Time: Same Time

Percy was frightened.

He had always been frightened, so far as he could remember... as a child, as a teen, and as an adult.

Now that frightened boy- for he was nothing but a boy- had been given godhood, responsibility, and power.

He did not know what to think.

If Annabeth had been here, she would have made all his worries go away. She would have taught him that he was right, he was always right. She would have hugged him, kissed him, and treated him like an adult.

She never acted like he was a frightened boy, something which he was grateful to her for. He erected a confident facade, something which only she could see through, something which only she ever understood.

Her blonde hair flying in the wind, she smiled gently at her, her beautiful stormy grey eyes dancing with joy as she taunted him, telling him to get up and move on. Her necklace of Camp beads, matching his own, hung around her graceful neck, her arms behind her back as she teased him beautifully, swinging her well-developed chest at him. "See something you like?" Her soft, pink lips parted as she smirked.

Only she was ever allowed to see his scars. To touch his scars.

His angel. His beauty. His life.

Now she was gone.

Percy could not comprehend the information he was given. His mind shut down. She was gone, while he was immortal, never going to unite with her. He had been given a harem 'to help him heal', something which he did not want. He would have become an eternal bachelor like Artemis, sworn never to feel love again.

If she would not occupy his heart, none would.

Percy whimpered, hiding within the closet he had locked himself into.

It was dark, and stank of the dead. There were bloodstains all over the inside of the wood, and through the slight crack that he could not close completely, he could see a faint stream of light filtering in through, illuminating his torn and tortured body.

He refused to be weak. He would die fighting.

He was surrounded by monsters. Monsters who tortured him, bullied him, mocked and ridiculed his intelligence, kept him in the dark. Monsters who hunted him in the shadows.

He clutched a sharp, broken piece of glass in his hand. Where did the glass come from? He did not know.

He never knew what he had been doing the last few days, and every time he fell asleep, he woke up a few hours later from a nightmare, groggy and sore, with a pounding headache. Even sleeping pills did not help. Being a son of Poseidon, his immortal ichor just flushed out whatever toxins were in his system, making painless death by poisoning impossible.

He had tried death by hanging. Slightly more painful, but acceptable. His neck now constantly stung, a dark bruise on his neck.

His stomach growled. He had had solid food a week ago. And he had had water a week ago. The alcohol had run dry the previous day.

The various cuts on his body stung, the swelling in his eye painfully throbbing. His throat was parched, his tongue like sandpaper, heavy and swollen in his mouth. He touched his bleeding gums where he had lost his teeth somehow, the ichor his only way to wet his tongue.

His ears rang, his eyes were droopy, maybe he could get some shut-eye.

His boots sung into the earth, the fertile soil moist and muddy, soft and runny with the blood of the fallen.

A war was raging around him, again. The sky was burning, the dark clouds angry and foreboding. The strong breeze that buffeted him, ruffling his shirt and making his messy hair even messier, brought with it a stench of the dead. He could still smell the slight undertone of the fresh invigorating earth that had been there, before the war. Percy remembered the Field of Mars. Now it was a blood-soaked battlefield, the field which had been once covered with soft, green grass; soothing to the bare feet, now strewn with dead and dying soldiers of both sides.

He could feel himself suffocating, there was not enough air. The shadows were closing around him, the walls claustrophobic.

The blast of a cannonball rang through the small space, jolting him out of his thoughts. Percy gasped, his head hitting the top of the cabinet.

He had been dreaming.

There was no cannon. It was someone banging on his door. The monsters were back.

Whispers telling him to die. No, a harsh voice shouting at him to open up.

Percy choked back a sob, he could not believe he would die like this... what would Annabeth or his mom say?

There was a loud bang, and Percy stared at the glass that he held in his hand.

He was met with a sorry sight. His eye was swollen shut, bruised black and blue. There were several cuts on his face, some still bleeding, others scabbed over. His once vibrant sea-green eyes, were now dull, glazed over, like he was already dead. His long, dark hair was matted with dried blood and dirt. His neck's dark bruise was still visible, not having receded a bit.

He eyed his neck, and then the glass in his hand. He ran a thumb along the jagged edge, coming away with golden blood on his digit.

