A/N: I just got a new keyboard, and I'm still getting used to it, so this one took a little while longer than I expected to write. In all seriousness though, all the responses I'm getting for this are just awesome. There were a few valid concerns, so I'm just gonna address them here.
1. Probably the one I expected to be the biggest source of complaints was giving Percy the Blessing of the Aloadae, and making him too powerful. I'd like to point out the blessing only protects him from creatures. A freak accident, like a rock crushing him, would still kill him. And he can still hurt himself, which will be touched upon later. I kind of have a darker patch saved for near the end...
2. I will try and keep Percy as a kind, humble hero. I realize near the end of chapter one he was coming off a little cocky. Just chalk it up to him being a thirteen year old pretty much given the powers of a superhero. I think anyone would get a pretty big ego boost from that.
3. A couple of people have asked me to make this a Percy/Annabeth story, but I'm sorry, I just never could warm up to her character. That's not to say they won't be all flirty in the story, but she won't be the final pairing. To be honest I still haven't decided on a final pairing, though I have plotted out a few minor ones throughout the course of the story. If I do decide to have him end up with a maiden goddess, which I'm not saying I will (I'm debating Percy/Thalia a little, to be honest) I'm going to make it realistic. It's NOTgoing to go all, "Oh Perseus, you're so handsome and kind, not like any man who's ever lived. I know I've upheld my sacred vow of maidenhood for millenia, but I'm going to give it up just for youafter knowing you for like a week." No. Not gonna happen like that. And for those who dowrite out stuff like that, you know who you are.
So, that's all I wanted to say. Sorry if it got a little rant-like. So, you know the drill; disclaimer then story. Hope you like it!
DISCLAIMER: Percy Jackson and all related characters belong to Rick Riordan. Aurelius, Ilex and one square foot of land in Scotland belong to me.
Chapter 2: Percy Jackson meets the Olympians! (Tuesdays at 9)
Percy's POV
I am sitting on my bed, preparing to head to Olympus for the Winter Solstice Council Meeting, and trying not to throw up from the raw amount of nerves coursing through my stomach.
Demigods don't join in on the council meetings. Ever. I think they can visit Olympus during the solstice, but they aren't allowed anywhere near the throne room. Especially since the events of the last solstice meeting.
I have heard, through some nymphs who relayed the news to my father, that during last year's winter solstice a demigod stole Zeus' Master Bolt and almost caused a war on Olympus. The war was diverted when another demigod recovered the bolt. Uncle Hades was involved with a serious part of the quest, and gave me more details that the nymphs couldn't. Including the identity of the demigod who was currently lounging in the afterglow of a quest well done; a son of Poseidon. Apparently my sire couldn't keep it in his pants for more than a few months at a time, and had fathered another demigod about a half-year older than me. Only he seemed to actually care about this one.
This new sea spawn was, according to Hermes (God of Travel means you overhear a few things), a spoiled brat. The son of a wealthy Grecian cruise-line heiress, he had never wanted for anything in his life. Raised by pampered nurses, he was named, of all things, Hercules. Really full of himself, the boy was an embarrassment to most of the gods. He had only barely squeaked by his first quest, and had only succeeded because of some satyr and a daughter of Lady Athena. He was pitiful with the sword, and couldn't improvise in battle to save his life. That didn't stop him from becoming so full of himself that I'm sure his ego could power a small city.
I tear myself from my angry thoughts, only to find I have absentmindedly tapped a hole in my marble floor with my shaking foot. I sigh loudly. Another one. Learning to control the Blessing of the Aloadae is taking a little bit longer than I thought. The giant piles of squashed doorknobs and entire doors ripped off their hinges is evidence enough of that. Luckily I'm a fast learner; I only squash them when I'm distracted. Soon enough it will be second nature not to rip everything apart like rice paper.
There is still an hour and a half until we have to leave. I get to my feet, walk to the door and look out into the hallway. Satisfied no one is around, I close and lock my door. Only the nymphs who I have coerced into helping me know about my guilty pleasure. I climb back onto bed and scoot back until I'm lying against the ornate oaken headboard. I reach my hand under the mattress and feel the papers of the magazine with my reaching fingers. I settle back, happy I managed to get the latest one so quickly. I open the the pages, and am sucked into the bright colors and incredible pictures...
...of this month's Superman comic.
Yes, I am a comic book nerd.
Ever since some dryad had found one stuck in the branches of her tree and had given it to me, I've been hooked. I love the characters and the worlds and all the awesome stuff that is in them. The only reason I hide them is because last time I read one in the open, Ilex hadn't stopped laughing for a week. She really is my big sister...
But reading the latest storyline, reading once again about the selfless actions of the grandfather of all superheroes, I lose myself from the outside world. In a way, I kind of feel like Superman. We are both nonhuman (well, I'm half-human), living a world filled with them. We both have gifts and powers of incredible magnitude (I can actually lift small mountains; I made a smiley face with part of the Alps). We were both raised by families who were not ours by blood, but loved us like their own. And we both want to help the innocent.
It's actually a little sad, to be honest; the characters in these comic books, these heroes dreamt up by the imaginations of regular mortals (except for a few Marvel characters; Jack Kirby was a son of one of the Muses, after all) are more heroic than the real heroes, the children of the gods. I know for a fact most children of the gods wouldn't lift a finger to save a mortal's life, and in many cases actually endangered and harmed mortals directly. By the Gods, Heracles alone did so many misdeeds during his famous labors he could fill a graveyard with the people he killed and a town with his illegitimate (and often non-consensually produced) offspring. And what did he get for all those horrible things? He's a god now. It's sickening, how the gods practically reward the most ruthless and horrific of heroes. Finishing the comic, I check the clock on my wall.
Another hour to go.
