Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Drifting

Olympus, Council Chambers

            Storms had raged across the country over the past week, the worst of them concentrated in New York. They mirrored the atmosphere that held the Olympian Council in a death grip. The clamor of the twelve deities filled the massive chamber, for almost a week they had bickered back and forth endlessly. The currents of divine energy that swirled through the room were nearly tangible, cutting through the air with the shimmer of a heat mirage. Zeus sat at the head of assembly; his bright eyes clouded with cold anger as he observed the deities who slung accusations like mud in a kindergarten brawl. In a swift motion Zeus straighten from his slump, his chin no longer supported in the palm of his hand as his arms shifted to lay on the arm rests of his throne. His fingers were white from the pressure he used to grip the Seat of the Heavens.

“Enough!” he boomed, silencing the cacophony he presided over. “A week! A week is how long we have sat arguing and bickering like children.”

His deafening words, carrying the weight of his immense power, washed over the council making the air crackle. Several of them looked down ashamedly. Ares, one of the few who had sat in silence mirroring his father, fixed Zeus with an inquisitive, burning stare. Athena, the most vocal of the group, did the same. Artemis and Apollo shifted their heated glares from each other to Zeus’ imposing form. Poseidon, his broad frame filled with righteous fury, turned his head slightly to fix his raging eyes on his younger brother. The weight of his power was clearly felt in the way the air seemed to bend with his attention.

“What would you have us do brother?” Poseidon’s voice rumbled, reminiscent of the earthquakes he could spawn as easily as breathing. “Your Master Bolt is missing, Hades’ Helm is gone, and my son- my son its teetering on the edge of life and has lost his mother to Tartarus’ beasts.”

Zeus sat, letting his brother continue to speak. He needed to vent before his possessive rage manifested any further in the moral world below.

“How did they find him? The horde that he slaughtered, the horde that murdered my lover, it was being guided. We haven’t seen hordes that size since the Great Prophecy was given. Tell me Zeus, who rises against us!” Poseidon finished, his voice steadily rising the longer he spoke.

The assembled gods shifted uneasily, they all felt Poseidon's rage manifesting indiscriminately now. It was true, monsters rarely banded together in such numbers without a deity to direct them and the Minotaur was a far cry from a powerful leader. Between the theft of two of the most powerful godly symbols and the horde of monsters attacking Poseidon’s son it was clear something, silent and unseen for millennia, was rising. Then there was the storm. Poseidon’s son, Perseus, had showcased a terrifying display of power. Of course, he still wouldn’t be able to hold a candle to the stronger monsters or any deity of the mythic world, but his raw strength was shocking. He was untrained and unarmed yet had somehow been able to slaughter a horde of monsters in his fury, killing even the Minotaur. While the bull-headed monster was relatively weak compared to other legendary monsters, it was no less dangerous for a fledgling demigod.

“We do not know” Zeus admitted through slightly gritted teeth after a moment. “Artemis and Apollo have scoured the world and cannot find anything amiss. Hades confirmed Tartarus is still secure. Every domain has been searched with no trace of the thief who stole his Helm. And… no echo of my Master Bolt has surfaced either" he finished heavily, clearly hesitant to admit their failure.

Poseidon sat, his temper temporarily assuaged. “What’s next? My Trident stolen as well?” the Lord of the Seas questioned sharply.

“Peace Uncle” Athena spoke. “We do not yet know the facts. I understand the grief you hold for the death of your mortal lover, but it is… unproductive without a clear target.” She said, words carefully considered as to not set off the god.

Poseidon glanced at her, intentional bringing the intangible aura of his immense power to bear against her. For a long moment he let her feel the breathless lack of hope, like a sailor staring at an encroaching tsunami before nodding. His power settled slightly as he turned to the rest of the Council. In times past he would have snapped back at her, raged against her cold logic for it dismissal of his lover and dearest son. Now he merely accepted her wisdom for what it was. The relationship between all the Olympians had shifted in the past decade and half. Zeus had decreed that political and personal rivalries were to be put on hold in light of the Great Prophecy. Olympus was more united than it had been since the conclusion of the last Gigantomachy. They were on war footing against an enemy they had yet to see. Dissent in their ranks was no longer tolerated by the King of the Gods.

Artemis spoke next, “Apollo and I have our focus entirely set towards joining efforts to locate the missing symbols. My hunters remain loyal to their usual operations, locating and disposing of any gathering of monsters they can find. Recently they have begun finding pockets much like that one that sought your son Uncle. That is all we can do for now.” Her voice clinical as her mesmerizing silver eyes shone with sympathy.

“Thank you Artemis” Poseidon murmured, his voice as soft as the gentle lapping of waves against sand. Unlike Athena, Artemis felt a gentle pressure, like waves softly lapping against a beach, settle over her for a moment.

“The boy needs to be trained.” All heads turned to Ares, his eyes perpetual lit with a manifestation of the fires of war. "He showcased destruction as great as his namesake suggests. It would be wise to cultivate his potential. It’s clear whatever is moving against us knows of the prophecy as well. Whether they think he carries its burden or simply wanted to hedge their bets by removing a threat before it could grow is something I do not know… Athena?” he finished with a questioning gesture towards his counterpart, the overlap in their domains granting her more insight than him in matters of strategy.

Athena sighed, rubbing a hand against her temples. “The boy has faced attacks all his life, no?” her questioned aimed towards Poseidon.

He nodded his confirmation, thinking back to the reports he received of his son awakening his powers at the age of five and the small band that had nearly sent him to the Underworld not even a year prior to his most recent battle. Both ages were far too young to be faced with death in his mind, demigod or not.

Continuing Athena said, “None have been as bad as the last two he’s weathered. The one several months ago was by a smaller number, but no less dangerous for him at the time. This one now confirms that our invisible enemy is finally aware of him. The sacrifice Poseidon made to hide the boy is coming undone. I would wager he is the storm spoken of in the prophecy. Our enemy must know it too. He will need to be forged to face what is coming.”

Zeus nodded, weighing the words of his children. “The boy will be trained then. He must be tempered and refined into a blade capable of striking at our enemies” Zeus said, the rumble of thunder in his voice grave.

“No. I refuse. My son is not a weapon. The boy has just lost his mother.” Poseidon spat out, temper returning in force along side the dreadful pressure that carried the inevitability of the sea.

The God of Lightning replied placatingly, “You are right Brother, he is not a weapon. He will not be used and discarded on a whim; we do not treat our children as expendable anymore. Nonetheless he will be wielded against our enemies, to strike where we cannot. Anything less would fly in the face of Fate.”

Poseidon’s face flickered with a storm of emotions, his eyes pulsing. The power he exuded gradually pressed against the denizens of the room uncomfortably. Finally, after a moment of tension that stole the breath of the assembled gods, Poseidon nodded his consent. “Fine. But I will train him myself, in Atlantis.”

Zeus opened his mouth, beard crinkling, before Dionysus cut in. His eyes were focused and calculating, a change that had become permanent since Zeus threatened him with Tartarus for slacking in his duties to the demigods. “Training would benefit the boy. Not just to grow his power, but to keep his mind from falling to insanity over the death of his mother. Many heroes were lost before their time due to their grief having no outlet. However, I would suggest he be kept in New Olympia for now... the boy needs peers” The God of Madness said with the experience of a man who had seen the best warriors fall apart at the seams.

Zeus’ electric blue eyes fixed one of his many sons with an unidentifiable look. Slowly he nodded, considering the arguments put forth. “It is decided. Perseus will be trained. Ares, see that Chiron assigns your daughter to oversee his progress. Poseidon, I will not stop you if the boy seeks you first. However, he must prove himself.”

The sea god's jaw clenched at his brother's condition. Finally, after a moment Poseidon nodded his grudging acceptance and sat back in his throne.

Zeus sat, face impassive. "You are all dismissed. Continue as usual with your assignments."

Flashes filled the room, illuminating the cavernous space with the glow of divine energy. Ares conveyed his understanding with a tilt of his head before his own flash of light joined the others. In moments Zeus was left alone. His demeanor, that of a just ruler, finally fracturing to reveal his warring emotions. Worry for the future, for his symbol of dominion over lightning, for his daughter, dulled his bright eyes. With a sigh Zeus too left with a flash of light, leaving the Council Chambers empty and devoid of divine pressure.

New Olympia, Infirmary

            Suffocating darkness and blurred, blinding light were all that made up Percy’s world. At times he was left floating in an inky black void somewhere in between awareness and non-existence. Others he was assaulted with flashes of light, hushed voices, and panicked shouts. His only indicator that time was passing were these brief moments of almost-lucidity. The one constant was the dull ache of loss, for what he could not remember. All Percy knew was he had lost something terrible; it was as if his very soul were crying out in devastating pain. In response, the sea of power that was constantly under his skin writhed in fury, begging for release. In his brief moments of awareness, he burned and froze in his skin before falling back into the fugue darkness.

