Sorry this took so long. This was a hard chapter to write, and it took a few tries to get it to a point I felt comfortable with. There were some other issues along the way, but I don't care to explain any of them.
In my defense, though, this chapter is longer than the last two combined and then some.
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I do NOT own Percy Jackson or its universe. All rights go to Rick Riordan and his publisher.
ENJOY!
CONTENT WARNING:
This chapter has details of torture. Some people might not be comfortable reading material like that, so just be forewarned that it is coming up.
Chapter 16
Titan Hospitality
Blinking hard and opening his eyes, he looked around to find himself on the side of a mountain. The party that had been waiting for Dr. Thorn, should their first plan to use the helicopter fail, lacked any hesitance in ensuring Percy could do nothing to escape, now that he had been captured and taken to… wherever this was, and had knocked him out immediately.
He was punched in the face by an unknown assailant who possessed greater than average strength, even for a demigod—a cyclops, perhaps—and he was forced back to the ground. He was held down firmly by at least three different sets of hands. Then he heard the distinct click of chains locking into place. Percy felt his powers weakening and realized that the chains had to be made of divine metal, most likely Celestial bronze.
Percy heard a laugh so deep it was as if it had resonated from the earth itself.
"Not quite the demigod we were hoping for," the hidden man said, "but an excellent reward, nonetheless. You have done well, manticore."
Percy saw Dr. Thorn bow out of the corner of his eye.
"Bring him over."
The hands that gripped Percy lifted him roughly. A glance to either side confirmed that there were four cyclopes surrounding him—one to either side and two behind them. They stood about two feet taller than Percy with bulging muscles that looked capable of crushing his skull.
They were at the top of a mountain—Percy could see the ocean on the horizon and a city filling the distance in between. The sun looked like it had just broken over the western horizon, which meant a few hours had passed since he had been taken by Dr. Thorn. The rancid smell of eucalyptus filled his nostrils and nearly made him gag. Only his being used to spending time around rotting corpses allowed Percy to stay composed. They were surrounded by blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. It took Percy a moment to realize that it was the ruins of an Ancient Greek palace: broken columns, half-melted bronze statues, and something that sent a chill as cold as the arctic down Percy's spine.
A demolished black throne that seemed to be repairing itself.
This was the Bay Area in San Francisco, there was no doubt about that, which meant…
"Welcome, Perseus Jackson, to my former prison, and your new burden."
Atlas, the Titan of Endurance.
He looked as if he had been carved from marble. His dark hair was slicked back—far too neat for someone who had spent five thousand years keeping Ouranos away from Gaea. His eyes were like stone, filled with glee at Percy's predicament. He stood roughly ten feet in height, like most divine beings chose to do when they weren't in the mortal world, and his muscular build looked like he could snap a person in half without any struggle. He was dressed in a fancy silk suit, as if he were on his way to Wall Street instead of preparing to lead an army.
Before Percy could wonder how Atlas had been freed from his burden, his gaze fell on something that made his blood freeze.
Where Atlas should have been, only fifteen feet from where Percy was held, grey clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, forming a funnel cloud that nearly touched the top of the mountain. The only thing that stopped it, instead of Atlas, was a girl in her late teens. Her face was beaded with sweat, her hair beginning to turn white from the stress, and her eyes were filled with unfathomable pain from the weight of the sky literally resting on her shoulders.
"She won't last much longer," Atlas mentioned humorously, taking a disgusting amount of joy from the girl's suffering. "But you could take the burden for her—spare her life and that of countless mortals around the world, who would all perish if the sky met the earth."
The cyclopes shuffled nervously beside Percy.
For only a brief moment, Percy debated leaving the girl where she was—only a Titan could be forced to bear the Curse, after all—but he couldn't take the chance that she would hold out until he found a way to free himself and attempt to put Atlas back where he belonged, especially when he couldn't guarantee that was even possible. Percy had never fought a Titan before, and he was hesitant for his first to be Kronos's most powerful combatant.
There was a reason Atlas was named the Titan Lord's General, and Percy didn't want to be on the other end of his blade.
Percy gave a stiff nod, not saying a word.
Atlas grinned, "Release him."
The cyclopes let go of Percy, but stayed close as he approached the struggling girl. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging for him to end her suffering.
Percy stepped next to the girl and braced himself on one knee, holding up his hands and placing them against the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, they worked together to hold the weight of the sky, and it was easily the worst physical experience of Percy's entire life. He felt as if he was being crushed beneath thousands of rocks. He desired nothing more than to drop it, regardless of the disastrous consequences.
The girl collapsed beside him, convulsing on the ground. Every muscle in Percy's body turned to fire and his vision started to turn fuzzy, tinged with red.
"You were correct," Atlas said to someone in the shadows.
"Jackson's desire to be a hero is the most predictable thing about him."
Percy wished more than anything that he wasn't otherwise occupied when Luke Castellan stepped out of the darkness, flanked by spear-wielding Scythian dracaenae—humanoid females with serpent tails instead of legs. Four more stood behind them, carrying a large, golden casket that made Percy shiver just looking at it. The ten-foot sarcophagus was engraved with Ancient Greek scenes of death and destruction and it radiated a blistering cold. The sweat that had built up from his exertion froze; his hands became more slippery.
