A/N: Wow. That was fast. Not even two days. So, here's the next chapter.
Which is dedicated to Writer-at-Heart0 . I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, to the six Guests who reviewed. This is for you too :) since I don't actually know your names.
Friendly reminder that I am NOT Rick Riordan and so do not own really any of the characters and I barely own the plot, because this story started out as Singing Fire's. ;) Also, 10 more reviews, and you get another chapter. I DID get a bit of writing done on my vacation.
Apollo POV
Apollo hadn't been sure when Tartarus would enact his revenge, he had only known that he would, and that he would use Percy and Annabeth to do it. The aura around the two demigods was enough to tell him that they had spent more than their fair share of time in the Primordial's domain.
Later, he would learn that it had happened just as the last Titan fell, skewered on the Roman girl Reyna's sword and the daughter of Ares, Clarisse was her name, her spear had gone right through his right eye. But in the moment, he didn't have time to think about it. One second the son of his uncle Poseidon lay unresponsive on the hard floor, and the next he was screaming and straining. He was only vaguely aware of his own son, Will, holding down Annabeth Chase to his right. "We need help holding them still!" he called. As more teenagers came to help to hold Percy Jackson still, Apollo sent a bit of his consciousness into the convulsing boy.
There was definitely something wrong, and Apollo categorized the injuries he found. Internal bleeding, but no broken bones. Slight malnourishment, probably due to being in Tartarus' kingdom. The boy's heart was laboring, stuttering as the oxidized blood left the vessels, creating vivid bruises on the tanned skin, which was looking paler by the minute. The brain was what Apollo was after however, and he turned his concentration to that even as he snapped orders to the healers around him to help with the internal bleeding.
The boy's brain was bleeding. That was bad, and why Apollo hadn't used any of his healing magic on the other bleedings. Brains were tricky, healing them physically was one thing, but the brain contains the mind. In order to make sure that his mind was unharmed, he would have to immerse himself into Percy's very soul, where Tartarus' influence was strongest.
The boy seemed to be fighting something other than Tartarus. He was submerged in the veil between worlds, something dark, Tartarus, trying to pull him through to death. But there was something . . . above Percy. No, not something. Someone. He was fighting to stop Annabeth from sinking further into the veil, fighting to save her even as Tartarus dragged him ever closer to the oblivion of his kingdom. For a moment, Apollo found that he could feel his cousin's emotions raging. Fear, determination, pain as blood vessels ruptured and his nerve endings sent pain signals throughout his body, and most worryingly, acceptance. As Apollo attempted to guide Percy back to his body though, his subconscious struggled, latching onto Annabeth's signature, refusing to leave without her. Stubborn boy. He would have to heal Annabeth first, though she was in less danger, she had not fallen as far into the veil as Percy had.
With a gasp of slight shock, Apollo pulled himself back to reality, spinning over to Annabeth. He didn't hear Will's shocked question, nor did he notice Athena and Poseidon running into the healing area. Annabeth's body carried much the same amount of physical damage, and Apollo had Will bandage and bind some of the most affected areas. Then he delved past her brain and into her mind. She was afraid too, but more afraid for Percy than for herself. She was hurt, and tired, and confused. It was a relatively simple thing to coax her out of the veil. Or, it would have been, had that evil presence outside of the veil not latched on to her at the last moment. Barely aware of Percy Jackson's presence as he was, Apollo was surprised to suddenly be aware of something very bright between the girl and the malicious power, some kind of . . . being. Instead of wondering over the apparition, which was probably Jackson, Apollo pulled the girl from the veil. Annabeth had screamed before, when all of this had started, and she screamed again as she was ripped from Tartarus' sharp claws. Wounds opened on the surface then, as if the primordial's hold had been materialistic, physical. Leaving Will to take care of those, Apollo focused again on Percy Jackson.
That stupid, stubborn, self-sacrificing boy. He had pushed Annabeth away from Tartarus, and the logical, level-headed girl hadn't been in any position to stop him. Apollo would have to fight against Tartarus in order to keep him from pulling his cousin through the veil and into the realm of the dead. It was really the least he could do after all the times the boy had saved Olympus. He was balancing. The boy was on the knife's edge between the veil and death. The veil was between life and death, but it was a knife's edge between the veil and life the same as between the veil and death. Percy Jackson was teetering on the edge between the veil and death.
