A/N: Percy Jackson was created by Rick Riordan. I only take credit for my own added character's and storylines.
BTW, I also have an A03 account where I'm also publishing, if you prefer reading it there~.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1 ~ A Wave of Thought
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Twelve great thrones stand tall, each of different colours and shapes as they surround the central hearth in varying degrees towards the large doors of the room.
The thrones stand in a beautiful chamber, golden ornaments decorating the white pillars as the clear sky shines brighter at the height of Mount Olympus. Truly, it was a beautiful sight to behold.
But it did not reflect the tension of the chamber. It did not show the wear of war as it did on the expressions of the council's expressions.
Poseidon sighed, leaning into his own throne as he, much like the others, silently waited for the last arrival. And as he waits, his eyes drift towards his younger brother, posture still tense, tired and still in pain.
"I believe," Athena finally announces, a tired sigh in her voice as they all stared at the empty throne, "that there's little point in waiting."
"Ares will arrive." Zeus countered, a frown on his features, jaw tightening as a glare dares any to counter his claim.
"Brother," Poseidon offered, more out of necessity than the need of spite. "It's been almost a day, at this point, it would be foolish to wait."
"Foolish?" Zeus, always the prideful one, hisses as his eyes narrow. "To wait for a member of this council to reform?"
"I think," Athena offered in a placating manner, "that we all have realised that the Atheist is a far greater threat than what we'd ever considered mortals to be. The chessboard we are so used to moving has clearly been tossed and ousted for a far more complex one.
And there was the problem. They were losing ground against an opponent that waged warfare as the Gods had never even known of.
It'd started years ago, perhaps a decade, by now. Faint whispers of the blazing moon, of dissatisfaction and ideals. Oh, they'd checked of course. But the Giants still played imprisoned, the Titans held the same fate, if not worse from their failed uprising. Even Gaia, who to their relief, had to this day yet to show any signs of awakening.
But the whispers grew, and suddenly they weren't whispers at all. Suddenly, the Atheist made an appearance, vocal and outspoken, with only a mask and a flower as known descriptions. The only description she needed. A symbol, really, demanding that the gods step down peacefully and end their era without the need for bloodshed.
Some had found amusement in such ideals, others offence, but... well, he remembered not one of them had felt threatened.
They should have.
She hadn't sworn loyalty to Olympus enemies, no, it'd been them who'd sworn loyalty to her. At first, he hadn't believed it. None of them had wanted to believe such claims. But Titans, monsters, even Gods and demigods had shown just as much loyalty. Suddenly Olympus was brought into conflict, losing territory, resources, alliances... It'd been so sudden, so impactful, that what should have been an example was anything but.
Through cunning, she'd brought them to a standstill. Through whispers, she'd been called Olympusis bane.
Through conflict, she'd been called a God's equal.
And then she'd removed the mist, the veil hiding them in plain sight for centuries as mortals joined the conflict. Joined her conflict.
And then Artemis had removed her support, remaining silent in the few councils she attended.
And then Ares had been defeated in single combat.
And, minutes later, she fought their king, her army pushing them into retreat but some mere hours ago.
Suddenly, Olympus was struck with fear.
Faintly, echoes of uproar could be heard through Olympus.
Olympus still stands strong, it's allies still wish for blood for the humiliation they'd been brought. And perhaps, with enough time, the council would form a countermeasure for its growing threat.
After all, this was the most united they'd been in centuries.
It takes him a moment to realise the sound growing. Raising an eyebrow as one of the thrown doors creeks. Still standing in place, it creeks a second time, slowly opening until it's just large enough for a small human-shaped deity to enter.
"Good morning," The figure smiles, and it takes him a moment to realise it's not human-shaped, but an actual mortal that has interrupted the council. Her eyes flicker through each one of them with an audacity gleam of judgment in her eyes. Until, ultimately, they met those of the King of Gods. "quite the night we experienced, I do hope you had enough time to heal?"
And suddenly, he realises where he's heard that voice before.
Suddenly, he realises Olypusis greatest enemy stands in its very throne room.
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Two things can happen when an individual loses hope.
