Prized Possession
2: Out of Luck
"Don't confront me with my failures
I had not forgotten them" - Jackson Browne
That night, Percy dreams of the day Olympus fell.
It all went wrong when Percy tried to stab Luke.
Well, it had gone wrong a few times before that, but now he looks back on this moment as the point when he really screwed up.
He'd also tried to stab Luke and/or Kronos several times before, too, but nor were those really of any consequence.
This time, it was Luke talking to him. He could tell. Luke, not the monster possessing him.
"He'll defend himself," the fallen demigod said. "Only my hand. I know where. I can… can keep him controlled."
Percy stood there, Annabeth's knife in his hand.
"Please," gasped Luke. "No time."
And then his eyes flashed gold all of a sudden, just for a moment, before Luke came back again, eyes as desperate and pleading as before.
But a moment was all that was needed to push Percy into action.
He leapt at his foe, bringing the knife around in a deadly arc of flashing bronze.
Kronos seized the dagger with one hand, tore it out of Percy's grip, and threw it across the room.
He seized the half-blood with the other hand, but rather than hurling him anywhere, he held him there, trying to crush his throat. His grip was tight, and Percy's breaths were cut short and shallow. He rasped a couple of times, then lashed out with a leg.
Kronos didn't even wince, but slammed the demigod down into the floor, winding him.
The scythe materialised in Kronos' hands again, and bludgeoned down on Percy, who shielded himself with his arms, immensely grateful for the curse of Achilles.
Realising that this would go on indefinitely if he did not take swift action, he kicked Kronos again, this time in the, er… delicates.
The titan lord did wince this time, and paused his barrage of strikes, allowing Percy to break his grip, roll away, and bring out Riptide, finally returned to his pocket.
Time seemed to slow again. Not as it did when Kronos toyed with it for his pleasure or gain, but as it did when Percy was so completely and utterly immersed in the moment, his demigod senses going into overdrive, that he felt as though he knew everything happening around him. He saw Kronos' eyes flicker towards Annabeth, now closer to him than to Percy.
But when the rest of Kronos' body followed those golden eyes, and he stepped towards her, Percy was ready.
He leapt forwards, covering the distance in a few leaps and deflecting Kronos' first swing with Riptide, as Grover dragged Annabeth backwards.
Percy felt the floor tiles crack as he stepped over them, and the wind of a hurricane in his hair as he summoned it around himself. Somehow, as he and Kronos traded blows in the Olympian throne room, he pushed the titan back, and felt a thrill go through him as he realised he was actually winning now.
Of course, he'd forgotten that he was facing a titan.
Kronos staggered back from Percy's powerful strikes, and waved a hand.
The hero of Olympus found himself slowed again, moving through treacle, as Kronos stepped back, panting. He bent over, but kept his eyes fixed up on Percy, frozen there in front of him.
Percy didn't know how he was going to get out of this one.
But then Grover attacked, stabbing Kronos in the arm with Annabeth's knife. It made little impact on his skin, but the titan reacted blindly and impulsively, smacking the satyr across the face with his arm and sending him flying across the room once more.
But Percy was free now, and attacked again. Titan and demigod stood, toe to toe, neither giving an inch. The bronze and steel flashed in the sunlight that always seemed to bathe Olympus in warmth, and every movement left a ringing in the air and a breeze against Percy's skin.
Kronos, though, was not content to play fairly.
The scythe's staff slammed against the floor, punching a hole through to the cold clear skies below. Percy slipped as he felt the tile beneath his left foot give way and plummet down six hundred stories.
It wasn't much of a slip, but Kronos still grasped the opportunity with both hands.
He struck Percy in the face, sending him flying across the room and slamming into Ares' throne. Percy made to stand, but Ares being Ares, the throne was, of course, booby-trapped.
A giant axe sprang out of the seat and fell on top of the demigod. It wasn't subtle or graceful, but it was certainly a trap which made its point clearly, and was well suited to the war god's personality. The curse of Achilles kept Percy alive, but the weight of the weapon kept him pinned to the ground.
Kronos stepped towards him, but suddenly doubled up, staggering, groaning, and apparently struggling even to stay standing.
The titan's eyes snapped up towards Percy but this time, again, they were Luke's eyes.
