A/N: Back from vacation and a multi-day wedding, was so much fun. Anyways, sort of a Hemera POV to start. I love her and really wanted to write from her internal perspective because I think I've never seen her be used as more than a background-background-background character. Hope you guys like her :)
Chapter 13: Unbound Heaven, Unshackled Hell
From the moment she'd been born, a time eons ago, Hemera had been Day. It was her domain, of course, and she'd embodied it fully. The young primordial had been giddy as can be when her aunt, Gaea, had allowed her to raise the first Day of Earth. Proudly donning her mantle, Hemera had breathed the earliest of her warmth into the world and ushered in the dawn of a planet that would thrive with life. That had been her hope, at least.
And she'd been right. Hemera had watched from afar, day in day out, as her efforts sprung forth in the form of lush grass and bountiful trees and powerful oceans and beautiful skies and, oh, the flowers. Hemera adored the flowers that sprouted and teemed in every color under the sun, her sun, and only made more gorgeous the world that she'd tended to for no reason other than the love she felt for it.
The more time passed, the more Hemera's love grew for the world that she'd come to imagine as a part of her very being. Before long, animate creatures joined the planet that had previously been wrapped in stillness. Maintaining her own silence, and her distance, Hemera observed them as well.
The first were the Titans. She found that some were cruel, and some were kind. They were followed by the Giants and the Gods. The quiet, watchful primordial discovered that the same was true of them. That dichotomy was the state of all beings, including her own family of protogenoi. Sometimes, the cruel led the world. Sometimes, the kind did. Sometimes, they ruled together, and sometimes, they became each other. War after war raged, time after time. Maybe the cruel were evil, maybe the kind were good, but for certain, the world suffered.
Yet, for all of the horror Hemera observed through the ages, it didn't compare to the persevering love she felt between so many creatures. And that was all the primordial needed to see to maintain her hope in the world she'd loved so, so much for so, so long. Hemera gave herself endlessly to the world, unshaking in her ardor that bordered on religion. Sometimes, the world acknowledged the quiet primordial's devotion.
Helios did it respectfully. The Titan of the Sun would bow towards nothing in particular, a 'thank you' to the invisible primordial, every time he stepped into his chariot and paraded Hemera's love that took the shape of a burning star's warmth.
Selene did it graciously. The poised Titaness would whisper, 'Good Night, My Lady,' each time she began her traversing of Hemera's counterpart domain, rowing the moon through its starry sea, and never left her chariot without a 'Good Morning.'
Their successors kept up the tradition, for the most part. On the nights that Artemis operated her chariot herself, she mirrored Selene's stately gratitude. Apollo spoke more casually. 'Hey, Hemera,' was used most often, though recently ''Sup,' had entered his vocabulary, which Hemera hadn't understood until she'd begun to more closely observe mortals.
And it was through them, the most universally trivial form of sentience, that it had all changed for Hemera. Mortals were less of everything. Less powerful than the Gods, the Giants, the Titans, the Primordials. Less lasting than them, too, their lives the length of fractional blips in relation to the immortality held by every other kind of sentient being. Even compared to inanimate life, mortals were less at peace than the silent flowers that never complained about their place in the world.
Yet, in spite of all of their shortcomings, she'd received something from them, from the world she loved so much, that nobody else there had ever given her. Most specifically, it had all come from one mortal, a demigod. Annabeth, that brilliant, beautiful, benevolent girl had decided to love her back.
They'd met a only handful of months ago: a fraction in even a mortal's life, a time not even worth conceptualizing in a primordial's. And in that less-than-ephemeral span, Hemera had become subject to a feeling that rent her divine heart to its deepest crevices.
A mortal's love was nothing like a fellow primordial's. Of course, Aether loved her, but he was as infinite as Hemera was; he could love for an eternity, stop, and live his next forever having not lost any time at all. A mortal had no such privilege. Their love was a deep, unrecoverable commitment of the terribly short time that was theirs. And, often, the time they spent loving ended in pain, in loss, in death.
