Well, he was going to die.

He'd decided that within the first minute of holding the button on the doors of death. He'd admit it, he was good. He was the best swordsman on the planet by now, according to most of the older beings he had met. He'd gotten a grasp on his powers most demigods didn't live to see, especially children of the big 3. But looking around… yeah, not a chance.

Percy grunted, slashing through another charging hellhound with one hand while he made sure to keep his finger on the button with the other.

Damasen and Bob kept Tartarus occupied for a little, but he was a primordial, and this was his home turf. If it was just them three against Tartarus, Percy wouldn't like their odds, but what really sealed the deal was the enormous horde of monsters surrounding them. There were probably more than Percy had seen in his entire life combined, including the battle of Manhattan.

So yeah, he wasn't making it out of this one.

He was strangely okay with that.

As long as — he dodged out of the way of a dracaena that had dived at him — Annabeth was okay. Just three more minutes, that's all he had to last for.

Percy counted down the seconds, fighting back the horde of monsters with a single hand. He could not fail. He wouldn't accept failure. Not now.

Soon enough, Percy heard a 'Ding!' just as his counting reached about 700. Holding on for a few more seconds just to be safe, Percy released the button and stepped away from the door, turning back to cut each of the chains holding it before diving into the fight against Tartarus. Here went nothing.

They were losing. Even discounting the plethora of monsters just waiting to get their fair share of demigod meat, Tartarus was beating them all single handedly.

"It's hopeless. You realize at this point that you cannot win."

Percy grit his teeth, rolling back onto his feet after being thrown half a football field away. With two strong swipes he dismissed the nearby monsters from reality and began charging back into the fray.

Bob was already gone, sucked into the bottomless pit that made up Tartarus' face. Small Bob hadn't been far behind, and the Lydian Drakon Damasen had tamed wasn't far behind him. Now it was just Percy and Damasen. If only to make matters worse Tartarus seemed to grow stronger with each of Percy's friends he consumed.

Percy charged back in as quickly as he could. Unfortunately between the cuts from the floor of glass and the lung damage from the poisonous air, he was not in tip top shape. Dodging around the odd monster still stupid enough to be towards the front of the crowd, Percy launched himself at Tartarus' back, only to be smacked out of the air halfway there.

Percy grunted as he landed again, this time significantly closer.

"Damasen!"

Percy's eyes widened as, sure enough, he watched Damasen go the way of the rest of his allies, his form disappearing as his energy was sucked into the void that made up Tartarus' face.

Tartarus rounded on him. "You are alone. Give in, and I will allow you to live down here for eternity."

Percy narrowed his eyes. "As certain as it is that I won't walk out of here alive, why do you want me to give up? You just killed a giant, a titan, and two legendary monsters. Why are you so afraid of me?"

A shaking laugh reverberated throughout Tartarus. "Afraid of you? Hardly. I'd rather get it over with quickly, I grow tired of dealing with such pests."

"You're lying." Percy raised his sword. "I don't know why, but you're lying right now."

"Because he cannot kill you, by my decree."

Percy looked around wildly trying to find the mysterious voice.

"Your time has yet to come. A permanent death such as the one he wishes to give you is unacceptable."

"Anake." Tartarus growled, the entire pit shaking with rage. "You interfere time and time again. I tried to play nice, but I will not let this child leave the pit alive. You cannot defy both me and Gaea; your time will come eventually."

"And yet defy you is exactly what I will do. You may not remove him; that is final."

"No," Tartarus shook his head. "It is not."

With that, Tartarus reached out a hand towards him, and Percy knew pain. Pain on a metaphysical level was kind of weird, because you didn't know where it hurt, you didn't know why it hurt, you just knew it did hurt.

Percy screamed as his soul was sucked out of his body, on a one track course to oblivion.

"I said no!"

And then there was another sensation, another pulling on his soul, but this one was pulling him back into his body. It seemed to be winning quite handily for a couple of seconds until Tartarus redoubled his efforts. Percy's soul was being torn in two different directions by a pair of primordial beings. It was not comfortable. Percy wasn't sure if he was screaming anymore, but he did know he was in pain. Lots, and lots of pain.