Sighing, I tuck the comic back under my mattress. Maybe some yoga to calm my nerves. I can't quite get into all of the poses do to my still messed up leg. If I let the medical side of my blessing of Apollo kick in, I'd be able to know exactly what was wrong with my leg. But I already know the damage is irreversible, so it would be a waste of focus. Breathing steadily, I flow through the motions, letting all my stress relax away as I fall into the practiced movements. Willing Honor into existence, I start going through my sword techniques, melding them into the yoga moves. I pick up speed, moving faster, never missing a beat. Soon I'm a twirling whirlwind, my sword a golden blur as I dance on the balls of my feet. Subconsciously I'm glad I'm not wearing Hermes' sandals; who knows how fast I would have started moving. I end the exercise balanced on one foot, the other curled up against my standing legs' knee. My sword is balanced perfectly on my outstretched finger, my other hand held out for balance. Slowly exiting the pose, I glance at the clock once more.
Thirty minutes left. Good, I can start getting ready. Pulling off my sweaty clothes I take a quick shower, making sure to also take off my black crown. Since the crown is tied to my life force I can't feel it, but to other people it is apparently colder than ice; last time I accidentally wore it in the shower the water froze into hail stones and bounced off my head. Exiting the shower I will myself dry, which is undeniably an incredibly useful skill, even if I did inherit it from him. I look over the outfit I have decided to wear today before pulling it on.
Blue jeans, worn enough to be comfortable but still together enough to not be considered unwearable, held up by my gold leather belt. A white t-shirt that hugs my muscles enough to look good, but not enough to be outright flaunting my physique. Over that goes a long sleeved golden silk dress shirt, unbuttoned, that hangs to my knees. A necklace Ilex gave me for my birthday; a sprig of holly set within a golden circle, which goes around my neck. Hermes' sandals serve as the only shoes I ever wear, and today is no exception. I strap my golden bracer to my left forearm and cover my entire mangled left hand in the golden gauntlet. No need to give any of the gods something to mock me about. I check that my khopesh has taken its usual bracelet form, and finally return my flaming black crown to its rightful place on my brow. I like the crown a lot. The flames are black, but they have an almost raven blue tint to them, giving them a good deal of depth. Wearing the crown reminds me that I'm the King of Ghosts and Spirits, which reminds me once again that I need to conduct myself with respect and courtesy. It has been pointed out recently that I've gotten a little full of myself lately. Which was pointed out by my father. And Ilex. And Uncle Hades, Aunt Persephone, Hermes, and Apollo. Seriously, when Apollo says you're getting arrogant, it's time to really rethink some things.
I walk over to my wall mirror, and take a good look at myself. With the clothes and the accessories, I suppose I look godly enough. But the face ruins it. Without any of the many reminders of my short time with Gabe, I guess I could at least qualify as somewhat handsome. But... not so much anymore. The most obvious problem being my nose, which points at least an inch to the right of my face, and its bridge being permanently swollen. Though at least the tip of my nose is straight and well defined. The two major scars left on my face also detract from any good looks I might have wielded. One starts right under my left ear and carries along my jawline in a shaky line, until it hits my chin, where it abruptly jerks halfway down my neck before stopping. That one isn't too bad, though; it's only the width of about a pencil line. The one on the right side of my face is much worse. That one starts at my temple, just above the outer edge of my eyebrow, before running in a crooked line to my earlobe, before veering sharply to the corner of my mouth. That one is much thicker; the width of three toothpicks side by side, easily.
I stare at myself in the mirror, and I hate what I see. My self esteem isn't helped by the fact that I'm still pretty short. I'm only 5' 2'', and I hate that fact. Father took a look at the potential energy in my cells once, and said they were just waiting to shoot up like a bean stalk. He said there was a good chance of becoming as tall as his human form, which was an impressive 6' 5''. I'm pretty sure he's telling the truth; he once swore on the River Styx he would never lie to me. The only thing I see in the mirror that I like are my eyes. The golden rings of fire that appeared when Aurelius adopted me have slowly been growing every year. Now they take up just a little more than half of my iris, beating out the sea green for dominance. I love my eyes, the most physical manifestation of my father's love and influence on my life.
Stalling by brushing out imaginary wrinkles in my shirt, I can't put this off any more. I sigh heavily before lifting into the air slightly, the wings on my sandals buzzing softly with the effort. I gently ease open my door and float out into the empty hallway. I'm trying to avoid Ilex as best I can, because whenever she sees my sandals she wants to fly around the palace with them. And after having her land on me thirteen times in one month (her all time record), I've grown a little tired of it. Making my way silently towards the entry hall, I let my nerves get the best of me once more.
What if the gods refuse my presence? What if I'm too ugly to be on Olympus, and they throw me off the mountain like Hephaestus? What if my father is deemed unworthy of raising me, and they take me away? Deep down I know all these fears are rubbish; my father wouldn't let anyone harm me, and he's powerful enough to do whatever the hell he wants. Honestly, I don't think the other gods realize just how powerful Aurelius actually is. He controls all energy. All of it. That includes the energy needed for their powers to even work. And the energy that keeps Earth alive.
The light from the sun? Provided by Aurelius, by means of the Sun Chariot.
Heat? Him.
Gravity? Yup.
The tiny, unnoticeable electric bonds that keep all matter together and keep the planet from folding in on itself like an unstable, radioactive house of cards? He can switch them around like poker chips as a parlor trick.
My father is one snap of his fingers away from turning the entire world to lime jello if he ever wanted to. And there is absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop him. Luckily for all involved Aurelius is probably the nicest sentient being to ever live, and just wants to live in peace.
My nerves are calmed somewhat by the sight of my father in his human form, waiting for me in front of the golden gates of the palace. Noticing my hovering, he waves me over.
"Come on Percy, we need to get going soon. A long way to Olympus, you know." He chuckles slightly, as we both know full well that he can just teleport there instantly, and at top speed I could get there in about a minute. But I decide to humor him.
