A readable version of Kalends of Kingdoms. I wouldn't call it good, but it was getting somewhere. Still lots of problematic concepts and bad characterizations and interactions, but passable.
My story. Not my sandbox.
"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."
William Shakespeare
Percy had to get out of here. He couldn't take another second on this deathtrap, even if he'd heard that it was now safe to travel like this.
Fuck planes and everything they represented. Fuck easier travel and the ability to travel the globe. Fuck it being the best way to get away from somewhere, and get away fast.
The next half hour was a blur, pushing his way out of the plane and through the airport complex as quickly as possible.
Percy really didn't think this through - from, from, from New Orleans, to wherever he'd washed up with monsters, to the plane. It had been from out of the frying pan, into the fire, then the belly of the beast, because beasts don't give a shit about burnt food.
He must look like shit - thank the gods for the Mist at least, even if he hated everything else. That way no one tried to evict him from the plane for how ragged he looked (clothes and body), even if he got no rest at all on the ride. How long since he slept? Not to mention eating, too - nutrients be damned, he needed some substance.
Now he just had to get his bearings straight - fuck, he wants to break down, but he has to survive, and there's no time. Pickpocketing more clothing from there, snatching a few candy bars and chips from there, and ducking out as fast as possible. The Mist could only deal with so much for covering his tracks, and Percy had no idea how much he could get away with before someone noticed. Mortals had certain expectations, and he'd got away with surreptitious little things before, but he really didn't want to test airport security too much.
He ducked into a restroom stall to jam everything into his broken bag and scarf down the snacks. Then he was out, hurrying towards the exit.
Tired and rushed as he was, he never noticed his attacker's approach.
Sometimes you have to wonder if the Underworld is really that bad.
Because there is really no way that hell is as cruel and evil as life.
Because your father could walk away from your pregnant mother, forcing her to remarry and suffer abuse in order to be able to raise you. That is, until she had to tell you to run away and never look back. Though you would. And then you would live the rest of your life wishing that you hadn't. Or maybe not. Who knew? You couldn't tell.
Because you could find other people like you, and survive, live with them for years. And then you could celebrate your twelfth birthday, but then watch as your adopted family be murdered - no, be erased over the course of a single night. The family who'd raised and loved you ever since you ran away from home, who you'd learned everything from, who was everyone you still even knew.
Because you could find out that it's not only monsters trying to eat you alive, but other kids around your age trying to kill or enslave you. And that you could be forced to open up someone's guts to save yourself, someone who looked just barely older than you, but also so surprised and scared and desperate as she tried hold in her organs.
Because you could somehow pull yourself together after all that, voice still cracking from just reaching puberty, and still be somewhat sane and getting through life, and get sucker-punched all over again.
Because you could find new friends, and make a new place home, but lose it all over again.
Because your demons never stop chasing you.
Because fate will find you, no matter what.
It was just past sunset, and two of his scouts had dragged in … this.
"What is your name, dear boy?" Chiron smiled lightly, eyes twinkling, doing his very best to not betray any of his true thoughts. Gods, it'd been a more exhausting week than usual already. Still, he couldn't keep himself from power-playing, even if it just meant patronizing someone three thousand years younger. There were only so many ways he could amuse himself, though the fact that the child wasn't even paying attention only irritated him further. Yes, he'd been knocked out and was now just waking up, but demigods had to wake up faster than that. Sharply, and again, then. "Boy!"
The garbage before him flinched. Good. "Your name?"
"Uh … Arthur." The boy answered.
Chiron analyzed the runt. The child was so filthy that his hair was a nasty grit brown, and any clothing that the boy wore was wearing away into dust. The only article of clothing that didn't look like it needed to be tossed into the dumpster was the shoes. Actually … that could mean the boy had a reasonable chunk of intelligence. If one was going to travel, shoes were priority. Clothes mattered less, with nights still warm as they were at this time of year.
The boy had a metal rod strapped to a leg, which was an ideal enough weapon if without access to divine metal. The demigod was also clutching a scruffy backpack with only one strap remaining, but the bag was otherwise undamaged and therefore completely functional.
Definitely a smart boy. And he'd paused before answering … was he lying about his name?
"Surname?" Chiron continued. The evening light shone majestically upon him as he stood, a glossy coat only emphasizing the clean, formal clothing that he wore upon his upper body.
"Green." There was yet another distinct pause before the boy answered. He was definitely lying, then. Perhaps Chiron shouldn't have antagonized him by calling him 'dear'? The centaur could admit the affectionate term was not appropriate for how mature most demigods were.
"Truly?" He pressed insistently. Perhaps the boy could be intimidated.
"How would I not be sure of my own name, Chiron? It would be like not knowing yours, the most famous centaur of all." Ah. Perhaps not then. Well, it was always nice to hear about the legacy he left in this god forsaken land.
Puffing up slightly, reassured with the knowledge of his continued fame, the centaur spoke. "Well learned, half blood. But from where did you learn your history? I know that my own self is someone of prominence, but how much do you know?" Nowadays, the mortals had compiled many a myth into libraries and computers. Was this boy resourceful enough to access such knowledge?
The boy only sighed softly. "My mother was an excellent teacher."
An intelligent woman then, aware of the trials of to come and not so stupid as to try and shelter the boy from his fate. And by process of elimination, his godly parent was likely male. Only likely, because … Chiron shuddered, remembrances of perverse transformations flooding his mind. Ignoring that … "Then your father was?"
The boy just might know his father, since his mother apparently knew of the Greek Pantheon. But was his father an Olympian?
