Gold Heart - gardengalaxy - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Our Family End Of The World Road Trip

Chapter Text

Despite all the godly related bullsh*t that followed Percy throughout his life, from snakes in his cradle to cyclops stalking his daycare. He had, at one point, been a child.

He had laughed, played, cried, scraped his knees and made friends, however brief they were from constantly moving schools and being scared away by his ADHD and all the weird stuff that happened around him.

Months at a time were spent in boarding schools away from his mother, who worked herself to the bone for him and for that awful lump of a man. The candy and the side hustle that came with it were nice, but Percy would have chosen being with his mom in a heartbeat. When he did come home for summer it was just as lonely as school. His mom was tired from work and being a live-in maid for Gabe meant she couldn’t spend time with him like they both wanted.

Percy would sit in his room for hours on end, pacing, doodling, fidgeting, and trying to be quiet and not bother smelly Gabe-or else.

And sometimes, when the quiet, the loneliness became too much, listening to his heart beat.

He’s not sure that's when it started, but the farthest back he could remember it with certainty.

When counting the time between each beat, watching as hours slipped by him, Percy felt flashes of gold.

Gold, he now realized, like the flashes of a sickle, the color of grain, the sands of time. He was too young to know what that meant, but he could feel a presence, and had nightmares about being trapped somewhere.

At first he thought it was just a childhood thing, like an imaginary friend or a series of night terrors kids sometimes got. The whispers he could never quite make out, desperate and angry and even the slightest bit lonely.

Biding its time.

As he grew older and stronger he stopped hearing the whispers.

This seemed to please his mom, who promised him trips to his favorite place in the world. Every summer he and his mom would go to Montauk. Smelly Gabe would hand over his car after a dedicated campaign by his mom, and they would drive hours to the end of Long Island.

“Hey Sally! Long time no see! And you’ve brought the little guy too! How old is he?” A cheery-faced chef says as they pull into town. They would eat first and then go to their cabin.

“Helen! He’s turning 10 next month.”

“Do you still have those blue tortilla chips?” Percy blurted.

“Sure do bud! I gotta have them for my Birthday boy. Not everyday you turn 10.” She ruffled his head.

“We also got these amazing strawberries from up the way, some sort of camp business, makes a mean shortcake if you want to give them a try?”

Mom laughs and Percy notes a strange quality to it. She keeps looking in her rearview mirror.

“We might, but Percy probably prefers blueberry pie.”

“Yeah!”

The trip went well. Percy sees ladies in the water when surfing with his mom, something he played off as his imagination later on before realizing even later than that those ladies were Nereids.

Percy plays in the sand.

He watches as the sand dimples and clots, the warmth of it sun baked and salt water cooled against his skin. Filling a bucket with salt water, he treks up the sand dunes, huffing and puffing the whole time with water sloshing over, landing on his skin and strangely giving him energy to hop around long grasses until he makes it to a large puddle on the other side from their cabin.

It’s freshwater left over from last night's rain, which itself came from the remnants of a tropical depression. Or so the TV said.

Percy hesitates a second as he looks at the filthy water, murky and brown, and then dumps his heavy bucket of salt water into it. As he watches the dirt begins to clear and clump together right before his eyes, the water becoming crystal clear.

“Mom! Look! Mama!”

She comes running, skirt rippling like a wave, eyes wide and her fear startles Percy.

“What wrong baby!?”

“Nothing! I-I just wanted to show you something.”

She calms and lowers her butcher's knife that he hadn’t noticed before, putting it in the sand dune and striding over, her shoulder lowering and a smile coming across her face.

“Look, I put ocean water in the dirty puddle and now it’s clear.”

Her smile becomes nostalgic as she squats next to him, eyes distant as she seems to look back in time.

“Your father told me about this.” She offers up softly.

He immediately looks at her, little mouth dropping open in awe.

“He did? About what?” He asks breathlessly.

She smiles at him. It’s sad, and suddenly he feels sad too.

“He told me salt water is special. It has many purifying properties-”

“-What's that mean?”

“It means it’s very good at cleaning. It removes bad dirty things.”

“Wow!”

“It can be good for you too. See, it heals my hands.”

Sally takes her hands which often get something Percy can’t pronounce. X ma? Ex mas? Eczema? And she puts them in the saltwater left in the bucket, promptly sighing in relief.

Suddenly his face feels hot, his heart beats fast, his eyes blink rapidly.

“Mama?” He whispers.

“Yes?”

“If dad was lost at sea, and if, um, salt water heals…can the ocean heal him, and then maybe he can…come back?” He squeaks.

Her eyes water and Percy feels ashamed of himself.

“Sor- I’m sorry mama.” He stumbles over his words.

“Oh baby…” Her voice is so tender, so careful as she tries to let him down gently.

“It’s okay mama, I was being dumb.”

“No, no you weren’t honey.”

They rally themselves, and eventually start to have a good time again building sandcastles-or sand palaces, as Mama said his Dad called them. Other kids from town and on vacation join them and they eventually play a game of tag in the waves tumbling to shore. When the sun begins to set and turns the ocean into fire his mom has him sit on the porch as she prepares dinner. Normally he would help but she said she wanted to surprise him. On the steps of the porch he reaches down and picks up handfuls of sand, holds it, then gently lets it slip through his finger, watching as it drifts to the dune at his feet.

He does this again and again.

As he stares at the falling sands, he realizes the tears that had tracked down his face tasted salty.

As he grows, more happens. He goes back to school, gets kicked out, goes to another one. There he meets a teacher he actually likes, Mr. Brunner.

He’s embarrassed to admit he wants Mr. Brunner’s approval but he does. There’s never been a guy in his life patient with Percy, but the bearded man makes his lessons fun, and understandable, and really seems to believe in him, and Percy doesn't want to let him down.

So in between the Roman swords being used as pointers and Greek flutes being used to rhyme spelling words, Percy does something he’s never done before in his life.

He goes to the Library and checks out a book.

It’s about Greco-Roman mythology because that's what Mr. Brunner taught. Latin too.

He flips open to a random page and jolts when he finally comprehends the title. It’s about Kronos and something about that name sends chills up his spine. Gold, gold and grains, flashes of golden curved metal, little granules through an hourglass.

He snaps back, heart beating and he counts them to calm himself.

Mr. Brunner had not liked to talk about Kronos. He would talk about all the other gods and even some titans and giants who Percy could be bothered to remember, but he became funny when Kronos was mentioned.

He begins to read.

"According to Hesiod’s “Theogony,” Ouranos was a hate-driven god who did not allow his children to prosper. He ended up imprisoning all of his children, preventing them from leaving Gaia’s womb. The Titans, CYCLOPES, and HECATONCHIRES (Hekatonkheires, Hecatoncheires) were unable to escape and prosper.

The Fall Of Ouranos:

Fed up and overcome by grief, Gaia pleaded with her children to take action. Her youngest, Cronus, was the only one who wasn’t scared to do something about Ouranos. Gaia created an adamantine sickle and hid Cronus until the time was right. The ruthless Cronus then escaped Gaia’s womb and castrated Uranus!"

Huh. What was Mr. Brunner so skittish about? It sounded like Kronos was brave to protect his family when this orange guy or whatever his name was was hurting his wife.

The idea of that sends a hot flash of anger through Percy before he calms himself and reads on.

"Cronus was the leader of the Titans during the Golden Age of humans. Immorality was nonexistent, and there was no need for laws. It truly was a time of virtue and prosperity. Thanks to the happiness of Gaia and the Titans, the world flourished. Many believe that Cronus’ connection to agriculture and harvest is due to his leadership during this time.

While the Titans’ rule was peaceful, the time of relative harmony did not last forever. Eventually, and for reasons unknown, Cronus became violent and somewhat paranoid."

The story becomes worse, and worse, and before Percy knows it he slams the book shut, heart beating too fast, horrible tears in his eyes. How could Kronos fall so hard? After he fought so hard to have peace? What made him do that?

Despite his reaction, he forgets, and moves on. His friendship with Grover becomes stronger, his grades are rocky but stable, Nancy Bobofit is a jerk, and his candy selling is earning him some side cash. All in all, not a bad life.

…

…

…

That changes.

The Master Bolt is stolen, and more importantly his mother is taken from him. Luke betrays him but his mother is back.

Thalia’s tree is poisoned and they need to get the Golden Fleece.

Thalia is back, they meet Nico and Bianca, Annabeth is kidnapped and suddenly Percy is holding up the sky.

“Lady Artemis! Go! I’ll take it!”

She gives it to him-

Pain.

Pressure.

He can't describe it, the poets in Apollo’s cabin couldn’t even describe it, the fast talkers in the Hermes cabin couldn’t even describe it, the detail obsessed kids in the Aphrodite cabin couldn’t even describe it. He feels like a submarine at the bottom of the Mariana trench, crushed like a soda can from the weight of the entire ocean.

He doesn't know how his bones haven’t been ground to sand yet, his heart rushes in his ears, he can feel the sky straining, screeching-

Θαεπιστρέψειςγαίαθαεπισγαίαρέψειςθαεέψειςgaia -

It was trying to say something.

The Sky was trying to say something.

It wanted.

Percy would have screamed in terror but he couldn’t even breathe.

Weeks later, Thalia comes to say goodbye to him as he gets ready for school in the new year.

“-ave to visit your mom in New-”

He doesn't mean to ignore her, but he can’t seem to stop staring up at the sky. He never feels comfortable anymore under an open sky.

“You okay?” Thalia asks.

Percy snaps out of it.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

She appraised him.

“My father wouldn’t strike you down without a trial with the other Olympians first.”

He startles, wondering why she would bring that up before realizing that it’s the only logical explanation for his behavior. How else could you explain this?

“Thank you.”

“No problem Percy. We’ll have to get hamburgers sometime.”

Percy's glad they're friends, despite their rocky start. They both walk down to the others, and Percy can’t help but cast another look over his shoulders at the deceptively peaceful blue sky.

He swears he hears something in his ears.

The rasp of a screaming ancient.

The hissing of sliding sand.

Or maybe just the wind.

Yeah. Probably just the wind.

…

…

…

They are all screaming, shaking as they run out of the Maze. Rachel leads the way as Percy continues to stare in shock at what Ethan had just done. He had felt the moment in his very soul as the vow was taken, how Kronos had looked at him through Luke's eyes and how disgustingly familiar it felt, that moment of connection.

Why was it familiar?

Nico throws up an Obsidian wall as Rachel nails Kronos with her hairbrush and helps a distressed Annabeth along and Percy shivers, the hissing of sand in his ears.

…

…

…

The war continues and so do his dreams of Kronos. He can feel the titan reach out to him from across space and time and Percy wakes up gasping for breath, the faint imprint of hands on his neck.

…

…

…

Three Demigods drag themselves into a hamburger joint and order burgers.

“I’ll have a double cheese burger.”

“Me too.”

Percy looks back at Nico.

“Me three, and a side order of fries please.”

“And three milkshakes too!”

It’s a meal fitting for them after all their hard work. No reward on Olympus compared to a juicy oil coated hamburger.

They chow down and talk about the past few weeks after the Battle for Olympus.

“-No Idea how hard it was to get my father to listen with Demeter talking about cereal and Persephone-”

Percy nods, mind wandering as Thalia laughs loudly and tells a funny story about Hera and cow pies.

The war is over. The dead have been honored, the new cabins are going up so why does he still have dreams about Kronos?

It’s quiet.

Thalia and Nico are looking at him.

“...You’re still having dreams about Kronos?” Thalia asks slowly.

“He’s gone, you made sure.” Nico sounds nervous.

“No, totally!” Percy says, rushing to assure them and maybe himself. “The gods said so themselves. He’s scattered, and won’t reform.”

Their brows are creased with worry and Percy hates that he’s the cause.

“No one else is still having dreams about the war.” Nico says.

“Not prophetic ones at any rate.” Thalia says. “Some of us are still having nightmares, but that's normal.”

“I agree.” Nico says. “You might want to talk to someone back at camp about these dreams if they continue or get worse, but I think there's another explanation for it. Despite all odds including us other big three children you were the one of prophecy. You’ve had more encounters with Kronos than any other big three kid, and it seems you’ve always been uniquely connected to this fate. What you’re seeing now might be what’s lingering.”

“I think Nico’s right. Your dreams will sort themselves out, right now let's just be glad it’s over.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Percy says quickly, and drinks his blue shake and chokes.

Nico pats his back as Thalia laughs.

He tries not to think of Kronos during the meal. How Kronos had slowed down and stopped time, what it felt like to be frozen in place, unable to move as his enemy walked closer, as the very birds froze mid flight. His power was so immense he would have effortlessly burned away the Styx's curse of Achilles, his very presence enough to vaporize demi-gods with their eyes closed, strong enough to even destroy minor gods.

After the two of them leave Percy goes quiet. He had thought that maybe Thalia and Nico also being potential children of the great prophecy, maybe they would be having dreams too.

The latest dream was last night. He dreamt he was millions of specks of golden dust, being crushed but also lost, perhaps sands or grains, swirling around and trying to catch hold of something only for nothing to happen, to try and call out to not have a voice, to try and shake the horrible curse from his father, insanity, the confusion and horror of realizing his future what he had done and the things he would do and the knowledge there was nothing to stop it scattering his mind worse than his body-

These dreams don’t feel like normal dreams, they feel…

They feel real.

Divine.

Intentional.

Prophetic.

…

…

…

A few days later Percy has another dream.

He’s cramped, stuck, ready to be free but constricted. His siblings scream in fear around him as acid laps at their feet, as their surroundings become tighter and tighter. Cruel laughter edged with insanity echoes.

He wakes up.

He’s exhausted so he tries to sleep again.

This dream is similar. He’s trapped, desperate to grow to his full potential. His entire being, body, mind, soul, divinity, aches with the need to get out of this trap, the horrible pressure that is somehow the same as the weight of holding up the sky. He hears faint begging as he and his siblings struggle to be free.

“-Please! Let go of me, get off! Let them be freed, Ourano-”

His dream shifts.

There must be a bad signal or something because the images and noises are faint and hard to make out.

“Out of all my children, you are the only one brave enough to accept this sickle…”

Percy sees a sickle appear, and reaches for it, filled with anger, with hope, the need to finally be freed of this mad monster he calls father, in order to be a father himself.

His grip tightens on the weapon as he leads his siblings forward.

He is suddenly filled with foreign longing, the desperate hope for a family, he wants to hold his would-be children in his mind. The dream of being free, looking up into a blue sky without fear.

It fades away again.

He screams in his dream, clutching his head as a defeated voice howls with hatred, his mother battered and broken and unable to help, and perhaps unwilling to.

“-esestable son, you think you can get away with this? A new form of evil will be created just for you! Curses! I curse you! I curse you with the burden of prophecy. I curse you to become the inverse of who you are! You who did the unthinkable for your family will grow to hurt them! It will all be in vain! I curse you with the same fate as me, and you, being able to see it but not stop it, let your idealist mind and desperate hopes crack from the pressu-”

He screams and falls, mind scrambling but unable to find stability.

“-nos, what is wrong? Are you alright brother? Let me help you up.”

He shakes his head, unable to remember why he was screaming but a horrible feeling in his heart. He takes his brother's hand.

“Yes Iapetus, I don’t even remember what I feared, let…let us go on.”

Time goes on.

He watches the little humans below them. He's fascinated with them. He is especially fascinated with the young humans. All immortals are born autonomous, but these little humans must be raised, and taught.

It is a process that takes time.

He wishes for this.

They are hungry, the world grows cold in cycles he feels in the fabric of himself, cycles and patterns he balanced with the Moon and Sun, and the little ones starve, and it hurts him. He teaches them of timing, and using his abilities to create golden Wheat, and amber Grains, and invents Agriculture based on the cycles of his Mother, and fashions them a tool, based on his own weapon to harvest their work. It's a struggle to hold back his raw divinity, but It's rewarding, to see how good can come from his symbol of violence. He holds the Divine flames in his cupped hands, and lets them bake their bread in his palms, and ponders on the idea of Prometheus on giving fire to them.

The scent of baking pleases him, and the humans end up baking more for him to inhale. He thinks of his daughter and wafts the smell up to his pregnant wife in the heavens, and wonders if his child would enjoy it as well, if she too would sit at this holy fire, this hearth, and care for the flames, to hopefully create a home.

He watches the humans eat and feels blessed.

Then.

A vision.

A child.

His.

She's beautiful and everything he's ever wanted. She has her mother features but his warm coloration. She's the dawn of a new era, she's every hope he's ever had for a future, a family that loves him instead of fearing or using him, but, what if she does too? What if, what ifwhati-his head is tossed back like the humans eating the hearth-bread, and and andan-

He doesn't realize he's in his true form until the mortal is a pillar of sand, and that sand, ash.

Krios shakes his bowed head, poorly hiding a smirk. He and the other titans had thought he was neglecting his kingly duties down here.

"You are the strongest among us, and they are but dust in the wind. It was only a matter of time."

The guilt festers inside him.

He becomes increasingly paranoid, he feels as if he will be ambushed under the open sky, he is certain the humans are rallying against him, he's certain they will cast him out too, his pregnant wife must be sick of him, must also want him gone. When he tries to think deeper, something rotten, rooted to his core does not let him. He wants to hold his loved ones, he wants to-

-He screams in horror in the small corner of his mind still clinging to reason as he holds his little daughter. A compulsion beyond his will has him tilting his head back, opening his mouth-

The last threads of his mind snap under the horror.

Percy wakes up.

He’s covered in cold sweat and he runs to the bathroom and vomits.

After he decides to take a walk.

It’s early in the morning, just late enough to not be eaten by the harpies, but then again, Percy would fillet them if they tried. The sun had barely risen and all the Demigods were still asleep for the most part, still exhausted from the Battle, and from all the recent additions to camp and building everything for them.

“You would think the Hero of Olympus would be enjoying his beauty sleep.” A curious voice drawled from the porch of the big house.

“Mr. D.”

“Peter. It’s unlike you to be up so early.”

“Didn’t think you cared enough to notice.”

“Good to know the lack of sleep hasn’t affected your attitude. Nico told me about dreams of yours, why don’t you sit here for a bit. Not too long though.” The wine god said with a faint smile on his face. The war finally being over clearly made Mr. D feel better.

“So you can remember his name?” Percy complained but sat in a chair.

The silence drew on. It became awkward as Mr. D raised an eyebrow at him and slowly lowered his card.

“...The war affected us all, Percy Jackson. "Mr. D. says pointedly. "You in particular. You always had ah, shall we say an unique connection to the elder Titan-”

Flashes of gold, grains, sand in an hourglass-

“- And many campers were affected by the war. I would know as the God of Insanity as well. These dreams are likely remnants of the divine energy of the prophecy being completed.”

Mr. D shuffles his cards. With his godly, pudgy, hands. Once the hands of a mortal.

"What do gods dream of?" Percy wonders.

Percy feels the heaviness of Mr. D.'s gaze and he turns to look. It feels like the first time he met the god, twelve and grieving, and feeling the weight of purple insanity. Percy realizes that he could have shared Mr. D's fate, a demi-god that ascended.

"Do gods dream the same dreams as mortals?" Percy asks quietly.

"...No." Mr. D. says, the single syllable carrying several emotions, chief among them longing, grief, and nostalgia. "We have no need for sleep, and dreams are often the workings of fate-the domain of mortals, if they ever had one." Percy can't believe Mr. D. sounds wistful! "I...find myself missing it, almost."

Percy is frozen solid.

He thinks of his own dreams.

Were they his own?

“Do you think Kronos was insane?” Percy blurts out.

Silence.

The air seems to cool. The windchimes slowly clank together, a piece of paper skitters past in the wind, his heart beats loudly.

“...An interesting question. I am fortunate to never have met him personally, but wherever bits of his presence lingered, I detected irrationality, and yes, even some insanity. A functional lunatic, if you will. None of that matters now of course. He’s scattered so severely after dying a second time not even the elder gods with all their power could scrape him back together. His divinity is just too faint. I would suggest you quit worrying and be glad it’s all over. It’s unhealthy for a mind to ruminate.” Mr. D lets that last sentence sink in.

Percy decides a walk on the beach might be better for him.

He digs his toes in the dunes, inhales the scent of saltwater, chases tides with his pace.

“Never too early for a morning beach walk.” His dad says.

Percy smiles and walks up to Poseidon.

“Hey dad.” His voice is more tired than he realizes. It makes Poseidon’s brow crease in worry, laugh lines vanishing as he turns to his son. Poseidon reaches forward and rests a large hand on Percy’s brow.

His father is also looking tired. Rebuilding Atlantis is hard work.

Percy isn't surprised by the tenderness. Ever since his 16th birthday happened and the prophecy was complete his father had been more affectionate. He was curious.

“You’ve uh, been around more lately.”

His dad's eyes shimmered like the ocean during sunset.

“I have. I…wish I could have been there more, in the beginning. I didn’t want to draw attention to you. You deserved more but I admit to letting my fear and guilt get the better of me. I didn’t want to love you only for you to be struck down due to the prophecy.” Poseidon sighed, regret in his voice.

Percy swallowed heavily, his own eyes shimmering in the reflection of the water.

“I remember you visited me when I was a baby.” He blurts.

“It is one of my most cherished memories.” Poseidon says softly. He wraps his arms around Percy and brings them to sit in the sand, half in the waves. Percy rests his head on his father's shoulder and chest and instead of a heartbeat he hears the rolling of tides, faint whale song, the peaceful movement of water that nearly lulls him to sleep

“Now that the blasted prophecy is off your shoulder I would have hoped things would be peaceful for you.”

Percy hums.

“You’ve been having dreams. Prophetic ones.”

Percy nods.

“I fear that's my fault.”

He cranks his neck up to look at his dad, eyes wide in what Annabeth called the baby seal effect, and Poseidon laughs bittersweetly, thumb brushing against Percy’s cheekbone.

“What do you know of the domain of prophecy?”

“Uh, it’s held by Apollo, but sometimes Demi-gods can have prophecy dreams?”

Poseidon eyes crinkle into a smile.

“Correct. However there's more to the story than just that. Don’t repeat this history to anyone. I tell you now because you are my son and it’s affecting you.”

He nods.

“Prophecy is a domain that has had 4 total users. Apollo is just the most recent. Some domains are able to transfer to the next deity easily because even if they are powerful or important, they are rather simple, such as the sun from Helios to Apollo. Other domains are much more complicated, and the previous holder can still retain some of that domain. That previous holder is me.”

“What! So that's why…”

“Yes. You are by far my most powerful child. You’ve inherited many of my domains, including a connection to prophecy. Albeit weaker than a child of Apollo’s would be. The point being, even the gods are not immune to the effects of prophecy. I could tell when spending time with your mother that the great prophecy was whispering to me, and trying to influence my actions, weak of a reason for it, I know.”

The demigod frowns and Poseidon hums deeply.

“That being said, I can’t bring myself to regret your existence.”

This makes him smile, before remembering something his dad just said.

“Wait, if you were the third holder, who was before you?”

“The first holder was Ouranos. The second..." Poseidon hesitates "...was my father, Kronos.”

Percy gasps.

“I inherited it from my father after we slew him. I was perfect for the circ*mstances however, I could tell that while I was the best option out of the then gods, I wasn’t ideal. After dealing with Ouranos and then Kronos, the domain of prophecy was extremely corrupted. Its influence was poisonous and had I not been an Elder God I would have succumbed to it. It took thousands of years of hard work to wash out the corruption with my other domains. I used the power of the sea to clean it in a way no other God could. Which is how saltwater acquired its purifying properties, by the way.” Poseidon said, eyes twinkling.

“Wow! Wow.”

“Wow indeed. Had I not purified it, it would have corrupted young Apollo, and very likely his sister and mother as well. Even then, the work I had to do while keeping it ‘under the radar’ helped establish my moody personality.”

“That's terrifying.” Percy croaks, the events of his dreams playing across his mind.

“Yes.” Poseidon said, quickly sobering. “Prophecy is why you were chosen, perhaps why Kronos was drawn to you, and why you carried it out, and why you are having these dreams now. I can’t stop them, only let you know why they're happening.”

“Oh. Well, at least Kronos is gone?” He can’t keep the uncertainty from his voice.

“Hmm. Truthfully a minor god and even a few of the weaker Olympians would be by now. However Kronos was the most powerful of all the titans. His immense strength took all 6 of us. He doesn't just have the domain of time, he is time. You got just a taste of his power when he was hosted by Luke Castellen, and look what he was able to do in that short time.”

Percy shivers.

“That being said, my father is scattered and beyond all reach except for the dreams you are having. I wouldn’t worry. The dreams can’t hurt you. I won’t let them even if they could. This is likely his last gasp before his mind disperses forever and he becomes a part of the universe's background, whatever lingering awareness he has at that point will be sealed for eternity forced to watch time pass but unable to partake in it.”

“That's reassuring.” Percy deadpans, trying not to let the terror of a fate like that effect him.

“Indeed. So for now, rest my son. You’ve earned it.”

Poseidon kisses his brow and Percy melts under the affection as he drops off to sleep, his father laying him to rest in his cabin.

…

…

…

Percy Jackson is feeling hopeful.

It might have something with the blue cookies he is baking with Hestia in the camps kitchens. Mr. D. had rolled his eyes affectionately but allowed it. He had always been fond of her. Percy was hired over the summer as a swordsman trainer to the many new campers. He shakes away the strange feeling of standing in the shoes of Luke and Daedalus. Percy wants to bake for the kids to reward their efforts, to make this camp a home.

It also could be the Pithos containing hope sitting innocuously by Hestia.

Who is sitting and kneading. Percy had offered to let her stand at the helm of the kitchen but she only shook her head, remaining seated. Percy wonders if he's ever seen her standing instead of sitting, or stooped over a hearth.

He had invited her to go on a hike at Montauk with him and Hermes, who was taking his cabin out for a trip, but again, she had shook her head, gesturing to the hearth, a glint her her eyes from the fire that could almost be sadness.

The goddess still has Hope and will have it for the foreseeable future. It whispers to Percy, saying many things, but mostly filling him with the hope that he could ask some questions, and maybe get some answers.

"Aunt Hestia?"

"Yes Percy?"

He hesitates to bring it up to his Aunt, but...

"Why do you think Kronos became the way he did?"

She goes still in fear at the mention of her Fathers name. Hope cracks against the pithos and Percy's teeth snap shut at his own gall and remorse, and the sudden flash of eye-searing gold.

"...I cannot say." She says after several moments. "And despite my forgiveness towards family, I regret that I cannot say it matters to me his reasons, made even truer by his most recent actions. A father is supposed to protect his family, a king to lead. He betrayed that. And me."

Percy swears he hears her whisper something on 'how could he' but it's swallowed by the sounds of crackling flames.

Percy deeply regrets bringing it up, and switches the topic to the blue cookies again.

Hestia smiles warmly when the children eat, and Percy turns his heads towards the Ocean and closes his eyes like he could forget the gold, how Hestia's copper tones remined him so much of, of-

...

...

...

Several months later, Percy sits in a hut in Tartarus. Damasen is keeping watch after giving them soup and Iapetus, having learned the truth of his origins, is regaining his memories. Percy watches the Titan closely, and thoughtfully. In between trying to survive Percy was struck with the realization this was the place Kronos was condemned to and spent a countless amount of time in.

Percy was only here for…what was probably a few days and his mind was hanging on by a string.

“What ails you Percy? Besides the obvious.” Iapetus asks. The titan assured them he was on their side after being cast out by his family. He thinks of a supposed ancient curse on a titan, what would happen to said curse if you were scattered. Would it be destroyed as well? These thoughts swirl around his head after their encounters with curses cast against him.

“I-well, you know I fought against Kronos in the war?”

“I do.”

“...what made him like that?”

Iapetus' face becomes distant.

“He was not always like that. At first we were awed and a bit intimidated he would go after father, but we understood why he would want to topple the tyrant, and we were grateful. Then…” he trailed off, lost in thought.

“Then what?” Percy asked after several moments.

“He wasn’t the same after killing father. It wasn’t noticeable at first, as he was a good king. He started having spells of time where he blanked out. Near the end he starting screaming, and when he came to he was always crueler and more distant.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. None of us did. In fact some of our crueler siblings encouraged it.”

He went silent again at the thought of his family.

“...Why would you turn your back on Ga-your mother?” he asks.

Iapetus is quiet for so long Percy thought he had forgotten to answer.

“You ask biting questions. She was also not always like this.” He said abruptly and startled Percy.

“Once she was caring, and wanted the best for us. But now she has lost herself and there is no way to fix it. Once she was hurt and now she seeks absolute power, to destroy all that could threaten her after what my father did to her, to remake the world in her image.”

Iapetus exhales deeply, face troubled.

“Gaia lies. None of us will be a part of this new world. It’s likely our very essence will be crushed and repurposed into something completely alien, if allowed at all. It’s difficult to vanquish a mortal’s immortal soul but I imagine if anyone could, it would be Gaia. I know your inclination might be to pray, but don’t do that. She would hear it.”

…

…

…

The war ends. Percy picks up the pieces.

He goes back to school for his senior year and makes the swim team. He even lets the others win occasionally. His parents cheer him on from the stand. A few times he spots brief glimpses of a large man with a Hawaiian shirt in the stands, cheering him on, and Percy manages to crack a smile.

A few times he even slows down and takes lower places just to watch his dad get steamed up. It all good though as Poseidon ends up looking more endeared than anything after he gets over Percy's impertinence.

Annabeth and a few other demigods in New York get together to study sometimes and in general talk about the whole demigods between two worlds thing.

His mother gives birth. Him and Paul were kicked out for this one. Both of them were sitting nervously on a bench, stomachs rumbling when his father appeared with fresh take-out.

“It wouldn't do well for you gentlemen to go hungry now.”

“Oh, thank you!” Paul says and begins to divide up the food for Percy and himself.

“Dad.” Percy says, relieved. His father cups the back of Percy’s neck with a hand large enough to be to be a catcher's mitt and almost as calloused from holding his trident and pulls Percy to his chest. Percy isn’t a short guy himself currently being in the midst of a growth spurt that might take him over 6 feet. Somehow his father always makes him feel like a kid.

To his embarrassment, he sniffles.

“She will be alright son. You and your new sibling can grow up together.”

“I’m 17, I’m already grown.”

Both Poseidon and Paul laugh and share amused, endeared looks much to Percy’s chagrin.

“You are still very young. It’s clear by your aura you have time yet to enjoy your youth, and your family.”

He’s not sure what an ‘aura’ is but it reminds him of Iris. But then he remembers joking around on the ship, playing games at camp half-blood, all the ways he had been growing and changing in the past few weeks. How he was Luke’s age when Luke joined Kronos and how he thought Luke had been so old, when he was really so young. How those college students in New Rome had been so young and growing too. His dad is right. Percy does have some growing to do.

Estelle is delivered two hours later.

They all meet the baby and complement his mom, and as Paul looks into the eyes of his daughter Poseidon pulls his son close to his side in an unmistakable gesture of love and possessiveness.

…

…

…

Life goes on. Percy’s first year at college had been an amazing, exciting experience. With teachers who understood ADHD, learning had been fun for the first time in his life. His Mom and Paul had been tearful as they dropped him off, and Poseidon had sent a vial of enchanted seawater for endurance and said to save it for finals.

There was a funny moment when the history Professor had gone over the Great Prophecy and Percy had choked on his blueberry muffin during class. He hadn't expected himself to be on the agenda. But it's interesting to hear the Roman perspective. He hadn't known Jason had choked out a titan with his bare hands, aided by Reyna. He's kinda glad their brief cornfield fight was interrupted now, not that he'll ever admit it.

"Oh, I can't imagine fighting titans, let alone Kron-The Lord of Time, the Crooked One." A girl spits, face paling and unable to even say the Titan lords name. Percy puts down his muffin as he has lost his appetite.

It reminds him of how the Romans still fear saying Neptune's name, like how the Greeks avoided mentioning Hades, except worse.

He makes s’mores, sings, fails at archery, gets into fights, cries, tries to process the trauma of the last several years and from even before that, gets therapy, makes new friends with the campers, and enjoys being young and carefree. Piper and him go to burger king and wear those carboard crowns, Jason and him tango dance to distract some monsters, he helps Reyna wash her dogs and it's oddly like washing Paul's car. He f*cks up sometimes, his emotions get the better of him, or there is a situation he doesn't understand and it takes awhile to work through. But he does eventually.

It’s going good.

Too good.

That night, Percy has the worst dream of his life.

All of his loved ones, even his dad lie dead or severely injured around him with fatal blows. Percy is quaking from holding up the weight of the sky, the feeling unforgettable despite his best efforts. Atlas is nowhere to be seen.

Many wondered why those who held up the Sky didn’t just give it up.

Let it fall.

They assumed you were pinned in place by the weight.

Percy hadn’t forgotten the feeling, but he had forgotten the reason why he kept holding it up.

The unrelenting, unfathomable horror that would be the consequences otherwise, the reasons that vanished when someone else took the burden. It was so terrible of a realization that once someone let go of the burden, their minds wiped themselves clean of the horrible truth, to preserve their Sanity. This was so powerful that not even a Goddess like Artemis or a Titan like Atlas remembered.

Because when you gaze into the abyss...

It gazes back.

Percy remembers now.

He sees it.

His finger bones crunch and crumble, his wrist bones collapse like jenga, blood gushes from his feet around him as the worst rasping laughter he ever heard echoes around him in an apocalyptic landscape. The sun and moon are both frozen at opposite sides of the horizon. The moon is a horrible rotten blood red, the sun is a faded gray like old bones.

The sky twists and writhes the voice of ancients echoing in his ears and as Percy watches a face forms. It’s bigger than anything else he had ever seen.

Zeus is struck down trying to hold up his own domain and the face comes closer and closer to his exact spot, falling like the world's slowest planet killer. The very sky bends and follows the face downwards.

“ All undone, I will end this cursed world, I will end my enemies.”

The ground cracks beneath Percy’s feel and it looks like a mouth, sucking in his blood and the bodies of his loved ones hungrily.

“No!” He croaks. “No, NO!”

It smells of sulfur, of pain to the point of insanity and Percy knows what, or who it is.

“Choose!” The sky and the pit howl together.

And, torn between the two worlds, the remains of Percy’s arms give way.

The Sky falls.

Gold.

…

…

…

Percy wakes up screaming, tears down his face, and his dad in front of him desperately trying to soothe his son.

“Peace! Please Percy, nothing can breach the sanctity of my cabin, I won’t allow you to come to harm!” Poseidon was so big he crowded out everything else, taking up Percy’s field of vision.
“Focus on me, that's right, there's a good boy-”

Percy cries harder than he can ever remember as his father pulls him into his lap and presses his face into his shoulder. He can feel the horror breaking his mind as he clings to his father.

A large calloused palm presses against his forehead and his mind settles down with the scent of purifying, healing saltwater. His sobs come fast and heavy as he is held, his fathers beard scratchy and incredibly comforting.

When he no longer sobs his father gatherers the strength to ask.

“What did you dream of?” Poseidon almost seems wary of an answer but his voice is soft and steady.

It takes several moments for Percy to calm down and drink in his dad's appearance and he had done with his son, something about how his dad had looked in those first few seconds had thrown Percy off. His fathers appearance was surprising but very welcomed.

“Sky, the sky. I-I was holding it up again and, and the pit was right below me, so I had to choose which one.” Percy croaks.

Poseidon’s face goes grim at the reminder of the hardships his son went through, his eyes flashing with a color that almost startled Percy. He brings his son closer and Percy shuts his eyes.

In that moment before waking, but after the dream, there had been…something strange. It had pulled him into waking.

“That blasted pit, that damned Atlas.” Poseidon rasps. "You never should have had to go through that. Through the struggle of being split I felt you fall and for that moment both of my aspects were united in grief.”

His voice is deep with grief, deep as the deep ocean trenches.

“I’m here now, dad.”

“And I will do everything to keep you here. Your dreams are troubling and I hope they herald no future harm. But I will keep watch for you. Tonight you will have a restful sleep, and I’ll look into these dreams of yours."

Percy falls asleep, feeling safe.

But just before drifting off to the sound of the tides and deep sea calls in place of his fathers heartbeat, Percy recalls what he had forgotten in the terror.

The color that had initially woken him from his nightmare, that had briefly flashed in his fathers eyes.

Gold.

…

…

…

Poseidon never got the chance too.

The next day Atlas crumbled, and was swallowed by Tartarus.

The sky began its slow and inevitable descent.

“What the Hades is that thing?!” A camper cried. A healer from the Apollo cabin holding the guts of a fellow camper together when Mount Olympus was crushed by the descending face scattering marble everywhere and ruining all of Annabeth's hard rebuilding work. Percy thinks of Hestia's hearth on Olympus and wails.

“I’m not gonna be a saxophone star if this keeps up!” Austin says.

“It’s a f*cking face, it’s-it’s a face!” Screams Miranda, who began clawing at her cheeks, eyes rolled back.

“Heroes don’t look, you will lose your Sanity!” Chiron bellowed. His face was the most panicked Percy had ever seen it, all of his hair magically going gray from stress and shock.

The warning came too late for Miranda, and Mr. D was nowhere in sight.

Miranda rips out her own eyes to try and erase the image from her mind, and everyone screams.

An Iris message flickered into view and a Roman Demigod shimmered in the rainbow, and he was at least glad to see the Romans were making usage of this new ability. Her face was bloodless but her armor splattered with it.

“I’m part of the guard posted at Mt. Othrys to keep an eye on Atlas and the ruins.” She gasped, clutching her side. “He’s gone, and so is everyone else, the ground swallowed them into an awful pit and-and now, the sky, it’s, its falling!”

The face comes closer as everyone screams when it looks directly at them, face twisted in hatred and Percy looks away seconds before he loses his Sanity and burns up. More screams ring out as the sky twists and writhes slowly to Earth, the sun knocked off its orbit. Percy can faintly see Apollo spinning head over heels in the air before one of the many writing faces in the sky rips him from Zeus's shaky grasp with his teeth.

And bites down.

Flashes of Apollo's golden Ichor and earth shattering impacts thunder through his very bones, rupturing his ears as all the gods at once-in their true forms-try to hold Ouranos at bay.

“I don’t feel so good.” Haley whimpers, skin cracking, eyes melting.

“You didn’t look-” Nyssa says desperately, eyes trained to the ground.

Haley crumbles to ashes.

“NO!” Leo howls.

Everyone starts screaming again, flashes of bright light temporarily blind Percy. He can only listen as a faint whisper mounts into a constant long, low howl of grief and insanity.

“What can we do?!”

“Nothing! Get to your cabins!” Chiron says, which is something he has never said before.

The still living campers stagger as fast at the can. Percy runs to cabin 3 with his eyes flashing with bright gold spots that block his vision.

“Oh gods, oh gods! HELP M-!” An Ares camper turns to smoke under the smoldering glare of Ouranos, steps away from their cabin and Percy retches in horror. He tries to use water to put out another camper but it does nothing except wash away their ashes.

He doesn't know how he makes it. Other Campers burned up with less distance and less exposure to go. It seemed like the adrenaline made time slow down, or it could be his status as a big three kid that saved his life.

Percy hyperventilates in the deep pool in his cabin, with underwater fixtures made in Atlantis and with a secret passage only accessible to him that led to the ocean.

It’s every nightmare he ever had coming to life at once.

He has no way to get to Annabeth who was visiting her dad, or his parents in New York or to even help his friends a few feet away from him.

The apocalypse rages outside. Zeus’s thunder flashes all the way down to the pool and he can feel the shaking. He would be fighting for his domain and status as king.

He can feel the sea in turmoil, his father also battling with the other gods.

Percy closes his eyes and prays.

…

…

…

The campers are hunted down. At random times the sky would gather a burst of strength and reach down and spear a poor demigod from the top of their skulls to their toes with no warning if they were out in the open, meaning any above ground traveling was a risk.

The few survivors and Percy had to make use of the labyrinth to various success with the help of the goddess Ariadne's sole surviving Demigod. Who is promptly targeted and killed. The mortals had long since burned away, a fact that has made Percy cry so hard he threw up and passed out.

The three Elder Gods are putting up the best fight.

They are failing.

Despite the sun and moon being frozen in place after the defeat of Artemis and Apollo, Percy can actually tell time very well in comparison to his other demigod. Sure the time blends together for him as well but unlike the others, who can’t tell if it’s been months or years, he can somehow tell it’s been 11 months.

Roughly. He can roughly tell it's been 11 months.

9 months ago the last of the mortals were killed and the Underworld was closed off by Hades when he used his Helm to slow the crawling of Tartarus.

6 months ago camp Jupiter finally fell.

4 months ago he felt the seas boil and fade.

And one month ago…

Percy chokes back tears.

One month ago he felt his father die.

It happened when Zeus Master Bolt burned out from it's own force, when Poseidon, now split between the sky and the pit, with his primary seat of power in Atlantis destroyed when Percy convinced him to help in New York, could no longer bear it by himself.

Poseidon knew he would be cast into chaos, fade into nothing, and he had managed to gather the final remnants of his strength, of his power, and visit Percy. A ghost of lips on his forehead as Poseidon blessed Percy with the remaining power of the Sea.

“Cherish it, as I have cherished you.” Poseidon's normally deep, strong voice wasn’t even a whisper so much as it was an imprint on Percy’s mind as his father gave him what was left of his power and love.

“Look within son. I can’t see how but your salvation lies there.” The wisps of powers sink into Percy's chest, offering him the first bit of warmth since this terror started "You will always have your fathers love with you."

Nobody had hope anymore.

Demigods kept dying and Percy could see their souls screams before they vanished forever.

A thunderous crash and Percy is met with a sense of deja vu.

“Well, Percy Jackson. This is it for me.” Mr. D, Dionysus said. His face was grim as he visited Percy in his dreams, during the few snatches of sleep he was able to acquire.

“I know you are the only remaining Demigod.”

“Annabeth?”

“She is gone as well. It seems this was Gaia’s last revenge, to unleash her husband. If she couldn't be free, then she would see everything destroyed by him.”

“What can we do? I-I can’t, I CAN’T ANYMORE!” Percy cries, hands clutching at his face, his hair. He can feel himself losing it, the last shreds of his sanity circling the drain as Percy gives up.

He gives up Hope.

Hestia is no longer with him to keep the faith.

Mr. D cups it back in his cracking hands and places all his Hope, all the Hope left in this damned in Percy.

“Hestia asked me to give you back Hope."

"Why can't she do it? Why didn't she run?" Percy croaks out. His throat is dry. The water is all gone.

Mr. D. eyes reflect a million unsaid things. The fading god looks at Hope and give it one last try.

"So, Percy. I’ve never treated you as well as I should have. That goes for other demigods tool but you in particular. Right now your status as the last child of the Big Three but not being a god gives you the unique position of being able to slip under Ouranos's radar but being powerful enough to survive. The situation is dire, you're already almost insane, so I give you this to keep you grounded. This pains me to admit, but If anyone can find a way, you can.”

Much like his dad, except less paternal but still gentle. Mr. D lays his hand on Percy’s chest, and Percy is struck with horror at the realization at what the god was trying to do.

“No I don’t want it, it don’t want to think-not by myself, PLEAS-”

Mr. D gives Percy the remains of his powers, which at this point are the remaining bits of his domains of Sanity.

Percy screams in horrible, horrible comprehension and Sanity as the last person he knows vanishes. He is forced to realize this. The fragments left of the domain of Sanity sit snug behind his ribcage, stubborn and unmoving along with the remnants of the Sea and he doesn't know what to do next.

As he falls in exhaustion, flashes of gold take over his vision.

…

…

…

He's Alone.

Most things have been destroyed.

Percy wanders the wasteland, unable to have the relief of insanity, something he never thought he would think.

He is unable to give up Hestia's Hope beating in his chest

The few things that broke up the boredom of nothing around was the occasional monster that hadn’t already been thrown into the pit of Chaos. He crouched behind the remains of a park bench, hoping that Ouranos wouldn’t have one of his brief spells of consciousness and crush him.

“How much longer until Ouranos fully awakens and destroys the earth?”

“I don’t know. Zeus delayed him with his last bit of energy. It could take awhile for the pit and the sky to meet. At least all the gods are gone!”

Percy swallows a scream of despair. His hands shake as they clench fistfulls of dirt.

“All of the gods, are you sure?” Asked a monster.

“Yeah. And the titans who didn’t fade either. I think the last to survive was Hades and Iapetus before the pit got to them.”

“Guess we’re next.”

“Yeah.”

Percy once would have felt shocked at the way the monster didn’t care about their imminent non-existence but he knew monsters had different minds. And after all this sh*t he could kinda understand.

“It’s funny that I almost forgot about him, since I was actually among his ranks at the battle of Manhattan, but Kronos-”

Percy’s ears rang, his vision lined with gold and he felt a swell of power in his chest that almost made him gasp out lough had the power not been enough to steal his breath away. The feeling warmed his body from head to toe.

“-So scattered he might be the only being, God, Titan, or otherwise, that Ouranos can’t reach.”

“That no one can reach.” The other monster corrected. “We’ve talked too long, I want to get the credit for hunting down the last Demigod. We’ve already scoured the ruins of Atlantis for him. Lets keep looking in New York.”

