Today's pretty special, you guys.

I know - for some of you Percy's birthday has already passed. For some, it's still hours away from even beginning. But by my clock, my sweet lovely boy has aged another year, and I will damn well commemorate it. Originally I wanted a birthday party story, but I've seen and done quite a few of those. So, I thought, what does Percy Jackson do best?

Not swordfights, not arguments, not jokes. He gives. He gives so often and so well, and so I wrote about it. I'm going with Rick and saying he doesn't age, because why not. And because I really wanted Sally to narrate this.

So cheers, Percy. Have the happiest birthday. Same to any of you born on this fine day. Happy birthday!

Enjoy!

WARNING: CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TRIALS OF APOLLO: THE BURNING MAZE. DON'T READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT. THERE ARE LIKE 500 BIRTHDAY FICS, GUYS, PLEASE.

Disclaimer: All o' this belongs to Richard Riordan. But the plot is still mine, though.

Percy, Percy, Percy.

Sally felt tired. Scratch that, she was exhausted.

My baby's eighteen. He made it. He really made it.

She had every reason to doze off. It was two in the morning, and she had an extremely important meeting with her publisher tomorrow, and the blanket was so thick warm she could just melt, like maple syrup into a pancake. Percy would love that expression, as a matter of fact.

Sally shook her head, chuckling. She knew that Percy lay asleep in his own room; his bed adorned by nearly two dozen boxes, all most unfortunately mangled beyond repair.

The buzz still hadn't worn off – that was it. It was the only barrier between her and a good night's rest. And, to be truthful, Sally didn't mind the slightest bit.

For God's (the gods'?) sake, her baby was eighteen. One-eight. An adult. Nearly two decades ago, she'd sat with Poseidon, begging him through her tears for anything, anything, that might keep her baby alive. The pregnancy had been exciting. The birth, painless when coupled with the Olympian's blessing. And Percy-

Oh, Percy. Percy was everything. Sure, he had looked a bit like a sweet potato. Sure, he didn't recognise his mother for the first few minutes. But his hair was soft, his lips puckered and sparkled with – was that drool? – and his eyes, they shone turquoise and solemn, never once brimming with tears like the other children in the hospital. It was almost as though the child knew exactly what wrung Sally's heart, as though he was already preparing for death.

Not under my watch, Sally had promised herself. Not as long as she was around to fight every monster, sidestep every battle, strategize his entire life.

But a mother never could hold on forever. And Sally had tried, truly, but it had been inevitable: she watched – all she could ever do now was watch – as the Olympians pulled harder, stronger, and the rope frayed, and soon her baby was trapped in a world almost no one could escape.

Miraculously, Percy had managed it. Her son had been the one to sidestep and strategize and fight, and he had done marvellously. His splendid ideas were limitless, she knew, his bravery virtually unparalleled, but even Sally couldn't be that hopeful. And neither could her son. August 18th was surprising, but all too welcome.

For the party, of course, she and Paul had spared no expenses. Percy had never had a decent birthday. His seventeenth was punctuated with grief and shock. His sixteenth had interrupted the end of the world. And every year before that, there just hadn't been enough money. The least she and her husband could do was finally get his hopes up. Balloons, catering, even a speaker rental: the whole deal. Percy had squealed like a child, and hugged her the first of many times that night. She'd dreamt forever of that kind of day.

Ridiculous, Sally knew. At least four therapists had seen her son this year, and not one had been presented with the truth. As far as the newest (and best) one knew, Percy was coping with amnesia, PTSD, and anxiety from kidnapping. Nothing more was disclosed. Nothing more could be disclosed without incurring the wrath of several Olympians. Even those who could treat him weren't allowed to – that was how deranged Percy's world was.

But Percy, darling boy that he was, hadn't complained once. Today he'd positively smothered his mother in kisses and hugs and blue frosting; regaled every guest with stories from when he was little and just how incredible his mother had been. If anything, it was like he was trying to convince them Sally was the better one of the two.

I'm not incredible, Sally told herself, just average. Percy was the true extraordinaire. For years, she, the mother, had only been trying to keep up. Feats, quests, stunts; she parried with love and presents and cookies, and it wasn't always enough, because despite how reassuring she made her words, despite how many times she practiced her doting smile before a mirror, it wouldn't erase the fact that Percy's father, and a whole slew of people like him, were out there, waiting, to give him more of what he despised.