Chiron could only mourn the lost opportunities granted by the satyrs once under his disposal. It was so much simpler before to identify demigods and recruit demigods. Now he had to resort to questioning a street rat.
The child paused, as if remembering something. "My mother told me never to speak names of power."
Affronted, the centaur reared, hooves flashing perilously close to the boy's face. "The gods have abandoned all of us, dear child. All of them be damned, they care not for minor mortal misdeeds anymore. Now then, who is your father?"
The boy shied away, frightened by the imposing physical outburst. Ah, damn. The boy probably wouldn't be of any use anyways, Chiron rationalized. This … 'Arthur Green' would not improve his community. He was probably bluffing about knowing his godly parent too, no doubt the child refused to answer because he didn't wish to admit he didn't know.
That settled, the centaur made his decision and segued into a different topic entirely. One that would rid himself of the child.
The child is obviously of no importance, Chiron thought, If his parent is unknown to him. I have no use for someone without the strength of an Olympian.
Nonetheless, the age old centaur was not cruel. Hardened by recent times, but not cruel. He would aid the child, as he had many others. In the case he was mistaken, and the boy was actually powerful, he would be able to call in debts. "Come with, boy."
He trotted off into the plaza in which his Greeks had gathered, preparing for the night. Chiron watched the boy carefully as he trailed behind him. The child was definitely strong willed, and moved carefully, coiled and tense. The boy likely had to fight on his own for a few years until now, young as he was. Not to mention that his eyes were keen, an expressive green that never stopped moving in their effort to take in all the details of their surroundings.
Hmph. Maybe it would be worth attaching a few more strings to the child before sending him off. "So, my dear boy, what do you know of the Prophecy?"
Startled out of a stupor, the child he had been observing so minutely replied with the utmost degree of intelligence. "Huh?"
Chiron sighed. "Walk with me, dear boy, not behind me, if you cannot hear my words. First, I am bringing you to somewhere to clean yourself and get some supplies. As it is, Arthur, I am rather unfortunately unable to accommodate you here with me. You, of course, understand why?"
The gritty child shrugged, obviously more eager to get cleaned up than to argue. Was it too obvious by how Chiron hadn't even acknowledged his nod before continuing that the centaur did not wish him to be here much longer? Maybe the boy had even realized it was futile to fight, whether the reason for dismissal was legitimate or not. Chiron began his lecture.
"Anyway - we should finish up before we reach the showers - I feel as if I should tell you some important information that may help you survive. I am sure you would like to hear? I'm sure you've heard the stories of how there were once safe havens for demigods, dear boy? Yes, all demigods have. The stories of Camp Half Blood and Camp Jupiter - and how they were disbanded half a century ago due to the camps were disbanded because of our part in World War II."
The boy nodded in assertment. A sardonic smile twisted its way upon Chiron's face as he continued. "However, that is not the case - or not the only case."
"You see, shortly before the battles ceased, and the war ended, the last known prophecy was given by the Oracle of Delphi before the spirit disappeared. The gods cross referenced our full foretelling with fragments of the Sibylline Texts from the Romans - and they were quite displeased. There are even rumors that this prophecy led to the destruction or hiding of the spirit of the Oracle."
They arrived at a gym, the large letters YMCA glowing brightly in the darkening sky. His followers, as usual, had outdone themselves, manipulating the Mist to take over the entire compound for the night.
The centaur intoned haughtily:
By divine will the gods shall fall
Forgotten creatures from hell crawl
Monsters' last fight, halfbloods' last stand
Olympus turn to blood and sand.
The boy straightened, taking in those cursed words.
"I do not give this information to you lightly, child. The power of prophecies cannot be fought - perhaps the Olympians thought disbanding the camps would buy time. Who am I to understand?" mused Chiron. "Be vigilant, child, and prepare. I hope you do well with this information, boy not named Arthur."
The demigod swallowed thickly, realizing his ploy to hide his real name failed.
"I care not for your real name, child. But know that when the time comes, you owe me a favor. Now, off with you. I expect you to be gone by tomorrow."
You can't escape the darkness.
Percy sighed, refreshed from his cleansing. That flight had been horrible - he would rather be surrounded with water over air any day of the week. Diving into the pool had been tempting - even if it brought back bad memories.
But if he'd learned anything during his life, it was that his parentage was dangerous. It was bad enough that he had screwed around with the water in the shower a bit. Mister buff boy with the rainbow tattoo had tried to clock him with a locker door when Percy had entered though. No one would be able to figure out that it was him that made the guy's warm shower run cold.
"Hey! Stop daydreaming, reject." Some other boy tapped his foot impatiently. "Pay attention. Do you want the damn handouts or not?"
"Uhm - yes. Mark, was it?" answered/asked Percy. Really, couldn't he have a few moments to soak in the glorious feeling of being clean? He was barely out of the showers with only a towel around his waist, and he'd already been accosted.
"Malcolm. Grab your bag before I leave you behind. I got my own stuff to do, so hurry the fuck up."
Well, he shouldn't abuse the hospitality. With his luck, the hospitality would start abusing him. Percy snatched up the working strap of his backpack and jogged to catch up with the boy already power-walking away. A few sharp turns around three corners, up a short flight of stairs, and barges through a few doors later, his guide of sorts snatched up a pack laying on a desk.
"Don't know why Chiron has to be so generous with giving out supplies," grumbled the dark-skinned girl attending the table. "I'm pretty sure most of the kids we send out by themselves die within a few days anyway."
Malcolm nodded in agreement before turning to Percy again, and Percy took the moment to finally take better notice of the boy before him.
Blonde. Grey eyes. Average size, but wiry muscles. Hm … Percy had met someone similar before … Son of Athena, probably.
