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It wasn’t that Poseidon hadn’t been expecting it. Percy had agreed to immortality and to serving as a lieutenant under him and had gotten along well with Amphitrite and Triton, calling her mother and ruthlessly bickering and laughing with his heir. Still, his mortal side had always enchanted Percy in a way that had frankly baffled Poseidon.
And so, when Poseidon swam into his son’s room one day to find his usual mess with a letter on his comforter, he was far from surprised. The letter simply read, Gone to see mom and Paul. Poseidon just hummed in consideration, letting himself out again, deciding to tell his heir to postpone the celebrations for now.
It was quite inconsiderate and inconvenient for this to happen a day before the formal celebrations. His family wouldn’t be happy with the delays. But then again, neither was he. Percy would have a lot to explain when he decided to come back home.
~
Zeus looked less than pleased as he glanced Poseidon’s way in exasperation. His brother seemed woefully unbothered.
Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Brother, whatever happened to Percy Jackson’s ascension and the coronation you so abruptly postponed ?”
Hearing that tone of voice, Poseidon looked up, a slow smile stretching across his face. “Why, brother,” he crooned. “I would almost say you’re concerned for one of my children.”
As Zeus spluttered his protests, and Poseidon started rankling him further, Hades gleefully joined in the banter, looking gloomy and depressed as ever, but unexpectedly coming up with a subtle under-the-belt barb every once in a while that would leave one brother spluttering and the other roaring with laughter.
Unexpectedly, it was Artemis, of all gods who cut in.
“My lords,” she cut in with a steel look. “We have more important matters to discuss.”
The three glanced her way, slowly settling down at the seriousness in her tone. “Is everything alright with your hunters, niece?” Poseidon asked kindly.
She smiled slightly at her uncle for his concern but shook her head. “Percy Jackson just fell off the grid unexpectedly one day before his coronation and none of this seems suspicious to anyone at all? A little too convenient, isn’t it? Right before he ascends to immortality, becomes harder to take down, someone makes away with him.”
Poseidon laughed at the idea. “My dear niece,” he said softly. “Your concern does you credit. But I assure you, my son is safe and whole, if young and rebellious,” he seemed pained to admit the last part. Everyone knew exactly where he had gotten his rebelliousness from, after all.
Hermes joined in, for his sister’s support. “I agree with her assessment, Uncle. Percy can be brash and reckless but he has never been inconsiderate. He wouldn’t just leave without properly talking it through with someone.”
Poseidon raised an eyebrow. “He did leave a note.”
“And you know that’s not his style. Besides, he isn’t with his mortal family. I’ve checked,” Hermes added passionately.
But just as Poseidon was starting to look doubtful, Apollo cut in. “He is still a little kid, bro. Besides, he is going through his very first heartache. Don’t you remember what that was like once?” He said almost dreamily, strumming his guitar.
Artemis turned to her brother, exasperated. “Everyone isn’t you, brother and so everyone does not choose to run away to Delos to cry to mommy because they smote the girl who rejected them-”
“That was not how it went down, Arty, and you know it,” as Apollo hotly started defending himself, Artemis rolled her eyes and turned to Hermes to share a commiserating look. Until her eyes focused on something behind Hermes, her smile dropping to a blank mask. Hermes glanced behind him to see Athena, her face politely stretched into courteous disinterest.
The stone in his heart dropped down to his stomach. Hermes had no idea what Artemis had seen that had her so spooked, but he trusted her judgment and he trusted his gut instinct.
Athena, the prideful deity who loved to brag about being a god of knowledge, despite her elder brother holding the domain, looking down her nose at him. The goddess who had sent her children to their death for a Mark that wouldn’t bear fruit for centuries and still did not care about their needless deaths. The mother who had stolen her daughter’s own chance at happiness for a rivalry that hadn’t made sense in centuries.
Like Hades would she let Percy go unpunished for this slight. But of course, she wouldn’t dare touch him after his ascension, she was far from stupid. Now though? Mortal and without protection and good gods, so fragile. Hermes felt terror strike his heart at the thought of it.
“Perhaps a protection detail on the brat wouldn’t be amiss?” Ares, of all gods, cut into Apollo’s tantrum. Poseidon raised an eyebrow, looking surprised.
