Chapter Text
“They’re going to kill me, Percy,” Luke said, his head heavy on my shoulder, voice low and flat.
“As far as anyone else knows,” I told him, “Kronos forcibly took over your body.”
He lifted his head a little, brow furrowing. “You want to lie to the gods?”
“Do you have a better idea?” I asked.
He sighed. “Apollo—”
I brightened immediately. “He owes me a favor! I babysat Will when he was little. Promised me one.”
That got a small, tired laugh out of him. The sound hurt and helped all at once.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know, Luke. You don’t have to—”
“I’m so sorry, Percy.”
“Luke!” I cut in before he could spiral again. “I get it. I forgive you. Who hasn’t tried to kill my dad at this point?”
That earned a snort from him, weak but real.
“Percy Jackson,” he muttered, shaking his head, “only you would joke about divine homicide as relationship therapy.”
“Hey, it works,” I said, nudging him lightly.
He smiled against my shoulder, exhausted but alive.
“I think I might pass out,” Luke murmured, voice barely holding together.
“Okay,” I said softly, brushing the hair from his forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Luke smiled faintly, eyes heavy but full of that same warmth I’d fallen for. He leaned down, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. “Thank you, Percy. I’m lucky I fell in love with you.”
His eyes fluttered closed, and he went still against me, breathing slow and even.
I sat there, holding him in my arms. The air was quiet now. No thunder. No gold. Just the soft sound of Luke’s breathing and the ache in my chest.
I sighed, resting my chin on his hair. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m lucky too.”
++++
A sword almost hit Luke, but I raised my hand, shielding him. The blade stopped midair, vibrating with power.
“Dad, don’t even try,” I said to Ares, the God of War.
“He hurt you?” Dad asked, trying to reason with me.
“And so did you,” I answered, holding Luke tighter in my arms. “He was just trying to keep me safe. You’ve got to admit, that’s son-in-law material.”
I tried for a smile. Dad looked annoyed, maybe a little impressed too.
“Dumb bastard was going to destroy the world because I made you cry. Once. In all sixteen years of your life!”
“There were a few other times,” I argued, remembering moments when he’d been too rough.
“First time in front of him,” Dad muttered, sitting down beside me. His armor and sword were gone, leaving only the man, not the god. For once, we both just sat quietly.
“What’s the story?” he finally asked.
“Luke was forcibly taken over by Kronos,” I said. “Apollo owes me a favor, he’ll probably lie for me. Or, you know, just not say anything.”
Ares sighed, then placed an arm around my shoulders. He would’ve pulled me into a full hug if I hadn’t been holding Luke.
“Are you alright, Percy?”
“I’m fine, Dad. Just tired.”
“You can sleep now, kid. I’ll keep you and… him alive.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered, still needing him, still wanting him close.
“Sure, kid,” he mumbled.
I let my eyes close, the sound of the ocean somewhere behind us and the warmth of my father beside me. For once, there was no battle. Just family.
.
..
…
I stood in front of Zeus and all of Olympus. The room buzzed with power, gods and goddesses watching me like they were waiting for me to explode or trip over my own feet.
Luke had been acquitted, thanks to Uncle Apollo, who somehow managed to answer every question without ever actually answering. He didn’t say Luke didn’t try to destroy Olympus, but he also didn’t say he did. Impressive really, the god of truth managing to twist words that well.
And me? I was holding Zeus’s lightning bolt. The real one this time. I’d even promised to return Uncle Hades’ helm later He was still glaring daggers at me from his shadowy corner.
I placed the bolt down in front of Zeus. “I found this on my travels, Lord Gramps.”
Luke sat at the far end of the hall, not allowed to enter but allowed to watch. Deimos and Phobos stood beside him, keeping a close eye on my boyfriend, just in case he decided to go all Kronos 2.0 again. But I knew better. Kronos was gone.
“Child of Poseidon—”
“Ares,” I corrected automatically.
Zeus paused, his eyebrow twitching.
“Poseidon may have helped in my birth,” I said, standing straighter, “but the ones who raised me were my dad Ares and my mother Aphrodite. I am the child of war and beauty. No others.”
Poseidon’s face tightened, hurt flashing across his eyes, but I didn’t take it back. Let him be hurt. It didn’t change the truth.
Zeus hummed, like he was thinking it over, or maybe trying to figure out how to make this work in his favor. “Child of war and beauty,” he finally said, “for returning my bolt and saving Olympus from a great threat, I shall grant you two requests.”