Annabeth's had. She'd used her fleeting stay on Earth to love, her natural lifespan not even a quarter spent. She'd loved her friends, her mother, Percy. Chaos, how that'd ended for her. She'd been condemned, betrayed, subjected to the death of the love of her life. How the world had beaten her down with the objective of never letting her climb back to her feet. Hemera had kept her alive, sure, but who in their right mind would expect her to truly live again?
Even with Hemera's hope in her selection of a champion, she knew it would be unfair to expect that poor mortal to ever be anything more than a husk. How wrong she'd been. That persevering girl had lifted herself up in a matter of days. And shakily, in just weeks, she'd found it in herself to love again.
Hemera was Day, and her very presence exuded warmth into everyone and everything around her. Never had Hemera been the recipient, not in the way she had with this demigod. Annabeth was her own beam of sun. A brilliant, shining ray that Hemera found herself basking in for the first time in her existence.
It didn't come in the form of grandeur, nothing cascading or explosive. It whispered through the demigod's beautifully insightful questions. It interlaced through her hopeful fervor each time the pair spoke. But above all else, it pooled from Annabeth's stormy eyes that saw her, the watchful primordial who'd only ever silently observed others. Those unending grey irises that always lingered on Hemera with silent promises that she'd never heard before; I see you, too, and I love you, too.
It was Annabeth in her entirety that had Hemera currently seated in her throne with her head in her hands, shaking as she sobbed.
Hemera had been lying to her from the start. From the moment they'd met, it had been lie after careful lie crafted in accordance with the contract she'd made with Tartarus. Of course it was for a good cause, and of course Hemera wanted to tell her the truth, and that had only made it hurt so much worse over the months that Annabeth had come to trust her.
The brightness of the throne room's white expanse seemed to dim under the state of one of its patrons. The floating chandeliers of hard light darkened as Hemera wrestled with the decisions she'd made and the ones she'd need to continue making. The primordial couldn't bear to think about what Annabeth must be going through.
Hemera knew all about the complex nature of dreams and the possibility of dyads forming between people with immensely deep connections to one another. The dreams' constantly building intensity was why Hemera had urged the demigod to seek out her mother; the primordial couldn't bear keeping Annabeth completely in the dark for a moment longer. She'd felt so much pride when Annabeth had agreed to hear her mother out even after everything that had happened.
The Primordial of Day prayed to Chaos herself that at least some of the burden had eased for the demigod who'd gone through so much in such a short time. For the moment, she didn't let her thoughts dwell on what Percy must be going through, or what he'd become, or how learning of his transformation would affect Annabeth.
How would it affect Annabeth?
Aether appeared in his seat, his expression immediately shifting to worry as he knelt in front of Hemera's throne and softly took her hands in his. Blinking as her palms left her eyes, Hemera sniffed as she looked at her husband.
"My love, what is it?" Aether asked quietly.
"I do not know how much longer I can keep lying to Annabeth," she whispered, "That poor girl has gone through so much. Both of those demigods have, and it is only going to get worse."
Aether grimaced as he squeezed his wife's hands. He knew what she meant, especially now that Annabeth had certainly learned about Percy and her dreams from Athena. She'd left their realm several hours ago in search of her mother's hidden temple, and both primordials knew she'd discover, or at least consider, that Percy was alive. What worried them was how she'd react.
"Are you certain that her dreams will get worse?" the Primordial of Light asked.
"Yes. She trusts us, my love. And beyond that, I cannot imagine that she would wilfully accept that the man she loves has become what he has. It will only fester more confusion within her, more anguish." More tears trickled from Hemera's eyes. "That will be reflected in her dreams with him as they continue to grow in their intensity. The further she denies it, the more she trusts us, the more pain she will bear, and it will never stop. I cannot be compliant in hurting this way."
"What do you propose we do? Admitting the truth about Percy would hurt her at first, and we would be revealing our deceit, but it may unburden her shoulders. Still, we must remember that breaking her trust would not be the only consequence. We cannot allow Tartarus to ravage the world while we sit by impotently just for her. She would never forgive us or herself."
Hemera shook in her anguish while Aether's hands glowed as they massaged hers. This was all Tartarus' fault. The cruel always vie for war, and the kind are forced to meet them. And always, there is suffering. Hemera wasn't going to let Annabeth suffer any longer, nor was she going to leave the world to shoulder the burden. The Primordial of Day met her husband's gaze, and her eyes glowed a blinding white.
