Notes:

For this first chapter, I wanted to try my hand at making a small rewrite of Lightning Thief within my AU, mainly because I've been in love with the musical lately. (Can u spot all the musical references?)

(Title from The Mind Electric, Miracle Musical)

Percy Jackson was not even born when plans for him were set in motion. Plans made by his father, who hoped he'd live to see Camp Half-Blood. Plans made by his mother, who was using the funds saved for her night classes to prepare for her baby on the way. Plans made by the Fates, who fully intended to spin him a thread nice and long, but frayed and knotted by hardship.

And then there was a plan laid out by a being even older than fate. A being of such immense breadth and power that they could not even solidify their essence into a single, physical body. A being who was the beginning and end of all things. A primordial who sought to awaken themselves and bring forth new forces into the universe as they once did, a very long time ago.

So when Percy Jackson was only a babe in the womb, two-thirds formed and still another trimester to complete, all prior plans for him were disrupted. His thread of fate unraveled as the essence of a third party seeped through his sleeping mother's skin and poisoned her unborn child.

Most living beings were meant to work in halves. Half of one parent, half of another. Percy Jackson was meant to be half mortal, half god. He was meant to be the product of Sally Jackson and Poseidon alone.

But what he was meant to be was split apart, broken and reformed with new essence binding the fractured blood and bones together again. Mortal beings with entire destinies plaid out were not meant to work in thirds.

And why Perseus Jackson, of all babies yet to be born?

Some whims simply manifested as they pleased. It was decided that the sea was not unlike the abyss; it was deadly, destructive. It hid secrets in its depths and threatened even those that knew it well. The sea easily swallowed life with no trace left behind. The sea could be quite similar to oblivion. But when the mood struck them, both the oceans and the abyss can be tempted to create life instead.

And so Sally Jackson woke up that night in a cold sweat and with a scream on her lips. She was taken to the nearest hospital alone, her baby boy born prematurely. She was so scared, not just for herself, but for her little Perseus. But in the aftermath of the miracle of birth (and what a miracle it was), the raucous cries of a newborn baby broke the silence.

Percy Jackson was alive. He was something wrong and something right and something broken and something fixed, but he was alive. And for a brief moment, as he was being held by his mother for the very first time, all seemed well.

The first time it happened, it was on the eve of little Percy's third month of life. Almost a hundred days he lived so far, a feat to his nervous mother.

And it happened when Percy was asleep in his crib. His mother was resting in her room. As it happened, Percy did not put up a monstrous fight or die with a final roaring breath. His heart, still trying to figure out if it actually needed to beat in order for him to live, stuttered and stopped.

Percy Jackson, at the tender age of three months old, died in the night. Mortal and even half-god souls went to the realm of Hades to be judged upon death, but Percy didn't have a soul like theirs.

It went against the wishes of one of Percy's creators for his soul to be forever lost in Hades, or otherwise lost to reincarnation. So his soul went elsewhere. It was pulled deeper into the earth, traveling much lower than Hades.

Tartarus preferred to dwell not in a physical form. He relished the fear caused by the idea of some abstract, bottomless pit crawling with abominations. And for thousands of years, he was content to sleep. He was in his element, literally, as Tartarus itself. Above him was his descendant, Hades, and below him was his only predecessor.

But the distance between him and Chaos had been growing over the past few hundred years. So much so that, even if he tried to open his eyes and extend his consciousness downward, his creator was still out of reach. However, this discrepancy in the fabric of the universe meant little to Tartarus. Chaos was a fickle thing, a living thing. Chaos came and went as they pleased in all corners of existence.

So imagine Tartarus, the primordial personification of the Pit, and imagine his surprise when the cries of a human child woke him from his slumber. He searched all parts of himself for the strange sound, but could not pinpoint its source. Being so vast, something as small as an infant was like trying to find a single ant crawling over his body.

Tartarus conjured up a physical form and with his tangible ears, found the culprit. A naked human baby. In Tartarus. As if it had been freshly reborn like any monster. And somehow, it had yet to be mauled by any passing beasts.

"And how exactly did you appear here?" Tartarus asked in the primordial tongue of the first living beings, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

He shed even more of his true self, becoming smaller and smaller until he was the size of a mortal man. No enemy had ever required him to manifest himself in such a diminutive form, but curiosity was a powerful motivator. He picked up the baby and felt that there was something not right about it.

"Ah, so you have some god blood in you?"

It was faint and very weak, but Tartarus recognized the power of the sea god coming off the babe.