For all the things he'd given, Percy hadn't received fitting gifts.

No, stop that. They were demigods, too, all trapped within the confines of unnecessary magic and perilous existence. If anything, she was thankful that they'd made the time to buy him gifts. And they'd come up with good ones, too.

Annabeth – all things began and ended with Annabeth when it came to her son, and she adored that – Annabeth had brought him recordings, of all things. Naturally, that gift was his favourite. Nearly a dozen tapes – yes, tapes, the kind she'd devoured as a child, and all of them holding her voice: jokes, reassurances, promises; everything that reminded her of her boyfriend. She regaled tales of her favourite moments with him, what she loved most about him, every last thing she adored about Percy. Annabeth had stood there, straight-backed and shining, only answered her awestruck boyfriend with confident nods, eyes flitting to Sally whenever she began blushing.

You're amazing and I love you, Seaweed Brain. And I won't let you forget it, yeah? There's nearly two dozen stories in this box, and there's no order to them, because I know you're better with surprises. Remember our first kiss two years ago? Okay, first as far as the others are concerned. There's too many to remember now. I never did tell you about how we made the cake…

Needless to say, they ended up kissing so hard it took up a good portion of the party games. And for the rest of the day Percy kept sneaking behind her, ambushing her with tight hugs and feathery pecks that Annabeth only pretended to be bored of. Her messages were full of laughter and promises, a melody of trust Sally had never imagined she'd hear in the girl's voice, not when she recalled her tear-streaked face last year.

Six years ago, her son had given Annabeth Chase his word. And he'd kept it. He would always be there to hold her and brave dangers by her side, Sally knew. Annabeth now knew it too. In a way, she'd returned the favour.

Grover, his best friend, had arrived with a sapling in his arms, and all kinds of Greek herbs in his backpack. It was just a small jasmine tree, but the catch? He'd personally enchanted it. His efforts, combined with those of the Hecate cabin, had created an entirely new plant: one that, Grover promised, would stop the nightmares. During the day, it would quell flashbacks. And it smelled heavenly. It was short and erratic, branching out in ten different directions; little buds of white littering every inch of the bark.

It was the first thing they placed in Percy's room, and Sally could swear the magic was already working – her shoulders relaxed, the tension easing from her clenched teeth. Even Percy visibly relaxed, his normally raspy breathing turning soft and slow.

Of course she and Percy had both cried, though Percy only for minutes. Sally still teared up now, praying again and again for Grover's sake. He didn't understand just how needed his gift had been. Sure, Percy had taught Grover courage, had given him a friend, but no one could make Percy understand he didn't always have to be so brave. Especially at night, when he deserved rest. She made sure he knew he'd have a home here, no matter what.

Thalia, surprisingly, was there too. Somehow, she'd bewitched Artemis into granting her a few days' holiday, and – an even bigger somehow – Thalia had borrowed (stolen) one of the Hunt's self-aiming bows. That had caused quite a few laughs, the loudest of which came from Thalia herself. Percy had taken it in quite happily, literally collapsing from laughter once he'd unravelled it.

"Won't you get in trouble?" Hazel had asked.

"Percy gave the hunt its best lieutenant yet," Thalia had answered, shrugging. "I don't think they'll miss this one."

Sally had chuckled and hugged the raven-haired huntress. Damn right, she'd thought, and she could see it mirrored in the girl's eyes.

Tyson, bless his soul, had come bearing a Celestial Bronze shield – an even better one than the original. It was larger, more durable, painted even more beautifully. Percy stood in the middle, clad in a Camp Half-Blood shirt and jeans, grinning alongside all his friends. The digital copy hung proudly in his bedroom, and, according to Percy, it also hung in Chiron's office, alongside all the demigods. The centaur never forgot to take pictures every year, both as a keepsake and a gift for parents. Percy always found a way to memorize them before he left for home. And now, Tyson had told him, as Percy marvelled at the intricate bronze, you will see brothers and sisters everywhere. Happy birthday, big brother!

So maybe it wasn't just Grover that Sally prayed for. Tyson's peanut butter scent was resilient, and it clung to the air the way the humid August wind brushed their windows. She saw Percy in the corner of her eye, long after his friends had bid him goodnight, breathing it in, smiling ever so slightly.

