DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS OR GAME OF THRONES
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|PROLOGUE

Nine Days.

As he fell, Percy thought about that old Greek poet Annabeth had told him about. The one who had thought it would take nine days to fall from Earth to Tartarus. He hoped that poet was wrong, but it was starting to look like the old guy got it right.

Percy had lost track of how long he had been falling—hours? A day? It felt like an eternity. The wind whistled in his ears and the air was growing hotter and damper as if he were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon.

He closed his eyes and tried not to cry. Percy never expected his life to be easy. Most demigods died young at the hands of terrible monsters. That was the way it had been since ancient times. The Greeks invented tragedy. They knew the greatest heroes didn't get happy endings.

Still, this wasn't fair. He'd gone through so much to stop Kronus and just when he'd succeeded, when things had been looking up, he had overstepped.

THEN.

"PERCY JACKSON!"

The name echoed around the chamber.

All talking died down. The room was silent except for the crackle of the hearth fire. Everyone's eyes were on Percy—all the gods, demigods, the Cyclopes, the spirits. Percy walked into the middle of the throne room. Hestia smiled at him reassuringly, and she seemed happy and content to be sitting by her fire again.

First Percy bowed to Zeus. Then he knelt at his father's feet.

"Rise, my son," Poseidon said.

Percy stood uneasily.

"A great hero must be rewarded," Poseidon said. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my son is deserving?"

Percy waited for someone to pipe up. The gods never agreed on anything, and many of them still didn't like him, but not a single one protested.

"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."

Percy hesitated. "Any gift?"

Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

Percy stared at him, stunned. "Um...a god?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."

"Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea."

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth.

Percy glanced back. Annabeth was trying not to meet his eyes. Her face was pale. He flashed back to two years ago when he'd thought she was going to take the pledge to Artemis and become a Hunter. He'd been on the edge of a panic attack, thinking that he'd lose her. She had looked pretty much the same way he did now.

He thought about the Three Fates, and the way he'd seen his life flash by. Percy could avoid all that. No aging, no death, no body in the grave. He could be a teenager forever, in top condition, powerful, and immortal, serving his father. He could have power and eternal life.

Who could refuse that?

Then he looked at Annabeth again. Percy thought about his friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, and so many others who were now dead. He thought about Ethan Nakamura and Luke.

And he knew what to do.

"No," Percy said.

The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard.

"No?" Zeus said. "You are...turning down our generous gift?"

There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt.

"I'm honored and everything," Percy said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just...I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."

The gods were glaring at him, but Annabeth had her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were shining. And that kind of made up for it.

"I do want a gift though," Percy said. "Do you promise to grant my wish?"

Zeus thought about this. "If it is within our power."

"It is," Percy said. "And it's not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx."

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?"

"Someone once told me," Percy said, looking at Hades, "you should always get a solemn oath."

Hades shrugged. "Guilty."

"Very well!" Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your reasonable request so long as it is within our power."

The other gods muttered assent. Thunder boomed, shaking the throne room. The deal was made.

"From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods," Percy said. "All the children...of all the gods."

The Olympians shifted uncomfortably.

"Percy," his father said, "what exactly do you mean."

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents," Percy said. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason."

Zeu's royal nostrils flared. "You dare accuse—"

"No more undetermined children," Percy said. "I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive."

"Now, wait just a moment," Apollo interrupted, but Percy was on a roll.

"And the minor gods," he continued. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children should be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades—"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hade bellowed.

"No, my lord," Percy said quickly. "but your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that. No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into Hermes' cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

Percy looked around at the Council. He was getting a lot of steely looks. Hera looked the angriest.

Not even his father was on his side anymore.

"Percy," Poseidon said, "you ask too much. You presume too much."

"I will hold you to your oath," Percy said. "All of you."

NOW.

In hindsight, he should have known some of the gods wouldn't take kindly to his wish. But he had been on a roll. He'd just saved the fucking world!

Demanding all the gods properly recognize their children had seemed reasonable to him. But even though he was a demigod, he was still human. He still lived and died. The gods were inherently different. True immortals, with a history of being petty, vengeful, and cruel.

Zeus being one of the worst.

What was I thinking? Percy wondered as he fell into the depths.

Suddenly, the chute he'd been falling down opened into a vast cavern. Maybe half a mile below him, Percy could finally see the bottom. For a moment, he was too stunned to think properly. The entire island of Manhattan could have fit inside this cavern—and he couldn't even see its full extent. Red clouds hung in the air like vaporized blood. The landscape—at least what he could see of it—was rocky black plains, covered by jagged mountains and fiery chasms. To Percy's left, the ground dropped off in a series of cliffs, like colossal steps leading deeper into the abyss.