Atlas turned back to the trembling girl.
"You have served your purpose. For your actions in service to the Titan Lord, you will receive a merciful death."
He nodded to one of the dracaenae.
The serpent-woman slithered forward and raised her spear. Percy closed his eyes as it plunged down into the girl's chest. The girl gasped her last breath and fell limp, her blood flowing like a dozen rivers around Percy's feet.
Percy looked away from the girl and saw Luke doing the same, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes. Percy knew right then that this girl had taken the burden because of Luke, and Luke had taken it to free Atlas. Her death was on his hands.
If only he wasn't stuck bearing the Titan's Curse—Percy would give Luke a similar fate.
"Enjoy yourself, Perseus," Atlas mocked, turning his back and walking away. "I expect you'll be there for a while before anyone willing to relieve you arrives."
The Titan stopped at the archway that led into the black-marble palace and looked over his shoulder with a malicious smirk.
"Perhaps this will help you see that the Olympians are the wrong immortals to support."
Then he was gone, leaving Percy with Luke, a dozen monsters, and a girl's corpse.
"Is this…worth it, Luke?" Percy snarled, gasping for breath. "Needless…death?"
Luke's jaw set, gritting his teeth. "A necessary sacrifice to bring down the Olympians."
Percy snorted, then stumbled to adjust to the sky again.
"Try not to drop it, Percy," Luke said, a small smirk on his face. "I don't think you'd live long enough to experience the afterparty."
He left, taking his dracaenae guard with him. The cyclopes gathered the girl's limp body before following, which left Percy alone at the top of the mountain.
Percy closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He didn't know how long he would need to last here before he could escape, assuming that was a possibility at all. Atlas had taunted him like they would have someone new to bear the curse soon, but he was a Titan—he could have easily been lying to raise Percy's hopes, only to crush them later on when no help arrived.
But that didn't make sense.
If Percy wasn't relieved of the burden eventually, then the sky would fall and destroy the world, including the ruins of Mount Othrys that surrounded them. Kronos's throne would be reduced to little more than rubble, countless monsters killed and sent to Tartarus for an amount of time that not even the gods would have an estimate for. There was no way that any Titan would be so foolish as to risk the survival of the world they desperately wished to rule over.
For now, though, all Percy could do was wait.
Several hours later, he was struggling to bear the Curse. He had been paid visits from monsters throughout the day, each one taking sickening amounts of joy from his suffering, as they were wont to do. One rather sadistic dracaenae had taken a knife to his face, and blood had soon filled his sight in one eye because of it.
Forced to his knees over time, Percy barely maintained his position. The only thing that kept him going was sheer determination—his refusal to let the sky fall and destroy everything. His limbs had been trembling for hours, and he wanted nothing more than to stop, but he couldn't.
"And how is our guest this evening? Are you enjoying my former burden, Jackson?"
Oh, how Percy wished he could cut out Atlas's tongue and shove it in a different orifice.
Gritting his teeth, he growled, "Fuck… you…"
Atlas stepped around in front of Percy. He knelt so they were face-to-face with a malicious glint in his eyes.
"Twelve hours in and you still have spirit," the Titan said, sounding reluctantly impressed. "I must admit: you continue to surprise us all, son of Poseidon."
Percy glared at Atlas. How dare this filth, not worthy to lick shit off the ground, mention his father? How dare he speak the name of the god Percy hated above all but two others?
The only gods whom Percy hated more than Poseidon were the two who had gotten his mother killed—Zeus and Ares—and even then, Poseidon was still a close third.
"Ah, yes," Atlas mocked. "I forgot—you despise your father, don't you? It's a wonder you still fight for Olympus when they have done nothing but take from you. You would be much better off serving the side who would reward your effort."
When it snows in Hell, Percy thought, though he found it somewhat amusing that the Titans were still unaware of his loyalty to Hades. That was a secret that could prove to be their downfall.
"Go—to—Tartarus!" He spat blood at Atlas.
Atlas snarled, "Perhaps you will change your mind by morning. That is when your chance for respite will come, after all. The pitiful moon goddess will be here by then, and she will decide your fate—whether you will remain chained or not."
Percy closed his eyes, barely withholding a groan. His only salvation just had to come in the form of a goddess who would sooner see the entire male sex wiped out than help one. It had been three thousand years since the last time she had interacted positively with a male, according to most of the deities Percy regularly interacted with—or used to, anyway, back when he was in the Underworld—so why would she bother to help him?
Maybe she would put aside her personal feelings, given the circumstances, but Percy couldn't allow hope to blossom based on that small chance.
Atlas laughed coldly as he rose back to his feet. "You will soon learn that your side is losing, Perseus Jackson. Kronos wants you to serve us, and the Titan Lord always gets what he wants."
The Titan walked away, still laughing.
