Percy Jackson was born on August 18th, 1993, to Sally Jackson and Poseidon, god of storms.
'It was a mistake', the god says, whenever he thinks of his demigod son. Yet, on the rare occasions that he is able to watch his son fall asleep peacefully in his crib, he can't bring himself to regret it.
Still, he maintains that it was a mistake.
Percy Jackson is one year old, when the ancient god of storms begins to fear for him.
He knows that soon enough, his brothers will find him. There is no place that he can keep the child safe, from the depths of the ocean to Camp Half-Blood.
And he knows all too well what they'll do to him, when they find him.
So he fears. The thoughts devour him from the inside, and the god is unable to even think of bearing the pain of losing another child.
Still, he watches as his son crawls through the small apartment, determination etched clearly in his eyes, so similar to his father's, as he forces his way to his mother. He watches carefully, enjoying the last few moments of happiness his son will have before the world takes it all from him.
He cannot, will not, lose another child.
He doesn't know how he can make that promise a reality.
Percy Jackson is two years old, stumbling through hallways and tugging on his mother's hand, saying 'mama', when the god's fears become more prevalent, more present.
He can feel it in his age-old bones. Perseus is the Child of the Prophecy, they scream at him.
He cannot be left alone, without any training, to die for Olympus, die for a father that he never knew.
Percy must be trained, must know how to protect himself, must know his past and future, must know what he was born for.
But where can he go? Where will he be safe?
An inkling of an idea forms in his thoughts.
Poseidon was the tactician of Olympus before Athena was born, and he was well-known for his sometimes insane plans. But this, these concepts running through his mind are too much, even for him. He dismisses it.
Percy Jackson is three years old, when he strangles a snake in his crib at preschool.
Poseidon almost laughs; Heracles, the greatest warrior, had done the same. But he does not, because he knows that the snake is only the first obstacle of thousands his Perseus will face. The Fates do not have an easy path for his child to face.
He wonders; could he change that? The plans in his mind do not seem so insane after all.
Percy Jackson is six years old when Olympus shakes.
Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus walks the Earth. Hera rages, screaming across the council. Hades does not shout, but Poseidon knows that Thalia does not have long to live, looking at his brother's face. The other gods are scared, scared of a child, though they will not admit it. They wonder what end to Olympus she will bring.
Poseidon knows that she won't have a chance to bring an end to Olympus.
Poseidon knows that she will die, soon enough.
The fear returns.
Poseidon had kept a close eye on his son over the past few years. The monsters can smell him, and even as he keeps most of them away from his son, as he assigns his most trusted Cyclops to his protection, he can sense Sally's fear, her resolve breaking. She doesn't know what to do.
Poseidon thinks that he might know what to do.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when Zeus's daughter gives life to Camp Half-Blood with her final breath.
Thalia Grace lies dead, less than a kilometre away from Camp Half-Blood. Poseidon had not attacked her. He might harbor no love for his brother, but he wouldn't wish the death of his child upon him. Hades had no such qualms.
She had died painfully, bleeding out into the soft earth. Her spirit remains in the tree; protecting the half-bloods to the very end.
Percy cannot stay where he is. He will not be safe at Camp Half-Blood. He will not be safe in the mortal world.
But there is a place where he can learn, where he can hide, where he will be safe. If he can survive it, that is.
Poseidon makes a decision.
And the path of the world shifts.
A prophecy cannot be ignored - what does a different path matter, to the inscrutable threads of fate? In the end, they will have the soul of the hero - the threads do not care for the soul, nor for who dies and who lives. They care for balance.
Poseidon has shifted the balance of the cosmos. The stars will realign it.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when a wolf goddess is sworn to silence.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when his scent changes.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when he's left wandering the Wolf House, crying out for his mother.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when he learns his fate.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, when he learns how to hold a blade, when he learns how to hunt, when he learns how to kill.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, and he is a secret that could destroy Olympus, and New Rome.
Percy Jackson is seven years old, and he is not welcome.
The Wolf of Rome is but a cub, but he will grow, he will learn, he will survive. Soon enough, he will return to his roots.
Rather, his roots will seek him out, and find him.
All roads lead to Rome, after all.