Disclaimer: I do not own Rick Riordan's creation of Percy Jackson.

Also this has been rewritten as of the 4th of July, 2020 so blame any discontinuities on that please.

POTENTIAL TW: CHILD ABUSE + DOMESTIC ABUSE

Also btw Zoe doesn't have an old English accent as I don't know how to write that so:

Percy flinched as Gabe Ugliano raised his hand, swatting the boy aside as if he was a annoying fly. "'m' sorry Gabe." Percy whimpered from the corner where he was now curled into, a tear rolling down his face.

"Your mother was a useless bitch," Gabe snarled starting to approach Percy, "and you're just her stupid spawn, brat." He spat.

When Sally had first started dating Gabe the man had seemed alright. Nice even. He was overweight, with a round beer belly and the smell of alcohol always reeked on his clothes and on his breath - it didn't help that he clearly had no idea what a shower was - but he was never mean, or rude, to Percy or Sally.

When Gabe had proposed, with a tacky ring with a worthless gem on it Sally had said yes. She didn't love him, she barely even liked him, throughout the 'courting' process of their relationship Gabe had grown progressively more lazy and started treating Sally as more of a mother than a slave, demanding she'd make him dinner as he sat on the sofa watching football with a beer in hand and another bottle lying on the floor, but she wanted Percy to have a father figure.

Percy's real father had left when the same day that he was born, he was in the navy and was ordered on a tour and had to go, so after meeting his baby boy for the first time he had to leave him the same day, and he never came back. 'M.I.A' the letter had said, 'presumed dead' after his ship had mysteriously disappeared at sea, none of the crew heard from ever again.

Sally knew that, though too young to truly understand it, Percy missed his father desperately, he missed having a father figure in his life and Sally was always busy trying to have enough money to stay afloat and pass rent in their apartment. It didn't matter how dingy and dark, how mouldy and small, an apartment in New York City was expensive, and Sally's job at the sweet shop didn't quite cut it. She worked night-shifts as a waitress at a diner in Manhattan, and then had a 9-5 day working as a cashier, leaving her tired and drained and hardly able to cope with being a single parent.

Gabe had seemed like the solution to that. His parents had been relatively well-off when they'd passed, leaving Gabe with a big enough inheritance to afford the apartment and let Sally go back down to working one job. In return Sally became the equivalent of the slave to Gabe, cooking meals, cleaning the apartment, washing his clothes and answering his every beck and call.

Then one day everything changed. It was over six months ago when Gabe had snapped. He'd picked up his beer bottle smashing it into the wall near where Sally was standing, hard enough that it broke and as it shattered into little pieces some of them implanted themselves into Sally.

Percy had been asleep at the time but having heard the noise he'd woken up and run to the dining room to see his mother bleeding. Sally calmed him down, telling him there was a little accident and soothing him back to sleep, hoping he'd wake up thinking it was a bad dream.

No such luck.

The bad dream continued for the next six months. On the few occasions that Percy was awake when Gabe got aggressive he'd try to stop him, holding onto his leg and begging him to not hurt his 'mama' only for Gabe to knock him off carelessly, his breath reeking of alcohol as the drunk man exerted his masculinity on Sally, satisfied in being the 'man' of the household and making sure his wife would never put a toe out of line.

One night it went too far. Gabe had taken a baseball bat and swung it at Sally's head, with enough force to knock her unconscious, as she fell she smashed her head against the granite surface, and all of a sudden Sally Jackson was dead.

Gabe had somehow managed to evade the authorities, with the help of a poker buddy who worked as a cop it was written off as an accident, 'she tripped and fell'.

Every since Sally had died - been murdered - Gabe found himself at a loss of what to do. He had killed his wife, his 'slave' and now had to do his own chores, cook his own meals, or, the alternative: force his five year old son-in-law to do all the work as he sat on the couch watching the game.

When Percy would mess up or be late on the chores he'd be slapped by Gabe with enough force to knock him off his feet. One time Gabe, in his drunken and drug-induced anger, had hurled an empty beer bottle at Percy's face, missing by mere inches but a shard cut down the right side of his face, narrowly missing his eye. Somehow within the space of months Percy had been forced to replace his mother in nearly all aspects for Gabe.