The first is that with shattered hope, they will shatter, their mind follows and so does their body. They become lifeless husks, going through day and night with only the primitive need to live keeping them breathing.
The second is that they gather the shattered parts. They think, they ponder, they reflect. As time passes, their hope is slowly rebuilt, different, stronger, greater.
This was not mutually exclusive. More often than not the first came before the second. Sometimes, it was a cycle of repetition.
And in the rare event that it was a repetition, the chances of rebuilding that hope grew, and, much the same, the strength of that hope grew.
She walks through the path of Olympus, slow and elegant as if the streets had been made for the sole purpose of her walk.
How strange, she can't help but consider, to think that it was Annabeth that built them almost two millennia ago.
And now, here she was, continuing the same war Luke had started so long ago.
Truly, fate was of a fickle make.
"Halt!" A man -most likely a god, from his appearance- takes a step forward, "The council is in session, none can enter without a given invitation.
"I see," she nods, expression blank and bored, dismissive, even, "I believe it's a correct assumption to make when I say you're all immortal, yes?"
"I- yes?" The guard frowns, unbalanced from such obvious facts being questioned.
His eyes narrow as her hand slowly moves to her hip, lazily placed on the handle of her dagger with no indication of moving. And then he stills, eyes widening as he spots a black mask at the other side of her hip.
"Good," She smiles, "no hard feelings if I place you in time out, 'kay?"
Sloppy, she thinks disappointed as her blade reaches his neck, the barest hints of a reaction before he fools, body already falling apart, but not particularly surprising.
Just some few years ago I was a particularly irritating fly. And much like a second is worth a day for a fly, a year is worth a second for a god.
A dozen guards raise their weapons, eyes wide and posture tense. From the corner of her eye, she spots some more rushing towards them.
Perhaps brave, perhaps foolish, one charge in an attempt to catch her off guard. He never reaches the third step.
"Thank you, Hylla" She nods, seething her blade as her bodyguard pulls out their own blade from the fragmenting corpse. "Alas, I do have a pressing schedule, so my friends will happily keep you company." From the crowd, one by one, figures join Hylla as they point their own weapons. "Try not to make too much of a mess, we did arrive peacefully, after all."
And like that, both groups charge at the other, the sound of metal clashing as they enter the conflict.
She stands for a moment longer, eyes darting towards each figure before safely concluding that the guards are sub-par to her own. Seeing no reason to wait, she walks through the clash, ignoring the screams and shouts as her hands reach for a visage that could be mistaken as the gates of Heaven.
And with one hand, she pushes forward.
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She enters the throne room, glistening with as much gold as silver as she remembers. As dramatic and overcompensating as she remembers. A smile forms on her face as every gaze lands on her, calmly walking towards the centre of the room.
For a moment, her eyes flicker towards the ceiling, gazing at the single constellation before flickering back towards the seated gods.
"Good morning," She smiles, eyes flickering from one figure to the next, from one side to the other until her eyes meet that of the King of gods. "quite the night we experienced, I do hope you had enough time to heal?" She ends the sentence with feigning concern, eyes icy as her smile remains on her lips.
"You!" Zeus's finger points accusingly, eyes flashing in a thundering gleam.
"Me." Her own eyes lethargically dart towards the empty throne. "I hope you don't mind. Seeing how you're down a member, I thought I should... welcome myself over. You seem to currently be suffering from an... extensive security failure." Her smile might have been mistaken as apologetic had it not shifted into an amused smirk. "But, after all these years, I think a change in repeated seating would be pleasant, right?"
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I sometimes post art of my fanfics here:
Deviantart: sapphireandemeralds
Twitter: SappandEmr
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Something that's been in my head for a while. A what if Percy was a reincarnated immortal? Anything after The last Olympian isn't going to be in this timeline, thought the roman characters will be appearing as Greek ones.
Technically this is only a one shot, thought I have got many possible ideas if I do ever chose to continue it.
None the less, if you felt I should have written something differently, be it personality and/or displays of different states of mentality, please leave a comment! Any advice is welcome and appreciated!
Anyways, Ill See you next time! Ciao!
~ Sapphire and Emeralds