward and starts to wash my face with a cloth dipped in the water. I feel the heat ease in my soul, and my hearing and vision sharpen.

No longer in pain, I huff, finally un-tensing and somewhat relaxing into the pillows. Achilles smiles softly, tilting his head as he grins, his nose scrunching a bit with his smile.

"Welcome back, little cousin. You sure had to go through a lot to get here."

I look towards him and swallow, "You have no idea."

My voice is entirely raw. Raspy, and I cough up a bit more blood and feel like throwing up again. I look down at the inside of my elbow, where I coughed up the blood.

"That can't be good."

The other man, not as tall as Achillies but much broader with dark chocolate brown curls, seems very concerned, "Are you ill? I'm afraid I've never seen anything like this. Perhaps we need to pray to the Sun god-'

"NO!" I bark, sitting up and startling the man and Achilles, who seem to shift into a defense position, his face hardening. I clear my throat and lean back, "I mean- no, thank you, that won't be necessary. I think that would make it worse, to be honest. Things are…strange here."

Achilles relaxes into being easygoing, grinning, "A bit different at the bottom of the sea, huh?"

I swallow and look away from his eyes, "Something like that."

The other man gives me a strange look at that, his deep emerald eyes seeming to be hung up on my nonanswer. Before he can say anything, though, Achilles grins and slaps me on the back, making me lurch forward.

"Great, we will teach the ways of the land and offer you hospitality. What's your name? My mother would not speak it, though I don't know why."

"Perseaus, but everyone just calls me Percy."

"I'm Achilles, and this is my Therapon, Patroculus." He said the name much softer and with special care, like he slowed down his speech to give the name special reverence.
"Hello, Percy, it's nice to meet you. How'd you find your way here?"

I sigh, "It's a long story. One that I don't think you would believe and I would like to forget."

Patroculus's brows furrow, and he looks determined and suspicious, "Try me."

Achilles looks offended and stands up, looking slightly hurt at his Therapon, "Patroculus…"

"No," Patroclus leans down to my level, "I don't trust anything brought to our doorstep by Peleus's Wife. She dropped you here for a purpose, and we can't trust you until I know what it is. So why are you here."

I couldn't hold it anymore, "So I can get home! Happy?!" I can feel my emotions closing in on me, my chest feeling hollow and tight at the same time.

I think about Paul, my stepdad, one of the only ordinary people who made me feel like I was just a kid, that I didn't have to carry the world on my shoulders.

I thought about Camp half-blood and Camp Jupiter. All the people and demigods who I was supposed to protect and lead. All those lost to two gods awful wars that hadn't even happened yet.

I remember the look on Annabeth's face as I fell back in the dining pavilion, how she reached out to me to try and save me. All the times he had saved each other, knowing that really…no one but her would ever understand the fucked up life I lead. The way she helped me after I climbed out of the pit and screamed at me for saving her and falling- presumably, to my death.

I think about my mom. Gods, I think about my mom. Her tired smile, her infinite patience, all her blue food. Her quiet defiance and gentle way. How warm her hugs felt and how she could always make it better no matter how broken I felt. I had met many goddesses in my dad, but…my mother is a goddess among men and truly too good for anyone in my eyes. I miss her. I still feel like that scared twelve-year-old trying to escape the wrath of Zeus, leaning into his mother for protection because it's all I knew.

Too late, I realize I'm crying and shaking…no…the ground is shaking. I see the two men desperately trying to get my attention.

"-Very! Percy! It's okay, we believe you. Please calm down! You will destroy the whole Greek Camp if you don't stop!" Patroclus shakes my shoulders, looking panicked as I find breathing hard.

It's almost impossible for me to drown, but choking on air during a panic attack- that I can do just fine. My breath gets short, and the tremors closer together; I try to wipe my tears away, and what I see is so confusing and weird that it snaps me out of my freak out.

The tremors stop, and I look down at my hand, confused. It was finding a liquid that was the iridescent color of an opal or a pearl. It… didn't feel like a tear; it was pretty thick, different than water anyway, and when it hit the ground, it sizzled like power wasted.

"Wh-what the fuck?" I Sutter out my voice even more messed up after the last time.

Achilles leans down and hugs me. It's almost too tight, but something about it calms me down, and I slump against him, whimpering.

"Thetis said that he's a newborn, Patroclous. He's probably never had to deal with any of this before."
I huff and lean against him harder. I'm too tired and mentally exhausted from this bullshit to do anything else. I lean back.

"I'm okay, I'm just- this is a lot."

Patroclus softens a little, "I…apologize. I suppose it's just strange. I never think of gods as young before."

"Gods? I'm not a god." I say instantly, and Achilles lets up, confused.

"Well…not yet, I supposed, but you're close. Extremely close. My mother told me of the process for years. Your body is already rejecting your old mortal flesh. One more large event would be able to burn away your mortality."

I stare at him and immediately blurt out.

"How do I stop it?"

Achilles and Patrocoulus smile at me like they're glad I asked. Patroclus leans down again.

"I take it you would like to defy fate? Only one man I know can do that, but he likes you, so…I think we can help you." Patroclus smiles at Achilles, giving him a somewhat knowing look.

"Prince Achilles!" A frantic messenger opens the tent flap, breathless and soaked from the rain."

Achilles stands and seems to go from a laid-back kinda goof guy to an aloof royal in seconds, "Speak." His deep voice rumbles.

Tye messenger pants for a moment and won't look Achilles in the eye, "Odyessus seeks an audience at the behest of his patron goddess. Immediately."

"Very well," Achilles hesitantly says, causing Patroclous to make a constipated noise. Even in his tired state, the messenger zips away…too quick-footed and with a grin that is all too familiar in some way, making me pause.

"I will meet with great traction; I'm sure it will be fine."

"Be wary, Achilles," Patroclus says thoughtfully, "If you aren't careful, Odysseus will be able to cheat you off any number of things."

Patroclus, in a not no subtle gesture towards me, and I huff, "I am not a thing to be traded." I growl, displeased.

Achilles seems to get serious, his brows furrowing, "No, but you are a warrior that nay king here would give to have as champion. Or in their bed if they were so bold."

I choke at that coughing up more blood, "Fucking what?" I choke out.

Payroclous shrugs, "I wouldn't worry too much. Your…Father has a reputation for being protective of his sons. Extremely so. I doubt there are many stupid enough to offend him."

An image of a very powerful, golden-haired idiot comes to mind, but I do hope I am wrong. I'll have to deal with this, too.

Achilles leans down to my level again and gives me a soft smile, "I'll house you here, keep you under my protection, and offer you hospitality. I know you probably don't know this, but...you saved Patrouclus's life yesterday when you broke the Trojian line, and for that, I will always be in your debt."

I nod and shake his hand, the two of us holding each other arms, "No debts, I appreciate it. Everything. I'm...still getting used to this place, and I think I have your mother to thank for getting me here. I've felt pretty helpless so far; I'm tired of running...I want to fight back. Wouldn't you?"

Achilles grins and looks back at Patroclus, who nods before returning to me and squeezing my arm; it feels like a promise. "You got yourself a deal, Perseus."

Chapter Text

The sickness passes quickly, as does the rain, much to everyone's relief. Achilles and Patroclus leave most of the day with the other men to fight. Since I am technically still recovering and because the Trogain War is technically none of my damn business I stay in the camp.

With a few days' rest, I venture out of the tent that Achilles had set up for me into the camp proper. The last few times I tried, it was mostly a ghost town; wherever I went, the women who were once working there would quickly find somewhere else to be. Today seems no different until an angry-looking woman with her blond hair in elaborate braids comes marching up to me and puts her finger in my chest.

“Not today, Sea Prince! You have been disturbing the women's work for days! I’ve had it! Tell me what you want, and then go away so we can work!” She growls at me in rough, accented Greek as if the language doesn't quite fit on her tongue.

My eyes widen at the strange accusation and fire from her. The sun seemed to beat down more fiercely, and I held my hands up in surrender.

“I apologize for disturbing anyone, ma’am; I certainly didn't mean to. I just wanted to get up and help if I could.”

The blond seems to lose steam at my answer, looking up with confused brown eyes, “You…want to help? With a woman's work?”

I shrugged and smiled at her, “Work is work, no matter who does it. It needs to be done, and I can help, so…why shouldn’t I?”

“Huh,” She tilted her head at me, like I was a strange yet pleasant surprise, “Very well then, what is your name then? If we work together, I should get to know your name.”

“My name is Percy,” I hold my hand for her to shake with a smile, “May I know yours.”

She stares at my hand with a look of shock before she takes it and shakes it with a genuine smile, “Briseis. My name is Briseis.”

“It's nice to meet you, Briseis; how can I help?”

Briseis grins and grabs my hand, taking me over to the other women, who still look at me cautiously but listen as Briseis talks to them rapidly in a language I miss entirely. They suddenly all look at me like I’m a strange new creature they discovered, and I give them a small wave, to which I receive many smiles back. Suddenly, Briseis turned around to look at me with a grin.

“Alright, Percy, we need you to fetch fresh water from the stream and bring it here so we can wash clothes.”

I perk up at this and smile, “Sounds great; how much do you need? It shouldn’t take me long.”

Briseis gets intrigued but doesn't comment before pointing to two massive basins near the edge of the area where the women are doing laundry. “We need those to be full by the end of the hour; I think you can do that?”

I nod and head towards the basins, “Yeah, it shouldn’t take me that long, don't worry.”

I grab them both, stack the two large containers on top of one another, and then carry them to the stream just north of the camp. The two are heavy, but it should be easy once I fill them with water. The walk through the narrow road takes little time, and the stream is close. I set the basins down and command the water to fill them both. It's easier than it should be. The weather from the clear spring practically leaps out of the creek bed to serve both the containers and retreats just as quickly. It took two minutes to fill both basins, and once done, I commanded the water to follow, basins included, so I didn't have to carry them back myself.

I get a lot of open staring as I come back with my massive floating containers of water, but I set them down nonetheless and go up to slightly less shocked Briseis, who is waiting for me.

“Is there more to do?”

She sighs and smiles at me, “There is always more to do. Come, you can feed the goats.”

Briseis led me to the large area they'd cleared for the goats and handed me a heavy sack of various kitchen craps. Too bad there are no aluminum cans. I have it on good authority from a very close goat friend that aluminum cans are the best.

I whistle for the goats with my loud cab whistle, and while I get the goat's attention, I also get everyone else's attention with how loud it is. The women still seem weary, though, and return to work as soon as I look over my shoulder.

I dump out the bag as I hum and spread it around for the goats to eat at their leisure. A few become curious, and I give a few a good pat as I oversee a well-done job. That is until I get knocked over by a good placed, head butt to the back of my knees.

“Hey!” I exclaim as I end up in the dirt beside a few goats who barely flinch. I huff and look at probably the ugliest ram I have ever seen. With gnarly back hair and an evil glint in his eye, we stared at each other before he backed up for another go.

“Oh hell-” I scramble up and dodge the subsequent few attacks, letting myself chuckle that it’s kinda like dodging a miniature minotaur.
My goat tango is fun to watch. I get a few laughs from the women working around me until, eventually, the old ugly ram gets bored and goes to lie down instead.

Brises comes over, chuckling at my ridiculousness, reminding me sharply of Annabeth, which…yeah, ouch, my heart.

“Okay, mighty slayer of goat feeding, I need you to help Amamra with the firewood next, alright?”

I grin and follow her back to the camp properly. “You got it.”

My goat shtick earned me the title of not-so-bad as the women we passed greeted me and smiled back at me when I waved. I go out of my way to learn all the women's names as we pass and something about them that sticks out.

Vasiliki was the only woman who had a yellow ribbon in her hair. Delia had a million freckles and scrunched her nose when she smiled. Xanthippe worked with the horses, who seemed to like her. Melia was the only girl with her hair down and liked the color blue (Objectively, the correct answer.)

I could tell Briseis got slightly annoyed that I took so long to talk to each of them who would let me but seemed so genuinely intrigued that I cared, so let me. Finally, we made it to the wood pile where Amara was well underway already.

Amamra also decided to talk to me while we worked. Of course… the conversation soon dips into the one everyone wants to ask me.

“What is your home like?” one girl, Amara, asks as she collects the firewood I chop.

“Not like here,” I say between swings, “It’s…more chaotic but in a different way. I guess. It’s rather hard to explain. I just know that I’ll do anything to get back there.”

Amara sighs and stacks the wood she collected, “I understand…I want to go home, too.”

I frowned and helped her put the last of the wood away. “Here, I'm hoping me both make it home, yeah?”

She smiles and wipes the tears in her eyes, “Y-yes, let us hope to both get home. Thank the fates a man like you was made.”

I tilt my hand and help her to her feet, “Am I very different from the men you know?”

Amara laughs and giggles, causing her dark curly hair to bounce, “Yes, Percy, I have never met a man who has held onto the kindness of boyhood. Gentle Patrclous would be a similar man that jumps to mind, but even he would not aid in women's work.”

“What's wrong with women's work?” I ask, perplexed, as we head back towards where the other women and girls still do the many chores that keep the wat camp running.

Amara pats my cheek, “Nothing, Percy, don't worry about it. Men and their pride is all.”

We stopped as I heard a scream up ahead and saw one of the girls being beaten by a soldier, missing his hand. He seemed drunk, and for a moment, I saw red.

I’m running before I comprehend that I even want to. I grab the man by his hair and rip him off of the woman, Xanthippe. I stand in front of her and growl at the stupid drunk who is too intoxicated even to realize he's in danger. He's too busy yelling curses at Xanthippe for no rhyme or reason to register that he's in deep shit. I’ve seen enough.

“You want to fucking beat women?” My voice is not my own deep and hollow; it rings through the air, and the ground rumbles; the man seems to sober almost instantly, and all the color drains from his face.

“She-she's just a woman, Sea Prince, nothing to get worked up over.” The poor excuse for a soldier starts, and I lift him by his hair to meet at my eye level.

“Just a woman?!” I snarl, and the man gulps, “Her name is Xanthippe, you fucking heathen.” I slam him on the ground at her feet and stomp my food into the soldier's neck. He choked and looked over his shoulder in disbelief, “Apologize to her.”

He gasps at me, and Xanthippe and the other women look at me in shock, “Did you not hear what I said? Apologize to her, or you can become intimately aware of what the sound of choking on your blood sounds like.”

The soldier quickly looks up at Xanthippe from under my heel and takes a generous gulp of air, “I…I-I’m sorry-”

I grind my heel into his back, making him choke at the pressure, “For what?” I demand my teeth bared.

“I’m sorry for beating you, Xanthippe!” The soldier hollars, shaking.

“That’s better.” I let him up and promptly kicked him in the ass in the opposite direction of the women, “And if I find out you did that shit again to any of the women in this camp, I’ll fucking kill you!” I roar as the man hurries away to lick his wounds.

I huff as soon as he’s out of sight. I run to Xanthippe and look her over. She flinches at first, and I lean down to her level, choreographing my movements so she knows exactly what I'm doing.

“Are you alright? Can I look you over? Is there a female doctor that you would feel better looking at your wounds?”

The other women surrounded us and looked at me like I was crazy, but Briseis spoke first.

“Percy…why did you do that?”

It’s my turn to look at her like she's crazy, and I tilt my head, “I wasn't going to sit back and let him hurt Xanthippe. It wasn't right; I refuse to sit around and watch someone beat up a woman in my presence, and while drinking no less.” I hear my voice getting heated, angry on their behalf.

When I look up again, it’s to the woman smiling at me, and I instantly feel like I’m missing something, “Is…there something on my face?”

They laugh at that to my surprise, and Xanthippe ruffs my hair.

“Never change, Sea Prince.” Xanthippe smiles as I help her get someone to attend to her injuries after the day is almost up and the time nears when Achilles and Patroclus will return.

I pause as the groups return to their camp area; I swear I could see a flash of silver in the trees. A smirk or a kind smile, I can't be for sure. But when nothing happens, I carry on, confident that more work to be done.

Chapter Text

Poseidon was fuming. The continued disrespect of his newest son on the surface has driven him to his limit. The humans he could understand, the stupid paranoid creatures, should have welcomed their new hero with open arms, but…Perseus is very Greek by nature. He showed what happens to those who refuse a blessing from Poseidon, and other than some light flooding and sinking a few of the Trojan supply ships, Poseidon felt his son had punished them enough all on his own.

But Apollo? His ally and nephew whom he taught under the sea like he would his son? To completely disrespect him by attacking his son in such a bold manner. Poseidon couldn’t even act against him then, too busy making sure Amphitrite didn’t drag the sun god into the depths herself. Thankfully, Trition took care of it and was pleased with how Perseus handled himself.

Now Poseidon appeared in the tower of Troy Apollo had claimed for himself, finding his nephew waiting for him there.

“Lord Uncle, I can explain-”

Poseidon doesn't hesitate. He strikes Apollo across the face, sending him staggering to the side. He holds his cheek and looks up at where his Uncle towers over him. Rage is barely contained by the human veneer he wears.

“You want to explain attempting to rape my son on the side of the road when I sent him on a mission here to turn the tides of battle and secure YOUR CITY victory?” Poseidon snarls, gripping his trident in an iron fist.

“I didn't mean to offend you or do anything… unsavory, lord uncle. I had wished to keep him. I did not know he was yours, or I would have offered you what is due,” Apollo rises and wisely continues to avert his gaze from Poseidon, “Allow me to rectify that now.”

Apollo pulls out an official document and hands it to Poseidon, who snatches it from his grasp. It’s a marriage proposal or something similar. Apollo was to pay a large dowry: 100 of Apollo's sacred cows, 50 of his best pegasi, Perseus weight in gold, silver, and jewels 30 times over, one of Apollos' godly domains, the list went on.

The longer Poseidon read, the more Apollo felt his smile grow. It was a generous offer, one his Uncle wouldn't dare refuse. Apollo had made sure of it and asked himself what he was genuinely willing to give up for a consort like Perseus, the youngest son of the sea.

“Well… quite the offer, Phoebus,” Apollo felt himself puff up at his Uncle's words; victory was so close he could taste it. Taste him, “Unfortunately, I am not the one you need to convince.”

Apollo looked at Poseidon in confusion, and the mischievous glint in his eye and the smirk on his lips did not inspire confidence in the younger god.

“For you see, I had generously gifted the motherless Perseus to my wife, Amphitrite. You remember Amphitrite, don't you, Pheobus?”

Apollo grits his teeth. He remembers his aunt as the most overprotective mother on this side of the Atlantic. If she had decided Perseus was her child…anything short of the literal Sun, as a start, would not be enough to convince her to let Perseus out of her care and into Apollo’s.

Apollo decides to try anyway, “Surely, as the head of the household, it would be your discretion-”

Poseidon cuts him off, “The children are the woman's domain in the household.”

“Perseus is far from a mere boy-”

“A child in the eyes of a goddess to whom he will most likely be a child when and if his hair turns gray. If you have an issue with her overseeing the boy, then you can take it up with her.”

“I suppose it was her choice to send Perseus to war, then? Since she is in charge of where he wonders?” Apollo fires back finally and regrets it as his Uncle looms over him.

“I will entertain this no longer, little nephew.” The contract is destroyed in his Uncle's clenched fist, “I will not be selling my son to the likes of you. You should think about what your actions have cost you.”

Apollo sweeps out of the room and back to Delos to sulk in peace so he doesn't blow up his city. Poseidon huffs and goes to a neutral meeting point before the war starts. He walks the fields of olive trees and waits.

“Lord Uncle, what a surprise to see you here.” Athena settles into a walk beside him in all her glory, calculating gray eyes tracking his movements.

“I have a proposition that I believe you will find favorable.” Poseidon starts as he continues to walk through the well-tended grove leisurely.

“This is about your newest son?” She offers, picking an olive of two as she goes.

“I am afraid Troy and the other gods representing Troy have disrespected my son and myself for the last time.”

Athena stops walking and observes him, “I see…and what would you like to do about that?”

Poseidon looks her in the eye, green and blue swirling like a hurricane. Monsters and madness promised in his gaze.

“I would like to crush Troy under my heel and embrace the Olympians who dare to slight myself and my son,” He sets forward; however, Athena does not flinch, “Would you be willing to help me with that?”

Athena grins, battle plans and revenge dance in her head, “Oh course, lord uncle. The Greek side would welcome you with open arms.”

“It is decided then,” Poseidon steps back and looks out to sea, “You have the full support of the sea behind you, and my son will fight with your soldiers.”

Athena gives a slight bow, “It is an honor, Lord Uncle; I can promise we will not repeat the mistakes of the gods of Troy.”

“I will hold you to that promise, Athena.”

