The Abandoned Soul
A/N My take on the Percy raised by Hades story.
Hope you like
Chapter 1
On the frigid night when all sane minds were tucked into bed, a lone frame hurried through the wind, escaping the torture that was his home. He silently cursed his stepfather with every curse word he knew, mostly learned from Gabe.
He wished his mother was still alive, wished she could embrace him once more and tell him that everything would be okay and she would bring him back blue treats from her candy shop. But that privilege was also taken away by him, along with a warm bed, proper food rations, and love.
With a shiver as he bundled up in his black hoodie, he added warmth in general to the list. The snow wasn't generally affecting him, more like the wind; he wondered who he had to piss off to get an element mad at him.
"καταραμένο," he murmured, then blinked. Where'd that come from?
He dismissed the thought and returned to the problem at hand; warmth. He could start a fire, but that would attract animals. He remembered someone hiding in an animal carcass in a movie and debated doing that. Percy was a short but not stout nine year-old, he'd fit in an adult mammal, but he decided it would be too smelly, even if he did manage to kill the animal.
He tripped over his torn up loafers and crashed into the soggy ground. Groaning, he sat up on his haunches, hearing a faint barking noise in the distance. He rubbed his neck and muttered, "Dogs, joy," sarcasm lacing his voice.
The snarling became gradually louder and soon, the dogs were within Percy's line of sight. They were large, bigger than any German Shepherd Percy'd ever seen. As the canines came closer, Percy could make out monstrous features accompanying the momentous beasts. The hounds grew closer, snarling and yapping, and Percy began to backpedal. As the dogs neared, Percy stumbled backwards over a rock and tumbled ungracefully to the snow. The hounds raced at the defenseless young boy, teeth bared, and prepared the strategy most wolves take in battle.
They formed a tight circle around the bruised child and cautiously stalked forward, their hunt nearly finished. One of the bolder hounds of hell-Percy's nickname for them-broke their strategic barrier, pouncing toward the boy.
Percy mumbled a silent prayer and braced himself, preparing for certain death, when a spear-like bolt of darkness struck the hound, blasting it to golden dust.
A solitary man, clad in aphotic clothing, strode through the breach in the hounds' wall, twirling a shadowy sword in one hand, the other stuffed into his pocket. "Well, boy," he spoke, a bit of disdain in his voice, "it seems my job is to save you."
"Great, saved by a jackass," Percy scoffed.
"Be thankful you're not dead," the dark man retorted.
"I would be, if I wasn't currently laughing in death's face!" Percy spat.
"Thanatos wouldn't like that very much," the man chuckled.
The man whirled around, cutting a beast's face in half, and then stabbed another with a blade linked to his vambrace, killing them both in the same motion. The blade retracted into his forearm guard, hidden in the sleeve of his button-down, as he gunned down another with a century-old pistol, resembling one the pioneers of North America would use.
"Did I even catch your name?" Percy asked, a bit obnoxiously.
"Nope, you didn't, Perseus." The man replied with a smirk.
His eyes widened and he yelled at the confused child, "Look out!" Percy dove into the dirt, narrowly dodging the jaw of the hellacious hound.
"Here!" The besieged man yelled, flinging a knife through the air as best he could. Percy sloppily caught it, fiddling with it in his hands, trying to familiarize himself the object he was unaccustomed to.
When Percy was holding the knife borderline acceptably, he looked up and found two of the hounds remaining alive. He raced at one, awkwardly holding the dagger above his head with both hands, and leapt onto its back, piercing its neck with the miniscule weapon.
He tugged the knife out of the buckling beast with a struggle, running over to where the last monster was. He realized the adrenaline rush was wearing off, his strength fading, so he picked up his pace noticeably, dashing toward the demented animal which was attempting to kill him.
He reached the beast with his last leap of strength and injected his stiletto into its unprotected stomach, killing it. He felt himself losing consciousness, his knees collapsing, his hands letting go of the bloody weapon, his eyelids drooping, and he plummeted into the oblivion.
The last thing he heard was a faint, "Good job, kid."
…
When Percy woke, up, the first thing he saw was a stalactite. It kind of freaked him out considering the place he was knocked unconscious was a snowy field.
"Oh, look! The man of the hour's awake!" A voice, which Percy recognized as the man's who saved him, exclaimed.
"Y'know, I never did catch your name." Percy bluntly stated.
"Call me Odysseus." He responded.
"O-K?" Percy said, slightly hesitantly.
"Well, I did not just come above the surface for no reason at all. My… boss of sorts has sent me to recover you." Odysseus explained.
"Let's go meet him," Percy directed.
"Let's not be rash," Odysseus tried to reason.
"Fine, but I'm going." Percy told the cautious man beside him as he stood up.
…
Hades sat, high on his throne, waiting for the ill-fated moment when the unfortunate son of Poseidon strode into his chamber. His expression lightened unobtrusively, thinking of how much he would enjoy watching his brother's agony after he found out his son was killed by the brother he betrayed.
There was a knock on Hades' massive granite entrance and a young boy, no more than nine, walked into the room, a happy-go-lucky smile adorning his face. Hades frowned, knowing that killing a boy no bigger than rib-height would leave him with a dirtied conscience.
"Yes, boy?" He said in an uninterested tone.
"Ummm… who are you?" The child, who Hades knew as Perseus Jackson, asked.
The Lord of Death let out a brief, bitter laugh. "I suppose you wouldn't know, would you?"
"Ah, is the correct answer no?" The boy asked cautiously.
"I AM THE LORD OF THE DEAD, YOU FOOL!" Hades yelled, sending the demigod into a terrified cowering state.
"H-h-h-Hades?" Percy stuttered.
Hades smirked, his ploy to get the child to realize who he was successful. "Well done, boy, you have potential." He spoke in his native tongue.
