A/N: Percy Jackson was created by Rick Riordan. I only take credit for my own added character's and storylines.
I post on both A03 and FanFiction, take your pick in whichever you prefer to read.~.
I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 2 ~ Blue flame's
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[June, 24 - 6 - 2006]
Perseus reached the central courtyard; a far larger garden than those he remembered in depictions in his history textbooks. If he wasn't so terrified, he might have enjoyed the nature made beauty surrounding him.
His mother had taught him of the Greek Gods, of ancient Greece and how times had been different all those centuries ago. At some point, his mother's interest had become his own, always feeling oddly fascinated whenever they discuss different aspects of Hellenism.
In retrospect, it was rather obvious that she'd been desperate to make sure Percy knew enough so he wouldn't sink the moment he entered the deadly side of their world. How he'd thought she was a Hellenist was beyond him, now. Granted, at the time it hadn't occurred to him, but perhaps he should have wondered why she'd made it a point to never mention the beings -Gods or not- names.
That was all moot point, now. It was highly likely he had five minutes at most before he was dead. Or worse.
Truth be told, he could see the worst being the likelier of his two outcomes.
After all, even Thalia, who was Olympus King's daughter - perhaps even Olympusis princess, though it was a complex subject everyone loved to debate -, had been turned into a Pine tree.
A millennium existence as a tree because her father had been benevolent.
There was a reason he'd sent Annabeth and Grover back to Half-Blood Hill. And oh, how they'd argued on the subject. And he had wavered. He'd waved far more than once throughout the argument, his wish to have them watching his back countered by the fear they fate might end intertwined with his own.
If things went wrong. And they seemed more and more likely to go wrong. But if the gods didn't believe him… or... if they chose not to believe him...
He felt dizzy. He was hyperventilating, now that he thought about it, shakily sitting down as his eyes started to tear.
I'm scared, he realised feeling so incredibly exhausted.
His vision spinning, he crossed his legs, each finger touching the other on its mirrored hand, he closed his eyes.
Letting his mind wander, he centred on the noise around him. Noting the tender sound of the wind, the soft sound of the grass with the light chippering of the birds.
It's okay, he could almost hear his mother reassure him. You're okay. Focus on the cold, white marble underneath you. If the problem is just too big, then divide it. Divide and divide until it's too small to not conquer it.
Right.
Right. Okay. He was okay.
He was going to be okay.
Taking a deep breath, he reached for his feet, not particularly caring how meeting Gods while barefoot might come across. After all, between half torn clothes and cut or bruised skin, he doubted it could be much worse.
He was more sleep-deprived than usual, he released, rubbing the dark bags under his eyes in an attempt to at least appear cleaner.
Divide the problem, he repeated.
What was the problem, then?
He had the Lightning bolt. A weapon that equalled a tactical nuke.
Right, okay, that was a start. Why was it a problem?
Because everyone thinks I stole it and wants me dead, he half giggles, probably looking quite deranged in the action as his breathing starts to speed again.
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complaining. He forces himself to half sing-song, mind drifting to the song he'd listened to just some minutes ago while taking an elevator of all things to Olympus. Because I'm free he breathed, closing his eyes again as he focused on humming, nothing's worrying me...
Idly, he wondered if it was enchanted to play something that would soothe whoever was inside to listen. It'd be neet, he thought, deciding to ask if he ever did survive...
Right, focus. Whywas having a tactical nuke in his pocket a problem?
At the core, it's less about the nuke and more about who had it.
Percy was the problem. Because his father had decided to break his oath and conceive him anyway.
But how to counter that?
No. Who was he to counter against?
The council. Twelve Gods. Mum had made that clear.
Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Athena, Ares, Dionysus, Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, Hephaestus, Aphrodite and Hermes.
Zeus wanted him dead, badly. And Ares might want him dead even more. And wasn't that twisted. One of his judges was the one who'd framed him against it.
That was two of the three Gods he met, the third being neutral and maybe just a bit sympathetic towards him.
Dionysus, after all, had offered to turn him into a dolphin. Disgraced, yes, but dolphin, while different, wouldn't have been a bad life.
Or maybe it'd been a cruel threat, and Percy's brain had interpreted it as a sympathetic offer.
As for Poseidon... well, there was no guarantee Percy wouldn't be offered as a peace offering the moment things went south - a highly likely outcome-, so...
