Summary: After the Fates created a fatal mistake in their weaving, they had selected the spirit of an Otherworld mortal to correct it. What could be so bad that the Moirai had to go through with this plan? Well, they may had snipped the wrong thread—the thread of Sally Jackson. (Self-Insert)

Pairing: N/A (For the Moment)

Changes to Character(s): N/A

Spoilers To: Percy Jackson

Type of Story: Chapter-Filled

Book(s)/Movie(s) Belongs To: Rick Riordan

Quote: "When you are a mother, you are never really alone in your thoughts. A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child." – Sophia Loren

~•~

A/N: Hello, Fanficters! Gosh, it's been a while since I've been in this fandom . . . It's good to be back! I was just rereading the first book when this idea came to mind, and it was too good to not write (At least, in my opinion).

I know that there may be a lot of critics that will piece apart this story, and I will understand that. I am aware of the few (possibly multiple) loopholes, but I will attempt to fill them up as best as I can.

Anyway, I would like to present to you . . . Chapter 1: A Mortal's Fate(s)

~•~ Braelynn Dwight ~•~

Death is a very handsome guy.

Now, there's something I never thought I would say, I thought as I looked at the figure in front of me, a blush forming on my face. With a small amount of restraint, I gazed at the murky, dark space around me. Well, I also thought that I wouldn't be here—wherever here is.

After a few minutes of silence, the dark-skinned man marched towards me with deadly determination. He looks like he spent some time in Hell.

"Are you Braelynn Dwight?" Death asked, ruffling his wings in agitation. He clearly didn't have enough patience for his job . . . or anybody for that matter.

When I didn't say anything, he proceeded angrily, "Twenty years old? Your birthplace being Manhattan, New York? Death caused by a car accident at West 33rd Street on November 20th at 2:23 p.m.?"

"Yeah, that would be me," I said with hesitation. "Am I in trouble? I mean, if I am, I just got here, so there is no way I could've done—"

"Follow me," he said, walking to a glowing door that appeared behind him. "The Fates requested to see you."

Well, I guess I'm not going to Heaven then, I thought as I reached the door. "Wait, the Fates?"

The man, Thanatos, pushed me through the gate with an exasperated sigh. I let out a gasp of pain and surprise the moment my hands hit the chamber's hard, marble floor.

"I thought the dead didn't feel any pain," I groaned, rubbing my aching hands.

After the pain faded, I peered up to see the room covered in golden tapestries depicting different periods of history (The Civil War, World War I, etc.), but what really caught my attention was the portrait of the twelve Olympians set in center of all the pieces.

"Woah, these people have a lot of time in their hands . . . literally."

The god of death ignored my remark and proceeded towards the center of the room where three elderly women in white sat weaving a tapestry with a sort of a fever that it made the walls physically tremble.

"I have brought you the mortal you wanted," the god spat at them. "Now, will you leave my dead alone?"

The three ladies immediately shot him a piercing look that rendered him speechless. I would have laughed at the sight if my blood hadn't frozen from the surge of power emitting from them. My subconscious told me there was no denying it; they were the Fates of Greek mythology.

"Is that any way to speak to the Moirai?" the one in the center hissed, weaving a piece of thread across the handiwork.

"Of all the gods, you should know of what we are capable of," the one of the left followed.

The woman on the right raised a pair of scissors with a cruel smile plastered on her face. "Do you wish for another reminder, my child?"

Thanatos shook his head straightaway.

"Then, you are dismissed," they said in unison, turning back to their weaving.

The god didn't hesitate to disappear into the shadows of his wings until all that was left of him was the smell of decay and screams of pain.

As soon as the realization hit me, I took in large doses of air at the thought of being alone with these celestial beings.

"Well, are you going to take a seat or not?" the one in the right, Atropos, said with irritation.

"There's no place to—"

Slivers of thread slithered across the floor until it faced the Fates where it knitted itself into a chair. The goddesses looked at me with an innocent expression. "You were saying, my dear?"

"Never mind," I muttered before standing up and heading towards the seat.

The three women continued their knitting with small muttering between each weave. It took them a few minutes for them to agree with one another on the mysterious matter before looking back at me.

"Do you know who we are, girl?" Lachesis questioned. "Are you aware of where we are?"

I nodded nervously. "You are the Fates, the weavers of life and death. As to where we are, I'm afraid to say."

"I told you she was a smart one," Clotho said, sticking the needle into tapestry. "I saw that at the beginning of her life, and you, Lachesis, saw her interest in our stories throughout it."

"That may be, but in her current state, her ending is too obscure to make out," Atropos remarked. "She may as well end us all."

I shuffled uncomfortably as they entered another round of argument. When it seemed to worsen, I let out a small cough. "If I may interrupt, why am I here for exactly?"

The ladies stopped their bickering and glanced at each other before nodding. "We have been observing you for a while now, Miss Dwight, and we are impressed with what we saw."

"Oh, um, thank you?"

"No need to thank us yet," Clotho said. "Your destiny hasn't been fulfilled."

