I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. This story is set in an alternate version of Rick Riordan's masterfully crafted universe. I own nothing but the OC's.
Expect updates to be posted according to MY schedule, not that of the reader's. I do promise to try to not make you good people wait too long between updates. So log in or make a fanfic account and smack that follow button to be notified when updates occur.
I intend for chapters to not be exceeding a limit of five thousand words.
With that said, let us begin our tale.
Bon appétit!
It only takes one little thing to screw up a plan, a story, someone's fate…
Even a person's destiny.
Just one little detail can drastically change the outcome of a tale.
In war of the worlds it was the bacteria of earth.
In lord of the rings it was the Dark Lord's underestimation of the Hobbits' ability to destroy the One Ring of Power.
For one Perseus Jackson, it was a simple beer…
One beer too many, consumed by an utter excuse for a man named Gabe Ugliano. Who had, in a fit of drunken rage; brutally murdered Percy Jackson's mother in front of Percy's just turned three year old eyes.
A child's eyes now devoid of innocence and filled with fear, terror and grief… dulled with complete and total shock.
Eyes staring at the door to the small home his family had been preparing to move from, they had been preparing move to an apartment in New York.
Not that little Percy knew this, no, all he did now was watch from his playpen prison, staring at the red trail that led to under the door across the room, a trail his mother left when the man they had recently started to live with made her scream until she didn't make any noise anymore, before dragging her limp form away and out that door the Child's dull eyes now watched.
That had been some time ago, and in that time the little child in the playpen had not made a sound. His cries had ceased not long after his mother's had and now the child was in shock after witnessing his mother's long and brutal murder.
Ugliano did far more than just cut and torture the woman before silencing her, and the whole ordeal was now scarred into the three year old's mind… to never be forgotten or ever leave his future nightmares… if he had a future that is.
The fates had already determined that Percy would die, another would be the filler of the Great Prophesy. For them Percy Jackson was a bust, the boy's possible future as a hero and tool of fate was no longer viable. With no emotion or regret they removed him from their awareness and ignored him, for what was soon to follow… not even the fates wanted to watch what would come to pass.
Watch a child die a horribly brutal death.
With a loud bang the door the child had silently watched for many hours was slammed open and Ugliano walked in with a shovel covered in mud, the psychotic murdering and raping drunk walked into the now deceased Sally Jackson's room and began to smash things until he stopped with a loud cruel laugh.
He appeared in the room's doorway once more, stuffing the last of the money that was Percy's mother's savings in a bag, walking over to the fridge which now had a dead woman's blood splattered across it's the door, the madman opened it and grabbed another beer.
Drinking it down in large gulps Ugliano walked past the playpen and sat in a chair near the dull embers and low flickering flames of the fireplace, grabbing several logs the man revitalized the fire and sat in a chair across from the now dancing flames.
The man sat there for a time mumbling and cursing while drinking his beer before slowly looking over to the playpen and the prisoner within its four walls. In all this time the three year old boy had not turned his now lifeless like eyes away from the door he had last seen his mother taken through, in the time sense she had disappeared from his line of sight he had not made a sound or even moved from his position at the play pen wall where he had tried desperately to reach his mother in order to help her.
Slowly the drunk madman looked through the bag until he found the paper's for the new apartment and the proof of purchase for a year's rent, smirking a cruel smirk the man looked back at the child and stared intently, a calculating cruel gleam in his drunk eyes that really should not have been possible to exist in his current mental state.
"I would have kept you around for entertainment and some chores, not to mention the tax cuts, and government money for having a dependent, but look at yourself mutt." While the madman laughed like a maniac the boy never moved his now dull green eyes away from the door, although giving no indication that didn't mean the child wasn't listening.
Ugliano stopped his drunken laughter and continued speaking whilst getting up and approaching the playpen in a drunken stagger.
"Your damaged goods you good for nothing mutt, you've seen too much and we can't have the government people suspicious of me after seeing your looks."
Reaching in and grabbing the silent unmoving child the drunken man staggered away from the play pen with child in hand, the boy's only movement was to turn his head in order to keep staring at the door where he had last seen his deceased mother dragged away.
He was not distracted by the sudden short-lived feeling of weightlessness that overcame him, he wasn't pulled from his vigil of watching the door his mother's blood trail led to, until the searing pain hit him and the child let out an involuntary haunting continuous wail.
Ugliano had thrown him into the Hearth's flames to die.
Ugliano stared for a few seconds at his handiwork... a drunken smirk of victory on his face, the child's screams were music to his ears.
Than something odd happened.
The fire flared and a startled young girl suddenly appeared from the flames, standing over the burning child, desperately glancing about for the sound of the screams her eyes landed on the child at her feet in widening horror. Faster than any human or even an Olympian should be capable of, the young girl snatched the three year old boy up and hugged him to her chest, the flames burning his body no longer burning him now that she protected him.
Glancing up at the shocked face of Ugliano and seeing the blood all over the apartment as well as other fluids, the playpen in the corner and the dirty shovel by the door, the eight year old child turned her head back toward the man and stared at Ugliano with a terrifying gaze.