And... that's it. Those were all the Gods he knew personally, two hated him and the other two were a coin toss...
And most of the other's didn't have reputations that would indicate any form of favour or support. Quite the opposite, it was rather apparent he was going to die... soon.
Or...
"If a Sphinx guards the door, how do you get through?" The older girl asks, gently removing the straps of the saddle.
"You answer its riddle."
"So sure." She hums, "You know its riddle, you know the answer, and because of that, you make assumptions. What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?" She asked, lips twitching amused.
Percy frowned, staring at Silena warily. "It's a person, obviously."
"Obviously," She echoes with a smile. "But what if the Spinx asked something different. Would you still know the answer? If nothing else, Percy, you should know that our greatest threat isn't monsters, it's knowledge. How do you think Luke got his scar? He knew the legend, he prepared like the legend and he made assumptions from the legend. And then he wasn't ready, because his quest was nothing like the legend. Because it isn't a legend at all. Everyone can learn from them, Percy, it's not only us. Don't make assumptions. They'll get you killed.
But how did he use it? He knew at least a significant fraction wanted him dead.
Till happiness steps up to greet me, he hummus, closing his eyes again as he thinks, crying's not for me. Nothing's worrying me
At the end of the day, he was a threat. And threats were removed. Honestly, he couldn't see any way that he could endear himself to the council. Not now, at least. And if he didn't endear himself, he was as good as...
Or.
Or, wait.
He was making assumptions, again.
...
It could work.
Problem was, he'd have to argue his way through politics.
That was bad. He was... terrible at arguments. He usually became overwhelmed with emotion, tended to blurt things out instead of thinking them through - or, at least at a far more often degree than usual - and would even forget the argument itself while becoming overwhelmed.
He was so dead.
Breath.
No, he could make this work. It'd been just past five when he'd reached the elevator, and with summer solstice being at six past seven he could come up with something to come out of this.
Breath.
...
...It was obvious, that no matter what he did, he was going to be killed or cursed to eternal suffering for being a threat.
But that was as he was now.
And Percy had made a rather silly mistake in his earlier assumption.
He didn't know four Gods, he knew five. It's only that he hadn't treated one with the knowledge she was a Goddes. He'd thought she was another demigod, maybe a dryad, and had treated her as such.
But that's the thing. He couldn't make assumptions. He got along with the Goddes of the hearth, that was true. But that didn't mean she'd support him, if anything, he saw it unlikely she'd offer aid, unwilling to add to the already growing possibility of a civil war.
The question was, he thought tiredly, hand reaching for the lightning bolts bag, how willing would she be to help, and how much help would she be willing to give?
Pulling the pocket lighter out, he took a deep breath and moved the miniature wheel.
And the flame sparked.
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The throne room was of a simple if divine coated design. A pure white with decorative gold, its columns few and far apart as they held the domed ceiling with shifting constellations etched like the night sky. Its shape was similar to that of a far larger birdcage, with no walls present except the side for the large door, the vast sky clear and visible between every pillar as a gentle breeze filled the chamber.
All twelve of the thrones were filled, normal, human appearing beings sitting in each as their eyes all narrowed towards him.
For a moment, Percy closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as a sense of calmness films over him. His shaking subsides, slowly taking his step forward as he discreetly studies the room.
Percy could admit, if only in the confines of his mind, that he was surprised at the instinctual knowledge of which of the Gods was his father. They were similar, he supposed, identical eye colour, their hair both similarly styled and sharp cheeks. He also noted the similarity between their expression for a lack of better description. That being said, he felt Poseidon's was more brooding like compared to his own, which his mother had always described as lost in his own head.
But they also weren't that similar. If anything, Percy would have said he took more after his mother than his father.
Perhaps it was selfish of him, but Percy felt oddly relieved about that notion.
Some strange form of comfort before he through himself into Tartarus, then.
Breathing carefully under his control, he walked towards the centre of the chamber. The soothing breeze, while a source of comfort, only highlighted the absolute silence between the Gods. The tension, while not visible, was clear as day for some supernatural aspect of his instincts. It was almost as if he just knew that for all they didn't as much as moving a muscle, they... presence was twitching for the possible war.