Confusion coursed through me at her words. Shouldn't my destiny already have been accomplished? I mean, I did just die; however, my purpose is still going? "What do you mean it hasn't been fulfilled?"

Clotho sighed as if she had already explained the situation countless times— remembering who they were, she probably already had.

"As you had mentioned before, we are the weavers of life and death—of both mortals and the gods—and what we weave goes. We had everything planned out, but there has been a little bump in the road as you mortals say."

Lachesis took this moment to step in. "Today, as the Apollo began his journey across the sky, we had made a mistake." The Fates scowled at the mention of the word. "We had cut the life of a mortal too soon, and this has created a disastrous path for the future."

"Whose life did you take?" I asked, fear coursing through me. If they had to bring me here, I must be someone of importance.

"You may have heard of this mortal," Atropos inquired. "In both our worlds, she is known as Sally Jackson, mother of Percy Jackson. Without her, the world will face Krono's wrath, for our young hero does not exist yet."

Memories surged through me as I remembered the character of my favorite book series. If they had cut her thread, then that meant Percy may have never have been born and would've never defeated Kronos or the Earth Goddess . . . Civilization would be destroyed entirely.

"They're just story characters," I protested, thoughts waring in my head. No, it can't be. They are part of a fictional world—but the Moirai are here in front of me. "It's just a book someone published for people to enjoy. They can't be real!"

"That's where you're wrong, my dear. There is so much more than just your world. There's an assortment of dimensions that contain a morsel of each other hidden in their thread. Chaos itself has assured us of these possibilities and has brought us to you. If it weren't true, we wouldn't be talking to you now, would we?"

Silence filled the room.

"Why am I here then?"

At this, Lachesis declared, eagerly, "After searching throughout the worlds and their inhabitants, we have chosen you to fix our wrongdoing . . . You will replace Sally Jackson and guide her son in his perilous journey to be the savior of Olympus."

An upsurge of emotions rushed into me at the concept—the one I feared to be true. I wasn't suitable enough to be mother. Heck, I could barely take care of myself!

Before I could say anything, Clotho continued to speak. "As far as we can see, you have done an incredible job of raising young Perseus, and we hope that it continues to the very end."

"Hope?"

"Since you are from the Otherworld," Atropos growled in an anger, "we cannot dictate the entirety of your life. There is no existing thread bearing the name of Braelynn Dwight in this tapestry. If it were to be sewn in, we would only be continuing a life that was never meant to be."

I sighed in relief. At least, if I agreed to it, I would have some control of my life, but the consequences—

"You have no choice in the matter," Lachesis stated, reading my thoughts. "You shall journey into this world and accomplish the Fates' will. Do you understand?"

I nodded. Who knows what these three could do to me.

"Good. Now, we have a few simple rules," the Moirai said. "One, you shall go by the name of Braelynn Jackson. Many of Sally's friends, coworkers, and even the gods shall remember the name and your current appearance from this moment on. That was as far as we could manipulate the Mist to achieve.

"Two, you shall tell no one of Perseus' future and shall remain as faithful as you possibly can to the story you know. If this rule is broken, we will not hesitate to throw you into the pits of Tartarus. We assume a promise to the River Styx isn't necessary?"

Another nod.

"Three . . . Do. Not. Fail. Us."

The three looked down at their tapestry and picked at a silver thread that had sprung up from the tapestry's meticulous craft—Sally Jackson's life.

"Any questions, young mortal?"

After careful consideration, I had my response. "I only have two. Why can't you revive Sally Jackson herself and let her resume her role?"

Clotho huffed. "Ever since Thanatos found out we have been freeing the dead from the Underworld in the past, he had been adamant at stopping us. Now, we can only start a life once and only once. We may be the Fates, but there are laws that can't be broken to maintain peace. He didn't even bat an eye at reviving an Otherworld's mortal. Your second concern?"

"At what time in her life will I be continuing?"

Gods, how many times do they have to smile like that, I though frantically at the sight of their crooked teeth. This is going to be bad.

"Good luck, Miss Dwight," they said as a flash of white surrounded me.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~

"Come on! Push!"

Immediately, I found myself panting and sweating in a way I never had before. I felt a rush of pain coursing through me as I realized the situation the Moirai had put me in. I groaned from both the realization and the torment that was labor.

No, they wou—they wouldn't dare! I can't be giving birth right now!

"I can see the head," the doctor told me. The nurse holding my hand tightened her grip as I shouted in pain. "Come on, come on! One more push, Braelynn."

"I am not having any more kids!" I shouted, sending a final shove through my agonized body. As soon as I did, a baby's cry echoed across the small room.

"Congratulations," the doctor said, happiness spreading across his face. "It's a boy!"

"I'M GOING TO KILL THE FATES!"

Thank you for reading!

I apologize if there are any mistakes in the story. I will fix them as soon as possible, but I am exhausted now since I wrote this in one sitting.

Anyway, please R&R.

- Soldier Of The Mist