"At this rate we will pull his soul apart. Stop this foolishness at once Tartarus!"

"It matters not to me if his soul will be torn apart. The only way to stop the destruction of his soul is to let me have it."

"I refuse!"

Percy heard a voice at the edge of his consciousness. Percy registered it as the only thing that existed besides pain at the moment, and clung to it.

"I am sorry young one, but there is no longer a choice. The only way to keep your soul intact is to reincarnate it."

Percy might have asked what she was talking about if he wasn't in so much pain. As it was he barely understood the voice at all.

"There is no time to undergo the proper processes, I will have to remove you from this dimension without dipping you in the lethe. You must find a way to come back. Good luck, young one."

And then the pain stopped.

This dimension, Percy had decided some time ago, sucked.

Or maybe that was his American showing. Despite not having grown up in a particularly rich family, he was still used to eating three meals a day, and having a place to sleep at night with a bed under him and a roof above him.

This… this was not that.

Percy himself was too young to work the fields, but his mother certainly wasn't. His father wasn't around — from what he could gather the women and the children were always kept separate from the men except for when it was time for mating.

Percy hadn't quite been born as a slave… but it was close.

He was fed enough — he was just a kid, after all. He didn't need much to get by, and they wanted strong workers. But that was about it. His mother worked the fields, while he was expected to stay at home and just sit around.

He hated being a kid again. How did they pass the time? As much as his maturity had been degraded, he didn't care much to sit there and play with sticks. Maybe plastic toys had spoiled him, but his imagination just wasn't in it. Being young again was only good for one thing, that one thing being his ability to pick up languages. He also wasn't hardwired for Greek or Latin, so learning to write again was actually doable.

But perhaps the biggest thing that had struck Percy was one basic, undeniable truth he had seen in front of his eyes on numerous occasions.

Aliens existed.

A variety of different species from across the known galaxy lived on Ruan, at least from what he had heard. There were mostly humans on the farm he lived on, but aliens were there. The most noticeable ones were a couple blue humans with tails on their head. Though they were few and far between, it was more than enough to convince Percy he was not on earth. That is, if the three moons didn't do it for him.

Percy and his mother lived what he imagined a normal life for someone on this planet would be like. They woke up, his mother went to work the fields, they were paid in their rations for the day, and then they slept. Well, she worked, and she was paid. Percy mostly sat around, and every now and then he'd halfheartedly attempt to join in with the other kids. Considering they weren't so much as potty trained, however, he had a hard time relating.

Perhaps the most important thing he had managed to discover this young in his childhood, is that he didn't have control over water. It was disheartening to find out, like he'd lost a part of himself. But there wasn't all that much he could do about it.

He didn't remember his 'mother's' name, or any of his friends from that age. It was fuzzy as is, not to mention the average human is physically incapable of forming memories before they're almost 4. Presumably because of the… unique, nature of his soul and memory, he had memories dating back to his birth.

But the only thing he distinctly remembered from that part of his life is when he arrived.

It was the first time he had seen a spaceship in person, he was sure. The area he was from hardly had a lot of traffic, and even the people that owned the farm didn't own a ship.

It was a large ship, or at least what he imagined to be a large ship at the time. The ship landed outside one night, waking the workers. His mother had shushed him, though it really wasn't needed, and stood up with the rest of the adults to investigate what the loud noise and lights were when the doors to the barn were gently pushed open.

Startled cries breached through the barn, babies crying out in distress. Percy's mother quickly moved back to comfort him, though once again, it wasn't all that needed. Despite his newly found immaturity and his overreaction to most inconveniences, he was hardly quaking in his boots at the mystery man.

He was wearing a hood and cloak, and raised his hands as he walked in, as if to show that he didn't mean any harm. Percy couldn't see his face because the only source of light was from the ship behind him, but he could see his outline. The tall, imposing figure was still etched into his mind to this day.

And then, slowly, the man began walking towards him.

Percy didn't remember the exact words that were said, but he did remember that there was a fair bit of crying. At least, his mother cried. But then he was being passed to the man without a struggle.

Percy stared curiously up at the man who was holding him, taking him away from his mother, away from the farm, and away from his life for the last two years (not that he could barely remember most of being a baby.)

