The Darkest Hour
Chapter Four
Fever

From what Percy could see through the tree branches it must have been late afternoon when the grip of sleep finally released her, the last rays of the sun warmly piercing through the thick foliage. The naiads were no longer present, even if the sense of peace which came with their forest magic still permeated the air of the glade.

Every part of her body seemed to voice its aching complains as she pulled herself to her feet, the result of her battles as ever felt more keenly in the aftermath. Gods, she was getting old for this. A child of the Big Three surviving to the age of twenty was rarely heard of and here she was steadily walking into her twenty-fifth year of life. Her poor body carried the remains of every single wound and fight it had taken her to get here.

Zeus was still unconscious, a quick change of the bandages revealing that his wounds were healing, perhaps slower than she would like, but still faster than any normal human could. How the mighty had fallen, indeed.

Last night she had ignored the shackles on his wrists, concerned with keeping him alive more than anything but with her dream heavy on her mind, she now took the time to study them more intently. They were magical, no two opinions about it. She could literally feel the spell coating them, oily and sticky like tar, hungrily reaching out in her direction. There was writing on them, ancient words in a tongue perhaps as old as the gods themselves, circling the outside of the shackles and disappearing beneath Zeus' hand.

Curious, Percy reached out a hand with the intention of searching for a lock, but as soon as her skin made contact with the shockingly cold metal, she felt the spell react as if a living thing, latching onto her with grasping thirst. The words flashed purple and with a gasp the demigod threw herself backwards, away from the cursed object. Thankfully, as soon as the contact was broken the spell released her, leaving her dizzy and drained as if she was once again fourteen, having just used every last drop of her power to erupt a volcano.

A draining spell. Her mind supplied. It would explain how the titans had managed to overpower the Olympians so easily and keep them imprisoned for so long. If the shackles left her feeling that hollow after only a single touch, it wasn't far fetched to believe that prolonged, constant contact would be enough to keep even the most powerful gods at bay.

Her inspection though, short as it had been, had revealed a concerning lack of a lock or hinges on the heavy Celestial Bronze bracelet. Somehow it had been wielded shut right onto Zeus' wrist and she had no idea how it could be removed. For all the knowledge her years under the titan's rule had granted her, she was no child of Hephaestus or Hecate.

The shackles were a problem, a bigger chink in her plan than she'd expected, but a daughter of Athena had once told her that the best plans were flexible, able to adapt to every situation. And Percy Jackson was nothing but adaptable.

Still, the question about what to do with the shackles was better left for another time, when they were safe and Zeus was hopefully awake enough to provide some additional information.

Their rest, while most certainly needed, had most certainly shortened the distance between themselves and their pursuers and the wood nymphs would not be able to shelter them forever, dead dragon or not. Hopefully, the abrupt change of command Kronos had demanded in her dream would be enough to slow them down a little.

"Sorry boy," She muttered tiredly as she prepared Hector for departure. The poor horse had gotten even less rest than she had and she knew she would have to push him even harder before they got to safety. Still, he was a hardy animal, strong and loyal, and hardly made a sound of complaint while she secured their saddlebags and deposited the unconscious god on his back.

The nymphs had left them with a parting gift, several small leaf-made packets of berries and edible roots, which looked surprisingly inviting after days spent eating only enough to keep her going. Even if her stomach growled though, Percy would not allow the delay of a proper breakfast. She would eat whatever she could in the saddle and it would have to be enough.

Night was already falling when they finally rode out of the secluded glade, shrouding the world in darkness, hopefully thick enough to hide them and yet making it more difficult to traverse the wilderness proper. Knowing that they couldn't risk Hector breaking a leg in the darkness, she led them closer to the roads, where the trees were not as thick and the ground was more level. It allowed her to look at the stars while they rode, no matter how angry the sight had made her. After they'd come into power, the titans had torn down all god-made constellations, including The Huntress, Zoe Nightshade, whom Percy had watched die and wept over. It made her ill when she thought about it, how gleeful Atlas must have been to be able to spit in his daughter's face one last time.

A day and two nights they rode tirelessly, stopping only so the horse could rest and Percy could change Zeus' bandages. Thankfully, they managed to evade whatever beasts now roamed the wild, even if the smell of her demigod blood combined with the god's spilt ichor must be enough to alert every monster in the ten-mile radius. Time seemed to drag as they travelled, whether from her own exhaustion or as a direct result of Kronos' wrath, she did not know. The weather had worsened significantly during the second night, a vicious summer storm sweeping thorough the land, carrying a thang of magic in the wind. The titans and their servants must be running themselves ragged, stretching their powers across the States, trying to slow them down.