"Of course father, wouldn't want to be late; they might not have enough goodie bags for everyone." He can't help but laugh a little, and snorts trying to hold it in. I love sarcasm. You can technically be as polite and well mannered as possible, yet still insult someone badly enough to really get to them. Very useful when dealing with precocious deities. As he stops laughing I swear I see, for just a moment, crow's feet in the corners of his eyes.
"Where's Ilex? Doesn't she want to wish us goodbye?"
My father rolls his eyes. "She's in her room, pouting, because she can't join us on Olympus."
"Alright." I wait for a minute, shuffling my feet.
"Before we leave, can I just ask you something?"
"Of course, Percy."
"Why now? You said it yourself that you haven't gone to a solstice council meeting in two thousand years. And from what Uncle Hades and Hermes have said, you haven't actually... spoken to any gods in about as long."
My father is silent for a moment as he contemplates his answer. Finally, he comes to one he likes. "Because I feel like it now."
"...Honestly? That's the best reason you have?"
"Yes. Because it's true. I feel like going now that I have something to talk about. Those things were so dull even when there were only ten of them on the council. With Dionysus and Hermes added, and Hestia forsaking her place for the drunken fool to make it 'even', it didn't sound worth the effort any longer. Besides, I already know whatever they decide to do has to come to me for approval. Well, they forget about it sometimes, but nothing really big happens without my knowledge."
"So why are you in your human form?"
"Because I haven't changed yet. And I've decided it will be far more... entertaining to go as someone else." And with that he claps his hands and is enveloped by a cloud of blue smoke. When the cloud clears, a stranger is standing in his spot.
He is short, only around 5' 6''. He is wearing long blue robes embroidered with silver waves and sea shells along the hems. Slicked back black hair sits atop a narrow, ratlike face, made even more rodentlike by the pointy nose and wiry goatee. His eyes are a muddy blue, and he's scowling.
It takes me a minute to recognize my father's disguise, but it eventually comes to me. He has taken the form of Malcyrion, a lesser river god from Ethiopia. Malcyrion is the very definition of bitter and antisocial, and has only shown up for maybe one or two council meetings, even though all gods are supposed to attend. My father has chosen the perfect disguise; someone who definitely won't be there in person, who technically belongs there, and who others will avoid just because of how mean and rude his reputation is.
"Let's get moving, alright Lord Malcyrion?" I ask calmly, holding back tears of laughter.
"Oh, this will be a good deal of fun. Let us be off!" And in a golden sunburst of light, we are gone.
I expect us to simply appear on top of Mount Olympus. But instead, we appear in front of the Empire State Building, gazing skywards to stare at the top.
"Why aren't people screaming that we just appeared out of thin air?" This is my first question; my second will be how are we getting to Olympus?
"The Mist is a wonderful thing, my son. And for your unasked question, I want you to see how to get to and from Olympus without any divine help." I shrug and follow him into the lobby. I see a few groups of tourists standing around, gaping at the grand lobby, while irate businessmen weave around them. It's easy to forget people actually work in the famous landmark. My father walks up to a security desk, where a bored looking young man with serious skin problems is leafing through a novel.
He turns to look at me. "Pay attention." He turns back to the guard. "I would like the key to the 600th floor, please."
Without looking up the guard replies tiredly, "There is no 600th floor. The building only reaches a top height of 102 floors. If you would like to see the observation deck, tickets are for sale at the other side of the lobby. Have a nice day."
My father frowns and snaps his fingers. The guard's book disappears in a flash of golden fire, only to reappear in my father's hand. "The key please."
The guard looks stunned, then hastily bows and gets out of his seat. "S-sorry, Lord. Standard pr-procedure. Even today. Umm, here you g-go. You know how it works?"
He hands my father a laminated key card that has a picture of a lightning bolt and a Greek temple on it, underneath the letters CCCCCC.
"Yes, I am aware of the principles. Thank you."
We step away from the still flustered young guard, who hasn't even touched his book again. We approach an elevator, and suddenly every person waiting for that particular one steps into other groups in an almost synchronized motion. I am a little disturbed by the display of power, but it is important mortals don't know about Olympus, so...
We enter the car, and my father hits the 'close door' button. He slides the card into a small slot underneath the button display, and a panel opens up, revealing a large button with 600 boldly printed on it. My father smiles down at me, and nods his head at the panel. I know it's kind of childish, but I can't help but smile as I reach out and press the button, sending the elevator riding into the heavens.
Literally.
Canned elevator music plays throughout the small box, as the number display slowly climbs into the triple digits, then starts to speed up.
"The meeting itself will begin in about ten minutes, so we don't have time for sightseeing. Though I suppose with all the help you give to your cousin Hermes you probably know the place like the back of your hand?"
"Well... the sandals do a lot of the work..." Even having helped Hermes out whenever he needs it, or whenever I need an excuse to get out of the palace (it's nice, but cabin fever in a palace is still cabin fever), I still don't know my way around Olympus that well. Usually I just think where I want to go to the sandals, and they take me there. Very useful.
Finally the numbers approach the high five hundreds and slow down.
596...
597...
598...
599...
600...
The elevator comes to a gentle stop, and with a soft ding the doors open. A long pathway connects the solitary elevator car with the main body of Mount Olympus. And it's just as beautiful as I remember it being from last week, when I was here visiting Apollo. Sometimes I wonder why he isn't the god of parties; he's always going to them. And he's pretty good about only taking me to age appropriate ones. Though he has "accidentally" taken me to few with enough alcohol I was surprised Dionysus wasn't whining at the bar like a dog at the table.
We walk through the main street of Olympus, which zigs and zags through the crowded buildings and palaces all the way up to the Olympian throne room. The roads are a lot more crowded than usual, though that's to be expected, with the meeting going on today. We weave our way past gleaming marble temples and white washed buildings selling every godly item you could ever want. A storefront proclaims it sells potions to match or outmatch Medea's in quality. Another stand is selling souvenir Master Bolts to small crowds of young gods and spirits. The atmosphere is festive, almost like a carnival. As we go higher and higher up the mountain, the buildings get nicer and nicer. I've only been up this high when I delivered those dresses to Aphrodite. The memory causes me to involuntarily blush and shudder, causing my father to look over at me. As we near the last plateau before the throne room temple, I catch sight of a large group of people, all wearing orange t-shirts. They keep close together, and are being lead by a kindly looking man riding a white horse.