Prophecy sang in his chest as the monster left to search for him. It whispered to him, begged him to understand, nudged him to look deeper.

So Percy did.

He dug deep into his mind, his very soul in the way you only could during the end of the world. He rustled the shards of Sanity, went past the whispers of the Sea in his being, and there, behind the two of them, lay gold.

Right behind his heart, planted and dormant all these years, through several encounters, linked by prophecy and fate, the connection through his dad and nurtured by Percy’s own power, lay the largest remaining golden piece of Kronos.

…

…

…

He’s torn.

Percy navigated the ruined landscape, looking for supplies, pockets where life still exists but increasingly does not, his hand over his heart the whole time.

He feels like Napoleon.

A faint smile rises to his face. He learned that from Annabeth.

The golden grain whispered and hummed to him. Nothing he could make out, but it was surprisingly reassuring.

When Percy had first realized what it was he had the worst panic attack of his life, complete with hyperventilating, tears, and of course, passing out. He kept imagining himself burning up from the inside out as Kronos had planned to do with Luke. He wondered if the shard was biding its time all along, waiting for Percy to weaken before taking over his mind, to force him to hurt his loved ones like it had forced Luke too.

Well.

Not many friends or family around anymore.

He’s desperate, and lonely.

Percy sometimes goes to his old schools and sits in the classrooms, pretending, if only for a moment, that things were normal again and that soon the bell would ring and he would go home to his mom typing away, a stew bubbling on the stove, and Paul would help him with his homework while trying to clean Estelle’s face.

It hurts to think of.

It’s his only comfort.

Anything would be better than this crushing loneliness, where the wind howled only to carry the voice of Ouranos, enough to make him want to scratch out his ears. The otherwise painfully empty cities, the way ash rained down, probably made up of countless formerly living things.

Percy hadn’t talked to anyone except Dionysus, and that had been 2 months ago. He froze his tracks, having been struggling to open a can of expired peaches.

Could it be that he knew the amount of time that had passed because of the shard?

It whispered louder, spreading warmth through him and hot waves of power that made him jump.

What had his father meant that the key to his salvation was within? He couldn’t have meant this.

…Could he?

Percy really didn’t want to ignore his father’s last words but was this really it?

Being scattered sounded horrible at first, and still did, but compared to what was going on now, the painful shrieks of the gods he heard all the way down here as they dissolved into Chaos seemed worse.

Like a lightning bolt, an idea hit him.

His dad’s words about saltwater, the purity within, how it could purify, how it could heal. How both Mr. D and his dad had been able to gather what remained of their scattered, weakened power and give it to him.

Percy’s heart beat fast, his mind spun.

Could he do the same with Kronos?

Prophecy surged in his chest in a crescendo of noise that made him duck and cover his face.

Yes! Yes!

No. Could this really be the solution? How could Kronos help? Last Percy had seen him he had been desperately fighting Luke for control, cursing all of them as he howled in rage before being defeated. He had been heartless, desperate, and insane.

Insane.

Dreams of the past several years come to mind, the mysterious nightmares where he was a person who fought with his father, where he was cursed and lost his mind.

His heart jackrabbits in his chest.

Was…was that Kronos? Had the shard in his chest been sharing vision’s of Kronos’s life this whole time?

The gold hums and spins as if in confirmation and Percy gasps, not knowing how good it would feel to communicate with somebody, anybody, even Kronos. He had lost everyone and now somebody was possibly here for him.

Deep grief wells up in his chest, not all his own, and his eyes water. In the twisted steel shield that lay under him Percy notices his eyes briefly flicker gold.

Percy tries to imagine what it would be like to work so hard to save your family only to be cursed to be the monster you feared and hurt the very people you love.

The golden grain throbs with fierce emotion.

Grief.

Love.

Guilt.

Percy feels these emotions as if they were his own because they almost are. He feels grief for everyone who has died, guilt that he somehow survived, and overwhelming love that kept him going.

Had being shattered freed Kronos of his curse? If it reduces him to his base elements could he have washed away the evil parts of himself? It seemed too good to be true.

Percy is scared.

But he is more scared of being alone forever, if not tortured for all eternity. He slowly gets to his feet, brushing off ash, face determined, jaw set.

Kronos is beyond the reach of Ouranos.

He is not beyond Percy’s reach.

…

…

…

Tenderly, and with patience Percy does not normally have but does in this very abnormal situation, Percy begins to heal the gold grain.

It takes intense focus for him to be able to take the golden grain and channel its powers through his hands. He watches in complete enchantment as find golden threads weave through his fingers, hugging his knuckles, smoothing over the backs of his hands, and squeezing the valleys of his fingers. The physical contact feels good, and he is suddenly aware of how incredibly touched-starved he is. It feels like someone gently holding his hand.

To his great embarrassment, Percy tears up at that thought.

The threads hum.

“Ya know, my mom, she-uh, she used to hold my hand too. We’d like, dash across the street to avoid cars, and when it rained she’d dress us in worn out clothes and we’d go to the park and jump in puddles and we’d hold hands as we jumped up and down.”

The thread still, as if listening in rapt attention.

He takes a deep breath, summoning the familiar and right power of the Sea, and the foreign and stubborn shards of Sanity, bringing them to his fingers and he gently begins to purify and strengthen the gold.

He washes and soothes as lightly as he dares. He thinks of the hardships Kronos went through in his dreams and lightens his touch even more.

“When we were done, we’d go inside and she’d take my smaller hands-which were really dirty-and wash them in the sink with warm water.”

The gold seems to thrive under the strengthening process, rapidly oscillating from dark amber to a yellow so light it was almost white, sanity, distillation, and purification slowly gathering glitter from the air and concentrating it to his palms.

“I miss it.” his eyes begin to water. “I-I think-no, I’m pretty sure I dreamed your memories. I don’t know if you shared them with me on purpose or it was a side effect of your shard in my soul, but I saw you, um, what happened to you. H-How you were scared, and how everyone was too afraid to get close to you because of how badly you wanted to do something about Ou-your father, how your mother might have cared but she cared more about how you could work for her, and when you finally beat him you had a reputation and the curse was already in progress, making everyone scared of you."

The Great Prophecy. An ancient Curse. The same thing in the end. Percy fights back tears as he struggles with the realization that he relates to Kronos.

"You never got-never had the chance to just be at peace with people who really knew you. And I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

The golden threads, despite still being healed, are no longer flashing colors. They are carefully still as Percy puts into words his feelings about Kronos, eyes shining with unshed tears and understanding.

“I love my mom but so much of my life has been lonely, with people I didn’t know and who didn’t know me or like me, and that jerk of a step-father. It took years for camp half-blood to warm up to me. They saw me as a dangerous threat, and the gods, even my own dad at the beginning, saw me as a tool, a-a weapon for them. The whole time I was just a scared little kid, and I’m still so f*cking scared. I finally got the chance to settle down with the people I love and it was taken from me too.”

The golden threads spread like vines down his forearms, waving slowly in the air, reaching out like hands towards his grief stricken face. Percy initially startles back, but the warm glow feels like Hestia’s gentle fire, and he can only lean in closer.

“I don’t know how you’ll be if, or uh, when you’re healed. I don’t know if you’ll be like you were in Manhattan, I-uh, gotta admit, you were pretty terrifying.”

The vines shrink back as if trying to be non-threatening. The gold in his chest swirls with deep emotion.

Guilt. Remorse. Regret. All these emotions vaguely rise in his chest from the gold.

“All we have left is us. I’m gonna try and help you, and I really need you to help me out too, and I… I don’t know what will happen but we’re each others only hope.”

…

…

…

Percy does his best to continue healing the grain the same way the sarcophagus had originally done, but it’s hard.

He can’t put too much power in it or Ouranos will sense his presence and either send monsters or try to kill Percy himself. Because of that, progress is slow. He is able to draw golden energy to his palms, and carefully purify it with the remnants of Sanity and the Sea, but while that fortifies it, it has yet to restore Kronos to communication.

Percy whispers stories to the light, sharing memories, thoughts, hopes and dreams of his and the light seems to do its best to respond as Percy bears his heart to it. It reminds Percy of the Demeter kids who said that talking to plants encouraged them to grow.

Nothing grew anymore.

All the while it murmurs back to him. Faint, weak, and unidentifiable, it’s still enough to drown out the twisted moans of hatred from Ouranos, the gold that lines his vision whenever he is in distress is enough to spare him the worst of what he sees from the sky.

At nights, he could almost feel a large hand cupping his face, wiping away his tears with a thumb. It could just be him imaging his parents but…it somehow feels more than that.

Ouranos no longer visits him when he sleeps, voice horrible and filled with a hatred so deep and divine Percy can’t understand it. Instead he tries his best to share memories with it, who blocks the sky father from his mind.

Memories always get a reaction from it.

Baking cookies with his mother causes feelings of love and longing and hurt to bubble up. Scenes of training fails bring amusem*nt and admiration for some reason. And monster attacks cause fierce protectiveness and possessiveness to wash over Percy from the golden orb, as if it thinks the all encompassing strength of its emotions would be enough to armor and protect Percy.

It almost seems grateful, but he could be making that up in his mind to reassure himself, to suppress the huge amount of guilt he feels in dragging someone else into this. How could he bring anyone into this horror? He can’t help it!

It tries to soothe him to no avail.

Then, he messes up.

“Very kind of you to send out such a beacon of power.” A monster sneers. Her skin is made up of the face of past victims, dried into cracking leather. Percy recognizes some of the faces. She has claws like serrated knives. An extremely old tattered bit of an orange camp shirt is stuck between jagged teeth.

“The funniest thing is, death won’t be a relief for you. Once you’re a soul you’ll lose what remaining power you have for your paltry attempts at defending yourself, and you'll be at the mercy of what mercy we have. Which is none!” She laughs.

Unlike in the past, he does not have a witty retort ready. Perhaps he’d point out her poor dental hygiene. But he’s hungry, he’s tired, and there's a nasty gash wound in his leg and he can’t run.

He cups his hands and the gold in it by his face in a joke of a prayer, wrists and fingers wrapped with golden wisps, salty tears dripping off his cheek and into his palms as his mouth trembles.

“Please. Please help me.” He whispers desperately, knowing there are no Gods to answer.

She laughs at that.

And lunges.

Gold.

Gold.

Fierce, powerful Gold fills the air, his eyes, his ears, it resonates through his chest and Percy feels weightless before realizing that it’s physically lifting him away from the Monster in a firm but forgiving hold.

She moves towards him with fangs and claws bared as if in slow motion, and Percy realizes that’s exactly what's happening.

Time has slowed down for the monster.

The gold light shines brighter, warmth and color not seen since Atlas fell, and the monster screams as the shining light’s purifying powers burn her.

They are aimed at the monster but reach Percy too.

He tries to suppress the fear he is feeling, the reminder of the raw power that was Kronos, how he had been the strongest of all the titans, how he would have burnt Luke to ash even with the Curse of Achilles just as how everyone else had burnt to ash, how he stopped time for a city of millions handicapped and in a human form.

Exhaustion lines the edges of his vision, but Percy is aware enough to hear something faint and muddled, but resonating with sincerity and love, which would have been enough to knock him on his ass if he wasn’t already doing that. His skin is steaming, dry, and raw from the power and he can only look at it in distant pain.

“-ryysorysorryi’msorry,heregrandsoncarfullyi’ll lay you down,thankyouthankyouthankyou-”

The voice had a strange, but potent quality to it, like it’s not out-loud but in his head. It reminds him of the last words his father spoke to him, faint, whispers, and in his head. He is laid down gently on the tattered remains of a blanket. He can faintly feel a kiss on his brow and large gentle hands on his injured leg.

Sleep.

…

…

…

When Percy awakes his leg is completely healed. It’s as if time reversed to before he was injured and the longer he thinks about it, he realizes that’s exactly what must have happened. His tattered blanket is in pristine condition, with some of it even reverting to cotton plants. Near him, the barely clinging to life bushes are now young and filled with berries and nuts again, for however long that lasts, and his can of peaches is no longer expired.

Gold glows in his chest, molten yet careful, oh so careful tendrils reaching out through his ribcage and shoulder, twining and looping around soft tissues and bone, filling him with strength and support. It’s stronger than before and able to use its power to mask Percy from monsters. From Ouranos.

He sobs in relief, hands cupping his sternum.

“K-Kronos?” He croaks, desperate, hopeful.

The gold surges, faint whispers pick up again like a breeze caressing his face, excited and relieved, and ever so grateful.

“...awake, you’re… awake!” The voice is faint but getting clearer. With a hysterical laugh Percy realizes the salty tears-so much like seawater-that had rolled into his palm and onto the wisps of Kronos had been able to heal him somewhat, and in turn Kronos had saved their lives.

“I’m sorry… for everything…felt you’re tearsthank you forrsavingme,curse isgone.” Kronos whispers. The Sanity shards are gone, they had been used to fully heal Kronos’s mind, if not his body

“Why aren’t you mad at me? I brought you into this.” His voice breaks with tears.

Kronos’s voice croons again, having exhausted his strength to form words but still wanting to reassure his grandson.

“-have a chance now. To love like I wanted to…know you too.” Kronos' faint voice says with so much sincerity Percy almost can’t handle it. It seems to be gaining strength.

“I think I would like to know you too.” The son of the sea echoes slowly.

The gold shines like the sun.

Like Hope.

…

…

…

The process continues.

Percy brings Kronos’s essence out in his palm and concentrates and Kronos does his best to help, offering encouragement, and then later able to aid in the process of drawing in more granules.

He feels the lord of Time’s power flow through him, and Percy is acutely aware that he is now the host of Kronos. Gathering his power and then being able to form a physical shape are two different things. Percy is Kronos’s anchor.

The thought chills him to the bone, but the alternative is somehow worse. Kronos either can’t read Percy’s thoughts or perhaps he’s merciful enough to give him privacy and Percy is very grateful.

Still, Kronos can pick up on Percy’s fear, and alternates between trying to stay quiet, and talking to Percy, knowing how desperate the half-blood is for company.

“You’re doing amazing, Perseus.” The titan encouraged softly.

“...Thanks.” Percy said awkwardly, startled but delighted at the complement. From the moment he could take to Percy, Kronos has had nothing but kind words for him. It’s jarring. He's almost like a personal cheerleader, and for a brief moment Percy thinks of Kelli and the other Empousa in Tartarus, and wonders if they and Kronos ever line-danced down there.

It's almost enough to distract him when Ouranos eats the remaining shell of the sun.

Kronos keeps him from freezing.

Once, when Percy pushes himself so far he collapses, whole frame shaking, Kronos…doesn't quite take control but surges his own power through his grandson which allows Percy to bring them under a reinforced concrete slab, where he clumsily and carefully settles into a comfortable position.

“Careful precious, carefully.” The titan whispers worriedly, the phantom of giant hands on his shoulders as if to steady him. Percy repeats the words through his own mouth, in a trance and it's almost as if the titan is speaking through him.

That thought unsettled Percy.

“Do you care?” Percy gasps through exhaustion.

Many complicated emotions surge through Percy’s chest, not his own and unidentifiable.

“Yes grandson, deeply and with everything I am. It is here on the cusp of a chaotic nothing that I finally have freedom. I only wish it were not so dire for you, and that I hadn’t carried out so much harm. I regret it deeply Perseus, but I am grateful for you.” The titan says, voice fading as his impassioned statement takes up strength.

“I… and I'm grateful you’re here too. I forgive you. For uh, what happened.” Percy croaks.

Golden warmth blooms in his chest, gratitude, amazement, joy, elation and most shocking of all, love.

…

…

…

To fill the time Percy talks about his life, and Kronos listens with rapt attention.

“-then we’d have to count the numbers during hopscotch and see how far we could get. Girls were always really good at it. Oh! And we had another game called shadow puppets. That's where you’d take your hands, shine a light on them and your shadow would be projected on a flat wall behind you, and depending on the angle it could look like a dog or something.”

“The humans of my era were joyful and merry like that as well. I had wished the same for us too.” Kronos said wistfully, thoughtfully, sadly.

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about that. You watched the humans?”

“Does this surprise you?”

“I kinda thought only the Gods did that, and like, only to laugh at us, ya know?” Percy said awkwardly.

“No, dearest,” Kronos says softly, the paternal endearment causing Percy’s face to heat, “I was, when I was still rational, quite envious-especially of their family bonds. To my horror the humans were too delicate, and I too strong. When I tried to approach, I incinerated someone. My guilt from this marked a turning point where the curse was able to latch on to those negative emotions and take over.”

Percy once again feels horrible grief, both his own and Kronos’s.

Tears bubble up once again.

Kronos croons.

“You needn’t shed tears for me, precious. Look.”

The gold threads swaying in his hands begin a careful dance. It’s clear Kronos is new at this as vague shapes flit in and out of existence as he tests the waters.

Percy can feel his eyes widen in wonder, mouth dropping open in awe as suddenly figures come to life in his palms.

A sheep made from golden threads perches on his thumb, a proud stallion gallops across his forearm, and his palms are filled with swaying golden forests. Kronos has gained enough strength where gold is no longer limited to his cupped hands, but over his shoulders and neck. A few swaying leaves brush against his cheek, gently wiping his tears away.

“Not quite shadows, but I hope I captured the spirit of your children's game.”

“I-yeah!” Percy laughs for the first time in over a year as the stallion and sheep try to race. “This is amazing. In fact I think I can…”

Percy trails off as he concentrates, and by using the Domain of the Sea, he makes a swirling mist of an ocean lap up against the forest, a lovely nereid swimming in it, and a beautiful foggy blue foal joins the golden stallion. It’s strange in a good way as Percy acutely feels each movement of his summoned avatars.

He’s struck by an epiphany.

Is this…is this how the gods felt when they split their consciousness?

He was the ocean lapping up against his wrist, the currents through the hair of the nereid, the nereid herself, and the clumsy cantering of the young colt, eager to greet the older, familiar stallion. He feels each tiny hoof as it canters over to Kronos’s manifestations.

“Perseus…” Kronos whispers in awe.

His heartbeats fast as the adventurous foal presses against the stallion. Gold flashes, and Percy becomes acutely aware of Kronos’s presence. He can almost feel the titan.

The older stallion is frozen for all but a few moments before leaning down and instantly nudging the colt’s head with its own. The point of contact feels like a shockwave in Percy’s soul. Kronos had not hidden his affection for his grandson, even if he had kept it subtle as to not overwhelm Percy, knowing how his grandson was wary of him.

This is different.

The depths of Kronos's pride and love in Percy, for standing up to him, stopping him, understanding him, and then freeing him make Percy feel like he’s some sort of hero.

The moment of connection breaks, and Percy gasps. The manifestations vanish and he’s shivering from the strain, feeling weak.

Kronos fades into his usually regenerative state after the display of power and control. Percy can only catch a few encouraging, touched whispers before the Titan is temporarily asleep again.

…

…

…

“Kronos, after you gain more strength do you know how we’ll defeat him?” Percy asks.

Kronos is quiet.

“...The same tactic can’t be used. I've lost my Scythe to the sands of time. We’ll have to see, but be assured grandson that I will do everything in my power to see you well.” Kronos says fiercely. For a brief moment gold swirls around Percy, picking up ash and catching his hair before settling down again.

…

…

…

With each healing session he needs time to consolidate his additional strength and stabilize it and Percy misses Kronos when the silence sets in. His sleep is getting longer as they gather more and more power.

So that’s probably why Ouranos was able to slip through.

Percy’s dreams have been fiercely guarded by Kronos to prevent any hint of the ambient horror that Ouranos generated from getting in. His vulnerable mind was instead soothed with dreams of happier times in his life, which were coaxed from his subconscious from Kronos. While the two of them were distinct entities, Kronos was able to somewhat influence Percy’s dreams due to Percy’s giving him permission.

Now, with Kronos himself doing his best to focus on getting as much power as possible to combat Ouranos, he was vulnerable again.

It started with the melting sky.

He was back at camp-halfblood and watching as molten pieces of the heavens drip-dropped down on campers with scary accuracy, crushing, melting, and spearing them. There was nowhere to hide. Percy watches as their bodies melted at his feet and pooled around his ankles, then his legs, the swirling liquids filled with viscera, with familiar faces that moaned and screamed for help.

“Percy why, why did you let this happen!”

“I’m sorry! I-I can’t, What do I do!”

The sky was coming closer, a face bigger than the moon snarling and coming directly towards Percy.

He knew this was a dream.

He tried to break himself free but before he could wake Ouranos began to laugh and Percy screamed in terror, struck with the realization that the Sky wouldn’t let him escape. Kronos was still sleeping.

“Come. Here.” It breathed.

A hand began to form.

“Help! Please! Someone!” Percy’s cries joined in with the melted campers. He was stuck in the horrible lake, completely powerless and he screamed and wailed, as the moon sized hand came closer.

“No!”

Sobbing, shaking, he could do nothing.

“H-Help me, Grandfather HELP ME! GRANDFATHER!”

Gold.

The horrible scene floods with the blinding light, silencing the cries of the lake, as time stopped for Ouranos, whose awful face froze in an expression of anger and shock. Gold surrounded and lifted Percy up as if he weighed nothing, up into the shifting sands of time, silky yellow curtains, golden grains.

“You will not take him, you cannot have him!” Kronos thundered.

Spears of golden power fought the heavens. Aureate wrath and rage and fierce protectiveness beat back the molten sky.

“No type of harm shall befall him while I am here!”

The Sky wailed in rage.

“BEGONE!”

And Percy’s dreams were light and safe. He was awash with shades of yellow, bronze, amber, copper and gold. It was hypnotizingly beautiful and it made him feel completely protected and safe. The currents of time almost even seemed to swaddle him.

Percy sobbed.

“Oh my heart.” Kronos sounded pained as his great voice echoed all around him. “Beautiful, I am so sorry.”

“I-I I’m weak! I couldn’t do anything to stop him!” He hiccoughed. He curled up into a ball and covered his face with his hands and wept bitter tears.

“Not at all, you’ve survived this long, you held on, you called for me.” Kronos whispered gently. He sounded deeply moved. The ferocious voice from before is gone. He’s all soft angles with Percy and that thought makes him cry harder.

Kronos lets him cry, offering comfort and Percy is so ridiculously grateful for it.

“Thank you thank you-” Percy whispers out between stuttered gasps for breath.

“Always. Forever.” His voice was heartfelt. “I am sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

“You're here now.” Percy said, voice calming “You’re here now. We have each other.”

Kronos laughed. The sound lifted him and made Percy huff in amusem*nt as he dried his tears.

“We do. Grandson, the time approaches for us to act and you need to heal. Will you allow me to lull you to rest?”

Kronos was already in his mind, but to let him in deeper? To allow access to Percy in his most vulnerable state?

Percy didn’t even have to think twice.

“Yes. Yes please.”

A gathering of sounds, from campfire songs, his mother humming, to his father whispering to him in his crib as Kronos made Percy a lullaby. The scene changes and Percy sees his family, mortal and immortal, mingling and completely happy, and he sees children not far off playing games, he sees himself and an older man, one with golden brown eyes and who shares the same hair as Poseidon, who is hanging on to every detail that Percy tells him, and everyone is okay.

As he drifts off he realizes that maybe…maybe this is Kronos’s dream too.

…

…

…

Now that Ouranos has sussed out their general location from that moment of vulnerability it was nonstop monsters.

While Kronos grew behind his ribcage, monsters nipped at Percy’s heels. Credit where credit is due, whatever divine bullsh*t Zeus pulled in his last moments was doing a decent job of slowing Ouranos’s descent, to the point where the Sky could only send twisted monsters ripped from its own primordial body to hunt them down as Kronos was interfering with its aim.

Percy jumped, flipped, parried, ducked, and twisted when he couldn’t outrun them. Kronos sat like a tense time-bomb that Percy felt with every beat of his heart whenever the monsters got close, enraged that they dared to try and hurt Percy. When a monster did get too close a flash of golden light would incinerate them.

That took power, and it ran the risk of hurting Percy in high amounts like before, and occasionally did still burn Percy-much to Kronos's guilt-and also narrowed down their location, so Kronos couldn’t do it often but nevertheless Percy felt giddy that his grandfather was looking out for him.

Hm.

Grandfather.

That's a…loaded word but the more Percy turns it over in the privacy of his own mind, the righter it feels. Kronos has been gentle with him, and very clear with his motives and emotions. He wants to help Percy, he wants to be with his grandson, and stop Ouranos.

A monster gargles behind him, molten Sky floats down thickly from its mouth like the poisonous gas it is.

“Hey ugly!”

It turns towards him.

Kronos tenses.

“Ever hear of mouthwash?”

It shrieks in mindless rage, breaking into a 4-legged sprint towards Percy. His sword can’t penetrate the thick fog in its mouth and any rocks thrown in would get crushed between teeth.

Percy dodges to the side.

The monster swipes out with an arm and Percy barely leaps over it in time. Kronos begins to ready himself.

“Wait!” Percy shouts,” I got it.”

Kronos backs off, but stays ready to emerge and separate if need be. Kronos had recently gained enough strength to briefly manifest a center of power outside of Percy.

The monster charges again and so does Percy.

He takes what remains of the Sea and powerblasts the Monster directly in it’s mouth and through it’s nape, killing it, and then a few seconds later taking it’s head clean off.

“Well done my pearl.” Kronos says, and if he had a face it sounds like he would be smiling.

“Yeah, set him straight.” Percy says, gasping for breath.

The air was getting harder to breathe as Ouranos overcame Zeus’s protections and contaminated it. They didn’t have much longer. More and more parts of Ouranos dripped down, and soon he would be here.

The radiant aureate pride turns to concern.

“...Dearest?”

Percy doesn’t respond, hands on his knees, hunched over, and thinking deeply. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure, but he felt shy and nervous all of a sudden.

Kronos must have felt his emotions and the titans own concern mounted.

“Grandson? What is it?”

Percy takes a steadying breath.

“Kronos? Can…can I, um.” Percy cuts himself off, heat rising to his face. He's technically talking to himself too, like he had when he was truly alone, trying to keep the words quiet or else Ouranos would hear, but now he has Kronos with him.

“Take your time. You may ask anything of me.”

A tentative smile crosses his ash covered face.

“...Can I call you grandfather?”

The world seemed to freeze and Percy realized all time had stopped except for Percy and Kronos. The wailing winds are still and silent, ash no longer whips past him, and monsters in the distance are frozen mid gait. Kronos’s power is truly incredible. The cold colorless world was now bursting with warm shades ranging from light lemon to bronze to copper to rose-gold to ochre, filling the bleak world with the first bit of life in months.

Radiant threads turned to fibers and sheets that wrapped around Percy, cords that looped around his shoulders and neck, twined around his ankles, his waist, cupped his cheek in the facsimile of an embrace.

The titan’s emotions wash over Percy in powerful waves of love, awe, gratitude, honor and so many other emotions that flashed through his heart. The very essence of Kronos burst with joy, before the titan ended at an elated, but calm state.

“Yes Perseus, my Grandson,” Kronos said in a slightly tremulous voice, every syllable lined with adoration. “You may call me grandfather.”

…

…

…

Ragged breaths are torn from his throat from the toxic air as Percy runs for their lives. Golden vines span through his lungs, helping to purify the air but it’s not enough anymore.

Cracking.

Not like gunshots, not like a cannon, not even like a landslide, Percy looks up and sees the final remains of Zeus’s defenses break and the sky rushes through.

“Grandfather-”

“I know.” Kronos says grimly, urgently.

The sky froths and foams and breaks the earth around them as it falls down and Percy screams.

Radiant warmth the color of the sun bursts forth from Percy and the giant mockery of a face rushing to meet them slows to a crawl as it’s scorched by burning bronze power. Percy can see Ouranos trying to break free, smaller parts of the primordial break off and squeeze through and leave craters in the desolate earth that knock him to his feet.

Insane eyes zero in on Percy in horrible, insane comprehension.

“C-Can you beat him?”

“No, not like this, but I have one final plan, one last hope I hadn’t dared to attempt before!”

“How long?!”

“A few more moments of concentration! Please grandson-”

Ouranos screeches.

Percy yells back and charges, determined to buy time for his grandfather.

Kronos’s essence holds back the worst of Ouranos but the sky is gaining strength on the ground.

Percy ducks but not in time and a swipe from the sky disintegrates all of the skin and some of the muscle on his back.

Kronos howls in rage on his behalf.

He lashes out with his sword, takes bits off the sky, stuns his great-grandfather and he can feel the world begin to tilt, can feel things fade out in a wash of light from Kronos.

Ouranos’s next blow catches his foot, stronger and with more divine power and Percy feels his foot fade to ash, then his shin, then his knee as the corruption spreads.

“Grandfather!”

A gleaming aura surrounds Percy as he tries to crawl away and Ouranos shouts and rants in rage in a language older than any other, one he can’t speak but one he understands perfectly.

“Nearly there!”

Kronos needs just a little more power. Percy looks inward, sees the remains of his divinity, the Sea that protects him even now, and gives it to his grandfather as a sacrifice.

The sky falls.

Percy’s body disintegrates. His eyes dry up, his teeth drop from his crumbling face and he can feel it as Ouranos reaches for his soul.

Gold.

…

…

…

Swirling dunes, the sands of time are close by and infinite and Percy feels like he's drifting forever.

Countless strands of yarn emerge from the shifting sands, twirling aimlessly around him and the only sense he can make of it is to realize these strands used to be knitted by the Fates, the ones who made sense of and balanced the energy Chaos put out before they too were felled by Ouranos.

He is just a soul, a spirit at this point hurtling through something he does not and cannot ever fully comprehend, the only thing to make sense was the gold everywhere, that cradled his being like something precious.

The color meant much to him. The jewelry his mom looked at but could never afford, the gleaming watches of the rich kids at school, mocking his everything, the first time they went to the beach and the way the dunes shone like precious metal and the waves were set alight, the way his mom shattered in a gleaming shower at the hands of the Minotaur, and the childlike wonder he had lost at that very moment.

Sanity is gone, and Percy feels the crushing weight of forever, and he can’t be angry with the gods if this is what it means to be immortal.

He’s lonely, exhausted, scared painedpowerless lost -

And cherished.

Gold once again covers his being and protects him from the worst of it. It tries to speak with him but everything that has ever been said echoes in his ears and he can’t say words in this form.

After forever and in no time at all, that limbo space before camp but when he was old enough to know something was wrong. The way his mother told the truth with her mouth but worried with her eyes.

The way she told him no monsters were in his room but her pupils tracked the circling shadowy figures waiting out in the street below. The way her heart broke a million times and the way his did too. He was always more like his mother because of this.

He’s on his bed.

It has sharks on it. His room is painstakingly painted with mermaids, fish, and coral, and in every imaginable shade of blue.

A mirror rests before him and he glances at his old-new body with different eyes.

Hands are small, soft, and callous free.

His body is thin and young, not yet touched by the violence inherent in demi-god life.

He presses his trembling hands against the mirror and admires the coolness, and the flecks of gold in his irises that weren’t there before.

He’s so heavy, in a way that goes against his nature of the ever changing, turning tides.

Sea Green eyes shimmer with a familiar color and warmth spreads through him.

“Grandfather?”

His voice is in a careful whisper of a seasoned warrior, yet high pitched in the way only youth can manage.

“I’m here, Perseus.”

It’s his mouth that moves in the mirror, his eyes that bloom with gold, but it’s not solely his voice.

The Hero of Olympus, the Child of Prophecy, the last survivor at 19 years old, and Percy Jackson, the troublemaker 9 year old, calms at the sound of his grandfather's voice.

“You’re safe, it’s alright Perseus. I have taken you to where he can’t hurt you.”

The sky is a clear blue when he looks out his window and his pulse picks up. His grandfather's warm presence covering him like a blanket keeps him calm.

The primordial of the heavens, a being so twisted and evil he drove his wife to insanity, tortures his children and plagues his son with prophecy so that they would suffer the same fate, and cursed generations of divinity with this horror, wasn’t awake.

Yet.

“Is there…can, can I stop it?” His voice was so young and hopeful it made his heart twist with bitter tears.

“No.”

Percy is only barely aware of crashing to the carpet, still getting used to having a body again as he is overwhelmed with the possibility of reliving the apocalypse. Was it all for nothing? Was this hopeless?

“We can change it.” The faintest feeling of a hand cradles his cheek and wipes away his tears, his eyes are a kaleidoscope of greens and gold. “You're not alone anymore, Perseus. I am with you, and sane because of you. Now let me take care of you.”

Percy shakes and can feel his soul cry out in exhaustion. Hope rises. He hasn’t recovered from being reduced to nothing and then taken through time. Arms wrap around a whole body seeking his grandfather's freely given comfort and when he finds it, it’s priceless.

“I have you now, dearheart. You’ll be alright. You’ve done so much, and you can rest now, I promise. I can take over and you can be innocent still, grandson.”

Percy had put faith in his grandfather and he had delivered them. Kronos was the last hope and he had worked, had put Percy first, protected him, and now wanted to shoulder the burden with him.

With hope, faith, and a pure trust he had thought was crushed years ago, Percy places his heart in his Grandfather's hands.

The man cradles it like it's the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

No.

Like Percy’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“I took us back to before, where you were happiest. We can change this dearest, a better future is ahead of you, I promise.”

Chapter 2: I Am Knit Back Into the Narrative

Chapter Text

The first thing Percy does is sleep.

His nine-year old self is different from his pre-teen self, even going on ten soon in August as it seems Percy is home for summer break, freshly expelled. He tires easily, his spirit is being swaddled by Kronos to heal and mend into this new timeline. The warmth of his grandfather feels like the forges at the bottom of the sea, after the giant’s war when Poseidon had cradled a shell-shocked Percy in one arm while forging him a necklace of gold from so many treasure filled ship-wrecks claimed by the sea, Tyson nearby ensuring the volcanic vent supplied the heat while Poseidon’s whiskered mouth dropped a kiss on his brow.

Still, Percy's nine-year old wrist aches faintly. It's actually how he was able to tell his age. His wrist was broken when he was eight and never really stopped aching.

“Rest, dearest, and awaken when you’re ready. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Okay, but I want to help.” Percy mumbles sleepily, nose twitching in annoyance at the way his grandfather rumbles in endearment at the motion.

“When you rise, we will fix this. Together .” Kronos promises.

Percy reaches out in his heart to his grandfather to lay him down to rest, on a blue quilt embroidered with cartoon sharks, walls splashed with every shade of the Ocean, filled with mermaids and fish and life .

He is laid down and listens to the Ocean’s tides, the sand-filled sun-warmed beaches that represent his Grandfather and rock him to sleep. Golden threads radiate from Percy, they drift lazily like a school of fish, and fill the room with a low glow like the tides filled with bioluminescent algae.

Percy doesn’t realize he’s crying until Kronos croons at him and uses his own hand to wipe away the tears. Distantly, he knows he should be afraid. He saw what Krono’s possession had done to Luke, who had nearly burned up from the weakened Titan’s of Time power despite the Curse of Achilles.

Percy felt no fear.

Only safety.

He’s not alone anymore.

…

…

…

Percy wakes up awash in the golden rays of the rising sun after the most restful sleep of his life. His grandfather had shown Percy sweet dreams instead of nightmares.

Excitement bubbles up in his heart as his grandfather wishes him a good morning and Percy chirps back, unable to resist jumping on his bed in excitement.

He pauses quickly to hear if he bothered anyone and his grandfather is confused but on high alert too.

Quiet.

He relaxes.

Percy opens the window to be greeted with the glorious cacophony-a word he learned from Annabeth-of New York City. Taxi cab whistles, honking, the distant sound of the Ocean’s waves that make his heart twist into a knot of pure love.

He takes a deep breath, leaning forward to inhale and Kronos has to catch them on the windowsill edge to prevent falling as Percy almost chokes on the pure air in his eagerness.

Never thought he’d say that about city air, but it’s so pure it’s sweet .

“Careful, precious.” Kronos murmurs, his power causing Percy’s hair to ripple like a pond. “In, and out, breathe deeply.”

Percy can see The Empire State building from here, and Mt. Olympus is whole on top of it as a foggy, Mist-cloud. His eyes rove over the place and he wished it was the familiar beauty of Atlantis.

Still, he’d take it!

The windowsill is missing Calypso’s flowers, the ones he and his mother grew together, and this time his heart twists in aching grief.

Would he even get to meet Calypso in this lifetime? To free her?

Kronos senses his grief. Gold threads through his heart and chest to support him as he sinks to the sun-warmed flooring of his room.

Summers used to be the loneliest times for Percy. Normally he was in between schools and leaving behind the few friends he had managed to make. He wasn’t on house arrest but wandering was discouraged when he was younger, which he now realized was due to monsters. His mom would be working at the candy shop and he’d be avoiding Gabe.

Percy shudders in fear.

He had forgotten about him .

“What ails you, dearest?” Kronos asks, attention pulled away from the godly world and onto Percy. It hasn’t even been a day and Kronos is focused on finding out the events that have already occurred and what they can influence. Percy knows his grandfather wanted to protect him, but there is a reason Kronos reached out to Luke the first time around. All immortals are limited by divine laws, and need demi-gods to do work for them.

Kronos would need Percy, eventually, no matter how much he wanted to shelter him.

Percy’s eyes flash with gold whenever his grandfather speaks out loud. Percy’s natural eye color was still sea-green, but he noticed that even when Kronos was in the background, a comforting imaginary hand on the nape of Percy’s neck as he gathered information, there was a new, small, ring of golden-brown around the very center of his eyes, and a few flecks scattered throughout.

Unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t a few feet away and anyone else would just assume his eyes were darkening in age to resemble his mother's own hazel-green eyes.

It filled Percy with unspeakable happiness.

Stubbornness fills his chest, frustration at himself. He doesn’t want to bother his busy grandfather with Smelly Gabe when Kronos has much more important things to do!

Worse yet, what if Kronos thinks Percy’s too weak to handle one out of shape middle-aged man?

And worst of all…what if Kronos pitied him?

“I got some of your eyes too.” Percy says instead. There's a nervous pit in his stomach and it’s not like Percy to avoid an issue, but…his scent had changed since coming back to the past not even a day ago. In highs and lows like the tides, Percy would reach a crescendo of energy, and then crash, and his scent would do the same.

They needed to be careful. Percy’s fighting style was forward and wild, but they would be playing the long game now.

And right now Percy doubted he could even hold the most basic sword, let alone swing it.

Kronos’s pride and love passes over Percy and dispels the worst of his nerves. His grandfather can tell Percy is upset about something, but won’t push his grandson.

…

…

…

Percy’s mom will be home soon.

The last time he had seen her was when he visited her, Paul, and Estelle before heading to camp, a few weeks before it was all destroyed.

He stiffens in fear.

Golden threads weave through his hair like the brush of the Ocean’s currents. Kronos feels wary of the father he already killed once and then undermined. But there is mostly that ruthless ability to know what he needs to do and anger that he had hurt Percy.

“He is asleep, precious. The only person coming to visit you right now is your mother.” Kronos sounds very interested in meeting her.

As he should.

It hadn’t even been a full day in the past and Percy can’t wait a second longer. He has so much to ask her, so much to say. That he loves her, how is her new book going, was the date-night with Paul good, did Estelle say any new words?

His eyes sting when he realizes he can only say one of those many things ready to surge from his mouth.

She opens the door.

Percy holds his breath and Kronos is silent. His grandfather is an interesting mix of emotions, and Percy imagines he has a lot of feelings about keeping a child away from their mother after what happened to Gaia when she was pregnant and what he did to Rhea while under the curse.

Her warm skin is sallow with exhaustion and from being indoors all day. She is wearing her rumpled Sweet on America uniform. She has faint circles under her eyes, there's a little burn on her lip from hot candy, some of her brown curly hair is slipping loose, a curl pattern Percy inherited but was never able to grow out with private school dress codes, and then fear of it being grabbed by monsters.

Percy bursts into tears.

It’s a horrible surprise for all three of them, but Percy can’t control it as waves of dozens of emotions wash over him like a tsunami. He imagines this is what his dad sounded like when Amphitrite refused to marry him. Percy sees his eyes flash gold in the reflection of the plastic candy wrappings on the ground as Kronos surges forward in concern before retreating as his mother approaches.

Kronos sends his love, his sympathetic grief, and Hope.

Sally Jackson falls to her knees, having dropped her gift of blue saltwater taffy, and scoops her son up.

Percy does not remember being this small, so small his mom didn’t yet have a problem moving him so easily.

“-wrong? Did something happen?” Sally whispers, eyes darting to the side, to the windows, behind her as if someone was already in their apartment. Her eyes scan Percy like she is looking for bruises. Percy hides his aching wrist behind his back.

Everything happened.

Percy goes to tell her, but….

What can he say? What can he say that won’t risk her? Percy strongly resents the idea that his mom can’t take care of herself and that she is left out of the loop. Percy spent the first part of his life in the dark and he knew it was for his safety but it had hurt him so much.

Can he do the same to her?

His eyes burn with more tears.

He thinks he understands her a little better now.

He can feel Kronos’s guilt over being part of what they need to keep secret from their mom and Percy rushes to comfort him too.

They’re all in a ball on the floor and Percy struggles with the truth. Everything they had been through together, him and his mom…

She remembers none of it.

She doesn't remember the first days after she freed them of Gabe and reunited after his quest, baking so many blue cookies their mouths and hands were stained with love, and then handing those cookies out to the hungry, and taking the repaired car out for a spin, driving as the Ocean splashed up against the highway more than it should have. She doesn’t remember dancing the night away at Montauk with Grover to celebrate, she doesn’t remember going to the aquarium with Percy so he could show her his fish friends as he did cartwheels next to the glass and the dolphins copying him, or meeting Paul, planting Calypso’s flowers, or shotgun blasting monsters as she fought with him, or Percy being best man at their Oceanside wedding, or Percy driving frantically while she goes into labor weeks early, or Estelle’s first words, or -

He wants to tell her.

“I love you, mama.” Is what comes out.

Her arms tighten around him, her eyes shiny.

She looks so young .

And Percy is horrified to realize that she is just hitting thirty.

“I love you too baby. Are you alright?”

“I had a horrible nightmare.” Percy says honestly, and Sally Jackson jolts like Zeus hit her with lightning instead of Nico and Bianca’s mom. “But I’m up now and it’s okay.” Percy’s mouth sweeps up into a smile as his grandfather shines brightly behind his heart. He’s happy to be able to say this truth, at least.

The nightmare of the end of the world is over.

His grandfather and him will make sure of it.

“I’m glad, you know I’ll always take care of you?” Sally asks like she needs Percy to know this.

“I will too.” Both Percy and his grandfather promise to Sally, Percy can feel his heart swell in adoration for both of them

They will make this okay.

Together.

…

…

…

Kronos really likes Sally.

Again, as he should

She's measured in an almost calculating way Percy hadn’t noticed as a kid but that Kronos does, and appreciates. But she’s inherently compassionate, and level-headed to not want for much other than her family’s safety.

For example, the subtle training she’s been giving Percy this whole time. Taking him to museums to learn about Greek myths, free cardio dance lessons at YMCA’s and churches, indulging every athletic whimsy of Percy‘s ADHD, from rollerblading, ice skating, to skate boarding.

His heart swells again.

He can’t stop smiling.

After Percy’s freakout, she picks him up a bit awkwardly and they curl up on his bed. Percy asks her to read Greek myths to him, and Kronos is fascinated.

“I was in… the pit for these happenings.” He whispers in Percy’s mind, soothing his grandson at the instinctual flinch. Kronos is also fascinated with the saltwater taffy and the idea of food in general. Percy remembers the struggle of trying to eat in a dead world, Kronos’s fear as Percy lost weight, desperately trying to feed his grandson. Near the end Percy was eating scraps of monsters.

He shudders again and chews his taffy faster to wash out the taste.

Sally pauses.

“...Are you sure everything is okay? Did you…see anyone strange?” Her eyes flicker to the streets below.

Percy knows she is asking about monsters.

He shakes his head no because he can’t bear to lie to her out loud. He could probably take care of any monsters with Kronos’s help. This mom of his doesn't know that. She doesn’t know she can be happy, that Percy can take care of them both!

…Can he?

“Who is Kymopoleia?” He says instead. He wanted a head-start on all his half-siblings this time, and all the minor gods to be honest. He wanted to jumpstart the revolution a bit early this time.

She pauses again and Percy worries.

But then his mom starts explaining. Goddess of violent seas and storms, born of Poseidon and Amphitrite during their most turbulent times.

“So she makes waves then?” Percy wiggles a bit to look at his half-sister on the page, proud of his joke. Kronos laughs quietly in his head and Percy preens.

His mother giggles.

“The sea does not like to be restrained.” She echoes softly, brushing back Percy’s wild hair. It is his turn to go carefully still, as he shouldn’t have heard those words yet.

Mom then says something about Kymopoleia Percy has never heard before.

“-also the Goddess of purification-”

“Purification? Where’d you hear that?” Percy says. Kronos is also intensely curious. Percy had combed through the Athena cabins library back at camp, and the Big House’s too for information on the Sea family, and he hadn’t heard of this.

Sally hesitates.

“It’s not very well known. Most of the Greek myths focus on the King and his descendants over others, but some deep parts of Greek mythology credit her with the ocean's purification powers inherited from her father.” Sally’s voice does the little hitch it always does when mentioning Percy’s dad, and so does Percy’s heart.