With nothing else to say, Posiden returns to the underwater palace to inform his forces of the alliance change and to tell Amphitrite of Apollo’s proposal. Hopefully, she won't once again attempt to murder the Sun god.

Artemis makes her way to Delos with a slight smile. The man, Perseus, seems to surprise her every day. Dispute being a man, he is still a virgin, much to the moon goddess's surprise when she sensed it. He is also kind just for the sake of it; if he were not so clever, Artemis would assume he was too simple to be cruel. She was pleased to be proven wrong about the young man. Distantly, he reminded her of Orion in many ways. She indeed believed another man like Orion would ever be made, but Fate seemed to have other plans.

Artemis finds her twin out in the garden, a strange mix of sulking and excitement. She can guess why but sits down near him, peeling an orange from one of the trees to snack on.

“I can see why you like him,” Artemis offers, not looking at her bother's face as his head whips around to look at her; she stabs a slice of orange onto her hunting knife and takes a bite, “He is a fine young man.”

Silence deafens the area, and Artemis finally looks up to see her brother's wide eyes, “You…approve of him? A man?”

Artemis muses momentarily before nodding, “I think so, yes. The women around him are certainly at ease, and he is as protective as a sheepdog and twice as attentive. If he wanted to, he could have any woman there, but instead, he chooses to help with their chores, learn their names, and make sure the other men in the camp don't bother them.”

Apollo’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “He was doing women's work?”

Artemis huffs and flicks him in the forehead for his troubles, “Ow!” Apollo rubs his forehead. It didn't hurt much, but it wasn't enjoyable.

“He is too good for you. He deserves to choose what and whom he wants. He doesn’t deserve to serve as your entertainment for a week before being thrown out!”

Apollo seems genuinely hurt by his statement and clutches where a heart would be if he were human and had one, “Is that what you think I want from him?”
Artemis growls at him, “It’s what you do, Apollo. I have seen it repeatedly. Unless you legitimately feel forever about Perseus. Leave. Him. Alone.”

Apollo explodes, emotions running wild,
“I love him, Artemis! I want to hold him, and keep him, and give him my fucking NAMES, for father's sake! I offered more than double a king's ransom to our Uncle for him to be my consort. I feel more than forever about him; I would make him a god if he let me!” Apollo starts to pace,
“I think of him every waking moment, every sleeping moment. He invades my dreams and has me utterly at his mercy. I would create new stars in the sky if it made him smile. I would stop the Sun and scorch the earth if it would make him see me. I would love him until it killed me, Artemis, and I would smile while he stabbed me through the heart.”

Artemis is taken aback, watching as pearl-like tears roll down her brother's human face. He stares at her, trying to make her understand what he truly wants. In a month of weakness, Artemis hugs him. It's stiff and awkward, but she holds her brother anyway.

“Then I’ll help you. Only a little, and if he wants you in return, I’ll do everything I can to see you stand at each other's side until the world ends.”

Apollo hugs his sister tightly, emotion so human and raw and powerful rolling through him it’s hard to hold onto. Silent tears roll down his face, and he takes a deep, shuttering breath.

Apollo decides he'll have his consort with his sister's help. Or else the world will burn along with his heart.

Chapter Text

The soldiers return from the battle for the day with the sun going down. Many are wounded and need to be attended to, so the women shoo me back to my Tent to stay out of the way while they help the healers.

Remembering all the times Will Solace needed people to get out of the way, I comply and head back to my Tent. I sit down and lean back. Today's work wasn't hard, but I felt tired and lay down briefly.

Achilles walks in, still in battle armor other than his helmet and covered in blood. He runs his hands through the loose strands that came away from his war braid, and I get up to greet him.

"Hey, Achilles…you need something?" I ask, pouring some water for him from the pitcher near the door.

"Unfortunately, yes," Achilles sighs and takes the offered glass, "Thank you, but yes, Odysseus the snake has decided that now is the best time to look at and meet you. It's either now or tomorrow in front of all of the other kings, and while it would probably be fine, I don't want to subject you to more insufferable bullshit at once."

I lean against the table and cross my arms, contemplating, "Are the other kings that bad?"

Achilles sips water and rolls his eyes, "Yes. They think they're gods and act twice as entitled without the divinity."

I snort and grit my teeth; old anger and resentment swirl in my chest, "Divinity does not justify depravity."

Achilles fires back, "Maybe, but at the end of the day, the strong will decide what is allowed and what is not. There are few stronger than a god. Fewer still that do not become gods themselves and succumb to their appetites."

We sit in silence of that statement for a moment. Achilles moves first, sighing and setting down his cup.

"Come on, little cousin, let's see if we can keep our souls by the end of this meeting with Odysseus."

I sit up from my leaning position and follow Achilles out of the Tent. As we walked to the other King's camp, I smiled as I saw Ella walking by with a basket of fruit.

"Good evening, Ella! Let me know if you need any help."

Ella smiles and pivots to look at me, balancing the fruit basket on her hip, "Hello, Percy! I'm alright for now, and you look busy. I'll talk to you later, though."

Achilles gives me a strange look, but a voice calls out my name before he can say anything more.

"Percy!" I whip around to find Melia approaching me before she spots Achilles, and her demeanor changes; looking at the ground, she bows her head, "My prince…"

I step in front of Achilles, blocking him from Melia's view and getting between the two of them.

"It's alright, Melia. Is something wrong?" I ask, my voice soft as I instinctively lean down to not tower over her.

"Oh well," she suddenly starts to be nervous. I smile at her, and she takes a breath, "I just- you said that you were good at braiding, and I was wondering if you would-" She holds up a rough comb and worn ribbon.

I smile and stand up, "I'd love to, maybe not right now, though. I'm afraid I have to be somewhere much less fun than with you, "Melia giggles at that, and I continue, "But later, I would love to."

Melia smiles and walks off, happy with my answer; when I turn around, I am faced with Achillies's quirked brow and smirked grin.

Mischief enters my gaze, and we continue to walk, "What…"

"Oh, nothing, I just," Achilles looks me up and down, "Didn't know you got around so much."

My face heats, and I turn away from Achilles, beat red. For his part, Achilles burst out laughing and pats me on the back.

"It-it's not like that!"

Achilles grins, “Oh? Then what's it like," The smirk on his face is amused and cruel.

"Whatever, just," I wipe my face trying to compose myself, "What are we even going to talk about in this damn meeting?"

Achilles sobers and retracts his hand from my shoulder, "Let me do most of the talking. Odysseus is tricky; he likes mind games and has an affinity for twisting words. I don't know what he wants from this meeting, which puts us at a disadvantage."

"I'll try, but I should warn you…" I look away, embarrassed, "I'm not very good at not speaking my mind."

Achilles sighs as we start walking again, a fond smile on his face, "I know. I am the same way."

As we enter the camp proper, Achilles seems to change, standing talk with his head held high. I copy his walk and see that all the people in the camp seem to step out of our way, openly staring at us. I do my best not to feel subconscious. Big crowds staring at you will make anyone nervous.

The largest camp at the center is draped in thick red fabric. The soldiers that are posted outside see us coming. While one enters the Tent, the other waits until Achilles and I get closer to pull the tent flap for us.

Walking inside feels like walking into the mind of a madman. In the center is a chair and a large table; the whole place is covered in paper, ink, plans, maps, and books. It looked like when Annabeth got ahold of Daedalus's laptop for the first time.

In the center of it all is a man hunched over too many scrolls to be able to read them all correctly. A very polite soldier from outside is trying to grab the man's attention, who keeps moving around and waving him off with vague noises of dismissal or approval while not listening to him.

The man had dark, unruly brown hair and strange blue eyes. It almost seemed as if when he was not looking directly at you, they're a stormy gray, but you'll blink and see that, no, they're blue. It puts me on edge, trying to sense the presence of a god in the area. I feel nothing of the sort. Other than Achilles, of course.

"Odysseus," Achilles calls, voice booming and confident; the man's eyes snap up and nearly seem to glow, "We've come as requested. This is Perseus, son of the Sea God."

As Odysseus is shown his guests, the young soldier sees himself out quickly. Odysseus creeps closer, unblinking eyes never leaving me. I try not to be unnerved as his appearance reminds me of an owl stalking its prey.

I stand my ground as he looks me over, humming to himself. He goes to touch me, and Achilles snacks his hand, earning a glare.

"Keep your hands to yourself, old man. I don't care who you are." Achilles growls, power and malice oozing off him.

Odysseus stops hunching over and stands at his full height, a few inches taller than Achilles, who doesn't seem very impressed. Odysseus' overly intelligent eyes bored into him.

"I want to examine the failed godling. I have no other intentions; I am married quite happily, as you know, little prince."

“So is Agamemnon.” Achilles bites back, causing the older man to smirk.

"I don't think anything that man does is 'happily.' Accept counting his riches."

Achilles bows his head, blonde hair framing his face, "On that, we can agree."

"Good, now let me see the boy."

I huffed, a bit peeved at being talked about as if I was not even there. "Yeah, hi, names Perseus; everyone calls me Percy. I'm a little new around here. What exactly do you want to look at me for? I was told this was a talk, not a medical examination."

"We can talk while I look you over." Odysseus pulls over a chair and sets me down in it. I tolerate his examination of old scars and poking.

"A little banged up to be a newborn." He sets his owlish eyes on me in question, obviously not believing my previous story.
I feel my own eyes darken, "I grew up fast."

Odysseus clears his throat and then looks to Achilles, "Well, he certainly seems to be the progeny of the father of monsters," Odysseus stands and rinses his hands in a small water basin nearby, "Though how much he is a monster and he is man, remains to be seen."

"Percy is honorable," Achilles puts his hands on my shoulder, and I look at him as he gives me a genuine smile, "A force of nature in his own right, he would rather protect those around him than tear the world apart."

I blush and look away, "Thanks, Achillies."

"Great," Odysseus again cuts in, coming over with a document, "Then I'm sure he will have no issue in completing his father's vow and fighting alongside the other Greeks for a glorious end to this nearly decade-long pissing contest."

I furrow my brows and look at Odysseus, "Wasn't mutually assured destruction your bright idea, Clever King?"

For the first time, Odysseus seems to take a hard look at me. It's difficult not to be unearthed. The guy has a gaze that makes you want to squirm and hide, as if the longer he looks at you, the more likely it is for him to discover your secret.

He gives me a smile that reminds me more of a shark than a man, "Why yes, it was, but it is hardly my worst sin, little monster. I want to go home to my dear wife and child. If you can be used to get me there faster, then I will find a way to make you useful. Your father's honor is on the line. I suggest you take that and whatever your reasons for coming here entail and join so we can all move on, huh?"

I sit there speechless and unnerved, but thankfully, Achilles asks me, "What makes you think Percy can end the war?"

Odysseus scoffs and hands me a brush and ink with the paper, "Isn't it obvious? Perseus could boil us all alive right now if he wanted to," I look up and find Odysseus's empty blue-gray eyes staring at me, "The sea god has seen it fit to send us the perfect weapon. Whether to piss off the King of the gods or simply for the entertainment of it remains mysterious. I will not look a gift horse in the mouth."

Odysseus pauses momentarily, ”Though maybe I should… perhaps everyone should.”

With that cryptic message of doom and mild insults to my person, Odysseus runs off to write something down. Seeming to forget me and Achilles are even there.

I read over the document, and Achilles explained it to me; it's more of a formal contract for me to fight with them. I agree because I was going to anyway, and we left as soon as possible.

We walk silently, and once we're out of Odysseus' camp, I shiver, "I see what you mean."

Achilles nods, looking ahead, "Just be thankful we found you first and not that Mad King. He's too clever for his own good and would happily send us gift-wrapped to the gates of Troy if he thought it would end the war faster."

I snort because even though I know about the Trojan Horse, Achilles gives me a humourous look, "What?"

I shake my head as we continue into camp, "Nothing, let's just hope the next meeting I have to be dragged along to goes better."

Achilles sighs, losing his humor and rubbing his face, "I doubt it."

Coming back, it's late, but the camp still bustles with activity. Fires and torches are lit everywhere. What the fire doesn't illuminate, the sizeable pale moon does, and I quickly find myself whisked away by the camp's women. Achilles laughs as I'm dragged away, holding his hands in surrender as he finds Patroclus.

I revive many envious looks from the other men in the camp as the women have decided to dote on me. If it's the best fruits or cuts of meat, everything ends up on my plate. I chuckle at them and make a game of sneaking some of my food onto their meager rations. It's peaceful and warm; it reminds me of home so much that I must wipe away the tears of homesickness more than once.

Eventually, it's too much, and I excuse myself from the fire to walk to the stream to try and clear my head. It's quiet out; not even the insects sing…until the silence of the night is broken.

"Help!" I hear from down the creek towards the lake it feeds into. I've already started running towards it.

It's hard to see, and if I were only human, I wouldn't be able to tell, but the water tells me someone is drowning, and I see him in the middle of the lake. A man barely holding his head above water is gasping for breath.

I dive in, the water around me obeying instantly. I see the man starting to lose consciousness, and I grab him. He held his head above water as I swam back to shore.

He sputters and coughs the whole way, barely hanging on to the waking world. I get him onto shore, help him throw up the water he swallowed, and clear his lungs. His dirty blond hair is almost back in the late hour, plastered to his face.

"You okay? What are you doing out here? How'd you end up in the lake?"

He turns to be, and large, pale, unseeing eyes stare back at me like the moon or an owl.
"Well, I couldn't very well see it if I tried. The dogs were after me."

I suck on my lips, embarrassed, "Sorry, I- sorry," I help him up and find that he's a bit taller than me, heavy too, "What's your name?"

He coughs some more, leaning heavily against me, as he shifts to push back the wet hair from his face, "Auster, my name is Auster."

Chapter Text

I help the blind man, Auster, through the woods. He's shivering and has gone quiet, doing his best to stay awake as I practically carry him. Once I can see the fires in the distance, I call out.

"Help! I need some help now!" The women hear me first as I break from the trees. They come running as they see the half-conscious man I'm holding up.

"Good gods," Briseis mutters, lifting the man's head as the other girls take him from me, "A fine face for a man in the middle of the woods."

"I wasn't in the middle of the woods when I received it." The man coughed more water, spilling out of his mouth.

It's only then I notice the dog bites along his legs and feet, now visibly bleeding. I shoo the girls away with a hand and pick the larger man up bridal style.

"Hey!" Auster's pale, full moon eyes widened, and he flailed a bit as I started towards my tent. "Go fetch Achilles and Patroclus; tell them what is going on. Margaret, I need you to gather medical supplies for these bites, and Lyra, I need you to fetch your friend here something to eat."

"You got it, Percy." Margaret dashes off through the camp, and Lyra leaves with a simple nod, running off to do her job as the rest of the women follow me."

Auster is tense in my arms but loops around my neck. He huffs and shifts, "Try not to drop me, alright, pretty boy?"

I quirk a brow and look at him but don't falter as I can see my tent is only a few steps away, "How would you know that I'm pretty? You can see about as well as you can swim."

Auster ignores my insult as I carry him through the tent flaps, "You wouldn't have so many women at your beck and call if you weren't. Either that, or you're fabulously rich. Though I doubt that, you're too helpful to be a prince."

I set him down in the bedroom, a crooked grin on my face as I let out an amused scoff, "Well, you're right about that. Mostly. Now, try not to move too much, but don't fall asleep."

Auster grumbles and leans back, his hair drying into loose ringlets that give him a halo as he lays on my pillow in my bedroom. My heart twisted strangely at that, and I ignored the swoop in my stomach as the man groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Hurry up, pretty boy. I won't heal until the moon is gone and the goddess gives up her hunt for the night."

I grab another pillow and prop Auster up further, much to the man's bellyaching, "I'll prep you for Patroclus and Margaret. I've got some knowledge overall, but I typically stay out of the healer's way and let them work."

I take clean linens and put them under the man's legs. Auster hisses through his teeth at the movement, and I grab a pitcher of water and a rag, starting to clean up his legs.

"A wise man, are you?"

Auster winces as I clean an intense bite, "When I have to be."

Patroclus comes through the tent flaps, red-faced and on edge, arms full of bandages and medical herbs; I move out of the way and let Margaret and Patroclus work.

"You're a lucky man, sir," Patroclus starts as he tends to his wounds.

"Am I?" Auster grits his teeth and breathes through his nose as Margaret heats a hooked needle over a candle, "Don't feel too lucky right now."

Patroclus huffs a small laugh at the Auster's unending need to be sarcastic, "Yes, actually, if I were ever to pick a person to save me from drowning, it would be Percy."

Auster makes a confused noise, his nose scrunching up before he yelps as Margaret pulls out several of his hairs, "What the fuck?!"

Margaret doesn't even blink as she thread it through the needle; Patroclus speaks on her behalf, "It's going to be the thread for your wound. We can't spare any valuable thread on a man who won't be on the front line tomorrow morning. I'm sorry."

"It's fine; just get it over with, please."

It's a grueling process, and eventually, I hold Auster's hand partially so that he has something to squeeze as the pain rolls through him but hold him down through the worst of it.

With blood on his hands and a smile, Patrclous sighs and stands. I hand him a pitcher of water to rinse off the blood. Auster goans as the paste and bandages soothe his injuries.

"There, all better- or at least not dead."

"Not dead is good. I'll take it." Auster flops back against the bed roll with a huff, and Patroclus turns to me.

"He needs time to heal, and there's no room in the medical tent, so if it's alright, he can stay with you. It'd be better if he had someone around anyway since he's stuck until he gets a better idea of the layout and can walk properly.

I nod and stand up, going to the tent flap to have the other women outside clean Auster up, get him into new clothes, and bring some food. They come in like a busy swarm of worker bees, making me chuckle.

"Yes, I'll look after him. I have a lot of help after all."

Patroclus's eyes widened as he saw the swarm of girls, each with her job; Auster seemed disgruntled but let the girls do their job with minimal grumbling.

"I...can see that." Patroclus starts with a chuckle, "Well, I was in the middle of something that I would rather like to get back to, though I should wash first. I'll see you in the morning, Percy."

Patroclus exits with haste, and Auster slowly loses patience with being maneuvered around like an oversized doll.

I sit by his head, chuckling, "It's better just to let them. They know what they're doing."

Auster turns his ear in my direction as several girls move him up to wash the sweat and grim from his back. Out of respect, I ignore the raised red scars I notice there.

"Your name…is Percy?" He asks, a lilt in his voice as if concerned he'll say the wrong thing.

"It's my nickname; my actual name is Perseus. But everyone who doesn't want me dead or wants to sound overly important calls me Percy."

That makes Auster crack a smile, quickly replaced by a wince and growl as Melissa moves his legs too much.

He frightens her, and for that, I cuff the back of his head, "Hey!" Auster whips around, entirely focusing on me now.

"Don't hiss at them. Disrespect them, and I'll throw you back out into the lake, and this time, I'll make sure you drown," Auster holds the back of his head, and his jaw drops in disbelief.

He turned away from me, and the women giggled at him as they continued to work.

"Don't feel too bad about it, stranger," Briseis grins as she helps Auster into a new white tunic, "Percy here is our loyal guard dog and has higher standards than most on how we should be treated. Consider yourself lucky you got off with just a slap." Her voice grows dark towards the end, and the other women's smiles turn sharp.

"I…understood." He mumbles out.

Auster sits still and does as he's told until he's washed, dressed, fed, and exhausted. I see the girls out after he lays down and closes his eyes.

"Thank you, ladies; seriously, it would have taken me hours to do all this and not half as good as you all did it."

Euthalia smiles and gives my arm a light punch, "Oh, quit you, charmer, we were happy to do it. You better let us know if you need anything else, alright?"
I smile, "Oh, course I will, and if any of you need anything, my door is always open."

They nod, and I receive a chorus of 'good nights' before I go and sit down next to Auster; his eyes remain closed, but he talks to me anyway.

"They seem to love you." He starts quietly, a lot more comfortable after not being covered in everything that was probably in that lake.

I feel a blush come to my cheeks and clear my throat, "Well, I-" I sigh, get out of my chair, and sit next to him properly. He opens his eyes, and though I know he can't see me, he tilts his head toward the noise I made.

"Truth, how they're treated bothers me." Auster props himself up on his elbow and turns to me, giving me his full attention, "My mother- the woman who raised me… she was more than any goddess ever could be. She had to do…so much to make sure I'd survive, and seeing the man she had to endure because of me…"

I growl, and the ground trembles just a bit, "I still regret not killing him myself. There was divinity and patience in her every action. Now…I honor her and her sacrifice for me by protecting the other women who want me to. I don't mind; I have enough power to share."

When I look up, Auster has a soft smile, and I grin, tilting my head, "What? Was I too honest?"

