The title is a quote from Albus Dumbledore in The Philosopher's Stone.

Loki, dear.

The soft, lilting, feminine voice slowly stirred him from his peaceful slumber. He struggled to open his eyes.

Mother?

Yes, Loki. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

You—you're dead.

A gentle chuckle echoed in his mind. Yes, I am. I appreciate you pointing out the obvious, darling. But when has death ever stopped us royals?

Pressure lifted off his chest at the sound of her beautiful laughter. Was that a jab at me, Mother?

Whatsoever are you talking about, my sweet? I would never. The amusement in her voice contradicted her words. Loki could almost see her—beautiful golden hair waving in the breeze, warm cerulean eyes alight with laughter.

A mix between a sob and a laugh shook his chest. I've missed you, Mother.

As have I, you. Her tone turned serious. Loki, darling, you must get up. You still have much to do.

I'm tired, Mother. So, so tired.

I know, sweetheart. I know. But there are still people who need you.

Confusion crept through his mind. Need him? He was a villain. No one needs a villain. Mother—

Do you doubt me, boy? She questioned back, tone sharp. I was raised by witches. Come now child, you know I see with more than eyes.

But Mother—

Wake up, child. His mother's voice drifted out, merging with multiple gravelly voices. Your time is not yet up.

Loki's eyes opened of their own volition. Blankness greeted him. He blinked again. When his eyes focused, he resisted the urge to jump. Three old—and when Loki said old, he meant old—ladies stared back at him.

All the blood drained from his face.

"Nornir," he whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They're retreating," Nico commented to Thalia.

"Yeah," she panted back. Her clothes were ripped beyond repair, her bow had been snapped in half by a giant, and she'd lost so much blood that she couldn't tell if the skeletons dancing behind Nico were real or her brain's bizarre invention, but she'd never felt more alive.

The coms crackled to life. Steve's voice resounded in their ears. Everyone inside the building. We don't know if this is over yet.

Nico and Thalia exchanged looks. "There may be a second wave," Nico murmured.

"Hunters!" Thalia called, nodding sharply at the son of Hades. "Regroup in the building!"

Nico ran a tired hand through his sweaty hair. He'd had a close call with a harpy, but physically, he wasn't doing too bad. He'd probably sleep for a month after this was over, though. "They actually did it."

Thalia grinned, blood staining her pearly-white teeth. She may have been a mostly-immortal, half-god monster hunter, but that didn't mean she could slack on oral hygiene. "What? You doubted the Percy Jackson?"

Nico's lips twitched. "Right, right. My bad. I should never doubt the Percy Jackson."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Percy had some major doubts about life—or rather, death—as he stared at the Fates. He wanted to go all Jedi on them and say, "I am not the half-blood you're looking for." Unfortunately, he didn't think it'd have quite the same effect on the Fates as it did the stormtroopers.

The three women smiled at him. "Perseus Jackson," they intoned, completely in sync.

Percy resisted the urge to shudder. "Percy's fine," he said quietly as he stood up.

The Moirai just watched him silently. Creepily.

O-kay, Percy thought. That's not weird at all. Since they obviously have no intention of speaking... "Why am I not dead?"

Percy winced internally. "N-not that I'm complaining or anything!" he stuttered out. "I like my heart beating just like the next person," Smooth, Percy. Real smooth. "but I'm just a little confused.

"Understandably so," Clotho the Spinner replied soothingly. Well, as soothing as an ancient, wrinkly hag with clumps of missing, stringy hair and white eyes that looked impossible to see out of, and yet gave the impression that they could see into your very soul, could be.

Lachesis the Allotter spoke up, voice gravelly. "But we are still waiting on one other person before we begin."

What? Who—

"Ah, there he is," Atropos the Inflexible croaked, pale eyes drifting behind Percy.

Percy frowned and turned. A smile spread across his face. "Loki!"

"Percy," said god greeted amiably, if a bit confused.

"Now that you are both here—"

"Nornir," Loki muttered.

Percy grimaced, side-eying the god. "Maybe don't curse at the beings who hold literal life and death in their hands." Their very wrinkled, old-woman hands.

