Hi? If you guys aren't dead from the wait yet, then I hope you enjoy. If it's not too much of a bother, I revised the first two chapters, and hopefully improved them from the level of my 2 year younger self, so I would recommend you read them again, if not just to refresh your memory of what this fanfic is even about, because it's been that long.

The Absent Parents

Percy tried to ignore the trembling glass of water that was rattling on the table. It had already been twenty minutes since the moment he and Annabeth had been reaped, but the constant clink of glass on the table proved that his emotions were still far from calm.

He could see Annabeth worriedly eyeing the swirling water from her seat in the room, but she kept the silence, trying to help Percy maintain his treacherous balance, while he closed his eyes and concentrated on releasing the twisting of his gut.

Percy hadn't lost control in almost a year, but this event had shown him how risky he still was. And he hated it, hated the fact that he could never control this overwhelming power enough to ensure the safety of everyone he loved. It felt as if he was a ticking bomb, because no matter whose advice he sought, or what paths he tried to change, his life was like a story with the finale exposed before the plot. Training helped massively, but Percy knew, deep inside that his power would never be something that could be controlled. It was all he could do, to hope that it would never control him. In fact, maybe President Snow had the right idea by using the Ancient Games to eliminate the threat now, before the inevitable casualties were scored into Percy's conscious.

A knock on the door broke through Percy's thoughts and concentration. The glass shattered into a million shining pieces, skittering across the table and onto the floor softly like broken fragments of hopes and wishes. Annabeth flinched in surprise, while Percy buried his face into his hands miserably.

The heavy wooden door opened to reveal a tanned man in a Hawaiian shirt complete with flip flops and a suffocatingly powerful aura. He radiated the rolling ocean, and Annabeth's eyes widened at the sight of the god who had never looked so out of place in the orderly controlled room of the capitol. His eyes which had previously held a twinkle were now dull with worry and concern.

"Dad?" Percy asked incredulously.

Poseidon gave a tired smile laced with apologies. "Percy, I've come too late as always, the only thing I now have to offer are the regrets of the gods. You deserved so much more than this."

It sounded as if the gods knew that Percy wouldn't survive to see his next birthday, and who was Percy to argue against divine fate? He used to have dreams about dying young, and everyone knew that his dreams usually came to life in the most terrifying ways.

"Like what Dad? Am I supposed to be destined for greatness, is that what this whole prophecy which no one will tell me about is supposed to say?" Percy muttered. All his life, there had always been a set storyline, words which spelled out his future in cryptic words. And these days, it seemed that everyone else knew how his life would unfold. Everyone but himself.

Poseidon eyed the broken glass which decorated the table with an array of dangerous shards, glimmering as light bounced off them and split in all directions. "You will learn of your fate in time Percy. But this unpredictability, this uncontrollable power, I'm sorry that I passed it to you."

"It comes in useful at times." A hint of a smile tugged at Percy's mouth, filling Annabeth with strange relief that she could still see the sparks of rebellion that made him so unique. "In the presence of very annoying people. I could imagine making President Snow's wine strangle him in the middle of his obnoxiously long speech."

Poseidon laughed, the storms which had been gathering in his eyes disappearing briefly, replaced with a fondness that he reserved for Percy only.

Annabeth hated interrupting the family reunion, but she hesitantly cleared her throat to address one of the most powerful gods.

"Lord Poseidon, how long will it be, until the gods regain their powers?"

Poseidon's expression was guarded and careful as if he was worried that the wrong words would break them. "My brothers Zeus and Hades and I are almost fully recovered, but many of the other gods are in varying stages of healing, though the time until we are ready is unpredictable. It could be a few months' time." He paused, seemingly torn, "Or it could be a few more centuries."

Annabeth felt like crying, but she surprised herself, as well as Percy who stared at her with wide eyes, when a bitter laugh escaped from her mouth.

"A few more centuries? That's what we were fighting so hard for? That's what Percy and I risked our lives for when carried out your commands like good little soldiers and painted huge red crosses onto our backs? Look where it's landed us, it was literally a death sentence!" Annabeth could remember years of cryptic messages from the gods flashing through her dreams, moving her like a pawn on a chessboard of death.

And the prophecy. Percy's prophecy. Rage curled in her veins when she thought of it. She had heard the nightmarish words years ago, and yet the sleepless nights it had given her haunted her since. For all the things that had wavered her faith towards to the gods, this was at the top of that list, because what parent, and what family would ever, let their child be born in a death trap like that?

Poseidon looked appropriately torn, but Annabeth could also see the furrows of his brow as he studied her, considering whether it was worth the trouble to keep her alive. Because she wasn't really needed, she was expendable. And the gods had never really been able to convince Annabeth that they had hearts instead of the holes carved into their chests from eons of death.

But evidently, the sea god realised that killing Annabeth, despite her harshly clear judgement would risk the extent of Percy's loyalty.

"You can't expect too much from us," he advised, "Not even in the arena."

"I'll expect nothing." Percy said, causing a look of hurt to flash across the god's eyes.

"We are not as cruel as that," Poseidon seemed tired as he pulled a ballpoint pen out, offering it to Percy. He held it as if it was a murder weapon instead of a writing utensil.

There was a moment of silence before Percy broke it reluctantly. "I hate to state the obvious, but that's a pen, Dad." Nevertheless, he held out a hand to take it thinking maybe it was extra sharp for stabbing with. Everyone knew the lengths that the tributes would go to, just to sneak a little extra advantage into the arena, before their entire lives began spinning wildly out of their hands.

