Chapter Text
Let it be known that Perseus Jackson, son of the Bat, and the son of Poseidon, was not looking forward to his sixteenth birthday. Besides the impending battle, there was a lot of shit in both Gotham and New York causing stress.
On one hand, the city was finally rebuilt, but on the other, everything with the bats had gone completely to shit.
Percy didn’t know if his own immortal, godly shit would add to Bruce’s problems, but he certainly didn’t want to find out.
The past few months had been dangerous. Gotham was, more or less, back to normal, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Bruce was back in his sphere of depression, and neither he nor Cass could lift his spirits, but it was to be expected. Tim was right there, next to him, but he’d also found friends in the hero community, making him smile more than Percy had assumed possible.
Tim’s father had found out he was Robin, forced him to quit, and then Steph had demanded Bruce train her. Then she was fired and died trying to prove her worth, and from what Percy had overheard from Bruce and Clark’s—who was also recently resurrected—depressing conversation, their doctor had refused lifesaving care, as a lesson to Batman. Percy had to leave the city and take his anger out on quite a few dracanae after hearing those truths.
He couldn’t imagine a single Apollo cabin member refusing care to anyone. Hades, they even healed Tantalus that one time he fell into the lava used to wash the dishes. Apollo, even with his selfish ways, managed to heal the worst of Percy’s injuries after he held the sky, without excessive prompting from Poseidon and Artemis.
After Steph’s death, which inadvertently led to a month of extremely destructive behavior from both Cass and Tim, the latter became Robin again, and Percy, who had definitely outgrown the need to wear the costume, was excited for him. He didn’t need to be a sidekick, and was his own person, be that Greek hero or vigilante. Cassandra Cain finally returned from overseas, achieving whatever she needed with her biological parents. She was weary in explaining her relationships with Lady Shiva and David Cain, but Percy was glad she was back and away from their clutches.
She was sadder than when she left. She tried to pretend that she wasn’t, but Percy could see right through her. Unfortunately, her eyes held the same sadness that Annabeth’s often did, but they both hid between a false smile and a need to overwork themselves. Cass was clearly affected, and Percy was struggling to understand how to help her. He wasn’t a stranger to an insane and dangerous biological family (see: Poseidon, Zeus, and Kronos) but he wasn’t one who processed his emotions on the gods he was related to. Let’s be real, did any demigod? So, he let it go, spent time with Cass, and plastered a smile on his face that matched her own.
She definitely knew that they were both pretending to be better adjusted than they were.
Then, Tim’s father had died, and he became sullen. Bruce eventually officially adopted him, but it was a long and arduous process, especially since the young Drake had taken to avoiding it at every turn.
But still, the two of them were forlorn with the recent losses, Tim especially, even though he and Steph had technically been broken up. He imagined it was hard to lose an ex-girlfriend, but Percy had no such experience.
(And he never intended to.)
That being said, the manor was a disaster, full of haunted memories at every turn, and somehow, Bruce Wayne, in a single moment of wisdom, whisked them away to the lakehouse for a month towards the end of summer. He took most of his meetings virtually and zetaed to Gotham every night (because of course he had a magical portal in both his lakehouse and everyday house) to patrol, often choosing either Cass or Tim to come with him.
(Percy was terrible at patrolling with others, he had learned. Cass was the only one who could really keep up with him, unless he was joined by a meta, and the bats were fresh out of those. Besides, he didn’t have a reason to patrol anymore, with Gotham more or less back together and…his birthday on the horizon.)
Still the lakehouse offered Percy clarity, probably because of its proximity to a body of water that wasn’t overly polluted with the various chemicals of Gotham rogues. And for once, he didn’t feel permanently scarred among the Waynes that definitely belonged more—Tim, the smart one, and Cass, the one who embodied Bruce’s motto to the fullest.
“Cass,” he whispered one night, “I think you’re the only normal one here, and that’s saying a lot.”
She smiled, signing back, Neither of us are normal, and you know it’s the truth.
He snorted, laughing and laying back on the deck, feeling unsettled by the quiet and calmness of the lake. He glanced over at Cass noticing a similar disposition, and immediately scooted closer. She raised a brow in anticipation, and Percy was sure that she saw through him. Cass didn’t protest, however, when he pushed her into the water, setting off the biggest splash war that had ever occurred.
The water in his blood cooled for the night, but Percy knew it wouldn’t last—and he thought Cass knew the same.
Percy laid with Rachel on the roof of the lake house. It felt like it did during No Man’s Land, when the roof of the manor was the only bit of respite they both had when Gotham tore itself apart. Now, it was the only place he could relax while remembering the war that would end on his birthday—or so he hoped.
The weekend skirmishes were exhausting him, and it was a miracle that Bruce hadn’t brought him to be interrogated about his whereabouts every week. Dick was rarely around, so he didn’t have to deal with the big brother smothering that he had started in the past year. Tim, of course, was the one to look out for, but once again, Percy didn’t care. He didn’t respect Tim enough to be concerned with him finding out the truth or to deal with his suspicion.
(Steph was dead, and it was great practice for both Percy and Bruce, because either Percy would die at the end of summer and Bruce would have to deal with another death in the family, or Percy would watch his friends and family die at the hands of the Titans and their army of monsters.)
Cassandra was the only one he was worried about. She’d returned from her trip abroad, doing whatever with her father and mother, trying to find herself. She was tightlipped on the entire situation, and Percy couldn’t blame her. Poseidon was…definitely something, and to many people the monster under their beds, but he hadn’t raised Percy to be an assassin.
