Hey everyone,

I'd like to announce that although some myths contradict with others, I may need to change the order in which historical myths took place to be able to fit the characters I want into the story.

Although the setting is ancient Greece, I will make the characters talk in English and informally, as if they were regular boys/men or girls/women in the modern world. It makes writing this a little bit easier, and the characters more relaxed than if they talked formally all the time.

So far, looking at the current standings, it looks like people really want me to have Percy like Artemis in one way or another, but have Percy as a main character in the story. Well, I guess since this is FanFiction, there are a lot of Pertemis shippers here. Honestly, in my opinion, I don't really like to write Pertemis because... I mean, it's not realistic. I try to keep my characters realistic, even though at times they are just blunt and flat. Whatever though. If you haven't voted, vote now before I close it. Just a couple more chapters to vote.

Just a note about copying and pasting author's notes...in the past, I have had readers who did not read the author's notes until later chapters. I just want to keep reminding. If you have already seen the author's notes, you can just skip them and go straight to reading the story. Thank you.

With best regards,
SharkAttack719

Chapter 15

Sand-Trek

"Hold on tightly!" Jason shouted over the winds.

Like extremely predicted, they were being blown by rogue winds, presumably to Libya. Percy had repeated it to himself too many times in his head to feel any comfort in knowing they would be trapped in the empty lands below, in fact, no one would be comforted at that thought. Sure, most would say that the Argo could just be launched again from the sands. But as he told his journal and mind every time he thought about it, there was no point in Zeus sending us south just to sail right back. There would be something that would hold them back.

Sitting in the cover of being under the top deck, Percy wrote in his journal.

His entries were becoming far too similar now, all of them mostly repeating what he'd said before. It wasn't like he was trying to... just, he was writing what was on his mind. It so happened to be that he'd already written that before.

Percy wished there was something he could do, but the wind was far too strong. This was no squall, not a product of Poseidon. It was Zeus' fury at the Argonauts, even though his own son Polydeuces was on the ship.

The King of the Gods loved punishment. Percy had, in fact, talked with a couple of Phaeacians at Jason's and Medea's wedding. They were young, though he wasn't sure whether they were royalty, for Arete, the queen, was very young. She looked possibly even younger than Medea. He doubted Alcinous and Arete had eloped.

Together, Percy and the children had been discussing about legends of Zeus. Apparently, he had once killed an entire family because the father had blamed Zeus for everything that went wrong in his household, like the sudden robbery and murder of his youngest son. The children he'd met said the man was foolish and agreed with Zeus. Essentially, the King of the Gods sent a bolt of lightning streaking at the household causing it to explode, instantly killing the family.

Percy agreed that the man's stupidity got the best of him, but surely Zeus didn't have to kill the entire family.

They talked some more and learned of supposed children of Poseidon who lived in the ages before Perseus and Cadmus. Apparently, the legends of their deaths had passed down through generations. Zeus had murdered the children of Poseidon simply because they were his brother's spawn. He did not like children of Poseidon.

When Percy had mentioned he was a son of Poseidon, they looked at him incredulously before laughing and complimenting him on that good joke. They said children of Poseidon were usually hunted by Zeus at the young ages of five. As he kept insisting that he was a son of Poseidon, they laughed harder and ridiculed him for going mad.

The next thing he knew all of the wine bottles in the room exploded, glass shattering everywhere. Percy tried not to make it look like his fault considering it was Jason's wedding, but after the party, the son of Aeson confronted him. Jason was clearly angry.

Ever since then, their relationship had kind of been on a strain. Percy knew that Jason really loved Medea, but his bitterness of being alone without any true friends got to him. He'd yelled at Jason when he and Medea were going at it some more, telling them that, "If you don't stop, you're going to get Medea pregnant right when we get to Libya! Think of how it will be then, taking care of a future mom in the middle of a desert!"

Percy had yelled a few more curse words before stomping away. He was pretty sure his anger had propelled the boat toward Libya.

An eerie shadow cast across his face from the torch he'd fixed up on the wall next to him. He scribbled madly on the papyrus. He was beginning to run out of room. It was too bad he couldn't enchant the papyrus paper to continue growing magically.

He didn't want to ask Medea for anything considering he just told her to "jack off herself." His bitter mood was growing and he didn't think anyone wanted to speak to him anymore.