"Percy," the son of Hermes gasped. "I don't know – I don't know how much longer I can hold him."
He seemed to be glowing with a golden light.
"Run," said Luke.
"Grover," called Percy, pushing frantically at the axe. "Get Annabeth. Get out of here. Hide until this is over. It's not safe in here anymore."
"No," Annabeth protested weakly, but Grover seemed to realise that the floor was collapsing, and pulled her to her feet, dragging her towards the door.
"GO!" howled Luke, but then his whole body shook and he stood upright again, eyes glowing gold once more.
He strode towards the pair moving too slowly out of the throne room, but Percy refused to let him harm his friends. He roared in effort as he tried to push himself up, slamming his hands into the cracked and broken tile floor.
Percy got nowhere, but then the cracks started expanding from beneath his hands, snaking jaggedly across to Kronos, across the whole throne room.
The titan lord stopped, apparently stunned. Thankfully, Grover and Annabeth kept moving, out of sight now.
Earthshaker, the growing fault lines seemed to whisper to Percy. He gave another wordless yell and pushed harder. They spread out, covering the whole floor, including directly under Kronos' feet, as well as up to the thrones of the gods themselves. Smaller cracks filled in the gaps beneath the larger ones, until the throne room floor appeared to be made of a vast, delicate mosaic, and the whole of Olympus felt like it was trembling under Percy's touch.
Too late, Kronos realised what was happening, and stepped towards the trapped hero. But Percy gave another push, another yell, more in pain than effort this time – and the ground seemed to dissolve into pieces beneath him.
The floor split into millions of tiny pieces, fracturing along every crack and widening every line the width of a hair. Kronos paused as he realised that the ground beneath him would no longer support him. And then, as though in a cartoon where gravity only took effect once the unlucky party noticed their situation, the floor gave way.
Percy felt himself falling down at such speed, surrounded by debris and the fragments of the gods' home, that he wondered if he could ever slow down, even by hitting the ground. Then he saw the ground below him, and started worrying about slowing down too abruptly.
He spread out his arms and let his orange t-shirt billow out, hoping desperately to slow himself down with any air-resistance he could muster. It didn't seem to help much.
And then he hit the ground.
Percy landed with such force that he cracked the tarmac in the street. He hoped that no-one needed to drive along there today. He realised that he had absolutely no right whatsoever to still be alive, and lay there, shaken, hurting more than he could have imagined it was possible to hurt, and hoping the Styx's curse didn't have a breaking point.
Then his eyes focused on the scene above him, and he realised it didn't matter anymore.
The Empire State Building was in ruins. Half of the building had been blown off, leaving many of the floors open to the elements, and some of those at the top gone completely. Above the top, there was nothing. On the street below, there was an awful lot of rubble.
He hoped that Grover and Annabeth had made it out in time.
Percy struggled to his feet, letting out a sharp breath at the pain of simply standing. He cast his gaze around, looking for Kronos. There was no tell-tale glow where his body might have fallen.
He saw the armies that had been warring at the base of the building. The monsters seemed to have been routed, being some distance away from the battleground. There were only a few left fighting, a small core of Kronos' most determined and accomplished troops. But the Olympian army was in disarray now, too. Scared and broken by the collapse of the Empire State Building, the party ponies had scattered, and the demigods themselves were in flight, oblivious to Percy's sudden arrival from the heavens. He could see no sign of Hades' army of the dead, which was odd, not to mention extremely worrying.
He began making his way gingerly towards the carnage around the entrance to the building, killing a couple of dracaenae on his way. By the time he got there, the demigod force had dissolved and fled, leaving only the stragglers from Kronos' army as the stronger troops gave chase. He hung back, reluctant to get involved in any more pitched battles as the adrenaline wore off, but when a hell-hound leapt at him, barking, he had no choice.
He sliced down, scattering the monster into dust, before countering a strike from an empousa rushing at him, and stabbing her through the belly. He fought mechanically, unable to gather any of the flare or ferocity he normally employed in his battles. It was enough. Soon, he stood alone in the street again, surrounded by piles of dust.
When he got to the lobby, the elevator was down. There was no light above it, the doors were closed and unmoving. He pressed the button desperately, but was given no response.
