What I really expected in the Blood of Olympus before reading: Percy dying in Blood of Olympus.
Really, you all can call me bloodthirsty, but with a really scary last-boss goddess who once convinced her own son to slice up his father and whose new husband is freaky monster-(which-is-equivalent-to-his-own-children)-eating Tartarus, I'd expected more blood and gore, more horror. But nooo; I get a nosebleed and an explosion in the sky. And the title says "Blood of Olympus"!
So, to clean up whatever dissatisfaction I had, I'll upload what I imagined for the plot before I read the book – aka, the scene where blood was supposed to be shed for awakening Gaia. Hey, I was so faithful I daren't even take sneak peeks or tiny spoilers. I avoided reading for that entire reason.
I may have intensified the horror. By lots. Sheer lots. So if any of you thinks this should be higher rated, leave a comment. Thanks.
Enjoy.
He was dragged forward. Not like he could fight it anyways; Percy had long lost the physical strength to fight. Only intense agony coursed through his entire body – muscles, bones and blood – while he stayed dangling between the two monsters that were holding him by under the arms.
He failed. Plain and simple. At least Gaia's minions didn't get hold of a demigod girl too. But he'd failed; loyalty had gotten the better of him, like what all gods and goddesses had warned him before, that he couldn't just leave Hazel to the clutches of some cyclopes when they were trying to run away. He noticed it before the others, since he had more or less developed a habit of staying back to make sure everybody was in front of him – only, this time Hazel wasn't, and when he turned back he saw her wordlessly screaming (hand over her mouth) as the cyclopes tried to drag her away. Naturally, he ran back.
Then he fought like the leader he was supposed to be, freed Hazel, yelled at her to run away while he fended the brutes off. She was smart, Hazel; since they were more or less in a cave that wasn't rock but soil, she called upon the earth (Gaia or not, part of the earth listened to the daughter of Pluto) to hail itself on everything.
Hail it did. Monsters were squashed. Percy was freed. He ran up to her, and together, they escaped.
They made it halfway.
Percy didn't even realize he was running slightly behind, didn't even realize he was doing his habit of staying back and making sure everybody was in front of him while he stayed last. It was a completely familiar routine to him and everybody, so familiar and used to it that neither he nor Hazel noticed the danger he was putting himself in that way.
So just like how everybody sans lucky Percy didn't notice how Hazel disappeared, Percy too was yanked back by a huge hand covering his mouth – and he could only watch in a concoction of dismay and relief as Hazel's back got further and further away.
Percy would like to say he'd put up a good fight later. Generally speaking, it was a good fight. He'd never fought that hard before, against so many monsters, without the Achilles curse too! Gorgons came and exploded. Riptide never glistened so much in the dark. But what good fight was it when you couldn't even win?
So here he was, marred by inches-deep scars and black bruises, fatigue and ache having eaten up his vigour, and being dragged by two huge cyclops in between by being held under the arms (he wanted to shout at them to lift him higher a bit if only to stop his legs from scraping/banging the ground).
They'd come into an open dome clearing into the night sky – gosh he'd never seen so many stars –; it was as wide as a two basketball courts, but the walls were sturdily perpendicular to the ground. They shallowly curved inwards at the far top, almost like emphasizing the vastness of the heavens within the smooth, tentative rims of earth. One didn't know if he should feel close of so helplessly far from the sky.
Below that opening, swarms of Greek and Roman monsters thrived in the dome. Percy recoiled in sheer disgust.
But the cyclops yanked him forward (ouch! That hurt you dolt!) and he was forced forward again. Well, it's not like he had a choice or was moving on his own feet before, did he?
A long pillar stood rather meekly in the middle of the dome, where the monsters kept an open space around it. Percy wasn't sure why, and he couldn't see why with all this crowd. Amidst the agony, which was also enough to make his eyelids droop, he tried to glare at everything in sight: the gorgons, the cyclops and evil centaurs (my gods, one day he was going to kill those imposters), karpoi, some he didn't recognize and etc. They all responded; some sneered in laughter, some snarled in fear. Good. Immensely good. Percy wanted to be feared even in his sorry state.