Theseus and Atalanta had stopped trying to approach him, which wasn't a good sign. They had probably heard from Jason and Medea about my "incurable" sour attitude, so they avoided me. Whenever he tried making eye contact with someone, they would hastily pull away and continue what they were doing. Every time he wasn't looking, though, he could sense their gazes back on him.

Not even Periclymenus would talk anymore. He had built quite a strong relationship with the Dioscuri, the Boreads and Orpheus. They barely glanced his way, but he heard them speaking. They had been talking about him.

Percy curled his lip in distaste at himself before rolling up his papyrus. He, in anger, dumped the ink on the floor and then took his kalamos back to his room. He roughly opened the door, opened his drawer and tossed his things in.

Dreams haunted him again. This time, he found himself in the future once again. What was Apollo trying to do? Get him killed for looking too far in the future?

Percy had no idea of the reason behind Apollo's actions, but the notion he had about the god was that Apollo wanted to warn him of something. Apollo seemed to be trying to protect him... unless it was all deceiving. Surely Apollo could have been showing him some false future.

Percy was a ghost, watching as warriors were being scattered. Two armies who had previously clashed together were now stopping, watching wide-eyed as a man fell down in the center of the battle.

He easily recognized the Corinthian helmets that one army was wearing. These had to be some sort of Greeks, the people of the Peloponnese Peninsula. They were fighting against another army, an unfamiliar set of armor worn by them. Everyone was wearing leather armor, a fatal mistake of most armies.

Dead bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, seemingly countless numbers lost during the war. Percy had no idea why Apollo was showing this to him. What was the point of showing him a battlefield with a bunch of men surrounding one body?

Percy looked at the giant city that was seemingly the target of the Greeks. He had never seen it before, probably because it looked like a foreign city. Giant walls stood around the city, only one gate to enter or exit the city. It was much unlike most Greek cities that usually just had a couple of barricades with guards stationed around here and there. This city had the ultimate defense: walls that could not be toppled by mere javelins and crossbows.

Then he realized who was lying dead in his own pool of blood. The helmet had been removed by a young man, tears dripping down his face. Horror-struck, Percy looked at the dead man. The black hair was all-too-familiar. The slightly tanned skin, the green eyes. The man lying dead was him.

He thought he heard old, leathery voices cackling in the distance. They sounded like demons of the Underworld, but then he was torn from the seen by invisible hands and thrust into a new scene.

Still stunned, Percy didn't move.

What appeared before him could have nearly paralyzed him. It was his mother's old house and their farm.

He could have been stunned to the point of unmoving... or he could have been bawling his eyes out. Nostalgia hit him as hard as it could, like all of the gods had struck him at the same time. He could suddenly move again, and trampling through the grass in his ghostly figure, he entered the house, his transparent body passing right through the solid door.

He did cry when he saw the sight inside. His mother was there in the kitchen, alive and healthy, talking to a baby Percy who was cradled in her arms.

"Hush, little one," she said to the crying baby. "Momma loves you, Perseus."

Percy stepped forward and reached out with a ghostly hand. He tried touching his mother's shoulder, but his hand passed right through. His heart sank a little, but nothing could feel better than the soothing voice of his mother.

"You are my brave little boy, Perseus," she said. "You may ask one day why I gave you such a strange name. But I have a strange name too, Perseus. It is unheard of. My name is Sally. You are not alone, Perseus."

With a start, Percy realized he never knew his mother's first name considering he'd always referred to her as "mom" or "momma."

"You will learn in time of your father," she whispered. "It will be dangerous for you. But you must learn to keep your head up when you feel your lowest. When all seems lost, remember that Elpis is still in Pandora's pithos. As long as Elpis is there, humanity will have hope. You will have hope."

Percy stared at her. Hera had told him that Elpis remained trapped in the pithos when he had mentioned that he hoped, that he longed for a nice wife and family. What had the goddess actually meant by that? For his mother had just spoken...

"Elpis stays with all of humanity, no matter what humans think of hopelessness and destruction," his mother said. "To fight for glory and power is nothing, Perseus. Have a reason, a purpose. Have hope and look to the bright side of things. It will always follow you, my baby boy."

Baby Percy smiled at Sally before seemingly yawning and going to sleep.

"They say descendants of the gods have no powers, no abilities," Percy's mother said. "I hope I live to tell you the tale of not only who your father was, but where my ancestors come from. The blood of Athens, my boy."

