ACT THREE

ONE

"i really fucked it up this time, didn't i, my dear?"

-little lion man, mumford and sons

He'd demanded to see her.

Not because he was fearful the Olympian's had done something untoward, but because he needed time to prep Percy's "death" without raising too much suspicion.

He was supposedly the hardest to kill, right? Seemed sensible.

Athena flicked some invisible flint under her nail. He'd gone to her this time, much to her chagrin. Kronos had never actually been inside a building on Olympic Boulevard but he wasn't disappointed – it was dripping in ostentatious gold and platinum decorations. Athena, to her credit, hadn't blanched when she'd seen him wandering the lobby in sweats and slightly dirty t-shirt. A quick "follow me" and the slam of a small office door led them to the present.

"Water?" She offered him the smallest bottle he'd seen in his life. Like a plastic shot glass. A ridiculously wasteful novelty only Zeus would buy.

"Sure."

She tossed it to him.

This was the only pleasant part of their conversation.

"And why, exactly, do need to see her?"

Kronos had sat himself on top of the walnut meeting table, despite the plethora of chairs around it. Athena, having pulled out a leather chair from the table for him, turned up her nose to this, but didn't outwardly comment.

"I need to confirm she's alright."

"We don't send you those pictures for our health, Titan."

"I need to see her for myself."

Her eyes slid shut and she exhaled harshly through her nose. Manicured index finger, painted a mauve gray, rested against her temple. Luckily for Kronos, she decided this wasn't a hill to die on. Lose a battle to win the war and all that shit.

"We'll take you there, but I'm blindfolding you and locking you the back of a van to get there."

"Fine."

She lowered her gaze, a sly smile blanketing her face. "A very dirty, abhorrent van."

"Fine."

"With mucus, and feces-"

"Only a virgin would be disgusted by basic bodily secretions."

"Oh, shut up."

Kronos folded his legs.

"Stay here." Said the woman.

He didn't have to wait long; maybe five minutes had elapsed before Athena returned with a large burly man. His hair was neatly trimmed down to nearly his scalp, but was a flaming red in color. When he turned his head in the light, it shimmered like a weak flame. He had scars across his cheeks, and jaw, and throat and wore a distastefully gaudy leather uniform. Jacket, pants, shirt, shoes. All of it leather. Maybe it was just the "son of Gaia" part talking – but Kronos found him immediately revolting. He plopped himself into one of the leather chairs.

"This is Ares." Athena introduced coldly. "Ares, Kronos."

The man snorted.

"Pleasure," the titan said on reflex. He did not offer his hand.

"You can see her," he took this unnatural pause to spit into the philodendron planter, "in one week." Athena's grimace told him he wasn't the only one.

"Fine, but Jackson lives until I see her."

Athena ground her teeth. "You're not really in a position to make demands."

"And yet," palms flat out to the ceiling, "here we are."

"You're pushing it."

"I don't see my wife – I disappear and you clean up your own messes."

"I say we do it," Ares grumbled. "I can take care of one demigod brat."

"Past experiences say you can't." Hissed Athena, "Or don't you remember Montauk?"

The titan raised an eyebrow. Folded his hands. "Do we have a deal or what?"

Athena, begrudgingly, held out her palm. "Deal."

They shook.

TWO

"A week." He reported back to Poseidon, who disguised himself stupidly like a blond surfer. His skin was deeply tanned, his arms had string friendship bracelets up and down. He wore a Hawaiian fish hook charm necklace.

"That's gnarly, man."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, gnarly, dude. The time frame and shit."

"What's wrong with your voice? Did you gargle salt water?" Kronos motioned to him. "Why are you dressed like an illiterate American?"

Surfer dude frowned. "I'm trying to like, keep character, dude. You're throwing me off my groove."

"Stop that. No one talks like that."

"Dude. You been to Cali?"

"To what?"

Poseidon raised his eyebrows. "California, man."

"No. I don't believe you. No one talks like that."

"Believe it, dude. People who work at Caltech talk like this."

"I don't know what that is."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "And you called me illiterate."

Kronos jabbed his elbow into his son's ribs. "A week. Come on, genius. What do we do?"