As more time passed, Percy welcomed the embrace of night. The moment the sun disappeared, he felt a new surge of strength as the moon shined brightly overhead. The darkness was his to control, thanks to Hades, and because of Hecate, so were the moon and night.
Percy was at his strongest in that moment, and his faith that he would survive to see the next dawn was renewed.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was next disturbed, but the sun had begun to rise, so it had to have been a few hours, at the very least. It could have been days, if he were honest with himself.
Percy couldn't even lift his head to look at whoever was approaching, as exhausted as he was. He was forced to wait until he could see their feet, and he knew at once that it was Atlas, returning to taunt him some more.
"Strength like yours will be invaluable to the Titan Lord," Atlas mused. He dropped to a knee so that he could see Percy's eyes. "All you have to do is agree—to join us in arms against Olympus—and you will be freed from this curse. You have endured much, Perseus Jackson, and your lasting this long is impressive, but I can see that your limit comes soon."
Percy said nothing. He needed all of his energy elsewhere.
"If you give in now, we already have someone who will hold the burden in your place. And soon, the moon goddess will have her turn. All you need to do is say the word, Perseus."
It would have been a more convincing argument if he didn't continue to call him 'Perseus' like the gods did. That told Percy that they only wanted him to be their weapon—their destroyer. They didn't truly wish to spare him the curse.
Though he had known all this already, of course. Very few Titans were trustworthy, and Atlas definitely wasn't one of them. He was Kronos's general, the second-in-command. There was no way his offer was genuine in the slightest. If anything, he just wanted Percy to give up the burden so he could be tortured until he caved.
As painful as holding the sky was, it was the more preferable option.
"I have heard you possessed a sharp tongue," Atlas commented, changing tactics. "I have yet to see it, however, which makes me doubt the validity of such a rumor."
Percy remained silent. It was obvious that Atlas was just trying to goad him into any reaction, but it wasn't going to work. The only reason Atlas would want him to speak is because it would take Percy's focus off the burden—at least partially—which would add pressure and make it easier to convince him to give it up so someone else could take it, freeing Percy for whatever wicked ideas Atlas had planned.
"Pity," Atlas sneered. "I had assumed you possessed a modicum of intelligence—that you would accept this most generous offer. But now you shall suffer the moment the moon goddess frees you from my old burden. All you had to do was accept, Perseus Jackson."
Atlas walked away without another word.
Percy let out a long, slow breath. His limbs were trembling from the weight of the sky and it was becoming harder to think as more time passed, but he had to do something. The only way he would survive to see Christmas was if he found some way out of this.
Then an image formed in his mind—one that made him smile, despite the pain he felt.
Reyna.
He would see her again, he vowed to himself. He would do whatever it took to escape and find his way back to her, and when he did…
Well, he didn't know what he would do, but it was a thought that gave him hope.
And right now, he needed all the hope he could get.
The next time Percy was visited by Atlas, the sun had already set and the stars once again shined overhead, the night sky lending him strength.
"How is our favorite guest?" he boomed.
Luke appeared in Percy's vision, kneeling beside him. Then he looked back to Atlas. "He is stronger than we first thought. He will survive longer than expected."
Percy glared at Luke with what little energy he had left. There was only so much Hecate could do for him when his body was under constant stress like this, and they were both running out of time. It wouldn't be long before Percy collapsed, and the sky with him.
Atlas chuckled.
Percy heard the sound of clinking chains, but couldn't see the source.
"Will you take the burden for him?" Atlas asked. "Or will you allow him to collapse, and with him the world? You have already put off this decision twice today, but you are running out of time."
Percy's head became fuzzy. Whoever Atlas was talking to had denied taking the burden twice? Who were they? Why was Atlas trying so hard to get them to take it?
He summoned what effort he could and looked up.
A girl about twelve years old was less than fifteen feet away from him. She wore a tattered silver dress, and her auburn hair was messier than Percy's on a bad day. She was glaring at Atlas with startling silvery yellow eyes, her hands and feet bound in Celestial bronze chains. She was cut in several places, and something golden dripped from the wounds.
Ichor, Percy realized, but that meant this had to be…
He made a weak sound, unable to say anything, but it was enough to get her attention. Artemis looked at him, and though her eyes were still cold and furious, he could see that she had finally made a decision as Atlas wanted.
"Free my hands."
Luke unsheathed Backbiter and, with one expert strike, broke the chains binding Artemis.
The goddess walked to Percy and knelt beside him. She leaned in close, to a point where they wouldn't be overheard, and whispered, "You did well, boy. May you find rest in Hades."
Then she took the burden from Percy's shoulders.
Percy collapsed to the ground. His body refused to listen to his mind and move. None of his limbs responded, too weak to do anything, no matter how hard he tried.
However, he had one thought on his mind that pushed his worries aside for the moment.
Artemis had given up on him.
She had forced him to hold the sky as long as he possibly could to keep her own strength, and now she expected him to roll over and die.
Once again, an Olympian had left Percy in the hands of the Fates, unwilling to do anything that helped a mortal, regardless of all he had done for them over the last year and a half.
He distantly heard Atlas chuckle and say something, but the blood pounding in his ears made it impossible to tell what.