"I will wait to be freed first," Hemera answered, her voice becoming fervid, "I have unwavering faith in Annabeth, and, because of her, I can believe in Percy as well. Tartarus will not break him, not through their dyad. When that cruel monster is forced into the same position I am in, he will have to gamble for them both, and I will oblige."
Aether's eyes widened, and Hemera's only burned brighter.
"I will no longer observe silently, not while Annabeth is left to suffer. He and I both will be freed. War will come. And Tartarus will lose."
Before Aether could voice a response, the temperature in the throne room plunged. The floating chandeliers dwindled to embers as the pair of primordials snapped to attention.
Hemera. You are unbound.
The Primordial of Day instantly vanished in a flash of blinding light.
(Line Break)
Four serrated, dark red walls framed the barren throne room of hell itself. In the center sat its patron, exuding hatred that would force most mortals to their knees. Tartarus attempted to lounge in his throne, presenting an arrogant, relaxed king that was presiding over his domain from the room atop his castle.
But the laughter reverberating from the courtyard outside forced every fiber of his body to tighten to the point of shearing. The divine iron armrests of his throne creaked as they bent under his vice grip, the primordial reacting to more rippling laughter. Tartarus shook in his rage, realizing he'd been wrong the entire time.
Immediately outside of his castle, in the desolate grey terrain that encompassed the entirety of the realm, Percy was sparring with Oryx. And the demigod was laughing, and he was speaking, and he was shouting. About Annabeth.
In between Oryx's rattling shrieks from being trapped in the Styx or crushed by the Acheron or force-fed the Phlegethon, the echo of Percy's voice would reach Tartarus' throne room. The demigod was raving, more accurately roaring, about his dream with Annabeth. Each time Percy's warbling voice reached the primordial's ears, maybe an ecstatic detail about how "beautiful" Annabeth was or how "happy" he felt seeing her, or even some quip towards Oryx before dealing a devastating blow, Tartarus' sickening scowl deepened.
"I was actually holding her! It was exactly like we were both there! We were! She's alive, and she's in my head! Hah!" Tartarus' tightening fist creased his throne. "Did you just try to bite me? You kabuto freak!"
Then Oryx screamed. To any normal bystander, Percy would sound like an absolute lunatic as he yelled to a hellish monster about his dead girlfriend that lived inside his mind. And maybe Percy was insane, but Tartarus was no normal bystander. The ancient primordial was aware of the claim that special, burgeoning connections could be forged between certain pairs. Naturally, he'd always brushed it off as romanticized, hopeful garbage: exactly what he'd ridiculed Hemera of believing in during their meeting months ago. The torturous deity's taut skin stretched further over his jaw in his indignance. He'd been wrong.
Because of his miscalculation, there was unprecedented danger ahead regarding the future of the war that Tartarus was waging through his champion. Percy was powerful, certainly, but he was an idiot in the primordial's eyes. This connection between demigods, while troublesome, did not matter to Tartarus; "love," as a force, was a paltry substitute for weakness. But fools like Percy clung to it with the sharpest of their claws, unrelenting in their grasp of even the thinnest threads of it.
Percy could no longer be controlled, at least not by Tartarus. There was little leverage left, because the primordial could be superseded at any time by the pathetic mortal Percy would find in his dreams each time he slept. Still, the demigod had served his purpose with the glaive; three weapons of Olympian power hung by the entryway of Tartarus' throne room, all spoils of war.
Tartarus eyed the trident that the demigod had gone back to recover from the ruins of Atlantis. He'd returned just hours ago after killing his father, and he was already shouting and laughing about the woman of his dreams that he believed was dead. That presented another concern to the Primordial of the Pit; Hemera would have already arrived at the same conclusion about their dreams, presumably earlier than Tartarus had. If that delusionally hopeful primordial could have Annabeth find out about Percy of her own accord, Tartarus' efforts would all be for nothing.
In their dreams together, Annabeth could undoubtedly convince Percy of whatever she needed to, and the Primordial of the Pit would be none the wiser. His champion, his direct vessel to the overworld that he planned to eviscerate, would be rendered moot by a pathetic emotion that Tartarus had absolutely no way to silence.