He had two options, here. He realises how dangerous of a game he's playing, how easy it is for any one of these beings to erase his very existence. The quart stone still cold to his feet touch, Percy reassures himself of his own choice.
The first was kneeling in front of his father. The act itself would be a mockery toward the king of the Gods himself. It would prove him loyal to Posidon above his loyalty towards Olympus, which was something he'd rather not chose as the question of his loyalty was the very discussion of this audience.
On the other hand, it would mean Poseidon would be under a certain degree of obligation to protect him, as no God wished to be known as uncaring for those loyal towards them.
The other was kneeling in front of Zeus, which would be considered the proper form of greeting. It also had the possibility of gaining some goodwill from the God, which while unlikely to gain anything significant, might make his 'punishment' minimally less severe.
If anything, the tension in the chamber grew, their presence becoming more potent the closer he got. And here he was, about to make things ten times worse.
Mum's going to kill me.
Stopping at the centre of the chamber, he closed his eyes and slowly knelt with a bow.
The tension had certainly grown, and Percy prayed that he hadn't just sealed his fate in that one action.
"Lady Hestia." He greeted softly, head bowed as he expertly ignored the shocked stares he could feel on him.
He doesn't raise his head.
He doesn't need to.
He hadn't prayed with the expectation of receiving much. For that matter, he hadn't prayed expecting anything.
But she'd given him a blessing anyway.
I just need a chance. That's it, he had begged desperately.
Perhaps, because of that connection, he feels the faint traces of her presence. But more than that, he feels her surprise and shock tingling like a faraway echo through him.
The blessing stays, so he hopes it's an indication that for all the astonishment, there is no disapproving.
"Is it not appropriate to great the King of the castle first?" Zeus question interrupts his thoughts, eyes flashing in thundering displeasure.
"Of course, Lord Zeus." He stays bowed for a moment longer before he raises his head. "I simply knew of Lady Hestia personally, I am, nonetheless, honoured to meet you."
To points against him, he thinks with an odd amount of calmness. The first was the lack of apology; because while it was wrapped in a polite greeting, there was no apology. The second was the misinterpreted bow. Because he'd greeted Zeus while bowed, but the bow had not been towards him.
Of course, the first greeting being towards Lady Hestia went without saying.
He wonders what Poseidon thinks of the difference. "Be at peace, brother," Poseidon eventually offers, "my son is new to our ways. He meant no offence with his actions."
"And you still claim him?" Zeus's eyes flash dangerously. "Still claim the child that broke your oath?"
"And I have not admitted to my wrongdoing?"
Percy does not flinch. He does not break down as the Gods fall into another argument.
Nor does he turn towards Lady Hestia in gratitude, even if he very much wants to.
Because he knows he would have had the blessing not exponentially multiplied at that moment. He feels her sympathy, and he can't help but wonder why she's the one that lost her thrown on Olympus.
So as the Gods turn expectant glances, he breaths, and he stares up to meet their gaze.
He doubted his mother had taught him to talk through politics. But then, she had taught him so that he'd survive; right now, a silver tongue might be the only thing that'd keep him alive, so he felt the difference was negligible.
He didn't smirk, even if Lady Hestia's amusement worked against the endeavour.
With the clearer mind her blessing offers, spinning his story in his favour isn't a particular challenge. After all, most of what he'd done had been for the sake of Olympus.
But that wasn't enough. He needed to make it so that they'd suffer if he was punished. He needed them dependent on him.
Ares expression remains blank, only faint flashes of emotion before returning to a neutral expression.
And Percy knows that is not his usual disposition.; knows the Gods had realised that as well.
They know I'm innocent, he thinks with no sense of joy, it really is a political manoeuvre, he concludes tiredly. Because that's all Percy's life is worth.
"You claim Ares would betray Olympus?" Zeus replies coldly, fingertips twitching with the faint echo of thunder running through the sky.
At the back of his mind, Percy notes that the rumbling clouds, just some few metres above him, would take a near instance to kill him.
That's fine. You're okay. You're doing just fine.
"Not willingly, my Lord." Percy pauses for a moment, debating his words carefully before he blinks. "During our dual, there were multiple instants where I should have lost." Truth. He doesn't glance at Ares, since they both know there were only two instances Ares had that chance. "In every occasion, he seemed distracted, as if he was constantly debating his choices. I've spared with some of the Camps demigods before, that isn't something that should have occurred." He was the God of war, after all.