A hand gripped Percy around his neck, and his body reverberated from Atlas's deep voice speaking, though his words remained incomprehensible.
As the hand began to pull him away from Artemis and the curse, however, Atlas spoke again, but this time Percy could understand it.
"Come, son of Poseidon. Let us see if your inability to drown applies to your own blood." He laughed darkly. "In the meantime, Artemis can fret about her darling attendants playing directly into my hands by coming to find her. We have a long journey to make, if we are to greet the Hunters and ensure their quest is… challenging."
Atlas laughed again as he pulled Percy further into the depths of Mount Othrys.
Percy didn't even try to pay attention to all the winding corridors he was dragged down. His head was throbbing so painfully that all of his effort was going into merely staying conscious. All he was aware of was the growing darkness as they ventured further beneath the surface—going deeper into the mountain itself, away from fresh air.
"It has been millennia since I was allowed to do this," Atlas said gleefully. "I am going to enjoy every moment—every last scream—until you beg for mercy, and only then, once you have accepted your place in the Titan Lord's forces, will you be given the respite you desperately desire."
Percy heard metal clinking, like keys, followed by the sound of a cell door opening.
He was thrown across the room. His head cracked sickeningly against the stone floor and his mouth filled with blood—he had bitten down on his tongue.
Percy didn't even have time to look up before Atlas's hand was around his throat again.
The Titan laughed malevolently. "Let the fun begin."
Percy's hands were forced above his head. He felt the cool metal of shackles wrap around them, heard them click into place. He was left to dangle, his feet not even close to touching the floor. His spine stretched painfully, cracking loudly after having spent over thirty-six hours hunched over while he held the sky. The pain in his limbs seemed to increase tenfold, and Percy groaned. He couldn't muster the energy to scream, no matter how desperately he wished to do so.
Water doused his face. Percy gasped as if breathing clearly for the first time in his life as strength flooded through his body, somewhat healing him, though not enough to do anything helpful.
Atlas stood before him, holding an empty bucket.
"I want to hear you scream, Perseus," he grinned wickedly. "You won't scream if you're too tired to truly feel my… hospitality."
He laughed again, walking over to a table in the corner. He ran his hands over the items placed upon it—none of which Percy could see clearly because of the darkness of the room. Atlas debated between a couple of them, then declared, "This one will do for now."
He turned back to Percy, holding a dagger as long as Percy's forearm.
Atlas slowly approached Percy, like a hunter whose prey had no escape, a sinister grin on his face.
He raised the dagger to Percy's torso and cut off his shirt, leaving his upper body bare.
Atlas stared into Percy's eyes. "This is where my fun begins."
The Titan put the dagger against Percy's chest, his eyes glinting malevolently.
Then he pushed.
Percy bit his tongue and used his every ounce of willpower to resist screaming. He had been cut by blades during spars before, but never had one pierced him as the dagger did now. It was pain more concentrated than anything he had ever felt before.
At least the chimera's venom had been spread throughout his body instead of focused in one area.
Atlas twisted the dagger.
Percy was unable to hold back his scream. His throat seared with pain from lack of use, but it was impossible for Percy to stop. The pain was too much.
The dagger had to be cursed. No normal blade could cause this much pain.
Atlas harshly pulled it out, making Percy gasp sharply.
"We're only getting started, Perseus," the Titan nearly chirped.
He spent an indeterminate amount of time making several precise incisions across Percy's torso with the dagger. With each new addition, Percy found it harder and harder to stay conscious. He gave up trying to hold back his screams and instead put his energy into keeping himself alive, using the darkness of the room to somewhat heal himself as discreetly as he could.
It wouldn't prevent the scarring from the cursed dagger—Percy doubted anything would, short of divine interference—but so long as he lived to fight another day, he didn't care.
Atlas hummed, pulling the dagger out of Percy's abdomen and looking disappointed.
"We'll have to push you a bit more, I see," he mused darkly.
Atlas whistled sharply. The door to the cell opened again and a couple cyclopes entered, carrying a heavy-looking basin between them that emitted a harsh glow.
"Fire from the River Phlegethon," Atlas explained, grinning when Percy blanched. "I see you've heard of it—that's good," he smirked. "It saves me the effort of enlightening you to its wonders."
To Percy's terror, Atlas plunged the dagger into the liquid flames.
A crackling hiss filled the cell, and when Atlas pulled the dagger out of the basin, it was glowing red-hot, dripping liquid fire from its blade.
He slowly approached Percy, the light from the dagger casting sinister shadows across his grinning face.
"You children of Poseidon often have high tolerance for extreme temperatures," he mentioned offhandedly. "I have never heard any stories of one of your siblings using this particular heat, however. I must admit, I am very curious to see how much you can endure, Perseus."
The Titan of Endurance chuckled darkly and slowly—so painfully slowly—lowered the dagger towards Percy. It inched closer… and closer… and closer…
Percy screamed the moment the blade made contact with his bare skin. It was so hot that his nerves refused to function properly.
It took a moment for Percy to realize the blade was no longer pressed against his skin. His torso singed as if it was still there.
