Awareness returned to me a little bit at a time, as if sluggishly surfacing from the bottom of a murky lake.

Sound was first: a soft ambient level, some talking. Feet thundered dully in the distance.

Next came feeling: scratchy blankets, a dull ache through my midriff and the general debilitating weight of limbs stiffened with exertion and exhaustion. My eyelids felt gummed together, and I really wasn't particularly interested in waking up fully, but by the time I was aware enough to make that decision, I was awake anyway.

So I carefully pried open my eyelids, to see the ceiling of the camp infirmary above my head, all lit with a soft, yellow glow, much unlike the harsh and searching strip lights way back when at SHIELD.

To be brutally honest, I was actually pretty surprised to be waking up at all, so I didn't complain about the obvious lack of good drugs or 'nurse call' button that I was accustomed to post-injury (getting spoilt, wasn't I).

As I tried to pull myself upright to a sitting position, about six different Apollo campers sprinted towards me from different directions, all of them simultaneously trying to push me back down onto my back. All were frazzled to varying degrees.

Will glared down at me. "You are an absolute nightmare to keep on bedrest; you know that, right? Because this is the fourth time you've attempted to get out of bed in three days, and you haven't been happy the last few times we've had to force you back down."

That would explain the sheer number of Apollo kids that had charged at me at once.

"Cool, well I don't remember any of that. Is that normal?"

Will sort of shrugged. "Dad said that it was likely that you wouldn't remember the first few times you woke up, but I can't say that magic healing of any kind can be considered normal."

"Good to know." I relaxed back into my pillow for a couple of seconds, before shooting up again (and getting shoved down again), cursing internally at what was almost definitely several torn abdominal muscles (probably severed, come to think of it). "Wait, did you say your dad?"

"Yeah." Will shrugged.

"Why is he concerned with my medical condition?"

Will scratched the back of his neck. Is that a nervous tic for all demigods? "Erm, the gods wanted to reward you for your role in the battle of Olympus, so Dad may or may not have been checking in on you every day to see when they could feasibly get you to Olympus for the ceremony. Also, you were almost dead and would almost definitely have been without divine intervention."

That sounded like a pretty intense award ceremony for me just doing my job.

Not to mention that almost dying is not a good thing to tack onto the end of something like that.

I did a good impression of a gaping fish for a couple of moments, before gathering my (few) thoughts and formulating the slightly pressing question. "So, if he intervened in my healing, why does it still hurt like a goddamn bitch?"

Will sighed. "Zeus seemed to think that healing any of us fully would mean that we wouldn't learn our lesson. He wants this fight to be a warning to us all about the costs of joining the dark side, as such, so Dad was just allowed to fix things that would result in death, like the sword's curse and multiple ruptured organs." (The unimpressed way in which he looked at me suggested that he was listing my injuries in particular.)

As you do.

"One final question: when will I be 'able' to go to Olympus?"

A smile pulled at the corner of Will's mouth, and he shrugged. "Not today, but probably as soon as you can walk under your own steam. Zeus is not known for being patient. Speaking of patients, I think we should leave you now, as long as I can assume that you're not about to do something that is fundamentally stupid. You think you can manage that for me?"

I nodded, settling back into the pillows and suddenly quite tired again (I guess a large hole in you will do that). Will took that as his cue, so he disappeared along with his posse and I fell asleep again.

That cycle repeated itself several times over the next few days (although usually without the physical restraint unless I woke up unaware of my location), as I slept through most of the day and woke for short bursts, in which I caught up on the camp goings-on and ate small amounts of food and godly ambrosia to accelerate my healing.

After four days, I was actually awake when Apollo came to visit. My first impression of him was that he was exactly as flashy and arrogant as I would expect a sun god to be, as he swanned in wearing his expensive sunglasses.

He wasn't particularly attentive to me or anyone, but he did refer to all his children that he saw by name, so I guess he wasn't the worst godly parent possible.

He also told me to start trying to sit up and get moving, because I was making Zeus wait and he didn't like waiting.

I, reading the situation impeccably as always, decided to query this. "So what in your professional medical opinion do you actually think I should do?"

He glanced at me over the top of his Ray-Bans (he could've taken them off; he was inside after all) in a dismissive fashion. "You won't die."

Great.

I heaved myself out of bed, making sure to gulp down as much nectar out of the glass on my left physically possible before the roof of my mouth started to burn.