"No," He promises quietly, seeming to drop his sarcasm for the first time since I've known him, "It's just a novelty, seeing someone who has power, being kind, dispute it. I think…my mother would like you."

"What's she like? Your mother?"

Auster takes a deep breath, thinking as he rests again, "My mother…is like the dawn. Soft, beautiful, and blinding. She and my father are the happiest people I know. It feels like they've been together for eternity, and they're still so in love with each other…I don't know gives me hope. My siblings and I are a handful, but you wouldn't know it just by how well she handles everything."

"You sound like you miss them." I offer, looking as his handsome face twists with sorrow and vulnerability.

"I do… miss my family, I mean. We're all so busy, and my brothers fight so often…We haven't spent as much time together as we should. Work and war and petty bullshit…I miss how we used to be before everything seemed to go sideways."

"Well," I put my hand on his shoulder, "It's not too late. We don't get to choose our family, but if you still care and miss them, you can always reach out. If you sit around and wait for something to happen, you'll be sitting until it's too late."

"Huh," Auster looks at me, wiping away stray tears, "Thank you…for the advice and the help. I…I appreciate it."

"It's no problem, try to get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

Auster nods and lies down; I sit next to my armor and prepare it for the battle on the horizon.

"Were you able to stop Hera?" Apollo asks, his battle armor gleaming as he meets up with Artemis. She asks, frustrated.

"No, I slowed down her chariot, but Nortus, the loyal little prick, took most of the damage and the poison arrow for her. He was cut loosened the gods on a wild goose chase while his brothers carried the dear Queen away."

Apollo hums at that, "Do you know where he landed?"

"No, the dogs lost his scent. It's probably because he fell into the water or changed his shape before the arrow could drain his mortality; it'll only last until you take over."

"So we only have a few hours to find him and hold him for ransom?" Apollo growls, "I hate the winds; they're tricky, jealous bastards."

Artemis nods and climbs into her chariot again, "We need to find him; if we can hold him, Hera's war chariot won't get far without her strongest pulling stead. Besides, I know you are especially interested in holding onto the West winds favorite brother."

Apollo climbs onto the chariot with his sister and tracks Notus's trail to a lake near the Greek camps. The arrow has turned him mortal for the time being, but someone helped him out of the water.

They follow the tracks to the one camp Apollo hoped Nortus wasn't at—the camp of Achilles, where Perseus was currently staying. Apollo felt his rage bubble and ignored his sisters' warnings as he crept through the center, invisibility aiding his mission. Peaking his head inside, he sees Notus, mortal, lying in his beloved's bed and sees red.

Chapter Text

I feel the threat before I see it. Buring anger hanging heavy in the air as the torch and candle lights flare. One minute, it was just me, my sword, shield, and Auster trying to rest. The next, all hades broke loose.

Apollo, in his war-like appearance, is here. Pure burning golden eyes set on Auster. I don’t think, just react as I throw my hand out, controlling the blood and fluids in the body Apollo is wearing, throwing him back and across the threshold out of the tent. Apollo recovers as I step in front of Auster's sleeping body. Riptide at the ready, Apollo charges again, and I hold him still, not allowing him to move any closer.

It’s more difficult to hold him than it would be for a normal human. It’s as if his very blood fought against the control of an outside force. It is pushing against my power, trying to break free.
Sweat drips down my brow as I grit my teeth and hear it. It’s no worse than holding up the sky, so I endure. Keeping the sun god at bay.

“What do you want, Apollo?” I snarl, Riptide flashing as I concentrate on keeping Apollo from moving forward.

The question enrages him as it becomes harder to hold him still; he gains a step forward before I clamp down again.

“What do I want?!” Apollo booms, fire escaping the sides of his eyes, “I’ve wanted the same thing this entire time! Give yourself to me, and this can all end.”

“Me?” I furrow my brows, sweat pouring down my face, “What does that even mean?”

Apollo seems to take a long second to stare at me like I’ve said the dumbest thing he has ever heard. I started to feel self-conscious, trying to review our interactions in my head to see if I had missed anything. After a moment, a light bulb moment hits, and my face burns.

“You like me?!” I holler, a heavy blush making my face burn almost as much as just being near Apollo.

Apollo shakes his head, his golden curls swinging with the movement. He smiles between amused and baffled, “It’s always the pretty ones.”

I clear my throat and straighten myself. Love confessions aside, he invaded my home and attempted to attack Auster for no reason. This is no time to be thrown off kilter; even the god of truth can lie.

“I cannot let you hurt him, Apollo. You need to leave.”

Anger reignited, and the room became sweltering, smoldering eyes glaring past me to Auster recovering. A shift to hide him behind me again, and Apollo growls.

“Step aside, Perseus; that miserable worm has no place in our presence. The conniving little parasite is going to pay.”

I drop into a more defensive stance glaring right back at the sun god, “You can try, as I recall last time I kicked your sorry ass into next week.”

Apollo takes another step forward before I hold him back again, gritting my teeth. He towers over me, an intimidating sight.

“Stand. Aside. Little Earth Shaker.”

I snarl, too, sharp teeth catching the low light, “Bite me.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Perseus.”

My control over the ichor in Apollo's veins snaps, and we meet in the middle. I change levels and drop low, taking Apollo by surprise as I shoulder-check him out of the tent and onto the ground.

In retaliation, Apollo flings Riptide from me in our struggle. Trying to stay on top of him, I throw an elbow into Apollo's nose. At the same time, he’s distracted by the pain. I grab his hands and hold them over his head.

We both freeze, breathing hard. One wrong move, and Apollo will escape. He stares at me, gold bleeding into sky blue as we catch our breath. Apollo looks at me like I’ve hung the moon, and I press harder into him, keeping him still.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispers as if drunk.

I snarl in his face using my free hand to grab the knife at my belt and put it to his throat, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He smiles gently at me as if amused, “You can certainly try, oh tantalizing one.”

Before I can reply, I’m yanked off of him by my hair. I cry out as I’m pressed against something cold, a knife made of bone now pressed to my throat.

“I’m sorry, Honorable One,” A soft voice like the wind at night whispers into my ear; I tense as she speaks more, “I cannot let you kill my foolish younger brother. Not tonight.”

“Lady Artemis,” I wince as she holds my wrists behind my back harshly, “I would apologize, but he deserved it.”

The knife presses deeper into my neck, making me swallow sharply. I can feel her piercing gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Apollo collecting himself and watching as Artemis cows me.

“Wild boy,” She says almost fondly, a bite still in her voice, “Unruly, as he is just. No wonder your father sent you here to end this fight.”

I snort, my offense rising as I try to fight again. That’s shut down quickly as my blood wets her blade. I growl low in my throat—the idea of being confined makes something in me howl.

“I like you, Perseus, I do. Please do not make me put you down. It would be worse than ending a young buck before he has reached his peak.”

I turn my head slightly; now that she is not holding my hair, it only slightly agitates the knife. One of my eyes meets hers, and we stare one another down.

“I have never feared death, Lady Artemis. But I can promise you I can hold a grudge like no one else. I will not forget this. That is the risk you take for not finishing a kill.”

Artemis smiles. It’s more like a baring of teeth, but it is genuine, “You would have made a fine hunter, Perseus. Or a monster for the hunt to chase.” she quips and tightens her grip, causing me to wince.

“There’s still time for me to be a monster.” I chuckle deeply and without humor, remembering some of my brothers and sisters from the past that my dad kept around after their deaths. Dad made them into leviathans and horrors that have forgotten what it is to be human. He always said I would be the crowning jewel of his menagerie one day.

I dread to think about it.
“When that day comes, I will spare you then too.”

I tsk and shift slightly, looking to the east where the sky lightens, “Not very wise of you, my lady.”

“And why is that?” Artemis asks, tilting her head. Apollo watches from the sidelines with a calculating gaze.

I grab her hands with mine, pulling her closer, “Because the worst monsters hold grudges.”

I growl as I throw her over my head, making her land in the dirt. She gasps, and instead of engaging her, I back off, going over to Riptide and putting my back against a nearby tree. The godly twins advance slowly, like raptors or hunting dogs. The glow of Riptide's metal illuminates their sharp, unnatural features hauntingly. As the sun rises in the east, I fear this will be my last stand.

Either I will die here, or I won’t be a human coming out of the other side. I ready my stance. Sending a quiet, private apology to my mom wherever she is. I can only hope she doesn’t worry too much. Who knows how long I have been away

When I think it’s all over, the sound of a million wind chimes and church bells sounds along the horizon. A warm southern breeze plays with the curls around my ears before a golden war chariot comes into view. At first, I thought it was the sun chariot until I saw it being led by a pegasus out of the hitching, leading Hera, queen of Olympus, proper to us.

“Hera,” Artemis growls, glaring at the Queen’s approach.

Honestly, never in a million years would I think I would be happy to see Hera of all goddesses, but at Artemis dragging a protesting Apollo away to avoid confrontation with the Queen of the gods…It brings me around to the idea.

She lands, and I don’t bow. I appreciate the solid she did for me on making sure the twins didn't gut me, but bending is a stretch too far. Hera raises a brow at that, but I dip my head slightly in respect, nothing more. She rolls her eyes with a soft smile.

“Perseus,” She speaks as if tasting the name for the first time, “I have heard quite a bit about you,” She pets the pegasus made of wind next to her, who seems to be excited, but I don’t speak wind so it’s hard to say, “It’s nice to find that your reputation proceeds you.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I say awkwardly, feeling defensive. She seems to notice and frowns for a moment before carrying on.

“I don’t know what your father has told you about me, but you can trust me,” Hera lets the wind go, and I gasp as he turns into a perfect version of Auster, eyes bright and playful and he takes in my surprise, “I certainly trust you after you saved dear Nortus here.”

“You’re a god.” Nortus winces at my tone and seems apologetic.

“Not when we met, I’m afraid,” He rubs his arms and moves closer. I step back, and he stops, holding his hands up, “I didn't mean to deceive you; Artemis shot me out of the sky as I pulled Hera’s chariot.”

I look at it, and there is a spot for another pegasus. The leather tack has been severed with something.

“The poison-tipped arrows The Lady of the Moon made turned me mortal and injured me greatly. I am forever grateful that you saved me, Percy.”

“Well,” I start rubbing the back of my neck; Hera watches and seems amused, “You’re welcome. Try not to get shot again, though, huh?”

Nortus chuckles, and it sounds like bells and kites flying on a summer day and the beginning of a summer thunderstorm.

“I’ll try. He grins before bowing to Hera, “My lady, thank you for coming to Percy’s aid.”

Hera smiles at him gently, motherly, “Oh course, you earned it after all, saving me the way you did. “ Hera’s gaze turns, calculating her smile wolfish, and it immediately puts me on guard. A god with some plan never ends up well, especially not Hera’s plans. “I wanted to see such a powerful asset to our cause for myself.”

Hera sweeps towards me, her toga of peacock fathers giving her the illusion of floating; she comes before me and towers over me, her eyes getting dark as she grins.

“Oh yes, Little Son of the Sea,” Hera looks me over, assessing me without touching me. I grip Riptide with white knuckles. “You will do quite nicely.”

Chapter Text

Nortus didn't know how he felt. Lost was at the forefront of his mind, but a strange concoction of emotions swirled and stirred up in his chest and gut.

Perseus, the kind of mortal son of Poseidon, had saved him and had selflessly defended him from Apollo and Artemis. More than that, he wanted nothing in return; even when he found out Nortus was a god, Percy asked no favors nor boon of him or his mistress.

Percy had been kind. It got Nortus thinking about things he had ignored for years rather than dealing with him. He can see why Percy is said to be so beloved by the gods of the sea. Percy is beautiful, sure; that was given with his parentage. Rarely will a child of a god find themselves lacking, but…that was a mere footnote compared to how Nortus thought of Percy.

When the strange emotions rose in him, it was because Percy cared. Because the women he protects are not for gain, and they seem to love him genuinely. Nortus thinks about how Percy found someone injured in the middle of a lake near death, and for no other reason than because he couldn't bear to see someone suffer, he helped. He cared about a minor wind god, had asked after his family, his mother, had given him advice, and when he could not defend himself…Had kept the wolves from the door for him.

Nortus travels west to visit his brother Zephyrus, who still serves under the ever-changing Eros. It does not take him long to get there, and when he does, Zephyrus meets him in the air, crushing him in a hug.

"Nortus, you fool," Zephyus's voice was thick as he hugged Nortus to his chest, "They almost killed you, those gods damned-"

"I'm okay," Nortus offers, leaning away to look his older brother in the eye, "Really, I was saved by a son of the sea god."

Zephyrus quirks a brow at his face, becoming grim, "What did he ask in return? Do you need help?"

Nortus shakes his head, smiling, curling, dancing happily in a wind that doesn't exist in this place, "Nothing, he…he asked nothing of me other than that I recover,"

Those feelings rise, and Nortus feels like he will fall out of the sky. Uneasy, he looks back at his brother, who seems to be watching him closely.

"Hmm," Nortus's storm gray eyes seem to give him a knowing look before he blinks and turns away, a coy smile on his face, "Come along, little brother, let us discuss more once inside. I'm sure my master will want to join in our conversation. We better go in before he flies here and injures his wings, attempting to fight the wind."

Nortus drifts behind his brother and into the house. He sits at the low couch-like table while his Zephyrus gathers ingredients for a small grazing board. Nectar and ambrosia are the most common, but some cheeses and fruits accompany it. Eros comes from the hall, stretching out with a yawn as he enters.

"Good morning, Eros; we have a guest."

"Hmm?" As Eros wakes fully, he sets his startling red eyes onto Nortus, making him blush as his appearance changes.

Well, he is built and tanned. His smile is as sharp as his jaw. Dark, loose ringlets are shorter than appropriate for a man his age, but they frame his face so nicely it feels like looking too long is a sin. Flustered, Nortus looks away, and Eros tilts his head before he looks down at himself and laughs.
He chuckles warmly and sends a coy smile Nortus's way that makes his stomach twist, "My, my, little Nortus, what a surprise. You have never triggered my powers before…seeing someone special?"

Eros stalks closer, and feeling nervous, Nortus stutters, unable to answer as he stares at the gorgeous man before him. He sinks deeper into the couch, wishing to disappear. That is until a grape is thrown and bounces off Eros's cheek.

Afrronted, Eros confesses his teasing and turns to Zephyrus, who glares back at him, "Leave poor Nortus alone, Eros. He's never liked anyone before and disputes his mother's best efforts. I would kindly ask you not to spoil it."

Eros pouts, perfect pink lips jutting out as he sulks over to Zephyrus, who ignores him.

"I was only having a bit of fun; why do you always have to ruin it."

Zephyrus walks over to the table, food in hand, brushing past Eros, a stray gust of wind forcing Eros's wing to smack into his face.

"Eck," Eros spits and shuffles his wing out of the way, glaring at Zephyrus, where he sits next to Nortus. The two have matching devious grins at his expense, a trait they seem to have gotten from their mother.

"Well, do you want to sit with us and eat, or will you continue being a pain?"

Eros grumbles but plops down on the comfy seating couch. Stretching out his wings and arms, taking up space. Neither of the wind gods seems to mind as they settle back into easy conversation, and Eros gets distracted with his breakfast.

"So, I take it I was right then? You have feelings for the little sea prince."

Nortus's cheeks burn gold, and he huffs, crossing his arms, "I don't know, I don't even know what wanting someone feels like. I just…he is amusing but not like how normal mortals are. …he makes me laugh and smile just by talking to me. He cares so much, not just about himself but about everyone. He has strange ideas and would die for them if it came to it…I…admire him, I think."

Looking up, he sees Zephyrus and Eros staring at him. Zephyrus has a soft smile, while Eros grins ear to ear with a stolen, crooked grin. Nortus feels flustered again and looks away, wind swirling around him as he rubs his arm. Cheeks flushed, thoughts of Percy swirling right along with his wayward wind.

"Nortus," Eros calls gently, making Nortus face him, "It sounds like you might like this boy. I can feel the potential there; I know you've never felt love like this before; it can be strange, ever-changing, and sometimes scary."

Nortus nods, and Zephyrus places a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I don't know what to think or how to feel. I want to get to know him better, all of him. I barely know him, but even if he didn't want anything more from me, being his friend would bring me much joy. I… it's all so confusing, to be honest. I want to give him the world and make him happy, but if happy wasn't with me…I would want him to have it even without me."

Zephyrus grins and ruffles his hair, "Then what's stopping you from going to him, huh? I don't think someone you described as kind would turn you away when you want to know him better."

Eros nods as he takes a sip of nectar, and Nortus plays with his hands, "That's the problem…The sun god seems to have taken an interest in him."

"What?!" Zephyrus snaps as Eros chokes on his drink, coughing and hacking. Nortus flinches at their reaction… he's more screwed than he thought.

Apollo sits on a mountain overlooking the sea, strumming his lyre as he thinks about the problem.

Perseus, as godly as he is, is far too mortal. He thinks mortal, acts mortal, and protects and cares for mortals that should be lying at his feet in droves, like horrible little worms wriggling under a mightier being. Percy is too much to be confined to so little. Not to mention…Apollo needs to lock him down before any more ambitious gods decide a pretty powerhouse would be good to add to their collection of lovers.

Apollo already knows that the only place Percsues will ever belong is in his garden of lovers. The crown eternal jewel of his garden.

"You're sulking again," Artemis calls before sitting by him, setting her bow to her side. Apollo lets out a noncommittal noise and continues to play.

Artemis nudges him, and Apollo sends her a fiery glare. She ignores, "You're that upset I kept him from separating your head from your neck."

Apollo rolls his eyes, "I was having a moment. He wouldn't have killed me."

Artemis shakes her head, "If it can bleed, it can die. No matter how indestructible, even the most horrible monsters can be killed with a skilled enough hunter."

Apollo pauses his rhythm, "You calling the gods, the monster now?"

Artemis is quiet for a long moment before she looks him in the eye, "We are what we allow ourselves to become."

Apollo scoffs and looks away, "And everyone says I am the cryptic one."

"The habits of your heart will continue to be your downfall, little brother."
Artemis stands to leave, "Perseus is a good man. He deserves someone good to love him if that is what he desires. Perhaps you should allow yourself to become a good man."

With nothing else to say, she leaves in a flash of pale moonlight and the sound of hunting dogs baying. Apollo scoffs at her words of wisdom.

"A good man? I'm a god." He mumbles to himself, suddenly feeling sleepy. It is not uncommon in this form, but typically, Apollo has to induce it and hope. Laying down on the cliffside, he starts to drift to sleep; the ground feels soft and warm, cradling him.

The dream smells of fertile soil and fresh spring water, primarily black, like being buried underground. It makes Apollo uncountable for only a moment, missing the light, but the thought is chased away as a soothing woman's voice rings through his essence like a lullaby. His soft, glowing light is comforting as he lays back, finding it difficult to keep his eyes open.

"Little Sun, golden son, you seem so tired."

"I am tired," Apollo whispers, feeling as if he could stay in this solace forever, slumbering until the end of time.

"Oh, love is so tiring. Especially trying to love the sea. Sweet one moment and violent the next. Loving and course, and sweet and salty, I would know," the woman pet his hair, and Apollo felt himself purr at the feeling of her warm hands smoothing his curls.

Apollo pouts as he thinks of Percy, "I want him…but he's mortal. He doesn't understand. I want him to understand…I want him to love me."

The woman hums and continues to pet his hair, "How about I help you, dear? I could make your little earth shaker immortal…for a price."

Apollo feels more awake and looks up at the veiled face of the woman petting him, "You can do that?"

She smiles, and her teeth are black, but it's a pleased smile nonetheless, "Oh, of course I can. I was one of the first creators of life; working to make a vessel that can hold his power shouldn't be hard. The little natural disaster has ready gotten my attention."

At her tone, something in the back of Apollo's mind screamed about the danger of this, but it was silenced by the soft, motherly hand stroking his hair and the promise of keeping Percy forever.

"What do I need to do? I… I would pay any price if you could make him a god."

The woman's smile sharpens, and she leans beside his ear to whisper, "When the war ends, you must capture him and bring him to the gates of Tartarus, where my husband and I meet. There, I will take him. He will slumber for many moons with me, and once he's ready, you must release him onto the world. It will be near the sea; you will know it when you see it."

"What of the payment?"

The woman tilts her head and seems to think, "There will come a day that I will ask you to sire a child with a mortal. When that day comes, you will do as commanded. You will protect the bloodline even as it is watered to nearly none of your blood. This my price."

Apollo nods quickly, "Yes, I understand; I agree, just please. Make Perseus a god."

The woman smiles again, "As I said, I will make him immortal. Remember what you must do, Golden God of Olympus. You have made a deal."

Abruptly, Apollo startles awake, still on the mountainside looking at the sea. He feels disoriented. He had some dream… though he can't remember much of it.