            Percy’s eyes opened slowly before slamming closed again, unaccustomed to the soft light shining from the room around him. With a groan he attempted to turn to his side and sit up, falling back to the soft bed as his body refused to cooperate. As his awareness came rushing back he distinctly realized just how thirsty he was, his throat was dry and his lips cracked. With another groan, more pitiful than the last, he croaked out, “Water… please.”

The sounds of hurried footsteps rushed to his ears sending sharp pains through his head and eliciting another groan.

“Hey, hey lay down man. You shouldn’t be moving right now. We don’t even know how you’re still alive” a voice said, full of concern and a trace of wonder.

Percy nodded weakly or tried too at least. However, his acceptance was conveyed by his lack of further movement.

The voice, now stern but still concerned, rang out softer now. “I’ll go get water, but you have to promise to stay still.”

Without further preamble the footsteps hurried away again. Percy was left with his jumbled thoughts and the slowly receding pain in his head. He suddenly gasped as his body burned with an unnatural heat. In the midst of the pain, he faintly recognized it as the same he had felt in his last moments of consciousness. Fortunately, before his jumbled thoughts could follow that path any further the footsteps returned.

“Here, drink” the stern, soothing voice commanded before pressing a cool glass to his cracked lips and letting the water trickle into his mouth. The water soothed his body, not quite rejuvenating him as it usually did but at least easing the heat that seemed to be intent on burning him from the inside out.

Several moments later the glass was empty and with a small clink was placed somewhere by his head. Percy tried to open his eyes again but was met with more blinding light. A pained sound, halfway between a moan and a groan, was dragged from his throat at the self-inflicted intrusion.

The voice chuckled, “Yeah I wouldn’t try that again. You’ve woken up the same way a few times already. This is the first time you’ve talked though… So, progress I guess.”

Percy, his strength recovered slightly managed a weak nod, sending a shooting pain through his head that was slowly becoming familiar.

Another chuckle rang out, its cadence carrying the same feeling as gentle rays of soft sunlight on a pleasant summer day. “Get some sleep dude, you’re safe now. The best way for you to recover is rest.”

The softly spoken words lulled Percy closer to his previous state. His addled mind still swam with a deep sense of loss and heated pain. Too weak to resist the comforting pull of oblivion, Percy felt himself slipping back into the darkness. The voice’s last words lost behind the haze that clouded his senses.

Time was a blur. Brief moments of consciousness broken by what seemed to be an eternity of deep darkness ruled Percy’s existence. He felt weak. The usual strength and ease of movement his body carried, far exceeding any mortal standard, was lost to him. Gradually, as his moments of consciousness became longer, the lights became less blinding, and his body seemed to recover. The voice was a constant presence. He faintly realized that it probably had a name. The urgency to ask never came, his thoughts still too muddled to hold on to anything except his pain for more than a few moments.

            Percy’s eyes shot open, his heart racing and body covered in a cold sweat. Gasping softly, he willed the perspiration to dissolve into ambient moisture, a task that took far more effort than he remembered. He relaxed his body and closed his eyes, bringing a hand up from his side to lay across his eyes.

“Fuck me” he muttered under his breath. His body ached, like a steamroller had just spent a week trying its best to flatten him.

Something was wrong. His dream, or whatever woken him in the manner it did, long since gone from the grasp of his conscious memory. He slowly let the hand covering his eyes drop back to his side and slowly sat up. It seemed his strength had mostly returned despite the intense soreness he felt in places he didn’t know existed.

Now fully sitting up Percy look stock of his surroundings. He was lying in a hospital bed. Its sheets were soft, like what he imagined laying on a cloud would feel like. The walls surrounding him were a soft white color that seemed to glow with an ambient golden light, definitely divine. The room itself was sparsely populated. A few metal stands were situated close to his bed, empty except for a strange glass flask, seemingly half full of a light honey-gold liquid that he could sense was slightly thicker than water. Next to the flask was a small tray holding three cubes, colored a dark gold color. They looked like fudge. Set within the wall to his right was a plain door, its dull silver handle shining slightly from the ambient light that seemed to come from nowhere.

A soft clicked sounded from the door handle being turned. Percy instinctually tensed as a blonde boy who seemed to be around his age walked in. The boy’s eyes were a blue as clear as the sky on a cloudless day. His slightly tan skin, lighter than Percy’s own was smooth and unscarred. As the boy’s eyes met Percy’s own sea-green ones his handsome face twisted in surprise and a little bit of relief.

“Oh… you’re up. I was just making my rounds to check on you” the boy said.

Percy, eyes guarded, scanned the boy. He was shorter than him, probably five foot six. He seemed slightly nervous pinned under the whirling gaze of mistrust. “Who are you?”, Percy asked, the edge clear in his voice.

“Oh. I’m Will… Will Solace. I’ve been your medic since you got to New Olympia.”

Percy’s eyes softened slightly, his posture relaxing. “I’m Percy. What… what happened? Where are my friends, my mom? How long have I been out?”

Will’s eyes darkened slightly with sadness, maybe nervousness too. “Almost a month. You almost died. The rest… I think you should hear the rest from Chiron once you can walk.”

“Chiron?” Percy thought. “Like the guy that trained Hercules?”

“Yeah that guy. He’s a counselor… kind of.”

“I can walk now” Percy said sharply, urgency and a bit of panic leaking into his tone as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Hey! I wouldn’t do that you’re still not… recovered…” Will’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence. His surprise written clearly across his face as he stepped back from his rush to get Percy back in bed and watched him stand under his own power.

“I can walk”, Percy repeated firmly, hiding a slightly wince as his aching legs supported his frame, the cold floor not helping his comfort.

“Okay”, Will said dumbly. “Let me get you something to wear.”

Percy nodded mutely as he tested out his weakened body. Will left the room in search of shoes as Percy looked down at himself, grimacing in distaste for the breezy hospital gown that clothed his muscled body. It seemed his time recovering had done little to diminish his muscle mass, although the same could not be said about the power it once wielded. Will’s footsteps heralded his return causing Percy to bring his eyes up to meet the boy. In his hands he held jeans, an orange shirt and a pair of white sneakers. Percy accepted the clothes with no words other than a quickly muttered “Thanks.”

After gingerly dressing himself, Percy looked to Will for confirmation who sighed in a resigned fashion. “Okay. Let’s get you to Chiron, not that you’re leaving me much choice”, he grumbled the last part.

Percy still said nothing, running a hand through his wild hair, now slightly longer than the last time he had been aware of it. The hallway that greeted him outside of his room was unremarkable. It would’ve been identical to a normal hospital if it weren’t for the young teenagers that walked around in scrubs much like his own carer wore. Of course, there were plenty of doctors and nurses that seemed to be adults, or at least older teenagers. Most of them shared the same distinct blonde hair and blue eyes Will had.

As they traveled down the hall and past a nurse’s station Percy became aware of the glances that were thrown his way. They contained curiosity equally mixed with wariness, as if they didn’t quite know what to make of him.

The next few minutes of their journey passed unremarkably. The various halls of the hospital were all the same. Finally, they came to a stop in front of a large set of glass doors at the end of a small atrium only two stories high. Outside, the sun shone weakly as it just barely crested the horizon. Stepping outside Percy sighed, enjoying the dying warmth of the setting sun. He jumped slightly as the torches lining the stone path, made from huge slabs of varying shades of grey, leading from the hospital suddenly lit.

Will chuckled, “Yeah that takes a while to get used to. The Hecate kids enchanted them to light themselves.”

“Huh” Percy said dumbly, having no other words.

With no other words offered Will continued to usher him down the walkway. Looking around Percy took in the camp. It was more of a city he figured, maybe halfway in-between. To his back he could sense the ocean, the feeling of its lapping waves soothing him. Further down the path was a collection of buildings, more than he cared to count right now. Some were huge, more like small apartment complexes than anything, others were only a story or two tall. Each one had a distinct theme. To his left was a small mountain leaking lava from its peak, several figures stood at the base. Beside the miniature volcano was an amphitheater, stone bleachers rose dozens of rows high in a semicircle around a large bonfire that flickered invitingly. To his right he could make out an open-air pavilion, its traditional Greek columns soaring into the air. Past it was a wooded area that seemed to follow the curve of the beach Percy had sensed earlier.

Seeing Percy looking around Will smirked, “Yeah it takes a bit to get used to this place. Apparently it used to be smaller, but a decade ago construction really took off. Now it’s more of a city than a camp.”

Percy nodded, “How many demigods live here?”

“Oh…” Will said before trailing off into thought. “I’d say about a thousand. Probably just under. It clears out a lot during the winter. A bunch of the younger kids go home to see their mortal families.”