Percy's laughter reached the throne room again, and Tartarus roared. The force of the echoing shout ripped chunks off of the surrounding serrated walls while he raised his fist and sheared through the iron of his armrest. The Primordial of the Pit breathed raggedly through clenched teeth, ichor cascading inside him. He needed to raise himself.
Tartarus needed free reign over where he could go, who he could touch, who he could kill. And that required Aether or Hemera revealing the truth to Annabeth. The Primordial of the Pit closed his eyes tightly as he considered how he could possibly have that happen. His sunken, hellish eyes snapped open. Tartarus was the universe's premier embodiment of torture. He'd focused for so long on its physical approach during the war he was waging, considering how much fun he'd had with his champion, that he hadn't even examined its mental aspect.
The obvious target was Hemera. Physical torture was universal; everyone stood equal on the edge of a blade. But mental torture, emotional torture, was special. In Tartarus' eyes, it was worthless. He himself could never be tortured emotionally, but the arrogant primordial realized that that was why he was losing this war; his enemies were nothing like him. Emotional torture was gospel in its effectiveness towards the ones he believed were weak: people who loved.
Tartarus shifted his perspective, agonizingly accepting his failures and considering his next move through the lens of his naive niece. Shedding his rage, his eyes widened, and his mouth contorted to a bared grin.
Hemera must be horribly tormented by the state of her champion. That weak lover would hate to see her demigod companion anguish through her burden alone. Dyads, those ridiculous connections, formed and never stopped growing as long as the pairs remained apart. Tartarus remembered the night he'd collected Percy from his heart, how the demigod had shouted and cried in his sleep for days about his counterpart. That must have been the earliest of the connection forming. Each subsequent dream would have grown more intense, and their masked battle at Camp Jupiter would only forge it deeper, considering they were both dead in each others' eyes.
Straightening in his throne, Tartarus shook with excitement as he considered this method of torture that he'd never encountered before. He'd always shaken off the dyadic concept as nonexistent, but now that he knew it was real, he could force the pair apart forever. If he made them both immortal, and kept them both alive, the primordial could torture them for forever, and their burdens would increase eternally.
Tartarus' burgeoning fervor squashed when he realized he'd gotten too far ahead of himself. He was still trapped in his own domain, and he needed to focus on Hemera. She must know everything that Tartarus knew, and then some, regarding the pair of demigods. The primordial's talons returned to his groaning armrests as his grin faltered. It would take a terrible gamble.
Hemera, for all of her naivety, would never abandon the world to Tartarus only to save one mortal life. That unbearable Primordial of Day hadn't shut her mouth in eons about how much she loved the planet's paltry creatures. But what she may do, Tartarus believed, is reveal the truth to Annabeth if Hemera had already joined the war.
The Primordial of the Pit grimaced as he considered the possibility. At the rate the world was moving, Tartarus was going to lose the war; he was trapped, and Percy would become a loose cannon even in comparison to loose cannons. If Tartarus freed Hemera first, she could always just never reveal the truth to Annabeth. If Hemera killed Percy herself, or if Annabeth ended up revealing the truth to him, Percy would be gone. Either he'd die, or he'd be tortured for eternity. One, single, mortal life would be the only sentient spoil of war belonging to the Primordial of the Pit.
That was unacceptable. Tartarus had to believe that Hemera would reveal the truth to Annabeth if she was freed. If she didn't, Tartarus lost. If he did nothing, Tartarus still lost. But if she did, Tartarus' grin returned at the idea; he could enter the overworld of his own accord, unrestricted in his malevolence. The Primordial of the Pit ripped a piece of metal from his throne, turning it in his hand as he weighed the risks.
A piercing hiss brought Tartarus out of his thoughts, followed immediately by Oryx's screaming and a continued sizzling. Flicking his hand, the primordial dragged the duelists from outside into his throne room. As Percy appeared, the eyes of his wolf helm burning brightly, he twisted his glaive and ripped it out of Oryx's chest. The contorted monster was mottled with shallow cuts from the demonic weapon, each one chewing at his soul while the gaping wound in his chest mauled him.