He knew that reason dictated there was no way Grover and Annabeth had made it down before the building collapsed, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it. Surely he would have known if they were dead? How could they die and leave him there in the midst of all this death and destruction when he was the one who was supposed to die? A single choice shall end his days, said the prophecy, but here was Percy, practically last man standing. Not dead yet.
For the first time since the battle that day had started, Percy felt the feelings of exhaustion settling in his limbs. He knew that if he collapsed now, he would be vulnerable to the monsters that would surely return soon now that Olympus had fallen.
He set off for Long Island, not knowing where else to go.
The city was waking up again, so Percy had to manoeuvre around sleepy mortals and restarting cars to get away. He scrambled into an empty car, not wanting to think about where the owner might have gone, and drove.
He wasn't a particularly confident driver yet at the best of times, and just having brought about the apocalypse tends not to do wonders for a person's state of mind. Nevertheless, Percy managed to make his way, shakily, up to the northern part of Long Island. It's a sizeable drive that takes more than an hour, and his hands kept almost slipping off the wheel from the sweat they secreted, but somehow he made it.
At least, until he crashed into a tree.
He was more or less clear of the city, but more tired than anything at this point. He didn't know how it happened. He could only assume that he'd dozed off at the wheel, and so swerved off-road.
Percy was unhurt, of course, but almost catatonic from exhaustion. It was probably a good thing for any other motorists that he was off the road now, he thought absently.
The car was clearly totalled, smoking and dented as it was. He clambered out, scanning the area.
He realised he was lucky to get this far. He was in the Pine Barrens, not an impossibly long way from camp. He knew he wouldn't make it today though. He was ready to collapse.
He stumbled into the trees, going a little way in so as not to be visible from the road, and lay down to sleep among the trees.
He entered Hypnos' realm immediately, and Morpheus sent him dreams of a world where fire was used to put out water.
There was a flood that had caused chaos and destruction. People's homes and possessions were in danger, and the streets outside were knee-deep in water. They called the fire brigade, who came bearing fire. They threw buckets of it into the houses, sprayed it in all directions from hose-pipes.
Eventually, after a long, difficult battle, the floodwater was gone.
Yet now the people's homes were on fire. No-one had realised until too late that the flames would not only consume the water, but the buildings themselves as well. Now they licked at the woodwork, charred the stone, and melted the plastics. The occupants of each home eventually fled, screaming and calling for help.
None of them considered turning to the water again.
So they stood there, and wept as they watched their homes and their lives burn away to nothing, and no-one came to help.
Percy woke up in the early morning feeling as tired as he'd gone to sleep.
Well, not quite so tired as that extreme state of enervation, but entirely ready to go straight back to sleep.
Unfortunately, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He should have known. He didn't normally wake while it was still dark.
He rose to his feet, as quietly as he could, pulled out his pen, and, crouching low, swept his gaze across the woodland around him.
Nothing.
He crept anxiously back towards the road. Stealth had never been one of his better areas in training, but he could still keep relatively quiet when necessary.
Still, he winced at every twig that snapped beneath his foot.
The woods were eerily quiet, bathed in darkness and a slight mist. The ground was soft and bouncy with the needles underfoot, and they helped to muffle his steps, but the landscape in general also seemed to deaden sound, leaving him with no idea who else might be around or where they might be.
He crept closer to the road.
Then, voices.
They were quiet, but sounded human – not that that was any guarantee – and it sounded like there were two of them. Percy concealed himself behind one of the larger trees to wait for them to get closer. Gradually, the voices grew nearer, and he identified them as female.
"… there's talk of bringing in Laelaps if we don't succeed."
"They must be truly desperate to find the boy. Why is he so important?"
"He's the leader of the half-bloods. Without him, the war won't truly be finished."
"But the gods are as good as dead! What cause have they left to fight for?"
"Who knows? Still, we can win great glory for Hecate if we find him."
Percy sidled around his tree to keep out of sight as they went past, then sneaked after them.
For a short while the pair spoke in more idle terms, one wondering what the other would ask of Hecate in reward if they were successful in finding the half-blood whom Percy could only assume was himself. (Answer: a virgin mortal man for her to drain the blood from. Lovely.)
They reached the car he had abandoned yesterday.
"Split up," said one. "He went into the forest here, but he can't have gone too far. You move to the left and I'll go to the right. Stay in earshot."