Percy let his answer hang in the air between them, going back to his scan of the area. They were now past the cluster of apartment-looking buildings and cabins. Still looking to his right, he could see what looked to be an arena. Alongside it were two buildings, one belching thick black smoke from a chimney accompanied by the faint sounds of metal on metal, the other was a low building that had no descript features. As they came around a bend in the path, white stone walls constructed of massive blocks rose in front of him in the distance. Demigods, he assumed, wore armor like the Greek warriors of old as they patrolled the battlements. The armor gleamed bronze in the torch light accentuated by the dying light of the now almost fully set sun. Past the wall, at the peak of the hill which the ground slowly sloped up towards, was a pine tree. Its colossal bulk was bigger than any tree in the red wood forest on the opposite coast. Its hefty boughs were as thick as semi-trucks and seemed to intertwine to form a web-like pattern.

Directly in front of him a massive blue house stood stalwart, a massive porch wrapped around most of the house. As they rounded the old house two figures came into view. They were sitting on the porch at a cheap folding table seemingly engrossed in a card game. A few empty Diet Coke cans were spread across the table. One of the figures was a man that even from a distance carried an aura that wasn’t quite human. The other figure, his back to Percy sat in a wheelchair sporting a familiar mane of thinning brown hair.

The steps, worn by decades of use, creaked as they ascended to the porch. The noise caused the first man to pause slightly and look up. His purple eyes swam with expertly controlled madness as they fixed their gaze on Percy. The wheelchair bound man paused as well and slowly turned his seat to face the newcomers.

“Mr. Brunner?” Percy asked, raw shock coloring his voice.

“Hello Percy” Mr. Brunner responded softly with an undercurrent of pity carrying with his words. “How are you feeling my boy? You’ve been out a long time.”

“I… I don’t understand. How are you here, you’re my Latin teacher” he said, still dumbfounded.

Before Mr. Brunner could respond the other man spoke. “Gods, I hate this part” he said, exasperation clear in his voice. “Chiron is a centaur, the immortal trainer of heroes. He was sent to watch you. Mr. Underwood reported something strange about you, so we took precautions.”

Percy turned his focus to the other man, studying him. His purple eyes still turned with a sharp madness that would leave a mortal comatose, it only made Percy's skin crawl. His face was slim, if not slightly flushed, and radiated divinity like nobody Percy had ever seen. The rest of him was lean, like a runner. A single gold band, covered in motifs of grape vines and set with the purest amethyst, adorned his left ringer finger. It felt out of place along side the man's clean tracksuit. Percy’s eyes, tumultuous with his confusion, met the man’s again. He was entranced. He felt whispers clawing at the edge of his mind, the barest hint of terrible visions and unparalleled revelry slowly started to form in his vision.

“Dionysus, please. The boy is not used to divine power.” Chiron spoke.

With a huff the now identified Dionysus’ features started to blur. The effect was not unlike a heat mirage. Finally, they settled. The god was now a portly man, the red flush to his face was deeper and had spread to his nose and his eyes were now a calmer purple, slightly dull as if he were drunk. “There, Chiron. The boy will have to get used to it. You know how Zeus feels about me parading around in this form these days.”

“Yes Mr. D, it is only for a moment” Chiron said as he turned back to Percy, who had now schooled his features into something more passive.

“Where are my friends and my mom?” Percy blurted out, unwilling to waste any more time.

Silence fell upon the group. Dionysus’ mouth slightly downturned as if faced with a topic he would rather avoid. Chiron, more expressive, wore a look of outright pity. His warm brown eyes softened further as if trying to tell Percy just how sorry he was. “My boy”, he spoke, “Mr. Underwood, Grover, is okay. He sustained minor head trauma. The girl, Piper, was not so fortunate. Her leg, while now healed, was horribly mangled. Broken in several places. She also suffered severe head trauma and has yet to wake. Apollo’s children say she is in a coma.”

Percy’s heart dropped to his stomach. Piper was hurt, badly by the sound of it. While it was a relief to him that Grover was mostly unscathed a niggling thought wormed its way to the forefront of his mind. “And my mom? Where is she?” he asked, desperation and fear filling his voice.

Chiron hesitated, slightly dropping his eyes, Mr. D maintained his gaze as if measuring Percy, and Will shifted uncomfortably behind him. Finally, Chiron spoke. “Percy, please sit. Your mother, she…”

Anger bloomed hot in Percy’s chest. His heart now beating uncomfortably fast. “Where is…” he trailed off, a rush of memories flashing through his head.

He remembered now. The tense, panicked drive to this place. The place his mom swore he’d be safe. The place she said she couldn’t follow him. The crash, dragging Piper’s unconscious and broken body up the hill after his mom and Grover, the horde of monsters baying for their blood. He remembered dragging his friends to safety, through the barrier. He remembered looking back, his mom with her hand splayed against the barrier she couldn’t pass, tears trailing from her soft brown eyes down her face. The Minotaur grabbing her by the head, the creature’s taunts, the final terrible moments where it squeezed sending blood and viscera flying before dropping her body with a thud to be consumed by the array of monsters that had been chasing him; it all flashed through his head in an all-consuming rush of loss. Finally, the memories slowed, their crystal-clear quality remained. He relived the cold fury he felt, the resounding echo of loss traveling through his body unable to escape. He remembered decimating the horde of monsters with a flick of his hand before brutal killing the Minotaur with its own horn.

All at once the flood of memories ceased. He was faintly aware of the tears tracking hot trails down his blank face. He dropped heavily into one of the chairs around the table facing out towards the distant beach and the hospital he had just come from. A voice, muted and distant, spoke, probably Chiron. Mr. D remained as he was, watching Percy intently. In the edge of his vision Will began to leave, most likely headed back to the hospital. All of it came second to the dull ache the had nestled in Percy’s chest, a gaping void made by the loss of his mother and Piper’s uncertain future.

Percy sat for a while, silent, as Mr. D and Chiron watched the sun finally give way to Artemis’ silver light. While to crickets started their nightly chorus and the moon rose above them, Percy sat and mourned. His heart shattered to pieces all over again.

He gazed listlessly out over the half-camp-half-city. From his new vantage point, he could see stables behind the arena. Wrapping around the stables was the start of an actual city. It was tiny compared to New York, it had none of the towering skyscrapers or loud streets choked with cars and pedestrians, but it was no less full of people. Even from a distance he could see the lights, not torches, that shone from the windows and street lamps. In the middle of the city he could see a campus that looked like a university, next to it was a smaller one – a high school maybe. It was comfortable, almost achingly familiar to Percy.

After what felt like hours, Chiron cleared his throat. “It’s beautiful isn’t it. Over a decade ago, roughly fifteen years, the gods ordered the camp to be overhauled. They wanted their children to be ready for the world, and so New Olympia was born.”

Percy nodded, not really paying attention. “What do I do now? I- I don’t know what to do” he whispered brokenly.

This time Mr. D spoke, “You do what demigods have done since the first one of you walked the earth child; you endure, you grow strong, and you strike out at those who would threaten what is left of what you hold dear to you.”

“How?” came Percy’s broken voice again. It carried the weight of his knowledge, the knowledge that the one person he had all his life was gone, dead because he was too weak to fight.

“I do not know boy. I cannot pretend to know. It is only recently I have taken my duties in stride. But know this, we will make you strong. The blood in your veins runs strong with divinity even for a child of the Eldest Gods. The fact that you nearly burned through your mortal coil is testament to that. Your loss brought your power to heights that should have incinerated you. Of course, I doubt you will be able to access those depths again anytime soon with killing yourself, but it is there” Dionysus said grimly.

“Percy” Chiron started. “Life will be okay; you will be trained once you are ready. You will have time to mourn before anything is expected of you.”

“As soon as possible. I want to start tomorrow if I can” Percy said simply, his voice ringing with a newfound purpose.

Chiron nodded his assent. “Here, you will need this”, he said as he laid a simple ballpoint pen in front of Percy. “It’s a gift from your father. It arrived just yesterday, I believe he made some modifications to it.”

Percy looked down at the utterly unremarkable pen in front of him. It was sleek and silver, its burnished finish gleamed under the moon’s light. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. Lost in the moment, he stared at the only thing he had ever received from his father besides the blood in his veins. He had finally received some small connection, something he had craved all his life. Fate was truly cruel. It had only taken him losing a third of himself to gain so little. 

Chiron broke the moment, softly saying, “Stand and click it.”

Percy glanced up at him, showing his confusion before standing. He held the pen in front of him, the tip facing down and his thumb resting on the button. With a breath he heard a click as his thumb pressed the button home. The whisper of a blade being drawn filled the porch. In his hand he now held a lightly colored sword that seemed to be a mix of bronze and silver. Roughly three feet in length, it seemed to sing with the same tune as his blood in the heat of battle. The blade itself was not quite a xiphos. It was straight until the end where it slightly flared before coming to a deadly point, covering the blade was a faint pattern similar to Damascus Steel. The cross guard was a dull bronze, the hilt was wrapped in a well-used grey-brown leather, and the pommel was colored the same as the guard. An inscription of Ancient Greek letters decorated the blade, right above the hilt. Riptide. It felt utterly natural, like he had been born with it the same as his control over water.