It was still baffling, how many monsters were about. He wondered who ordered them to be crammed here. However, an unexpected bump on the floor grazed his feet, causing hot electricity to shoot up from his sprained ankle and cut all wonders short, making him hiss. He heard some laughter at that, and snarled at that direction, but all that greeted him was a batch of equally gleeful telekhines.
Not like he was fazed. He had more bravado than that. He remembered how absolutely terrified Hazel looked like when he turned back to see her in their clutches, and immediately felt so relieved that she wasn't the one who was caught. Thank goodness it was him; if anybody else was in his position, he'd go crazy.
Would the others be worried sick like him then? Jason might hail a storm. Leo might accidentally bomb the ship in frenzied panic. Frank might charge in brainlessly. The others might go lunatic too.
Percy couldn't afford that. So he decided one last struggle.
Ignoring the pain in his ankle, Percy kicked the floor – effectively stunning his two captors – and somersaulted backwards. The momentum helped him pry his arms away from their loosened grasps. He turned and landed on his feet; a more pained hiss escaped him when his sprained foot hit the floor. But he withstood it, and stood straighter.
Before him was a large crowd of surprised monsters.
Percy reached his pocket for Riptide. That's when he should have noticed the first sign of bad omen.
He couldn't feel Riptide.
Blood drained from his face as he frantically slapped his pocket. Monsters started to surge forward. He snapped his head to peek into his pocket, and was stunned to see that the pen was there. He ripped it out; and there shone Riptide, springing into its full glory.
He stared at it, wondering what happened.
But he let it pass, thinking it wasn't much.
How wrong he was.
He charged head-on. Monsters charged to meet him too.
He'd like to say he was heroic. But the battle was quickly lost as fast as he had escaped: Percy was downed onto the floor before he even warmed up – only three swings of his sword –; only the ringing in his head after a near-concussive blow kept him from trying to stand up.
His head pounded. His vision blurred badly. What the hell just happened? Percy Jackson was never this weak. Or pathetic.
His breathing was shallow. Sick sweat broke his skin. Riptide was lost in the crowd. And even seconds later when he made a weak attempt to pat his pocket, he found it wasn't there. Again. His mind raced; he doubted he could peek with his head throbbing so much. Things went downhill so fast. Too fast.
But before he could decide his next stunt, an earthly humanoid grabbed him by the arm and lifted him high into the air. He dangled from his limb like a sack. Percy growled. Staring into it from the front, he realized the earthly thing was near faceless. It was wore the Spartan armour and was fully geared like a warrior: spear strapped to its back, sword in its hand. It was also six-and-a-half-feet tall; added the arm's length, Percy was hanging a good foot or more off ground.
It was only then he registered the voice of somebody intelligent (well, intelligent that these bunch).
"Aha. The son of Poseidon. Just like what Gaia wished."
He knew it was Porphyrion, but he could not turn his head to see. Hell it hurt. Instead, he tensed up and growled more, hoping to scare the giant away. The giant chuckled. "Very well," Porphyrion said, "I shall leave, then."
He did. By then, Percy understood what was going on.
The earthly humanoid that wasn't Porphyrion – possible the giant's general – shook Percy like a toddler would to a doll. Percy's insides – bones, organs and all – jiggled violently. Percy shouted. Can't it see he couldn't move anymore?
He continued to glare, trying to ignore the prickling numbness from his arm, and attempted a feeble kick. The humanoid seemed to be chattering angrily (how a mouthless thing could chatter, Percy had no idea). Then it brought its gleaming sword high in the air.
He felt it, the blade slicing into his abdomen/stomach and through the intestines within. He could feel the smooth, cool surface sliding across.