"Hello, young one."

"Focus on the energy around you. Feel the energies moving, all connected to the living force."

Percy struggled not to fidget in place, focusing on what he was told. Meditating… was not his forte. Luckily he didn't seem to have ADHD, but he was hardly a patient person nonetheless.

When his master was silent for an extended period of time, Percy peaked open an eye to find Mace Windu staring back at him, unimpressed.

Mace stood up. "We'll try this again tomorrow."

Percy shook his head quickly. "I can do it! I just need more time."

Mace shot him a harsh look. "That is why we will try tomorrow."

Percy just nodded, sufficiently cowed. It was strange, considering Mace was just barely older than he had been when he'd died. Maybe a couple of years his senior, Mace was still able to cow Percy sufficiently.

"How old are you?" Percy blurted out, before he could stop himself. The impulsivity of youth was… frustrating. He was hardly a paragon of discipline at seventeen, but at least he had been able to more or less control his mouth.

Mace stopped walking out of the room to look back at the sitting Percy, seeming genuinely caught off guard.

"And why do you want to know that, apprentice?"

Percy looked down at his hands, suddenly feeling very abashed. "Nothing, no reason. Don't worry about it."

Mace shook his head in exasperation. "I'm twenty four, young one."

Percy did some quick math in his head. Since he was four, and had died at seventeen (or whatever you would refer to getting your soul rended by a couple of primordials as), that meant his master was just three years older than him.

Percy nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

"Get some rest. We'll try it again tomorrow, and run through some more physical exercises. You're ahead of schedule with your blade practice, so we can make up some lost time."

Percy stood as well, nodding at Mace and bowing as he exited the room. The… traditions of this universe, or at least the jedi order, had been a bit jarring, but over a couple of years it had been hammered into him well enough.

Percy pursed his lips as the door slid shut behind mace. Percy walked out after him, padding through the hallways on the way back to his room. Normally he'd have to be escorted, but he'd (surprise surprise) proven himself more responsible than some of the padawans five times his age when he'd first arrived. After complaining enough, Mace had let him walk back to his room by himself, fully expecting to have to go find him in ten minutes. To his surprise, Percy had managed to make his way back to his room and crawl into bed, which is exactly what he did now.

Percy brushed his teeth and showered, crawling right into bed soon after. Most younglings were crammed together in the dorms, forced to sleep with one another until they got their own rooms when they became padawans. Most younglings didn't get masters until they were twice Percy's age.

Percy was not most younglings.

"Good, now enter form three."

Percy shifted into the next form, bored out of his mind. Learning to fight with a sword again was easy but incredibly tedious. At least learning a new form was somewhat stimulating. He may know how to fight with a sword, maybe even better than his master, but Vapaad was not a technique he was familiar with.

"Is something wrong, young one?"

Percy quickly shook his head rapidly. Apparently he wasn't quite as stealthy with his disinterest as he thought.

Mace frowned down at him before nodding. "If you're so bored with the forms, we could always start sparring."

Percy did the opposite of what his master probably thought he would do and perked up. "Really?!"

Five was a bit early to teach a youngling how to wield a practice saber in any spar, but Percy had advanced through the theory and forms of Vapaad so quickly he'd moved ahead of his peers. Plus, Percy was pretty sure that his master just wanted him to learn a lesson about arrogance or something.

"Very well, let's spar." Mace sighed, shaking his head, ready to teach his apprentice a lesson in humility.

Mace pulled a practice saber to his hand from the other side of the room, quickly igniting the yellow blade. Percy didn't understand the science behind it, but as opposed to a regular lightsaber, these ones just stung a bit when they hit you.

Percy nodded, quickly settling into his own stance as opposed to his master's form of Vapaad. Mace's eyebrows rose into his non-existent hairline, but he apparently decided not to say anything, sinking into the beginning stance for Vapaad.

They stood there for a few seconds, before Percy decided that actually, if Mace attacked him, he just might be done in about three seconds.

Percy launched himself at his master, keeping his blade up on his right side. Just as he figured, Mace launched a swing at his left.