Before he could begin to even slightly recover, Atlas lowered the dagger again.
The point pierced his abdomen, and Percy screamed louder than he ever had in his life as the blade penetrated him, pushing further and further into his body. He could feel his insides boiling as the heat spread throughout his torso. Blood flowed from the wound like the river this liquid fire had come from, burning his skin as it traveled down his body.
"Where are your gods now, Perseus?" Atlas taunted, whispering in his ear. "Why do you defend those who let this happen to you?"
He twisted the blade, and Percy screamed again. He felt tears on his face, but there was nothing he could do to stop them from falling. He was in too much pain to think clearly.
Atlas harshly removed the blade, causing Percy to cry out once more.
He turned the dagger sideways, so that the flat of the blade was between them, then pressed it against the wound, cauterizing it immediately.
Percy blacked out from the pain, but another bucket of water was thrown into his face, waking him up before he could relish the release unconsciousness had brought him.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Atlas tutted. "We're not done yet!"
The Titan reached forward and turned Percy around, so that he now faced the wall, his back exposed to the cell.
Percy screamed again as the flat of the blade was pressed against his skin once more. Over and over again, Atlas continued to burn his flesh. He didn't stay in one spot, moving up and down and side to side, covering as much of Percy's back as he possibly could.
It wasn't too much later that Atlas had covered most of the visible skin, and it was only then that he pulled away.
Percy could feel blood soaking his back. His lungs were raw, having screamed himself hoarse long ago. His body hung limply from his chains, unable to muster the energy to even tense.
Another bucket of water splashed against his back, somewhat healing the wounds. The water dripped away too rapidly to truly assist him, and the little drops that remained were too small.
"And now," Atlas chuckled wickedly, "we go again."
It felt like hours later that Atlas finally left the cell, but it was impossible to tell how much time had actually passed.
Percy was alone in the dark cell, surrounded by nothing but shadows. Even the passageway outside his door had been plunged into darkness, every torch extinguished. Whether there was a guard or not, Percy didn't know, but it didn't matter anyway—there was nothing he could do about his current situation, as weak as he was.
It didn't help that he was still shackled with Celestial bronze chains, which dampened his powers.
Percy was confident he would have bled out by now, had Atlas not routinely doused him with water to heal his wounds just enough to keep him on the brink of death, but not quite over the edge.
Eventually, though, the Titan had grown bored of Percy's stubbornness. He had left upon realizing that his victim was in no condition to give any sign of surrender, anyway. Percy wasn't looking forward to when Atlas returned—which he undoubtedly would. He was too sadistic not to.
Percy just prayed it gave him enough time to think of an escape plan.
He still had the Stygian iron dagger strapped to his calf beneath his jeans, and he still wore the ring that concealed Revenant. The Titan's forces had been too arrogant to think he had more weapons than Riptide, which hadn't returned to his pocket, terrifyingly, though Percy tried not to worry too much about that. With luck, it had stayed behind in Maine and Reyna had recovered it.
Through the haze that clouded his vision, Percy thought he saw the shadows coalescing in one corner of the cell, but that couldn't possibly have been real. He had to be hallucinating.
This was proven wrong, however, when a figure emerged from the shadows.
The figure was tall with abnormally pale skin, a crown of fire atop their head.
Percy tried to move away from the flames, but his body was too weak, not to mention that he was still strung up by the chains, dangling from some unseen hook above him.
"Perseus," the figure said softly.
Before Percy could speak to the figure, his eyes rolled back in his skull and he slipped into true unconsciousness for the first time since before he held the sky.
When he came to, the first thing Percy noticed was the impossibly soft blanket beneath him.
The next was the familiar warm breeze which blew across his naked upper body.
The third, surprisingly, was the relief he felt instead of pain.
"I think he's waking up."
Percy would have frowned, but his face refused to respond. He knew that voice—he knew it very well, in fact—but why was he hearing it now? How did they get into Mount Othrys unnoticed?
Wait…
This couldn't be the Titan fortress. There was no way they would have given him such accommodations and luxuries upon which he lay, nor would they have healed him like this unless he had accepted their offer, which he definitely hadn't—he could remember that much.
Percy tried to move, but his body refused to cooperate. He was still too weak, even if the pain was gone, somehow. The only comfort was that he could think straight again.
"Percy?" a soft voice said cautiously.
He knew that voice, but how was this possible?
With Herculean effort, Percy cracked open his eyes. Everything around him was fuzzy and out of focus, but the room was well-lit. He could make out the vague outlines of four people, one of which sat beside him, running a hand through his hair, though he couldn't feel it. The other three figures stared down at him, but Percy couldn't make out their faces through the fog that clouded his sight.
"Can you hear me, Percy?" the soft voice asked.
This time, Percy was able to tell that it was the figure who sat beside him. He realized that this figure was much smaller than the others—smaller than himself, even.
He made a weak noise of acknowledgement, unable to do more.