Well, he hadn’t raised Percy at all, but the point still stands.
Sometimes, Percy couldn’t help but wonder if she knew everything. He’d done an alright job hiding his inherent otherness from the family—he hoped—but Cass had eyes that could see right through him. For a moment, Percy wondered if she was descended from the Kassandra, or if Apollo put a dam curse on the name, so everyone born would have the sight.
He couldn’t think too deeply, because she was the only one in the manor he didn’t mind spending time with, especially since Tim had moved in and been adopted.
Bruce had a problem.
They spared, and Cass gave him a challenge—he could still beat her with raw strength but she was tricky, reminding Percy of Annabeth a bit. They practiced speaking and signing, and Percy’s mastery was getting better, which was good because Iliana, from the Hermes cabin, had lost her hearing at the battle last summer, and no healers had been able to fix it.
It was good to spar with someone besides Annabeth, and ever so often, Clarisse, who always sought to beat Percy into the ground. He technically wasn’t allowed to spar with Tim, after the incident from when he had first become Robin, but Percy thought they were past that after all these years.
It was good to keep up with his training—he practiced waterbending in the pool, preferring to use existing water. After the incident at Geryon’s ranch and the nereid had informed Percy that he was water and always had access to the sea, he didn’t technically need a source, and had taken care to carry seashells with him everywhere in case of emergency. Still, Percy preferred working in open water when he was training.
Percy couldn’t tell if Cass knew he was preparing for his imminent doom, but her eyes were all knowing in a way that unnerved him. She always sparred with him, practicing both hand-to-hand and with longer range weapons. While Percy may have her beat in raw strength, she knew techniques and ways to win with more than brute strength, reminding Percy a bit of Annabeth’s fight style.
He hated to admit it, but this would be useful in the upcoming battle, where Percy was sure he’d have to fight Kronos, most likely without an ocean to back him up, because by the gods the Titan King would have him beat in a true battle. (He wasn’t scared, not at all.)
In the middle of August, a little more than a week before his sixteenth birthday, Bruce took himself, Percy, Cass, and Alfred to his lakehouse. Tim would’ve come, but he was spending time at Titan’s Tower with Superman’s clone who he was pretending not to have a crush on.
(Gods, what a disaster bisexual Tim was, and it takes one to know one.)
Rachel had joined him three days into the lake house stay, finding him at the bottom of the lake. Well, she threw a rock into the water that startled him into swimming to the surface, as she was unwilling to surprise him underwater. He greeted her with the biggest smile and it was the happiest he had felt in a few months.
Rachel’s presence calmed him. She knew about the upcoming battle and didn’t want to spend time arguing over strategy or anything. He could be at peace, even if only for a few hours. She tried to convince him to join her family on a trip to the Caribbean, and sometimes he wished he could go and abandon his responsibilities—he never would turn his back on camp, though.
Percy was a bit surprised that her father tolerated the thought of him coming on a family trip, because Marcus Dare was the most elitist person he knew, and Percy spent years in Gotham with the richest of the rich. He supposed there were some positives of being adopted by Bruce.
Their days together provided him a relief. He spent time with her and Cass, playing around with the gaming consoles, watching Rachel paint or Cass trying to teach her to dance (she was terrible), and he could pretend, for a moment, that everything was alright, that the war was not on the horizon.
They both stared at him like they were afraid to look away, like he’d disappear into smoke at any moment.
Maybe Percy hated their perceptiveness.
Beckendorf found him at the lake house. It was only Rachel and Percy, on the roof, which had become a common meeting spot ever since No Man’s Land. Maybe it was the only place where he could be close to the sky without Zeus trying to zap him with a lightning strike.
Or maybe it was Blackjack that found him. That dam pegasus could track Percy through the pits of the underworld, he was sure. Percy was trying his best not to freak out.
Rachel kissed him, and he didn’t have time to unpack that, because where did that come from? before jumping on Blackjack and ignoring Beckendorf’s teasing.
Their plans, well Percy thought they were pretty good. Spearheaded by the counselors from each cabin, to cripple the Titan’s forces.
The execution, however, was the opposite of pretty good. In fact, it was the definition of disastrous. Having a leak—no a spy—in the camp was unsurprising, but disappointing. There were demigods that were disillusioned with life under the Olympians, which Percy could understand but he wouldn’t ever want to join Kronos. It made sense that Luke, no Kronos, would recruit someone and have them remain at camp. He wished he could’ve done it the other way, and it would’ve been more dangerous. They had Titans at their disposal who could’ve ruled out the truth, but camp had no one with such power, especially with Mr. D either MIA or uncaring.
Percy was kicking himself in the butt for not realizing it sooner, for not coming up with a contingency, a back-up plan. If he managed to survive, he would never admit this screw-up to Bruce or any of the Bats.
For all of his smug expressions and mannerisms, Kronos was not happy that Beckendorf had managed to outsmart his army. (Percy made a mental note to train that out of the campers so they wouldn’t make similar mistakes.) He could only be happy for a second, realizing that their odds of making it out of the situation was slim to none.
He watched as the boat blew up, after Kronos realized that the Greek fire had already been placed, Beckendorf’s final expression, a pleased smile, haunting him as Percy began to lose consciousness.
He woke up underwater, his head pounding and his heart hurting, or maybe it was the other way around. His eyes were still closed as he felt around, feeling the silky textures he was laying on. He cracked his eyes open, seeing a familiar looking singular eye above him looking down.
Percy blinked twice, taking a breath. “Tyson?”