"Strange…" Looking to the west, Apollo muses, "I wonder what I saw."

Chapter Text

The smell of blood, impending doom, and distressed horses permeated the air. I breathe it in; the visions of hundreds of battles that have yet to be waged play through my mind.
Still, I’m nervous.

This is somehow less horrifying than facing other demigods, kids just like me, fighting with the same rage and spite that ran through me. Just kids…
These are not children. The soldiers surrounding me are grown men, already so possessed with battle or fear that they’re hardly men at all.

If I had not already seen more battles than I cared to, I would think Ares was influencing the beginning of the upcoming fight; however, that wasn't the case; this was just what war was. No terrible biker god is needed.

“You ready for this?” Achilles asks, coming up beside me in full battle armor.

I nod, looking out onto the theater of war ahead, “It’s not the battle I fear; it’s what comes after. I have a bad feeling.”

Achilles nods, his face barely visible, what is, is grim, “I understand, this meeting among the kings…Agamemnon is acting strange. Patroclus cautions to be ready for anything.”

I grit my teeth; I’ve heard plenty about the arrogant king from Patroclus and Achilles, but what the women have told me makes me truly despise the man. From what I understand, I could turn his insides inside out and leave him on hooks for the birds to end him slowly, and it would not be enough. Briseis's words, not mine, but I have never known her to steer me the wrong way.

I am thankful for the overcast day. I avoid light patches that break through, feeling more than a little cross. It’s one thing to admire someone. It’s entirely different to demand they hand themselves over to you. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean you can do whatever you want.

“If not the battle, what troubles you cousin?”

I turn to find Achilles' deep green eyes staring through my soul, searching for what could upset me. I sigh and turn to give him my full attention.

“I suppose a lot does. I miss home…” I frown, tears in my eyes, “This place is both expected and not; I’m constantly fighting for seemingly no reason, and everyone just expects me to know what’s going on when this place is so backward.”

Achilles listens, nodding, “I’m not sure how to help you, and I know it’s not much, but…maybe battle will help? At least with the frustration.”

I bark out a laugh, close to tears, and give him a pained smile, “That’s…so fucked but…Thank you. For listening.”

Achilles slaps my shoulder. Anyone else probably would have fallen over, “Hey, being terrible at emotional shit is my specialty; just ask Patroclus; I’m sure you too could have a very productive conversation about my one inadequacy.”
I snort and roll my eyes at his chipper antics as he continues, “Just stick close to me, and between the two of us and your pan, I’m sure we’ll be able to end this day early.”

The crowd's murmurs rise as the battle drawers nearer, and Achilles once again becomes the ruthless warrior he’s so famous for. He knocks my helmet good-naturedly and starts forward.

“Come on, Percy, this had better work. Otherwise, you’ll have to explain to Briseis and Patroclus why everything went sideways.”

I follow after him; the crowd parts for Achilles as quickly as the sea does for me. Before I knew it, we were at the front, and I took a deep breath. I tried finding the group led by Patroclus. I knew I wouldn't, but I still hope they’re okay. They’re following my order, after all.

On a horse that called themselves Daniel of all things, I take a deep breath and silently pray to my dad for my steed to carry me steadfastly. The next breath has the smell of the sea intertwined, and I feel energized. Skittish as he was a moment before, Daniel settles and champs at his bit. Achilles is beside me on a chariot, reins in the hand of a young soldier I do not recognize as he readies his spears.

“You ready, Percy?”

I look out at the Trojans on the other side and think of how they live in Apollo’s city, of the horror stories the women who once lived there told me. Of how those very people attacked me knowingly or not.

My gaze hardened, and my blood sang for battle.

“As I’ll ever be.”

War is hell. It’s a never-ending thunder of men's screams and blood rain. The humidity in the air is so saturated in fear I feel like I’ll choke on it. No matter how many men I cut down before me and try not to think about three more, take his place. Achilles' crazed battle-frenzied laughs ring through the battlefield. Many Trojan soldiers turn their tail at the mere idea of Achilles' presence, only to be cut down by the men behind them for being cowards.
I hold back, attempting not to end the battle with my godly power alone, but instincts can only be held at bay for so long. The ground shakes and grumbles. It supports my footing, allowing me to put more power behind my swings without wasting too much energy. The battle is slow for me, and the sea in the distance crashes along the shore, seeming just as reckless as I feel.

Thunder rumbles overhead, but…I know it does not belong to my uncle, as I dodge a spear thorough at me. A circle has formed around me, the soldier Trojan soldiers trying to find an easier target, but I don’t allow them. Rain begins to pelt the battlefield, and when I hear a cry of surprise ring out over the wind and rain from the back of the Trojan line, a feral smile paints itself across my face.

I surge forward, my body feeling renewed as the hurricane takes shape around me. Achilles lets out a bellowing laugh as he can see beyond the force I put together, lead by Patroclus. They take the Trojan line from behind, driving them into the meat grinder that is Achilles and I.

The other Greeks seem to be catching on and taking advantage as if they’re sharks that smell blood in the water. Ready to take advantage of the Trojan's confusion and weakness, they follow Achilles and me, abandoning their kings to go after the weakness.

Someone in Trojan leadership calls for retreat, only to be met again with Patroclus and his forces blocking them from leaving the battlefield. The battle rages for hours as we water the muddy ground with blood that washes away with the whistling wind and rain; as the slaughter continues, I see gods enter the battlefield. Those who have taken to siding with Troy are trying to save their meager forces. The only Greek god I see is Athena; at our backs, she watches the perfectly executed battle plan with a kind of satisfaction far more befitting her brother Ares.

She meets my eyes and points over the battlefield where Aphrodite is whisking away soldiers one by one off the battlefield; there seems to be no rhyme or reason for her selection, though each man is hand-picked, leaving his battle brothers to die without them.

Rage simmers in my gut, and the storm surges. I grab a spear from the man beside me, and though I could have been better with it, I know my aim will be accurate. I cock my arm back and chuck it at her. Satisfaction curls in my gut as the spear goes through her wrist. Her screams echo on the battlefield as Ichor falls to the bloody Earth.

Aphrodite fees, holding her injured hand. I look back and find Athena’s satisfaction matches my own as the battle ends, the sun goes down, and the conditions are too poor for anyone to continue. I look across the muddy ground, and upon the wall, I see the golden god himself. Too fair to read his facial expression, I snarled and glared at him regardless. I do not join in the cheer that goes up as the Greeks have won the battle.

I will celebrate when we win the war; until then, I am still stuck in this god's forsaken time with no way back. The death of hundreds is never something to be joyful about. This whole war… has little to do with the people fighting it and more with the boredom of a higher power that finds human lives insignificant.

The domino effect was set up before Princess Helen was even born, and now human lives are being affected; it makes me sick.

Looking back, I see that Athena is gone, but Odysseus stares at me. That blank, knowing stare like he can see into my soul. I growl at him, too.

My sour mood does not deter Achilles, though, as he practically tackles me in a hug, out of armor, making it awkward as he whoops jovially.

“HA! Would you look at that kid! You did it; your crazy bullshit worked!”
I chuckle as Achilles takes off my helmet to mess with my hair. I shove him off, and we end up wrestling for a moment. Since he’s, fucking Achilles, he wins, though we’re both covered in mud. Patroclus approaches us and grabs Achilles by the collar, taking off his Trojan-style helmet to kiss him.

I avert my eyes out of respect and get out of the mud. Once on two feet, Patroclus addresses me with a slightly fierce grin.

“Percy, you’re a crazy cryptic bastard, but…I would follow you into battle any day.”

I smile and bump my shoulder into his, “Thanks, Patroclus. I will try.”

Our small sphere of comfortable banter is broken by someone other than Odysseus, who comes up to the three of us.

“I see you were the one that came up with the battle strategy without consulting the rest of the regiment,” He starts glaring at me. I roll my eyes, “You’re lucky it worked, and none of the men you sent behind enemy lines were discovered or killed.”

Patroclus stands in front of me. Dispute Achilles and me being demigods. Patroclus is a mountain of a man and glowers down at Odysseus.

“Leave Perseus alone; besides, if you’re so pissed about not getting to take credit for the strategy, I’m sure you’re too mad to look at the intel he had us gather as well.” Patroclus pulls out a leather pouch with papers and battle plans from the enemy war tent.

I watch from behind Patroclus as the Clever King's eyes widen and then set into a greedy, angry look like he doesn’t want to let the issue drop but wants the knowledge too much to turn down the exchange. Achilles is useless; instead of doing anything to back us up, he’s mooning over Patroclus as he stands at full height to intimidate a king. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him.

Odysseus clicks his tongue before snatching the dangling leather bag from Patroclus hands and glancing at it; his eyes widen again before he clears his throat and looks back at us. His diplomatic expression is soured by his weasel-like grin as if he’s that cat who’s eaten the canary.

“I suppose I can…overlook the missteps in communication for such a lovely offering. I would suggest you, gentlemen, get cleaned up. Lest you be covered in trojan inners and mud, during the meeting.”

“Noted, King Creep.”

Odysseus ignores me and quickly turns to take his advice and squirrel away all the new information he can put into his creepy ass horde of books, scrolls, and anything he was able to require via espionage or divine gift.

Patroclus sighs and sags a bit. He looks tired with the adrenaline wearing off and divine blood running through him to keep him energized hours after the battle (believe me, he is the lucky one). Achilles comes to his eyes and kisses his cheek.

“Come on, let's go get cleaned up, Patroclus. It’s going to be a long night,” Achilles turns to look back at me, a tired smile on his face, “You too, Percy can’t have the youngest prince of the sea looking like he just got off a Trojan battlefield.”

I huff and run my hand through my hair, getting blood and mud into the ruined waves, “It would be true.”

Achilles shrugs, “No one cares about the truth, just appearances. Now let's get this over with so we can lay down.”
I follow the two back into camp; they’re absorbed in their conversations, and I let them, contemplating what could be in store at the meeting. Both Patroclus and Achilles seem weary, and I tend to agree. A bad feeling has been nagging me about this meeting since I learned about it. At the very least, I need to be careful not to allow anyone to meddle with my plans or try to get me put in Achilles' camp. If I can at least manage that, I think I’ll consider this a success.

As soon as I step into camp, the women seem to sense it, and I’m swarmed. They all talk to me at once, worried about the blood and mud and concerned for my health, and instead, they get me clean. I try to tell them I’m fine, but they don’t notice as they tug me to a warm tub behind a large, thick cloth. It’s honestly more privacy than any of the men get.

They get me clean in record time and dispute my instance that I can do it alone. My hair is brushed, and some bread is shoved into my hands as I dress in my short toga and leather armor. Finally, they handed me my sword and sent me on my way. They said Briseis stops me before I meet Achilles.

She wipes some crumbs off my cheek, and I blush before she puts her hands on my shoulders, “Percy…I don't know what will happen, but I talked to some women from Agamemnon camp, and things seem bad. Whatever happens, just…make sure you’ll be okay at the end. If anyone deserves to get out of this-”

I cut her off gently, “I’ll be okay, dispute being kind; I can be terrifying when needed. I won't let anyone take advantage of me. King or not.”

Briseis sighs and pats my shoulder, “I’ll see you later; we’ll hold down the camp until you get back.”

I squeeze her hand, “Thank you, I’ll be back.”
With nothing else, I turn my back to her and the camp, heading to meet with Achilles before we face the kings. The storm from the day is out over the sea, the only indication of the flashes in the distance. It feels like a sign—a storm on the horizon.

Chapter Text

I walk into the most enormous war tent I’ve seen so far. It almost reminded me of a massive circus tent, and as I looked around at all the kings already yelling and arguing, I see that it had clowns to match.

The tent is filled with men, mostly in purple togas and gold trim, arguing despite the victory that was just earned. I spot at least two or three gods among the crowd, stirring up trouble or simply watching. I catch Odysseus' eye while looking at Athena, who looms over his shoulder, observing the scrolls he’s rapidly flicking through. Their twin sets of empty owl-like eyes wink at me in the low light. Athena gave me a cruel smile and tipped her head towards me.

I look away first, feeling an unknown rage lick up my spine like hellfire. I find Ares towards the front of the room, seeming to feed a broad, blond man's rage as he yells at another regal-looking man with dark brown hair and a battle-hardened expression as he stares down the more petite man.

Patroclus and Achilles stick close to my side, leading us to our appointed place in a horseshoe of throne-like chairs. Achilles sits down but can’t seem to get comfortable and, after a moment, settles into the chair, hooking a leg over one of the arms as he lounges. This makes Patroclus snort and roll his eyes as he stands to the right of Achilles' chair, his hands behind his back. Achilles just grins back at him, obviously pleased with himself.

I stand to Achilles' left, resting my hand on the pommel of Riptide; I notice I am one of the few here who has a weapon, but even if they did take Riptide, I would just call the sword back. Rules be damned.

As other men make their way to their seats, the fighting dies down to grumbles, and soon enough, the real battle starts—the meeting of kings.
At the head of the meeting are two brothers, Agamemnon, the shorter blond man Ares was messing with earlier, and his older brother Menelaus. This taller, battle-hardened brunette seemed 100 present with whatever dumb argument his brother was spewing.

Menelaus stands, and the room quiets as he speaks, “We will now begin the meeting; the first topic up for discussion will be our overwhelming victory over those Trojan dogs,” whoops and cheers ring out as the rumbling of rowdy war-hungry soldiers roll through the tent. Menelaus then turns to Achilles, who smiles, “I think we can all agree Achilles men were pivotal.”

Most agree and congratulate us, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see jealousy and anger rip through Agamemnon, who sulks at his brother.

“Now, on to the next topic,” The king's face became grim, and he threw his brother a backward glance, “The plague.”

Agamemnom explodes out of his seat in a rage, causing me to take a step back and hold Riptide's handle, “I’m not giving that bitch Chrysies back! I don’t give a damn if her father has a direct line to the sun god unless he wants to come down here and suck my dick himself; I’m not giving her back!”

The room explodes into shouting again, and Achilles and Patroclus sit back and watch. Achilles had a manic grin like he was enjoying the chaos, and Patroclus had a scowl, probably because he’d had to turn away men from other camps with whatever plague that Apollo had set on them. I watch from the side, a deep frown set on my face. Plague had not touched Achilles camp in the weeks I’d been present; the women there had spoken about an illness among the other camps, but it had never touched anyone in our camp.

Menelaus has once again turned to shout at his brother, seeming to puff out in his anger, “ -Doom us all! The man came to you with more than a king's ransom, and you spat in his face! In the god's face with your greed and insolence! You are a fool and a fucking disgrace!”

Agamemnon’s face became a deep red as he barred his teeth at the elder king, “Disgrace?! To not bow to that trojan dog, I’m the disgrace?! I don’t see you rushing to give up your bride prize when you dragged the rest of us out here to retrieve your wife!”

The energy in the room came to a boiling point. I could even feel my anger begin to spike as Ares stood in the corner, a manic smile on his face. My body had already moved in preparation for a fight; the storm miles out to see at this point still rumbled as the whole tent went silent as the men spearheading this war clashed.

When all seemed lost, who would stand to devise a way to benefit from it while getting back at people for the hell of it, other than Odysseus?

“Gentlemen,” Odysseus starts, cutting off the silence before Menelaus can commit fratricide in front of a live studio audience, “I think this whole thing is just a regrettable spat between friends and brothers. All of us, or well,” Odysseus throws a cheeky glance over to Achilles and Patroclus,” most of us, here can relate to not wanting to go unattended, can’t we, gentlemen?”

Murmurs of agreement ring through the room; Achilles didn’t even flinch at the jab, simply rolling his eyes, but Patroclus looked slightly stricken. He tried to keep his features neutral, though the rage in his eyes betrayed him. I look over at him, trying to see if I can reassure him; however, Patroclus doesn’t look my way by the time Odysseus begins again.

“So allow me to bring forth a solution,” Odysseus swept through the tent to the dias, where Menelaus and Agamemnon stood side by side, momentarily distracted by the opening statement of a proposal, “Why not allow the girl to go, save put troops from the plague, and in exchange the regiment will provide you a bride prize. We’ll vote on which king will provide the women diplomatically, and you can pick the captured women in said king's camp.”

The men around the room seem to nod along, not seeing the issue with this plan if it gets them away from the plague, but alarm bells start going off in my head as I look at Odysseus, trying to find where he benefits from this idea.

“Now, as you all know, I have no women in my camp, so I will not be part of the poll; however, I have heard that while the Phthia camp has many women, few seem to find their way into any man's bed there,” I stare at Odysseus, in mirror horror with Patroclus, as the rest of the kings, and other men in the room turn to look at Achilles.

Achilles appears as if he could care less, taking up space in his chair and resting his cheek in his fist. Staring down the men who dare look in his direction. Eyes also find Patroclus, who seems to bristle at the other men. Patroclus is tall and broad. Much larger than almost all of the men there. The two are powerful in their own right, but if the rest of the kings vote against them out of jealousy or to save their asses…they’d just have to let it happen.

The more people look at Patroclus, the angrier Achilles seems to become, and soon, people snap their heads away, looking back at Odysseus, who is looking expectantly at Agamemnon, whose eyes haven’t left Achilles. A smug smirk graced his lips.

“I think it’s a perfect idea, very becoming of the Clever Odysseus. I say we vote right now. After all, the sooner we decide, the sooner we will be able to appease the great sun god and cast his plague out. No one wants it to go on any longer, especially those who have felt its bite.”

A growl rises in my throat, but before I can lunge forward, Achilles stands, and I quickly back off. Achilles projects danger, and I think we’ve officially entered the evening's ‘find out’ portion.
Achilles stares down Odysseus and Agamemnon. A dangerous edge enters his voice, and the room gets darker, “Something you want to say, gentlemen?” Achilles raises a golden eyebrow, and while Odysseus, in his wisdom, looks away, Agamemnon does not.

“I say we vote. Unless your speaking up is volunteering for the honor of saving all our men.”

I watch as a tick in Achilles' jaw pulses. Still, he reluctantly sits down, the bottomless fury of the depths reflected in his eyes, obviously not caring for the brazen disrespect.

Patroclus’s hand twitches towards Achilles' shoulder, but with all the eyes on them, Patroclus pulls it back, fist glued to his side instead of comforting his partner. The ground at my feet starts to shake the slightest bit. I take deep breaths to calm my rage and force myself to sit through the vote.

One by one, the kings cast their votes, and quickly, I see Odysseus and Agamemnon secure their petty revenge against Achilles. Leitus, Peneleos, Arcesilaus, Prothoenor, and Clonius all vote for Achilles to shoulder the burden of giving up one of the women in our camp for the pig Agamemnon. Nestor and Agapenor both vote that Menelaus should be the one to provide a new bride prize to Agamemnon, but no one else agrees. Achilles refuses to cast a vote due to the disrespect and the vote not going his way; despite Patroclus’s instance, he at least makes his opinion known.

With no voice in this room, I am simply forced to watch as these mortal kings halt an entire war because one man is too childish to set aside his wants before they move on. A married man, no less. Disgust and fury roll sound in my gut, and I wonder distantly what the goddess damn near in charge of this side of the war effort, and the goddess of marriage, Hera herself, thinks of this disgusting display.

“All the votes are in,” Odysseus starts and then turns to Achilles, “It seems the ever-fortunate Achilles will be the one to provide for King Agamemnon and relieve our troops of the duplicating illness that’s plagued them. How generous.”

Achilles stands, and Patroclus sighs deeply and rolls his shoulder back. I follow his example and prepare for the worst.

“If you all do this and continue disrespecting me and my people, you will quickly face consequences.” Achilles snarls his armor, seeming to rattle with his anger.

Menelaus then steps in, making things infinitely worse, “You would go against all of us when it was voted upon in a fairly, and you refused to cast a vote?”

Achilles steps forward, and the rest of the men seem to tense, “I think you should all remember who you’re messing with. I don't have to be here; I don’t have to fight with you. You come into my camp and take my property that I earned fair and square; you will quickly find yourself without my troops in your war.”

Many men looked around at one another in worry, but Agamemnon scoffs and rolls his eyes, “What makes you so sure we need you, pretty boy? Whether or not you see yourself as the best of the Greeks, you’re the only man who didn't bring that many men. Sulk and whine all you want. We don’t need you.”

I watched in shock as the rest of the men around the room slowly seemed to come around to Agamemnon’s words. I also watched as Achilles' rage built to a boiling point.

“Fine then,” Achilles spat, turning furrowed brows and bared teeth towards Agamemnon and Menelaus, “Come collect your bride prize, but do so at your own risk, for I will not step foot onto the theater of war until she is returned and a formal apology from every man here who voted against me.”