"Ares?" Zeus asked with a frown, more thoughtful than angry, now.
Ares stared for a long moment, almost as if he was pondering whether or not the trouble was worth damming Percy. Eventually, he let out a grunt. "The boy speaks the truth." He hisses with a scowl. "It was like my sense was constantly being replaced by ideas that I saw no reason to refuse."
It was something that would distract the Gods, Percy thought. After all, Ares had been influenced, and some of them had realised it hadn't been an act. Suddenly, this was no longer a political issue, but a militaristic one.
At least that's what Percy had figured would happen. Ares hadn't exactly been possessed, which Percy had kind of been implying. But there was enough evidence to leave people wondering, and the very clear chessboard would be left much messier.
Nowhere near enough for Percy to survive this, though.
"A concerning point." Zeus reluctantly nods, accepting Percy's innocence of theft. "However, that still leaves us with the pressing threat of the prophecy. More noticeably, why we should leave such a major threat alive."
And at the core, that was the main issue Percy was facing.
The Prophecy, as Silena had promptly explained, was a load of rubbish that wouldn't only get him killed, but do so in the most lazily way possible.
"It's a prophecy that claims you might be the person that might not save Olympus." She'd muttered even before explaining that she'd sneaked into the attic and talked with the Oracle. "It's like saying you might one day die? I mean, they tend to be useless to start with, but at this point, I might as well claim to be an Oracle and say an Olympus's God might have another kid. Seems to be the standard, at this point."
Unfortunately. While neither he nor Silena had a high opinion on the matter, the Gods treated it like their own personal bogeyman. No matter what he said, he would still be seen as a threat to Olympus. Realistically, there was nothing he could say that'd counter that thought.
So.
With the most bewildered expression he could muster, he tilted his head in confusion. "Why would you wish to punish me for reclaiming you Lightning Bolt?"
Silence fills the room. Whether in shook or fury is up to debate, but at this point, Percy is very much in for the entire pound.
"That is not the issue here." Zeus counters.
Oh good, he thinks, hiding his relief from all but Lady Hestia, an opportunity.
"You're right." Percy nods smoothly. "The issue is that you wish to have me punished out of fear of a Prophecy. Even though every time an attempt to undermine a prophecy was not only failed; but backfired spectacularly. Even though I have taken no action against Olympus." Oh, that's fury now. "Even though that is not just."
"You dare-!" Zeus's snarl is almost as impressive as his murdering expression, Percy thinks, idly aware of the worry going through the bond.
"At the end of the day." He continues, aware that his voice is just as easily heard even with the Gods far louder booming. "I'm here for something I have not done, out of suspicion of something I am highly unlikely to do. All because of a Prophecy made decades ago."
He wanted to say more. But he also felt that pointing out that Kronos had swallowed them alive out of fear of a prophecy might have pushed it.
Percy was reckless, not stupid, thank you.
"But not entirely?" Zeus snaps furiously.
"I doubt claiming as much would make a difference." Percy counters. "So instead, I'm going to point out my trip to Tartarus's next door. I'm going to point out when Kronos offered me protection in exchange for freedom, and I refused because I believe that Olympus would not strike someone that is not guilty of any crime."
This was somewhat true; Kronos had kind of implied that. Granted, he was paraphrasing, kind of misleading, and also rather disappointed any of this was necessary, to begin with.
For all the misery thinking his mother had been murdered because of him, Percy had been so incredibly happy that he'd entered a world with such a large family to stand with.
He was so incredibly disappointed.
"He's returning." Percy warns, "How else could you explain everything that's been happening."
It was a vague statement, but letting their mind wander to shadows was the best chance Percy saw in getting out of this alive and whole.
Or, you know, it might also leave him worse than dead.
An argument starts, then. First, it's whether or not he's telling the truth, quickly developing on the hypothetical possibility of what they'd do if he was telling the truth. Not so much that killing Percy is wrong, but rather that killing him might cause more harm than good. After all, if they do kill him, that would mean he isn't the child of prophecy, which would leave a complete unknown variable that had the power of destroying Olympus while the Titans might uprise.
Honestly, at this point, Percy had said and used everything he had. If that didn't work then he was already doomed. Truth be told, he's more curious of the bond-like essence that Lady Hestia had made. Bond isn't quite the appropriate description, but he's far too new at this to descriptively explain it.
