Percy doesn't remember falling asleep. He doesn't remember much lately. He's always cold now. His chest hurts. He doesn't remember why. He tries to remember, but every time he thinks he knows why it slips from his mind.

Percy was 19 when he proposed to his girlfriend Annabeth. He knows, he's heard it all. "Aren't you a little young to be getting married?" "Shouldn't you wait for a little before you rush into things?" "You haven't been dating long, you sure this is what you want?"

He knows their young, but he couldn't see himself with anyone else. The phrase, "to hell and back," takes on a different meaning when you actually fell into hell with someone and came out the other side.

They didn't come out unchanged, far from it, but Percy had always known Annabeth was someone he wanted to spend the entirety of his life with.

That's why it hurts so much to be like this. He doesn't know if he'll be able to come back to Annabeth from wherever he is this time. He has too. He refuses to leave her. He has a feeling that if he died and tried to walk out of the underworld, Hades wouldn't bother stopping him.

He doesn't know how long he's been trapped inside his own head, but it feels like an eternity. He knows the gods promised them no more quests, but this is starting to feel suspiciously like a quest.

He tries to pull on Grover's mental link again, the bond having been severed when fell into…, that place, but repaired at Percy's request when they got back. He searched, but he could barely find it. It must mean Grover was far away, or something was intentionally blocking him from contacting his friend.

Once he can't find Grover, he just starts yelling. In his head of course. He calls for anyone to come to visit and help him. He had done it once before in camp, after failing to wake up from a dream so real he could smell the rotten eggs and feel lava pouring down his throat.

He'd needed someone to come and tell him he had escaped, that this wasn't real and he was lying in his bed in Camp Half-Blood. But he couldn't wake up, and he couldn't make a single noise. So he made noise in his head. He had expected one of the children of Morpheus to pop in accidentally, not the actual Morpheus.

The god had just appeared, white wings tucked behind his back, soundlessly. He hadn't said anything, just waved his hand, and Percy's dream disappeared. The god was still there, but that place wasn't. The god left shortly after that, and Percy drifted into a pleasant and dreamless sleep, waking up feeling better than he had for a long time.

But Morpheus isn't the one that appears this time. His hair is still white, but he doesn't have wings. And Percy can't recognize him. Maybe this is Hypnos? This man also doesn't say anything for a while.

Once he tears his eyes away from the strange dream man whom he's never seen before, he gets a look at his surroundings. Great hedges were on either side of him, and huge trees loomed above him. There were glowing lights in the grass, which upon closer inspection were huge glow worms, and a river ran off to his right. He walks over and cups his hands, taking a long drink.

An energy rush like nothing he's ever experienced before when drinking water rushes over him, and for a second he's worried the stream is laced with cocaine or some shit, but he searches through the water for a couple of seconds and doesn't feel anything amiss.

"What is this place," he whispers, more to himself than anyone else, but the white-haired man stands up.

"This is the Olórë Mallë, or, as you would call it, the Path of Dreams."

Percy nods, not understanding what the man said in the slightest, but trying to be polite and not piss off dream man. He knows from experience that pissing off dream people is a sure way to get you smited.

He's content to just stand here and breathe it all in, free of the pain that's been plaguing him for so long.

Wait. He's not in pain. His chest doesn't hurt when he breathes anymore. And he doesn't feel cold like he always has. And is he even breathing? Oh god, what if he's just died? He can't die.

So Percy asks man because maybe he might know.

"Am I dead?"

The man looks at him, eyes happy and sad at the same time, and Percy immediately knows he's a god. Only gods have eyes like that, deep and neverending, with a million stories and a million lives worth sharing.

The man smiles, bittersweet, and says, "no. Close, not quite. You are not in your body though. Or, at least your mind isn't. I just brought you here so you could escape for a bit. It is hard to let you suffer without showing my gratitude for what you are doing."

"I'm not doing anything," Percy says, frowning in confusion.

The man hums. "Yes, you are. You may not know it, but you just saved Middle Earth. That knife you took was meant for Aragorn. After being stabbed, he would attempt to heal himself, before ordering his Steward to kill him before he turned into a wraith. With the King dead, and the lords not trusting the Steward after his death, the people would grow scared. Aragorn would have a young son, not capable of being able to rule. The boy and his mother would be overthrown within a few years by power-hungry lords, fleeing to seek shelter in Eryn Lasgalen. Gondor would demand them to come back, and the elves would go to war with Gondor over them. After a long and grueling war that would kill most of the warriors in both kingdoms, they would be overthrown by outside invaders. Rohan would also be invaded once Gondor was overthrown. Aragorn's son would escape in the conflict, his mother giving her life so he may live. He would survive to adulthood and carry out his line. His line would eventually take back Gondor and Rohan, but not before both countries underwent suffering and were changed permanently. No one will ever know the extent of your sacrifice my child, but you singlehandedly saved the Fourth Age. So, thank you."

Percy nodded, understanding about half of what the man has said to him. "Who are you?' he asks, his voice so quiet that the river almost completely disguised it.

"I am Irmo. God of Dreams and Visions. I'm afraid I can't help you as much as I wish, but I could manage to get you in contact with your father."

Percy is saying yes before the words even register in his mind.

The man, the god, waves his hand, and his father appears in front of him in something similar to an Iris message. The man then walks away to give him privacy.