Poseidon cleared his throat, which did little to make him sound any less like he had cotton balls in his mouth. "Actually, like, Doc Solace has been totally on it-"

"Child, my ears are bleeding."

Poseidon glared. "Well, totally sucks to be you. Anyway, he and Nico – you remember Nico right?"

The titan nodded.

"Right, they've like, totally devised this plan to like, make Percy looked dead, but be totally, like, okay."

"Like, really?"

Poseidon frowned. "Dude, you have really bad vibes. Bad aura, man."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, like-"

"The plan," interrupted the titan. "What do I need to do?"

Poseidon shook his head. "It would be easier if your MO wasn't, like, slitting throats." Kronos let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I guess it's good you tend to go for the chest first."

"What?"

"You need to attack him a way that like, is sort of like what you'd normally do, but without the actual killing part."

"No way."

"Smartass," Poseidon deadpanned. "That's it. A minor injury that get's him inducted into the hospital. Attack him a public area so it doesn't seem suspicious you didn't finish the job. From there, Doc Solace will inject him with morphine."

"Morphine?"

"It can lower blood pressure and heart rate until they're virtually non-readable."

"And then what? A low heart rate isn't enough to declare someone dead, Poseidon. Don't they have machines-"

"Yes, yes," interrupted the sea god, "but," here he held up his finger, "Percy has a DNR order."

Kronos shook his head. "Are you intentionally saying things I don't understand for shits and giggles or something?"
"A 'do-not-resuscitate' order." Kronos blinked.

Poseidon sighed, "I didn't know what it meant either. Basically, if Percy suffers a medical emergency, he has issued an order to perform no CPR, ect."

"You guys really think this is a good plan? What if he actually dies?"

"He won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because," and here Poseidon's hand gripped Kronos' much too tightly, "you're not gonna fuck this up. Right?"

"Right." Echoed the titan. "And then? Percy is dead-not-dead, how do you get him out of Greece? That is the end goal, right?" He asked, but of course he knew. Percy was too valuable to be in Greece – it was much to risky to keep the second in command of Poseidon's movement in a state owned by the enemy. The idea was to transport him back to his home in New York, with his mother. Frankly, Kronos didn't think they'd really thought this whole thing through – Zeus' minions could use public transport too – but he didn't comment.

Poseidon smiled to himself like he had the whole thing figured out. Which, supposed Kronos, he did, but really, how sloppy was this plan? So many ways to fuck it all up. "Nico, you remember Nico right?"

"We covered this."

"Well, Nico is the coroner. A death certificate signed by him, the doctors follow his will to have his corpse shipped back to America to be buried. Easy."

"You're delusional."

"It is going to work."

"Are you going to ship him in a coffin?"

"Well, I mean, I'll give him an iPhone and some headphones."

"What?"

"So he won't get bored?"

"You're shipping him in a fucking coffin?"

"Well, yeah."

"In a cargo hold?"
"Yeah."

"Do you know how cold airplane cargo holds get? How cold the sky is?"

"Some of them are heated. He'll be fine."
Kronos sighed. "Right. Fine."

Bullshit.

THREE

A week of preparing medical orders and setting up a secret morphine store and all that shit went down exceedingly well. He was told. Actually, much to his surprise. Kronos didn't, nor did he want, to have any part of it. Not that he would know what to do anyway. The titan, for one, was content to buy himself some cheap beer and wait for Ares to come and get him. It had been a way to buy time, making them take him to see Rhea, but he was overjoyed in the prospect of seeing her.

Athena had told him, sometime after their meeting, that he was to wait for them in his apartment on that Wednesday. They'd come to collect him after night had fallen. This time frame was the extent of their super-spy like operation.

They were not covert. Ares arrived in a brash, completely conspicuous train of black SUVs. He wore a suit jacket over a nearly completely unbuttoned white dress shirt. Scrawlings of inky tattoos were barely concealed on his chest. He slammed his fist on the door.

"Titan!"

Kronos opened it only after he was sure he wouldn't get socked in the face by the war god.

"Hey."
Ares raked his eyes up and down Kronos – taking in his much more causal attire. Jeans. An utterly plain t-shirt. Jacket because he was cold. Age had given Kronos the glorious, genuine notion of not giving a fuck. As if Rhea would care. At least he'd brushed his hair.