"Wha—no. I wasn't cursing." Loki gestured to the trio. "They're the Norns," he explained, tone laced with equal amounts of awe and fear.

As Loki spoke, their forms shimmered. They weren't much different—still old, extremely powerful immortals with questionable clothing choices—but their aura was different. Fiercer. Less Greek and more... something.

Percy blinked. "Um, no. I'm pretty sure they're the Fates. You know, the old—ah, mature—ladies who kill people."

Rough laughter twinkled in the air. Their first forms reappeared. "We appreciate the compliment, Perseus," they synchronized. "Though that is not exactly our job description."

"Uh, yeah. No problem." Percy cleared his throat. "So now can we talk about why I'm not, y'know, dead?"

"Perseus!" Loki rebuked, using his full first name like a parent would if he was scolding his child.

Why can no one just call me Percy? It's only two syllables. Very simple.

Loki continued irately, "Don't disrespect the Norns!"

P-E-R-C-Y. See, I'm dyslexic and even I can spell it! And still—

Percy looked up. Oh, Loki was talking wasn't he?

"Uh, sorry?"

Percy's rule of thumb: When you accidently ignore someone yelling at you, just apologize. If they were yelling, then you probably did something wrong. It worked for Percy more than he wanted to admit.

The deities chuckled once more.

I'm so glad the Fates find me amusing.

Their laughter sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Clotho even started hacking violently. Percy absently wondered if the coughing attack would kill the immor... tal. Oh, yeah. Whoops.

Clotho recovered from her coughing fit and explained, "Neither of you is dead. However, you are both dying."

Percy and Loki stared.

"Well, to be exact. Perseus' soul is in the process of dissolving, and you, Loki, are close to succumbing to your multitude of wounds and your seiðr burnout."

"...oh," Percy managed, even though he'd known (in theory) what happened to a god when he 'died.' "That's... lovely."

"But worry not, children. Neither of you will be dying today," Atropos smiled, a singular tooth hanging precariously from her gums.

Lachesis nudged Atropos. "Ah, apologies," Atropos said. "Perseus, you will still be dying."

Wonderful.

"But your existence will not be wiped. You will die like a normal half-blood."

"I—wait. What?"

Die like a normal half-blood. Percy wasn't sure there were normal half-bloods, but that wasn't the point. Die like a normal—

"Wait. I'm going to the Underworld?!"

Clotho nodded. "Yes. You will be fast-tracked straight to Elysium."

Percy couldn't breathe. Tears prickled at his eyes. He'd given up hope. He thought he'd never see any of them again, not his family, not his friends, and not his fiancé. But now...

"You're not screwing with me, are you?" Percy croaked, voice wavering. "Because, no offense, but you've screwed with me my whole life. I wouldn't be surprised if you're telling me this just to laugh when you crush my hope again."

Loki gasped, resisting the urge to strangle the demigod. "Percy! That's very rude!"

Percy huffed. "I said no offense."

"Saying no offensive just means that your next words are offensive," Loki groaned out and opened his mouth to apologize for Percy.

Lachesis cut in. "It is true that your life has had its... rough patches—"

"Understatement of the century."

"—but you must understand that we did everything we could for you."

"We made you a god, so you could survive and beat Tartarus," Atropos started.

Clotho continued, "We didn't give you a domain, so your power wouldn't be shackled to a specific element."

Lachesis was next. "We wove the mortal heroes and the Asgardians into your life thread."

"We even warned the gods to withdraw, so they would not destroy your human world," Atropos finished.

Percy hated to say it, but that had been the right move. The consequences would've been devastating if the gods had fought against Tartarus on the living plane.

Percy frowned. "You did all of that so Tartarus wouldn't destroy the world, not for me. I was just a pawn in your grand scheme to beat Tartarus."

"Perhaps," Clotho acknowledged.

Lachesis watched him calmly. "We did what needed to be done."

"But not everything was to take advantage of you," Atropos denied.

Lachesis spoke again. "If we wanted to use the mortals and Asgardians for our purposes, we would have simply had your paths cross at the appropriate time. Instead, we interwove the threads, so you could experience family again."