His brother was ecstatic to see him, rushing to hug him, seemingly without care for jostling him after whatever injuries he had acquired. Percy was probably physically fine, being underwater where he could heal easier, but he felt a bone deep exhaustion that wouldn’t be cured with a few hours under water.
“How long have I been here?” Percy asked, his heart stuttering when he learned it was the next day. Clearly longer than a few hours.
Tyson was, in fact, his favorite brother who was alive (if Jason were still here, the two would be on equal footing). But even his utmost joy at seeing Tyson after the past year could not hide his heartbreak at the news of the cruise ship and Beckendorf.
His head told him that casualties were expected, but his heart expressed that any death was unnecessary and his own fault. They put a wrench in the plans, but the war was far from over, and was Beckendorf’s death worth that? Percy wasn’t sure.
When he felt strong enough to swim, Tyson led him out of Poseidon’s palace, which would’ve been gorgeous if not for the war, battles, and destruction. He’d actually never been to his father’s palace, and he wished his first time wasn’t during a battle between Poseidon and the Titan of the Seas.
His father was not looking well, his expression more solemn than Percy had seen. While Percy usually saw him in a more human looking form, he was clearly prepared for war in his Atlantean getup. He was much taller with a tail, his green skin pale and sullen.
“Fuck you look terrible,” Percy blurted out, before his eyes widened and he realized what he said. “I mean…” he looked over at Tyson who was desperately shaking his head.
His father didn’t look upset, almost amused. He supposed Poseidon didn’t have much time to smile and laugh when old sea gods sought to take over once more.
Next to his father was a woman with dark hair and dark blue skin, her tail shimmering in the water. She wore green armor that was covered in trident and crab designs. There was also a merman of green skin with two tails rather than one, and a trident swung across his back. Of course there was also a dolphin, and Percy wasn’t sure if that was the most or least normal part of this group.
He didn’t question it.
The woman, upon seeing Percy, immediately swam off, though she did offer a kind smile which was clearly strained in her eyes. He supposed it was normal for a wife to not want to spend time with her husband’s affair child. Hey, at least she didn’t drive him crazy and force him to murder his family like Hera and Heracles. (Or put snakes in his crib, though he supposed he would never have the answer to that.)
The other merman was clearly Triton, Poseidon’s eldest child. He sneered at the presence of Percy, raising the demigod’s hackles immediately. He wasn’t sure if he had done something to completely hurt his older half brother, or if Triton was mad about his existence only.
“Come to help at last?” Triton sassed, and Percy wanted to punch that smug look off his face.
“Yes, because the battles I’ve been facing above water for the past four years have meant nothing. Thank you, brother.”
Why did Poseidon need an heir anyways? He was immortal.
Unless, of course, they failed in this war, but then everyone would be dead, or suffering in Tartarus, so there still wouldn’t be much of a need for an heir, which brought Percy back to his original question.
“I will see to the front line, Father,” he said, facing Poseidon. “And do not worry, as I will not fail.” Triton turned his attention on Percy, who refused to shirk under his gaze. He’d spent years ignoring gods who tried to make him feel small, and a single demented merman was not going to ruin his overconfidence.
“Thanks!” Percy called as his eldest brother swam away. “Nice to meet you too! And say hi to Ariel for me!”
His father rolled his eyes, sighing. “Must you antagonize every single immortal deity you meet?”
“Yes, yes I must.”
His father sighed, and Percy felt a bit bad about stressing him out, especially since the god was definitely under an enormous amount of stress already. Poseidon said nothing of the sort, however, instead asking about the destruction of the Princess Andromeda.
Percy gave a quick debrief of the events, trying hard to keep the emotion out of his voice, but definitely failed, if there was anything to say about the way Poseidon’s hand came onto his shoulder, in an attempt to comfort him.
“He’s indestructible,” Percy muttered, towards the end of the explanation. “Because Luke jumped into the Styx last year. And I’d bet Diana’s sword that his achilles heel is not his heel, because that would be too godsdam easy and the Fates seem intent on making sure I die in a week.”
He pretended not to notice the look on his father’s face, because honestly, he didn’t have time for that.
“And the boat seemed to have more demigods than monsters, which does absolutely nothing to help with the guilt.”
“They made their choice,” his father said, placing a hand on his shoulder, but all Percy could do was continue to fume.
“Yeah, they were probably tired of their shitty home lives or being constantly hunted for food, and chose what made sense for their survival. I’ve seen it dozens of times in Gotham with street kids, and it’s probably even worse with demigods. If—” he cut himself off, taking a breath. If Jason was a demigod, he wondered where he would end up on the spectrum. He found it hard to believe in his brother fighting for either side, too disgusted by the gods and the Titans.
“Percy,” Poseidon said after a few moments of silence. “Even if you didn’t stop them, you’ve scattered their forces. But it’s nowhere close to over, and while the rest of Olympians face the larger threat, you must keep an eye on New York.”
He squinted. “Keep an eye on New York? What does that—”
“Return to camp, and tell Chiron that it’s time,” his father swallowed. “To hear the full prophecy.”
Percy shivered. The Great Prophecy had been hidden for years, and for a time he wasn’t sure if he would be the prophesized child. With his birthday in a week, it seemed there was no longer any choice.
He tried to sort out his feelings, but truth be told, he was a bundle of nerves, none of them good. He didn’t have time—
Percy squinted as he saw another familiar figure swimming towards them, his dark hair flowing freely in the water. “Is that Garth?”