Percy hums with deep interest.

His heartbeat quickens.

Kronos soothes it.

His mother reads to them deep into the night, only pausing to make dinner. Kronos is delighted to help, and relieved that Percy gets a complete meal.

When his mother asks him to hold the drain for the pasta water Percy does, but underestimates how short he is.

The boiling water splashes down his front.

His mother gasps in horror.

“Percy, are you okay!?”

Percy is alarmed and Kronos’ threads are already examining his skin, but he’s perfectly fine and Percy nods to his mom, shaking the strainer to tell her to finish pouring as she examines him. Why wouldn’t he be okay? Sure it was super hot, but water would neve-

Oh right.

Gabe stays down, drunker than anything with the stench of alcohol trailing down the hallway and Percy can’t hide his relief as he looks down at on blue tortellini.

He hesitates.

He licks the back of his teeth to check for monster scraps but all he finds is taffy.

"Wheat!" Kronos utters, voice filled with awe and joy and hope while intensely studying the food. It seems to be a big deal that the blue tortellini are made from wheat.

"What was that baby?" Sally asks.

"I said sweet!" Percy smiles shakily, trying to rid himself of the feeling of monster flesh. Mentally, he nudges his grandfather, who shares images of ancient times, and ancient hearths, and ancient bread breaking and Kronos's joy and pride at this.

"Oh dearest, this isn't monster remnants. This is wheat. Which I made for you, sweetest. It's safe, I promise."

And Percy trusts his grandfather.

He takes one bite, then another, and his worried mom smiles when Percy eats in earnest.

“Is all food now blue?” Kronos asks.

“Just ours.” Percy grins. He kicks his feet in delight at having his two most precious people with him.

"Your mother is a creator of food, as I was." Kronos seems happy to have this in common with his mom and Percy beams.

Percy then yawns, and stoutly ignores Kronos’s almost fawning like feelings at the gesture. They will have to communicate quieter. He sends feelings of gratitude to his grandfather paired with images across the mental privacy space Kronos makes for Percy, in thanks for inventing agriculture, and Kronos bursts with pride, the aching relief that he did in fact leave some good in this world, that he was able to care for his family.

The presence is so strong that Percy needs to clap his hands over his eyes to cover the sudden shining gold and prevent looking like a back-alley cat with a flashlight pointed at it.

"Aww, are you sleepy baby?" Sally teases and Percy nods quickly.

His energy is crashing down like waves onto the beach as his mother and Kronos get him ready for bed.

They hear dozens of more stories, each myth having multiple versions.

“So what really happened then? Did Eurydice trip and Orpheus looked back? Or did he forget she was still in the underworld, oh! Or was he so untrusting of Hades-”

“-Our friend underground.” Sally corrects.

Percy feels the presence of the Underworld and feels his death again, of shattering from the Sky’s power, and feels a prickle of interest from deep underground -

-Kronos’s golden threads span through his ribcage and reinforces his rabbit-like heart, and Percy’s power is hidden by his grandfather. They can’t afford to be discovered this early, not with both of them recovering from actual time travel . After several moments of stillness, the attention is off of them.

“...Our friend underground.” Percy obliges quietly.

This Hades was not a friend, not yet. Kronos said that Thalia is freshly turned into a pine tree, almost dead from Hades monsters, and that Luke is going on his Golden Apple quest soon.

Percy wishes they could help.

“I’m sorry Percy, I didn’t mean to correct you so harshly, but, names have power.” Sally says gently. Percy goes to ask her why she then said Poseidon’s name but he realizes Sally would have nothing to fear from his dad, and that Kymopoleia was a minor goddess and also wouldn’t risk their fathers wrath.

Unless…

Did Kymopoleia even know about Percy at this point in time?

Did anyone ?

“Why?” Percy asks quietly.

“Why what?” His mom asks.

“Why did he try so hard to keep his wife with him if it was pointless. Why try?”

Sally goes quiet.

“It matters. Many people would do anything to keep their family close to them. If we try it means everything to them, and us.” She says quietly, cradling Percy’s face like she knows exactly what that means. “It means we were worth the effort. And it wasn’t pointless. Orpheus’s story is one of the most powerful examples of love of all time.”

Percy feels there's something profound in that which he can’t name yet.

He switches gears.

“Can I grow out my hair?” Percy asks suddenly to dispel the nervousness that idea brought him. His hair had been getting long when school ended a few weeks ago, past his ears and it would dust his shoulders by fall.

“Sure!”

“Can I dye it blue?” His heart twists when he thinks of dying it with Thalia and the Aphrodite cabin. They had discovered his water powers meant he could move the dye into the strand without damaging it. That was a day!

“Absolutely!”

“Can I paint my nails too?”

“Let me guess, blue as well?” Sally laughs, and Percy laughs with her. He had forgotten what it was like, to be silly and free.

“Do you like the sea?” Percy put on his best innocent face, feeling his grandfather's amusem*nt at his mischievousness.

Sally smiles and nods, her own secrets behind her eyes.

“Weren’t you an activist?” Percy remembers suddenly. He recalls from his conversation with the spirits of the Hudson and East rivers, and overhearing his mom talk with Racheal, that she had participated in clean-up and environmental activism around the Hudson bay. Percy wonders if that is how she met his dad.

“I was!” Sally sounds happily surprised, “I did clean up, went to town-halls and tried to reason with the developers, and when that didn’t work I-I well, actually, isn’t it your bedtime?” Mom says fishily.

Percy hums, eyes narrowed in an attempted squint but are just drooping sleepily. Kronos murmurs gently at him.

Percy gets that wellspring of curiosity.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What…what about Kronos?”

Sally springs up so quickly that Percy is startled awake, his grandfather moving to the front of his mind with the surge of power and interest Percy’s vocalization of his name brought. It’s the most strength Percy felt from him since coming back in time, and it almost makes him levitate off the bed, which would not have been reassuring at all to his already startled mom.

“The Crooked One? Y-You don’t need to worry about him.” Sally clearly knows about his grandfather. Poseidon’s doing, maybe? Kronos’s emotions are acting funny again. Mostly guilt.

Percy kicks his legs in frustration, a childish gesture that he can’t help with a 9 year old's physiology, which is something he learned from Will. Why doesn’t his mom like grandfather?

“But what about his myths-”

“- Later , honey. It’s your bedtime.”

Sally takes deep, calming breaths similar to the once Percy did earlier to breathe in the pure air, and she leans forward.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, mom.”

She kisses his brow, her breathe sweet with candies, and Percy feels the ghost of Kronos sweeping his thumb across his forehead, and his earliest, most cherished memory, as a baby in this very room, with the scent of ocean spray and the whiskered kiss of a father who wouldn’t see his child until another 12 years had passed, and under the most dire of circ*mstances.

Percy has sweet dreams filled with blue saltwater taffy and a man with golden eyes that looks like his dad.

And in his dreams, his grandfather can hold him too.

…

…

…

Gold.

Percy wakes to a rush of gold, and the full might of his grandfather's furious protectiveness as the room is flooded with the color.

The color reminds him of Apollo bleeding Ichor into the heavens as he is flung to his death by Ouranos who eventually eats the sun, his self-restored immortality useless in the actual face of a Primordial, the other gods who were so sure in the protection their own immortality offered coming literally face to face with how flimsy, how hopeless it was.

The gold is so bright Percy can scarcely make out the static, shifting figure within it, not quite able to hold a shape.

His heart jumps in his throat and he reaches out to the figure in longing.

And then he sees them .

“Perseus, I will not let them take you. You have nothing to fear, dearest.” Kronos’s voice is all determination, a promise to Percy and a threat.

A threat

To the Three Fates.

The only possible beings other than Kronos and him with any idea of the horrible future awaiting them all.

Percy is petrified.

Is their cover blown? What of the Great Prophecy now?

Atropos, who represents the past, stands at the end and holds a spool of thread that Percy somehow knows represents him .

Most worryingly, that thread is frayed.

Clotho, who represents the present, holds that battered thread taunt, and Lachesis-the future-has positioned the thread near an elegant pair of scissors.

Scissors.

Lachesis’s arm moves.

She’s stopped by Kronos.

The dual-toned thread is enveloped with Gold, and Percy feels his bones hum.

This is so far above his weight class it’s not even funny.

“I can’t allow you to do that. The three of you out of all immortals should know what is at stake here.” Kronos' voice is enough to make Percy quake, and for a moment he is brought back to the time he sat on his dad’s throne on Olympus, two words almost enough to rip him into a thousand pieces.

He is in awe of his grandfather. To have the power to freeze the Fates themselves?

“That is precisely why we’re here now .” Clotho says directly. Her face shifts with a million possibilities that sparkle from the past and either bloom or die. “Do not misinterpret us. We aren’t here to threaten the Demi-god.”

“ Forbidden. Cursed. By a promise on the Lady Styx before his birth.” Atropos grounds out.

“Only to become born again.” Lachesis wonders.

“His name is Perseus. And tell me why his Thread is damaged so, and what you planned on doing. Now.” Kronos demands. He can’t hide his concern for Percy and it scares him to the point he begins trembling in bed. Is he gonna be alright? How can he help his family if something is so fundamentally wrong with him?

“Trimming the loose ends.” Clotho ever so carefully snips a frayed bit and Percy somehow feels better but wrecked, like when Will had to strip the scabs off an infected wound of his when traveling across a waterless desert. “Do you think a fall into Tartarus itself is without consequences? Or time travel on a mortal? His soul is almost identical to a Twiceborns now. Anyone with the ability to see would think of him as a reincarnation. We stand before you to discuss the Great Prophecy and this little Demigod is so damaged he might not even be able to fill it.” Clotho summarized.

Percy’s heart stutters.

Kronos’s color leaps and twists like wrathful flames at the charged terms the Fates used to describe Percy. Percy can feel the weight of Prophecy like that of holding the Sky, and he wonders if this is what his dad felt when seeing his mom.

“Not able to fill it?” Percy asks, dazed. Who would the burden fall to then?

What about Thalia?

Nico?

Gods, Bianca! Who was still alive!

“Let's do a comparison.” Clotho takes pity on his confusion.

He sees a thread.

He knows, without knowing how, that it’s his mothers. It is whole, smooth, sparkling with Sea Green at points, and so unlike Percy’s damaged one.

“This is your mother.” Percy jumps at both being addressed directly and the sight of his mom. “You can see where her fate crossed with Poseidon's. A strong thread such as this can last. Yours…”

She plucks his harried thread.

Percy can feel his soul quake and it’s so oddly reminiscent of his grandfather flinging him back through time he begins to lose his sense of self.

Gold envelopes the thread, and grounds him again.

“Cease. Now .” Kronos snarls, and the Fates are left with no choice but to leave it alone.

“...Your Grandfather brought you here and keeps you stable, but you have yet to come into your own. The manifesting of your fathers powers might help.” Percy swears Clotho almost sounds cautious.

The others Fates hum in agreement. At first Percy thought Clotho was their leader but he has come to realize that the three of them are equals. Clotho just so happens to represent the present and is able to speak to Percy in the moment.

“You two are trying to change the past.” Atropos intones. She has eyes like ancient prophecies etched in stone, haunting reminders of what happened.

“To save the future.” Lachesis muses. Her eyes are filled with the loose, waving threads that can be moved any which way, all open water and horizon.

Kronos pauses.

His gold does not waver.

“You understand then, why I can’t let you seize my grandson? This is no fault of his own, and he deserves better-we all do.”

Percy realizes that his grandfather means it. He would go against Fate for Percy, and what's more, he might be the only possible immortal who could. He can’t understand such unconditional love for a failure like him.

“And we agree.”

Wait.

What?

“Grandfather, maybe we should hear them out.” Percy’ voice is so young that he doesn’t realize it’s his for a second before reality comes crashing in.

He’ll have to start over from scratch .

But…

He could have a second chance .

Kronos’s fierceness resides, willing to grant his grandson any request. He sends feelings of intense protectiveness, love, and defensiveness, a communication deeper than any words can describe, and Percy knows he must choose his words carefully because Kronos is not willing to let him come to any more harm at the hands of the Fates.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve such love, not when he could only watch as the world was destroyed.

“Can you do it?” The three Fates ask as one, their words echoing and overlapping in a way that sparks fearful awe in Percy and almost has Kronos throwing his full might forward in an effort that might both destroy the Titan and the Fates.

He remembers holding the weight of the Sky, and even now it makes his bones ache in a way that makes him slump forward.

A curl slips forward, just long enough to dance in front of his nose, and Percy is surprised to see the absence of the gray streak from holding the weight of the sky.

Which he did for Annabeth.

“I-I don’t know.” Percy says truthfully, trying not to get lost in the tide of his grief and guilt, and now the idea that he might be damaged goods. “I think we can do it together.” Percy puts his little, scar-free hand over his beating heart, where Kronos shines like a star with the love and honor of his grandson’s faith in him. If Percy concentrates he can feel the warmth under his skin.

“We agree.” Lachesis says.

“Even though I’m damaged goods?” Percy says sardonically.

Kronos surges forward.

“Never think so lowly of yourself, precious.” Percy never thought he’d hear Kronos beg, but here he is, asking his grandson to get better self-esteem.

Percy nods slowly, aureate waves of power wrapping around his shoulders like the cloak of a royal and Percy pulls it closer to show Kronos that he’s not upset with him.

The Fates take advantage of the moment.

“...Do you know why we weave?” Clotho asks Percy when it’s clear Kronos is held at bay. For now.

He shakes his head no.

His self-doubt over knowing the right answer gets in the way, but truthfully, after seeing their tapestry unravel and the Skyfall, Percy has an idea.

“Is that true?” Atropos asks, seeing right through Percy.

“Do you weave to prevent Chaos?” Percy’s voice hitches at the last word, and Kronos cloaks him with comfort.

“Yes. As you no doubt saw.” Lachesis confirms.

Percy had seen.

Percy had never thought he’d see the death of another God after Pan, but Gods had disintegrated in an end so final death could never hope to compete. Tartarus laughed and threw up every monster, mortal, and God it had taken hostage into Chaos.

Kronos keeps them upright.

“But we can only weave with the options afforded to us. Options only made available by the choices of Mortals . Not even we can create something out of nothing. In order to restore and keep balance we issue Prophecies, but what you wouldn’t have known, little Twiceborn, is that while we have an idea of how a story will end, and the important beats, we will see several re-enactments of one prophecy, and how a prophecy is completed effects future prophecies we issue. Meaning, Demi-gods, out of both mortals and Gods alike, have the most power to shape Fate itself. ”

Percy feels like his worldview was blown wide open.

Again.

“Which means you , Perseus.”

“Why do you think Demi-gods have prophetic dreams? It’s because you all hold the potential to shape Fate .” Lachesis adds.

“-If Kronos keeps interfering with your dreams he risks inhibiting your ability to learn from them-” Atropos mutters.

“-The other children of the Big Three are all possible candidates, made more true by the damage your being has underwent…but your thread is Prophecy touched from your father.” Clotho finished as if her sisters hadn’t interrupted.

Percy’s heart beats fast. He feels like he could float from sheer relief, like he’s been thrown a lifebuoy only to realize Kronos is making them float slightly.

Same thing.

Percy laughs, Hope beats hard in his chest, his grandfather bursts with color alongside Percy and for a moment Kronos pauses the world so that his grandson may catch his breath.

Time resumes.

Clotho looks unamused.

“ Both of you are weakened. You, Kronos-” His Grandfather surged at his name- “have yet to recover your full power, and in fact have been setback significantly with your little time-travel stunt. Which works to your benefit as your full might would burn up Perseus.”

Before Percy can process that little tidbit, they lay into him.

“And you Perseus, have yet to be fully woven back into the fabric of this universe.”

Kronos freezes.

That doesn’t sound good. Percy feels his hands begin to shake with nervousness. Can they do anything about that?

Kronos flares his power outward.

“Explain.” Percy doesn’t recognize the voice that comes from his mouth yet again, this time due to the sheer commanding nature of it. His grandfather is laser focused on the perceived threat to Percy.

Atropos exhales.

But there is no humanity in the gesture. It’s a slow drag outwards like the dragging of a burial shroud to the hearth fires. His shroud.

“There is only so much we can do while your frayed thread heals. Pulling too harshly would cause it to… snap .”

Kronos flickers.

"Time-traveling a second time would be your very undoing. You won't get another chance." Lachesis murmurs, her hooded eyes frenzied.

“The Three Elder Gods swearing on the River Styx was not just some paltry gesture. It was something that had never been done before. They were bound to keep their oath, just as the River Styx was and is bound to enforce it.” Atropos drones.

“Most gods believe an oath on the Lady Styx matters less to them as they cannot die. They believe the only way it can hurt them is by hurting the mortals they care for. This is partly true. Thalia paid for being the representation of Zeus’s broken oath as you did for being Poseidon's, but Zeus also paid for it with his bolt being stolen, and his Kingdom falling down .” Clotho explains.

Her sentence ends with the thunderclap of the marble of Olympus falling down and crushing Demigods.

“And we all paid for it when the world ended.” Lachesis finished.

"You are in a unique situation as your entire existence is a paradox. The gods tried to make their own fate in the way mortals do. Not. Possible. Prophecies are meant to be fulfilled. When the doomed oracle issued it, it was set into stone that a child of the Big Three would be born, and reach 16. Yet when the Elder Gods swore their oath on the Lady Styx's waters gathered by Iris, they defied this."

Percy's Jaw drops.

Kronos's aura flare in complete shock and horrified realization.

"They made an unbreakable oath which was the anthesis of the Prophecy. A guarantee to never have children with a prophecy to guarantee a child. How do you mortals put it? Unstoppable force meets immovable object? Catch 22? The sheer divine energy of this kickstarted the end of the world." Cloth says.

Percy feels himself go cold with fear.

He hadn’t realized the consequences could be so severe, that those even were the result of the broken oath!

“But, If the oath is already broken with me and Thalia, then-”

“There is still hope. The Styx wishes not to punish the world, only to enforce her oaths. It was the domino effect of this punishment that led to Gaia’s awakening and the apocalypse being outside of the Styx’s and our influence. Zeus began the beginning of the end with Thalia. When Poseidon discovered the evidence of the broken oath, he stormed from Olympus, to the end of Montauk, and raged for several days. This rage ended with Sally Jackson.”

Percy can’t speak.

Until he can.

"...W-What about my dad, what was his punishment?" Percy dares to ask.

The Three Fates stare.

They almost seem...

Pitying.

"You weren't just borne of a curse, of fate, but of love too. Poseidon's affection towards you was sparked from the love he felt for your mother. There is no greater punishment the Styx could have delivered than his powerlessness in the face of his love for you, the distance he must keep from you, to be forced to watch from afar." Clotho says.

Percy rears back as if hit, and sobs.

To think, his existence was used as a punishment for his loved one, his dad, hurts!

Kronos abruptly plants his energy in front of Percy like a shield. His gold wraps tighter around Percy like a baby being swaddled, but Kronos reluctantly lets Percy wriggle forward.

“I-I’m more than just a broken promise!” Percy says hotly. His whole life had been a struggle to fit in, to be enough. Everything felt temporary when he was sent away to boarding school after school. The only constant was his mother.

And now his Grandfather.

“And we agree.” The three Fates said. “Your grandfathers and fathers actions have opened a window for us, despite his broken promise. You have a choice to make right now, Perseus Jackson. Despite your fragile, paradoxical condition as we weave you back into the narrative, you can at least make moves to tie up loose ends, to grow and gather power to claim the prophecy once again.” Clotho smiles like she’s telling an inside joke. “After all, the sea does not like to be restrained .”

Chills.

“Ask any questions of us now, as Gaia stirs and will become aware of you soon, and we will have no choice but to keep our distance.”

“I…have a choice.”

“ Always .” Kronos whispers.

“Yes.” Lachesis confirms. “You can claim this Prophecy, you can do nothing, or you can remove yourself from the equation.”

Kronos’s hackles rise.

“You know very well that you could, Kronos.” Lachesis says serenely. “Your children’s meager influence over Time has removed Big Three children from the Prophecy before. Thalia put into stasis as Poseidon's sacred Pine tree-”

And holy moly, weren’t there some implications there? Percy hadn’t realized it before, but yes, Zeus must have turned Thalia into a Pine tree to appease Percy’s dad, and wait, hadn’t Annabeth said that Zeus’s mistress Io was turned into a cow, a symbol of Hera-

-”Then with the Hunters of Artemis. And Nico and Bianca D'Angelo were preserved with the Lotus Eaters. Your Grandfather, the Titan of Time itself , could do the same thing with ease.”

Percy's throat closes up.

He feels like he’s drowning again.

Kronos has gone still, straining with the effort to make himself as non-threatening as possible. Percy can feel his grandfather recoil at the idea.

“Would you, Grandfather?” He whispers through tears, struggling with feelings of exhaustion. He knows his grandfather wouldn’t and he feels bad for the stab of fear he feels.

“ Never, Perseus, I wouldn’t take your choices away from you.”

“...What if I asked?”

Silence.

The three Fates watch closely.

“...Oh, my Heart. ” Kronos sounds so pained, more pained than he did when being ripped to a thousand pieces in the visions he shared with Percy, and he struggles with the urge to apologize, for yet again hurting his loved ones. Waves of Time cradle his face like hands and wash away his tears. “You of all heroes deserves a peaceful slumber. I meant it when I said you could be young yet. I would do anything you asked, you always and forever have my unconditional love.”

Percy thinks.

He never wanted to be a Demi-god.

But he is and there is no use wondering otherwise.

He is surprised to realize that he wants to do something. To help, to protect his loved ones, he doesn’t want his Grandfather to do this all alone, like how Percy was all alone the first time! And he doesn’t want Thalia and the D’Angelo’s to suffer!

And Percy is surprised at the jealousy he feels at the idea of someone else working with Kronos. He wants to be the one to work with his Grandfather!

“I’m done running scared, I had enough of that in the apocalypse. I want to fight with you, Grandfather! I love you.” Percy croaks stubbornly.

The room once again bursts with gold.

Percy laughs with the joy and trust of both of them rushing through him, as powerful as any Ocean current.

The Fates look unamused as time slows down yet again from Kronos’s joy, but oddly seem to approve of Percy’s words.

“Do you understand what that means?” Clotho asks Percy. “Perseus, the Titan of Time itself will love you forever. The first pure, uncursed family ties he’s ever had. There is no part of the fabric of the universe that won’t hold love for you.”

Kronos holds steady, a guiding ghostly hand on his nape.

Percy nods.

Maybe he should feel the weight of that, but he only feels Free .

Atropos creaks out a grin.

It reminds Percy of the fresh corpses Nico had summoned during his last stand, zombies cracking and breaking as they moved Rigor Mortis stiffened hands to try and prevent the death of Will.

“ Purity washes away curses. You might rid yourself of the Styx yet, Forbidden one.” Atropos cackles chillingly.

“What about the Prophecy of Seven?” Percy remembers that they’re letting him ask questions.

“The Great Prophecy of the Big Three is in play now. What your actions are from now up until your 16th Birthday will affect that Prophecy.” Clotho answers.

Percy feels like crying again.

Would he ever meet the Romans in this lifetime, then?

“Can you change prophecies?”

“After they’ve been issued? It’s never been done before, but neither has time travel. And frankly Prophecies and all the ways they can be interpreted means we've got enough flexibility with the Great Prophecy. We want to keep it the same to prevent any more loose ends but if we’re desperate enough…”

“If Gaia awakens, so will her…her husband , and the pit . How will we defeat them? Can we do it the same way Grandfather did the first time? ” Percy's mouth feels dried and cracked like Atlantis after Ouranos drank up the Ocean.

“My Scythe was forged for me by my mother, and was taken from me after my defeat, and used to rend me to pieces.” Kronos says and Percy sends feelings of concern. Kronos is quick to soothe him.

“And we can’t tell you what happened with it after.” Atropos states.

“Why not!” Percy complains, and then pales at his gall. Not to long ago he was quaking at the mere presence of the Three Fates. His Grandfather shares his amusem*nt and the Three Fates thankfully let it go.

“The journey of discovery is necessary for your threads to mend.” Lachesis says and Percy feels Kronos’s interest sharpen.

Percy thinks that a bunch of horsesh*t.

And believe him, he has plenty of experience with that!

“We also aren’t entirely sure.” Clotho admits. “The Scythe was the world's first symbol of Power, and tied to Kronos’s being. When he was ripped to pieces, so was his Scythe, now lost to Time. It’s one of the loose threads we’re trying to mend. However, we know it still exists in some capacity.”

“You will need it to defeat the Primordial of the Sky. Only a weapon forged by a Primordial can defeat another.” Lachesis says.

“Great!” He can’t help his frustration.

“We will find it, dearest.” Kronos says, instantly calming him down.

Percy is trembling with exhaustion and frustration. His brain feels like he's trying to cram everything in all at once, how Annabeth studied frantically with him to get him into New Rome University after missing so much school. He is only still sitting upright because Kronos is mostly in control.

And then something unbelievable happens.

The Three Fates soften into unmistakable sympathy .

These bastions of immortality, untouchable even by Zeus , feared by everyone, with some sway even over Primordials, looking at him like they could relate!

“Your mother shared with you the stories of Orpheus and Eurydice.” Atropos states, yet again freaking Percy out. How long had they been watching? “Each version of that story was a possible path Orpheus could have taken, possibilities of Fate that seeped into the mortal consciousness until the story became multifaceted with meaning. The end result was the same as the prophecy we gave Orpheus through the Oracle- to prove your love to your love -but the ways it happened…it matters .”

“Orpheus changed fate forever despite his feelings of helplessness. So the question here is, what will your story be? You’ve already lived one version of it, so which retelling will this be? We know you feel guilt, the only survivor of a doomed world, but don’t feel beholden to it.”

Percy feels his grief like a physical blow.

“The others-”

“Are dead . The people who you knew are gone, and won’t have the same relationships with you. They won’t share your love, or memories.”

Kronos snarls at the Three Fates as he holds Percy up.

“But now you have the opportunity for something new. Hold fast and brave the storm, Perseus Jackson. We have one last aid to give you before you start on your new quest.”

Percy tenses with anticipation and Kronos’s forms a glowing corona around him.

They lift the jar that Percy hadn’t noticed before.

A very familiar one.

He thinks of Aunt Hestia and feels his and his grandfather's pain, their thoughts blurring with exhaustion.

It’s Pandora jar.

His heart lurches .

And he nearly screams in shock when the Three Fates,

-Acting as one-

Open the jar!

He lunges forward, his shark quilt ripping from Kronos’s power, hands out and glowing, horror in his throat as he tries to catch it, to not give up! Where did they even get this!? Percy briefly imagines the Three Fates mugging Prometheus like a classic New York crime scene and it’s almost enough to distract him from the horror of losing Hope .

But it does not fly away.

It’s ephemeral, indescribable, and beating its little wings against all odds. He can't behold it entirely, but he's in complete awe. Its colors swirl like waves on a beach, whorls forming hearts. Percy sobs the Ocean of tears he’s been holding back for ages, unable to take the beauty. It’s prettier than Aphrodite, than Thanatos when they freed him in Alaska, and almost as beautiful as his mother!

It’s Hope !

Breathtaking, aching, against all odds, indescribable, Hope !

Hope, Hope, Hope!

“Do you accept this gift, Perseus Jackson? Will you allow Hope to reconcile itself?”

Percy can't speak.

They see the wonder, the doubt, the questions anyway.

"There is no force more indomitable than the sea. You are worthy to carry it with you because your actions have made it so, because you persisted, because you are Percy Jackson."

Percy feels his chest bloom like a flower, a lily on a lily-pad as his grandfather bursts with Pride, waiting for Percy’s approval.

What else can he do, but nod?

His heart opens up, cradled tenderly by his grandfather, and Percy’s jaw drops further when the shard of Hestia’s Hope that he unknowingly brought back from the future, rises gently like the dawn of a newer, kinder, day.

It’s battered.

But it shines proudly, tinted light green from its time in Percy’s heart with Kronos.

The two Hopes circle each other like stars, and Percy gasps when they meet, reconciling and combining in a supernovaexactly like Percy’s souls had.

"Rarely is Hope unprotected. No Immortal is capable of releasing it from it's pithos, and Mortals can't perceive it's entirety. Be honored, be empowered, Son of the Sea God."

The Three Fates hand Hope to Kronos, who-after making sure Percy is alright with it-takes it and lays it down into Percy’s heart. Kronos seals Hope in his grandson’s heart with aching love and protectiveness, and Percy can’t help but think the strip of gold on his heart is remarkably like that one artform Rachal had once shown him.

What was it called?

Oh right!

Kintsugi .

Percy’s chest closes back up and he is exhausted. His face hurts from smiling and suddenly he feels like he can take on the world! Literally!

“Hope is settled into its new jar. Farewell, Perseus Jackson. Kali epitihia .”

Percy sleeps.

Chapter 3: I Monstrously Fail at Training

Chapter Text

Percy Jackson’s mother kisses him goodbye.

Her hazel eyes look exhausted, sad, and nervous. They scan the street below for monsters, yet it is when she looks down the hallway to see if Gabe’s awake when she’s the most scared. It makes his tummy twist in anger.

Percy was recently expelled from 4th grade, a grade he was the youngest in with his August birthday. It wasn’t his fault the shark was so convincing when asking Percy to push that lever for the chum bucket! How was he supposed to know it’d open the floor? Still, the fact that it had to do with water creatures probably made his mom very nervous. And the questions Percy asked about Kronos still seemed to be upsetting her.

“I know this is hard for you baby, but stay in your room if you can? Here’s extra cash if you get hungry and you can go down the street, but try to stay inside.”

Percy nods, prodding Kronos in his excitement and his grandfather obligingly encases him with warmth. Kronos is as much of an anchor to Percy as Percy is to him. Percy wonders if he can pick up on the full extent of Percy’s and Sally’s fears and Percy feels his will sharpen. He will get through this without having his grandfather thinking he can’t!

Hope sits in his heart and bubbles up into his chest like magma rising from the volcanos, like the tectonic fault lines his Dad tried to show him in the back of his throat and almost spills over like a tidal wave where Percy cries to his mother how much he loves her. It feels like he could burst into song, into a sea shanty he makes, or rather, used to make the campers sing at Hestia’s campfire.

Kronos sits behind his heart like Hestia tending to her hearth and helps him direct Hope’s power into something manageable, spiritually taking Percy’s little hands in his big ones, Like Poseidon's helping him direct the deep sea currents, and channels Hope.

Kronos shares feelings of adoration and borderline cooing at how cute Percy is when he stretches up on tip-toes and insists on kissing her cheek back, pouting when he can’t reach her forehead, and he feels the water in his cup quake with the force of his longing for family.

Then.

Something happens with the Hope on the tip of his tongue.

“It’ll be okay mom.” Percy says, and believes it , because how could he not? “We have each other.” His hand comes up to feel Kronos’s steady, burning energy, to cup his heart because it feels like it’s gonna beat right out of his chest.

When Percy kissed his mothers cheek…

…. Hope springs forth.

Not all of it, but little rays of light in seafoam-green iridescent, like mother-of-pearl Percy somehow knows only he can see. Not Kronos, not any of the countless immortals and mortals who’ve wondered about Hope’s true form never before seen outside of its pithos, and not even his mother who can see through the mist, him .

His jaw is dropped open as Hope blends itself into Percy’s words of encouragement, subtle but powerful, a drop of liquid light in an endless dark, a secret chord that reaches from his heart, through the point of contact from his kiss, his words, and brings a smile to his mom’s face.

It’s like she's young again, like from his earliest golden memories at Montauk’s beach, before Gabe, before the worst of the monster attacks, before she sends him away.

It’s Hope.

She shines with Hope .

“We sure do, smarty-pants, and I’ll do anything to keep it that way!” Sally grins, a new pep in her step.

She turns to leave and Percy fights back tears. Summers were their only time together ever since Sally sent him away for boarding schools. He wants to ask her why she sends him away then, if she wants to keep him close?

Percy has so many questions for her, about their family. He hadn’t realized it when he went away to college in New Rome, but almost everyone there were legacies and knew their family history. Most of Camp Jupiter was legacies, and the half-bloods were mostly in the legion, fewer in number but proportionally more powerful. The ones who made it to the years of service minimum tended to have trouble adjusting. Percy was right with them as they figured out their civilian identities and formed families.

Percy sways suddenly from the force of his emotions, desperate to cool off. He breathes heavily as the pressure in his chest matches the water in the pipes of their apartment, turning the water icy cold and blasting. He can distantly hear Gabe swearing.

He feels pain as the strain of trying to instinctively reach out the the Sea is blocked by his age, and his fragile state. His hiss of pain is noticed by his grandfather.

Kronos catches them.

Percy can see the glinting of their eyes in his mirror and it reminds Percy of crossing the River Styx into the underworld, the way the divine water sneered at Percy, the way Charon’s eyes glinted with the coins that so many were unable to pay him.

“You must be careful, dearest. You’ll attract the attention of your father, and at this tender age you could ignite yourself with the Divinity.” Kronos is concerned but patient. Burning up like this almost reminds Percy of when he overdosed on Ambrosia and Nectar, started smoking, and nearly turned to ash.

It had taken Will and Alice several hours to stop yelling.

“Yeah!” Percy pants, “I-It’s gonna take some time before I can use my powers. And before-” Percy cuts himself off, tears once again welling up. “Before dad can stop ignoring me.” Percy croaks out bitterly, surprising himself. At this point Percy would be killed instantly by Zeus or Hades as there was no need to keep him alive to retrieve their symbols of power, or the chance to prove himself. And nobody would believe Kronos. Poseidon couldn’t acknowledge him.

Yet.

Percy gets excited again. Birds chirp, Percy hears the radio broadcasting from the towers on skyscrapers, and he can feel the rumbling of the subways.

“I know mom said to stay here, but I think I want to show you New York City when you're not invading! Lets-”

Percy hears a smack.

He freezes.

He wasn’t meant to hear that.

“-cking time Sally! I told you to get a good plumber, and the waters still cold, wh-”

Percy hears the blood rush in his ears, feels his grandfather's concern and confusion, as the titan wouldn’t know what a mortal fist sounds like against someone who couldn’t fight back, and he wouldn’t be reading Percy's mind out of consideration for his privacy.

He hadn’t meant to.

He’s sick with anger and guilt.

“Calm down dearest, you’re hurting yourself!” Kronos takes control, whispering roughly as he prevents Percy from collapsing as he reaches for the Sea, to do something, anything to hurt Gabe back. He can feel the blood rushing through his ears, the pressure rising behind his eyes-

“-ake us guys bean dip for the next month!” Gabe continues to complain, and Percy hears his mother finally leave, running to not be late. She’s probably not grinning anymore.

Quiet.

“Precious?” Kronos asks.

Percy needs to get stronger. He needs to go outside and practice to see how much stronger before they can get rid of Gabe. Hope flutters at that. Yes. Percy does hope they can get rid of him soon and be a real family!

“Would you like to talk to your step-father before we head out? It seems your upset-”

Percy jolts so hard he’s back in control.

“No!” His face goes hot in embarrassment and shame as Kronos pauses, trying to figure out what's going on, but Percy is ashamed of his clumsiness, of his mistake and lack of control getting his mom hurt, and he says nothing.

His wrist aches .

He should have known better than to anger Gabe.

…

…

…

4 hours later and Percy can’t ignore his hunger, and Kronos is getting very antsy to feed him again.

'Your mother left those ‘tortellini’ in the ice-chest, didn’t she?’ Kronos points out, rolling the mortal words around in fascination, and it’s enough to finally make him smile again.

“A refrigerator.” Percy corrects, speaking for the first time since his mom left, and he feels a jolt of victory from Kronos, who Percy realizes got the word wrong to let Percy correct him. It makes him feel like Annabeth.

He misses her and he misses his mom already. He remembers how she killed Gabe the first time around and his heart jumps- literally -like it wants to go to her and throw its arms around her.

The mention of noodles and his beating chest has him thinking of the cans of Chef Boyardee they salvaged during the apocalypse and he has a crazy thought, of his heart thumping out of his chest and rolling and bouncing along across New York City like a can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli commercial, across the street and talking the subway and pushing open the door to his mom’s work and flinging itself into her arms.

Percy sneaks out his door, down the hall and into the Kitchen. Gabe was snoring stinky alcohol breath on the couch and Percy carefully times his steps with the snores to not wake him. He had a moment where he worries his grandfather thinks he’s being too childish, and pats his chest worriedly.

“It’s good to see you joyous, grandson.” Kronos reassures. He had been getting into the game too, like with their shadow puppets, although Percy could feel his curiosity over the sneaking around.

They open the fridge to find it empty.

Percy sees the empty bowl next to an opened beer bottle.

“Hm, let's go get something to eat outside.” Percy says, trying not to feel bitter that stinky Gabe ate his lunch that his mom made him.

…

…

…

They decide to eat before they make their game plan for saving the world. Percy wants to come up with a better, snappier name, but he’s still a bit upset from this morning, and also distracted by hunger, and the weird sudden exhaustion that rolled over him at noon. Kronos is delighted over the ravioli. His fascination rubs off on Percy.

“My lovely Demeter’s creativity knows no bounds.” Kronos says, his deep voice has wistful, longing tones to it as Percy explains to Kronos the many different types of fruits and vegetables humans selectively bred.

Percy goes to find somewhere to eat and is torn. Everything is either too open or occupied. He strategically picks a shop in a defensible location.

“Everything alright?”

It’s an athletic woman, wearing a dance uniform carrying a ballerina ribbon and leaning out of the studio she must own, if the name on her tag also being on the building is anything to go by. She sounds concerned and Percy desperately hopes she doesn’t call his mom, or worse, Gabe.

“Yep! Totally.”

She doesn’t look convinced. Her eyes scan the streets like Percy’s mom did looking for monsters. Percy noticed the muse of dance as part of the studio’s symbol, which isn’t uncommon to see. The influence of the gods was everywhere.

“I’m Odette. This is my studio and everyone is welcome here. You can eat on the ledges if you want, but promise to be careful, and come inside if you need to. These are more dangerous times.”

Kronos approves strongly of her kindness as Percy settles on the ledge and watches people pass, and the dancers inside, and opens his ravioli.

“It’s a wheat dough filled with something savory.” Percy explains shyly, loving the way it makes Kronos fill with pride.

Percy stares at the ravioli for several moments.

It’s has a meat filling.

Which used to be his favorite. For that reason he thought he’d still....

Percy breathes deeply and calmly through his nose, only to remember the scent of burning flesh of monsters he was forced to-

“We can get something else, dearest, don’t force upon yourself undue burdens to fit into who you once were.” Kronos suggests. He too is eyeing the food warily and Percy realizes he’d also probably have issues around eating something he didn’t want too.

Percy gets cheese ravioli, and if he feels better he’ll try the meat ones. He desperately wishes Grover or Piper were here to give him some vegetarian tips.

All this Italian food reminds him of Nico.

Percy tells his grandfather about something Nico shared with him.

“Neeks had this recipe he rediscovered from his Italian side, we spent hours with Aunt Hestia-” Kronos’s feelings jump again at the mention of his eldest daughter, his eldest child, “-in the camp kitchens and with her help we were able to write it down, and remake his mom’s cookies too, something about recipe recovery being in her domain of ‘home and family’.” Percy says happily. He knows he should be more careful when using those names, but he feels he can trust Hestia. Although even she expressed worry over Kronos.

“It heartens me to see my two grandchildren work together.” Kronos beams. Percy beams right back, before it dims a bit.

“He said that Ravioli was created because they wanted to eat meat during lent, which they weren’t supposed to do because of their religion, so they hid it in the Ravioli!”

“I’ll always be in awe of humanity's cleverness.”

Percy hums thoughtfully, eating another.

“...Grandfather?”

Kronos hums. Percy’s stomach twists in a knot of sluggish emotions. Distantly he can hear the harbor empty from low tide at exactly 12:28 PM and the ocean’s absence makes him uneasy. He struggles to understand it.

And himself.

“Am I a ravioli too?” Percy blurts with his young lack of impulse control, and immediately blushes.

“Whatever do you mean, dearest?” Kronos is amused.

Percy sniffles, much to Kronos’s alarm, and scrubs at his eyes.

“Because I’m a lie too! Because I’m hiding a lot of stuff in me right now! Not that I’m mad about it, I’m glad I have you and Hope, but…” Percy trails off in frustration, unable to grasp the words.

“...You have always been true to yourself, grandson, even with your lack of self-esteem, temper, and permutability. Never afraid to do what was right or stand up for those you cared for. This subtleness, this adjustment as you grow once more will shape you into someone you might not recognize.”

Yeah.

Sometimes it was pretty nifty to be able to share the feelings Percy couldn’t put into words, so Kronos’s silver-or golden-tongue could do it for him.

“I want to know more. Like how Nico was learning about his family after the Lethe. I want to learn about mine, both my mom and dad's side. I think we should go to our storage unit!” Percy exclaims, “While we wait to find out more about the divine stuff!”

“Did you ask your mother if you could look?”

Percy scowls and tiredly jabs his fork into the last ravioli, and ignores Kronos’s endearment over his ‘pout’.

“She’d probably say no, she’s worried.”

“With good reason, but I also understand what you're saying, grandson. It does you well to understand your roots.”

…

…

…

“My Papa and my Mama loved each other above all else. They left everything for one another.” Sally Jackson had said wistfully, one night long ago in Montauk, their first vacation together after his mom had married smelly Gabe, when the monster snake had almost eaten Percy whole, when the cyclops was outside his daycare, when it was clear he needed to be hidden. Percy thinks it’s interesting she calls her dad ‘papa’.

He can’t see himself calling smelly Gabe that!

“My mama wrote love letters to my Papa, who wrote them back. She wrote me stories too.”

“Why did she write so much?”

“She had much to say, and your grandmother's family wasn’t listening.”

“Why did they have to do that?” Percy wonders. He wants to ask his mom why she had to marry smelly Gabe. Did she really love him? What if she loved Gabe more than she loved Percy?! He gets so scared he almost doesn’t hear her next words.

“Marriage between certain types of people wasn’t really…accepted back then. My mother Estelle was Hispanic, and my father Jim was white. Neither of their families approved of their love, and rejected them.”

“They can do that, your family can just leave you?” Percy whimpers, and Sally hugs him close and he clings back.

“They had each other.”

“Like we do?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I don’t want Gabe.”

“...I know, but he can protect us.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything for you like grandma and grandfather.” Percy mutters. Is he really as stupid as the teacher say, for not being able to see how Gabe could be any good for them? “If you and my dad loved each other then why isn’t he here like your papa was for your mama?”

“Oh Percy…” Sally whispers tearfully and Percy immediately feels like the bad kid his teachers tell him he is. “He was…lost, at sea.”

“Lost at sea?” Percy echoes, looking scared at the ocean. He never knew it was a thing to fear, not with the nice ladies in it. He gave them the sea salt cookies he and his mom made.

“Yes, he’d be here if he could. I…I imagine every time I hear the waves on the shore, or hold a seashell up to my ear, that he is speaking to me. I imagine I see him in the morning mist in the bay, the seaspray from the waves on the beach.” Sally’s eyes go hazy, she speaks like a poet, like her own mother. “I don’t fear the ocean, or resent it. It brought me to him in the first place. It brought me you. ”

Percy has to agree.

…

…

…

The Jackson storage unit was Percy’s and Sally’s. It had their name on it, not Gabe’s. It was the first secret they kept from him. It held Sally’s uncle’s stuff from his cancer, and a lot of their Montauk vacation stuff.

And the stuff from Percy’s grandparents.

Percy had never gone that far back into the unit before.

He hesitates now.

Was he being reckless again? His mom left those things untouched for a reason. Pain, privacy too.

But…

His heart beats fast with Hope, which spurs him forward. He's excited to learn more about his grandparents even though they're dead. He wonders what he can learn from them, like how Piper’s Grandpa taught her poisons.

The idea of poisons makes Percy stop in his tracks.

“What is it?” Kronos asks.

Percy feels shame over his actions in the Pit. He wonders if his grandfather would think less of him.

“I did bad things in the pit to survive!” Percy blurts guilty. He doesn’t want to keep any more secrets than he had to.

Secrets feel like poison.

“...As did I. Feel no shame, dearest.” Kronos says quietly and Percy feels stupid for forgetting his grandfather had been imprisoned there for eons, cut up by his own sickle-or was it scythe?-a weapon meant to defeat a primordial . Kronos might be the only other being to come close to understanding Percy’s experiences with Tartarus itself.

Percy shakes his head, feeling himself slowly gaining back strength after his meal, and somehow he could acutely tell it was four hours until the next high-tide.

Picking a box from the back at random, Percy opens it to find a jackpot of pictures. It’s the grandparents he never met, holding a young version of his mother. His heart twists to see how little she is, how happy they are, the three of them against the world. His grandfather had sandy blonde hair and green eyes, his grandmother had brown doe eyes and brown skin. They have her curly hair. His mom takes more after her father’s coloration though and a passerby wouldn’t be able to tell by first glance that she had mixed heritage, although Sally’s facial features would hint at it.