Percy caught himself before he could sigh in grateful satisfaction as his enemies split up, and headed into the woods after the one closest to him.
All was going well as he followed her movements closely, inching closer so as to be able to bring out Riptide and kill her – and then he stepped on a twig.
The wood snapped more loudly than was really necessary, he felt afterwards. Granted, stepping on sticks is bound to make some noise, but this particular stick, he would have been disappointed to report had he been making a report of any kind to anyone, was out to get him. It practically burst underneath his clumsy tread, splintering with all the noise and horrific consequences of an angry Minotaur.
Or at least, that was what it felt like.
Having heard the twig snap, the woman span around sucking in a sharp breath, but Percy uncapped Riptide, stepped forwards, and brought his sword up in a shining arc that separated her into thousands of tiny glittering dust particles.
He stayed frozen there as he looked for the woman's companion, and breathed easily again as he saw that she was some distance off, with his back turned to him.
He made his way cautiously, and once more as quietly as possibly, towards her.
A little closer, he saw that she had just arrived at the spot where he had slept for the night, and was prodding the disturbed earth and needles with her foot.
Then she turned around, calling "Over –"
Her eyes focused on Percy, still some thirty yards away. He hesitated realising that stealth was no longer really an option. Then he sprinted towards her, hand locked around Riptide's grip.
She swung her claws at him. He deflected the attack, and ploughed straight into her, pinning her against the tree he'd been sleeping under only a few minutes before.
She struggled, but Percy was stronger and held her still, his sword at her throat.
"Empousai," he snarled.
To his astonishment, his captive started laughing, showing pointed teeth – like empousai had.
"Quiet," he said, kicking her in the leg. Rather than the dull metallic clang he expected, there was simply the thump of his foot sinking into flesh.
"Ow," she protested, stopping laughing.
Confused, he kicked the other leg, only to receive the same result (right down to the "Ow," though there was more of a tone of confusion to it this time).
"What are you?" he demanded.
"We are the mormolykeia," she said. "We are Hecate's favoured servants, not those pathetic empousai."
"Oh. Is there any other difference between you apart from the legs? 'Cause you seem quite similar..."
"Foolish mortal! You will not be so cocky when we kill your precious leader, Percy Jackson!"
Percy paused. "I'm Percy Jackson," he said.
"Gah! Then you will die!" she declared, though it was hard to take her seriously as she flailed against the tree.
"Who's this Laelaps?" he asked. "One of your leaders?"
"Stupid boy! Lamia will feast on your flesh!"
"Lamia?" That name certainly rang a bell. He still wasn't exactly sure what Lamia was though.
His mind was distracted from this as she brought her knee sharply up into his groin. He doubled up and let her go.
She ran, shouting "Jackson's here! Jackson's he-" Percy threw his sword and cut her off by turning her vocal cords into monster dust.
He bent back down and let out a loud, painful groan. Then he swore quietly in Ancient Greek.
He took in a few deep breaths, then stepped out on the small road, past the crashed car, on the way to camp. He hoped that no-one else had heard the mormoly- what was the singular of mormolykeia? He'd have to ask Annabeth when-
He tried to cut that thought off before it could go anywhere.
It was strange to think that she was dead. She'd always known what was going on, what she was doing, and how to do it. Annabeth had always had the answers, or a plan to get them. She was so wise and beautiful and she'd died before Percy even had the chance to tell her that. Before he'd had the chance to repay the debt he owed for all the times she'd saved his life.
And Grover, too. Grover, who was his oldest friend and had stood by his side from the beginning. The satyr who had believed in him and now had died trying to save his life and the world.
It was his fault, and he would not be able to say sorry to them in this life.
Then he thought about the afterlife with dread. What happened if the titans took over the Underworld, or if Hades faded? Would the heroes of this war be sentenced to punishment by an unjust process? Would he ever see his friends and family again?
He stopped in the centre of the road. The horizons it disappeared into were empty.
I've been running away, he realised with shame. I didn't know how to react to losing, so I ran.
But I can't let them win.
If Percy wanted to see the people he loved again, if he wanted to say sorry, if he wanted any prospect of joy in the future, then he had to kill Kronos.