Two requests.
I knew exactly what I wanted.
“Swear on the River Styx you’ll grant me what I ask,” I told Zeus, refusing to trust a god’s word without weight behind it.
His eyes narrowed. “You dare to ask—” he began, thunder rumbling under his voice, but maybe he decided it wasn’t worth the argument. He wanted this over with. “Fine. I swear on the River Styx.”
The air cracked faintly. Oath sealed.
I took a breath. I didn’t know how well this would go, but there was no turning back now.
“I ask that you release my Lady Aphrodite and Lord Hephaestus from their marriage,” I said, every word deliberate. “Let my mother choose her next husband.”
The hall went silent.
Hera glared at me like she wanted to turn me into dust on the spot, which made sense I’d just wrecked one of her favorite forced pairings. Zeus looked thoughtful, which was already a miracle.
Hephaestus’s eyes widened, then softened, like he couldn’t believe anyone had remembered him in all this. My Lady Mother—Aphrodite—looked… stunned. And happy. Her hands covered her mouth, her eyes bright with something that looked like tears.
I didn’t want glory or power. I just wanted her to be free. She never deserved being trapped in a love she didn’t choose. Neither did Hephaestus.
“Done,” Zeus said at last. His voice shook the room, but I barely heard him over the quiet laugh my mother made through her tears.
Dad—Ares—tried to hide his grin, and failing as War and Love stared at one another. A pairing that had no right in ending up happy.
I didn’t know if they’d ever get married, or if they even should. But at least now, they had the choice.
The gods and goddesses whispered among themselves, curious what my second request would be.
Luke looked at me from the edge of the hall, that same quiet love in his eyes.
“For my second request…” I paused, pretending to think even though I already knew. “I ask that you all spend time with your kids. Love them. Actually be there.”
The room went silent.
Even Zeus froze, lightning dimming a little behind his eyes. Hera’s glare softened by half. Apollo looked at his feet. Ares tried to act bored but didn’t quite pull it off.
“I mean it,” I added, folding my arms. “We fight your wars, run your errands, nearly die every other week—and all we really want is to know our parents care. Maybe if you lot acted like parents once in a while, you wouldn’t have so many of us trying to kill you every other week” I crossed my arms.
There was a stunned silence, thicker than any thunder Zeus could summon. Then Ares laughed. Loud and genuine. The sound echoed off the marble walls like a thunderclap of its own. “That’s my kid,” he said proudly, grinning at the furious look Zeus tried and failed to hide.
Aphrodite looked a little embarrassed, glancing down at her hands as if she’d just been caught gossiping instead of raising half the love lives of Olympus.
Dionysus looked smug, swirling his drink lazily. “Told you mortals had a point,” he muttered.
Apollo shifted uneasily, shooting me a worried look—probably thinking of Will.
Poseidon sighed, running a hand through his hair, somewhere between disappointed and annoyed, like I’d just yelled at him in public. Which, technically, I had.
Athena met my eyes and gave one slow nod, the smallest ghost of approval on her face.
Hades only shrugged, bored as ever. “Mortals, gods. it’s the same story every few centuries,” he said, his voice dry as stone.
And Zeus… Zeus looked furious. His jaw locked tight, his hands sparking faintly with lightning as he tried to hold back his temper. For once, he didn’t shout. Maybe because everyone else was watching him, or maybe because deep down, he knew I was right. He’d never admit it, and then claims it was all his idea I was sure.
The silence stretched until even the storm outside seemed to hold its breath.
That ask was huge. I could tell I’d hit a nerve when Zeus’s face went hard, like someone had shut a door behind him. Luke looked like he might die of laughter, but not because it was funny—because the idea that the gods could be held accountable felt absurd and glorious all at once. Hermes was trying to count his offspring on one hand and failing spectacularly. It was like birth control in action. Maybe now they would think before they acted, if being a parent meant actually showing up. Maybe some of them would even learn to like it. My dad never pretended to be perfect, but he showed up. He trained us. He paid for the parts he could. Mom sent gifts. That mattered.
Zeus looked ready to argue. He folded his hands and his voice went cold.
“Take it back,” he said.
“No,” I said, because I meant it.
“If I agree to this, Percy Jackson,” Zeus said slowly, “there will be consequences.”
“Can’t be that bad,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light. It came out thin.
Zeus lifted his chin. “You said ‘kids.’ Mortals are not children once they pass their eighteenth year.”