"So how should I kill you?" Tartarus asked the baby. He assumed he could just drop the little creature from a modest height and it would rid him of the thing's incessant crying.

But then the baby opened his eyes and Tartarus stilled. The child, whatever he was, had eyes unlike any mortal. Unlike any god.

They looked human, even if they were the same striking green as Posiedon. But there was something in them that only a being as old as Tartarus would recognize. Something timeless, something powerful.

His eyes reflected nothing. Tartarus could not see himself in them. Not even light seemed to bounce off his irises. His eyes were those of a primordial. They swallowed all they saw.

"What are you?" Tartarus asked the babe, now very intrigued.

With a single clawed finger, he pricked the babe's palm. He honestly wasn't sure if he was expecting mortal red or immortal gold. While the child wailed and a drop of blood oozed from his fresh wound, Tartarus pondered what the hue of his blood meant.

"There must be very big plans for you, little one." Tartarus said, not gently but with less malice than before. "But why are you here, of all places?"

At first, only the ground shook. Then Tartarus felt the whole of his realm tremble without him doing so. The baby was found near the entryway to Chaos' realm, the infinite abyss. Things only ever went into the abyss, things never came out.

But what came to Tartarus was a simple message from a being he had not heard from in eons. His creator spoke to him in their primordial tongue with no mouth or voice, only with intent that penetrated Tartarus' very being and forced him to understand his creator.

He is mine.

Tartarus turned in the direction of the abyss. He chose his words carefully, "I'm afraid I do not understand. How can he be yours?"

Did Chaos mean for Tartarus to sacrifice the infant? That could be done.

No. The original creator said. He belongs to me. Hades cannot have him.

Then, after a moment, Upon death, his soul will come here. You will ensure this. And you will guide him back.

Fear was not something a being such as Tartarus should ever need to feel. But to be given direct commands, several commands, from his long dormant creator, sent a chill throughout his entire being. To fail Chaos was to spell his own doom. Tartarus barely had to reach with his mind before he found his maker. Chaos was awake and near, close enough to swallow Tartarus' whole realm if they so chose to.

"Very well," Tartarus said. "I will ensure the demigod is returned."

Perseus. His name is Perseus.

Chaos said nothing else, they didn't need to. Tartarus felt their consciousness receding, returning to the far-below depths of the void. Turning his attention back to the baby in his arms, Tartarus hushed the little thing.

"No more crying. It is time for you to go home."

Tartarus was not one to extend his power outward. He was content being down here, the waiting maw for monsters and immortals. But for the first time in many, many years, he reached upward with his mind. He bypassed Hades, tracing the intangible trail left by the baby's soul and found the source. A home in… oh he needed to brush up on his modern languages. It was some part of the new western world.

"Well… off you go." Tartarus said. He blew a breath on the baby and watched as it began dissolving into golden dust. "I doubt this will be the last time I see you, little one."

Already he could tell this one would spell trouble. For who, only the fates and his creator could determine. The baby continued to stare at him with wide, green eyes, until he was gone. It was as if he had never existed and Tartarus had conjured up a physical form for no reason at all.

Tartarus felt himself gazing upward.

"Perseus," he said, testing the word on his tongue. "You will be part of very big plans, indeed."

Back in the mortal world, Percy Jackson was returned to his crib. He solidified from golden dust and breathed a fresh breath of life. His wound from his time in the pit was gone, as if he never left his home.

It seemed like dying did young Percy some good. He came back a little stronger, put together a little bit better. The third of him that wasn't supposed to exist in mortal flesh now bonded to his body more comfortably. Not perfectly, but as if the jagged edges were smoothed over to accommodate his vulnerable mortal portion.

In the morning, his mother would notice how much easier it was for him to breathe. She'd rejoice and smile and coo at her baby boy for how easily he could smile now.

But that was for later. Now, Percy Jackson was in the middle of meeting his second immortal family member.

Poseidon had felt that his son was born premature and weak. A part of him was terrified that Percy wouldn't survive. For months, he cursed himself for letting Sally walk away.

He wanted to build her a palace under the sea. Make her immortal and give her a life of luxury. She was a queen among women, and she had stolen his heart. But Sally Jackson was also a woman of ambition, and lounging in paradise wouldn't have suited her. So Poseidon made himself say goodbye with the promise he'd return for Percy one day. To claim him as his rightful son when the time was right. And maybe, to also try and court Sally again.