He did not know why his blood was golden. Maybe he did, once.

Now, he struggled to remember anything.

The monsters were in the room.

He was alone, the bunker was breached, all his comrades were dead. He was the last.

It was do or die, now.

Well, whatever he did, he would die. The question now, was, whether he would die after hours of torture, or would die on his own terms.

One of the monsters was just outside the cramped space he was in. The only light in the space was blocked out by darkness. Percy tried to keep still, holding his breath, not giving anything away. He tried to be as quiet as possible, his heart racing as the monster stood in front of him. He could hear it moving about, could feel it looking about.

He prayed that it would not notice him, and had almost given up hope. He could feel its eyes on him, seeing through the wood that was his last defence. He was sure it was all gone, all in vain. Then, the monster moved away.

He let out a small breath.

He looked at the mirror in his hand. It was his only hope of a painless death. Well, it would be painful, but better than whatever torture he would be forced to endure.

Percy brought the glass to his throat, pressing it to his skin. He felt a sting, the jagged glass had penetrated his skin. He felt his warm, golden blood moistening his fingers, warmth that flowed down his neck to wet his shirt. He closed his eyes shut.

Annabeth. Zoë. Luke. Bianca. Charles. Silena.

All the Hunters that had died in the three wars. All the demigods.

All his fault.

His sea-green eyes snapped open. Drawing all his courage, he drew the glass along his throat.

He felt the sting of the sharp glass. The jagged edges catching and tearing his skin.

He felt his throat burning, blood blocking his windpipe. He could not breathe.

He felt the coppery taste in his mouth.

He felt cold. The shadows in his vision were stretching longer, his eyesight darkening.

The closet was already dark.

He could not breathe, the blood was choking him, drowning him. It was almost like he was back in the quagmire, drowning in his own element. He resisted the urge to thrash.

He could never breathe.

He felt the life leaving his body, his limbs turning cold. The extreme edges of his fingers and feet were already numb.

He had died with her.

Annabeth, Percy was coming. Just wait a little longer.

He felt his strength waning, failing him. This was how he was destined to die, in a dark, dusty closet, hunted by his enemies.

He felt a throbbing pain in the right side of his chest, the pain shooting burning spikes through his consciousness.

He could not hold up the mirror anymore. His hand fell limp to his side, creating a loud thud in the silence that stretched indefinitely in the closet. He winced at the loud sound, and wilted at the sound of footsteps reaching up to him, running to get to his closet.

He examined the mirror with his one good eye. The golden blood, his golden blood, dropped down the jagged edge of the glass. The dark cut on his throat, which lavishly gushed his blood, was reflected on the tool he had used to end his life.

He saw the door thrown open, making the dark closet flood in light.

Oh beautiful, sweet, life-giving light.

He saw splashes of colour in his dark vision, and heard a thud through his ringing ears. The light formed a glowing halo around the face that he saw. He could not make out anything, no colour and no features- hell, he could not even tell the gender of the face- his brain not being able to comprehend anything else but the light, all his senses reduced to this rudimentary vision.

These were not monsters.

These were angels, come to take him to where Annabeth was.

Time: A few minutes later

Only God, the one with the capital G, knew how the girls managed to get Percy to the infirmary on the ground floor, down four staircases, without him crumbling into dust.

They paced the corridor outside the infirmary, frequently throwing worried glances at the closed door. All the fifteen girls, not counting Drew or Athena, neither of whom had bothered to turn up, or the three inside, lounged about uselessly.

Hestia, Aphrodite and Artemis sat on three chairs that they had brought out of somewhere. Thalia sat at a corner, out of everyone's way, with her arms wrapped around her knees, drawn to her chest, sobbing in a ball. "It was all my fault... my fault..." She kept repeating in a choked voice.

Neo sat beside her on the floor, leaning her head on her big sister's shoulder, silent. What could she say?

What was left to say?

As soon as Percy had been taken in by Phoebe and Reyna, Rachel had rounded on the poor daughter of Zeus, accusing her of carelessness. If Percy died, it would be all her fault.

Thalia, whose emotions were already stretched taught by that time, from the stress of the last few days, had snapped. She had said some hurtful things, about how Rachel was a mere mortal, she could not even enter his room, she was weak.