The blood on his cloths, the beer in his hand, the untucked shirt and undone belt, the shocked drunken gaze, the dirt on his pants. All the evidence was there and the evil in his eyes was nothing more than a confirmation. Glaring at the Murderer with utter hatred and righteous fury the eight year old child disappeared in a flash with the horribly burned dying child safe in her arms.
Gabe Ugliano could only stare in drunken fear at the fireplace for a moment, as he tried to comprehend what he just saw before the flames suddenly surged upwards, flaring in angry fury then the hearth exploded and Gabe Ugliano, the house and the surrounding property ceased to exist.
A wave of power tainted with righteous raging fury spread out from the now scorched earth where the place had been.
A wave sensed by all, it mattered not the pantheon.
Prideful and pompous Zeus and his brothers were not the most powerful on Olympus.
The most powerful of the Olympians was also the one of greatest moral character and mercy.
Yes their eldest sister held these titles and only she knew it.
The wave of power released by her righteous and justified rage would not be traced back to her, none of her siblings or enemies remembered just what she was capable of, and she hadn't used even a portion of her true power since the Titan war.
And since those times many, many more homes had appeared, many more Hearth's were tended to by many, many more families and her power had increased, yet she never had used more than she needed for a task.
Until that day.
The day Hestia decided that the ancient laws could rot in Tartarus for all she cared.
That the three fates could be defied, and shown to not be all powerful.
Hestia wisely knew that only the creator of all held that title, it was why she never sought to be worshipped, only asking for minor respect where other Olympians had been cruel and heartless to those who ignored them or committed some minor slight to an immortal who took offense.
On that day Hestia decided that destiny could be changed and children whose lives were endangered by murderers, rapists, or an uncaring drunkard who decided he or she needed to 'vent' could be spared.
Demigod or plain mortal it mattered not.
After all it only takes one little thing to make a difference.
And that was all Hestia wanted to do.
On Olympus in a small comfortable Mansion that was supposedly a palace, a little eight year old child whose eyes showed great age appeared in a flash of flames. In her arms was the burned and mostly dead, growing deader by the second, body of a three year old boy.
Rushing to the Large hearth in the room, Hestia laid the dying child down on the stone platform before the fireplace after she used her power to make it a soothing cool temperature. Staring in worry at the child's burnt body, of which, only his head and face had escaped mostly unscathed. The Olympian goddess took one look into the Boy's eyes and immediately knew that the child was a Half-blood son of Poseidon.
His now dull eyes also stated a simple fact, whatever horrible acts had occurred before she sensed him enter her domain, he had seen it all.
Bursting into tears, Hestia gently and quickly removed the child's ruined cloths that had been melted and melded to his burnt and charred flesh, barely a spark of life remained in the burned three year old's remaining husk of a body. Hestia knew that time was short, the boy already had a foot through death's door.
Glancing at the back of the child's burned pants she found the name-tag mostly intact with a barely legible name. Looking back to the child, Hestia spoke.
"I Hestia Herby claim thee Perseus, as my own, I shall raise thee in secret and train thee in what ways you shall need." As she spoke she drew a celestial bronze dagger and lowered it to her free hand.
"You shall be my first champion, a son to call my own, one whom I shall love and cherish with all my being… and when the time comes, if you are willing and agree, you could become my way to further defy the ancient laws that bind, and assist in saving others such as thyself."
Slicing the dagger across her hand, Hestia clinched her fist tightly. "upon Styx, upon Olympus, and upon my blood that will soon flow through your veins I swear these things, may the one who made all things be my judge if I forsake this oath." Thunder rumbled and shook Olympus upon her words, and for the briefest moment a presence was felt in the room.
and Hestia knew that she would be held accountable, one did not swear an oath involving he who created all from nothing without expecting themselves to be held to that oath.
Flowing from the slash wound on her hand, Golden ichor fell upon the near dead child, absorbing into his wounds while Hestia willed it to heal him. Much of Poseidon's presence in the child faded as Hestia's presence replaced it, the Olympian of the sea would no longer sense the boy as his son if ever the child came into his presence.
He was Hestia's child now, and she would care for him, love him unconditionally and cherish him.
Hestia continued to let her blood slowly flow from her palm while she set her cut hand on the Percy's forehead.
"I claim you as my son and champion." With those words her symbol appeared above his head made of flames.
"You shall one day do great things my young one, even though this pain you suffer from horrid memory, both scarred flesh and mind, shall remain with you for the rest of your existence among the living."
Hestia than lied down and curled about the now healing boy protectively.
Smiling in both sadness and contentment, she, the first maiden goddess now had a child. A child her heart ached in sadness for, her eyes cried many tears for what he had lived through before she had found him.
A child with her blood now literally running through his veins.
The look on the other Olympians if they learned of this would be hilarious.
Hestia Giggled a bit through her tears at the thought, as she held her new child in her arms, her physical form was that of an eight year old after all, and her sense of humor could be a tad childish at some times.
However Hestia knew that she would keep her new child a secret, for both their safeties.
She may be the most powerful Olympian but she avoided fights when she could, and she knew that her new child's existence could start a war.
She would avoid that if she could.
But not if it compromised her newly claimed son!
no way in Hades!
(Authors note)
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this is BaronVonOrator Signing Off!