With nothing else to say, Achilles stood, walked out of the tent behind him, and remained silent. I quickly followed him, and Patroclus raced to Achilles' side, where an argument began.

I hang back to not eavesdrop and allow myself to think over everything.

“This isn't good,” I whisper to no one but myself. It feels like I’m watching a train crash about to happen in slow motion and am powerless to stop it. I think of the women back at camp and how I promised to protect them and know then and there that I have to fix this somehow some, way…anything to get Apollo to stop this before the girls have to suffer at the hands of Agamemnon.

But what do I have that the god would want?

Chapter Text

Dread and anguish give way to anger when I reach camp proper. It’s late, but despite that, I go directly to where the girls reside. Righteous anger rolled around in my gut like a storm. I can’t fathom letting this go on any longer. Not when Achilles and I could take the stuck-up kings and put them in their place if we tried…if we weren’t already in a dogfight with Troy.

My brain starts to churn as battle strategies flash through my mind, one right after another. Thought over and dismissed just as quickly. I can feel the deep set of my frown as I reach the women's encampment. Eleni, who I’m almost positive is a demigod of some kind, sees me first, waving me over.

“Percy,” Eleni says, her smile leaving her quickly, replaced by something more grim, “It is not good news then?”

I shake my head, “No, go wake everyone. I need to talk to Prince Achilles. I’ll come back and tell you everything, just….have everyone meet at my tent in 45 minutes, alright?”

Eleni nods and runs off to wake the rest of the women while I pivot, heading to speak to Achilles. I make it to his tent and nearly get run over by a furious-looking Patroclus. He glares down at me before taking a deep breath.

“Try your luck all you want, Percy. His head's so far up his ass he can’t hear anything over his own shit.”
With that little intro, Patroclus storms off in a huff, and I look to the sky. I’m not sure for what, but maybe this will go better than I hope.

I walked in and immediately had to restrain myself from bursting into laughter. In the center of the room is Achilles, the greatest warrior to ever live… wrapped in no less than ten blankets and doing what can only be described as pouting.

I can’t chase the grin from my voice before I address him, “Comfy, are you? Did Patroclus wrap you up like that, or did you do it yourself?”

The glare he sends my way is dampened significantly by his lower lip jutting out and him being an unfortunate human sushi roll. I hold my hands in mock surrender, biting my lip to keep from laughing at him.

“Come to convince me to take this blatant disrespect too?” Achilles snarls, though there isn't much heat behind it. Not when he knows Patroclus is mad at him somewhere.

I shake my head and sit down next to him, “No, I could care less if you burned the rest of the camps down and put all the other king's heads on pikes, if we’re being honest.”

That seems to get Achilles' attention as he raises a golden eyebrow, “That’s a little dark for you, but alright, I’ll bite; what is it you came to talk to me about?”

My face becomes severe, and I stare directly into his eyes, my teeth clenched, “We’re not going to let them take one of the women from the champ, right? You’re not going to let those slimy, dishonest, honorless dogs hurt one of the women, are you?”

Achilles sighs, his shoulder slumping, and for once, I can see past his golden godly luster to a young man who has been at war for years and is tired of it. The way the myths and poets spoke of him, I’d have thought that Achilles was nothing but hungry for a fight, but…I guess if anyone read about me, they’d feel the same.

“I don't know Percy. I don't want to, mostly for selfish reasons. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but unless you plan to keep the other kings from turning on us whenever our forces withdraw from the fight could not, I’m all ears.”

I hum as several ideas run through my mind; several are dismissed immediately, but a few stick and Achilles seems to notice.

“So you do have a plan then?”

I tsk and tilt my head to the side, hoping to rattle the ideas around my head like marbles, “Maybe a few, you and the women would protest most of them…I need to speak to them before I decide anything. After all, this affects them the most. They should have a say.”

Achilles shrugs and leans back, looking like a disgruntled caterpillar, “Do whatever you want; I don’t care; until they apologize, I will not fight in their bloody war. If you have a crazy plan…I will follow your lead. I trust you.”

I smile and stand, “Thanks, Achilles, it means a lot, especially in these times,” I sigh and move towards the tent flap, “I’m going to go speak to the women. We can discuss everything else in the morning.”

I didn't hear his last response as I headed towards my tent, time growing nearer to when the women would meet me, and a plan needed to be made. I refuse to allow them to fall into the clutches of that odious man, especially not if it’s so Odysseus can get some sort of petty revenge. I pace around my room, nearly jumping out of my skin whenever I hear someone call out to me.

“Percy, do you think I could- Woah!” Nortus holds his hands up in surrender, dropping a delicate arrangement of flowers as he stares down the tip of Riptide, “Hey, now. I knew you didn’t like gods, but surely you wouldn’t skewer a friend?”

I curse and drop my blade, picking up the flowers for him, “Sorry, Auster, er- Nortus. I’m a little on edge. Today didn't go well.”

Nortus frowns and shakes his head when I try to hand him back the flowers, “No, they’re for you- what happened today? You seem upset. Obviously, on edge, you wanna talk about it?”

I sighed heavily and sat on my cot, the flowers still clutched in my hand. I rub my face, trying to chase away the anxiety rolling around my chest, “Not really?” I say, the strain in my voice making Nortus frown deeper as he looks me over.

“I think I am going to do something stupid. And I’d rather not, but I’m also not truly seeing another solution.”

“Well,” Norus tries and then comes and sits at my feet, looking up at me, a remarkably human gesture for a god, “Talk me through it, and if it’s such a dumb idea, I’ll tell you so.”

“Okay, you asked for it,” I take a deep breath, “I think I’m gonna sacrifice myself to the sun god so that the mortal king Agamemnon doesn’t take any of the women from our camp as a bride prize.”

I look back at Nortus and find the same deadpan look on his face he gave me when I first saw him, “You were right. That is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

I laughed exasperated, “Bold words coming from someone that hasn’t seen all my dumb plans in action.”

Nortus shrugs, “No, this is still the worst one, by far.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh yeah, well then tell me, what would the oh-so-great and infallible Nortus do to save them? I’m certainly open to ideas.”

Now it’s Nortus's turn to roll his eyes, “I’m not infallible, Percy; no one is, but let me ask you this: How would you solve the problem with the kings and the unwanted lover?”

I chew on the side of my cheek while I mull it over, and an idea pops into my mind; it’s crazy, but maybe it’s just crazy enough to work. Nortus stands then and sighs, running a hand through his pale blond curls.

“I wanted to talk to you, not about work, but just us. However, it isn't a good time. Could I come to you later? When you have a bit more time?”

I look up at Nortus and find him rubbing the back of his neck, his face slightly red like he’s too warm. He looks lovely in the candlelight, but he’s a god. He’d probably look good in a potato sack.

“Sure,” I shrug, “YOu can come by later to hang out. I like your company.”

He gets a deeper shade of red for some reason, “Very well,” He clears his throat, “I’ll see you later then?”

“Sure, see you then.”

Without further conversation, Notus leaves, and Eleni enters, “Percy, we’re ready.”

I sigh and stand up, rolling my shoulder, ready for another battle. With Notus’s advice this time, I feel a little less weary.

“Yes, let them in; we have much to cover.” The women come in, and it's back into the fray.
Briseis speaks as she stands near the entrance, “I take it this isn’t happy news then?”

“No, the,” I tsk and roll my eyes, barely even able to gather the words out, “Great and Honorable kings have so graciously decided that to appease Lord Apollo and the ever charitable and humble Aggamenon, we, Achilles camp, must supply him with a replacement bridal prize from out camp of his choosing.”

The tent erupts into immediate chaos and outrage. I’m crowed as the girls all hurtle questions and accusations at me so quickly I don’t catch any of them. Eventually, Brisises smashes a pitcher on the ground.

“Please!” He sighs, huffing after trying to get everyone's attention, “Would you all please calm down? We didn’t call us here so that we could just be passively handed over.”

Briseis then cuts through the crowd, making the other women back up to give me some breathing room, “Now, I assume you have a plan.”

I suck on my teeth as I go through my proposal, “Yes, but it’s…it’s kinda ridiculous, and I’m going to need your help,” I look around to the countless worried faces in the crowd, “I’m going to need all your help.”

Eleni speaks from the crowd, “We can help whatever you need.”

Brisies chimes in, “Always.”

I nodded, going silent for a moment, before I just went for it, “How do you ladies feel about tricking a god and a king simultaneously?”

While the other girls murmur or look towards the sky as if they’re worried I’ll be set for saying the sentence alone, Brisies’s eyes never leave me. Instead, her face seems to age years at that particular opener, and he lets out a deep sigh before rubbing her face.

“I better not get turned into a tree over this bullshit Perseus.”

I can only let a slightly tired and unhinged laugh in reply. This should be interesting.

“Well, if it works, I get to kill two birds with one stone; if it doesn't, hopefully, my dad will flood everything in my honor. Tropical storm Percy, I’m sure it’ll be one for the ages.”

Brisies gets us back on track, “So, what exactly is this plan of yours, master strategist.”

“Do you think I could pass for a woman?”

“Probably, I mean with a wig definitely, but why- Oh, no.” Briseis looks at Percy, attempting to keep her expression stern, but she can't chase away her budding smile, and laughter creeps into her voice, “Percy, no.”

“Percy, yes! Can’t you see it’s perfect? Aggamenon wants to mess with Achilles more than anything, so we say I’m you, his ‘official’ bridal prize, whom Patroclus swore to that I would marry the great Achilles once the war ended.”

Brisies snorts in her laughter, making me smile; she has to close her eyes to keep her collapsing composure.

“Then he tries to move, and boom, the might of a thousand suns vaporizes him because I have a god chasing my tail! It’s a fantastic idea, and if I just so happen to slip away. No one will be any the wise, too busy trying to figure out why he was struck down after supposedly appeasing the sun god.”

Brisies continues suppressing laughter as she looks up at me, “You’re terrible.”

“But you think this could work?”

She takes a deep breath and looks around the room at the other women. They all seem to have a silent conversation I’m not privy to before they all nod, and Briseies looks back at me.

“Yes, we can make this work. However, if you have any say in it, if we have to be tuned to plants or something as punishment by the end, make us into sea plants because that’s the place.”

I smile and hold my hand out for her to shake, “It’s a deal.”

Chapter Text

Ares walked the abandoned battleground, quiet under the dark blanket of his half-sister as the world of man slumbered. Well, most of them did. Even after the meeting of kings on the Greek side, the camp of Achilles was active with torches and bustling.

The soldiers who took the burden of burying their war brothers for the last time wept silent tears. Ares lent them his strength, after all. These souls belonged to him, honorable fallen in battle; no matter the side, Ares would always care for the soldiers who would not see the sunrise tomorrow.

Speaking of sunrise, Ares licked his lips. He had tasted old barnacle beards new son’s battle hunger, and Ares found himself yearning for more. No matter how upset his lovely Lady Aphrodite was with the mortals Achilles and Perseus, he believed the rage of the two was a drug that Ares would never tire of.

The two mortals were so close to godhood that fate had trouble holding them on the killing field. The fear that rose from the side of the Trojans when the two worked in sync, the demigods’ blood lust, and the Greek's triumphant war chants. It was sweeter than any wine, woman, or gold. It all made Ares ichor hum.

Aphrodite can be angry all she wants, but Ares would keep Perseus around if push came to shove. Eternity is a long time, but she would forgive him, and Aphrodite can be persuaded. From what he’s heard from Apollo’s pathetic songs, poems, and whining, the boy is relatively beautiful, and his lover could be persuaded if she can use Perseus to jerk gods, men, and women around without much effort.

Ares smiles to himself as he trudges through the bodies. Mud mixed with blood clings to the god's legs, and he drinks in the feeling and glory of the soldier's final moments, thinking of his family's foolishness. His uncle, cousin, aunt, and, of course, brother. All of them imagined a shining princely ocean god. A passive, protective force that would sit docile as a lamb at their feet, only to turn into a vicious hound when an enemy shows their terrible face.

Ares knows better. Like calls to like, he knows what Perseus, the Destroyer, is. Even if no one else can see it, except maybe Athen, Ares is sure she can see it; what Athena plans to do with that is beyond him. It makes Ares grin again, licking his lips and tasting the smell of rot in the air. In the distance, Ares can see Thantos whisking away the sturdy souls to the underworld.

Ares sighed and promptly let himself become nothing before going to where Apollo was staying, itching for a fight still. Ares finds his golden brother standing on the walls of Troy overlooking the battlefield. It appeared Apollo had been here for a while. He hasn’t moved since he came out to watch as Poseidon's little natural disaster carved a bloody canyon through their ill-prepared forces.

“I am not in the mood, Ares,” Apollo snarls at him, the heat radiating off him in dangerous waves. Ares resists the urge to smirk.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say, oh, bright one.”

Ares couldn’t wipe the amusement off his face as the heat around them flared, and Apollo turned to look at him, his eyes gold and face furious. Ares simply leaned on his spear, not afraid of the sun god. Not now, not while his silvery half-sister ruled the skies.

“I simply came to congratulate you, brother mine,” Ares watches as Apollo's anger turns to confusion.

“Congratulate me on what exactly,” Apollo gestured to the fields full of dead Trojan soldiers, “There is not much to celebrate today. My city mourns.”

Ares mentally braced himself, ready to be attacked, “Why, on the man from the sea, Perseus, of course.”

Ares laughed loud and booming as his brother grabbed him and slammed him against the opposite wall, holding him there. Apollo’s fierce look of rage and lust to rip and tear made Ares ichor purr. He stared into the sun and did not flinch. This was a fight; they had entered his territory.

“What of him, Ares?” Apollo growled in his face like a feral wolf. Ares couldn’t feel scared, though, not when enjoying himself so much.

“Why, your plan to make him a god. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it? You and our uncle. I just wanted to say I will support the mortal's ascension.” Ares looked to his left as his brother held him up, looking to the east at all the bodies, feeling how many had been slain by the demi-god. A sacrifice, just for Ares, “Wholeheartedly.”

Apollo forcefully dropped him, wiped his hand on his chin, seeming disgusted by touching Ares, and sneered, “You didn’t have a heart, Ares. What are your intentions.”

Ares sent him a smile with too many teeth, the look of a battle-crazed soldier in his eye, “To see what havoc he will reap when you attempt to contain him.”

Apollo scoffs and puts a hand on his hip, “What are you talking about, Ares? Perseus will be a minor god bound to me if all goes well. Probably with domains of the oceans, a god of warm seas or seafoam. Something like that.”

Ares laughed in disbelief, standing and looking for any hint of deception Apollo… but he was serious, and Ares felt deep offense settle in his being. Apollo honestly thought he could declaw a warrior like that. He believed Perseus would become a docile lamb sitting at Apollo’s feet like a devoted nymph. Ares was appalled.

“You’re serious.”

Apollo tilted his head, not understanding why Ares was suddenly hostile for no reason, “Oh, course, what else would he be?”

Ares didn’t move for a moment, simply staring at his brother in disbelief before he advanced on him, his aura flaring. Images of battles, bloody and prolonged, flashed in Apollo’s mind rapid fire. Apollo wasn’t phased even as Ares got into his face.

“You stupid bastard! You can’t see it?! The warrior in him? The long nights, the weight of too many comrades' deaths on his shoulders? The lust for the battle to continue, to keep fighting because it is all he knows? The destruction, the call for blood in his veins? Are you truly so blind to what is right in front of you?!”

Apollo did not flinch; he growled back at Ares, “What is your point, Ares? All will be washed away once he has been taken by divinity.”

Ares punched him in the face.

Apollo fell to the ground, ichor staining his face as Ares glowered over him, rage making his cape flow out behind him.

“The call and scars of battle do not go away! They are stains on one's mind and soul for eternity! I am War, and I will never abandon a soldier! You may forget the battles fought and the blood spilled. I do not. Neither will Perseus.” Ares stood over Apollo and put his foot on his brother's chest, ignoring the smell of burning flesh; not even the sun can keep war from marching onward, “He would be a war god, and he would rage at you for taking away the only peace a warrior knows. Death, walking shield and shield, arm, and arm with his battle brothers into Thanatos's embrace. Greeting him as an old friend. You are a fool.”

Having said his piece, Ares leaves, the need for a fight rising in his veins. Apollo is an idiot, and Ares needs to blow off some steam. Ares goes to find Aphrodite, who would help quiet the screams of soldiers and the simmering rage in his mind.

Athena, disguised as a simple maiden, giggled along with the other girls as Perseus, a hero to rival Achilles, dressed in drag to save the women in this camp. Athena amused herself with the idea that both great heroes had that in common.

Athena liked Perseus, much to her surprise. She and Poseidon had a heated and bitter rivalry for years since Athens was named her city, but now on the same side of the war, and a common goal to get revenge on the Olympians backing Troy, as well as Poseidon’s son being both clever and compassionate, not a typical combination for her uncle's children…it reminded her of when they created the chariot.

The women around her felt protected in this man's presence. After talking to them, Athena found that not only had the boy never raised a hand to any of them, guarded them so that they may go about their days undisturbed, but had also asked nothing in return and often rebuffed their advances when it was offered.
Athena wondered if perhaps Perseus was like her, too dedicated to his craft to take any lover. It wouldn’t be the first time Orion, despite the rumors and the exaggerated stories, had followed all of Artimeis’s rules of the hunt before he was struck down. It's a waste, honestly.

That said, as Athena continued to weave Perseaus a beautiful veil with a particular twine that would fool mortal eyes, he thought of Achilles and Patroclus. She wondered if perhaps… Perseus and Achilles had more in common than what can be seen on the surface.
Athena looked to Perseus through the crowd of women talking to him and prepared him like a bride, trying to see through him to get him to spill his secrets. She believes the demi-god has many, but the biggest one swirling around in her head is who the boy’s mother was. Athena would love to meet her and shake her hand since she knows that until a few weeks ago, Poseidon didn’t even know Perseus existed.

Athena’s uncle did not recall the event that would create the boy or courting any beautiful woman that could be Perseus’s mother. It is very unlike her uncle would be so forgetful since he tends to keep meticulous track of his children from the moment he suspects conception.

As much as Poseidon believes the boy to be some kind of failed god that simply popped up one day, Athena has her own theories. A demi-god, not carried by an Olympian or married, has never risen to divinity. Except for, of course, her half-brother Heracles, who had to burn himself alive to destroy the rest of his mortal body. Perseus’s origins were dubious at best, especially since he had neither confirmed nor denied any of the claims.
Perseus is scarily close to ascending on his own, a painful process that he continues to prolong by clamping down on his powers. Perhaps it was a way for the fates to make sure he did not end the war too early for their liking, but despite being so close to godhood, no one had heard of him. No feats to brag about, no stories or songs. It’s simply as if he appeared out of thin air one day.

But that cannot be true. Not with his scars, the way he carries himself, the fact that he has been around long enough to have a fatal flaw and be aware of it? He had to have it from somewhere. Somewhere beyond the gods of these lands, he gathered acclaim before making the journey back to the place of his birth. That’s Athena’s leading theory anyway; perhaps his mother sent him here, knowing her son would ascend soon and need acclaim among the gods of his birth to survive the ages. An intelligent woman if Athena is right. After all, a wondering god stumbling in to join the pantheon and set up shop in Greece permanently is not uncommon.

“Kathrine,” One of the girls called to her as she finished the last veil; Athena looked up at the woman who called her.

“Yes? Is he ready for the last piece?” The woman nodded, delighted; Athena held back laughter as she stood up to place the veil with Poseidon's son, “I have completed the veil; I’ll be right here.”

Percy didn’t need to endure the paint, plucking, or even the poise and dedicated instructions the women had given him a crash course on. Not with the veil, but it was more amusing this way. More than that, it would conceal Percy’s deep voice and muscular stature, and honoring the demi-god's suicidal plan would not hide him from the prying eyes of gods.

Athena walks up to Perseus, and the women part for her, careful not to damage the seemingly delicate fabric of the veil. Perseus turns to look at her, and while the masculine features are well hidden, the veil will make it much easier to fool mortal eyes.

Perseus’s eyes widen when they land on her, but his face is kept as neutral as possible. His posture turns tense, and a tick pops up in his jaw. Athena just carefully adjusted the veil into the hero’s curls. Perseus blinks rapidly as he feels Athena’s blessing settle over him. It won’t last long; Perseus is not Athenas’ the way Odysseus is, but it will aid him for now.

Perseus gave her a strange look but cleared his throat, and a sweet voice, rather than Percy’s manly one, rang out, causing the other women to gasp. “Thank you…Kathrine.”

Athena smiled at the hero, mischief dancing in her gray eyes, “You are very welcome…Briseis.”