Percy is the same. He had been told his features were ever changing like the tides. Super tan, honestly light-brown, in the summer like his Dad, with freckles like seafoam, and being made fun of by Leo for his ghostlike appearance in the winter, and features that changed depending on the lighting and angle.

“They were a beautiful family.” Kronos says sadly, clearly remembering his own family. Golden threads span Percy’s chest when he feels his grandson's sadness.

“My mom will have a beautiful family again. The Blofis family.” Percy says hopefully.

“She has one now in you.”

Percy hums.

“My Mom said grandma was a writer. She wrote poems for grandpa Jim. And stories for mom.”

“Is that what inspired your mother to be a writer?”

“I think so. Mom loved telling me stories growing up, a lot of Greek myths. I think she got that talent from grandma.” Percy says in realization.

He sees papers. Journals, letters, a diary from his grandmother Estelle. He wonders if his mom was thinking of the power in names when she named his sister.

“I can read what grandma thought! It’s that awesome?” He could read the stories told to his mom when she was a little girl.

“It’s precious indeed.”

“That's so cool! I wonder if her handwriting look-”

Percy cuts himself off.

It’s in Spanish.

His heart sinks. Sally’s parents had died when she was young, and she was raised by Jim’s brother, the only family who didn’t cut him off after he married Estelle and someone who didn’t speak Spanish. She tried to teach Percy a few words but her mother feared for her daughter and wanted her to fit in and didn’t teach her much. And Gabe was paranoid they were speaking behind his back and yelled at her to shut up, and then she had to send Percy away to English speaking boarding schools, and by the time Percy was 12 Sally had forgotten what little she knew, and Percy just plain didn’t know anything.

Like always.

“My mom grew up not knowing who she was either.” Percy realizes, feeling a sudden, heartbreaking kinship with his mom. “It was kept from her or she was too busy taking care of others.”

“She did end up finding herself.”

“Yeah!” Percy says, then frowns again. “Do…you think she was happy to have me? Because then she could at least have an identity as a mom? To not be the only Jackson anymore?”

Percy feels Kronos’s heart break for them.

Percy traces the slightly smeared ink with his fingertips. The type of smear that leaves ink on the side of your finger and he wonders what his grandma was so excited about that she wrote so fast. She puts hearts on top of her i’s and Percy’s throat closes up at the idea of his grandmother, cast out from her family, still finding enough love, joy, and hope, to do something so cute.

His mom does that whenever they write down a new cookie recipe, or when she does orders for candy customers, and Percy wonders what other little ways Sally tries to keep her parents alive.

“I can’t read this.” Percy utters finally, his tear dripping from his chin, and he gasps in horror as it nears the paper.

Kronos freezes it in time.

Percy suddenly feels very tired as he takes the window Kronos opened for him and bends his salty tear away from the precious paper.

“I…I can’t read this !” Percy bursts into tears. He collapses onto the concrete floor, Kronos catching them and whispering comfort to his grandson. Percy is struck by the realization that his mom lost her family not once, but twice , when she wasn’t able to pass their culture to him. Percy is suddenly so angry, he’s angry at his mom, he’s angry at his grandmother, and he’s angry at Gaia, at Zeus, at, at -

“Oh dearest, all will be right, we can learn to navigate this. Together .”

And Percy is so relieved he nearly passes out.

He gathers the wisps of blond smoke and pulls them closer and Kronos lets him. Maybe he should be worried about being seen acting strangely but he can’t bring himself to care about anything other than this.

“She-grandma didn't teach mom Spanish. On purpose.” Percy’s brow furrows, and Kronos’s invisible pressure smoothes it over. “And she did this because...because she wanted to protect mom. If she was unaware of her roots they couldn’t be mean to her over it. Or that's what she thought.” Percy says with sudden understanding. He didn’t agree with it, he still thinks Sally could have learned in secret. Was his grandmother ashamed of who she was? Percy wouldn’t know that unless he could read her writings.

If Percy hid parts of himself, did that mean he was ashamed of who he was?

He picks the paper back up and wills himself to understand it.

It stays the same.

“Like me.” Percy realizes. “Like how mom had to keep things from me to protect me. Like how Demi-gods not knowing their half-bloods means monsters can’t smell them as well. Like how dad couldn’t claim me at first, or teach me about Atlantis.”

Grandma Estelle was trying to protect Sally in the only way she knew.

And Percy wouldn’t dare be mad at her over that.

“And now we- I- have to keep secrets from mom to protect her.” Percy says sadly, his little hand bunching the fabric over his heart. Kronos hums sadly.

“All this will see the light of day in time.” Kronos comforts.

“Grandfather? Do you think Grandma Estelle was ashamed of who she was and that's why she hid?”

“I can’t speak for her, but I see no reason for her to hold shame.”

Percy jolts.

“I’m not ashamed of you!” Percy whispers fiercely. “Just cause we have to be quiet now doesn’t mean I think you're something to hide grandfather! I love you and I’m not sorry about it!”

The room bursts with flaxen waves like the sun’s corona and Percy feels his sentiment returned a hundredfold. Threads weave through his hair, and actually braids it into a crown braid.

How did he know how to do that? It was as good at the Aphrodite kids, as the Demeter kid’s flower crowns. Percy has a brief image of the Fearsome Titan-lord of Time giggling and weaving with Juniper and the other nymphs and stifles a squeaky laugh.

“My thoughts exactly, little prince.” Kronos murmurs, bursting with endearment and love.

…

…

…

Percy goes for a walk into central park. He needs time to process what he found about his mortal family.

“It’s beautiful when I’m not invading.” Kronos says and it makes Percy huff out a giggle. Kronos is being completely sincere but catches onto the irony, and rumbles in amusem*nt.

Plenty of kids walk around by themselves in the city so no one pays Percy any mind as he walks to the spot they found Grover after Morpheus. Percy shares the memory of their reunion, the joy and relief.

And his current grief.

Percy reaches out to try and feel their empathy link but finds nothing. The Heir to Pan, the new Lord of the Wild as proclaimed by Mr. D. is a grieving young satyr missing the Thalia Grace herself, a satyr who has never even heard of Percy Jackson before.

Percy looks at the spot with the secret passage to the underworld and feels a stab in his ribcage when hope flutters, responding to his despair. He wonders if Hades can tell he is here. If this entrance is the one Hades sent the monsters after Thalia with or if he just split the earth himself.

“Have faith, my grandson. You will meet these loved ones again.”

“It won’t be the same.” His lip wobbles and he’s mortified, but his nine year old brain is swamped with undeveloped neurons, hormones, and no experience with this level of pain. Why do all his cherished people die?

What if Kronos realizes how weak Percy is and leaves him too?

“No. And that is sad.” Kronos agrees gently. He takes Percy’s other hand and presses it to the one Percy holds over his heart. “But. It could be something just as beautiful.”

His chest flutters.

“I’m different too.” Percy says quietly.

“To be loved is to be changed.” Kronos’s words are achingly soft and knowing, his own being shaped and purified by Percy’s love.

“What if they don’t love this version of me?”

“Impossible.” Kronos says it like he’s never believed anything more.

It makes Percy laugh.

“I don’t know about that grandfather, I’ve ticked off quite a few people before!”

“And you’ll get the chance to again, with your friends and family.” Kronos’s words are smiling.

“Yeah….Yeah, I-Yes!” Percy laughs, heart soaring .

He feels like a foal running on the beach, hooves splashing through curling waves and mist. “Grandfather, lets play at the park!” Percy says. He doesn’t know where all this energy is coming from but he rides the surge and Kronos comes with him, his delight at his grandson’s ability to still play so soft and pure Percy imagines it’s a fluffy cotton candy cloud made with water vapor from the sea.

Percy bounces over tree roots and skips rocks on the creek, careful not to hit any Nymphs, shaking his ravioli container, right until he runs into someone.

A mortal girl. Grover would like her. She's wandering around the trees by the covered underworld entrance, cleaning trash from their roots and talking indecipherably to herself, only interrupted by coughing into her elbow, braids bouncing. When she sees Percy she screams in panic, and throws a soda can at him.

Kronos watches it bounce off their chest in fascination after keenly eyeing it for any danger and clearly finding none.

“What are you doing here! Littering too?” She looks at his ravioli container.

“You just littered though.” Percy says pointing at the can and then wincing at her face.

“No! Uh-” Percy has forgotten how to speak to kids his age. Kronos nudges him gently, a stallion guiding a foal with his muzzle. “Looking for a garbage can?”

“ You’re the only garbage I can see out here! But, I guess you can use mine. I’m Pansie.”

“We’r- I’m Percy!” He almost introduces Kronos too, who roused at the insult to Percy’s character.

There.

He corrected himself before he could mess up too badly, but he would have to work on introductions! He puts his container and the soda can in.

“Can’t tell if it’s nice to meet you yet, people pollute too much and I’m trying to clean this park, but I don’t know if I can do it myself!” Pansie stomps her foot in exasperation, face twisting with imminent tears, and Percy notices her fight back a cough.

She can’t be older than ten.

“I’ll help!” Percy has to keep from using ‘we’.

“That wasn’t an invite!”

“I think we can do it!”

Hope makes his teeth ache like extra sugary desserts, whistling in his words like the chirping of dolphins, the few lucky Aphrodite kids with charmspeak, the kids of Apollo who could sing you to tears.

Well.

That was a new ability. It had been one thing this morning with his mom, but now that he knows others can be affected…

Percy sees Pansie lean forward in interest, in Hope . It reaches all the way to her fingers and toes like his mom’s hot cocoa during winter.

He feels her spirits raise, the belief becoming just a bit more real.

“...Fine. Here’s a bag.” Pansie grunts, and in that moment he is reminded of Meg.

Hope had done this.

Hope had taken a girl with a surly attitude and a head-cold and made her open up to Percy, had given her a second wind in her sails.

They clean and chatter. Pansie talks about pollution and restoration and Percy chimes in with his mothers work cleaning the waterways, and the terrible effects of plastic pollution on sea life.

“It’s poisoning the Ocean!” Pansie cries out, and Percy tries to hide his jolt.

Percy eye’s the broken glass, the many beer bottles, pasta jars, and colors of all kinds, all formed from molten sand. He carefully separates the glass into a different bag for later. When a few more hours tick by, the nymphs ‘secretly’ help them by piling the garbage in places they could clean up easily.

Percy sees a nymph he spotted earlier subtly guiding them towards an old fountain filled with trash. Percy recognizes the design as an older one common among waterworks across the city. It's clear she's from the Willow trees right next to it, chandelier like branches brushed the dry, cracked fountain sadly.

The tree almost seems to gaze into the empty pool longingly, like Narcissus except with love for something else

They clean it.

Percy notices Kronos’s admiration of the nature spirits.

“You like the nymphs.”

“The first of them helped save my youngest, Zeus, from me.” Kronos says softly.

So.

A yes then.

“We…did it.” Pansie says exactly 4 hours later, in awed disbelief. She looks at Percy with glimmering hazel eyes. They hadn’t gotten the whole park, but they had gotten this section.

“Lets play!” Percy crows, nearly squirming when she looks at him like he restored her faith in humanity or something. It’s only an hour until high-tide and he’s full to bursting with energy.

“I-” Pansie cuts herself off with a cough. “I can try?” Her small smile turn into a full-on disbelieving grin, like she can’t believe she ever dared to hope.

“That all we can ever do.” Percy grins, and its so wide his face hurts, his own chest aching with that stubborn hope.

They play hopscotch, Kronos helping by timing his jumps, and Percy and Pansie join a groups of other mortal kids, being watched over by the grateful maternal figures of the park’s nymphs. They play jump-rope and Percy feels a spike of fear at the realization that his rope, made from Kronos’s aureate twine, was clearly divine and a dead give away.

He sends the panicked feelings to his grandfather.

“Something wrong?” Pansie wheezes.

He notices the way her brow furrows as she looks at his rope. In her defense he had literally pulled it out of thin air, as the split second Kronos comprehended the game he made one of pure spun gold for him.

“Worry not, dearest, the Mist will obscure any divine qualities.”

Percy looks pointedly at the nymphs cooing over the kids, who were unaware. The Nymphs however could see through the Mist. Percy himself could see the way it gathered like dew drops around himself, refracting light and reality like Iris’s rainbows to shape it the way the user wanted.

Percy tries to reach out his hand, wrist twinging, and bend the divine droplets.

It jumps.

And then stubbornly settles, unaffected.

Percy pouts.

And sways with sudden exhaustion and aches, the Domains of his dad distant.

Kronos chuckles and keeps them upright.

“So observant, dearest. My Mist manipulation abilities are a cut above the rest. Yours should be too, as a child of the Sea from whence the Mist came. Hecate and her children are the masters, but the potential of the Sea’s children is too overlooked. Many daughters of Poseidon have made for powerful Sea Witches.”

Percy's jaw drops at this new knowledge. He had mostly inherited control over liquids, storms, horses, and prophecy. The domains of Earthshaker and now the Mist too were still accessible, but not as strong.

He had never been very good at seeing through the Mist when he was young, evidenced by him not knowing Tyson was a cyclops, and he never trained in it like Hazel. It was considered a less ‘heroic’ ability to train in because of its ties to chthonic and minor gods, which Percy now realized was horsecrap. Kronos seemed like he wanted to train him. Although with that little failure of Percy’s he wonders how far he can get.

“I’m golden!” Percy chirps, “Healthy as a horse!”, Kronos beams with pride, and Pansie nods, distracted by throwing a piece of litter back to a litterer, her aim off course by a coughing fit.

…

…

…

Pansie leaves to go back to her mom and grandma, swearing in a language Percy can't understand when she sees the time. when Percy asks she says it was a native language not many people spoke anymore, which makes Percy sad.

"I'm trying to learn Spanish. Cause my grandma spoke it but we can't, maybe..."

This seems to effect Pansie deeply.

"Not enough native speakers left in mine. Does that make me an endangered species too?" She mumbles, before switching topics.She mentions something about a spike in danger like Odette did which does make Kronos frown in concern, but they decide to continue their tour of the city at dusk, yawning when the tides turn low again as they follow the moon.

Kronos shrinks the golden rope and forms a necklace for Percy to wear under his shirt.

“I would make this a crown if the situation allowed.” Kronos proclaims.

Looking at the city whole brings him to tears several times. He can see Nymphs, Dryads, and Aurae. He can see helpers of Hermes delivering mail, the charm of Aphrodite in a perfume store, an owl symbol at a bookstore and shakes in relief. He can see a few minor gods circling Mt. Olympus on chariots from the clouds and feeling a sting of sheepishness from Kronos.

“I vanquished them in my final charge with…” Kronos seems to fortify himself, refusing to shy away from his actions. “With Luke , on Olympus.”

Ah.

Percy can faintly make out some minor gods-Britomartis, Harmonia, Aristaeus, a few even he doesn’t recognize, all he knows from helping Annabeth and Jason build them cabins and temples-waving their symbols of power around, the same as the weapons scattered on Olympus during the invasion. It’s intimidating to think his grandfather simply possessing a demigod-even one as powerful as Luke-could take out several minor gods.

They need to talk.

Percy goes to the New York Public Library. The rooftop is off limits but he had spent so much time here studying with Annabeth, and his heart ached to be closer to anything that reminded him of her.

Plus, he needed privacy and he had a feeling he would be spending a lot of time here doing research. The sky was clear, clear of any clouds or omnicidal Primordials, the city sparkled, and Mt. Olympus stood proudly, the false security of Thalia’s recent stasis lulling them to sleep. His mom’s double shift would be over in two hours and thirteen minutes.

“How are we gonna find your Scythe? Sickle?” Percy asks

“Both, dearest. My weapon was changeable the same as your sword, Riptide, from a shorter sickle to a longer scythe.”

Percy shudders as he tries to imagine Riptide being turned against himself.

His sword. A gift. The first gesture of care and protectiveness from his father. Kronos’s sickle, a gift from his mother Gaia, used against him.

Percy's heart hurts so much for his grandfather he starts sniffling.

It’s not fair.

“You've already shed tears for me, precious, don't cry beloved. I am here with you and the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“It’s so much .” Percy whispers.

“Atlas bore the weight alone. We will do it together .” Kronos emphasized. “Do not think you shall walk this path yourself. I’m sure you will have others on your side.”

That thought sparks an idea with Percy.

“Grandfather…when did you start? The uh, first time around? Gather power? I-I know Luke told me you began speaking with him in his dreams after his quest failed, but uh..”

His question lingers in the air like an Iris message. He feels way too exposed. Kronos’s energy takes on the feeling of someone in deep, troubled thought.

“...I spent eons tormented by Tarta- the pit , my apologies, precious.” Kronos says when Percy flinches. “He would allow me to reform with the other monsters just long enough to feel the hopelessness of my situation. I…I began to reform more solidly after world war two.”

Percy’s mouth goes dry.

A big problem for a son of Poseidon. Percy breathes deeper to try and make more water vapor. He doesn’t want to make his grandfather relieve this pain.

“After the war. After the Oath .”

“Prior to, even.”

“Wouldn’t the Pit feel you reforming more solidly?” Percy then randomly bursts in hysterical laughter, the fear of the primordial who was half the reason their universe ended combined with Percy imagining a giant armpit. Or moshpit.

He shared the mental image with Kronos, who actually laughed . It’s short and powerful and reminds Percy of one of his fathers earthquakes when he had tried to teach Percy.

“That is certainly one way to debase that particular Primordial’s aura of fear. Goodness , Peresus, I’m not sure I can ever think of him the same way!” Kronos laughs again.

They quiet down.

Kronos sighs through him.

“But, to answer your question I’ll ask you another. Besides lineage, what did you, your father, myself, and my father all have in common?”

It reminds Percy of Mr. Chiron when he was undercover as his latin teacher. He asks these questions to Percy not because he wanted to single Percy out like others, but because he had genuine faith in his abilities.

“...The Domain of Prophecy .” Percy realizes.

Kronos’s pride blooms in his chest like the sunrise.

“Yes. The Issuance of the Great Prophecy allowed my conscience to cling on just enough before Tartarus’s breath blew me asunder to reach out to Luke. Who would complete the prophecy, by reaping his soul with Annabeth’s cursed blade, scattering me before I could burn away his mortality and ascend once more.”

Percy shivers. It makes sense. Percy and Annabeth had been able to sneak around Tartarus and trick him, no matter how briefly. It was only Gaia’s involvement that they got caught in the end.

“Rest assured, Dearest.” Kronos says somberly. “I will see you well no matter what.”

“So you were able to hold on from being blown away just long enough to reach out to Luke, because of his role in the Prophecy?” They would need Kronos to reform fully in order to wield his Scythe and beat Gaia and the primordials.

“Succinctly put.”

“And…is that why I’ve been seeing flashes of gold my whole life?” Percy breathes.

Kronos confirms this with a metaphorical rolling of his shoulders, a whirl of power that cards through his hair like a warm, solid hand.

“We have always been bound.” Kronos says, achingly soft. “But it is now that we have chosen to know one another that it matters.”

Percy smiles, hands cupping his breast bone.

“So we know your solidification began with Luke. So right now…”

“I am still scattered, and not conscious.” Kronos confirmed. “My revival was slow and still dependent on the power of a Demigods oath. Every oath was a Grain gathered in my sarcophagus, as you gathered me, dearest. I did not have my full cognitive abilities until the first demigod pledged the first oath of loyalty to me and placed it in the Sarcophagus for a future host. My reformation would mean nothing without that oath. I would simply scatter again.”

“And who pledged first?”

Kronos quiets.

It’s a charged one.

“Luke Castellan.”

The name echoes on the rooftop. Percy thinks he might be able to make out the place where Zoe’s constellation is- was, and isn’t that a kick in the behind - but can’t tell with the light pollution.

He feels.

Jealous .

“But If I’m your host, and you’re not conscious right now, wouldn’t any grains go to me then? They would , wouldn’t they!” Percy yips in excitement. He jumps up despite his concerning exhaustion, Threads of Time weaving among sinew and bone to keep him balanced.

“They would.” Kronos confirms. But instead of jubilant, he sounds…concerned?

Percy will just have to reassure his grandfather!

“Grandfather, I’ll be the first! I’ll swear an oath to you, right now , so you can start reforming with me, just like Ethan Na-”

“You mustn't! ” Kronos thunders, and it’s the closest he has ever come to snapping at Percy.

Stunned silence.

Percy’s lip begins to wobble to his incredible embarrassment. Is his grandfather mad at him? Did Percy say something stupid? Was he not good enough? Did he make yet another mistake, would he hurt -

“Oh no, Dearest, never -” Percy realizes these thoughts were so all consuming they washed right over the barrier and to Kronos “-Never again, Please don’t think I’d hurt you again, that I’d ever think you weren’t enough. You're more than I or anyone deserves, and so much more than what people try to force you to be for them. You’re not a tool, or a monster, you’re my precious grandson and I wouldn’t choose to be with anyone else.”

“They why -” Percy weeps, unable to finish talking.

“That is precisely why. I don’t wish to use you, or keep you from your youth. Again .” Kronos sounds bitterly regretful.

“I already choose to take this prophecy!”

“A decision I respect you for more than words can describe. But right now, without full access to my son’s domains or the Curse of Achilles, you’d burn up !” Kronos' voice goes rough with fear and grief. “And If you perished by my actions, I wouldn't have to wait for my father to cast me into Chaos-I’d do it myself .”

It’s like a bucket of ice water on his face. Or how Percy imagines icy water would feel startling to someone who wasn’t a son of Poseidon.

“Please don’t say that.” It scares Percy so much he trembles. The very mention of his grandfather's destruction, of Chaos takes his breath away and sucks the life out of their surroundings. That's extreme, especially for a kid who was disposable.

Kronos would sabotage his ability to reform because he cared about Percy’s safety more?

Percy calms down.

And can't help but smiling.

It wasn't because his grandfather wanted to leave him. It was because he cared about him.

It’s silent for a bit longer.

Percy hears a seagull and longs to follow it to the beach.

“...I could start training?” He offers quietly. “Some of it is already showing. Like mom’s face when the boiling water didn’t hurt me.”

Kronos settles. Wraps powers around Percy’s shoulders like a blanket, a robe, a cloak and Percy is torn between insisting on not being babied and throwing himself into it.

“It would further strengthen your scent, but yes dearest, we should start your training.”

“My dad would be able to feel me tugging on his Domains.” Percy says and feels a zing of nervous excitement in his belly. Look at me! He wants to scream at the ocean.

“A Elder God would absolutely be able to feel their child's power. We shall begin to heal your thread, but we also must begin searching for my Sickle.”

Oh right.

“That too.” Percy agrees sheepishly. “Where do we begin?”

Kronos hums.

And it sounds pensive.

“There is one lead.”

Percy leaps up and staggers from exhaustion. Kronos catches them and sits him back down in a way where his limbs cradle himself.

“What is it?” Percy squeaks.

“Luke’s sword.”

Percy is frozen solid. His mind races like a stampede of horses. Memories flood him, ones that Percy shares with his grandfather. He is a boy of twelve, fresh from a quest where he succeeded against all odds, being led by someone he thought was a friend, someone who failed his own quest despite all odds.

The vicious sting of a scorpion.

Percy flexes his aching hand, his aching wrist, as Kronos grabs it in concern at the memory. He wonders if he could remove the poison if that happened again.

And.

He remembers the gleam of a dual-sword.

“Backbiter.” Percy utters in awed realization. “Grandfather, when Luke showed me Backbiter, I felt you in it. That sword was made from a piece of your scythe!”

“Yes, Perseus,” he hears the pride and sorrow in his grandfather's voice.

“Then, we have a start?”

“No.”

What?

Percy imagines his face must be comical. He shrieks.

“It’s like with the Fates all over again! We have no clue where to begin looking!” Percy throws his hands up in frustration. Kronos reassures him.

“Backbiter was forged during a time when I was still only dreams in Luke’s Psyche reaching from Tartarus. I don’t know the exact methods used for forging the blade, or where my brother Krios was able to find it and smelt it. I do know some sort of sacrifice was required, and that this blade was forged after Luke stole Zeus’s Lightning Bolt.” Kronos’s disgust at what exactly ‘sacrifice’ meant is clear.

“Krios. The Titan Jason boxed when he led the Roman charge on Mt. Othrys.”

“Yes. It’s possible he had it hidden but I’m inclined to believe he recently acquired it. A weapon that powerful , even broken up, would easily be tracked down by the gods, especially gods like Artemis or Ares who can sense a weapon-a symbol of powers’- power .”

“Huh.”

Percy cracks out a yawn and giggles again.

“I think it’s kinda funny that this all started the first time around cause I needed to fetch Zeus’s symbol of power, and now I need to get yours.”

“Certainly ironic.”

“At least no one can accuse me of being the lightning thief this time, cause if all goes well it won’t happen!”

“What a relief.” Kronos sighs, sending a burst of solace through Percy’s ribcage.

They now have a plan.

Luke’s quest wasn’t for another year, and they had three years before Percy was meant to go to camp, meaning they had that time to gain strength, research, and plan some more!

…

…

…

The Mist responds to Percy like the honey the daughter of Aristaeus made when expanding the goods Camp sold. Slowly, sluggishly, and with the sweet taste of victory when Percy is finally able to create the most basic illusion.

It’s a clone of himself.

At 19.

He had been going through one last growth spurt, and had never finished it, and Percy realized he never got to see what he looked like as a full grown adult. A ghostly golden wave reaches to cup the illusions face. The illusion breaks under the strain of reaching for his dad’s power, and the grief in his heart.

He’s sweating so much it drips and sounds like the leaky pipes of their apartment after Gabe upsets Percy.

“Wonderful dearest, but you don’t have to push yourself so hard.” Kronos says worriedly, which makes Percy grit his teeth.

“Are there any other powers you can access you’d like to try?”

Other powers he can access?

Yes.

He’s been struggling to claw back any power, but it’s been difficult, and the one possible domain Percy could reach for-

- No .

He can’t .

He promised Annabeth to never use those powers again.

“I bet I can combine it with water to make more solid shapes.” Percy pants.

“Dearest-”

There is a surge of water from the fountain, an old and broken thing in an abandoned estate on the edge of NYC.

Percy faintly recognizes it as a matching design from the one in central park with the Willow nymph.

After an incident at the park where Percy confronted some drunks pouring alcohol on tree roots and Kronos resorting to using the Mist to obscure Percy’s face from the nymphs and the humans when he scared them off-he hated bullies-they decided to go more remote. Percy had to lose a tail halfway here, a mysterious cloaked figure with a strange gleam around his eyes.

The fountain’s plumbing is stuck. Reclaimed by tree roots.

“I’m gonna call on the earthshaker domain to try and get that loose.”

“The domain of your fathers you were weakest in.”

The reminder makes Percy pout.

And reach out.

The ground trembles ever so slightly and it feels like someone pulled the plug on Percy’s stomach as it violently rolls.

Rusty water flows from the pipe, startling Percy with its smell and color similar to blood. It reminds him of the Bloodlust aura Clarisse and the other Ares kids get in the heat of battle.

But the water itself seems to scream in pain. It itches and claws like it knows it's unclean.

Percy’s fears project on the water like a mirage, and it twists into the shape of faces, the melted campers who disintegrated from the mere attention of a Primordial.

They all beg him for help.

The rusty water runs like the blood in his veins.

The minerals and lead swirl in the polluted water feel like poison !

It’s too much.

Percy crashes to his knees, gasping for breath, skin burning hot from the strain, the divinity.

And the distant spark of someone's attention.

Kronos takes control.

Percy can distantly hear his raised voice, asking if he was okay before he smiles, knowing he is safe with his grandfather.

…

…

…

He wakes up at their Library.

They’ve been going for research purposes as it held the most books on Greek myths. The librarians have all become acquainted with Percy and adore him for whatever reason, calling him their ‘little reader’, and seemed inspired by his determination to research when they found out he had dyslexia when he asked for comic sans printings.

It’s a bit patronizing, but it has perks as Percy is curled up in the break room they let him use. Kronos is feeding them sourdough whole wheat bread, he had baked himself-much to Percy's surprise, has he done this before?- in the Libraries break room kitchen with cheese and honey.

Kronos is quiet.

It makes his tummy roll.

Kronos secedes control back to Percy slowly, who immediately feels the weight of himself. His eyelids fight against gravity, and he almost drops his food.

“You pushed yourself too hard.” Kronos states gently. There is no reproach or judgment in his voice, just concern, and Percy turns his head to the side in guilt.

“I miss my….” Percy starts.

He thought that maybe, if he reached for his dads power, then, then-

He can’t finish.

Kronos knows anyway, even without reading his thoughts.

“You are the pearl of your fathers eye, dearest. His attention will be on you soon enough, if not already piqued. We must bow our heads for now.”

Percy hums, resting his chin in his arms and pretends it’s Kronos, Poseidon, or his mother.

“...Did I worry you?” His voice is small. He always talks quietly in the library. He tugs on his gold necklace nervously.

“Your well-being is always on my mind.”

“I’m sorry, I-I’m not used to people thinking I can’t-”Percy cuts himself off again. That didn’t come out right. He didn't want to guilt trip his grandfather!

“I have faith in your work-ethic and strength. I know you’re used to disregarding your wellbeing for others sake, but know this sweetest, I hold you above all else. You will gain strength, and access to your father's domains. These things will come in time .”

…

…

…

When he has no energy for training, he checks out books from the Library. Kronos is just as fascinated with them as Percy, maybe even more. He loves learning about his family, loves the care and attention Sally tells them with, and Percy hopes with a ferocity that aches that his grandfather’s name would one day be cleared and he could love openly.

There are many fascinating myths and Percy likes hearing more than just about the main gods, which he’s heard a million times.

Iris was born of the sky and sea, a psychopomp who guided souls to the underworld, and she apparently gathers water from the Styx for gods to swear oaths on.

“Do you think she did it for the elder gods oath?” Percy whispers in awe.

“She did.” Kronos confirms.

She was a messenger for the gods-whose myth reminds him of Atlanta-who once had two other famous messenger gods-Hermes and Triton-compete in a race for her hand. Iris defeated both of them to maintain her independence and Percy really wishes he knew Triton already because he would have absolutely made fun of him for this. They had gotten off to an extremely rocky start, but eventually became true brothers, and even pranked everyone else by pretending to hate each other in public but train together in private. Poseidon threw a huge fit when he realized they had pranked him, before grinning and scooping them both in a bone crushing hug that reminded him of Tyson.

He’s interested in seeing the difference of the myths compared to the ones his mother tells him. She’ll include as many versions as possible, but Percy realizes with a suddenness that feels like a bolt from the blue that the versions she favors are the versions she heard from his dad.

His dad speaking to him through his mother.

His mother realizes the importance of his heritage and tries to connect him. When he figured this out Percy had turned around in her arms from the story she had been reading him to sleep and hugs her and cries.

That was last night.

Today he is back at the library.

“You’re doing great, sweetest.” Percy is on the verge of tears as he struggles to read. It wasn’t just the loss of muscle memory or the access to his father's domains, therefore inhibiting his ability to purify Kronos’s grains, but the loss of the mental and emotional development.

The brain forms pathways overtime to understand new things. Percy logically knows what these words mean, but reading became ten times harder.

Kronos walked Percy through the words even though Percy knows his grandfather is absolutely enchanted by the myths too and wants to read as many as he can as fast as possible.

So far, they have no solid leads.

After the three Elder Gods defeated Kronos and cut him up with his own scythe, they divided the world between themselves.

“I trust you’ve found everything promptly?”

Percy looks up and smiles tiredly, suppressing a yawn.

It’s Dr. Palaska.

She’s the head librarian here, hair up in a salt and pepper bun, thick glasses flashing. Percy had initially been scared of her due to her resemblance to Mrs. Dodds, but when he had mustered up the bravery to ask for her help in understanding the dewey decimal system to locate books quicker-gods, he missed the internet-she had warmed up to him quickly.

“I did, thank you. It’s understanding it once I’ve got it.” Percy grumbles.

She smiles at him.

It’s small and sharp like a papercut.

“You’re unusually motivated for someone so young. I’d say you have an old soul in you.”

Percy just giggles, stomach flipping and poking fun at his grandfather for being old, who mentally mussed up his hair.

…

…

…

Percy spends a lot of time at the dance studio of Odette’s too when he’s energized, called Swan’s Lake where she lets him in for free. Percy loves the name.

“You are an amazing learner and my best student.” Odette praises gracefully, eyes dancing with mirth when she helps Percy up after a tumble. He had gotten tangled in her ballet ribbon. “It’s like you were born to move. Your back and forth motions remind me of the tides.” Her comparison to the Ocean smoothes out his scowl, as does his grandfather's pride. Percy was having a hard time accepting he couldn’t do what he used to. A kata like that would have been a cakewalk as a teenager.

He loves Capoeira, a fluid mix of dance and martial arts where he hums and keeps time with the music. When he tells his mom she gives him some of her cooking and special candy to share with the Dance Studio, who all love it with how much energy they burn through.

“You keep time very well.” Odette says. The smooth flowing rhythm of the Capoeira music is like the rhythm of the ocean, the energy of one movement tumbling into another, how something playful can turn deadly. Percy knows it is due to Kronos that he counts the seconds so well.

“Thank you, Grandfather.” Percy whispers sneakily, and Kronos does the spiritual equivalent of lifting Percy up onto his forearm, cupping the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together, and rubbing their noses in an Inuit kiss.

It makes Percy melt .

Gooey inside like his mom’s fresh blue cookies. He giggles so hard he ends up tumbling again, but this time he can’t be upset about it.

Once, when arriving at the studio Odette smiles to greet him, then looks behind him and her face pales rapidly.

Her hand clenches around her ribbon, and she grabs Percy’s arm and pulls him inside.

Kronos surges forward, alert at the sudden motion and hand on Percy, even one from a known friend. Kronos can typically sense any abnormalities in the Mist, whether it be nymphs, or the occasional monster with a nose strong enough to pick up on his masked scent they needed to skirt around.

They had noticed a higher frequency, but Percy thought it might have been the scent of campers passing through to get to camp for the summer.

Percy only has time to briefly look behind himself and see a familiar tall man in a trench coat, wearing a pair of sunglasses more like a visor, staring right at him.

He has sharp teeth.

Percy freezes.

Kronos snarls.

“ Cyclops .” He growls. “Stay indoors, Odette is calling your mother.”

The monster is gone before his mother arrives, but Odette keeps staring at him and asking if he is okay, which Percy says yes of course.

When his mom arrives she hugs him for several long moments, mud caused by the unseasonal tropical depression remnant splattered on her legs from her running. She goes to speak with Odette in the back while he practices some more Capoeira, trying and failing to distract himself, Kronos too high strung with guilt over how he hadn’t sensed the Cyclops ' malevolence.

“It’s okay, I’m getting stronger anyway.” Percy tries to raise his grandfather's spirits. Hope knocks as if to say, ‘I concur!’. Percy wonders if his dad’s noticed by now.

That does not seem to reassure him. He helps catch Percy when he tumbles on that last cartwheel, retracting quickly so his mom doesn’t see when she finally emerges.

Her eyes are red.

Percy is up immediately with the adrenaline surge.

As Sally crouches before him Percy notices the faint gleam of the Sweet on America deluxe sized kitchen knife in her work apron.

“Honey… Odette and I, and others have noticed a certain…uptick in suspicious activity. I know you have so much energy, and Odette is so kind to have you here, but…I really do think you should spend more time at home.”

Home.

Hestia’s hearth at camp-half blood was his home. Sally meant that apartment stuck with stinky Gabe because no doubt she heard Odette’s mortal description and realized it was a monster cyclops.

He feels a twinge of fear. He smells alcohol and hears the clink of glass beer bottles.

Kronos mistakes his fear.

“Let's go home, dearest. I won’t let any other monsters near you, my light.”

Percy shares a weak smile with him, and prepares to face the monster at home.

…

…

…

“Got any cash?”

Percy grits his teeth.

Kronos is curious.

Briefly, Percy entertains the idea of picking up that beer bottle and smashing Gabe over the head with it, over and over again until either it or he breaks.

“Remember our little ‘guy secret’ Percy?” Gabe says and Percy wants to take his name out of Gabe’s mouth.

He is so sick of secrets.

He shakes himself out of it, feeling faintly ill at the mental images. This man brought out the worst in him. Percy hands it over and leaves, leaning heavily against the wall and mustering up the strength to walk to their training spot now that his bus money was gone.

“Your kindness is becoming of you but you needed that dearest.” Kronos says in confusion.

Percy hums but they keep walking. Kronos can tell something is off but Percy buries his suspicions with questions and theorizes with the Myths they’ve gathered from checking out Library books. They know the three elder gods did something with the Scythe after they defeated Kronos with it and divided up the world, but it’s a dead end after that.

They can’t go too far and need to be careful not to rouse any nymphs. They’ve been muttering about their ‘mysterious savior’ so they could ‘thank him’ ever since he saved them from the alcohol pouring mortals. And apparently Kronos had been obscuring his face when cleaning with Pansie too, so now they think he’s a secret hero or something.

Percy is able to move the water, change its temperature, and scatter light with it in the Mist but not lift it, and summoning a hurricane won’t happen for years at least.

Percy’s so tired, so paranoid from staying at the apartment all the time, that he drops his mom’s cookies and curses.

“Have heart, your control over the Mist is much improved.” Kronos comforts Percy as he plops to the ground, beyond exhausted. He’s glad his mom’s noticed his recent exhaustion and is giving him more bus money, although he wishes it wasn’t worrying her so much.

Percy hums and goes to respond.

“Stand at attention!" Kronos snaps and Percy staggers up. “I sense monsters, familiar from Tartarus.”

Percy’s breath quickens.

He reaches for the Riptide only to find it gone.

It’s Medusa’s sisters.

“Yes, here he is, I smell him!” Euryale hisses.

Percy’s eyes dart around, so exhausted his vision blurs. All the Gorgons are strong and Percy is shocked that such powerful monsters have tracked him down so young. In fact, hadn’t his dad said these monsters had been killed by a previous daughter of Poseidon in world war two? They hadn’t reformed until they chased down Percy when he was heading to Rome.

“It was covered slightly but It’s so fresh now.” Stheno croons.

Oh.

Right.

He had been avoiding Gabe and also strengthening himself at the same time. Like catnip for monsters.

They may not be able to turn Percy to stone but their hungry eyes freeze him to the spot. There are no snack platters to bash them with and sled away on like a proud steed. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s the snack!

“Use your necklace!” Kronos roars and Percy shoots him the mental equivalent of several exclamation points.

Percy yanks it off with shaky hands, gasps when it extends into a Lasso-whip.

“A lovely string to truss you up with. How thoughtful.” Stheno hums.

“Looks like Imperial gold.” Euryale hisses curiously. It’s because it is, but Percy can barely breathe let alone say something witty like he used to.

Percy whips it forward.

The Gorgons start bleeding and shrieking, but not dying as Percy had nine year old noodle arms. They look more annoyed than anything.

It occurs to him they went somewhere isolated to train. There is no help coming. Percy is barely standing, the Gorgons are closing in and Kronos-

-Stheno grabs his arm with her bloody left one, stopping the lasso-whip in its tracks.

Her poisonous Gorgon blood burns .

It burns !

Percy cries out. It burns like the boiling water hadn’t, like the deep sea vents hadn’t, like the magma his father had shown him under the tectonic plates hadn’t!

It’s poison !

She laughs, licking the blood from her right arm and healing instantly.

Kronos takes over.

“ YOU DARE- ”

His power sings with rage, his gold burns like the sun and Percy can feel himself overwhelmed by it. He can see his reflection in the Gorgons terrified eyes, his skin cracks like lava bubbling up from fault lines, his eyes are pupilless and aurate and wrathful.

Kronos is so incensed he doesn’t finish speaking.

In a motion like a scythe, a vaguely formed figure cloaked in waves of times sends out a wave of power.

The Gorgons, among the most notorious monsters in Greek history, are reaped, and disintegrate instantly.

Percy feels he might join them soon.

Kronos recedes immediately but the damage is done. The might of his full possession has overwhelmed Percy and he can feel that and the poison killing him.

He collapses.

He is so far gone it doesn’t even hurt.

Kronos can’t help without hurting him further. Percy curls up, closing his eyes and the cold ground becomes warm. He presses himself into the earth, his heart slows down, his limbs become heavy with sleep, and he imagines the pressure is his mom pulling a quilt over him, his dad swaddling him with currents at the bottom of Half-blood lake, his grandfather keeping him warm at the end of the world.

It’s the most peace he’s ever known.

“-I can’t aid you-”

Except…something is keeping him from sleeping.

“- Please Perseus, rouse yourself, fight the poison! Do not deprive this grandfather of his grandson-”

“-You’re scaring me-” The memory of Annabeth whispers, her eyes wide and scared after he turned Ahklyis’s poison against the goddess, enjoying her suffering like the Gorgons had enjoyed his.

Maybe he deserves this.

“-I am so sorry dearest, I can feel your pain! You who have suffered far too much! But by the Primordials there is still Hope- ” Kronos weeps , helpless, and it shocks Percy out of his death spiral.

The feelings of his strong, proud, noble grandfather, trying despite everything, begging, weeping helplessly as he watches his grandson die.

Die .

Hope bashes the inside of his ribcage.

It bubbles up his closing throat and directs his hazy eyes to the dropped spoils of the monsters, the two identical vials of Gorgon blood. Yet with hope guiding his gaze Percy can tell the second vial is one from the Gorgons right side.

The healing side.

His last hope !

Percy gasps. He whimpers, cries weakly like a newborn, and turns himself over. His lasso is in one hand, the other end wrapped around the pole where it had been caught by Kronos’s power push.

His wrist hurts .

He can’t move because of it.

“Forward! You can, your stronger than you know-”

Percy whines high and pained, and in an effort like holding up the sky, drags himself forward.

“-That's it! A little further, you have so much to live for, so many love you-”

And then he does something he promised he would never do again.

He controls poison .

Percy Jackson. The nine years old, frayed thread, weakling, bends among the most powerful poison known to the world. He moves it from his body, dragging it out as he drags himself across the dirty ground. His reflection in the dirty puddles show poisonous green eyes.

“Perseus…” Kronos’s incessant yells of despair and then encouragement dry up in awe.

A bit more is pulled out.

“... How are you doing this?”

A little more.

He’s not going to make it. The Poison is out but the damage is done. He slows.

“ NO -”

But so does everything else.

The world awash in Gold. Ochre. Copper. Percy feels the heat of Time itself rushing through him, his grandfathers power burning yet keeping him together, and Percy finally-

- Finally -

Accesses one of his dad’s domains, which keeps him from turning to ash. He feels the heavy weight of someone's attention .

He drags himself forward with his grandfather's borrowed Time.

“Persist! Keep the faith! You are almost there- Yes !”

Kronos catches the fully out poison, trapping it in a manifested hourglass and Percy paws at the vial and drinks it.

It’s like waking up from a nightmare.

The sounds are back and crisp, crickets, car honks, a windchime, distant airplanes. Percy breathes in sharp coppery blood, the scent of the petrichor from rain, the smell of overripe fruit.

Percy reached out spiritually to his grandfather, wanting to be held.

Kronos recoils in fear.

Percy bursts into tears.

“Oh no, darling, I want to, but I can’t, I can’t dearest, you are hanging on by a thread .”

Percy does not like that!

Not at all!

He’s weeping, Kronos is weeping too and Percy can feel him ache with the need to lift Percy in his arms and carry him to safety, and the devastation that he can’t .

Percy lays there for several moments with his head swimming and breathing evenly. He checks to make sure Hope is still there, and that Kronos is too.

Percy notices the parts of his face touched by the salty tears are pristine, the rest of his face scratched and bruised. It takes everything he has in him to tweak the Mist ever so slightly and cover it up.

He feels just a bit more… threadbare .

Frayed nerves.

“I am sorry, my Heart.” Kronos rasps. “I cannot take over now, and we must move before more show. You must bring yourself home.”

Percy frowns.

His grandfather sounds so upset.

But why? Percy doesn’t like that.

“S’okay.” He mumbles, and yawns. Hope drifts into his tired voice. “ ‘M still alive.”

“ Yes .” Kronos whispers reverently. The weight of the word tucking Percy in.

“My fault for being weak.”

Kronos recoils.

What? What was it? Percy hadn’t lied had he? What is so wrong with him that he keeps upsetting his grandfather?

“ Nothing . Nothing is wrong with you at all, Perseus. You are so loved , and when you love someone, it hurts to see them in pain, to be unable to help them.” Kronos says bitterly.

He drags himself to his feet and staggers out of the alley. Before he leaves, he takes one last look at the poisonous vial, the poison that almost killed him, that forced his hand, to reveal the powers he tried so hard to hide from.

Most of all,

Percy hates how this proves that they still need Gabe.

Prophecy whispers.

Percy grabs the vial and pockets it.

“...We’re gonna help each other?” Percy mumbles, heading back. He puts his hand over his heart, carefully stokes Hope’s flames, and wafts the smoke to where Kronos has made himself as small as possible to not hurt Percy further.

“Always, dearest. And Forever .”

…

…

…

Percy pretends he’s come down with something. It’s late May and that is still plausible enough where it works.

They need the rest.

Kronos needs the reassurance Percy will be okay. He hovers worse than an Apollo medic!

“I accessed my dads domain fully .” He mumbles tiredly, pointedly. For the first time in this life in fact!