Poseidon turned, the tension relieving a bit. “Ah, yes, one of our best fighters with experience in war where all seems lost.”
The Atlantean appeared before the two, bowing low and deep to both father and son.
“Aren’t you a pacifist?” Percy asked, frowning.
“A pacifist who stops alien invasions once a year,” he quipped back. “Though Titans are a lot more dangerous and deadly than alien races who wish to take over the planet or any robots Lex Luthor pretends not to be involved with.”
His eyes widened as he remembered who he was in front of. “My king, I’ve come to inform you that Orin may have found a weakness in their offenses.” Garth bowed again, refusing to rise for several moments.
“I must go and meet Oceanus on the front lines,” Poseidon said, his gaze far and wide. He blinked, humanly, and turned to Garth. “Escort my son back to camp before joining us.”
Garth bowed once again, murmuring, “Of course, my king.”
Percy wanted to argue, but couldn’t. The ocean may very well flood the earth, but Olympus was going to fall if he didn’t do something about it.
He moved with Garth, the two of them manipulating the water currents to take them to the shores of Camp Half-Blood. The weather was cloudy, but the shields around camp still held, and rain would not come. There was the constant sound of metal clinging and screaming, but no laughter. There hadn’t been much of that in the recent months. He turned to Garth, who was stepping back into the ocean, sadness in his eyes.
“Well, my prince—”
“Don’t call me that,” Percy interrupted, a strained smile instead of a scowl.
“I wish you luck in your endeavors,” Garth responded.
Percy wrapped his arms around the Atlantean, impulsively. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t die.”
He pulled back and watched as Garth disappeared back into the ocean, turning around only once he realized that Atlantean had completely disappeared. Percy sighed, making the trek back to camp, his heart stuttering at what was to come.
Coming to camp wasn’t usually a burden, but it was rare that he returned with such bad news. The death of Beckendorf, the spy in camp, the release of Typhon—everything seemed to be going wrong. He couldn’t even get a win from the destruction of Kronos’ cruise ships.
Fortunately, the first people he saw were not worried about him, but instead arguing at a volume that could surely be heard from Gotham.
Percy was not about the inane arguments at camp. The bats argued…sometimes, actually not really. Tim used to argue with Steph, sometimes, but it was rare. And now that she was gone, there was no one to match his energy. Percy simply didn’t have the time to argue or hate Tim anymore, with the world on the verge of ending. Bruce never really argued, only tried to bench people and was ignored, or yelled at his kids.
Dick used to argue with Bruce, according to Jason at least, but if he still did, it was usually when the rest of them weren't around.
Nobody dared to argue with Cass.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, as he listened to Clarisse and Michael argue again.
“Ares will not be fighting as long as we’re being disrespected by everyone at camp!” she declared, tapping her extended spear against the ground once.
Percy’s head shot up and he stared at her. “Absolutely not! No one disrespects you guys.”
Clarisse scoffed. “That’s not true and you know it, or else we wouldn’t be having this insane conversation!”
“Maybe you meatheads don’t deserve respect!” Travis added. “Especially with how you treat the rest of camp. Always picking fights, bullying everyone. You can take an L for once in your godsdamn life!”
“For fucks sake that is not helping Travis!”
He shrugged. “I don’t care about helping!”
“You guys,” Percy whined. “We are literally on the edge of the greatest battle in demigod history. Infighting will get us nowhere. And we’ll all die if even one person decides to step out of line.”
“Well, we’re not fighting,” Clarisse insisted. “Not until we get some fucking respect.”
Percy straightened his back, thinking WWBD—what would Bruce do? “If you refuse to help us, I will brand you all as traitors and kick you out of camp half-blood. You’ll be forced to fend for yourself as Titans and monsters alike converge on you to kill you and your siblings. Do you want that?”
He was surprised with himself.
“You’re bluffing.”
“No,” Percy clarified, “I simply don’t have time to deal with this nonsense. If you’re not here to help, then you have no business being here at all.”
“You don’t have the authority, Jackson,” she sneered. “You’re one person, and you cannot take on the might of the entire Ares cabin, no matter how powerful you think you are."
“Do you want to bet?” Percy smirked.
“Maybe,” Clarisse retorted.
He looked around. “The rest of the counselors will be here shortly and we can put it to a vote. It’s not fair that you remain here in the safety of our camp, while the rest of us put our lives on the line to survive.”
Clarisse sneered, her spear dangerously pointy in her hand. “And where have you been, Jackson, for the past month, while we’ve been conducting our own raids? Galavanting around Gotham?”
“Well, since I’m probably going to die in a week, forgive me for spending my last moments with my mortal family!”
“You’re not going to die, Percy,” Annabeth interrupted, walking into the Big House. Percy turned to look at her, and she looked, well for lack of a better term, rough. (He would never say that out loud, however, as he had a few preservation skills.) Usually, her blonde curls were styled into something elaborate, usually different braiding styles that Percy knew took hours in the Athena cabin. Today, her hair was shorter, cut choppily, and styled into two braids that wrapped around her head, a few strands popping out. Her dark skin seemed paler than normal, and gray eyes full of grief. Percy hadn’t heard of anyone dying in the past two weeks, but he couldn’t be sure.
Despite this, he couldn’t help but light up in her presence. “Annabeth,” he breathed slowly, and she met his eyes with a small smile. “Please tell Clarisse that she’s being ridiculous.”
She snorted, carrying a pile of files. “Believe me, I’ve tried. This has been going on for the past three days.”