Realizing the boy was speaking, Percy scrambled to catch the last few words. "... change in the restroom over there."
Well, at least he could finally get his stuff arranged. Muttering half-hearted thanks as he snatched the offered bag, the Son of Poseidon ambled into the specified room.
Opening his original bag, Percy pulled out the fresh change of clothes that he'd … recently acquired. Perhaps wearing full "I3LA" merchandise wasn't the most fashionable, but beggars (robbers) couldn't be choosers. Drawing a penknife from his pocket, he nimbly twisted and cut away all the price tags before slipping the clothing on.
Straightening up, Percy regarded himself in the mirror. Damn, he hadn't been this clean in weeks. Even his hair was clean now - but too long. With a few deft strokes, it was bye-bye to those locks of hair. The cuttings drifted down onto the floor, soon joined by a dozen more. It wasn't a particularly good job, but it was good enough.
Making one last pass, Percy nearly cut off too much as someone knocked on the door. "Hurry up!"
Moving quickly, Percy stashed the knife and yanked open his broken backpack to stuff everything into his new bag. From what he could tell, there was a bit of cash and food and clothing. He didn't get much of a proper look before it was covered by the things he'd already had (a pack of gummy bears, a notebook, a smattering of pens, Oreo the Panda, an extra pair of socks, mints, and a water bottle).
Even more rapping, even more aggressive.
"Coming out!" Percy yelled. Shoving in the metal bar he used to protect himself into the side, he zipped up the pack and came out.
"A haircut? Someone had too much time on their hands," mocked Malcolm.
Percy almost glared at the Greek, but his attention was quickly diverted by the large and intimidating Asian boy standing by the door.
"Ah. That's Sherman. I'm leaving you to him now, so I can wash my hands of you. Have fun!" Malcolm quipped, ducking into the next room.
Before Percy could say a word, his breath was knocked out of him as Sherman punched him in the gut and pulled him up over his shoulder. A few steps across the room, Percy recovered just in time to see the girl at the table smirk at him. "Bye, loser."
And then he was unceremoniously tossed out the window.
You can only pretend there's light.
"Watch it, kid."
Rattled by his fall as he was, Percy had hightailed away from the Greeks. Thankfully, no one had bothered to even watch him land. If they had, they would've seen the bottle in his bag burst, and the water within spread out to cushion his fall in a blatant defiance of the laws of physics.
"Sorry," Percy muttered, moving around the guy he'd bumped into. He'd rushed away, running a few blocks out before ducking into an alley, pausing to catch his breath and assessing the situation. From there, it had seemed most logical to head toward the general hubbub of the city.
"Hey … kid, wait." Of course, he'd immediately bumped into some guy as soon as he'd walked out.
Surprised, Percy turned - and looked up, as the man was quite tall, meeting the person's eyes. Hm. Cool. One green, one blue. Then his gaze drifted to behind the man - what was that whooshing sound?
Drawing his mock baton in a flash, the Son of Poseidon deflected a sickly purple spike sent at his chest. Dashing back into the alleyway, the boy pulled down trash cans and other debris to block the path behind him as he ran away.
What the hell was that monster? Last he knew (which was a reasonable bit), no Greek or Roman monster that could launch thorns - a sizzling noise distracted Percy. The demigod looked down at the source, to find his only weapon beginning to disintegrate in his hands.
Wonderful.
Last he knew, no Greek or Roman monster that could launch venomous thorns were able to pass themselves off as human. Ducking behind a dumpster to avoid three more projectiles that hissed viciously as they sliced through the air, Percy vaulted over a low cinderblock wall before running off in a perpendicular direction to look for higher ground.
Hearing snarling behind him, the demigod chanced a glance backwards.
Whatever creature it was, it went flying over the wall, trenchcoat flapping about as it prepared to land on four limbs rather than two. A ginormous tail was curled up, spikes literally dripping onto the street as the thing landed. Claws screeched and sparked as it searched for purchase along the ground, before finding enough grip to launch into a fierce sprint.
Fuck, it was fast. Percy would prefer big, strong, but slow every time. Speed was so hard to deal with.
Despite the stinger launcher tail, the creature was moving in a very feline fashion, not to mention the fanged human face that still snarled at him.
Tossing the half melted remains of his weapon at the creature's face, Percy heard a satisfying conk as he again turned another corner and dashing across the street.
Ducking behind a car, Percy crouched down as his mind raced. The monster had only been distracted for a few seconds, and had apparently decided to take the chase a bit more slowly, as it was now audibly sniffing the air. Great. It could track him too. Should've been an obvious conclusion because it was feline, but still - fuck. No way to outrun it or hide from it, unless Percy could somehow double back and hide with the Greeks like a wimp. No, his only acceptable option was to find a place to stand his ground. With no weapons left. Fun.
But the surroundings…? Peeking around the car to find the right moment, Percy ducked over to the next car for cover, moving as quietly as he could towards where he sensed was the strongest source of water. Eyes flitted around, before his gaze landed on a sign. Children's park. Judging by the gurgling noise of a fountain he could now hear, he was saved.
Or, at least, he could save himself. The click-clacking of claws was getting closer.
Screw it. Hail-mary. Even if he wasn't Christian or Catholic or whatever.
Percy took a mad dash towards the source of water, and the monster roared behind him. Dodging behind a few trees, a few more spikes missed him by inches, thudding into the grass or trees. However, as soon as he'd left the protection of the tree, a projectile sliced into his arm.
He took it like a man. And in such a case, any man feeling a barbed projectile rip out flesh from his upper bicep would scream like a baby. Not to mention the fact that Percy could already feel the venom burning its way through his bloodstream.