"Blood of Athens?" Percy asked. He immediately realized he was being silly. His mother wouldn't be able to hear him. It was only a dream.

"Close your eyes," she murmured. "Close your eyes."

She began humming a lullaby so enchanting that his dream self even closed his eyes. It felt like a few seconds after falling asleep when he was woken by a startling shout.

His eyes snapped open and he saw the exactly same kitchen, though in the nighttime. His little self was five years of age. Terror struck him when he realized what this moment was. He'd dreamed of it before, but not in this way. He'd always been watching it from his own point of view.

"Go, Percy!" his mother shouted. "Go!"

The hellhound hadn't gotten to the kitchen yet, but it was easily distinguishable where it was coming from. My five-year-old self reluctantly left, scurrying out the back hall.

As the hellhound crashed through the doorway of the kitchen, she closed her eyes and muttered a prayer: "Please, Poseidon. Help the boy. Keep him safe. Don't let him die, please!"

And Percy watched, new tears beginning to form in his eyes, as the hellhound jumped at his mother. Her screams were deafening, but he stood there watching as the hellhound had course one of a two-course meal.

The hellhound roared and continued on to find the younger him.

Percy's transparent dream-self knelt down at his dead mother's side. Her warm brown eyes were empty now, looking dull and lifeless. He'd never seen his mother's dead body, just knew she was dead. He had run away from the house, trying to get away from the horror of that night.

It was a brutal sight, a nasty gash right across her chest. He could have sworn that he saw four ribs and a part of her lung. Percy tried closing her eyes, but as a transparent dream-figure, he couldn't. There were so many things he wish he could have done. Why had he run away?

He knew it was just his grief speaking and that his mother had intentionally sacrificed herself to save him.

And just as a loud howl pierced the night sky, Percy was torn from his dreams when the Argo suddenly shuddered and crashed.

Rushing to the top deck to see what had happened, he was met with an unpleasant sight.

A large wave had thrown the Argo ashore in Libya. When he said large wave, he really meant enormous wave. They were hundreds of paces away from the shore, well, not hundreds but maybe one hundred or so.

The storm still raged, but now that they were in a desert of some sort, sand was whipping up around his eyes. It blew everywhere, along with the rain and thunderclouds.

Soon, everyone was above deck to see what had happened. They had to cover their eyes to protect themselves from the dust and sand. Percy hoped that the storm would clear soon so that they would have a clearer view of what was around them.

His wish was granted at noon.

It had seemed like they had washed up ashore early in the morning because quite a long time passed before the storm cleared up. In front of them was an enormous body of water that seemed to stretch forever on either side. He knew it was just an illusion from the endless desert sand, but clearly the body of water (bay, lake, gulf... whatever...) was huge.

When noon came, and the storm washed away, Ancaeus and Jason went on an expedition of sorts to scout around the water to see if they could get back into the water and sail back away. Percy already knew it wouldn't work.

As the two men hiked off, Percy went down to the water's edge and stepped in. Immediately, a rush of energy filled him and he realized where they were. It was a gulf, the Gulf of Libya. He remembered a map that Ancaeus had with this part of the ocean in it. He peered out to the open ocean and saw many shoals and sharp rocks that barely punctured the surface. It looked like a dangerous journey to pass, and Percy had a feeling they only got past it because of the giant wave.

For a second, Percy had a feeling that Poseidon helped Zeus punish the Argonauts... but Percy was on the ship, too. Then again, Zeus punished the Argonauts even though his own son Polydeuces was on the ship, like Percy said before.

Jason and Ancaeus came back to the group with the exact same conclusion.

"Out of this we may not come, even should the breeze blow from the land, for all around us are shoals and sharp rocks—rocks that we can see fretting the water, line upon line. Our ship would have been shattered far from the shore if the tide had not thrown her far up on the sand. But now the tide rushes back toward the sea, leaving only foam on which no ship can sail to cover the sand. And so all hope of our return is cut off," Ancaeus announced gloomily.

"What if we wait?" Theseus asked. "Wait until the tide comes back up."

Ancaeus shook his head. "I have studied much, my boy. The tide here does not come up high, for though the tide recedes, it is still at a high. I believe the gods are angry and want us to stay here. Poseidon himself, oh the horror."

The look on the Argonauts' faces were horrible. All looked barely fed, but were trying to be happy not only because of Jason's and Medea's wedding, but because of the fact that they were so close to getting home. They only had to round the south of Greece. Unfortunately, the winds blew them as soon as they passed the southern tip of Peloponnese.