Ares snorted. "Ready?"
Kronos raised an eyebrow.

"Let's go, then."

They'd had the gall to blindfold him, as if it made any difference. Should Kronos care where they were going? He didn't think so. Further, the titan was sure they'd made more than one unnecessary circle to throw him off. What might have been a ten minute drive had taken two hours. Kronos couldn't really tell. The only thing to keep him interested was the gentle hum of the driver's stereo through the holes in the bullet-proof glass and Ares' harsh breathing through his nose. The titan thought the fucker had a sinus infection. Judging from the positive stench of the war god, he wouldn't be surprised.

He could tell, though, when Ares roughly grasped his arm above his elbow and yanked him from the vehicle. He heard Ares clear his nose, a thick glob of mucus trailing down his throat. Kronos stumbled a little on impact because the Olympian literally threw him to the curb. Honestly. Whatever happened to manners? He found his footing, was guided a couple of steps into the humid air of a building, and was glad the cold hands that went to untie his blindfold where Athena's. He might not have care how others saw him, a sentiment Ares clearly agreed with, but for Gaia's sake, whatever happened to hygiene?

It was dark but clean, the interior where he found himself. Walls a matte gray, absolutely void of any decoration at all. In front of him, two plain wooden doors were planted in the walls either side of a light-switch. He didn't know what was behind him. Athena shoved him to the right door. Warily, Kronos turned to her. She jutted out her chin.

"There." She said carelessly.

The floors, despite their marble look, turned out to be a cheap linoleum as Kronos found, his footsteps utterly silent. He turned pulled down the handle and pushed open the door.

His breath still caught in his chest when he saw her, though the Olympians didn't seem to have touched her since they'd administered the concussion. The titans said nothing to each other at first – at least not while Kronos assessed the situation. Celestial bronze chains, interlocked together carefully with each link as thick as a man's forearm, bound her to the wall – hands above head. He could guess her arms had long since gone numb. Her hair was dirty, as was her face and skin, but the blood had been wiped from her chin and her legs seemed to be positioned somewhat comfortably in front of her.

"You've been better."

"I've been worse, too." She chirped, voice like gravel but eyes still shining with her innate amusement. Dauntless. A trait Kronos had always admired.

"Have you come to save me?" A smile was creeping into her voice.

"Not yet."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"One more job to do."
"Job." She said. Kronos saw her try to flex her fingers. They hardly obeyed. "Zeus said something like that."

"Did he?"

She licked her lips. "Three jobs and I could go free."

Kronos nodded. "That was the deal."

"What three jobs?"

Kronos pursed his lips, "Rhea..."

"Don't give me that crap, Kronos. What is he making you do?"

"I-"

"Are you stealing?" She accused.

"No."

"Spying?"

He forced a harsh laugh. "No."

Her lips parted almost imperceptibly, and her eyes widened about the same amount. Then her jaw snapped together very tightly. Her voice was very quiet. "Are you killing for him?"

Kronos was the Crooked One. An excellent manipulator and an even better liar – his pride had always stemmed from the idea he could say anything and make anyone believe it. He could make any deal and any compromise but end up on top. He'd made very few promises in his life he actually intended to keep – perhaps something he was less proud of. But he would not lie to Rhea. He'd sworn it and he'd meant it. "Yes."

It was one thing about Rhea his children didn't know, well, that is, among the hundreds of other things his children didn't know about Rhea. Stories, especially those passed down through generations of storytellers like all the best ones are, have an interesting way of saying exactly what people want to hear. That he'd married the titan for her lovely face, that she'd complacently taken a seat not at his side, but slightly below him as his consort queen – as an object to be admired. Kronos thought it was funny, almost. He didn't call her Lioness for nothing. She didn't say anything outwardly. She didn't need to.

Her eyes were fierce.

"I won't make excuses." He started numbly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. It was only now he wished he worn something nicer for her. He'd hadn't felt like that in a long time.

He'd forgotten who he was talking to. Rhea didn't pull punches. "Did you have to?"

"For you, I had to."

She raised her eyebrow. "And before me?"