The stench of sulfur made it hard to concentrate, but he focused on the ground directly below him and saw of ribbon of glittering black liquid—a river.

Percy could control the water—assuming that was water below him. He might be able to cushion his fall somehow. Of course, Percy had heard horrible stories about the rivers of the Underworld. They could take away your memories, or burn your body and soul to ashes. But he decided not to think about that. This was his only chance.

The river hurtled toward him. At the last second, Percy threw his arms out, calling to water. The wanted didn't answer and he crashed into the river.

The impact didn't kill him, but the cold nearly did.

Freezing water shocked the air right out of his lungs and his limbs turned rigid. He began to sink. Strange wailing filled his ears—millions of heartbroken voices, as if the river were made of distilled sadness. The voices were worse than the cold. They weighed him down and made him numb.

What's the point of struggling? they told him. You're dead anyway. You'll never leave this place.

He could sink to the bottom and drown, let the river carry his body away. That would be easier. He could just close his eyes...

"Son!" He heard a voice in his head. "Do not give in!"

Percy was still angry at the gods for not stopping Zeus from banishing him to Tartarus, but suddenly he didn't want to die. He kicked upward and broke the surface.

He gasped, grateful for the air, no matter how sulfurous. The water swirled around him, and he realized he was creating a whirlpool to buoy him up.

Percy was near dead with exhaustion. Usually, water reinvigorated him, but not this water. Controlling it was taking every bit of his strength. The whirlpool began to dissipate. Percy struggled across the current. The river worked against him: thousands of weeping voices whispering in his ears, getting inside his brain.

Life is despair, they said. Everything is pointless, and then you die.

"Pointless," Percy murmured. His teeth chattered from the cold. He stopped swimming and began to sink.

"Percy!" the voice was back. "The river is messing with your mind. It's the Cocytus—the River of Lamentation. It's made of pure misery!"

"Misery," he agreed.

"Fight it!"

Percy kicked and struggled, trying to keep himself afloat. He wouldn't become another cosmic joke for Zeus to laugh at: the son of Posiedon dies from drowning.

Not going to happen, you asshole, Percy thought. He started making progress against the current. His limbs felt like bags of wet sand, but he could see the dark line of the shore about a stone's throw away.

He used the last of his strength to reach the riverbank. His feet dug into the sandy bottom and he hauled himself ashore, shivering and gasping as he collapsed on the dark sand.

Percy wanted to curl up and fall asleep. He wanted to shut his eyes, hope all of this was just a bad dream, and wake up to find himself back in Camp Half-Blood, safe with his friends (well...as safe as a demigod can ever be.)

But, no. He was really in Tartarus. At his feet, the River Cocytus roared past, a flood of liquid wretchedness. The sulfurous air stung his lungs. He tried to sit up and gasped in pain.

The beach wasn't sand. He was sitting on a field of jagged black-glass chips, some of which were now embedded in his palms. He wasn't worried about that. Despite the pain, he knew he wouldn't die. Not unless he took one of the shards and stabbed himself in the back.

Percy forced himself to take stock. His backpack was gone—lost during the fall, or maybe washed away in the river. Which meant no food, no water...basically no supplies at all, but he had worse problems. His celestial bronze sword, Riptide was missing—the weapon he'd carried since he was twelve years old.

So the air was acid. The water was misery. The ground was broken glass. Everything here was designed to hurt and kill and he didn't have a weapon. Percy took a rattling breath and wondered if the voices in the Cocytus were right. Maybe fighting for was pointless. Even if he did escape, Zeus would just banish him right back to Tartarus.

The realization almost broke him, but he couldn't let himself dwell on it.

"Hello, Perseus."

Percy spun around. Hestia was walking toward him. In her adult form, she was beautiful and perfectly proportioned in an unpretentious way. She had an honest smile, intelligent, warm brown eyes, and black hair that framed her face in ringlets. Her body radiated power.

"I'm sorry this has happened." She spread her arms wide and wrapped him in a hug. "You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man."

Percy breathed deeply. Her scent was delicious, smelling like wood smoke and toasted marshmallows. It was almost nice enough to make him forget what had happened to him.

"What are you doing in Tartarus? Are you here to get me out?" he asked.

"Ah," Hestia said, her smile growing. "That is the question, isn't it? And I'm afraid not, Perseus."

They looked at each other, the goddess still beaming.

"I'm stuck here?" Percy repeated, not understanding why Hestia seemed so happy.

"You are," the goddess said.

"But..." Percy couldn't help but get angry. "But I stopped Kronos—I saved Olympus!"

"You didn't. However, being a hero does not make one completely invulnerable. You know this, Perseus." Hestia said, and anger seemed to radiate from the goddess like light, like fire.