"What d'you mean?" Percy responded, not recognizing that he replied in the same language.
Hades smiled; reassured he had captured Poseidon's wretched offspring. "Well, boy, let me tell you of our kind."
….
When Hades had explained that everything Percy knew was false, the Gods and monsters of myths were real, the demigod was fuming.
Because of that… that… that slut Poseidon, his mother was dead and he didn't have a roof over his head, and the other gods weren't any different, all having affairs left and right.
True, some gods remained loyal to their unfaithful lovers, and Percy still held respect for those few. Athena, however much she claims to preserve her virginity, poses a figure of no respect in Percy's eyes. Artemis claims to be the true goddess of maidens, but Percy defers to Hestia and Hera only, Artemis' ways being too harsh for the young boy.
Hades remained neutral in Percy's point of view, the injustices committed against him cruel enough to drive anyone over their edge of sanity.
…
Percy leapt from the barren tree, scanning the area for his prey, and extracted the hidden blades from his vambraces, grinning as Jason came into view. He weaved through the unadorned trees, never losing sight of the retreating Argonaut, and grinned, knowing this battle was won.
He swung up onto a branch, giving himself a tactical advantage, and kept racing across the field, glancing over the pitch for a strategic place to make the final assault.
He propelled himself off of a flimsy branch with his right foot, soaring near the withdrawing hero and fell, his weight and the momentum of the fall overpowering the Argonaut and sending him into the dirt.
Percy extended his vambrace-guised blades again, lightly pressing against the downed Greek's neck and said, "Yield."
Percy could feel Jason crack a smile as he answered, "Alright, Percy, you win, now go to Odysseus, it's time for your studies."
"Aww, can't we train more? Odysseus' lessons are boring," the demigod whined.
"I'm afraid neither of those will be occurring at the moment, Perseus, your father has your first mission." Odysseus interrupted.
The eleven year-old son of Hades sprang up, anxious for his first mission, yet a bright smile lit his face up, and ran all the way to the palace of Hades.
…
"Percy, your first mission is," Hades paused for dramatic effect, "your mother, bless her soul, her grave was violated today. I know who has committed this crime and I want you to hunt them down. You will find them in East Manhattan."
Percy bowed with gritted teeth, enraged that anyone had the nerve to take advantage of the dead, especially his mother, and said, "I would be honored to dispose of these disgraces, father."
…
Percy glided along the uninhabited road that led to the homes of the men who had tainted his mother's burial grounds; he unsheathed the obsidian phalanx blade that hung from the sheath at his side. The sword escaped its frame with a hiss, the dark metal barely visible in the night air.
The smooth leather hilt was all but visible in the tight grasp of Percy's hands, almost urging him to lop the offenders' heads off. "I'm going to enjoy this," he hissed.
"I think you're not." A deep voice spoke from behind him. Percy cursed himself for letting his guard down and slipped a knife into his hands from inside his cloak.
"Put the sword down." A different voice commanded.
'Interesting,' Percy thought, 'they are aware of things beyond the veil of the mist.' Percy let the sword slip from his grasp, clattering to the ground, and slid the other knife into the sleeve of his cloak.
Percy spun slowly and spoke, "There, happy?"
"Whad'ya doing in our neighborhood?" A third voice asked.
There were three men, all relatively around 5'9", one wielded a pistol, though he held it loosely, another brandished a baseball bat, tightly gripped, and another held a cleaver knife in a hammer grip. Easy enough, Percy reflected, though the baseball bat poses the biggest threat.
As Percy thought, when the gunman shot, his loose grip affected his accuracy, the bullet shot wide left of its target.
Percy grabbed his wrist and pulled, bringing the man closer to him and his fist blasted the culprit in the nose, a satisfying crack echoing as the man fell to the ground, blood streaming out of his nostrils. Percy heard a crack as the man fell and more blood rushed out of the split in his skull.
Percy frowned as he realized there was some intelligence in this rabble and chose a different tactic. Counterattacking wouldn't do if they wouldn't attack. He lunged, jabbing the man wielding the baseball bat in the ribs then sweeping his legs out from under him. He leapt backwards as the other guy tried to slash at his arm and scowled, noticing his miscalculation about the skill of the man with the cleaver.
He drew his bow and quickly fired an arrow through cleaver's wrist. The kitchen knife dropped from the man's unresponsive hand and his eyes widened, realizing he was defenseless against an adversary that was completely out of his league.
Percy drew a lone arrow out of his quiver, not bothering to nock it in his bow, and whispered, "This is for Mom." He strode forward, raised his arrow in a threatening motion and stared into cleaver's terror-struck eyes.
"Wh-who are you?" The terrified man asked.
"My name is Percy. Welcome to Hell." The demigod spoke, plunging the bolt into his heart.
He turned to the now-standing final man with an inhumane hatred in his eyes as the man spoke, "So you are the one Master told us about."
His body started shifting, growing, and transforming until he stood twenty-fold Percy, a drakon. "Oooh, interesting." Percy drawled.
The drakon roared as Percy retrieved his sword, aching to kill the monstrous beast.
Percy flicked his wrist and the shadows solidified around him, creating his sinister full body armor. He summoned his helm, placing it on his head and spoke, "Ελάτε να με πάρει, τότε."
The monster bellowed and charged, angered by the boy's taunt. Percy braced himself, waiting like a cobra, anticipating how to strike. As the drakon neared him, Percy sunk into the shadows and appeared on the beast's head; sword raised in a striking position, then slammed the obsidian blade through his eye.
Percy head drooped a bit, the excessive shadow traveling biting back, and used his last bit of strength to go back to Hades.
This is just a new idea that I wanted to play with. Guardian of the Hunt will still be my main project, but this is just a side project.
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