Then came the horrible, horrible sensation of the world suddenly feeling empty and wrong. Percy carried a bit of Poseidon's blood in him, and ever since he was born, the sea god could vaguely feel where his child was. They were like two bodies of water each following the same pull of the moon. Poseidon, the vast ocean, and Percy, the smallest of puddles.

But the abrupt absence of that puddle threw the great ocean into disarray. Without warning, Poseidon fled from his palace beneath the waters and headed for New York City. Afraid that his worst fears had been realized, he materialized in Sally's apartment.

He peered over the edge of the cradle housing his child…

and he heaved a sigh of relief.

Little Perseus was still alive, and awake. He didn't seem alarmed to find a strange man watching over him. He only stared at Poseidon with wide, curious eyes. Green eyes, like his father's.

With a start, the sea god realized this was the first time he was actually meeting his son.

"H-hello, Perseus," he said. He smiled down at his baby.

"What a scare you gave me," he whispered. Poseidon lowered a hand into the cradle, amazed when Percy reached out and held onto his finger.

Poseidon chuckled. "Brave little thing, just like your mother."

Percy made a cooing sound. From the slightest touch, the faintest connection between them, Poseidon could tell his son would be a great hero.

Then his smile faded as he recalled the prophecy that hung over him and his brothers.

A child of the eldest gods…

Percy was only a few months old, yet Poseidon knew his life would be fraught with danger and death. He ran his thumb over the back of Percy's hand, wishing with all his heart that he could stay.

"The sea does not like to be restrained," he said into the dark, "you will know this someday, Percy."

Against his better judgement, against the laws mandating he needed to separate himself from his child, Poseidon leaned down and picked up Perseus. He pressed a kiss to his infant son's forehead.

"Sleep well, my son."

Percy grew up as a boy shouldn't have. He grew up with memories of a snake in his preschool cot and of tall, shadowy men watching him on playgrounds. He grew up seeing winged horses and other oddities in the sky. He grew up with his mom holding his hand tighter and hurrying him down the street at the sight of large, black dogs in alleyways. How she also saw them, he never questioned it.

Percy also grew up to adults avoiding his gaze and kids his age running away from him on playgrounds. He grew up with his step-dad Smelly Gabe never being nice to him, but not being outright mean either. Most of the time, he just liked to pretend Percy didn't exist at all. For Percy, he was more than happy with that arrangement.

He grew up getting scrapes on his knees and paper cuts on his fingers like any other kid. But unlike other children, Percy bled differently. His blood always came out a dark orange color, like liquid copper. In strong light, Percy swore he could see specks of metallic gold in his blood. He never knew why his mom was so scared when he scraped his knees until he saw her bleed. She had cut her finger while chopping vegetables and her blood came out a bright, vibrant red.

So Percy grew up hiding his scrapes and scratches from his mom so she wouldn't worry. Besides, his cuts and bruises always healed quickly. He just had to run them under some water and they usually faded fast.

In many other ways, Percy understood that he was different. He was a problem child. A freak. The kid who no one liked.

The only person who loved him and made him feel loved was his mom. She was always so gentle with him, despite all the trouble he caused. She read him books from the library filled with drawings of knights and far-away lands. She gave him little baggies of blue candy from the shop on the weeks she came home with a paycheck.

When Percy was six and was kicked out of his first school (for supposedly flooding the bathroom), his mom wasn't mad at him. She cried when she thought he wasn't looking, but she smiled for him and ordered a pizza for dinner. That weekend, they went to the library. Smelly Gabe never went with them, and even though it was hard for Percy to read like other kids, he loved spending time with his mom. He expected books with bright, hard covers and drawings of cats and dogs, like the kinds they had in his school. Instead, his mom brought him over to a section of the library for adults. The words on the covers still floated around, but some floated… not less, but in a way that was easier to read?

His mom checked out lots of books from that section and that night, spent hours entertaining Percy with stories of heroes with strange names. Heracles, Odysseus, and Perseus, the last of which he took a particular interest in.

Percy soon learned to associate the winged horses in the sky with the mythical Pegasus. He learned that the heroes from all those old stories weren't always good people. They were mean or rude or they didn't listen to others. But they also did really cool things, like cutting the heads off of snake ladies.

Soon enough, these ancient myths replaced the bedtime stories he used to enjoy.

"None of them were perfect," Mom once said, "but they were good heroes."

It meant the world to Percy, who had been kicked out of two schools in two years.