And it had escalated into a full-blown argument.

Now, Thalia was sobbing in her corner, and Rachel was standing by the small open balcony towards the end of the corridor, that opened into the garden. Tears streamed down her face, and she hiccuped slightly.

Reyna stood by her, leaning against the railing, staring off into space.

Rose and Violet stood by each other, not knowing what to do, who to speak to. For the first time since they arrived in the Greek world, they felt... alone, despite knowing everyone in the corridor quite intimately. A testament to how much they depended on their big brother, who had never left their side.

Ruby stood close by, keeping a careful watch on Percy's little sisters for him, her composure not faltering even a little bit, none of her hurt surfacing as she buried it deep down for the family of the man she loved.

Cynthia, Cathy and Sydney were standing together, silently discussing if Sydney could feel anything. The daughter of Thanatos shook her head at the other two, before whispering into their ears.

Phoebe stared at everyone in the room, quietly observing their faces and reactions, as she paced up and down the corridor.

Angela sighed as she leaned back onto the railing of the balcony, leaning her head back on the edge, closing her eyes in an attempt to rein her raging emotions.

A drop of water on her cheek opened her eyes.

It was raining. The dark clouds that shadowed the sky rolled with thunder, a light drizzle hailing a prelude to a strong storm to come. A droplet of water rolled off the leaf of a mignonette plant, splashing onto her nose. Angela closed her eyes back to prevent any raindrops from entering her eyes, just enjoying the cool of the light drizzle, letting her blonde hair dampen. The soothing sound of the raindrops calmed her, as they set up a relentless drumming against the leaves of the garden, the invigorating smell of moist earth invading their senses.

A gasp drew her attention back to the corridor, whose occupants, drowning in worry, were completely oblivious to the beauty and serenity of the world outside.

Her eyes widened.

Phoebe pinned Thalia to the wall, the collar of her shirt firmly held in the daughter of Ares' grasp. Thalia's face was messy, her nose puffy and wet lips parted as she gasped and sobbed. The lieutenant of the Hunt being shorter than her subordinate, her feet did not reach the floor, as she struggled weakly in her iron grip.

"Will. You. Shut. Up?!" Phoebe snarled, accentuating every word with slamming Thalia's weak body against the wall. "Shut the bloody fuck up! We don't want to listen to you sobbing and wallowing in self-pity when Percy is just in there!"

She effortlessly swung her captive across the corridor, slamming her face harshly against the glass window of the infirmary door. "You see that, bitch? You did that. We don't need cry babies and mistake makers like you here."

Thalia started a new fit of sobbing, which only seemed to piss Phoebe off more.

Everyone in the room could tell that it was not Phoebe's fault, it was the Ares blood pumping in her veins that made her act that way. But Thalia did not know that in her present state.

Artemis could see how Neo was scared, retreating into her corner as she saw how her strong big sister was being bullied, and Rose and Violet had taken a step back. Thalia's lips were split, and there was blood flowing down her forehead, crimson smeared against the glass window of the infirmary door.

They did not need more injuries.

Artemis stood up, "Phoebe, let Thalia go. I'm ordering you as your patron goddess."

Phoebe snarled at her, flinging Thalia like a rag doll across the corridor.

Everyone was wide-eyed at this point, and Rachel was sobbing even more at that point, thinking it was her fault that Thalia had to suffer that. The daughter of Zeus came to a rest on the marble floor a few feet away, and made no effort to move, her body wracked with sobs. Nobody moved to help her, fearing that doing those would incur the wrath of the red-haired daughter of Ares.

Artemis was wary of the mad glint in Phoebe's eyes as she laughed humorlessly. "Patron goddess?!" She cackled, "Moon goddess, my god lies on a bed behind that door, as does your god!" She jerked her thumb towards the blood-splattered door.

Phoebe probably would have said more, but Atalanta appeared at that moment, opening the door, and coming face to face with her best friend's thumb.

"How is he?" Phoebe asked, the impatience in her voice thinly disguised.

Atalanta ignored her, instead concentrating on Hestia. "Hestia, we need your healing powers." The urgency in her voice was evident.

