A/N: Poseidon's underpants, this is a depressing one. I hardly even know what possessed me to write this. All I know is that I should not get story ideas whilst painting a fence and then write down the story for that idea whilst listening to There You'll Be by Faith Hill.
Also, on a separate note, I went to see Pompeii yesterday and it was absolutely amazing and heartbreaking and someone should figure out a crossover with that and Percy Jackson. It definitely tore at my heartstrings, never mind tugging them. So - Pompeii is a film you should watch. Go watch it. I was very nearly a sobbing mess - the ending broke me completely. Go watch it. One of Cassia (the female lead)'s lines was "how could the gods let this happen?" So maybe the Olympian's view of the eruption of Vesuvius? Why it happened? just ideas. I might try my hand at such a fic myself, but just putting the idea out there
Percy couldn't breathe. He knew Chiron was still speaking, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered. Gods above, he was going to have to tell Annabeth when she got home from work. He couldn't think even think about getting those words out. And he was in too much shock to be angry.
"He was supposed to be safe." He whispered, but it was more to himself than to his old mentor on the other side of the Iris Message. The ancient centaur merely looked at him sadly, old eyes saying it never is, for children of the gods - you know that full well, Perseus.
"He died a hero, Perseus." Were the soft words he spoke instead. Percy laughed bitterly, hollowly.
"Of course he did." The son of Poseidon replied. He took a deep breath and attempted to steady himself, to bite back the tears and keep himself strong. He turned back to the message. "You'll wait until we're there for the funeral." It was an order, not a question, and Chiron complied without question.
"Of course, my boy. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry." Percy thought about saying that it wasn't worth much at all, not when his son's body lay broken and devoid of life, but he knew that wouldn't be fair to Chiron, who had seen more than his fair share of heroes fall.
But the burning emptiness in his chest where his heart must have been once won't let him forgive himself. Maybe he could have prevented this. If he had just known somehow - that was what he was supposed to do, right? Know when his kid was in trouble so he could come and save them?
"Percy, honey, are you home?" Annabeth called out as she dropped her keys on the counter and turned to find him. She saw Chiron on the Iris Message, and her husband hunched over with his head clutched in his hands - it didn't take a daughter of Athena to figure out that there was something, very, very wrong here.
"What's- no. No. Please tell me it's not true." She whispered, her eyes full of horror. Percy met her gaze, and nothing could have prepared her for the grief that she felt at the truth she saw in his eyes, the irises of which seemed to echo the very worst storm the sea had ever known. She fell to her knees sobbing, with her hands covering her face. Percy stood and went over to her, wrapping her in strong arms, grounding her. But it only made her sob harder.
"Chiron, could you ask Nico to-"
"Already here, cousin." The son of Hades stood before them with a hand outstretched. He looked weary, but otherwise well. "Let's go." He said softly. Percy nodded, and absently cut his hand through the IM. A few seconds and a silent shadow travel later, they were in Camp Half-Blood.
Demigod teenagers parted before them, heads bowed, eyes sad, and all Percy wanted to do was close his eyes and pretend none of it was happening, all the while walking closer and closer to where the body of his son lay, cold and unmoving, underneath a shroud.
The shroud was beautiful. Trimmed in silver, it was ocean green, and depicted an owl embossed with a trident, and circled with intertwined horses and olive branches. At his side, Annabeth gripped his arm, and he knew that he was the only thing which held her up at the moment, as she stared at the thin fabric which blocked her son from her view. But she dared not touch it. Then she would have to admit that this was real, that their precious baby was really gone.
What broke Percy's heart the most to see was the daughter of Apollo who held the torch that would light the shroud - her name was Isabel, though she preferred Izzie. It was clear that she had been crying - and she was definitely wearing one of his son's old sweaters. She'd even come over for dinner sometimes. He had been so sure that his son was going to marry that girl - that they'd get their happily ever after.
He wished he had known then that the Fates were rarely so kind. He shared a look with Annabeth, silently promising to treat the girl as if she were their own daughter and help her get through this as they tried to come to terms with it themselves.
They listened to the campers as they told of the bravery of their son, how he had died defending them so that they could make a retreat. He had fought like a man possessed, but reinforcements had arrived too late to save him. Only in time to stop his body being mutilated by the monsters which killed him. How he had been a true hero, or their best friend, or the only man Izzie had ever loved. The stories washed over the grieving parents, and though they smiled sadly at the right moments, they were apart from it all, as if in a dream.
Percy watched, stony faced, as the pyre was lit, and kept watching until the flames burned out and there was nothing left of their precious child but ashes. Annabeth collapsed into him, sobbing against his shoulder. He had to stay strong, for her. He couldn't break down in front of everyone. As the children - for that was all any of them were - flocked back to their cabins, many stopped to offer their condolences. Percy could hardly find it within himself to thank them. All he felt was the cold winter seas in the pit of his stomach, his eyes dark and stormy, wanting to destroy something, anything, wanting to scream out in rage against the world, the Fates, gods, monsters, titans - he just wanted it all to stop. But he led his wife to the Big House and set her down on the guest bed, kissing her forehead and letting a single tear fall onto her face. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
He walked back down the stairs only to find Chiron and Mr. D watching him warily, as if afraid of what he might do. He glances in the mirror and understands why.