Easier said than done, perhaps, but Percy walked a little faster and trod a little more confidently when he started moving again.
He had only a single question: how do you win a war you've already lost?
So he walked to camp, hoping that Chiron had the answers.
Percy was some way down the road, with the sun rising up – despite Apollo's likely incapacitation – and the time approaching mid-morning when two significant problems with this new approach arose.
Firstly, the tiredness began to set back in. His limbs grew heavy and leaden as they reminded him of the previous day's exertions, and as they did, he slowed, his mind was clouded with a dim fog, and his thoughts were occupied with the dull aching all over. The fresh burst of adrenaline he had run off every since waking was once more wearing off, and now it was a chore simply to put one foot in front of the other.
The other problem was that there were several more Mormolykeia coming towards him on the road ahead. He'd been staying to the side, so he was fairly certain that they, in the centre of the road, hadn't seen him, but in this state he was far from confident that he could dispose of them as easily as he did the last two. The curse of Achilles certainly had its negative aspects, despite the rather handy quality of making him effectively invincible.
He was near to camp – perhaps only another five or ten minutes' walk away – and hoped that the monsters did not know how close they were to the half-blood haven.
He decided that his only option was once again to resort to stealth.
Percy entered the tree-line, moving some distance inside so that he could comfortably observe the road without risking being seen too much.
He lay and waited once more as the servants of Hecate walked past. The time seemed to stretch out into hours, though in reality it was only seconds or perhaps a minute or two.
He felt his arms shaking as they propped him up against the ground, and when he eventually got up to give pursuit to the monsters, he could barely lift Riptide.
The first was easy. She lingered and dallied behind, allowing Percy to sneak up and decapitate her barely breaking his stride. Unfortunately, there were still ten more enemies left to go.
When one stopped to examine animal tracks by the roadside, he killed her too, and when another halted saying that she needed to relieve herself, Percy swung his weapon through her as soon as she stopped moving forwards.
Things became rapidly more complicated when one of them looked behind.
She saw Percy, gave a cry of "Demigod!" and alerted all of her companions to his presence.
With an almighty effort, Percy cut down two enemies before any of them could really react, before getting into a pitched battle with the remaining foes. He thrust his sword through the first to reach him, but by the time the whole group arrived, the sheer fatigue felt like it was going to cost his life.
He would have been torn to shreds if not for the curse.
Another enemy fell to his blade, but there simply seemed to be too many.
He drew ichor from one's face as he slammed Riptide's hilt into her, but stumbled backwards as another two clawed at his own face and chest.
For one terrifying moment, he blacked out.
The world vanished into a dark void as he lost any sense of the world around him.
He staggered, and came to again just in time to deflect another attack, but it was clearly in vain, and his opponents seemed to sense it. They wore hungry smiles on their faces, as though intoxicated by his weakness, and redoubled their efforts to claim him as their victim.
He sliced another across the belly as he fell backwards to the ground, and though she dissolved into fragments of glittering dust, he knew he had lost.
His vision began to fade, but just as his vision sank into empty shadows, arrows sprang from the heads of two monsters, and another fell to Annabeth's knife.
The daughter of Athena ran to him and cradled him in her arms as he faded into unconsciousness, wishing that he could believe that she was real.
It didn't work though, and he was forced to accept that she was just a figment of his spent brain, one final comfort, or perhaps torment, for him to gaze on as he was ripped apart by these demons which he had never even heard of before that day.
He could have sworn he could feel her arms around him, though.
So, this chapter's been finished much sooner than I ever imagined it would be. Please don't take this speed as a sign of things to come, as you're certain to be disappointed at some point fairly soon.
To dragonswoe, who asked about Kronos incinerating Luke's body and assuming his own true form, worry not! I have considered this, and all will be explained, I hope to your satisfaction.
Thanks very much also to TheArrowess and the guest who reviewed.
Apart from that, you ought to know that this story will be jumping around different times a bit, though I intend to keep it fairly simple in a present/past/present/past rotation.
Also, and I'm aware that this is likely just me being paranoid, but do tell me if you think this story should go up to an M rating at any point. I find it easy enough to write in my own personal style, but less so to say exactly for whom that style is appropriate.
Reviews appreciated, of course. Seriously. They're amazing.
Think that's everything. Thanks for reading!