Prologue: Persephone Jackson

AN: I have looked back on some of my previous works, and my first thought was; why did anyone read this, and how on earth did they enjoy it? I've redone some calculations, and made sure the ages are CORRECT this time. So I am re-writing it, hopefully better than before. If you prefer the previous one, I'm sorry to say that that one will never be updated again. Sorry!

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2010, the Jackson-Bolfis Apartment

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It was finally over…

The Giant War.

The pain, the torment, the blood, the sweat, the tears, the damage… was over. They had fought with everything they had, and they'd succeeded. At least, that's what they told him. He didn't move very much now-a-days. He just sat there, staring into the distance, a nostalgic expression on his face. Nobody bothered to ask what he was thinking about, they already knew; Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Leo Valdez, Jason Grace, Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang.

The famous six who'd given their lives to save humanity. He didn't know how it had happened, he didn't remember. 'It's the trauma,' they had told his mother, 'it's doubtful he'll ever remember what happened that day'. They were right, and his mother hoped it'd stay that way. She never wanted her son exposed to the life he'd lived, but here he was… Stuck at home, never to continue school, never to go to Camp Half-Blood again. It broke her heart, and seeing him, sat there, staring into nothing destroyed her.

"Percy?" She called, worried blue eyes scanning her sons form. Percy didn't move, not that she expected him to. "I'm-I'm off to bed now, okay dear?" There was no response. Sally gazed mournfully at her son. Her husband, Paul, placed a hand on her shoulder and gently began leading her out of the room.

Percy waited until he was sure Sally was out of the room, before heart-wrenching sobs broke through the room. Percy face-planted into his hands, his ever growing black locks tangling with pale fingers. He did this every night. He just sat there, crying and contemplating everything. They said he didn't remember, and he wished beyond almost everything that it was true. But he remembered, and he remembered clearly. He saw it everyday, and he revisited it every night.

He thanked the gods in the skies above that his mum, so kind and caring, never even thought of sending him back to school. He was surprised he hadn't been attacked, but his mind only ever skimmed the thought. That, however, didn't stop him flinching at every sudden sound. It didn't stop him from keeping hold of Riptide as tightly as humanly possible. It certainly didn't stop him from almost wishing a monster would attack him, and finish what Gaia had failed to do.

On that particular night, as Percy sat in an empty room, his thoughts his only companion, the Fates were listening in, and they knew what they needed to do.

••—••—••

The Fates were oxymoronic creatures, being both kind and cruel, and they were the definition of the word unpredictable. They were also powerful, holding the key to life and death. They had all the gods and goddesses at their beck and call, even Gaia would never dare to harm them.

They were rather known for being the cruel beings they believed themselves to be, but on that night, they knew they would make an exception.

Clotho sat at her old spinning wheel, creating countless amounts of beautiful creations out of vastly different yarn. As the old spinner woven one Piper McLean and Jason Grace's yarn together, she contemplated the young hero who had lost and gained many in his short lifetime.

Lachesis was sat opposite her sister, holding a long piece of parchment, that seemed to be growing longer and longer with every second. A large quill was rested in her wrinkled hand as she crossed name after name off the list and added numbers beside the adding ones.

Atropos was in-between the two, grabbing pieces of yarn off her sisters wheel and snipping them as certain lengths, occasionally peering over at Lachesis' list to check the lengths.

All three had heard and seen the Hero of Olympus's grief, and had for quite awhile. They had ignored it, however, instead choosing to honour all those lost by framing their yarn pieces and tying them all together, to signify their closeness. Clotho sighed, looking over at her sisters. "Should we do something?" She murmured over to them, her hands still busy at work.

Atropos, however, did not even glance over at the spinner, but stopped snipping at the yarns to ask, "do something about what, Clotho?" Lachesis was frantically crossing names off the list and, upon seeing they had stopped disappearing afterward, hissed "Percy Jackson. The Hero of Olympus. He's been in grieving for months now."

Atropos nodded, an expression of understanding on her face as she went back to work. "However," Lachesis continued, "you bring up a point. I feel obliged to do something to help the boy." Atropos looked back up again, adding, "we could cut his yarn?" Clotho and Lachesis rolled their eyes.