"How the hell do you cope?" He questioned Dionysus. The god looked shocked by his question, and looked to Chiron for guidance. The centaur just shook his head, and waited for Percy to continue. "Gods, I mean. You have so bloody many children, and you all have them knowing that they're going to die some day. How do you stay sane?" Dionysus smiled without any mirth.
"Who says that any of us do?" He replied. "Olympus knows, it's worse for me. You knew what you were doing when you turned down their gift, kid. Eternity sucks. At least you know you'll get so see your brat again when you d- no, stop it, don't cry. I don't want a whole ocean in here, Peter Johnson!" Percy laughed hysterically through the tears when Dionysus used his old nickname. But then his breath hitched and the tears fell harder. The wine god awkwardly rubbed his back, trying to soothe him, and Chiron bit his lip, unsure what to do - he knew that it would be unwise to even try and console him now. And then Hermes had to go and appear.
"Hey uh, I've got a delivery for Chir-" he stopped dead when he noticed the scene in front of him. "What in Hades name happened?"
Doessss the boyyyy have a rat for me yet? George demanded, but Percy didn't hear the snake. Martha bit her partner for being so insensitive.
"My boy, my boy. My brave, brave boy." Percy repeated the words over and over, and Hermes' heart dropped. Percy looked up to meet his eyes, and the messenger god could see he was absolutely broken, and shaking. His whole body was physically trembling, and they could all hear the storm outside picking up.
None of them had the heart to make him stop. They all understood his grief too well for anything so foolish as that. As gods, they always felt the ache of losing their children, very often young. At the same time though, they know very well that his pain is different, keener. Because he was there for his son. He had always made a point of it, in fact. He had spent every possible moment with the boy. There was a closeness, a fierce protectiveness of his son which the gods almost never had with their offspring. There was a distance there, and looking at Perseus now, Hermes was grateful for that distance. Once his sobbing had subsided, Percy quietly accepted the glass of wine which Dionysus summoned for him. The wine god and Hermes met each other's eyes, and decided together that they wouldn't leave their cousin alone tonight. He needed someone to watch over him.
As Hermes dragged him over to lie on the couch and sat on the floor by his side, he watched as Percy wandered through his thoughts and memories in a detached sort of way, as if his mind was trying to protect him from the feeling of having his heart ripped out, chewed up, and then shoved back into his chest and still expected to pump the blood through his veins. The sky had darkened and night had crept in, sombre and silent, before the demigod spoke again.
"I never thought I would live long enough to see things from your side." He admitted. Hermes turned his head to look up at him with sad eyes and nodded, though he sensed Percy wasn't quite finished yet. "I never imagined- I thought once I married Annabeth, then maybe, just maybe we'd get our happily ever after. Maybe we were safe and the Fates were done with us. Gods, I've never been so wrong. And it's stupid, because- for so long, we went to this camp, and we lived with the possibility of death every day, and we were all pretty okay with that." He paused, caught up in a memory of a day at the beach - it had all been so perfect. Him, Annabeth, and their beautiful blond boy with eyes deep as the ocean, only four, laughing in joy as his father tossed him among the waves. Poseidon had visited that day too, and they'd gone to Sally and Paul's for dinner. "And though we worried - I don't think we ever accepted the possibility that he wouldn't come home one day. We so fervently denied any possibility of that in our minds. He's- he was everything to us. I don't even know how we'll function now. I don't- gods, I don't know if I can cope. Oh gods. We're going to have to go through his room - his things. I can't do that. I can't even think about it." Hermes said nothing, just averted his eyes in silent sympathy for the man.
Absently, Percy remembered Chiron once talking about names having power - he wondered if that was why his son had died.
"Maybe he was doomed from the start." He suggested to the god of travellers, who sighed and shook his head.
"Perseus... why would you even think that? There were no prophecies or-" But as soon as he had opened his mouth to ask, a sick realisation rolled over him and he bit his lip, finding that he was holding back his own tears now as well.
"No, Perseus. I don't think you sealed his fate by naming him after my son. Your boy was-" he chokes back the sobs as he tries to get the words out. "Sometimes, there's just nothing you can do, no matter how hard you try. I can see you trying to find a way to pin the blame on yourself here. Don't. That will only destroy you. Trust me, I know. Don't belittle your son's sacrifice with your own self-loathing."
Percy didn't quite know why, but he felt comforted by what Hermes told him. He finally let his eyes close and drifted off into sleep. Chiron, who had left a while before to check on the rest of the campers, returned and draped a blanket over Percy, and took the time to notice how very old he looked. Old and worn and tired of a world which refused to give him the peace that he so desperately deserved.
"They deserved better than this." Surprisingly to all of them, most of all himself, it was Dionysus who spoke. "Perseus once promised me he'd keep Pollux alive for me, and he did. He made good on his promise. I should have been able to do the same for him. This is my camp after all. I should have-"
"Stop, brother. What is passed is passed. Of course they deserved better. They've done more for us in the past few decades than any other demigods have done in centuries. But the Fates have never been kind." He finished bitterly. Looking over at the sleeping demigod, he wondered if the peaceful state he was in was cruel or kind. Was he blessed with gentle dreams - did he see his son? When, eventually, he woke, would he break down again with the realisation that any hope he had that this whole terrible day had merely been a dream evaporated before his eyes?
He knew he would. Because that was the pain of any grieving father. He looked out of the window to the beach and wondered where Poseidon was in his favourite son's time of need. He just hoped Oceanus wasn't acting up again. He'd have to visit his uncle's palace and inform him, if he didn't already know.