Apollo latched onto the boy just as Tartarus tugged, and managed to keep the boy balanced on the edge. Really, at this point, it all depended on Percy. If the boy's injuries were too bad, he might falter and fall to death. Otherwise . . . hopefully he would fall away from Tartarus and Apollo could pull him into the land of the living. He felt the boy jerk, his body in the material world convulsing as Tartarus seemed to once again sink razor-sharp claws into the boy, attempting to pull him over the edge. Oh no you don't, Apollo thought angrily, and he pushed at the being that was Tartarus. All at once, Apollo felt the oddest feeling.
Hello, little god. The voice came out of nowhere, and yet, everywhere. Tartarus. It had to be, as it could be no one else. Or, rather, no thing. Menacing laughter bounced around Apollo's skull. Yes, little music-god, it is I. What hope do you have to beat me? And really, what hope did he have? This was a primordial, and he was just the god of music.
"And healing. You are god of healing as well, brother."
It took Apollo a few precious moments to realize that the voice came from the real world, not from inside his head. Athena? Or Artemis? His head was too foggy to tell.
Something slipped, and Apollo was suddenly reminded as to where he was and why he was there. He was in Percy Jackson's mind, or something close to it, in order to keep the hero from off and dying after his friends had all won. He thought. You may have won this war, but you will lose this last battle. Tartarus' voice thrummed through him again, pulling at his wavering resolve. Then, knife-sharp pain set him to gasping, and for a moment he was aware of both the material world and the veil. In the material world, he was surrounded by other bodies. His son Will, the girl Annabeth, trembling from exhaustion (she should really be asleep, recovering), a few other demi gods, then Hecate, Poseidon, Athena, and Artemis. In the veil however, there was Percy, himself, and, just beyond the knife's edge that his cousin teetered on, Tartarus, a being of infinite and terrifying power.
It was Tartarus' claws now buried into his right shoulder, sending fiery pain skittering down his spine. And it was Will cursing at his side and calling for bandages as the ichor flowed down his back and Jackson screamed as ruby-red blood welled in his own wounds. With a quick explosion of effort, Apollo fully immersed himself into the veil once more. Only . . . now he wasn't alone. This was very surprising, because the veil was in Percy's mind, and Hades' daughter Hazel's power shouldn't actually allow her to enter anyone's mind.
"Percy, focus on my voice," she was saying, reaching out her immaterial hand toward her cousin. There was something white swirling around the girl, something . . . magical. Mist. Of course. She was Hecate's new apprentice, wasn't she? Percy fought with renewed vigor against Tartarus, but the struggle caused him to stumble along the edge, Tartarus attempting to wrestle the boy over the line and into his domain of death. "Percy, take my hand!" the girl called as Apollo tightened his mental hold on the boy's spirit, holding him as firm as he could.
"It hurts." Those two words were the first that Percy had spoken the whole time this had been going on, and Apollo had to wince at the raw pain in the voice.
"I know," Hazel said, hand still outstretched toward him. "I know it hurts, but if you come back, maybe it won't hurt so much. We can fix you up, and you'll be better in no time. Annabeth's really worried about you." The last bit sounded a little awkward, placed where it was, but it certainly got Percy's attention. Then a shadow darkened his face, and he seemed to be listening to something. His eyes closed, screwed shut tightly.
Apollo had a good idea who the voice belonged to. "Don't listen to him!" he sent into his cousin's mind. Or did he say it aloud? Whatever. As long as his message got across. "He's trying to tear you apart Percy. He's tearing at your mind and your very soul. Don't listen to him, he has no power over you!"
He felt Percy's surprise as it rippled through the void, and felt something latch onto him. Percy. Had the boy not previously known he was there? Percy reached out for Hazel's hand, and together, Hazel and Apollo pulled the boy back to life's side of the veil, quickly, so as to avoid Tartarus getting his claws into any of them. Quite literally. Then, it was only the darkness behind Apollo's lids.
A/N: I hope you liked it! Remember your friend the number ten! (Which wasn't originally supposed to rhyme, but I kinda almost like it.)
