Two years. Two long, dark years since the Hero of Olympus fell into a deep coma, too far gone to twitch- too far gone to even dream, if the lack of brain waves Apollo was recording were to be believed. And that was after the God of Medicine had used everything in his arsenal to try and bring the boy back to the world of the living. That included enlisting aid from Morpheus, God of Sleep, and Hypnos, God of Dreams, both of whom were unable to do anything.
With each passing day, week, and month, Poseidon's heightened anxiety morphed into dread, which soon transformed into depression. The God of the Seas became prone to drastic mood shifts, fast enough to give you whiplash, clearly reflected in the behavior of his domain. It was only through the combined power of Amphitrite and Triton that the islands and coasts of every continent had not been submerged under twenty feet of water. No small feat, to be sure. With each prevented disaster, relations between the Royal Family became more and more strained.
Zeus, try though he might, could not hide just how much this event was affecting him. Despite his loud claims of hatred for his nephew, and the speed with which he called for the death of Poseidon's son in the past years, he became rather sober when the subject of Perseus came up in conversation. He even seemed rather sympathetic to Poseidon, supporting his brother through this hard time. Perhaps he could relate, considering how his own daughter had basically been in a coma as a tree, sleeping but unable to interact with the world. If there was one good thing in this situation, it was the marginally strengthened ties between the Lord of the Sky and the King of the Seas.
Hestia, as to be expected, said nothing on the topic. She never spoke up, unless there was a true need for it. However, any fool could see how troubled she was. Her face fell when she thought none were watching, and her attempts at stoking the Hearth of Olympus were weak, half-hearted. Still, she persisted. All the while, she kept Pandora's Pithos in arm's reach, so that in times of weakness, she could hold on to Hope. Hope that Son of Poseidon would one day wake up.
Hermes' smile no longer reached his eyes. Then again, they rarely have since the death of Luke Castellan. He cracked jokes left and right, laughing it up with Apollo during the solstice meetings, and his message delivery was as quick as ever. Still, every once in a while, when he was taking a five minute break, his expression would fall, his sorrowful frown creasing his face. These moments were few and far between, since the demands of his delivery service were as unrelenting as ever, so Hermes rarely, if ever, had time to properly think on the matter.
Apollo was similar to Hermes, a side-effect of them spending so much time together over the years. He hid his pain behind a million-watt smile that could give the Sun Chariot a run for its money. However, he had been doing that for centuries, though in a different context, so he was used to it. Being the conduit for the prophecies of the Fates had never been easy work, and Apollo had never really understood that the tragedies that occur as a result of them are not his fault. Then again, that may just be because no has ever sat him down, and told him that he was not a monster. Sitting alone in the Sun Chariot with just his thoughts for company for the majority of the day did not help at all.
Aphrodite mourned, but not just for the perceived loss of the Son of Poseidon. She also mourned the loss of the strongest love since Helen and Paris. Where she used to seize every chance possible to gush about how cute Percabeth was, only silence followed the mention of Perseus' name, as well as a frown from the Love Goddess.
Surprisingly, Ares was greatly saddened by the incapacitation of what many thought to be his most hated enemy. Unbeknownst to all except Aphrodite, the two had frequently met for weekly spars, keeping the other as sharp as the swords they swung in the arena. Eventually, though, they had started to meet up just to hang out, or watch the game on Ares' massive plasma screen TV, and just generally be crude men. Nowadays, the War God seemed more anxious than ever to make good on his name and incite conflict, whether it be with simple snide comments, or even instigating a fight between his father and uncle during one memorable Winter Solstice. It was safe to say the god wouldn't be trying that again for at least half a millennia, after the sound thrashing he got from Athena, who had seen through his attempts with ease.
Speaking of Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom did not seem very torn up about the fate of her daughter's love. She was far more concerned with the effect it had on Annabeth Chase, and was more than relieved when the blonde girl found a coping mechanism, albeit a rather… Unconventional one.