A grin crept to his face. "There wasn't a before you."

"Corny bastard. This is serious." But he could see her smile. It was gone, as quick as candlelight. "Answer me."

"No." As much as she valued honesty, he hated it.

She nodded.

Kronos desperately wanted to tell her about Poseidon's plan. To not only fight Zeus' unfair rule, but to save Percy as well. That he was sparing a life. He knew she would like the idea – of a revolution for the greater good. But he wasn't stupid. Athena and Ares hadn't come through the door with them, but he'd be naive to think they'd left him and Rhea in a room where they couldn't watch. He, instead, brought himself gingerly to the floor near her – folding his legs one on top of the other and outstretched his hands to her cheeks. She leaned forward and rested her head against his. It was a tradition they'd both always thought was silly and stupid and too friendly, everything something like this could be, but in this moment – for them – it was a reminder that millennia of marriage had left them with something perhaps most couples did not understand. That, in this moment, Kronos' silence meant so much more than his words. Besides, the titan thought it was nice to be close to her again. His fingers slid something into the hem of her skirt. He tapped his finger along her hip. He could feel her wordless nod.

"Go." She told him finally, hot breath washing over his cheeks. Theirs had once been a relationship much too dear to complicate things with misnomers and riddles. When she said go, Kronos believed her and he did not question her. He left.

Unbelievably, everything Poseidon had mentioned went exactly to plan.

That being said, Poseidon hadn't said anything at all about what Kronos was supposed to do after attacking Percy in a public place. Mind you, this went against everything the titan had ever taught himself about assassinations: being visible, being around other people, so he took perhaps extra precautions on top of his extra precautions. He had a backup route for his backup route, three separate paths to take through one corridor in case he was cornered. If the Olympians had been playing fair – it would have worked. But, these were the Olympians we were talking about. They hadn't weaseled their way to the top by being the best player. Oh no. They were the assholes with the cheat codes.

Anyway. Down it.

It started well.

Kronos had hidden himself somewhat clumsily behind a park bench – yes, his finely tuned super-villain instincts were screaming at him too – where he was waiting for Percy. The demigod usually came home this way, he'd learned from Poseidon, because there was a falafel stand here that gave him an extra fritter every other time he came. Of course Percy knew he was to be attacked, but he didn't know where or when – to keep it "authentic". Whatever the fuck that meant.

"Hey, man-" He heard Perseus finally beginning to make small talk with the vendor.

"How's it, friend?" Was the chit chat response. Kronos sighed deeply. The plan, if it could be graced with such a name, was to wait for Jackson to walk past the bench. Attack him then. Hope the Athenian public would call an ambulance when they saw him fall to the ground while Kronos made his quick escape down one of his numerous pre-decided alleyway exits. Nothing could go wrong.

Knock on fucking wood.

Percy bought the falafel, Percy began his trek past the park bench. So far so good. Kronos tensed his legs – he was perched on his toes – and Kronos leaned forward. No one seemed to be paying him any mind. A breeze across the park was a nice distraction from the hot sun. The gentle snowfall had bled back into a typical Athens' winter, then; a gloriously temperate and sunny day. Dry and refreshing. A good day to be in the park. A bad day for any sort of illegal activity like Kronos had planned. It was bright enough it would be hard not to see his face. Though, the titan mused, it didn't matter if they saw him – only that they didn't catch him.

Perhaps needless to say, he was not enamored with this plan of his son's.

Too late now, he thought as Percy neared Kronos' trajectory. Three, he exhaled, two, an inhale, one.

"Ah!" Percy yelped as he was slammed to the floor. Kronos used his knees to straddle the demigod to the ground. His knife was ready. Unfortunately, Percy apparently wanted to make this authentic. Which the titan had not anticipated. His fist collided with Kronos' diaphragm.

Fuck. Ow.

Kronos heaved, but was still lucid enough to dodge Percy's second attempt to take him out. The titan wildly glanced around to regain his barrings – he needed to make sure his exits were still a reasonable distance. Good for the demigod, this gave Percy enough time to clamor to his feet and bare down on the titan with a fist to his kidney. Kronos loved a good old-fashioned rabbit punch. When he was the one giving them. Fucking shit. Ow.

