And onto chapter two. I'm actually a bit surprised with the amount of interest in this. But keep it up, I'm always happy to here from you. Beta'd by Mr. Ek, who puts up with more from me than I deserve.
Disclaimer: See Chapter One. I still don't own them.
The Grandmothers Who Spin turn out to be much easier to find than he expected. Though he's still not sure why he expected it to be difficult.
They are at a roadside fruit stand that seems familiar. He feels like he should be afraid of these women, knows they are powerful, but like the Moon, not particularly interested in harming him.
He swoops down and sits at their feet. They don't address him immediately, so he watches them spin a new thread, blue-gold with silver-white moonlight.
That thread is his.
He breaks the silence, "Special Children?"
They look up at him and speak as one, "Yes, special children. Children who need more looking after than anyone will admit."
He nods. He understands this for some reason, deep inside of him.
"Where are their parents?" the thought rankles at him, shouldn't parents protect their children?
The Fates exchange looks, "Absent, uninterested, unable. There are many reasons they cannot protect them." They look to the Moon and nod, "Once, this was fine. But times change, and we are open to new ideas."
They chuckle and the Moon smiles with them, pleased.
Perseus nods, though he doesn't understand and asks, "Why me?"
The Fates laugh all the harder.
He stays away from New York City. He can't explain why, but being there hurts his heart.
He also stays away from the ocean, though that one is less easy to explain. He's always drawn to ocean, to a stretch of beach in Long Island in particular, but he's anxious.
He wishes he knew why the ocean draws him, but why he's so scared to run to it.
The burning-bright-gold children turn out to be very easy to find. And far more numerous than he thought.
But they can't see him, and walk right through him.
It hurts the first couple of times it happens, but he gets used to it.
He carefully guides and watches over the ones who are old enough to make the journey as they head for the Camp. Camp Half-Blood calls all those who share the Olympian bloodline home, he knows. But it's a matter of getting there that's the problem.
Monsters learn to fear the Avenging Angel that protects their prey.
The first time one of these burning-bright-gold children do not get claimed by their thirteenth birthday he furious. He seems to grow stronger, and thinks fine; you don't want your power, I'll be glad to hang on to it for you.
As the rush of power fills him, he thinks, it's time to have a little fun.
That's when he finds the white and blue winter sprite, wandering in the park looking a bit depressed.
Well, he can't do anything for his children, can't make their parents claim them, but perhaps he can cheer this winter one up.
So he flies over to introduce himself.
Jack Frost, he thinks.
Perseus Olympos and Jackson Frost.
Percy and Jack.
PercyJack.
Perseus Jackson.
He wants to know why that sounds so familiar and so right.
Percy finds it happening more and more often. Children reach Claiming Age and it passes them by. He gets more and more powerful each time this happens. He retains pieces of that power that ebbs and flows into him every time a child is forgotten and remembered. He doesn't exactly mind.
They don't want to protect their child that's fine.
He's more than happy to do it for them.
He's never met the Olympians exactly, but he finds he knows who they are.
So the first time he runs into one, he's a bit miffed. She doesn't need to interfere and he tells her so. He's been doing his job just fine on his own.
She looks like a deer caught in headlights and he wishes Jack were here, if only to wipe the expression of her face and distract her so he can get on with his job.
Jack's good for that, both the distracting and the cheering up of his charges. Plus having a friend along makes his job more bearable some nights.
"Perseus?"
"Give me your name, and I'll give you mine?" He answers, a bit shocked that she knows who he is.
She stares a little longer and starts laughing.
The goddess turns out to be the Lady Hera, Queen of Heaven. And she becomes one of his greatest allies.
She never quite explains it to him, but he senses she grows stronger when demigods are claimed, as the Goddess of Family she gains power when that family grows and bonds together.
She also laughs when she realizes he occasionally carries the powers of those who forget their children. He doesn't know what she finds so funny, but it's nice to hear someone feels as vindicated as he does when the council feels the consequences of its actions, even if he's sure she doesn't feel it for the same reason.
"Just like your father," she smiles, as she brushes out his hair.
He asks what she means, but she just giggles. He knows he has to work it out for himself.
He's never going to introduce her to Jack though. That's an apocalypse waiting to happen.
Sometimes he'll find one that won't fit into camp. It's always a girl, always a young one. He's never sure how he knows, but gut instinct tells him she isn't for the Camp.
The first time it happens, he's confused. Camp is the only safe place after all. He hovers, stays close and eventually the silvery ones show up. He isn't about to leave his charge though, so he walks beside her until she sits in front of a girl with ancient eyes. This girl is the Moon he recognizes.
His charge will be fine he knows. This Moon will looks after her. He leaves her in the careful hands of a girl with short dark hair, with a silver circlet braided into it, who smells familiar, like lightning and pine trees.
The Moon-girl watches him walk away and smiles.
Sometimes he's too late. It's always upsetting, but even he knows he can't save them all. So he sits with them, waits for the shadow boy to come round up their souls. Dark hair, dark eyes and a bit of mischief. Jack would like him, he thinks as he watches the boy walk off with the Messenger and the child's soul in tow.
He makes sure his charges are always in good hands.
Sometimes he finds a small one, too small to fend for itself but abandoned by its mortal parent.
These children see him, but he's not sure they see HIM.
These are the ones he carries through the journey to safety, the ones he walks right up to the border of safety. The ones he blesses before he leaves.
These children remember him and tell stories about the Angel that watches over them in the darkness of a seashell cabin.
They tell them, even when the older campers scoff.
He exists. He watches. He Protects.
It was what he was always meant to do.