"Why would Zeus even want to see me anyway? I don't think I've done anything to make him want to smite me in the past week, except for maybe staining his floor."

Apollo's lips quirked up into a smile. "C'mon kid; you get shotgun in the sun chariot."

That was all well and good, but the sun chariot was an entire twenty metres away, and, to be completely honest, I really didn't want to even try to get there.

But I suppose that there is no disobeying a god, especially an earnest one, so I swallowed my internal groan and put one shuffling foot in front of the other until, finally, I could put my hand on the side of the chariot and stare dumbly at it until Apollo pointed out that I'd actually have to climb in (I'd really been hoping that there was some sort of magic step or something, but no, of course not).

So I hauled myself painfully slowly (and just as painfully, actually) into the chariot, which was beginning to look increasingly like a sports car. Several other demigods also piled into the back, before the sun god himself jumped lithely behind the wheel (definitely a car now: he made me climb up into a chariot out of spite, surely), and sent us soaring back to Olympus.

o0O0o

Apollo landed the sun chariot in what had probably been a gorgeous square before Kronos decided to go a little nuts with the wrecking ball. Most of the marble wreckage had been cleared to give us somewhere to land, but the area was ringed with pedestals containing only jagged shards, where I thought it was probably safe to presume that there had been various statues of the gods, since there is nothing that an immortal egotist loves more than their own image in marble.

The others, who I had now identified to be Will, Jake Mason, The Stolls and a few more campers, escaped the chariot as quickly as possibly, exiting it like it was a tiny clown car from the fifth circle of Hell. I hobbled after them, following their route down the growingly familiar streets of Olympus towards the throne room.

Crumbled fragments of the city's splendour had been brushed from the paths, but piled up around corners where they were supposedly less obvious, and marble dust still hung thickly in the air. It was painfully obvious that the gods' apparently untouchable home had been right at the heart of a war, and it had not come out smelling of roses.

It reminded me uncomfortably of the empty dust-choked streets of cities after huge drug-lord shootouts that I had witnessed, but something told me that mentioning that particular fun fact wouldn't earn me any popularity points.

So I followed the others, shuffling slowly up towards the mighty throne room, where I assumed that the gods were waiting for us. One door was hanging loosely on one hinge, as if an enormous blast had forced it open. I hated to imagine what that force could have been.

Will turned around to see that I was lagging slightly, one arm wrapped protectively around my midriff. He did a sort of wavey-thing to get the attention of the others, signalling them to wait while he came back, wrapping my arm around his shoulders to take some of the weight. I tried to shrug him off to say that I could do it, but that boy is stubborn when he wants to be, so my own personal struggle became a three-legged race.

He let go only as we reached the doors (but hovered like an anxious mother), so I could walk in under my own steam to greet the all-powerful committee, seated on their various thrones in a horseshoe shape.

My eyes roamed the crowd, looking for an oh-so-familiar head of blonde curls. I caught sight of it and let out a sigh of relief; if Annabeth was here I hadn't missed too much during my nap? Coma? One of those.

I suddenly felt very small and frail, but still swallowed hard, lifting my chin in defiance as we came to a halt before the largest, most gilded throne before the king of the gods.

The others around me fell to their knees, heads bowed in Zeus' presence, whilst I didn't particularly want to, nor could I physically do so. I inclined my head slightly to acknowledge that I should (maybe) be showing some respect, but if he wanted me to kneel for him, he shouldn't have been so damn impatient in getting me there.

He glared at me for a couple of seconds before clearing his throat. "Children, I have gathered you here today to reward you for your bravery during the Battle of Manhattan. Many of you acted heroically, and many lives were lost.

"Grover Underwood, for your services in the battle, the Council of Olympus would like to present you with the title of Lord of the Wild."

Grover skittered forward to bow before Zeus. "Thank you, my Lord."

Zeus gave him a moment to grovel, before turning dismissively on to give his next reward. "Annabeth Chase, we, the Olympian Gods, would like to formally appoint you as the Architect of Olympus. As you would imagine, we have a great deal of rebuilding to do."

Annabeth's eyes filled with tears, as she bowed to Zeus, before turning to her mother and mouthing 'Thank you.' This was Annabeth's dream; it was only right that she was rewarded as such.