Fortunately though, he'd made it to the water source. It was a few dozen spouts, arranged in rings, the type with only a few operating at a time to shoot out water for toddlers and babies to play.
It would do.
Collapsing in the center, Percy unassumingly absorbed some runoff to begin siphoning out the venom from his arm. The venom was being purged, ever so slowly - if he moved too quickly at this stage, his heart would pump the chemicals further into his body, and Percy did not want to know what the effects would be. Reaching out with his mind, Percy searched for the water beneath him.
The monster's arrogance saved him. Confident in its venom, the creature had taken its sweet time approaching, stalking over like it was royalty.
"Ahh …" it purred, "Don't you smell so tasty? Such a virile scent - I haven't eaten a demigod this powerful in decades!"
Now that it was closer, Percy could see it more clearly, even as he lay on the ground. The different colored eyes shone in the dim light. Now that it wasn't moving, it was easy to see the large feline body (Percy had guessed correctly, then), and the tail was even more intimidating close up.
"What … are you?" He groaned, hoping to buy a little more time to focus. The water was building up within the earth, pressure rising slowly but pressing forcefully against his efforts. He'd stopped healing his arm to focus on combat, and the returning pain of the venom wasn't helping.
"Of course you demigods don't know what I am!" languished the cat-thing. "I am a manticore! Your gods forced me into exile, that was how dangerous I was in ancient times! I had to eat Persian peasant farmers for centuries - do you know how stringy they are? How nasty their marrow tastes?"
"Yes, totally," grunted Percy, trying to distract the monster as he cranked up the volume of water behind him further. Thank god it was as proud as all cats seemed to be.
"Know, demigod, that you were eaten by the one and only Thorn! Now that my venom has tenderized you … hm, what is my delicacy today?" crowed the monster.
It slinked forward, and Percy struggled not to make any sudden movements as its teeth neared his neck, before drifting to a spout next to his head and sniffing it. "A water source too! Off for the night - a pity … but enough here to suffice." A cat's tongue poked out, lapping at the liquid.
Focusing again, Thorn sniffed his meal carefully. The manticore stretched back, indulging itself in Percy's scent. "So what seasoning? … Ah … the wonderful aroma of … of the sea breeze."
A green and a blue eye dilated, and Thorn's head snapped back down, jaw flashing forth in hopes to quickly snap Percy's neck.
But it was too late. Jets of water launched out of the holes in the earth faster than a speeding bullet, hitting the manticore in the dozens. While some were blunted to push away the beast, others were (ironically) spiky, penetrating straight through the manticore's body. Its yowls went unheard under the sheer roar of over a thousand gallons of water.
Abruptly, the flow ceased, and Percy rolled out of the way as a tattered trench coat and wet clumpy monster dust fell to the earth.
He hadn't aimed particularly well - the manticore would've died faster if he'd hit more vital organs first. But with his injuries, he was happy with the results.
The children's play fountain fully ceased. The demigod remained lying down, content to draw out the poison in peace - before - before he drifted off into sl…
"IS ANYONE HERE?! HELLO!? PLEASE, THERE HAS TO BE SOMEBODY!"
The waves were lapping at his face peacefully. Percy was at best half-conscious; was that the weight of a body on his back, or his conscience?
Ahead of him, all Percy could see was blood. Blood in the water, blood on the wall, blood in the clothing, blood leaking from the corpse in front of him, the corpse he'd - he'd killed? No, he didn't kill the corpse, he'd killed the girl that was now the corpse, and now the blood was everywhere, and …
"PLEASE, JUST SOMEONE, STILL, PLEASE!"
Percy fought the urge to throw up - again, it seemed, because his mouth and throat stung with bile, and vomit was in the water too. Forcing himself up, pushing away a - was that wet hair, another head?
He closed his eyes, refusing to see what he was touching, and moved away the weight that kept him pinned down. No, he couldn't look, he didn't want to confirm that that person was who he remembered it was, he just wanted to leave. He stood up, legs sloshing in the water as he pushed to where he remembered the closest wall was, and felt his way to where the exit of the room was.
Why was there water? Why was that girl still screaming? Why did his head hurt so much?
"GODS BE FUCKING DAMNED, IS SOMEONE, ANYONE, STILL THERE?!"
Percy opened his eyes to find himself in the eye of a hurricane. Dozens of miles away in every direction, a ring of towering thunderstorms announced their anger, deafening the fragile boy.
What … happened …?
"PLEASE!"
Percy bolted upright, hands scrabbling to his waist for his weapon. But there was nothing there, and his eyes burst open. After another second of panic, he took in the playful patterns of water bubbling around him - no threats. Nothing - nothing to be afraid of …
Godsdamnit. Exhausted, Percy lay back down, trying to appreciate gentle streams of water. He was so tired he couldn't even stay dry, but that was ok. This was different from before, he's gone, he's safe, no one's he-
"You alright?"
Fuck. Percy snapped back up and whirled around, prepared to fight or flee from-
"I'm starting to think you're not alright."
The girl that approached him was quite odd. Ginger hair, shoulder length - that was automatically a disadvantage in almost every camoflauge situation. Frankly, she had a pretty, if somewhat forgettable face, brown eyes not being particularly striking and no particularly sharp features. She wore normal everyday street clothing too, further enhancing her mundanity (excluding the obtrusiveness of her hair), and she only carried a satchel that flapped loosely at her hip. She was just a bit shorter, so maybe about his age.