The exact one he hadn’t wanted to.

But it’s important to prove to Kronos that he could, even if it drew yet unknown eyes on them, which Percy knew Kronos felt too because he had obscured them with the Mist before summoning his hourglass.

Which now sat at the end of Percy room as the worlds most ominous Lava Lamp, the gorgon blood extracted from himself and the vial combined inside, bubbling and glowing brightly like how a poison dart frog is bright to ward off predators. It reminded him of the epic lava lamps in Atlantis. Tyson had even made a few! Excellent source of heat and light down there.

“You did phenomenally, dearest. I…I am so glad .”

What if he thinks Percy was weak to get hurt?

“I picked up your books on hold, I have drinks in the cooler and snacks for you, and you know Sweet on America’s number?” Sally frets. “Here, wet your throat.”

There's been a tickle in the back of Percy’s throat since almost burning up. The sensation reminded him of too much food of the gods, that time he ate too much ambrosia and Will and Alice tore him a new one. He’s not really in the mood for herbal tea-he’s more of a mountain dew guy-but he sees his mom’s worry, and feels Kronos’ concerns, and takes a few sips to reassure them.

His mom leaves.

Percy makes sure she’s gone, before locking the door from the inside and slipping into his small bathroom. It was the one good thing about this apartment. It’s ocean themed of course. He fills the tub up, dumps sea salt into it to enhance the water's healing and a blue ocean spray bath bomb and slips under the water, imagines his dad is holding him, and sleeps because it’s low tide.

But first, he asks his grandfather for sweet dreams. The Hypnos cabin made enchanted pillows for the purpose but had to ration them. Plus the Hypnos cabin didn’t exist yet and it would be 3 more years until camp.

Kronos pauses.

“It’s not because you think I can’t handle it, cause I can,”

“I know, sweetest, but you recall the words of the Fates?”

No. He was sleepy.

“How they said my interference with your dreams could keep important information from you?”

Oh. Percy feels his mood drop like the rocks they practiced skipping.

“I will now as you should deserve to be lulled to sleep, but we should exercise caution. Do not mistake my care as inability. I…much more enjoy creating dreams over nightmares.”

Percy would have to agree with that! He wonders how different immortals' dreams are from mortals. He dreams of gold, oddly round. In the shape of a clock? Time? But somehow...

Percy doesn't think it's his grandfather.

His grandfather sweeps it away and replaces it with a dream of camp, the first few weeks when he was just another face, in the solidarity of the unclaimed.

The healing goes well.

Gods.

He feels so bad healing abilities are rare outside of Apollo and the gods food. Percy always feels bad most demigods need to wait to be healed. He's glad he can water heal or else he'd be much worse or even dead right now. He felt like a jagged shard of seaglass smoothed over by the tides and turned beautiful.

He can’t train when recovering, which sucks because he needs his dad’s domains to heal Kronos, so instead Percy reads his books when he wakes up.

Or Kronos reads them to Percy who curls up on his bed, the shark quilt’s damage reversed by Kronos before he almost dis- got sick . Odette had gifted him a pina colada scented candle, and the boombox plays an ocean wave soundtrack CD. His mom had arranged the many seashells from Montauk just so. Pansie had given him fragrant blue flowers she put in a cleaned out blue glass vase.

“A good luck charm, to keep you safe and smell nice.” Pansie explained.

It’s pretty sweet, actually.

He eats shark gummies and Kronos tells him about the Greek and Roman myths. He reads to Percy as they play cat's cradle. He uses his glass of water for watercolors, creating images of the myths as they go through them. Other times, Percy reads books of origami, how to knit 101, how to draw, things to keep his hands moving. Dr. Palaska was kind enough to lend Percy her own yarn and knitting needles.

They even have a book on beginners' Spanish, and some CD’s too. Staying still and in place for so long is difficult for Percy but Kronos makes it easier. Percy looks at his slowly growing hair, longer now at the end of May, and feels like Rapunzel.

Kronos has tried to apologize but Percy won’t hear that silliness! His grandfather did nothing wrong. When Percy tries to say this Kronos has a rebuttal difficult to ignore.

“Then neither have you, my Heart. You are safe here.” Kronos promises.

…

…

…

“We need another player.” Eddie says. He’s less greasy then most of Gabe’s friends. Percy had been in the kitchen hoping to sneak some food after the Gorgons. They had been on house arrest ever since.

“Percy! Get over here.” Gabe smirks when Percy freezes and Percy hates himself just a bit more. “I know you got dough.”

“A kid? You sure?” Eddie says. “This ain’t go fish.”

It would have rocked if it was, it was one of Percy’s favorite card games behind Mythomagic after Jason and Nico introduced him to it.

Kronos rouses in curiosity. Percy knows his grandfather is grateful to Gabe for the protection his stench provides, especially after the Gorgan attack, but he’s starting to pick up on Percy’s fear of him, which he does not want.

Percy takes a deep breath.

He’s not a baby.

“I can do it!” He says it like he has something to prove, which he does.

Percy sits down at the poker table. He hides his disgust at the bottles of poison Gabe and his buddies love to drink. He’s never understood alcohol.

“What are we betting for?” He asks.

“Something out of your weight class!” Eddie laughs and gestures to several high end bottles of wine. Percy might not know much about wine but he knows quality when he sees it due to comforting Pollux after Castor’s and then Dakota’s deaths. Pollux had enjoyed the trips from New Rome University to the wineries of California very much.

They begin.

Percy’s face changes like the tides. He’s played so many card games at camp, with the fleecers in the Hermes cabin, on the Argo, and with the Romans during down-time that this is almost second nature to him.

Percy makes a show of looking nervous.

He times his card draws and carefully ups the ante. He makes a show of playing losing hands for minimal loss early in the game. He builds his deck.

“Better luck next time.” Eddie says sympathetically.

Gabe laughs.

Kronos’s brow furrows.

"Why don't you pick the next game, Percy?" Ed asks, throwing him a bone. Several of the greasy men chuckle. Percy thinks. And then has an answer. He has to take a careful breaths as he's almost overwhelmed with emotions. He rolls the name around his head several times like sea glass smoothed by tides, and it feels right.

"Black Jack." Percy says.

The room is dead silent.

Percy keeps his eyes ahead, because if he looks up it will be to look out the window for the smooth volcanic obsidian of his friends wings, come to take him away from here.

“I open.” Percy says and Gabe smirks.

Percy draws his card.

So does Gabe and the others.

“I call!”

“I raise.”

Next round.

“I raise.” Percy says, to laugher. Kronos tenses up. He’s starting to get really upset.

Trust me, Percy thinks and Kronos acquiesces.

Percy has a flush, a decent hand. He knows Gabe has a terrible hand when no one else does, because he’s making the face he only makes when he thinks he’s being sneaky hitting Percy. Because right now, he thinks he’s gonna take Percy's money away.

Gabe successfully gets the others to fold.

Percy holds on.

“You can give it up and I’ll go easy on you.” Gabe sighs.

“I probably don’t have a good hand anyway.” Percy says, and he wills the tiniest among of Hope in his voice, and it disgusts him. It feels like heartburn. He feels wrong to do this and his tummy flips, but he sees the smugness in Gabe’s face increase as he’s overcome with false Hope , and Percy knows he has this in the net!

The whole table is watching silently. Gabe and Eddie aren’t laughing anymore.

Percy wins against Gabe.

The table explodes in roaring laughter. Eddie pats Percy on the back and when Percy tenses Kronos almost takes that hand off. The other men jeer and laugh at Gabe who tries to play off his huge loss by drinking a bottle of beer. Percy shoves the high-end wine in a tote bag, stores it in the canned vegetable section of the pantry where Gabe will never find it, and runs, grinning widely and laughing with his elated and proud grandfather.

It’s high tide again!

Percy runs with the wind in his sails, like a racehorse, like Hope is letting him borrow its wings!

He runs and whoops and shouts with joy for the rest of the night from his defeat of Gabe, and his grandfather plays with him, Percy having recovered enough from near death to host his grandfather again.

They’re gonna be okay!

They’re gonna be great!

…

…

…

Percy yawns after he comes back home. Gabe was drunk and down for the night, and his mother slept in her room after a long double shift. Percy wonders why she’s working so hard, harder than normal.

It might be because of her presence and the sense of safety it brings that he doesn’t see it coming.

Kronos was in the middle of theorizing about the scythe’s location when a wave of stinky alcohol breath rolls over him and a rough hand grabs his shoulder,

Flips him around,

And holds him down as Gabe punches him.

His head rings like the earth after one of his dad’s earthquakes.

Silence.

Chapter 4: I accidentally become The Dark Knight

Chapter Text

Percy can’t tell up from down. He had been so good at making himself disappear from the place supposed to be his home, that he had forgotten Gabe was the very first monster that hurt not just his mom, but him .

The shock, fear and pain overwhelm him.

He doesn't care, he doesn’t!

Really !

But.

Kronos does .

It feels like being flung through Kronos’s sands of time, a soul ripped from a body so dead it had turned to ash with the entire future, only the two of them on a last hope and a prayer to no one but themselves into the past, with a time-travel power Kronos hadn’t even known he’d had.

What power .

Percy feels, rather than sees time stop.

The dripping faucet droplet stops, stretched out like that one painting Rachel showed him, ‘ The scream ’. The taxi below is stuck in a left hand turn seconds from flattening an alley-cat. The fridge stops humming. An airplane is frozen overhead.

The world freezes at Kronos’s rage like an animal playing dead.

A deer in the headlights.

Gold drips everywhere like splattered blood , like Ichor .

Apollo dragged and painted across the heavens.

The world stops and pulls back like the way the ocean recedes from the beach when a Tsunami is imminent. It goes silent like crickets do when monsters are nearby. When the air itself paused, the Pit prepared to inhale and pull Percy and Annabeth down into hell .

Like if it stays still long enough, the predator that was the Titan of Time would have mercy on it.

There is not a single part of the universe untouched by Kronos’s rage.

Not a single part.

Except Percy.

An oasis of love in a desert of Kronos’s creation. Percy now understands why Primordials themselves fear him.

Gabe is frozen mid strike, fist out-stretched and red handed.

Time restarts

Like with Ouranos, like with the Gorgons, Kronos is so enraged it feels like a quasar. Percy’s body steams, gold beams from his eyes like a lighthouse and he feels like he is watching himself in third person as Kronos gets ready to smite Gabe.

Gabe is in a puddle on the floor.

He can’t seem to believe what he’s seeing. He babbles, pants stained, floor spilled with beer.

“-hat are you, what! Am I-I drunk? His- it’s f*ckin eyes -”

Percy sees his reflection in the spilled amber liquid.

He looks like Luke rising from the Sarcophagus, an insane Kronos mowing down his own demigods and camp’s alike. Like every nightmare he had leading up to the great prophecy all at once. His skin cracks from the weight of his grandfather's might, even weakened as it is.

But this does not scare Percy.

What scares him is that Gabe is not clear-sighted.

He is not Sally. He is not May Castellan. He is certainly not Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

Gabe cannot see through the Mist.

And Yet .

“-Y-You little monster -”

Percy flinches.

He gasps and that fuels Kronos’s fire.

How can Gabe see him like this ? Being called a monster, by this monster , after running from monsters his whole life, convincing others he means no harm, hurt him even more than his breaking body.

And Kronos feels it.

“You wretch .” His grandfather speaks pure poison, and Percy would know. The very noise makes Gabe’s ears bleed. “You, given the chance for family, for fatherhood, lay hands on the child you promised to protect? My Grandchild? There won’t be a soul for my son to judge by the time I’m done with you, and I’ll make sure you understand, that you see everything I do to you !”

It makes sense now.

Percy realizes that Kronos has cursed Gabe with the ability to see through the Mist in order to understand just exactly what Kronos was going to do to him.

Kronos roars. Gabe’s skin begins to shrink and shrivel, like he’s aging rapidly. His power soars like Hestia’s firewall slowing Olympus’s fall, the smoldering as Backbiter was cast into her flames and melted.

And this is what finally scares him.

He can see the healing of the last several days come undone. The divine strength of Gaia’s strongest child finding his loose thread and pulling .

His terror is a tidal wave. Percy’s progress with his dad’s domains simply isn’t strong enough to handle Kronos’s full possession. This surge of Percy’s fear directed towards Kronos, not out of any concern for himself, not fear of his grandfather, but of Kronos’s devastation if Percy burned, is what snaps him out of his wrath.

Because his love for his grandson will always be bigger than anything else.

Kronos freezes.

He looks at his hands, at Percy’s hands, trembling and cracking.

“This wasn’t my-I didn’t mean -”

The guilt, the self-loathing, the desperation for Percy to be okay, for Percy to know that he would never do this on purpose-something Percy already knows-makes Percy flinch.

Kronos takes this as Percy being scared of him .

“Don’t be scared of me-” Kronos begs, begs !

“- Please precious, I- oh , by the Primordials, NO !”

Percy comes back into himself trembling on the cool tile floor, wrist aching from supporting himself, spilled ice the sweetest relief against skin burning up with divine fever.

Kronos doesn’t even dare whisper. He holds his breath, metaphorical hands hovering like they could pull Percy back from Unraveling as they both watch Percy teeter over the edge and it’s bizarre , because if he doesn’t do

Something,

Anything ,

Right now , then Percy would almost be indirectly killed by him again. Percy hears his grandfather start to beg silently. Percy can’t stand to hear his loved ones pain.

Hope sings.

It whispers, threads like Fate, and he knows .

He saves himself with Prophecy .

The only domain besides Poison held at arms lengths for Percy’s relief, Kronos interfering with his dreams to prevent terrible nightmares. The only domain that Percy and Kronos both have in common. The domain he chose to let his grandfather know that Percy would choose him ,

Every time,

Always!

The domain that originally drove Kronos insane and doomed him, the very domain Percy now uses to save them both !

Kronos hears these projected thoughts, and sways .

His father's and grandfather's pseudo-domain reinforces and integrates into the godly half of his soul, and solders his thread together and Percy feels the eyes on himself.

Kronos snaps into place.

“Oh my Heart, oh thank you for everything!” Kronos is so relieved that Percy gets the mental picture of the Titan King himself bowed in prayer.

To his mortal grandson .

Dreams, visions, nightmares held at bay by Kronos for his grandson’s peace of mind, runs to the front in such a confusing jumble that Percy fully collapses to the floor, his now horribly bruised cheek pressing against the tile and making him whimper in pain, a noise that has a sun-like corona flaring in the back of his mind like a Kraken.

Enchanted apples, a girl wearing a bandana, a fiery red painting with a green core, braids, a long walk up from deep underground, a beautiful new flower, the moon pulling tides into a crescent hair clip, a terrible drought, feminine eyes like whirlpools, the Big 3 Symbols of Power, sparring with his silver-eyed friend while papa watches-

If Percy is confused by this, then Kronos is completely lost.

“What am I seeing, grandfather?” Percy slurs his words, one eye trained on Gabe’s unconscious figure.

“I cannot say. I can't see dreams the way mortals can. I can only help you with prophecy, and beg for your forgiveness.” Kronos weeps quietly as Percy crawls to his room, too weak to stand.

It’s been exactly fifty minutes since he’s collapsed and had weeks worth of prophetic Demi-god dreams crammed into his head. It will take even longer to purify them into something they can understand and act on.

Percy imagines Kronos watching helplessly that whole time as he did now, and his heart aches for his grandpa. Kronos explains like his dad had a lifetime ago on Olympus after his first quest, that he used to haunt the nightmares of men for millennia from Tartarus, but for all that he could shape dreams, he couldn’t dream himself, couldn’t see the end result of most of his work, only influence the effects of prophecy on dreams.

“Wasn’t even angry with you to begin with!” Percy gasps. “Not scared!”

Kronos’s essence twists with bittersweet love and horrible guilt.

“I hurt you, as that- that scum did.” Kronos grinds out bitterly.

He contains himself almost instantly, sending feelings so Percy knows it’s because his grandfather does not want Percy wasting his precious energy comforting Kronos instead of feeling better.

“Not the same.” Percy squeaks. “Not on purpose.”

“I should have better control.”

It’s low tide.

Percy feels it in his achy bones.

He sits on the counter because he’s still small enough to do that and too weak to stand.

Percy tries to wash his face with water, to maybe heal the bruise before his mother wakes to see what looks like Gabe-looking several years older-collapsed in a drunken stupor for the millionth time. But freshwater has less of an effect, he can’t draw a full bath without risking increasing their water bill and the wrath on his mom, and the distance of his dad’s domains and the Ocean getting to low tide-at exactly 8:46 am- means his face refused to knit together.

Percy can only stare with his kaleidoscope eyes, and see both of their pain in them.

“...How long, Perseus?” Kronos asks, his voice carefully even.

Percy can’t answer, but his silence is telling enough. His wrist throbs.

“This whole time?” Kronos whispers in horror.

Tears trails down Percy’s face, both of theirs.

“Dearest. I-”Kronos cuts himself off. “I never wished for you to know this kind of pain. I thought I was bringing you back to a time where you could be happiest.” He’s devastated .

Percy nods fiercely.

“You did!”

“I delivered you into harm's way.” Kronos’s voice is unforgiving towards himself. "Did you carry this burden all by yourself, little one?”

Percy trembles.

“How did I not realize? How did no one realize? Not even…”

“False impression.” Percy croaks, and Kronos understands. Percy had explained how awesome Paul was, including Percy being best man at their wedding, and he described becoming friends with people who were enemies, like Clarisse.

It was his fault.

Percy’s lip trembles and Kronos rushes to comfort him.

“None of this is your fault. Do you understand dearest?”

“Is!” Percy says stubbornly. “I didn’t tell you how bad it was, cause, what if you thought I was too weak to handle it?” Percy’s voice raises hysterically at the end and he finally, finally , bursts into aching sobs.

“It smelled like him !” Percy howls, and it’s only the fact that their ancient apartment building had thick concrete walls that he does not wake everyone.

Gold curls around his shoulders, the closest thing Kronos can get to a hug as Percy falls apart.

“Ambrosia and Nectar t-taste like what food brings you the most comfort you know? Like Home!” Percy tells Kronos, who most definitely does not know, through sobs, “T-Tastes like Mom’s cookies for me, but in the pit, it's the opposite, it smells like your worst fear-it smelled like him !”

Kronos freezes.

The world becomes fuzzy as Kronos fights his own emotions, knowing if he lashed out again Percy wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Each second that passes is the literally calming breath of Kronos.

Kronos steadies.

He croons at Percy.

He does not call Percy weak.

Or shame him for his tears.

Or expect him to be a pillar like he had to be for Camp Half-Blood, for New Rome.

“So strong, so brave. You did well to reach out for…for Prophecy to save yourself. I am so proud of you, dearest. I know you don’t feel that way right now but I know you can feel me, and you know I mean this.”

That was true.

He could feel Kronos’s emotions, and for whatever reason, his mastermind grandfather seemed to really believe this.

And maybe…

Maybe Percy could too, one day?

Hope flutters like butterflies in his breastbone.

His salty tears finally help his face clear, the ocean-like droplets carving a path of healing through his battered face like a river cutting a canyon into bedrock.

“I’m gonna get stronger! I’m gonna train!” Percy says stubbornly.

“We will train together. As always, your persistence inspires me.”

“What would you need to train for?” Percy asks in surprise. His grandfather was the best!

Kronos sighs, the barest hint of a shake in it.

“Both times I’ve tried to help you, you’ve nearly died. It shouldn't have happened once . A Titan and a God are both immortal, but Gods tend to be more…refined. And being scattered twice then time traveling has reverted much of my control. We shall train and learn together, dearest.”

Percy nods. He’s proven that accessing his Dad’s domains and reinforcing his soul lets him handle Kronos, he just needs to get stronger.

And as he gets stronger so does his scent.

And therefore they need…

Kronos senses his train of thought and the gold darkens to a dangerous copper-bronze.

“I don’t want him here grandpa!” Percy complains. “I don’t but I’m not strong enough yet, even if I will be one day!”

Kronos sours.

Because he too knows Percy is right.

“...I am so sorry, precious. I…I wish I knew what to do. I don’t like the idea of you living under the same roof as that-” Kronos cuts himself off again, unable to say Gabe’s name from his pure hatred, and Percy thinks it’s funny that Kronos can say ‘Tartarus’ despite millennia’s of torture, and yet can speak the name of a detested mortal. “-But I understand your mother did it for your protection. She is trapped too, isn’t she? I can’t see any other possible reason why….”

Percy really hates how hopeless, how disappointed Kronos sounds.

“She's doing her best!” Percy says defensively.

“Are there any other options? What of camp-half blood?”

“I don’t want to leave her and if she knew I knew I was a demi-god-” Percy bites out.

“Would it be so bad with your fellow half-bloods? I’ve seen her put your safety above all else, if she knew -”

“No!” Percy wails, crying again. “I just got her back! I-I want my mom if I can’t have my dad, and he won’t claim me at camp! Mom can’t know I know about the Gods! You know from Luke how bad it was, is !”

Kronos quietly comforts Percy through another bout of tears. Percy is getting energy back as the sun creeps over the horizon and the moon tugs the tides with it.

“-And most of my friends aren’t there yet, and the ones that are won’t know me!”

Kronos hums and rocks Percy through it. The motion reminds Percy of gentle flights with Blackjack, trotting with Rachel’s family horses, of being on a boat moving with waves.

“Alright, dearest. I understand. I won’t let that filth lay another hand on you, he who was supposed to protect you, but you realize you will have to go to camp eventually. They don’t know you yet, but they will.”

Percy hiccoughs, nodding. His face is throbbing and tingling from the intensity of his tears.

He gathers his thoughts.

“....Grandfather?”

“Dearest?”

“You realize I’m going to be getting hurt for the rest of my demi-god life.” Percy’s voice is small like that could soften the blow, but also steady with acceptance. “Either it’s monsters like Gabe, or actually monsters.”

Kronos twists in on himself like he could hide from the pain Percy’s words cause. His brightness dims. Percy gets the impression of a man's forehead pressed to his, of tears not his own plinking onto his shirt with the Rainbow fish on it.

“I know.” Kronos croaks. “I have. Known. I-guiding you, and watching you move through life will be the single hardest and most rewarding thing I will ever do. I need to accept this.”

“Won’t that be defeating your dad again?” Percy asks in confusion, brow furrowing.

An invisible pair of lips smoothes it over. His grandfather's emotional, rumbly chuckles would have lulled him to sleep, except he is terrified of the nightmares he’ll now have with Prophecy unlocked.

Commotion.

Kronos is instantly on guard.

They hear the boots of paramedics, and faint snatches of conversation.

“-ave fallen and hit his hea-”

Kronos is briefly smug.

This goes on for a few minutes, with Sally talking to the paramedics. She’s more concerned over being late for work than Gabe, which makes sense. They only have a few more minutes before she comes to check up on him. Percy had called through the door he was okay before Sally had been pulled away to talk to the paramedics.

Percy readies himself.

His face is still purple, the now healed hairline fracture in his cheekbone, one to match the old, poorly healed one in his wrist, throbs.

He takes a deep breath.

He begins to knead the Mist.

Like bread.

Like clay.

Percy feels the power like soothing ice on his overheated soul. He swears he can feel it cording with the fibers of his soul, making it whole again.

“I…I know this isn’t what you're teaching the Mist me for.” Percy says guilty. He will have to do what he did for the damage from the gorgons. Being able to see through the mist was a sliding scale. Rare humans could, some unaware demi-gods were tricked by it, and a strong Mist manipulator could fool gods.

“I teach you for your benefit and skills. For your safety. So one day you needn’t hide anymore.”

“...I know.” Percy says quietly. “Can you forgive me for using it this way then?”

He lifts his hand.

He feels Kronos’s confusion and alarm.

And then his shock.

His sadness .

Percy uses the Mist like their mask to hide the damage Gabe caused.

“ ‘M sorry grandfather.” Percy whimpers in guilt. His face now looks spotless, Mist caked on like clay, so thick that he could probably get away with burying his face in the pillow when his mom comes in to check on him.

It would fool a God.

Kronos is speechless.

It takes the titan of time several seconds to collect himself. His grandson being forced to use the skills he taught to Percy to free himself used instead to cover up harm from Gabe evidently being too much.

Kronos sends feelings that let Percy know he had nothing to apologize for.

“One day.” Kronos echoes “...I hate you are forced to do this.”

Percy says nothing.

“But I can at least do this for you, dearest.”

It is Percy’s turn to be confused, and then awed. The throbbing, sharp pain in his face tingles, and then fades as Kronos takes it upon himself to feel it instead of Percy.

“Grandfather…!” Percy gasps. Percy is sharply reminded of Kronos first rising with Luke as his host, when Rachel nailed them with a hairbrush, and for a brief moment of that pain Luke shined through as Kronos forced him to feel the pain instead.

It’s the opposite here.

His grandpa willingly embraces the mortal agony if it meant he could spare Percy even a sliver of discomfort.

Percy is so ridiculously touched his emotions flood over the levee to his grandfather.

What did he do to deserve his grandfather?

“I often feel the same.” Kronos says softly.

…

…

…

Sally goes to work after the ambulance leaves. She will have to pay the transportation bill. She had to be torn away to go to work because Percy is coughing .

His throat is dry and cracked like a desert, no water or ocean in sight. It feels like he might cough up his lungs.

Kronos is oddly distant from her, letting Percy front with the exception of blocking the pain in his cheek and chest. It feels like a warm hand cupping his visage, and Percy nuzzles into it and his pillow after he promised his mom he’ll be alright at home alone. She had leaned in to kiss him, and Percy frowned; she left a makeup smear on his forehead.

Those rotten bosses of hers! They wanted the servers to look pretty but it meant his mother struggles not to sweat through the makeup on busy days behind the ovens.

Percy needs to go to sleep.

It’s low-tide now.

It happens twice per day, as does high tide.

Prophecy hovers at the edges of his vision, waiting for him to slip into sleep. He wonders what world-ending things he will see and feels fear.

“Stay with me?” Percy begs. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly like a baby bird.

“Always.” Kronos promised.

“...In my dreams?”

“I can’t dearest. I can guide Prophecy to you, but you must ride the wave in the way only a mortal can.”

“Do immortals dream differently?” He tries to distract himself.

“We do. Dreams…they are startlingly mortal. Something you do when you recover from a long day, something you do when the Fates know a mortal's soul is much more flexible, less defined than a Gods-and full of potential. After our conversation with the Fates I now understand that dreams, and even nightmares represent a Mortals’ ability to effect change, to have Hope .”

“You sound like a Disney princess.” Percy grumbles as Hope flutters again.

“I don't know this Disney princess. Is this a myth we haven’t read yet?”

Percy immediately makes a note to watch The Little Mermaid with Kronos and the thought of Triton's face when they had finally gotten close enough for Percy to show him was almost enough to make him forget.

But…

“...No nightmares?” Percy knows he needs to face Prophecy now, that his grandfather could keep blocking it…it’s putting them on the back foot. Already strange instances with monsters are happening, and they aren’t any closer to finding the scythe.

Kronos could keep blocking his prophetic nightmares. But it would only create worse ones down the line.

“Not from me.” Kronos' voice darkens. “Not for you, dearest.” He sounds like he has plans.

Percy hums warily.

And drifts.

It’s the deep sort of sleep you’d expect from a coma. The dreams are no less confusing and Percy wished Clovis were here to dream walk with him, or that he was an Apollo or Brizo kid where their godly parent would help with their prophetic dreams.

It’s a flood.

Percy dreams of three’s. The three fates, the three Graeae, the big three. He dreams of apples, of mourning so fierce he feels his heart breaking like glass, a joy so inspiring that he flies and even Zeus approves, he dreams of that girl again with a bandana, fishing with a net, weaving her hair like she's been doing it her whole life in a beauty shop.

It’s overwhelming like the River Styx.

He’s awash in a surge of prophecies caught only in snippets.

He dreams of sickness, of giving the most profound gifts, of oaths kept and broken, of pearls, of a flower he’s never seen before. He dreams of a crescent hair clip with a beautiful seashell hilt. He dreams of a monster Kraken at a lighthouse, appendages bigger than trains streaking through the hurricane towards him.

He’s losing himself.

Drowning .

Percy never thought he’d fear water again.

“-ake my hand? C’mon, it’s like a handshake except you hold onto it seaweed brain!” Annabeth laughs.

Percy’s heart stops.

Then her face shifts into Grover’s, into Leo’s, and Jason, Rachel, Campers, Reyna, Tyson, Triton, Amphitrite, his mother, all his friends and family, like Aphrodite except Percy sees all the love he has ever felt at once and more!

Gods,

So much more!

“I won’t burn you, doubt I can after seeing what Tyson can take!” Leo cackles, wiggling his fingers, the same fingers that had lit the several dozen candles on Nico’s birthday cake.

Every dream, every breakthrough, every realization that took him from a dark place. That first sword fight with Luke when he doused himself with water and realized that maybe he did have a place here. It’s his father saving him in St. Louis. It’s the nymphs who saved his life from the pit scorpion, his mother taking Medusa’s head delivered from Poseidon to deliver them from Gabe. It’s that first flight with Blackjack. It’s getting into college.

“Take my hand, I know the sand can trip you up, but don’t worry baby, you’ll get your sea legs yet!” His mom, holding hers out to him at Montauk.

Percy is no longer drowning.

He’s floating.

In suspense.

He could lose his mind, chase memories of everyone he will never get back.

Or.

The last, and final face isn’t a face at all. It’s shifting and empty.

He can’t tell who.

It then warps from an empty heart shaped face into gold, and he knows .

“Sweetest, Let me help you up. Do not lose yourself upon these memories. You will make more, just as beautiful as you are.”

“Don’t wanna leave them.” Percy whines.

“You brought all their Hopes back in your heart. You keep them safe. Come back to me, to everyone you had to say goodbye to, to everyone who you will still yet love. Who do love you. Take my hand.”

The water rises.

He can’t tell if it will lift him up or sweep him away.

Percy takes a leap of faith, and reaches out.

Percy wakes with ocean tears trailing down his cheek the way his dad’s fingertips had during his last goodbye, hand stretched up and reaching out in front of him ready to take all of his loved one’s hands in his.

“Welcome home.” Kronos murmurs.

It’s 5 hours later.

They have one hour until high-tide and he feels it in his bones.

Percy coughs, glad his mom isn't home to hear it. He had been getting better!

Until…

His fan is on, the music player has an ocean nature documentary softly playing. A morning Dove croons late. Drizzle plinks outside, the wooden wind chime from Pansie clunks. The wind rustles the origami paper and pages of his many books on his desk. The afternoon light caused the window waves Percy and Kronos painted by manipulating water colors to oscillate rapidly and give off the impression of being underwater, resting in a warm sand bank at a coral reef, safe under his father’s surface. The room smells like the pina colada candle and the blueberry dessert from last night.

“Time passes quickly when you’re dreaming.” Percy whispers, unable to call them nightmares. His first tango with Prophecy had gone…not well, but he survived.

Kronos hums, He feels grimly satisfied, but in an empty way.

He’s sad .

“Astute, dearest.” Threads brush away the tears. “You will find that time does indeed depend on perception, speeding during enjoyment, slowing during boredom or distress. What tidings did your dreams bring?” Kronos asks, having never stopped blocking the pain in his cheek.

“I...don’t know. A lot. It’s gonna take years , grandfather.”

“I can imagine no greater joy than bringing them to fruition with you.” Kronos says earnestly. His energy seems gone, he seems…hopeless.

He’s sad !

Energy traces his hurt check like the pad of a thumb, not painful when it should be, but comforting. Forlorn.

“Grandfather, you’re sad!” It’s meant to be a question but it comes out like an accusation. Percy says ‘sad’ instead of ‘hopeless’ because the very thought of that is too much.

“I am, dearest. Not of your doing, but of the circ*mstances for you.” Kronos assures tiredly.

No.

That simply won’t stand!

What Kronos needs right now is some Hope .

Said spirit flutters in his chest.

“...When is Gabe coming back?”

Kronos flares.

“Not for several days.” He promises coolly. “He’ll find his hospital stay to be less restful than he hopes.”

It’s a bitter, hurt, directionless sort of anger. Kronos has not forgiven himself yet.

Before they leave, Percy does watercolors. A trick picked up from many late night study sessions in Rachel’s cave. Occasionally her eyes would turn into green beams of light and she’d pick up a paintbrush and put her prophecy to paint instead of words.

All these images came true.

A few notable ones had already happened and these were new perspectives or revealed events that had been lost to history or a lack of ears.

Percy paints.

Everyone he lost in swirling pigments that come to life with the practice of the past several weeks, the tutelage of Rachel, his inherent grasp over water, the same creativity that inspired his father to create horses from the tumbling, running waves over sand.

The past is remembered.

The suspended colors, light twinkling like Zoe’s stars through the animated waves, is almost enough to make him believe they’re still alive.

The future is several dozen wrinkly pages of drying abstract art.

In one of these is Gabe and Kronos’s awe sours.

Percy moves to leave through the fire escape.

“Wherever do you plan on taking us? A low profile would be best after my episode this morning.” Kronos is the closest he’ll ever be to sheepish, as his grandfather can’t bring himself to regret lashing out against Gabe.

Percy knows he is right.

Percy felt the eyes on them, straining to see through the Mist and Fate when Kronos once again stopped time.

“We need this.” Percy whispers.

“I trust you dearest.”

Percy tears up again

“Really? Even though I lied to you?”

“You had reasons for keeping this from me. How dare I fault you, for being young, for being so beautifully human?”

“...Like how I couldn’t be mad at grandma?”

“Yes! So clever. Learning through time and experience, what a privilege for me to witness. I understand your trust is something I must earn.”

“You have it! It’s me! I don’t trust me!” Percy croaks. This seems to stun Kronos, who trusts Percy as openly and freely as a clear ocean horizon.

Percy has to shake a few tails on his way to the Soho art gallery. The longer he is outside the more suspicious, misty figures they have to shake. As Percy gets more energy he gets more attention. He sees an empousi in a boutique inhale deeply, almost following Percy outside. Kronos is wound up like nautical rope.

They both absorb the art in awe.

Percy remembers being here with Chiron on a field trip. He had pointed to the Greco-Roman inspired art, calling a Roman piece with ‘Saturn’ in it a representation of the greediness of the Titan, an almost hurt expression on his face from his Hephaestus made wheelchair.

Well.

Saturn was his father. Or a version of him.

Percy reads the Latin description perfectly and it startles Chiron.

“Splendid, Percy!” He wheels towards Percy, giving the state of Saturn and oddly enough, Neptune an suspiciously wide berth.

“It was all your Latin classes, Mr. Chiron.” Percy mumbles, ears turning hot when Nancy whispers it’s cause he’s just such a ‘special’ guy. Grover sniffs at her.

“My dear boy, I believe you don’t get enough credit! It seems you have a …natural talent.” At the time, that emphasis had upset Percy, but now he realizes it was Chiron figuring out Percy was a demi-god.

He wonders if he will have him for Latin class again.

“I was here on a field trip with Mr. Chiron.” Percy speaks softly. Kronos sparks with interest. All of his children outside of the main 6 had been made after he had been felled by the Big Three, from grains of himself interacting with the world. Chiron was one of them, only ever interacting with his father in nightmares. Percy feels Kronos’s deep pride that his distant son and dearest grandson had become so close is only overshadowed by regret and guilt.

Percy prepares himself.

“That's not the only thing that happened here.” Percy says. Hope cords through the syllables, reaching his ears and Kronos’s, who finally rouses from his funk with curiosity, knowing something profound was about to happen.

Percy shares the Memory of the only time his mom and him acknowledged Gabe’s existence after murdering him with Medusa’s head. Coming to look at his forever petrified figure in this gallery.

Kronos’s essence sings .

He turns the vision over in his head in awe, like Percy on the beach finding a particularly beautifully smooth stone or sea glass, or seashell on his little treasure hunts.

His grandfather blooms with new hope, the belief that things can get better!

“His day will come. And it will be my mom who does it!” Percy prophesied.

…

…

Percy makes plans to train with his mist-caked face. He threads some in his hair, Kronos helps by braiding it. Seriously, where did he learn to do that? Percy is almost good enough to move the mist like water through the strands they way he used to when dying hair.

He goes to the park while he still has energy.

He notices some Dryads struggling, and they notice him noticing them struggling and they both briefly freak out until-

“Oh! I know you! The dark-haired navigator, Kyantos!” She shrieks and makes them both jump. “You scared off those bullies pouring alcohol on our roots! And cleaned up the park! And helped the Naiads clean up their water! And planting new trees! And help those Dryads grow!”

…What ?

Yes, they had done those things. Sometimes they were left with no choice but to train in the park, but Kronos always covered his face with mist. Percy had worked on his purification abilities by cleaning the water but was disappointed when it wasn’t as powerful as his dad’s sand dollar. And he also directed nutritious water to the roots of sickly dehydrated trees as irrigation was another of his dad’s domains. He also made an effort to clean up with Pansie, mist covering his face even then just in case.

The two of them had even taken to doing cold stratification in their fridges after Pansie brought it up, sprouting apple and pear seeds among others and planting them all over New York.

But to have a reputation!

A nickname of all things!

Totally crazy !

Percy is busy trying to restore water to a fountain dry from the drought-and one that he and Pansie cleared of trash-when a Nymph gasps behind him.

He whirls around.

It's the same nymph who began 'secretly' helping Pansie and him clean the park when they first met.

"...You, you're, trying to bring the fountain back? Really?" Her mouth trembled and it makes her willow leafed hair shake like an earthquake.

He wants to wrap her in a blanket.

He settles for nodding.

She lets out a hopeful gasp.

“I’m your biggest fan! And Springer would be too..." Willow seems to almost cry before rallying herself. "A-And I heard you're the one that smells like… him .” She whispers reverently, locks of willow branches give her a cute fringe. Other Nymphs and Naiads are now literally coming out of the woodworks to gawk at him in awe. It reminds him too much of when Poseidon first claimed him.

Percy resents the fact that he smells!

He does!

But it’s impolite to say it!

“It’s so strong right now even we can smell it and our scents are barely above mortals! It’s so wild- you have to be him!” Another apparent fangirl, or fan-nymph swoons.

“I wish a Satyr was here, they have way stronger senses of smell!”

“Do we know it’s a ‘him’? The wild does come in many forms, maybe they’re a girl!” Another nymph says, and Percy does a double take.

He supposes his kid-frame was gender neutral and Kronos had sculpted his face to be fluid and as average looking as possible to whoever was seeing him, like a Aphrodite knock-off. He genuinely might look like a girl for all he knows!

And more importantly…

Percy… didn’t hate that.

“I think they smell kinda salty.” A Naiad says thoughtfully and Percy leans back, heart hammering at being called ‘they’ but not a bad hammering. Now is not the time to be having revelations about himself!

“Makes sense, the sea is wild and chaotic! The last frontier! Humans know more about the moon than the oceans’ depth!”

Percy had known that, actually. He knew a bunch of nerdy ocean facts.

“He smells a bit strange, not…not quite like a fully living thing should.” This makes Percy’s heart skip. “Like…dual-toned. Deep underground, like he’s in both worlds. A strange Nymph says. She reminds Percy of some of the plants in Persephone’s Garden.

“Of course you’d say that, you're a Lampades!”

“-Yeah! The Underworld entrance you used is right there if you want to go back-”.

“-All the more reason to think he’s not a normal spirit, he must be Haliplanktos !” The fan-nymph insisted.

Several nymphs scream in excitement and fear.

The Nymphs may have been speaking in tongues but the distant groaning of a monster is loud and clear to Percy.

Percy skedaddles.

…

…

…

Percy feels his energy lagging as the tides wash away. He grips at his golden necklace and wishes for Riptide.

He forgets how scary this is. He thinks of a vision he had of a 7-year old Annabeth lunging out to attack and squeaking ‘no more monsters!’ as she meets Thalia and Luke.

And then…

The monster loses his scent.

It’s so bizarre that Percy stops in his tracks, partly out of shock, partly out of exhaustion as his powers fade, turning to stare at the confused, mist-soaked horror. Percy briefly wonders if he is also a mist-soaked horror with his covered face. It sniffs, but despite Percy being right in front of it, it’s like it’s gone nose-blind.

Hm…

This…has some implications , as Annabeth would say.

He decided not to question his good fortune despite feeling Kronos thinking up a storm.

He kills the monster in its ignorance.

He goes home sleepy as Clovis, not followed by anything.

…

…

…

Training begins in earnest.

He looks left and right like he’s crossing a dangerous road, but he’s actually just meeting at the confluence of the East and Husdon rivers. Same thing. He figures the two of them hate each other enough to avoid this area.

Kronos and Percy have been masking his face ever since the Nymphs of a few days ago-who were still searching for and chattering about him. He had to be careful when playing with Pansie now.

His power is nowhere near what it was, but he had tentative access to several domains.

He needs to strengthen them like a muscle. The now undeniable pattern of the ebb and flow of his strength is now apparently linked to his scent too.

The waters surrounding New York were more river and estuary compared to the pure ocean at the end of the island at Montauk and camp.

Percy is currently using his imperial gold necklace and trying to weave it into a net to practice underwater with, but it’s way harder than he thought. He tries to lasso a fridge someone dumped at the bottom of the confluence of the East and Hudson to no success.

Kronos soothes Percy as he throws a fit, water lashing around him, scowl obscured by his mist-mask as he crosses his arms.

Kronos chuckles.

“Your enemies would tremble before you.” He croons.

Purification next then.

Arguably the most important domain Percy needed back. He wouldn’t be able to sift out his grandfather's golden grains otherwise. He knows Kronos wants him to focus on other domains first, his concern any more of his power in Percy would burn him up.

He’s correct.

“Perseus…”

“I know! Worrywart! I’m not trying to get grains yet, but strengthening this domain will get me stronger too!”

The rivers were actually worse than in the future, as Percy was aware the work of activists like his mom was still ongoing, and Percy didn’t have his dad’s sand-dollar. He briefly thought of the petrified seashells he used to clean the horse poop from the stable, but he’s fresh out of those too. And besides, they’d created a saltwater spout that wouldn’t mix well with brackish estuary water, which was a mix of the Appalachian freshwater and the Ocean.

His lasso gleams and catches the dim rays that make it to the river's bottom and past the shadows of boats and thickened polluted water like a disco ball.

He moves through the steps of a ribbon kata Odette had shown him.

A rope, a currant, almost an arm like a big octopus tentacle emerges from his chest and wraps around Percy and snakes through the water like Odette’s ribbon. Purity radiates from it like burning, cleansing light, and Percy pulls back in fear of harming the microorganisms in the water even as he zaps away spilled gasoline and rotting food.

And then Percy feels a presence.

He only had a few seconds to get to the surface. Percy is above the water on old wooden mooring posts, surrounded by rocks and carrying trash bags filled with old glass. He removes his mist mask and pretends to be any other kid as the East and Hudson river gods appear, scratching their heads in confusion.

Or at least East tries to do that, but it’s hard with flippers.

“Now I swear I felt a powerful ocean presence here, some no good meddler no doubt.”

“Maybe you’re imagining things again, East. We’re still freshwater. No ocean here.” Hudson has moved to scratching his algae beard. Percy sadly agrees.

This is not the Ocean.

He misses it desperately.

“Like you imagining you’re the better river, Hudson?”

“Or you imagining you're less polluted?”

“You wish that little mystery guy was helping you too! He knows I’m the best, and heard he hates polluters too!” East crows, and Percy feels his heart stop. “Wait, you think it was him?”

“Of course he’d help you first, you are more polluted.” Hudson says.

“In your dreams are you less polluted than me!”

“Gods don’t dream like that, moron.” Hudson growls, and that insult seems to be the final straw for East who pivots to attack.

It puts Percy-doing his best to look innocent on the surface-in his sight.

He is now aware of how suspicious it looks for him to be holding a bag full of trash, away from most boat-traffic and poised over the rivers.

“Say, Hudson. You see that?”

“Hard to see through your polluted waters, but I do.”

“Looks like he’s polluting both of us.”

“Sure does.”

“We might not be able to find that mysterious ocean purification source, but at least we can take it out on a polluter!”

Percy is suddenly aware he does not have the curse of Achilles, that it’s approaching low tide and the few powers he can access are waning with the moon, and that the East and Hudson, minor gods they may be, are the first deities Percy will meet in this time outside of the Fates.

Kronos gets ready to rumble.

A boat breaks through the waters and scatters the two gods.

“Hey-!”

“Wait, do you think this boat is his, the ocea -”

. Its name is in shimmering green font Percy can only read with Kronos’s help, called the ‘Sea-dog’. It has a faded mural of a merman-it took forever and Triton’s fang-clenched intervention for Percy to stop calling all Mers ‘mermaids’- who looked like he was shouting upwards at the boat deck.

“Well I’ll be!” Says the man on board. He’s chewing on some herb-grass, and has a few more near the cabin. He’s dressed like a New England fisherman with a coast guard vest, and docking to offload his catch. His legs have braces. “Not often I see anything other than fish out here! What’s your name, youngin? You can call me Gilbert!”

Percy blinks widely.

He clutches his trash bag.

“Was cleaning!” Percy says defensively. He wouldn’t dare do something as stupid as littering! A Nereid below hums with laughter below in the wake of the boat, having been drawn over in curiosity from the Gods.