Tartarus eyed the creature with malice for losing, and silenced his clicking cries with a hulking spear. Returning his weapon to its invisible sheath, Percy began whistling. The sound was raucous, transformed by the dark modulator in his wolf helm. The demigod turned his back to Tartarus, not even acknowledging him with his eyes, as he made his way towards the weapons display astride the throne room's entrance. The Primordial of the Pit stared balefully while the arguably psychotic demigod whistled the rhythmic tune of presumably some mortal song.
"Perseus," Tartarus spat.
The demigod didn't answer, calmly unlatching the symbol he'd recovered from Ares, a weapon of mortal origin. Continuing his merry tune while Tartarus shoved upright from his throne, Percy whirled around and unleashed a buckshot from the shotgun formerly belonging to the God of War.
The explosive release echoed around the throne room as Tartarus grunted, every pellet finding its mark as they burrowed into his hulking chest. The Primordial of the Pit steadied himself, having stumbled a step back from the impact, as he gnashed his teeth. Percy dropped the weapon, and Tartarus closed the gap between them in a fraction of a second.
With a taloned fist enclosing his armored throat, Tartarus lifted Percy from the ground and shoved him against the wall. After a minute, the demigod dematerialized his helm, his expression still defiance while his throat clawed for oxygen.
"What are you gonna do?" Percy wheezed, "kill me?"
Tartarus roared in the demigod's face as he shook him before cratering his form into the ground of the palace. Percy coughed and sputtered as Tartarus released him, the demigod breathing in as much hazy air as he could. Any aversion towards the risk Tartarus was considering vanished as he stared down at the mortal in front of him; there was absolutely no chance this vermin could be used as a competent vessel any longer.
And Percy was right. Tartarus couldn't kill him, because that would be too easy. He had to win the war first, then capture the other demigod, and enact their dyadic, ever-increasing torture for the rest of time.
Percy shook to his feet, a crazed grin pointing in Tartarus' direction, who suddenly grinned back. The demigod had no chance to be taken aback by the change in demeanor before a stake drove through his upper back and out of his chest, lifting him from the ground. An iron cage took shape, sealing out most light and entrapping him with the leering primordial. Tartarus grabbed Percy's drooping head in a single hand while lowering his own face that warped back into a swirling, hellish whirlpool.
"Annabeth does not exist only in your head, boy," Tartarus grated just inches from Percy's face, "She is alive, and I will soon put her in a cage like this one."
Percy's dimming eyes widened by a fraction before Tartarus shoved their heads together and ripped consciousness out from underneath him.
(Line Break)
Blinding light accompanied the deafening explosion of the Master Bolt, and all of the Olympians were forced to look away. The pair of young gods present, Jason and Nico, each scrambled behind still-standing thrones to avoid the reverberating shocks ripping in every direction.
As the light slowly dimmed, an anguished Athena waited to see her daughter against the ground. The rest of the Olympians expected to find the white warrior maybe even eviscerated into nothing by the sheer power that resided within the godly bolt of lightning.
Two thuds resounded as the room returned into focus, and not a single deity made a sound at the scene before them. The owl-helmed warrior stood firm in a defensive stance, her sword already swung. At her feet lay the Master Bolt in two long pieces, sheared straight down the middle.
The weapon wielded by the King of the Gods sparked on the floor, dwindling in its brightness as its owner stared at it with eyes wide. Annabeth's sword glowed brightly, shaking from its feat. The thinned halves on the throne room's marble floor drifted towards each other, dimming as they inched to be whole again.
Jason and Nico shared a glance, the opposing gods united by their abject awe. The rest of the Olympians exchanged their own horrified looks as they slowly reached for their own weapons. Behind the white warrior sheathing her blade, Athena took a step forward. But before the goddess could speak, another blinding light exploded.
The flash died down much more quickly, revealing a beautiful, towering woman in a glowing white dress. Her eyes were rimmed red, but her lips curled in a small smile as she locked her gaze on her champion. The surrounding Olympians began to move more quickly, but instantly froze at the first word out of the masked warrior's mouth.
"Hemera," Annabeth began, "how are you here?"