He glanced around at the haggard men. They were all two years older, Percy knew that for a fact, but they didn't look two years older. They all looked as if they'd aged ten years. No one had grey hairs like he'd seen on many old men and women, but it was their faces, the skin tone and the eyes.

People's eyes seemed to show what emotions they had at the moment, showing every bit of any feeling they had unless they knew how to shut themselves out. Percy reckoned it would be hard to clear your face of emotions.

Percy squinted out at the ocean.

There was only one problem he had with what Zeus had done. Taking the storm away from them had only led to disastrous heat and dehydration. Percy soon found himself longing for some water to drink. He didn't want to drink any ocean water, so instead, he grabbed a cloak and wrapped it around his head in such a fashion that it wouldn't make him sweat too much. His face was still visible.

Percy noticed that others seemed to be following his lead, though absentmindedly. None were looking at him directly for more than two seconds.

Percy was glad that there was still an ocean breeze blowing through their camp, otherwise Percy would have felt even worse. As sailors, he figured the Argonauts would find the sea breeze quite relaxing and calming.

That night was especially rough.

In the Libyan desert, days were hot and nights were cold. The difference in temperature was so great, Percy felt like his body was going to explode from not being able to recognize the vast temperature changes.

At night, he couldn't sleep well, his entire body shuddering as icy cold wind blew through his thin clothing. He couldn't help but notice that the others were have the same problem. All of them were shivering, shaking uncontrollably. It was nothing compared to the pain of the curse the Fates had begun to put on him, but that lasted for what seemed like less than a minute. The icy, cold air lasted for at least six hours.

Percy felt as if he'd only slept for two minutes in the time from way past sunset to dawn.

Instead of bothering anybody else, his bitterness still creeping up on him, he stood up as soon as he felt his legs again and jumped into the Gulf of Libya. He propelled himself forward, dodging and weaving as rocks obscured a clean path for him to propel through. Energy refilled him, though he knew that it was only temporarily. Even for an abnormally powerful young boy, his powers had limits. Like Heracles for example. Heracles had all the brawn a man could wish for, but it seemed as though he lacked brains.

It was clear and evident from the dream Apollo allowed him to watch that Zoë would be betrayed by Heracles in the end. It didn't matter if Apollo was trying to deceive him. Hera seemed to predict they would be heading to Libya, and according to multiple maps that Ancaeus had stored, the Atlas mountains were on the same strip of land as Libya. He believed that fact to be true.

Sure, the girl was a daughter of a Titan, but she didn't have to be left like that. Enlisting the help of a woman, then pretending he never loved her, and then throwing her aside like a ruddy ragdoll seemed like a pretty cruel thing to do.

Percy surface and walked up onto the dry, parched land.

He subconsciously drifted his eyes over to Jason. Jason was leaning against the side of the Argo, Medea huddled next to him. He seemed to be muttering something to her, but Percy couldn't tell exactly what he was saying.

Percy hoped that the son of Aeson would prove better than the son of Zeus. He knew Jason so well, and Jason wasn't that kind of Percy. To everyone that had joined the Argonauts he had been welcoming and it was certain that they looked up to him as a leader. The only problem was that Percy found himself getting in the spotlight a little too often: killing the drakon in Colchis, giving that inspirational speech at the coast of Ausonia, driving the Stymphalian birds away, and leading the defense in Scheria (the land of the Phaeacians) against the Colchians until King Alcinous arrived to vow that he would protect them.

All of those events made the Argonauts look at him as if saying, Why is the little boy doing so much?

He wasn't exactly sure what they were thinking, but he figured it had to do with something that portrayed him as abnormal and bad. Especially now that he'd been acting sour...

That's when thing turned for the good. It seemed so long, yet so short that they'd nearly shipwrecked but trapped in this terrible desert of nothingness.

The desert nymphs had arrived.

One might ask how desert nymphs would help, in fact, Percy hadn't thought they had been anything special when they arrived at first. He, along with most of the Argonauts, just stared at them as they walked past most of the crew towards where Jason and Medea sat.

He thought he saw the nymphs turning their heads and regarding all of them as if to say, Come. What we have to say you should hear.

Then the lead desert nymph nodded to Jason and began speaking. Although he knew they were speaking, their voices were drowned out by wind. Even if it was a light breeze.