Despite the terrible conditions though, Percy forced herself to push forward. She sacrificed the rest of her tattered cloak to cover the unconscious god from the rain, her powers keeping her dry. Despite the care she took however, his fever spied again during the night, leaving him shivering and furnace hot, mumbling intelligibly into Hector's neck.

Worried that the sounds of his fever induced raving would attract attention, the demigod tried to soothe him as her mother had once done for her, whispering comforting nonsense in his ear and humming old, half-forgotten lullabies her mind had managed to dig up from some dusty corner of her memories. It seemed to help a little. Even unconscious and tormented by fever as he was, she felt him focus on her voice, settling down against Hector's neck. So she hummed and whispered and sang quietly until her voice was hoarse. And if it comforted her as well, who but the stars were there to judge?

The sight of the familiar waterfall felt like a blessing after days of relentless travel. It was not home; it could never be home but it was the closest thing Percy had to a safe space in this world. Some phantom pressure released from her shoulders at the sight of everything remaining exactly the way she'd left it.

Usually, at that point, Percy would have left Hector right there on the bank so he could run free and graze whatever and wherever he wanted. But now, with a literal army at their heels she couldn't take the risk of anyone seeing him and recognizing him. Hopefully the mare she'd saved recently would know to stay away until called.

Her cave was colder and damper than she remembered, her absence in the last couple of weeks allowing nature to reclaim some of what was hers. Blindly – not that she needed much light to navigate the small space - she deposited Zeus onto the pile of blankets which made up the bed before busying herself with lighting the fireplace in the middle, once again thankful that the waterfall out front was heavy enough to hide the light even without the help of her powers.

She unpacked her bag and removed Hector's saddle, mentally reminding herself she should take the time to brush him properly tomorrow. For now, all she could reward him with was a large basket of corn, she kept in the cave for situations like this.

A quick rummage through the boxes stacked against the wall revealed that her healing supplies were running dangerously low, but she could hardly brave the forests in the middle of the night in search of the right plants. Even without the herbs though, at least now she could offer more adequate care, without having to constantly jostle him on the saddle. Using a clean cloth, she dribbled some warm tea in his mouth and laid a cold compress on his burning forehead as she settled next to the makeshift bed, chewing on rabbit jerky, preparing herself for another sleepless night.

The sound of shifting cloth, followed by a deep groan made Percy look up from the shirt she was stitching up to pass the time and keep herself alert. It was far from the first time Zeus had made noise since they'd arrived, but this time there was a sense of awareness in the sound this that had been absent in his previous fevered mumblings.

With baited breath she watched as his eyelids fluttered, as if fighting against some invisible force keeping them closed. She wouldn't risk calling out and startling him, perfectly aware how captivity affects a person's nerves.

It took a moment but finally the eyelids lifted, revealing a pair of electric blue eyes, unfocused and dazed by pain and days of fever, but thankfully awake. Silently, she watched as they shifted around the cave frantically, obviously unable to recall the last few days. Despite the wounds and what must have been agonizing pain, the demigod could see his body tense, fight or flight response kicking in.

Deciding to announce her presence before he managed to tear his wounds anew, Percy let the shirt drop from her hands and stood up, the movement immediately attracting his attention. It took him a moment to recognize her, the familiarity bleeding into his gaze immediately followed by disbelief.

"Percy Jackson?" His voice was hoarse and weak with disuse and pain, nothing like the thunderous rumble she remembered from her youth. He coughed and it prompted her to move, rummaging her supplies for something she'd been saving up for when he was awake. He seemed determined not to keep quite though, or maybe it was the surprise of the circumstances he'd found himself in, because once his coughing had subsided, he was speaking once more, looking at her as if he was seeing a ghost. "I thought it was a dream."

Percy snorted at the choice of words. "It's been a while since I've starred in anyone's dreams." She moved to kneel at his side, her supplies dropped to the ground next to her, as she studied him with clinical dispassion. "Do you think you could sit up a little?"

Zeus looked down at himself, now a little more alert at least and she could see his muscles shift and strain as he tested his own strength. He must have not liked the results though, because a fierce scowl twisted his face. "I might- need assistance." He admitted finally and Percy was honestly a little surprised he could even bring himself to say it. Once, she might have found it funny, the great king of Olympus brought down to begging for a lowly demigod's help. Might have even teased him a little without the threat of being smote silencing her tongue.

But now she only nodded, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck to help him rise so she could put additional pillows behind his back. She was close enough to hear the pained hitch in his breath. Hopefully, her idea would help quicken his recovery.