If there was anything distinct about her, it was that she was being completely colloquial. What kinda person approached a person sleeping in the middle of a water playground, at (Percy glanced up to judge the position of the sun) almost noon?
"Calm down, calm down. Tryin' to be friendly, you ass. M'name's Aly. Yours?" The girl bubbled brightly, in contrast to her coarse introduction. Her head bounced to a rhythm only she could hear, sending her somewhat stringy maroon hair flouncing about.
Honestly, he already knew the answer to his question. A monster would, or a demigod would. And he wasn't getting any monster vibes. What he was picking up, though, was crazy vibes, because she was sauntering uncomfortably close to Percy. It was all he could do not to back away as she approached. If he had to fight her off, the fountain was his only option.
"Weird name," he countered snarkily, observing the girl and maintaining distance.
"Well aren't you mean!" She pouted, folding her arms and stopping her advance. After half a second passe, she shrugged elaborately. "Eh, fair enough. It is unusual. Still better than the name my mom gave me though, that one was even more bloody weird, how about we just run with this one?"
There was only so many ways to respond to a semi-raving girl that was cursing with a smile. Maybe she wasn't visibly armed (though that really didn't mean anything), but there was something disarming in her stare. And given that she was implying that she was using a made up name for herself, Percy wasn't inclined to give her any points for credibility. "Um … sure?"
"Bloody fricken well damn sure," the girl sighed, before suddenly backing out of the fountain to drop down and splay back on the grass. Percy blinked in surprise. Did anything about this girl make sense? It was as if she cared for nothing in the world, pulling out a piece of gum from a loose her satchel and popping it into her mouth, not even regarding him properly anymore.
Alright. One thing at a time, trying to deal with the unknown flamboyant girl. Percy relaxed his stance slightly, but remained where he was a few feet away. Something easy first, something non-intrusive. "Any reason for all the cursing?"
"Any reason you haven't told me your name yet, pussy?" The immediate insult might've got a rise out of him, if the retort hadn't been dialed back by the lightness of her tone. "Whatever. Am I right in assuming you got kicked out from the Greek idiots yesterday?"
Percy blinked again, taken aback. That was absolute confirmation that 'Aly' knew of the mythological world, but to slander one of the major powers so off hand? Sure, most people's opinions of them or any of the bigger groups weren't positive to say the least. Outrightly insulting one of the strongest demigod groups so close to their territory was still stupid though.
"Aren't you friendly? Whatever, idiot. You can hold off on your trash name, twat. You don't seem good enough to be worth allying with anyways." The girl rolled over and pushed herself up, ready to stride away in no time at all.
"And you're any better, on your own and all?" Percy retorted calmly. If she was going to be cursing at him so much, he was sure as hell going to fight back.
"Oh, now we're talking, hm? I guess you aren't completely helpless, then. I'm glad to see you have some wit." Aly turned back around and smirked victoriously. She stepped in closer, tongue remaining razor sharp as she mouthed off. "FYI, then, just because you're being such a dear now. I've been around for a few weeks, on the edge of those Graecae fricks since they tossed me out. Isn't that just abso-fucking-lutely wonderful?"
Percy seized her hand before she could come any closer. What was wrong with this girl, why was she trying to grab his cheeks? "So why should I care? What good are you anyways, hanging around the Greeks like some parasite?"
"Well, asshole, they tossed me out for being Roman! That's more than I can say for you, though, you're certainly a Greek with how idiotically you're acting. If you were Roman, you wouldn't be the total wuss you are. And if you got kicked from the Greeks despite being Greek, you're a fucking weakling, aren't you?"
"Says the lunatic without a weapon and in a disadvantageous position," answered Percy, squeezing the girl's wrist even tighter.
A vicious smile alighted upon Aly's lips. "Oh, you asked for it."
Her other fist entered his gut before he could deflect the not completely unexpected blow. Winded, Aly wrenched her hand from his grip and dove into her bag, pulling out a shank.
"Retard," she quipped, diving in to stab him.
And then her eyes widened, letting out a yell as a jet of water blasted her in the chest, forcing her back and tumbling across the ground. Disoriented, the girl scrambled to get back onto her feet. However, Percy sent another wave of water that flattened her once more, leaving her face up and completely blinded by the sun. Already, she was fighting to get back up. Percy dashed forward and dropped, the weight of his knees landing on an arm and her stomach, pinning her to the ground. She readied another punch - but froze as she felt the edge of her own makeshift weapon tickled her throat.
"Don't-" Percy swallowed thickly, voice containing only the slightest waver. Leaning over her, right here, blade ready to spill blood … it was too intimate. "Don't make me kill you."
For a long moment, they both remained still, panting from the short skirmish. Then, Percy jerked back in surprise (almost letting her free, but he didn't make that mistake) as she let out a peal of laughter; and he honestly couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or serious or hysterical.
After five seconds too long, she gasped for breath, nicking the flesh of her neck. "Oh, gods! I knew there was something different about you!" She laughed again, and Percy withdrew the blade from her neck a few millimeters. "How in the bloody fuck did Chiron let a Son of Poseidon slip through his fingers? Holy shit balls, ha!"
While Aly was distracted, laughing away, Percy swiftly straightened up (still pinning her down). Grabbing the edge of his shirt - damn it, one day in and he was already ruining his new clothes - he dragged the shank through, creating a strip of cloth. Tossing away the knife, he got off her body and flipped her over, yanking her hands behind her and tying them together. The material was pretty weak, but it at least keep her from trying anything smart, or delay her somewhat if she tried to run.
It didn't help with her laughing through the entire process. She giggled as he tightened the bonds. She laughed as he dragged her back to the fountain, which he left her at the edge of. And she still wouldn't stop chuckling, even as he glared into her mirthful and deranged eyes.