The five year old over the last three months had become seriously malnourished with an unbalanced and irregular diet, a thick scar running down his face and a few others on his back and legs.

Then Gabe tried to hit Percy, his fist clenched in anger as he aimed it at the sea-green eyed boy before he was halted as a huge torrent of water crashed down on Gabe, wiping him off his feet and pushing him backwards against the wall.

With a split-second decision driven by impulsivity and fear Percy ran out of the door, running away from Gabe and the life that had fallen on him and stolen his beautiful and angelic mother away from him.

As he hurdled down the stairs and out of the door of the apartment block he looked down in confusion and wonder, realising he was completely dry, unscathed from the small tsunami that had formed out of nowhere in the apartment.

Unsure of where to go he ran madly down the streets of New York City, his only objective to put as much distance between himself and Gabe Ugliano as possible, weaving between angry taxis and roaring bikes he made his way into Central Park.

He'd been to the park only twice before. Once on a school trip and the other time with his mother. It was a rare free day in her schedule where she'd decided to take Percy to the park, allowing him to run, worry-free, around the playground, swinging on the swings and sliding down the slides. After Percy was tired out from the wild running around she'd ruffled his hair and took him to get an ice-cream, before they'd found a secluded area of the park, somehow hidden from both the bustling locals and the eager, exploring tourists alike.

As his short legs stumbled along, tired from running and exhausted as the sun began to set, the day disappearing to allow the night out to play he sought out the place that Sally had taken him to, that day, the last good day Percy could remember.

Finally with a satisfied grin he found the hidden gem of the spot, guarded by thick and green trees. Collapsing in exhaustion at the day he'd had he leant against one of the trees closing his eyes unaware of the danger he'd just placed himself in.

Young Percy had just entered the hunters' camp.

The Hunters were a group of girls, with ages ranging from around eight to sixteen/ They wore silver parkas with quivers strung over their shoulders and bows in their hands. Their lives devoted to the hunt of the maiden goddess, Artemis.

The goddess found, or rescued, the girls, often from abusive or harsh lives, often having been wronged by an egotistical, pig-headed or violent man. In repayment for the entry to the hunt, for the gift of partial immortality which guaranteed eternal youth and a life free from disease and sickness, unless one was felled in battle, the girls had to do one thing only: swear off all men and vow to live a chaste life.

The infamous man-haters stumbled across the young boy sleeping in the outskirts of their camp as they scouted the perimeter, confirming that they were safe from the attacks of monsters whilst their mistress was out performing her godly duties.

When they caught sight of the young boy, curled up against the tree they immediately decided to capture him, put him in a cage until their lady returned and could turn him into a Jackalope. It was what they did to all boys or men who dared to intrude on the sacred Hunt of Artemis. This decision was halted as they neared closer to the boy.

His top was torn and ratty, old and covered in dirt and grime, but also blood. The guards decided to get Zoe, their lieutenant, who in the absence of Artemis was their leader, and the one with the responsibility for what to do next.

The lieutenant of the hunt reluctantly left her tent after hearing the chaos from outside as the hunters broke into dissent, debating whether to help or leave the boy. No males were allowed within the camp it was one of the most strict and important rules, but this was an extenuating circumstance.

Leading Zoe to the boy the lieutenant couldn't help but gasp at the sight of him. So tired and exhausted from his runaway that he wasn't even awoken by the chaos he'd caused amongst the hunters.

Reluctantly the lieutenant of the hunt approached the sleeping boy, and slowly lifted up his ratty, old t-shirt. When she lifted up the end of the t-shirt a collective gasp sounded from the present hunters as Zoe inadvertently revealed the skinny, malnourished body, littered with green and purple bruises with some unhealed cuts from shards of glass making their way into the mix.

Zoe ripped the scrap of shirt off the boy, murmuring quietly but in a assertive and commanding voice: "Get some bandages and water. We need to clean up these wounds. This may be a boy but he's young and I refuse to allow him to die from getting an infection.

The hunters immediately scrambled to get the requested materials, and soon returned with the necessary resources. "Phoebe, give me a hand here." She ordered the thousand year old daughter of Apollo who quickly rushed over to the bleeding boy.