The fact that everyone still refused to meet his eye for very long became less of a thing he noticed and more of a thing he was used to. There were lots of things Percy was used to. No one spoke to him longer than necessary. No one was willing to pick schoolyard fights with him anymore. Smelly Gabe turned the other way when Percy entered the living room.

Three schools in three years.

No one wanted to be his friend and no teacher thought of him as star student.

Percy and his mom start making yearly trips to Montauk. Percy loved the ocean more than anything else and wanted to swim for hours.

Four schools in four years.

No one liked him more than the big, black dogs that tried to follow him home on the way from school. Or the winged horses in the sky that liked to swoop down close to him, as if to get a better look.

Sometimes, Percy fell asleep in the bathtub without even realizing it. Never more than a few seconds, surely.

Five schools in five years.

Then he met his first friend ever. Grover was a really nervous kid who had a harder time than most when it came to looking at Percy. When they spoke at lunch, Grover would sit next to him but look forward as if addressing someone that wasn't there. But he was picked on a lot, so Percy wanted to try being his friend. He thought if Grover was around him, then no one would want to be around them both.

Yancy Academy was also the first school with a teacher who seemed to go out of his way to pay attention to Percy. Mr. Brunner was fascinated by the instances when Percy was called on to answer questions on Greek and Roman mythology. He was always correct, and could supply additional information without much difficulty. After the first few times it happened, he was asked where he learned such impressive details. For the first time in his life, Percy was the center of attention.

The whole class looked at him and he realized that, maybe, he knew things he shouldn't have. Sure, kids who liked myths could name gods and heroes. But maybe they didn't often know all the Muses, the names of obscure monsters, and some very minor gods.

"My… my mom taught me," he said, face flushing red.

Grover stared at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Mr. Brunner stared at him like he wanted to put Percy under a microscope. The other kids in class gave Percy his second of fame before forgetting about him once more.

But there was another teacher who gave him an unusually large amount of attention. Percy didn't think Mrs. Dodds liked him, but she was almost fascinated by him. She looked like she wanted to sink his teeth into him like a cat with a mouse.

When the class went on their field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Percy lost his temper with Nancy Bobofit and something happened. Something that, naturally, he was blamed for. The water in the fountain nearby had exploded. The next thing he knew, Bobofit was soaking wet and shrieking. He thought Mrs. Dodds was pulling him aside to tell him off. Instead, she bared her teeth and asked him a very unusual (and maybe offensive?) question.

"Perseus Jackson, what are you?"

His ADHD brain immediately went to the fact that he was indeed ADHD, then it went to the fact that his mom was half-Korean, so he was of Korean descent… but he didn't think those were what Dodds meant.

"I don't understand."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I can tell you're human, but only partially so. You smell…" she smelled the air and momentarily looked confused, "...you smell like the abyss."

Ok. Great. Percy wanted to say. He met teachers who did drugs before and even though he didn't peg Mrs. Dodds as that kind of gal, he really wanted to leave. Before he could try sprinting out of the empty museum exhibit, Dodds said something else that set him on edge.

"You must know where it is. Tell me, and I will spare you."

Welp. Maybe if Percy screamed loud enough, Mr. Brunner or museum security would get to him before his clearly-not-sober math teacher could try anything.

Then Dodds grew wings and actual fangs.

Then Mr. Brunner appeared and threw him a pen that turned into a sword.

Then Percy killed his math teacher.

Then he was expelled.

Now it was six schools in six years. Percy really wanted to believe he was a good kid at heart, but he couldn't even fool himself. His grades in the only class he did well in, Latin, started slipping. Before his final, he hoped he could talk to Mr. Brunner about apologizing for the terrible grade he was going to get.

Percy overheard a very strange conversation on the way to Brunner's office.

"He's part mortal, I can tell."

That sounded like Grover.

"As can I. The trip to the museum proved it, he's not a monster."

Percy's stomach sank. Maybe he should have been flattered, but he only felt dread.

"We'll need to bring him to camp," Grover said.

"Agreed. Tomorrow-"

Percy didn't want to hear any more. He left.

He went home the next day.

He and his mom went to Montauk. Grover found them. They got chased by the Minotaur. Like, the Minotaur.

Percy watched his mom die.

He killed the Minotaur with its own horn, but not before being gouged by its other one. Percy collapsed under the pine tree on the hill, Grover unconscious but hopefully alive somewhere nearby.

He felt cold but his body felt so light. Even the pain that exploded in his side was fading away. Percy closed his eyes, hoping he'd get to see his mom on the other side.