Percy moved his blade to block it, wincing and having to take a step back due to the force behind it. No doubt Mace was holding back significantly, but his strength was still not something Percy could compete with at five years old.

Grunting, Percy pushed off and ducked low, — very low for Mace — swinging with everything he had at Mace's ankles.

If he was surprised Percy couldn't tell, preoccupied as he was staring at the man's ankles. But when his blade reached his master's ankles, a saber was in the way.

Apparently deciding it was time to stop messing around and teach him a lesson, Mace flicked Percy's blade backwards. Percy held on tight, using the force of the shove to move back putting what little distance between them he could.

Mace lazily swung, aiming for Percy's upper arm, presumably to get the free hit and end the session when Percy started crying. Percy wouldn't let him have it.

Dropping low, Percy rolled under the blade and came up on the other side, swinging his sword above his head and tagging Mace's forearm.

His master winced and pulled back, quickly looking at Percy with a mix of shock and suspicion. Percy, in turn, had a shit-eating grin on his face.

He couldn't have won if Mace hadn't pulled his shots, or gone easy, or even underestimated him. But he had done all three, and because of it Percy had won a spar against a jedi knight.

Mace slowly retracted his blade, still staring at Percy like he had found a thousand credits laying on the floor.

"Alright, apprentice. We can go faster."

"Good, feel it flowing through you."

Percy nodded, keeping his eyes shut. He really could feel the force flowing through him, the energies strangely reminiscent of when he had been a demigod. That had come easier than it did to most younglings, apparently. The meditation bit did not, however.

"Stop your thoughts from wandering. Getting distracted will only allow your concentration to slip."

Percy pursed his lips, redoubling his efforts, letting the force flow throughout his body in different directions.

The idea was hypothetically to use the force to strengthen aspects of his own body. To run a bit faster, lift a bit more, lift a bit longer, take a bit more of a beating. That kind of thing. Unfortunately, he was still in the learning stages.

"Good. Now, allow the force to flow into your arms."

Percy did as instructed, feeling the sudden surge of energy that came with it. He clenched his fists, keeping his eyes shut. He felt… strong. Stronger than he had in years — since he'd died.

"Good job. Release the energy."

Percy did as instructed, letting the energy dissipate and opening his eyes.

"You've done good. At this rate, you'll be moving even further ahead of your peers in your force teachings as well. Soon enough, you'll be able to control the force like that with your eyes open, or while in the middle of a fight."

Percy nodded, hiding the smile threatening to creep on to his face.

"Does that mean…"

"Yes, my apprentice. We'll skip your history lesson for today and spar."

Percy grinned, hopping to his feet. Mace echoed him, standing opposite of his apprentice.

Mace called two sabers over, tossing one to Percy. "Remember what we talked about. When you improvise it's certainly interesting, but we need to work on your forms first. Don't break from Vapaad."

Percy frowned but nodded, realizing the wisdom in the instructions. If only Percy didn't already know how to wield a sword the instructions might have actually been useful. But there was no way for his master to have possibly known that.

Percy ignited his lightsaber, staring back at his master. From what he understood most lightsaber forms utilized the force in some way, so Percy would hardly become a master of the sword until he could control the force better. But he was very good for his age, as opposed to his force ability, in which he was just above average.

Percy released a breath and settled into Vapaad. He'd make his way back to his own galaxy, even if he needed to relearn how to spar to do so.

Percy was just the age of 10 when his master decided he was mature enough to have things explained to him. To learn why he was trained separately from the other younglings — why he was allowed to advance so much.

It was during a history lesson when Mace finally decided to tell him. He seemed wary about bringing it up, at first, as if Percy hadn't quite noticed he was treated differently. As if he hadn't noticed he had infinitely less free time than anyone else, and was kept separated.

"Percy…" Mace hesitated, from where he sat across from Percy. They hadn't even begun the lesson today. "Have you ever wondered why you're different from the other younglings? Why you're… not with them?"

Percy shrugged. "It's certainly crossed my mind." he answered honestly.

Mace nodded. "You… we are not strictly a part of the jedi order. We're so heavily ingrained within it that we are often mistook for one in the same, but we are not the same. We are members of the order of Revan."