"Atropos, sister, we have tried that countlessly since the boy was but twelve years old." Lachesis reminded her softly. Clotho gazed sadly towards Percy Jackson's piece of yarn. The thread was a gradient of the familiar sea green shared between father and son, mixing with the ocean blue of one Sally Jackson. Holes marred the thread showing the many attempts and fails to cut the thread, more often than not by Zeus's command.

"Exactly, Lachesis, Atropos. The poor boy wishes for death, and we cannot grant it. We must try something. He has proven himself worthy of kindness on countless occasions, I believe we must stop denying him." Clotho reprimanded her sisters.

Atropos nodded, and glanced towards Lachesis, pleading her with her eyes. Lachesis gazed between her sisters and sighed, nodding her head. She supposed, if anyone deserved their help, it was Percy Jackson.

••—••—••

2005 – the Jackson-Ugliano Apartment

Sally Jackson was a kind, caring woman who saw nothing but the best in others. She took pride in how anti-violence she was, and how that had influenced her twelve year old son, Percy, but she had had it with her husband, Gabe Ugliano. The man was a lazy, sick, abusive, disgrace to mankind, and, boy, did Sally know it.

Over the short time they'd been together, Sally was able to establish her and Percy's life around Gabe's schedule. It was a Saturday night, exactly two weeks until Percy would start at his new school; Nancy Acedmy, which meant Gabe was off on 'Poker Night' and wouldn't be back until the Sunday.

Turning the kitchen tap off and taking the cleaning gloves off her hands, Sally signed in annoyance, gazing around her apartment. The entire place was a mess with only Gabe to blame. Her husband tried pinning it on Percy, but Sally knew. Percy was always a messy boy, but had always tried to keep his mess strict to his room. When he was younger, a few toys would escape and find their way to the lounge room, but that was all.

Sally began mentally preparing herself for the long clean up she had ahead of her, knowing Gabe would through a fit if she didn't at least start cleaning the room. Looking down quickly, Sally gasped at the time. It was almost eleven. Closing her eyes in annoyance, Sally steadily began her way to bed. 'I'll just do it tomorrow', she told herself. As she passed Percy's room, a slight thump echoed, gaining Sally's attention and worry.

"Percy?" Sally asked, quickly opening the door and entering the room in worry. A low moan came from the floor. 'He must've fallen out of bed', Sally thought. Percy pulled himself off the floor, and Sally gasped in shock. "Mum?" The person questioned blearily, to stand. Sally quickly rushed forward when she saw the person tumbling forward. Whether this person was her son or not, Sally would never allow a young child to harm themselves.

"Percy?" Sally inquired, pushing the persons long hair – too long to be Percy's – off their face. Studying the persons features, Sally deduced that the person was, in fact, a girl. "Um, honey, you may want to look in the mirror…" Sally advised and began leading the poor girl who claimed to be Percy out of the room towards the bathroom.

The girl followed Sally's leads and walked slowly towards the mirror, as if afraid of what was to come. The girl pushed her not overly long hair out of her face. Sally took the chance to study the girl. She had shoulder length black hair that fell messily and all over the place, just like Percy's, Sally noticed. The girl wasn't as tan as Percy was, but had his rather round face and bushy eyebrows. Another difference Sally immediately noticed was how alert the girl was; she was clearly waiting for something to jump out and attack her.

Sally sighed, how was she supposed to believe that this girl was her daughter? Sally looked at herself in the mirror, and gasped. The girls eyes were her eyes. The exact same shade. It was in that moment that Sally knew that this girl was either Percy, or someone related to her, directly.

••—••—••

Atropos, Lachesis and Clotho stared in shock down at the small Jackson family. "That wasn't exactly what we planned." Atropos sighed, half-heartedly snipping a thread. Clotho nodded, turning to gaze at the green to blue gradient that was Percy Jackson's thread.

Lachesis huffed, angrily crossing out three names, a cruel smirk on her face. "No, it didn't. I can assure you, however, that I will not be offering my services again." Clotho absent-mindedly spun her wheel as she thought over the situation.

"That may be true, Atropos, Lachesis," Clotho called the sisters attention to her, "but it is rather obvious that Percy Jackson was meant to repeat his life."

Lachesis raised her monobrow in disbelief. "And, pray tell, sister, how?" Clotho did not say anything, but nodded her head towards Percy's thread. "Oh…" Lachesis murmured thoughtfully, crossing out another five names.

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