The group in orange is gawking around the entire city, drawing attention to the fact that they really stick out like a sore thumb. Suddenly it occurs to me who the group is.
"Are those demigods?" I ask my father, curious.
"Yes. Those are the demigods from Camp Half-Blood, in New York. The man leading them is Chiron."
"Chiron? The immortal centaur, trainer of heroes?"
"Yes. He directs the camp, and is in charge of training the young demigods. Come, let us meet him."
My father breaks away from the road to approach the group, and I trail after him. As I get closer, I realize the man in front of the group isn't riding a horse; he's half horse. The body of a large white stallion stands firmly upon the ground, and where the horse's neck would begin his torso starts. He is wearing a brown tweed jacket and a burgundy bowtie, with a quiver over his shoulder with a strung bow nestled amongst the arrows. He has short scruffy brown hair and a matching beard, with large bushy eyebrows. He seems surprised when my father and I approach, and then he bows from the waist down.
"Greetings, Lord. I.. hope we aren't bothering you?"
"No, no. I simply came by to greet you and your followers. Make sure that you are comfortable. And to introduce the boy here to a true master."
I was a little insulted at being called 'the boy', but my father was in disguise. He couldn't very well call me his son right now.
"Alright then, and thank you for your concern. And it would be a pleasure to meet any aspiring hero. Greetings, young...?"
I bow formally, and make sure to speak with as much elegance as I can muster; Chiron is the most famous trainer of heroes in all of history, after all.
"Perseus, Master Chiron. My name is Perseus. And believe me, the pleasure and honor are both mine. It is not every day one meets the most famed trainer of heroes to ever live."
"Such manners in this day and age are well and truly appreciated. Tell me child, why haven't I seen you at camp before?"
Before I can think of an answer, my father cuts me off. "I've been looking out for him. He doesn't know his godly parent, and he stumbled into my river, so I felt a sort of responsibility. I brought him here hoping to find a god who looks enough like him to see if we can't find his parent."
It's a good excuse, I'll give him that. As we are talking I see a girl break off from the group of demigods and walk over.
"Chiron? Who are you talking to?"
I think I might be staring at the girl a little bit. She is incredibly pretty, with curly golden blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She is very fit, and tall, and has tanned skin that I can tell is natural just by looking. And her eyes... her eyes are a shade of pure stormy gray that catch my eyes and hold them.
"Ah, Annabeth. I was just conversing with Lord Malcyrion and young Perseus here. Come, introduce yourself."
The girl -Annabeth- blushes a little at the realization she has interrupted a god's conversation.
"Hello, Lord Malcyrion. I'm Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. It is an honor to meet you."
"The honor is mine, child." He bows to her, and she blushes even more. Then she notices me standing here, and quickly stammers out a greeting. "Um h-hello... Perseus, was it?" She sticks out her hand to shake.
"Yeah, I'm Perseus. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Annabeth." I bow to her, and kiss the back of her hand. She blushes furiously now, and looks away, before she seems to notice something. "Perseus? Your, uh... your hair is on fire."
Instinctively I reach up to feel what she's talking about, but my fingers only touch the feathery flames of my black crown. "Oh, that. That's fine, it's just my crown."
"Why do you have a crown?"
"You speak to royalty, child." My father interjects. "Perseus is the King of Ghosts and Spirits, favored hero of Lord Hades himself."
"Really? What did you do to get Hades to like you? I met him once, you know. He seemed a little... harsh."
"I simply treated him with the respect he deserves. He is a very fair god, once you realize exactly how much he's had to deal with over the centuries."
Annabeth looks like she's going to say something, but Chiron puts his hand on her shoulder. "Annabeth, we have to leave now. The meeting is about to start, and demigods are no longer allowed in the council chamber. Where are you going to be for the meeting, Perseus? You are free to join our group, if you wish."
"Actually, he will be accompanying me to the meeting, Chiron." My father places his hand on my shoulder, as if daring the centaur to object. When Chiron only bows in farewell, and Annabeth waves goodbye, we resume our journey to the council meeting.
The great doors leading into the throne room are open, as the last few gods and goddesses enter the meeting. As we get to right outside the door, my father stops me and looks me right in the eyes.
"Percy, in this meeting the gods will decide things that will influence the mortal world. Some for the good, some for the bad. If there is something that gets decided that you truly disagree with with every fiber of your being, you might be tempted to speak out against them. You must NOT do this. You could probably stand against most of the gods with your current skills, but it will only make your life more difficult. Just let me know, and I will keep it from happening. I will find a place for you, out of sight, and when the meeting is over we will reveal ourselves. Alright?"
The thought that the gods might decide upon things that would anger me enough to cause me to speak out against them brings me pause. But I know how important this is, so I will do my best to hold my tongue.
"Alright, father. Let us go and rejoin your long lost family."
My father only snickers, and we walk into the throne room.
My first impression is one of boundless space. The throne room is huge, dwarfing even my father's ballroom, which could hold an entire circus troupe, Russian ballet act, and the Shakespearean Theatre Company (I know that, because those were the forms of entertainment Ilex wanted at her last birthday; she's a weird kid). There is no ceiling, and the sky above the hall is clear and shows the constellations in sparkling clarity. Around what must be the technical borders of the room are tall pillars, holding up a ring of white marble in a large rectangle. I can see, through the crowds of minor gods and goddesses, a large U shape of the Olympians' thrones. Most of the lesser deities are sitting on... folding chairs?
I do a double take, but my eyes aren't playing tricks on me. At least two hundred gods and goddesses are seated on metal folding chairs, like you'd see in a school auditorium. I tuck the obvious sign of disrespect into the back of my mind as my father leads us forward through the crowds. We approach the edge of the giant U, and for the first time I see all of the Olympians in their divine glory.