"Nicolas di Angelo." There seemed to be some sort of foul taste in Zeus' mouth. "After much deliberation, we have decided to open demigod safehouses across the country in your honour. No child will ever be stuck in the timeless Lotus Hotel again, if that is what you desire."

Nico's eyes seemed to glow, and he ducked his head again in reverence. "I would like that very much, my Lord."

Most of the gods didn't seem very impressed with the scrawny Italian boy in the middle of their throne room, dressed in black and dancing with death, but Athena and Hermes gave each other the slightest of smiles as Nico stood back up and rejoined the main group.

Zeus cleared his throat. "Perseus Jackson, the Olympian gods will bestow upon you one gift."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Any gift?"

"Yes, but I know what you desire: the greatest gift of all. If you want it, it shall be yours. As a council, the gods have not bestowed such a gift upon a demigod in many centuries, or millenia even, but Perseus Jackson, if you wish it, you shall be made a god. Immortal."

What?

"Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all eternity." My father nodded approvingly at Zeus's side.

I'll admit, the offer was a tempting one. I'd never have to fear entering a battle and not coming out.

But there was a sting in the tail, as always. To become a god, I'd have to leave everything I had behind. And it wasn't much, what I had. I scraped out a little hollow for myself in Camp life, and I wished and hoped beyond all hope that one day things could go back to the way they were, and that I could rejoin Nat and Clint and go on missions together as a team, just like old times. Clint's desperate face as the elevator doors shut on him came to mind; I couldn't just leave him now, especially after everything we've been through.

But above all, I didn't want to be never-ending. I didn't want to live forever when everyone else died, their single spark extinguished. I didn't want to never grow old but live to see a million sunrises on a desolate planet, while the world forgot about me until I grew apathetic and even more alone than I already was.

The only beautiful thing left in my life was its fragility; the certainty that it wouldn't last forever.

Without death, there is no life, not really.

So I gave a tiny, wry smile, and tilted my gaze back up to the king of the gods.

"No."

Zeus recoiled slightly as if I had struck a physical blow, but I cut him off before he could recover and start his terrible monologuing again. The image of my last visit to Olympus starkly overlaid the current, Ethan Nakamura's terrified and determined gaze, and the thick coppery smell of blood in the air.

"You said I could have anything. This is not my greatest desire." I paused slightly, to give Zeus time to exhale before he exploded. "What I want is not for me. It is to prevent anything like this from ever happening again. And the only way to do that is to curb the resentment at its core. You need to claim your children. All of them. A child who knows who their parent is knows that said parent acknowledges their existence. They are more than just a blip on the radar. And you need to acknowledge the minor gods too. Even if you don't give them permanent thrones, let them have a place up here too. Has it not occurred to you that they are jealous of the beauty that you have? This is no true sacrifice for you, but it will mean the world to those who receive this single, small gesture of goodwill.

"That is my wish." I stared Zeus down, slightly winded. His eye twitched almost infinitesimally, just like Fury's used to when Clint really pissed him off, but he took a deep breath and gathered himself, managing not to smite me (although the scent of ozone suffusing the air was a bit of a reminder that he came quite close to losing control here).

"Is that all?" he asked, derision in his tone.

I almost asked for better music in their stupid elevator, but figured that would push it too far. I hadn't survived being sword-kebabed to get smeared by an angry god-king, so I nodded respectfully. "That is all."

"Very well, as you wish it, it shall be. All in favour?"

Every god in the room raised their hands. I exhaled heavily, tilting my head back towards Zeus, who didn't quite have steam pouring out of his ears, although I would consider it a close-run thing.

"Thank you."

We turned and left, Will walking extremely close until I inevitably stumbled and sagged against him, one hand pressed into my stomach and sweat beading on my brow.

Apollo rode us back in his chariot, and Annabeth gave me a hug almost as soon as I staggered from the stupid thing back at Camp.

"That was a really good thing you did, you know," she said, wry smile on her face.

"If I'd taken them up on their offer, I'd have had to spend eternity in their presence. I'd go mad in a hundred years, max. And well done to you too, oh Architect Supreme."

She pretended to slap me for being rude (I was under no illusion that she didn't for any reason other than that it would have laid me out on the floor and I would have been unable to get up), but a huge grin split her face in two.

Maybe I could make the most of this life, after all.

(It was only two weeks later that I realised that I never explained anything to Clint.)