“What,” he huffed. “War is my domain, and as the current mortal commander of our armies, I know how many wish him ill every day.”
“Stolen from my own domain under the seas from his own bedroom?” Poseidon laughed at the idea, and a few gods joined in with chuckles of their own. The idea did seem highly ludicrous.
Athena smiled coldly, as Artemis and Hermes watched her with sharp shrewd eyes. It had been her pride that had often led to her being blind-sided and it seemed Poseidon had finally succumbed to the idea himself. Not entirely surprising, they all had their phases, after all, but Percy was simply not someone worth losing for his father’s mistakes, Artemis thought to herself grimly.
And from the tone of the Council, it seemed highly unlikely any of them would be interfering any time soon.
~
For all her stealth and sneakiness, Athena was no match for the goddess of the Hunt and the god of tricksters and stealth. They had set their sights on her, and she had lost a significant advantage that she hadn’t even realized she had needed before this.
And so, knowing she could be beaten, she did what she did best. Kept her head down and walked away.
She went through her daily tasks as if nothing were wrong, didn’t go to check up on Percy Jackson even as days passed and nights fell, and kept herself isolated and quiet and contained. After all, they couldn’t follow her to a place she never went to anymore. And surely, just surely, there would come a time soon when she could shake off their trail when they stopped suspecting her so bad.
And yet, she would walk out every night to a fiercely glowing moon, the starlight suspiciously bright along her path. Walkout to a flash of black on the corner, sometimes to Hermes in the periphery of her vision, his eyes deep and hawkish and inhuman. Gods, how she hated Poseidon for having destroyed her reputation and name in the pantheon.
How she hated Percy Jackson for his cruel hold over gods and mortals. The demigod could bring down the world if he wanted to, and yet everyone seemed convinced he would not. It only made him more dangerous, in her opinion. And she was never wrong.
That being said, this undue attention on her was something she did not need. At all. She had managed to loop in Chrysaor for her tasks. The perfect idea for her tasks. A son of Poseidon notorious for stealing and pirating loot, one who desperately hated Percy Jackson but would not dare go against Olympus itself.
And yet, for all that he was ideal for her tasks, she was petrified that he would go too far, hurt him too badly. She had seen the glint in his eyes when he had demanded what was in it for him, and she had let him take the Hero of Olympus to do as he pleased, and he had laughed like it was the best joke ever.
She only wants him taught a lesson. She doesn’t want him dead. Oh, if he weren’t under so much protection, if she wasn’t on a time limit, she could have come up with something brilliant for sure. Gorgons and spiders are so underrated now, but she still had some ideas.
Unfortunately, Chrysaor, like all children of Poseidon, is monstrous, unpredictable, and utterly unreliable. She has no idea the condition she will see Percy in, next she sees him, and she hates being out of the loop. That sadistic gleam in his eyes as he had dragged Percy to his personal chambers, the demigod gagged and furious, has her second-guessing now in a way she hadn’t before.
So she plays the parts she does know how to play. She goes to her father and kneels in front of his throne.
“I fear Artemis and Hermes were right, my Lord,” she said gravely.
He looks down at her, his eyes as unfathomable as the deepest night skies. For all Zeus liked to rankle Poseidon for his unpredictability, he too often was so distant, detached, unreadable. Athena thought it came with being a First Generation god. They were all, loathe as some might be to admit it, as distant from mortality and humans as it was possible for rulers of the mortal realms.
“Those aren’t words I am used to hearing from you, daughter,” he chuckled, his eyes stormy but calm. The sheer strength of his gaze, a glimpse of his full Attention had her instincts raised against danger, trying not to cower at the strength of his gaze. She had no idea how Percy Jackson had ever had the nerve to look straight into his eyes and argue against him. She would never dare.
She nodded, looking entirely calm. “I’ve been hearing whispers-”
Zeus held up his hand, waited for a beat. Poseidon came to life on his throne, mist becoming flesh by the will of the god. He peered down at his niece. “Continue, daughter,” Zeus said as his brother appeared, lounging on his throne.
