Chapter Text
Luke was a man out of time. Or maybe it was better to say he had too much time? Either way, it cracked and split him at the seams, golden light pouring through the tears in his skin like magma through cracks in the earth.
His hands shook around the cursed blade, muscles in his arms bulging as Kronos fought him with every inch of his Titanic strength. Slowly, inevitably, the blade moved closer, the fate of the world measured in inches as Luke fought to fulfil his destiny. No mortal should have the strength to oppose a force of nature, but Luke’s promise to Annabeth granted him the last vestiges of willpower needed to plunge the blade into his side.
It wasn’t a deep cut, but Luke howled anyway, twin voices tearing through his vocal cords as his eyes lit up like stars and the room thundered and shook around them. A sound only matched by Annabeth's scream of horror from behind Percy.
An aura of energy seemed to grow brighter and brighter around Luke's form, forcing Percy to shut his eyes lest he be blinded. Just in time, as a force like a nuclear explosion went off, blasting Percy off his feet, only his invulnerable skin saving him from instant annihilation.
But, through the cacophony, a voice louder than anything found on Earth screamed its rage.
“Damn you to Tartarus, Percy Jackson! A thousand years of torment would not be enough Time for me to punish you!”
Then the voice was gone, and Percy was only left with the sound of the rushing wind in his ears as he hurtled through the air. Percy snapped his eyes open, twisting to look at what he was about to collide with.
But he wasn’t in the throne room of Olympus anymore. Rather than becoming a pancake against one of its marble walls, the ocean stretched out before him all the way to the horizon.
He didn’t understand what was going on, but the water called to him with beckoning arms, and he reached back. A tendril of water rose to meet him, and even with his powers, he slammed into it hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
It’s lucky then that he can breathe underwater, because he cannot muster the energy to swim to the surface now that the battle is over.
He lets himself sink, watching the light dancing over the surface above him recede as his armour drags him down. It seems a long time before his back finally touches the sand below, cradling him in its embrace. His confusion battles with his exhaustion, but it’s the latter which wins.
His eyes droop, the soothing energy of the sea seeping into his tired muscles, lulling him into sleep.
He crawls his way back into consciousness, the sound of swords clanging and people shouting fading as he opens his eyes.
He’s greeted with the sight of a few curious fish darting away, startled by his movement.
Groaning, he pulls himself into a sitting position as he begins to take stock of himself.
As expected, Achilles’ curse had protected him, but even the signs of battle had been washed away by the gentle caress of the ocean. Blood, ash and soot have faded from his armour, leaving behind only knicks and scratches that heralded the war he had fought in.
He pats his pockets and is relieved to feel Riptide's familiar shape. Armed, he feels ready to investigate his surroundings. However, as he looks around, there is not much to be seen from his position on the ocean floor.
Aside from the few curious fish now circling him, the white sand seems to stretch on uninterrupted for miles, disappearing into the dark without end.
For most, this would be a terror-inducing sight, but to Percy, it only brings a sense of comfort.
Despite his nightmares, he feels rejuvenated in the way only being submerged in water can. And, whilst in the sea, he can never truly be lost.
Focusing, he tries to pinpoint where he is in the ocean, although the answer stumps him for a moment. He’d just been fighting in New York, but his senses were telling him he was now in the Mediterranean- halfway across the world.
He was pretty sure he hadn’t been flying through the air for nine hours, so he had to assume there was some magical fuckery going on to explain this. Of course, having survived Mt St Helens’ exploding and waking up on Ogygia, he’s familiar with the experience.
With his location determined, it’s relatively easy to figure out the direction of the nearest landmass.
With a wave goodbye to the fish, he sets off into the dark, ignoring their cries of “Prince?” as the currents propel him forward.
He’d expected the journey to be relatively dull, but a few sea monster attacks helped to keep him entertained for the few hours it took him to approach land. It’s pretty rare that he gets to fight something underwater, so it’s even kind of fun to turn a Kraken into calamari as he passes by.