“A beautiful blade. It was reforged with a mix of Adamantium to complement the original Celestial Bronze. It’s now virtually unbreakable, deadly to mortals in ways Celestial Bronze is not, and will always return to you” Chiron said as he gazed upon the blade

Percy lowered the sword to his side. As if reading his mind, it quickly collapsed back to its original form. “My father, who is he. My m- my mom never told me his name.”

“Poseidon”, Mr. D said simply, his voice carrying a weight to it that was absent before. “Your father is Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, the Earthshaker, and Stormbringer. Though I would not advertise that fact openly until he claims you which I imagine he will soon.”

“Poseidon” Percy whispered, a faint thrum running from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Saying the name felt right. It felt like a long-lost piece of him had finally slotted into place. Maybe this is what is mother had talked about, names and knowledge having power.

Percy remained standing as he gazed back out over New Olympia. His eyes drifted towards the beach, waves reaching further up the sand now as if reaching for him. Despite the hollow ache of loss stubbornly sitting in his chest Percy felt a wave of calm certainty wash over him. This was his home now. He would learn everything he could, he would grow stronger. He knew the world outside of the walls and divine barrier was cruel and deadly, but it didn’t matter. In his heart he knew the only thing that mattered was enduring, carrying on the memory of his mother. He would not let her sacrifice be in vain. Percy swore he would make her proud.

New Olympia, Arena

            The screech of metal on metal rang out across the sand cover pit of the arena. Percy’s green eyes gleamed and shifted wildly with determination as his blade was locked in a brutal stalemate with his opponent's. Sweat trailed down his brow and cheeks before collecting on his jawline and dripping to the ground. His roiling eyes met his opponent’s own red-brown ones, the color of almost dried blood. Clarisse was her name. She was a stocky, muscled girl. Her body was built like a tank. She stood nearly as tall as Percy and was just as strong. Clarisse’s face was beautiful in the way only a demigod’s could be, but it was different. It held the divine beauty ruggedly; her face has beautiful in the way a silent battlefield was, carnage and all. Besides that, she was an interesting person.

His initial interaction with Clarisse had been a breath of fresh air. She didn’t treat him like a fragile child as so many others did as the circumstances of his arrival spread throughout the active demigod population. Her worst first words to him had been an insult, “Pick a weapon loser”, if he remembered correctly.

Despite being the same age as Percy, she was the lead instructor for his training group. At first he had scoffed at the idea, but without his powers Clarisse had thoroughly wiped the floor with him with every weapon he could name, and a few he couldn’t, over the course of his first week. It made sense in hindsight, her heritage as a child of Ares made her unnaturally durable and proficient with any weapon she picked up. His last “class” of the day, combat training, was by far his favorite. It was the only place he could escape the memories of his arrival, albeit temporarily.

A lack of pressure against what was quickly becoming his prized possession sent Percy stumbling forward, effectively breaking his concentration. As his guard dropped due to his unstable footing, Percy’s eyes flicked to Clarisse who had pivoted to his left. Her traditional xiphos was already screaming towards his face. With a hasty block thrown up Percy just barely intercepted her sword in time. The force behind it sent him stumbling backwards. Clarisse pushed her advantage. Her gleaming bronze blade flashed through the air in deadly arcs. Percy had no doubt she would dismember him in a second. Of course, Apollo’s children could undoubtedly stitch him back together, but he would hate to get another lecture about safety from Will.

Breathing deeply Percy made a calculated slash at Clarisse, intent on giving himself some room to breathe. Clarisse let him, a sure sign she was gearing up to end their fight. His stamina flagging, Percy readied himself for their final clash as he eyed the daughter of the war god as she reset her stance. Taking a deep breath, he hefted Riptide and charged the seven or so feet he had put between them. Clarisse smiled, her grin violent and thirsty. “Come on Prissy, show me what you got”, she shouted with glee as she raised her own blade.

Percy’s own lips split in a feral smile to match her own, his blood singing its familiar song at a fever pitch. Sparks flew as their blades clashed. Remembering his hard earned lessons, Percy kept his weight evenly balanced as they exchanged a flurry of blows at speeds that the mortal eye would barely be able to see. Sure, he was no master swordsman, but Percy had picked up the skill remarkably fast in the three weeks he had spent in New Olympia since his awakening.

Seeing an opening, Percy jabbed his blade towards Clarisse’s torso. He grinned sure of his first victory. That grin quickly turned into an expression of shock as she batted his blade down to the side and stepped into his guard. Her free hand came to bear, cocked back in a fist, and impacted brutally against his face. The crunch of his nose sounded out, surely broken, as he stumbled before landing flat on the ground, Riptide splayed out at his side gripped just tight enough to leave his knuckles white. His vision cleared as the pain of his definitely broken nose receded to a dull throb. Pointed right in between his eyes was Clarisse’s xiphos. He gulped slightly, “I surrender.”

At his words Clarisse lowered her blade and offered him a hand. Yanking him to his feat she let out a bloodthirsty smile, although it was less charged than it had been in the heat of their clash. “Good match Prissy, you’ll get me one day” she taunted.

Percy grimaced at the nickname. She had anointed him with it sometime after the fourth time she had beat him into the ground. “Maybe it was the time she used her spear” he thought.

“Fuck, Clarisse. You didn’t have to break my gods damned nose.” He ground out, sounding nasally due to his misaligned septum.

The child of the God of War laughed as she tossed him a water bottle from the edge of their fighting pit. The arena floor was dotted with them at regular intervals, though they were usually filled when events other than training took place. “Quit your bitching pretty boy. You don’t have a scar on you. Gods know I’ve tried my best to give you some” she said.

Catching the water bottle, Percy grumbled to himself. Uncapped the bottle he unceremoniously dumped its contents over his head. An immediate wave of energy crashed through his body along with a wave of pain in his face as his nose set itself with a crack. Percy rubbed his nose a few times, only stopping when he was satisfied that it was unharmed. The training Clarisse put him through in their class was brutal. The training they engaged in for hours after everybody had left was more so. He had taken to keeping himself as busy as possible, being idle tended to cause the vivid memories of his mother’s death to resurface and with them a spiral of dark thoughts.

His morning started with a light schedule of traditional class work. Despite living in a world of gods and monsters, Chiron still required his charges to complete their education to at least a high school level. Around noon they broke for lunch to the dining pavilion, which was magical to say the least. The plates and cups magically spawned in whatever food you could think of. After lunch he had the more demigod aligned classes. There was theoretical battle strategy, agility and mobility, a class all about the various gods and monsters he would encounter and finally combat training. The regime usually started at eight in the morning and ended at five. In his attempt to exert himself to a dreamless sleep Percy often ended up staying in the arena with Clarisse until Apollo’s last rays graced the earth before grabbing dinner and going straight to bed. So far his schedule had varying success. On one hand he was progressing rapidly, outstripping the skill of most of his peers in a mere month. Of course, that was besides the demigods like Clarisse who seemed to be a cut above the rest. She had explained the difference in power as a result of how much of their forms their godly parents had split up at the time of conceiving them, apparently exceptional mortals could draw more of a god's attention for a variety of reasons. The more of their divine form concentrated in a mortal shell, the more powerful the child. 

On the other hand, despite his best efforts, Percy suffered nightmares each time he slept. Some nights he relived his mother’s death in painstaking detail until the sun rose. Other times he dreamed of an abyss, unnaturally dark clouds flashed with blood red lightning as a voice from below whispered unintelligibly to him. Regardless of what his dreams landed on he still woke up every morning before the sun rose, soaked in sweat and breathing heavy. Unable to go back to sleep he would run, swim, and lift the weights he found in a back room of the arena until he had to go to his first class.

Sighing deeply, Percy shrugged off his sweat soaked shirt. Not bothering to dry it or himself, he sat heavily against the wall of the fighting pit he and Clarisse occupied. His tanned skin glimmered in the dying light of the sun and the torches that had just flickered to life. His arms and headed rested on his knees which were pulled up to his chest. His gazed turned upwards as he heard Clarisse let a grunt heralding her arrival on the ground next to him. She wordlessly handed him a water bottle. “Here loser” she said.

Percy smiled lightly, “Thanks.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as the sun finished setting. The light of the torches cast long shadows over the sand floor of the arena. “You know I’m surprised Silena hasn't come out here to grab you yet. Usually, she’s busy fretting over you by now” Percy said with a hint of a smirk gracing his lips.

Clarisse scoffed. “She probably got lost doing her make up.”

Percy nodded in mock seriousness. “Or maybe the stress of being your only friend finally killed her.”

Clarisse punched his arm, hard. “Shut up Prissy.”

He raised his hands defensively with a laugh. “Come on Clarisse, I was joking. I know she cares. Plus, she’s not your only friend.”

She scoffed and fixed her stubborn eyes on him. “You’re not my friend until you can put me in the dirt Prissy.”

Percy sighed at the nickname and rolled his eyes. “Silena can’t beat you in a fight” he retorted.