Athena held her tongue for a second, her heart beating. She had gotten in too deep, she just knew it. “Our enemies, they’ve been talking. There is much hatred against the hero. The traitorous demigods-”
“Have been hateful of my son since the start,” Poseidon cut her short. “The minor gods owe him too strong a debt to just let their children, traitors or no, cut him loose. Besides, there are only so many who have access to my realms. Unless you’re implying there are traitors amongst my men.”
“There is, one of your sons,” Athena agreed, unashamed to throw Chrysaor. Even if Chrysaor came to admit Athena’s involvement in front of the Council, she could play it off as his bitterness against her for being an instrumental point in his capture. Hermes and Apollo would know in an instant of his lies of course, but she could deal with them separately. They weren’t the brightest on the Council.
“Chrysaor has the motive, the means and the time to have done so. I’ve been researching-”
“You’ve been stalling and making fools of us all,” Poseidon cut smoothly. “Did you think I wouldn’t know?”
A trickle of unease slipped down her spine. “Wouldn’t know what, Uncle?”
Poseidon laughed, unamused. “I may be known for my unpredictability and my temper, Athena, but you are known only for your pride. It’s not exactly a leap to realize how you choose to punish mortals for your own faults. Your siblings stay away from you, and yet they knew your penchant for mindless destruction and punishments by one glance.
Do you believe me such a fool that I wouldn’t suspect something like this happening? I warned your father before it happened and he urged me to not act, to have faith in you. I waited still, after, for your father’s sake, gave you a chance to come forward and make amends. And yet you disappointed us.”
Athena stood up, staring with dread at her Father and Uncle. Neither looked amused. The dread she had been feeling increased ten-fold. Her cheeks flared from embarrassment as the silence dragged on, not a word of protest from her father’s mouth. Zeus had always adored his daughters and doted on them. That he didn’t come to defend her today said more about how much she had fucked up than anything anyone else could have said.
Poseidon scoffed at her silence, shaking his head. “Such ego.” He stood up. “Now, if you two will excuse me,” his tone was frostier than ice, “I shall go and get my son from Chrysaor. My other son who didn’t go against my wishes.”
Athena’s eyes widened. “No,” she screamed, horrified as she realized the tragedy due to unfold before her eyes.
It had been a split-second mistake made in the heat of the moment, after being cornered and hounded by her suspicious siblings, after realizing she had to cut her losses. She let Alabaster, one of Percy Jackson’s most vocal haters, get his hands on a divine weapon. Just looked away for a few precious moments.
She could have convinced Apollo and Hermes to keep shut. She could have dragged Chrysaor in chains and made his words worthless in the eyes of the Council. She could never have shut up Percy Jackson. He wouldn’t let his voice die down that easily. Things would never have escalated so much if he had that sort of self-control.
So she decided to shut his voice altogether. Except, even dead, he could have given his testimony. The Underworld would have known of her treachery. It was too complex to leave to chance. So she chose the only option she could see. The final death. Where his soul would be destroyed. Where he could be muted at last.
She hadn’t known they had always known. She hadn’t known she was writing yet another greek tragedy.
Poseidon stared at her quizzically, “What’s the-”
His eyes widened, green draining to a translucent white, face paling as his connection to his son burned bright. He looked at her, something like true horror and pain in his eyes. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “You didn’t. Even you wouldn’t.” His voice was barely a whisper. She averted her gaze. He didn’t stick around to scold her, vanishing in a blur of movement. Zeus gave her a puzzled glance and then looking to his brother’s empty throne, followed his brother’s lead. He had to see what was going on.
Alone in the throne room, Athena fell to her knees, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. Good gods, what had she done.
~
Zeus stepped on a boat, much to his displeasure and annoyance, and looked up to see a hysterical traitor demigod aiming for the back of his brother’s neck. He growled in annoyance and killed him with a thought, his blood and gore exploding into a million pieces and coating the boat and the back of his brother’s shirt.
Poseidon didn’t turn around, still kneeling, head bowed.
Dread in his heart, Zeus walked forward, mentally scanning the ship for any more intruders. He found dead pirates and a grievously wounded Chrysaor nearby. He’d live, or at the very least, come back if he didn’t. That wasn’t what alarmed Zeus.
