Disclaimer: Not mine.

In Atlantis, a soundless howl of fury and grief shook the palace as Poseidon watched his only half-blood child die. Triton and Delphin quietly slipped away, knowing that only Amphitrite could stand Poseidon's pain, and in Triton's case, to mourn the hero in his own way.

Poseidon collapsed into the arms of his wife, sobbing. Amphitrite held him to her chest like she would a small child and rocked him gently as he cried. All over the world, storms raged, venting the fury and pain of their master.

"He-e d-didn't deserve that." Poseidon hiccupped, face wet with tears.

"I know, my love, I know." Amphitrite crooned. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Sorry you had to see that, sorry he had to die."

"My-y fault." The sea god choked out. "IT'S MY FAULT!"

"No, my Lord." Amphitrite interrupted. "You heard the bo- Percy. It wasn't up to you. You did not decide his fate. Do not blame yourself for what you cannot change."

Poseidon broke down in a fresh round of tears.

***************

Some hours later, when Percy's father had settled into a fitful sleep, Amphitrite called her son to her.

"Inform Olympus of Annabeth's escape from Tartarus and Percy's death." She ordered.

"Yes, Mother." He hesitated. "And what of the titan and the giant?"

"Let your father tell them of that." Amphitrite decided. "He did promise to stand up for them, after all."

Triton nodded and turned to leave, but before he could Amphitrite spoke again.

"Triton ... tell Camp Half-Blood of their hero's death, would you? They deserve to know."

Triton nodded. "What of Jackson's mother?"

"Poseidon will tell her, as soon as he can think clearly enough though the grief to remember her."

Triton nodded and exited the throne room quietly.

***************

Camp Half-Blood was quiet.

It was the middle of the day. It should have been full of life and noise, but the only sound was that of tears falling.

Chiron, Dionysus and all the campers had gathered to burn a sea-green shroud. Even a lot of satyrs and nature spirits had chosen to attend, though many of them could not leave their place for long.

The faces of Percy's friends, closest to the shroud, were pale and wet. Many looked like they were in shock, as if they didn't quite believe that their hero was gone.

Chiron's face, however, was undoubtedly the most haggard of all, the weight of Percy's death adding to the grief of centuries, of training heroes only for them to die time and time again.

***************

The Argo II was still and silent.

Bob and Damasen were marvelling at the beauty of the sky, and the food, and everything else that they were deprived of in Tartarus, but their joy and relief was tempered with a deep sadness for the sacrifice that bought their freedom.

Annabeth stared into the distance, not planning, just blank, like she couldn't accept what had happened, and if she ignored it, it would go away.

Hazel was leaning on Frank, and both of them were crying.

Leo wasn't moving either, his ADHD bowing to his grief. He just stared at the gadget in his hands that he had been messing with like it was a puzzle he couldn't solve.

Jason looked afraid, wondering how he was supposed to go on leading the others.

Piper felt Annabeth's broken heart, and started shivering, unable to think of a way to help her friend.

Silence ruled.

***************

Poseidon was a mess, but he knew what he had to do, and he knew it had to be him. Sally wouldn't accept it from anyone else.

He couldn't be bothered with niceties, and anyway, Sally and Paul knew enough not to get incinerated, so he teleported straight into her apartment.

It was empty.

Poseidon didn't particularly want to go looking for them, so he settled down to wait on the sofa.

The tears started up again while he sat there.

When Sally and Paul came home, he could tell that she already guessed that something was wrong. Her face was pale and drawn. He suspected that she had noticed all the storms he must have been causing and guessed that it was to do with Percy.

As soon as she saw his face, she knew.

She crumpled into Paul's arms, crying.

***************

Olympus, too, was mourning.

It was silent and dark. The immortals that roamed the streets were subdued, aware that the hero who had saved them was dead.

The throne room was colder than normal, and the gods inside were each consumed with their own thoughts.

Poseidon was wishing that he could have saved his son, for what was the point of being a god if you couldn't do what you wanted?

Hades was remembering all the heroes in his realm, and thinking that Percy undoubtedly had the biggest heart of them all.

Dionysus was dwelling on the time when Percy did as he asked and protected his son during the Battle of Manhattan, and wishing that one of his sons could have repaid the favour.

Aphrodite was thinking of the heartbreak that Annabeth would feel, and tried to decide if she should do something about it, for Percy's sake.

Apollo was thinking of his little cousin and wishing that he had escaped. Tartarus would still haunt him, but Apollo could be his therapist, help him heal. It was, after all, what he did. Heal people. But he couldn't heal the dead.

Hera was quiet, and thinking of the future that Percy would have had, the marriage he would have had. No matter what she said about the boy, she knew that Percy would never have cheated on Annabeth the way that Zeus had cheated on her.

Hermes was wondering what would have happened if he hadn't taken his anger at Luke's death out on Percy. He may have given the hero his blessing, and if Percy had that, would Percy have been able to cut Arachne's thread before it dragged them down to Tartarus?

Athena was reflecting on her attitude to the boy. He may have been a son of Poseidon, but he made Annabeth happy, and right now Athena could feel her daughter's pain from up here. She ruefully admitted that she would gladly have the sea spawn alive and with her daughter, if it would cease her daughter's pain.

Artemis reluctantly admitted to herself that Percy was like no other man she had met, to fall into Tartarus for the girl instead of abandoning her, as she had believed he might. She felt shame, now, for her thoughts. Percy had proved time and time again that he was not like other men, and yet she expected the same of him as she did all others. She should have learned better.

Ares was thinking of the fighter Percy had been, and wished that he'd sparred with the punk more often. Not trying to kill him or anything, just practice. He was a great hero, after all.

Hestia's hearth was small and dim, hope almost gone. But one person's life and optimism kept it going, and this puzzled Hestia, for she could not see who's hope it was. For a moment though, it felt like Percy's hope, but recognition passed, and she put it down to wishful thinking. Percy was dead. She could not feel his hope.

Hephaestus was tinkering with something, and trying to think of something to do. He wasn't good with emotions, but he could admit to himself that he felt guilty for how they had treated their saviour. He wanted to do something to fix it, but he knew this was something that couldn't be fixed. Dead was dead.

Demeter understood better than most the cycle of life and death. Plants lived, grew and died, just like people. She knew Percy was gone, but she wondered, and she had hope, for though Percy was one of a kind and could never be replaced, some plants came back year after year, and she prayed that he would too.

Zeus thought about the war, and felt afraid. For he knew in the back of his mind, that Percy had power in his heart and mind and strength of will that the gods could not even begin to understand, let alone match. He feared for Olympus without their hero.

So, another chapter.

Till next time, Shib.