His father is pacing, and even though he is a god, Percy can see the evidence of sleepless nights on his face.

"Dad!" he yells before he can think about it, and the man turns around instantly, so fast Percy thinks he must have whiplash.

"Percy!" he says back, and a grin splits his face, but he still seems worried. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I know I promised no more quests, but Zeus gave none of us a choice."

"Is Annabeth okay?" Percy asks instead, not knowing how to approach the topic of the stab wound in his chest he is currently dying from.

Poseidon notices but says nothing. "She's doing as well as can be expected. She doesn't talk to me, to anyone but your friends frankly, but she's eating and sleeping. She misses you. All your friends do."

"Make sure they know we're all alive. I don't think they could handle another loss."

Poseidon nods solemnly. He knows how important it is to his son's friends that they know they're safe.

"I'm sorry Percy. Truly I am. I promised you no more quests. I swear to you I fought against this. As did Hades and Artemis. But my brother would not listen to reason. This is him trying to help this realm, and also showoff our power. You three are the strongest demigods we have had in ages, and he is showboating the three of you to the gods of this universe.

"It's not your fault Dad. You weren't the one to send me here. You even fought with Zeus on my behalf."

Poseidon smiles softly. Percy is ready to ask him a million questions, but Irmo steps up behind him. "I am sorry," the god says, his voice soft and apologetic. "I cannot sustain the image for long. Please say your goodbyes."

Percy tells his dad goodbye and asks him to tell his mom and Annabeth he loves them. Poseidon takes more time though.

"Percy, I want you to know how proud I am of you, and how much I love you. I would bring you home right now if I could, but that's not my decision. It's not even Zeus's anymore. You can't come back until you finish your quest."

"What is my quest?" he asks him, frustrated beyond belief at Zeus and whatever cosmic powers thought he enjoyed being dragged into their bullshit.

"You have to close the rip. You need to stop all the monsters from coming into this world. But please don't forget you have help. We sent the three strongest demigods of the age for a reason."

Percy nods, and he can tell his dad wants to stay more, is opening his mouth to tell him more, but then he's gone, and Percy is staring at the garden again.

"I am sorry. Contacting other universes through dreams is very difficult for me. I wish I could have given you more time."

Percy nods. "Thank you for the time you did give me with him."

Irmo nods, before walking away to a different part of the garden. Percy debates following him but decides against it. He sits down, back against a tree, and just waits. He doesn't know for what, but he can feel something coming, and he thinks should be sitting down for it.

He is proven right when a sharp tug in his chest is felt, and suddenly the garden is gone, and it is just the blank space of his mind, and whatever dreams they can conjure up as he suddenly finds himself back in his body. He prays they are good ones.

Only deep and restful sleep happens though, and he can feel the presence of Irmo while he sleeps.

He wakes up in a small bed in what looks like an infirmary, and Thalia and Nico are sitting on either side of him in chairs, Thalia's head is lying on her shoulder, and she is leaning back against the chair, holding one of his hands in hers. Nico is slumped forward, head and torso resting against Percy's bed, hand lying on top of his leg.

Percy squeezes Thalia's hand, who immediately jerks awake. The sudden movement startles Nico awake as well, and they all just sit there, staring at each other in shock. The moment passes, and Nico and Thalia practically jump on him, wrapping their arms around him and holding on tight.

"You asshole," Thalia says, and Percy hears the tears in her voice. "Don't you ever, ever, pull some shit like that again."

Percy nods, smiling.

Nico doesn't say anything, but he takes longer to let go of him than Thalia does.

They sit there and talk for the next few hours, Percy telling them every single detail of his dream, save a few. After they have exhausted all possibilities of what Poseidon could be referring to, and talked about what they thought they had to do, they sat in silence, just absorbing each other's company. We are here, we are fine, we all made it.

Aragorn comes in to check on him around lunch and is pleasantly surprised to find him awake and lucid. He asks him a couple of questions but leaves the cousins alone.

AN

In case y'all didn't figure it out, when Percy realizes that he might be dead, that's when his heart stops in real life.

The tug on his chest is when Aragorn pulls the Morgul shard out of his body and mutters a bit of fancy elvish magic.

Percy's not a wraith. Yay for Percy!

This got longer than I planned, but oh well.

Turned out better than expected for writing this within a span of an hour and a half.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

and my school computer,

Can't handle any open tabs over two.

No, seriously. It crashed while I was trying to look up the Path of Dreams. I lost almost a page in Google Docs that hadn't been saved. Almost called it a night, but I swore to myself I'd finish it in one sitting. And yes, be very proud of me. I sat down at 11:00 pm and refused to let myself stop until I wrote an entire chapter.

Eryn Lasgalen is the new term for Mirkwood. I believe it means The Wood Of Greanleaves. It was chosen by Thranduil and Celebron after the War Of The Ring I think.

I feel like the political situation is still kind of tense this soon after the War of the Ring, and if anything were to happen to Aragorn, everything would go to shit.

Oh, and dear Ltbutterfly287, stop being a troll and criticizing my story. I appreciate constructive criticism, but nothing about what your saying is constructive. If you don't like how I'm writing MY story, then don't read it.

Hope you enjoyed

Fallen-Angel signing out