The titan grunted as rolled onto his stomach, but otherwise maintained his composure. Flecks of too bright light glimmered at the corner of his eyes. This was not the plan, dammit, Jackson! Percy leapt from his position on his knees to cover Kronos' body with his own.

Enough of this shit. Kronos swung his arm up blindly to bury the blade of his knife just beside Percy's right lung. His face morphed from pure fury to shock and then utter, utter pain. He curled up onto himself. Kronos, knowing that's all that was needed, shoved the boy off himself and spun to make his exit.

A little harder than anticipated – thank you, Jackson – but so far so good. His first choice of route was blocked by oglers, but his second was clear. Thank Gaia. He bolted down the cobbled street and launched himself to the second story balcony on the side of the tall apartment building. The third one down, in fact. The one with no tenant. His right hand entirely missed the mark, but his left found purchase on the wrought iron. It was little issue to the titan to swing his arm up to have a full grip on the bar. In a single motion, he thrusted his body over the railing and slipped in the unlocked glass door.

Percy injured? Judging by the raucous sound of panicked commotion and the distance call of sirens – check.

Kronos' escape? Unbelievably, the titan remarked glancing about the refurbished apartment – check.

Then there was nothing to it right? His part was done. Now all he could do was pray that Poseidon managed to pull off his part and that Zeus would honor his pact and release Rhea.

Rhea. It was a stunning numbness that overcame him then, standing in that apartment. His own body suddenly didn't feel like his own when he looked down to his calloused hands. He lost count of his own breathing and had to think manually to bring the air in and out. An uncomfortable boil began in his stomach and spread to his chest, and then his neck and head. Breath faster, his brain told him, breath faster, faster, faster. Kronos blinked the sparkling darkness from the corners of his eyes. A prickled rolling feeling across his cheeks. His stance wavered precariously.

And then.

Of course, there was always an "and then."

Breath faster, faster.

Kronos fainted.

FOUR

He woke sometime later, lips numb and head throbbing. He coughed painfully. His stomach turned. Kronos lost his breakfast.

FIVE

Delirious was a good word for him when he finally opened his eyes and felt somewhat normal again. His hair and cheek was soaked in the remains of his own vomit and it slid down to his collarbone once he'd finally pulled himself off the cold floor. He held out his hands. Trembling, yes, but his. His chest screamed for air.

Kronos rose to his feet.

Sometime in his delirium, night had fallen. It was clear, and the waning moon cast an ethereal sort of sheen over the apartment. His feet, he watched as he placed them carefully, heal to toe, neared him to the open balcony door. He turned his head down the alleyway. The park had fallen quiet with the night. A vague hint of laughter echoed out from a distant tavern. Through his ears, a torrent of blood poured into his head. It was spooky, how incredibly normal everything suddenly was again. In an apartment again, the night calm and soft again, him incredibly alone again. It was the Athens he'd known for a thousand years.

BANG, BANG.

The shots were punctuated with each jolt of Kronos' form – and they served to pull him from his melancholy. The night's peace was a veil, a facade hiding the horrors that Zeus had called from the depths. The laughter, soft and jittery, now sounded true – drunken and cruel. Among the throng now, he could hear crying from a distant balcony. He heard yelling from the apartment a couple over. The titan's reflection was crestfallen in the window.

Enough sobbing. Kronos shook his head. He needed to inform Athena of his success. He almost left then, but the titan decided – correctly – that he was disgusting; and that he needed to bathe. It felt nice, to strip out of dirty, torn, and sweaty clothes and to wash the grime (and vomit) from his face. He washed his clothes in the sink and was thankful to find an antiqued dryer hidden in the bathroom behind a closet door. He waited maybe twenty minutes after he'd showered, in nothing, having dried himself with a forgotten washcloth, before he put his slightly damp clothes back on. He snuck down through the front door, confidently strode down the hall, and through the front lobby. No one, thankfully, seemed to recognize him as the attacker from yesterday. Eye-witnesses were often horrible. From there, slinking his way back to the Ambassador St. apartment was facile.

He held down the button on the keypad, the dial-tone buzzing. A click.

"Hello?" He said.

"Kronos." Athena chirped.