At the head of the thrones are two large seats, one made of solid platinum engraved with lightning bolts and one made of white marble engraved with willow trees and peacocks. These are the thrones of Lord Zeus and Lady Hera.
The King of the gods is dressed like a business man. He is wearing a pinstriped blue suit, perfectly tailored. His hair is long and dark gray, with a few streaks of stormy silver. He has a large beard, which is leaning more towards light gray than dark. He is currently scowling at something to his left, but I can tell his features are proud and strong. His eyes are also gray, but have streaks of brilliant, electric blue.
The Queen is dressed much more like a Greek Goddess. She is wearing a long, white dress that cascades like a waterfall of fabric. Her feet are encased in Greek sandals that wrap up to her knees. Bangles of gold encase both of her biceps. Her long hair is chocolatey brown, and woven into a braid along with golden ribbon. Her face is calm and beautiful, and her eyes are a deep, kind hazel.
Then my eyes fall to the current object of Lord Zeus' attention, and my blood freezes in my veins; and hatred, raw and brilliant, boils in my gut. The god to Zeus' left is tan, with rugged good looks and short black hair with a neatly trimmed black beard. He is laughing at his brother's distress, accentuating the laughlines around his mouth and eyes. His clothing is casual for such a meeting, and he looks like he just stepped off of the beach, with a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. His throne is a fishing chair that looks like it was pulled off a deep sea boat. But where a normal chair might have a fishing pole set into a holder, this chair sports a gleaming bronze trident, crackling with aqua energy. All of these things are enough to point out the identity of the god, but it's the eyes that do it for me. His eyes are sea green, and I recognize the color because I see it whenever I look in the mirror.
There sits my sire, Poseidon.
My father tightens his grip on my shoulder as if hearing my inner turmoil, and steers me in between the thrones towards the hearth. We pass by two small thrones, and I see Uncle Hades and Aunt Persephone looking annoyed at it all. I want to stop and say hi, but my father just shakes his head and keeps pulling me forward. We stop in front of the large fire pit, contained within a circle of well cared for and well used stones. A young girl, maybe 8 years old, is tending the fire with a long iron staff.
My father bows to the girl. "It has been too long, sister."
The little girl looks up, and studies my father's disguise for a moment, giving me a chance to examine her. She has long, mousy brown hair tucked under a simple woolen shawl. She is wearing a brown dress and has bare and dirty feet covered in ash and soot. But her eyes are filled with warm and cozy flames, the red fire looking comforting and homely.
"Do I know you?" She asks, and her voice is not one of an 8-year old's. It is a warm, caring voice one might expect from a tired mother. My father eases up on the joke and allows his eyes to revert to their normal golden hue.
The girl gasps. "Aurelius."
"Hello, Hestia. I've missed you." He bends down and hugs the girl, who enthusiastically hugs him back.
"What has caused your sudden return, brother? We have not seen you in over two thousand years."
My father waves his hand at me, and I introduce myself with a formal bow. "Hello, Lady Hestia. I am Perseus, Aurelius' son. It is an honor to meet my father's favorite sister."
She ignores the bow and hugs me as well. It irritates me a little bit that she is almost as tall as I am. "Any child of Aurelius is dear to me, Perseus. No need to be formal. So, when did this occur? Last I heard, Aurelius, you had sworn to never-"
"Hestia. Please, not in front of the boy. Not yet." Once again there appears to be something about my father's past that he doesn't want me to know yet. But I never ask, because when he wants me to know he'll tell me.
"Alright. Though it is nice to see you, why have you sought me out before the rest of our family?"
"I was hoping Percy could wait by your side for the meeting. He is a demigod after all, and isn't supposed to be here. I am going to reveal him at the end, but I just need a safe place for him to wait."
Hestia mulls this over for a second before nodding. "Okay. He may remain at the hearth with me. Take your seat though, the meeting is about to begin." My father bows to Hestia before ruffling my hair and going off to take a seat close to the front of the crowd.
The slight mumbling of the crowd is suddenly silenced by a loud thunder clap. Zeus stands tall in his godly form, reaching his full height of 15 feet. "Fellow gods and goddesses, we are here once again to convene a meeting, on this, the day of the Winter Solstice. Today we shall decide the course of the world for the next six months, as well as our own concerns. So come, any god who wishes to speak may do so."
I prepare for a long, long meeting.
While prepared for a long meeting, I was not prepared for such a tedious one.
The only thing that kept me from flying out the window to try and find some fun on Olympus was talking with Hestia. She's really nice, and I enjoy her company. She insisted I don't call her by any title, and was very sincere in asking if I preferred Percy or Perseus. I like her, so I said Percy.
The meeting was pointless, in my opinion. Every time one god proposed something, another would shoot it down, a third would propose a compromise, and it would all devolve from there into a shouting match/popularity contest, with the god who had the most support ending up winning. It was pathetic, really, how the most powerful beings on the planet acted like damned kindergarteners.
An entertaining highlight of the entire debacle was how whenever Poseidon suggested something, a goddess wearing a breastplate over a long white dress would instantly vote against it. Her loose hair was long and black, and her face was angled and very beautiful. She seemed a lot thinner and leaner than the other goddesses, but not to the point of unhealthiness. A pair of pure gray eyes stared daggers at the Sea God whenever he spoke, and they made me realize who she was, because that Annabeth girl had the same eyes. This was obviously Lady Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Strategic Warfare. Her hatred of Poseidon was never ending and legendary. I liked her immediately.
Most of the issues brought forth to the council were very petty and minor, such as gods who felt that other gods were stepping on their territories, and mortals who deserved to be punished, and those who felt they deserved a place on Olympus... The list went on and on.
