Disclaimer: I do not Percy Jackson and the Olympians or any of Brooks & Dunn's music.
Song: Believe
Artist: Brooks & Dunn
*This is probably a little different than anything you've read before, but this is just what came to mind as I listened to the song. The POV is in someone new's perspective. And no, he is not in the books. And one more thing… this is a little longer than my previous stories. Enjoy!*
(Jace POV)
I bounded up the steps to the Big House, bitter and resentful.
I never wanted to be demigod. Who did? I hated this life. I hated the Hermes cabin. I hated those stupid capture-the-flag games. They were worthless and meaningless and just plain foolish. Everything here was futile and hollow.
I didn't even feel like a demigod. I hadn't seen any monsters in my short, thirteen-year life. Well, except for that "Nemean Lion" at that park, but that could very well have been an overgrown house cat with a very bad bout of rabies.
I knocked furiously on the door, and didn't stop banging until an old man creaked it open. I was momentarily taken aback; this man wasn't Chiron. He looked familiar, but not important. Nothing here was important. I quickly regained myself and built my anger back up.
"I need to speak with Chiron," I said through gritted teeth. "Now."
"Why the rush?" The old man smirked.
"This isn't funny!" I yelled. "This is urgent. Please let me speak with him!"
"What's this urgent matter?" The old man asked. I was getting tired of his questions. I didn't come here to barter with an old man. I came here to ask for my life back.
"Why do you need to know?" I tried to push past him, but he was surprisingly strong for a frail old man.
"Why don't we talk?" The old man said, yet another question.
"Fine," I spat. I figured there wasn't a quicker way to get rid of him.
He led me to a couple chairs positioned around a card table. The man looked at it with fond eyes, like there were many memories around this cracking old table. We both sat down in chairs.
"My name is Percy Jackson." The wrinkles around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I've been in this old camp since I was twelve years old."
I looked at him, astonished. "You've been here that long? Just… sitting here?"
He laughed. "Oh, no. I've gone on many, many quests. I've seen the world. But here is where I'm content."
I scoffed. "Content? Here? You must be crazy."
He laughed again. "Wouldn't be surprised if I was."
I looked down at the table. I couldn't imagine being stuck here, never going away, for decades. "So… you just stayed here, went on the occasional quest, and that's it? You didn't have any friends?"
He smiled, and his grew a little distant. "I had many friends. I was the savior of this camp back in the day. Of course, they've all passed on. I've been lucky to have stayed alive this long. I'm the oldest demigod this camp has ever seen."
"Who were your friends?" I asked, hoping I wasn't going too far. But old man Jackson just smiled, like he was glad for an excuse to talk about them.
"Grover was one. He was satyr, and a mighty good one at that. You might recognize him as the Lord of the Wild."
I almost choked. "You're friends with the Lord of the Wild?"
"Oh, sure. I knew him back when he was merely a satyr trying to keep his searcher's license from being revoked. He's still alive, being a god and all. The only one I have left." His expression grew sad. "Well, besides Thalia. Daughter of Zeus. She's a hunter, forever a teenager." He chuckled. "Let's see… Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. He was quite a boy."
"That's it?" I asked, not trying to sound mean. "You only had three friends?"
"Oh, Zeus no. I had many, but one more that stood out…" He trailed off, and his eyes turned glassy. He was silent for a moment before continuing. "Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena."
Something about his tone made me ask, "Is she special? Why did she stand out?"
"Well, maybe because we got married fifty years ago, when we were both twenty-two." He smirked. "We had a baby girl, Sophia. Means wisdom in Greek. Fit her well. She had her momma's smarts and my battle skills. She was tough to go up against. Sadly, she fell in battle when she was fifteen."
"Oh," I said. I couldn't imagine dying when I was fifteen, when I had barely even lived. But then something struck me; I've never seen a demigod live over twenty-five. Well, except of course, for Percy Jackson. I realized that most everybody probably never got to live a normal life.
"What happened to…Annabeth?" I said tenderly. I didn't see her here, so there was only one possibility.
Old man Jackson's face grew so full of anguish, I had to look away. "She passed on, also. That was a hard time…" He looked out over the Long Island Sound, lost in old memories.
I felt it was time to change the subject.
"Who was your… godly parent?" I asked, slowly feeling my anger drain away. This man was nice, and I bet he had many, many stories.
The man straightened his spine, and said, almost regally, "Poseidon."
I stared at him. Poseidon? There were only two children of Poseidon at this camp; it was a rare occurrence. "Seriously?"
"Yes. I was quite useful in my powers. The sea is impulsive and unpredictable, rash and strong. Just like me. You should've seen me in the war…"
"War?"
"The Battle of Manhattan, as it's called. I lead the army that brought down Kronos when I was just fifteen. Well, I guess it wasn't exactly me who defeated the Titan Lord… But that's a different story altogether."
"Wow," I said. "I'm Jace, by the way." I held out my hand.
He shook it. "Jace, eh? That means 'healer' in Greek."
"Um, cool." I said, not thinking it was cool at all.
A conch horn blew in the distance. "That's dinner," He said. "Well, it was nice talking to you."
"You, too." I said, meaning every word. I rose from my chair and started down the porch steps, but stopped and turned back. "Maybe we can do this again tomorrow?"
Old man Jackson grinned. "It would be my pleasure."
I smiled and jogged off to the dining pavilion.
The next day, I came by the Big House. Jackson was sitting at the card table, fiddling with some worn out cards. He smiled when he saw me. We talked all day about his travels, his quests. Today, he told me the story of how he retrieved the Zeus's master bolt and halted a war. He told me about his journey to the Sea of Monsters, and how he almost lost a brother. He told me how he defeated the giant Cyclops Polyphemus, retrieved the Golden Fleece, and saved the camp.
That very next day, he launched into the story about how he saved his then-friend Annabeth from Atlas, and the story of maneuvering the Labyrinth.
We spent the whole next day talking about the Battle of Manhattan. It was a long and interesting story. My ADHD self didn't get bored once, and that's definitely saying something.
Finally, the conch horn blew, and I rushed off to the pavilion.
When I got there, I sat down on the edge of the crowded bench at the Hermes table. I leisurely ate my roast beef (after scraping some off in the brazier, of course) when all of a sudden, everybody at my table gasped.
I looked around, looking for the source of their shock. But they all seemed to be staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
They all pointed at my head. I wiped my face; was there barbeque sauce on my cheek?
"Look!" One cried, pointing above my head. I looked up and gasped. There, twirling above my head, was a shining blue lyre and bow.
Chiron trotted over; the first time I'd seen him in days.
"Jace," He smiled. "I see the Apollo cabin has a new brother."
The next day, I woke up in the Apollo cabin. The walls were a light bluish tint, and lyres and bows and arrows hung exquisitely on the walls. But I didn't have time to admire it. I had to tell Old Man Jackson, as I'd begun to refer to him, about my claiming.
I jumped out of bed and made a beeline out the door and to the Big House. When I got there, I knocked on the door, my excitement making me jittery.
Chiron answered, looking wearing and grim.
"Where's Percy?" I asked. "I want to tell him something."
Chiron looked down at me with a strange expression. Pity?
"Jace," He began, drawing out each word tiredly. "Percy Jackson has died."