"It's done. Where's Rhea?"

"Meet us at headquarters on Olympic Boulevard."

Kronos hesitated. "When?"

The phone line went dead. Kronos' eyes scanned the open window. It was daylight, perhaps just the very beginning of sundown. His sleep appeared to have pulled him to another day. Seemed a time as good as any other.

As a former king, and as a man confident in himself to a perhaps egregious extent he'd admit – Kronos didn't feel underdressed the swarm of pinstripes and tails around him. He got a weird look, or two. Whatever. It was his second time now, in the Olympian main lobby, but as this time he'd been invited – the receptionist had led him to a little waiting room just beside an elevator. It was a little shocking, to look at it. The walls were blood red. The floor, red. The window sills, cabinets: red. A couple of large picture frames, surrounding conical lush and green landscapes, were gold. The woman, thin and gaunt, but pretty, offered him water.

"No thanks."

She scurried back to the front lobby.

He didn't notice the clock until the silence left by the woman engulfed the room. A grandfather clock, deeply golden, ticked mildly in a corner. Kronos folded his hands together over his lap.

"You again."

Kronos blinked. "Ares."

He was draped against the wall, arms folded, and leather jacket unzipped. A white muscle shirt didn't quite manage to cover his entire chest. His combat boots looked heavy. The god snorted. "so the deeds are done?"

"Of course."

"Of course," echoed the god. He shook his head. "I never liked you titans."

"No?"

"Too full of yourselves."

Kronos bit back a retort. No need to pick a fight with a moron that could keep Rhea out of spite. Besides, Kronos couldn't be bothered to fall to Ares' level of stupidity. He didn't respond, much to the war god's chagrin. Fucker was looking for a fight. Naturally.

"Whatever, punk." Languidly, the god leaned over a coffee table – one which Kronos had practically missed due to the fact is was the same fucking red as everything else in the room. Vaguely, he wondered who their designer was. He wouldn't have been surprised to learn it was Area. The remote now in the war god's hand clicked on the television to an official Olympian news channel.

The headline read: DEMIGOD PERSEUS JACKSON DECLARED DEAD. BODY TO BE TRANSPORTED TO HOME-TOWN OF NEW YORK, NEW YORK FOR BURIAL.

Son of a bitch, Kronos gawked to himself as Ares thundered down the hall – still holding the remote. He supposed every now and then even people like Poseidon get lucky. He watched the air-brushed news reporter with mild amusement as she recounted the actions of a "young middle eastern man wielding a sword." Kronos wondered when a small switch blade had become a sword. He heard her before he saw her – as was becoming customary. A clack of her stilettos on the marble hallway alerted him.

"Kronos."

"Athena."

"Follow me."

Into an elevator. A manicured nail depressed the button with the highest number. Of course. The titan thought it was funny even the all-powerful Olympians had to bare with generic elevator music.

DING.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Athena stretch out her arm – skin pale, veins green – and motion him forward. "After you," she smiled.

The throne room… was hard to describe. Imagine perhaps an observatory – with windows surrounding every thing visible to you. Now, add a painted ceiling, with designs intricate enough to rival the Michelangelo's – detailing fantastic stories you'd never heard. Add a couple of thrones with as much gold as you'd like. Picture a man larger than life, a combed beard and startling blue eyes, at the end of that room, fingers drumming against his platinum armrest as he watched you. Now you're getting there.

Almost there. You must remind yourself, that this was of course, Zeus, which meant one awkward thing.

He was completely naked with two girls draped over him like lap dogs.

One was giggling stupidly, but the other's mouth was occupied with something else entirely. Well. Kronos strode forward with as much ease as he could, trying to reassure himself that Zeus would hold to his deal, and release Rhea. He could be content with nothing but Rhea. He just needed the chance. Frankly, he didn't give a shit about the girls.

"My son."

Kronos almost smiled at Zeus' flinch. The titan continued where the god did not. "Your mother?"

The corners of Zeus' lips turned up slightly.

"Ah, yes. Our deal. Girls, leave us." They waited while the giggling girls found the exit behind Kronos. They reeked of perfume when they ran past. Zeus' fingers strummed against the armrest. "I would have honored it, if you had."