After three hours, the last complaints had been lodged, the last threats had been answered back, and the last desperate pleas had been ignored or occasionally accepted. The entire Olympian Council looked bored to tears, and tired enough to fall asleep in their thrones. Even though half of them hadn't even spoken up during the meeting. Honestly, Aphrodite hadn't looked up from her makeup mirror once.
"Alright. Is there anyone else who has something to say?" Zeus asks the room, his tone clearly warning what will befall anyone stupid enough to keep the meeting going.
"I would like the floor, Lord Zeus." All eyes, and a few groans and sighs, turn towards the last speaker. My father has stood up, still wearing his Malcyrion disguise. "Though what I have to say only involves the Olympian Council, Lord Hades, Lady Persephone and Lady Hestia. So I see no reason to keep any of the other gods, who I am sure sorely wish to return home, any longer."
I can practically hear the other gods' desperate hopes that they can leave soon.
"Fine." Zeus rumbles, looking incredibly annoyed he has to stay even longer. "The rest of you are dismissed!"
Without waiting to see if he'll change his mind the rest of the minor gods and goddesses disappear in flashes of brilliant light. Now there are only 17 of us left in the throne room; the 12 Olympians, Lord Hades and Lady Persephone, Lady Hestia, my father, and myself. My father walks up before Zeus' throne.
"What do you think is so important as to keep us here, Malcyrion?" Zeus asks my father sternly.
"Well, Zeusy, there's something I really think I should share with all of you. I wasn't sure if I was going to, but after seeing how you all acted like a group of sugar rushed three-year olds back there, I'm pretty much set on my course."
I think I see a vein on Zeus' temple twitching. "You... YOU DARE INSULT US IN SUCH A MANNER?!" He pulls out his Master Bolt and points it threateningly at my father.
"Well, it was that or let loose a crate of dead skunks. But I didn't want to carry the crate up the steps."
What is my father doing? It's like he wants Zeus to blast him with his lightning bolt...
… which is powered by my father's energy. Alright, I get it now.
That is apparently the last straw. Zeus pulls back his arm and hurls the lightning straight at my father, where it arcs and streaks right at his face. Just as the edge of the electrical bolt is about to reach my father, he calmly reaches out his right hand and grabs it.
The room is so silent I swear I could hear a pin drop. The bolt of lightning is just remaining in the air, the tip held in my father's strong grip. It disappears in a swirl of golden fire.
Zeus looks a little paler than he was a second ago. "You... are not Malcyrion. Who are you?"
"What? You don't recognize your own flesh and blood, Zeu-Zeu?" He makes that tsk-ing noise with his tongue. "I'm hurt."
"No ones calls me Zeu-Zeu! I hated it when Aurelius would... call... me..." He suddenly registers what he just said. My father just grins, and encases himself in a plume of golden flames. When the fire dies down, there stands my father, in all his divine glory. He spreads his giant wings and flaps them, sending a warm breeze through the room.
He looks around at the assembled gods and goddesses, most of whom look shocked, but a few like Apollo and Hades are just barely holding back laughter.
"Ahh, it's good to be home."
The room sits in a silence so complete, for a moment I think I've gone deaf. The silence is broken by an incredibly unexpected source.
"UNCLE AURELIUS!"
A silver blur rushes at my father and wraps itself around his legs. The blur resolves itself into a young girl, around 12 or 13. She is wearing a silver tunic with a quiver slung over her shoulder, and her ringlets of auburn hair are held back by a silver tiara. My father shrinks down to his human-sized form, and lifts the girl into a hug. She is smiling widely, and I can't help but notice she is breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, Aphrodite is ten feet away from me, and I think this girl is much prettier than her. After a minute of hugging my father she opens her eyes, which were closed in happiness. They are the beautiful silvery-white glow of the full moon.
"I've missed you so much, sweetie. Though I'm glad to see you haven't changed a bit." My father says softly, kissing the top of the girl's head.
"I've missed you too, uncle. You're the only male I can truly call my friend."
That's when it hits me.
This little girl, looking no older than me, hugging my father and smiling like a little girl just reunited with her best friend, is Lady Artemis. This is Artemis? The most feared hunter of monsters in the world, greatest archer to ever live, sworn to hate all men with a fury?
After another minute of the touching reunion, someone coughs. Apollo is looking at his twin sister, and is holding back laughter so badly he's starting to cry. Artemis seems to realize she has just made a slight fool of herself in front of the rest of the Olympian Council. She blushes, which just makes her look even more adorable. She drops from my father's arms and disappears in a flash of silver, only to instantly reappear in her throne.
"Now that that... unexpected interruption has passed, why are you here, Aurelius?" Zeus asks, staring at his daughter, who is looking at the floor.
"Hmm. Well, a few reasons, actually. One of which will definitely be a discussion of how you've all been running this planet in my absence. But that can wait. No, I'm here for two main reasons; to introduce someone to you all, and possibly to kill Poseidon. Not sure yet."
"What? What have I done to you, brother?" Poseidon speaks up for the first time. His voice has a relaxed, rich tone to it. It infuriates me.
"Don't. Speak. To. Me." My father growls. "After what you've done you're lucky I haven't ripped the immortality from your veins, you bastard."
"Aurelius, please enlighten us as to what you're going on about." Hera interjects, obviously trying to keep some semblance of peace. "We won't know why you're angry unless you tell us. You know none of us can read your mind."
"Fine. But first, the introductions. Percy, please come here." I look at Hestia nervously, but she just smiles and gives me the 'go-along' gesture. I stand up and walk away from the hearth towards my father, and into the view of the entire council. I stand quietly next to my father, and he places an arm around my shoulder reassuringly.
"What is this? You have brought a demigod into the Council chambers! That is against the rules, Aurelius. He must leave. NOW!" Zeus shouts.
My father just stares him down, until the King of the Gods looks away, scowling. Before he can speak, Hades beats him to it.
"Not so fast, brother. This child has my protection. He is my nephew, and I say he stays."
Hermes speaks up as well. "Yes father, let the boy stay. He's a good kid."