Even Nico had been grinning, which had been a welcome surprise to Sally. The last time she had met the son of Hades, he had been almost nothing: pale and skinny and dripping with melancholy. Now he was taller, with more pink in his cheeks and less glaze coating his eyes, and he was smiling and laughing and joking like it was second nature. He was almost the ten-year-old Percy had described nearly four years ago. He had a boyfriend now, according to Piper. Sally furrowed her eyebrows, just for a second, but only because she had never imagined this kid as the love-struck boyfriend.

That's because he's not, Piper agreed, giggling. That would be Will. He's more the deadpan type.

That Sally could believe. He was deadpan upon arrival too, barely greeting Percy before handing the largest pack of playing cards Sally had ever seen. Apparently, they were called Mythomagic, and Nico had been pining after them for years. He expected Percy to become as skilled at the game as himself, so they could play together.

I'll even teach you myself, Nico promised, smirking.

Oh, Percy had sighed, feigning despair, how could I ever repay such a favour?

Nico had snorted. Then quick as lightning, he muttered, I'm the one repaying you. Nearly everyone had missed it; the boy had spoken so fast.

There were more gifts, of course. The entire Harry Potter series from Hazel, who had taken the liberty of translating it into Ancient Greek, explaining that the characters, Ron especially, reminded her of Percy and his friends. She was the one of the only two that made a card, and with drawing skills like Hazel's, that card had looked effortless: a heartfelt message on the back, and a sketch of the Half-Blood Beach so realistic it almost looked digital. Thanks for trusting me, she'd written. Her handwriting was cursive, much like Sally's mother's, and the woman had teared up just looking at it. If she needed any more reason to love this sweet girl, the youngest one of them, it was how casually 1940's she was, the details about her aged and exquisite. Sometimes Sally could talk to her about her own childhood, ask her how her own mother had been living, and Hazel was delighted to oblige.

There was Frank, all awkward hugs and bashful smiles, cringing the tiniest bit when Percy unwrapped a New Rome schoolbag, complete with stationery and notebooks. Seriously? Percy's eyes had conveyed, just for a moment, but then her son had grinned and thanked the boy, remarking that he would have needed one soon anyway. Poor Frank had rambled nonetheless, about hopes and ideas and how Percy had always complained about school so much so he'd thought it wouldn't be so bad, until Percy stood up and hugged him. Frank accepted. First time in forever, according to the others. He'd become a lot more confident in the past few months, and as Sally watched Percy thank him profusely, she could see how.

Sally thanked Frank, grinning, and hung the bag in the closet.

Then there was Piper. A bit hollow when she first came in. The birthday had been under construction for months, and Sally didn't need a genius to tell her who should have been here tonight. Piper had arrived just a tad late – the plane had been delayed by a storm, of all things, and Piper was still reeling. Sally suspected the girl was masking her puffiness with makeup. Piper's skin had never looked so smooth.

Sally had taken it a little easy on her tonight. Granted, Piper didn't need it. She was devastated but strong, and if anyone could make emotions their game, it was her. Piper bent feelings and manipulated wills in a way that was near-terrifying, with deftness unmatched by any child of Aphrodite. Her own teammates were frightened of her sometimes.

But they have no reason to be, Sally reassured herself, watching the young woman present Percy with a turquoise-golden dreamcatcher, made by the daughter of Aphrodite herself.

I've been trying to get in touch with my roots, Piper explained, as nearly everyone stared at the piece. Granted, they're Ojibwe, not Cherokee, but they're beautiful and spiritual. They trap the nightmares and direct the good stuff to you. And they go with your room. I do hope you like it.

Percy did like it. Sally suspected it would onlygo with his room because he'd model it around that one dreamcatcher. The hoop was royal blue, the strings within turquoise and sea-green, the feathers an assortment of blues and the translucent rocks tinged with amber. It was gorgeous, shifting in the light, tranquil and yet mesmerizing.

How long did it take you to make it? Percy had asked, awe-struck.

Does it matter? You trained me, helped me with Jason – you've been a good friend. I want you to have something nice to look at.

Piper had smiled, then – her broadest one that night, before hurrying on the gift opening.

It was Leo's turn, and he had done really, really well. What kind of engineer maniac bypassed demigod laws and created a fully functioning mobile?

Her son's funniest friend, apparently.