"I… don't understand," he tried.

Zeus laughed, a hollow, booming sound. His stomach was rolled and lacked definition, even as he leaned back against his throne. "Don't you?" Blue eyes flickered. "Aren't you the one who helped plan the ruse with Poseidon, my treacherous brother?"

The titans' stomach dropped. Why? Why had he allowed Poseidon to delude him with visions of hope. Kronos had walked this walk before, danced this dance. And yet, a few words of bitter hope had rekindled his "fighting spirit" as it was. He knew better than to be an optimist.

Much better to be clever.

Kronos didn't ever give Zeus the impression of kicking himself, though he certainly felt it. "Ruse, my son?"

He reveled in how Zeus squirmed at the endearment. "Perseus!" he snapped.

Kronos let his head tilt just slightly to the left, let his mouth droop just enough. "Is… dead? As you ordered, my son."

Red flushed the king's cheeks.

"He lives! The injury was non-fatal!"

Kronos turned back to the door, pointing vaguely. "I saw on the new he'd been declared dead? Isn't that true?" Matter-of-factly: "I pierced his lung, Zeus."

He could hear the Olympian trying to control his breathing, to regain his cool. To curb his temper. It didn't work.

"Jason."

Jason? Why…. ah.

Fuck.

"Jason!"

This just became infinitely harder.

Kronos didn't hear footsteps, but saw the demigod, confined to a wheelchair, nimbly pushing the wheels forward.

"I'm here, father," he said before Zeus could bellow again.

He was breathing in huffs. "You said," sharp inhale, "that Kronos and Poseidon planned Percy's escape?"

"Yes, father. I heard it in the hospital."
"And?" Fury burned in his eyes.

Jason looked a little paler than he should have. "And, father?"

Zeus' gaze swung back to Kronos, but he addressed his son. "He," an arched finger in his direction, "doesn't seem to know anything about it."

"He's… the Crooked One, my lord." Jason tried an honorific. "An expert liar. And he betray-"

"And your sister was a spy." Drumming against the armrest. "So who should I believe? My disgusting father or my lying progeny?"

Jason blinked.

And it dawned on Kronos. Jason didn't know Thalia was a spy. Suddenly, his random assault at Kronos' apartment was a lot less random. The poor demigod thought Kronos had gone rogue. That Zeus was genuinely grieving for his daughter. The titan didn't think it bode well for a family when even one's child couldn't read their lies. This was of course, personal experience speaking. Kronos thought he really should have figured this out sooner, though, to be fair, he'd had a lot on his mind. A lot of useless distractions on his mind. Now it was clear.

This was Jason, "Thalia was a-"

"Guards," Zeus was beginning to regain some of his calm, "take them to the dungeon."

Dungeon? This would be fun.

"Yes, my Lord."

"What?! Fath-!" Jason yelped. "Father, wait. Thalia was a-"

"Now!"

In retrospect, Kronos should have been a lot more pissed off than he actually was. He'd been royally fucked by Zeus, and if he was being petty, which he had few qualms about being, Poseidon. Rhea was still in captivity and now he was too. His eyes outlined his surroundings. The dungeon hadn't changed much since last he'd been there – gods that was dismal to say. This was where it had all began, wasn't it? It was still dark and damp and obviously hadn't been washed since last Kronos had been either. A sole window, circular, was carved far out of his reach in the stone slab of the back wall. The side walls where stone. The front wall, embedded with a single wooden door, was stone. He could have almost certainly broken himself out, if it wasn't for the tattle-tale rat across from him he knew would scream for the guards the moment he so much as went to scratch his ass. Jason, Kronos noted with some disdain, had been robbed of his wheelchair by one of the guards and sat alone on the cold ground, shaking across from the titan. His legs were still. Kronos tilted his head.

"Jas-"

"Be quiet!" Hissed the demigod.

Kronos raised and eyebrow, and leaned back against the wall.

This is how their day went: the occasional sneer from a prison guard, Kronos tempting to make casual small talk and Jason shutting him down before he'd uttered a word.

It was boring.