Apollo sobers up from his giggles at Artemis' expense to turn towards Zeus. "Yeah dad, Percy's a good little hero. No reason to kick him out."
Hestia speaks up in my defense as well. "From the little I've gleaned the past three hours, I believe Percy deserves to stay for this meeting."
I am filled with a deep feeling of gratitude and love towards my family for speaking up for me. I can see my father smiling out of the corner of my eye.
"Before you say anything, Zeus, let me introduce the object of your confusion. Brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews, I present to you my son, Perseus."
I bow deeply to the council. "It is an honor to be in your presence, Lords and Ladies."
Hera speaks up when everyone else seems shocked into silence. "Um, Aurelius, how do you have a son? You swore to never father another child ever again. And furthermore, I recall no woman giving birth to a child of yours."
"That is because he is not mine by blood. I adopted him."
"Then whose son is he really?" Aphrodite pipes up, surprising me that she was paying attention. "Because, no offense Aurelius, but besides the scars and his nose he's pretty cute." She winks at me, and I know she remembers my last visit to her palace.
"His sire abandoned him." My father states, avoiding the question for now. "I found him, alone on the streets six years ago, about to be devoured by a hellhound. He was running away from his stepfather, who was the one to give him the injuries you see now. Along with many others you don't see."
"What happened to his mother?" Hera asks. "Didn't she try to protect her child at all?"
"Percy's stepfather killed his mother in front of him by pushing her down a flight of stairs." Aurelius states emotionlessly.
"What?! He murdered a woman in cold blood?" Artemis all but shrieks.
"Yes, he did. And afterward there was even less to keep him from abusing my son even more."
"Didn't his father even check on the boy once?" Hephaestus asks in his deep, grumbling voice.
"No. He abandoned the boy and his mother to die at the hands off that monster. His putrid stench was strong enough to cover Percy's own aura, which is why I assume his mother married him in the first place."
The gods grumbled and muttered amongst themselves, until one finally spoke up.
"Who is his godly father then? I think we all agree he should be punished for the fate that has befallen his son." And, of course, it was none other than Poseidon himself who spoke up. Oh, irony.
"I'll give you a hint, brother." My father hisses, turning the word into a curse. "His mother's name was Sally Jackson."
Poseidon looks taken aback for a moment, before something clicks in his face, and he turns deathly pale. "H-how old is the boy?"
"My son is thirteen, and will turn fourteen in a few months. So, he would have been conceived 14 years ago."
"Poseidon? What do you know of this?" Zeus asks his elder brother.
"He- he can't be. No, no he isn't... I-I would never do that to my son." Poseidon stammers out.
My father turns to me. "Percy, would it be alright if I show them my memories of the day I met you? Including the memories of yours I saw when we met."
"Um, I... I don't really want anyone to see that. But, if you think it's a good idea, okay then."
My father claps his hands, and a swirling cloud of golden mist forms in the center of the room. The center of he cloud parts to reveal a scene that still occasionally haunts my dreams.
I see myself, from a bird's eye view, in the back of a small alley, while a large hellhound is approaching me. I hear my younger self call out, "Go 'way!", then close his eyes as he cries in fear. Suddenly a golden sword appears in the field of view, and flies with pure and deadly aim to lodge firmly in the monster's skull. As the hellhound dissolves, the point of view approaches the ground, probably because this is when Aurelius first approached me. I don't want to look at the images, though I can't help but take a good look when my father gets his first look at me. I looked even worse than I thought I did. My leg sticks out so far I'm surprised I could even walk back then, and seeing my mangled hand from another's perspective makes me a little queasy. I tune out the conversation, and look instead at the gods. They're all entranced by the scene in front of them, and most look sickened by the injuries my younger self sported. When the scene shifted and spun before settling again, I know that we're about to see my memories. I sink to the floor, trying very hard not to look. I feel a small hand take mine and squeeze comfortingly, and look over to see Hestia giving me a reassuring smile. I look back up, and try very hard not to relive those moments in my head. Currently we're seeing how my hand got mangled. I hear a retching noise from somewhere to my left. I think Demeter is gagging. The final memory pops up, and I'm surprised. I don't remember this one. I'm in a crib, I think, an an apartment I don't recognize. I see my mom, and she's crying into... Poseidon's chest.
After that my father lets the cloud disperse, and the rest of the gods stare at me. I look to the ground to avoid their looks of pity.
"Oh, you poor boy!" Suddenly someone is hugging me tightly, and I smell lotus flowers. I look up and almost fall over in surprise when I realize that it's Hera hugging me. The hug is very comforting, and I can't help but hug her back. After a moment I have to ask something.
"Um, Lady Hera, I mean no disrespect, but don't you hate demigods?"
"I'm the goddess of children, Perseus. I can't stand to see any child treated like that, even demigods. Honestly, the Fields of Punishment are too good for that monster."
"He didn't get the Fields of Punishment. I destroyed his soul." My father says nonchalantly.
"Too good for him." Hera scoffs, before letting me go, but I notice she's still standing next to me. "But for right now, let us turn our attention to my dear, dear brother." Hera says in a sickly sweet tone filled with malice. All eyes in the room turn towards Poseidon, who looks like he would rather be in Tartarus than here.
"I-I'm sorry," He begins, but is cut off by Hera. "You're what? You're sorry you put this boy through hell? You're sorry you left the woman you thoughtlessly knocked up to get murdered protecting your son? You're sorry you abandoned your own son to focus on that pathetic excuse for a two-bit hero you had with that rich slut?"
"You leave Hercules and Alcmene out of this!" Poseidon retorts.
Her name is Alcmene? I think to myself. That was the name of the original Hercules' mother. Weird.
"Oh, I should leave the child you actually gave two damns about alone?" My father yells. "Do you have any idea the hell you left Perseus to rot in? And that 'Hercules' of yours is pathetic. I've looked in on him, and I'm as ashamed that he is my nephew as I am that you are my brother."