She looks familiar, but after her eyes rove over his exposed face-must to their extreme unease-she seems to realize something and leaves before the brackish water becomes too fresh.

“I know, had a feelin that was the case. It’s quite the catch young man!” The man smiled kindly. His hand goes to rest on a woven bracelet with childish charms. “My daughter does the same, beach clean ups! She says she could do it forever! I’ve got to doing it too.”

The bracelet his daughter made for him catches the sun as he gestures to a trawl filled with garbage. A radio buzzes with chatter from the coast guards and startles Percy.

“Ope! Never mind that, I’m part time coast guard, listen to the broadcasts just in case any other fisherfolks or swimmers need help. Speaking of, why don’t you hop on and I can take you to the nearest dock?”

Percy hums, gripping the glass filled trash bag and his golden rope-now misted over to look like normal boat nylon.

Percy shimmies up the side.

“Wow! You’re a natural, not your first rodeo, huh?” Gilbert's eyes are deep, considering blue, and almost sad looking at his words.

Why is Gilbert sad?

Does he miss his daughter?

The same way Kronos misses Hestia?

“I foresee stronger currents than usual this summer too!” Gilbert says as he listens to the weather forecast. His tone is upbeat but his face is worried. “I hope my daughter knows, It’ll be hard on her considering how much she likes the beach.”

Kronos is really unhappy but knows facing two angry river gods is inadvisable even if he can wipe the floor with them. It’s too much attention when judging by the East’s words, he had enough on himself already! Ever since Gabe hit Percy, Kronos has been prepared to-perhaps literally-bit the head off any man that approaches him. Although maybe Percy shouldn’t think of it like that, given Kronos’s immense guilt for eating his kids.

Smite any man that approaches.

Yeah.

That's more like it.

Percy is honestly more worried for Gilbert than himself, who seems to be a nice, normal mortal. The way he rambles on about his daughter reminds him of Paul and Estelle, and the thought makes his heart jump in longing.

Something about this man also reminds Percy of his dad, and he wonders if he is destined to see Poseidon in every man who is kind to him.

“Say, that's your rope?”

Percy holds the transformed golden lasso closer to himself.

“Yes, a gift.” Percy mumbles.

“You know, my daughter loves working with rope. She’ll weave anything! Ropes, nets, hair, especially the other kids in fancy up-do’s.”

“You have more kids?”

“Not at the- no , it's just her!” Gilbert laughs suddenly, then becomes more serious. “I remember how hard it was when I was in her shoes…rough work. No, I’d like to focus on her. You’re a good kid, reminds me of my daughter.” Gilbert finished sadly.

“Do you miss her?” Gilbert startles, like he’s used to looking out for others but not others looking out for him.

“I-well, yes. Yes. I do, she's the pearl of my eye. I… miss fishin with her but I understand she needs to be with other kids like her and grow over the summer.” Gilbert says, eyes shining. “I love every letter she writes to me though!”

“By hand?” Percy asks.

“Yes! She even puts ‘em in a bottle for me, and I'm good at getting messages.” He puffs up proudly, gesturing to his radio transponder. Then deflates. "Though, the deliver just isn't the same, the...mailman's been down in the dumps for a bit, missed his own..." Gilbert trails off, face grieved.

Kronos seems to have finally softened, guard still raised but neutral.

“I'm sorry she’s not here. I think we would be friends. ” Percy says honestly. His throat gets soothed and soft like he swallowed a lot of Camp’s artisan honey, singing healing hymns with Will and Alice where every note matched with theirs is healing made into music. Breathing becomes like flying, his words whistle and chime, and he swears it adds buoyancy to the boat.

“But I think you will see her again. I think she knows how much you love her, and I think she feels blessed.” Hope dances in his words like light through water, like it has a mind of its own, and the nereid finally making her way to the ocean in the distance, throwing one last look at Percy.

Gilbert looks like one of the fish he’s caught, opened mouthed. His eyes are teary and he turns away to dab at them with a bandana.

“‘Got a way with words to ya, small fry. I…first time I’m feeling hopeful to see her again soon! I just, had a bad feelin , and ya learn to trust your gut as a sailor, ya know? But now…” Gilbert grins, thumb brushing the bracelet, tying his bandana tighter around his head.

Would you like to learn how to make fisherman's knots like she can?”

“Yes!” Percy says, completely swept away with excitement. All those books Dr. Palaska let him borrow are coming in handy now!

…

…

…

There was a time when Percy had been excited.

Excited to be like other kids who had a dad. For one moment he had dared to hope that it could have been Gabe.

“If you’ve scratched my car with your stupid skating crap I’ll beat the sh*t out of you.” Gabe rasps. His eyes are bloodshot like a beached fish. He looks like he’s aged several years in the several days he’s been in the hospital. He’s currently eyeing Percy back from skating at the park with Pansie and his mortal friends.

There was a time, not too long ago, where Percy would have frozen in fear .

But…

Kronos simmers like magma in a caldera.

Percy sees the brief flicker of gold in the reflection of the car windshield and he sees Gabe wince, then look confused as to why he did that.

“Broke your wrist falling too?” Percy says softly. His eyes hold warning.

Do it again.

I dare you.

When Kronos had thrown Gabe back in divine rage, he had broken his wrist among other things. Percy hates that they now have that in common.

Unfortunately those thoughts leak over to Kronos in Percys rage.

And he wanted to know what Percy meant by ‘again’ and ‘too’. Gabe lets him leave without further argument. Percy can feel Kronos’s immense confusion and need for answers, and knows it’s time to tell him.

Percy introduce Pansie to Gilbert and they get along like a house on fire, or a boat on fire in this case. They learn Gilbert fishes and rescues all over, on the west coast, that he often does ‘the great loop’ which is boating from the Great Lakes, to the Gulf of Mexico, to the Erie canal which Percy thinks is the coolest thing ever!

“Can I do that one day?” Percy wonders and Gilbert smiles. The crinkle reminds him of Poseidon but he knows it isn't and Percy clamps his jaw shut to keep his lost calls from pouring out.

“Don’t see why not. You’ll have to say hi to my sister for me! Lives up in Lake Superior, fancies herself the queen of it, ha! Her daughter and mine are best friends-like two pearls in a clam!”

“And you said your daughter had a boyfriend.”

Gilbert sighs.

“Yeah. Got something planned with those two soon actually!”

Where Pansie learns the fisherman's knots, Percy struggles due to his wrist, like he had struggled and almost died from the Gorgons.

“Old injury?” Gilbert asks in concern and Percy nods. “A bit young to have an old injury.”

Yes.

About a year old. Percy looks in the distance at the Statue of Liberty. Daedalus' ultimate automaton, made with tech inspired by the Hepestus’s, the very ones that killed Bianca and held the sky back a few seconds longer.

“I hate people! Wouldn’t it be better if they were all just gone!” Pansie says in frustration as they scoop up garbage.

“Hm, don’t know about that.” Gilbert says. Neither of them have noticed the way Percy has frozen in horror, staring at the statue of Liberty, Pansie’s words on a loop in his head. “Not all of this is everyone’s fault equally.”

Gilbert picks up an empty infant formula bottle.

“A single ma trying to feed her baby ain’t on the same level as a real estate developer. I’m an environmentalist and what most of em get wrong is buying into the enemy's ideas.”

“...How?” Pansie asks.

“Polluting humans like to think of themselves as apart from the environment in that they’re above it and therefore ain’t got no responsibility to it. Some environmentalists, by painting all people as evil are unintentionally reinforcin that idea, that humans aren’t a part of the natural world. Ya are! You are a part of it! Animals of this planet with just as much right to exist as anything else, it’s just a powerful few steering it all wrong!” Gilbert taps the steering helm for emphasis.

“And accusing the powerless of being evil ain’t gonna make them like you, and you might be hurting the feelings of those who are trying to help.”

That makes sense to Percy, who is calming at Gilberts words, Kronos wrapped around his heart to keep it from shaking too hard. He hadn't liked it when the two river gods tried to kill him. Again.

Pansie’s words had shaken him deeply.

But it seems Pansie is also pretty hurt.

“But then what do I do!” She bursts out. “Does it even matter? Who do I get angry at! Me and grandma were all that's left who spoke our language and now she's gone and it’s just me, and mom’s trying here in New York at the university to work at the national parks but it’s just me! She said we had to come here because there were more people like me but I didn't see anyone! We were so small we didn’t even get a Rez! I don’t have a dad that loves me like you love your daughter!”

Percy cowers in the corner of the boat as Pansie coughs and cries.

Gilbert’s leg braces blend in with his fishing gear as he walks like he’d be more comfortable swimming into the cabin, and then back out with a bandana.

“My girls. She outgrew it. I taught her to weave it, first one she ever wove herself.”

Pansie sniffles.

“I can’t imagine what you're going through little lady, but I know my girl struggles to find her place, especially with her Ma in all. Like my daughter, you also have a good heart that cares for the world around ya. I’m sorry that things are so hard, but whatever happens, you’ll always have a place on the Sea-dog. ”

He really seems to believe that, and Percy wonders if Gilbert has hope in his heart too.

“It must be hard being one of a kind.” Percy sniffles. He knows that too well, but even he has Kronos with him!

Gilbert’s expression softened as both of them calmed down.

“He’s right!” Percy says hopefully, the feeling weaving into his words like fishing rope. He sees the way Gilberts eyes get glassy like he’s seeing his daughter in front of him, like Pansie seeing more people speaking her language. Percy is overwhelmed with the feeling that Pansie will find her place, that Gilbert will see his daughter.

He thinks it might be a combination of Hope and Prophecy.

“I’ll show you youngsters the best spots to throw netting into Yacht propellers.” Gilbert offers, and it makes them laugh.

…

…

…

Percy is by the abandoned fountain where he first accessed the ‘Earthshaker’ domain when he tells Kronos. Or rather, shares the memory with him.

It’s short.

From last summer.

And it shows how Percy broke his wrist.

Not from a fall as Percy had told everyone, people quick to believe it due to his adhd forgetfulness and clumsiness.

No.

Gabe broke it.

It takes hours for Kronos to calm down enough to go back to the apartment. He whispers assurances the whole time, even as his rage heats up the fountain and boils the water. As Percy sleeps that night Kronos stands guard like the most fearsome monsters did over his sarcophagus, and Percy can distantly feel Kronos once again haunt the dreams of men-or one in particular.

Tomorrow they will keep training.

And then they won’t need him anymore.

…

…

…

Pansie douses Percy with water from her flask.

He gasps, eyes closed, feeling every droplet on his face. Kronos threads gold through his lungs, trying to help him catch his breath after running, and in the early heatwave.

Several ragged coughs tear themselves from his throat anyway. It’s only by the grace of Kronos and Pansie he stays up. He isn’t being actively harmed right now but this is deep damage taking a long time to heal.

He had chased after someone who threw a bottle out of a window at them. Kronos had slowed town time ever so slightly, and Percy had sped up to the point where he chucked it back, it shattering all over the back.

The cops had seen that , of course, and then they had to run or Sally would be working even harder to pay his juvvie bills!

“Hey, maybe they’re friends because they’re both sick?”

It’s one of the wealthier kids that go to the park with their friends.

“I thought it was because they were both… special .”

Percy stands up so fast it startled them, and they drop their food and scream.

“No littering!” Pansie says, voice a bit off as she tries not to cry.

“Just this once?” Percy asks croakily. He stands up and has no weapons but his fists. “Some of their teeth are looking a bit loose. Could help ‘em out?” Percy is startled by how cold his voice is, but Kronos seems to approve. A harmless lesson like this could save these kids from being cursed by nymphs or angry river gods.

They run.

…

…

…

Percy dreams that night of red.

Red battle aura, red of eyes, red blood that turns to red hair, and he feels a grief, a longing for a dear friend. And a Hope. The realization that he will see her again.

He wakes up with the watercolor painting of a red shape with a smaller blue and green shapes in it with green eyes already drying, next to the sea. Percy feels his feet take him there.

Percy swims in the water, into the brackish bay. He frees too far inland dolphins trapped in netting, cutting it the way Gilbert had shown them.

“Thank you thank you little lor-”

“Shhh!” The other dolphins cackle and trill, dancing crazy circles around him, poking his tummy with their snouts and pulling giggles from him.

Percy can’t help the way his heart picks up, the first acknowledgement, no matter how cut off, of his godly parent.

“Simple and pure creatures such as these sacred and under your fathers domain, among others, and would inherently know your parentage, but would keep your secret from other gods.” Kronos explains.

“Thank you for saving us! We are always grateful for it!” She says, and Prophecy tints purple and the dolphins dance away.

He collects more glass to put away in the Jackson’s storage, following the hints of prophecy at the corners of his eyes.

Spitefully, he takes some of the netting and swims to the fanciest boat of all out in the bay, frowning thoughtfully as he approaches the metal turbines. If people were gonna think of him as a no good future criminal then he might as well start early!

“You are not bad, dearest.”

Percy hums.

Something was pulling his attention this way, the knowledge he was going to experience something here.

A little sea-monster bites his ankle.

Percy startles so badly he is briefly tossed in the waves. It’s not often he gets attacked in his dad’s domain, despite this being more freshwater, but this was a monster , no matter how seemingly harmless.

One little demon becomes two. They distinctly look like Piranhas.

This really upsets Kronos.

The next few minutes are a mess of bubbles and Gilbert's filet knife as Percy fights to not be stripped to the bone. His booby-trap long since discarded. He is just about to collapse, finishing off the last of the monster fish when he is saved.

Yet again.

A Nereid, the same one from the rivers confluence-the very same one Percy realizes saved him in St. Louis too- scoops him bridal style into her arms.

He’s so awed by her beauty, overwhelmed with happiness at seeing her again and knowing who she was, that he doesn’t even think, just hugs her back. He’s small in her arms even for his age, as he is with all Merfolk. Deep-sea gigantism at work combined with Olympian show-boating.

The water circles his bitten ankle, almost like a gentle pair of hands. It reminds him of when he was even smaller than now, his mom helping him put on his winter boots and lace them.

She laughs like his step-mom, which makes sense as one of her handmaidens.

“Momma?” Percy asks unthinkingly, sleepy with near unconsciousness.

Her face softens.

“Little one, you’re far out from your mother.” she says gently, and Percy feels his face fall.

Not ‘little prince’ or ‘little lord’

No.

‘Little one’.

She must be hiding his parentage from him and everyone else too, like the mysterious dolphins. Even despite his clear waters powers at this point, weak but functional. They must be trying to get him to think he’s the son of another minor water god.

“My mom would approve. I’m helping the environment. Do you know her?” Percy leans forward eagerly, clumsily pressing their foreheads together. It instinctually feels like the thing to do.

A strange purring is present in the back of his throat, like a whistle, like he could sing from sheer hope .

Her face melts .

She hitches her arms upwards and he wraps his around her shoulders. His head lulls with sleep. He can feel her weaving the mist, but refreshingly enough, it’s benevolent.

“Yes, I do recall she was quite…exuberant as well.” The Nereid’s lip twitches in amusem*nt, staring at the netting and clearly aware of what he was getting up to.

Exuberant too?

What was that supposed to mean?

His kind mom doing something like this?

Yeah right, and Percy was the lightning thief!

But…

She had killed Gabe, hadn’t she?

“Who are you to me?” Percy wonders, words slurring with the strangeness in his vocal cords, one that existed ever since he spoke with hope. Kronos and him were calling it ‘hopespeak’ for now, but he was sure they could do better!

“Guardian angel?” Percy tries again, and jokes, “My other mother?” and she laughs like bubbles.

Bubbles that pop .

“No, pearl. I…I am a trick of the light on the horizon. A part of your sweet dreams.”

She kisses his forehead and he knows peace.

…

…

…

He wakes up on the deck of the out of place rich ship he had sabotaged earlier, and Prophecy sings at a fever pitch behind his teeth.

It yearns .

It reaches !

The boats dead in the water, surrounded by the dropped spoils of the many Piranha he had fought earlier. It was sharp scales that Percy knows from his step-mom can be woven into armor, if you have the patience and skill.

He hadn’t before.

They hear voices.

Percy sneakily moves to pick up the sharp, glimmering scales, scales that would simply look like sea-foam to mortals.

He hears a shaky exhale.

He whips their head around to see no one other than Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

She must have been watching this whole time, painfully young face tear stained, one hand clutching the netting, looking at his formerly bitten ankle, the bag full of scales. She’s clutching her blue hairbrush, her little overalls are stained with paint. She has deep bags under her eyes that tell of many sleepless nights.

Her other hand is holding a painting.

“I had a dream to go on the water today. Was gonna meet something. My daddy’s so worried about me he said yes.” Rachel says. “Thought I was just being crazy again, but-” She bites her lip, eyes sad , eyes hopeful .

Something threads in her words too.

“I was worried about you! But you-no normal person heals like that!” Rachel whispers fiercely. Her eyes aren’t a ‘normal’ shade of green either.

Percy wonders if people can tell when he is being possessed by Hope like when Kronos makes his eyes turn gold, when the Oracle turns Rachel’s green.

“Are you real?” She whispers. Percy feels he should be asking that.

She reaches out.

Percy might be one of Medusa’s statues.

She takes his hand in hers and Percy feels his eyes slide shut, overcome with a terrible joy at the warmth and softness, the stickiness of paint.

“Been having so many of them lately. Nightmares.”

“Me too.” Percy says quietly and startles Rachel. She surges with earnestness now that she had a response from Percy, green eyes shining.

“ Please tell me I'm not crazy.” Rachel whispers.

Percy’s heart breaks .

How long had Rachel wondered?

Struggled?

Questioned her Sanity?

‘You’re brilliant. And you're my friend! I’ll explain it all, Rachel.” Percy whispers fiercely. He puts his free hand in his pocket and pulls out his own folded watercolor painting.

As one, they hold them up.

Percy is a dark green-blue with a gold center in Rachel’s painting and Prophecy chants in the back of his mind like whale-song. Rachel chokes on a sob when she sees his matching painting of her, and they give up on distance, embracing in a mess of curls and color away from the top-deck.

“You are not alone.” Percy sees Hope shine back in Rachel's eyes, the words like soothing honey. “Never again.”

…

…

…

“It brings me great joy for you to surround yourself with old and new friends, especially ones able to help you sort through prophecies, but…be careful of these ‘ brushes ’.”

The way Kronos said ‘brushes’, looking at the tote bag full of paint brushes, with such suspicion, and-dare Percy say it- an undignified stink-eye, after he had initially reared back at Rachel’s blue hairbrush, makes Percy laugh so hard he cries.

He’s seen Kronos give less scrutiny to actual monsters!

Rachel looks at him curled up and giggling.

Kronos tugs gently at his hair.

“Another godly vision?” she asks eagerly.

Her fear over being clear-sighted has turned to excitement. They were currently painting prophetic visions together. Mostly a mess despite their painting skills, but sometimes there would be an image of startling clarity. Rachel had painted the chair that would be in her Oracle cave.

And Percy…

Well.

What does a seashell mean when he has so many?

The Nereid was barely a dream in Percy’s mind, their conversation forgotten to him and misted over beyond even Kronos as she was a creature of the Ocean. His knowledge of his godly parentage, with his dad still considered unknown to him and everyone except Poseidon, made him want to be honest.

He’s told Rachel everything except his parentage and time-travel. Their shared powers over Prophecy means he has an incredible amount of wiggle room, and her status as purely mortal means this knowledge wouldn't increase her scent.

Finally.

A friend he can’t put in danger!

Rachel isn’t even mad Percy flooded their boat after they docked!

Which is good.

Because it will happen again!

“No, not a vision. I was just thinking, maybe we should go see that new Tristian McClean movie?” Percy asks, and his heart jumps thinking of Piper.

“Awesome!” Rachel crows. “Maybe your mom could bake us cookies to sneak in again?”

“Your Dad said you already ate though?”

“Oh please, your mom would love any chance to tick him off!” Rachel laughs, and so does Percy, but his has a dazed quality to it.

Mr. Dare had called him mom from work. He had seen Percy-who had forced himself to be sopping wet- and had to his credit immediately contacted her. A recurring theme unfortunately, but trouble finds Percy!

When Mr. Dare had seen Sally, his mouth dropped open like Gilbert’s catches, gum falling out, before his teeth clenched into an obviously fake grin, fancy mobile phone breaking in his grip.

“If it isn’t Sally Jackson . It’s. Been too long.” Mr. Dare grits out.

Wait.

What !?

Percy and Rachel are both open-mouthed in shock, and Kronos takes Percy's frenzied grabbing and shaking like a champ.

Their parents knew each other?!

“It was meant to be!” Rachel whispers inaudibly with stars in her eyes.

Sally’s face had gone through a similar metamorphosis. Her tired, worried face became serene and sharp like glass.

“Just Mrs. Jackson is fine!” Sally says in the customer service voice she reserves for the customers she can’t stand. Her previous overworked state is gone. “I’m glad you found my son alright.”

“I am too. Just as wild as his mother.” Mr. Dare grins. It is not friendly.

Sally laughs falsely.

“Yes! Speaking of finding things, did you ever find out who poured sugar in those engines?” Sally asks, and if Percy couldn’t see the glint in her eyes he’d think it was genuine. “I know that must have been a setback, first us activists, then your development gets hamstrung…

“Well, we all get busy in life.” Mr. Dare says, resting a hand gently on Rachel’s head, and it is the softest Percy’s heard him.

Sally’s face softens too, Looking at Rachel and Percy standing together.

“Thank you.” she says sincerely.

That had been the start of the Jackson-Dare correspondence. Percy and Rachel often had hair days together where Rachel would teach him curly hair care.

After one of these days, The Dare’s new lawyer was driving them home. A mysterious man with sunglasses that oddly reminded Percy of Argus. His name is Cecil.

“Just a quick detour, kids. Need to check up on one of the properties.” His voice is familiar too and Percy wonders if they had met in the future. It’s an older home of one of the Dares. Apparently the neighboring train yard wasn’t up to code with their cattle cars or something.

…

…

…

Pansie is with her mom. Rachel is with her parents.

Percy is with his parents.

Or he would be.

Hopefully .

He squirms nervously in his seat.

But right now, a stranger that he loves with all his heart is right in front of him and does not know him.

Paul Blofis.

“I heard from your mother you're a very smart guy who likes his books? What do you like to read about?” Paul asks. He had noticed Percy’s squirming, and in his very Paul-like way, had checked in on Percy without calling Percy’s nerves to attention.

The fresh college grad sits worriedly but oddly calm. It’s the air of a man who is confident with his path in life and worries more on behalf of those under his care. The few years of age between Paul and Sally had never been more apparent.

“You love this man like a father.”

“He was.” Percy whispers.

“I didn’t quite catch that?”

“They say life came from the sea.” Percy says quietly.

“Ah yes, the primordial soup!” It’s the exact nerdy sh*t that makes Percy’s heart ache with grief, that made Sally laugh and laugh.

Except.

She’s not laughing.

She twitches, arm held ever so awkwardly-Percy struggles to control his temper when he realizes the bruises are from Gabe-hands clutching the school’s tuition at Paul's first school, a private one and not the one Percy went to with him.

Above all, she eye’s Paul’s hand warily.

Paul.

His parent .

The right person.

At the wrong time.

Would there ever be a right time, in this timeline?

“I…think I might need to pick up a few more shifts for this!” Sally finally laughs, but it is awkward and strained. Percy is then hit with the second realization that his mom was so absent this summer because she was working to afford school.

For him .

Kronos realizes it too, if his contriteness is anything to go by.

Percy leaves that office, but not before Paul catches him.

“Hey, I do have a tutoring group at the library, and I heard you mention Dr. Palaska? We work together on it. We’d love to have you?”

Percy sniffles.

He throws his arms around the man to the shock of all three adults.

Paul awkwardly but kindly pats his back, and it fills some of the space left by Poseidon.

…

…

…

“Stay still, stay silent. The monster may be unable to smell you with this refuse.” Kronos murmurs.

Percy is pinned in an alleyway. Again.

Some monster is currently at the other side, searching.

Percy’s lip curls.

He was getting stronger every day, and therefore more monsters tracked him down. There also just seemed to be more monsters, period. Percy was usually able to lose or kill them with enough trickery, but he was left exhausted afterwards.

They were starting to notice a mysterious pattern to this fatigue…

The monster moans.

It sounds… sad ?

Percy curls up deeper into the crevice, smirking when the monster whines in frustration, what sounded like claws or long fingernails scrabbling at the concrete. It stumbles around stupidly, almost childlike.

It sounds familiar .

There's a crash.

He sees something sit heavily, having ripped a ladder out from brick trying to lift itself up and Percy gulps . He expects the monster to rage. To yell. To maybe take it out on passing mortals to force him out. Why was it still even in this alley?

But that doesn’t matter, because it’s clear the monster can’t find him. It sniffles, desperately trying to pull in more scent past it’s clogged nose. But Percy’s scent is masked, and furthermore, weakened in the undetermined ebb and flow.

But instead it begins crying. And speaks.

And Percy’s blood freezes .

His heart stops .

His body locks up like he’s been zapped with Zeus' bolt.

“Daddy, where?” Tyson cries.

Tyson !

“Did I dream wrong daddy? Daddy!”

Not an ‘it’.

He!

Percy’s baby brother !

“Where is he daddy? You said he was kind!” Tyson wails. He smears dirt on his face from the alleyway floor trying to wipe his tears and Percy scrambles to get out.

“HERE!” Percy screams at the top of his lungs, hope-infused voice breaking into coughs that catch at the back of his throat, lungs still achy from earlier in the month.

Tyson stands from where he had been slumped in defeat, Hope filling him with second wind.

He wishes he hadn’t hidden so well now, because he can't get out, and Tyson can’t see him!

“Where?” Tyson calls out heartbrokenly, “I can’t see you!” like the child he is, and Percy can only start crying too, unable to lift the pallet from on top of him.

He wants his brother!

Right now !

Kronos lights up gold, so brilliant Percy can see it shine out.

Tyson has the pallet off him in seconds.

Percy holds his arms up and out, little sobs bubbling out of him to match Tyson’s, and his brother has Percy in his arms, and they’re hugging and crying, Kronos crooning gently all the while.

This Tyson is so young.

And so incredibly adorable even under all that dirt.

“I’m right here, and I always will be for you!” Hope sings in his voice, clangs like Tyson’s hammer, and Percy can feel the wave of optimism wash over Tyson like a cool ocean breeze on a hot summer day, because he stops shamefully hiding his single baby-seal eye in Percy’s shoulder.

“Nobody wants a monster!” Tyson wails.

“You’re not a monster. I love you!” Percy declares.

“You are kind!” Tyson shrieks in delight. Right into his ear. But that's what water healings for!

“Who told you?”

“I prayed in my dreams and Daddy said to find a kind friend here!” Tyson sniffles for the last time.

Percy’s heart jumps.

He tilts his face back and just lets them feel this embrace.

Poseidon called him kind . Knew Percy well enough that he sent Tyson to him years early. Had the dolphins told the other sea creatures? Had the Nereid? Had Poseidon felt the pull on his powers, like Percy felt the pull of the tide?

He had trusted Percy enough, knew enough and paid enough attention to him to send Tyson to him for protection like the first time around.

But…

Friend.

Not brother .

Percy holds Tyson a little tighter and refuses to feel down.

He will be claimed eventually, he just needs to be patient!

…

…

…

It's Mid-June.

Only a few days from the summer solstices.

The grains Percy is sifting from the universe's background noise hums in his ears.

Percy is in the park, helping the Naiads water the Dryads during the heatwave. Pansie, Rachel, and even Tyson are all busy. Percy had shown Tyson the seaglass and he and Rachel had begun making jewelry from it. Percy would have brought them but the nymphs were a bit nervous still despite Percy working on it.

The naiads freak out.

“Get in the water! Hide!” They whisper. Percy does, his Mist-mask firmly in place. A bunch of underworld monsters had been swirling around here, literally sucking the life out of the nymphs. Percy had been fighting them off too. It was part of why the Lampades was here apparently, but Percy knew that wasn't the whole story.

Was it monsters?

No.

It’s campers

Or would-be campers.

Kronos has to take over because his breathing is suddenly uneven. He watches them from the water, aches to join them, to be with others like himself. To sing campfire songs, to race canoes, to make awful clay busts of his dad!

They’re resting.

The leaders are two teenage campers and a younger looking Coach Hedge. His heart leaps in his throat, but he pulls back when he almost alerts the 4 kids being escorted. Percy learns the older boy and girl are Wilbur and Lilith. The three girls are Arilane, Maria, and Penelope or ‘Penny’. They don’t know the name of the boy. He tucks his face into Lilith’s shoulder whenever someone tries to ask him. Lilith leans over and speaks Spanish to Maria.

Some of them look familiar.

Coach Hedge and Wilbur set up a perimeter and were clearly looking for monsters.

“Is it Lilith’s scent?” Wilbur grunts.

“ Can it, kid. Don’t even joke about that. And if you hadn’t been so eager to pick a fight and prove yourself we wouldn't be so delayed in the first place.”

This shuts Wilbur up.

Lilith calms the kids around the makeshift campfire.

The three girls only a bit older than Percy are all asking questions and clearly annoying the teenage boy. The little boy can only shake, clearly traumatized and clinging to Lilith.

“He’ll be okay, he’s just mentally shaken.” Maria says, and as she rests her little hand on his curls he visibly calms.

“So, who are your godly parents?” Arilane asks like she’s trying to thread a needle-carefully, almost nervously.

“Ares.” Wilbur puffs out. “Lilith is unclaimed .” He says suspiciously. Coach glares, Lilith’s face looks like she’s been petrified by Medusa.

“When will we be claimed?”

“Maybe never.”

The four kids get nervous.

“If you aren’t claimed, you all can stay with me in the Hermes cabin. He takes in all travelers.” This makes the girls happy, but the boy seems only more upset.

“But I thought you said camp would be our new home .” The boy whimpers. “Are we just travelers to camp?”

The clearing goes silent.

The three girls gasp at hearing the boys' voice.

Lilith’s jaw clenches as she tries not to cry.

“So he can speak!” Wilbur laughs. “You haven’t said a word the whole time we knew ya but suddenly you want a cabin? You're worse than Glimmer and Maris!”

“Be nice Wilbur!” The teenage girl says hotly, rocking the boy gently.

“Of course you’d defend her .” Wilbur scoffs, clearly referencing something. “They’ll never grow up if you coddle them, Lilith. You’re not doing him any favors.”

“...The monsters aren’t our fault Wilbur.” Lilith says quietly. “It’s not like with Thalia.”

Percy’s heart lurches .

Kronos learns forward in interest at the mention of his demi-god granddaughter and Percy struggles with a stab of insecurity. He hopes Kronos is not like Chiron in this regard.

“Except we don’t know that as long as you remain unclaimed! What else could piss the gods off so much? Everyone knows how upset The two elder gods were over Thalia’s existence, and Lord Zeus’s anger when his daughter died, and they’re taking it out on everyone else!”

“We don’t even know if it’s them!”

“And these three, I can’t tell who their godly parents are. We could have a trojan horse of some big three kid coming into camp-”

“And so what?” Wilbur turns to look at Lilith.

He seems to be thinking hard and Percy would be tempted to tell him not to hurt himself, if his heart wasn’t pounding so hard that Kronos had to step in and hold it together, gold like branches.

“Why shouldn't we just split from you Lilith, be safe over sorr-”

“I didn’t think a child of Ares was a coward!”

Wilbur lunges.

Coach Hedge uses his bat as a shield.

“That's enough! Nobody’s getting left behind. Should I have left Clarisse behind then since her scent was strong too?”

Wilbur’s face shows the first hint of softness at the mention of his baby sister.

“Let's settle down for the night and figure out a plan.”

Wilbur snorts.

“Of course you want to stick around here, with all those rumors-” Coach shoots Wilbur another withering glare and the teenager’s teeth squeak with how hard they clench.

They set the kids around a makeshift campfire and Percy watches as Lilith whispers a minor sleep spell on them, one associated with Hypnos for its chthonic elements. Percy see’s Coach Hedges throat bob, a Satyr’s instinctual fear of anything Underground and lacking wilderness, and Wilbur sneers.

There is fear in it.

“Your fancy tricks won’t save us if they think your big thre-”

“Shut up!” Lilith hisses. “Are we just speaking openly about this now? We kept quiet about it so long at camp and now you’re run-”

“-You know, I noticed quite the lack of underworld monsters despite Luke and Glimmer’s group having to fight them off.” Wilbur says casually. Yes. Percy had worked very hard to kill them all.

Coach Hedge snaps his jaws on an aluminum can Percy missed.

“Don’t even joke about that Wilbur.”

“But can you prove otherwise? Maybe it’s not even the scent of all these kids, maybe it's you Lilith. That Sea monster in New Jersey almost killed Henry! We used our last godly food on him!” The half-bloods are looking worse for wear. Maria is clearly nursing a sprained wrist that should have been healed with ambrosia.

Percy’s heart jumps, thinking of his own close encounter. He had only started to fear the water after arriving at Camp Jupiter, where it was a common fear. Even his father Poseidon hadn’t shifted much, and honestly, not at all into his counterpart.

“I thought you didn’t care about him.”

“I care about my reputation. I’m not gonna be the loser that can’t get everyone back to camp, especially not with that priss Luke and right now I need to know if your scent is-”

“It’s not.” Coach Hedge barks.

“I thought you said it smelled of death here?”

“That happens when you’re right by the entrance to the underworld.” Lilith says dry as bleached bison bones in the desert. The Lampades that had used it to climb up from the underworld shifted uncomfortably under the willow. She had been staring at the kids, hovering by Penelope with a peculiar softness on her face.

The two males pause.

“Seriously?” Coach asked.

“Yes. And I can’t tell if the scent effects monsters from finding us.”

“Coach?” Wilbur asks

Coach hedge takes long drags of air.

“I smell monsters. But it's…” His brow furrows and Percy sees traces of the older dad in him, and his heart jumps, because it reminds him of his dad’s smile lines. “The nature smells strange around here. Sea-like, musty too.”

Well excuse him!

“...The nymphs have been oddly quiet.” Lilith says.

Yes.

Because they’re hiding Percy.

“Not this again!” Wilbur rolls his eyes. “All this ‘second-coming’ of Haliplanktos, or ‘Kyantos’! Can you guys figure out who it is already? Better yet, can we focus on our mission and get back to camp?”

“Watch your mouth kid, we haven’t felt nature energy like this in centuries-no matter how…decayed.” Coach Hedge says, lip curled in unease. “I ain’t those wishy-washy youngster satyrs believing in this ‘searching’ nonsense, but even I gotta admit something’s up.”

They fall silent.

Percy notices Penny sigh contently in her sleep.

“...I tried Irising the three Graces, but they’re busy with other groups. So are Argus and the Harpies. I know Maris had success with using the Taxi to get back to camp.” Lilith says, face breaking into the first smile Percy’s seen on it, her finger playing with half of a charm on her necklace, out of place with the other beads, yet fitting perfectly over her heart.

“And how did Glimmer and Luke get theirs to camp? By boat ? Are you sure Maris wasn’t using water too and you aren’t just covering for her?” Wilbur says suspiciously.

The smile is gone.

“Not this again Wilbur!”

“This can’t keep up forever, in fact they might dust off the Oracle and issue-” Coach Hedge’s mouth snaps shut.

“...You really think so?” Wilbur asks greedily. “We haven’t had one since Th-”

“-Exactly.” Lilith cuts him off.

"And wouldn't it be too late? It's only a few days until the Summer Solstics." Wilbur is muttering now.

"It would have to be the Fall Solstices." Coach Hedge agrees reluctantly.

"So then I cou-

“-Focus on our mission. You wouldn’t be chosen by the Oracle or the directors anyway.” Lilith snaps.

“...Not you either.” Wilbur sneers. “You think your godly parent would care enough to turn you into a pine tree too? I respect Thalia’s last stand, but everyone thinks it’s a good thing she didn’t make it into camp. What kinds of monsters could slip past the barrier if she was inside instead of reinforcing the border? Chiron had high hopes for her being the one of prophecy, but the rest of us-”

“Why don’t I tell Luke you said that?”

Wilbur pales, but doesn’t back down. Percy doesn’t know if it's stupidity or bravery.

How dare he say that about Thalia!?

“Calm, dearest. I despise this talk as well.”

Wilbur opens his mouth to say something but his head snaps to look at the water. Too late Percy realizes it’s starting to turn choppy and froth with his rage. The worst part is, Wilbur almost has a point! The whole reason that Chiron sent him on his first quest-where he was stunningly accused of being the lightning thief-was because a Hellhound had managed to get past the barrier with Luke’s help.

“Coach?” Lilith snaps.

“I see it, wake the kids in case we need to run. I heard from Luke there are cyclops in New York, and I can even smell ‘em faintly. Last thing we need!”

The water calms with Percy, a struggle as he then wrestles with the image of the coach sniffing out Tyson and Wilbur killing him. Coach and Wilbur might be fooled, but Lilith clearly had some minimal mist training.

The kids are all awake and after a few minutes begin asking more questions about camp life. It’s interesting to hear what camp was like years before Percy arrived.

“Is it fun at camp?” Maria asks eagerly.

“I did a corn maze back at home if you guys grow that.” Arilane says. She looks vaguely familiar.

“Maiming during capture the flag is what we play!” Wilbur boasts.

“But doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, but the Apollo Cabin has the rare ability to heal others, and we have food of the gods, Ambrosia and Nectar that can heal too.” Lilith explains.

“Like how it pulled me back from death tasting like poppyseed bread?” Penny asks.

“Yes, but it tastes different for everyone, like food tied to memories of love and safety.”

“Will I get my own beads?” The little boy asks. Everyone, even Wilbur, seems delighted that he’s speaking. He’s covered in freckles on warm skin, curly dark-red hair, and matching autumn eyes. Everyone stared at him, clearly unused to hearing his voice.

“You will, every summer.”

“Where does the clay come from?” Henry asks again.

“Well they, I-uh, don’t actually know?” Lilith says. “Coach?”

Coach Hedge had stopped mid-chewing on glass.

Wilbur, who seemed uninterested in anything outside of being suspicious and maiming even looked curious.

“Huh. Not sure. Great question, kiddo. They also make the dishes from it, but, how the hell don’t I know that?”

“I know we bake it in the kiln.” This excited the boy further.

“I like ceramics.” He says.

“I like campfires!” Maria crows. “Super festive! I can’t wait to sing songs and make s’mores!”

The boy kicks his feet in agreement, shyly playing with Lilith’s necklace, the half-charm. Wilbur sees him in Lilith’s lap and rolls his eyes.

“They’ll be coddled enough with Glimmer and Luke. Those two love-birds are disgusting.” Wilbur grumbles and coach laughs, ribbing the son of Ares.

Lilith opens her mouth to respond.

So of course, monsters attack.

“Take the kids and run, I’ll lead them away!” Lilith shouts, running fast as a race horse towards the underworld entrance.

“To where?!” Wilbur bellows. Lilith gets the monsters to follow her as Coach, the kids, and Wilbur retreat much to the annoyance of the son of Ares.

No.

Percy refuses to hide any longer.

He bursts from the water.

“Follow me!” He tells Coach Hedge his retreat with the kids guarded by Wilbur with Lilith gone. The Lampades is trying to help Penelope and Arilane-who is weaving through the maze of branches, and Maria is rubbing the back of the hyperventilating boy.

“I-Is it really you?” Coach Hedge gasps.

“He feels like the in-between.” Penelope says, brow furrow. “He’s stuck somehow!”

“Smells like it too!” Coach croaks again. “No, it, your scent is strong , but…not right!”

“Don’t trust him!” Wilbur roars, stuck in combat as he tries to get his spear from the zombies ribcage.

Percy’s heart pounds.

This is not good.

If they don’t trust him they will die here!

“I can get you through the park safely!” Hope sings on the tip of his tongue, cutting through the sounds of fighting, the monsters torn between Lilith and the kids. Percy tries not to sound desperate, hurt and cut to the bone by their words.

Was there really something so wrong with him?

Kronos sings to him.

“Why should we trust you when you hide your face?” Coach Hedge clearly wants to believe something , but can’t seem to let himself have hope .

“Because I can help you, but only you can let me! Please! You can all make it back to camp!” His words howl like the wind in a hurricane, but the effect is the eye of the storm. Speaking their greatest hope, to arrive at camp safely, reaches them.

Percy leads them through.

They don’t know what to make of him, but as he whispers gently with Hopespeak, he sees it echoes in their hearts and eyes, and even the boy, the youngest among them, calms down.

And then takes Percy’s hand.

He feels Percy startle.

“I trust you.” This boy, nervous the whole time, hurt, the most scared, trusted Percy.

It’s so incredibly brave of him.

Percy feels his throat close up, partly himself, partly Kronos' joy on his behalf.

“I am so proud of you.” Kronos whispers and Percy nods in response to both of them.

He won’t let them down!

“What about Lilith? Please make sure she’s okay, she’s the only one that understands us!” Penny whimpers, clutching Arilane.

“I will, she’ll be okay, you’ll be okay!” Percy says.

He moves to go back for Lilith, giving Wilbur and the baffled and awed Coach Hedge a wide berth, but the boy’s hand refused to let his go.

Percy stares deeply into autumn eyes.

“Will there really be a home for us at camp?” The boy whispers. And Percy…

Percy can’t lie to him .

“I don’t know what camp is like. But there will be others like you, others you can relate to, who could be your family.” Hope hums instead of roars.

It is enough.

“Thank you for making me brave.” The boy breathes deeply, and lets him go. Percy decides he loves him.

Percy goes back for Lilith.

…

…

…

Percy skitters at the steps of the entrance.

This is what Lilith had meant.

She had been able to locate, open, and lead the spirits down .

Showcasing powerful chthonic abilities. No wonder rumors swirled…

He takes a deep breath.

And walks down the cold stone steps. He almost trips when he nearly takes a wrong turn into an entrance to the labyrinth in the upper levels on the side of the stairwell, the symbol illuminated by Kronos’s glow. He had made a makeshift torch, the same kind often carried by lost spirits under Hectate’s domain, and her Lampades handmaids.

Percy feels…

Wrong .

“Dearest, I know you want to help Lilith but you must turn back soon.”

Percy feels a flash of frustration.

He hears rapid footsteps.

Lilith nearly runs into him, pulling back at the last second and drawing her sword.

“Wha-I thought all the monsters were behind me!” She gasps, dripping sweat.

“ Not a monster!” Percy stamps his foot to hide his hurt.

The corridor shakes .

Lilith pauses.

Her dark eyes gleam with realization in the light of the gold in his hand.

“A spirit. I-I didn’t mean to leave the door open for spirits to follow me up .” She says.

“I’m not dead either!” Percy shrieks in frustration and no small amount of fear. Kronos proves this by soothing his fear-filled heart again.

No.

He wasn’t dead.

Not anymore.

….Right?

“Chthonic beings can…you are the mystery hero then? A lost soul? A reincarnation?”

“I am clearly still alive! And I came to rescue you!”

She pauses again. Her face is torn between gratitude and fear.

The groaning gets louder.

Percy steps to the side and she darts up past him. She’s clearly injured, and if not for Percy picking off monsters behind them she might not have made it. They both stagger to the top but Lilith stops and looks sadly down at him. Her face is the picture of conflict and Percy’s stomach drops like a rock.

“Lilith?”

Too late, he had been counting himself as one of them. A kid-like thing to think!

“We’re already in enough sh*t without an undead nature spirit escaping the underworld. I don’t know if you’re some godling, some nymph, or some monster that refuses to stay in the pit -”

Percy keens in pain.

Kronos surges forward.

This scares Lilith so much she slides the door shut further, leaving barely any room to get past.

Percy will be trapped here!

“Please!” He begs.

One second.

Kronos could slow down time but Percy wants this to be Lilith’s decision.

“All you’ve ever wanted was to be accepted, can’t you do the same for me? I-I know I’m not normal, but do I deserve to suffer for that? Even though everyone always has something to say about me, I’ll never give up, and I’ll never give up on others like you Lilith, it’s why I came back for you, cause I always believe there's another way!” Percy shouts. Hope is in his voice like the sweetest burning pain.

Oh how he wishes he could give up!

But he can’t.

He doesn’t want to!

He’s too damn stubborn for that!

His hand grips the stone, he stares into the beam of light Lilith stands in.

She steps back.

She looks at her shaking hands in shock and disgust.

With one last look at Percy, she turns and runs, leaving the entrance free for him.

Only to run into Wilbur.

He was covered in blood, both his and the monsters.

“Wilbur, it’s not what you think-”

“ You got Into the underworld? You dumbass, how has Hades not killed you yet!” Wilbur shrieks with fear when he had laughed in the face of the diseased Zombies. “After Thalia ? And you let that thing back up to?” Wilbur adjusts his stance, getting ready to attack, and so does Percy. He’s really had it with this guy!

“I don’t care if the kids wanna give you a chance. We’ve got too much going on to take risks.” Wilbur says.

And attacks .

Percy ducks.

Lilith holds the perimeter from the monster in the treeline.

Kronos sits coiled like a snake. He has faith in his grandson, but Wilbur is a powerful demi-god, even by the already high standards of a child of Ares.

