Their Own Agenda

By val'tanelle

Summary: Percy, Thalia, and Nico each have their own agenda, except Percy is a wizard, hunting magical creatures is bad, and Voldemort's soul won't easily be taken. Plunged in the problem of mortals and minor gods, the gods are of no help...as usual.

Author's Note: Sally and Paul were not married before the Last Olympian because...I forgot to note it.


Their Own Agenda

Chapter 1: Percy Got An Allergy

"I got a what now?"

Paul and Sally exchanged glances.

"We think you've got some allergy, Perce," Paul said. "We're no doctor, but you've got all the signs and symptoms."

Bed-ridden sixteen-year-old Percy Jackson - red in the eyes and suffering a runny nose - glared defiantly, crossed his arms and made the greatest effort ever since he fought a gazillion of monsters...not to scratch.

"I do not," Percy said stiffly.

Having heard Percy deny the same thing after his family and friends suspected it, Paul went on tenaciously. "If not, then you're definitely sick. Could be a cold or something else..." Paul looked at his fiancé meaningfully.

Percy knew what that look was and he felt it harder to believe. Did the "Greek God" side get some sort of specific illness, or some sort of...allergy? No one in Camp Half-Blood, Percy's summer camp, ever got sick. Poison and venom doesn't count.

After all, Percy Jackson wasn't normal even in unusual standards.

"But I'm invincible and stuff," he whined, which cracked a pitch just now. Both the adults tried very hard not to snigger.

A few months ago, before Percy became sixteen, he took a dip in the River Styx in an effort to defeat Kronus, the evil Titan Lord now assumed to be dead. It was just like Achilles, the great Greek hero who perished when an arrow struck his heel, the single not-invincible part. Percy's Achilles's Heel is a spot on his back.

"Invincibility is different from immunity, honey," Sally explained gently. "We'll have to get you to a...err, doctor. I already contacted Chiron."

"No, Mom! You can't!" the son of Poseidon balked. It wasn't because Percy didn't like the idea of looking like a sick, harmless hero in front of his most respected teacher – well, he didn't like the idea, but that wasn't the case.

Percy swallowed. His heart beat in trepidation. "Your wedding—"

"Would have to wait," she finished in an even tone. "I'm not going to leave you sick like this nor are you skipping our wedding day."

"But Mom, you've been waiting for this for months!" Percy argued. "You can't just postpone it for something this stupid!"

Sally shook her head. "My son being sick isn't something stupid. It's been waiting for months, it can wait for a few more weeks." Paul agreed with a nod. "And it wouldn't have been this worse if you told us earlier."

Then that was it. The wedding day that has been scheduled on Percy's mother's birthday has been dissolved. Any other day wouldn't be any good, unless Percy just adjusted their schedule to next year. The great Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus and the world, was sick and quite possibly, allergic to something like dust bunnies or something.

You might be wondering if Percy were really allergic to something and how long it's been going. Actually, it happened quite fast. As soon as Percy got down from Mt. Olympus with the other campers and his best friend, Grover, his nose had been itchy. Of course when he extinguished the flames out of his birthday cake candles with a sneeze, it was funny. When he did the same on the sacred fire recently placed on the torches of Camp Half-Blood Hill, it wasn't, except for the Hermes Cabin.

Percy had been helping with the training of Half-Bloods in the camp. Being a hero veteran, Percy got to play leader and help the rush of newly claimed Half-Bloods adjust. However, the longer he stayed in Camp Half-Blood, the worse his situation became. His eyes have scared many from being bloodshot and focusing has been difficult when he's been having the need to itch.

At first, Percy thought it was some sort of half-blood puberty. But no one pointed that out. They all thought he was sick and so he wasn't allowed to stay standing up. Naturally, Percy did the complete opposite. He felt better standing near the construction areas where he would chatter with a bunch of Cyclopes busy with the building of Hecate's cabin. When Annabeth caught him and dragged him to bed, his right ear never felt the same.

But standing around did him some good than lying down, so he was discharged for a while and went back home by his mother's request for the wedding planning. Sure Percy was needed now more than ever (as usual) in the camp, but he couldn't do his mother a favor as much as he had done to everyone else, so it was now or never.

Unfortunately, doing his mother a favor never happened. It was the other way around.

It became apparent he became more ill than well. When one night he collapsed dyspneic and feverous, he's been bed-ridden for days. They thought he had an asthma attack, something Grover looked like he often had.

Maybe the worst of it was his girlfriend, Annabeth. She had been preoccupied redesigning Olympus, the land of the gods, back again. Annabeth was an avid architecture geek and a genius at the field. When she heard of Percy's unlikely situation, she dismissed it as a common flu like the other demigods in Half-Blood Camp and only dropped by to check on him than fuss over like his parents.

Percy honestly thought he sounded like a baby. If Annabeth had a word to say about his immature side, she would be echoing his own words.

Happiness was so short-lived. A month ago, he just lived through the prophecy and saved the world. Now he's sick in bed, feeling itchy in some parts he doesn't even want to scratch. Around afternoon, he fell asleep.

Like most of Percy's adventures, his dreams were just as weird. Sure, recently he's been dreaming of nice stuffs - not about the end of the world - but this dream was different, and different was never good. It was almost an instant sign of bad news.