Perseus rolls his deep sea green eyes and stands. As the dawn approaches and the women exit the tent, Percy is in the center. He looks back at Athena, who slightly dips her head to the hero. Perseus does so in return, and after that, he’s gone. Athena smiles before she melts away into nothing. I am all too happy to watch the chaos that will take place soon from a healthy distance.

Poseidon watched from the safety of his throne room in Atlantis deep underwater, rubbing his temples and trying to push away a migraine coming on. Technically, he should not even be able to have a migraine, being a god, but it had been a long time since Poseidon had had a demi-god period. Let alone one so hell-bent on dancing along the thin threads of the fates. Perseus played a dangerous game; toying with gods rarely ended well for anyone. Poseidon would know, hence the unnatural headache.

Triton and Amphrite were no help as they held back laughter as the ocean prince readied himself to trick men and immortals alike just to get his way. It put him in incredible danger, but Perseus did not seem to care.

Athena was there and bestowed a blessing upon Percy, which was both unexpected and comforting. Triton, however, seemed to pout, rather unbecoming of the heir of all the oceans, as he turned to his father.

“So you’ll let a sky god bless him but not his own family? Father, what a divided front be present.”

Amphrite bites her lip, hiding her smirking face behind her wavy red hair. Poseidon was rapidly reminded that while his demi-gods could give him plenty of heartache and strife, his immortal ones were not much better. Poseidon looked over to Triton and leaned heavily against the arm of his throne, his appearance changing to be much older than he typically presented himself as.

“Athena did not get my permission to bless the boy and intervened on her own. She also did not technically bless Perseus, but rather the veil she bestowed him. A rather clever way to circumvent the rule of no direct intervention.” Poseidon watches as his son helps the women around him look ‘undesirable’ to the mortal male eye, making himself look like a diamond in the rough as he assumes the identity of Achilles' bride prize, Brisies.

“Perhaps we could do something similar? To help him escape should this plot not work out.”

Poseidon thought about it for a moment and did not hate the idea. He didn’t have that many demi-god children at the moment, and losing one as powerful as Perseus would have been inconvenient as well as upsetting. The former surprised Poseidon as soon as it crossed his mind. A child so close to his own nature and looks, he already felt very attached to the boy.

“I will agree. You can consult the cyclops forges to get assistance if you wish.”

Triton smiles; it has too many teeth, making Poseidon think of his kingdom's dark places; few would even attempt to travel. Amphrite looks up, and while her beautiful face has settled, her eyes dance with determination.

“Lord Husband-”

Poseidon turned and gave his wife a crooked smile, knowing what she wanted already, “Yes, my love. You may do the same,” He looks back to the mirror-like projection where Percy had looked up at the sound of a horn, “I believe my son will need all the help he can get.”

Suddenly, Triton perks up and flashes away, reappearing moments later with a stern yet confused look. His thumb rubbed along his trident in thought as his twin tails made little whirlpools around him.

Poseidon can tell; when his son gets a message for him, he doesn't particularly like it and sits up straighter.

“Is there news?”

Amphritie also sits up, looking at their godly son with furrowed brows. Triton nods and tilts his head a bit as he speaks.

“The queen of the gods would like a word with you, father.”

Deep underground the slumbering primordial stirs a sleepy smile on her lips. She can see the vague impressions of what is happening. Can feel the golden one’s anger through their oath and feeds it.

Letting the wrath and humiliation fester like an infested wound. Twisting the god into something else. Something worse.

She slowly turns her attention to the demi-gods promised to her. Can feel the anxiety rising within him and resists the urge to reach out and soothe it as a mother would. It is not time yet.

The chaos, the backstabbing, the deals and soon to be broken promises all fall upon the game board. Soon, very soon, it will be too late to turn back.

“Yes little cyclone,” She purrs, focusing on the energy of the destructive son of her grandson, “Do your worst. Bend the gods to your will, and if they will not bend…” she chuckles tired and cruel, “Break them.”

She smiles sleep taking her once more, “You will make a fine monster little one.”

Chapter Text

I sent everyone away and, finally, by myself, took a deep breath. Whatever the makeup is made of, it makes me want to scratch at my face. I resist, as I still don’t know what the veil Athena gave me does.

I sit down on my cot and take a deep, shaky breath. This could all go wrong if I’m not careful. I still just want to go home, and the longer I stay, the less likely I’ll ever make it back home.

“Percy,” a voice I know well at this point calls out, making me look up.

Nortus stands there with wide eyes as if trying to make sense of what he sees before seemingly giving up and shaking his head.

“Is this...” Nortus looks me up and down, gesturing to my outfit, and seems uncomfortable, “Your plan? I’m guessing.”

I hold back a feral snarl and square my shoulders, my skin prickling as the fever I’ve been fighting since I came to the past seems to rise. “Got a problem with that?”

Nortus holds his hands up in surrender, coming closer. “No, not at all, you just...” He pauses, thinking over his words. “You seem uncomfortable? Nervous? I don’t know; you just don’t seem like yourself.”

I clench my fists into the pale pink fabric around my legs to keep myself from burying my fingers into my hair or rubbing my hands over my face. I don't notice I’m holding my breath until my lungs burn, forcing a deep breath. Nortus doesn't push me; instead, he sits quietly by my side, waiting for me to speak when I am ready.

The breath I let out is shaky and uneven. If I could cry, it might have even been a sob. I turn my head to look at Nortus; his eyes are a kaleidoscope of concern. They can't seem to settle on a color, making it evident that he isn't mortal. There’s no need to be strong for Nortus; he’s a god.

“To be honest with you, I’m afraid.” I look down at the floor, my sandals suddenly becoming extremely interesting. “I want to go home. I don’t belong here, but I don't want to leave the people who took me in and helped me when I can help them in turn. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, and even if I succeed, then what? It all just feels...so hopeless.”

Nortus nods before taking a deep breath of his own. “Percy, I don't know you very well, as much as I would like to, but...to me, at least you seem like someone who, if a situation doesn't suit you, you’ll make one that will.” I look over at him, a warm, unknown emotion swirling in those ever-changing eyes and seeming to hypnotize me, a small smile setting upon his lips. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I know you’ll make it through. Even if whatever plan you’ve surmised is crazy at best and suicidal at worst.”

I can't help but laugh at his deadpan tone; it reminds me of Chiron a bit after another war prank gone wrong. I grin and raise an eyebrow at him. “Even despite that, you’re not gonna try to stop me or change my mind?”

Nortus snorts at the idea. “Percy, I couldn’t stop you more than I could stop the tide from coming in.” He seems to contemplate for a moment before holding out his hand. A small wooden whistle with a horse carved on the side sits in his palm. “While I won’t try to stop you, I will give you this. Should things not go well,” Nortus looks into my eyes, his face dead serious, “you call me. You call me, and I’ll be there faster than the wind blows.”

I roll the whistle around, feeling the wood under my fingertips. Nortus tracks the movements but looks away, unable to look at me completely. I smile at him for the simple gift; unlike the many other gods who have given me things over the years, I don’t have to worry about paying later for taking this one.

“Thank you, Nortus. I appreciate it, the way out if I need it.”

Nortus nods and pauses as if hearing something before his shoulders fall. “Sorry, Percy, I have to go. I’m being called away,” he looks at me earnestly, “please be safe?”

“I promise to try.”

Nortus rolls his eyes, knowing damn well that’s the best he’s going to get out of me before disappearing with the sound of bells, leaving me once again on my own.

I look down at the whistle and find that it has a small chain attached, allowing it to be worn like a necklace. I spend an embarrassingly long time attempting to get the chain over my crown and veil without it touching my face or ripping anything off.

My anxieties eased after seeing Nortus; I just had to sit back and let everything fall into place. Nothing has been left unaccounted for, and all the girls know their roles. I wait a bit longer before getting up and heading toward Achilles' tent.

I hear a horn sound in the distance, heralding a king. If you can ever consider the pathetic horn dog Agamemnon to be a true king.

I get up and head to Achilles' tent as fast as possible but run into Patroclus, who gets flustered and apologizes profusely.

“I am so sorry, miss, I didn’t see you there; I could have knocked you over and-” As he stopped rambling and looked me in the eyes, Patroclus seemed to go through the ten stages of grief before he put his hand on my shoulder, looking years older than he is. “Perseus, please tell me you won’t do what I think you’ll do.”

I blink in surprise and look down at myself. “Hey, I thought my disguise was pretty good!”

Patroclus snorted and rolled his eyes at that. “It is, but I have some practice spotting demigods in disguise. Your eyes betray you. Now, you didn’t answer my question.”

I can hear the procession of kings marching ever closer, and I shake my head. “I don't have time for explanations; just trust me.”

“Percy-” Patroclus hisses as he follows me into Achilles' tent. “This isn't a good idea; leave Agamemnon in the hands of The Fates. This will end badly for all of us.”

I open the tent and walk through, Patroclus at my heel as Achilles barely stirs from his blanket burrito.

“I am leaving that slimy bastard to The Fates,” I don’t look at Patroclus as I drag the heavy-ass weaving loom over to a chair, “I’m just...bringing him to their attention a little sooner than they originally planned.”

“Percy-”

“Shh!” I sit quickly and pretend to be spinning; I could never do it in a million years, but I don't have to pretend for long. “Quick, act natural.”

“Natural?! How can I-”

At the height of rudeness, Agamemnon, along with Odysseus, Menelaus, and many soldiers, barge into the tent. I gasp and try to act scandalized at being found there. I succeed in drawing the attention of the kings and try not to allow a smirk to peak through as I watch Agamemnon do a double take and end up staring at me.

Patroclus is sweating bullets and seems highly uncomfortable. A constipated look sits neatly across his face.

“Why, gentlemen, hello! I understand you must take a woman from our camp, and you’re here so soon. Their camp isn’t very far; let me show you the way-”

“What about that one?” Agamemnon points towards me, and I put a hand on my chest.

Patroclus’s face darkens, and he swallows hard before his eyes flick to me. “You would not want that one.”

Agamemnon snarls and pushes forward. “You presume to speak for what I want, forsaken one?”

Achilles, who had largely ignored the whole affair, stirs at the name, sitting up, and is suddenly in front of Agamemnon—snarling like a feral dog.

“Call The Honorable Patroclus THAT NAME again and what Apollo wrought upon your camp will seem like a blessing compared to what I will have in store for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so defensive, the man that has you bent over every-”

I feel heat creep up my neck and run down my spine as I watch Achilles' face morph into pure fury. I feel something in my gut shatter, and I watch the pebbles on the ground tremble slightly with the earth; no one notices. I bite my tongue until I taste the bitter iron. I get up and get in between Achilles and Agamemnon before Achilles kills him. No one short of a god could strike Agamemnon down without consequence. Mortal ones, at least.

“Stop, stop it. I’ll go with him. Don't fight him, not over this.”

I can’t see Agamemnon’s face as I put my hand on Achilles' chest to keep him from lunging forward to kill the bastard. Based on Achilles's face, it must have been rather smug because Achilles growls low in his throat, and I have to put more effort into holding him back.

“Yes, listen to the woman. It seems all you do is let your whores speak for you.” Agamemnon sneers.

This time, Patroclus grabs Achilles before he can attack Agamemnon and the kings. He holds him up in air jail as he fights to get at the assholes who insulted Patroclus. Achilles' long blond curls fly as Patroclus tries desperately to keep ahold of Achilles before he murders three kings and all the soldiers in their tent.

In the meantime, Agamemnon grabs my arm, and I resist the knee-jerk reaction to knee him in the face.

“Now I have what I came for. Let's go so I can...” He looks me up and down, and I need both to throw up and scream, “Take my new toy for a ride.”

I obediently followed the procession out of the tent, gritting my teeth as I tried to quell the voice in my blood, telling me to strike down these men who would dare attempt to order me to do anything.

As I walk out and feel the sun hit my face, I look up, and the sheer amount of heat makes me know I have his attention. The sun, the plague bringer he knows, and he’s pissed. I look down and grin to myself, waiting. I keep slowing down and have to be tugged along intentionally, making Agamemnon more annoyed as I look back to where Achilles' tent is.

Finally, Agamemnon couldn't take it anymore and tugged me forward, making me jolt. His hand raised as if he was about to slap me. Before I could do anything, Apollo stood before me in his war-like appearance, grabbing the offending hand that would have slapped me in the face. I could smell the burning flesh as Agamemnon screamed, falling to his knees, held up by the arm Apollo held where Agamemnon sought to strike me.

“You would dare lay a hand on what is mine for a second time?” Apollo snarls, his eyes glowing gold; I can hear the bones starting to snap in Agamemnon's arm as the other kings and the procession kneel before Apollo. I stood on my feet behind him. “I can see that a plague nearly decimating your armies and ruining your chance of victory is not enough to make you respect the gods.”

Apollo looks back at me, and I feel heat rush through me, his hand tightening around Agamemnon's arm. I can feel something dark curl around the shattered ball in my gut, singing at the retribution; a larger part is trying to keep down the thoughts of how hot Apollo looks. My mouth feels dry, and my tongue won’t work.

“Let me kill him. For placing his filthy hands upon you.” Apollo snarls, looking back at Agamemnon. “A slight against you is a slight against me and should not go unpunished.”

I watch as the kings look at me, and a slight whisper that sounds eerily like my thoughts in the pit creeps up on me. And for once, I give in. All the rage, the confusion, the feeling of powerlessness that has been boiling up inside me since I got to the past hits me, and now I have a chance to see justice brought against this one asshole that has been the inciting incident of it all. My blood boils, and heat rushes up my neck.

“No, it can’t.” I snarl, and I see something shift in Apollo's eyes. He seems to be looking at me for the first time.

The moment drags on for a while, the two just looking at one another before it’s broken by Agamemnon's whimpers of pain, drawing Apollo's gaze and fury.

The sun god forces the king to kneel before me, and I try not to let the feeling of power overwhelm me. That dark power rising in me like the tide. Apollo pulls out an arrow from his quiver, and I grin, feeling that my teeth may be a bit too sharp by the frightened looks on the faces of the other kings. Odysseus' eyes were narrowed at me, and I winked at him, making him rear back.

“Give the three kings my best.” Apollo snarls, and without further ceremony, he stabs his arrow through Agamemnon's neck as he kneels before me. I heard the would-be king choke on his blood as Apollo and I were covered in the spray. I could practically see hearts in the god's eyes as he spilled blood in my name, and the only thought that ran through my mind was that Apollo looked good in red.

I couldn’t hear the shouts of Menelaus as the guards, along with Odysseus, held him back from moving toward his brother's body. The sound of blood roared in my ears as Apollo approached me, his hands covered in blood as he pulled his arrow out with a nasty twist. Apollo’s blood-soaked hand caresses my cheek, painting it alongside the blush I can feel rising from my neck to my ears. He softly tucked a stray curl behind my ear, the very picture of gentleness, before allowing his hand to rest on my cheek.

“My brother was right; I am a fool,” Apollo leaned in close, his deep voice almost singing to me as he lowered it so only we could hear, “You are aptly named The Destroyer.”

I grab his wrist and hold Apollo where he is, watching him marvel at the strength, “I have never been a shrinking violet, oh Bright One. I’m perhaps a bit more poison than honey.”

Apollo’s golden lashes fluttered. “I am not afraid of your venom. I would let you run me through and thank you after if that is what you wished.”

I hummed and looked over the golden god's shoulder to the kings behind him and felt my rage boil once again.

“I wish for you to make them go away.”

I watch Apollo's gaze darken as he looks at the men who dare look upon the two of us. I feel Apollo’s skin heat up, and the warmth around him hits me just as much as it does the kings, but I’ve always liked to play with fire.

Apollo turns and takes out his bow in one smooth, fluid motion, drawing an arrow and pointing it at the mortals.

“As my beloved commands.” Apollo practically sings, and I shiver at the taste of fear in the air as the kings realize their blunder.

I grind my heel into the back of Agamemnon's head, the satisfaction oozing off me. He should have known better than to cross me.

Chapter Text

My skin blazes, bright and hot to the touch. Mild steam rolling off me as I watch the soldiers and kings run away from the two of us. Fear in their eyes and screams on their lips. I can’t tell if the heat is coming off Apollo the literal sun god, or if it’s my own blood boiling in my veins as I come so close to the thing the gods are best at. Cruelty.
Everything around me is so overwhelming. I can hear the wind snap as each, and every arrow is loosed. I can feel the individual seat drops evaporating off my skin almost as soon as they bubble up. My tongue tastes like iron and as I turn towards the west, towards the sea, I look upon Troy.

Some of the women in camp that used to live here said the valley was beautiful once, though I was obviously never here to see it. Green rolling hills of fertile land, where wild horses darted in and out of the scattered forest. Now the land was scarred and black, made into mud by the thundering stomp of thousands of soldier’s feet, nothing but scorched earth left in their wake. Then there was Troy itself, the giant wart on the scared face of the land around it. Its walls are tall and ugly. Scarred with the efforts of countless attacks and sieges that always ended in nothing, but more dead mortals. The city also stank when you got close enough, disease and food shortage a definite problem, as the people inside it slowly withering away while the gods feasted on ambrosia and nectar. Neither side is going to last much longer, they never were.

My fists clinch, shimmery too-gold-blood falling to the Earth right alongside Agamemnon’s. I’m shaking all over, I can’t tell if it’s because of the rage that’s suddenly crawled up my spine and stayed there, or trying not to cry with how much I wish I was anywhere else. With my mom, and my dad- my REAL dad. Just going to school, hanging out with Annabeth and being a normal human for once! I retired from doing quests for a reason!

“Oh Perseus,” Apollo sighs reverently.
I have no idea how long I was a standing there, looking at his city and not even noticing his gaze. I hope it wasn’t too long, if my senses are dulling that much there is no way that I’ll be able to survive this crazy plan. After all, the hail marry has always worked for me so far, why wait for the near-death crisis to get it over with.

Apollo looks like he wants to fall to his knee, red mortal blood and dirt staining his knees. Instead, he settles for coming a bit closer looking me up and down.

“Perseus, you’re divine!”

I huff and cross my arms, I didn’t feel particularly divine right now, what with the makeup, and the layers of hot fabric. I felt like a pig with lipstick.

I grumble shifting my weight from foot to foot as I turn my full attention to the sun god, “Gee thanks, I’m not exactly feeling it at the moment.”

Apollo smiles, sharp blinding light as he shakes his head, “No, no, what I mean is,” Apollo comes closer gently setting a stay curl behind my ear, the blood on his fingers is already dry, flaking off form the heat, “You’re glowing with divinity, literally,” He chuckles a bit head shaking in disbelief, “Like Heracles, you only need to allow the mortal flesh to die.”

I look down at myself and as my head clears, I can see it. The golden glow surrounding me was like the glow of a candle. Divine fire, burning down the mortal wick. I grit my teeth and taste iron on my tongue, it’s chased with a strange sweetness that makes me want to gag.

“I don’t want to be,” I ground out facing back towards Troy, “I want to go home, and I’m going to tear Troy down brick by damned brick to do it.” I pivot quickly and start marching towards the tents to yank Achilles form his blanket burrito of shame and help me burn Troy to the ground. Apollo is quick to get in front of me, his war-like appearance not fading, but the blood is gone.

“Move.” I rumble the ground beneath me stirring lightly, the heat in my voice unnatural and loud, causing my command to echo.

“Now, now, Perseus,” Apollo comes forward, seeming to try and subtly enhance his features to be more attractive, more convincing. Apollo’s voice acted like a snare trying to pull me in. I’m not impressed. Aphrodite does this trick a lot more effectively, “Wouldn’t you rather luxuriate in the city’s pleasures than its destruction? I’m sure you would be treated like a prince- no a god, should you allow me to take you there.”

“I don’t give a damn what’s in that city!” I glare up into Apollo’s intense golden eyes, they remind me of Kronos’s actually, “Sitting on my ass in some city isn’t going to get me back home. So, either get out of my way or be crushed under my heel Apollo.”

Apollo’s eyes widen before they narrow, his stance widening as if preparing for a fight.
“Perseus, I will not allow you to harm my city. See reason, or I will be forced to accept your call to arms.”

I step into Apollo’s face, nose to nose with the god, snarling at his throat, as my finger jams into his chest, “See reason?! There is no reason in this backward place. Now. Move.” I growl, my throat feels like it’s being burnt by acid, sounding layered and loud in my rage I don’t hold back. Apollo glares down his nose at me, an unknown heat in his gaze as for once he doesn’t have anything to say back.

I bare my teeth in his face, “Well?! What are you gonna do Apollo?!”

Apollo moves too fast for me to react, grabbing me by the back of my curls and slamming me into his lips. I gasp, a clear mistake and Apollo presses the advantage, a hot tongue tangling with mine. As soon as I have my wits about me again, I kiss back. Pissed and attracted to the stupid toxic god trying to kiss me into submission.