"I, I didn't know!" Poseidon yells back.
"You didn't know? Bullshit! You didn't care! You saw some pretty mortal girl, took what you wanted, then bailed when they needed you. I saw the memories firsthand. You told that woman to find someone mortal to mask your son's scent. You never showed your damn face again. So don't tell me you didn't know how bad he had it; you just didn't give a damn!"
My father's rant stops when he looks over to see me, slightly trying to hide in Hera's embrace. I don't know why, but it's kind of instinctive; she's a strong, motherly figure, and I'm subconsciously frightened by the continuous shouting. I don't think I've ever heard my father shout before. It's weird; if I was fighting a monster, roaring at me, I'd be completely fine. But hearing my family shouting at each other so loudly, so violently, rattles me to my core.
His face softens. "Percy, why don't you go sit with your Aunt Hera, okay?"
I manage a nod, and Hera takes hold of my hand and leads me to her throne. Instead of resuming her godly height, she stays human and sits at the foot of her throne, patting the floor next to her. I sit, and she wraps her arm around me and pulls me close, like a mother would for a scared child.
My father turns back to Poseidon. "I wanted to introduce my son to my family. He will soon be out in the world, and I feel that if he will be in the real world I should take an interest in it once more."
"I thank you for looking after him, Aurelius, but... he is my son. I will make it up to him, and I will take care of him now that I have him back." Poseidon says, obviously trying to save face in front of the rest of the gods.
My father is about to say something, a look of outrage on his face, but before he can I say something.
"I'm not your son."
All the gods look at me.
"What did you say, boy?" Zeus asks calmly.
"I said, I'm not his son. Aurelius is my father, not Lord Poseidon."
"But he sired you. You have his blood in your veins, and I assume you have some of his powers as well."
"Yes, he sired me. And yes, I have power over the seas, and storms, and earthquakes. But he is not my father."
Poseidon looks torn, and tries to reason with me. "Percy, I know I haven't been-"
"Perseus."
He looks confused. "I heard Aurelius call you Percy."
I nod. "My family can call me Percy. You are no kin to me, Lord Poseidon."
"You are my son, whether you want to be or not, Perseus. I will prove to you I can be a better father."
I stand up, shrugging off Hera's arm. "I. AM. NO. SON. TO. YOU. A father is there for his children. A father is caring. A father is kind. You left me to die. You left m-my mother to die!" I feel tears running down my face, but I don't care. Speaking this loudly is hurting my throat injuries, which have endured even till now. "I will never be your son. I hate you. I HATE YOU! Aurelius is my father. He was there for me, he was kind, he cared. You are not my father."
I collapse, holding back more tears. Hera gently rubs my back, making soothing noises. I'm too upset to realize how insanely odd it is that the Queen of the Gods is being... motherly, to me.
"I think you should leave, brother." Hera whispers harshly to Poseidon.
Poseidon looks angry, but also very sad, almost... heartbroken. "I'm- I'm sorry, Perseus. I will prove myself to you, one day."
He vanishes in a cloud of sea spray, leaving behind the strong scent of the ocean. Soon the other gods leave as well, most giving me glances of pity. Uncle Hades gives me a strong hug, and Aunt Persephone does likewise, and gives me a kiss on my cheek. Apollo hugs me as well. Hermes lays his hand on my shoulder, and tells me to be strong, and he's proud of me. Hestia also gives me a large hug.
"If you ever need to talk, come to the hearth." She says in a comforting tone, before kissing my forehead.
"Take care of yourself, Percy. Please, if you ever need anything, come to me." Hera says, kneeling down to hug me tightly, and I hug her back just as strongly. I like her, despite every story that would lead me to the contrary.
"Thank you, Aunt Hera." She smiles at me and disappears in a soft flash of light. Soon the only ones left in the throne room are Zeus, my father and myself.
"Perseus. You are a mystery to me. You have incredible power, I can see that myself. But I can tell all you want is to help others. You have the potential to become the greatest hero to walk the world. But you are also not supposed to exist; you were born from a broken oath. It took a day's worth of begging and bargaining from Poseidon to spare his spoiled brat, and even then he scoffed at my generosity. But you... I am not sure what you will do in your life, my boy. But I will let you live it, just so I can see what is in store. Do not make me regret my decision." With that parting speech, Zeus raises his hand and a bolt of lightning strikes his throne. He vanishes.
My father takes my hand and leads me from the throne room, since I'm still a little shocked from the events of the past few hours.
"Percy? How are you feeling?"
"I'm... not sure how I feel. I just told off the bastard who abandoned me, was welcomed with open arms (literally) by Hestia and Hera, and have been told by the King of the Gods that he's interested in how my life will turn out. It's a lot to take in."
"While you're already taking in a lot of information, I feel I can add this small bit. I have decided upon a way for you to get out into the world, starting next summer."
I am still reeling from the past few hours, but the thought of a chance to really help other demigods makes me pay attention. "What do you have in mind, father?"
"Remember Chiron and the rest of his demigods?"
"Yes."
"Come next year, you will be attending Camp Half-Blood. I can foretell that the most important events in the next few years will center around those demigods."
"If you think this is the best course of action, then I will go."
"I do. Come, let us return home."
In a blinding flash of golden fire, we vanish from the streets of Olympus.
A/N: Okay. So, know how I said no more long chapters? I lied. I lied to myself, to my readers, and to my computer. Oh well, I doubt any of you are complaining. So, in this chapter we see a few more Gods, or rather Goddesses, love Percy like family. Which they technically are, so, yay! I know Hera isn't technically the goddess of children (she's the goddess of motherhood), but Juno is a goddess of children, so I took some liberties. I also added in the Artemis thing because it popped into my head and I thought it would be sooo adorable. I mean, she's Aurelius' favorite niece, so it makes sense he'd be her favorite uncle. Alright, another chapter down. I would have had it ready like three days earlier, but: new keyboard + sharing a computer = little-to-no time to write well.
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