Fuck, what was he supposed to do? Start with what he could do - he could check out his supplies first, get everything else done before he dealt with the wackjob that assaulted him. Drying himself with a thought, he marched over to where he'd left his bag and grabbed it, bringing it with him to a bench right by his prisoner.
Percy adjusted the straps of his bag methodically, then dove in. Underneath his empty bottle of water and the few articles of clothing he'd stolen from the airport was … quite a lot more than he'd expected. More clothing (hopefully they would fit), blankets, energy bars, toiletries, and even fifty bucks of mortal cash.
"Pretty frickin' good haul, right?" asked Aly, finally done laughing. Though, if Percy was hearing right … was there a note of jealousy?
He took that moment there to really take in the total whirlwind of a girl he'd just met.
She'd fallen utterly silent under his gaze. Yes, she was cocky and crazy, there was still a half-realized smirk playing at the corner of her lips, even in her current situation. She was defeated, a literal death sentence, yet still her eyes were full of humor and delight. Percy had shown he was unwilling to kill her, so perhaps there was that … but it was off. Her jaw was tight, there was something rigid about the way she moved that felt sardonic and black. And - no, there was some other emotion in her eyes, something edgy, almost … desperate?
"So where do we go from here, bastard?" Aly asked, smile still fluttering across her features.
Percy scowled, zipping then shouldering his bag. "Who said anything about we?"
The redhead half squinted at him, smile vanishing altogether. "I said we. I know you're curious about me. I can tell. Right there, you got hooked." She closed her eyes and ducked her head. "I … I know I didn't make a good impression. I'm, I'm sorry about that. But - but two is better than one, isn't it? Everyone else that I've met was shit, I'm sure they all got themselves killed the moment they left. I - I don't know how much longer I can survive by myself, it's so lonely … just, please?"
The last words came out as a gasp, but Percy barely needed to hear it.
"PLEASE!"
Fuck.
Still. No, Percy couldn't act just based on half-remembered nightmares, he couldn't be stupid. Stupidity led to death. "How could I even trust you? You attacked me!"
Aly's head cocked back up, that exact, irritating, oh so smug smile already back on her face. He could see it in her eyes, the awareness that she had him already. "The Styx is always an option."
Godsdamnit. Percy had been going solo for over a month now, and it had been exhausting. He could really understand Aly's manic desperation for a partner. When every enemy was some collective group, be it a horde of monsters or a pack of demigods, having someone at your back was worth an arm and a leg. Not to mention the things being by yourself did to you … there were more horror stories than he could count.
Like, the girl was already free. She'd already gotten out of the ties and stood up, but she wasn't making a move to leave or attack him. She just stood there regarding him, grinning all the while. Aly was probably pretty skilled if she'd survived on her own so long. It obviously didn't do any wonders for her psyche, but the redhead was strong enough to take Percy out if he hadn't had the advantage to begin with.
Between robbing a girl blind and trying to make his way out through unknown territory, and allying with an at least half psycho who'd tried to kill him already … he wanted to go with the latter option. Ally probably knew the area better, and working together really had no downsides if she couldn't backstab him. Sure she could still backstab him, but the divine retribution for breaking the oath would damn her too. Maybe … maybe having someone else around would help him.
And so he made a paradoxically deliberate and rash promise to define several lifetimes.
Stepping up to her, he held out his hand and swore. "I ask Styx to accept this pact, for me and her to never betray the other, for until the end of time."
The melodic sound of a river flowed eerily into his mind, the source from whence or where it came unknown. It certainly wasn't the children's fountain.
Aly cocked her head curiously. "Making sure that there isn't a loophole because of the names like that?" Her smile softened. It was the first time Percy saw her smile without some twisted intent behind it; it was a smile of respect and relief and satisfaction.
"So I swear on the river Styx." Aly took his hand. Her brow furrowed as she returned his handshake - was she hearing that gurgling river too?
How … cute.
Aly paled, freckles on her nose becoming prominent. Percy felt like he was worse though - he'd yet to meet a god, and that had to be one.
Or rather, the goddess of the undead river of broken dreams. Who else could it be?
You two can stop pissing your pants, I'm not going to do anything, you two will be fine. As long as you don't break your pact, that is.
Both demigods shivered in the clear warm day. The sheer aura of the voice that the great river emitted was incomprehensible, it was as if an entire legion was whispering individual threats of promised retribution into their ears.
By the way, Son of Poseidon, you said it wrong. Don't ask for me, just swear. I don't want your prayers, I've had enough of them already from all those damn relatives to the dead. Next time I won't be so nice if you screw up.
Percy had heard another person swear an oath once. It was understandable he'd messed up, but he still wanted to facepalm, if he wasn't too tense to move.
I have to say, though, this is a nice little distraction. Amusing if nothing else. Here's something for entertaining me for a few minutes.
The river in their ears roared, the melody and harmony of the river lost in the sheer strength of the unmitigated storm of water of the Underworld. Percy could hear it, crashing along the polluted banks of the river: papers tearing, metals liquefying, plastic melting. The lost souls in the river were screaming, being destroyed and reforged.
Stygian Steel weapons. Don't lose them.
Stygian Steel. Percy knew of Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold - he'd had one of the former before it had been lost. He'd never heard of Stygian Steel before, but steel was an alloy. Normal, mortal steel was always superior to bronze, and unenchanted gold was a joke with how soft it was. Sure, enchantments during forging made Celestial Bronze and Imperial Gold about equal - but could Stygian Steel be stronger? Inherently a better material, and then made better with magics?