He wanted to hit his head on the plastic table, settling for collapsing into his chair and closing his eyes. “This is so fucking dumb.”
He didn’t hear the rest of the counselors coming in, too lost in his own thoughts of mortality and destruction. “What’s wrong with Percy?” a familiar voice said, and his left eye slowly cracked open.
“Since when are you a counselor, Bernard?” Percy responded, sitting up straight when he realized that the room had been completely filled.
He gave Percy a look, and the son of Poseidon quickly stopped talking, grimacing to himself. Chiron trotted in, but Mr. D was nowhere to be seen. He often pretended to stumble in, but Percy could tell that he wanted to know their plans. His eyes drifted to Silena, who was stress eating a box of chocolate truffles, eyes darting around. He quickly turned away, staring at the plastic table in front of him.
Percy sighed, standing up and immediately commanding attention. He told the story of the Princess Andromeda, of Beckendorf’s sacrifice, and Kronos’s words. He glossed over the spy, instead reaffirming what he had learned underwater, that this was only the beginning and something more nefarious was going to happen soon.
He sat down after a while, letting Annabeth lead the conversation with stats of land skirmishes and the camp forces. The numbers…well they didn’t look good.
“Is there anything else that needs to come to fruition before we learn the Great Prophecy?” Annabeth asked.
“Hello?” Clarisse asked, standing from her seat. “My chariot?”
There was a resounding amount of groans from everyone in the room, and Percy fought a smirk.
“For the last time, Clarisse, not your chariot!” Michael Yew shouted. “You have no claim on it, so leave it alone!”
“By the gods, it’s a chariot. Maybe if you were nicer to cabin 9, they’d build you one,” Percy whispered.
“I heard that!” Clarisse shouted. “None of you support Ares at all, and you’ll pay for it.”
“No,” Percy said, rising from his seat. “We had a deal, and all the counselors are here, and nobody agrees with you. Don’t try to quit on us now, because it won’t go well for you.”
“Kick us out, we’ll join the traitor army,” Clarisse threatened.
Percy froze, his hand traveling to his pocket. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, bitch.”
His sword was poised at her neck faster than Percy knew how to act. “I do not take kindly to traitors, and if I have to disarm the entire cabin, I will.”
“Percy!” Annabeth screamed, her voice shaky.
“Perseus Jackson, put the sword down!” Chiron yelled.
Clarisse reached to her hip, where she kept a dagger, but her preferred weapon, her spear, was laying a few feet away, the struggle of it not being enchanted to always be on her body. “You won’t be able to defend yourself quick enough.” Percy snarled. “I will have your oath. Now. Or I’ll send you to Hades.”
“You can’t,” Clarisse bit out. “It’s not who you are to kill your fellow demigods without cause.”
“I have cause. Threatening to join rebel forces. Swear you won’t lead your cabin to Titan forces, and I’ll release you.”
“We won’t be fighting without respect!” Clarisse declared, her voice steady and strong despite the circumstance she found herself in.
“And what do you think will happen if we don’t succeed because of you?” Percy asked, his sword weighing heavily in his hand.“Do you think Kronos will rejoice with happiness, welcome you into his fold and let you live as you do?”
She shrugged, “It just proves how much you need us.”
Percy wanted to rip his hair out. “I don’t care, but here’s what’ll happen: he’ll either kill you, which would be the kinder option, or gods forbid, take you as slaves, and force you all to do gods know what.”
She paled, “You don’t know—”
He snorted. “I live in Gotham. I’ve seen the worst of what mortals can do. Do you think immortal Titans will be kinder or meaner than mortals? Leave us to die, get excommunicated from camp, we don’t have time to care anymore. But you’ll be signing your own certificates, and hope they’re only for death.”
He was focused on a single person, tuning out all the commotion around the room. His heart was pounding, and Percy hoped the nerves didn’t show on his face. After this meeting, Percy knew he would disappear to his cabin and break down, but he refused to show weakness in front of his fellow demigods.
“No!” Silena cried, the tears still running down her face, eyes swollen. “He wouldn’t…Charlie, he wouldn’t want…” Everytime she tried to get a sentence out, she broke into tears. Percy dropped his sword, and Clarisse, rather than immediately retaliating, immediately walked over to her.
“You’re right, Silena. I’m sorry,” Percy said, capping Riptide and putting the pen back into his pocket. “There are more important things to worry about like the spy, and the reason the Titan Army knew what we were doing, and when. Even though the boat is gone, most of their heavy hitters and more dangerous forces had already evacuated.”
“So it was all for nothing?” Travis exclaimed, and Percy saw Silena stuffing her face with chocolates and holding in her tears.
“No,” Percy denied, at the same time Annabeth said, “Absolutely not.”
They made eye contact, and Percy tampered down a smile. “No, not for nothing. Thousands of monsters perished, which still gives us an advantage. And we know something,” he gazed around the room, looking at each and every person.
“We were supposed to keep the plans of the Andromeda in this room, and from my understanding it didn’t spread to the rest of camp. So the spy is someone in this room,” he finished.
Ten people in the room. Annabeth, he trusted with his life. Obviously, Jake Mason was innocent, because he just became temporary counselor, and Beckendorf never would’ve taken actions that led to his own death. It probably wasn’t Silena, especially because her boyfriend had just died as a result.
Travis and Connor were extremely betrayed by Luke. They could’ve been faking and later recruited, but Percy trusted his instincts and he didn’t believe that they would’ve followed down that path. Pollux lost his twin as a result of last year’s battle, so Percy ruled him out as well.