The kiss is like a fight, all teeth and tongue. The two of us pushing, pulling and tearing at each other. Just as I’m about to get the upper hand, Apollo pulls away, and I realize I’m damn close to passing out. I gasp for air and stare as Apollo licks his lips, iron grip still in my hair.

“If that is the way it must be between us Perseus…I will meet you on the battlefield and when my arrow finds your heart, I’ll watch you ascend form the walls of my city.” Apollo’s smile is that of a hungry wolf, and before I can lash out at him, yell at him, Apollo’s gone, causing me to fall forward and scream in frustration.

“Apollo, you bastard!” I yell at the sun in the darkening sky, lips bruised and glossy form the divine archer, “You better be ready, because a big storm’s coming!”

I let out a frustrated growl as I marched back towards Achilles camp, nearly running over Patroclus. He looks at me and I see fear flash through his green eyes before he diverts his gaze.
“Percy please…” Patroclus can’t look me in the eyes, but he holds up his arms to stop me from moving forward, “You’re scaring us.”

That’s what makes me stop short, the heat in my chest cooling as I look around at the fearful eyes of the soldiers and camp women peeking out from behind different structures. I didn’t find it odd that I had stormed almost all the way across camp and saw no one, not till now.

I take a few deep calming breaths before I speak. My voice still has an unnatural element to it, like waves crashing into volcanic rock, the hiss of steam and active erosion. Like destruction, or perhaps the creation of something new.

“Patroclus,” I enunciate carefully, not wanting my accent to mangle his name, “I am going to get Achilles so we can move on Troy. Please go and get Achilles, we are riding without the other kings and armies.”

Patroclus finally looked at me, eyes narrowed; his lips pressed into a thin line. “Are you sure that’s wise Percy? That this is not just your wrath speaking for you.”

I shake my head the whisper of Apollo’s grip on my hair making a shiver run down my spine, “No, it’s not. If we ride now, Troy will fall,” It’s my turn let my eyes narrow, I only found out later they glowed and slitted like a snake, “I will make sure of it.”
Patroclus puts his hand on my shoulder, paying no attention to how hot my skin was to the touch or how it must have been uncomfortable for him, his kind eyes poured into mine, “Then you should go prepare. It’s a big night, tearing down an impregnatable city.”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head, “Thank you Patroclus,” I put my hand on his shoulder in return, allowing my gaze to soften, “For everything.”

Patroclus nods and turns his back to me, moving quickly towards Achilles tent. Probably to yell at him to get out of bed, and to tell him I kicked the collective kings’ asses for being well…. asses.

I take my time getting back to my tent, taking the long way and trying to ground myself. Practicing the breathing exercise my mom taught me to do when I’m anxious or upset. Breathing in, holding for a moment…and then out. I look to the darkening sky and inhale, letting my eyes fall closed and feel the breeze caress my face.

I open my eyes again letting out the breath slowly, “It’s gonna be alright,” I murmur to no one, but myself, as I close my eyes again, “No mater what comes at least tomorrow will be different.”

I look up to find that my feet had naturally carried me in front of my tent, I allow my shoulders to fall as I walk inside, suddenly weary. Another battle waits for me on the horizon and I once again must rise to meet it. I’m so tired.

I nearly collapsed into my chair, my head falling into my hand, a blush rising furiously as I felt my kiss bitten lips. Emotions and thoughts swirl in my mind like one big whirlpool.

I miss my mom. I kissed a god. I hope Annabeth isn’t too worried. A god kissed me. How the hell am I going to get back home? I kissed the god back, enthusiastically. Will Poseidon even be able to grant my wish to go back to the future? That god was Apollo. What am I becoming? Why am I attracted to toxic men?

I sigh and shake my head, physically trying to shake out my thoughts. I put them all in a box, to deal with later. Right now, I have a city to sack.

I get up and start to methodically strap on my armor. It’s strange to do it alone, usually a camper or Annabeth would help me put it on before capture the flag or to face down an armor of monsters. No sooner do I finish putting on the armer around my skin and move up to my breast plate does a godly presence enter my tent. I audibly groan at the intrusion.

“What now?” I demand, not turning around as I continue to put on my armor.

A vaguely farmillar chuckle rings through the room and I whirl around to face the younger version of my father, looking amused at my attitude, “What words to greet your maker with, o’ son of mine. Surely you are not that disappointed to see me?”

I huff and turn to look at Poseidon, “I’m sorry…it has been a long day.”

Poseidon nods in acknowledgement before stepping forward holding me by my face as he tilts it to and fro, looking pleased.
“I understand my son, we have watched your exploits with great interest-”
My face gets hot, remembering everything that’s gone down so far. I try to keep a straight face as Poseidon continues, his hands moving from my face to lay heavily on my shoulders.
“For tonight my son will make a name for himself, and will receive the ultimate reward at the end, but for now,” Poseidon waves his hand and on a beautiful teel cloth laid three golden sacks of various sizes, “I come bearing gifts. From my lady wife, and your divine brother.”

I feel my teeth clinch, who knows the price attached to the gifts no maker how well meaning. I turn to Poseidon who looks pleased with the whole situation.

“I don’t know if I can accept-“ I try to politely decline, but Poseidon beats me to it. Voice hard and steel and cold as the depths.

“Will you take them Perseus. You are going to need them.” Poseidon’s steeling gaze and hard voice melts away the slightest bit as he looks at me, “Besides…your mother and brother looked very hard on them. It would be rude to refuse their kindness,” Poseidon picks up the largest sack and hands it to me, “And mine.”

The fabric falls away and reviles a trident. Modeled after Poseidon’s own symbol of power I can feel the sea water that lives in the handle, allowing me to move it with my body as well as my powers. I can feel the blessings woven throughout the weapon, it feels as steady and right in my hand as Riptide does. I go to thank my father only to find that he’s gone without so much as a goodbye. I resist the urge to grumble about it. Fucking gods.

I set the trident to lean against the tent and open the second package, inside holds fine armor, with a blue plume on the helmet. It’s beautifully engraved with motifs from the sea and is obviously made with great care and instruction. A laurel pattern carefully hammered into the bronze, subtly telling me that I am a prince of the sea to them. I run my thumb along the shells and waves before putting them on piece my piece. I send a silent thank you Amphitrite’s way. The smell of coconuts and the feeling of the deep ocean washes over me for only a moment before it’s gone.

There’s a strap on the back of my breastplate for my trident and I put it there before I open the final gift, no doubt from Triton himself.

Inside the smallest package are three pearls, a small trumpet charm made from a shell and a note. I strung the pearls onto the necklace Nortus gave me as I read.
‘Crush the pearls to come back to the sea, crush the horn for the sea to come to you.’
With that ominous message out of the way, I put the last charm on the necklace and tucked it under my breastplate. I can hear the soldiers rapidly assembling outside. Shouts in Greek flying every which way as the crash and clang of weapons and armor echo throughput camp.

It’s time.
I walk out and follow the stream of soldiers to where Achilles in full armor barks out orders lining the men up to get ready to move out. I go and move towards the front and grab the whistle around my neck and blow. It’s too high for me to hear but the wind picks up and in no time Nortus stands before me.

His kaleidoscope eyes take in my lightly glowing skin, draped in the gifts of my godly family.
“You came,” I breath out, happy to have a friend by my side right now.
“You called,” Nortus starts, his voice thick with an unknow emotion.

“I have a favor to ask, and I don’t know if you can go through with it,” I confess, Nortus watches me closely eyes calculating as he gestures me to continue, “If the worst happens and I’m struck down, I need you, fast as you can to grab my son and take me to my uncles realm before I ascend.”

Nortus stops breathing, stops blinking, and I can see the pearly liquid of immortal tears well up at the edges of his eyes, before he seems to come back to himself.

“You’re asking me to let you die. To keep you from immortality-“
“Yes.” I interrupt him and catch his hands as he tries to touch my face, his bottom lip wobbling.
“Perseus- Percy,” Nortus pleads, he swallows the lump in his throat and in the moment, he looks so human, “Please don’t ask me this, anything else please I- I lov-“

I tug on Nortus hands and force his focus, tears starting to stream down his face, “I can’t ask anyone else, Nortus! Just please…” I look deeply in his eyes, and I know how hard this is for him, but I would rather die than become what I hate, “Please do this for me.”

Nortus takes a shaky breath and nods before he pulls me into a hug, “You come back Percy, okay? I’ll do as you ask, but you need to come back.” He pulls way, holding my shoulders, “This goodbye isn’t forever, okay? You’ll live to say goodbye to me again, alright? Promise me.” Nortus demands, looking desperate.

I learned a long time ago not to make promises I couldn’t keep, so while I know it won’t bring him any comfort, I nod to him, “I promise to do my best.”

Nortus looks pained and nods in understanding before he whispers quietly, “Goodbye Percy…until we meet again.” With the sound of bells on the wind, he leaves, and Achilles taps me on the shoulder causing me to jump.

His face is severe under his helmet, and I feel my own expression grow grim to match.
“Perseus, the men are ready to ride at our word,” Achilles expression turns quickly to the delight of battle madness, ready to bring carnage, “Let us end this, cousin.”

I chuckle and there’s no humor in it as the ground seems to shake in time with it, “Grab me a horse and I will ride with you Achilles.”

I ride on a dark stallion that Patroclus brings to me and before I know it, we’re marching forward. When we meet the trojans on the chosen field they’re surprised. Not expecting a fight today. Soon the nerves and emotions of the day, the weeks, of being here fall to the wayside of the rhythm of battle.

I’m drenched in red trojan blood, I stop the hearts of men that get to close and run men through with my trident. As the Greek forces carve a bloody canon thought he trojan forces directly to the trojan wall I roar at the feeling of victory so close at hand. I feel my arms extended as I scream up at the sky, the walls and earth cracking as the earthquake rocks the battlefield.

With all the blood on my face and my helm in the way, I don't notice Apollo’s arrow until it’s piercing through my chest.

Chapter Text

When you die, your life doesn’t really flash before your eyes. It’s more like the time slows as your brain tries to figure out if you’re really dying or not. Once your body figures out that, yes you are in fact about to expire, the world gets fast and the pain and panic grip you just as fast.

For me times slows when I feel the arrow pierce through my heart, stopped from going straight through by my own hand. My world narrows, as my vison swims, I think I hear someone scream my name as my knees hit the dirt.

My skin starts to become blinding, the burning starting in my heart and spreading throughout my body. I cough and watch dark red blood spill on the ground in front of me. My legs shake with the effort to keep me up. I put pressure where the arrow was sticking out of my chest, trying to keep from bleeding out. I use all my effort to force my blood to stay on course, to keep my heart pumping.

‘Dad,’ My foggy brain reaches out, the burning in my blood making my teeth rattle, ‘Help me.’
Poseidon does not see me.

“Percy!” I look over and fall to my side, blood coming out between my glowing teeth.

Nortus is on his stomach, reaching his hand out towards me. Golden ichor spilling down his face, his healing not working as the god of healing stands over him. Apollo’s foot crushing him into the ground, a spear being twisted into Nortus’s shoulder.

“Nortus?” I whisper my voice failing me.

“Percy,” He sobs, ignoring the stronger god standing over him, “Percy I’m here, just hold on- “

“Shut up!” Apollo kicks Nortus in the face causing the wind gods neck to snap back. Nortus cries out as Apollo grinds his face into the dirt.

My breathing starts to pick up and tears spring to my eyes, they’re not water and that fact makes me rush out more. I go to reach for my necklace, trying to crush one of the charms, the pearls or the horn, anything to get me out of here before I die or worse, ascend. My fingers, covered in blood, whether it’s my own or not I have no idea, fumble for my neck. Uncoordinated and shaky I can’t get ahold of it. Worse still, the noise turns the furious golden gaze of Apollo onto me.

“You,” Apollo slams the spear deep into the ground, making Nortus scream as he’s truly stuck, “Don’t move.” The sun god snarls before he stalks towards me.

‘Triton!’ I scream in my mind, my blurry vison locked onto Apollo as he creeps ever closer, ‘Brother, help me, please!’
Triton does not speak to me.

“So stubborn my love,” Apollo coos crouching near my head as my breathing speeds up, my concentration on keeping my blood in my body, where it belongs slipping. Apollo narrows his eyes as he sees the necklace, pearls, the horn, and the whistle from Nortus, peaking out near my collar bone. “How annoying.” Apollo growls.

He snatches the gift tearing it off my neck, though he takes great care not to crush the pearls, he yanks the whistle off the leather cord and stomps on it. I gurgle on my own blood staring at the shards of finally carved wood. The heat in my chest is growing as I sweep.

‘Amphitrite, please…I’m going to die. Please…’ I pray, hoping she’ll come on a chariot pulled by her dolphins.
Amphitrite does not hear me.

I try to focus on the battle going on around me, but I can see our Greek forces being pushed back. Achilles in his golden armor is easy to recognize even from so far away seems to be looking right at me, trying to get to me, but is stopped by a soldier urging him and the forces back. My guess is that must be Patroclus.

Apollo is back beside me, holding my hand, keeping me from applying pressure to my own wound. Apollo’s expression is kind, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes are hungry, burning gold, an all-consuming wildfire.

“It’s going to be okay, Perseus,” Apollo speaks softly, taking my helm off and running his fingers through my damp hair, “It’s okay to let go, it’s the final step. Let yourself ascend; it’ll be over in only a moment.”

I feel my life slipping between my fingers like sand in the desert. An hourglass running out as my blood soaks the earth. I look away from Apollo and up to the gray sky wondering. My family who claimed to love me so much is nowhere to be found. Thousands of years between me and my true family, I didn’t mean to leave them again. Nortus lays pinned and helpless maybe six feet away, withering in pain.

I’m alone, save for Apollo who is gleefully waiting for me to die, so he can get what he wants, no matter how I feel about it.
The glow starts to intensify. I scream as molten lava tears apart my veins and I can’t even watch as the arrow in my chest bursts into Greek fire. Apollo forces me to let my hand go as my body is completely consumed in golden fire. My flesh burns rabidly not even bubbling before flaking off into thick smoke as I shriek in pain. It seems to go on for eternity the fire getting brighter and hotter the longer it goes on. I can’t stop screaming not until my lungs melt and my vocal cords turn to ash.

I take one last deep gasping breath, full of smoke and burning fire when all the world goes silent. Though I can’t see the Three Sisters of Fate, I hear every agonizing second as the old shears open. I feel my heart stop as the deafening sound of a string being cut echoes in my ears. With my final moment I let out a desperate plea, the pain never ending even as I know I should be dead.

‘Please someone! Anyone help me!’
My Prayer is answered, but at what cost?

------------------------------------

Apollo watched with bated breath as Perseus burned through the last of his mortality. The flesh. The smell didn’t bother Apollo, many a foolish mortal found themselves burned to a crisp after crossing him.

He was disappointed that he couldn’t hold Percy’s hand anymore, while he’s sure it was comforting for his love, (and Apollo will never deny wanting to touch Percy more.), he had a more logical reason for holding onto his wrist. Apollo had carefully watched Percy’s heart rate, ensuring that the demi-god couldn’t recover. The fire surrounding Percy now was hot as well as unnatural. It would burn Apollo’s very essence if he touched it, it was forging a young god after all, it would also be incredibly painful.

“Percy…” Nortus blubbered, heartbroken eyes watching as Percy went through the one thing in this world that scared him more than anything. Nortus’s desperate cry of Percy’s name pulled Apollo out of his good mood. Green envy gripping the Sun god tight.

Apollo marched over to Nortus, the wind god flinching upon his approach. Apollo placed a foot on Nortus’s back and yanking out the spear, delighting in the blood curdling scream the other god lets out, smiling as the ichor drips down Apollo’s spear. Apollo blocks the other gods healing, keeping him grounded as he uses the blunt side of the spear to prod at the South Winds open wound.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long,” Apollo snarls grabbing Nortus by his hair and dragging him over to where Percy’s body continues to burn. Percy’s screams continue to shake the ground. Apollo pays them no mind.

“How do you kill a god Nortus? Do you know?” Apollo purrs sweetly holding Nortus up by his hair, watching as ichor leaks out of the hole going through his chest.

Fire and defiance blazes behind Nortus’s eyes, gritting his teeth he glares at the smug face of Apollo, “You can’t kill a god. At least you don’t have enough power to do so.” He snapped tears in his eyes.

Apollo rolled his eyes before continuing, “You’re right, I can’t kill a god. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make it so painful you can never manifest again.”

Apollo’s smile widened as he watched true fear enter Nortus’s eyes, and the wind started to struggle to no avail. Apollo turns him around, to have him lean over the fire Perseus’s body is blazing with. It’s hot to Apollo even with Nots acting as a godly shield between them. The smell and heat seem to get to the wind god, looking pale and scared as Nortus tries to escape, the burning embers searing his essence.

“Holy fire,” Apollo offers, enjoying watching his rival for Percy’s affections become nearly sick at Percy’s long and painful transformation, the fire becoming brighter and larger, “Some of the only things that can truly hurt a god. Poetic that the very thing that allows a new god to be born is the same stuff that could nearly kill us.”

Nortus struggled harder, trying to escape the fire as Apollo laughed, “So you see Nortus?! You’ll be in so much pain you won’t be able to pull your essence together ever again! You’ll wish you were dead, wish you would fade, but you won’t,” Nortus froze in terror as Apollo leaned in to whisper into his ear, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Nortus screamed as the fire surrounding Percy reached its zenith, and Apollo threw him in. Apollo watched as the other gods face melted and his ichor boiled into a thick black steam. Nortus throws himself out of the fire, but it continues to burn until the wind had to scatter himself as thin as possible to not feel the pain consuming him.

Apollo sighed watching as the fire slowly began to die down, ready to ferry Percy away to recover from the transformation as soon as the embers cooled. Apollo went to step forward as Percy stopped screaming, assuming it was almost over. Only to find that the earth was holding its feet in place. Confused, Apollo tries to free himself only to find himself sinking further. A smug voice sang in his head making Apollo freeze.

“You made a deal little sun god,” Apollo watched in horror as the earth started to slowly consume the still smoldering remains of Percy’s newly born essence, “You promised him to me, I will complete his transformation. You will hold up your end of the bargain.”

“No!” Apollo screamed as Percy was completely consumed, out of reach once again. Plagues began to rage across the land, healing plants withering and dying, crops burning. Percy was out of reach once again. The dreams, the sleepy promises fueled by jealousy, it all came rushing back as Apollo was released from his earthly bonds. He stumbles over to the scorched earth where Percy once lay, desperately clawing at the dirt, trying to get him back.

“Perseus!” Apollo screams his tears hitting the cooled glass made from Percy’s fire, “Percy please,” Apollo sobs, ignoring the other godly presence that appeared behind him, he became quiet, “I will find you again Percy, I swear it. I swear it on the damned Styx I will find you again.”

“Apollo,” Poseidon calls as a heart broken Apollo looks over his shoulder to him, tears streaming down his face, “Where is my son?”
Apollo couldn’t stare into the shell-shocked face of his uncle, not when he had stayed away to allow Percy to ascend naturally, not when Apollo was the reason Percy’s gone.

“She took him,” Apollo stare at his hands, before looking back towards Poseidon who seemed murderous, “She took him uncle, she’s going to force his essence into Tartarus.”

Fear and anguish consume Poseidon’s features, “The lady of the earth took him?!” Poseidon demands, Apollo nods gritting his teeth.

Poseidon marched over and grabs Apollo with his toga, snarling in his nephew’s face. Apollo doesn’t even try to fight, slumbering in his uncle’s hold, “You will get him back Apollo, or so help me, you will wish you were in that hell hole instead.”

Poseidon throws Apollo into the dirt and vanishes to the ocean to mourn in peace, if Gaia has him…Poseidon is sure he’ll never see him again. Apollo sweeps and the world weeps with him.

Chapter Text

In ancient realms where gods and mortals wove,

A son of Poseidon in dark slumber rove.

A bane to Troy, whose wrath Achilles grieved,

Now hidden deep where Earth’s own breath is heaved.

This monster, bound in chains of ancient grief,

Stirs from its rest, its anguish beyond belief.

Released by hands unseen, its pain ignites,

A harbinger of long and endless nights.

No Artemis nor Apollo’s might

Can harm the beast, for fate decrees them slight.

Their oaths are sworn, their hands are tightly bound,

By sacred laws that keep them from the ground.

Poseidon, with his grudges dark and old,

Turns not to aid, though shadows now unfold.

His silence reigns as discord grips the sky,

While ancient grudges shape the world’s demise.

Yet hope endures in sun’s own lineage bright,

A demigod must step into the fight.

To heal the beast, and lift its endless pain,

Or watch as Earth swallows light with icy chain.