"Your sight will return shortly," one of the standing figures informed him. He recognized that voice, too, but he why couldn't he put a name to it? "It is one of the side-effects of the healing that you were put through to repair the damage from bearing the Titan's Curse." The figure sighed, "Unfortunately, your body was too weak to be healed of the wounds you suffered at Atlas's hand. It will take time before you have recovered enough for us to proceed."
Percy managed a small nod when his voice refused to form words.
"In the meantime," interrupted another figure, this one taller than the other three with a much deeper voice, "it has been almost twenty-four hours since you were recovered from Mount Othrys. While I managed to infiltrate the palace to get you away, they will have undoubtedly improved their security by now to prevent us from repeating such action against them."
"It was worth it," the last figure said softly. Percy's sight returned enough for him to see familiar brown eyes staring down at him with concern.
"I am not saying it wasn't," the man responded smoothly.
"Rey…nuh," Percy grunted weakly.
"Reyna is fine," the figure beside him reassured. "She and the quest group are making their way west as we speak. They encountered some trouble in Washington, but they prevailed well enough."
Percy was filled with both relief and panic. He was relieved that Reyna was okay, but she should have stayed at Camp Half-Blood, where it was safe—where she could watch the di Angelos. Instead, she had joined a quest across the country to save him when he wasn't even there anymore.
Percy rolled over and fell right out of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud thud and a groan.
"I told you he'd try to leave," drawled the figure who had informed Percy about his health. But at last he knew why she sounded familiar—it was Hecate.
"None of us doubted you," Persephone's voice said, and soon the goddess herself was beside Percy, assisting him back into the bed with Hestia's help.
Percy spotted Hades standing off to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The Lord of the Dead was a rather distant god, emotionally—unless it came to Persephone or another lover—so Percy wasn't surprised that Hades seemed unsure of what to do.
"Now that you have awakened," Hades said, "I must return to my duties. Perseus," he nodded, then gave his wife a kiss on the cheek—about as affectionate as he got around others—and hastily left the room.
Hestia sighed with a fond smile while Hecate rolled her eyes and smirked.
"How do you feel, Percy?"
"Tired," he mumbled.
"Then sleep some more," Persephone instructed. "There is no hurry."
Except there was, and they all knew it. Every person in the room knew that Percy had never been one to lay around, especially when someone he cared about was in danger. It was obvious to each of them that he would force himself to recover as fast as possible so he could join Reyna and the quest.
He couldn't let her go into combat against Kronos's army without him. They had spent months training together, learning how to work together, and it would be too great a risk to enter such a battle without that kind of preparation. Percy didn't know who else was on the quest, but he could guarantee that not a single one of them would have the same coordination with Reyna that he did.
Before he could protest, however, Hecate waved a hand and commanded, "Sleep."
Percy was too weak to fight the spell, and he fell asleep against his will.
It was a few hours later that he awoke, feeling far more rested than before.
For starters, his sight had returned completely, as had his other senses. His body was still a little sore from the horrible new scars that littered his upper body, but it didn't feel any different to the strain that was usually only present after a strenuous training session, so Percy moved around fine enough.
He was alone in the room this time—his room, he realized. He was back in the Underworld, safe from almost anything that could pose a threat.
Percy rolled out of bed and shakily stood up. His legs wobbled, but he managed to stay upright as he walked over to the dresser to get a change of clothes. His hair felt uncomfortably greasy from over three days without a shower, and he desired the embrace of water more than anything else right now.
He made his way into the bathroom and slipped out of his clothes before turning on the shower.
Percy stepped inside and let the water hit his face.
A searing pain lit up his chest and flames flashed before his eyes.
He stumbled backwards and his back hit cool marble.
Stabbing pain lit up his wrists.
A deep laugh echoed in his ears.
Percy squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.
He wasn't there anymore.
He was safe.
He was safe.
He was safe.
Percy kept repeating those words like a mantra, speaking them aloud as if they were an incantation that would bring him peace. His breathing eventually slowed and his heart stopped pounding quite so fiercely. The fog that had filled his thoughts lifted, and Percy opened his eyes.
He was in the shower still, but he had backed as far away from the water as was possible. Drops landed on his feet, but the rest of him was in the clear, for the most part.
"This is stupid," he muttered angrily. Water was his element, not Atlas's! That Titan had no right turning his greatest strength against him, and Percy refused to let him. Water was what healed him, not what caused him pain. It was where he was safest, outside the Underworld.
Percy rose to his feet and slowly reentered the stream of water that flowed from the shower head, letting his body become immersed inch by inch. Soon, he was completely soaked by the water, using it to rejuvenate himself and restore what energy he hadn't yet regained. His scars remained, but they looked far less ghastly than they had before, no longer sore or causing him pain.
He embraced the comfort the water brought for over an hour before turning off the shower.
Percy stared at himself in the mirror and hardly recognized himself.
Most of his wounds had been completely healed by the water, but there were seven scars too deep and cursed for even the water and Hecate's magic to heal. Two of them were from where Atlas had plunged the dagger into him—one on his abdomen and one in his side. The remaining five were jagged slashes on his back.
The change others would notice, however, was the thick streak of grey in his jet-black hair.