He stopped feeling cold. He stopped feeling pain. Percy couldn't feel anything, not even the soggy ground beneath him, but he could tell he wasn't dead.

Ah, you again. A voice said. Percy couldn't open his eyes.

Welcome back, Perseus. You're quite older than before, I forget your kind ages so quickly.

Don't worry, I'll return you shortly.

… Good luck up there.

Percy woke up to a pretty blonde girl his age spoon feeding him in bed. She didn't look impressed. "You drool in your sleep."

It turned out the gods were real. So were all the heroes from the stories his mom told him. Knowing this did nothing to console Percy over his mother's death.

A small part of him hoped that he'd find camaraderie among other half-bloods. Especially Luke, the cool camp counselor who seemed to regard Percy with more genuine kindness than pity.

To his silent dismay, Percy found that people still avoided his gaze. When they spoke to him, their eyes tended to dart around his face, or fixate on something behind him. Just like how people always did. They still skirted away from him also, as if they knew he had some kind of infectious disease. At least Luke was fascinated by how Percy could disarm him with so little training.

And Clarisse hated his guts for drenching her in toilet water. That had to count for something.

Annabeth was able to look him in the eye via sheer force of will, but she didn't seem to like it.

"You could be the child of a powerful minor god, like Nemesis," she said to him one day, "it would explain your appearance."

"Um, okay." Percy wasn't in the mood to mention his mortal parent was his mom.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "You're not easy to look at, Percy. But in a powerful way. When I look at you, I always get this feeling of dread… or like I'm hopelessly lost. Like the only safe thing to do is to stay away. It's unnerving, and it could save your life in a fight some day."

"Awesome," Percy said. Thanks for the diagnosis.

He wasn't sure if he could call Annabeth his friend, but she did invite him to be on her team for Capture the Flag.

Percy ended up getting gutted by Clarisse's spear. She seemed to be able to push past his unnerving aura by pure rage alone. So much for saving his skin, then.

It was okay though, because the water healed him and a glowing green trident appeared over his head.

Poseidon. Earthshaker. Lord of Horses. God of seas and storms.

Percy could have laughed. A sign his father existed after twelve years of no birthday cards, fishing trips, or homework tips. He was liking being a half-blood less and less.

He also accepted his quest to go west and recover Zeus' bolt only because he was determined to find his mom in the underworld. His dad and the rest of the Olypians could fuck off for all he cared.

Being out in the world, Percy's power was tested time and time again. It wasn't necessarily the monsters that challenged him, but the gods. Ares and his side quest, Hephaestus and his death traps, nearly being killed while in Hades.

The winged shoes Luke gave to Percy, only for him to give to Grover, nearly dragged his best friend into Tartarus. While Annabeth and Grover were more than happy to leave the pit and head for Hades' palace, Percy froze for a moment. He stood at the very edge of Tartarus and looked down into the darkness. He couldn't see anything, but it was like something alive was pulling him in, continuously inhaling. It was… well, it was familiar.

He thought he heard the rumble of a man laughing.

"Percy, what are you doing? Let's go!" Annabeth said.

Percy turned from the pit. He went to his uncle's palace and found that he had been set up, the master bolt being in his possession the entire time. So the prophecy Percy received came true and in the end, he fled from Hades without his mother, the goal that had mattered most to him.

He met Ares on the beach after escaping the underworld and Percy confronted the war god without fear.

"You set us up!" He shouted.

Ares smirked. "Obviously."

He really hated how casual the gods were about sending him to his death. As Percy readied himself for his first real fight with a god, Ares seemed to study him. He nudged his ray-bans down and stared at Percy with his eyes made of fire and fury.

"You know, the longer I look at you, the more I think you can't be Poseiodon's spawn. I mean, no offense to dear old Uncle, but you got something else going on with you."

Percy bared his teeth. Ares was just another bully calling him a freak.

Ares continued, "Yeah… you're definitely something else. You're…"

For half a second, it looked like Ares seemed confused. Maybe even afraid. Then he pushed his sunglasses back up and hefted his metal baseball bat. It turned into a bronze sword and hissed as wisps of smoke curled off of it.

"I'm gonna enjoy pounding you into dust," Ares said.

Likewise.

As they fought, Percy could feel his inhibitions melting away. He had just finished a sprint across the entire country, only to find that he'd been backstabbed and lied to. If everyone was intent on believing he was some freak of nature, he'd show Ares what he was really made of.