But Percy is still a son of Poseidon !

He leaps back, spins his lasso, and swings Wilbur into a tree so hard the Nymph comes out to shake her fist at him.

“Cyclops!” Lilith shrieks.

Percy shifts his stance, half expecting to see the one that had been stalking him since daycare, but to his immense horror, it’s Tyson !

Tyson!

Who charges and swats a lunging Wilbur to the side like a fly.

Lilith catches him, face now betrayed as Tyson blubbers incomprehensibly as he looks over Percy, able to tell it’s him from scent-something Lilith picks up on.

“Couldn’t find you!” Tyson wailed. “You smell went away then came back! Though you left me!”

“Knew we couldn’t trust him. Look. He’s working with a mons- !”

Lilith gets Wilbur in a fireman’s carry and runs.

Percy stands up.

Kronos croons at him and cradles him and Percy laughs and laughs and laughs .

Because he did it!

Hope sings like Nereids, runs like wild horses, rolls over him like a Tsunami and Percy watches the demi-gods escape safely and head to camp.

He had fought off the monsters on the way up, used his dads powers for the past few weeks, and was able to handle Kronos’s power.

He was strong enough!

…

…

…

“You don’t have to put up with him anymore mom! You saw how happy we were here when he was in the hospital!”

“Percy…”

“Mom! I can take care of myself, but only you can take care of us!”

Kronos had been giving her dreams. Borrowing Hope from his heart with Percy’s permission and using it to give her visions of the future, the future that died, where they were happy without Gabe.

One question remained.

How should they kill him?

“We don’t have to put up with him hitting us-”

Sally’s face goes white .

She freezes like she has the power to stop time.

“...Us?” Sally whispers.

“Um, I-yes? He’s been hitting us ! And I don’t like it-”

Sally falls to her knees.

Her hands shake and hover in front of him, tracing invisible bruises.

“He’s been hitting you?” Her voice is breathlessly squeaky and Percy feels like Grover’s using the panic scream in his ears.

His face is hot, his vision blurs, his hands are sweaty and shaky.

He feels his heart break.

He feels Kronos bow his head.

“...You didn’t know?”

Sally choked on a sob. Her tears come hard and fast, so heavy they wash away her makeup to reveal the bruises underneath, the same way the mist had hidden Percy's. Her hands hover like Kronos’s had, like she wants to hug her son but is now worried to touch him.

He had always wondered why it went on for so long.

They had never talked about it. When Percy gave his mom Medusa's head it had been a wordless understanding on par with what Kronos and Percy could achieve. Percy had let her know he knew Gabe was hitting her, gave her the tools to free herself that Poseidon had given him, and let her take it from there.

“No, No !” She moans, a confirmation and a denial of this terrible reality.

This whole time she hadn’t known .

Percy whimpers.

And a part of him that never healed from his first life, scabs over, mends, and becomes fresh, golden scar tissue.

Percy steps forward and throws himself into his mothers arms and forgives her for everything.

“It'll be okay mama!” Percy cries tears of joy . Hope speaks effortlessly and his mom looks like it pulls her away from the edge. “He’ll be gone soon!”

…

…

…

They plot.

But Kronos and him have to do it without revealing they know about his divinity, or else Sally will send him to camp-halfblood. Percy points out a sickly Gabe was already a good case for a health incident.

Sally looks like she’d rather strangle him with her bare hands.

That night, Percy sleeps on his bed curled in his mothers arms, and as Kronos haunts Gabe’s dreams, he answers Sally’s prayers whispered into a sleeping Percy’s growing curls. When Percy wakes in the morning, the hourglass of Gorgons blood that nearly killed him is gone.

And so is Gabe.

…

…

…

It’s the sort of quiet that heralds a new age. Sally immediately kicks all of Gabe’s poker buddies out and changes the locks.

Mr. Dare’s lawyer comes to them of his own violation, wearing aviator shades.

“I offer my services free of charge for your life insurance case.” Cecil says.

Percy is hidden in a crack in the wall.

Hiding for the last time.

He had gotten very good at hiding in his own home, better than Sally realized.

Sally looks around to make sure he isn’t there. She had been watching him very closely for signs of monster attacks. During their plotting, they had managed to keep his awareness under wraps-but only just barely. It was clear Percy knew something, but how much was in question.

“Why?”

Cecil lowers his shades.

Kronos takes over to keep him from gasping in shock.

Sally lunges with her Sweet on America deluxe knife.

It shears off a bit of Cecil’s hair before he redirects her wrist. The strands sizzle and fry with the remnants of gorgon's blood on the knife’s razor sharp edge.

“So you poisoned him with gorgon's blood, and put the rest on the edge of your knife. Clever. Percy is in good hands.”

Sally’s face twists.

She clearly disagrees with that.

“I let a monster into his life, and I still am! And apparently have been since Percy was a baby, because you’re the cyclops, aren't you!” she waves her knife at Cecil, the cyclops who had been stalking Percy since he had been in Daycare, that freaked out Odette!

But why not kill him?

Cecil chuckles.

“Of course. I was sent by our father to watch over him. And I was sent here to answer your prayers. No need for Percy to know about that part. He’s safe in the ignorance of his parentage.”

Percy’s jaw drops further. Kronos watches in delight over having another grandson to spoil, except this one was a grizzled, battle hardened lawyer. Percy was confused why a good cyclops, defender of the Wild Sea, would work for someone like Mr. Dare.

“Now, let's talk life insurance settlement. We'll have to get medical records proving your case.” Cecil grins, and his sharp teeth cut right through the mist.

…

…

…

It is the Summer Solstice.

The longest day of the year. The Sun is still out even as it kisses the horizon.

Percy feels the alignment in his bones.

The exact sort of power he needs for what he's going to do next.

Percy stands on the edge of the fountain. The one he fixed all those weeks ago with the Earthshaker domain, and told Kronos about his wrist.

The world has gone silent.

“Perseus!” Kronos whispers in awe.

“You’ve felt it.” Percy laughs so joyously he can’t tease his laugh apart from Hope anymore. “My connection to my dad, my thread healing, the Solstice, you know it’s time .”

Gold burst from him in the pattern of a flower, the tallgrass rolling at his ankles, little waves over the Lake’s water.

The Nymphs are silent with sleep mist, the ones awake have already sworn their undying loyalty to ‘Kyantos’, despite Percy not asking them to.

But it’s ironically fitting.

Because that's exactly what Percy’s doing right now.

Even if Kronos doesn’t know that yet. Percy is so excited to surprise his Grandfather!

The nymphs must sense he has something planned because they watch with wide eyes.

“Yes, I-you are growing so fast!” Kronos voice quakes with pained pride. “Whatever do you have in store? Dearest?”

“I’m excited! It’s alright grandfather!” Percy comforts him.

“I know sweetest…are you ready?”

“I’ve been ready the minute I first called you grandfather.”

Another spring of hope bursts from him, this time from Kronos. The water in the fountain is now restored and crystal clear, and when Percy drinks from it he feels like running at a full gallop!

He feels....

Something.

In the fountain.

Its not bad, but...

"Oh! Oh, can it really be?" Willow seems to know what it is.

The nymphs gasp and titter. Willow-takes a sip, and the wilting willow leaves of her hair fill with life!

Willow begins to cry with her newly replenished water, the droplets plinking into the fountain to form perfect ripples. As if called like a siren, the fountain springs to life!

A naiad rises to meet Willow halfway, lips sealing together and the crowd erupts with cheers!

The Naiad is what he felt in the water. A Naiad so sick she felt like the one from Geryon's farm, who Hercules had used to clean the horse stables.

Now brimming with life.

This Naiad isn't entirely a Naiad anymore. Back from the dead like Percy.

But she's not a Nereid either.

Percy healing the water that supplied the fountain has changed her. There's almost something...mineralistic, about her. Like salty, mountain spring water.

"I missed you Willow!" She sobs, the water being re-absorbed into the soft curve of her jaw.

"You dried up! And your fountains..." Willow trails of breathlessly. "He cleaned it, purified all of them!" Willow gestures to Percy and he waves awkwardly.

"Thank you!" The Naied croaks. "For freeing me, cleaning me, helping!" Percy has decided to go with a mashup of "'Nereid' and 'Naiad'.

And then.

To Percy's shock.

She too swears an oath of loyalty to him.

"Uh, you don't have to! Really, I'd have don-"

She gets down on one knee like the campers at his claiming, and somehow recited the same oath, the prayers all the other nymphs knew.

Percy feels something click firmly into place when she does, and a proud satisfaction from Kronos. And it confirms his plans for getting the first grain back.

She then turns to her apparent lover.

"I-I'm different than what I was."

"Springer, you are here. We thought, I thought..." Willow weeps. Percy remembers a Nymphs immortality only lasted as long as their plant, or portion of water did. And that most nymphs were 'young' by Olympians terms. Very few were around during the Time of Titans, the handful that guarded Zeus were among the first. Percy can feels Kronos's fondness and happiness for the reunion of these nymphs.

"You are the nymph I love!"

They kiss again.

Willow's long hair falls from it's clip and forms a shield around their kissing, like her fringes around her eyes, like a Willow tree would. It reminds Percy of his mother at Montauk when they'd play in the water, his mom would flip her long brown hair over her hear and completely cover her face, and chase him pretending to be a sea monster.

It makes his face bloom from the strength of his smile, his heart glowing with love and hope for these reunited nymphs, for his new future.

For his grandfather.

He feels Kronos' curiosity as to how Percy will collect the first grain in this timeline.

He knows exactly how.

Springers oath just confirmed his plan.

Percy had always wondered how he could ever live up to Luke Castellan. He had wondered this when leading revolutionary reforms in New Rome, when becoming the sword instructor at camp like Daedalus and Luke before him.

And now.

During the Summer Solstice.

He becomes the first Demi-god to swear an Oath of Loyalty to Kronos.

He recites the ancient words like Ethan Nakamaru.

Kronos bursts with overwhelmed honor and love.

He sings them like Apollo, and the nymphs join in, a choir of Hope and beauty, to welcome the Lost Lord of Time to his second chance. His harmony echoes gold, the music bends reality towards him.

Percy dances, and splashes, humming with Kronos’s power but not burning up with it, hands little and reaching for his grandfather.

And his grandfather finally-

- finally -

Reaches back !

He cries tears of pure joy !

A golden grain lays cupped in his hands more precious than anything, soaked with his joyful tears. Percy wraps the Ocean around his grandfather, feels the glow grow brighter, so warm the heat is in the shape of a loving pair of palms on his face.

His chest opens once more.

The Nymphs gasp and shriek and sing in awe.

Percy sees his reflection in the purified fountain, his heart on display and beautiful, Hope snugly inside. The Nymphs weep like they believe.

And Percy sees Kronos.

Not all of him. Just as no immortal could see the full form of Hope. For the life of him he can’t make out a shape except the pure color itself and the concept of time, of wheat, of power . Percy brings the grain to his chest and watches as the smaller grain merges with the humming pulse of Kronos.

His chest closes once more.

He falls to his knees, the oath settling into his bones and reinforcing them. His Grandfather presses the whisper of a kiss to his forehead, a stronger impression than before, and falls into a light slumber to absorb the new power.

And Percy glows with Hope .

Chapter 5: I fistfight my separation anxiety and bust a smuggling ring

Chapter Text

When the sun finally sets on the longest day of the year, Kronos sings them lullabies. The Lord of Time is preparing to sleep and incorporating this new part of himself. It reminds Percy of his earliest memory, the soft humming of his dad and the ache of missing his voice is soothed.

They were both giddy from success!

It seems Percy’s oath, the solstice, and strengthening of his Dad’s domains had finally done the trick. A troupe of sworn Nymphs gave them an honor guard back home and it reminds Percy of the elation of winning the Titan war, Tyson and the cyclops on Poseidon's command giving him an honor guard from Olypmus and all the way back to his mother.

No monsters bothered him.

Sally was getting ready for bed in Percy’s bathroom, fondly arranging their many seashells, trying to figure out how to pack them. Occasionally, she would hold one up to her ear.

“Are you listening for something, mom?”

She smiles at Percy, the one she gets when thinking of his dad.

“They say you can hear the Ocean if you hold it to your ears.” She hums thoughtfully, pressing it to Percy’s. All he hears is the blood rushing through his veins like deep sea currents, and Percy supposes that is close enough.

They had shared a bed every night since Cecil had started helping them, needing the presence of one another now that he was gone.

Perhaps it is for this reason Kronos is finally confident enough to reconcile himself for a few days.

That, and the oath.

It sat between them like a golden string of fate. A literal line of communication like the string with two cans attached between the treehouse Pansie and Percy had made with Tyson. Whenever one of them spoke it moved and danced into the shape of Percy’s heartbeat on a monitor, forming words and symbols.

“When will you be back?” Percy whispers, trying to sound casual.

The string wobbled.

“I won’t be leaving you dearest. It shall be a light slumber. Should you need me I can awaken.”

Like he had in the future when Ouranos broke through the defenses. The string morphed into a heart.

Percy hums.

“I hope you have sweet dreams.” Percy says, even though he knows immortal dreams are different.

“I will dearest. They shall be of…you.” Kronos drifts, yet is firmly anchored.

His threads healing as Percy’s threads heal.

Percy cups his hand over his heart, like ‘Napoleon’ as Annabeth had said, a habit that made him look like he was always and forever swearing an oath of loyalty.

And perhaps the reason his mom had historically been so worried about his health. But ever since Percy broke through that barrier and dipped his toe in his Dad’s domains, the raspy cough had turned into a barely noticeable tickle.

Percy’s hair is already up when his mom finished setting up their sleepover. She had wheeled in a big box TV and put in a movie they had picked out from Blockbuster-the little Mermaid-and had popcorn, and they ate and laughed and painted their nails blue.

Her eyes flashed when Percy’s drying nails splayed over his chest.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better.” Percy yawns honestly. His Grandfather is still with him, even though he’s sleeping.

Sally hums him to sleep, and Percy joins in.

It is his turn to sing his grandfather lullabies.

…

…

…

Percy kept his hand over his heart as they moved out, only untucking it when needed. He wanted to always feel the warmth of his grandfather behind his Hopeful heart, the moon eclipsing the sun. Percy feels like a pearl, the way the shimmering nacre forms around a grain of sand.

Moving out was not easy.

Or quick.

It took several days of effort and help from Cecil, Rachel, Pansie, Odette, and even Tyson, mist so thick on his face even Cecil and Sally couldn’t quite put their finger on his appearance.

“I didn’t know you made another friend, why didn’t you say so?” Mom asks.

“I was waiting for the right moment, like right now!” Percy grins. “You seemed so busy before…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man!” Sally says and Tyson hugs her. Tyson is almost as tall as she is.

Sally and Cecil were getting suspicious of Tyson’s status. It was only due to them being busy with legal stuff, and Cecil with his mysterious business with Mr. Dare that they hadn’t figured it out yet.

Still…

Would that be so bad?

Percy watches as Sally laughs and happily serves Tyson more food. Cecil absentmindedly compliments some of Tysons- his little brothers- artwork as he rifles through paperwork, and Tyson beams.

The Mist holds strong.

Poseidon has cast a strong protective Mist on Tyson.

And Percy gently adds to it, exercising that domain of Mist, strengthening it to strengthen his divine side, to reinforce his ability to host Kronos and gather more grains.

Percy thinks about showing them Tyson’s true self, but then he would have to explain how he knew what a cyclops was, and be sent to camp early-something he did not want with Kronos still dozing.

Percy supposes he could pretend to not have seen through the Mist. But then again Cecil is already getting suspicious of Percy’s knowledge level. A few times the lawyer took long, slow drags of breath when Percy was downwind, eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Percy had to pretend he wasn’t dying to know what Cecil was smelling.

Moving is hard.

Percy carefully tucks away the wine for later in the glass bags as they clear out their storage unit.

“...Percy?”

“Yes momma?”

“Why do you have bags of glass?”

Percy thinks. Many reasons to be honest.

“To turn back into sand. To tumble it for sea glass too.” And forge with Tyson!

Sally seems to accept this but won’t let Percy handle it by himself anymore, and fair! He had cut himself a few times, freaking Kronos out who insisted he water heal it.

Thank Poseidon for water healing!

Percy sees his small baby blanket tucked into a closet and his throat closes up when he realizes the fabric and weave is only found in a sector of Atlantis’s seaweed market. A gift from his dad, and possibly one of his immortal sisters if the stitching is anything to go by.

He says goodbye to the faded glow in the dark fish stickers on his ceiling, too delicate to be scraped off and taken with.

He says goodbye to the doorframe that measures his height, the one Kronos had traced their fingers over in fascination.

He says goodbye to the wall that held his scribbles, the first letters and words he ever wrote.

He says goodbye to the kitchen he baked countless cookies in, made bread in, and sorted meals for the homeless.

He sees past homework assignments, most incomplete, a few with decent grades in frames. Percy sees his little handwriting, how it grew and improved over the years, and his heart twitches.

And even in sleep, Kronos’s gold smoothes over it like a calm lake, Oath string weaving into a new blanket for his heart.

But, he says goodbye to the place that still stank a bit, to the poker table spilled with alcohol, and all the bad memories too.

He’s super excited to surprise Kronos with their new house.

Their new Home.

Percy recalls Hestia’s words that hope survives best at the Hearth and grins so wide he imagines he is a shark! He knows that Home is where the heart is. It’s the people you love more than a place, and now he can be with the people he loves!

Cecil had found it for them with their new money. A three bedroom apartment with a community garden, rooftop garden, and close to several parks. There were fountains out front, something that sparked visceral joy in Percy when he realized springs and fountains were one of his Dad’s domains. He thinks of pushing Nancy Bobofit into one all those years ago. Poseidon was never really far away.

They end up selling the Camaro and switch it out for a blue Toyota. They blast music and scream the lyrics, mouths and hands stained blue from cookies baked and new, happy memories made in the new kitchen with what Sally called his ‘crew’ -Tyson, Rachel, and Pansie. Tyson’s cookie was more of a gingerbread house that he promptly ate, Rachels was covered in colored frosting-most in her hair, Pansy rolled her’s like playdough and made a beautiful flower then she cried because she didn’t want to eat it (Sally assured her she didn’t have to) and Percy made his in the shape of an hourglass, sprinkling crushed graham crackers like sand, like grains of wheat as he waited.

Sally hands them markers, and paint.

“What for?” Percys asks.

“We own this apartment. Paint away!” She laughs, spinning and pulling a bemused Cecil into a waltz, which also surprised Percy. His mother had been pulling away from men after she learned about what happened to her son.

Even from Paul.

Rachel's eye’s sparkle.

The four of them paint the whole afternoon and fill it with plush forests and beaches.

They had blue chicken-corn salad for dinner, with blue, sourdough garlic bread Kronos had shown him how to bake. Blueberry pie for dessert and it makes him think of that chef in Montauk.

“Take extra home with you.” Sally says, eyes assessing as she looks at Tyson.

“When did you get so good at making bread?” Sally also asks.

Percy hums and giggles.

“I-I didn’t know I was missing so much-I’m happy you're learning!” Sally adds quickly, sadness and grief becoming a genuine smile of pride. “I promise I’ll be here more often.”

Percy beams at her.

“Especially since I’m no longer working at Sweet on America in fall. I’ll be taking a bunch of overstock home with me, help me carry it?”

Percy and his crew helped. They ate, handed it out to other kids, parents, the homeless, and still had so much they had no clue what to do with it. It looks like Percy’s candy business would still be on this fall for a least little while as he works through the stockpile! He stores it next to the wine.

“What are you going to be doing now?” Percy asks hopefully,

Mom smiles.

“Spending more time with you before I…” She seems to gather courage. “...Before I start college in the fall.”

Percy gasps.

He screams in excitement and flings himself into his mom’s arms, his grandma’s writings on the back of his mind as Kronos hums sleepily, slipping deeper into slumber as he senses his grandson’s happiness, string shaped by love and Prophecy into the form of a familiar golden sheep.

…

…

…

Rachel had screamed when she had first seen Tyson.

Several days before Percy had sworn the oath and casted the net to reel in the first grain, they had brought Tyson to Rachel.

There was nowhere else to go.

Percy couldn't bring his secret brother home with that monster there, and camp wasn’t an option when Percy still needed to train his Ocean powers. Put Percy near a body of water and he’d be given up as a son of Poseidon almost instantly.

Heck, Hades had found out the first time when Chiron was just beginning to suspect during Latin classes!

Thankfully Rachel-being the destined Oracle-could see through the mist in a way not even his mom could. On seeing Percy’s lack of alarm Rachel had quickly apologized to the upset Tyson, and the two artists had hit it off!

There was no way Percy was leaving him out on the streets with the other monsters who would attack a kind cyclops like the Sphinx had, or for shell-shocked demi-gods and satyrs to jump the gun and attack him like Wilbur had.

On second thought, had the Sphinx attacked yet?

Percy checks Tysons’ back the next time they get too excited painting and need to change. His breath stutters in relief as Percy presses his little hands to Tyson’s warm back.

Kronos hums in contentment, busy strategizing how to get the first grain back.

Tyson’s back is free of her claw marks.

Percy’s eyes close and burn with gratitude.

He holds his brother's hands in the flames as they shape and mold the molten glass. Tyson has more resistance, but Percy calls upon the Domain of the Earthshaker, he who moves molton rock and tectonic plates, and he finds that while he still needs breaks, and can’t shake entire cities like his dad, he can still make something beautiful for their new home.

Tyson was currently staying in the spare caretaker rooms at one of Rachel’s properties. Apparently Cecil had been doing some backwork as he tried to find…something in the Dare’s files.

He seemed to be paying special attention to the cargo shipped by train and sea, and the storage locations in New York.

These unearthed locations they could use to house Tyson sneakily.

It worked.

For now.

“I will be good and do better, and then you won’t have to hide me anymore.” Tyson says sadly, of the blue.

Percy jumps.

“I’m not ashamed of you!” Percy says, heart hammering. He had promised to never make that mistake again. “What makes you think that?”

Tyson's words hit too close to home, as a boy who had been hidden for the first twelve years of his life.

“Mist? Covers my eyes. You want to hide I’m a cyclops.” Tyson states plainly like a neutral tone could hide how his voice wobbles.

“Oh Tyson! I love you and I’m not ashamed, I-I’m just scared! For you, and me, and it’s easier to hide but one day-” Percy is so overwhelmed with Hope and excitement that his voice cuts off.

He sees flashes of their past life together. The two brothers of Cabin Three, forging tridents, making shoddy clay busts-where did camp get the clay from-of their dad and them rebuilding Atlantis, winning canoe races, and on and on!

Tyson’s eyes one again sparkle with hope.

“Scared? Can I help?” He asks, eager with hope.

“Yes! You're being here, it helps so much!” Percy laughs, embracing his secret brother.

“Why though?”

Percy thinks about explaining it, and Kronos offers words.

“You have a good sense of smell?”

“Yes.”

“I smell a lot. And that attracts monsters.” Did Tyson know that it meant he was a demi-god? That they were brothers? Was this an opportunity to see what Percy smelled like?

Tyson looks around nervously. He could defend himself pretty well but still.

Then Tyson frowns.

“Sometimes you do.” He says. “But sometimes it goes away.”

This makes Percy and Kronos perk up from where he had been drooping with low-tide.

“What do you mean?”

“You smell because you’re like those other kids in the park.” Tyson realizes, nostrils flaring, eye widening. “You’re a demi-god!”

Percy feels the adrenaline rush, of nervousness, and relief. He’s glad to not hide this from his brother.

“Yes! And you being…you, you mask my scent a bit, and you’re so tough we can fight together. But what did you mean by ‘sometimes’?”

“Two times during the day your smell gets really strong! And two times it goes away.” Tyson says, sounding sad at that, like he missed being able to sense Percy.

“Tyson…how is it now?”

“Really far away!”

Wow.

This was-

Wow!

“Thank you Tyson, you’re super helpful!” Percy flings his tired arms around his secret brother. Tyson confirmed that his scent ebbed and flowed, and monsters left him alone when it was low.

Was that why certain times of day had a million monsters, and other times they ignored him completely?

Percy could feel Kronos’s mind spinning.

A pattern like that…

“We will have to confirm something when you finally visit the Ocean in this second chance.” He murmurs and Percy squeals in excitement at going to the place that was his Dad, half his soul.

Tyson is clearly confused, but is never one to deny a hug, crushing Percy to his chest.

This hadn’t been true of his past life. This connection to the tides was new and Percy wondered if it had anything to do with how he was recalling domains, how he was technically a reincarnation.

“What else do I smell like?” He thinks of what coach Hedge said about his scent.

“Sea. Salt. Underground like...like dirt after rain, old caves. Fossils.” Tyson says.

Petrichor? There are worse things to smell like. But it’s interesting. Something to keep an eye on.

Or, rather, a nostril on.

“Do I smell…wrong?” Percy asks.

Tyson gives him such a dewy sad look that Percy immediately wants to take it back.

“Percy smells like home.” Tyson says simply and it makes Percy’s heart flutter

“You are my home Tyson, I-I feel like you aren’t just a friend, but family, l-like you’re my brother!” Percy declares.

Tyson gasps.

His face looks like all his dreams came true.

“You helped me, and protected me! And so did I!” Tyson says it in the same tone he used when figuring out a new design, and new solution to a forging problem.

A realization like a wave.

“Daddy didn’t just send me to you to protect me! He did it so we can protect each other!” Tyson squeals, and scoops Percy into a hug.

Percy’s jaw drops.

This whole time, he was thinking of his first life. Tyson had been sent to Percy by their Dad because he had been picked on by other monsters and mean cyclops.

But that was the difference.

Poseidon was being updated by Cecil, and the Nereids. He would have felt Percy’s growing powers even if he and all the Olympians were unaware of the full extent.

He would be worried for Percy too.

Not just Tyson.

Especially if Cecil’s words to Sally about Camp, if Coach Hedge’s and the traveling half-bloods' words, and if all the monsters were anything to go by.

He sent Tyson to Percy for both of their protection.

Percy feels Kronos melt at his son’s consideration.

He buries his face into the curve of his secret brother's neck and shoulder and they hug and dance in joy, in gratitude!

…

…

…

The horses loved him.

“Little Lord!” A stunning show pony says.

Percy can’t wait for Kronos to wake up so he can blabber excitedly about this!

It fills Percy with an incredible amount of satisfaction. He just knows his eyes are sparkling like sun on the ocean, hope bubbles up in his chest like the air bubbles from the singing mermaids when he used to do their nails, popping and releasing bursts of jaunty sea shanties, and his vocal cords tickle with the need to sing!

Percy is flexing the Domain over horses today, preparing for the next grain already, reinforcing his body and soul with the Domain.

“The Pony’s name is Komorebi.” Tyson whispers. “Rachel named her.”

Komorebi knickers nervously at the cyclops, as all the horses did.

“Cyclops eats us?” She asks nervously.

“He won’t, don’t worry!” Hope weaves in his words and settles the spooked horses. Tyson may be a son of Poseidon, but he was not a demi-god, and the horses did not acknowledge him the same way.

However.

They weren’t as scared due to Hope, which was progress!

She’s a stunning Appaloosa who’s coat makes her look like a dappled forest floor. She is a bit slow though, as evidenced by her calling him little lord even when an upstream Nereid- a different one named Sheila-desperately tried to shush the horse without Percy noticing. From the look on her face she is trying to figure out how much Percy can understand. This young it’s entirely possible he can’t understand horses yet, even as Poseidon’s child.

“Brush my coat, little Lord? Stunning like you!” Percy notices the horses only call him little lord, not Tyson.

“That's what we’re here for!” Percy says, gesturing to Rachel.

Pansy and Tyson made fast friends, with Pansie accepting anyone who understood the value of nature and Tyson just happy to help. For a moment as they were introduced, Pansie had…hesitated. Percy was ready to defend Tyson, almost steaming mad and also insecure about how he had first reacted to Tyson in his previous life. But then Pansie smiled, looking Tyson in the eye-or eyes with the Mist-and handed him a garbage bag as they drifted off.

For the best, probably.

Percy can’t imagine Pansie would take it well if she found out exactly how Rachel had afforded all this.

Percy and Rachel exchange mischievous grins.

A Friesian horse named Morticia glides forward. She has a beautiful inky black coat and it reminds Percy of how excited he is to meet Blackjack again, however that may be!

They end up giving Komorebi french braids with ribbons, and Morticia an emo blowout hairstyle. Mr. Dare see’s the horses with better hair than most people and sputters like an boat engine running out of gas and they laugh and laugh!

It had been taxing to try and pretend the horses weren’t giving Percy some of the juiciest gossip he’s ever heard as his mom tried to kill Mr. Dare with her eyes. It felt like being back in the Pegasus stables at camp, or in the Aphrodite cabin doing hair.

“Strange dirty horses coming and going!” Komorebi neighs.

“Smells like deep dark. Ugly. I like that.” Morticia says.

Percy tried to clarify but the horses could only see so much from their stables. Percy would ask Tyson to keep an eye out.

“Do you want a ride home, Tyson?” Sally asks and Percy pretends to not hear that.

“No thanks, just more cookies tomorrow!” Tyson cheers, and runs off with Pansie.

Sally seems very smug, and a bit pensive, and Percy does not miss her nostalgic look when the horses follow their blue car all the way to the edge of the fence with their gleaming hairstyles, like a lover chasing their beloved in a departing train, ladies waving handkerchiefs when sailors leave port.

But Percy knows he’ll be back.

Again, and again!

…

…

…

They shout and holler in joy, in exhilaration as they run along the river on the trail. The smell of freshwater, greenery, the sting of the cool morning air in his face. Mortica is an awesome horse! Seeing her dark coat ripple in the sunlight and her gallop reminds him of another dark horse.

It almost reminds Percy of flying.

All Pegesai are born with flight in their hearts, like Percy is born with the sea. BlackJack was tight-lipped about his time before Luke’s ship. He had been very young, and couldn’t see much of what happened in the cargo bay.

But Percy knew Blackjack had been born free.

As free and full of hope as Percy feels right now.

…

…

…

Kronos slumbers.

It’s been a week. The Fourth of July is coming up.

Percy dances nervously watching a group of Demi-gods looking at the passing cars for something.

Should he risk it??

The monsters close in.

“Follow me! I can lead you!” Percy chirps, face coated in mist, voice awash with hope.

He sees their eyes shine with it, suspicion softening.

His Nymphs stand at attention in the trees and water.

“...Are you like us then, because of your face?” A baby Lou Ellen asks, talented enough in her mothers craft to see the Mist-mask even if she couldn’t see through it yet, and Percy feels his heart soar. She can’t be older than twelve.

“I heard about you from Lilith!” A girl breathes. Her hand goes to a bead that is the matching half to Lilith’s.

“Who hasn’t?” Says another girl, eyes shimmering thoughtfully.

“Lead the way. Kyantos.” The first girl says.

Percy does, guided by his own Nymphs.

…

…

…

“Why swear loyalty to me?” Percy scrunches his nose in confusion, and the nymphs coo. He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly adorable!

“Why help us? Why bring up water to our roots?” Willow asks. Her droopy body language has brightened since being reunited with her girlfriend.

“Why restore my fountains?” Springer adds.

They follow a similar rhythm, so oddly in sync it reminds Percy of how all the Nymphs mysteriously knew the Oath by heart.

“Why bring us back together?” Willow sways like her tree towards her girlfriend, melancholy turned to dreamyness, like reading a book on a spring day under a willow tree. They had apparently met when Willow’s branches had danced and brushed on top of the water's surface, with Springer rising to meet them and matching the rhythm.

It was beautifully romantic.

Selina would have loved it.

“T-That's different! You needed help so I-” Percy cuts himself off, face hot.

“That's it, you didn’t want anything of us, you simply…helped.” Willow says. “Most gods want things from us.”

“I’m not a god!” Percy says quickly, sitting up straight in alarm. That was impossible! The Fates themselves said he couldn’t be Hope’s Pithos if he wasn’t mortal.

“Maybe not, but you are something, little half-blood. You are kind. Stubborn. Brash. You care too much and not at all about others' thoughts of you.”

Percy is speechless.

Springer springs forward and boops his nose.

Then she rests her palm over his heart.

The world slows.

He goes weak at the knees.

Kronos stirs.

And Percy is tempted.

“I miss him!” He chokes out. Springer’s hand does not move, but her eyes shimmer in sympathy.

“Is that what we saw? Someone? Dormant?” She presses gently and Percy nods fiercely.

“He’s a person, everyone wanted to forget about him and no one helped him, but I will, and he’s gonna help us!”

“We believe you, lord.” Willow reassures.

Kronos starts to rise.

It makes him brave enough to wait.

“It’s okay.” Percy reassures gently. He brings his other hand up to cover Springers. He feels the estuary mineral water in the shape of a teenage girl that is her, as sure as the mending gold in his chest. “She swore an oath to me. Sleep tight and grow strong. I love you.”

Kronos settles.

“...You inspire in others what you have in you.” Springer whispers in delight.

Percy blushes.

“You don’t have to call me lord.” He squeaks.

“What about Boss?” Springer asks and it startles a laugh from him, his heart twinging again at the thought of Blackjack, especially after taking care of the Dare’s beautiful horses.

“Just Percy is fine.”

This seems to endear him to the Nymphs further.

“...What else did you see when I opened my chest?” Percy hardly dares to ask. He’s burning with curiosity.

The two of them get dreamy, watery looks on their faces-literally in Springer's case- when Percy asks.

“I’m sorry!” He stammers. What did he do wrong? He was so grateful these amazing people were loyal to him and he made them cry!

Kronos begins to stir again.

“No, Percy!” Springer coos wetly, sounding just as grateful as he is. “None of that, this is…good crying!”

It reassures him to hear his preferred name.

“T-The Gold…” Willow stammers through sobs.

Percy’s heart leaps.

“The Fates gave dreams to Nymphs who know change is needed, gave us the Oaths’ words, had the Oracle give Juniper back at the council's base a prophecy that Gold would shine upon us! Into something, someone new from the old!” Springer sniffles.

“And there’s something up with the earth. The Nymphs are closest to it, so we’ve been able to tell something was wrong ever since… Pan disappeared.” She gives Percy a searching look. He has no clue what she could be looking for-he wishes Kronos was awake!

Percy jolts.

“What is it?” He learns forward. This is the first time he’s heard of Pan in this life.

And possibly of…Gaia.

Kronos turns, brow furrowed in his sleep.

“It’s harder to work with. Not just because of humans. It’s almost like it’s trying to sanitize itself.” Springer shivers, rippling as she almost collapses back into her fountain.

“But ever since the gods isolated themselves on Olympus, disconnected from humanity, from their mortal children, they’ve been missing so much!” Willow whimpers.

“Like, I understand after the world almost ended after the Trojan war, but really now!” Springer says.“You listen to us! You don’t ignore us like Olympus, only paying attention when we catch their desire!”

“W-We could see so much! Before the world was so cold, but you…your heart was sealed, but…the iridescent glow from it somehow showed me the most beautiful things-and I’ve met Thanatos when that Lampades was fangirling over him!” Willow says.

Percy knows exactly how beautiful Thanatos is, having rescued him in Alaska and being literally stopped in his tracks.

Just exactly what is Hope?

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, it’s so unbelievable, even for me-” She sputters on a joyful laugh, one that rings like bells.

“No, I get it!” Springer is breathless with awe.

“But how? It’s never been seen before, we only caught it filtered through his heart-”

The wind whistled like lullabies at the back of his Nereid’s throat, like the gentle cooing as she sung him to sleep.

Willow’s tree casts them in a cooling shade. The water moves in song.

The world is so beautiful.

“I think…” Willow’s voice breaks in awe.

Her bubbly girlfriend, now down to earth and grounded from the sheer force of her emotions, finished her sentence.

Unmistakably thankful.

“...I think it felt a little something like Hope.”

…

…

…

“What next? Tell me everything.” A Paper Birch dryad named Betula says. She ripped off a sheet of bark from herself and sat with glasses perched on the edge of her nose, ready to record everything.

It reminds him of Dr. Palaska.

One of his first oaths, she was determined to ‘record keep’.

Her friend, another of his earliest, was the nymph of Papyrus plants named Pius, and had several sheets of said materials with images she had drawn. The most recent being Percy and the grain on the solstice. She too had a keen eye for detail and incredible patience to sit still for hours to put images to paper in the freakish way Rachel did when pretending to be a statue for charity.

Percy is a bit uncomfortable with how they’re writing down his activities like he’s a big shot. Also he does NOT want this getting into enemy hands.

But…

“It’s important these things aren’t forgotten.” Pius says, with her usual concern.

Percy does not want to forget no matter how much it hurts sometimes.

He talks.

And they listen.

…

…

…

Percy is dreaming.

He does that a lot now. In his dreams he is closest to his still slumbering grandfather. He will tug on the string cautiously, sometimes impatiently, and even playfully, and Kronos will do so too, and it becomes a little game of tug of war that Kronos always lets Percy win.

But beyond that, there is no more communication.

They knew the first grain would be the test, of if they could really do this. So far, Kronos was slowly but surely reconciling with the new part of himself.

Percy hadn’t expected it to be a test of himself, waiting.

He knows Kronos is tiring. The Grain is sharp and ragged, not smoothed over with time and waves like most sea stones and sea glass is. Percy had faith in his grandfather and knew he would win, but…

He wishes there was more he could do.

In this dream, Percy is a girl.

It makes his heart jump, like the oath-string had turned into a jump rope and he was in the park playing double dutch with his crew again.

She writes messages on old parchment paper, rolls them up and stores them in a clay pithos that sinks to the bottom of the sea, an offering attached in the form of a common pearl. She knows her papa will receive them, because he delivers messages from land over sea. And because he had made her promise to write to him, proud expression crumbling as she departed, despite her smooth reassurances. Her training by Sea had been complete, but…she needs to be shoreside now. Her hand goes to her conch shell hairpin, the place her father said he would gift her an actual Divine Pearl upon her completed training, a hopeful glint in his proud eyes. The Moon in the sky calls to her.

Time shifts.

She is now writing on a college ruled notebook, excited scribbles in a packed cabin of kids. She only has so much time to write as she has to pack for the big one! She takes two of Mr. D’s glass co*ke bottles that he let her have in a rare good mood, re-seals it, and tosses it into the ocean with a drachma offerings. She knows communication from land to sea is near impossible, Iris tries but…well, anyway, it seemed to work for her oddly enough. She wonders why the new director is being so kind. First he allows her to go, unclaimed as she is! Although Mr. D. must at least suspect her parentage as she is talking to her parents, but she won’t question her good fortune. She is determined to do well, these kids are counting on it and so is her idea for Minor cabins! And if she’s right, her dreams said to go to the beach with Maris, something about a gift to aid them…

His dream shifts.

He is in their kitchen

Cecil sits with Sally as Percy sleeps, papers spread before him at an angle only Cecil can see in the dim stove light. Percy catches a glimpse of horses in captivity, terrible conditions in stock yards and miserable magical creatures.

It makes his blood boil.

“Is he asleep?” Cecil asks around an elegant teacup of the blackest coffee Percy had ever seen. Cecil is drinking it with a raised pinky finger, sunglasses in his hair. He’s wearing his classic trench coat, his noir hat covering his papers. Perhaps cyclops do not care about something as mortal as circadian rhythm.

Not much need for it in the deep sea vent forges.

“He is. I don’t want him to find out and risk himself sooner than necessary either, but…” Mom sighs. She’s wearing a frilly apron that does not quite cover the edge of the gorgon knife strapped to her outer thigh.

“He might not have a choice. He grows by leaps and bounds, despite the odd sickness you described, and that I smelled.”

“But you also said the situation at camp wasn’t ideal?”

“It’s not. I’m going soon to meet up with a contact to discuss after she completes a task there. Besides…the monsters aren’t swarming Percy like they should be with that scent and with the sheer number of them, despite the loss of your…red herring.”

Sally fails to hide her smirk as she pats the Gorgons blood knife.

“Do we know what's with all the monsters?”

“No. But Camp is planning as we speak.”

They descend into silence.

“...He certainly has some interesting…friends.”

“I’ve noticed that too! I’m so happy for him, but I’m worried for all of them.”

“Demi-gods tend to attract each other, linked by shared fates from their unique, alike souls. When a Satyr finds one demi-god they know to look for others in the friend group. It’s a bit like finding a vein of precious ore. There is strength in numbers but also in flying under the Radar.”

“Do you think any of the kids are?”

“I can’t say. Percy’s scent has rubbed off somewhat on them and masked theirs. Tyson is cloaked in Mist, but so is Rachel. Pansy’s scent…it’s like Percy’s”

Both Sally and Percy jump.

“How so?” Sally demanded, “You said he ‘smelled sick’, what does that mean for them?”

“I can’t say. I do know she is sick, not with what. And I said ‘like’ not ‘identical’. We know about Percy’s true parentage, it might have something to do with the broken oath.”

“What about that Thalia girl? I remember Percy’s father being upset…”

“Father was upset with and about her for many reasons. I never met her in person, but like all Big Three kids, her scent was powerful too. Ultimately though his scent has been stabilizing, getting stronger, and more…healthy. Let's hope this pattern continues.”

His dream shifts again.

Cecil cuts a sharp figure in his dark coat on the light beach, not remotely ruined by him holding a huge heart shaped lollipop like a cigarette between his sharp teeth and crushing it as easy as a camp strawberry.

The beach is churning. Several riptides in the miles of sand, deep rip currents and a building storm.

Cecil watches it with extremely wary eyes. He seems to be remembering something painful, taking deep breaths with his hand over his windpipe.

A wave catches the rocks and the distraction allows a sudden gust of wind to blow off his hat.

Cecil grunts.

“Bothering me won’t make me any less esteemed in father's eyes, you unfavorite!” He calls.

The Sea responds violently and Percy is surprised when it makes him jump in his dreams.

Cecil walks.

For several miles.

The dunes blur together and almost look… familiar.

But no,

It can’t be.

It’s just his little heart hoping too much.

He reaches a spot that looks eerily familiar and his face softened and he exhales in relief. His face goes soft as he looks around and pulls something from his coat.

He appears to be holding up an Oyster to his ear like it’s a phone. He smacks it a few times like he’s getting bad reception. He shakes his head and hangs up by shutting the shell, and walking to the shore, his eye on the calmer but still knifing waves.

There is now a similarly frustrated woman in the water, fixing her own oyster back into a fashionable hair clip that reminds him of the first girl’s in his dreams.

“Eudora. Glad you could rendezvous. I thought being this close to camp, and here of all places, would make communication easier.”

Cecil jangles a familiar pair of keys but for the life of him, Percy can’t place them.

“Cecil, glad I was able to as well. It was an interesting experiment.”

“This is the safe zone father made. If land and sea communication would be possible anywhere…“

Eudora sighs, fondly and sadly.

“Lawyers! Always looking for loopholes.”

“And I thought with the Sailor’s friend in the area helping his daughter…” Cecil speaks in code the way Demi-gods did when speaking of the divine without wanting their attention, like calling the Furies the Kindly ones.

“Brave as he is, even he isn’t willing or able with how upset the Heir is. He isn’t exactly pleased with the choices of Lord Dionysus.”

“Upset? I thought they were friends? And then I assume the delivery was completed?”

“Both wards of the Sea received their protection.”

It’s his Nereid.

The Spirit of the Sea’s Bounties. The one that gifted Percy his pearls at St. Louis, who worked with Paul at Alternative High to get him into New Rome University, and saved him in the brackish bay earlier this month.

“Wouldn’t The Sailor's friend have more reason now to communicate?”

“He can’t, not being watched this closely. Or else the minor gods risk losing the freedom a lack of scrutiny brings. But first, what have you found out?” She asks.

“Eudora…This reads like munitions stockpiling.”

She hisses.

“Smugglers? But who could possibly…”

“I don’t know. But they’re using much of the Dare’s infrastructure to conduct business. The demolition of the Dare’s developed areas means they can move their supplies around without being caught by Nymphs, but…there has to be another reason for it.”

“And another way. How are they shifting materials around even with the Dare’s resources? Not many things can be hidden from the gods.”

Percy thinks of Oceanus going against millennia of being Olympus’s ally to hide Luke’s cruise ship.

He thinks it’s funny Cecil is searching for something at the same time Percy is searching for something.

“But they hid this.” Cecil says seriously. He pulls out the photos Percy saw in his kitchen dream of the horses. “They only got on our radar because of the missing horses, pegesai, and unicorns. Hell, even some centaurs. I know one of them was on that Camp bead.”

“In the Prom dress?”

“The very one.”

“She was so flashy, you wouldn’t think of her as someone quietly being squirreled away…do you think these smugglers have anything to do with the increase in Monsters?”

“I can’t say. More investigation is needed, but you may report that to Father. I don’t think they have the capacity to capture any more steeds. But with what they have, they could breed them into perpetuity. I need to find them.” Cecil growls.

“We are in agreement on that.” The Nereid states sharply. “It’ll worry our lord even more if we don’t. What about the boy, hopefully something to brighten our lord's spirit?” Eudora’s face softens. Her arms fold together like she is cradling Percy again.

So does Cecil’s.

“He’s doing better. The best I’ve ever seen him. He wasn't even this happy at daycare.”