The titan noticed, finally, that Olympus – for he's sure they were on Olympus – didn't really change with the rotation of the earth like everywhere else. It was always a gloomy, overcast dusk that settled into shadows gently and cooled the mountain to frigid temperatures. He could see why Jason was shivering.

Kronos exhaled through his nose, later then, when he thought night must have fallen and let his eyes slide shut. Now all he could do was wait.

And fuck, it was a long wait.

But he'd planned for this, hadn't he? Poseidon's inevitable failure?

Of course he had.

He was the Crooked One for Gaia's sake.

His neck hurt when he woke to a faint sound outside the wooden door. A hiss, maybe? Scratching. Kronos rolled his head towards the door. Across from him, Jason was unconscious and had fallen onto his side in the night. The titan slid his foot towards the wooden door and nudged it with his toe. The sound ceased.

An all together different sound echoed from the corridor.

"Hey," he heard a guard begin, "you can't-"

Thud.

An echo of a smile colored his cheeks.

Keys found their way into the lock of the door.

It swung open.

"Boo." She said.

"Kronos squinted at the fire light from the hallway.

"You took your time."

She snorted. "Ready?"

"Guess so."

She hoisted him up from the ground. "Then let's go. Guards are out."

Something sharp bit into the back of his heel. She laughed. "Does the demigod want to come too?"

To his credit, Jason was doing his absolute best to make sure Kronos did not escape that dungeon. His father would have been proud, maybe. His nail were no doubt leaving ugly red crescent marks in Kronos' Achilles tendon. It was almost comically, really, the way his legs were sprawled all across the cell's floor, or it would have been if Kronos hadn't known the poor thing couldn't move them. The titan sighed.

"If we leave him, Zeus will kill him."

She didn't say anything.

"So he comes." Kronos affirmed.

Kronos bent down to his knees and touched the demigod's forehead.

"He-" his eyelids flittered. His body went slack.

Rhea raised an eyebrow.

"Drawing blood from the brain," he explained briefly. "He'll be okay."

"That wasn't my question."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Magic? How?"

Kronos let the hint of a smile rise on his face. A finger to his lips. "Can't tell you everything, can I?"
"And yet…"

"Hey!" He chided jokingly.

"You will later."
"…Later." He agreed.

Rhea shook her head. The titan extended her hand to Kronos and when he took it, something cold and hard was pressed into his palm.

"Thanks for this."

He wrapped his fingers around it gingerly. "Backup plan," he said hoarsely. "In case this happened."

"You mean you weren't going to set me free regardless?"
"Now, woman. Don't underestimate me."

"I would never."

She hadn't been lying. Every guard on patrol was lax against a wall or the floor, or against each other.

He laughed. "What did you do?"

She flexed her wrist. Rolled her neck. Jason, in all his useless weight, was slung over his shoulder – and she hoisted him up closer to his neck. "Target practice." A smile turned up at the corner of his lips; really at this point, there was little that could endear her more to him.

Her balance alternated awkwardly between her two feet as she stood in the corridor.

"What is it?"

"If we leave now, Zeus will hunt us for eternity."

"Unless he's defeated."

Her eyes turned to him, a startling green in the point light from the narrow window.

"You think we should fight him? That would mean a revolution against the government, Kronos."

"We've done it before."

Her face wasn't much of a puzzle. Hesitation, fear, clarity, and then finally, resolve.

He couldn't help his smile. In his palm, the small medallion he'd slipped to her in her cell broadened and lengthened. A sword, etched across the blade with incantations he'd learned as a child, a silvery tip curling up towards the sky adjacent to the straight point. His first weapon. A gift from Ouranos. It felt heavy against his wrist, the string she'd tied around his arm when they'd been married. As a joke, but he'd never removed it. Call him sentimental. Call him crazy. He'd didn't care when he was tracing her footsteps.

"I'll follow you."

Done. Son of a- . At least this act didn't take me a month... Genuinely, I hope you guys enjoyed this... honestly had a lot of fun writing it... Question for any of the brave souls that actually got this far (didn't realize there was fucking test, did ya?): ending too abrupt? Part three too short? Which act was your favorite? Interactions between Kronos and Rhea? My writing okay? Weird? Story? Thoughts? I'd love to hear them! Thank you again (really, really) for reading.