Dionysus, Hephaestus, Hera, Demeter, and Hades seemed mostly unconcerned. However, nobody knew their true feelings on the matter. Dionysus rolled his eyes whenever the topic of half-bloods in general came up. Hephaestus never spoke of his thoughts on anything other than his inventions, or the occasional comment at the solstice meetings. Hera, obviously did not like demigods, but did that extend to the Son of Poseidon? Nobody knew. Demeter only proclaimed that, if the boy had eaten more cereal, he wouldn't be in the position, but then the topic was quickly changed by whoever she was talking to. Hades… Well, none of the gods could get a read on the ruler of the Underworld. It wasn't like he dropped by Olympus for a casual talk. If anyone knew what the God of the Dead thought, it would be Persephone, but she likely wouldn't be inclined to share her husband's secrets.
As the months went by, it seemed that Olympus was slowly grinding to a halt, and it was as if only one goddess really noticed.
Artemis, personally, did not get what the big deal was. The world would not end if Perseus Jackson was indisposed. Maybe, had it been five years earlier, when he was the subject of two Great Prophecies, but with his series of quests complete, his life was no longer the business of the Olympians. Sure, Artemis felt a bit of sympathy for the young man. After all, he was a mortal, with a lifespan limited even further by the perils of simply being a demigod, especially a Son of Poseidon. He would not live long. To have two years wasted in a deep sleep with no discernible causes? That would surely grate on the Son of the Sea.
Still, it was rather unsettling, the power a mere half-blood had over the Olympian gods, even in his absence. Sure, Artemis respected the male. He had saved the world multiple times, after all, and even herself on one occasion. However, the Goddess of the Hunt had not truly interacted with the boy since her rescue from Mount Othrys. Afterwards, it had been a simple greeting once every year or two, and nothing more. Not even an entire conversation.
That was subject to change, though, when two years worth of memories forced their way into her head.
It hurt to open his eyes. They had become quite used to the darkness, so suddenly introducing them to a room made of pure gold, with LED lights reflecting off of every surface, was not a very good idea. Unfortunately, it wasn't like he had much of a choice. He had to take stock of his current situation. Cracking his eyelids open once more, he was able to ease them into eventually separating fully. Allowing his vision a moment to adjust, he catalogued his other senses. He heard the beeping of a heart rate monitor, could smell the sanitary staleness of the infirmary he rested in. The sheets covering him were soft, along with the hospital gown clothing him. His tongue felt… Fine, actually. It was a bit of a surprise. He expected it to be like that time he woke up after coming to Camp when he was twelve, when his tongue was so dry it felt like it was cracking every time he moved it. The worst he could taste was morning breath, but he could deal with that.
Finally, it was time to check on his body. Lifting himself into a sitting position took so much effort, his elbows nearly buckled. Only through sheer willpower was he able to rise, but even then, he was breathing heavily, lungs rattling in his ribcage. The white sheet which had previously been covering him up to his neck fell away, revealing his bare arms. They looked, in a word, skeletal. His veins protruded like rolling hills, and his bones stuck out so much, he was sure his elbow was sharper than Riptide. His skin, which had previously held a light tan, was now whiter than paper, and a hell of a lot dryer. It was actually somewhat painful to even move, every motion sending tingles through his nerves. He had no doubt the rest of his body fared just as well, and he didn't even want to imagine his face. He probably looked like a spartus, but a lot skinnier.
Apollo chose that moment to walk in. The clipboard he was carrying dropped to the ground, clattering against the gold tiles, but the god was already next to his bed.
"You're- you're awake! Holy shit! Alright, uh, do you know who I am? What's your name? What's the last thing you remember? How many fingers am I holding up? How do you feel? What-"
He zoned out, ignoring the way that the Sun God's mouth was running a mile a minute, until he finally got fed up.
"When can I leave?" he rasped, nearly choking with how dry his throat was.
Apollo gaped like a goldfish. "Are you kidding!? You just woke up from a two year coma! You'll be lucky if you get out of here by the end of the month!"
"Listen, just pump me up with as much ambrosia and nectar as you can. Anything else can probably be fixed with a little training."
"...That is most definitely not how it works, and that's why I'm the doctor. As the doctor, I order you to stay in bed until you're healthy. Now, get up, I've gotta run some tests. Just a simple physical examination- nothing to worry about."
When his patient didn't move, Apollo raised an eyebrow. He waved a hand at the bedridden man. "C'mon. What're you doing?"
"Before you told me to get up, you said to stay in bed until I'm healthy." The blond glared at him, and he held his hands up defensively. "Hey, don't blame me. I'm just following the doctor's orders." His lopsided smirk made Apollo heave a heavy sigh through his nose, but the god was grinning, shaking his head in amusement.