The twin Olympians snapped towards each other and then back to the primordial who'd materialized in the center of the room. The freed Primordial of Day stared back at her champion as a few tears fell from her eyes, unshaking in her decision to release her from her burden and still protect her world.
"Annabeth," Hemera whispered.
Zeus snapped towards the helmed warrior, as did every other God of Olympus. The demigod dematerialized her mask, shocked that her patron had both appeared in the overworld and unveiled her identity. But that feeling was nothing compared to the stupor following the primordial's next words.
"Percy is alive. I am so sorry."
A piercing ringing filled Annabeth's head. Her vision narrowed as her legs seemingly disappeared from beneath her. The Olympians could have all bounded from their thrones and descended to kill her, and she'd have no idea. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything, as both her greatest dream and worst fear was confirmed. Annabeth didn't even dwell on the fact that Hemera had to have been lying the entire time, whatever her reasoning. Percy was alive.
Hemera's voice wasn't even a dull echo in her mind, her mother's just as inaudible to the demigod. Percy wasn't just inside her dreams. He was somewhere else, and he'd become something else. In her own spiral, Annabeth didn't see Hemera's face turn to rage as it snapped away. She didn't see the Olympians climb out of their thrones. And she didn't see red haze coalescing into another towering figure in the Olympian throne room.
On the opposite side of the hearth, Tartarus stretched his shoulders as his dark whirlpool face trained on Hemera.
"Your decision was made much faster than I'd expected."
A/N: Heh, sorry about the cliffhanger. I wonder what's gonna happen next chapter with ALL these people in the throne room. Hope you enjoyed the development and review, but most importantly, GO WATCH SPIDERVERSE!
levisorous: aw crap, you've done it again. you've killed my boy poseidon. also, on that note it's actually very cool what you've done with percy's rage. like he could see the fact that his father was sorry but he couldn't bring himself to forgive because while he lived, annabeth died or so he thinks. i wonder if that will eat at him IF he discovers that annabeth never died but they're rather being used once again by beings with more power then then. also, zeus smh. don't you ever learn, it's not good to shoot first think second. i wonder how annabeth's going to react to that. well then, i look forward to your update in two weeks man! great chapter. keep it up.
Haha, I felt so bad when I realized that was what I was gonna do with my guy Poseidon. Before we can find out about how Percy feels about it now, he needs to get himself out of his little prison and out of Tartarus. What if he somehow finds his way to Olympus too... And of course, paranoid Zeus is just launching his bombs at a moment's notice. I bet he's horrified that Annabeth wasn't just someone who would take it.
iNeptune: Ah man I'm loving this story so much, it's awesome!
Really appreciate you :) I'm glad you're enjoying it, and hope I kept the trend up with this chapter!
Dragon21356: I love IT, THIS IS WONDERFUL. Yea the patricide sucks cuz I've always loved Poseidon as a character but I can't way to see if you'll portray future Percy after everything ends as someone who regretted his actions or someone who didn't. Very exciting indeed also can I just add that it's really nice of you to acknowledge your reviewers, makes this entire experience a lot more personal and enjoyable! Have a lovely trip and can't wait to see you back writing!
I'm so excited to flesh out Percy the way I want regarding his remorse (or lack thereof), and I'm so happy you like where it's going! I honestly find that I love sharing what I write just as much as I love actually writing it. Being able to experience the story in "real time" together with my perspective and all of your reactions to it makes me enjoy writing so much more. So thank you so much for elevating my experience as well!
Avatar Vader: Holy craaaaaaaaap this was such a good frigging read dude! I love seeing how full and powerful Percy has become, it was written so well that I GENUINELY root for him while he's killing off Gods left and right. I am curious how the absence of Posiedon, Ares, and Dionysus are affecting the mortal realms below. This is such a cool fic and i cannot wait for more!
So glad you're liking it man! Percy's got a long way to go, just a matter of WHO he's going after next. And we're gonna have to see how long it'll be before he runs into any other gods again, or even Annabeth again now that he knows! We'll have to strap in because everything is going to speed up soon enough. Primordials freed, turmoil between Olympians, demigod rebellion, and of course how exactly things will end with Percy and Annabeth!
Thank you all for the reviews. Absolutely love reading them!