Then the pain registered.
A horrible agonized roar pierced the air.
He struggled to keep his insides in, keep them from falling out. Percy let out an explosion of curses in all languages he knew, while he let his is remaining hand wander about to protect himself.
A clang of metal across the ground. He felt he was being moved. Soon, he slammed onto a hard cold surface. Instinctively, he knew it was a rock or marble altar for sacrifices.
Somehow, he knew.
He fought.
But the pain was blinding. He couldn't move a muscle except for the ones in his arms that hugged his abdomen and the one in his lungs that breathed steadily to ease the pain.
Somebody tried poking him, his left shoulder. He was lying on his right; they were poking at his left shoulder, trying to turn him over onto his back, stomach upwards.
Stomach upwards?
Lying on his back?
Leave his wounds open and let his guts spill?
He refused.
He and the humanoid had a few rounds of poke-and-turn. It poked him with its spear; he turned back. He ignored how the pokes got sharper and eventually began tearing his skin, drawing blood. During then, he noticed there were several other similar looking humanoids circling him and the general. They all wore the same outfit and held the same spears. The general had discarded its sword and was using the spear to torment Percy.
Finally, the irritated earth-bag did the impossible: It used its spear and pierced Percy's left shoulder, forcefully turning him over – successfully – and pinning him to the marble rock.
Percy let out a roar.
But, much to his horror, the impossible never ended there. Several other humanoids surged forward. They brought up their spears and started pinning him too: his left abdomen. Right shoulder. Both arms. Right biceps and left palm. He screamed. Agony screamed. They did it so fast, so smoothly like it they were pinning a piece of paper on a corkboard.
Dude, it was a complete mystery why he was still alive.
His mind thrashed crazy like a mad dog. Percy swore he will never, ever, ever eat animals that were cooked/processed alive. He swore to work hard stopping animal cruelties involving being tortured alive.
Guttural yells tore through him. While that, Percy's fried mind was half-wishing that THIS pain – his sufferings - was the main ritual, and that he had already shed enough blood for the stupid goddess (he had to bleeding masses after all this fucking hurt).
But nooo. His luck was ever-rotten, and perhaps this was the first time he cursed his own existence for being born, for Poseidon for not being strong enough to save him as every father does.
In his unfocused vision, he distinctively made out the shape of another humanoid and another spear.
Oh gods please no –
Then it went through his throat.
It grated his Adam's apple, jammed his oesophagus and trachea. Blood spewed everywhere – soon, he was coughing up that blood.
He howled like a dead dog.
Nico screamed.
He screamed and screamed, trying to fight past the monsters (his skeleton soldiers) to go to Percy.
Because no matter how much of a jerk Percy was, or how much Nico hated him, he didn't deserve this.
Percy was thrown onto the altar. Nico's heart was batting against his ribs now; he shouted profanities.
Then the giant poked Percy. Nico stopped. Was Percy dead?
The giant tried turning Percy over to the left, maybe trying to get him onto his back, but Percy turned back onto his right every time. Nico was momentarily relieved that Percy was still alive, and that he was still fighting (that was Percy for you, rebellious and stubborn). But the relief washed away with the blood on his face when he realized why Percy was hugging his stomach.
Then the impossible happened.
It happened so fast, Nico didn't see it coming.
But the giant stabbed Percy's left shoulder and viciously pinned him onto his back; Percy roared.
Nico fought harder this time, half-ballistic.
But his actions were nulled.