That left Katie Gardner, Michael Yew, and Clarisse. The obvious answer was Clarisse, but that didn’t feel right either. She wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of the chariot and threatening to join the Titan forces if she had been a spy the entire time. (Unless she was playing the long game.) But the others didn’t have a real motive either, at least to Percy’s knowledge, unless they were really good at hiding their true intentions.
So, he was stumped. And that left their plans dangerous and undefended.
They managed to move on. Percy went to the Oracle, alone, and got the prophecy. The mummy didn’t even manage to speak, instead, depositing a tiny scroll like you’d see in an old movie that takes place in a fantastical world. (Gratefully, the prophecy was in Ancient Greek, so it was easy to read to the room.)
None of the counselors seemed happy to hear the prophecy, and no one had any idea what most of it meant. Percy definitely felt like he was doomed, and he wasn’t looking forward to dying in a few days. (Uncle Hades better give him a house right next to his mom.) Percy couldn’t even look Annabeth in the eyes, who disappeared as soon as Chiron dismissed the meeting.
The prophecy was just as Percy had been expecting. He was already broken up enough about Beckendorf, something that he felt he could have prevented if he was more prepared. Suddenly, he felt more and more like Bruce, people dying every few moments and he was powerless to save them. Was he destined to become just like his adopted father? Alone, depressed, and a borderline alcoholic as everyone around him died because he couldn’t get there fast enough, because he underestimated the enemy, once again?
Nico found Percy in the training grounds, hacking the dummies away with Riptide. He should’ve been continuing to plan their assault for when the Titan army inevitably struck again, but for some reason war efforts had halted. Destroying a single cruise ship did not mean that there was no longer a threat, especially with the looming threat of the army in California.
He couldn’t focus on that, and how their army of less than 100 would be able to somehow travel to California and destroy everything on that mountain. (He could steal one of Bruce’s—no, he couldn’t, bad Percy.)
“Have you thought any more about my idea?” Nico asked, materializing practically out of darkness. Percy had Nico on the back of his mind for months, trying to make a decision that would be best for everyone involved. He couldn’t forget what Jason (and his mom, when he had last seen her) had told him about Achilles, who was impressively strong, but prideful, how one rogue arrow in a nonfatal place fell the man...
Percy didn’t want to be like Achilles.
But everyday, whether he was in Gotham, at the lakehouse, or in camp, he tried to look over war plans, sometimes with Annabeth, who also didn’t believe the other campers’ nonsense about them absolutely crippling the Titan army, and felt nothing but dread. It was looking like the prophecy was going to come true no matter what, and maybe Percy wouldn’t still be here in a week.
Did he want to try to stay alive? To give the world his best chance? He didn’t know what to live for—his friends or family? How many would care if he died? Annabeth, Grover, and Rachel, maybe, but the rest of them, it was up in the air. Would it not be more peaceful if he saved the world with his final breath? He could rest, finding his mom and brother in the underworld, enjoying death. He would’ve lived the average demigod life, a little longer, perhaps.
Percy sighed. In the distance, the Apollo and Ares cabin were still screaming at each other, and Percy wanted to bang his head into a wall.
“They aren’t any match for the Titan Army, and you know it,” Nico frowned, also attuned to the camp arguments.
“We have other allies,” Percy protested, “And how would one person’s invulnerability turn the tide on the war?”
“You’re underestimating yourself,” Nico answered. “Aren’t you the one who was powerful enough to release Typhon in the first place?”
He frowned. “I don’t need that reminder. The whole reason Olympus is undefended is because of that dam monster. And maybe we should wait, to try and fight without—”
“No!” Nico exclaimed, “It has to be today!”
His bat-senses were tingling and he narrowed his eyes at the younger demigod. “Are you okay? Something seems wrong…” he trailed off examining Nico in his all black ensemble and ghostly white demeanor. Honestly, he’d fit in well in Gotham, and if they all survived and Nico stopped being suspicious, maybe he’d bring him to Bruce. It would have been nearly six months since the last adoption, Bruce was probably getting antsy.
He sighed. “Yes, sorry, it’s just stressful. I spied on the Titan army in California a few days ago, and their forces outnumber demigods ten to one. This may be our only chance.”
Percy blinked, because those were not good odds. “Alright, let’s do it.”
Nico smiled—it was eerie. “Good. We have a few stops to make first, so that everything goes according to plan.”
Seeing May Castellan did not make Percy more empathetic to the cause of the Olympians. As dark as it was, he preferred that his mom was safe in Elysium rather than suffering and alive. For a moment, he couldn’t differentiate May Castellan from the victims of Joker Venom or Scarecrow’s Fear Gas.
Luckily for them, Kronos was definitely more insane, or else Percy would’ve hid in Gotham until the end of the war, as he did not feel particularly loyal to the Olympians after seeing her pain. (Luke made a lot more sense now, but Percy wouldn’t focus on that, because he was gone and dead. He would’ve tried to help him, in whatever way he could—possibly get his revenge through methods that would not mean death for millions of people—but that wasn’t possible anymore.)
The bad news was that Percy needed permission from his parents to take a dip in the Styx and ensure his survival. Unfortunately, Percy’s parents were a bit unavailable. He, like many demigods, had a shitty home life (though Percy would admit his was better than most).
Bruce was still unaware, and would remain unaware until either Percy died in the next week, or he worked up the courage to tell him the truth after the war ended. Poseidon was underwater, fighting his own battles, and Percy wished he had talked to Nico about this a week ago, so he’d be able to ask him for permission after he ended up underwater.