Percy blinked curiously. "The order of Revan?"

Mace nodded, pulling out his lightsaber and igniting it. "The master of the force that brought balance between light and dark, separately training in and mastering each aspect of the force."

Percy stared at the purple lightsaber curiously. He had always wondered why Mace had a different color from anyone he had seen. Everyone else in the temple had green or blue, and the occasional yellow in the case of the temple guards. His master was the only one he'd seen with anything even resembling purple.

"Do you understand what I've said so far?"

Percy nodded. "I think so. I have a lot of questions, but yes. I understand."

Mace nodded, closing his lightsaber. "Good. I'm telling you because we're nearing the stage where you will be advancing in your practice of the force, and you need to understand that we do things differently than anyone else in this temple. The jedi forsake power, seeing it as a path to corruption. The sith worship power, doing anything possible to achieve it as quickly as possible, even at their own detriment. Revan struck a precarious balance between the philosophies of the jedi and sith; you must seek power, but not at the detriment of your long-term success. It brings a pragmatism the philosophy of the sith is lacking. And yet throughout all this you must not let yourself fall to the darkness entirely, or all of your power will mean nothing. Does this make sense?"

Percy nodded uneasily. "So we seek power? That… has to be at the detriment of others, right?"

Mace frowned. "Not in totality, no. Some individuals may suffer in your quest for power, but the galaxy itself will be a safer place with you in it. That is the price the galaxy as a whole pays for such guardians. The order of Revan has stood for thousands of years, and rarely do we have more than a few members. In fact, we've not had more than seven members since the old republic. Only seven purple crystals remain in the galaxy, all of which are in our possession."

Percy nodded. "So, we practice both the dark and the light?"

Mace nodded back. "Correct. Lose yourself to the dark, and you become a slave to it, incapable of feeling positive emotions, compassion, or truly achieving contentment. Move too much into the light, and you become disconnected from reality, from the people we protect and from the goals you had from the start."

Percy nodded. "But why me? Why was I chosen to be a part of the order of Revan?"

At this, Mace hesitated.

"Years ago there was a… disturbance in the force. It wasn't necessarily a bad one, but it was a disturbance nonetheless. It was a ripple, sent across the galaxy. Many believed it to be the birth of the chosen one, but I thought different. I began searching nearby planets for the source of the disturbance, until I came across Ruan."

Percy's eyes widened, beginning to see where this was going.

"Ruan, as you might know, is a farm world, who is one of Coruscant's main suppliers of food. Due to its location very close to Coruscant and its rich soils, it has become a prime area for growing food. That is where I found you."

Percy just dipped his head, having realized by now. "What does that mean? Am I the 'chosen one?'"

Mace shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that. I don't know. The council knows of your existence, and has been keeping up with your training, whether you realize it or not. I suspect day by day that is to be the case. The prophecy states that the chosen one will bring balance to the force, and you are advancing in your training faster than even me. Chosen one or not, you are destined for great things."

Supposedly advancing faster than his master was high praise. Mace was the youngest master to sit on the council in its history at twenty eight, and what many were calling the champion of the jedi order. He had become somewhat of a mascot for it, despite being disconnected from it on some level, it seemed.

"...Do you remember how apprentice became master within the sith ranks, my apprentice?"

Percy nodded, wincing at being forced to recall the lesson which, now that he thought about it, most jedi probably weren't taught. "The apprentice becomes the master when they are powerful enough to kill their master. This helps the sith constantly evolve, as it's impossible for a sith lord to be weaker than the last one."

Mace nodded. "Correct, but it is a flawed system. For one, it is easier to kill someone than to avoid being killed. If an apprentice so chooses, they may assassinate or poison their master, claiming the mantle, while not necessarily being more powerful than them. For another, even if they do grow more powerful than their master, they may not surpass their master in every way. To kill them is a waste of potential, of knowledge — of power. In the order of Revan, we take a different approach. One between the jedi and sith, as in all things. One day, when you inevitably grow more powerful than me, or I die, you will become the master of the order. Do you understand?"

Percy nodded. "I think so. Will you… stay around?"