He stepped forward, next to his brother, almost afraid to see the sight that his senses already warned him of. Next to Poseidon’s bowed figure lay his only mortal son, bleeding from a wound in his chest.
This is what my daughter is capable of, in her infinite pride and wrath, Zeus thought, furious and sad and disappointed. He was capable of worse, he held no illusions. The First Generation gods all had done so much worse. But, never to those who didn’t deserve it. Never as, at least, a means to an end. Never this senselessly.
“Brother,” he said, snaking a hand down his brother’s shoulder. Poseidon’s eyes were dry, his face still set in disbelief at this turn of events. The skies and seas are clear, with not one storm or disturbance across the world. It's an impossibility that won’t last long.
“He is still alive,” he murmured numbly.
Zeus winced at the thought, looking down at the still unconscious demigod, undeniably in impossible pain as his soul was predictably split apart. A part of him wants to finish the job, and give his nephew at least the rest he deserves, but Percy doesn’t deserve this. Zeus can’t convince himself otherwise. For once, he can’t do what’s right even if it makes him a villain like he’s done in the past.
A flash on the board brought the scent of hyacinths and hospitals and summer skies as Apollo comes to stand beside them, his eyes burning gold.
“Did you see this?” Zeus asked.
Apollo shook his head, too in shock to say much. “Just the kidnapping. And I warned you of that.”
The words feel like an accusation. Poseidon had come to him, warning him of Athena’s possible chances of deceit and Apollo had confirmed it barely hours later, coming to warn him of a vision and a possible future he hadn’t heeded. He had had faith in his daughter, he had loved her too much, coddled her too much. She hadn’t seen what reality was like when it pinched deep.
Only the six of them had truly seen how bad it could get, how impossible it had been living in a world ruled unfairly by the Titans where survival was never guaranteed. Demigods had often accused their parents of never knowing how bad survival could get, but nobody could ever accuse the Big Three of that. They had rebuilt the world on the ashes of the one they had once left behind. Not one part of it had been easy. Their sisters had been broken down, the brothers hardened in the tragedies.
Zeus had sworn to himself it would never get that bad again. Cruel as his children often thought of him, he knew he was much softer on them than the world had ever been on them. He had known it would come to bite him one day. He had just never really expected it would happen.
“Let me put him to rest,” Zeus asked numbly, though he had no intention of doing that. His brother’s vicious decline was a relief. Apollo yelped, horrified. “He is alive?”
“Barely still,” Poseidon admitted in a whisper.
“Help me,” Apollo said, raw power dancing in his eyes, manifesting in his fingertips.
The gods looked at him in surprise. “You can’t reverse this.”
“No,” he agreed grimly. “But I can keep him in stasis to bid us time. I need more power though.”
Zeus raised an eyebrow. More power? The golden son, arguably his most powerful son, the blueprint for Athena herself needed more power to keep a stasis? This was either no simple stasis or Apollo was trying to swindle him. Zeus hated to think badly of his children, but Athena’s behavior had really shaken him up.
Poseidon had no such doubts though, letting his power manifest and flow straight into his son and not through Apollo as a conduit. Smart enough. Apollo didn’t argue, letting his energy flow and direct Poseidon’s own, settling under Percy’s skin. The demigod started glowing, brighter and brighter until it faded into a golden ball, the diameter big enough to encase a demigod inside.
Poseidon settled down, slumping as Apollo staggered back.
“That took more out of me than I thought,” Poseidon admitted.
“There was resistance,” Apollo agreed breathlessly, sitting down abruptly. It was times like this Zeus was reminded why he had fought so hard for a good life for his kids. Apollo had been unguarded enough that he could give up so much of himself for someone else he didn’t even love as much because he had faith they would pick him up and help him out. Not one of the older ones would dare, not even Hestia. It didn’t make them cruel, it just made them a little broken.
Zeus let the power on his fingertips, coaxing it out and letting it flow deeper down into the stasis. Apollo was right. It was like a black hole in there, sucking in his energy as if feeding on it. Zeus pulled back warily even if he didn’t feel anything malicious. It felt like Percy’s energy and gods know they had all seen it enough in battle. He was still there then. Probably in immense pain. Zeus grimaced and let another tendril of his energy shoot out. He hoped Percy was using it to heal himself in there, impossible as the hope was.