She let the worried goddess in, and went to close the door, but she was topped by a boot between the door and the wall. "I said how is he?" Phoebe gritted her teeth.

Atalanta stared at her coldly, her face not giving anything anyway, before grinding her heel as hard as she could into Phoebe's booted foot, making the girl back out. "And I said, I don't give two shits about whether you know how he is, if you can't behave yourself." Before slamming the door in her face.

She had dealt with Phoebe's rages a lot over the millennia as her roommate at the Hunt.

Hestia's heart stopped as she beheld the sight before her.

Percy laid on a bed, absolutely naked, with only a towel covering his privates. But that was not the bad bit.

The wound in the right side of his chest was open again, with several pieces of gauze to stifle the bleeding. Both of his golden feet were propped up on pillows, mutilated by glass and ceramics. Piper and Calypso were behind a small curtain that covered Percy's head, not allowing Hestia to see what the two were doing with his head, but she could only imagine it wouldn't be too good for her stomach. They were constantly talking about 'anomalous brain swellings'. There were several machines hooked up to his limp body, several beeping monitors and machines that she did not understand, and needles stuck to his skin. The only piece of equipment she understood was the drip bag, which pumped nectar into his body through a needle in his arm.

Despite being a goddess of healing, Hestia was not a medical goddess. She was more of the kind to heal wounds slowly with home treatment and magic, something which was not always a hundred percent effective.

"I want you to try and stifle the bleeding in the chest. If you can stitch it up, then all the better, use your healing powers to heal the internal bleeding, and stitch it up. I'll clean up his other foot and attend."

Hestia nodded numbly, and moved to her job. She briefly wondered why Atalanta did not attend to the more serious injury first, before she understood. It was nothing a doctor like the Huntress could handle. The blackened flesh of his lung came from a cursed blade, something which was more along her own line.

Knowing that Percy's life was in her hands, Hestia jumped into action at once. Her hands glowed orange as she pushed her maximum healing power into the job.

It was a bit like homoeopathy. Every immortal had some extent of godly power in them, which always strived to keep them alive and healthy, despite their thoughts and wishes. It was the basis of nectar and ambrosia, which was basically godly energy in solid form. That is why demigods could have only limited godly food, while mortals could have none at all. The sick and injured were given this godly energy from outside, which healed them.

Percy already had massive reserves of unused, raw godly power, so he should have been fine.

Technically.

The conditions under which he received immortality, and the cursed blade made things more complicated.

And the girls, did too.

Only the four goddesses and single Titaness knew the fact, but a harem had its disadvantages, cons that far outweighed the pros. That is why all gods were not given harems, nor did they accept. But seeing as Percy was dying when the decision was made, he could not exactly protest, now could he?

Percy was the only one to have a harem, since Primordial times.

Maybe it was Zeus' way of keeping Percy under his thumb.

Being a member of a true Greek harem was every goddess', and Titaness' dream.

Hestia did not know what Athena was making all the fuss about.

True, the girls had to do whatever Percy said, but the Ancient Laws made it so that Percy could never hurt them consciously. Not only that, the girls drew on Percy's energy to stay alive and healthy. In other words, every time Percy hurt a harem member consciously -not that he ever would- he was hurting himself. Not physically, nor emotionally, which made making them do something they did not want to do, very taxing on his part. A simple command would not suffice. He would lose a lot of energy in the process.

The girls were a part of him.

In every sense of the word.

For any girl, being part of a true Greek godly harem, meant finding an ideal lover who would risk their lives for them.

Even when he was out, his immortality was draining energy to heal Thalia's wounds, and to calm all their minds. That is why Artemis, Aphrodite, and Hestia were trying to stay calm, being the only ones to know about the Laws, apart from Athena and Calypso.

The fact that Percy was even alive after supporting twenty angsty girls, was proof of his raw strength, godly energy to rival any Primordial.

And Hestia would make sure to pay him back for all he did, consciously or unconsciously.

AN: Twists? Drama? Two updates in one day? Yes, yes and a big YES. Also, I decided that instead of 50, Dealing with Drama will be 75 chapters, that is, roughly 225K word long.Keep calm and CR7!! Keep calm and LM10!! (Messi)