Around him, Jason and the others were just as ballistic. In fact, Jason looked so livid like he could tear the wind spirits into shreds. Hazel – poor, poor, sweet, innocent Hazel – was one step from becoming a lunatic, being held back by centaurs, overcome by immense guilt and immense responsibility to make things right. Frank was with her. Piper was trying to calm everybody down, but she was also trying to coax their saviours (who were currently also their captors that prevented them from saving Percy) to release them, and possibly aid them. Leo and Annabeth was nowhere in sight (thank gods they've disappeared into the ship before this horrible vision plagued the crew). And Nico? Nico was struggling against the grips of his skeletons, summoned possibly by his father and HELL Nico was going to slay his father if Percy was sacrificed –
Maybe it was because he was the son of the God of Death. Maybe it was because of that, that he understood everything and whatever related to death. Death in all of its aspects came rushing to him, slammed him as a wave that demanded to be heard, and Nico felt it.
He felt the pain, the fear, the denial, the absolute hate – that shocked him so bad to realize Percy was hating his father so venomously – the desperation, and suffering.
He was feeling Death. Percy's death.
This had nothing to do with Thanatos or his father. This was Nico's power – or current ability – alone.
He was living Percy's death at the same time as him. For one sheer moment, Nico desperately wished that whatever he was experiencing of Percy now would be the same as sharing Percy's burden on his behalf, so that the guy would suffer less. If Nico was experiencing Percy's pain, surely he could be easing it.
But he didn't feel it.
He felt the pain; he felt it in his bones. But…
He felt it…but it didn't harm him.
It was like a cockroach scuttling up your bones, phantom ghosts hacking at your skin and flesh to replicate the wounds. He felt the tingling, irritating pricks and numbness. He even felt the wave of agony slamming into his head and body. But what he felt were the waves; not the agony itself.
Nico started to shake. If all he experienced now was doing nothing to help and Percy was actually there alone –
Then they went and pierced Percy's throat.
Percy howled, and Nico howled like the haunting dead, unleashing its thousand years of sorrow.
Percy was brilliantly pinned onto the altar like an entomological collection. Blood oozed everywhere, trailing outwards so that it looked like he had numerous red limbs stretched out. The blood made a small trickle and dripped off the stairs. Normally, monsters would have flooded towards such a delight. But this time, they all scrambled back in fear. Here was the blood of the demigod, but not any normal demigod. No, this was the blood of a demigod who had turned into the ultimate and sole sacrifice for Mother Earth the moment his capture had been accomplished. A being completely different, and one that also no monster dared to touch (who would dare, pray tell, to steal Mother Earth's long waited offering?).
Percy had ceased screaming. His mind was fluttering like frail butterflies, constructing a broken link to keep Percy conscious. He wheezed, no longer being able to breathe properly. Blood flowed from his mouth as he did, but sadly, he couldn't muster enough energy to cough the blood that was drowning him. It was still a mystery he was still alive.
His soul had long shattered in the psychological sense. Father had given up. He could feel it, somehow, mysteriously – the squabble and uproars in Olympus over his sufferings – that Poseidon could not help.
He dimly and briefly wondered if this was how Luke had felt when he had to die. When he had to face countless of near-death situations and see his loved ones ripped apart instead.
The only thing Percy was glad of was that the others were safe, for the time being. The only thing Percy was hateful of was his rotten luck. Curse Anaklusmos; even that sword was enchanted by Gaia, he was certain of that now. Cursed to disappear from Percy when he needed it most, but not before giving a final mocking warning.
His finger twitched in his rage. His breathing was more ragged than before, but it sounded like a crushed mouse about to die. Percy was dying.
His life didn't play before his eyes, like what people said a dead person would see. Did it apply to him? Or did it not apply to him now? Or was his reminiscence of Luke and his friends enough?
Mom…
Between the darkness, he saw the looming figure of Earthly Humanoid General. It put its hand out, and a telekhine handed its clean and newly gleaming sword. The general brought it up, both hands on the grip, sword tip downward. Atop Percy's heart.
Well, cliché bloodthirsty ritual for you.
It braced itself, then plunged.
Nico certainly screamed so hard he could believe his head had decapitated on its own, but he wasn't sure if anybody on earth – or on Olympus – bothered to hear at all.
...
"The blood is shed! Now we need the last female demigod to drain!"