“No, but her weird voice shit can put me to sleep in a second” Clarisse said while shuddering. Clearly there was a story there.

Percy nodded, his thoughts trailing to Piper at the mention of “weird voice shit”. It was actually called charmspeak, something only the more powerful children of Aphrodite could weaponize. He remembered the day Piper had roused him from whatever spell that empousai had put him under, it felt like ages ago. Suddenly a wave of guilt smashed into him. He had only gone to see Piper once, the day after he had woken up before he was shown to his bunk in the “Unclaimed” housing complex. Her skin far too pale and her breathing too still for him to bear; he had stayed for a few moments before leaving in a rush. He couldn’t protect one of his best friends and now the healers said she might never wake up. His other best friend, Grover was gone. Sent out of camp on another assignment alongside two demigods before he had even woken up.

For the first time ever, he felt truly alone. The one constant in his life, his mom, was gone. Piper and Grover indisposed. All he had was his work. Sure, Clarisse was a decent enough friend, but they lacked a closer connection despite her efforts to help him that were hidden under her rough exterior. Silena, Clarisse’s friend was nice enough, but he hadn't had the time to develop new connections. He didn't even know if he was ready to. As a boy with very few connections throughout his life, the loss he suffered was still a gaping void in his soul.

“Clarisse!” The shout rang out, breaking the silence and startling both warriors.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and stood to face the voice, Percy soon followed suit while grabbing his discarded shirt. Silena stood at the edge of the arena under one of the yawning arches that led to the outside. Her hands her settled on either of her cocked hips. Her beautiful face, naturally flawless and framed by a mane a of wavy dark hair, held a look of disappointment. Her full, pouty lips were downturned in a slight frown as she took in the state of her friend.

“It’s dinner time. Now!” Her final word was punctuated with an upturned brow, as if she was daring Clarisse to challenge her.

Percy laughed. Clarisse slugged him in the same arm as earlier for his troubles which only caused him to laugh harder.

“You too Percy. I won’t have training yourself into an early grave.” Her tone was sharp and offer no room for disagreement.

With a sharp nod, fearful of her wrath based on the way Clarisse talked about her, Percy willed his shirt and body free of sweat and quickly clothed himself. Silena's words had invoked a sharp pang of guilt in Percy, he often lost himself in his training. It helped him sleep and eat, things that both seemed to elude him since suffering the trauma of his arrival. He had to do better, for his friends, for his mom; its what they would want he thought.

Giving them both a once over, Silena nodded before turning to leave. She clearly expected them to follow, which they both did.

Walking behind Silena, Percy couldn’t help but stare. She was flawless, even for a child of the Love Goddess. Her shapely hips swung back and forth enticingly, only accentuated by her thin waist. Percy mentally groaned, all the while damning his raging hormones. Puberty was bad enough for mortals, for demigods it was the onset of their divine blood which practically begged to reproduce. He was so lost in his thoughts and admiration of Silena’s sinful figure that he barely realized they had arrived at the end of their ten minute trek to the dining hall. Sitting at one of the general tables with his two companions, Percy fervently willed four cheeseburgers to spawn on his plate before making his way to the fire and sacrificing one to his father as he had become accustomed to. He hoped Poseidon heard, he had yet to be claimed and he was tired of sleeping in the general housing for unclaimed demigods. Most of all he just wished he could see his father or get some sign of the recognition he so deeply desired.

He quickly scarfed down his food being scolded by Silena all the while, which elicited rough laughs from Clarisse. Finally, he finished. He sat for a moment, barely listening to the conversation of the two females as his exhaustion crept in. Percy glanced up at the moon through the non-existent ceiling of the dining pavilion, his shimmering eyes tracking Artemis’ path through the sky and enjoying the gentle silver glow. He needed sleep, he had been up since before Apollo had graced the world with his presence. 

With a groan he stood up, leaving his plate to be whisked away by the wind spirits that staffed the area. He said his goodbyes, barely hearing Clarisse and Silena’s replies, and trudged his way back to the unclaimed dorms. The walk was long and dark past the light of the enchanted torched lining the path. Percy struggled to keep the whispers of his failure out as they clawed at the edges of his mind. 

He arrived at his bed, finally snapping out of his exhaustion induced haze. Glancing around he saw his dorm mates were all sleep. The room he slept in wasn’t small by any means, but it was cramped. Eight beds, really four bunk beds, total lined the walls and were all occupied. Shedding his shirt and jeans, Percy slipped under the covers and adjusted his pillow before settling in. Like most nights, Percy laid on his back staring at the underside of the bed above him. His thoughts traveling towards his new life and the absurdity of it that had slowly started to become familiar.

As he laid there consumed by his thoughts, he was distantly aware of his eyes growing heavy. Morpheus was intent on claiming the young demigod for the night. Percy did not struggle. His mind cleared as his eyes settled closed. He felt his breathing start to even out into deep and slow breaths. Finally, Morpheus dragged him into the welcome embrace of sleep that so often failed to find him.

New Olympia, North Woods

            Leaves and branches flew past Percy, stinging his skin as their edges brushed his flesh in his mad dash. Riptide was held firmly at his side as he ducked under the trunk of a fallen tree. He was breathing heavily and his eyes swam with fear. He paused for a second, crouching low to the ground to survey his surroundings. His pursuer seemed to have lost him. He let his awareness spread, creating a mental map of the forest around him using the ambient moisture in all living things. To his right he could feel the welcoming pull of the ocean and to his left was the creek that split to wooded area in half.

In the four months since he had been at New Olympia Percy's sixteenth birthday came and went with barely a thought. He had nobody to celebrate with, never mind the fact that every waking moment was filled with as much training has he could bear and then some. His progression had continued at an unprecedented pace. The scale of Percy’s powers had increased dramatically, the range of his hydrokinesis now comfortably encompassed over a hundred feet. Progress towards his fine control had stalled after a month or so. While he could bring more power to bear due to “stretching” his upper ceiling as Chiron had called it, the finesse he held was essentially the same as before. The natural strength his body wielded through a rigorous combination of weight training and practical exercise now let him contend with Clarisse in head-to-head combat, although he still couldn’t hold a candle to Hephaestus’ progeny. His swordsmanship was the fastest growing of all his skills. Initially his natural talent let Percy weave through the flow of battle. Now, his natural born talent had been honed into something precisely deadly. His clashes with Clarisse ended in draws more than losses now, the wounds he received were less frequent, and his stamina was starting to match the peak of his water-based boost when he first arrived.

Percy, still crouched, remembered Chiron’s “orientation speech”. Demigods were essentially bred to fight. Their reflexes, strength, speed, and battle intelligence were all elevated far above mortal standards. He had always know this but hearing it said in no uncertain terms made him anticipate finding his true limit, especially as a standout among the crop of children of the more powerful Elder Gods. Monsters were also something Chiron covered. Much like children of the gods, monsters grew more powerful as they aged. Unlike demigods, they were immortal and as such their power would never decline. That fact was only compounded for the more legendary monsters like the Minotaur Percy had slaughtered nearly half a year ago. Apparently the creatures he had faced so far in his short tenure as a demigod were younger, weaker ones. According to Chiron, the older, more powerful monsters tended to claim territory to which some of their brethren flocked to. 

As his thoughts drifted through the topic of monsters, Percy’s mind brought itself to bear on the monster currently chasing him. Thalia Grace was, to put it nicely, insane. As a daughter of Zeus, her control over lightning made her potentially fatal to Percy. The first time he met her she had stormed into the arena, interrupting his usual session with the God of War’s daughter. Thalia had all but demanded to fight Clarisse, something that apparently happened frequently whenever something pissed her off. Percy, already frustrated from getting his ass handed to him the entire training session, had told her in no uncertain terms to fuck off. His words led Thalia to draw her spear from a can of mace and spend the next five minutes trying her best to turn him into shish kabab. Eventually she grew frustrated enough the throw a literal bolt of lightning at him. Remembering the loud crack, flash of light, and subsequent awakening in the hospital still made Percy flinch. That was the day he was subjected to an impossibly long lecture from Will about his apparent weakness to electricity.

In an instant Percy’s crouched frame tensed slightly. The smell of ozone that accompanied Thalia everywhere was overwhelming; a sure sign she was using her powers. Percy sighed, readying himself to rush from cover. He barely made it a step before his supernatural reflexes kicked in, forcing him to dive bodily to his left to avoid a massive bolt of lightning that shrieked down from the sky. Percy stumbled to his feet, ears ringing, and surveyed the small crater the lightning made. “Oh Percy!” Thalia crooned in a sickly-sweet sing-song voice as she appeared from a gap between two trees.

“Listen Sparky, I get we’re supposed to be training and all that. But it really feels like you want to kill me” Percy said, still slightly unbalanced.

Thalia laughed, her voice normal now. “Come on Jackson, you’ll never get better being a pussy. Besides you can’t argue with results.”