For if the monster’s torment is not quelled,

The Earth will claim the sun, its darkness held.

The world will plunge into a cold, eternal night,

Unless the sunlit hero brings the light.

  Rachel fell to the ground, the thick green smoke of the python. The battered forces that had just returned to camp after fighting off Kronos’s forces just stared shell shocked as the new oracle lay on the ground.

    Thalia is the first to move, no one speaks as she gently moves Rachel into a recovery position. The rest of what’s left of camp half-blood stares in silence. They have so many to bury, so many shrouds to burn and send off. Things to clean up, people to heal, the last thing anyone wants more needs is another prophecy.

   Annabeth, tears streaked down her face, blooded and bruised from the fight tugs at Thalia’s arm, making Thalia face her. Thalia almost starts crying herself, knowing some of the blood on Annabeth is Lukes.

   “Thalia,” She starts, blond curls crudely chopped short on one side form a close call, Annabeth’s voice chokes up, “What do we do?”

   Thalia’s own voice was thick as she answered, it’s not very often that Annabeth doesn’t have a plan, and even less likely that she asks someone else what to do. Thalia swallows her own voice horse from screaming, hair fried from calling down the lightning. She wants to sob to scream at the sky, and the gods, and the Fates, and whoever else decided to dumb this all on a bunch of children.

   Then Thalia makes herself settle, as she looks over the small group of shell shocked survivors all looking to her to lead them out of the darkness. She takes a deep breath and lets her voice rise enough that all can hear her.

  “We’re not going to worry about it for right now,” Thalia rolls her shoulders back and takes on her ‘command voice’, “The last great prophesy didn’t happen for years after it was spoken, who knows who ling this one will take to come true. Right now, our priorities are to bury the fallen, get ourselves clean, watered, and fed. After that we’ll rebuild. Any objections?”

  When no one called out Thalia nodded her head, “Good, I need two people to take Rachel inside the big house. Put her on a couch, not in the infirmary, we can’t spare any beds. The rest of you, if you’re injured, head to the infirmary, the healers we have left will do what they can. If you can stand and pick up firewood start making pyres.”

    No one jumped, to follow Thalia’s commands. All of them are too tired to do anything but sluggishly move themselves forward. Thalia broke off with Annabeth to gather the materials for Lukes’s pyre. They hadn’t made him a shroud beforehand, obviously, so while Annabeth carefully made him one, Thalia was left to build the pyre of her once dear friend.

              As much as Thalia didn’t want to her mind circled and gnawed at the new prophecy. Every long verse burned into her mind, though she only heard it once. She bit her lip as her arms shook with the effort of building the large wooden structure. For all her bluster about not worrying about the prophecy and that it would probably take years for it to come to fruition Thalia didn’t think they would be lucky enough to doge another prophecy. They never were.

   She wondered what it meant, what they were talking about. It didn’t reference any myth or whisper Thalia knew, but then again, she wasn’t an expert. She would have asked Alexia, Annabeth’s brother since he was their resident myths expert for all things Greek or otherwise. But he had been turned to stone by a giddy Medusa three days ago. It was cruel, since they couldn’t say for sure if Alexia could move into the afterlife with his body not being able to be burned. Thalia desperately hopped so, Alexia was 14, he deserved for his death to be easier than his life.

  Thalia gently gathered tree sap and dried leaves to swear on the bottom branches of the pyre to insure it caught. Lukes body was ordered to be burned with Greek fire in the hope that it would burn away the essence left behind by the titian lord for good. Weather or not that would mean also scorching Lukes’s soul… well Thalia had something else to add to the long list of things she didn’t want to think about.

   Chiron was another obvious choice, but as much as Thalia loved the old centaur, him being the father, mentor, and mother all rolled up into one book, coffee, and saddle soap scented package, the old man wasn’t always a reliable narrator. Sometimes he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell them about things. Sometimes because the truth was forbidden to be spoken, even if it would keep the demigods alive…and sometimes because it was simply too painful for Chiron to speak of. Chiron still won’t tell the story of Achilles to any of them, his eyes just get sad and distant, most just don’t ask anymore.

     Thalia sighed looking up longingly into the darkening sky. Artemis would be riding over them soon, her hunt trailing behind her, never too far form their mistress. Once this was all over, Thalia wanted to join them, though with things so fractured she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to. The camp needed a leader, and after taking on the prophecy as her responsibility Thalia didn’t feel like she could just abandon the other demigods now.

    She doesn’t regret being the Great Prophecy kid, even if, in the end, it was Luke who saved them all. Thalia couldn’t imagine letting little Nico deal with all of this, not after his sister disappeared into The Hunt, never to see him again. Thalia wanted to be mad at Bianca, but she understands why she did it. She could have been Bianca in another life, leaving Annabeth and Luke behind the minute they got to camp to join the hunt. Of course, Thalia ends up leaving them anyway, denied an afterlife by her father’s gracious hand to become a tree.

     “Thalia,” Nico called, pulling Thalia out of her staring into the sky. She startled, zapping Nico a bit making him wince but not much else. Thalia shook her head trying to physically rid herself of the thoughts swirling around her head like a tornado.

   “Sorry, Neeks.” Thalia looks over to him, refusing to look at the finished pyre sitting on the course beach, the waves were calm lightly lapping at the shore, “Do they need me?”

   Nico nodded looking as tired as Thalia felt. She knows it must be hard for him, all the death and ghosts haunting their every step now that the conflict is over.

   “We’re ready for you, we figured we’d hold one big funeral. Some of them have been dead for days, it’s time to put them to rest.”

Thalia nodded in agreement, throwing a look over her shoulder to the last empty pyre,      “And Lukes body?”

   Nico was quiet knowing it was a touchy subject for many of the survivors that knew Luke.

    “His body has been…quiet. I can’t sense him…or anything else. We’ll do his last, let those that want to attend come and the rest lick their wounds.”

   Thalia sighed again, she felt like she was doing that a lot lately. Thalia rubbed her eyes and hissed when she accidentally zapped herself, making Nico let out a small smirk at her expense, quickly turning around to avoid the glare the daughter of Zeus threw his way.

  The funeral goes by in a blur for Thalia. She knows she speaks, but she can’t remember what she says. She knows that she watched as over 30 pyres were lit at once, lighting up the night. Thalia knows that despite standing next to 32 massive fires, she shivered, her chest feeling hot while the rest of her shivered as surely as if she were in a blizzard. Thalia remembers the heartbroken whales of Charles Beckendorf as two of his brothers and an Ares cabin member had to hold him back from throwing himself of Silena’s pyre.

  When Thalia comes back to herself, she’s on the beach a jar of Greek fire warming her palm. The Stoll brothers carry Lukes body on a homemade stretcher, the shroud Annabeth made covering his body. As Lukes brothers lay the wooden stretcher on the pyre, Thalia finally looks around. To the surprise of no one there aren’t many here. Travis stays, but as soon as his duty is done Conner leaves, tears in his eyes he can’t even look at the shroud.

  Annabeth leans heavily on Thalia, barely being able to hold herself up. Her eyes are red and puffy, massive dark bags hung heavily under her once bright gray eyes. Annabeth didn’t look at Thalia though, she switched between staring at the jar of Greek fire in Thalia’s palm and the shroud where Lukes body laid.

   The few in attendance look to Thalia, for some final words. Thalia feels her throat tighten up and her tongue lay heavy in her mouth. What do you say about someone you loved like a brother, and hated like an enemy all at the same time? How is Thalia supposed to talk about all of Luke the good, and the ugly. How can a few words, lost to the air as quickly as they’re spoken, encapsulate everything Luke was when he was alive? 

              “Thanks for coming everyone,” Thalia’s voice sounds wrecked even to her own ears, but she carries one, “As I’m sure everyone here knows, I knew Luke before we ever made it to Camp Half-Blood. He was my friend, my partner in battle, and a brother I didn’t know I needed.”

     Annabeth let out a choked sob at that, her nails digging into Thalia’s arm. Thalia didn’t mind, silent tears also streamed down her face.

   “But family’s complicated,” Thalia looked at the Greek fire in her palm, taking a deep breath, “I hated him when I found out what he had done while I was…gone. I tried to talk him down and failed. I know Kronos didn’t treat him well, but I can also understand his anger. I just wish Luke hadn’t been so angry he wanted the world to burn with it.” Thalia swallows the lump in her throat, “I hope that in death he might find the peace he never found in life, because in his final moments, Luke saved us. He saved all of us. He took a long look at the destruction around him and knew it had to stop.”

  Thalia’s tears come faster, and she must force out her words into the dark night. She looks at every single person around Lukes’s shroud taking a minute before she continued, “I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive him for what he did. To us, to the world, but I will never take away the fact that his final act was a selfless sacrifice. That he might die so that we may live.”

    Thalia steps forward forcing Annabeth to let her go, or come closer to Lukes final resting place, Thalia takes a deep breath and leans down to the body that was once Luke whispering into his ear.

   “May the wind always swiftly carry you home brother. Rest in peace Luke Castellan.”

   Thalia stepped back and threw the jar into the bottom of the pyre. The pyre went up quickly, the green fire illuminating the gaunt faces of those around her. Thalia looked out at the sky again, towards the east where Apollo was bringing the dawn once again. Thalia politely turned a blind eye to the god of thieves nestled along the tree line, knowing he wasn’t supposed to be here. She wouldn’t begrudge Hermes this, even if deep in her hear Thalia knew Luke wouldn’t want his father here. After all Thalia may have lost a brother, but Hermes lost a son.

     Desdemona was exhausted. So exhausted, she hadn’t spelt a wink in nearly five days, and it was starting to take its toll. Her son had tried to consult the gods, giving offerings to Somnus, and consulting with everyone he could. Desdemona’s son, Octavian was a wise and powerful man already despite his young age. An augur, and a legacy of Apollo through her blood, Octavian boasted a proud pedigree worthy of Rome, dating all the way back to the beginning.

    Desdemona gripped onto her sons’ thin arms, knowing that it was painful, but feeling half crazed couldn’t make herself stop.

    “Octavian, make it stop. The woman, she won’t let me sleep, please, I’m going to go mad.”

    Octavian looked both frustrated and scared as his mother shook him, the voice that had been whispering in his own dreams coming to mind.

   “What does she want from you mother? What did she say? Perhaps these are visons from our Lord.” Octavian tried to smooth down his mother’s sickly blind hair, thin and nearly silver, it was a fair cry from the golden curled locks those with Apollo’s blood typically sport.

   His mothers’ icy blue eyes stared into the middle distance, her head tilting to the side as if to hear someone whispering into her ear. Desdemona’s crazed eyes come back into focus her grip tightening on Octavian’s arm, causing crimson blood to flow.

   “I must travel to Rome,” Desdemona stood on shaky legs trying to get back to her room, to leave at once, “Once I’m there she’ll let me rest, but I have to leave.”

  Octavian followed her, looking alarmed, “Mother wait we cannot return to Old Rome, the monsters-“

   Desdemona turned and glared at her son, shutting him up as her hands shook, coming to cup his face, making Octavian stand very still. Desdemona’s long claw like nails she once so carefully maintained digging into her only sons cheeks.

   “I am going to Rome and if you want to stop me you can die trying.”

   Octavian’s horrified look was the last clear memory Desdemona’s for several days. Things didn’t become clear again until she stood in a deep cavern under room, the whistling in the grotto sounding like the rumblings of a sleeping beast. An Alter made of a tree root stood before her, a ceremonial knife in her hand she recognized as an imperial gold knife of an Augur, though it looked even older than the one her son used.

   Desdemona becomes aware of the exhaustion next. She was just so tired, she sobbed at the knowledge that she was awake, Shadows on the walls seemed to leap out at her, keeping her from closing her eyes. A voice like a mother’s lullaby slithered into Desdemona’s ear.

     “Do you want to rest, Legacy of Apollo?” A large sleepy hollow voice echoed around her brain.

    Desdemona sobbed in relief at the idea of finally being able to sleep, “Please,” she cried the knife in her hand shaking, “I’ll do anything, just please let me sleep.”

   “You will get your rest, child. Lay down on the alter,”

  Desdemona doesn’t hesitate, the alter feels like the softest thing she’s ever laid on and as she lays down she lets out a large sigh of relief, her bones and mind seeming to all settle back into place, ready to finally let her rest.

    “Are you ready Legacy of Apollo?”  The voice soothes sweetly.

      “Yes,” Desdemona whispers back, anything to end this waking nightmare.

   “Then call out the ancient name and plunge the knife into your throat. Once it’s over you will rest in peace.”

    Desdemona didn’t hesitate, all she heard was that she would finally get to sleep and acted. She finally called out the name that has been on the tip of her tongue, and has been banging against her skull for over two weeks now.

“For the god killer, For Perseus!”

    Desdemona finally gets to rest. She doesn’t see her blood water the alter or hear the cry of an ancient monster finally being born. All she knows is that she can finally sleep.

    Back in New Rome, Octavian wakes in a cold sweat. A scream on the tip of his tongue. An ancient enemy of Rome as awoken, and he’s coming to destroy the city cared for by the god Apollo. He races to wake the last person he wants to dela with, Jason, only to find their Prator gone from his bed. Stolen in the night. Bad omens indeed.

              Apollo didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. The prophecy didn’t even come from him, he didn’t hear it until it passed through Rachels lips, handed down straight from the fates themselves.

   Perseus, because he was still his beloved Perseus, had almost surfaced a few times. Once in the dark ages his body had been so close to the surface he was mistaken for a mountain. The ground wouldn’t break for god, nor mortal, but late at night when everything was quiet and calm, Apollo could hear the mountain breath. Hear the steady, slow thump of his heartbeat.

   When he had sunk back into the warm center of the earth Apollo was distraught. The Black Plague had come not long after in his fury. To this day Apollo longed for Percy. Poseidon never forgave him for what happened to his son. Though Apollo never spoke of the deal he had foolishly made with Gaia, it seemed like the father’s intuition that is was Apollo’s fault was strong in Poseidon.

    Of course, Apollo’s uncle could care less if his son was now a more than likely a massive leviathan like beast. The issue was more that he was in the clutches of the earth than being free to terrorize ships out at sea.

   But the Fates Prophecy gave Apollo hope. Perhaps that was foolish of him, but he couldn’t stamp it down. The world tended to come full circle a lot. The longer Apollo existed the more that has been apparent. For a child of his to be the one to finally allow Percy peace, that while it would all start and end with Apollo…maybe they can release Percy from his monstrous shell and allow the god underneath to burst forth.

    It had been almost a year since the prophecy was spoken. A lot has happened since then, especially with Olympus closing. The schism was worse for some more than others. Athena and Artemis, warring with their other halves had nearly driven them insane. Apollo in comparison got off light allowing him to watch as the earthquakes near the shores of California were anything but natural. The bulge along the shoreline was blocked by the mist, and the Demigods and legacies of New Rome barely looked out to the sea if they could help it.

     It had chased away all sea life, regular or mystical and only the bravest gods approached the withering mass that tried to burst forth. Perseus was obviously wake and pissed. Gathering strength before he was set loose to terrorize New Rome.

    Apollo gently flies down to the withering mass, the top of it just peaking out of the water. It was massive, and while Apollo has no idea what Perseus will look like, he may put his sister Charybdis to shame.

     Apollo gently places a hand on top of the crust that strains to keep Perseus in. The beast underneath stilled and let out something akin to a whale’s song.  Apollo chuckled, it seems that his uncle has been visiting now that his son is awake, and Percy seems to still recognize his maker.

   “Hey lover,” Apollo whispers and Percy calls out again trying to figure out who came to see him, Apollo helps him out slicing his hand and allowing some ichor to soak into the earth, trying to help Percy identify him, “We’ve missed you.”

      Apollo knew the exact moment that Percy recognized who it was because even under the tight bond of the earth Percy tossed his head, a roar shaking the ground in another quake as he tried to lunge at Apollo.

   Apollo flew above where Percy could lash out at him, watching as the earth constricts around him, forcing the small mountain to sink under the waves again. Apollo frowned at Percy seemed to settle, the mountain rising higher above the waves again. Apollo approached again, setting his hand where he thought Percy’s head was under the crust. Ignoring the loud warning growl that followed.

   “I know love, I…I deserved that.” Apollo sighed, “But don’t worry, you’ll be out soon and then we’ll save you.”

    Apollo heard a crack and when he looked down, he watched as a massive chunk fell into the sea, dark thick oil stained the ocean like ink. And there, peaking out of a crack were more inky black oil dripped out and bigger than a mortal’s body was a silted eye, locked onto him. The snarl that rumbled out this time was much louder than before.

   Apollo knew that he should be scared, but all that ran through his mind was that Percy’s eyes were still a beautiful shade of sea green.

               The cracks continued and more oil spilled into the ocean. Apollo made no move to stop him as Percy burst forth as a massive sea dragon-like creature, azure scales still dripping with oil.  Percy spread a pair of massive leathery wings and Apollo marveled at how truly massive Perseus was. He could make giants look small, more on par with a titan in the old days. Percy instinctively turned towards New Rome, shaking off the oil clinging to his skin.

              Apollo spoke up drawing Perseus’s undivided attention, smiling as the beast geared up to attack him, still slow and sluggish form having just been reborn. Apollo would not lift a finger to hurt him, never again.

Apollo smiled, finally they could save Percy, “Welcome back Perseus.” The roar that followed was defining, and Apollo couldn’t stop smiling.

“Grant that I may slay this man, and that he come within the cast of my spear, that hath smitten me or ever I was ware of him, and boasteth over me, and declareth that not for long shall I behold the bright light of the sun.”

-Last line of the Iliad, Homer

Chapter Text

Hello everyone. Before we go any further for those reading in the future, or anyone that has not read the notes I have left under each chapter, this is the end. This is specifically the end credits and closing thoughts for this work. If you are not interested in reading further and seeing some final thoughts or cut content, no worries.

Man, what a ride. I’m truly in awe at how many people read and loved this story. While this was not my first work on here, I kind of consider it to be so. It was my most ambitious project at the time of writing it, and I was extremely nervous to put my work out there into the world. To be judged, but also to just be seen. For most of my life writing was something I did purely for myself, and I was terrified that it would not be good enough for others to consider reading.

Writing something so large and having so many eyes on it forced me to learn a lot. I think it made me a better writer, learning from this experience.

I also want to take a moment to thank you, the reader. While it may sound corny, I genuinely love reading each comment and cherish every kudo and kind word sent my way. Especially those that I’ve seen consistently comment on from the very beginning. I’m not sure if I would have stuck with it and subsequently posted more stories if I hadn’t had such kind words in the beginning.

Now that, that is out of the way, let’s get into the good stuff.

A question I have gotten consistently is if this story will continue, or if I would write a sequel for the bad ending.
While this story is over, I am rewriting it, this time with, the good ending. While I am thankful for the experience writing A Twist in Time gave me, I think I can do better. Besides I love time travel stories so I really don’t mind rewriting it especially in what I would consider its final form.
In terms of a sequel to the very last chapter with Kaiji Percy, it kind of depends. I wouldn’t mind writing a small one off to it, if there were enough people that wanted to see it. I don’t typically do one-shots, and I do have a lot of other projects in need of attention, and new ones in the drafts I refuse to begin until I finish the ones I started.

Fun Facts
• I never actually finished the outline for this story. At the beginning I had only really planned out the first two or three chapters. So, everything past that I was just kind of free styling.
• For those of you that thought that Auster (Later Nortus), was Apollo in disguise, good for you! I thought so too. I had planned for Auster to be Apollo in disguise for a while, but felt it was much too obvious, so I pivoted to making Nortus. I honestly did not expect him to be loved as much as he was.
• I cut an absurd amount of Ares content. He was in the story significantly less than I had originally intended, mostly because I had a hard time making him flow naturally in the story. Aphrodite was also supposed to be in the story more as a secondary antagonist. She got cut because I found her to be a little one note and boring and so she toon was left on the cutting room floor. If you like how I portrayed the gods in this story I would urge you go check out my work, Endangered Species, The Lost Art of Demigod Husbandry. The gods it a ton of screen time in that one and most of them are how I see them rather than adhering to any cannon.
• Also, I only had vague ideas for the ending of this work, so I kind of stumbled in to laying the groundwork for it on accident. Thankfully my own head cannons and theories end up slipping into my story often, so I unintentionally set up monster Percy way early.
• At some point my old computer completely died so I lost all the chapters I had previously prepared and had to start from scratch. So, unlike what I had originally intended I can’t put up the original outline here.

I will leave this here for now. If I see any in depth questions about lore, I don’t mind answering them. Again, thank you to everyone that has read my story or left a comment or kudos. It’s a small action that means more than you’ll ever know.