Then there was his mom. She was dead, of course, but hopefully still in Elysium and hadn’t chosen rebirth. It was an insane plan, and he wasn’t sure if it would work or if Nico would approve of it at all.
Outside of the house, Percy struggled with the new revelations. When Nico said he wanted to understand Luke better, Percy hadn’t thought he meant in such a sympathetic way. He considered doing a lot of harm when his mom died, and Batman knows that he did, and if his mom had been so sick when he was alive, well he feared for Olympus.
“Would it be insane if we asked my dead mom?” Percy asked, his hands still shaking from the feelings of May Castellan. He couldn’t get it out of his head, her curse, her desperation. It made him want to tear up, to sob, to be in his own mother’s arms again. But he’d never be able to, and that broke him.
He supposed Nico was similar, a dead sister, a dead mother, living at the edge of camp and always an outsider. He was seeing Luke in a new light, his mother, cursed by the gods, forced to live in insanity with only a few moments of lucidity. For some reason, he was glad his mom was safe in the Underworld instead of living like May. Would she have taken on the curse herself, only to be abandoned immediately after?
He made a mental note to, if they survived, get her the help she needed. Maybe a live-in nurse or a specialized facility. He wasn’t sure how much Wayne Enterprises did outside of Gotham, but he’d look into it, and spend all of Bruce’s money if necessary.
“Um, we’d have to get past my father,” Nico’s fingers twitched, something he hadn’t seen him do since before his sister died. He usually radiated confidence—false confidence, obviously, but confidence nonetheless.
Percy frowned, remembering his last interaction with Hades. Blackmail was, obviously, not the smartest thing he’d ever done in his life, and he was sure it would come back to bite him the ass today. (He didn’t regret it at all, though. Seeing his mom when he felt his lowest did numbers to boost his self-esteem.) But there was no one else he could ask. Bruce was out of the question, definitely. Maybe Poseidon? He’d seen him recently, and his underwater godly relatives seemed like they were anything but thrilled when he appeared on the frontlines accidentally.
At least Orin and Garth seemed to like him, or at least respect him, to too high a degree with their constant bowing.
“Well, it wouldn’t be my first time sneaking into the Underworld!” Percy exclaimed, trying to find the joy in the situation.
Nico di Angelo was on Percy’s shit list.
There was a very short list of people who betrayed him and lived to tell the tale. Luke, obviously, but it seemed like he wasn’t alive anymore. Ethan Nakamura, though he’d never pledged himself to Percy, obviously.
He’d assumed, possibly incorrectly, that bringing a son of Hades to the Underworld was the reason it was ridiculously easy to walk around. The spirits seemed to respect Nico, and the guards weren’t after him, like when Percy swam around the ocean.
He wished he had known that it was because it was all a ploy to drag him in front of his uncle. Sure, he preferred Hades to Zeus, but being dragged in front of one of the Big Three was never a good thing. (If they got out of this alive, he would be dragging Nico underwater, before Poseidon, as a little bit of revenge.)
Percy tried to calm down, to let the hug from his mom fuel love in his veins, but the anger was simmering deep within him. (She looked at peace, for the first time ever, when Nico took him to Elysium. Percy knew that she loved him, possibly more than anything in the world, but he acknowledged that he was a difficult kid—of course, it wasn’t all his fault and he did blame Poseidon. Still, even if he somehow managed to survive this war and didn’t see her for at least two years, if he was being generous, he was glad to have a few moments with her to receive a blessing.)
In the throne room of the palace, Percy recognized Hades immediately, in his all black ensemble. On his left sat Persephone, who Percy recognized from their last interaction, also dressed in all black, but with flowers decorating her dress. Next to her, was who Percy assumed was Demeter, but why she was down here rather than with the rest of the Olympians fighting Typhon was beyond him.
“Auntie, uncle, cousin,” Percy said, nodding respectfully. “What brings you here today?”
Hades blinked. “What brings us to my own palace?” he deadpanned.
Percy shrugged, ignoring the dead guards and Nico’s sheepish look of guilt. “Well, isn’t there a war above us? Are you three not joining the battle against Typhon?”
Hades snorted. “As if I would give my brothers any help after how they treated us.”
“And how did they treat you? Is it any different from how they treat us?” Percy squinted.
“Son of the sea, you wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right,” Percy nodded. “I also don’t particularly care at the moment when there is imminent death and destruction on the horizon.”
Hades continued to make threats, and Percy peered at Nico who was hovering in the corner. Persephone and Demeter looked very upset at the predicament, the mentioning of Maria diAngelo (Percy refused to feel sympathy for a kid desperate to get to know his dead mother, he refused).
They tried to drag him to the dungeon, but Percy had something to say about it, unwilling to march willingly to his imprisonment.
“Be honest,” he started, a mock whisper. “Is this because of the blackmailing incident? Because I swear that it’s water under the bridge.”
Hades pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, while Demeter began to cackle. “You blackmailed him! Ah, you’re my favorite demigod nephew, doing what he does to others. You must let him go now, brother.”
“If anything, it’s more of a reason for him to stay,” Hades ground out.
“Really?” Percy asked, incredulously. “And when Grandpa K comes for you, do you think he’ll forgive the two of you—” he pointed at Demeter and Hades, “—for helping to cut him into a million pieces and throw him into Tartarus.”
“Enough,” Hades cut out, calling for the guards again.
Percy grumbled all the way to his cell, wondering why everyone was bowing out of a war where there would be no survivors, as if Kronos would allow Hades to live. Everyone was too damn prideful.