Percy blinked, eyes burning. "I..."

Family.

Because that was what the Avengers were turning into for him.

Percy peeked sidelong at the man beside him. Even Loki, who was not only a criminal and the god of lies but who'd also had to be manipulated into helping Percy, had started to feel like a friend.

Fighting literal hell with the other did that to you.

"Do not worry, Perseus," the first reassured.

The second nodded. "We are not expecting a 'thank you.'"

"In fact," the third spoke up, "we want to thank you."

Percy blinked.

"We will not apologize for doing what needed to be done," Clotho said gravely.

In union, they declared, "But we will express our gratitude."

Percy blinked again, completely thrown. What do you say when the masters of every single person's destiny thanked you?

Mercifully, it didn't seem like they were expecting a response.

Atropos gestured to Loki. "We suggest you say your goodbyes."

Percy turned to Loki, before turning back to the Fates so fast he was surprised he didn't fall over.

"Wait, did anyone die? During the battle, I mean. Did any of the demigods or Avengers die?"

Smiles (toothless, of course). Atropos talked. "No, Perseus. To express our gratefulness to you and everyone else who fought, I cut no strings."

"Oh. Thank you."

They inclined their heads.

Percy turned back to Loki and hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. Thank you for leaving your prison cell to save my life, teaching me how to be a wizard, and almost dying to help me defeat the primordial of the Pit?

Yeah, no.

Percy cleared his throat. "Thanks. For, y'know, risking your life for me and—what did you call it? Midgard?" He cleared his throat again. "Anyway, thanks."

Loki smiled, amused. "Eloquent as always, Percy. But I appreciate your gratitude." He paused, as if stopping himself before saying more. The prince coughed. "Not that I did it for you, anyhow. My oaf of a brother practically begged me."

"Right. Yeah, of course." Percy bit his lip to stop his lips from turning upward. Distant till the end.

"Good."

"Good."

This was the weirdest antemortem conversation Percy had ever had. And Percy had had a lot of close calls in his short lifetime.

Percy looked back at the Fates. They spoke before he could.

"I'm sorry. We cannot let you talk to the living, Perseus."

They knew what he was going to ask before he even opened his mouth. Not creepy at all.

His face fell, and he faced Loki.

"Can you tell everyone that I'm in Elysium?" he started, voice thick. "And thank them for everything?"

Loki nodded. "Of course."

"And tell Neeks and Thals that I won the race." The first of the Big Three trio to make it to Elysium. "And that I'll be waiting for them."

Loki nodded again.

Percy had left each Avenger a little gift, so he didn't need to relay anything else to Loki.

Percy grabbed Loki's arm and met his eyes gravely. Loki jumped at the sudden touch but didn't pull away. "Thank you, Loki. Seriously. Thank you for everything."

A lump formed in Loki's throat. While Percy did have many bizarre attributes, one thing could be said for him. He affected everyone around him.

Percy managed a smile. "Even if you only did it for your 'oaf of a brother.'"

Loki forced a soft chuckle.

Percy turned back to the Moirai and took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

Atropos held out a hand. "Then come, child, to your afterlife."

Percy took a step toward her.

Loki grabbed his arm. "Wait, Percy."

Percy turned back, and Loki dropped his arm. "I...uh..." Loki cursed himself internally. He'd grabbed Percys arm without thinking. "Enjoy your afterlife," he finally finished lamely, casting his gaze to the ground.

Percy smiled, understanding the words that his mouth couldn't convey. "And you enjoy the rest of your crazy long life, god of mischief."

Percy pulled away and walked to Atropos.

Lachesis appeared next to Loki, startling him. "It is time for your return to the living. You still have much to do, youngster."

Before Loki could even ask what he'd be doing from a prison cell, Lachesis touched his forehead. Loki vanished, a surprised look still on his face.

Goodbye, Loki. May we cross paths in the next life.

"I have extended his string," Lachesis proclaimed for Percy's benefit.

Percy nodded and turned back to Atropos, slightly nervous. She smiled. "Do not worry, child. It will not hurt." Atropos extended her hand over Percy.

And Perseus Achilles Jackson died.