Percy had never seen her so angry. "Can you explain?"

He already had a feeling that he knew what was happening. But he wanted to hear Hestia say it. Make the betrayal real.

"Even if you manage to escape Tartarus, most of my family didn't take kindly to a demigod trying to bind them with an oath over the River Styx."

Percy sighed. He let his gaze drift over his surroundings. If the gods had betrayed him, he really was stuck here forever. Then he had a thought.

"My dad?"

The brief moment of hesitation from Hestia told Percy all he needed to know. But he had already known, hadn't he? When he hadn't been able to call the water to him as he fell he knew.

"What now?" he asked.

Hestia smiled sadly. "A few of us on Olympus don't agree with Zeus and the others. We can't stop Zeus from banishing you back to Tartarus or destroying you with his godly form, but we can give you another chance at life."

"Won't they be able to find me?"

Percy wasn't sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life on the run from the gods. Always worrying about being caught, or having his mother used as a hostage again.

"Where you're going, my family can't follow, Perseus. Gods can't cross between pantheons without risking war."

"Pantheons? Am I going to another country?"

Hestia shook her head. "No, that wouldn't be enough. Gods can't cross pantheons, but a demigod could. I'm here to send you another world."

"What!"

"It will be okay, Perseus," Hestia promised. "You may no longer have my brother's blessing, but you won't be alone. Many gods are very grateful for what you have done for us."

Percy suddenly felt his body being pulled back as if he was being sucked into a vortex and then in the blink of an eye he was no longer in Tartarus.

Instead, he was being held in the arms of some angry-looking asshole. "This will be your sister's fourth child, Jaime," the man said. "Tommen's younger twin."

Percy heard a laugh from out of his view. He tried to turn his head but quickly found out he couldn't move an inch. His body was tied up in some kind of cloth.

What was going on?

Am I a baby?

|PJOxGOT|

Jaime could not believe his ears.

"You would have my sister raise a bastard?" he asked, scoffing at the ridiculous request. He looked down at the black hair on the poor child's head. "Her children are the princes and princesses of the Seven Kingdoms."

Her father stared at him, his face a statue. There was no feeling from Tywin as he spoke. "There are rumors about her children—"

Jaime rolled his eyes. "When have lions ever cared about the opinion of sheep?"

"When the rumors are true!" Tywin said, glaring at his son. He couldn't believe his children had disgraced the name Lannister in such a way. And not just once. They had done it over and over.

"You believe such lies?" Jaime pursed his lips, his eyes darting away. "Our enemies are trying to—"

"Do nothing," Tywin sighed, looking down at the black-haired babe in his arms. He had never spoken it plain and clear out loud, and if he had his way no one ever would. One stillborn and two children with blonde hair and green eyes? People are taking and soon even Robert will become suspicious."

Jaime frowned, staring at his father. There were unspoken words being said. A lie he and Cersei had kept to themselves since they were old enough to understand what fucking was. "What about the mother, will she not come forward?" he asked. "Robert fucks anything with two legs and Jon Arryn has paid every whore that's come forward."

"The mother will not be a problem," Tywin said. "She died during childbirth."

"And the age difference?" Jaime glanced at the bastard his father wanted to force on Cersei. "Tommen was just born, someone will notice the bastard is older."

"Maester Creylen has already sent a Raven. He has warned the King of the dangers traveling the King's Road may have on newborn babes. Grand Maester Pycelle will council Robert to let you and Cersei remain at Casterly Rock until the babes are old enough to travel safely," Tywin explained. "By the time you return to King's Landing, both babes will be a few months old. No one will be able to tell which was born first."

"Cersei will never—"

"You will tell your sister that this babe is hers," Tywin interrupted. "Maester Creylen will tell her there were two placentas clear evidence that there were two different fathers. And I will tell her that I sent all the maids present for the birth to Essos to hide her shame. Do you understand, Jaime?"

Jaime tried to speak sense, hoping his father would see this plan was ludicrous."Father, the Lannisters claim to the Iron Throne—"

"Is in no danger," Tywin interrupted. "This babe will be a third-born son. He will never sit on the Iron Throne."

Realizing his father wouldn't see sense, Jaime tried another tactic. "You would accept a bastard as your grandson?" he asked, poking at his father's pride.

Or so he thought.

"I already have three," Tywin replied, coldly. "One more will not matter."

The gods who sided with Percy will be revealed throughout the story!

Also, this story was inspired by The Last King: by Greed720!

Definitely give it a read if you haven't already!

PS: While this story is mainly based on the television show, the timeline is from the books. So from the day that Ned Stark executes the Night's Watch deserter to the day Jon Snow is stabbed is around 3 years.

Thanks for reading!