Percy knew he had had more grey in his hair than that. His hair was long enough that the tips hung in his eyes, and he was confident he had seen more grey, even as clouded as his mind had been.
Was that part of the damage Hecate had healed, then?
Percy dressed himself as if he were going to war—which, technically, he was. He strapped his Stygian iron dagger sideways to the back of his waist so it was easily accessible. All he had to do was reach back with his left hand to grab it, and then he could dual wield with Revenant.
That was something he would rather not do, but he wanted to be prepared for anything.
He pulled on a pair of black jeans, then his combat boots. He normally hated wearing them, but with the winter weather, they were better than sneakers. He finished with a black, hoodless jacket. A hood would only get in his way in a fight, and he needed to have as much freedom as possible.
Percy stared at his enchanted necklace for a second. It was only now that he realized that Atlas hadn't noticed it when Percy was shirtless. The Titan had been so caught up in his sadism that he had failed to take notice of the one thing that could have ruined all the planning Hades and his forces had done over the last year. They had gotten incredibly lucky, but they couldn't rely on luck to be there every time they got into a bad situation.
"You shouldn't go."
Persephone was standing in the doorway to his room. Her expression was neutral and queenly, but her eyes shone with concern. The Lady of the Underworld had built a reputation for tempering her husband's wrath, but also for being the more ruthless of the pair.
There was a reason her name meant 'bringer of destruction.'
However, in that moment, Percy saw the side of her that almost no one else ever did.
He saw the goddess who brought life to the world each spring. The woman who loved her husband more than anything and defied her mother to stay with him.
He saw the Persephone who had become family to him.
"You're right," Percy agreed, "I shouldn't."
"But you will."
"I have to."
"Why?"
Percy stared at her, thinking hard. His first answer was to keep Reyna safe, but she was strong enough now to protect herself. His next response would have been to help the quest, but when they had some of Artemis's Hunters with them, that wasn't quite accurate either.
Then he came to his real answer. His fists clenched tightly and he gritted his teeth as an unquenchable fury blazed inside him. It was all he could do to not lash out with his power and bring hell to his surroundings, yet the shadows still crawled to him from every corner of the room, answering his unasked call for their support. The ground trembled lightly around him as he snarled what he was sure Persephone already knew.
"Vengeance."
"For what?" she asked evenly, her eyes focused on him.
"EVERYTHING!" Percy shouted, his anger bursting forth like a roaring river through a broken dam. "For starting this damn war! For Luke stealing the bolt and getting my mother killed by Zeus! For kidnapping me and torturing me!"
"You want to hurt them as they have hurt you," Persephone summarized calmly.
Percy wanted to hit something. His breathing was heavy and he could feel the darkness calling to him, begging to be unleashed like a hurricane—to destroy all that has caused him such pain.
He leaned against the wall and looked down at his fists.
"I want them to suffer," Percy snarled quietly. "To pay for what they've done."
Silence followed his declaration, but he refused to look up. He didn't know what Persephone thought of his desires, but he did know that she wouldn't think him a monster for having them, as most back at Camp Half-Blood would.
Chiron was a healer and a teacher. He helped demigods survive, but he would never support one of them wanting revenge for wrongs done to them. He would give some wise counsel gained over the several thousand years of his life to help Percy move past this, but that anger wouldn't just disappear. It would always be there, simmering, waiting for the chance it could explode.
And the other demigods?
Percy snorted at the mere thought. They were too nice to go through with vengeance, and the ones that weren't were too weak. They weren't soldiers—they were children. War was coming, and they all knew it, yet they still spent their days doing arts and crafts and playing games. They still continued to try and go about daily life like nothing was wrong.
And the Olympians let them.
It had been over a year since Percy had warned Zeus that Kronos was returning, yet nothing had been done to prepare. They still sat on their thrones, acting all-knowing and being useless. The gods, for all their power, did nothing to help the world they ruled. They had allowed themselves to become complacent over the centuries even though the world was plunged into war on a near-constant basis. The Olympians didn't deserve the power they held. They would sooner watch the world plunge into darkness than fortify it and help it stand strong against whatever threat arrived.
Artemis had been willing to let Percy needlessly suffer a horrible death under Atlas's burden. Her father had killed Sally Jackson and attempted to kill Percy without any evidence. Ares was willing to plunge the world into a third world war just because he felt like it, regardless of whether Kronos had been influencing him or not.
There had to be a base from which to build, after all.
"They deserve to suffer," Percy added quietly.
A soft, gentle hand on his shoulder made Percy look up.
Persephone stared down at him with warmth and sorrow in her eyes. She said no words, but none needed to be said. He could see that she supported his decision and would help him achieve it.
"Then suffer they shall," she whispered. Her other hand came up to cup Percy's face. "The Army of Erebus will ensure the Titans do not win this war, Percy. We will bring justice to the Olympians." She pulled him into a comforting hug, leaned close, and whispered into his ear, "All I ask is that you do not lose yourself along the way. Do not allow yourself to change as Hades has. Do not let your thirst for vengeance consume everything you are so that you forget to live."
Persephone stepped back, but kept her arms on his shoulders.