He grimaced at her words. She wasn’t wrong. The results of their “friendly” training exercises were readily apparent. “Yeah, yeah”, was Percy’s genius rebuttal.

“Okay, Kelpy let’s finish this. I’m starving.”

“What’s with these nicknames?” he thought before speaking, trying to stall for time as the familiar tug in his gut heralded the fast-approaching water he was gathering from the creek, “We could just call it a draw you know.”

A barked laugh and grin split Thalia’s lips, “In your dreams! Somebody has to keep you humble.”

Percy’s eyes shifted fervently across Thalia’s body, scanning for any tell of what she would do next. The smell of ozone grew thicker, it seemed she was intent on using her favorite finishing move, Taser Hands, as she dubbed it.

“Just remember you asked for it”, he grinned with confidence as he felt the creek water getting closer.

Before he could spit out another glib comment to stall further, Thalia lunged forward. Her hands carried arcs of electricity that traveled up her smooth forearms. Percy ducked under a wild punch before spinning out of her range. It wasn’t enough, one of the arcs of lightning jumped to his left shoulder making the whole arm go numb and eliciting a grunt of pain from him.

“Finally”, he thought as he felt the water arrive.

Thalia let out a surprised yelp as a strand of hardened water wrapped around her ankle and pulled, unceremoniously dumping her to the ground. As she regained her feet, Thalia looked up to see Percy standing, hands splayed out on either side of his body. The water he had been waiting on orbited his body in a perfect sphere of insulation against Thalia’s lightning.

Thalia grinned, “Fuck yeah Jackson, I had a feel today was going to be fun!”

Percy issued is own grin in response even as the scent of ozone became all he could smell. Thalia’s electric blue eyes carried sparks of lightning in their irises. Her hair minisculely raised off her body in response to the power coursing through her as she charged up an attack. The air in the slightly clearing grew thick and oppressive, both demigods were gearing up for the final clash. Percy’s focus had delved deep into the air around him, instantaneously dozens of blunted shards of ice formed in a rotating sphere around his opponent.

Suddenly, Thalia let out a primal, wordless roar as she launched the mother of all lightning bolts at Percy. At the same time Percy echoed her roar with his own, launching his own attack with all the force he could muster. The last thing Percy thought before his world turned white was how much he hoped his insulative layer held.

Ringing filled his ears as the white obscuring his vision faded. Across the clearing from him was Thalia, down on one knee and breathing heavily. Her body was covered in nasty purple welts from the ice, several of them leaking blood. One of her electric blue eyes was swollen shut. Percy wasn’t much better off. His lip was split, the right side of his face sported a developing bruise and his shirt hung off his body in burned tatters. For a moment their eyes, electric blue and sea green, met in an intense clash. Finally, Percy laughed. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Thalia mirrored his grin, her pearly white teeth showing. “Fuck you Jackson. I won, hands down.”

Percy sighed, “You are delusional. Completely crazy. You know that would’ve killed anybody else right?”

Thalia shrugged. “But I’m not fighting anybody else. I’m fighting you” she said with a wry smile.

Percy shook his head, exasperation clear on his scuffed features. Thalia was most definitely a monster, just not the kind you would find in the outside world. Despite only knowing each other for a few months, Percy felt a connection with her that he hadn’t with any of the other residents of New Olympia he had met thus far. His cousin, though he didn’t like to think of her in that context, was a force of nature in her own right. Her control over lightning was terrifying. She also happened to be terrifyingly beautiful, fitting for a daughter of Zeus. Her bright electric blue eyes aside, Thalia possessed full lips and high cheek bones set on a slighly round face. Her midnight black hair, which he had heard Clarisse yell was dyed, framed her face, ending just below her jawline in soft waves. She boasted a figure that any mortal and many gods would die to have. A few of his dreams had featured her since their fateful meeting, probably something to do with their divine heritage not coming with any true genetic material. Percy liked Thalia, she was another constant presence in his life, constantly pushing him forward with his training much like Clarisse did. Above all else he respected his cousin. Her life had been rough before making her way to camp, he didn’t know the specifics but had inferred that much when Clarisse grumbled about her being a street rat.

Suddenly a hand entered his range of vision, offered as a sign of truce and as a way for him to get off his ass. Thalia looked down at him, clearly exhausted but still smiling. “Come on cousin, you know I would never kill you. You’re the only one who isn’t too pussy to go toe to toe with me.”

“True”, Percy remarked. While nobody outright hated her, the other residents of New Olympia were wary of Thalia. Her power was immense even for a child of one of the Elder Gods, much like his own. Although she was significantly stronger given that she had arrived at haven for demigods years before he had.

“Ok Thals, let’s get breakfast. I’m fucking starving!” Percy said, his words punctuated by the growl of his stomach.

He finally grasped her offered hand and hauled himself to his feet. His body ached despite his enhanced durability that had only grown in the recent months. His physical progress was weird. His strength had grown tremendously alongside his reflexes and durability, but his muscle mass was the same, something Thalia and Chiron told him was a product of being a demigod. Not that Percy was complaining, he liked the way he looked. His lean body, corded with muscle, fit him perfectly and left him with all the maneuverability he desired in a fight.

Now standing, Percy and Thalia made their way out of the small forest. When the dining pavilion camp into sight Percy barely stopped himself from breaking out into a dead sprint. His stomach ached with hunger due to the heavy utilization of his powers during his morning training with Thalia. Glancing over at his cousin’s ravenous eyes, Percy assumed she felt the same. Instead of giving in to their primal need for food, both teens continued their measured steps towards the object of their desire.

When they finally sat they both immediately willed their plates full of heaping piles of breakfast food. After a brief detour to make their respective sacrifices they found themselves sitting at the unclaimed table, the only place Percy could sit at the moment. The relatives didn’t say a word for nearly ten minutes as they tore into their food. Eventually they both sat back, reclining in their seats trying to ease the feeling of too full stomachs. Their mutual silence continued to rule the space between them.

Percy was the one to break it. “How long did it take your dad to claim you?” he asked, voice carrying a curious tone laced with something less identifiable.

Thalia looked up. “I honestly can’t remember. It was so long ago. I do remember that I had to do something worthy of being recognized. It was kind of fucked up. I was fighting off a horde of monsters, a small one to be fair, but I was still young. I was badly injured but kept fighting to make sure they didn’t get to the new arrivals they had been chasing. The battle was a blur, but what will never leave me about that day was coming back over the hill and seeing the shocked faces of the response team they had sent after me. Then everybody bowed to me. Can you believe it? They fucking bowed.” Thalia ended her brief story shaking her head to dispel the strange mood that settled over her, it seemed there was more to the story than she was letting on.

“Well technically you are a princess”, Percy responded with mirth coloring his tone.

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn princess Kelpy”, Thalia snapped, no real heat in her voice.

Their banter continued for a few minutes. They traded barbs in a way Percy imagined siblings would. It was refreshing to be normal. It was moments like these that he felt none of the pressures of being a demigod, where he didn’t feel the weight of his mother’s death that had made him a recluse to all but a handful of people. They soon ran out of playful insults and lapsed into a comfortable silence. Percy ran his hand through his hair, thinking about getting it cut soon. He’d probably ask Silena for help with that, Clarisse had mentioned something about her giving haircuts. Percy scoffed to himself, it was almost impossible to imagine Clarisse getting her curly, slightly stringy, hair cut at all. The child of War seemed to hold no regard for her physical appearance outside of being intimidating.

In the distance a hunting horn sounded once, twice, and then a third time before falling silence. As if a switch had been flicked by the call, Thalia’s face automatically shifted into a frown. “Not the fucking Hunters” she groaned under her breath, just barely loud enough for Percy to hear.

“The Hunters?” he questioned.

“Yeah. Self-righteous bitches who prance around in the moon light. I fucking hate them, most of the city does. They refused to help us when we were making our way to New Olympia unless we abandoned our friend. They've gotten better recently, but only because of Olympus' orders” she responded.

Percy chose not to comment. Clearly there was some deeper story behind the resentment her words carried. Thalia while, sometimes stubborn, was not a person to hold grudges for no reason. At least that was his experience so far. With a huff of annoyance, she stood up. “I’m going back to my cabin” she said, although her living quarters were far from a cabin.

“Okay Thals. I’ll head back with you. I need to shower; and so do you” Percy said, wrinkling his nose at the combined smell of their post-training scent.

Thalia sent him a look, its edge more pronounced due to her annoyance at the Hunters’ arrival. They started their short trek back to their respective homes. They would’ve been neighbors if it wasn’t for the looming temple-like structure of the Hera cabin and of course the fact that his father had yet to claim him, leaving Percy to sleep in the unclaimed dorms. Percy’s home came up first on their journey. The unclaimed housing stretched three stories above him as he stood at it’s doorstep. He turned to briefly wave goodbye to Thalia who threw a lazy wave over her shoulder, already walking away. Entering the dorm, he was greeted by an empty common room which was far from the norm. Usually, the main floor was bustling with demigods of all ages playing pool, ping-pong, or darts. This morning it was empty. “Probably something to do with the Hunters coming here.” Percy thought as he made his way upstairs to the communal showers just down the hall from his shared room.