He was in a forest and for a moment, he thought he was back in Camp Half-Blood Hill, but something in the forest was ominous and he could make out shapes out of the forest that looked nothing his favorite place in the world was. Percy did a double-look where there were horses that resembled the Ares Cabin's steed, dead and ghostly.

"Erm, hey," he tried. Being the son of Poseidon he could communicate to horses, regardless how magical or monstrous. The flesh-eating horses he encountered a year ago were an exemption. He hoped this wasn't another.

One of the horses looked to acknowledge Percy, but didn't respond. Taking that as a good sign, Percy continued.

"Do you know where this is? And if you don't mind, what are you, exactly?" Percy asked. "I've seen skeletal horses, pegasi, and heck, even flying pigs, but nothing like you guys."

The horse stirred and Percy tensed when the rest of the magical horses moved as if to attack. But something familiar moving in the shadows of the forest made Percy turn his back on the horses who could probably squash him like dirt if they felt like it.

"Nico?"

The twelve-year-old boy clad in black avian jacket and jeans patted the eager scary horses while arching an eyebrow at Percy. As usual the son of Hades, ever since the death of his sister, Bianca (which Percy still felt guilt over), he had looked older each time he showed up. From a once olive-skin and a cheerful, naive smile about Mythomagic, Nico di Angelo was now pale and brooding.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"You mean you're not doing all this?"

"No," Nico answered. He shoved the horses something that looked like a bloody steak. "Your soul feels right again."

"Thanks?"

"I mean, you're no longer dying."

Percy was stunned. Being the son of Hades, Nico could tell when any mortal was dying. "I...I was dying? And you didn't say anything?"

"Death has laws," he answered simply. "And just because I can tell you're dying, doesn't mean you'll die. I don't know how someone invincible like you could end up dying easily unless you got poked on your weak spot."

It wasn't the first time Percy wanted to strangle Nico. Maybe another day, hopefully in real life.

"What are those?" Percy asked. He wanted to ask what Nico was doing in this place, ask what this place was, ask why he does feel much better here, and ask if he finally got a girlfriend, but curse ADHD—he asked about the horses munching on a freaking bloody steak.

"Thestrals. They're the shadow version of pegasi. They're usually invisible except those who'd seen death. They're attracted to blood, so they're not around the Underworld."

Of course, if there's anything the Underworld is missing is blood, the very sign of living and dying. Underworld's all about death and dead.

"Anyway, I've got an important meeting..."

"What?" Percy asked, narrowing his eyes as Nico's face, the forest, and the thestrals blurred. But he didn't hear his own voice either. The forest was fading until there was darkness...

"The masssssster issss calling..."

Confusion welcomed the son of Poseidon at first. The air was murky of darkness and eerie, and strange hissing noises he last heard when he was twelve startled him. His hand whipped to his pocket, where Riptide, his celestial sword, should be. It wasn't there, yea, but it made him safer. He got the feeling that he'll turn to something cold and rocky despite the fact he was demigod-dreaming.

"Quiet!" Sweetie voice gone, a cold hiss that Percy never heard came out from Medusa. "He's not here right now to help us, is he? Wretched hunters of Artemis—"

Percy froze and thank the gods (or maybe not) he cannot be petrified in his dreams. Medusa had seen him, but so had the black-haired lieutenant of Artemis.

"Say your prayers, Medusa!"

The arrow shot fresh from Thalia's quiver, but Medusa ducked. Three of her serpents got beheaded in the process and Medusa attempted to flee through the thick trees, but Thalia struck another arrow that nailed Medusa's cloak to the ground. Percy couldn't help but twitch. His ankle felt oddly soft and exposed, even though that clearly wasn't his but Achilles's.

Percy made the slightest noise in the process and Thalia skillfully shot an arrow in his direction instead. A streak of light cut through the air and Percy's neck and landed harmlessly on dirt. Medusa managed to free herself given the distraction, and naturally, Thalia was angry and Percy was to blame.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, incensed.

"Shouldn't you be going after Medusa?"

"She's gone," Thalia hissed. Percy wouldn't argue. She was the huntress between them but she sounded like it was his fault. "And maybe you should do the same."

It's been a while since Percy had seen Thalia. Ever since she joined Artemis, he could only get glimpses of her and that was only during battle. She promised a cheerful reunion with Diet Coke after the war, but it never happened. The longer Percy stood before Thalia's presence, the more he felt how powerful she became.

Percy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how. Pinch me?"

Thalia would have probably punched him, but she already tried shooting an arrow at him and that didn't work.

"Where's Artemis?" Percy couldn't help but ask.

"Hunting," Thalia answered. Percy was secretly glad Thalia didn't catch on his rudeness. "...And that's Lady Artemis."

Well duh, Percy thought, ignoring the reminder, but was wise enough not to say it aloud. "Where is this?"

"London." Thalia finally relaxed and Percy liked that. "We've been hunting monsters that have been ravaging mortals."

"What ki—HACHOO!" Percy sniffed and Thalia's lips twitched the same way his mother and Paul did. "Oh, wow...and I'm feeling itchy again..."

"You know, there's something different about you. I heard you were sick."

"Who told you?" Percy asked.

"Annabeth," she said. "Maybe Lady Artemis can help."

But before Percy could support that idea, he sneezed wide awake on his bed with an overwhelming need to scratch. The next thing he noticed was the mysterious disappearance of furniture in his room.