"Well, nice to see you haven't changed that much. C'mon, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can you outta here."
"Alright, time for my awesome diagnosis! Lots of rest- duh. Seriously, dude, don't even try to hold a sword for, like, a month. Forget fighting with one, your bones'll snap under the weight alone. Considering the bone thing, lots of milk. Second, as much ambrosia and nectar as you can handle without burning up. I've gotta be careful with the timing of your dosages. If they're too close together, obviously, you go fwoosh." Apollo waved his arms wildly to simulate him spontaneously combusting. "Also, if they're too far apart, then you'll just be here for that much longer. I can see that you don't really want that, so I'll do my best to maximize efficiency." His patient nodded gratefully, and Apollo smiled. "Next, I'm gonna be loading you up with as much fatty food as I can; you need to get your weight back before you can even think about muscle. I hope you like double cheeseburgers, 'cause you're gonna be seein' a lot of 'em- once we get your stomach readjusted to actually eating, instead of absorbing nutrients through a tube, of course. Wouldn't wanna rip your guts open 'cause you couldn't handle a few fries. Anyways, I'll be bringing you some video games and comics and stuff to keep you occupied, since you'll be stuck in bed for the foreseeable future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some godly business to take care of."
That was probably code for going to get laid, but he was a bit too tired to really care at the moment. Apollo clapped him on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain and a hasty apology, before he slipped away into natural, not-comatose sleep.
It took two months, but he was finally ready to leave the hospital. One month to get him back to decent health, and then another for some incredibly effective physical therapy, which he definitely had to thank Apollo for. He was about as fit as he had been at fourteen or so, but he would definitely be working on it.
The question was, what to do now that he was free? He could visit his dad… Actually, probably not a good idea. For some reason, Apollo had yet to tell anyone of his awakening. According to the Sun God; "I just got a bad feeling whenever I tried to bring it up." The Fates must've been involved. If they didn't want his recovery to be known, then he wouldn't argue with them. He learned his lesson about that a long time ago. So, it was a no-go on visiting his father. The same with his mother, because she would probably call up everybody and tell them. Obviously, for that same reason, Camp was out. Then again, he didn't exactly feel like going there at the moment. He had something he'd much rather be doing instead.
Reaching deep within himself, he latched onto the tendrils of energy which had been buried far beneath the surface. It took some effort, but he was finally able to wriggle it loose, and concentrate it in his hand. Slashing an arm through the air, a rip in the fabric of reality opened up, causing a grin to appear on his face.
"Yup. Still got it."
Percy stepped through the portal, right into the depths of Tartarus.
He inhaled deeply, reveling in the way the sulfuric air burned his lungs. His bare toes wriggled in the glass shards that littered the ground, burrowing deeper and deeper with every motion. He hadn't felt true pain in a while. Sure, there was the aches and sore that came with exercising after a long, long break, but this was torture. And he was going to love every. Single. Second.
It wasn't like he suddenly became a masochist. He didn't love pain for the sake of pain, but more for what it represented; he was free of that hellish illusion. If he happened to be in literal hell, then that was just a coincidence. Feeling pain cemented the reality of the situation; he had actually been released from that alternate dimension. Talk about a pain in the ass!
Not only did he come back to a skeleton for a body, but there was also the fact that nothing would really be the same. Apollo was still cool, but they weren't exactly friends here. They didn't have inside jokes, they didn't take the Sun Chariot for random joyrides, hell, he hadn't even had a drink with this Apollo! The same with Hermes, and any of the other gods. Sure, he could go grab a few beers with Hermes, maybe go see a basketball game with his dad, or even take Aphrodite on a hot date- well, maybe not that last one- but it just wouldn't feel right.
Still, he came here to whip himself back into shape, not complain about things he had no control over. And it looked like the perfect workout was coming straight to him; the Minotaur.
Percy could hear the monster running at top speeds through the Pit, if the constant pounding of its hooves and raucous bellowing were any indication. It was somewhat poetic, that the Minotaur was the first monster he encountered. It had introduced him to the world of gods and monsters (Ms. Dodds didn't count. That dumb bitch basically threw herself on his sword- which sounds very, very wrong, in hindsight), and now it was welcoming him back. How cute.