Quickly disrobing, Percy left his dirty clothes in a crumpled heap as he stepped into the warm water. As it washed over him he felt his split lip rapid knit itself back together and his other minor injuries disappear. With a sigh he ran his fingers through his soaked hair, massaging his scalp. He had a feeling today was going to be very long. After nearly twenty minutes the flow of water slowed to a rhythmic drip against the tiles of the shower. Percy stepped out and willed himself dry, the only use for his towel was to protect his modesty.

Quickly changing, Percy wondered what he wanted to do today. It was the weekend which meant his schedule was basically free. Being an early riser, Percy often had a good chunk of free time to train in the morning, his water-enhanced healing leaving him with no real need to relax or take days off. His time with Thalia usually filled the mornings with some form of training before his camp-ordained schedule began, but their time had been cut short at the onset of her bad mood. Percy imagined he wouldn’t see her for the rest of the day as was usual when she got in these moods. Now fully clothed in his usual pair of jeans and plain t-shirt, Percy decided he would go see if he could find where the majority of the campers were, knowing with them he would find the source of Thalia's ire, the Hunters. The typical relaxed crowds that pervaded the older part of New Olympia were almost nonexistent this morning as he and Thalia made their way back to where the actively training demigods lived. It was off putting.

After giving himself a once over and playing with his longer hair, Percy started making his way outside, satisfied that he wasn’t missing anything. He had long since stopped checking for Riptide, its pen form always returned to him. His steps were nearly silent as his sneakers met the stone of the paths that traced throughout New Olympia. He silently made his way towards the arena; it seemed like the likely place to find his target. The rivalry between the residents of New Olympia and the Hunters was no secret according to Thalia, often ending in duels that were too intense to call spars, but never ended badly enough to call them anything else.

As he neared the arena, Percy started to hear the sounds of cheers. It seemed the festivities had already started.

A few minutes later Percy found himself in the front row of the stands. Silena had saved a spot for him to watch. Currently, Clarisse was engaged in a duel against a huntress that had insulted her the last time they band of semi-immortal girls had visited. Clad in her full armor which was nearly identical to that of an ancient Spartan’s, Clarisse looked like a demon. Her favored weapon, an electrified spear that Percy knew hurt, whirled in dangerous arcs. The huntress, clearly no beginner, deftly flipped and slid under her strikes with supernatural grace. Percy was impressed; the blessing Artemis gave her hunters was clearly powerful. The ring of metal on metal sounded as Clarisse brought her bronze hoplon shield to bear, just barely blocking the strike of the huntress’ silver knives. Percy’s eyes flickered across the forms of the fighters, taking in every detail. He noticed Clarisse’s legs buckled slightly. He grinned knowing the fight would be over soon. Her feigned weakness was one of her favorite moves, a move that Percy was intimately familiar with after dozens of hours training with her.

Percy glanced to his right; Silena’s pretty face was marred with worry for her friend. Percy nudged her slightly, drawing a sliver of her attention. “Don’t worry. Clarisse is about to kick her ass” Percy assured her confidently.

Silena nodded, her anxiety barely moved by his words, and turned back to watch the fight. Refocusing on the fight himself, Percy saw the huntress press the advantage. Clarisse pretended to stumble again and the huntress pounced, sensing a victory that would never come. As soon as she was inside Clarisse’s guard, a victorious grin already forming, the daughter of War lunged forward and caught to over eager hunter with a brutal headbutt. The crack of her nose drew a pained gasp from Clarisse’s opponent. The huntress stumbled backwards, reeling from the blow that definitely broke her nose. Blood dripped profusely from the injury. Clarisse closed in for the metaphorical kill. The fight lasted a few more seconds, the huntress’ legs were swept out from under her. By the time the girl regained her bearings the tip of Clarisse’s spear crackled threatening in her face.

Words passed between the two warriors, unheard by any but them. Finally, the defeated huntress yielded and Clarisse stepped back, lowering her spear and shield. The victorious daughter of War turned to face the cheering crowd of demigods, raising her hands with her palms up as if to encourage the volume to continue to grow louder. Behind her, the huntress staggered to her feet, clearly enraged. A few of her sisters jumped from the front row of the stands and made their way to her. Percy didn’t like something about the way the defeated girl was looking at Clarisse.

Percy tensed as the maiden seemed to ready herself for something, her face twisting into a snarl. That something was dashing towards an unaware Clarisse a few yards away. His instincts took over before he realized what was happening. His awareness tunneled solely onto the girl that was threatening his not-friend, he didn’t hear the cries from the other huntresses, he didn’t hear Silena’s gasp as she realized what was happening a second too late; Percy only saw the gleaming silver knife, a foot in length and slightly curved, heading straight for Clarisse’s back.

A blur of movement and the clash of metal whipped Clarisse’s head around and silenced the arena. Standing a foot behind her was Percy, Riptide raised having caught the huntress’ blade. In a blitz of speed he didn’t know he possessed; Percy had cleared the railing of the stands and traveled more than a dozen feet faster than anybody could react. His usually calm sea-green eyes now swirled and blazed with the indifferent fury of a dark storm. The huntress’ chocolate brown eyes held a note of fear as she locked eyes with the son of Poseidon. As Percy analyzed the girl in front of him anger bled into her eyes. She jumped back, her dull red hair whipping from the action.

Gathering herself the girl snarled and rushed him. Her body was low to the ground; knives held in reverse grips in a loose guard at the face. She lunged, deadly and precise. Percy parried one of her swings and ducked under the other before bringing his blade up in a swift arc the whistled through the air, aimed at her chest. The silver blades shook in the huntress’ grip as Percy brought the full brunt of his strength to bear behind the blow. Sparks flew as they exchanged a furious series of blows. The muscles in Percy’s sword arm tensed as he caught a particularly nasty blow right before it would have cut his throat. The angered woman wasn’t as strong as him, but she was fast. Despite his months of rigorous training, the hunter was still far better than him with a blade. Only his divine reflexes and meager experience prevented him from being filleted. Their exchange continued to ramp up in intensity as the cries of their respective groups urged them to stop.

Percy gritted his teeth. This had gone too far, but he’d be damned if he didn’t protect one of the people who had made New Olympia feel almost like a home. His muscles burned and sweat began to gather on his brow. There was nothing friendly about this fight, the huntress was intent on at least maiming him. Eyes burning with the same intensity as the song in his blood, Percy made a wild sweeping slash intent on giving himself some room to breathe. The huntress jumped back and readjusted her stance, readying herself to attack again. Percy began to draw water from the air, needing every advantage he could afford himself. 

Suddenly a flash of blinding light filled the arena, carrying with it the scent of pine needles and sweet rain-soaked earth. As Percy regained his senses he was aware of the faint clopping of hooves coming from one of the tunnels leading to the arena. Rubbing his eyes one last time Percy looked up, an inch away from his nose was an arrow the color of moon light. An immense pressure that could only belong to a god settled ethereally over his shoulders. The bow holding the arrow, barely an inch from his face, was half drawn. A clear warning if Percy had ever seen one. Holding the bow was who Percy could only guess was the Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis. Her almost almond-shaped silver eyes gleamed with curious indifference like a particularly beautiful full moon. The rest of her face was equally breathtaking. Her high cheekbones, full red lips, and slim jawline were framed by a thick, silky mane of auburn hair that shimmered with a softer version of the light in her eyes. Her lips, the color of wild berries, quirked in what seemed to be detached amusement. “Why do you cross blades with my huntress boy?” she asked with a tone that carried the same emotion as her lips.

Percy blinked dumbly, still stupefied by her features, flawless even by divine standards. As if shocked Percy jolted slightly and willed Riptide to collapse into its concealed form. “Lady Artemis” he said, dropping into a bow. “I was defending my friend. Your huntress tried to attack her after she lost.”

Artemis cocked an eyebrow at him as if to suggest he were a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar. Despite the summersaulting of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach, Percy managed to hold is now calmed sea-green eyes steady against her silver ones. A long moment passed. Finally, as if finishing some search for clues only she could see, Artemis nodded once. Her bow disappeared in a whisper of moon light, barely visible in the light of day, as she rounded on her assembled hunters. The girl that tried to attack Clarisse was in the forefront, behind her were what Percy assumed to be the rest of the Hunters. There had to be at least one hundred of them, maybe more. Each girl, despite their varied ages, was dressed in mostly identical gear consisting of form fitting cargo pants, a utility belt fitted with multiple pouches, and form fitting shirts; some wore parkas as well. Every piece of their gear was a light green and white camouflage patterned with silver accents.

After observing the cowed group of girls Artemis, clothed the same as her subordinates, spoke. “What is the meaning of this, does the boy speak the truth?” Her words hung in the air heavily.