Working together in efficient silence they threw his tattered and torn clothes to the side before gently pouring waters on his wounds to clean out the dirt and grime. To their shock the water moved all over his body, as if it had become a sentient being washing over the young boy of its own accord, but somehow that wasn't the strangest part. As the water moved over the body, scraping the dirt from his pale and bruised skin the wounds closed, leaving not even a whisker of a scar on the now unblemished body.

Even the other scars which looked older, as though they'd been inflicted long ago, seemed to heal under the caressing flow of water, all of them thinning and some even disappearing completely.

The bizarre sight continued as the water eventually dripped off the boy's body onto the ground around him, yet somehow the boy's trousers and pale chest were dry.

The girls were all silent as they individually came to the realisation that this boy was most likely a son of Poseidon - despite the supposed oath. There was a chance that he was a son of a different water deity, or even the son of a sea nymph, but the power which had just been displayed despite the still sleeping form of the body seemed to prove he was the son of one of the big three.

"Stupid men. Can't even keep it in your pants if it's to save us all." Zoe muttered and the other girls nodded in agreement, though slightly wary of the insult to Poseidon.

"At least wear protection." Phoebe joked with a smirk upturning the corner of her mouth causing the hunters to laugh before they fell into silence, aware of the gravity of the situation lying before them.

"What do we do with him?" Kim asked. She was one of the oldest in the hunt with only Phoebe and Diane being older. The hunters looked around to each other, each as equally unsure as the rest before a small voice interrupted them in a meek tone.

"Where am I?" The boy yawned despite himself, struggling to keep his sea-green eyes open as he exhaustedly tried to figure out the situation he had gotten himself in. The boy nervously scanned each of the hunters, more fear and paranoia in his eyes than should be in a child of his young age.

The hunters looked between each other again, each too cautious and hesitant to answer his question, the silence holding stagnant in the cool, brisk air. They knew that there was no way they could tell him of his godly descent, if only to avoid the monsters smelling his scent and the tirade of monsters the boy's uncles, Hades and Zeus, would surely send after him.

"It's okay. You're safe here little one." Zoe said in a more soft and calm voice than any of the others had ever heard before, or even realised she possessed the ability to speak in such a gentle tone - especially towards a man. "Go back to sleep." She ordered him firmly with a smile before turning to her fellow hunters. "For now we take him back to the camp, we'll discuss with Lady Artemis what we do after that. Diane, Millie, set up a tent for him to sleep in." She ordered with a grateful nod as they obeyed her, before hesitantly lifting the small boy into her arms ignoring the shocked looks on the other Hunters' faces. "How else would you suggest we transport him?" She asked, a hint of irritation in her tone at their expressions.

The black-haired boy yawned again, his eyelids drooping as though he was in an internal battle to stay awake. "Don't leave me, pwease, I don't wanna be alone." He pleaded looking to Zoe with wide, puppy-dog eyes as she carried him towards the camp.

"Alright." She reluctantly accepted his pleas, unable to disagree with the hopeful look in his eyes, and equally unable to tear her own eyes away from the huge scar on the side of his face, wondering what in Hades had happened to the boy to leave him alone in Central Park at night with bruises and scars like he had. She sat herself down on one of the small benches near the fire. "Wouldn't want you to catch a cold." She explained under her breath, not sure he would hear her but prioritising her desire for the other hunters to not hear her being so compassionate and weak towards the young boy.

"You sound like my mama." He whispered, a tear sliding down his face.

Zoe bit back the lump that formed in her face at the implications of why the boy was alone before turning to the hunters, her cool mask back on. "Return to your tents. We will discuss this matter further with our mistress tomorrow." She told them in what was probably a stricter tone than normal, the façade half on due to the unexpected addition to their camp tonight, and half on to prevent her tone from wavering, feeling oddly emotional towards the boy lying in her arms.

Seeing he had now lost his battle and succumbed to Hypnos' realm Zoe gently lowered Percy on a blanket that Diane had placed near the fire, before sitting on a log, watching as Hestia's flames rose, almost as if they were protecting the young boy. Sighing she made her way to her own tent, before remembering her earlier promise and not being sure of what they boy would do if he woke up alone in the Hunters' camp. Reluctantly grabbing her own blanket she placed it a respectful distance away from the small boy, before lowering herself onto it, a watchful eye unable to leave the thin form of the young boy.