It's... every God is like a specific power. Literally. Poseidon is the Sea - and other things -, Zeus is the Sky - and other things -... The closes he can describe it is like a presence. So it's like there's a presence not quite in his head, but... maybe in his presence? He probably has something like that...
Oh! That's probably this whole scent thing everyone talks about. Percy had thought of it like that spiritual aura that he'd see in stories, but... actually, that made a lot of sense.
A Gods divinity was their presence. So if they had divinity in what he assumed was a higher plane, then it makes sense that their children would have access to some of that higher planes divinity. So by blessing him, Percy assumed Lady Hestia had...
Well, she hadn't given him divinity, but then so hadn't Poseidon, so...
Oh! Oh! Wait. The divinity wasn't his. Everyone made it clear it was his father's realm he was accessing.
Right, okay. So if Poseidon's divinity was... like a circle, a very large, immeasurable circle that overlapped with a significant part of Percy's circle. But since Percy was mortal, part of that circle didn't overlap with his father's circle. Which, was what Lady Hestia had probably done. She'd made it so that her hypothetical circle of divinity overlapped with his own while not overlapping with his father's.
In other words, both Poseidon and Hestia's circles were mutually exclusive. That being said, Percy's tiny existing circle was non-mutually exclusive with both of their respective circles!
Ha! Take that Mrs Doods. He was good at maths!
You're ridiculous.
Percy blinks. It's not said in any words. For that matter, there's not the linguistical way of defining the instinctual knowledge that message gives. It's... emotion. A pure emotion of exasperation, amusement and delight. He turns to stare at her in surprise, blindsided by the fact that he's gone from kind of understanding her emotion to be able to decode it in some foreign, emotion-based language he hadn't known existed ten minutes ago.
She catches his gaze, her eyes sparkling in what he knows is amusement as the Gods bicker his fate around them. And then she winks, returning to paying them attention as he's left to...
Nope.
He just...
He's not dealing with this.
You're ridiculous. She... well, he supposes she feels again.
...
As soon as this is over, he's asking her how she's doing that.
Because her lack of reaction makes it clear his message hasn't gone through.
At all.
"Enough." Zeus snaps. "This is not what we came to discuss. This argument is ending now."
"And what of the boy?" One of the Goddesses asks neutrally.
He has no idea which one it is - which might not be the best situation - that questions his outcome. He thinks it might be Artemis, with the way her throne is decorated.
Oh, wait. Wasn't she supposed to hate men? Granted, that had been millennia ago, and even then, that had also been a very long time before the women's liberation movement had happened. Actually, someone standing against men during misogynistic eras probably wouldn't have left a good impression on men...
Percy was going to treat her the same way he treated all Gods. If she turned out to be sexist, then... well, she was a Goddes, so he'd try to avoid doing anything particularly stupid.
"As our vote dictates," Zeus reluctantly states, "as thanks for retrieving my thunderbolt," and Percy does wonder when the bag had transferred into the Gods hand, "his life shall be spared."
Honestly, Percy is more curious to know when that vote happened than the fact that they agreed to spare him. He had been listening to their conversation. So... maybe they could kind of read each other's divinity?
But they obviously couldn't mind read, so maybe it was something that could only be done with permission?
So very ridiculous, echoes in his thoughts, and you might want to leave now, any longer might be taken as an offence. It'd be silly to be killed after everything.
He almost nods, quickly shifting into a bow towards the council in general as he tries not to offend any God that might hold a grudge.
He doesn't run out of the chamber, choosing to walk out before he hears the door slam closed behind him.
But he continues walking up the stairs. Taking a turn left... then another right...
And he reaches the same courtyard he'd arrived at mere hours ago, a darker stared night etched throughout the sky as the glistering stars shone above.
Oh, he thinks, torn between giggles and incredulously, I'm alive.
Tears well up in his eyes, slowly reaching to his knees as he shrinks into himself.
He barely notes the warm flame that gently embraces him, soothing his tears as fate slowly shifts around him.
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I sometimes post art of my fanfics here:
Deviantart: sapphireandemeralds
Twitter: SappandEmr
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Originally another one-shot. I realised mid-way that it fits rather neatly in River, so...
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