The ocean bent to Percy's will and gave him strength. It roared with every breath he let out and smashed against the sand in a neverending din.

As his sword clashed with Ares' own, the very earth itself shook. At first, Percy thought that it was Ares doing it. When the sand beneath him began being sucked into a crack in the earth, he realized it was him.

An earthshaker, just like his dad.

Cornered by the ocean on one side and the crack in the earth on the other, Ares bared his teeth and charged. Percy inhaled sharply. Something, a newfound kind of power, pulsed through him. It came flooding from his gut until he felt the surge of energy through his whole being. The best way Percy could understand it was like a sugar rush, but multiplied by a thousand. It was as if he was the sea, untamable and surging with unfathomable strength.

The earth continued to tremble, shuddering as its open maw stretched wider.

Ares lost his footing. He- he didn't fall so much as look like he was being sucked toward the fault in the sand. And as Percy breathed in, feeling the earth itself bend and break to his will, he felt the power inside himself snap something. Not like pulling a muscle, it was something far more profound.

He might have started screaming at that moment. Or it could have just been the wind.

He couldn't stop his whole body from shaking. His newfound strength was becoming too much, it was overwhelming. He was afraid he'd break under the weight of his own power. It was like trying to fit a whole sea inside a single cup.

Percy heard the pounding surf, the crumbling earth, the tumbling wind, the screams of his friends and the shouts from the war god. But above all that, he heard the faintest whisper in the back of his mind.

My gift to you.

His throat seized. He couldn't breathe. Percy's vision went black for a second as a new pain burst behind his eyes. He dropped Riptide and clutched his head. It felt like he'd explode if he didn't hold himself together.

Just when he was sure he wouldn't be able to take any more, the new power inside him started to recede. It burrowed back into his bones and guts, but a steady ache behind his eyes remained. It wasn't blinding, but Percy was still struggling to blink the stars out of his eyes as he forced himself to his feet.

Ares stopped sliding backward. He scrambled to pick himself back up from the sand.

Percy felt… he felt stronger than he ever knew possible. He didn't know if he liked the feeling or not. Regardless, he picked up Riptide and charged Ares, successfully wounding the war god.

Ares roared so loud, Percy would have been surprised if the gods on the other side of the country hadn't heard it.

"You… you will pay for this, Perseus Jackson." Ares said, panting as he stood. He was still bleeding gold from the wound above his ankle. Ares met his eye and paused. He smiled, cruel and mean. Then the war god laughed.

"By the looks of it, you already have. See you around, kid."

Then he was gone in a burst of smoke.

The ocean quieted and the crack in the earth sealed itself closed. Percy frowned as he turned to his friends.

"What do you think he meant by that?"

Annabeth gaped at him. Grover actually took a step back and averted his gaze.

His brows furrowed. "Guys?"

"P-Percy…" Grover said, "you're eyes…"

"Nevermind that," Annabeth said, eyes stormy as she thought fast, "the Mist will hide it from mortals. We need a way back to New York asap."

Percy touched the corner of his eye, wondering what they were seeing. He soon forgot about his eyes, because he had far more important things to worry about. He had a master bolt to return to one king of the gods. And what happened upon his arrival at Olympus?

Even after succeeding in his quest, even after beating the odds of finding the bolt and preventing a god-level nuclear war, Percy had to thank Zeus for not killing him on the spot.

"Your spawn is an abomination, look at him," Zeus said, sounding awfully similar to Percy's last principal.

Poseidon responded, "How dare you speak of him like that, after all he's done for you?"

Being alone in the throne room of the gods with his dad and his uncle was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"He might have retrieved my bolt, but there is something in him that is neither god nor mortal." Zeus gave his brother a hard stare, "And you know this too."

Poseidon didn't respond right away. Percy dared to hope that for the first time in his life, he'd be accepted and called normal.

"He is still my son, and regardless of his nature, I refuse to renounce my claim over him."

And maybe Uncle Hades would take Percy back if he jumped off Olympus then and there.

The two gods held a silent argument, each glaring at the other, until Zeus relented.

"You will claim responsibility for his future actions?" Zeus asked, "Whatever they may be?"

"Yes," Poseidon said without hesitation.

"Very well." Zeus stood from his throne. He gave Percy one last repulsed, incredulous stare before vanishing in a burst of light. When the room dimmed again, Percy was alone with his father. Poseidon rose and came to stand before Percy.

"Make no mistake, Percy. You've done well today."