But then as, Poseidon placed it in his palm, and he suddenly understood the weight of the object, he could feel the magic piled upon the pen like layers of lead. Cautiously, Percy slid the cap off, and recoiled slightly as the pen promptly sprang into its full form as a celestial bronze sword.

"Anaklusmos," Annabeth murmured, reading the bronze writing etched into the swords above the worn leather grip. "Riptide." She translated.

It was so like the gods, she groaned internally, to give Percy a cursed sword, as if he didn't have enough bad luck, and odds against him. She could feel Poseidon shrinking from her scathing glare, as she turned it on him. But Percy seemed happy enough, so Annabeth didn't mention the bloody history behind the softly gleaming blade. She guessed that this was probably the first gift he had received from his father.

Poseidon cleared his throat lightly, causing Percy and Annabeth to look up, after the sword was capped. But this time, his gaze was directed on Annabeth.

"Ah, Annabeth, I also had a gift from your mother, who I gather, you know by now."

"No thanks to her."

"Um, yes, your claiming did take a rather long time, but that is quite understandable for a daughter of Athena."

Annabeth shrank from the words. This was the first time, the words had been spoken aloud, the title which had granted her a probable death. It ruthlessly broke the constant cycle of denial, and realization she had been running through her head. But the fact that her mother hadn't bothered to come to see her daughter herself still hurt her. The fact that Poseidon was giving her Athena's gift stung.

"Why couldn't Athena come herself?" Percy asked sharply, noticing Annabeth's churning emotions. He always did.

Poseidon sighed, "Out of all the gods, Athena was probably the most affected out of all of us. She is the most scattered. There is no other reason than this."

"Just pass on her gift then." Annabeth said resignedly.

Poseidon offered her a Yankees baseball cap, a relic that must have been from centuries ago, when a country called the United States of America had once stood in Panem's place. Annabeth had read of the freedom, the joy of the extinct country in history books, but never had she seen such well-preserved evidence. She tried not to gape.

"What does it do?" she asked admittedly curious, because if she was indeed a daughter of Athena, who could blame her?

"I'll leave that to you to find out, Miss Chase," Poseidon winked, "But I think you will be quite pleased. Happy Ancient Games Percy. The gods will always be in your favour."

Percy and Annabeth averted their eyes as a brilliant glow shrouded the room, burning red through their eyes. And then the god was gone. Silence reigned in the room for a few moments before Percy broke it.

"That was such a… god-ish this to do." Percy smiled at Annabeth, who smiled shakily back. Her emotions were a mess, and she didn't trust herself to do something impossibly crazy like scream, or hug Percy, so she gathered her energy to study the cap left in his hands. A rough bang on the door jolted both of them out of their dazes.

Peacekeepers yanked the door open, filing around Percy and Annabeth in what looked like a formation to march them onto the train.

"Maybe President Snow should spend less money on your ridiculously shiny white suits, and buy you all some watches, because it's not time to leave yet." Percy glared fiercely with a sinking heart. "Tributes get to say goodbye to relatives."

"New policy, sea scum," a peacekeeper shoved Percy forward. "After your little scene out there, you're under a highly reactive status, deemed unsafe for mortal visitors."

"Excuse me for finding the irony in being called highly reactive by trigger-happy thugs." Percy retorted while being tugged out the door. He could see the cameras trained on him immediately, like beasts eyeing a meal. And so, even when he felt like screaming inside, he gritted his teeth and glared at the camera, trying to keep calm at the idea of not being able to see his mom before the Ancient Games. Before his death.

Annabeth was being pulled along similarly, also adopting a composed image for the public. And although Percy hated the idea of Annabeth in the arena with him, for the first time, he felt a curling comfort that wherever he went, he still had Annabeth with him, and they had each other's backs.

And with that idea in mind, they were shoved unceremoniously onto the district train.

Percy reeled at the whiteness of the luxury room. It was ridiculously decorated with ridiculous ornaments and horrible modern art that reminded him of Tyson's childhood. "This is ridiculous." He said out loud.

Annabeth was muttering under her breath, what suspiciously sounded like, "I could have designed this room better than this." Percy believed her.

"I think that maybe President Snow is taking his name a bit too seriously." He said to the shiny white walls and shiny white tables. "I doubt that even he likes the colour this much, but if he does, that just proves what an insufferable idiot he is."

"And why's that Percy?" Annabeth grinned despite herself, knowing that plenty of hidden cameras in this room were probably feeding their treason live to a certain murderous man, but she was just too tired of the lack of justice in the world to care.

Percy gave her a look of disbelief. "Because everyone knows that blue is the best colour."

Annabeth stifled a slightly hysterical laugh.

Just then, the train started moving, the only way that they could tell being the blur of green outside the windows, as the locomotive glided along the railway with the same ease President Snow ran the country, dispatching of anyone who stood in his way. Like a well-oiled machine.

Percy could feel the adrenaline slowly seep out of his blood, as the shaking of this hands and the drizzle of rain outside eventually slowed to a stop. He could no longer bring himself to stay angry at the world, to care about the innocent lives smothered by the sickly sweet existence of Snow. He was too tired to worry about the future, because the present was demanding enough as it was, and he was starting to find it a challenge to simply keep himself from blinking every two seconds from tiredness.

The post-power fatigue that Nico always complained about had never affected Percy, but now he wondered that maybe he has just never pushed himself hard enough out of fear for his lack of control. It certainly seemed the case as he sagged against the wall before sinking to sit on the floor. Annabeth looked concerned, but at the same time, similarly tired, smudges of darkness under her eyes.

"With great power comes a great need to take a nap." He quoted sagely at her. He thankfully managed to make it into a chair before his legs gave out, and his eyes refused to open again.