Within their handshake, two steel rods melted into existence, pushing apart their stiff handshake. Percy smothered a yelp, trying not to drop it. It felt colder than ice, was he getting frostbite? Aly hissed, shoving the rod into her satchel and rubbing her hand on her side to regain warmth.
If you keep me entertained, I'll let you two keep them.
The ominous presence left them abruptly, awkward as they were, standing in the middle of a kiddie water playground.
Percy stepped back, letting his new ally do her own thing as he inspected his "gift." Surely it wasn't just a foot long rod of steel? Sure, he'd been using something similar to defend himself for a while now, but it wasn't the most practical weapon. Useful as a supplement, yes, but what exactly did a bar of steel do against swords?
His worries were rendered mute as he held it in both hands to inspect. The rod glowed with an icy blue light, broke in half. Both halves then grew until they were thirty inches long. But while the rod on his left remained what it was - a rod, the rod in his right morphed into a sword.
The demigod held the weapons out, amazed. They were at just the right reach that he preferred to battle in, and the sword was astonishingly light and balanced. The handle was just the right size, made of some unknown white leather, and the blade shimmered with a white blue light from within that was difficult to see in the sunlight. Holding it wasn't torturous anymore - it now felt like a pleasant coolness rather than below zero.
"Holy fucking shit!" Aly exclaimed. "What did I get?"
Percy watched as Aly dug into her satchel. It was surprisingly small - somewhat smaller than a purse, even, though larger than a handbag. Yet somehow Aly pulled out a sack of coins about half the size of the satchel itself, then a plastic bag full of clothing, then a pair of shoes, then a series of canned foods, then a package of gum packets, then … Percy was going to hazard a guess and say her bag was magically much larger than it looked. Where and how did she get something so useful?
"Whoa! Fuck, I forgot how cold it was!"
She ceased, having pulled out the equally icy cold steel of her gift. It was … also a metal pole. And just like it had for him, it glowed and began to reshape. Aly's didn't split, though, only lengthened and hollowed and reshaped into …
"A flute?" Percy asked, "Why a flute … ?" He trailed off, eyes widening as he witnessed the girl's response to the 'gift.' He absentmindedly holstered his own gift, not even noticing as it reverted back into a single rod of steel.
She'd fell back to the ground, tucking her knees under a chin. One hand held out the instrument in front of her, the other hugged her legs tight. Her eyes were glittering … was she crying? himmering by her eyes? Was she … crying? Why? Sure, even with his utter lack of musical knowledge, he could tell the instrument was amazingly crafted, elegant and slim with etchings of flowers along the entire body (Aly later told him that they were anemones and hyacinths - spring blooms [her favorite season]).
What to do? Percy tentatively approached, kneeling in front of her, mind racing. If that was a weapon - music - then her godly parent pretty much had to be Apollo. But Roman? That had to be rough. It honestly explained a lot.
He drew in closer, wary of what she would do but determined to do what he could regardless. She held the beautifully shining flute so delicately, and Percy looked into Aly's eyes to find them staring into the void, swimming in tears yet not letting any of it fall.
"Are you alright, Aly?" How was he supposed to deal with her? Like, they were partners now, he had to start somewhere. She'd been … peppy, to say the least, until now. Joyous and frivolous and bizarrely happy until she'd broken into sniffles and unshed tears, holding a flute. He was too young to know how to comfort someone properly, let alone someone essentially a stranger.
But she wasn't going to be a stranger. And crazy as she was, he may as well try.
Percy scooted around next to her. Settled in, he brought his arm up to her back and began to rub gentle circles. He'd thought, he'd hoped that she would soon lean away and swipe away her tears then return to how she had been earlier. He could sort of predict that.
Yet against his expectations, once again, Aly simply leaned into him and rubbed her tears into his jacket. Considering demigod rules 101 - don't be weak, monsters smell fear, and that they were still basically strangers … Percy was only twelve years old, but he knew when something was off.
Maybe it was a female thing? Percy couldn't imagine a guy embracing him the same way.
"You can't betray me, so …" she whispered quietly, tone of voice somehow clear and back to how he had first met her, if quiet. And how did she sound so joyful after that? "Never mention it again!"
Aly clutched her flute and continued to snuggle into him nonetheless, even though she was clearly better. Just where exactly was the nearest asylum, and when did they lose their patient?
And how starved of physical affection was she? Wait. How starved of physical affection was he?
It was another minute of surprise cuddling and listening to the fountain gurgle on merrily before he finally remembered that he'd never answered a certain question.
"My name is Percy."
Aly smiled quietly, and Percy smiled back.
This could work.
Thunder pealed, and the sound akin to that of a tree crashing to earth broke out, filling the dead air of the night sky. Well, not quite the night sky, for it was full of alien constellations that did not shimmer or shine, just merely existed.
A vast expanse of dead white grass was all that could be seen of the ground for hundreds of feet in every direction. Mist and fog weaved odd shapes, circling around what were perhaps large stone structures and prevented further vision; dust billowed into spiraling towers, spreading from the source of the sound.
Trickling down from the sky, odd black pieces fell-danced-floated down, littering the surrounding grass like splatters of blood. Some, curiously, melted into a viscous black tar, while others dissolved into black ash, or crystallized upon the earth, or … the list went on, ad infinitum. It was a curiously entrancing spectacle. One could almost say the pallid vegetation was being contaminated and poisoned, if it was not obvious that said grass was dead.