Percy felt the bitterness from twelve long years of growing up without a dad come bubbling back up, "But I'm not normal, not even for a demigod. Aren't I?"

Poseidon spoke with an uncertain smile, "No, Percy. I can see it in your eyes. You've inherited a great deal of power. The Fates must have big plans for you."

Poseidon moved as if to put his hand on Percy's shoulder, but then hesitated. His hand fell to his side. He said, "You'll be unlike any hero who has come before you. You will be something entirely new."

Percy didn't know if he found that comforting or not.

"Thanks."

He turned and made to leave.

"Remember that the sea does not like to be restrained," Poseidon called after him.

Percy stopped. He's heard those words before. He recalled the faintest memory of a warm smile and sea green eyes. Percy turned back to his dad and found Poseidon smiling more confidently.

"Thanks, dad."

Poseidon nodded to him.

Back in the mortal world, Percy couldn't have been happier to see his mom again. She looked the same as the day he thought she died.

She smiled despite the tears in her eyes. Despite Percy looking like he'd been through literal hell, she cupped his face and peppered him in kisses. She even looked into his eyes and she stared at Percy with only love and warmth. In that moment, Percy remembered that this was what he had been fighting for. His human half and his human mom.

"Percy, I'm so glad you're alright," Mom said.

"I know, I- I'm sorry. I-" Percy felt the tears welling in his eyes. His mom shushed him and brushed aside his tears.

"Shh, shh Percy," His mom said, "You've done so well. You're alive. But…"

She hesitated.

"But?" Percy asked.

His mom pushed the stray locks of hair from his face. "You know, it's your choice to come back home at the end of summer. But if you wanted to, you could stay at camp year round."

His mom had always been able to look Percy in the eye. But now that he was looking at her more closely, he found that she seemed to be having trouble maintaining eye contact. Her eyes kept wanting to dart off to the side every few seconds.

"I think… I think you'd be safest if you stayed at camp, Percy."

Percy felt a flash of dread cut through him.

"No."

"Percy."

"I won't leave you!"

"You can come back during holidays, Percy. It won't be goodbye forever."

Percy shook his head, suddenly feeling sick. How could his own mom want him gone so badly? After just getting her back?

"But- but what about school?" Not that Percy ever truly cared about his education, but his mom wouldn't want him to just stop going to school, right?

Disregarding all the boarding schools she made him attend, Percy just couldn't imagine being sent away again.

"Chiron has told me about his tutoring program at camp. It's like homeschooling. You'd get about the same level of education as kids who- who go home at the end of summer."

"But…"

Percy then remembered all the years his mom had been trying to save up money for night classes. How she couldn't because of Gabe, but also because of himself. At least they had Medusa's severed head to get rid of Gabe, but Percy?

He stared at his mother, the one person he risked his life on a cross-country quest for. He knew she wanted what was best for him, and he also wanted the best for her.

Percy swallowed, willing his voice to not crack. "You really want me to stay at camp?"

"I want you to be safe, Percy. That's all I've ever wanted."

Percy bit his lower lip and nodded. "Alright, Mom. Okay."

She looked relieved. Not happy that he was leaving home again, but happy that he'd be somewhere that suited him.

He just got home from Olympus, but they spent a while that night packing away most of Percy's clothes and belongings. While his mom called camp to arrange for Argus to pick Percy up from home in the morning, he went to the bathroom and locked the door.

Percy splashed some cold water on his face and took a deep breath. He braced his hands on the sink, then lifted his head. He immediately knew why everyone thought he was a freak. Did he really confront Zeus looking like this?

His eyes… they weren't human anymore. Not by a long shot.

He had lost the whites of his eyes. Now, they were roiling hues of green and blue. Like a turbulent ocean, or a nebula. The impossible colors in his eyes clashed and fused all while funnelling into the black pits that were his pupils.

Percy touched the corner of his eye and felt like crying. He was still himself, but some part of him had been chipped away. His dad was right, he was something new. Something wrong. Something that shouldn't exist.

Percy went back to his room and tore open his closet and dresser to search for something to cover his eyes. He found a pair of old, scratched sunglasses but the lenses were tinted and it'd be impossible to see his eyes past them. They'd do.

Mom didn't say anything when he came out of his room with them on, and he was thankful for it. When Argus came to bring him back to camp, Percy hugged his mom outside their apartment building.

"You can come home for thanksgiving, you know that right?"

"I know." He pressed his face against her shoulder, wishing his sunglasses weren't in the way. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"H-have fun at camp, Percy."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Argus loaded his backpack and two duffle bags into the van. After years of moving from school to school, some boarding and some not, Percy had learned to pack light.