The lead huntress opened and closed her mouth several times like a fish out of water. Her attempts to speak were halted by a hand on her shoulder. The owner of said hand stepped to the front, she was dressed identically to her fellow hunters except for a thin, unadorned silver circlet gracing her straight black hair. As she came fully into view Percy noticed she looked like a Persian princess. Her olive skin paired well with her shining black eyes, the color of obsidian, which matched her hair.

The girl spoke. “My Lady, the boy… he speaks true. Phoebe suffered defeat and lashed out at her opponent after surrendering.” Her eyes flickered to Percy, then to the sword in his hand. Her gaze held some unreadable expression that was gone in an instant leaving Percy to question if he had imagined the whole thing.

Artemis, her gaze now as cool as a winter night, turned her attention to the now identified russet haired girl. “Phoebe, Olympus has placed us under strict orders to coexist with the residents of New Olympia. We cannot afford dissent in our ranks. I will assign a suitable punishment later.” The goddess' words carried an undeniable finality with them. 

Spreading her attention back to her hunters as a whole, Artemis spoke again. “You all will return to your lodgings here. Zoe. Ensure everyone is accounted for and rests properly, we will resume training tomorrow” the last part directed to the huntress wearing the plain band of silver around her head.

Artemis surveyed the arena as a whole, her eyes briefly meeting Percy’s once more. They still took away his breath as she seemed to search for something. Finally, Artemis disappeared in another blinding flash of light. She left behind the same scent of pine needles and sweet rain-soaked earth that first heralded her arrival.

Percy turned as a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Chiron stood behind him, the height afforded by his equine lower half letting him tower over Percy. His usually calm face slowly easing from the concern that had twisted it moments before. “Come Percy.”

He followed wordlessly, not offering any arguments. He figured it would only add to the scolding he was about to receive. As he followed Chiron he glanced at Clarisse first then to the stands he had sat in mere moments ago. Clarisse, to her credit, looked unfazed. She merely offered him a small nod of respect. The demigods assembled in the stands were still frozen in place. A good number of them had yet to pick their jaws up from where they had dropped at Artemis’ arrival. They were probably surprised he hadn’t been smote. The Goddess of the Hunt was notoriously protective of her hunters and doubly notorious for her general dislike of all men. Percy mentally prayed to his father and Tychee, the Goddess of Luck for his continued survival.

The walk to the large blue house where Chiron resided, the Big House he had learned it was called, was completely uneventful. Thankfully there were few demigods wandering the camp area and as such there was virtually nobody left to stare at Percy as if he had performed a miracle. Percy spotted Mr. D sitting in his usual spot on the porch as the Big House came into view.

The creaking of the wooden steps drew the god’s attention. He was no longer in the form of an older, slovenly drunk. Instead, he was back in the youthful form Percy had originally met him in. Now though, Percy barely even flinched at the passive power his eyes swirled with, long since used to being close to a wellspring of divine power. The God of Madness’ active power was a whole other beast though. Much like Artemis’ in the arena, Mr. D’s aura felt like a weight that tried to choke the air from his lungs. Sighing Mr. D spoke, “Perseus why do you insist on being such a nuisance for me. First you and your cousin decide to blow up parts of the forest on a whim for training nearly every morning and now you attack one of my sister’s handmaidens.”

“Mr. D I was defending Clarisse”, he blurted out impulsively.

Dionysus fixed him with a sharp, calculating gaze. “Be that as it may, you still caused me quite a headache. Why Artemis didn’t turn you into a woodland creature or smite you on the spot is a mystery to me. Count yourself lucky and think twice before you decide to insult a deity next time.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’ll defend my friends. I don’t care who’s gunning for them” Percy retorted, steel threading his voice.

“Brave words child” Artemis said, the same amusement from earlier coloring her voice again, this time with less edge.

Percy nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to face the freshly arrived goddess. Her appearance had not been heralded by a blinding flash of light as it had last time and her divine presence was careful concealed, although the now familiar scent she carried still wafted past his nose. “Lady Artemis”, he intoned, “I’m sorry if I offended you, but my friend was in danger.”

She chuckled, a soft, lilting sound that was pleasant on his ears and made his heart race anew. “Peace boy. I mean you no harm. You are pure of heart, that much I can tell. You have nothing to fear from me. I assure you myths and rumors often over exaggerate my stances towards men.”

Percy smiled weakly, still nervous for a reason he didn’t want to place just yet. Artemis was beautiful, that much was certain. Her face alone would have most mortal men enchanted; he dared not look at her body which he was certain was every bit as flawless and magnetic as her face. “Thank you Lady Artemis, I’d hate to get turned into a mouse” he joked weakly.

Artemis waved his words off. “You have made progress in your training” she observed.

Seeing the confused expression that flitted across his face she continued. “All of the battles you have fought under my light are visible to me child. I have seen your strength and your loss. You are an object of interest for many gods. It has been millennia since a demigod with such potential was walked the earth, much less one that is the center of the next Great Prophecy.”

Percy flinched slightly at the small reminder of his mother. “Great Prophecy?” he questioned. Behind him, both Chiron and Mr. D flinched slightly.

Artemis waved off his concerns again. “A story for another time. My goal in coming here was to assure you that you need not fear me for defending a maiden, even if it was against one of my own. Not all of my hunters are like Pheobe; she and a few other girls were found by me after suffering terrible fates at the hands of men. It is understandable that they carry those experiences. Nonetheless I discourage aggression such as you saw. It is… unproductive.”

Percy nodded his understanding, questions swirling in his mind as he tried to push them down for another time.

A short period of silence reined before Artemis spoke again. “I will take my leave. I am needed on Olympus... Remember Perseus we are watching.” She turned to Dionysus, “Be well brother and take care of my hunters.” Dionysus nodded his understanding and cast her a lazy wave.

“It was nice meeting you Lady Artemis. I’m sorry for the trouble” Percy said without thinking in a rush of words.

Artemis turned back to him, a searching expression decorating her face. It was almost as if she were seeing something she couldn’t quite place. Without another word she disappeared in the usual flash of light that characterized the method of travel used by gods.

“That was incredibly foolish Percy.” Percy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Chiron’s words. “You’re lucky you did not make an enemy today. Please be safer in the future.”

“I will Chiron, I promise” he said, biting down any further retorts.

Chiron sighed, rubbing the crown of his head to relieve his tension. Before turning to look out over the camp which was alight with Apollo’s warm rays. He sat for a moment, weighing his next words. “Percy, I have trained countless heroes. Some surpassing every expectation, others merely great, most ordinary demigods. The one thing they have in common is a tragic end to their stories one way or another. I don’t want that for any of my students, least of all you. I believe you can reach greater heights than any other demigod in history given your exceptional growth thus far. But please, please remember that the world is far more dangerous than you have any concept of. There are powers that would atomized you just being near them.”

Percy nodded, absorbing Chiron’s grave warning and taking it to heart. “Because of this ‘Great Prophecy’?” he asked.

Chiron froze for a second. “You weren’t supposed to hear about that yet. You are too young. Olympus wanted you to grow and learn naturally, without the weight of prophecies hanging over your head” he said with the grief of a teacher who had seen his students fail for millennia.

“What is it?, The Great Prophecy I mean.”

“I cannot tell you Percy, I’m sorry. When the time is right you will know” Chiron said softly.

Despite it only being late morning, Percy suddenly felt too tired to argue. It felt as if the strength in his limbs had vanished into the soft breeze that caressed his face. “I think I’m going to lay down. I need sleep after everything this morning, Thalia still packs a punch” he forced out with feigned peace.

Inside Percy’s thoughts swirled. The mention of a Great Prophecy, something Thalia had told him in passing was a once in millennia occurrence that shaped the course of thousands of years, that was apparently centered around him left a heavy pit in his chest. The weight of his incomplete knowledge nestled next to the gaping void of loss that had become permanent since his mother’s death, something he tried his best to drown out with his quest for strength.

The trek back to his sleeping quarters blurred by. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he was oblivious to the world around him. Before Percy realized it he was back in his dorm, bed directly in front of him. With a weariness that ran soul deep, Percy flopped heavily to his bed and pulled the covers over his body. His mind felt hazy. Like an industrial smog blanketed it, choking any critical thinking. Despite the haze, his mind couldn’t help but race. Artemis had been terrifying to face. Not because she could smite him as easily as he breathed, but because he couldn’t understand her. She was right, the myths were wholly inaccurate. Regardless of Artemis’ words he couldn’t help but feel like he had received some type of special consideration from the goddess, and not just because he was a child of prophecy.

Regardless of Percy’s sudden exhaustion from his godly encounter, the preluding fight, and his usual training with Thalia; sleep would not find him. It seemed Morpheus had no interest in him at the moment. With no desire to interact with the outside world Percy laid in bed, his thoughts swirling with possibilities of the future and chest heavy with the same dread that had settled their earlier. It seemed Fate still had more to take from him.