He wasn’t sure what to do about Nico. He could understand being desperate for his father’s affection, Percy felt that often, with both Bruce and Poseidon depending on the day. He would also kill to spend one more moment with his mom, always desperately salivating for information on her. He recognized he wasn’t in Nico’s predicament, his memories spotty after years frozen in time, and Percy could still remember the shape of her face, the freedom when she laughed, her scent when they hugged.
Still, Percy could never imagine ever selling his cousins out to his father for information on his mom. She wouldn’t have wanted him to do anything of that sort. And don’t even get him started on Uncle Hades—he wished he could move him down on his list of favorite uncles, but even with the kidnapping, he was still above Uncle Zeus, the worst of all uncles.
And yes, Percy would say that to his face, if they survived. It would be a miracle, seeing as the firepower of two children of Kronos was going unused. Did Hades think Kronos would spare him? He helped in overthrowing his father, and was eaten.
Gods were so fucking prideful sometimes and it drove Percy insane.
Nico had broken him out of prison and transported him to the River Styx, where Achilles was waiting with a solemn look, his ankles seemingly covered in perpetual blood, even in the afterlife. It seemed like a sucky position to be in—could he not shower?
“Right, so no sandals, got it,” Percy huffed, ignoring Achilles’ protests and warnings. Neither of them had a choice, at the end of the day.
“Hey!” he called, as Achilles grumbled and began to walk further down the bank. The hero turned back, staring at him, and raising a nearly transparent eyebrow. “Is it true about you and Patroclus?”
He blushed, if spectres could. “No judgement from me!” Percy rushed to say. “I’m just curious. My mom thought you two were cute, well as cute as two war mongers could be, but my Latin teacher is a bit homophobic, so…” he shrugged. “You know.”
Achilles scowled, and nodded once, which Percy took as affirmation, before wading into the water.
And godsdam, he would’ve rather fallen from the arch, fought Ares, held the sky, or blown up a volcano and ended up on Calypso’s island than trudge through this water. It was like a thousand needles were piercing his skin, drawing blood. Every single nerve ending was on fire, and he whimpered as he tried to focus.
A single light, a flash of blonde hair, and Percy was out of the water, coughing spectacularly, feeling a new sense of protection strumming throughout his body. Hades was before him in a flash, and the water struck out instinctually. Percy took a breath when he realized what he did, his eyes going wide as he opened himself up to free attacks from the god. Hades was on him in a flash, and Percy had to dodge the strike of his bident, heart beating as he tried to blink the darkness out of his eyes.
Percy wanted nothing more than to lay on the bank of the Styx, but the god was attacking him in earnest. He wasn’t making any progress, with the iron skin and invulnerability, but if he didn’t get up soon, Hades would find his mortal spot. Or give up and smite him, but he wasn’t sure what smiting would entail with the curse of Achilles. Would Styx protect him against Hades? It wouldn’t be smart to find out.
His arms still felt too heavy to bring Riptide out of his pocket, so the water would have to do. He refused to use the river, instead still finding water from inside himself. The initial hit hadn’t done much good, but Percy concentrated all of his energy on getting the vengeful god away from him. Smelling the sea, the water lashed out, blasting Hades a good length away from him.
The battle between the two was hard, and if Percy got out of this alive, he wondered how he would be able to hold his own against Kronos. He didn’t know if his uncle was trying to kill him, but he wasn’t using every asset for a victory. Somehow, after dodging a surprisingly sloppy swing of the bident, Percy rolled away, and attacked in earnest with both Riptide and water.
He had Hades pinned between his sword and ocean water emulating from the shells he carried. Nico was holding off the thousands of dead soldiers and guards Hades sent to stop them from leaving. He stared down the god, who looked shocked, but otherwise composed.
“I think we’re even for the blackmailing,” Percy said, taking a step back.
Hades sneered, flashing away, leaving Percy alone with Nico.
He looked at Nico, who was about six feet away from him, and at some point had collapsed on the ground. He lay on his back, breathing heavily as Percy stood over him, offering the young demigod a hand. Suspicious, Nico took a few seconds before reluctantly accepting, and Percy observed the cool touch of his skin, and the insane size difference. He was so young…
“I just wanted to learn about my mom,” he said, once back on his feet, fidgeting with that damed skull ring once more.
Percy sighed, wiping the sweat off his brow. “I know.” He glanced at Nico’s startled expression, the panic ripe in his wide eyes. “I’ve done worse to see my mom again, to try to save my dead brother.”
Nico narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You don’t have a traitorous bone in your body.”
Percy snorted. “Ask your dad. I tried to blackmail him with knowledge of you to bring Jason back.” He laughed when Nico’s jaw dropped. “Don’t worry, it didn’t work, and apparently he already chose rebirth, so…” Percy took a breath, “But still, I would’ve done anything to bring him back to life.
“People keep telling me that it’s not my fault, but it is. I know it is—the curse of being a child of a Big Three, of broken oaths.” He glanced at Nico, who stood there, shellshocked. He hadn’t seen that much expression on his face since before the quest to save Artemis. “Keep working on your dad, because as much as he tries to convince himself otherwise, retreating won’t keep him alive.”
“You’re not mad anymore?” he asked, his tone as high as a whistle betraying the attempt at nonchalance.
Percy shrugged. He didn’t know. “I’m channeling any anger to Kronos. He’s the real threat. And if you can convince him, find us at Olympus, because we’ll need all the help we can get.”