Mace smiled indulgently. "That depends if I believe you have more to learn from me, young one, or if my time is up yet. My master… decided to leave the order, when I was offered the rank of master. He decided that I had learned all I could from him, and so he was no longer needed."

Percy furrowed his eyebrows. "So your master could still be around, but you're in charge of him?"

Mace shrugged. "It'll make more sense when you're older. Have patience."

Percy just nodded distractedly.

"Now, for today's lesson…"

Percy was eleven when he finally became the equivalent of a padawan.

Normally, jedi would have to wait until they were 13, no matter how competent, to achieve the rank of padawan. Percy, was not a jedi.

"This is an important step in your training, young one."

Percy lowered his head further in agreement from where he kneeled before Mace. For once, he had found he was okay with kneeling to someone. In the jedi order bowing and kneeling wasn't a sign of subservience, but of respect. A respect his master had earned from him tenfold.

"You must learn what it truly means to be a member of the order of Revan, to balance the force, and protect the galaxy. This is but the first step on your journey to becoming a true master of the force."

Percy didn't move, muscles tensing in anticipation.

Mace ignited his lightsaber, its purple light igniting the dark room that Percy had only been in once before.

"By the right of the Master of the Order of Revan and the will of The Force, I dub thee a padawan. Rise, my apprentice." Mace lay his lightsaber just above one of Percy's shoulders, and then retracted it to place it on his other.

Percy rose as he was told, standing and looking up at his master.

The ceremony was without much of the pomp and circumstance many other padawans got. The order of Revan was separate from the jedi order — different. Because of that, Percy almost never interacted with any of the others, and nobody but Mace was here to congratulate him.

Well, Mace and one other.

"Fast, has he progressed. Faster than you, perhaps?"

Percy bowed towards the little green master as he approached. It was because of how rarely he interacted with anyone from the order that he had to be on his best behavior.

Master Yoda made a weird laughing sound, from the bottom of his throat. "Need to show such respect to me, you do not. Not your master, I am."

Percy rose from his bow. "You are a master of the jedi order, and I am but a padawan. It is only proper." The words tasted bitter coming from his mouth. Despite being okay with bowing, especially towards someone like his master who he respected, it wasn't the same bowing towards someone he barely knew.

"Believe that, you do not." he made the weird laughing sound again. "Now, run along you should. A break, you deserve. Much to talk about, your master and I have."

Percy gave them both a quick bow, and departed. The Grand Master of the Order was right about one thing; he deserved a break. Percy quickly walked back to his bunks and let out a sigh of contentment as he fell back into his bed. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep in some time. A nice nap would serve him well.

"Powerful, he is. Very powerful."

Mace and Yoda stood by a window in the Tower of Reconciliation, gazing out over the coruscant skyline.

"The most powerful we've had to date, yes. But all that power will mean nothing if he does not learn discipline. If this is how he acts when he is but a child, I fear he may become too independent when he grows to adolescence."

Yoda chuckled. "An old soul, your apprentice has. Fine, I think he will be. Progressing well, is his training?"

Mace nodded. "I would have made him a padawan earlier, if it were not for his… issues."

Yoda hummed. "Issues, you say? What issues?"

Mace frowned. "He's far too emotional for someone in our order. He's learning at record paces how to use the force, but not how to balance it."

Yoda hummed again, this sound a deeper pitch. "Perhaps speak to the young one, I can. Help him, I must, if the child of the prophecy, he is to be."

Mace glanced at his short companion. "You're still convinced he's the child of the prophecy?"

Yoda turned to peer back at him. "Not convinced, are you? Powerful is this child, more powerful than any I can recall. A member of the order of Revan, he is. Led you to him, the force did. Bring balance to the force, he must."

Mace sighed. "I suppose you're right. I simply fear placing too many expectations on the child will only lead to disaster."

Yoda turned back to the window and tapped his cane on the floor. "Hope you are wrong, I do. Find out with time, we will."

Here's something I've had in the works for a hot minute, and been thinking of even longer. Love at first sight will probably be getting an update soon-ish, but I think this is a good concept, and I have a lot of things planned for star wars Percy. Anyway, see ya'll later.