There are still long stretches with nothing, but slowly the sea floor begins to rise, and corals in every colour start to fill in the stretches of sand that surround him. It’s a far cry from the litter-filled Hudson, and he can begin to understand the appeal of all the adverts promising cheap all-inclusive holidays to the Med.
An opinion that’s reinforced as he breaches the surface of the sea and is treated to miles of uninterrupted coastline before him.
Waves crash upon white sand beaches, which in turn butt up against green vegetation. The whole thing looks straight out of a postcard. But, pretty as it is, Percy is far more concerned about the outcome of the battle and his desperate need to get home.
There is no sign of civilisation in either direction, or even any litter to imply its existence. It would amaze Percy, but he’s too busy being relieved that there are no mortals around to question a boy walking out of the surf completely dry.
With the water occasionally lapping at his ankles, he wills a mist of sea spray into the air, causing a rainbow to form.
Reaching into a pocket, he pulls out a drachma and, with a call of “Annabeth!”, flicks it through the shimmer.
And, with an uneventful ‘plop’, it splashes into the water.
Furrowing his brow in confusion, he fetches the coin and tries again, this time calling “Annabeth Chase!” whilst picturing her face in his mind.
And, once again, the coin lands in the waves.
A mild feeling of worry fills Percy, but he pushes it down. This must be like Ogygia all over again, or some weird reaction to being in the Old World.
With that mild comfort, he tries something else, calling for Rachel this time. Once more, it fails, and the nervousness grows.
What could be blocking an Iris message to both the leader of the Greek forces and the Oracle? Fear eats at him, knowing how close both of them were to that explosion which had sent him here. For all their cleverness and skill, they lacked his invulnerable skin.
One final person springs to mind, and, refusing to let the fear win, he calls out for Chiron.
For a second, the coin lingers in the air, then, with a shimmer, it disappears and the rainbow shifts to reveal his trainer. His relief is brief, sputtering at the sight before him. Whilst it’s clearly Chiron, the man who looks back at him with surprise does not quite resemble the Latin teacher he’d first met.
For one, he was in his centaur form, and, for the other, his hair stretched down to his shoulders with leaves scattered throughout.
They stared at each other for several seconds, unsure what was happening. Finally, Percy broke the silence.
“Chiron?” He ventures, "Why do you look like a Party Pony?"
The centaur's eyebrows climb to his forehead, a look of astonishment on his face.
"Excuse me?"
Feeling awkward, Percy let out a nervous chuckle. "Never mind," he said, resisting the urge to shuffle in place.
“Surprise?” He says instead, “I lived.”
The horseman doesn't laugh, which isn't unexpected, but nor does he chide Percy like he usually would. Instead, he blinks slowly and makes a humming sound. Finally, just as Percy’s patience was about to run out, he spoke. But it raised more questions than it answered.
“Do I know you, Demigod?”
Percy doesn’t mean to jerk his hand through the mist, cutting the call short, but he can’t regret it with the way his heart pounds in his chest.
He stares at where his instructor and friend had been for several long minutes, questions barreling through his mind.
“What the fuck is going on?” he can’t help but whisper to himself as he tries to process it all.
When his thoughts begin to slow, he considers calling Chiron back, but he only has a couple of drachma on him, and something tells him he isn’t going to get the answers he’s looking for from there.
Of course, there is a better person, or God, that he can ask.
So, somewhat tentatively, he calls out a prayer to his father.
“Hey, Dad, it’s Percy! Bet you were wondering where I disappeared to after defeating Kronos? Well, you and me both! I’m at…” He pauses, then rattles off the coordinates his powers tell him. “You mind sending someone to fetch me? Saviour of Olympus and all that.” He chuckles nervously, but can’t think of anything else to say. He desperately wants to ask about his friends and what had happened after Luke stabbed himself, but knows he’ll only have to wait until his father arrives to get those answers.
Instead, he plops himself down on the sand and begins to wait. Not knowing how long he’s going to be left waiting for.