Percy stood up, his entire body aching, and trudged over to Jason. As he got nearer, he heard the last of what the nymphs had to say ("—way of escape to you, the Argonauts.") before they were whisked away in the wind as floating ghosts made of sand.

Percy stopped dead in his tracks and made eye contact with Jason. It was the first eye contact he had in a while with any of the crew without feeling angry or depressed. Jason's eyes glimmered with hopefulness from what seemingly was something the nymphs had told him. When they met with Percy's, they flickered with doubtfulness and anger, but Percy expected that.

"What did they say," Percy said, his voice sounding awfully dry. Sometimes it sucked not being able to get wet.

Jason jerked his chin out to the rest of the crew, who were lying down in the sand looking nearly dead. All of that encouragement and that speech Percy did weeks ago was for nothing. Now, the Argonauts looked almost as desolate as the land they were on.

Jason strided past him and shouted, "Argonauts!"

His voice was loud and clear, the word booming across the area that the Argonauts had strewn across. His voice even ousted the wind. All heads turned to him.

"Fellow Argonauts!" Jason called. "While I lay there, leaning against a plank of wood, dreaming of what would become of us had we not been cursed to arrive here, an uncanny event has occurred. You may have seen the desert nymphs that passed through to speak to me. They speak of a horse of Poseidon that will guide us to safety, a way of escape for us. They declared themselves to be the solitary nymphs, the warders, of Libya. I believe we have a chance to escape."

Everyone craned their necks to looking amongst each other. Percy saw the looks of doubt passing through every single one of their gazes. But then something miraculous happened.

An amazing-looking horse suddenly leaped out of the sea. The horse was giant, even enormous in size, and had a golden mane. When it landed on the sand, it shook the spray of the sea off its sides and mane. Then he trampled past them and away toward the horizon, leaving huge tracks in the sand.

Theseus suddenly stood up, though his voice was nearly unrecognizable. "It's true. Look! The great horse that the nymphs were talking about. We must follow it!"

A bunch of murmuring assent came from the crew, who had now seen proof that Jason wasn't lying.

That was when Periclymenus stood up. "But how are we to move the Argo. This horse treads on land, not on water."

Percy hadn't spoken to anyone for the past week or so, however long it had been since they left Scheria; however, now he felt obliged to say something. An idea had popped in his head. "We carry the Argo," he said suddenly, shocking most of the Argonauts. "We carry her as she carried us. Across the desert to follow the horse's tracks. We have to do that to find the sea again."

After a long period of silence, Jason spoke up. "I agree with Percy. That is the only way."

Everyone looked up at the massive bireme.

"We're supposed to carry that?" Zetes asked.

"To find water, though, Zetes," Calaïs said. "We must carry the Argo!"

"Carrying the Argo sounds dangerous," Theseus said, "but it's our only hope. If we travel as a group, we will be able to find the sea once again without having to make multiple trips. Without the Argo, how are we supposed to get home? What would you rather want, arrive home whilst taking risks or stay here to die slowly and agonizingly?"

Everyone looked at one another. After another long period of silence, the crew began moving towards the Argo. Jason pulled Medea out of the way as the crew of the Argonauts began trying to lift the boat up. On the fourth try, they managed it.

"Percy—Atalanta!" Jason shouted. "Take point! Hold your bows and arrows! Medea, stay behind them and in front of the Argo. The rest, hold the boat!"

Then he ducked under the Argo and helped lift it. "Go!"

Percy glanced at Atalanta, who gave a slight smirk, before tossing him a bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"You had that all by your side?" he asked.

She nodded.

Then he grimaced. "You're actually talking to me?"

Atalanta rolled her eyes. "Like I said, I might as well be your big sister. I know you needed to blow off some steam. It's why Theseus and I stopped talking to you. I was the one that convinced him you needed some time and space. Don't expect me to disregard what I said before. Come on, let's go."

Before Percy could even reply, she darted forward. Percy looked behind, where Theseus was giving him a hesitant and painful grin. Then he turned back to Atalanta and began running.

They may not have been great friends, but Percy should have realized that it didn't matter. As long as he had people who cared for him in one way or another. Elpis...

Hey everyone,

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

I apologize for any grammatical errors in the chapter above and if any historical facts are actually wrong. I have spent my time looking through different websites, and even a couple of books, but the story that will continue may have incorrect historical info. Still, I believe it just adds to the effect.

With best regards,
SharkAttack719