The added pillows brought him to a half-sitting position without putting any strain on his still healing abdomen. "Here, drink this." She pressed a golden flask into his hand, already uncorked so he wouldn't have to struggle. His hand shook as he brough it up though, and Percy had to wrap her fingers around it to steady his grip before he spilled the precious liquid inside. He hesitated before bringing it to his mouth, frowning at the sickle emblazoned on the side of the flask. "It's nectar." She answered preemptively, watching his eyebrows lift in surprise. He had probably realized how difficult it must have been to get her hands on 'the drink of the gods' under the titans' rule.

She helped him drink, watching with relief as some color returned to his face, the nectar working better than any mortal medicine she could offer him. Once he was done, she discarded the empty, now useless, flask to the side so she could get on with changing the bandages on his chest. She could feel his eyes on her face as she worked, tearing the cloth into long strips, careful not to waste it.

"You are supposed to be dead." He told her; voice stronger. "Kronos gloated he'd killed you himself. Your father-" Her fingers faltered where they were untying the knots at his chest. "Your father was devastated." Gods, her dad. They hadn't been close before the war, but he'd made sure she knew he cared about her, to the point of risking his honor by vouching for her when the rest of the Olympians had been ready to disintegrate her to avoid the risk of her turning against them. And in the end she had paid him back by failing.

She was careful to keep her expression neutral, well aware of the electric-blue eyes staring at her face. "I'm not so easy to kill." Percy told him shortly, hoping he would not pry. They would have to talk about it eventually – her offstandish attitude would not keep the questions at bay forever, not when her answers might be their only chance to save the world. The very thought made her feel raw, like someone had cut her skin open to expose her nerves to the world. He must have sensed her reluctance, or perhaps he felt as torn as she did, because he stayed silent as she unwound the bandages from around his torso.

His wounds were healing well, aided by the flask of nectar he'd just consumed. The smaller ones had closed completely, thin pink skin stretched above them, shifting with his breaths. Even the larger gashes, those in the middle of his chest and belly, where the vultures had torn off chunks of flesh, were starting to scab over, his eternal organs no longer visible. Hopefully, with the assistance of the nectar in his system, he would be healed enough to move around in a day or two.

"Are they going to scar?" The demigod asked as she started her daily ritual of swabbing his wounds with healing paste and ground herbs. For all her pretend absorption in her work, she hadn't missed the pained groan he'd bitten back at the tough of her fingers against raw flesh. If talking would keep him help him through the pain, it was a small sacrifice. And she was curious. She'd met Prometheus during the war, had been appalled by the scars covering his face, a direct result of the same punishment Zeus had been subjected to.

She felt, more than saw, Zeus look down to examine his own body as well as his position would allow. The demigod expected a reaction. A flinch, a look of revulsion maybe, but he seemed unmoved by the gruesome sight, inspecting his own wounds with clinical detachment. Then again, he must have seen enough brutal sights in nearly five thousand years of existence to be no longer moved by blood and gore, even his own. Gods knew Percy had, in her short twenty-one years on the Earth.

"I don't know." The god admitted finally, sounding tired. "I would say no, but -" He shifted his wrist, causing the shackle to clang against the floor. Percy thought she saw the inscription flash but it was too quick to be sure.

"You are healing faster than a mortal, if it's any consolation." She told him as she retied the crisp new bandages around him. The old ones would have to be burned, before the smell of ichor attracted any monsters.

"And yet much slower than a god should."

There was nothing to say in answer to that, no soothing words she could offer. Instead, she helped him lay down flat again, covering him with a spare blanket she had lying around. "Rest, now." She urged as he protested, having a thousand questions to ask and yet none the strength to voice them. "We'll talk later." The demigod promised as she gathered the used supplies and threw them into the fire, before gathering her bow and remaining arrows.

"Where are you going?" He managed to ask and she was a little pleased to hear some alarm sneak into his voice.

"Hunting. I should be back before you wake up but meanwhile know that you are safe here." She was not out of the cave before she heard his breath deepen. Hopefully she would be able to shoot down some geese. The feathers she would use to make more arrows and well, he might be a god but hot soup always helped when you are sick.

AN: Well, another filler chapter that I'm not exactly fond of but is needed to puh the plot forward. Yay (sense the sarcasm). I don't have much of an excuse for my inability to keep to any kind of update schedule except well, life?

Though I've not been lacking inspiration for writing those past few day, except that I've been writting new PJO fanfics rather than working on the ones already posted. I know, I know, I blame it on my ADHD brain.

I'll try to update soon, because the next chapter should be at least a bit more exciting than this one, but I now know better than to promise anything.

As always, your Follows, Favorites and Reviews are very much appreciated, even if I can't always answer.