~
Zeus had insisted Poseidon come to Olympus first, and Poseidon had been too exhausted to argue for once. The golden bubble had shrunk and Poseidon picked it up as if it were a ball, spinning it thoughtfully on one finger.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Apollo asked meaningfully.
“We haven’t forgotten you,” Zeus assured him, like a liar. Apollo sent him a look of deep outrage. “I meant Chrysaor,” Apollo said, pained. “He is still alive too.”
“Oh,” both Poseidon and Zeus said in unison. They had totally forgotten that. Poseidon coughed, “I’ll get him, you get to Olympus in the meantime.”
“Sure,” Zeus said, extending a hand, palm up. Poseidon stared at it blankly.
“You’re not taking Percy down to Atlantis. I know you, Poseidon,” Zeus rolled his eyes.
Poseidon frowned. “I don’t want him near your children. No offense, Apollo,” he said to Apollo who spluttered, looking plenty offended. Apollo was honestly beginning to wonder why he even bothered.
“I won’t let him near them,” he promised, tone an octave lower than normal. Trust me , his tone implied. And because Poseidon was a better brother than Zeus ever gave him credit for, he did.
And because Zeus wasn’t a bad one either, he didn’t flinch as he looked to his daughter in front of him, on her knees weeping, and he hardened his heart. She deserved punishment to tame her hubris and he would not shrink from it any longer.
~
Poseidon, grieving and angry, had started by demanding they hold Athena over Chaos like they had done to Hera once, and after letting Athena panic and flail, utterly undignified for a few moments, Zeus vetoed the suggestion. Poseidon aggressively gritted his teeth as Athena collapsed to her knees in relief and Zeus resisted the urge to rub his hands against his eyes.
An ominous crack brought them all reeling back to reality, eyes going to the gold ball still in Zeus’ hands, who looked at it warily. He hadn’t pressed it too hard, had he? Poseidon would be furious. It cracked again, an ominous sound, almost like an egg hatching.
As Zeus threw the ball to Poseidon, it halted in mid-air, halfway between the two gods, glowing and cracking until a fully armored, traditionally dressed Percy Jackson jumped out, a full 18 feet in length, looking dazed and decidedly unamused. The wound on his chest seemed to be non-existent now, as he stood without effort.
The gods all froze as they stared at each other in disbelief, thunder crackling, lightning sparking, and storms picking up, hailing the presence of a new god. Except that was impossible. Poseidon blinked.
“Hail, the god of probability, dimensions, and chaos. Hail Percy Jackson,” Apollo murmured, eyes glowing an eerie green. Not one of them stood up and greeted the new god or hailed his existence. They were all busy gaping.
Percy rubbed his fingers against his temples, looking pained. “What the fuck happened here?”
“It’s impossible,” Hades muttered, looking shocked. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Not impossible,” Tyche realized. “Merely improbable.” God of probability, of course. Nothing was truly impossible. And with him around, the improbable had been brought to life. Besides, dimensions and chaos? Zeus had the sinking feeling that Percy hadn’t not died. He just hadn’t stayed dead.
“Am I supposed to be this tall?” Percy said, staring down as Nemesis started cackling and Poseidon, finally seeing the humor in the situation, started smiling, the corners of his lips twitching, his previous blue mood forgotten.
Zeus coughed, staring down at his daughter as if she was seeing all her worst nightmares brought to life. Quite a few gods looked similarly ill, as they lost their celebratory moods. Ares smirked, looking surprisingly happy and Hestia skipped over to welcome a still-confused Percy Jackson into their family as other gods started greeting the new god with not a single one explaining what was really happening to him still.
Zeus still couldn’t fathom what the fuck was going on, but he had the feeling it was going to be a common occurrence from now on. He would make sure to keep some Advil by his side in that case.
“It doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, Athena,” Poseidon threatened, looking unholy gleeful. Percy was still protesting and asking questions, still out of the loop, his voice drowning in the cacophony of noises of the other gods. Zeus massaged his temples. Case in point.