The noise resonated across the expanse of dead grass, continuing off into the unknown. Before it could truly fade, though, it was replaced by the sound of a rolling avalanche. The fog cleared in a rush to reveal … nothing. Or rather … tracings, of objects unseeable by visible light but obviously there, if only due to being able to see the absence of what was, the void of whatever towering monstrosity that should have been.
A rush of earth-water-air-fire-nothing rose from the origin of the sound, and the area erupted away to leave drifting objects only describable as blacks and whites, gathering into twin tunnels of emptiness. In a slow-quick-nonexistent-instantaneous period of time, outside the description of short, long, or even what mere mortals and false immortals deemed chronological or continuous, the process of phasing into existence, of becoming, completed.
On one side sat a creature of such intense darkness, that if put under any light source, it would not look like a being at all. Instead, the grotesquely humanoid thing would appear photoshopped out of reality, an absence of light so great that it tore apart the space it occupied.
Across it sat a being that emitted a light so great it swallowed the light of all other things. It was so strangely contained and restrained, yet also so omnipresent and uncontrolled; it was all one could do to keep all from being blinded.
They were brother and sister, if anyone could believe that such opposites were. If one could assign such platitudes and classifications as ridiculous as gender to such impossible, indefinable, and above all heretical constructs.
Darkness and Light. Male and female. Ugly and beautiful. Contaminated and pure. Shallow and deep. Optimistic and pessimistic. Mercurial and predictable. Sane and insane.
Such mortal and myopic ideas (applied) / (didn't apply).
But they clearly worked in tandem.
Or rather, they worked in duality.
Because that was one concept that transcended all possible existence - conflict.
Only one goal in mind, as they played their odd little game that sat between the two. It did not matter who won, as long as the pieces did their part.
Suddenly, a speck of emerald flickered into existence between the shattered imaginings of black and white, on the very divide between. It was a sculpture, a piece wrought beyond the description of only width, length, and height, only definable by its existence.
The game begins …
The game ends.
Time and time again …
Now and nevermore.
The chaos of choice that still, no matter what -
Inevitably falls into destined order.
Percy's Notes
Gods, I've been through a lot to get to this point.
Oops. Eh. I would say 'my bad,' but I don't regret any of it. It took three years to finally land the right tone to even start from - among other things.
Fair enough, I guess? Fuck, paradoxed has spiced things up to a whole new level. I mean, this started pretty boring. You just keep fixing things people don't really care to be fixed. Like, I don't even get if all these changes are fully necessary? I actually kinda liked my journal from the previous iterations, is that just gone now?
Pretty much. There will be a minor element of that which we be preserved, but otherwise I'm going to be moving away from that for story's sake. That's one of the biggest changes from pre-Gambit to post-Gambit.
Oh, jeez, can I talk about Gambit?
No. This is a different story, you don't need to say anything for Gambit.
Fuck. Fine. Kalends of Kingdoms only business then, I guess. I mean, what can I even say? I've kinda stayed the same person from the very beginning, except some of the stupid edginess getting taken out - thanks for that, by the way - but all this backstory stuff is coming out of left field! Everything is so much darker now, like holy crap!
And now that I've finally locked down on doing a darker story instead of having half of the shenanigans wishy washy back to a lighter tone, I can actually make this work with the fancy premise. Not to mention pulling out all the told exposition and leaving that for sharing later, for engagement.
Well … I don't know how to argue with that. At least I'm still cool, dealing with Thorn and all.
Yes, I would think so. You were half about to die, maybe, but I think I characterized you as intelligent quite well through your actions and thoughts. Some of it is … touch and go with the Chiron bit, but none of it was unsubstantiated 'told' bullshit.
Thanks. And what else was I supposed to say here again?
Up to you, really.
Oh, I remember something I wanted to ask now. What's going to be the deal with Artemis for this story now? It used to be me with her, but then you did your whole Gambit thing and now I'm not paired with her anymore?
Yeah, I finally figured a way I could write a PercyxArtemis that would make sense to me, with actual flavor and follows logic beyond "oh they've always loved each other" or "because magic, that's why." And that's Gambit's Refrain, not this story.
Y'know what, lemme just get all this stuff off my chest and then let you take the stage.
If you're here, fresh to my stuff, have a gander at my completed work, Gambit's Refrain. Fireworks in Rain is technically also completed, but just … eh, w/e. That was being cutesy and cathartic and one-shot, so less interesting for most people. If you're here because you've been with me through at least Gambit, then look forward to a … supplementary chapter on the anniversary of its publishing. And lastly, if you were here to see Kalends originally, or even Hunt of the Maelstrom - well, I guess things are finally back. For good.
Because all my first ideas regarding PJO fanfiction has boiled down into this. From the very beginning, to other deviances, to several rewrites, to the year-long detour to Gambit's Refrain …
This will be the final result.
Maybe I'll finish in a few years. I'm starting college soon, that will be fun. Either way …
Here's to Daphne.
…
Well, the author left, so it's just me now. What can I say? Constructive reviews would be appreciated. If you want a standard posting schedule, tough luck. I've dealt with his crap for 3 years now, he's not going to change how he writes. You can find his whole deal on his profile.
Actually, on that tangent, this chapter is published about one day before the Great American Eclipse. I think he would've preferred posting tomorrow, but that would kinda fail the purpose of 'notifying' readers about it.
Anyways, PSA: tomorrow, starting around 9am for the West Coast of North America, there will be a solar eclipse visible to all of the continental USA. It's been very long since the previous, though the next will be in about seven years. Look up the individual times for your state if you're interested, because it's going to be one hell of an event.
That's my shtick. Welcome to Kalends of Kingdoms. This will end up an epic length adventure with all its parts, so prepare for the ride.
20 August 2017