"Remember, Percy, that the flowers will always bloom again—that warmth will always come after the cold and barren winter. It may be dark now, but dawn will always follow the night."
She took the strand of his grey hair in her hand and stared at it.
"Hecate did her best," she murmured, "but some things cannot be fixed."
Persephone stepped back and left the room before he could respond.
Percy's gaze fell to the ring on his right hand, where Revenant was currently hidden away, awaiting his summons. The blade had tasted much blood since had been gifted with it, but soon it would taste the ichor of an immortal for the first time.
Atlas would pay for what he had done, as would all others who stood between Percy and Kronos.
The streets of Los Angeles were crowded as always, but Percy paid them little attention. His gaze was focused on the northeast, in which direction he would find Mount Othrys, even though it was a few hours' journey away. Soon, he would be back there, and when he arrived, he would have his revenge.
For now, though, he needed to know where the quest group was. He knew that they were coming west, but he didn't know how far they had come nor what their next stop was.
He fished in his pocket for a golden drachma for an Iris-message, but before he could start it, he was blinded by headlights.
"What idiot has their lights on while the sun's out?" Percy growled under his breath.
When he lowered his hand to look at the vehicle, he rolled his eyes. It was a limo as white as the marble on Mount Olympus.
'Of course it's some rich dick,' he thought.
The driver's door opened and a young man dressed like a chauffeur stepped out.
"Are you Mr. P. Jackson?" he asked.
Percy immediately prepared to summon Revenant, should he need it.
"Relax, Percy," called a musical voice from inside the limo.
It washed over Percy and made his tense body loosen up. He felt as if he were floating.
"Join me!" the voice requested, and his body obeyed against his will.
Percy could sense magic behind the voice, similar to Circe's, but so much more powerful. It was impossible to resist the alluring call of the woman who summoned him.
The back door of the limo opened as he approached, and he slipped inside.
Percy forgot how to breathe as his eyes landed on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had bronze skin that seemingly glowed in the evening sunlight. Her obsidian eyes were filled with a great amount of amusement, but also curiosity, and her onyx hair curled in elegant waves over her shoulders.
But that wasn't right. Reyna always wore her hair braided—always.
"Who are you?" Percy demanded, shaking himself from his stupor.
The woman smiled. "I'm impressed, Percy. Very few notice the differences between the form I take and the one whom it is based upon."
Percy glared at her.
"No one ever wants to just talk anymore," she sighed. "It's always so much rushing from one thing to the next. Doesn't that ever get exhausting?" When Percy remained silent, she continued, "Very well, I suppose that's enough small chat. For now, anyway."
"Who are you?" Percy repeated. He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it from her.
"I thought that would have been obvious," the woman said with a sultry smile. "I am Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty."
"What do you want with me?"
"Oh, just a little talk about something very important." Aphrodite's smile turned mischievous. "When do you plan on telling her about your true feelings?"
Percy knew there was no point in lying to her when she was quite clearly aware already. "I don't."
"And why not?" she asked, looking more interested than before. "Surely you believe she deserves to know, don't you? Do you not think she has a right to know that you love her?"
Percy gritted his teeth.
"I think you should tell her," Aphrodite continued, uncaring about his reaction. "You might just be surprised what you learn."
"Is my personal life the only reason you're here?" Percy snapped. "If so, I'd rather walk."
Aphrodite rolled her eyes. "You demigods—none of you have any patience."
'Only when it comes to Olympians,' Percy thought scathingly. Even Demeter got on his nerves more often than not, though that was probably more her smothering than anything else. His mother was dead, he didn't need someone trying to replace her.
Percy was caught off guard when Aphrodite's form shimmered. Her skin lightened and her hair turned blonde, but what made Percy sneer were her stormy grey eyes.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Why, whatever do you mean?" Aphrodite asked innocently. Then she smirked, "Your heart pulls in two directions, though one seems to have more sway than the other. At least now I know why you haven't yet told Reyna your true feelings."
Percy glared at her.
"You don't know which one to devote yourself to," Aphrodite guessed softly. "One has been your friend for two years and been with you through so much, but the other is your partner, the one who spent months alone with you in that cabin."
"How do you know about that?" Percy demanded sharply.
"Love is everywhere, Percy. The moment you even began to love Reyna as a friend, I knew where you were," Aphrodite grinned predatorily, "just as I know about a few specific Underworld deities you have surprisingly found love for."
Percy felt lightheaded. If Aphrodite knew about his association with Hades… why hadn't she told anyone? Why had she approached him first? What did she want?
"Why are you here, Aphrodite?"
She looked surprised. "I thought that would've been obvious."
Her eyes glinted as she leaned forward to stare into Percy's.
"I want to make a deal."
AN: Once again, sorry this took so long. I wanted to make Percy's time with Atlas at least somewhat realistic while also showing Titan brutality without going to the extremes that other authors do with torture scenes. Over time, it probably would have gotten worse, but Atlas was starting off simple — for him, that is.
But hey, there was that friendly scene with Persephone, so I hope that makes up for it.
THANKS FOR READING!