The monster finally crested a glass-covered hill, allowing Percy to get a good look at it. The Minotaur looked the same as he remembered; thick, bulging muscles, as if somebody had stuffed baseballs under its skin, hairy lower legs like a satyr, insanely sharp horns, and bright, white, Fruit of the Loom undies. It even had its omega axe, though no armor to go with the weapon.
"What's up, beef brain? So anxious to get killed again that you ran all this way to find me?" Percy taunted, pulling his trusty pen out of his pocket. He uncapped it, and Riptide sprung into his palm.
The Minotaur bellowed in rage, stamping a hoof on the glass sand. It lowered its head to be level with the ground- the perfect height to skewer a demigod- and charged. As it got closer, Percy couldn't help but wonder if the monster was angry because of his insults, or just because it hated him.
Is it even smart enough to understand what I'm saying?
Percy spun to the side, easily avoiding the bull-man's wild charge. "Come on, you can't seriously expect to get me with that! Since when has it actually worked?"
The Minotaur charged again, but this time had its arms spread wide. Still, Percy twirled out of the way, ducking under the meaty fingers that attempted to wrap around his ribcage and squeeze him to a pulp. The demigod shook his head.
"Man, it's like you got slower over the years. What's up with that?" Percy laughed mockingly when the beast pawed the ground, lining up for another pass. "Are you a one-trick pony or something? You've got a big-ass axe on your back- use it!"
Apparently, the Minotaur could understand what he was saying, because it straightened up and released the omega axe from its strap, slamming it on the ground.
"There you go! Did you forget it was there? And I thought there was a limit to how stupid something could be. Guess I was wrong."
Bull-man drew back its axe, and swung for all it was worth. Percy, like an idiot, raised Riptide with one hand to block it head-on. It was no surprise when the Celestial Bronze blade went flying out of his hand, far into the distance. Percy hissed in irritation, shaking out the tingles in his hand, blowing on the raw skin of his palm.
"Alright, that was a bad idea," Percy muttered. "You may be stupid as alll Hades, but damn you are strong!" The Minotaur seemed to grin, before hefting its weapon for another swing. Percy had no clue where his sword flew off to, so he simply settled for waiting until it magically returned to him. Ten seconds, and three very close-calls later, he felt the familiar weight appear in his pocket. He snatched the pen from his jeans, then rolled under the Minotaur's wide, sweeping strike. While on the ground, he popped the cap off Riptide with a thumb, causing the blade to extend suddenly, and cut clean through the shaft of the axe. Due to its momentum, the axe head went spinning off into the horizon. Percy shuddered at the distance it got; had he been hit with that, he would've been dead for sure.
"Moo?" The Minotaur seemed confused, staring dumbly at the shattered wood in its hand. The demigod could see the rusty gears in the monster's head turning as it attempted to think. Wasn't there supposed to be a blade on this stick?
Percy couldn't help but chuckle as he leapt to his feet. Another jump, and a flash of bronze, the decapitated corpse of the Minotaur dropped to the ground. Moments later, it collapsed into golden dust, swept up by the sulfuric wind. Well, most of it did. Lying on the ground, next to his feet, was the bull-man's skull, stripped clean of any rancid flesh. For some reason, it still had its gold nose ring. Picking it up, Percy looked into one of the eye sockets, and laughed at what he saw. Or rather, what he didn't see.
"Wow. I guess ol' ground beef really was brainless. Now, what do I do with this thing…?"
It was a pretty cool spoils of war, but also rather inconvenient. The skull was about the size of his abdomen, which made sense, since the Minotaur was a big bitch. However, he didn't feel like toting this thing around for gods-knows how long. So, he decided to get rid of it in a beneficial manner.
"Where do I find a fire?"
It took a while, but Percy finally managed to find the River Phlegethon. He shivered at the memory of its disgusting taste- like a ghost pepper shake mixed with gasoline, if he recalled correctly. Kneeling down on the river bank, Percy carelessly tossed the skull in the liquid flames. Percy was marginally worried that the Fates wouldn't like him doing this, since it would probably alert his dad to his presence, but they hadn't strictly warned him not to pull a stunt like this. If anything happened, that was on them.
For you, Poseidon. Mount this on the wall in Cabin Three, would ya?
Percy climbed to his feet, brushed off his jeans, and walked away from the flowing fire. He was ready to start the journey to regain his strength.