There was a pause that fell heavier than any thunder.
“So?” I said, though my mouth tasted like iron. I pictured would-be demigod teenagers suddenly cut off from everything that made their blood weird and loud. I thought of protection, of guidance, of favors and grudges and the way a parent’s shadow could save a kid from a blade. I thought of my dad.
Zeus’s voice tightened. “Then I shall make it so that after your eighteenth birthday the gods shall no longer play a formal role in your life. No patronage. No direct intervention. No claims, no court summons, no divine maintenance. You will stand as mortals do. If you are harmed, it will be on you to solve your problems.”
The words landed like a blow. The hall seemed to tilt around me.
“You won’t let me see my dad when I’m eighteen?” I asked, because that was what it meant to me in the coldest way. The idea of a countdown to being severed from the only person who'd ever tried to be my father hit me harder than any blade had that day.
Zeus watched me, and for the first time his thunder looked like a law being passed, not just an expression of his temper. The gods murmured. Aphrodite’s hand went to her mouth. Ares’s jaw clenched. Even Athena’s eyes were unreadable.
“You will be independent,” Zeus said finally. “You will no longer be pieces on Olympus’ chessboard. You will have to make your life without expecting a parent to step in. That is the consequence.”
I felt something hollow out under my ribs then, an ache that was not just fear. It was abandonment. I had wanted them to try. I had wanted them to fail and learn. I had not expected the price would be losing the right to belong at all.
“You—you have to be joking, right, Gramps?”
But Zeus’s eyes were stone. He wasn’t joking.
I felt the tears building before I could stop them. It didn’t seem fair at all. Lose my dad…? After everything? But wasn’t it selfish to think that way? Luke never got to spend time with his father. So many demigods never did. I was lucky. Ares cared for me. Aphrodite had taken pity on me. And somehow, all of that had led me here—loved, protected, seen.
And now, love was the price.
Dad spoke up, his voice gruff. “You can change your wish, son. It’s not set in stone.”
But wasn’t it?
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Closed it again. I must’ve looked like a fish gasping on dry land. I wanted to say something clever, something brave—but all I could feel was that hollow ache spreading in my chest.
Luke stepped in front of me, desperation written all over his face. “Percy, you don’t have to do this. Just ask the gods to claim their kids. That’s enough.”
But it wasn’t.
A claim wasn’t love. It was just a name, a symbol, a mark that said “mine” without any promise behind it. I thought of Luke of what being ignored had done to him. Of how many others might turn out the same way.
There might not be another Percy to stop the next one.
So I straightened my shoulders, even as my voice broke.
“I accept those terms,” I said quietly.
The words echoed through the hall, and it felt like I’d just carved them into my own heart.
When we were kicked out of Olympus, I ended up back home—the house I’d grown up in. Dad was yelling before I could even sit down.
“You just had to wish for that! You little big-hearted brat!”
He kicked a chair across the room, but his arms never let go of me. His grip was tight, desperate, like if he held on hard enough, the clock wouldn’t start ticking. He was angry, but not at me. Angry because he couldn’t protect me from this.
Luke sat nearby, barely awake, exhaustion written across every inch of him. Deimos and Phobos stood behind him, quiet, disappointed—not in me, but in what this meant. They were losing their youngest brother.
And my mother—Lady Aphrodite—watched me with that soft understanding that only made it hurt worse.
She knelt in front of me, her hands cupping my cheeks. “I am grateful, Percy,” she said gently. “But I would have rather had you with us. I wish you’d saved your second wish—to remain our child.”
Her voice cracked on the word child.
“That’s not fair to everyone else,” I whispered. “They need this as much as I do. I got… I got so much love already. It’d be selfish of me to ask for more.”
Luke spoke next, voice tired but full of emotion. “Percy, I understand you don’t want another kid to end up like me. But I never would’ve asked you to give this up. Not for me.”
“I know, Luke,” I said, trying to smile through it. “But this was my choice. And I—I already hate it.”
The words broke, and so did I.
I cried, really cried, the kind that tore out of my chest and didn’t stop. I didn’t want to give up my dad, or my mother, or my brothers. I didn’t want to lose the warmth that made this strange life worth living. As selfish as it was, I wished I hadn’t made that request. I wished I’d kept this life for myself, hoarded every laugh, every fight, every moment of love I’d been lucky enough to have.
Because two years suddenly felt far too short.
And when Dad’s arms tightened around me, trembling with the effort to stay strong, I realized he felt it too.