It wasn't the prettiest – it looked more like a Blackberry than an iPhone – but it was definitely better than both. Collapsible keyboard, emergency settings, battery-draining applications – the Calldez (Get it? Because you call people and I'm Valdez?) had everything. Leo was already making updates for the next birthday guest. He had been the light of the party that night: jumping around and cracking jokes and switching out snacks like he was born to do it, which probably wasn't far from the truth. For a boy who unabashedly quoted Puss in Boots, he was warm, too. He had made sure to hug Piper every once in a while, and joke about gummy bears when Jason came up, and bump fists with Percy at every given opportunity. Sally realized for the first time that day that he was the only person who both keep up and outdo her son's jokes.

In her life, Sally had laughed at inappropriate moments one too many times. Percy did need to be humbled after all.

The last on the list, but the second guest to arrive, had been the only mortal kid in the bunch. Rachel Elizabeth Dare had welcomed herself into their home shortly after Annabeth, and, without uttering a word, had tossed Percy keys.

Keys that unlocked a bike.

Maybe she and Percy had freaked out just a bit. Sally lay down for a good twenty minutes, and her son had begun a long list of reasons on why Rachel should return the bike, right now, because it was too hecking expensive and they'd never repay her.

Rachel's only reply had been Chill, I'm rich, as if the three words solved it all. She hadn't spoken about the bike for the rest of the night, only turning her strange music up if someone mentioned the bicycle. And Sally was thankful, truly, but a bike? She had never seen it coming. Rachel was quite possibly the only mortal on the planet thankful for her Sight. Sally hoped, for her mental health, that she'd stay that way.

At the end of the day, it really hadn't been that bad. Percy was over the moon, and everyone had loved him, and he'd finally had the birthday any kid would dream of.

Sally just wished he'd gotten more.

She knew she was being selfish. Her own son would be content with half of what he'd gotten today. Knowing Percy, he'd be content with nothing.

But while Percy had been thrown into the midst of all the action, Sally had faithfully watched from the sidelines. For six years she'd looked magic in the eye, only getting angrier. Not just for Percy, but for every one of his brothers and sisters: every abandoned child who either died young or aged bitter, who almost never got a happy ending. But especially for her son. Her son, who gave all and hardly took, who instilled hope in every demigod and rewrote Camp Half-Blood's legacy, who rose to become an example to every Greek half-blood there was.

But hard as the demigods tried, he wouldn't get what he deserved. None of them would. All of them were too good to admit it.

Sally sighed. It was three in the morning now, and she really did need her sleep. Percy was an adult, horrible as it was to admit it. Rewarded or not, her baby could take care of himself.

And maybe… maybe that wasn't so bad. The world needed more selfless people. If all Percy came to be was her, she wouldn't mind. But she already knew he would become far more. The blood of Poseidon graced his veins, and, as long as it would, she knew Percy would be different. He wasn't his mother, nor was he his father, but he was loyal and brave and selfless, and no matter how it hated him, he would continue fighting for the world. And she, Sally, would never cease to watch from afar, to protect him when he needed it. If Percy gave more than he took, she could live with that. She already had the best son in the world. That was one thing she found enough.

For all the things he'd given, Sally knew he would keep on giving. Percy was headstrong and unbroken. She believed in him, and he, in turn, believed in others. He gave and he gave and he gave, to everyone and everything, even when they didn't know it, and he'd pass away surrounded by friends and fans from all over the globe. No matter how angry it made her, she was glad to have taught her son to give.

She was proud that, six years ago, when she was good as dead and Percy was hated and the universe holding its breath, he'd given the most important thing of all.

He'd given this world a chance.

So, in my defence, I did try to make it shorter. I'd go okay, Mariam, he's not canonically that close to Piper, don't write ten lines about her don't write ten lines about her WHAT HAVE YOU DONE.

It wasn't just Piper, but you get the idea.

Too OOC? Too dreamy? Just right? I'm so excited to be doing this birthday fic, and I really wanna know how I could improve. Drop a review! I answer every one and it would mean the world to me. And if you like my style but not the story, do accept my shameless advertising and check out my other stories! I've got like two multi-chapter fics BUT I'LL WRITE MORE SOON. I'm working on this major Caleo fic as I publish this.

Okay, enough digressing. Happy birthday, Percy! It took me a while to think of your gifts and all you gave, but you truly have given so much to everyone in this world, and it's about time someone acknowledges it! Eat a slice of blue cake for me! You too, guys!

Love, Mariam 3