His cool tenor becomes soft.

Percy is reminded that this cyclops was forced to watch Percy, his little brother, grow from a distance his whole life, and had only recently been able to be a part of Percy's life-even if only in a professional capacity and not as brothers.

It reminds Percy of being in Tyson’s life as his friend and not his brother and Percy suddenly feels a soul-deep understanding of Cecil.

Percy is really, really glad to have met Cecil in his second chance.

“He grows by leaps and bounds.”

“Not very subtle then?” Eudora worries.

“Not at all. He promises to be strong. He already is.” Cecil’s faith in Percy and the slight mourning in his voice at all the challenges Percy faces bring tears into his eyes. He wishes his grandfather was awake to hear this.

A second Nereid arrives, the nervous one from the horse farm.

“Cecil! I’m glad you made it here alright.”

“I ran into some…trouble, but got here fine. We three know at least that this is a safe place for the children of the Sea.” Cecil’s lips twitch into a smile.

“She may be, difficult, at times, but she is still a Lady of the sea.” Eudora chides.

“And your sister!” Shelia adds, cozying up to Eudora. “Besides, she can’t hurt you in this safe zone. Does she even know about it?”

“Not yet, and this ‘safe zone’ isn’t foolproof. A strong enough monster could pop this bubble. And it’s easy for you two to say, you both have a fine sibling dynamic. Meanwhile she tri-nevermind. We were saying?” Cecil grips his emotions like a good lawyer should.

“...Speaking of Sea children, Peresus seemed to get along with the horses very well.” Sheila offers shyly. Percy’s Naiad crew-member had told him Sheila’s name, with her being responsible for helping her into the freshwater river.

“Are his powers enough to understand them? Did he receive that Domain?” Eudora asks.

“If he did, he didn’t show it.”

“Have you told father yet?”

“Our lord alternated between wanting to hear everything, and keeping his distance.” Eudora’s brow furrowed.

“These are troubling times indeed. What of camp, then?” Sheila asks.

“What belongs to the sea returns to the sea.” Eudora smiles at the sharp gasp that elicits from Sheila, and Percy is glad she can’t hear his too.

“Really!” Sheila gasps, forgetting her nervousness in her shock. “But! A gift so precious? So rare!? Our lords’ first in centuries, sprung forth just this decade…”

“Father has done many strange things this past decade. Children are the ultimate pearls of the Sea and so these gifts of his make more sense then most of his moves.” Cecil says thoughtfully, the way he does when he’s about to catch the opposition in his web.

“But to be so active in their fates? When we don’t know why he fashioned them? These are his first in centuries, and only our Lord and his Heir can fashion-” Sheila cuts herself off. “...Does the Sea’s Scion know?” Shelia asks warily.

Eudora’s lips purse, and her eyes flicker to Cecil’s Oyster phone that had been giving him trouble.

Cecil exhales sharply.

“We are lucky that Lady Amphitrite handles much of the underwater communication, even though she can’t bridge the land and sea. His heart had been closed ever since.”

“Then he ought to understand why our Lord gave them those gifts!”

“You haven’t known grief like that.” Eudora says gently to her sister. “And he does understand, or he wouldn’t be obscuring our conversation, our messages for us. He would simply leave it to the queen and his fathers protection.”

“True.” Sheila admits. “A mix of his grief and understanding then.”

They fall silent again.

“I suppose even the Lord of the Skies grieved his daughter.” Sheila admits.

Cecil shorts.

“More like his shot at the great prophecy gone.”

“And our shot at ending this cursed Prophecy before….” Eudora chastised faintly and uncharacteristically, and Cecil ducks his head in acknowledgement.

“Oh! So that's why Lord Poseidon hel-”

“Not so loud Sheila. Our lord may delight in this communication in his haven, and our Sicon’s jamming may shield us, but his brothers may yet hear his spoken name.”

Sheila pauses.

“If our Lord was feeling so merciful, then why send that sea monster? Are the rumors true that one unclaimed girl is of the underworld?”

“Rumors. Such a dangerous thing.” Eudora says tiredly. “It was not Lord Poseidon who sent that creature.”

“The Demi-gods certainly think so. They point fingers at every new kid by your reportings. We have to keep Percy from camp as long as possible until this loses steam.”

“Agreed.” Eudora says.

“But the monster was gone as quickly as it came! Looked to be headed west last anyone saw it.” Sheila adds. “Made it harder for Maris and Glimmer to evacuate by water too, it stirred up so many other minor monsters.”

“Speaking of, Peresus handled those Piranhas well until the end.” Eudora adds. “It was only nudging from our Lord that got me to him in time, but it felt…” Her lips purse in troubled thought.

“Felt what?” Cecil presses, like he’s in court pressing a witness.

“...Different. An imprint of our Lord, from a distance I scarcely recognized him…well, I won’t question our Lord. Not during these times.”

“Very few have that much power over the monsters of the deep.” Cecil’s brow furrows. “More questions than answers, infuriating when I gotta set sail soon.” Cecil finishes cracking his lollipop.

“What else of Perseus?”

“He seems to have settled these past several days. His scent remains…rounded. Shelia you may not have noticed anything at the horse farm but I do think he’s gotten that domain. Above all he’s…”Cecil sighs gently.

“He’s so young. This close…” His cool voice becomes thick like cookie dough.

“I know.” Eudora says, blinking rapidly like she had when she held him. “I forgot how small land dwellers were, and their children moreso.”

Cecil laughs, wiping his eye.

“I’m grateful our father answered Sally’s prayers.”

“Our Lord knows they needed it.” Eudora smiles. “He may withdraw into himself in these turbulent times, but he still cares.”

“Our ‘difficult’ Princess has been having fun with the turbulence at least.” Sheila adds and Cecil snorts in acknowledgement.

“The monsters do go after him, but his scent…” Cecil mutters.

“So the…pattern remains?”

“It does.”

Sheila and Eudora exchange a glance.

“Something I should know, my ladies?”

“Just suspicions of ours. Also a bit before your time.” Eudora whispers faintly.

“Communication is key.” It is Cecil’s turn to chide.

“Yes! Not…rumors. The seas are in turmoil as it is without misinformation.”

“Now you’ve got my attention.” Cecil's lawyer face is back on. “This ‘rumor’ concerning this ‘pattern’ has something to do with our beloved heir then, since you mentioned turmoil? Only one Lord is as upset as Father right now, and has the power to cause this turbulence, and Lady 'Unfavorite’ is preoccupied with these riptides rather than the depths.”

Eudora looks startled, then laughs.

“You really are a shark. Our Lord chose well. Normally I would lambast you for your disrespect, but…I understand there is a history there.”

Cecil’s face remains carefully blank.

“Unfortunately we will be departing soon. We will update your father on your behalf since there is no Land and Sea communication.”

“I really thought it could have worked here.” Cecil says wryly, almost self deprecatingly, running his fingers along his oyster.

“You had reason to. But in-person reports work well, and as Eudora said, that tragedy happened long ago.” Sheila rushes to comfort.

“But we still feel it today.” Eudora says tiredly. “Let us do our best to prevent more tragedy and get this report of the Little Lord to his father.”

“...Will you? I’ve heard…”

“More rumors?” Eudora asks in tired amusem*nt.

“You tell me. I’ve heard he’s feeling a bit conflicted.”

Eudora and Sheila stiffen.

“It would explain how he hasn’t been found yet, if they’re… distracted.”

“You are one hell of a lawyer.” She says. “It's almost unnoticeable among the gods, but, keep this to yourself.”

“Alright. I need to set this up for the Jackson’s anyway….” Cecil’s voice fades, and the last thing Percy hears is the faint, maddeningly familiar jangle of keys.

Percy wakes.

For several long moments he simply stares at his new bedroom ceiling, covered in glow in the dark stars like bioluminescent sea creatures, in the shape of actual constellations. His mom had insisted it was good for his education. Navigators, especially at Sea, relied on them.

And Percy was doing nothing if not trying to find his way.

Trying to find that Scythe!

Percy liked to pretend he was on a boat being rocked by his dad’s waved like a baby in a cradle as he lay in bed looking up. He cups his heart again. Hope knocks back like the secret code in their nymph made treehouse. Kronos keeps humming gently.

Tears spillover and trace down his cheekbones like a lonely lighthouse keeper’s candle wax.

“I miss you, but I’m gonna be brave.” He whispers like a secret, a promise.

He turns to see his eyes in his glass candle holder and is comforted by the gold flecks in them.

He reaches over to the landline and calls Rachel.

“Want to go paint the town with me?”

“You had dreams too?” She hushed.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

…

…

…

Percy and Rachel graffiti an old brick wall full of flowers, wheat, and Prophecy. Tyson helps by holding them up, and adding his own paintings at the bottom.

Percy molded the Mist to all three of their faces. It felt warm and sweet against the faint ache in his healing fracture. Percy took up his Kyantos identity, Rachel as a blank mask like her new canvases, and Tyson with a welders mask

He thinks about getting Pansie but she’s been busier lately, jumpier, and sicker too, which makes Percy feel bad for feeling better. Her mother has been with her more.

Percy and Rachel work through their dreams. Percy can only say so much without revealing his parentage, and Rachel’s mostly concerned the color gold.

“That color means a lot to me.” Percy says abruptly.

Kronos slumbers on.

“I know, it was in the first painting I made of you, goofball!” Rachel giggles. “It’s about a string that twists and turns.”

“I had strange dreams too.” Tyson says suddenly.

Percy and Rachel are immediately at attention.

“But then I don’t think they were dreams.” Tyson shivers, which concerns Percy because he’s worried for his secret brother, but also because he’s standing on Tyson’s shoulders.

“About what?” Percy shimmies down, sitting on Tyson’s shoulders and bowing over to look into the spot of his mask where his eye would be. Maybe they could chase the nightmares away!

“The horses didn’t like me so I tried to feed them at night for extra practice, but I saw more horses getting led away. They had wings. And looked very sad.”

Percy feels electrified.

“Can you show us?”

…

…

…

It’s the labyrinth.

Percy recognizes some of the broken shackles from Cecil’s pictures of the few war horses they were able to rescue.

It leads down to an entrance at the bottom of a fancy wine cellar at the back of the clubhouse, tucked on top of the hill overlooking the stables. There are some very old and very valuable bottles of wine in the first few steps of the maze, left to age.

Rachel had the key, because of course she did.

“I dreamed I would need it.”

“You taking twists and turns!” Percy repeats in realization.

These smugglers are using the Labyrinth.

It yawns before them like the mouth of a deep sea monster that almost ate Percy once, a straggler from Oceanus deciding to turn on Poseidon when he had originally stayed out of the titan war. Funny story, fighting that thing with Triton is what finally let them bond.

Who?

Who were these smugglers?

How did they get the string?

Why were they doing this?

One question broke the dam to a million more!

“Dark. Scary.” Tyson whimpers. “Took the horses from here. Then to the train cars.”

“Really? The path looks clear to me.” Rachel says.

And that string.

“It must be Aridane’s string!” These mystery people had the string that Luke had originally used.

Wait.

Did that mean Luke had gotten it from these smugglers? Or had they gotten it from somewhere else?

He wishes Kronos was here, he’d be way better at this!

“Like that lady from your mom’s stories? With my super old brother in it?” Tyson asks.

Oh right.

Theseus.

Percy nods to hide his shudder.

“Kept an eye out like you said.” Tyson adds. Percy’s heart beats fast.

“Thank you.” He chokes out. How close had Tyson been to the smugglers? Was he in danger? Why hadn’t Percy thought of this!?

What should he do?

Where was his grandfather?

He didn’t know-

Hope.

“...Tyson.” Percy says, and a smile spreads across his face like their homemade jam from blueberries they picked together over Kronos’s bread.

It’s safe now.

Hope and Kronos flare.

“Do you want to come home with me?”

Tyson gasps.

“Thank you!” He blubbers repeatedly.

As Percy hugs his brother and Rachel mourns their loss of sleepovers and painting Tyson’s nails at night, he looks over his brother's shoulder and into the Labyrinth.

It seems that Sally suspected Tyson had been homeless. She welcomes him with open arms, setting up the third bedroom for him. Percy wishes he had brought Tyson home sooner, but it had only been recently they had a home too.

Cecil simply smirks when he walks in with more papers and sees Tyson at breakfast the next morning.

Both of the cyclops' Mist masks are still up, but Percy sits there with his mother and brothers, Hope a steady beat in his heart, Kronos shielded and healing behind it, and feeling so overwhelmingly grateful that he takes a blueberry and sacrifices it to whoever is listening.

…

…

…

He has Prophecy dreams of leading someone up from far down.

They’re over his shoulder, pelt and feathers warm on his neck, the prominence of bones a reminder.

He loves them.

He dreams of reaching land and going up further, up the winding steps of a lighthouse. And when he goes so high Zeus might strike him down, Ouranos might eat him, he jumps into the Ocean.

,

…

…

…

“...Deep Sea Gigantism - the tendency of deep sea creatures to grow far larger than their shallow water relatives…”

“...Hydrothermal vents are like geysers, fountains, or hot springs, on the ocean floor. Along mid-ocean ridges where tectonic plates spread apart, magma rises and cools to form new crust and volcanic mountain chains. Seawater circulates deep in the ocean’s crust and becomes superheated by hot magma….”

“...Hypothesize life originated near a deep sea hydrothermal vent…”

“Petrification… Organic tissues like wood, bone, and shell contains pores and spaces. The mineralized water fills the pores of the organic tissues and moves through the cellular spaces…eventually creating fossils…”

“Petrichor is the smell of rain. The word comes from the Greek words 'petra', meaning stone, and 'ichor', which in Greek mythology refers to the golden fluid that flows in the veins of the immortals….The scent is strongest in the driest conditions, a poignant scent of relief after drought, of life…”

“...Brackish water occurs when the freshwater from a river or lake meets the salty seawater of an ocean body…a liminal space, yet home to ecosystems…”

“...Marine clay usually consists of soil minerals such as chlorite, kaolinite, montmorillonite and illite, and other stone minerals such as quartz and feldspar that are all bonded together by the presence of organic matters…”

“Tectonic plates are gigantic pieces of the Earth's crust and uppermost mantle. They are made up of oceanic crust and continental crust. Earthquakes occur around mid-ocean ridges and the large faults which mark the edges of the plates…”

“...Oysters make pearls in response to an irritant, such as a grain of sand or another object… the creature produces nacre...nacre is also referred to as mother-of-pearl; it's made of microscopic crystals of calcium carbonate, and it also lines the interior of a mollusk's shell….coat the irritant, eventually forming an iridescent gem….”

“...As plants and animals near the surface of the ocean die and decay, they fall toward the seafloor, just like leaves and decaying material fall onto a forest floor…the decaying material is referred to as “marine snow” because it looks a little bit like white fluffy bits. The “snowflakes” grow as they fall, some reaching several centimeters in diameter…fall for weeks before finally reaching the ocean floor…This continuous rain of marine snow provides food for many deep-sea creatures…”

“Sea salt is made by evaporating salt water. Aside from its culinary uses, it is often added to body scrubs, baths, food, and countless other products. It’s used as a preservative, and even in ancient mummification…”

“Since all life originated in the sea, the balance of minerals in the fluids of the human body correlates strongly with the concentration in the oceans...”

“Mare Nostrum.” Percy hums, reading the Latin words for the ‘Sea’ flawlessly even when he struggles with his research. He wonders if it is a coincidence that it has ‘Mare’ in it, like a female horse.

The books and Scythe search provided a nice distraction to his nightmares of trapped horses.

It made him sad that he couldn't find them! But, Cecil was super smart, he could, right?

Percy knew that the Ocean was deep and hid many mysteries. Aphrodite herself emerged from its hidden depths after Kronos’s scythe cut up his Father and bits of him fell in. Percy had hoped that maybe he could find some clues of where to look there.

So that when his Grandfather finally woke, he would be able to share his progress!

He misses him.

It’s been over a week.

But It’s not like he could purify another grain while his Grandfather slumbered on. There were brief moments where he almost woke, but this process, with a less skilled Percy, no sanity, and more to assimilate and purify due to only being scattered once and not twice by Luke’s sacrifice, meant that progress, while steady.

Was slow.

In other news, the monster attacks had slowed too, although his Crew still reported Demi-god’s making their way through New York to Camp occasionally.

He’s at the Libraries study group with Tyson led by Paul and Dr. Palaska. They had just finished reading Blueberries for Sal as a group, and Percy already knows he’s checking it out for his mom to read to them again tonight. Dr. Palaska had watched in approval from the back as the kids scampered off to check out their own books, her brows quirked in amusem*nt over her glasses.

“Excellent Latin Percy!” Paul says in delight. “Did you hear him, Dr?”

Dr. Palaska grunts, brows no longer amused but furrowed in pain.”

“I did, he’s coming along quite well with his knitting too.” Her voice is approving but strange. Percy knows she spends most of her time reading or stitching, migraine inducing activities if not done right. He knows the other librarians who let them use their kitchen have ibuprofen on hand for exactly that reason.

“Was your mother accepted?” Dr. Palaska asked. Percy learned Sally had applied to college with the help of the librarians. Sally had gotten close to them when Percy introduced her, talking about being a single mother and getting the chance to go to college, and even a bit about his father disappearing at sea, something that earned her the Dr.’s sympathy.

“Yes! She did!”

Dr. Palaska smiles tiredly and goes to help a girl obsessed with Greek myths to find a book.

“You seem to be looking into the ocean a lot, trying to find anything?”

Percy’s lips twitch upwards, and for a second, he thinks about asking Paul.

What's the harm?

He’s mortal, and he knows about mythology. Having done several plays where he even acted as a few gods. Plus, hadn’t Kronos said his weapon was changeable too, like his sword Riptide, and Jason’s coin?

Aww jeez!

What was he gonna do if his Scythe was in pieces in various shapes?

“I love the ocean too!” Tyson cuts in, having overheard them. “And it loves me back!” Percy has to keep himself from nodding.

Percy asked Paul for more Latin lessons in the form of Roman and Greek myths.

“I guess it’s story time again kids!”

The other children cheer.

“I love Greek Myths!” A girl cheers.

“Poseidon is my favorite!” Tyson crows. “But all the Ocean gods are!”

Dr. Palaska looked strained at all the noise in a library, but included Percy anyway.

“And you, young man?”

Percy is extremely caught off guard. His mind goes to ‘Ocean’, ‘God’, and ‘favorite’ and the first one he thinks of beside his dad-who he does not want to name right now in case the other gods are watching-is his brother.

“Triton!”

Confused mutterings.

Dr. Palaska tilts her head, looking surprised.

“You know, because of the Disney movie?” Percy offers weakly. And because Triton was the favorite, technically.

“Wow, not even I knew who that was!” Said the girl who loved Greek Myths.

Dr. Palaska simply nods as her fingers massage her pinched brow.

“Knowledgeable indeed.” She compliments curtly.

“I can take over from here.” Paul says kindly and the Librarian leaves, a complex, considering, look on her face.

Tyson chose the stories, he picked the ones of their dad and his kids and Percy feels his patchwork heart beat itself into knots as it tripped over its own hopes.

He still wished…

But Kronos was here.

Not awake, but he would be!

“That's a funny name!” Tyson says when Paul reads aloud the author's pen-name. He believed strongly in giving credit to creatives.

“It’s because it’s not their birth name. Although it would be okay if it was, wouldn’t it? There's nothing wrong with being different, Tyson.” Paul says softly, reminding Percy why he loved his step-dad.

Or.

Would be step-dad. He was working on it but mom had other priorities! Like going to college!

Graduating with an English degree!

And-

…

…And eventually, publishing them under her pen-name.

Tyson is quiet for a second.

“...Like how Eminem’s real name is Marshall Bruce Mathers III. It’s a fake stage name.” Percy offers.

“What!” several kids shriek in shock.

Paul laughs so hard he almost drops his book. The smile he gives Percy is so like the one he gives or hopefully would give again to the Blofis family, to Estelle, that Percy feels his heart turn into a puddle of goo.

“A pen-name is sort of a way to protect an author's identity, give them a new one, or establish an existing one. It can even be used to remember someone or something. It’s almost always meaningful.”

Percy thinks about his mothers pen name with wide, shimmering eyes.

His fingers trace the letters into his knee, to make sure he read them right with his dyslexia. His mom always made sure copies were available in Greek for him.

Kronos hums, slumbering.

“Poseidon was famous among the gods for loving his children.” Paul begins warmly, and Percy feels his eyes flutter shut. “His wrath at the scarring of his cyclops son was a testimony to his love for his children, no matter how monstrous…”

…

…

…

The Fourth of July was only a few days away.

Sally had taken the apartment community by storm, and organized a block party in the park-like courtyard at the back of the property. Even now they are getting ready.

Barbeque’s, that cornhole game from the midwest, fairy lights, campfires, fireworks.

All things Percy wanted to show his grandfather.

Kronos was not awake.

Percy is acutely aware, as he helps hangs decorations, that he is the only person alive who knows they could lose all this.

The Lemonade is suddenly too tart. The smoke from early fireworks too searing. The music on the radio too loud.

Percy hadn’t been able to make any more progress on finding the scythe by himself. As they figured, it was probably broken up and hiding. Few things could suppress a weapon that powerful otherwise. Zeus’s bolt itself was only hidden so well in Percy’s backpack because Ares waited to put it there, and had stored it in a case made from the jar that had kept himself sealed once in myths. And still, it had only worked temporarily before the bolt shone through.

Despite knowing his dreams tonight might not be sweet, Percy decided to sleep early.

And this time he dreams of his grandfather.

Normally this would be the single best thing he could dream of right now, he misses his grandfather so much!

But…

Kronos tosses and turns. Their connection is distant. The Grain is almost fully incorporated and Percy almost wakes from excitement.

Kronos is upset.

Why? What's wrong? Did he miss Percy as much as Percy missed him?

He desperately wishes he could do something for his grandfather, who he can feel processing his grief.

Percy tugs on the golden thread of fate. Kronos does not tug back, trying to prevent using it as a rope and pulling Percy into it, even if he can’t say it in that many words.

He wishes his grandfather was able to see all the good that Percy was able to do, the fun he had, these nearly past two weeks, even if he hadn’t found the scythe yet.

Was there a way to show his grandfather?

Oh.

Right!

Percy mumbles in his sleep as he gathers the best of the last few weeks, picking blueberries with Tyson, playing with the nymphs, the horses, painting, cooking, reading time at the library study group, everything!

And gives it to his distressed grandfather.

Kronos’s grief falls silent. His wails calm like the end of a storm. The jagged healing smoothes over, like puzzle pieces fitting together and Kronos is no longer struggling.

Percy can’t reconcile the grains directly.

That is up to Kronos.

He can shift them from the universe and present them only.

But what he can do,

Is offer motivation.

Show Kronos what he was fighting for! For their future, for his grandson, for the chance of redemption!

Kronos is awash in Percy’s happiness, it fills the remaining creases in the merged grains.

Finally,

After several months of Kronos comforting Percy, soothing his hurts, his nightmares, with lovely dreams, Percy can finally return the favor.

Kronos settles into one grain, and slumbers.

He will wake soon.

“Sweet dreams.” Percy whispers, eyes fluttering open and full of stars.

…

…

…

Percy wakes up from his dream gasping for breath like a fish out of water, out of place.

Except he knows exactly where he needs to go,

What to do,

For the first time since Kronos went to sleep.

He has no armor.

Or sword.

But he sneaks into his mothers bedroom and grabs her sizzling Gorgon’s blood knife. He tugs the golden lasso around his throat.

And he runs.

His nymphs emerge from the urban canopy to flank him as far as they can before being pulled back to their trees. Percy follows the train tracks to the place where Cecil had stopped to look over weeks ago, the place he recognized from Nico’s description when they invaded the Emperor's tower.

The old Cattle yard.

That went through a tunnel under a bridge to get here.

Percy follows the tracks and begins to see signs of ancient Greece, of Rome too. He stands in front of a utility door with the sign for the Labyrinth hidden in the corner.

His breaths are trembling.

He pushes the door with shaking hands.

It doesn’t budge.

“I think you’re supposed to pull it.” Rachel says.

Percy jumps about ten feet in the air, and when he turns around he sees Rachel and Tyson.

“Percy!” Tyson scoops him up. “We won’t leave you alone!”

“How far did you really think you were gonna get without a clear sighted mortal?”

“I-I didn’t want to put you guys in danger…” Percy trails off, trying to pass off his shaking as adrenaline and not overwhelming relief that he wasn't by himself in this.

“This! It’s not a game!” Percy exclaims. “If it gets too hard, I want you to run and leave the horses to me.”

“You are very good with them.” Rachel says thoughtfully and Percy knows it is a strong tell of his parentage.

“Tyson…The horseys might be hurt and scared, and-” Percy cuts himself off, unable to say it.

“And the ponies are nervous around me.” Tyson says, sad but accepting and showing remarkable emotional maturity. “I will stay back.”

“Okay! Alright!”

This was happening!

Right now!

Rachel leads the way.

It was an uncanny echo of the first time she did this. Sudden stops, and starts, going ways Percy never would have, holding them steady as a battle ax the size of a horse passes inches from their noses silently as a hunting night owl.

Percy holds his lasso and knife steady.

He smells them before he sees them.

The stench of rot, of decay, of misery.

Tyson whimpers.

Rachel is pale in the light of their torch.

Percy opens the door. He was surprised it was unguarded but then, how would these horses escape? Where would they run? Could they unlock their own chains, untie the ropes that bound them?

Dozens of eyes watch Percy.

And Percy sees where the guards are.

Monster that Percy recognizes as under the command of Kronos when he invaded New York, except they were not here under his grandfather's orders.

Monsters from Tartarus.

He doesn’t realize he’s frozen up and trembling so hard he’s sweating until the monsters are laughing and kicking a downed horse who didn’t move into the stable fast enough, and Rachel and Tyson have to sit on him to keep him from tearing the monster's throat out!

Their leader arrives.

It’s Kampe.

Percy looks at Tyson’s clothed back. The only possible way this could get worse was if The Sphinx was here too.

“Head back to the Divide. Avoid the Arena for now, we gave up enough in the fights to pass through.” Kampe snarls to the goons. It oddly reminds Percy of Octavian, religious robes, and a sacrificial knife at her side like the Gorgon’s knife was at his.

If they wanted to sell these horses to the highest bidder, then why let them fall so ill?

In his dreams, Cecil had said munitions. Horses needed to be healthy to be any good in combat. The injuries on these horses made his blood literally boil but were also in line with combat. Where had they fought? And where were they planning to fight?

“Awwww!” Several say.

“The Prime sacrifice is finally here!” She says, almost making Percy jump. He had been a sacrifice once before and had no interest in doing that again! She gestures towards a cage in the back.

She’s not talking about him.

A monster raises his hand.

She cuts it off.

They all laugh as he rolls around in pain and Percy can feel Rachel gag silently.

“This Sacrifice will give our Lord the sight he needs as he tries to sway his siblings. These magical creatures have served their purpose to fight in the Arena, and will now serve this cause of foresight!”

“I liked riding them into the fight.” One grunt offers.

He notably pats the back of a solitary, bound female centaur, in a degraded party dress. With a jolt Percy recognizes it from the Camp Bead.

She leans forward and bites the monster's other hand off.

He yowls in pain.

It seems that they thought a centaur with a human upper half wouldn’t bite as strongly as a horse. A mistake.

“And I enjoyed watching that!” Kampe chuckles. She leans forward and smirks at the female centaur who spits the blood in the monster's face.

Insead of being angry she seems to relish it.

“You were smart to uncover our scheme, and stupid for being caught. Chiron should have never sent you out west and away from the party ponies! You may think like a human, but you’ll die like a horse!”

What?

“We can always get more horses for battle. This is more pressing. We have other prisons to visit. We have things to locate. To revive.”

Oh.

That's why.

They weren’t munitions.

They were sacrifices.

Percy remembers being a sacrifice. His haste, his carelessness, acting like a horse with blinders causing him to ignore the signs until it was too late. It had been his fault Gaia had awoken, his fault that Jason-

“Percy please!” Rachel whimpers. “We can still save them.”

Kampe has left with most of the grunts. Percy takes off his necklace and shapes his lasso and torques it up, muscles screaming with rage and exhaustion.

He’s not one for aim, but there's something to a Lasso being an extension of his arm, always connected to him and his practice with Odette’s ribbons that cause it to aim true and seal awkwardly around the grunts neck.

Percy, Tyson, and Rachel grip it and pull.

The monster doesn’t even have time to squeal as he chokes and dies.

The three of them are wide eyed.

But the awkward landing on an angle makes a loud clattering like dropped utensils.

“Quickly!” Percy snaps and they scramble, the horses alert, the centaur’s mouth still dripping blood. Their faces are up with their mist masks again.

“We’re here to rescue you!” Percy says, and Hope rushes through him, visibly brightens the prison. They perk up like flowers did after Percy guided water to their parched roots.

It’s like he brought light and love down into these tunnels with him.

The horses are no longer alarmed, but joyous. Their pain seemed to vanish, and the centaurs' eyes sparkled in realization.

“”Little foal lord, filly lord?” A Freisan horse breathes in awe.

“Would bow lord, but tied up!” A Thoroughbred whinnies.

“Little foal is strong and here for us!” A Mustang exhales sharply and kicks out. He has the strongest shackles made of pure celestial bronze which was going to be a problem.

“You must be that Kyantos.” The centaur says. “I’m Cayenne.”

Percy nods at her as Rachel and Tyson unlock the horses. They only have so much time due to the way the guard fell. He probably wasn’t expecting them but Percy faintly hears the other monsters charging back down the hall.

“Tyson! The Mustang’s shackles can’t be broken.” He must have given Kampe trouble and it fills Percy with pride.

“Celestial Bronze.” Tyson agrees.

“Can you unlock-”

Tyson takes out a tool, wedges it into an infinitesimal crack in the wall where the shackle is bolted, and brings the full might of his fist down on it.

It cracks.

The Mustang does the rest and pulls the chains from the wall, breaking free and sending chunks of rock raining down onto the first monster reinforcements.

Kampe bursts in, curved scimitars flaming.

The Mustang rears up and wraps the bronze chain around her swords like a whip that screeches so loud it hurts his ears.

“Kill them!” Kampe screams, yanking her sword away so hard the Mustang stumbles and the sword jerks to the side and beheads another monster.

She swings it forward and cuts the Centaur deeply.

“Cayenne!” Percy screams.

Then Kampe is on him.

The only thing that saves Percy is him pulling out the Gorgon's blood knife.

She jumps back and uses another monster as a shield.

“Oh!” Kampe laughs as the monster percy knicks literally melts before his eyes. “So that's where the gorgon sisters went! Medusa will love to hear this!” Kampe feels no fear of his knife, confident in her ability to live and tell the tale to Medusa.

He won’t be able to get close to her now!

But.

Kampe won’t expect a long or medium ranged weapon in close quarters.

He whips his own lasso forward and strikes at Kampe. He meant to aim for her eyes but her flaming sword catches it, wraps it around Percy’s lasso, and yanks him forward.

The heat is searing and if not for his minor resistance he would be up in flames from the close contact alone. Several horses do catch on fire, the smoke choking the enclosed space and they rush to cover them with dirt to smother the flames. The Thoroughbred is one of them, and his roars of pain scare Percy.

He’s so big Percy can’t get the dirt over him fast enough!

She raises her flaming sword one last time.

Tyson grabs the hilt in his bare hand.

“Impossi-”

“You’re bad!” Tyson yells and throws her sword behind her giving Percy the opening to whip his lasso forward.

He meant to aim for her eyes but he’s still practicing and it strikes her brow and then the wall.

She howls.

She goes to retrieve her sword and blinks monster blood from her eyes.

The wall begins to crumble as the Labyrinth shifts. The cramped space is already not enough for the full glorious spread of a Pegesai wings and it gets smaller.

The monsters close ranks, forming an impenetrable blockade to the stairs as Kampe fetches her sword and is once again fully armed.

“Stampede!” Percy calls in their last hope.

The horses charge.

The Mustang used his shackled legs to kick Kampe, the only horse who could do that and live due to his impenetrable celestial bronze shackles acting as arm guards.

Gods, he misses riptide.

The monsters are crushed underhoof in waves of dust, the labyrinth shifts again and begins crushing the cages. Kampe is forced to retreat, but one last poisonous glare makes him very aware they got lucky, and that this isn’t over.

Rachel leads the way up.

“I’m going back for the Prime sacrifice!” Percy yells.

“Not enough time, lord!”

“Born early, sick! Mother stressed!”

“He won’t make it!”

We tried to help but couldn’t reach them!”

Percy goes to the back of the cages by himself.

He really does not want to.

He almost turns back and runs several times but can’t. He wishes he could ask his grandfather what to do but instead he staggers past rows of former misery, to the cage with what was supposed to be the Prime sacrifice. He hears quiet snuffling of what must be a really young horse and his heart sinks with dread as his eyes prickle with tears.

A pegasus.

A creature of freedom.

Of the uplifting ocean air, the evaporation that fuels the water cycle, the rush of being freed from Medusa, the rescuers of heroes.

Being born underground in a labyrinth prison in captivity.

Under the layers of filth he can’t make out the baby’s exact coat. Not that it mattered much as a quirk of Pegesai being their coats started lighter at birth and turned dark like human hair. He can at least tell this baby has a medium brown coat.

The baby is so weak it can only raise it’s head and shoulders before slumping, having heard Percy’s calls for freedom, turning towards their mother-an action that reminds Percy of himself when the Minatur took his own mother and he was forced to carry Grover up the hill when all he wanted was to perish with her. A foal can walk minutes after birth. Some Pegesai foals need to be stopped from flying away before their mother can meet them.

This baby's mother is dead.

Covered in unhealed battle wounds and afterbirth.

And the baby sees no reason to walk and leave their mother behind. She didn’t receive proper care after giving birth down here and Percy imagines strangling Kampe to death with his bare hands with icy clarity in his mind.

But right now this little foal-filly?-needs him.

The little horse is skin and bones like his mother. At least Percy assumes it’s a boy, so he could be wrong.

“Hello.” Percy means to be reassuring, but his voice and heart breaks. He aches for the reassuring presence of his grandfather who would know exactly what to say and how to say it. He wishes he could reverse time despite knowing that was a one-time deal the fates allowed to prevent the apocalypse, and also because doing it again would kill Percy.

He coughs.

His recovering lungs are almost back to square one.

The little horse looks at the empty cages, the gold rope in Percy’s hand, then back to his mother, and whinnies sadly. He presses into her side, legs tucked under himself, head bowed.

Percy realizes why hope had not worked on this foal, despite his cage being opened.

Because there is no hope for his mother.

She is dead.

….And Percy knows what to do.

He licks his lips and instead of channeling hope, he thinks about what his grandfather would say, had said to Percy.

He may not be able to ask his grandfather for help.

But he can certainly be inspired by him.

“I'm sorry, dearest.” Percy says, and a tear finally slides free. It’s so easy to pretend it’s Kronos speaking through him again with his voice, telling Percy these things too. “I can’t bring her back.”

Percy wishes he could present her to this foal in a golden veil like Sally had been to him by Hades.

The foal whines again.

Could he speak in his grief?

Had he ever spoken before with the other horses being too far away to teach him, with his mother dead? Percy is deeply moved by this foal’s loyalty to his mother.

“She fought for you. Lived this long for you, and she’s gone and it hurts. It’s not your fault.” Percy says, and his voice hitches at the last few words.

Words Kronos has said to him time and time again after so many nightmares.

The foal trembles, but is now looking up.

“She loved you.” Percy sees the painstaking way the hay was arranged for the foals comfort, the dirt carved into a cradle with grown hooves, the only possible person to do so being his mother, and Percy makes sure to point that out to the foal, who looks in disbelief, like he can’t believe anyone would love him.

Percy is relating a little too much to this would-be sacrificial lamb. Foal.

He had not wanted to leave the future behind either. To be unable to say goodbye to everyone who had died there. And to think, this foal hadn’t been able to say goodbye to his mother either.

“What is your name, sweetest?” Percy croaks.

The foal tilts its little head in confusion and Percy resists the urge to lean forward and kiss his brow.

“...you don’t have one.” Percy concludes sadly and the foal curls in on himself like he did something wrong. He’s so small, so emaciated. The odds of him surviving…

“It’s alright, you can get one!”

The foal looks like he wants to believe, but…

“Do not lose yourself here, precious. I can’t promise you everything will be okay, but I promise we will do it together. That you will know the freedom your mother loved.” Percy feels his older, protective camp counselor sword-instructor speaking.

And finally.

When Percy had kept Hope in his heart and not his voice.

The foal finally wobbles to its feet and towards Percy.

He holds his hands out like parents at the park did when he witnessed their baby taking her first steps, a little wobbly thing, the way she beelined to her parents, the way they cheered and showered her with celebratory love.

This foal's mom can’t do this for her baby.

Percy does it for her.

And means it.

He catches the foal before it collapses from exhaustion and hunger, and it’s so small Percy can cradle it despite being of similar size. He’s still rather heavy though and Percy is forced onto his behind.

“You did amazing, love. You are the most precious pearl, you-”

The words catch in Percy’s throat.

What the other horses said makes sense now.

About being born sick.

Because as Percy feels the horse's side pressed to him, he can tell one of the baby’s wings is stunted.

A by-product of a botched birth. The Romans put down Pegesai with broken wings because the Pegesai would always know Sky-hunger. It was like a regular horse with a broken leg never being the same but worse.

He whinnies in shame and tries to go back into his cage. Percy can tell without the foal speaking that he thinks he has no hope at a good life, that he doesn’t want to leave

“Oh precious, none of that!” Percy says. “You’re not wrong, it’ll be okay! You’re not broken! You deserve a chance! We won’t leave you by yourself.”

The foal looks back to its mother. He shivers and it highlights his bones.

“Are you ready, dearest?”

He shakes his head no and looks longingly towards his mother, heavy-but still lighter than it should be- body sliding off his lap and towards her.

He very firmly sits in between Percy and his mother. His loyalty and stubbornness reminds Percy so much of himself that he almost smiles.

“Dearest, can you be brave for me? I have a friend who could help with your mother, but he can be a bit scary at first.”

The foal nods slowly, leaning forwards to nuzzle Percy's hand.

Tyson steps forward.

The horse startles in fear.

“Be brave!” Percy begs. He can’t stand the idea of leaving her down here for all of time ”My bro-friend can carry her up!”

The little horse does not move for several agonizing moments.

Then he shuffles out of Tyson’s way and collapses into Percy’s arms, knocking him back down again but he doesn’t mind.

Tyson is absolutely bawling as he lifts the emaciated mama and it makes Percy shudder with the foal.

“Poor mama! Poor baby!” He cries. “We need to go too!” Tyson leads the charge forward, carrying her as gently as he can, hand shifting to cover her head as he turns a corner towards the stairs like she’d still feel pain if she bumped her head.

Percy goes to follow.

The foal can’t stand.

He used up all his energy when jumping up at Tyson.

The ground shakes again as the Labyrinth shifts, to confuse its trapped prey and Percy knows like he knows the gold in his chest that they are out of time.

“Baby, can I carry you?” Percy asks, despite knowing the foal is too big for his young arms.

The foal nods.

Percy struggles to think of a way to carry this baby. He does not have Tyson’s strength. Hope sparks an idea in his mind, and Percy closes his eyes as the beautiful irony settles in.

A over the shoulder fireman’s carry.

The foal wrapped around his neck and shoulders, side pressed into his nape- a position that would have been impossible if the baby had both working wings.

The very disability that had him seen as hopeless by the other horses and monsters would now save both of their lives as Percy marched upwards.

Percy slips when his sweat drips under his feet.

The foal whinnies in pain and that hurts worse than his now skinned knees.

“Sorry!” He gasps, trying to puff his growing curls out of his face. His fingers keep slipping.The foal nudges the bottom of his chin and Percy knows all is forgiven.

This was just as difficult as carrying Juno into New Rome. The little Pegasus is a precious but heavy weight on his back, bony body digging into Percy. The stairs shake and tremble like his dad is causing an earthquake, except it’s the Labyrinth.

At the end of the world, whatever sentience embedded in the Labyrinth had allied with them.

Traps became traps for monsters, not Demi-gods.

It provided them passages to basem*nts with cans of fruit and bottled water.

The axes only came down to sharpen their swords for them.

It twisted to preserve their sanity.

But here? With the primordial apocalypse a distant dream of a disturbed little boy?

It hates.

It dumps sand and gravel on Percy so he almost falls again, and it makes the foal heavier. Percy is coughing so hard he thinks there might be blood in it. It obscures his vision of Rachel and his heart twists with dread as a shifting wall knocks his leg so hard he falls to one knee. Faintly, he can hear calls he knows are just mimics of his friends, but they sound so real, and he’s not sure if it’s a mimic monster or his mind.

Their window is closing.

“Keep going Percy!” He gasps.

He no longer has the strength for his mist mask. The foal whines encouragingly. It takes everything he has to stand back up and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, except it’s also this beautiful little baby counting on him.

The working wing trails down Percy’s back and to the ground, sheltering his lungs from the worst of the dust.

Percy emerges into the world from a utility shed basem*nt, blinking in the light, covered in blood and grime.

They both take their first gasping breaths as they emerge. The heartbeat of the little foal is directly next to Percy’s ear and he laughs and laughs as he presses deeper into it. He feels the foal look around into the sunset with wide eyes full of emerging stars.

They’re on a beach.

Percy has gotten separated from the pack. There could still be monsters, so he limps into the shallows with the foal on his back and feels the rush of power and healing as he follows the beach, the stars that tell him and other sailors where to go, back to the horse farm.

He takes the long way back so the foal can look at the stars for a bit longer.

And so maybe he can watch the foal’s joy and hope in the water’s reflection.

…

…

…

Cecil is able to use the Dare’s horse farm and the mist to shelter the horses, pegesai, and unicorns for several days.They don’t really like the cyclops but Cayenne is able to keep them calm. Rachel and Tyson had brought them there and then pretended not to notice anything. Cayenne had been tight-lipped at the cyclops about her work on camp’s behalf.

But Percy knows she told him about Kyantos.

Percy had arrived several hours later to a frantic Rachel, Tyson, and Crew, with the baby Pegesai on his back. The mist had begun to warp around the chocolate colored baby, and Percy helped it along to form his full wing into the shape of a blanket.

Just in time, as Cecil had arrived.

He took one look at the disheveled Percy and paled in alarm.

“Found him on the beach.” Percy smiles tiredly. “Brought him back.”

Cecil blinks.

And then smiles so softly that Percy almost collapses.

“You’re a good kid.” He says it in a way that Percy knows will be in his next report to Eudora. It’s not something he’s used to hearing.

He effortlessly lifts the sleeping foal off Percy’s neck-probably why the foal doesn’t sense a cyclops is carrying it-as the baby had been rocked to sleep by his footsteps and the waves. The mist blanket makes him look like the swaddled newborn he is. Percy’s neck suddenly feels too cold, and he feels too light like he might float into the sky.

Then Rachel and Tyson hug him and he’s grounded again.

They have a little funeral for the mother. Percy cares for the baby and feeds him from a bottle, and wraps his navy blue Atlantis-made baby blanket around him. And although he knows it’s coming, he makes Cecil promise the baby will live, pretending to not know that it’s camp-half blood they’re taking him and the other Pegesus to.

They will meet again.

…

…

…

Kronos comes back to Percy with his Crew at the 4th of July picnic.

Willow and Springer were running interference on monsters in-between cooing at him.

He feels the moment Kronos gains awareness. Percy sees his eyes flash with gold in Springer’s water as Kronos does an environmental scan for threats, the grain wrapping around his heart and filling in the breaks and making Percy go boneless into his mom’s side, pressing a dopey grin into her chest.

She wraps her arm around him.

“Happy, baby?”

Percy nods, chewing through his Ant on a Log they made for the picnic, along with lemonade tea, sandwiches, cookies, fruit pizza, pigs in a blanket, and potato salad.

Success!

Kronos acclimatizes, their joy a cycle that crescendos. Kronos feeds him the sandwiches with sourdough bread from his wheat, his recipe shared with Sally.

The energy makes him spring up like his dad’s fountains, and he plays frisbee with his Crew, watches as Odette teaches some Capoeira in the grass, and does chalk. Paul reads books to groups of kids from the library.

They blow bubbles and they chase them.

They do hopscotch and Percy is finally able to show Kronos what he was talking about in the future.

Sally had filled up water balloons for them and Percy and Pansie pelt each other through little coughs. while Rachel and Tyson are more content to hang back. For the best considering how strong Tyson is even now.

They sit down together, harvesting wild wheat and weaving friendship bracelets and crowns. Kronos gently lowers each one he weaved onto the heads of the children, laying stunning wreaths on Sally’s and Percy’s heads.

They watch the fireworks, tummies full, hearts full.

It’s almost like the world is celebrating with them!

Kronos is already aware of what happened for the most part, but right now is not the time for work.

It is the time for family.

For home.

When the noise from the last firework fades, his mom calls Percy and Tyson over to her.

She is jangling a familiar pair of keys.

Ones he hasn’t seen in years and only now realizes!

She smiles, the last fireworks in her eyes.

“How do you boys feel about a little vacation to Montauk?”