He stared at his mom as she waved him goodbye. He waved back, and then he was on his way to Camp Half-Blood. He returned to a hero's welcome, with a laurel wreath in his hair and campfire songs lead in his honor. Percy noticed that with his shades on, people were more likely to approach him. They even smiled at him.

After a week or two, the hype died down and Percy was just another camper.

Thank the gods.

When summer came close to its end, Percy found himself sitting at the edge of the dock with Annabeth. With their shoes off, their toes could just reach the water. Annabeth asked, "So are you going back to live with your mom?"

Percy hadn't brought up his living plans on purpose. Chiron knew, but he hadn't wanted anyone else to find out.

"I'm actually going to stay year round."

Annabeth looked surprised. "Oh."

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's funny," Annabeth said, "I actually decided to try living with my dad again."

"Oh. Cool." So even though Percy was staying, they were going their separate ways.

"Yeah," Annabeth said.

"We'll still be friends?"

She grinned. "Of course, Seaweed Brain."

Percy cracked a smile. "Good. I… I wouldn't want you to think you've gotten rid of me, Wise Girl."

Annabeth snorted and shoved his shoulder. "I actually have something for you."

Percy noticed that Annabeth had brought a small package wrapped in brown paper; he'd been wondering what it was. She handed it to him. He turned the mysterious package over in his hands.

"What is it?"

"Open it and see."

Percy tore at the paper wrapping and found a clear plastic case beneath. Inside it was a new pair of sunglasses. They had the same kind of tinted, reflective lenses, but looked a lot newer than the ones Percy wore now.

"They're just a pair from the camp store, but I figured you were due for an upgrade."

Emotions swelled up inside him. Percy took a deep breath before speaking, "Thanks, Annabeth."

He opened the case, noting the small golden laurel wreaths stamped on the sides. Very on-brand for camp. He touched his old sunglasses, then hesitated.

"Go ahead," she said.

Percy quickly took off his old shades and tried the new ones on. He tried to crack a smile.

"So, do I look any cooler?"

Annabeth stared at him. And then she started laughing. "Oh my gods, you have such bad tan lines from your sunglasses." She snorted, "You look like a raccoon!"

It took a second for Percy to realize she was making fun of him without any real malice. He found himself laughing with her.

"Hey, but can you blame me?" He asked.

When they calmed down, Annabeth said, "But seriously, Percy. I don't care what anyone else thinks of you. You're my friend."

Somehow, he already knew that. "Thanks, Annabeth."

Even though she was leaving, Percy was relieved to know he wasn't going to be left alone with Clarisse all year. He thought Luke would have his back.

That was before Luke brought him to the woods on the last day of summer. And his dear camp counselor revealed the little fact that it was him who stole the master bolt. When Percy found his voice, he asked, "Why?"

It was all he wanted to know.

"It's because the gods have never cared about us, Percy. I've been here since I was a kid, and what did I ever get for it?" Luke sneered, his scar making him look that much meaner, "They've never been on our side. But Kronos has promised me a new world, a better one. A world where there won't be any gods at all."

Luke's eyes flickered from Percy toward the pit scorpion crawling up his leg. He bit his lower lip.

"I'm sorry, Percy. But some things just have to be done."

Luke left him in the woods.

Percy killed the scorpion, but not without being stung himself.

He thought the water would heal him. He thought he'd be safe.

It wasn't enough.

Percy died before he could make it to the edge of the woods.

Back so soon, little one?

Percy could hear a voice. He couldn't open his eyes and he couldn't move, and for a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

What trouble you've been stirring.

The voice speaking to him didn't sound like Kronos' voice from his dreams.

Who are you? Percy wanted to ask. Where was he?

I see that you've chipped away at your mortal self while you've been gone. I wonder what you will become now…

No, Percy wanted to say, What's happening to me?

This is not where you belong. Go now, child. And don't forget to wreak a little more chaos.

Percy heard a rumbling laugh, feeling it vibrating in his own chest.

He woke up with a start, sitting up by the side of the creek where he remembered passing out. He stared at his palm, but only a faint scar remained from his scorpion sting. He suddenly felt sick. Percy fled from the woods to inform Chiron that Luke was the lightning thief.

It was the last day of summer, and all Percy had hoped for was even a moment of peace. But his hopes had been shattered before they even solidified.

It seemed like now, there was only more work to do.